3.5
Partway home I change my mind, divert off to the lake, the cell phone still waiting there. I
need to kill something. Vent. Something
deserving. Not like Leet. Somebody
malicious.
Pride answers the phone before the first dial tone even finishes. I can tell she's trying to mask some fear as she asks in a forced-cheery tone, "You need me, boss?"
I say, "I need to kill someone." I think I hear her choke slightly, ignore it. "Someone who actually deserves it."
There's a pause. Her voice is shaking a little with relief as she responds. "Need me for my tracking services, gotcha. Anybody in mind?"
I pause, having not really thought about it before now. Not Lung. I have no confidence in my ability to deal with him, not without more experience. Skidmark? Arguably a bit unfair that he comes to mind first primarily because of what prompted this, but while I'd rate him as a lower priority than Kaiser, he's still a scumbag getting kids hooked on serious drugs and though I haven't done a
lot of research into the Merchants I know they've done...
I frown for a moment. Something about the bangles. Merchants, bangles.
I give up on the thought. It's not important. Point is, they've done a lot of terrible things, and it's not even... I mean. They live in
squalor. They're not making themselves better at the expense of others. They're just dragging
everyone down. It's just... awful. I sort of get the ABB and the Empire and some of the indie villains. Drag someone else down as you raise yourself up. Mean, selfish, sensible if you don't care about other people. There's sense there. The Merchants... aren't like that, and frankly I'm pretty sure they're only still around because nobody takes them seriously enough to put real effort into coming after them. If they were
competent -if they were like a local mini-Slaughterhouse Nine or something- they'd probably be wiped out instantly by
everyone. But no, they survive like... cockroaches? No, no... cockroaches are actually hard to kill. Pigeons? Pigeons are gross and pushy and all-around horrible little birds but not quite revolting enough -or easily killed enough- for the city to really push for their collective death.
Yeah. Parahuman pigeons.
"... boss? You there?"
I jerk slightly, careful to keep my reflection in view. Forgot. Got distracted.
Yeah. I think I do. "Skidmark."
"... who?"
Oh. Right. Not... really any reason for her to already know who Skidmark is. Some
locals don't know who he is. People know about the Merchants, but not necessarily
individual Merchants. Squealer's the most attention-grabbing one, and the Merchants are small-time anyway. It's not like I've got the Toronto villains memorized. Why
would Pride know the list of Merchants off the top of her head?
So I clarify. "You familiar with the Archer's Bridge Merchants?"
There's a pause before she responds. "Druggy gang or something, right?"
"Right, yes. Well, Skidmark is their leader. Lays down zones that push things a particular direction, not much else to him as a cape. He's a scumbag, and he has no..." I pause, searching for the word. "... no honor, I guess. Doesn't even participate in Endbringer defenses-" Pride makes a noise of confusion, but I ignore it. "-or otherwise make him worth tolerating. This is a dude who gets
children hooked on-"
Pride interrupts me. "Boss, I don't actually care. He's small-fry, but sort of important. That what you're saying?" I grunt in the affirmative, annoyed. Ranting about him was cathartic. "Got any idea what kind of personality he has?"
I open my mouth to respond, and- nothing comes out.
... he's a scumbag, but that's... not very helpful. Brockton Bay isn't exactly a bastion of civilization. I don't really
know what he's like. Lazy? Ambitious? Angry? Happy? I... don't actually know.
I switch tracks. "Well, the gang includes a lot of homeless. Just looking for concentrations of homeless would be workable. Can you do that?"
"... yyeeesss? Gross, but yes." She doesn't sound thrilled, but I don't care.
"Where's most convenient for you to meet me at?"
"Wait, are we doing this in daylight?" She sounds surprised, not concerned. I firmly say
yes (I can't wait, I
can't), and then ask, again, where to meet her.
She names a pair of streets. I say, "See you there," wait for her response, turn off the phone and... stare at the phone for a minute. What to
do with this? Where can I keep it?
I decide to take it with me for the moment, slip it into a pocket. Maybe Pride will have an idea.
I head out to meet her.
-----------------------
On the way over I finally remember why the bangles thing was bothering me -I've seen Merchants wearing colored bangles, both in person and in the news, such as when they've been arrested. Not sure what the bangles are about. I noticed it, didn't think about it. Rank? Whatever the case, that's why there was a
bangle in with the drug the assholes planted in my desk, and that's why the teacher thought I'd joined the Merchants, rather than just thinking I was doing drugs on my own.
If I weren't the monster, I'd frown. I don't know how the Merchants handle their bangles. Was the one planted in my desk just... a bangle that could've been bought at any number of stores, or was it somehow a
genuine Merchant bangle, and was there any way to tell the difference? The thought gnawed at me. If Emma or one of her goons had simply bought a bangle, or maybe just pulled one from out of a drawer in their rooms, and planted that to sell the idea, that was... depressing, but held no deeper significance.
If Merchant bangles were actually hard to come by and they'd gotten one
anyway, that was rather more disturbing. I couldn't quite see either of Emma or Sophia in the Merchants, nor could I see them tolerating any teen dumb enough to be in the Merchants while trying to curry favor with the Popular Girls. The whole story they spun was that they had
standards and were
superior and Merchant scum would definitely not be treated favorably or else their narrative would lose its strength. But then how would they have gotten a Genuine Merchant Bangle, if that is indeed a thing?
I make a mental note to pay attention tonight, see if anything I see or overhear indicates either way.
----------------------------
Turns out Pride had named a small park I've never personally been to, deep in the concrete jungle. It's not even a full block. Just this little area with some trees, water fountains, trash cans, and grass everywhere. The plant life isn't holding up that well, either, and there are
way too many cigarette butts lying around. This is particularly depressing as the only sign for this tiny little park has several rules in ginormous text, one of which is
no smoking. There's also several patches of dog poop lying around, unattended, even though there's a dog poop-bag dispenser and trash can in the area. This is not a quality park. At least it's bounded in by bushes well enough that when I leap from a nearby rooftop down to the park it's with confidence that I'll be the monster when I hit the ground. Which... admittedly is probably part of why it's such a trashed-out park. Seems unoccupied, anyway, so I guess maybe it gets more traffic at ni-
"Heya boss."
I startle, try to hide it, then frown when I remember she can sense my emotions directly so there's no point. How does she keep surprising me like that?
Then I realize I didn't actually frown because I'm not the girl, I'm still the monster. I turn to where I heard her voice, and she's sitting on a bench, blindfold/scarf already over her eyes. I pause for a moment, surprised. I try to parse the thought, mostly fail. I manage to pull out my tangled mess that I'm weirded out by her either feeling comfortable enough to wait for me in a public place while blindfolded or by her pulling on the blindfold as I was approaching with time to spare such that it
looks to me like she was simply waiting for me, already blindfolded. She's smiling faintly. I shake my head slightly, and it turns to a small frown.
I get up next to her, pull her blindfold up so I'm the girl again, and say, low in tone, "We're just going to be two friends on a walk. Not costumed." Which reminds me that she really ought to get a proper costume herself, but I'm not sure how we'd get her a costume that works without turning to theft. I've been very carefully not thinking too hard about
how, exactly, she's been keeping a roof over her head and feeding herself when she's a teenage girl with, as far as I'm aware, no income and no cash, but... I dunno. Keeping out of her business, suspecting it's not precisely kosher, feels a bit different from pushing her to do something that I'm fairly certain will require illegal activity. More like I'm responsible. I don't like the idea.
It's also not relevant right now, so I can put all this off for another night. Gonna need to find a less questionable way of handling her situation, but... not now.
Now, I need someone to kill.
Cherie pouts a little, but then shrugs, pulls on a pair of sunglasses from some pocket, lets her hair loose, flips her black jacket inside-out so it's now a red jacket, a very similar shade as the streak in her hair, actually, and spends a good thirty seconds pulling her skirt up and doing something to get it to stay in place, having gone from stretching past her knees to being a rather
short skirt. I blink, startled at how pronounced the effect is -she's gone from looking like a somewhat severe businesswoman in her thirties who knows how to dress well to looking like she's a fashionable late teens/early twenties woman who knows she looks good and flaunts it. I suddenly feel somewhat self-conscious, realizing I'm still dressed in my usual school clothing, the kind that is not at
all flattering to my appearance, and wonder for a moment if it's maybe a bad plan to pretend we're friends out on the town. She grins, presumably pleased by my reaction to her change in appearance, and then bounces to her feet and asks, "So, any more specific ideas of what to be looking for?"
I frown and stare vaguely at a cloud. I catch a glimpse of someone from New Wave flying overhead, waving at people below, and get distracted for a moment wondering if it would make Monster more approachable to have her seen patrolling in daylight hours and whether/how I could fit that into my schedule. I shake my head, glance at Cherie's-
Actually, hold that thought.
I ask her, "What are we calling you?" in a low tone, resisting the urge to glance around like a suspicious person. I don't
know whether her real name is widely known, but I don't want us just throwing it around and end up with the PRT finding out somehow and coming after us, even if her name is as little-known to the public as it seems to me.
Cherie's grin broadens and she smoothly says, "I am Carlia Smithson, new friend to one Taylor Hebert. My boyfriend, now ex, was a jerk, and now we're out on the town to cheer me up, maybe you too given the day you've had-" I clench my teeth and look away, feeling... exposed. I say nothing. "-even if our eyes are bigger than our wallets and we know it. We'll probably wander the town for a few hours, look at cool stuff, talk about whatever with each other, and then part ways once we feel better."
I turn to stare at her once I've calmed down, not quite able to comprehend how easily this came to her. Did she just... think of this before she came to meet me, or did she really come up with this off the cuff? She's definitely way better at keeping track of her lies than I am, anyway. It's a good story, too, a good excuse for us to be wandering the town together, doing nothing in particular.
Skin crawling, I go back to trying to answer her original question. What
would Skidmark be like? He's not exactly popular with the news, not attention-grabbing like Lung when he gets going or charismatic like Kaiser or anything. I know he's an
angry man, quick and creative with the invective, so much so that when he does manage to get screentime half of everything he says gets censored. Actually... now that I think about it, he reads like he's putting up a tough front. Bluffing. Talk a lot of smack in hopes he doesn't have to follow through because you're too intimidated. It... kind of fits. The Merchants are very much the least relevant of the gangs and basically always have been the entire time they've
existed, even the Teeth stayed more relevant when they were around but the Butcher wasn't. If he's more bark than bite... that kind of fits. So... angry, pretends to be more confident than he actually is? Maybe
actually that confident when dealing with people who aren't parahumans?
I relay this basic description to Ch-Carlia.
... I'm never going to get good at this subterfuge thing, am I?
She throws her left arm around my right arm, I flinch, she gives me a look, but I don't pull away and after a moment I start walking, looking at the ground but not shrugging off her arm. I don't see her reaction, but after a moment she catches up and gently, much more gently than I was expecting, pulls me more toward the right.
After we've been walking for a block like this she starts chattering about nothing of any consequence, I'm not even sure how much of it is real, and I just... let it wash over me, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other and fighting the urge to rip myself from her grip. She's not Sophia. Or Emma. Or any of the others. This isn't like that. She's... well, she's not actually my friend, but she's an
ally, not a bully.
I'm tempted, for a moment, to ask her if she can do something about this irrational terror, and then my brain catches up with itself and I shove that in the back of my head and
then I get suspicious and glance at Che-
Carlia but she's just looking at me like
I'm the lunatic and I dunno maybe she's faking really well she's already proven she's a much better liar than I am but... urgh. I focus on logic: I have every reason to believe her power is... sufficiently straightforward that this kind of slow manipulation isn't necessary. Therefore, being suspicious that she seeded the thought in me is... improbable. Especially because she said she's a manipulator of emotions. She could be lying, of course-
-she sighs with frustration next to me but then goes back to her (cheerful) monologue-
-but.
Ugh.
I shove it all out of my head and just... focus on the here, the now.
After a bit I manage to make myself say something plausible in response to something she said. Supposed to be two girls out on the town, talking. Not one girl rambling at a sad, pathetic, useless excuse for a human being-
-she jerks on my arm, pointing casually at an abandoned apartment complex. She's saying something contextually appropriate that has nothing to do with her real point, and I suddenly feel a weird little spike of... triumph?
I
look at her, because I'm pretty sure that was her using her power on me, but she shrugs it off, leading us into a shitty, trashed-out alleyway, so badly trashed out that she's able to casually pull us to one side, out of sight from both streets, trusting in the trash to obscure us. At that point she mutters to me, "Found him," and again jerks one arm at the abandoned apartment building, which we're standing next to. After a moment I realize she's actually pointing at a second-floor window, one of the only ones
not boarded up, and then I notice a thin trail of smoke curling up out of the window.
Oh. She's found
something.
I try to think about where we're at. I wasn't really paying attention, but I want to say this is the right general area for Merchant territory. I mean, I'd expect Skidmark to have a more dignified...
...
... oh, who am I kidding? It's Skidmark. He probably thinks a
literal mountain of trash is an appropriate throne.
I tell her to close her eyes for a minute, she shrugs and complies, humming some tune to herself. Nothing I recognize. I hesitate for a moment, trying to figure out how to reach the window without risking being seen leaping through the air outside of my costume, and then decide to settle for pulling my hoodie on, tightening it, and then double-checking that my hair is all inside the hoodie. (It isn't, it takes some effort to get it all in) This requires me to tap Cherie-
fuck, Carlia, on the shoulder so she opens her eyes (Raising an eyebrow in response) and I try to ignore the burning embarrassment. Now I'm just a suspicious-looking teen you're not going to see the face of. Then I decide it's... probably a bad idea for Carlia to stay in the area. So I tell her to wait for me at the park we met up at -I'm pretty sure I can find it again. She shrugs, and wanders off, not even glancing at me.
I find myself somewhat uneasy with how cooperative she is. She
still hasn't asked about the blindfold or commented on any of the evidence that I turn into a monster, either. I find it difficult to believe she's oblivious, or that she doesn't care. It feels like there
has to be an angle to it, but I can't see it. It reminds me uncomfortably of dealing with the bullies, where I'll know they're up to
something, but can't figure out what, and end up just building dread.
Then I shove it out of my mind. An issue for later. Here and now, Carlia has turned the corner of the alleyway. I wait another thirty seconds or so, wish I could take a deep breath to smooth out my mental state, and then jump right at the window.
I'm relieved when I stay the monster the whole way up.
The first thing that grabs me about the room is the source of the smoke -a little fire in a metal bowl of some kind in turn kept off the (gutted) desk it's sitting on by metal legs. I'm not sure if it's meant to be a cooking fire or a light source or... something to do with drugs? I don't know enough about drugs to guess, don't
want to know.
The
second thing that grabs me really ought to have been the first -what a
fucking disgusting mess it is. There's wrappers, discarded needles, rotting food (Mostly fast food, looks to me, but I'm trying to not pay close attention to it all), mounds and mounds of newspapers, I think I see a little pile of vomit in one corner, dozens of cockroaches all but partying around the worst messes and I have to fight a paranoid urge to think I've found Locust's nest
they're just regular roaches and anyway she's never managed to hurt people with roaches. (
Yet, some part of my brain chimes in but I shove
that thought into a box too) It's abominable, and the worst part is it appears to be
occupied, a mound of blankets in one corner rising and falling with someone's unpleasant-sounding breathing. I find myself incredibly glad the monster doesn't seem to have a sense of smell outside of water (Or whatever is going on there exactly -I really ought to figure that out at some point) because god
damn. I appear to be in what would be a living room if the apartment were in proper use.
I very carefully stalk around, avoiding stepping on anything particularly noisy (I can't avoid stepping on
stuff, but stepping into unidentifiable sludge is less likely to wake the hobo than stepping on a candy wrapper), trying to see if I can find confirmation that this is Skidmark and not some random hobo matching the profile I told Cherie -wait, should I still be calling her Carlia? Agh, I dunno- to look for. The adjacent rooms are... there's a bathroom, but the only part in use seems to be the sink, and it's certainly not being used for water. I'm not sure
what it's being used for, what I'm looking at means nothing to me. I file it under
probably drugs and move on. A different room, probably the master bedroom, has a walky-talky, strangely isolated. As in, there's literally nothing else in the room. Just the little walky-talky sitting in the very middle, alone. The room isn't
clean, not remotely, but it's restricted to mold, dust, and other detritus. I take it as confirmation that this is a Merchant, and not an unaffiliated hobo -I can't imagine a random hobo having a walky-talky and treating it with... reverence? There must be some reason. Keeping in contact with other Merchants makes sense to me.
Another room, what I assume would've been another bedroom, has a table and what looks like chemistry set stuff stacked all over it. The area is messy, more trashed-out than the walky-talky room, but
less trashed-out than the room the (Man?) is sleeping in. Whoever this is, they have
bizarre priorities. Messed-up might be a more appropriate description. I'm guessing the chemistry set is
more drug stuff. So their drugs deserve a clean space to make in, but
they are going to sleep in the most trashed-out room? Why?? What
is that?
I consider going out the front door, see if there's anyone else in the apartment complex, but while it's open a crack, it's only a crack. I'm hesitant to risk waking them in that way when I'm not certain there's anything to look for. On the other hand, I'm hesitant to risk waking them at all without knowing whether they're a random hobo or an important Merchant cape. On the third limb, I'm not sure how to figure that out
without risking waking them up. It's not like I really know what Skidmark looks like under his costume. I think he was Hispanic?
I stalk around for a minute, trying to see if anything else leaps out at me. I notice the closets, but there's nothing terribly interesting about them -they just continue the trends of the rooms they're inside of. I also notice that only the one window isn't boarded up, which has me wondering why that one isn't boarded up when the others are. If any room was going to be given extra ventilation, I'd expect it to be the chemistry room, especially since they
do have it relatively clean. I just can't wrap my head around this guy.
Finally I work up my nerve to very,
very carefully open the front door.
At one point it creaks and they snort and roll over, but that's it.
The door opens up into an enormous, old-timey apartment stairwell, the kind where the center is a big hole from top to bottom and apartment doors ring the outside. The banisters are real wood, or at least
look like real wood, it's hard to tell through the mold. I'm surprised -this was a
nice building before it was... abandoned? Slated for demolition? What happened here? I wish I knew.
I stop gawking and start stalking through the apartment building... it's mostly just empty. Doors are boarded up, lightbulbs have been stolen (??), rot and mold is setting in everywhere. I find myself hoping this building is slated for demolition. I find only two other apartments that aren't boarded up, but there isn't actually anything in either of them. I'm puzzled. I'd been expecting this to be a Merchant enclave of some kind, especially once I saw how nice it once was. Their HQ, maybe? I was expecting a lot of people living in squalor. Not one person living in squalor but otherwise with an entire building to himself. I mean, if he doesn't want to bother with cleaning up his trash at
all, he could put in a fairly minimal effort to start sleeping in a different apartment. There's already two that are easily opened, not boarded up at all. I just don't get it.
I also try to figure out how he's entering and leaving. I haven't seen anything like a rope ladder or, well, a rope at all, so I don't think he's entering and exiting by the window, especially since that wouldn't work so well for coming back in since he's by himself. If there were multiple people living here, I could assume they just have someone on site at all times to handle laying it out/pulling it up after people are done leaving, but it's just the one guy. Puzzling. Maybe it
is Skidmark and his power is more flexible than I'd been led to believe? Like, I dunno, he lays the effect on the wall and uses that to climb up or to make it more practical to climb down, or something. It's supposed to be... localized gravity? I think? That might make sense.
In any event, I don't find any evidence of another entry/exit than the window. I tested the front door of the building and it's a no-go, I don't find any other usable windows, nothing about the basement really stands out...
Puzzling.
I make my way back to the room, and the door has been closed.
Shit.
I pause, lean up against the wall, try to see if I can hear what's going on inside the room. I hear muttering, but it's hard to make out clearly over the sound of trash crinkling, squishing, snapping, and just generally making a disgusting racket. I think they're pacing? Maybe walking in a circle? So they're agitated. I
think I hear swear words, but it's not like Skidmark is the only man in the world who swears, and if they're agitated swearing would make perfect sense. They do seem to be
trying to be quiet, sounding angry when they manage to... bang their shin on something, maybe? Something particularly loud, whatever it is. They're not succeeding particularly.
So, okay, they woke up while I was gone, I guess noticed the door was open more than a crack, knew that was wrong, and are... panicking now, I guess?
Ugh. I wish I was
sure this was Skidmark. Then I could just try to stab them through the wall and be done with it. If this is an innocent hobo, I don't want to ruin their makeshift home, awful as it is, disgusting as they are.
So I turn to becoming a horror movie monster.
Yes, seriously.
----------------------------------------
It starts with me grabbing a piece of debris -a good-sized chunk of particle board that apparently broke off from one of the boards covering the doors, big enough and, I
think, heavy enough that it will make a good clatter when dropped from...
... the highest part of the stairwell. Which is where I drop it from, aiming for the very bottom.
It hits the ground less noisily than I would've preferred, but it works. A few seconds of tense silence later, the man, whoever they are, has opened their door (Quietly, so quietly I almost missed it), closed it again (Still quietly), and walked out toward the railing where I can just barely see them, edging along it. I wouldn't be able to see them at all if I weren't the monster, I don't think, with all the windows boarded up and being inside a stairwell not much light is getting in here. I notice a strange
sucking sound. Not sure what it is. Gross shoes?
squish
...
really gross shoes?
From there I maneuver to directly above them -carefully, quickly, adjusting my course based on the bizarre, gross sounds I'm hearing- and then
thump the floor with a limb. They audibly startle, biting back a curse by the sound of it. Then there's more
squishing and sucking noises and other weirdness I can't even begin to describe, seeming to make their way back to their room. I wait, following along the staircase above them, trying to keep out of sight. There's a long pause when they're in front of their door, and I start getting impatient, wondering how long they're going to take to make a decision, before I hear the door
creak. Then it creaks again, I'm guessing it's being closed. I'm tempted to swing down from my current position, but it crosses my mind this could be a trick -or they could simply have changed their mind. Either way, I don't want to go falling down the stairwell. So instead I circle around the stairs until I can see the door -it's closed, there's nobody there.
The ground in front of it is clean.
As in, it looks like someone came along and thoroughly wiped the area down within a few feet of the door. I notice it primarily because there's a sharp demarcation of dust -eight feet or so in every direction from the door is clean, and then there's abruptly a layer of grey dust over most everything. I notice there's the occasional droplet of my fluid, beaded atop the dust around me, and I find myself wondering what
exactly this stuff is, what I can do with it. With my attention called to the dust, I also notice that chips of wood, bits of gravel, and pretty much every other form of loose griminess is
gone in that area around the door.
Okay. I've found a parahuman. Definitely. I... don't
think this fits Skidmark? I wish I'd done research on him at some point. I've been researching with more of an eye toward the big threats, and Skidmark is... not one of those.
Dammit. Skidmark I'm pretty sure deserves death, but... ugh. I don't know who I'm dealing with here. Do I-
-the door explodes open -as in literally shatters into splinters flying at me- and I'm suddenly
Taylor, not the girl,
Taylor, no costume,
no protection, and there's splinters slamming into my skin and oh god my glasses where did they go
I can't see it's too dark where is the enemy and I hurt and I'm bleeding but I ignore it and ignore the, "
Got you," rumbling from somewhere just behind where the door used to be and I throw myself over the banister and ignore the sound of vague confusion that prompts and then
I'm the monster again.
I hit the ground floor and hurl myself to the side, need to avoid line of sight,
why did he attack through the door? Some kind of perceptual ability? Heard me, or something? Blind chance? There's schlucking and a dim
stomping sound repeating above and the wood creaks. I hear them calling, "
I know you're there! You fucked up when you challenged Mush!"
Mush?
... I
think that's a Merchant cape? (Male?)
Then there's no time to think because they've slammed
through the ground ie through my ceiling and are dropping down and I'm Taylor again, no, goddammit
no, I throw myself to the side but I'm still Taylor and I scrabble by feel up the stairs and I hear Mush going, "
Really? One girl. Really?" and then
something utterly disgusting is wrapping around my heel and I try to kick but it doesn't really accomplish anything, what is this, it's
disgusting, did I just feel a roach crawl up my leg oh
god, what the
fuck is going on, I scrabble and scrabble and
nothing is working and they
pull and I'm sliding down and banging my head on stairs and it hurts and everything is wrong and then I'm dangling upside-down from my heel while Mush's
godawful breath is washing over my face, how
big is he, what
is this, what is his
power?
He starts saying something, but I spit at him where I think his face is and he sounds angry but suddenly I'm the monster and I can
see him, covering his face with one hand while the other is gripping a limb -I slip out and drop to the ground and ignore his, "
Eh?"- and he's
huge and
gross and made of trash or something what is this I start
stabbing and stabbing and
I'm Taylor again. Fuck.
I barely see a dim shape just before I'm hit and sent flying, in tremendous pain. Before I impact anything, I'm the monster again, and I catch myself on the second floor banister and pull myself up and then I'm Taylor for a second, just a second, before momentum pulls me back out of Mush's sight and I'm the monster again and I cut through a door conveniently right in front of me and duck off to the side and look around to see if I can find anything to throw at him, but there's nothing. Nothing. I can hear him making his way up the stairs, it's
loud, he's audibly angry, cursing me out, I think he's complaining about how he'll have to change locations but it's honestly hard to make out what he's saying, particularly when it's anything more than one syllable at a time.
Contrary to my expectation, he doesn't come in through the door, instead crashing through the wall
next to the door. Other side from me, at least, and I stay the monster the whole time, get behind him, climb on, and start cutting. I notice that the splinters of wood and the dust flying everywhere and all the other relatively small objects are actually adhering to him and shifting to build up his form.
... he builds a body out of
trash?
I file that thought away for later and keep cutting while he roars angrily, flails, and awkwardly tries to reach behind him and grab at me. His arms twist in ways no human arm actually could, but now I can see how the trash it's made of shifts, stretches, or otherwise alters its formation to produce the result he wants. I back away down his back, still cutting, wondering why a body made of trash is so
tough, and then I realize the 'wounds' are sealing shut behind my slices. So I stop playing nice, and jam a limb right through his body.
He startles, but he doesn't sound
hurt. I'm not sure whether I missed his real body or if there's just no
distinction between his human flesh and the trash 'flesh'. The latter is a pretty horrifying possibility, both on a pure disgust level and on a more pragmatic level -I'm not sure I can beat him if there's no such distinction.
So I stab again several times, and
this time I see him cough up blood in reaction, in addition to feeling
something different with some limb stabs than others. It occurs to me abruptly that I haven't really made an actual decision about whether I
want to kill Mush or not. I don't really know enough about him to make a good guess on whether he deserves it or not.
...
Fuck. I got caught up in the moment.
Again. Just like with Leet.
I jump over Mush, landing in front of him as Taylor, stumbling for a moment, and turn and ask in a conversational tone, "I don't suppose you'd care to tell me what you do as part of the Merchants." There's just enough light coming in from the window that I'm
pretty sure I'm looking at him.
I hear a,
"Whuh-" before he rears up to his full (Well, no, not
full, because he's too tall for the ceiling here, but he's only a little hunched over) height, turns to cough blood into one hand (I'm the monster again, watching holes still closing where I stabbed through him) and then in the most sneering tone I've heard outside of Emma and Sophia says, "
What's it to you, little bitch?" Rude.
I waggle one finger at him and say, "No call for rudeness," bluffing a little.
He doesn't know I turn into an inhuman monster able to meaningfully fight him only when he can't see me. Probably. I try to sound flippant, maybe channeling a little bit of Cherie, and say, "Call it professional curiosity."
"Oh, yer looking to horn in on my business are you? Well fuck you, the whores and dealers are mine!"
... okay, I was kind of hoping for something a bit more damning, but I think I can accept this as-
ow
I'm the monster again, off to one side, and then I'm Taylor again, scrambling to get up and then Mush starts coughing heavily again and I'm the monster again, watching him leaning down, clutching at his chest and I maneuver as fast as I reasonably can around to his back and go straight to striking at his head.
To my consternation it doesn't seem to hurt him, and he starts laughing, then breaks into a coughing fit, and then I go stabbing him in the main of his body again, and
this time I feel and hear flesh tearing instead of this weird trash-flesh and I strike and strike and strike until he... stops moving, stops screaming.
I wait a moment. He slumps heavily against the ground. After a few seconds where I'm trying to decide whether I should roll him over and check his pulse, the trash-flesh abruptly... loses its cohesion. It
oozes out in every direction. If I had a nose, I'd wrinkle it. As-is I reflexively back away. I notice roaches and flies wriggling out of the pile. Somewhat cautiously, I approach what
appears to be his real body -a squat man who leaves me thinking very much of some kind of goblin. A goblin that's been perforated.
Hesitantly, I roll him over and move to directly into his vision.
I remain the monster.
His eyes are glassy, and he's not breathing. Also, his gut is full of holes that would be bleeding more if they weren't packed with trash. The thought is repulsive, but I find myself wondering if he was deliberately stemming the bleeding with trash.
... in any event, he's dead.
I feel... vaguely accomplished? A little? Not a lot. He wasn't who I wanted dead, and I'm not entirely sure he actually deserved death.
That thought bothers me. If I were Ta-the girl, I'd frown. I feel...
no guilt at all. None. I was more bothered when I killed Nilbog thou-
Did I feel
guilty? I don't remember. Upset, definitely. I had a flash of thinking he was my dad and that messed with me and
ugh, but... was there guilt?
I'm vaguely disturbed.
The sound of PRT sirens pulls me out of my introspection. For a moment I'm assuming it's unrelated, but then I remember that Mush was causing some fairly significant damage -
loud damage.
It crosses my mind that maybe I don't want the PRT to find me at the site of
another death. They glossed over Leet's death, but I find myself thinking of, "Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me." They might decide it wasn't an accident at all if I'm caught having killed
another person.
I leave for the park Cher- Carlia is waiting at.
--------------------------
Once I'm out in the wider world as Taylor again, I remember that I lost my glasses. My only pair, since I broke the first pair in my idiotic attempt to dissuade Dad from asking questions. Shit. They probably got broken in the fighting, even if I were to go back for them anyway. Ugh. I'm... ugh. Fantastic. I'd hoped to put off getting Dad to replace my glasses for a month, and now I'll have to explain how
these ones got destroyed, too. Which means more lying. Why didn't I give Carlia my glasses? Why didn't I
think?
When I get to the park, it's busier than it was earlier, which admittedly isn't hard. Frustrating.
Carlia picks up on my frustration, because of course she does, and comments that she, "Knows a place," with some privacy. Which seems... odd, given how she hasn't-
-she gives me a funny look as she takes me by the hand (I flinch, she pauses, then we continue) and leads me on-
-oh. Right. Her emotion sensing. She'd know where people
aren't.
We walk for a bit before she pulls me aside into a warehouse. My initial impulse is to think it's abandoned, but then I'm hearing... dogs? I give Carlia a weird look, and she explains with a shrug, "Someone's keeping the dogs here. They're way on the other side of the city right now, feels like they're in a scrap actually, but the point is I know it's
possible to get in here but also there's no one here right now."
Oh. Okay.
I take a deep breath, and then turn to look at Cherie and demand, "Hit me with guilt." After a second I add, "As hard as you can."
Cherie gives me a dubious look. Which, yeah, I'm being weird. I don't care. After a second, I impatiently say, "I know I'm be-"
"I just did it," she says.
...
"I don't believe you."
Cherie makes a noise of frustration and says, "Seriously, I did. I don't know why it didn't work, but I pushed it and it didn't work."
...
I grit my teeth and demand, "Hit me with sadness," and she throws her hands up in the air and then
I feel
something
...
... but not much. I'm having weird half-thoughts like, "
I feel kind of bad for Mush," or, "
I miss Mom," or, "
I miss Emma," but it's all distant, more like what I can
remember feeling when I got a bowl of cereal and it wasn't what I'd wanted and I knew Mom wasn't going to give me what I wanted because this was 'healthy' and what I wanted wasn't. It's far,
far less than what I felt when she died, or what I felt when I lost Emma.
After a bit the moroseness lifts. I shake my head a little and ask, "Did you do anything else?" and Cherie shakes her head, still giving me a funny look.
"Happiness. Now."
And I barely have time to read her expression before I'm
SO
FUCKING
HAPPY
that I throw myself around Cherie in a hug and say, "You're my best friend, Cherie," and
squeeze because, really, she
is a good friend, likable and cool and I hope to one day have her self-confidence and she's trying so hard it's so sweet of her and it's nice to not be
alone anymore and maybe she'll tutor me on how she manages to dress so nice and
then
it stops.
I realize Cherie is doing her best to lean away from me and is staring at me like I'm a crazy person.
I let go of her, blinking in surprise.
So.
I
can be happy.
I'm just
not happy.
I file that away for later, open my mouth to demand she hit me with anger, then decide that I
proooobably don't need to test that. I've been mad before. Definitely been mad before. So I switch tracks and say, "Fear," and now she's looking at me like I'm a
really crazy person but
ohshitsomeoneisheresomeonewantstokillmeveryonewantstokillmeit'sDragonofcourseit'sDragonIkilledherboyfriend
stops. I realize after a moment that I'm in a corner, hugging myself.
I pull myself up, pat down my pants to get some of the dust off of them, and turn around and walk back up to Cherie and nod in acknowledgment. Last test. "Jealousy."
And suddenly I'm hugging Cherie
again, she's
mine, Emma can't have her, the Protectorate can't have her, mine minemineminemine-
-and then I find myself faintly embarrassed and back away. Oh yeah. Embarrassment is an emotion too. Though... clearly not one that requires a test.
I nod to myself and go, "Okay. Okay."
Cherie is looking at me and for the first time I can remember she looks
concerned. "Bo- Taylor. Um. You- well, this is where other people would ask if you're alright, but uh, no, you aren't."
... I'm not? I feel fine.
"You're kind of.. having a big breakdown. Um. Do, uh, should I just hit you with happiness again? I mean-"
Oh. I
am crying. I don't think I was crying earlier.
I turn away and rub at my face with my disgusting horrible sleeves, I hate the bullies, I hate crying, I
hatehatehate-
-this is actually a nice hoodie, I really liked it when I picked it out, it's served me so well for so long-
-no. "Stop that."
And then the world is a terrible horrible awful place wherein I'm not even
allowed to feel guilt and can
barely feel real sadness I'm not a real person I'm just a monster I don't deserve better and-
-Cherie is hugging me
why is she hugging me why does she smell nice.
I feel better. It makes me mad. "Stop using your power it's wrong
that's wrong-"
and then I'm the monster and Cherie says, "Not using my power."
and I realize it still feels nice to be hugged as the monster.
I feel weird. I'm... still not happy to have learned that I'm apparently
incapable of feeling guilt, that's, that's
wrong, that's
horrible, but it's more intellectual. Less existential horror, more, "What can I do to fix this?"
I realize I
can fix it. I don't need a conscience to have a conscience -I don't need
emotions to tell me something is wrong and I shouldn't do it. I'd rather have the emotions, but I can work around it. I just need to stop assuming my emotions will prevent me from doing wrong, or... reframe it? I haven't tried to kill the bullies, I sort of assumed it was because I'm a moral person who would never kill people who don't
really deserve it but in retrospect I wonder how much of it was the fear that it would be connected back to me -if Sophia Hess and Emma Barnes were to die, and
only them die, that'd be pretty conspicuous, who else would have motive but one Taylor Hebert? Hell, even if I was
willing to just kill everyone who's ever tormented me at the school -which would be a
lot of people- it wouldn't change the point. Who else has motive? And in a world of parahumans, it's just...
easy to guess I'm a parahuman and then move to prove it. So maybe my historical reason was that I'd rather put up with their bullshit until high school is done than kill them and end up Birdcaged. (... okay, not Birdcaged, you have to be a
lot worse than a parahuman-who-commits-murder to go there, but a lesser jail is still jail)
That makes me feel better.
... in addition to the hug.
I pull away, vaguely embarrassed again, and then cease to be the monster as Cherie opens her eyes. She starts to say something but I cut her off. "I want to stay at your place tonight." She startles, and I add, "Can- can you call my dad and, um, tell him we're... having a slumber party or something? I- I just can't face him tonight. Tomorrow. Just... not tonight."
Cherie's jaw works up and down for a few seconds before she manages to put a smile on her face and say, "Sure, I can totally do that, but we might want to get moving first. Whoever has been taking care of the dogs here is heading this way, and they're mad."
I nod, and we're off.