No good deed... (Worm AU)
- Thread starter LD1449
- Start date
- Created
- Status
- Ongoing
- Watchers
- 1,467
- Recent readers
- 0
- Threadmarks
- 47
-
Statistics (47 threadmarks, 100k words)Threadmarks Reader mode
Prologue arc - 0.1
LD1449
To the last; Kill them all
- Location
- The other side of the labyrinth.
Because of the advice of @JamesBCrazy this fic has its own thread now 
Word of warning, tone of this fic is gonna be dark, at the start, its probably gonna be darker than canon Worm before I let things start to get better. There will be butterflies and a rather swift canon divergence, so if you're looking for the stages of canon (Lung, Bank, Coil) etc. It's probably not gonna happen. This will go off the rails right quick.
Also, SV and SB tend to eat my formatting, if anyone has any tips to get around this, it would be much appreciated.
So, that having been said...
Enjoy
(X)(X)(X)
December 23 2010,
11:37 PM:
Director Emily Piggot rarely liked her job.
It was harsh, every day was a struggle, a crisis that had to be avoided, a problem that had to be solved.
And it was a fight she was losing day by day by day. By inches really.
They couldn't turn back the gangs, couldn't move out in force for big, huge arrests, couldn't break up the drug smuggling rings, couldn't patrol regularly throughout the city. They couldn't even break up a goddamn dog-fighting business because it was being run and monitored by thrice damned Hookwolf!
All they could do, was what little they could.
And what little they could was never enough.
Right here, in her office, was the source of her current headache...or at least...partially. The root cause of a problem that had blown up entirely out of goddamn proportion.
Sophia fidgeted in her place. "You gonna say anything?"
Piggot offered a thousand yard stare in response, all but glaring at the girl clear across the table.
She wasn't irritated. She was pissed. So pissed she'd gone clear past anger and blind rage to go full circle into something resembling coherent, clear thought.
She was honestly one wrong word away from sending the girl to juvenile and probably looking to charge her with any and all crimes she could successfully throw the book at her with.
The only thing – the ONLY thing – that was stopping her was that Sophia actually looked... more than contrite... she looked... like she was feeling genuine regret.
That, more than anything, more than the fact that this wasn't even a result or an event, at all within her control, is what stayed her hand.
"Get the hell out of my sight." She bit out. Forcing the words past her tightly locked jaw.
Sophia didn't sneer, didn't protest, or roll her eyes. Didn't even offer a sigh. She just stood up and walked out the door.
Piggot turned her eyes back onto the screen, the live broadcast had long since been ended, leaving her with the various cameras of PRT agents to cycle through as they looked over the crime scene.
She flipped through the available feeds, finding the pale corpse of Brandon Meadows, AKA. Hookwolf shortly before it was zipped up into a body bag for transport.
She sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose.
…
She looked to her watch.
Twenty minutes and it'd be Christmas eve.
…
It was rare to say that she liked this job.
Today, she downright hated it.
(X)(X)(X)
Sophia stalked through the halls of the Protectorate headquarter's like a wraith, quiet and quick. She was hardly seen. She didn't want to be seen. Not by the agents, the help, especially not by her thrice damned fucking teammates!
She needed to be alone. She needed time to fucking think. To... to process this.
Guilt was an emotion she rarely felt in her life anymore. A predator didn't feel guilty. Didn't think about what happened to the sheep around them. Frankly, they were beneath her notice and unworthy of her guilt.
…
…
But here it was. In all its fucking glory.
Who the hell ever would have guessed it'd be happening because of fucking Hebert?
"Sophia?"
She tensed.
When she brought her eyes up it was to find Dean, helmet off, even with his costume on.
What she saw in his eyes...it was enough to make her rage boil over, consuming her every, morose thought.
"You oka-"
"I don't need your fucking pity asshole!" She snarled, nearly shoving him with her shoulder as she brushed past him. "It pissed me off a week ago and its pissing me off now!"
"Its not-" Gallant sighed, calling after her. "We're teammates Sophia. Believe it or not, looking out for eachother is part of the job!"
"Fuck off!"
She rounded the corner, not even bothering to listen to his call of her name before she made her way to the elevator.
…
Fuck.
Fuck!
She'd screwed up before but...
Damnit...
Goddamnit!
(X)(X)(X)
Armsmaster's lips were thin as he perused the crime scene. The scene was gruesome, covered with blood from Hookwolf's single victim.
Hookwolf himself, Brandon Meadows, lay dead along with a half dozen E-88 non-powered members. No wounds on their bodies, no signs that they'd even been attacked they were just...dead. Puppets with their strings cut.
He watched as the camera, the thrice damned camera was finally bagged and tagged. All the wires pulled free were similarly bagged.
Unsanctioned or not, the E-88 had gone too goddamn far tonight. He would push for a full response from the protectorate. Given the public outrage that would be hitting the streets when people started waking up in a few hours, he had little doubt Piggot would be forced to say yes, like it or not.
Too late for the victim though.
Armsmaster looked at the blood drenched opposite wall of the room, where a figure sat slumped on a chair. Hands tied, skin a litany of small cuts and deep gouges, dark hair matted with red, glasses broken, the fingers of the right hand had been crushed...
Armsmaster took a breath.
Ultimately, the fact was that this could all be rightfully laid at his feet.
He should have done more. Paid more attention.
Maybe then all this could have been avoided. Maybe then seven people wouldn't be dead.
Maybe then, a fifteen year old girl wouldn't have a body count...justified or otherwise.
His communicator flared to life. With a blink-click of his helmet's interface he answered. "Armsmaster"
"This is Militia. We're at the Hebert household."
"Any sign of her."
"None" He heard her sigh.
"Keep looking." He ordered. "You leave agents there if you have to but you keep looking. I'll join the search as soon as we're done here."
"Understood."
Armsmaster paused, considering before he spoke again. "Militia. You might, justifiably, feel empathy for Miss Hebert. But she may also not be in full control of her powers. If you don't feel secure in apprehending her, use containment foam. This night will be made unbelievably worse if she were to unwittingly kill you as well."
For a time, Militia didn't respond and Armsmaster was about to speak up when the woman finally chose to answer. "Yeah. Yeah I hear ya. I'll try to bring her in a little gentler but if it doesn't work...then yeah."
He nodded, just about ready to reply when a high priority alert came in through another line.
Assault.
He blink clicked and accepted the call. "Armsmaster here"
"I got her! I found Hebert!"
Without another moment's hesitation he turned and marched out of the room, climbing the stairs to reach the street.
"I'm on my way! Approach with caution if you feel you shouldn't wait."
"I'm going in."
He looked to the bracer, changing through the map display. "I'm three minutes away."
"She's standing at the ledge of a ten story building..."
He froze.
"Yeah." Assault drawled. "I ain't waiting."
…
…
"Do whatever you have to." He ordered mounting his bike and dumping the rear utility compartments with a bang of steel hitting concrete. He wanted the extra acceleration and speed. According to his calculations it would cut his time down by twenty-seven seconds.
Everything this night could be laid at his feet.
He wasn't going to let it get worse.
Word of warning, tone of this fic is gonna be dark, at the start, its probably gonna be darker than canon Worm before I let things start to get better. There will be butterflies and a rather swift canon divergence, so if you're looking for the stages of canon (Lung, Bank, Coil) etc. It's probably not gonna happen. This will go off the rails right quick.
Also, SV and SB tend to eat my formatting, if anyone has any tips to get around this, it would be much appreciated.
So, that having been said...
Enjoy
(X)(X)(X)
December 23 2010,
11:37 PM:
Director Emily Piggot rarely liked her job.
It was harsh, every day was a struggle, a crisis that had to be avoided, a problem that had to be solved.
And it was a fight she was losing day by day by day. By inches really.
They couldn't turn back the gangs, couldn't move out in force for big, huge arrests, couldn't break up the drug smuggling rings, couldn't patrol regularly throughout the city. They couldn't even break up a goddamn dog-fighting business because it was being run and monitored by thrice damned Hookwolf!
All they could do, was what little they could.
And what little they could was never enough.
Right here, in her office, was the source of her current headache...or at least...partially. The root cause of a problem that had blown up entirely out of goddamn proportion.
Sophia fidgeted in her place. "You gonna say anything?"
Piggot offered a thousand yard stare in response, all but glaring at the girl clear across the table.
She wasn't irritated. She was pissed. So pissed she'd gone clear past anger and blind rage to go full circle into something resembling coherent, clear thought.
She was honestly one wrong word away from sending the girl to juvenile and probably looking to charge her with any and all crimes she could successfully throw the book at her with.
The only thing – the ONLY thing – that was stopping her was that Sophia actually looked... more than contrite... she looked... like she was feeling genuine regret.
That, more than anything, more than the fact that this wasn't even a result or an event, at all within her control, is what stayed her hand.
"Get the hell out of my sight." She bit out. Forcing the words past her tightly locked jaw.
Sophia didn't sneer, didn't protest, or roll her eyes. Didn't even offer a sigh. She just stood up and walked out the door.
Piggot turned her eyes back onto the screen, the live broadcast had long since been ended, leaving her with the various cameras of PRT agents to cycle through as they looked over the crime scene.
She flipped through the available feeds, finding the pale corpse of Brandon Meadows, AKA. Hookwolf shortly before it was zipped up into a body bag for transport.
She sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose.
…
She looked to her watch.
Twenty minutes and it'd be Christmas eve.
…
It was rare to say that she liked this job.
Today, she downright hated it.
(X)(X)(X)
Sophia stalked through the halls of the Protectorate headquarter's like a wraith, quiet and quick. She was hardly seen. She didn't want to be seen. Not by the agents, the help, especially not by her thrice damned fucking teammates!
She needed to be alone. She needed time to fucking think. To... to process this.
Guilt was an emotion she rarely felt in her life anymore. A predator didn't feel guilty. Didn't think about what happened to the sheep around them. Frankly, they were beneath her notice and unworthy of her guilt.
…
…
But here it was. In all its fucking glory.
Who the hell ever would have guessed it'd be happening because of fucking Hebert?
"Sophia?"
She tensed.
When she brought her eyes up it was to find Dean, helmet off, even with his costume on.
What she saw in his eyes...it was enough to make her rage boil over, consuming her every, morose thought.
"You oka-"
"I don't need your fucking pity asshole!" She snarled, nearly shoving him with her shoulder as she brushed past him. "It pissed me off a week ago and its pissing me off now!"
"Its not-" Gallant sighed, calling after her. "We're teammates Sophia. Believe it or not, looking out for eachother is part of the job!"
"Fuck off!"
She rounded the corner, not even bothering to listen to his call of her name before she made her way to the elevator.
…
Fuck.
Fuck!
She'd screwed up before but...
Damnit...
Goddamnit!
(X)(X)(X)
Armsmaster's lips were thin as he perused the crime scene. The scene was gruesome, covered with blood from Hookwolf's single victim.
Hookwolf himself, Brandon Meadows, lay dead along with a half dozen E-88 non-powered members. No wounds on their bodies, no signs that they'd even been attacked they were just...dead. Puppets with their strings cut.
He watched as the camera, the thrice damned camera was finally bagged and tagged. All the wires pulled free were similarly bagged.
Unsanctioned or not, the E-88 had gone too goddamn far tonight. He would push for a full response from the protectorate. Given the public outrage that would be hitting the streets when people started waking up in a few hours, he had little doubt Piggot would be forced to say yes, like it or not.
Too late for the victim though.
Armsmaster looked at the blood drenched opposite wall of the room, where a figure sat slumped on a chair. Hands tied, skin a litany of small cuts and deep gouges, dark hair matted with red, glasses broken, the fingers of the right hand had been crushed...
Armsmaster took a breath.
Ultimately, the fact was that this could all be rightfully laid at his feet.
He should have done more. Paid more attention.
Maybe then all this could have been avoided. Maybe then seven people wouldn't be dead.
Maybe then, a fifteen year old girl wouldn't have a body count...justified or otherwise.
His communicator flared to life. With a blink-click of his helmet's interface he answered. "Armsmaster"
"This is Militia. We're at the Hebert household."
"Any sign of her."
"None" He heard her sigh.
"Keep looking." He ordered. "You leave agents there if you have to but you keep looking. I'll join the search as soon as we're done here."
"Understood."
Armsmaster paused, considering before he spoke again. "Militia. You might, justifiably, feel empathy for Miss Hebert. But she may also not be in full control of her powers. If you don't feel secure in apprehending her, use containment foam. This night will be made unbelievably worse if she were to unwittingly kill you as well."
For a time, Militia didn't respond and Armsmaster was about to speak up when the woman finally chose to answer. "Yeah. Yeah I hear ya. I'll try to bring her in a little gentler but if it doesn't work...then yeah."
He nodded, just about ready to reply when a high priority alert came in through another line.
Assault.
He blink clicked and accepted the call. "Armsmaster here"
"I got her! I found Hebert!"
Without another moment's hesitation he turned and marched out of the room, climbing the stairs to reach the street.
"I'm on my way! Approach with caution if you feel you shouldn't wait."
"I'm going in."
He looked to the bracer, changing through the map display. "I'm three minutes away."
"She's standing at the ledge of a ten story building..."
He froze.
"Yeah." Assault drawled. "I ain't waiting."
…
…
"Do whatever you have to." He ordered mounting his bike and dumping the rear utility compartments with a bang of steel hitting concrete. He wanted the extra acceleration and speed. According to his calculations it would cut his time down by twenty-seven seconds.
Everything this night could be laid at his feet.
He wasn't going to let it get worse.
0.2
LD1449
To the last; Kill them all
- Location
- The other side of the labyrinth.
December 24th, 2010,
12:02 AM:
Ethan Meyer's, also known as Assault, swallowed the stairs three at a time, all but jumping to try and climb them as fast as possible and get to the roof, praying to god that he wouldn't be too late, that he wouldn't hear the thud of a body hitting the ground outside.
God... that would be about the only thing that could possibly make this night at all worse.
When he reached the roof, it took a supreme force of will to not immediately bust down the door with his shoulder in his rush, but actually stop take a breath and open it as gently as possible so as not to startle her.
It opened with a squeal of rusted hinges, the cold December air hitting him in the face. Ethan looked around, getting his bearings before he finally turned where he'd seen Miss Hebert from the street.
He half ran, half jogged forward.
He took a breath...and froze.
He wasn't a negotiator, he didn't have any experience in this.
Does he yell for her from over here, to not startle her? Go in close before announcing himself so he could potentially grab her should she try to jump? Does he speak at all? Just try to grab her?
…
He doesn't know what to do...
He swallows trying to moisten a suddenly all too dry throat.
Close... get in close. That way if he screws up he can at least grab her. Jump with her even. His power will protect him from the fall.
He walks forward, feeling the gravel of the roofing crunching under his boots, trying to be as quiet as possible.
What little sound he makes...he's certain is obscured.
She's crying too loudly to hear him.
He gets himself onto the raised ledge, peering over it to find her.
She's there...
Just out of arms reach, sitting with her knees to her chest, her heaving sobs shaking her whole body.
Her hair was matted to her scalp with blood; the clothes she was wearing were nearly in tatters, leaving her shivering in the near freezing cold.
He swallowed, kneeling at the edge of the roof.
"Taylor?"
She jumped, actually jumped on the ledge of a roof, and began to crawl away from him, heels and palms scraping on the concrete of the ledge.
His heart leapt into his throat, too far away for him to catch if she fell from her precarious perch.
"Woah woah woah." He called. "Hey..Hey...Its ok. Its ok. Its just me. You recognize me yeah? Assault. Protectorate. I'm not here to hurt you. Its all ok kiddo."
"Get away...get away." She sobbed, shaking her head as the balls of her palms pressed against her eyes.
"Okay! Okay." He assured, shuffling back. "Look. See? Nothing to worry about"
She folded in on herself, a pitiful whine escaping her throat as her cries renewed.
"Taylor- hun come on off the roof. We know what happened. And I can guarantee you that you're not in any trouble at all. Just...come off the edge and we can talk ok?"
"Its all my fault..." She cried. "Its all my fault"
"There are a lot of people that can be blamed for what happened tonight." He assured, hearing the sound of Armsmaster's bike approaching, equal parts relieved and aprehensive at the thought of his socially innept, but very well prepared and experienced boss getting here to try and help. "But you're not one of them Taylor."
He looked around, finally bringing his eyes back to her. "Taylor, I'm gonna move to sit down okay? Its a little uncomfortable laying here like this." He tried to laugh. Needless to say it emerged rather flat, not even bringing out the mildest chuckle from the young teenager. "Is that ok sweetheart?"
It took a second, but with a jerky nod he was fairly certain she gave him permission
He shifted his place...taking a seat on the ledge, legs positioned in such a way as to push him straight off the ledge. Pulling one of the two tinker-tech kinetic grenades from his belt and thumbing the pin behind him so he could give himself that extra boost of speed if she decided to roll to the side and fall to her death.
He took a breath.
Now what?
The hell should he say?
All the movies always had hostage negotiators, never people trying to talk people down from the ledges of buildings and if they did it always ended in some dramatic fashion where they jumped onto a trampoline or tackled the suicide guy back into the building.
…
Shit... What the hell do you say to a girl who just had her whole life shattered less than an hour ago to try and make it better?
His mouth opened and closed.
Finally, he said the first thing that came to mind.
"My name's Ethan."
She stiffened.
"I figured I know your name. It'd only be fair that you know mine too huh?
She hugged herself, keeping her eyes to the ground.
Assault tilted his head down a little, trying to see her. "Can ya look at me kiddo?"
She shook her head.
"Please?" He tried again.
"I can't." She shouted and he almost jumped, wincing as he was certain he'd screwed up by pushing her!
"I was able to kill them when I looked at them. I'm not sure if I could stop it from killing you."
"Oh." He said lamely. "I-...Thanks for that then."
He looked at her, and, realizing then that all the blood on her clothes might not just be other peoples, he decided to ask the question he should have started with from the word go.
"Do you have any injuries."
"No."
He heard the screech of tires, looking down the road towards Armsmaster's bike. Any faster and the man would start gaining altitude.
"Taylor." He said, looking at the girl. "Armsmasters here. He might come up. Is it ok if I open the comms to tell him not to look into your eyes sweetie?"
She nodded. "Okay."
Good. This might make things easier.
He pressed a finger to his ear. "Armsmaster"
"Assault, what is the status of Ms. Hebert?"
"She's here with me. She's..." He paused, looking to the girl. "Calm. Be advised, Ms. Hebert has confessed that she might not be in full control of her powers at this moment. High lethality potential. Medium is, believed to be, eye contact."
There was silence on the line. "Understood. Assault what experience do you have with suicide situations?"
"Fu-" He stopped himself from barking out the harsh answer of 'Fucking none you stupid son of a bitch!' his nerves almost getting the better of him before he reigned himself in. "Little to none sir."
"Alright, just answer yes or no. Does she seem erratic?"
"No." He said.
"Is she injured?"
"Just asked her." He said, trying to assure her that they weren't saying anything bad behind her back. "She says she's not injured."
"Yes or no Assault. Has she shown any overt signs of hostility?"
"No."
"Alright, I will remain here on ground level in case she jumps I might be able to at least mittigate the damage if you fail. In the meantime, keep your comm open to allow me to listen in. I will try to advise as I am able, I am calling in the PRT and police experts on the subject. I... I'm not sure what you should do in the meanwhile."
"Understood sir..." Assault wanted to try and communicate that he should get Militia on the line, her trigger event had been similarly gruesome, but he didn't want to do anything that would upset Taylor. Too many capes and she might think he was just stalling for backup or something.
He looked to the girl and once more found himself fishing for words.
"Taylor..." He paused.
"Do you...wanna talk about what happened?"
He winced as soon as the words left his mouth watching as the girl curled into a fetal position, whimpering in the freezing cold.
"Its all my fault..." She sobbed. "Its all my fault."
"Its not your fault Tay-"
"It is!" She screamed. "I was the one that got involved! I was the one that saved Shadow Stalker!"
12:02 AM:
Ethan Meyer's, also known as Assault, swallowed the stairs three at a time, all but jumping to try and climb them as fast as possible and get to the roof, praying to god that he wouldn't be too late, that he wouldn't hear the thud of a body hitting the ground outside.
God... that would be about the only thing that could possibly make this night at all worse.
When he reached the roof, it took a supreme force of will to not immediately bust down the door with his shoulder in his rush, but actually stop take a breath and open it as gently as possible so as not to startle her.
It opened with a squeal of rusted hinges, the cold December air hitting him in the face. Ethan looked around, getting his bearings before he finally turned where he'd seen Miss Hebert from the street.
He half ran, half jogged forward.
He took a breath...and froze.
He wasn't a negotiator, he didn't have any experience in this.
Does he yell for her from over here, to not startle her? Go in close before announcing himself so he could potentially grab her should she try to jump? Does he speak at all? Just try to grab her?
…
He doesn't know what to do...
He swallows trying to moisten a suddenly all too dry throat.
Close... get in close. That way if he screws up he can at least grab her. Jump with her even. His power will protect him from the fall.
He walks forward, feeling the gravel of the roofing crunching under his boots, trying to be as quiet as possible.
What little sound he makes...he's certain is obscured.
She's crying too loudly to hear him.
He gets himself onto the raised ledge, peering over it to find her.
She's there...
Just out of arms reach, sitting with her knees to her chest, her heaving sobs shaking her whole body.
Her hair was matted to her scalp with blood; the clothes she was wearing were nearly in tatters, leaving her shivering in the near freezing cold.
He swallowed, kneeling at the edge of the roof.
"Taylor?"
She jumped, actually jumped on the ledge of a roof, and began to crawl away from him, heels and palms scraping on the concrete of the ledge.
His heart leapt into his throat, too far away for him to catch if she fell from her precarious perch.
"Woah woah woah." He called. "Hey..Hey...Its ok. Its ok. Its just me. You recognize me yeah? Assault. Protectorate. I'm not here to hurt you. Its all ok kiddo."
"Get away...get away." She sobbed, shaking her head as the balls of her palms pressed against her eyes.
"Okay! Okay." He assured, shuffling back. "Look. See? Nothing to worry about"
She folded in on herself, a pitiful whine escaping her throat as her cries renewed.
"Taylor- hun come on off the roof. We know what happened. And I can guarantee you that you're not in any trouble at all. Just...come off the edge and we can talk ok?"
"Its all my fault..." She cried. "Its all my fault"
"There are a lot of people that can be blamed for what happened tonight." He assured, hearing the sound of Armsmaster's bike approaching, equal parts relieved and aprehensive at the thought of his socially innept, but very well prepared and experienced boss getting here to try and help. "But you're not one of them Taylor."
He looked around, finally bringing his eyes back to her. "Taylor, I'm gonna move to sit down okay? Its a little uncomfortable laying here like this." He tried to laugh. Needless to say it emerged rather flat, not even bringing out the mildest chuckle from the young teenager. "Is that ok sweetheart?"
It took a second, but with a jerky nod he was fairly certain she gave him permission
He shifted his place...taking a seat on the ledge, legs positioned in such a way as to push him straight off the ledge. Pulling one of the two tinker-tech kinetic grenades from his belt and thumbing the pin behind him so he could give himself that extra boost of speed if she decided to roll to the side and fall to her death.
He took a breath.
Now what?
The hell should he say?
All the movies always had hostage negotiators, never people trying to talk people down from the ledges of buildings and if they did it always ended in some dramatic fashion where they jumped onto a trampoline or tackled the suicide guy back into the building.
…
Shit... What the hell do you say to a girl who just had her whole life shattered less than an hour ago to try and make it better?
His mouth opened and closed.
Finally, he said the first thing that came to mind.
"My name's Ethan."
She stiffened.
"I figured I know your name. It'd only be fair that you know mine too huh?
She hugged herself, keeping her eyes to the ground.
Assault tilted his head down a little, trying to see her. "Can ya look at me kiddo?"
She shook her head.
"Please?" He tried again.
"I can't." She shouted and he almost jumped, wincing as he was certain he'd screwed up by pushing her!
"I was able to kill them when I looked at them. I'm not sure if I could stop it from killing you."
"Oh." He said lamely. "I-...Thanks for that then."
He looked at her, and, realizing then that all the blood on her clothes might not just be other peoples, he decided to ask the question he should have started with from the word go.
"Do you have any injuries."
"No."
He heard the screech of tires, looking down the road towards Armsmaster's bike. Any faster and the man would start gaining altitude.
"Taylor." He said, looking at the girl. "Armsmasters here. He might come up. Is it ok if I open the comms to tell him not to look into your eyes sweetie?"
She nodded. "Okay."
Good. This might make things easier.
He pressed a finger to his ear. "Armsmaster"
"Assault, what is the status of Ms. Hebert?"
"She's here with me. She's..." He paused, looking to the girl. "Calm. Be advised, Ms. Hebert has confessed that she might not be in full control of her powers at this moment. High lethality potential. Medium is, believed to be, eye contact."
There was silence on the line. "Understood. Assault what experience do you have with suicide situations?"
"Fu-" He stopped himself from barking out the harsh answer of 'Fucking none you stupid son of a bitch!' his nerves almost getting the better of him before he reigned himself in. "Little to none sir."
"Alright, just answer yes or no. Does she seem erratic?"
"No." He said.
"Is she injured?"
"Just asked her." He said, trying to assure her that they weren't saying anything bad behind her back. "She says she's not injured."
"Yes or no Assault. Has she shown any overt signs of hostility?"
"No."
"Alright, I will remain here on ground level in case she jumps I might be able to at least mittigate the damage if you fail. In the meantime, keep your comm open to allow me to listen in. I will try to advise as I am able, I am calling in the PRT and police experts on the subject. I... I'm not sure what you should do in the meanwhile."
"Understood sir..." Assault wanted to try and communicate that he should get Militia on the line, her trigger event had been similarly gruesome, but he didn't want to do anything that would upset Taylor. Too many capes and she might think he was just stalling for backup or something.
He looked to the girl and once more found himself fishing for words.
"Taylor..." He paused.
"Do you...wanna talk about what happened?"
He winced as soon as the words left his mouth watching as the girl curled into a fetal position, whimpering in the freezing cold.
"Its all my fault..." She sobbed. "Its all my fault."
"Its not your fault Tay-"
"It is!" She screamed. "I was the one that got involved! I was the one that saved Shadow Stalker!"
Last edited:
0.3
LD1449
To the last; Kill them all
- Location
- The other side of the labyrinth.
December 14th, 2010,
9:19 PM:
The lights of Downtown Brockton Bay gave a ruddy glow to the night. Like...copper. Long shadows snaking through the streets with the bright contrast.
She looked to her phone, her lip curling at the time. All she had was another forty minutes before she had to head back.
Fucking PRT. Fucking scheduling bullshit.
She remembered when she could stay out as long as she wanted and do as much as she wanted. Now she had a fucking caseworker that paid attention to her school attendance and her grades. Now she has to go to sleep so she can make nice with snot nosed kids at the mall in the morning. Fucking waste of time. No wonder this town was going to shit when all the fucking posers did was sign autographs and smile for a stupid camera.
Wasting her fucking days there rather than doing what she was best at.
At least the nights were still hers, for a few hours anyway
As she patrolled her chosen stretch of the woods tonight, it didn't take her long to find them. They always kept to their haunts, their territories and cliques. If they didn't, they thought they'd look weak by backing down from a single vigilante. A Ward now, she supposed.
She never hit the same place too often, too quickly. Often it was randomized, whatever suited her fancy so she didn't fall into a pattern. And attacking all the gangs, be they ABB, E-88 or Merchants, let her stretch out the period between her attacks quite a bit, giving her chosen targets at any given night their sense of security all over again before she hit them.
Tonight was no different.
The skinheads were in their apartment, playing cards. Only two of them had guns, both of which were stuffed into the back of their pants. The stink of weed and cheap beer made her curl her nose where she watched them from the shadow of the hallway that none of them were paying attention to.
She fingered her crossbow, trying not to think about the tranq darts she had instead of proper bolts. E-88 thugs winding up injured with bolts was gonna be too much of a red flag for anyone to miss.
Grue was the exception she was willing to risk her neck for, but these fuckers just weren't worth it, satisfying as it would have been.
She slipped into her shadow state, moving past the wall to check room by room and make sure there were no surprises.
She found a few guns scattered here and there, and used her shadow state to place them between the panels of the walls and leaving them there. She only wanted to make certain no one could go fishing for a gun in the imminent fight to come back and try to shoot her.
After that, and making sure there was no one else in the house, she drew one of the two knives she'd pilfered out of the kitchen at home.
She decided it was time to break up their card game.
When she struck, she struck fast. She was more than a match for any of these losers but there were eight of them and one of the pricks might just get a lucky shot off if they kept getting back up.
One of them barely had time to shout a warning before she materialized right beside his friend, fist already rushing down, knife in hand.
With the wet squelch of steel cutting flesh mixed with the thump of it meeting wood, his hand was suddenly impaled on the table.
He howled.
Then the room was sheer pandemonium.
Her crossbow came up, firing off a bolt that hit a thug right in the forearm. It'd take a few extra seconds to knock him out rather than in the chest, which is what she'd been aiming for, but she decided to just be grateful he hadn't dodged entirely like she would have.
Then her crossbow was battering the face of the thug to her left, cracking him across the jaw with a spurt of blood and busted teeth.
She shifted to her shadow state a second before the guns started firing.
The bullets passed right through her with harmless ease, and as she shifted through the table she transformed back into physical form mid jump, her arm snaking around a thugs neck to bring him down with her full body weight. After sending his skull crashing into the wall and burying it in the dry, cheap plaster, she pulled out her second knife and buried it right in his gut.
He wasn't getting up again any time soon.
She turned, watching as the only other thug with a gun, a piece of shit six shooter was fumbling in his attempts to reload.
She moved to step forward, translating back into her shadow state to take him down hard and then deal with the remaining four skinheads when there was movement directly below and behind her.
And then her whole world bloomed in white hot agony.
Her muscles locked, her teeth snapping shut inside her mouth as her whole body seized up. Her mask hit the corner of the table as she fell, the steel of the mask bouncing off of the wood with a dull clank that sounded loud in her ears as her body hit the floor with a thud, muscles still locked in place.
Her instinct was to shut her eyes tight, but she fought that, kept them open forced herself to keep them open. To look and find out what was happening.
She found it a second later.
The thug. The one she'd shot with the tranq bolt, the one who was getting back up...
New cape? Brute?
"Fucking bitch," he snarled, keeping his finger on the trigger of the taser. "Yeah, learned all about this shit you nigger cunt! Don't like electricity much do ya?" Showing off his arm, Sophia could now see the slightly reflective surface.
A prosthetic...
She'd shot her tranq into a fucking prosthetic!?
"How you like that bitch!?" He laughed. "Taken down by a fucking cripple!"
Around them, the other thugs were gathering themselves, finding their feet again. The five she'd yet to take down moving to help the two she'd wounded.
The one that had been fumbling with his six shooter came back, weapon in hand and pointing it right at her face.
For the first time in a very very long time... Sophia felt a very real chill crawl down her spine.
A hand came down on the weapon arm, shoving it down. "The hell are you doin?"
"Offin this bitch!?" The gunman answered. "The fuck do you think I'm doing?"
"Bein an idiot. Kaiser doesn't like it when you kill capes. Remember that shit with Fleur?"
"She fuckin killed Benny three months ago!" Another of the skin heads roared, she didn't see who.
The cripple shrugged. "I ain't getting on the boss' bad-side. And since I'm the one with the fuckin taser, I'm the one that says what happens."
"Well what are we gonna do? Give her a fuckin fruit basket send her on her way with a "Don't come by here again?"
The cripple looked at her, finger still pressed on the taser's trigger, keeping her muscles locked in an ever mounting and increasing loop of pain.
"Nah. This bitch is dead." he drawled. "We're just not gonna be stupid about it." He looked away. "Crowbars and knives boys. We're not making it quick for her. And for fuck's sake, someone get an extension cord to tie this bitch before I run out of battery!"
(X)(X)(X)
It hurt to breathe.
Everything hurt, but it hurt most to breathe.
Because she'd learned breathing techniques in order to try and alleviate pain. Deep, slow breaths that were supposed to help put it out of her immediate focus, but now only served to bring a whole new level of agony to her aching body.
The fucking cripple had kept his word...it hadn't been quick.
They took their time... fucking enjoyed it.
Took turns with the crowbar in beating her half to death, then the knife in cutting her where it would hurt. The bend of her elbow, behind her knees, the soles of her feet.
She fought.
She fought like she always fought, but with her hands and feet tied, they practically laughed at her.
Laughed...
And as her bones broke and her body began to fail her, the fight literally beaten out of her, that chill that had crawled down her spine crystallized into a very real fear. A very real desperation as she became very much aware of the danger of death for, perhaps, the first time in her life.
And as the pain mounted, as her vision swam and she tasted the copper, metal and bile at the back of a throat that made her whole chest burn with liquid fire with every attempt to swallow; that piece of her, the one that furiously roared at the impossibility of this, of her being captured, threatened, killed by prey became quieter, and quieter.
When the car came to a stop, she was barely coherent. The blood that poured down from her mouth was nearly drowning her in and of itself as it struggled to escape the tight confines of her sealed mask; only allowed to escape when she violently heaved and thrashed with reflexive movements as the blood flooded her airway.
The trunk of the car opened up and the familiar stink of Brockton Bay's docks assaulted her nose.
Sea salt, grime, exhaust fumes and fish.
Asians.
They were gonna kill her and fucking pin it on the Asians.
"Come on. Let's get this shit over with"
She heard the voice, and felt a hand grab onto her hair, hard enough to pull some out from the root. She winced, grimacing. She tried to lift her legs to deliver some kind of kick but a single shift sent jagged spears tearing through her stomach and chest and sapped all the strength from her body in an instant.
The bastard dropped her.
She landed right on her side, the broken ribs shifting in her chest.
The scream she gargled on blood and the pain all but knocked her out completely, leaving her with only the barest vestige of awareness.
When she came to again, her chest was on fire, every muscle felt like a wet noodle. She barely even had the strength to raise her head.
Then the smell of gasoline hit her…
Her eyes snapped open, her heart beginning to go a mile a minute in her chest.
No!
She managed - forced herself - to look up, finding the two skin-heads that had driven her out here not three feet away, an empty, bright red gasoline tank on the ground as they both smoked some cigarettes.
The cripple, because of course it would be him, laughed. "Well nigger bitch, you had a good ride, but the ride's over now." He took a drag of his cigarette and he made a show of preparing to flick it towards, her, her heart dropping into a pit as her throat clogged up with the pain in her chest as she tried to scream.
Then he flicked it to the side, away from her.
"Ya know, I don't like this, this burning people alive crap. We're civilized people unlike these chinks and you monkeys. But ya know-" He shrugged. "This is the way the chinks do it, so we need that authenticity. So I'm afraid we won't get to shoot ya before it starts. Don't worry though, I hear you pass out long before ya die, so there is that."
The other one beside him took another drag of his cigarette; and this one chuckled. "Betcha she'll scream, busted ribs or no busted ribs. I hear they all manage to scream." He laughed again.
And Sophia, tied to a chair, an extension cord around her wrists, the stink of gas clogging up her nose and the agony of multiple broken bones in her body, had to face a very real and simple truth...
They didn't care about the 'proper' order of the world.
She was no predator to them.
They were not her prey.
And she was indeed going to die.
The two of them were so focused on her, when a white blur came careening out of the back of a warehouse, neither of them noticed 'til it was already on top of them.
Then it and the cripple were on the ground, and Sophia saw very clearly a man.
Tall, thin with dark hair and glasses, using the end of a car club to beat the cripple over the head as the skinhead tried to defend himself.
His buddy, moved to grab a gun when someone else hit him in the back of the knee with the other end of the club and then cracked him across the face, and Sophia could have sworn she was hallucinating.
Tall, taller than her, dark hair that trailed down to her back…
Hebert?
The two kept swinging, and somewhere Sophia heard the crack of a gunshot as her vision swam and she lost focus of the whole thing.
The next thing she knew, she was being lowered to the ground.
"She needs an ambulance." She heard him before she saw him, hovering over her, his resemblance to Hebert was uncanny.
"Taylor- Taylor look at me. Stay with her while I see if this guy has a phone on him."
"O-okay dad."
And then the man was replaced, and Sophia was staring up at the worried eyes of Taylor Hebert.
"Hey… Can you hear me?" She asked. "It's gonna be okay now, we're gonna get you some help."
Sophia tried to move, to speak, but all she managed to do was raise her hand, searching for something, a knife, a crossbow, any weapon, something that can make her feel...safe...in control again.
But all she found were Taylor's hands squeezing her own in a grip that hurts, like everything else.
She squeezed back, and didn't let go until the ambulance arrived and pulled them apart.
(X)(X)(X)
My thanks go out to @Axel Fones and @Words Words Words for their work as Betas
9:19 PM:
The lights of Downtown Brockton Bay gave a ruddy glow to the night. Like...copper. Long shadows snaking through the streets with the bright contrast.
She looked to her phone, her lip curling at the time. All she had was another forty minutes before she had to head back.
Fucking PRT. Fucking scheduling bullshit.
She remembered when she could stay out as long as she wanted and do as much as she wanted. Now she had a fucking caseworker that paid attention to her school attendance and her grades. Now she has to go to sleep so she can make nice with snot nosed kids at the mall in the morning. Fucking waste of time. No wonder this town was going to shit when all the fucking posers did was sign autographs and smile for a stupid camera.
Wasting her fucking days there rather than doing what she was best at.
At least the nights were still hers, for a few hours anyway
As she patrolled her chosen stretch of the woods tonight, it didn't take her long to find them. They always kept to their haunts, their territories and cliques. If they didn't, they thought they'd look weak by backing down from a single vigilante. A Ward now, she supposed.
She never hit the same place too often, too quickly. Often it was randomized, whatever suited her fancy so she didn't fall into a pattern. And attacking all the gangs, be they ABB, E-88 or Merchants, let her stretch out the period between her attacks quite a bit, giving her chosen targets at any given night their sense of security all over again before she hit them.
Tonight was no different.
The skinheads were in their apartment, playing cards. Only two of them had guns, both of which were stuffed into the back of their pants. The stink of weed and cheap beer made her curl her nose where she watched them from the shadow of the hallway that none of them were paying attention to.
She fingered her crossbow, trying not to think about the tranq darts she had instead of proper bolts. E-88 thugs winding up injured with bolts was gonna be too much of a red flag for anyone to miss.
Grue was the exception she was willing to risk her neck for, but these fuckers just weren't worth it, satisfying as it would have been.
She slipped into her shadow state, moving past the wall to check room by room and make sure there were no surprises.
She found a few guns scattered here and there, and used her shadow state to place them between the panels of the walls and leaving them there. She only wanted to make certain no one could go fishing for a gun in the imminent fight to come back and try to shoot her.
After that, and making sure there was no one else in the house, she drew one of the two knives she'd pilfered out of the kitchen at home.
She decided it was time to break up their card game.
When she struck, she struck fast. She was more than a match for any of these losers but there were eight of them and one of the pricks might just get a lucky shot off if they kept getting back up.
One of them barely had time to shout a warning before she materialized right beside his friend, fist already rushing down, knife in hand.
With the wet squelch of steel cutting flesh mixed with the thump of it meeting wood, his hand was suddenly impaled on the table.
He howled.
Then the room was sheer pandemonium.
Her crossbow came up, firing off a bolt that hit a thug right in the forearm. It'd take a few extra seconds to knock him out rather than in the chest, which is what she'd been aiming for, but she decided to just be grateful he hadn't dodged entirely like she would have.
Then her crossbow was battering the face of the thug to her left, cracking him across the jaw with a spurt of blood and busted teeth.
She shifted to her shadow state a second before the guns started firing.
The bullets passed right through her with harmless ease, and as she shifted through the table she transformed back into physical form mid jump, her arm snaking around a thugs neck to bring him down with her full body weight. After sending his skull crashing into the wall and burying it in the dry, cheap plaster, she pulled out her second knife and buried it right in his gut.
He wasn't getting up again any time soon.
She turned, watching as the only other thug with a gun, a piece of shit six shooter was fumbling in his attempts to reload.
She moved to step forward, translating back into her shadow state to take him down hard and then deal with the remaining four skinheads when there was movement directly below and behind her.
And then her whole world bloomed in white hot agony.
Her muscles locked, her teeth snapping shut inside her mouth as her whole body seized up. Her mask hit the corner of the table as she fell, the steel of the mask bouncing off of the wood with a dull clank that sounded loud in her ears as her body hit the floor with a thud, muscles still locked in place.
Her instinct was to shut her eyes tight, but she fought that, kept them open forced herself to keep them open. To look and find out what was happening.
She found it a second later.
The thug. The one she'd shot with the tranq bolt, the one who was getting back up...
New cape? Brute?
"Fucking bitch," he snarled, keeping his finger on the trigger of the taser. "Yeah, learned all about this shit you nigger cunt! Don't like electricity much do ya?" Showing off his arm, Sophia could now see the slightly reflective surface.
A prosthetic...
She'd shot her tranq into a fucking prosthetic!?
"How you like that bitch!?" He laughed. "Taken down by a fucking cripple!"
Around them, the other thugs were gathering themselves, finding their feet again. The five she'd yet to take down moving to help the two she'd wounded.
The one that had been fumbling with his six shooter came back, weapon in hand and pointing it right at her face.
For the first time in a very very long time... Sophia felt a very real chill crawl down her spine.
A hand came down on the weapon arm, shoving it down. "The hell are you doin?"
"Offin this bitch!?" The gunman answered. "The fuck do you think I'm doing?"
"Bein an idiot. Kaiser doesn't like it when you kill capes. Remember that shit with Fleur?"
"She fuckin killed Benny three months ago!" Another of the skin heads roared, she didn't see who.
The cripple shrugged. "I ain't getting on the boss' bad-side. And since I'm the one with the fuckin taser, I'm the one that says what happens."
"Well what are we gonna do? Give her a fuckin fruit basket send her on her way with a "Don't come by here again?"
The cripple looked at her, finger still pressed on the taser's trigger, keeping her muscles locked in an ever mounting and increasing loop of pain.
"Nah. This bitch is dead." he drawled. "We're just not gonna be stupid about it." He looked away. "Crowbars and knives boys. We're not making it quick for her. And for fuck's sake, someone get an extension cord to tie this bitch before I run out of battery!"
(X)(X)(X)
It hurt to breathe.
Everything hurt, but it hurt most to breathe.
Because she'd learned breathing techniques in order to try and alleviate pain. Deep, slow breaths that were supposed to help put it out of her immediate focus, but now only served to bring a whole new level of agony to her aching body.
The fucking cripple had kept his word...it hadn't been quick.
They took their time... fucking enjoyed it.
Took turns with the crowbar in beating her half to death, then the knife in cutting her where it would hurt. The bend of her elbow, behind her knees, the soles of her feet.
She fought.
She fought like she always fought, but with her hands and feet tied, they practically laughed at her.
Laughed...
And as her bones broke and her body began to fail her, the fight literally beaten out of her, that chill that had crawled down her spine crystallized into a very real fear. A very real desperation as she became very much aware of the danger of death for, perhaps, the first time in her life.
And as the pain mounted, as her vision swam and she tasted the copper, metal and bile at the back of a throat that made her whole chest burn with liquid fire with every attempt to swallow; that piece of her, the one that furiously roared at the impossibility of this, of her being captured, threatened, killed by prey became quieter, and quieter.
When the car came to a stop, she was barely coherent. The blood that poured down from her mouth was nearly drowning her in and of itself as it struggled to escape the tight confines of her sealed mask; only allowed to escape when she violently heaved and thrashed with reflexive movements as the blood flooded her airway.
The trunk of the car opened up and the familiar stink of Brockton Bay's docks assaulted her nose.
Sea salt, grime, exhaust fumes and fish.
Asians.
They were gonna kill her and fucking pin it on the Asians.
"Come on. Let's get this shit over with"
She heard the voice, and felt a hand grab onto her hair, hard enough to pull some out from the root. She winced, grimacing. She tried to lift her legs to deliver some kind of kick but a single shift sent jagged spears tearing through her stomach and chest and sapped all the strength from her body in an instant.
The bastard dropped her.
She landed right on her side, the broken ribs shifting in her chest.
The scream she gargled on blood and the pain all but knocked her out completely, leaving her with only the barest vestige of awareness.
When she came to again, her chest was on fire, every muscle felt like a wet noodle. She barely even had the strength to raise her head.
Then the smell of gasoline hit her…
Her eyes snapped open, her heart beginning to go a mile a minute in her chest.
No!
She managed - forced herself - to look up, finding the two skin-heads that had driven her out here not three feet away, an empty, bright red gasoline tank on the ground as they both smoked some cigarettes.
The cripple, because of course it would be him, laughed. "Well nigger bitch, you had a good ride, but the ride's over now." He took a drag of his cigarette and he made a show of preparing to flick it towards, her, her heart dropping into a pit as her throat clogged up with the pain in her chest as she tried to scream.
Then he flicked it to the side, away from her.
"Ya know, I don't like this, this burning people alive crap. We're civilized people unlike these chinks and you monkeys. But ya know-" He shrugged. "This is the way the chinks do it, so we need that authenticity. So I'm afraid we won't get to shoot ya before it starts. Don't worry though, I hear you pass out long before ya die, so there is that."
The other one beside him took another drag of his cigarette; and this one chuckled. "Betcha she'll scream, busted ribs or no busted ribs. I hear they all manage to scream." He laughed again.
And Sophia, tied to a chair, an extension cord around her wrists, the stink of gas clogging up her nose and the agony of multiple broken bones in her body, had to face a very real and simple truth...
They didn't care about the 'proper' order of the world.
She was no predator to them.
They were not her prey.
And she was indeed going to die.
The two of them were so focused on her, when a white blur came careening out of the back of a warehouse, neither of them noticed 'til it was already on top of them.
Then it and the cripple were on the ground, and Sophia saw very clearly a man.
Tall, thin with dark hair and glasses, using the end of a car club to beat the cripple over the head as the skinhead tried to defend himself.
His buddy, moved to grab a gun when someone else hit him in the back of the knee with the other end of the club and then cracked him across the face, and Sophia could have sworn she was hallucinating.
Tall, taller than her, dark hair that trailed down to her back…
Hebert?
The two kept swinging, and somewhere Sophia heard the crack of a gunshot as her vision swam and she lost focus of the whole thing.
The next thing she knew, she was being lowered to the ground.
"She needs an ambulance." She heard him before she saw him, hovering over her, his resemblance to Hebert was uncanny.
"Taylor- Taylor look at me. Stay with her while I see if this guy has a phone on him."
"O-okay dad."
And then the man was replaced, and Sophia was staring up at the worried eyes of Taylor Hebert.
"Hey… Can you hear me?" She asked. "It's gonna be okay now, we're gonna get you some help."
Sophia tried to move, to speak, but all she managed to do was raise her hand, searching for something, a knife, a crossbow, any weapon, something that can make her feel...safe...in control again.
But all she found were Taylor's hands squeezing her own in a grip that hurts, like everything else.
She squeezed back, and didn't let go until the ambulance arrived and pulled them apart.
(X)(X)(X)
My thanks go out to @Axel Fones and @Words Words Words for their work as Betas
- Location
- Brazil
Oh hey, another story by LD, darker than Worm? Come on it can't be that ba...
I take it back, it can and, from the looks of it it will be.
Watched in hopes of the light at the end of the tunnel.
Edit: two chapters out as soon as I finish writing, let's see how it goes
*Two chapters read later*
God Dammit LD, why must you torture us so.
I take it back, it can and, from the looks of it it will be.
Watched in hopes of the light at the end of the tunnel.
Edit: two chapters out as soon as I finish writing, let's see how it goes
*Two chapters read later*
God Dammit LD, why must you torture us so.
Last edited:
LD1449
To the last; Kill them all
- Location
- The other side of the labyrinth.
Remember the days when people used to complain about Outcry?
xD
- Location
- Brazil
LD, I love you as an author (no homo) and your fics are some of the best that I've ever read but dammit do you make me want to sick imhotep on you for all of this suffering that you cause us.
- Location
- Seattle, WA
I think I'm in the mood for some darkness.
Let's gaze into this abyss for a while...
Let's gaze into this abyss for a while...
FarmerKyle
Reaping what I Sow
- Location
- Out in the Fields
Nicely done! Is it sad that what I'm looking forward to is seeing how Taylor's and Sophia's relationship develops from this? I can't recall too many snips that try to build anything between the two after they've become enemies.
- Location
- Vietnam
So it looks like Taylor and Danny both triggered than Danny got killed by Hookwolf. From the fic title I guess things would just go downhill from here.
FarmerKyle
Reaping what I Sow
- Location
- Out in the Fields
I think Danny triggering is a bit of a stretch. May happen, may not. We don't really have anything to go on. I think it'd make for a more hopeless situation if he didn't trigger.
Something to remember is that this all happens in the span of 10 days.
If Danny does die, that's likely what causes Taylor to trigger. They're probably made an example of for saving Sophia, being proclaimed as "race traitors" or whatever other drivel the Empire spouts at them.
- Location
- Madison, WI
Ohh.. the Sophia got rescued by Danny snippet got reused here? Or at least the concept?
So it looks like on 12/14 the Heberts saw the E88 trying to kill Shadow Stalker and pin the death on the ABB, Taylor likely was the one who noticed and called attention to Danny, hence the latter part of chapter 3 happened... given the first chapter started on 12/23... I'm guessing the E88 retaliated after a period... I wonder if they were laying low from the PRT, or maybe got into a scuffle with Lung, as I imagine he won't be too happy about the E88 trying to pin the death of a Ward on him. So maybe the E88 suffered some losses, and decided to take it out of the Heberts instead. They killed Danny in front of Taylor, and caused her to trigger as a result with a power that was able to kill off several of them in return?
So it looks like on 12/14 the Heberts saw the E88 trying to kill Shadow Stalker and pin the death on the ABB, Taylor likely was the one who noticed and called attention to Danny, hence the latter part of chapter 3 happened... given the first chapter started on 12/23... I'm guessing the E88 retaliated after a period... I wonder if they were laying low from the PRT, or maybe got into a scuffle with Lung, as I imagine he won't be too happy about the E88 trying to pin the death of a Ward on him. So maybe the E88 suffered some losses, and decided to take it out of the Heberts instead. They killed Danny in front of Taylor, and caused her to trigger as a result with a power that was able to kill off several of them in return?
Considering the crime scene Armsmaster was at apparently had a bound corpse whose description initially made me think it was Taylor, I'd guess that the E88 had to do a little trial & error(mostly error) before they found the actual party responsible for stopping some fine upstanding skinheads from offing Shadow Stalker.
Serves Taylor right. How dare she help Shadow Stalker, didn't she hear what she did to that poor Hebert girl?
Thozmp
Gets my kicks above the waistline, Sunshine.
Really?
I initially thought it was Danny, as there isn't anything that indicates male or female, and both Heberts have a number of similarities: dark air, glasses, skinny.
I can see how you might have thought Taylor, but I figured that someone got a good look and found/recognized the guy they wanted.
Shoobie_Doo
Glory to Soviet Doge
- Location
- Yes
I'm hoping for Basilisk
Chojomeka
Behold! QUEEN MONKE!
Nah this Taylor is Genosycthe the Eye-Raper
