Orderly (Worm Semi-SI)

[DragonUnitOmega]

Actual, true-blue supervillains are terrifying, and that's something a lot of Worm fics forget. Coil's more subtle than most, but he's an absolutely horrible excuse for a person with way too much power and a truly frightening parahuman ability.

Click to shrink...

Oh yeah. That reminds me. Basically when he showed of his power I was like "SHIT THAT'S A HARD ONE FOR AN OUTSIDE PERSPECTIVE TO TELL WHAT IT IS".

I'm really not sure what you mean here. Do you perhaps mean humility, or maybe Jacqueline's attitude towards mental health?

I don't think there's a single line like that, but the first part of it's in 2-1 and the some of the rest of it's near the start of 2-5

Click to shrink...

That's it! That's what I was trying to say. I like her attitude towards mental health. It's nice to see and also nice reminders for myself.

 

[Obscura]

There are a lot of different ways to wake up, and between the two of me I've experienced quite a few of them. Normal and otherwise. Most of my awakenings have been pretty normal, but those aren't the memorable ones. And trust me, some of them have been quite memorable. Airhorns, the stench of rot and alcohol, screams of agony, screams of ecstasy, screams just for the sake of screaming, small domesticated mammals, small non-domesticated mammals, small domesticated non-mammals, gunfire, normal fire, police sirens, ambulance sirens, fire department sirens, endbringer sirens, fireworks, drunken preaching, school bells, smoke, fire alarms, mammals that were neither small nor domesticated, and probably some more I'm forgetting among them. Still, waking up to and from a bunch of butterflies using me as a place to practice walking was a new one.

Making a not particularly difficult guess, I calmly looked the nearest colourfully-winged insect in the eyes and asked "Taylor, what's with the butterflies?".


Unsurprisingly, the butterfly didn't answer. Bugs, even pretty ones, can't talk. They can, however, fly surprisingly quickly when startled. Or at least these ones could. And did. They also could, and also did, hover around in what I figured was probably a sheepish manner, though I had to deduce that entirely from the context. Butterflies do not do sheepish well. I suspect it's their completely inhuman facial features. Or the big bright wings that they have to keep moving in order to fly.

On the other hand, I suspected Taylor could do sheepish, or at least apologetic, perfectly well, and I decided to put that to the test. Using people as places to put your flying insects down without asking isn't terribly polite. Nor is waking people up early on weekends, and that was something she definitely should have learned already. So I got out of bed, changed into something that wasn't pyjamas, and went to try and get some answers. And then a butterfly flew in front of my face and started to make start and stop movements like it wanted me to follow it. (I don't know how to sex a butterfly, and I don't think they're sentient enough to have gender identities.) The rest of them were gone, or at least hidden, and this one was a different colour scheme than they were, which meant it was a different species. No idea which different species, but them's the breaks. I continue to not be an entomologist.

Come to think of it, maybe Taylor should be an entomologist. I mean, her academic skills are pretty good, for someone whose high school career was as messed up as it was, and she has an absurdly huge natural advantage with her power. She could probably be very successful. Food for thought.

Right then though, I had a butterfly trying to lead me around by the nose. So I did what any girl with a pseudosister who controlled arthropods would do in that situation: I played along. If it took a while before I "realized" what she was trying to say that's my prerogative after being woken up early by a bunch of bugs. On my face. In my own room. Too early in the morning. But, of course, I didn't say anything about it. That's the kind of conversation that needs to be had face to face. I suppose I could have done it then, but face to face really loses its impact when one of those faces is a butterfly's. I assume. It's not like I've ever put that to the test. I may be far more likely to need to at some point than most, but it hasn't happened yet.


Anyway, I moved the flute around my neck into a more comfortable position and followed the butterfly downstairs, where the overworked union representative who'd taken me in was doing a pretty good job of pretending nothing was wrong. Not good enough to not tip me off, but that was probably on purpose. The way his hands were clenched into tight fists was what we in the superheroic profession call a "clue", and the way they were very carefully not visible from most angles that weren't the one I was coming from indicated it wasn't just a slip up. The rest of his act was excellent, and if I'd been careless I wouldn't have noticed at all. Poker face, Jacqueline. Poker face.

At the time of the merger, neither me had played poker in years, and both of me had lost badly the few times they'd tried. But I had a lot more experience at hiding my feelings than those two, and I wasn't struggling to remember the rules this time. And, honestly, my inability to figure out the other player's positions and the actual odds were my main problems, along with the fact that I (both of I) was playing with people with years of experience. Hopefully no sign of what was passing through my mind reached my face. Or my body language, for that matter.

"Oh, good morning Jacqueline. Taylor's got some new project to show you, down in the basement."

"Cool! Thanks Danny! I'll be back up soon."

Yep, something was definitely up. Great, just great. Wonderful.

Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.


The outer basement being free of Taylors, I moved to what was probably the most secure room in the house, especially for her: the spider ranch. Technically, I suppose it was the coal cellar, but it's not like there was any coal in there. Lots of combustible material, true, but none of it was coal. So it's the spider ranch until and unless my hosts decree otherwise. That's science.


All the jars were open, and the spiders were loose. They and thousands of other arthropods skittered and scratched at every available surface. Cockroaches scurried back and forth in panic. A scorpion was lashing out in terror, killing dozens of smaller invertebrates. Butterflies slammed into the walls, or at least tried. They didn't really have enough speed for a proper slam. Not a single inch of the former coal cellar was free of the frenzy of spineless activity, save for a path from the entrance leading straight to Taylor, looking none too calm herself. Though her normal hooligan clothes obscured a lot of her, it was clear that whatever had happened had her scared. Or angry. Or both. So, of course, I stepped inside with false calm, closed the door behind me, walked up to give her a hug, and got vigorously preempted on the whole "hug" thing.

And I mean vigorously. I was really regretting wearing the flute. It was a lot harder and stronger than my soft flesh, and that meant it could dig in in rather uncomfortable ways. I can only assume Taylor was too panicked to notice. And maybe too preoccupied with what she was whispering in my ear:

"The house is being watched."

"No duh."

 

[Blaflaix]

So it's the spider ranch until and unless my hosts decreed otherwise.

Click to shrink...

"We've decided to change the name to The Spider Creamery."

"This has taken an unsettling turn."

 

[Ken Lac]

So, I'm normally not afraid of bugs, but there is no way I'd go into that basement.

 

[Obscura]

"We've decided to change the name to The Spider Creamery."

Click to shrink...

"That seems decidedly impractical. Spiders aren't mammals, they don't produce milk."

So, I'm normally not afraid of bugs, but there is no way I'd go into that basement.

Click to shrink...

I suspect most people wouldn't. Jacqueline "Who's a good massive ball of hydrogen and fusion byproducts?" Colere is not most people.

 

[Obscura]

"What the cuss Jacqueline?"

Now, first things first, I'll note that that's actually what she said. Maybe I was a good influence on her.

"We're under cussing surveillance here and all you can say is 'no duh'?"

Definitely a good influence.

"Are you even listening to me?"

"Yes."


"You're impossible."

Not quite, apparently, since I somehow happened. Somehow. Then again, I'm pretty sure Taylor doesn't know about the transdimensional stuff. In hindsight, she probably didn't mean it literally.

"Evidently not."

(The thing about hindsight is that it doesn't come along until after the fact.)

"Explain", she sort of growled. She was trying to be intimidating, if only in a big-sisterly sort of way, but it wasn't all that effective.

"Well things that are actually impossible don't happen. That's what 'impossible' means."



Although things that should be impossible in a remotely sane universe happen all the time on Earth Bet. I suppose that means that this universe isn't a remotely sane one, but I already knew that.

"About the 'no duh', Jacqueline."

"Well, it was pretty obvious, wasn't it?"

Taylor just sort of glared, which was pretty rude, but I forgave her pretty much instantly. I'm magnamious like that. Apparently, she needed more of an explanation than that though.

"Of course the house is under surveillance Taylor: we're capes, and new ones at that. The PRT's told us they're watching, with our permission and I doubt they'd just let us in about all the watchers. I mean, we're kids, and that's just not good practice. And we know Coil probably has access to general PRT information, that's what all the secret meetings are secret for. The gangs are going to know where we live eventually, though this is quicker than I would've expected.

"We're a new factor in the scene, and everybody's going to want to size us up. Especially since the newspapers mentioned Vespiary's involvement in Lung's takedown. That was pretty big. I bet every cape in the city has at least a few questions about you."


Somehow, Taylor seemed surprised by what I said. Let me just take a moment to say something:

Taylor, you colossal doofus, I love you, but I'm halfway convinced you didn't put any thought into this whole "superhero" gig whatsoever. You put months of work into making a costume and somehow failed to realise it was hilariously over-the-top edgy. You didn't have anybody to bail you out of the trouble you were basically certain to get into, and no way to contact them even if you did. And, as I had just learned, you somehow had no idea people would look into you, even after you helped capture the most feared cape in the city. Dummy.

Fortunately, I didn't say any of that out loud. Progress! I just stood there while Taylor worked through everything. To her credit, that didn't take nearly as long as I expected when I realised that she'd had no idea about the rather unnerving problem I was describing. Still pretty long by conversation time scales, but that's understandable.

"So you're telling me the villains either know where we live or will."

"The ones who are organised and care to look, yes. I wouldn't expect Circus to be able to find us, or Faultline to risk it. She doesn't really get involved in stuff within the city."

"I don't care about them."

"That's fair enough. They aren't really all that dangerous to us. Probably just because they don't have any reason to want to be, but still. Unless everything PHO knows about them is a lie."

Which was entirely possible, but I saw no need to mention that. She was stressed enough already. Way too much, really, if the insect behaviour around us was any indication. Have you ever seen a cockroach trying to bite off it's own limbs?


"Villains know where we live, Jacqueline!"

"Of course they do. It's not like it's hard to find out for a decently powerful organisation."

Suddenly, I realised that I should probably do more of the talking. Just answering her questions didn't seem to be helping much. In my defence, I had just woken up, and judging that sort of thing is harder than it looks. So I moved to sit her down, realised there wasn't anywhere to do so that wasn't covered in bugs, and then just asked her if we could sit down so I could explain everything. Even with her moving the bugs around, that proved more difficult than it really should have, but I suppose coal cellars aren't exactly renowned for their non-coal furnishings. What's important is that we managed it eventually.

"I don't think you really get how cape politics and the unwritten rules work, do you?"

She looked a little offended at that, but didn't openly disagree. "How about you tell me how the cuss this is supposed to be acceptable like you're obviously building up to do."

She didn't actually say cuss that time, so I guess there are limits to my influence. I'd say she looked mutinous, but it's not like I had any actual authority over her. And calling me on the build up was pretty impolite. Not inaccurate, but impolite. She obviously has no sense of proper setup for difficult conversations. Then again if she did Danny probably wouldn't have had so many nasty shocks the Thursday before last. I think the whole "Dad, I'm a cape" thing speaks for itself. I graciously acknowledged her point and commenced:

"Well, basically, the unwritten rules are the basic things that most capes, even the villainous ones, agree are crossing the line. There's a whole big convoluted mess regarding what counts, but the civilian identity stuff that applies here is probably the most consistent and least controversial part.

"Basically, it means that you don't go after capes except when they're acting as capes. No attacks, no arrests, definitely no assassinations. If you have a problem with what a cape's doing, you don't involve their civilian identity and you definitely don't involve their loved ones. Nobody wants their own loved ones involved, so everybody follows through.

"Now a decent number of capes, even villains, genuinely believe in the rules. A decent chunk just have a vested interest in them remaining in force, so they comply. However, there are those who regard the rules as an obstacle to their goals and power, and villains like that are the most dangerous. People like Coil break the rules whenever they think they can get away with it. Based on their records, I suspect the Empire and ABB aren't much better. "

"Get to the point, Jacqy"

Well, at least that seemed more exasperated than angry or terrified. Maybe it was working after all.

 

[Blaflaix]

"Now a decent number of capes, even villains, genuinely believe in the rules. A decent chunk just have a vested interest in them remaining in force, so they comply. However, there are those who regard the rules as an obstacle to their goals and power, and villains like that are the most dangerous. People like Coil break the rules whenever they think they can get away with it. Based on their records, I suspect the Empire and ABB aren't much better. "

Click to shrink...

So for example, the "no unmasking" rule is for public unmasking.

If you get into a fight with a villain, lose, and they pull of your mask and take a photo, then put your mask back on, who would you complain to?
And if they use that information to commit crimes while they know you're occupied in your civilian identity, well that's just "good luck" for them!

 

[Zakara]

So for example, the "no unmasking" rule is for public unmasking.

If you get into a fight with a villain, lose, and they pull of your mask and take a photo, then put your mask back on, who would you complain to?
And if they use that information to commit crimes while they know you're occupied in your civilian identity, well that's just "good luck" for them!

Click to shrink...

The big thing about the unwritten rules is that they're unwritten. Where parahumans can ignore or abuse them within reason, they generally will. People who do abuse them though, always play a gamble on whether or not they can escape M.A.D(Mutually Assured Destruction). After all, if one doesn't respect another cape's identity, that's open invitation for them to do the exact same in retaliation. And if abusing a cape's civilian identity results in your own identity becoming exposed, that's a lose-lose situation.

 

[Obscura]

So for example, the "no unmasking" rule is for public unmasking.

If you get into a fight with a villain, lose, and they pull of your mask and take a photo, then put your mask back on, who would you complain to?
And if they use that information to commit crimes while they know you're occupied in your civilian identity, well that's just "good luck" for them!

Click to shrink...

You're basically right in practical terms, but just to be clear only revealing identities or acting against capes in their civilian identities is universally accepted as being a violation of the unwritten rules. Spying is more of a grey area, as well as being hard to enforce or prove. It's definitely not friendly, but it's not going to get the same kind of overwhelming universal response unless it leads or is thought to be leading to sharing that information or using it against the cape.

The big thing about the unwritten rules is that they're unwritten. Where parahumans can ignore or abuse them within reason, they generally will. People who do abuse them though, always play a gamble on whether or not they can escape M.A.D(Mutually Assured Destruction). After all, if one doesn't respect another cape's identity, that's open invitation for them to do the exact same in retaliation. And if abusing a cape's civilian identity results in your own identity becoming exposed, that's a lose-lose situation.

Click to shrink...

They're unwritten, but not unknown. Remember, these are capes, who regularly flaunt even explicitly stated and open rules, like the law. For a lot of villains, and even some heroes, it's a matter of not getting caught or being able to weasel out of it, yes, but that has nothing to do with them being unwritten. That's just how a lot of capes respond to rules of any kind.

 

[Obscura]

Well, with Taylor basically demanding that I stop rambling and sum up, all I could do was stop rambling and sum up, or at least try. That was complicated by the fact that I hadn't actually covered everything yet, but needs must when the Taylor drives. Or something like that, anyway.

I'm going to blatantly skip over a few false starts and mistakes here, and move on to the eventual semi-successful explanation. Just so you know. Or because the nails demand it. Take your pick.

Anyway, I eventually managed to keep it simple and direct:


"The PRT is watching because we're Wards and thus fall under their aegis. And because Danny and I asked them to. The gangs are watching us, or trying to get to a point where they can watch us, because they think they can get away with it. They won't start anything or it'll blow up into a war and the broader Protectorate will come down on them like a tonne of bricks. Coil is probably trying to scout us out, but can't do anything obvious for the same reason. Of those, only the PRT is likely to know you know because your power lets you piggyback on your bug's senses. They probably don't have any reason to hide that they're watching from you though."


They had plenty of reason to hide that from the world at large, since security that's obvious can be worked around, at least if it's all obvious, (and I doubted they had enough spare personnel to do the whole shebang like national leaders get) but Taylor, specifically, being aware of them probably wouldn't be a problem. Not for something like this, anyway.

Though if it was a problem, they're a massive and powerful organization with a mandate that includes a lot of counterespionage type stuff, with access to an immense variety of superpowers, and they know how Taylor's ability works. If they had some reason to be spying on Taylor (or me, for that matter) that did require her not to know about it, they'd find a way. But that wasn't what we were dealing with, down there in that extremely arthropod-ridden basement, even in the rather unlikely event that it was happening.

To be clear, it's "rather unlikely" because that kind of thing is probably really resource intensive, and the PRT is perennially short on resources, not because I thought they couldn't do it. I doubt the PRT/Protectorate East North East could, unless Armsmaster had something really clever up his sleeve, but the organization as a whole almost definitely could get somebody somewhere to do it, by mundane means or otherwise. Although I can't actually think of any real benefit they'd gain by doing so, not with an op she knows about (or at least really should know about) already influencing her behaviour.


Anyway, Taylor went silent for like a minute or so after that little bit of sublime eloquence. She seemed to be processing things. Frankly, I thought the whole process took a bit long for someone as smart as she sometimes seems to be. Then again, the operative word in the preceding sentence is "sometimes". In some areas, that intelligence just doesn't seem to apply.

I'm going to blame Winslow for that. Danny too, to some extent. Not out loud, obviously, and definitely not out loud for that last part. I don't know enough about the situation to really step in, and I somehow doubt that blindly throwing around guilt willy-nilly will actually solve things. I'm actually pretty sure that whatever's going on with them is going to require a good deal of time and effort on both their parts to fix completely, if it's even fixable, and a decent amount of professional help will probably need to be involved. Still, I remain optimistic.


When the minute was up, spluttering happened. I couldn't actually understand what Taylor was saying, but based on the context I can imagine it was something like "Why didn't you tell me any of this earlier?", only much less coherent and probably with more bad language. Of course, the context I'm referring to is that fact that when I asked her to slow down and take the time to speak clearly, that's what she ended up saying, although her version was, in fact, considerably more profane. I shall spare you the details.

"I assumed it was obvious." was apparently the wrong answer to that question / outburst, judging by the amount of barely concealed ire her answer of "obvious?" contained. It's likely that I was meant to see it, since she had that trick with shoving her tells into her bugs. Or maybe she just didn't think of it. Either way, my next course of action was obvious to me as everything I'd just said was:

Hugs. Hugs are good. Nice even, as I've said before. It does bear repeating. Apologies are also nice, at least as long as they're sincere and not grossly disproportionate to the problem. So I just up and hugged Taylor and apologized.

"I'm sorry, Taylor. I was looking at how cape politics work and it all made sense to me and I assumed it did for you to."

That was true. Although in hindsight it was a pretty dumb assumption to make. I'd spent years looking into things like history, social dynamics, and politics. And I don't mean just party politics and elections, or even just governmental politics in general. Politics on every level from elementary school up, at least superficially. Not everybody has that kind of background knowledge, and Taylor showed exactly no signs thereof. Of course, there's also the fact that if I'd put any thought into the matter, I would have realized that someone whose intended hero outfit looked like the kind of thing someone who desperately wanted to convince people they were scary and dangerous would wear to their daily session of shouting about blood and knives probably hadn't studied cape politics in the first place. In my defence, I've been under a lot of stress, but the whole thing was still pretty stupid of me.

I'm still going to blame Patron though. I honestly think it's a big part of what's keeping me at a functional level of crazy.


"I suppose that makes sense", said a local spider enthusiast. And with about as much emotion as a headline like that deserves, no less.

"It's okay, Taylor, you can still be mad. That's a natural response to somebody making a mistake and leaving you with a lot of stress. You don't have to shove your emotions away with me."

"I'm not shoving my emotions away, Jacqueline."

"Sure you're not"

 

[Blaflaix]

To be clear, it's "rather unlikely" because that kind of thing is probably really resource intensive, and the PRT is perennially short on resources, not because I thought they couldn't do it.

Click to shrink...

Something that a lot of stories skip over, or ignore.

"So the bad news is that all your disguise efforts are completely useless to anybody that cares to spend enough resources. The good news is that you're too unimportant for anybody to care. As long as yoiu have no impact on anybody, you're free to do whatever you want!"

 

[Obscura]

Something that a lot of stories skip over, or ignore.

"So the bad news is that all your disguise efforts are completely useless to anybody that cares to spend enough resources. The good news is that you're too unimportant for anybody to care. As long as yoiu have no impact on anybody, you're free to do whatever you want!"

Click to shrink...

Yeah, though there's a bit more to it. If you have no impact on anybody, nobody's going to go looking, but even if you do they probably aren't going to do anything when they find you. It's only when you start shaking the entire city up or showing the potential to do so that you really need to start worrying about your civilian identity. Remember, Dinah's an exceptional case, her power is incredibly valuable. Of course, the vast majority of stories in this fandom in particular have protagonist's who are obviously on that level, if not several levels higher.

 

[Blaflaix]

Of course, the vast majority of stories in this fandom in particular have protagonist's who are obviously on that level, if not several levels higher.

Click to shrink...

The really frustrating ones are the one that can grow, and say "I need to get stronger so I can be safe!"
Which never works.
At all.

 

[Obscura]

The really frustrating ones are the one that can grow, and say "I need to get stronger so I can be safe!"
Which never works.
At all.

Click to shrink...

Sometimes it works out for them, at the end of the story. Usually it doesn't make much sense, or is the result of effective omnipotence. I think an urge to get stronger is a natural response to being in a world like Earth Bet, where even discounting the Endbringers there are people who can crush regular capes like insects and you're never entirely safe. Unfortunately, the more powerful and threatening you seem to be the more danger, as bigger and more dangerous groups turn more and more attention to you. It's understandable, but not likely to actually work.

From a story perspective, it's really easy to create conflict with, and it resembles the original plot a bit, but I think the big difference is that those stories have protagonists who grow stronger far more rapidly and have a much higher cap than anybody on the normal level of the setting. Personally, I think it would be interesting to have a protagonist with the same "get stronger" goals, maybe for survival, maybe for glory, maybe for actual desire to make things better, but without an power that gets stronger in and of itself.

 

[Obscura]

Do you know how to deal with discovering that an unknown party is spying on your home?

You'd probably call the cops, assuming you don't live in a place where it's probably sinister state surveillance. And assuming there's a functional police service of some sort where you live. And assuming you aren't hiding a meth lab or something. Those assumptions aren't actually great ones, considering the state of the world, but I felt we should call the PRT anyway. I mean, it was probably them, but if it wasn't they should probably be informed.

Also, Taylor was rather obviously unwilling to have a serious talk about mental wellbeing and when it's okay to let yourself feel things, and I didn't want to push it. Not yet, anyway, and not unless I had to. In the short term, I'd keep making it clear that I was open and that she didn't have to hide from me and hope that worked out somehow. In the long term, I was hoping therapy would help. You can't force people to get better from some issues. Bite my tongue, bide my time.

(I've never had to actually bite my tongue, but I've heard that that sort of physical sensation helps. Do with that as thou wilt.)


Of course I couldn't be the one to call them, because literally my entire knowledge of what was going on was "the house is being watched". Oh, and "We're under cussing surveillance here", but that wasn't any more useful. Evocative, maybe, but not all that great at conveying details. Taylor, meanwhile, actually had eyes on whoever it was. Not her eyes, but that didn't really matter as much as it would have for most people.

I wonder what that's like. The vast majority of the human race, including myself, spend their lives looking at the world through only one perspective. Two at most, if some condition or other knocks them out of binocular vision, and very close together ones at that. From what I understood, Taylor had access to thousands (at a minimum) at any given moment, and no problem using them all at once. I rather think it's one of those fundamental differences that are so hard to explain to people on the other side, like colour blindness versus full vision, or blindness and vision in general, or aphantasia and non aphantasia, or synesthesia. Or, for that matter, basically any sense or experience that can only really be understood by those who have experienced it. Of course, that was hardly an issue only with Taylor: a lot of capes can't explain how they experience their abilities. For better or worse, the parahuman experience is often a totally unique one.


It's probably for the worse. Sympathy and understanding are valuable commodities, and there's a perpetual shortage of both in the parahuman world. And in Earth Bet in general. Even before the rise of parahumanity, actually, though that definitely tilted things in the wrong direction.


"I never really thought of it that way before. Huh."

Blast. I was apparently talking out loud again.

"Yes, you were."

Double blast.

"When did"

"From 'I couldn't be the one to call them.' Which you were probably right about, by the way. I liked your thoughts on perspectives, but I don't think I can explain what it's like."

She was trying to make me feel better about it, but knowing that didn't mean I didn't feel better about it. Funny how that works.


"You go back upstairs, I'll sort this out."

"Okay. I trust you."

I really did. She didn't, but I did. And showing that trust would only help her in the long run. One quick hug later, and I was slamming into the spider ranch's door. Apparently, it closes on its own, to keep coal dust from spreading too much. Clever design. It still opened under my weight, since you don't want a door that slows you down too much if you need a quick exit in a room full of flammable material, but it probably would have been better to just use the handle. Definitely less painful that way. I'd blame poor lighting, but it was actually pretty good for a basement.


One more quick hug and a slightly less quick fussing over later, and I was making my way up the stairs, at the top of which I met a slightly nervous looking Danny, who was asking if everything was okay down there, he'd heard a bang.

"I didn't know that door closed on its own. Taylor took care of things though."

'Oh, that's a relief. Come have some breakfast, I took pains to make it extra special. You two are still growing after all."

"... Okay" I said, somewhat shyly, slightly overwhelmed by his generosity, and followed him to the table, where, true to his word, an extremely broad array of options was laid out. The most important meal of the day commenced for Jacqueline Colere, and what was laid out was laid into with gusto.


If Danny's slight nervousness was actually a cover for a much deeper fear, or if my assurances that Taylor had looked after me after my unfortunate coal-dust containment measures encounter actually conveyed that she was handling something else entirely, well that was hardly my fault. And if he wasn't half as relieved as he professed, or if his motives for making so many things were different from his stated ones, or if entirely understandable nerves meant that most of the stuff wasn't half as good as it looked, that was hardly his fault. We were both very good at pretending everything was okay while knowing full well that it wasn't.

Hopefully, it was just the PRT guard watching and Taylor was just being (understandably) paranoid. We couldn't just assume that though. If it was, and everything was cleared up soon, then and only then could we all stop pretending. Or at least I could. I wasn't sure Danny and Taylor knew how.


One more thing to deal with. Ideally, my presence would help with that. I'd keep reminding them they could be honest with each other, and hopefully with me, and maybe that'd help. And they do have access to mental health resources now, with motive to use it. Unfortunately, slamming their heads together and demanding they solve their stupid problems instantly wasn't likely to work.

Tempting though the idea might be at times, it would only result in brain damage and injured emotions. And we couldn't drop the facade yet anyway. Bite my tongue, bide my time.

 

[priamus]

Missing Threadmark.

Nice chapter

 

[DraconianGreed]

Thank you so much for writing this. As a former bully victim, spite became my painkiller/drug of choice. It's been almost a decade, but feeling rather powerless to change anything I emphasized holding grudges in hopes of retaliating in the future.(Discovering Death Note around that time probably would have made things worse. Fortunately that only happened much later) The motivation no longer exists, but I still remember a fifth grader's face (the ringleader) and an unfortunate tendency to take things the worst way.

I've always found it bizarre that school counselors showed bullies as solitary. In my vague experience, the worst ones are definitely the social kind who manage turn entire groups if not the whole class against you are the worst. Mine wasn't a Brutus like Taylor's was, though.

I probably should see one of the available therapists of my college, but reading stories like yours will probably be the closest I'll ever do.

 

[Obscura]

Thank you so much for writing this. As a former bully victim, spite became my painkiller/drug of choice. It's been almost a decade, but feeling rather powerless to change anything I emphasized holding grudges in hopes of retaliating in the future.(Discovering Death Note around that time probably would have made things worse. Fortunately that only happened much later) The motivation no longer exists, but I still remember a fifth grader's face (the ringleader) and an unfortunate tendency to take things the worst way.

I've always found it bizarre that school counselors showed bullies as solitary. In my vague experience, the worst ones are definitely the social kind who manage turn entire groups if not the whole class against you are the worst. Mine wasn't a Brutus like Taylor's was, though.

I probably should see one of the available therapists of my college, but reading stories like yours will probably be the closest I'll ever do.

Click to shrink...

I'm glad to hear this is helping, but I do think you should talk to somebody. I can't speak for the quality of your college's mental health services in particular, but in general it does help. It's nice to hear you're putting spite behind you.

Edit: I somehow forgot to add a "Wishing you well". Hope it goes well for you

 

[Obscura]

Grue:

Getting dragged into an interrogation room in the wee hours of the morning wasn't Brian's idea of a good time, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't expecting it. That sort of thing was a common low-level pressure tactic among cops across the United States, and probably the world. Their work didn't let them keep regular hours, and they liked to spread that little inconvenience around. If it kept "perps" off balance, that was just a bonus.

Brian, however, wasn't terribly impressed. There was very little they could do that would actually scare him. Certainly not anything legal. The Birdcage was frightening, but not actually a possibility given the relatively mild nature of his offenses. The bugs wouldn't happen again, couldn't happen again.

He repressed a shudder but he couldn't show weakness now. He would remain strong, for Aisha. Brian couldn't afford to be traumatized. Sure it'd probably be a while before whoever was interrogating him showed themselves, but they were undoubtedly watching.


Miss Militia:

Was scheduling a disciplinary meeting for Ethan in the wee hours of the morning kinda petty?

Yes.


Was it deserved?

Also yes. Moreover, it would help make it clear that she was being firm, and wasn't afraid to inconvenience him to do so.

Hannah had to consider herself lucky that her power let her go entirely without sleep, since she'd once again come back from patrol (a pretty good patrol, on its own merits) to find that Ethan had made a huge mess. Sadly, that wasn't particularly unusual. Unlike the last six times that month alone, the mess was purely a figurative one, so she couldn't pass it on to the janitorial staff. And, of course, Colin's ludicrously varied and advanced collection of cleaning and maintenance tools were of no help here.

Unless she decided to debride a brain that had clearly died years ago. Of course, Hannah was far too nice to voice such an uncharitable thought out loud, let alone follow through. Even if she wasn't, her sense of professionalism wouldn't let her. That didn't mean she wasn't a touch peeved.

"Don't try and tell me you didn't know, Ethan. Bringing Taylor's probable trigger event up like that was just callous, and you're better than that. You should have known, and you would have if you'd thought about it for more than the time it took for the impulse to pop up. Let alone everything else you did wrong"


Unsurprisingly, Ethan didn't have an answer for that. He never did after he really realized that his tendency to act first and think later had hurt somebody he didn't mean to harm. It was honestly pretty sad that it had happened often enough that Hannah knew his reactions by rote. (And still not half as often as him failing to realize it.) Usually, this quiet period happened as soon as his initial defensiveness wore off. Afterwards, he'd strive and strive to do better, be better, and for a while it would work. Then he'd gradually relapse, do something like this if usually not nearly as bad, and then the whole bitter cycle would start all over again. Everybody was sick of it, probably including Ethan himself.

Hannah didn't like being harsh, especially with colleagues, but that didn't mean she wasn't good at it. She'd worked hard at it, especially the subtle art of not going too far, of creating guilt and obedience without crushing spirits or creating resentment. Still, Ethan was stubborn at the best of times, and lessons learned usually took dozens of repetitions to stick, if they required him to change his behaviour in any way. Even changing sides hadn't really changed him, just who he was aimed at. Hannah sighed a little internally, and shifted to a more comfortable position. This was going to take a while. She still wasn't sure what she should do for the official punishment.


Vista:

When Vista really thought about it, basically all her problems could be blamed on her parents. The fact that she was even awake at this ridiculous hour on a saturday morning was because her mother was screaming into the phone. Much the same could be said about her lousy sleep schedule. (Didn't they both have Cellphones? Couldn't they argue somewhere else?)

The lack of respect she received as a cape wasn't all their fault, but they certainly hadn't helped, and they were probably the worst offenders. At least everybody else who encountered Vista treated her as having the potential to be a great cape, even the ones who willfully ignored just how good she already was. It was extremely frustrating. Dad was a bit better than her mother about it, but even he basically treated it like little league or something.

It wasn't little league. It was serious business, and her parents just didn't understand. Honestly, Vista was pretty sure she did more for the city than both of them put together. The lack of respect she got as a civilian was, in Vista's view, mostly the result of their continual habit of treating her like a four year old, even though she was regularly out there, fighting the good fight. Even in front of her friends and teachers, they never let up on the "Missy, you're just a kid" junk. And, of course, they'd given her the most cutesy, infantilizing, and un-cool name imaginable. They just didn't respect her, didn't care about her, didn't have her best interests in mind, and didn't love her.


Of course, she'd come to the same conclusion before, and turning to her handler for help had never worked out. Trying to go through CPS without the PRT's backing would go nowhere, the local branch wasn't exactly renowned for their competence or caring. And just running away wouldn't work, they'd track her down easily enough. A lot of kids could lose themselves in Brockton Bay, but not if the PRT was looking for them specifically. Mostly she just stayed away from them as much as possible, and reluctantly accepted that there wasn't much more she could do. But now Vista had a new handler, and theoretically this one could have been genuine when she said Vista could come to her with anything. It was worth a shot.

She called. Asked to set up a meeting. She didn't know what she expected. One in the afternoon that same day and an apology for not being available sooner wasn't it. Apparently Alice Stone needed to "make a very naughty boy realise the consequences of his actions." or they could meet as soon as Vista could get to the PRT building. That was certainly different. Stone's predecessor was always unavailable for at least a day, and she would have never taken Assault to task like that. Might as well go for a walk or something, it would be a long time till one o'clock. Or at least feel that way.


Zoe Barnes:

Zoe checked in again. Emma was sleeping soundly, or at least as soundly as she ever did these days, which wasn't very. That was good, or at least okay. The nightmares seemed to be settling down a bit, though she'd been told it would be a long time before they stopped completely, if they ever did. Emma refused to talk about them, or about much of anything, but a mother knew. At least when her nerves insisted she check in on her daughter at least six times a night.

It was going to be a long road to recovery.

 

[Ckosacranoid]

Why is brain being held anyway? I mean what he do, and I can see all the other stuff having to be dealt with for clean up after everything that happened that afternoon.

 

[Obscura]

Why is brain being held anyway? I mean what he do, and I can see all the other stuff having to be dealt with for clean up after everything that happened that afternoon.

Click to shrink...

Well, he's a known supervillain with a history of smash-and-grab work who was caught fleeing the scene after robbing a bank in broad daylight, during the process of which he took a PRT agent and at least a dozen civlians hostage, beat up Jacqueline, tried to beat up Vista, and damaged a lot of stuff. Frankly, it wouldn't exactly make a whole lot of sense for the PRT to let him go.

 

[Ckosacranoid]

Was this the bank job, I guess it's been a little bit since I read past chapters for when he got caught. I had thought that this was in one day of the mc showing up and the fallout of going to the feds and shadow getting outed by assault later that afternoon with the wards. I guess I will have to reread things.

 

[Obscura]

Was this the bank job, I guess it's been a little bit since I read past chapters for when he got caught. I had thought that this was in one day of the mc showing up and the fallout of going to the feds and shadow getting outed by assault later that afternoon with the wards. I guess I will have to reread things.

Click to shrink...

I think that might be for the best.

 

[Obscura]

Brian:

"Do you recognize this girl, Brian?"

Brian did in fact recognize the girl, even if she looked pretty different in the photograph. Less skin-and-bones, more content, and not trying to kick everything in sight like a little ball of violence and boots. He also recognized the woman showing it to him. He wasn't terribly happy about that, mostly because when he had last seen her he had taken her hostage. Somehow, Brian thought "Alice Stone" might be carrying a bit of grudge about that. Alec may have been the one doing most of the actual hostage taking, but Brian was in a locked room with her and Alec wasn't.

He said nothing. She didn't seem bothered by it. She was a PRT agent, she'd probably dealt with people clamming up before. Actually, she'd probably dealt with every trick he could pull before. Except for his power, but he'd be covered in foam in less than a second if he tried something with it. That was not a comforting thought, but there wasn't much Brian could do about it.


"If you don't, her name is Jacqueline."

Somehow it felt worse when he knew her name. Made what he'd done a bit more real. That was probably what Stone wanted.

"She's a little over fourteen. Just a bit older than Aisha."

The comparison stung, but Brian said nothing. Best to keep quiet.


"And you beat her like a rented mule because she panicked when your partner pulled a gun on her."

"Panicked?" slipped out before Brian could stop it.

"That's what tends to happen when someone points a pistol at an already traumatized child, yes. What, did you think she was just a very violent individual for no reason?"

That was exactly what he'd thought. He didn't think admitting to that would help though. In his defense, he hadn't exactly been thinking clearly and rationally at the time. In hindsight, it was fairly obvious that the girl was scared out of her mind. And he'd covered her in darkness, punched her in the stomach, and tied her up for it. He didn't quite think that his actions were quite as bad as Alice Stone seemed to think they were, but he had to admit that they weren't exactly innocent either. Not for the first time, but it seemed more immediate surrounded by the cold concrete of the interrogation room.

He supposed that was the point.


"She was scared and alone, and you hurt her for getting in your way."

It wasn't like that! She was attacking Lisa!

Lisa, who'd apparently threatened her with a gun. He supposed he could hardly blame the kid, but it wasn't like he'd had any way of knowing what was going on at the time and he felt he'd been relatively light on her given the circumstances. He wasn't a bad person. (He couldn't be a bad person.)

"And she's hardly the only one, now is she?

"David Richardson. A clerk at that jewelry store you robbed. He's got a slightly younger wife, two kids he adores, and a leg that'll never completely heal. It'd take years even if he could afford the proper physiotherapy, but he couldn't have even before you and your gang completely destroyed his workplace. Between the leg and the economy, the odds of him finding another job aren't exactly great, and his wife doesn't make enough to support all four of them. And no, the PRT doesn't have enough resources to help every victim, not to the degree most of them need."

Brian couldn't say anything to that. The Jewelry Store incident had mostly been Rachel and Alec's fault in terms of direct causes, but Brian should have kept them on a tighter leash. And his darkness probably hadn't helped any. And he was at least theoretically in charge. Still, most of the robberies weren't like that.


"Anna Hill, receptionist at the second electronics firm you hit, four broken fingers and a cracked rib. She should eventually make a full recovery, but it'll be a rough couple of months for her. They're willing to keep her on, which is good because she'd be on the streets otherwise. Though there's good odds that they won't last for much longer, you did a lot of damage.

"Tyrik Roberts, accountant at Finch and Sons', crushed foot and lost job. The whole event completely ruined his efforts to acquire custody of his younger sibling, at least for the next year or so. He had to move back in with a rather unpleasant father, if what I'm reading between the lines is correct."

Stone was definitely putting special emphasis on Tyrik Roberts' family to draw parallels to Brian's own, but [blast] if it wasn't effective. A few more names and incidents Brian didn't really remember. Then she started on the rest of the victims from the robbery. There were more of those than he'd thought.


"Nathan Cooper, slammed through a window then trampled by some of your dogs. Over broken glass, I might add. It looked like he'd be fine, but his wounds got infected. Hopefully he'll wake up.

"Isabel Cooper, eight years old. Several lacerations from the glass and some rather serious trauma from watching her father get trampled and cut, then trying to patch him up. She did about as well as you'd expect from an eight year old with no training. She'll be fine physically.

"Samuel Kim, well, thanks to getting treatment immediately he won't lose any parts, but it was a close run thing. It's still going to take a long time for him to recover.

"Hector Brown, PRT member and professional accountant. Three broken fingers, cracked wrist, and a dislocated elbow."

Then she started on people who his work had "only" harmed psychologically and financially, or physically only to the level of bumps and bruises. Or both. There were a lot of those. Brian could only sit there and take it all in, and eventually she ran out, at least of the things they could prove.

And she looked at him. Disappointed, hurt, piteous, kind. Kind of like how he imagined his mother would react if she knew about Grue, assuming she wasn't high or drunk at the time. He supposed it was probably deliberate, but did that really matter?


"Is this really what you wanted to do with your life, Brian?"

It wasn't. But he couldn't say anything.

She walked out of the room.


Regent:

Alec was playing video games. That wasn't unusual, he played video games a lot. Most of the time, really. He really didn't fit in with normal people, no thanks to his "upbringing", and sleep wasn't something he liked risking too often, so why not? The alternative's were TV (which sucked), reading (which sucked worse than watching TV), or being alone with his thoughts (which sucked even worse than reading). So he played a lot of videogames.

He supposed he didn't actually have much of a plan. He'd see if the money from Lisa's mysterious "boss" still came through, or if she or Brian got out somehow. No skin off his nose if they stayed locked up, but he'd miss the security of a steady paycheck. Rachel could look after herself, and he didn't really care about her anyway, (and she didn't like him in the least) so if nothing turned up he'd be on his way. Brockton Bay hadn't been the first town he'd skipped, and it probably wouldn't be the last.

Besides, it was getting to be about time to move on anyway, make sure dear old dad didn't catch him staying in one place for too long.


Lisa:

She wouldn't have liked to admit it, but Lisa was scared. She'd known capture would likely mean her death ever since her "employment" started, and now it had happened. At best Coil would break her out and force her even deeper into slavery. More likely, he'd have her killed to keep her from talking. She'd considered telling her captors everything, but they hadn't given her a chance to. Nobody had been to see her, nobody had asked any questions, as far as she could tell nobody was paying any attention to her. That stung, and she wasn't sure it was just the lost opportunity to save herself. She suspected they were deliberately avoiding giving her attention, since they probably had at least a glimmer of an idea of what she could do, but that only made things worse. Until something happened, waking up and facing the day wasn't going to exactly be worth the effort, but she was far too worked up to go back to sleep.

Then she noticed the box. It wasn't a very big box, or a very conspicuous one, and she might not have noticed it if she hadn't accidentally put her hand on it, but it was there, in her bed, in the cell, in the cell block, inside PRT ENE headquarters. And it had her name on it. Her real name. Only two people in the city knew the name "Sarah Livesy", and she hadn't put the box there. It had to be Coil's work. But that wasn't Coil's handwriting. It had taken a lot of work, but Lisa had seen samples of that, and this writing looked nothing like his, and it wasn't from any of his minions Lisa had seen handwriting from either. It looked an awful lot like Lisa's handwriting, actually. Not exactly like hers, her power could detect a few slight mistakes. Extremely subtle ones, but she was good at picking out extremely subtle differences, especially with her power. Unfortunately, it was close enough to pass, and she wouldn't be able to convince anyone else that it wasn't hers unless they already suspected. Especially not if they already thought she was a liar, like the PRT probably did. They knew she was a supervillain, after all, probably at least suspected she was a Thinker, and didn't know that the supervillain thing was under some pretty severe coercion.


Lisa didn't want to know what was in the box. Undoubtedly, whatever it was was meant to look like it was hers, something she'd managed to smuggle past the search she'd been subjected to when they got her out of the foam. It was just small enough for that to be somewhat plausible, if the smuggler was really clever, and she'd been going around for months convincing everybody of just that. It was probably meant to kill her and make it seem like her own fault. She looked anyway, since she couldn't stand not knowing afford not to know.


She was cautious in opening it, keeping it as far away from her face and body as she could, not that it ended up mattering. Inside were her favorite lockpick, a miniature bank card, several diamonds, and the smallest gun Lisa had ever seen. She recognized the account the card corresponded to, it was the one "the boss"'s payments to the Undersiders always came from. The diamonds were from Coil's cut from the jewelry store raid. Not much good without certification to prove they were actually jewel-grade, but it was entirely plausible that she wouldn't have known that. The gun might be enough to kill if she hit somewhere vital, but it wouldn't be quick or reliable, and it only had a single shot. It wasn't enough for an escape, but just the act of (apparently) smuggling in a pick and a gun would paint a very clear picture. With the diamonds and the bank card, along with the fact that she was the sole Undersider to ever see or hear the mysterious "boss" another very clear picture would be painted. It probably wasn't a perfect frame-up, but the PRT wasn't inclined to listen to her and she would bet Coil could keep it that way. He wouldn't have done it this way if he couldn't.

Really, it was much cleaner than a dead body in PRT custody. She guessed she wasn't worth the trouble that something like that would stir up. Presumably, he'd wait until it would cause fewer questions and then she'd have an "unfortunate accident" or get stabbed by another inmate wherever she ended up.


Lisa didn't intend to go down that easily though. She had to find a way to dispose of the evidence. It was lucky that she'd woken up so early, he probably hadn't expected her to be awake when someone came in to "discover" the box. The toilet had a grate, one she wouldn't be able to dislodge in time. Somebody had probably tried hiding something that way before. The sink was too small. There was no trash bin, and even if there was it would be searched before disposal.

"Williams! Somebody wants to see…Is that a gun?! GUN!"

Lisa soon found herself buried in containment foam for the second time that week. Somehow, it felt even worse than the first.

A/N: Is this entirely fair to the Undersiders?

Well, no. Alec's section probably is, and Brian's might be depending on how you look at it. Alice Stone isn't lying, but she does have both personal and professional reasons to cast him in a negative light. Lisa's section, well, before you lynch me for it remember that neither Lisa nor Coil know everything.

 

[WallFlower]

A/N: Is this entirely fair to the Undersiders?

Well, no. Alec's section probably is, and Brian's might be depending on how you look at it. Alice Stone isn't lying, but she does have both personal and professional reasons to cast him in a negative light. Lisa's section, well, before you lynch me for it remember that neither Lisa nor Coil know everything.

As usual, please point out any spelling mistakes, grammatical errors, or awkward wording you notice. And I'm still looking for a Beta reader.

Click to shrink...

I think that it was fair to Brain. He tried to reach his goals at the cost of others. Sure he is sympethetic in how he did it for his sister, but that doesn't make it right.

Criminal behavior is often unfairly romanticized by glossing over the victims, so it is refreshing to see a story that depicts the violent criminals have on normal poeple of violent crime.