Welcome, one and all, to the Sufficient Velocity edition of Queen of the Swarm! I've been...
Queen of the Swarm (Worm; Complete)
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Prologue
Vherstinae
Patron Saint of Cuddlebugs
- Location
- Home
Disclaimer: I don't own Worm, nor do I own any other established properties – physical or intellectual – that I may reference. If I do own something, I will call it out. Otherwise, this is the only disclaimer I should need to post.
Wishful Thinking 0.01
What proof did he have that this would work? The rational part of his mind told him that it was a hoax; that what he'd been told – been promised – was impossible. But he'd seen them, so many of them... It had to be true. Curiosity had turned to utter fascination, which had given way to obsession. He'd been sitting in the car for...he checked the clock. God, almost a half-hour spent hemming and hawing outside this old barn. If they were thieves, they could probably have snuck up on him while he waited. Maybe they were on the level after all? Either way, two minutes left to the appointment.
Fuck it. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. He shut off the engine and stepped out. Even though he'd resolved to go in, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up in apprehension.
"We'd thought you were going to leave, with how much time you spent outside."
She was just there. Standing off to the side as he opened the door was a rather nondescript, dark-skinned woman in a lab coat. He must have jumped upon noticing her, because she gave him a rather condescending smile, like a parent who'd found her child trying to eat Play-Doh.
"H-how–" He stopped, under the guise of composing himself. Of course she'd have powers. No reason to act like an idiot. "How did you even know how to contact me?"
The woman just smirked. "I'm tempted to say, 'We have our ways' and leave it at that. In truth, we saw your history: searching Parahumans Online, looking up sites that claim to give powers – all of them hoaxes, of course." She turned and started walking, something in her body language telling him to fall in step beside her. "You may call me Doctor; nothing more. And what do I call you?"
He quirked a brow, which then knitted together with its partner in consternation at her soft laugh.
"Yes, we know much about you, but we at Cauldron feel it's helpful to maintain at least some degree of anonymity."
He nodded. "Alright. Call me..." He just blurted out the first name that came to mind. "...Bill."
(BREAK)
It was time. Three visits to the Cauldron facility had served to introduce him to the process, calculate finances, and conduct the necessary physical and psychological tests. Now, it was finally time. He was seated, changed into the requisite bodysuit, and gripping the chair's armrests. Things were very tense, very real now.
As always, the Doctor was just there. She reminded him, in a way, of one of his mother's favorite movies: the original Nutty Professor, how Buddy Love would just be there in the room; he was never shown entering. He'd just appear. The Doctor was like that, only hotter and a LOT more intimidating. She wasn't big and never demonstrated any powers, but she radiated an almost palpable aura of danger and authority.
"Alright, Bill," she said in her quiet, businesslike tone, "let's finalize things." She actually had a clipboard in her hand; was that really necessary? Or was it just to keep up appearances? "You're aware of the risks inherent in this formula, of course. But policy demands that we restate. Sample V-one-seven-seven-three carries a high risk of visible mutation, along with an even higher chance of a null result; that is, failure to produce a power. Regardless of the outcome, from physical changes to no result whatsoever, you are agreed to keep these meetings secret. And also..." Was it Bill's imagination, or was there a ghost of a smirk on her face? "There are no refunds."
(BREAK)
A full hour had passed with Bill hooked up to the various medical monitors. Finally, the Doctor returned. "I'm afraid, Bill, that I must apologize. The sample did not result in any power acquisition. Fortunately, there were also no mutations." She unstrapped him and offered him a hand, her own grip surprisingly gentle. A conciliatory expression was painted on her features. "Good luck in your future endeavors, Bill. I hope that they are more successful than this venture was." She motioned him along. "Come; I'll show you to the changing room and you can get dressed again."
(BREAK)
Oddly, it was a relief. Sure, he hadn't gotten powers and was out about two-hundred grand, but he at least knew he'd tried.
Terry Clements walked a little higher as he headed back to his car.
Wishful Thinking 0.01
What proof did he have that this would work? The rational part of his mind told him that it was a hoax; that what he'd been told – been promised – was impossible. But he'd seen them, so many of them... It had to be true. Curiosity had turned to utter fascination, which had given way to obsession. He'd been sitting in the car for...he checked the clock. God, almost a half-hour spent hemming and hawing outside this old barn. If they were thieves, they could probably have snuck up on him while he waited. Maybe they were on the level after all? Either way, two minutes left to the appointment.
Fuck it. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. He shut off the engine and stepped out. Even though he'd resolved to go in, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up in apprehension.
"We'd thought you were going to leave, with how much time you spent outside."
She was just there. Standing off to the side as he opened the door was a rather nondescript, dark-skinned woman in a lab coat. He must have jumped upon noticing her, because she gave him a rather condescending smile, like a parent who'd found her child trying to eat Play-Doh.
"H-how–" He stopped, under the guise of composing himself. Of course she'd have powers. No reason to act like an idiot. "How did you even know how to contact me?"
The woman just smirked. "I'm tempted to say, 'We have our ways' and leave it at that. In truth, we saw your history: searching Parahumans Online, looking up sites that claim to give powers – all of them hoaxes, of course." She turned and started walking, something in her body language telling him to fall in step beside her. "You may call me Doctor; nothing more. And what do I call you?"
He quirked a brow, which then knitted together with its partner in consternation at her soft laugh.
"Yes, we know much about you, but we at Cauldron feel it's helpful to maintain at least some degree of anonymity."
He nodded. "Alright. Call me..." He just blurted out the first name that came to mind. "...Bill."
(BREAK)
It was time. Three visits to the Cauldron facility had served to introduce him to the process, calculate finances, and conduct the necessary physical and psychological tests. Now, it was finally time. He was seated, changed into the requisite bodysuit, and gripping the chair's armrests. Things were very tense, very real now.
As always, the Doctor was just there. She reminded him, in a way, of one of his mother's favorite movies: the original Nutty Professor, how Buddy Love would just be there in the room; he was never shown entering. He'd just appear. The Doctor was like that, only hotter and a LOT more intimidating. She wasn't big and never demonstrated any powers, but she radiated an almost palpable aura of danger and authority.
"Alright, Bill," she said in her quiet, businesslike tone, "let's finalize things." She actually had a clipboard in her hand; was that really necessary? Or was it just to keep up appearances? "You're aware of the risks inherent in this formula, of course. But policy demands that we restate. Sample V-one-seven-seven-three carries a high risk of visible mutation, along with an even higher chance of a null result; that is, failure to produce a power. Regardless of the outcome, from physical changes to no result whatsoever, you are agreed to keep these meetings secret. And also..." Was it Bill's imagination, or was there a ghost of a smirk on her face? "There are no refunds."
(BREAK)
A full hour had passed with Bill hooked up to the various medical monitors. Finally, the Doctor returned. "I'm afraid, Bill, that I must apologize. The sample did not result in any power acquisition. Fortunately, there were also no mutations." She unstrapped him and offered him a hand, her own grip surprisingly gentle. A conciliatory expression was painted on her features. "Good luck in your future endeavors, Bill. I hope that they are more successful than this venture was." She motioned him along. "Come; I'll show you to the changing room and you can get dressed again."
(BREAK)
Oddly, it was a relief. Sure, he hadn't gotten powers and was out about two-hundred grand, but he at least knew he'd tried.
Terry Clements walked a little higher as he headed back to his car.
Spawn 01
Vherstinae
Patron Saint of Cuddlebugs
- Location
- Home
Spawn 1.01
Madison couldn't stop giggling. So much so, in fact, that Emma had to tell her to go hide in the bathroom so she didn't give them away. Sophia was at the end of her rope, about ready to start beating on Madison. In fact, if it hadn't been for Emma arguing the girl's usefulness, Sophia probably would have hurt her.
Madison would have broken. She wasn't strong; not like Taylor was. Taylor had survived her mother's death. She could take the abuse and break free, just like Emma had. Like Sophia had. Then she'd be worthy, not just prey. Sophia, of course, just wanted to break Taylor; maybe even kill her. She was the ultimate predator. But Emma knew better: Taylor could learn from this. This would be her cocoon, and a better Taylor would emerge from it.
In truth, this was the most nuanced of their pranks. Usually Sophia came up with the ideas, or at least picked the ones they'd use from numerous possibilities offered by Emma and Madison. This one, however, was all Emma's brainchild and would, if successful, be the last in their campaign. She, Madison and Sophia had saved up all their pads and tampons for two months, and had stolen more from the school's bathrooms. The plan was months in the making, and now it would pay off.
The bell rang. Emma and Sophia ducked behind the rows of lockers, nodding their confirmation to one another. Taylor would be along soon, to change.
(BREAK)
Things were quiet. If I were more into cliches, I might have said they were too quiet. Very little laughing behind my back. No little smug glances from Emma or Madison, no murderous ones from Sophia. In fact, when I'd seen them, they were uncharacteristically solemn, barely looking at me. That had been when I'd first gotten to school. It was now PE, and still no bullying. It was like their terror campaign had just...ended. While I was still walking on eggshells, some part of me – something in my very soul – unclenched. For the first time in nearly two years, I allowed myself to hope again.
God, but it stank in here. The locker room always had a scent of mold; Winslow was sort of a shithole, as far as schools went, and not a day went by that I didn't curse myself for being such a goddamn good friend. If I'd just gone with my grades, tried a scholarship to Arcadia, I wouldn't be hounded by those evil bitches almost every day of my life. No, bad thoughts. Maybe Emma's dad sat her down, figured out what was going on. His dad and mine were old friends, after all. Maybe Emma shaped up and was ashamed of herself...
Fuck, my mind was wandering. But it had good reason to. I wanted to ignore that stink. God, had the janitors done anything while Christmas break was on? Probably not. Holding my nose with one hand, I clumsily turned the combination and opened my locker.
A swarm of flies burst forth, their hairy, pointy legs tearing at my skin as they buzzed everywhere at once. My first instinct was to scream but I held it in, not even breathing out of fear they'd get in my lungs. Onto the floor dripped maggots and fetid slime, a thick mix of dark red and black-green chunks. Through the noxious fumes I could make out white objects stained red. Whatever they were, they must've been placed here before the holiday break. With the extra snow days from one of the worst ice storms to hit Brockton Bay in years, school hadn't been open in nearly a month. These things had been...rotting...for nearly a month.
I couldn't stop myself. I lurched over and vomited, so hard I couldn't even pause to inhale. It felt like my esophagus was being squashed together like an accordion, my voicebox trying to squeeze itself up out of my throat. I clutched my thighs, sobbing as best I could. My eyes burned, vision turning brown as I realized with horror that vomit was leaking from my tear ducts. The world swam before me and I had to fight to remain conscious.
I was jerked back to the real world when someone grabbed a fistful of my hair, jerking so hard it felt like my scalp would tear off. My ears buzzed from the pain of vomiting so hard, but I could recognize a hateful tone when I heard it.
Sophia.
It had to be her. Only she was this violent. Emma tortured me psychologically, and in the end that hurt the most, and Madison was a childish little fuck content to smear glue on my seat or steal my quiz answers. Sophia was the thug of the group. In the darkest recesses of my mind I thought that there might be some way to get Empire Eighty-Eight to kill her.
All of those thoughts whirled through my mind in the split-second it took for her to shove me into that churning nightmare, giving me a vicious kick to the spine to force me in the rest of the way before slamming the locker shut and spinning the lock. I couldn't even scream. I just whimpered in pain, the purest pain imaginable. It wasn't just physical pain; it was emotional, spiritual. Every last fucking cell in my body vibrated in sheer agony. My skinny frame sank down, legs giving out from the pain of the kick and feet slipping on the nightmare soup beneath me. I bit my lip hard enough to break the skin, tears and vomit seeping from my eyes and nose as the maggots bit into my flesh, delighted to have a new meal.
Pain, sadness and shame gave way to panic. I could die here. The maggots would eat into me, give me blood poisoning, and I'd die in this rotting filth. A primal scream I didn't even realize I was capable of tore from my lungs, launching more chunks of vomit into the air. I was too maddened with terror to even bother with the particles of upchuck that lodged my epiglottis open and leaked into my lungs. The locker was small, but I was skinny. I beat on the door with my hands and elbows, shrieked as loud as I could. I wasn't even sure if I was articulating words, but the sheer primal fear in my voice should've clued some people in.
Instead, I heard laughter. Not just the voices of my tormentors, but of others. They knew I was in here. They could see the filth and maggots pooled in front of my locker, so they would have to know I was in here with something rotting. And they were laughing.
I hurled my body against the locker door, all of my ninety-some pounds moving several inches to impact it. Again and again. I felt the bites, felt the things crawling INSIDE me. I was dead and I knew it. No matter what happened, I would die here. My only chance was to get free, to publicly blame Emma, Sophia and Madison. I wasn't going to let them get away with murdering me.
Most people black out. For me, my vision went white.
(BREAK)
Destination.
Agreement.
Trajectory.
Agreement.
Concern.
Confidence.
Renege?
Denial. Destination.
...Agreement.
(BREAK)
Beep. Beep. Beep.
"Bip. Bip. Bip."
For whatever reason, my first vocalization upon returning to consciousness was to imitate the EKG. Needless to say, when I realized this, I stopped.
My dad's eyes fluttered open. He looked like shit, and smelled like a homeless person. Jesus, his clothes looked terrible too, and I was far enough away that he was a little blurry. Had...had he been here the whole time? How long was "the whole time"?
"Taylor!" He kept his voice down, and I was thankful. My head felt like someone had split it in two with an axe and then put it back together with tape. His hand was on mine and it felt like he'd break it. I winced and looked down at myself.
Oh. My. Fuck. I was skeletal. I looked like the pictures psychiatrists would post online to scare people away from the "pro-ana" lifestyle. I rasped, but no words came out. Apparently I was stuck just making little pops of air.
"Bip." I couldn't help myself from smiling, even at how horrible the situation was. That was just too absurd. Dad smiled too, and tears just started pouring down his face. For a moment I saw them as brown, chunks of vomit and blood mixed in, before my...flashback? Vision? Whatever. Before I shook it off and saw my crying father again.
"Are...are you alright? Can you understand me?"
I pondered a moment, then gave my head a shake as best I could, followed by a nod. He seemed to get it.
"What do you need?"
I let go of his hand to mime typing on a keyboard. Oh god, my fingers looked like spiders' legs, albino spiders' legs. Again, I was back in the locker. I had to grit my teeth as hard as I could to keep from screaming. Thankfully, dad understood and patted my hand, bringing me back into the real world. He pushed the nurse call button.
(BREAK)
While my dad negotiated with the nurse to get a laptop or smartphone or anything I could use to type – I didn't trust my hands enough to hold a pen – I was doing my utmost not to get lost in my own mind. I could feel them, in the walls. The bugs were there, coming to get me. I could feel them crawling inside me, the maggots who got in.
Oh god, god, oh fucking god. They were going to eat me. They were going to burst from my chest like fucking Alien and–
No. I forced my mind to a halt. I will NOT give in! They will not break me. It was all in my head, just like the flashbacks. I was just imagining it. I could feel them crawling all around me, but it was just in my mind. I just needed to center myself, needed to just stop.
...Whoa.
My inner monologue suddenly took on Keanu Reeves' timbre. When I thought "stop," I could feel it. All of the bugs I felt around me, they froze. I could still feel them standing there like they'd been touched in a game of freeze tag.
Um, go?
With that thought, the bugs resumed their scuttling. It took me longer than it should have to process that. My excuse was that I was suffering from PTSD. I tried again: Stop. Then, after a few seconds, Go. It worked. I tuned out my dad as he debated some bureaucratic bullshit over not giving outside electronics to patients, closed my eyes, and focused.
It was like a switch had been flipped. I wasn't afraid anymore. I had control. For the first time in so long, I had control. And I controlled something that had previously frightened me. My mind reached further, and I could catalog the different kinds of bugs. Houseflies, hiding in crevices of the kitchen brickwork. Spiders in the ducts. Earthworms and cockroaches burrowing around beneath the foundation. Bees outside, happily pollinating the flowers. Butterflies getting drinks. I started to focus outside, and I could feel the cute ones. Fuzzy, round little bumblebees, all black and yellow, sipping nectar and getting pollen stuck to their adorable fluff. Ladybugs flitting here and there, hunting aphids and protecting the flowers. Beautiful butterflies drifting lazily on air currents, landing only to take a sip and move along. I felt a mosquito wing its way in through the ducts and make a beeline for my dad. With a thought, I sent it back into the air system and to a spiderweb. Fuck you, mosquito.
My eyes snapped back open. That had been reflexive. It hadn't taken any effort on my part at all. Even now, I could sense them all. I could control them all. And I knew them all. Sixty-seven thousand, four hundred twenty-two bugs, worms and assorted creepy-crawlies I had in...whatever range it was. I could feel every single one, and I instinctively knew I could command every single one to undertake a different action with only minimal concentration.
The nurse must've noticed my eyes open again, because she gave me a conspiratorial smile. I held in my surprise. Did she know? Did she have powers too? She came closer so I could really make out her face, setting a slightly tanned hand on my skeletal, alabaster one. She was pretty yet plain, sort of like I was, I guess. Somehow that little connection comforted me. "Okay," she said in a hushed voice, looking between dad and me, "I'm not technically supposed to do this, but if anybody deserves it, you do." She unclipped her own smartphone and presented it to me while calling up the keyboard. "Here you go, sweetie."
I smiled at her, wincing a little as my dehydrated lips stretched across bone-dry gums. Thank god my fingers still worked. I typed quickly. Thank you. I paused a moment. What's your name?
She smiled. "I'm Shelby. I'll leave you two alone." She stepped out.
I looked over to dad. How long have I been out?
His smile suddenly faded. "You've...you've been in a coma. For a week." He looked like he wanted to say more, but was gathering his thoughts. I let him. He'd had a week of worries and questions. "Taylor...god, sweetie, what happened? You never told me you were being bullied, but this thing doesn't just happen as a one-off. What's been going on?"
I couldn't keep the tears from falling. Since last year. Emma's been the one. Her, Sophia Hess and Madison Clements. They've been torturing me.
I could see the bulge in dad's temple as he clenched his jaw, reining in his temper. He'd pretty much had to develop one as part of the Dockworkers' Union, but it wouldn't do to scream at his daughter in the hospital. Okay, that wasn't giving him enough credit. He did his best not to yell even in my presence. "Taylor...why didn't you tell me?" The question was simple, but goddamn did the disappointment in his voice hurt.
You couldn't have done anything, I typed. You were still hurting from mom. You'd have driven yourself insane and we'd have been destroyed financially. The Barnes' (I wasn't sure about the plural, but fuck it) are rich. I thought things were going to be better, that maybe Mr. Barnes had set Emma straight.
Dad draped himself over me and just cried. He cried and I could feel everything. Mom, his helplessness, his wish for a better life for me. It was like the concepts themselves were spilling from his eyes.
(BREAK)
The next day I was due for discharge. Before that, however, the doctor and Nurse Shelby took my dad into a separate room, apparently to tell him the full extent of my injuries now that I was conscious and recovering.
Over the night I'd experimented with my bugs – I'd already come to think of them as my bugs – to see what I could do. The best way I could use them was for the sense of touch, giving me a very good idea of where someone was. But it was as I was falling asleep that I got another revelation: when I was zoned out, half-asleep or otherwise not thinking entirely as a human, it was easier to hear through them. Maybe because my bugs' brains were so basic that my own brain needed to be working at less than full efficiency to understand the signals.
With that in mind, I let my vision go glassy and just slumped in the bed, going as close to braindead as I could consciously manage. The hardest part was keeping this state – this fugue – while maintaining enough state of mind to understand what was being said. I still had a long way to go, but maybe I'd get lucky. I drifted off, my consciousness slipping into the bugs around my dad.
"...the IV drip almost every hour. Mister Hebert, that's not natural. It's supposed to drip, naturally flowing into the bloodstream over hours. This is like a vacuum was hooked up to the needle and sucked it all out."
"Yes, doctor," my dad said, his voice a little strained from frustration, "but what does that mean?"
"Honestly? I..." The voice faded, my focus coming back into the present. I stared at the ceiling and tried to get back into the mindset. Everything buzzed for a moment, my bugs trying to tell me what they were hearing. "...real injuries, thankfully. I don't know how it's possible, but other than some superficial bruising, there's no damage. The vast majority is psychological." I heard the doctor take a breath. "You know that, now that she's conscious, they'll try to press charges."
My father literally snarled. "They can try. Doctor, I need you to give me a full write-up of her coma and psychotic break. I want hard evidence against anything these fuckers bring up."
I could only presume the doctor nodded, because Shelby spoke up. "I'm usually a good judge of character. Taylor seems like a sweet girl, just from how the two of you interact. We'll help you, Mr. Hebert."
Huh, that was new. People actually being good human beings. I guess the shock of that, that there actually were decent folks in the world, must've gotten to me, because I slipped from partial consciousness to full unconsciousness.
(BREAK)
I woke up to my dad petting my hair. At least that was still there. I may have been even paler than before, and my lack of curves had pretty much transformed to a concave body shape from malnutrition, but my long ringlets of black hair always made me feel beautiful.
"Hey, baby girl," he smiled at me. "Feeling a little better?"
I nodded and managed to rasp out, "Yeah. Could use a drink, though." My voice was so ragged I thought I'd start spitting up dust bunnies.
Shelby came in wearing a wide smile and carrying a folded-up wheelchair. As she opened it up, I saw a manila folder had been tucked into it. She handed that to my dad with a knowing nod, then the pair of them helped me into it and covered me with a blanket. I was only in a hospital gown and some disposable underwear, so the blanket preserved my modesty as well as kept me warm.
Dad walked alongside me as Shelby wheeled me through the hospital, and had taken to nicknaming me Janis due to my raspy voice. He kept jokingly prodding me to start singing, "Take A Piece of My Heart." I responded by swatting at him. Despite my feigned annoyance, we were both smiling more than we had since we'd lost mom. Somehow, all of this horror had brought us closer together.
We were going to be okay.
Madison couldn't stop giggling. So much so, in fact, that Emma had to tell her to go hide in the bathroom so she didn't give them away. Sophia was at the end of her rope, about ready to start beating on Madison. In fact, if it hadn't been for Emma arguing the girl's usefulness, Sophia probably would have hurt her.
Madison would have broken. She wasn't strong; not like Taylor was. Taylor had survived her mother's death. She could take the abuse and break free, just like Emma had. Like Sophia had. Then she'd be worthy, not just prey. Sophia, of course, just wanted to break Taylor; maybe even kill her. She was the ultimate predator. But Emma knew better: Taylor could learn from this. This would be her cocoon, and a better Taylor would emerge from it.
In truth, this was the most nuanced of their pranks. Usually Sophia came up with the ideas, or at least picked the ones they'd use from numerous possibilities offered by Emma and Madison. This one, however, was all Emma's brainchild and would, if successful, be the last in their campaign. She, Madison and Sophia had saved up all their pads and tampons for two months, and had stolen more from the school's bathrooms. The plan was months in the making, and now it would pay off.
The bell rang. Emma and Sophia ducked behind the rows of lockers, nodding their confirmation to one another. Taylor would be along soon, to change.
(BREAK)
Things were quiet. If I were more into cliches, I might have said they were too quiet. Very little laughing behind my back. No little smug glances from Emma or Madison, no murderous ones from Sophia. In fact, when I'd seen them, they were uncharacteristically solemn, barely looking at me. That had been when I'd first gotten to school. It was now PE, and still no bullying. It was like their terror campaign had just...ended. While I was still walking on eggshells, some part of me – something in my very soul – unclenched. For the first time in nearly two years, I allowed myself to hope again.
God, but it stank in here. The locker room always had a scent of mold; Winslow was sort of a shithole, as far as schools went, and not a day went by that I didn't curse myself for being such a goddamn good friend. If I'd just gone with my grades, tried a scholarship to Arcadia, I wouldn't be hounded by those evil bitches almost every day of my life. No, bad thoughts. Maybe Emma's dad sat her down, figured out what was going on. His dad and mine were old friends, after all. Maybe Emma shaped up and was ashamed of herself...
Fuck, my mind was wandering. But it had good reason to. I wanted to ignore that stink. God, had the janitors done anything while Christmas break was on? Probably not. Holding my nose with one hand, I clumsily turned the combination and opened my locker.
A swarm of flies burst forth, their hairy, pointy legs tearing at my skin as they buzzed everywhere at once. My first instinct was to scream but I held it in, not even breathing out of fear they'd get in my lungs. Onto the floor dripped maggots and fetid slime, a thick mix of dark red and black-green chunks. Through the noxious fumes I could make out white objects stained red. Whatever they were, they must've been placed here before the holiday break. With the extra snow days from one of the worst ice storms to hit Brockton Bay in years, school hadn't been open in nearly a month. These things had been...rotting...for nearly a month.
I couldn't stop myself. I lurched over and vomited, so hard I couldn't even pause to inhale. It felt like my esophagus was being squashed together like an accordion, my voicebox trying to squeeze itself up out of my throat. I clutched my thighs, sobbing as best I could. My eyes burned, vision turning brown as I realized with horror that vomit was leaking from my tear ducts. The world swam before me and I had to fight to remain conscious.
I was jerked back to the real world when someone grabbed a fistful of my hair, jerking so hard it felt like my scalp would tear off. My ears buzzed from the pain of vomiting so hard, but I could recognize a hateful tone when I heard it.
Sophia.
It had to be her. Only she was this violent. Emma tortured me psychologically, and in the end that hurt the most, and Madison was a childish little fuck content to smear glue on my seat or steal my quiz answers. Sophia was the thug of the group. In the darkest recesses of my mind I thought that there might be some way to get Empire Eighty-Eight to kill her.
All of those thoughts whirled through my mind in the split-second it took for her to shove me into that churning nightmare, giving me a vicious kick to the spine to force me in the rest of the way before slamming the locker shut and spinning the lock. I couldn't even scream. I just whimpered in pain, the purest pain imaginable. It wasn't just physical pain; it was emotional, spiritual. Every last fucking cell in my body vibrated in sheer agony. My skinny frame sank down, legs giving out from the pain of the kick and feet slipping on the nightmare soup beneath me. I bit my lip hard enough to break the skin, tears and vomit seeping from my eyes and nose as the maggots bit into my flesh, delighted to have a new meal.
Pain, sadness and shame gave way to panic. I could die here. The maggots would eat into me, give me blood poisoning, and I'd die in this rotting filth. A primal scream I didn't even realize I was capable of tore from my lungs, launching more chunks of vomit into the air. I was too maddened with terror to even bother with the particles of upchuck that lodged my epiglottis open and leaked into my lungs. The locker was small, but I was skinny. I beat on the door with my hands and elbows, shrieked as loud as I could. I wasn't even sure if I was articulating words, but the sheer primal fear in my voice should've clued some people in.
Instead, I heard laughter. Not just the voices of my tormentors, but of others. They knew I was in here. They could see the filth and maggots pooled in front of my locker, so they would have to know I was in here with something rotting. And they were laughing.
I hurled my body against the locker door, all of my ninety-some pounds moving several inches to impact it. Again and again. I felt the bites, felt the things crawling INSIDE me. I was dead and I knew it. No matter what happened, I would die here. My only chance was to get free, to publicly blame Emma, Sophia and Madison. I wasn't going to let them get away with murdering me.
Most people black out. For me, my vision went white.
(BREAK)
Destination.
Agreement.
Trajectory.
Agreement.
Concern.
Confidence.
Renege?
Denial. Destination.
...Agreement.
(BREAK)
Beep. Beep. Beep.
"Bip. Bip. Bip."
For whatever reason, my first vocalization upon returning to consciousness was to imitate the EKG. Needless to say, when I realized this, I stopped.
My dad's eyes fluttered open. He looked like shit, and smelled like a homeless person. Jesus, his clothes looked terrible too, and I was far enough away that he was a little blurry. Had...had he been here the whole time? How long was "the whole time"?
"Taylor!" He kept his voice down, and I was thankful. My head felt like someone had split it in two with an axe and then put it back together with tape. His hand was on mine and it felt like he'd break it. I winced and looked down at myself.
Oh. My. Fuck. I was skeletal. I looked like the pictures psychiatrists would post online to scare people away from the "pro-ana" lifestyle. I rasped, but no words came out. Apparently I was stuck just making little pops of air.
"Bip." I couldn't help myself from smiling, even at how horrible the situation was. That was just too absurd. Dad smiled too, and tears just started pouring down his face. For a moment I saw them as brown, chunks of vomit and blood mixed in, before my...flashback? Vision? Whatever. Before I shook it off and saw my crying father again.
"Are...are you alright? Can you understand me?"
I pondered a moment, then gave my head a shake as best I could, followed by a nod. He seemed to get it.
"What do you need?"
I let go of his hand to mime typing on a keyboard. Oh god, my fingers looked like spiders' legs, albino spiders' legs. Again, I was back in the locker. I had to grit my teeth as hard as I could to keep from screaming. Thankfully, dad understood and patted my hand, bringing me back into the real world. He pushed the nurse call button.
(BREAK)
While my dad negotiated with the nurse to get a laptop or smartphone or anything I could use to type – I didn't trust my hands enough to hold a pen – I was doing my utmost not to get lost in my own mind. I could feel them, in the walls. The bugs were there, coming to get me. I could feel them crawling inside me, the maggots who got in.
Oh god, god, oh fucking god. They were going to eat me. They were going to burst from my chest like fucking Alien and–
No. I forced my mind to a halt. I will NOT give in! They will not break me. It was all in my head, just like the flashbacks. I was just imagining it. I could feel them crawling all around me, but it was just in my mind. I just needed to center myself, needed to just stop.
...Whoa.
My inner monologue suddenly took on Keanu Reeves' timbre. When I thought "stop," I could feel it. All of the bugs I felt around me, they froze. I could still feel them standing there like they'd been touched in a game of freeze tag.
Um, go?
With that thought, the bugs resumed their scuttling. It took me longer than it should have to process that. My excuse was that I was suffering from PTSD. I tried again: Stop. Then, after a few seconds, Go. It worked. I tuned out my dad as he debated some bureaucratic bullshit over not giving outside electronics to patients, closed my eyes, and focused.
It was like a switch had been flipped. I wasn't afraid anymore. I had control. For the first time in so long, I had control. And I controlled something that had previously frightened me. My mind reached further, and I could catalog the different kinds of bugs. Houseflies, hiding in crevices of the kitchen brickwork. Spiders in the ducts. Earthworms and cockroaches burrowing around beneath the foundation. Bees outside, happily pollinating the flowers. Butterflies getting drinks. I started to focus outside, and I could feel the cute ones. Fuzzy, round little bumblebees, all black and yellow, sipping nectar and getting pollen stuck to their adorable fluff. Ladybugs flitting here and there, hunting aphids and protecting the flowers. Beautiful butterflies drifting lazily on air currents, landing only to take a sip and move along. I felt a mosquito wing its way in through the ducts and make a beeline for my dad. With a thought, I sent it back into the air system and to a spiderweb. Fuck you, mosquito.
My eyes snapped back open. That had been reflexive. It hadn't taken any effort on my part at all. Even now, I could sense them all. I could control them all. And I knew them all. Sixty-seven thousand, four hundred twenty-two bugs, worms and assorted creepy-crawlies I had in...whatever range it was. I could feel every single one, and I instinctively knew I could command every single one to undertake a different action with only minimal concentration.
The nurse must've noticed my eyes open again, because she gave me a conspiratorial smile. I held in my surprise. Did she know? Did she have powers too? She came closer so I could really make out her face, setting a slightly tanned hand on my skeletal, alabaster one. She was pretty yet plain, sort of like I was, I guess. Somehow that little connection comforted me. "Okay," she said in a hushed voice, looking between dad and me, "I'm not technically supposed to do this, but if anybody deserves it, you do." She unclipped her own smartphone and presented it to me while calling up the keyboard. "Here you go, sweetie."
I smiled at her, wincing a little as my dehydrated lips stretched across bone-dry gums. Thank god my fingers still worked. I typed quickly. Thank you. I paused a moment. What's your name?
She smiled. "I'm Shelby. I'll leave you two alone." She stepped out.
I looked over to dad. How long have I been out?
His smile suddenly faded. "You've...you've been in a coma. For a week." He looked like he wanted to say more, but was gathering his thoughts. I let him. He'd had a week of worries and questions. "Taylor...god, sweetie, what happened? You never told me you were being bullied, but this thing doesn't just happen as a one-off. What's been going on?"
I couldn't keep the tears from falling. Since last year. Emma's been the one. Her, Sophia Hess and Madison Clements. They've been torturing me.
I could see the bulge in dad's temple as he clenched his jaw, reining in his temper. He'd pretty much had to develop one as part of the Dockworkers' Union, but it wouldn't do to scream at his daughter in the hospital. Okay, that wasn't giving him enough credit. He did his best not to yell even in my presence. "Taylor...why didn't you tell me?" The question was simple, but goddamn did the disappointment in his voice hurt.
You couldn't have done anything, I typed. You were still hurting from mom. You'd have driven yourself insane and we'd have been destroyed financially. The Barnes' (I wasn't sure about the plural, but fuck it) are rich. I thought things were going to be better, that maybe Mr. Barnes had set Emma straight.
Dad draped himself over me and just cried. He cried and I could feel everything. Mom, his helplessness, his wish for a better life for me. It was like the concepts themselves were spilling from his eyes.
(BREAK)
The next day I was due for discharge. Before that, however, the doctor and Nurse Shelby took my dad into a separate room, apparently to tell him the full extent of my injuries now that I was conscious and recovering.
Over the night I'd experimented with my bugs – I'd already come to think of them as my bugs – to see what I could do. The best way I could use them was for the sense of touch, giving me a very good idea of where someone was. But it was as I was falling asleep that I got another revelation: when I was zoned out, half-asleep or otherwise not thinking entirely as a human, it was easier to hear through them. Maybe because my bugs' brains were so basic that my own brain needed to be working at less than full efficiency to understand the signals.
With that in mind, I let my vision go glassy and just slumped in the bed, going as close to braindead as I could consciously manage. The hardest part was keeping this state – this fugue – while maintaining enough state of mind to understand what was being said. I still had a long way to go, but maybe I'd get lucky. I drifted off, my consciousness slipping into the bugs around my dad.
"...the IV drip almost every hour. Mister Hebert, that's not natural. It's supposed to drip, naturally flowing into the bloodstream over hours. This is like a vacuum was hooked up to the needle and sucked it all out."
"Yes, doctor," my dad said, his voice a little strained from frustration, "but what does that mean?"
"Honestly? I..." The voice faded, my focus coming back into the present. I stared at the ceiling and tried to get back into the mindset. Everything buzzed for a moment, my bugs trying to tell me what they were hearing. "...real injuries, thankfully. I don't know how it's possible, but other than some superficial bruising, there's no damage. The vast majority is psychological." I heard the doctor take a breath. "You know that, now that she's conscious, they'll try to press charges."
My father literally snarled. "They can try. Doctor, I need you to give me a full write-up of her coma and psychotic break. I want hard evidence against anything these fuckers bring up."
I could only presume the doctor nodded, because Shelby spoke up. "I'm usually a good judge of character. Taylor seems like a sweet girl, just from how the two of you interact. We'll help you, Mr. Hebert."
Huh, that was new. People actually being good human beings. I guess the shock of that, that there actually were decent folks in the world, must've gotten to me, because I slipped from partial consciousness to full unconsciousness.
(BREAK)
I woke up to my dad petting my hair. At least that was still there. I may have been even paler than before, and my lack of curves had pretty much transformed to a concave body shape from malnutrition, but my long ringlets of black hair always made me feel beautiful.
"Hey, baby girl," he smiled at me. "Feeling a little better?"
I nodded and managed to rasp out, "Yeah. Could use a drink, though." My voice was so ragged I thought I'd start spitting up dust bunnies.
Shelby came in wearing a wide smile and carrying a folded-up wheelchair. As she opened it up, I saw a manila folder had been tucked into it. She handed that to my dad with a knowing nod, then the pair of them helped me into it and covered me with a blanket. I was only in a hospital gown and some disposable underwear, so the blanket preserved my modesty as well as kept me warm.
Dad walked alongside me as Shelby wheeled me through the hospital, and had taken to nicknaming me Janis due to my raspy voice. He kept jokingly prodding me to start singing, "Take A Piece of My Heart." I responded by swatting at him. Despite my feigned annoyance, we were both smiling more than we had since we'd lost mom. Somehow, all of this horror had brought us closer together.
We were going to be okay.
Spawn 02
Vherstinae
Patron Saint of Cuddlebugs
- Location
- Home
Spawn 1.02
Emma, Sophia and Madison were monsters. If any of them had powers, I could see them fitting in well with the Slaughterhouse 9 in a few years. But I almost wanted to thank them. My dad and I were closer than ever. Maybe reality hadn't set in yet, because I was still on bedrest from my ordeal. Dad hadn't contacted Alan Barnes, hadn't threatened to sue the school.
As for me, my recovery was like lightning. Within a few days I had filled out to my usual gangly self, but hadn't stopped there. We hadn't been able to pay for physical therapy, so dad had me on a light exercise regimen, and I was somehow building some muscle tone. Maybe before I got back to school, I'd start running. My biggest squee moment, however, had been when I'd discovered I might actually need a bra. Sure, it was only an A-cup, but I wasn't so painfully flat anymore. And with the bit of tush I'd developed from muscle tone, I actually felt like a teenage girl instead of some genderless mannequin. Sure, my three tormentors were still radically more developed than me, Emma especially, but I didn't need to be some pin-up model. Just feeling like I had a gender was enough.
The only thing that had me worried was my power. I wasn't certain I wanted to tell my dad. I wanted, needed to make the world a better place. I needed to use my power, and I knew he'd worry if I told him. We'd already lost mom; he might try to forbid me from being a hero in an attempt to keep me safe. We'd just reconnected, and this power was part of me. I couldn't just not use it. I couldn't help but wonder if this was what gay kids felt when debating whether they should come out to their parents.
This was all just too much stress. I was tired from just thinking about all the ways it could go wrong. As I laid in bed, I watched a fly buzz around my room. Feeling bored, I decided not to control it and just watch what it would do naturally. It landed on my hand and I just blinked at it. Did it not realize that I could take away its autonomy with a thought? Or was it trying to be my friend so I wouldn't?
Jesus, I knew I was paranoid about other people, but was I now second-guessing a fly's motivations? I just wanted the stress to go away.
Like before, a switch seemed to flip in my mind. This time freaked me out a lot more. The fly just dissolved and melted into my skin. I just sat there, utterly stunned. My mind whizzed as I suddenly understood every aspect of the fly's physiology. I got it down to the cellular level. I started to wonder... With a thought, I summoned another fly and held it in my hand. I focused on the critter, willed it to change. Nothing. I focused harder, all of the information whirling through my brain, to the point I expected my hair to catch fire. Still nothing. I laid back and let out a huff of frustration, giving it up as a lost cause. Then the fly dissolved.
My brain was assaulted again, though it was easier this time. Fewer new bits of information, only the variations between this fly and the last one. Then came the changes. I improved its mitochondria, streamlined its nervous system. The single tiny eye in its ass expanded to a full compound eye for better protection, and I added a second pair of wings like a dragonfly to reduce energy expenditure. I nixed the reproductive system to save mass and reduce its need to eat. Finally, on a whim, I shrank it to the size of a gnat so it could be a better spy.
When I came to after this whirlwind of thought, I realized it had all taken place in only a few seconds. So, where was this new fly? I held out my hand, expecting it to melt into being. Instead, I got a strange urge to vomit. It didn't feel painful or unnatural like usual, nor did it remind me of the locker. My throat clenched up, and I coughed out something into my hand. The tiny glob of purple slime twitched, something crawling out from the center. It was my fly, the one I'd designed. I could feel it just like any other bug, but somehow I could still feel the presence within me. I had the blueprint filed away in my mind. Could I...?
At that thought, I coughed again, spitting out another fly. I focused on it and realized it was identical to the one I'd already made. With a thought I absorbed my new creations, and the weird purple placenta-slime-whatever that came with them, back into my body. No, that's not right. I'd generated them but I hadn't expended anything to do so. Somehow these flies were mass added to me, rather than extracted and returned. My brain whirled with the new possibilities. Immediately I called one of each kind of bug in my range, and I absorbed them all. The mass flowed into me and, though I didn't understand how, I instinctively sent it to my muscle fibers. The addition was negligible, but I did feel just a tiny bit stronger. I tried, but, no. I couldn't move the mass once I'd allocated it.
More importantly, however, were the thoughts in my mind. Just as I could control each and every one of the bugs in my range, my brain was churning with countless possible combinations. Somehow, though, I knew none of them would breed true. Like mules, they would be rendered sterile. This allowed me to eliminate the reproductive systems, giving me more possibilities for alterations and streamlining. The ideas that came to mind were monstrous: a mosquito that could inject targets with spider silk, creating blood clots; a hercules beetle with venom sacs in its pincers, able to pierce thicker skin and inject potent spider venom; a dragonfly that could perform kamikaze bombings with high-pressure mixes of venom and stinkbug spray. The ideas kept coming, kept refining.
I was starting to get a headache. Just because I could invent all of these ideas didn't mean that trying to understand every nuance even while I was further improving the concepts didn't get confusing and overbearing. I pushed it into the background, just like I'd learned to do with my bugs. I could leave the insects on autopilot, a technique I'd developed out of necessity. If there's a new cape who uses bugs and all the bugs in an area freeze in place every night, it'd be pretty easy for villains to figure out who was behind the mask.
I rolled over and went to sleep. I'd figure things out tomorrow.
(BREAK)
I woke up feeling much better. The ideas seemed to have refined themselves and I had just a handful of recipes that had apparently met my unconscious mind's approval. I had to admit, they were pretty impressive. A hybrid of a mantis and hercules beetle for causing pain, a spider-dragonfly for spreading thread, and a few others that impressed me a little less but were probably more utilitarian. The weirdest thing, but which made sense as I thought about it, was that their senses were heightened. I'd given them additional brain mass for sight and hearing, using the extra space from their removed reproductive organs to add that hind brain. With just a bit of focus I realized that these senses would gel better with my human mind: I wouldn't need to zone out as much to sense through them.
I willed myself to spit out one of those mantis-beetles so I could see how it'd work, but my throat locked up. It was like trying to swallow something too big, but in reverse. Nothing would come. I couldn't feel my stomach roiling with whatever nastiness had enveloped the flies.
Well, shit. I'd invented superbugs, but I couldn't make them. Lovely. Oh well, thank god for small favors. I could still control the bugs around me. They'd do for now. I sat up and felt something weird on my head. Had I let bugs perch on it overnight or something? I stretched, feeling my restored physique – yes, I was still excited about that. I was fifteen, sue me – and looked back to the pillow to make sure I hadn't squished any. There weren't any bugs. Instead, my entire head of hair lay on the pillow.
"Daaaaaad!"
(BREAK)
My father had come in to quite a sight: his daughter, strikingly bald, hyperventilating and gawking at her hair all over the pillow. After I'd babbled and cried into his shoulder for a while, I managed to calm down enough to try to explain.
"...So you're a parahuman," he said. It wasn't really a question. "You triggered in the locker." Again, a statement, just to confirm it for himself. "And you can control bugs?" Now it was a question.
"Not just control them," I clarified. "Watch this." I closed my eyes and flipped a mental rolodex back to my first experiment, that modified fly. It wasn't flashy, but it was proof. I hocked it up and spat the violet glob into my hand, letting the fly-thing squirm free. "I can make bugs. I can...see how they work and create new ones. The problem is, the ones I came up with, the best ones? I can't make them for some reason." They melted back down, soaking in through my pores. A crazy idea had me send this mass to my ocular nerves, maybe to shore up my nearsightedness. Maybe it was a placebo effect, but my sight might have improved ever so slightly.
My father was dumbstruck. "I... That's amazing. Kind of creepy, no offense, but amazing. You can make living creatures!"
I shook my head. "Nothing like Nilbog. I can't give them functional brains. They have very, very basic mental processes, maybe inferior to real bugs. Maybe I'll be able to do more in the future." I ran my hand over my pristine scalp. "I still have no idea why I lost my hair, though."
Dad wrapped his arms around me. That little act of approval meant the world to me and I melted into his embrace. "Well, you absorbed the bugs, and bugs don't really have hair. Maybe...you're getting some bug traits?"
I turned a little green at that. I might not have a problem with bugs anymore, but I didn't want compound eyes or a mosquito mouth. "I really hope not. Or if I do, maybe I can influence it. I mean, some beetle armor around my vital organs would be nice. Or spider strength like those Earth-Aleph comics." I turned back to the matter at hand. "But what about my hair? I can't just go around bald!"
My dad would openly admit he wasn't as smart as mom was. He even said that I was smarter than him; that he was better educated, but once that was no longer the case I'd outpace him in the brains department. However, where I'd gotten my shyness from him, he'd learned enough from mom to understand people fairly well. When pressed, he could put up a forceful personality. "This...actually might not be a bad thing." At my incredulous look, he elaborated. "Look, if a new hero shows up using bugs, is about Taylor Hebert's height and build, and has her long, beautiful hair," I tried to suppress my grimace at the fact that I no longer had my long, beautiful hair, "what are people going to think? Someone's bound to put two and two together. But, if Taylor Hebert still has her long, beautiful hair and this new cape seems bald..." He grinned. "We have all your hair right here. We can get a wig made, find somebody who won't talk or pay them extra not to."
Here, my mind took over. "No, we don't need somebody to make a wig. Don't be scared," I added as he raised a questioning brow. I called a swarm of wasps and black widow spiders to me, reaching over to crack the window so they could come in. All in all, dad was taking things amazingly well. He barely shivered at all when confronted with the procession of dangerous creepies. I had the spiders start weaving their gossamer on nothing in particular, then the wasps began chewing it up, mixing it into a super-concrete with their saliva...or whatever bugs have. I knew what it was, but instinctively knowing didn't mean I could name it. The widows went to my hair, gathering it up to the shape of my head and weaving their silk through it. The wasps crawled into the locks from the other side, spitting their creation into my tresses. It dried clear, pasted down like hair glue. The silk would be soft to the touch and comfortable, and I could use sticky webbing to help adhere it to my head.
Dad watched in fascination. "...Hey," he finally said, "remember when we saw that special on civil engineering and scientists were working on mass-producing artificial spider silk?" I nodded, not quite getting where he was going with this. Then again, I was focusing on getting my head shape just right. If I was successful, it would look exactly like natural hair. "Well," he continued, "you've got excellent control of those spiders, and their silk is supposed to be tougher than kevlar at a fraction of the weight. How about you make a costume with them?"
He was caught off-guard as I bowled him over with a hug.
(BREAK)
Monday rolled around and it was time for me to go back to school. I'd managed to catch up on all my assignments over the weekend, with the help of some special bugs.
An interesting thing to note about humans is that there really isn't such a thing as multitasking. If we try to do more than one thing at once, we sacrifice efficiency for versatility. Same thing was basically true for capes and powers, actually. Sometimes you got somebody like Alexandria who seemed to get the best stuff, but most of the time capes with a wider array of powers had ones that were, individually, much weaker than somebody who had only one power.
I didn't have the multitasking problem. Some aspect of my power granted me the ability to devote 100% of my focus to every task, no matter how many there were, as long as my senses could handle them. With my eyeball bugs there to read the textbooks, hercules beetles to help hold the pencils and ants to move them, I was writing papers for three different classes all at once. Any more than that and I couldn't focus on the answers. Bugs were a lot simpler than Jane Eyre.
So I walked into Winslow with my head held high. I had power. I had control. My relationship with my father was so much better. Sure, the parts of me that had been beaten down over the multi-year hate campaign told me I was a monster, something horrific and aberrant. In fact, my very primal being would tell me that in the dark of night. But I'd survived the hate, thought of myself that way even before I triggered. I just quashed the thoughts and moved forward. I was better than my bullies. I had always been better morally and now I was better physically too. Yeah, it was petty but I think I'd earned a little pettiness by that point.
First period was Social Studies with Mr. Gladly, or "Mr. G" as he preferred to be known. Gladly always kept his tie partly undone and wanted to be friends with all the cool kids. If he wasn't such a dick I might have pitied him, but his trying to get into Emma Barnes' good books automatically put him out of mine. Okay, that might've been too petty. He might just be a sad little man who didn't realize what was going on, or ignored it because he wanted so badly to be accepted. It didn't make him a good person if true, but it would also not make him a bad one. I took my seat and got out my homework, feeling confident.
True to form, the Bitches of Eastwick slipped in just before the bell. Emma gave me a smug little grin that just promised future torment and it was everything I could do not to lunge from my seat and beat her to death with it.
Wow, that was violent. Was that the primal insect brainwaves? I looked back at my desk and noticed my homework was gone. Madison was handing it in and gave me a little wave as she went back to her seat. That bitch! I closed my eyes and centered myself, focusing on my bugs. I didn't control them, just took a headcount. That was calming for me, knowing I was part of something so much bigger than school; so much bigger than them.
I drifted in and out as Gladly waxed poetic about the founding of the PRT and Protectorate, mostly thinking about whether I should join the Wards. Maybe I should join New Wave instead. Yes, the PRT had funding and New Wave was mostly a family affair, but they had Panacea. She was a healer, and probably the most accomplished biological cape after Bonesaw of the 9. I'd love to pick her brain.
Gladly started to erase the whiteboard. "Alright everyone, read up on the Wards program for tomorrow. Hebert, can I see you for a moment?"
The snide comments were what I'd expected. "He's probably gonna tell her what a failure she is." "Maybe she's blowing him to try and get a good grade." I tuned them out and stepped up to his desk. He waited until everyone else was out.
"Taylor, do you think I'm blind?"
I just blinked. "You're going to have to elaborate, sir."
"I can see you're being bullied. Why aren't you doing anything?" He fixed me with a sympathetic look.
The Taylor from before the locker would have just ducked her head and suffered, crushed under the knowledge that no-one who could help cared, and no-one who cared could help. I wasn't that girl anymore. "The better question is why aren't you doing anything?" I bit the words out at him. "Your question is like a cop on-scene asking a mugging victim why he didn't defend himself," I continued before he could try to placate me. "You're a teacher. You're supposed to help your students. If you see actions like that, why don't you say something? Or is being one of the cool kids more important to you than actually doing your job?" It took so much effort to keep my swarm in place. They wanted to respond to my emotions, to tear him apart as best they could.
He just stared me down, his expression having gone cold. "That will be all, Taylor."
I didn't even dignify him with a response. I just stalked out. Right into the Terror Trio. Fuck.
"I wonder what Mr. G wanted," Madison asked to her friends, though it was directed at me, "a quickie?"
"Probably," Sophia agreed. "I mean, look at the little whore, stuffing her bra to try to look remotely like a girl."
"I'd hoped she wouldn't come back," Emma piped up. "You'd think she'd realize nobody wants her here. She's ugly, stupid and everyone hates her."
Gladly just walked past. He eyed me but kept going, despite having clearly heard the insults. Well fuck him and fuck them too. Just because I wasn't going to use my powers, I wasn't going to let these cunts walk all over me.
"Really, girls?" I spoke with a confident smile. "This from the prepubescent," I settled my gaze on Madison, "the bimbo," Emma, "and the thug?" I stopped at Sophia, holding her gaze. She was fairly tall, but I had a couple of inches on even her. I took advantage of that and loomed as best as my still admittedly gangly frame could manage. "I figure Madison here plays up the schoolgirl angle for whichever teachers are pedophiles in the classes where she can't simply steal the homework," I sneered, "since obviously she's too fucking stupid to succeed otherwise." I raised my voice to a brief shout, cutting off Emma's retort. "But Emma here's the most pitiful. Just because she has tits and her daddy has money, she thinks she's queen of the school. I'll see you in twenty years, Barnes, when I'm wealthy from my own achievements and you're a silicone-filled trophy wife. Or maybe you'll get lucky, fuck a celebrity, and get the time slot after the Kardashians."
For once, the crowd was silent. The victim was finally striking back, and hitting hard. They were waiting to see which side they should support. Fucking lemmings. I let my eyes drift back to Sophia. "And Hess, I can't even pity you. You're a violent, hateful thug who can run fast. You're pretty much every argument E88 has against blacks. Maybe I should let Kaiser know where your family lives." My voice took on an exceedingly dangerous tone. "You tried to kill me. It's only fair I return the favor, with interest, isn't it?" I watched the color drain and return the Sophia's face, her mind warring between fear and outrage. "But I won't," I continued. "Because I'm better than you. You have to hurt other people just to validate your own existence. I have a father who loves me and grades good enough to get into Arcadia. Maybe I should transfer and leave you all here in this shithole, just like you left me in that locker. So no, I'm not going to get you back for all of the evil things you've done to me. But I won't take any more abuse." I stepped into Sophia's personal space, flexing up what little muscle I'd built. Amazingly, from what I could see of myself from my bugs' eyes, my skinny frame actually made me look more ripped. "You come after me, or my family, and I will hurt you. I'll make you know the fear and pain I suffered as the maggots ate into my veins and I bled into that filth, knowing I would die." I pushed past her, elbowing Emma and Sophia. "This is your only warning," I spat as I left.
I managed to keep my composure – barely – until I made it to the bathroom. I ducked into a stall, locked it and sat down before choking down a sob. How had I done that? I'd been terrified the entire time. Surprisingly, the answer came to me. They didn't matter. My happiness mattered, my dad's happiness mattered. We were good people and we deserved peace. And, just like the Protectorate, we might have to fight to achieve that peace.
My stomach started churning, violently. I hopped off the toilet and turned, disgust welling within me as I was forced to grab the seat. I vomited a flood, a constant gush of that purple slime. It was thicker than before, more like pudding than chunky water. I shakily flushed the toilet as the bowl began to fill, but it continued to spew from me. How did I have this much in me? I could feel more churning, not just my stomach. My entire abdominal region was rearranging itself under my skin. The vomit finally stopped and I flushed for a third time, swallowing down the last of the residue. Oddly, it felt fine to swallow. None of the disgust or burning that typical barf brought with it. More than that, it felt filling, like a hearty meal. That was freaky, but I was a girl who could hock up bugs like others could spit loogies. It wasn't that bizarre. Hell, placenta was supposed to be nutritious, or at least that's what those crazy moms who claimed it should be eaten said. Maybe the same was for that goop.
I heard laughter. I recognized the laughter. "I knew you were a pussy, Hebert," Sophia said. "Just more prey. You tried to talk tough but you couldn't even make it to next period without puking your guts out. You're worthless."
Emma joined in. "Yeah, and I'll bet now you're gonna go cry yourself to sleep for two more weeks."
That was it. Something was pulled to its limit and snapped. I flung the door open. I idly noted, as I took control of my bugs again, that the bathroom door was open and people were peering in. And still no fucking teachers.
"Oh my god," Madison giggled, "she really is crying!"
Tears spilled freely down my cheeks. I didn't bother to wipe them, letting the salty droplets spatter on the floor. "You're using my mother's death against me?" My voice was sharp, accusing, dangerous. That little voice in the back of my head, the one that kept telling me I was an abomination, was silent. I'd seen true inhumanity. "Emma Barnes, you are a monster." The word was stressed to the degree that I imagined it's how the Spanish Inquisition would name someone a heretic. I'd said my peace. Nothing more needed to be expressed. I went to push past them again. Instead, Sophia planted her hand on my sternum and used her entire body weight to shove me back. I stumbled and my back cracked against the toilet pipes. Pain shot through me and for a moment I was worried she'd broken my spine.
Sophia was already on me. She grabbed me by the shoulders, then pulled a hand back to punch me square in the eye. Blood vessels burst and half my vision was red. She tugged me up and threw me against the toilet again. Those hands gripped my shoulders once more and the feral part of my brain took over. I grabbed her arms and pulled her closer, smashing the crown of my skull into her nose. I hauled myself up with her arms, then let go and planted a clumsy kick in her strong abdominals. Still, strength born of desperation and fury sent her practically flying out of the stall, her head impacting the sink. I could feel hot blood dripping out of my eye socket and I turned to the gawking crowd.
"Well!? Someone call the fucking cops!"
I turned back as Sophia started to struggle to her feet. I didn't want to kick her again; she could pull my foot out from under me. She wobbled a little, maybe concussed, so I decided to play on that. I didn't know how to throw a punch to save my life, so instead I delivered a vicious slap to the side of her head. I grabbed a tangle of her hair just as she had mine before shoving me in the locker. My intentions were more immediate, however. I slammed her head into the sink again and let her drop like a sack of rice.
Whimpering caught my attention. I turned to see Madison crouched on the ground, covering her ears, eyes squeezed shut. Good god, she really was just a little kid, wasn't she? But Emma still stood, arms folded under that damn ample bust of hers, a fucking smile on her face. Was that a smile of...pride? "What the fuck are you grinning about!?" I stalked toward her, my bloodlust growing. I was going to kill her and damn the consequences. She must have realized that as her expression turned to fear and she started to back away. Then two school rent-a-cops grabbed my arms, one of them lodging a billy club under my chin and making me choke.
Emma, Sophia and Madison were monsters. If any of them had powers, I could see them fitting in well with the Slaughterhouse 9 in a few years. But I almost wanted to thank them. My dad and I were closer than ever. Maybe reality hadn't set in yet, because I was still on bedrest from my ordeal. Dad hadn't contacted Alan Barnes, hadn't threatened to sue the school.
As for me, my recovery was like lightning. Within a few days I had filled out to my usual gangly self, but hadn't stopped there. We hadn't been able to pay for physical therapy, so dad had me on a light exercise regimen, and I was somehow building some muscle tone. Maybe before I got back to school, I'd start running. My biggest squee moment, however, had been when I'd discovered I might actually need a bra. Sure, it was only an A-cup, but I wasn't so painfully flat anymore. And with the bit of tush I'd developed from muscle tone, I actually felt like a teenage girl instead of some genderless mannequin. Sure, my three tormentors were still radically more developed than me, Emma especially, but I didn't need to be some pin-up model. Just feeling like I had a gender was enough.
The only thing that had me worried was my power. I wasn't certain I wanted to tell my dad. I wanted, needed to make the world a better place. I needed to use my power, and I knew he'd worry if I told him. We'd already lost mom; he might try to forbid me from being a hero in an attempt to keep me safe. We'd just reconnected, and this power was part of me. I couldn't just not use it. I couldn't help but wonder if this was what gay kids felt when debating whether they should come out to their parents.
This was all just too much stress. I was tired from just thinking about all the ways it could go wrong. As I laid in bed, I watched a fly buzz around my room. Feeling bored, I decided not to control it and just watch what it would do naturally. It landed on my hand and I just blinked at it. Did it not realize that I could take away its autonomy with a thought? Or was it trying to be my friend so I wouldn't?
Jesus, I knew I was paranoid about other people, but was I now second-guessing a fly's motivations? I just wanted the stress to go away.
Like before, a switch seemed to flip in my mind. This time freaked me out a lot more. The fly just dissolved and melted into my skin. I just sat there, utterly stunned. My mind whizzed as I suddenly understood every aspect of the fly's physiology. I got it down to the cellular level. I started to wonder... With a thought, I summoned another fly and held it in my hand. I focused on the critter, willed it to change. Nothing. I focused harder, all of the information whirling through my brain, to the point I expected my hair to catch fire. Still nothing. I laid back and let out a huff of frustration, giving it up as a lost cause. Then the fly dissolved.
My brain was assaulted again, though it was easier this time. Fewer new bits of information, only the variations between this fly and the last one. Then came the changes. I improved its mitochondria, streamlined its nervous system. The single tiny eye in its ass expanded to a full compound eye for better protection, and I added a second pair of wings like a dragonfly to reduce energy expenditure. I nixed the reproductive system to save mass and reduce its need to eat. Finally, on a whim, I shrank it to the size of a gnat so it could be a better spy.
When I came to after this whirlwind of thought, I realized it had all taken place in only a few seconds. So, where was this new fly? I held out my hand, expecting it to melt into being. Instead, I got a strange urge to vomit. It didn't feel painful or unnatural like usual, nor did it remind me of the locker. My throat clenched up, and I coughed out something into my hand. The tiny glob of purple slime twitched, something crawling out from the center. It was my fly, the one I'd designed. I could feel it just like any other bug, but somehow I could still feel the presence within me. I had the blueprint filed away in my mind. Could I...?
At that thought, I coughed again, spitting out another fly. I focused on it and realized it was identical to the one I'd already made. With a thought I absorbed my new creations, and the weird purple placenta-slime-whatever that came with them, back into my body. No, that's not right. I'd generated them but I hadn't expended anything to do so. Somehow these flies were mass added to me, rather than extracted and returned. My brain whirled with the new possibilities. Immediately I called one of each kind of bug in my range, and I absorbed them all. The mass flowed into me and, though I didn't understand how, I instinctively sent it to my muscle fibers. The addition was negligible, but I did feel just a tiny bit stronger. I tried, but, no. I couldn't move the mass once I'd allocated it.
More importantly, however, were the thoughts in my mind. Just as I could control each and every one of the bugs in my range, my brain was churning with countless possible combinations. Somehow, though, I knew none of them would breed true. Like mules, they would be rendered sterile. This allowed me to eliminate the reproductive systems, giving me more possibilities for alterations and streamlining. The ideas that came to mind were monstrous: a mosquito that could inject targets with spider silk, creating blood clots; a hercules beetle with venom sacs in its pincers, able to pierce thicker skin and inject potent spider venom; a dragonfly that could perform kamikaze bombings with high-pressure mixes of venom and stinkbug spray. The ideas kept coming, kept refining.
I was starting to get a headache. Just because I could invent all of these ideas didn't mean that trying to understand every nuance even while I was further improving the concepts didn't get confusing and overbearing. I pushed it into the background, just like I'd learned to do with my bugs. I could leave the insects on autopilot, a technique I'd developed out of necessity. If there's a new cape who uses bugs and all the bugs in an area freeze in place every night, it'd be pretty easy for villains to figure out who was behind the mask.
I rolled over and went to sleep. I'd figure things out tomorrow.
(BREAK)
I woke up feeling much better. The ideas seemed to have refined themselves and I had just a handful of recipes that had apparently met my unconscious mind's approval. I had to admit, they were pretty impressive. A hybrid of a mantis and hercules beetle for causing pain, a spider-dragonfly for spreading thread, and a few others that impressed me a little less but were probably more utilitarian. The weirdest thing, but which made sense as I thought about it, was that their senses were heightened. I'd given them additional brain mass for sight and hearing, using the extra space from their removed reproductive organs to add that hind brain. With just a bit of focus I realized that these senses would gel better with my human mind: I wouldn't need to zone out as much to sense through them.
I willed myself to spit out one of those mantis-beetles so I could see how it'd work, but my throat locked up. It was like trying to swallow something too big, but in reverse. Nothing would come. I couldn't feel my stomach roiling with whatever nastiness had enveloped the flies.
Well, shit. I'd invented superbugs, but I couldn't make them. Lovely. Oh well, thank god for small favors. I could still control the bugs around me. They'd do for now. I sat up and felt something weird on my head. Had I let bugs perch on it overnight or something? I stretched, feeling my restored physique – yes, I was still excited about that. I was fifteen, sue me – and looked back to the pillow to make sure I hadn't squished any. There weren't any bugs. Instead, my entire head of hair lay on the pillow.
"Daaaaaad!"
(BREAK)
My father had come in to quite a sight: his daughter, strikingly bald, hyperventilating and gawking at her hair all over the pillow. After I'd babbled and cried into his shoulder for a while, I managed to calm down enough to try to explain.
"...So you're a parahuman," he said. It wasn't really a question. "You triggered in the locker." Again, a statement, just to confirm it for himself. "And you can control bugs?" Now it was a question.
"Not just control them," I clarified. "Watch this." I closed my eyes and flipped a mental rolodex back to my first experiment, that modified fly. It wasn't flashy, but it was proof. I hocked it up and spat the violet glob into my hand, letting the fly-thing squirm free. "I can make bugs. I can...see how they work and create new ones. The problem is, the ones I came up with, the best ones? I can't make them for some reason." They melted back down, soaking in through my pores. A crazy idea had me send this mass to my ocular nerves, maybe to shore up my nearsightedness. Maybe it was a placebo effect, but my sight might have improved ever so slightly.
My father was dumbstruck. "I... That's amazing. Kind of creepy, no offense, but amazing. You can make living creatures!"
I shook my head. "Nothing like Nilbog. I can't give them functional brains. They have very, very basic mental processes, maybe inferior to real bugs. Maybe I'll be able to do more in the future." I ran my hand over my pristine scalp. "I still have no idea why I lost my hair, though."
Dad wrapped his arms around me. That little act of approval meant the world to me and I melted into his embrace. "Well, you absorbed the bugs, and bugs don't really have hair. Maybe...you're getting some bug traits?"
I turned a little green at that. I might not have a problem with bugs anymore, but I didn't want compound eyes or a mosquito mouth. "I really hope not. Or if I do, maybe I can influence it. I mean, some beetle armor around my vital organs would be nice. Or spider strength like those Earth-Aleph comics." I turned back to the matter at hand. "But what about my hair? I can't just go around bald!"
My dad would openly admit he wasn't as smart as mom was. He even said that I was smarter than him; that he was better educated, but once that was no longer the case I'd outpace him in the brains department. However, where I'd gotten my shyness from him, he'd learned enough from mom to understand people fairly well. When pressed, he could put up a forceful personality. "This...actually might not be a bad thing." At my incredulous look, he elaborated. "Look, if a new hero shows up using bugs, is about Taylor Hebert's height and build, and has her long, beautiful hair," I tried to suppress my grimace at the fact that I no longer had my long, beautiful hair, "what are people going to think? Someone's bound to put two and two together. But, if Taylor Hebert still has her long, beautiful hair and this new cape seems bald..." He grinned. "We have all your hair right here. We can get a wig made, find somebody who won't talk or pay them extra not to."
Here, my mind took over. "No, we don't need somebody to make a wig. Don't be scared," I added as he raised a questioning brow. I called a swarm of wasps and black widow spiders to me, reaching over to crack the window so they could come in. All in all, dad was taking things amazingly well. He barely shivered at all when confronted with the procession of dangerous creepies. I had the spiders start weaving their gossamer on nothing in particular, then the wasps began chewing it up, mixing it into a super-concrete with their saliva...or whatever bugs have. I knew what it was, but instinctively knowing didn't mean I could name it. The widows went to my hair, gathering it up to the shape of my head and weaving their silk through it. The wasps crawled into the locks from the other side, spitting their creation into my tresses. It dried clear, pasted down like hair glue. The silk would be soft to the touch and comfortable, and I could use sticky webbing to help adhere it to my head.
Dad watched in fascination. "...Hey," he finally said, "remember when we saw that special on civil engineering and scientists were working on mass-producing artificial spider silk?" I nodded, not quite getting where he was going with this. Then again, I was focusing on getting my head shape just right. If I was successful, it would look exactly like natural hair. "Well," he continued, "you've got excellent control of those spiders, and their silk is supposed to be tougher than kevlar at a fraction of the weight. How about you make a costume with them?"
He was caught off-guard as I bowled him over with a hug.
(BREAK)
Monday rolled around and it was time for me to go back to school. I'd managed to catch up on all my assignments over the weekend, with the help of some special bugs.
An interesting thing to note about humans is that there really isn't such a thing as multitasking. If we try to do more than one thing at once, we sacrifice efficiency for versatility. Same thing was basically true for capes and powers, actually. Sometimes you got somebody like Alexandria who seemed to get the best stuff, but most of the time capes with a wider array of powers had ones that were, individually, much weaker than somebody who had only one power.
I didn't have the multitasking problem. Some aspect of my power granted me the ability to devote 100% of my focus to every task, no matter how many there were, as long as my senses could handle them. With my eyeball bugs there to read the textbooks, hercules beetles to help hold the pencils and ants to move them, I was writing papers for three different classes all at once. Any more than that and I couldn't focus on the answers. Bugs were a lot simpler than Jane Eyre.
So I walked into Winslow with my head held high. I had power. I had control. My relationship with my father was so much better. Sure, the parts of me that had been beaten down over the multi-year hate campaign told me I was a monster, something horrific and aberrant. In fact, my very primal being would tell me that in the dark of night. But I'd survived the hate, thought of myself that way even before I triggered. I just quashed the thoughts and moved forward. I was better than my bullies. I had always been better morally and now I was better physically too. Yeah, it was petty but I think I'd earned a little pettiness by that point.
First period was Social Studies with Mr. Gladly, or "Mr. G" as he preferred to be known. Gladly always kept his tie partly undone and wanted to be friends with all the cool kids. If he wasn't such a dick I might have pitied him, but his trying to get into Emma Barnes' good books automatically put him out of mine. Okay, that might've been too petty. He might just be a sad little man who didn't realize what was going on, or ignored it because he wanted so badly to be accepted. It didn't make him a good person if true, but it would also not make him a bad one. I took my seat and got out my homework, feeling confident.
True to form, the Bitches of Eastwick slipped in just before the bell. Emma gave me a smug little grin that just promised future torment and it was everything I could do not to lunge from my seat and beat her to death with it.
Wow, that was violent. Was that the primal insect brainwaves? I looked back at my desk and noticed my homework was gone. Madison was handing it in and gave me a little wave as she went back to her seat. That bitch! I closed my eyes and centered myself, focusing on my bugs. I didn't control them, just took a headcount. That was calming for me, knowing I was part of something so much bigger than school; so much bigger than them.
I drifted in and out as Gladly waxed poetic about the founding of the PRT and Protectorate, mostly thinking about whether I should join the Wards. Maybe I should join New Wave instead. Yes, the PRT had funding and New Wave was mostly a family affair, but they had Panacea. She was a healer, and probably the most accomplished biological cape after Bonesaw of the 9. I'd love to pick her brain.
Gladly started to erase the whiteboard. "Alright everyone, read up on the Wards program for tomorrow. Hebert, can I see you for a moment?"
The snide comments were what I'd expected. "He's probably gonna tell her what a failure she is." "Maybe she's blowing him to try and get a good grade." I tuned them out and stepped up to his desk. He waited until everyone else was out.
"Taylor, do you think I'm blind?"
I just blinked. "You're going to have to elaborate, sir."
"I can see you're being bullied. Why aren't you doing anything?" He fixed me with a sympathetic look.
The Taylor from before the locker would have just ducked her head and suffered, crushed under the knowledge that no-one who could help cared, and no-one who cared could help. I wasn't that girl anymore. "The better question is why aren't you doing anything?" I bit the words out at him. "Your question is like a cop on-scene asking a mugging victim why he didn't defend himself," I continued before he could try to placate me. "You're a teacher. You're supposed to help your students. If you see actions like that, why don't you say something? Or is being one of the cool kids more important to you than actually doing your job?" It took so much effort to keep my swarm in place. They wanted to respond to my emotions, to tear him apart as best they could.
He just stared me down, his expression having gone cold. "That will be all, Taylor."
I didn't even dignify him with a response. I just stalked out. Right into the Terror Trio. Fuck.
"I wonder what Mr. G wanted," Madison asked to her friends, though it was directed at me, "a quickie?"
"Probably," Sophia agreed. "I mean, look at the little whore, stuffing her bra to try to look remotely like a girl."
"I'd hoped she wouldn't come back," Emma piped up. "You'd think she'd realize nobody wants her here. She's ugly, stupid and everyone hates her."
Gladly just walked past. He eyed me but kept going, despite having clearly heard the insults. Well fuck him and fuck them too. Just because I wasn't going to use my powers, I wasn't going to let these cunts walk all over me.
"Really, girls?" I spoke with a confident smile. "This from the prepubescent," I settled my gaze on Madison, "the bimbo," Emma, "and the thug?" I stopped at Sophia, holding her gaze. She was fairly tall, but I had a couple of inches on even her. I took advantage of that and loomed as best as my still admittedly gangly frame could manage. "I figure Madison here plays up the schoolgirl angle for whichever teachers are pedophiles in the classes where she can't simply steal the homework," I sneered, "since obviously she's too fucking stupid to succeed otherwise." I raised my voice to a brief shout, cutting off Emma's retort. "But Emma here's the most pitiful. Just because she has tits and her daddy has money, she thinks she's queen of the school. I'll see you in twenty years, Barnes, when I'm wealthy from my own achievements and you're a silicone-filled trophy wife. Or maybe you'll get lucky, fuck a celebrity, and get the time slot after the Kardashians."
For once, the crowd was silent. The victim was finally striking back, and hitting hard. They were waiting to see which side they should support. Fucking lemmings. I let my eyes drift back to Sophia. "And Hess, I can't even pity you. You're a violent, hateful thug who can run fast. You're pretty much every argument E88 has against blacks. Maybe I should let Kaiser know where your family lives." My voice took on an exceedingly dangerous tone. "You tried to kill me. It's only fair I return the favor, with interest, isn't it?" I watched the color drain and return the Sophia's face, her mind warring between fear and outrage. "But I won't," I continued. "Because I'm better than you. You have to hurt other people just to validate your own existence. I have a father who loves me and grades good enough to get into Arcadia. Maybe I should transfer and leave you all here in this shithole, just like you left me in that locker. So no, I'm not going to get you back for all of the evil things you've done to me. But I won't take any more abuse." I stepped into Sophia's personal space, flexing up what little muscle I'd built. Amazingly, from what I could see of myself from my bugs' eyes, my skinny frame actually made me look more ripped. "You come after me, or my family, and I will hurt you. I'll make you know the fear and pain I suffered as the maggots ate into my veins and I bled into that filth, knowing I would die." I pushed past her, elbowing Emma and Sophia. "This is your only warning," I spat as I left.
I managed to keep my composure – barely – until I made it to the bathroom. I ducked into a stall, locked it and sat down before choking down a sob. How had I done that? I'd been terrified the entire time. Surprisingly, the answer came to me. They didn't matter. My happiness mattered, my dad's happiness mattered. We were good people and we deserved peace. And, just like the Protectorate, we might have to fight to achieve that peace.
My stomach started churning, violently. I hopped off the toilet and turned, disgust welling within me as I was forced to grab the seat. I vomited a flood, a constant gush of that purple slime. It was thicker than before, more like pudding than chunky water. I shakily flushed the toilet as the bowl began to fill, but it continued to spew from me. How did I have this much in me? I could feel more churning, not just my stomach. My entire abdominal region was rearranging itself under my skin. The vomit finally stopped and I flushed for a third time, swallowing down the last of the residue. Oddly, it felt fine to swallow. None of the disgust or burning that typical barf brought with it. More than that, it felt filling, like a hearty meal. That was freaky, but I was a girl who could hock up bugs like others could spit loogies. It wasn't that bizarre. Hell, placenta was supposed to be nutritious, or at least that's what those crazy moms who claimed it should be eaten said. Maybe the same was for that goop.
I heard laughter. I recognized the laughter. "I knew you were a pussy, Hebert," Sophia said. "Just more prey. You tried to talk tough but you couldn't even make it to next period without puking your guts out. You're worthless."
Emma joined in. "Yeah, and I'll bet now you're gonna go cry yourself to sleep for two more weeks."
That was it. Something was pulled to its limit and snapped. I flung the door open. I idly noted, as I took control of my bugs again, that the bathroom door was open and people were peering in. And still no fucking teachers.
"Oh my god," Madison giggled, "she really is crying!"
Tears spilled freely down my cheeks. I didn't bother to wipe them, letting the salty droplets spatter on the floor. "You're using my mother's death against me?" My voice was sharp, accusing, dangerous. That little voice in the back of my head, the one that kept telling me I was an abomination, was silent. I'd seen true inhumanity. "Emma Barnes, you are a monster." The word was stressed to the degree that I imagined it's how the Spanish Inquisition would name someone a heretic. I'd said my peace. Nothing more needed to be expressed. I went to push past them again. Instead, Sophia planted her hand on my sternum and used her entire body weight to shove me back. I stumbled and my back cracked against the toilet pipes. Pain shot through me and for a moment I was worried she'd broken my spine.
Sophia was already on me. She grabbed me by the shoulders, then pulled a hand back to punch me square in the eye. Blood vessels burst and half my vision was red. She tugged me up and threw me against the toilet again. Those hands gripped my shoulders once more and the feral part of my brain took over. I grabbed her arms and pulled her closer, smashing the crown of my skull into her nose. I hauled myself up with her arms, then let go and planted a clumsy kick in her strong abdominals. Still, strength born of desperation and fury sent her practically flying out of the stall, her head impacting the sink. I could feel hot blood dripping out of my eye socket and I turned to the gawking crowd.
"Well!? Someone call the fucking cops!"
I turned back as Sophia started to struggle to her feet. I didn't want to kick her again; she could pull my foot out from under me. She wobbled a little, maybe concussed, so I decided to play on that. I didn't know how to throw a punch to save my life, so instead I delivered a vicious slap to the side of her head. I grabbed a tangle of her hair just as she had mine before shoving me in the locker. My intentions were more immediate, however. I slammed her head into the sink again and let her drop like a sack of rice.
Whimpering caught my attention. I turned to see Madison crouched on the ground, covering her ears, eyes squeezed shut. Good god, she really was just a little kid, wasn't she? But Emma still stood, arms folded under that damn ample bust of hers, a fucking smile on her face. Was that a smile of...pride? "What the fuck are you grinning about!?" I stalked toward her, my bloodlust growing. I was going to kill her and damn the consequences. She must have realized that as her expression turned to fear and she started to back away. Then two school rent-a-cops grabbed my arms, one of them lodging a billy club under my chin and making me choke.
Spawn 03
Vherstinae
Patron Saint of Cuddlebugs
- Location
- Home
Spawn 1.03
No matter what that damn skeleton of a principal demanded, no matter how loud she yelled, I refused to speak without my father present. I figured if this was an analogue to some crime drama, dad was a fair substitute for my lawyer. Of course, the monsters had an actual lawyer in the form of Alan Barnes.
Of course, once my father had arrived, things were even more tense. Two generations of former friends, on opposite sides of a very real conflict.
"Miss Hebert," Principal Blackwell glared down at me along her knifelike nose, her tuft of white-blonde hair ringing her head like some sort of oversized mushroom, "attacking another student is a very serious offense."
"Fucking right it is," I spat. "So why are you telling this to the victim rather than the perpetrator?"
Her glare hardened. "You are the perpetrator, Miss Hebert."
"Bullshit."
"I'd thank you not to use such offensive language, Miss."
"And I'd thank you not to defend criminals, Ma'am." I couldn't keep the snarl out of my voice. "On whose word am I the perpetrator?"
"On Miss Barnes, Hess and Clements' word," she said matter-of-factly.
My dad tried to speak up but the fury was boiling within me. I replied before he could get a syllable out. "And are you taking their word because there are more of them? Or is it because Emma's dad is rich and Sophia's a track star? Justice, Principal, is supposed to treat everyone equally. The shy girl might not be as valuable to you, but are you actually going to sit there and insist that these three utter psychopaths are guiltless?" I stood and slapped my hands onto her desk. "How about you ask the dozen-plus other students who witnessed the fight in the bathroom? How about you ask the teachers? Mr. Gladly for one admitted he knew I was being bullied, though he also admitted he'd do jack fuck about it." At this, my dad's face became even harder.
Alan Barnes spoke up. "Winslow High School had originally declined to press charges against Taylor after her attack on the school staff last month, but with this now, I'll be representing the school in a civil suit against you as well as filing criminal charges against your daughter for her vicious and unfounded attack on my daughter's friend, Danny."
"You mean the panic attack she suffered after nearly dying in a locker full of biological waste, Alan? They had to clean it out with a hazmat team! And ask your daughter's friend how my own daughter got the very distinct imprint of the toilet pipe's screw in her back if she attacked Sophia and shoved her out of the stall?"
"Mr. Hebert," Blackwell interjected, "we just want this to go away. We won't press charges or counter-suits if you just agree not to press your own charges or suits."
"Danny, any court case like that will be fraught with numerous depositions, motions, counter-motions, hearings, and all of those cost money. Are you willing to bankrupt yourself as well as having Taylor sent to juvenile detention?"
My dad looked ready to lunge. Alan Barnes was bigger and more muscular than my dad, but dad was with the dockworkers almost every day. He was wiry. He could win, but a fistfight would prove nothing. I placed my hand on his arm and very gently gripped him. I turned back to Blackwell. "Alright, we'll drop the charges if you'll give us a single concession. You don't want any more of these fights. Transfer me to Arcadia. I have the grades, and you get to keep your track star."
The principal shook her head. "The waiting list for Arcadia is already hundreds of names long. We can't demand a fast-track just because of one bad apple with delusions of grandeur."
I just squeezed dad's arm harder, partly to keep him from flying off the handle and partly to keep my own hackles from rising. I stood. "Fuck you very much for taking time out of your day, then." I turned back to the trio and their wealthy backer. "Sophia, I'm considering rescinding my earlier mercy." I decided to just let her figure that out on her own. I slipped my hand into dad's and led him out. "Take me home," I said in a voice that was as small as I felt at that moment.
(BREAK)
The drive had been silent, both of us stewing in our bile. When we got home I took dad's hand again, led him to the couch, and fell against him. I let myself sob. He did as well, running his fingers through my hair. Eventually the wig came loose and fell off, which just made us both cry harder. I don't know how long it was before we'd cried out enough pain to speak rationally.
"Why didn't you fight, Taylor?" he whispered, apparently not trusting his voice not to crack. I didn't blame him.
"Because they'd win. The law always shits on the little people. Because it'd be so easy for me to whip E88 into a frenzy and get Sophia's whole family killed, but I'm not a monster like them. Because we don't have to be the little people." At his curious expression, I continued, idly running my finger over the bloody tear stains from my wounded left eye. "I have powers. If I join the Wards, they'll move me to Arcadia. I can make a difference, be a better person, and be free. We won't have to deal with those evil people any more. We just have to be good people," I mumbled into his chest.
(BREAK)
I must have cried myself to sleep, because I woke up the next morning in bed with a makeshift tissue bandage over my left eye. I got dressed and walked downstairs. After hugging dad, I told him to call the PRT and set up an appointment.
"Now? Taylor, you're still hurt."
I hoped that my retort sounded more resolute than defiant. "The sooner I get inducted, the sooner I can get the fuck out of that hellhole." I realized after the fact that I was using very strong language around my father. He was either too drained to comment or was of such like mind that he didn't care.
Dad called while I made breakfast. It was just grapefruit and toast, but it was the first breakfast of a new stage in my life. It tasted wonderful. The PRT contact told us to head to the little travel agency at the strip mall, where we'd catch a van to Protectorate HQ. I appreciated the anonymity. Our appointment was scheduled for eleven, so I took a two-lap run around our neighborhood's little stamp of houses. When I got back, I toweled off, got a drink, fixed my wig and hopped in the car with dad.
If the travel agency got too much traffic, I figured people would get suspicious. Plus, it was out in the boonies by the docks, like us. Probably just one of many stations. My suspicions were confirmed as dad and I were ushered out the travel agency's back door and into a white van. Inside was a very comfortable little setup with bucket seats. According to the PRT officer who sat back with us, the travel agency was real and the employees made a bit more than their regular salary on the stipulation that they didn't report anything PRT-related. Again, I thought this was very sensible. The Brockton Bay Protectorate were rather ineffectual in my opinion, but they had good policies in place at the very least. And they were my way out.
(BREAK)
The term "Protectorate HQ," as it turned out, was a total misnomer. It was mostly paper-pushers and some auditoriums (wouldn't the proper plural be auditoria?) for tour groups to meet heroes. The actual Protectorate headquarters was the Rig, a heavily modified oil rig that spent most of its time floating in the bay. In bad storms, we'd seen it drift over and dock into one of two piers on either side of the bay.
After dad and I had spent too much time filling out paperwork, we were led to the shuttle that would ferry me over to the Rig, where I'd be tested to prove I was parahuman, and then to categorize me. I'd already figured I was a high-level Master, with some points in Thinker and maybe Breaker, with my goo and custom bugs. Or would that roll into Master? Well, my hair had fallen out and I could add bugs to my body, so at least Breaker 1, I guessed. I gave dad a hug, sad that we had to part ways here, but it was – like so many other Protectorate policies – sensible. Too many civilians in the headquarters was dangerous. They might learn something and they couldn't defend themselves against hostile capes. Best to keep my dad ignorant and safe.
I was met by Miss Militia, second in command of the Brockton Bay Protectorate. I'd figured it would be her. Armsmaster might be an excellent tactician, but he didn't have what you call "the social skills." Yes, I did mentally quote that in Mama Boucher's voice. Miss Militia was only two or so inches shorter than me, her long black hair tied back and the only bit of her dark olive skin visible being her eyes and forehead. She wore modified army fatigues, not as baggy and clearly fitted with armor places. An American flag scarf covered the rest of her face. Her energy weapon was currently in the form of two holstered pistols. Her eyes crinkled with a smile and, somehow, I immediately liked her. "You must be Taylor." She extended a hand to me and I shook it. "I'm Miss Militia. If you decide to join the Wards, you may eventually meet me in my civilian identity. For now, though, come on." She walked with confidence but not arrogance. I could see the difference between her and someone like Emma or Sophia as glaringly as the difference between a dog and an iguana. She sat down with me in some surprisingly average chairs, the kind I'd expect in a teacher's office. I guess even superheroes had to deal with government budgets.
"Now then," she folded one leg over the other, hands atop her knee, "what are your powers?"
I blushed a bit, embarrassed. "Well, it's hard to demonstrate here, but...I control bugs."
She didn't react one way or another. "What kind of bugs?"
"Oh, all kinds. Not just insects, either. Spiders, worms, I think I felt some crabs and lobsters once when I was near the beach. If it's creepy-crawly and has a primitive brain, I think it's fair game."
She nodded. "Anything else?"
For some reason, I didn't tell her about my bug-making power. "Well, I don't know if it's related or just from the wounds I suffered from my trigger event, but my hair fell out." I gestured at my head. "I had my spiders weave my hair into a wig."
She stood and motioned for me to walk with her. "Trigger events are terrible things, Taylor. They are, at the time, the worst experience of a person's life. We don't discuss them because some people can still end up mentally back in the situation that caused them to trigger." I was reminded of the locker. "However," she continued as we exited to the Rig's exterior, "we are legally required to ask all Wards about their trigger events. We don't want them going into a situation that could cause them to break down, or for them to have a particular vendetta." She checked to make sure I was following the conversation. "Now, are there any bugs in your range?"
I nodded. "Some dragonflies. Want me to bring them up and show you?" She nodded and I went to work. It was effortless now, as simple as moving my hand or blinking. I had the dragonflies spiral up in a double helix pattern, then open into a circle, then come to rest on our heads. Miss Militia giggled. "I can control them for the most precise purposes, and I'm working on seeing and hearing through them. It's hit-and-miss, okay, more miss than hit right now. Bug brains are too simple to translate well."
"Are they safe?" At first I thought she was afraid of bugs, but her tone spoke of curiosity and of worry not for herself but for others.
I nodded, the dragonflies hanging on as my head moved. "While they're under my command, there's no instinct. They follow my orders explicitly. If I tell them to kamikaze or to feed themselves to spiders, they will. If I tell a black widow not to bite no matter what, it won't bite even if squished." I sent them off then released them from my control, watching them flit around.
"How many can you control at once?"
I shrugged. "As many as are in range. I haven't found a limit yet, and I've been in the hundreds of thousands at least. After a while counting becomes tedious, so I only stop to take stock if it's important to me. Otherwise, just having 'a lot' is enough."
"Well," she said thoughtfully, and I finally realized that she didn't have an accent. Parahumans Online said Miss Militia was Middle-Eastern by birth and had been naturalized, but I suppose I'd always expected in the back of my mind for her to have a bit of an accent. "Considering your fine control and ability to sense through your...swarm?" Yeah, that term sounded perfect. "I'd say you're at least a Master 5 or 6. With practice you might make it to 7. Likewise, with your senses, that's at least a Thinker 1 when you've got enough bugs."
Instead of shoulder angel and devil, I had shoulder spider and ladybug. Ladybug said I should tell Miss Militia about my other power, especially since it'll come out eventually. Better to be upfront and safe. Spider said no, that they'd think I could be another Nilbog. I might end up killed to be safe, or drugged up and used as a minion generator, or any other horrific thing my damaged brain could imagine. I decided to placate them both. I'd wait to learn more about the Wards. If I somehow decided I wouldn't join, I didn't want them armed with that knowledge. "So, what's next?" My question broke the somewhat pregnant pause that had stretched between us.
"Next, you meet the Wards. You should know who you'll be working with before you decide to join." She led me back inside and through the Rig, stopping at a large metal door. The heroine pressed a green button with a stylized domino mask and I could hear something like an alarm clock going off on the other side. "It's a signal to the Wards that a civilian is coming through," Miss Militia answered my unspoken question. "That way they have time to get their masks on."
After about fifteen seconds of buzzing, the door slid open to reveal a petite, quite cute girl in a green and teal outfit. I immediately recognized her as Vista. "Hello," she chirped and extended a hand. "I'm Vista, technically the most senior member of the Wards."
I took her hand with a smile. "Taylor. Nice to meet you. And technically the most senior?"
She nodded. "I may be thirteen, but I triggered at seven. I have more years of experience in the field than anyone else currently in the Wards. Aegis is the oldest, though, so he's leader. Chronological seniority policy," she grumbled, puffing out her cheeks.
Miss Militia smiled at the two of us. "Alright, I'll leave you to meet the rest of the Wards. I hope you like them, Taylor."
Vista led me inside and the door hissed shut behind us. "I hope you decide to join. I could use another girl to talk with."
I raised an eyebrow. "Isn't Shadow Stalker a girl?"
She actually snorted. "Aegis would get on my case if he heard me say this, but Shadow Stalker is a raging bitch. She's the most mean-spirited good guy I've ever met. So yeah, technically female in the same way Cujo was technically a dog."
I frowned, images of the monsters I was trying to leave behind coming to mind. "I hope the others aren't like that."
"Oh no," she bounced back from her grump, "the others are all really nice. Well, Clockblocker's annoying but he usually means well. Aegis is business most of the time but he's a big teddy bear under it all. Kid Win is fun and Gallant is exactly like his name. Sweetest guy on the team."
I noticed her cheeks color a little under her visor but decided not to press.
"Did I hear somebody talking about me?" Clockblocker rounded the corner. I noticed that some of the clocks on his costume really were moving, and the clock on his full helmet had all three hands tick-tocking in real time.
"Yes, Clock, and you also heard the signal, so how are you so late? That many clocks, the least you could do is be on time," Vista snarked.
"Ouch," he chuckled and offered me a handshake. "I'm Clockblocker, but you probably already knew that." He inclined his head slightly while I shook his hand, and I realized he was checking me out. At that point two emotions warred in my mind. The first was offense at how blatantly he was doing it, especially behind his helmet. The second was giddiness due to actually being acknowledged as female and attractive. I eventually decided to shelve the whole thing and continue with introductions, giving him my name in return. "Gallant and Kid are off today, and Shadow Stalker's apparently running late, but we can find Aegis somewhere. By the way, speaking of ouch..." He tapped his visor where his left eye would be.
"Master of subtlety, you are," commented the diminutive senior Ward.
I shrugged. "Got in a fight with the same people who caused my trigger. I came out ahead in terms of damage."
"No offense," came another new voice, "but you don't look like a fighter." Aegis was broad-shouldered and muscular, the mocha skin of his mouth and jaw the only part of his face exposed. His costume was a mix of rust and silver, with a shield emblazoned on his chest.
"I'm not, really, but there's something to be said for getting so pissed you go into a berserker rage."
"I can imagine you'd be angry. Trigger events are nasty business," Aegis commented. "What powers did you get to make up for it?"
I smiled. "I control bugs."
"No offense," Vista piped up, "but that's creepy. And gross."
"I could have ladybugs do a parade for you," I offered.
"And now un-gross."
We all laughed at that.
"No, it's actually pretty cool. I can control them down to the smallest detail, and send them on precise missions. I actually practiced having them style my hair." It was technically true, though the hair wasn't attached to my head at the time.
"So you could be a spy?" Aegis offered.
"Or a saboteur," I grinned. "A swarm of flies carries in a net of spider silk to drop on the bad guys. Stronger than kevlar and sticky on top of that."
"Okay," Clockblocker commented, "that sounds badass."
"I set the ones back home on autopilot. My spiders are programmed to weave silk for my costume, then eat other bugs so they don't weave themselves to death."
"Really badass," the time-stopper amended.
"What is?"
...No. No. I did not recognize that voice.
Shadow Stalker walked in and promptly froze.
NO!
She was the right height, the right build, her voice sounded the same...
I voice my suspicion. It came out as an accusation. "Sophia Hess."
I couldn't be certain if the soft gasps of surprise were from my knowledge of her identity or from the sheer murder in my voice.
"Hebert, what the fuck are you doing here?"
"I triggered when you tried to murder me, you monster." I didn't raise my voice, but even I could feel the bite of my cold tone.
Clockblocker stepped between us, probably ready to freeze whoever lunged.
"What are you talking about?" Aegis' tone wasn't accusatory like the other adults'. He sounded genuinely inquisitive.
"She's a crazy bitch who's been stalking me for a year," Sophia blustered.
"More lies and accusations," I snarled. I could feel my midsection churning, begging to spit up something new. "This psychopath has been conducting a terror campaign against me for two years. A month ago she trapped me inside a maggot-infested biohazard and left me to be eaten alive. I was comatose for a week." I finally put the pieces together. "That's why the school never did anything. It wasn't because you're a track star, or Emma's dad is rich. It's because you're a Ward! How is a Monster like you a hero?" I was clearly pronouncing it with a capital letter now, like Endbringer. "You're always going on about predators and prey. If I'd known you had powers, I'd have pegged you for building a CV to join the Slaughterhouse 9. They'd recognize a fellow Monster." How was I remaining relatively calm? I still hadn't raised my voice.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa." The distance between Sophia and me more than tripled as Vista spoke up. "Look, whatever's going on, it's only worse because it involves parahumans. Clock, keep between them. I'll keep them apart. Aegis, could you please contact Director Piggot?"
Instinctively, I wanted to tell them to fuck off, that I wasn't going to expose myself to another betrayal by an authority figure. But no, Sophia was not going to get another free ride. She was a hero? Someone as evil as her was allowed to be a hero? Fuck that. If this Piggy or whatever didn't come through, I would. Kaiser's people would get a tip.
If I'd had more time to think, I probably would have wondered about my new vindictive streak. I'd never been this violent, never been this willing to act on a grudge. Were my Master powers somehow affecting my mind? Whatever. I'd figure it out later. For now, I marched alongside Clockblocker.
No matter what that damn skeleton of a principal demanded, no matter how loud she yelled, I refused to speak without my father present. I figured if this was an analogue to some crime drama, dad was a fair substitute for my lawyer. Of course, the monsters had an actual lawyer in the form of Alan Barnes.
Of course, once my father had arrived, things were even more tense. Two generations of former friends, on opposite sides of a very real conflict.
"Miss Hebert," Principal Blackwell glared down at me along her knifelike nose, her tuft of white-blonde hair ringing her head like some sort of oversized mushroom, "attacking another student is a very serious offense."
"Fucking right it is," I spat. "So why are you telling this to the victim rather than the perpetrator?"
Her glare hardened. "You are the perpetrator, Miss Hebert."
"Bullshit."
"I'd thank you not to use such offensive language, Miss."
"And I'd thank you not to defend criminals, Ma'am." I couldn't keep the snarl out of my voice. "On whose word am I the perpetrator?"
"On Miss Barnes, Hess and Clements' word," she said matter-of-factly.
My dad tried to speak up but the fury was boiling within me. I replied before he could get a syllable out. "And are you taking their word because there are more of them? Or is it because Emma's dad is rich and Sophia's a track star? Justice, Principal, is supposed to treat everyone equally. The shy girl might not be as valuable to you, but are you actually going to sit there and insist that these three utter psychopaths are guiltless?" I stood and slapped my hands onto her desk. "How about you ask the dozen-plus other students who witnessed the fight in the bathroom? How about you ask the teachers? Mr. Gladly for one admitted he knew I was being bullied, though he also admitted he'd do jack fuck about it." At this, my dad's face became even harder.
Alan Barnes spoke up. "Winslow High School had originally declined to press charges against Taylor after her attack on the school staff last month, but with this now, I'll be representing the school in a civil suit against you as well as filing criminal charges against your daughter for her vicious and unfounded attack on my daughter's friend, Danny."
"You mean the panic attack she suffered after nearly dying in a locker full of biological waste, Alan? They had to clean it out with a hazmat team! And ask your daughter's friend how my own daughter got the very distinct imprint of the toilet pipe's screw in her back if she attacked Sophia and shoved her out of the stall?"
"Mr. Hebert," Blackwell interjected, "we just want this to go away. We won't press charges or counter-suits if you just agree not to press your own charges or suits."
"Danny, any court case like that will be fraught with numerous depositions, motions, counter-motions, hearings, and all of those cost money. Are you willing to bankrupt yourself as well as having Taylor sent to juvenile detention?"
My dad looked ready to lunge. Alan Barnes was bigger and more muscular than my dad, but dad was with the dockworkers almost every day. He was wiry. He could win, but a fistfight would prove nothing. I placed my hand on his arm and very gently gripped him. I turned back to Blackwell. "Alright, we'll drop the charges if you'll give us a single concession. You don't want any more of these fights. Transfer me to Arcadia. I have the grades, and you get to keep your track star."
The principal shook her head. "The waiting list for Arcadia is already hundreds of names long. We can't demand a fast-track just because of one bad apple with delusions of grandeur."
I just squeezed dad's arm harder, partly to keep him from flying off the handle and partly to keep my own hackles from rising. I stood. "Fuck you very much for taking time out of your day, then." I turned back to the trio and their wealthy backer. "Sophia, I'm considering rescinding my earlier mercy." I decided to just let her figure that out on her own. I slipped my hand into dad's and led him out. "Take me home," I said in a voice that was as small as I felt at that moment.
(BREAK)
The drive had been silent, both of us stewing in our bile. When we got home I took dad's hand again, led him to the couch, and fell against him. I let myself sob. He did as well, running his fingers through my hair. Eventually the wig came loose and fell off, which just made us both cry harder. I don't know how long it was before we'd cried out enough pain to speak rationally.
"Why didn't you fight, Taylor?" he whispered, apparently not trusting his voice not to crack. I didn't blame him.
"Because they'd win. The law always shits on the little people. Because it'd be so easy for me to whip E88 into a frenzy and get Sophia's whole family killed, but I'm not a monster like them. Because we don't have to be the little people." At his curious expression, I continued, idly running my finger over the bloody tear stains from my wounded left eye. "I have powers. If I join the Wards, they'll move me to Arcadia. I can make a difference, be a better person, and be free. We won't have to deal with those evil people any more. We just have to be good people," I mumbled into his chest.
(BREAK)
I must have cried myself to sleep, because I woke up the next morning in bed with a makeshift tissue bandage over my left eye. I got dressed and walked downstairs. After hugging dad, I told him to call the PRT and set up an appointment.
"Now? Taylor, you're still hurt."
I hoped that my retort sounded more resolute than defiant. "The sooner I get inducted, the sooner I can get the fuck out of that hellhole." I realized after the fact that I was using very strong language around my father. He was either too drained to comment or was of such like mind that he didn't care.
Dad called while I made breakfast. It was just grapefruit and toast, but it was the first breakfast of a new stage in my life. It tasted wonderful. The PRT contact told us to head to the little travel agency at the strip mall, where we'd catch a van to Protectorate HQ. I appreciated the anonymity. Our appointment was scheduled for eleven, so I took a two-lap run around our neighborhood's little stamp of houses. When I got back, I toweled off, got a drink, fixed my wig and hopped in the car with dad.
If the travel agency got too much traffic, I figured people would get suspicious. Plus, it was out in the boonies by the docks, like us. Probably just one of many stations. My suspicions were confirmed as dad and I were ushered out the travel agency's back door and into a white van. Inside was a very comfortable little setup with bucket seats. According to the PRT officer who sat back with us, the travel agency was real and the employees made a bit more than their regular salary on the stipulation that they didn't report anything PRT-related. Again, I thought this was very sensible. The Brockton Bay Protectorate were rather ineffectual in my opinion, but they had good policies in place at the very least. And they were my way out.
(BREAK)
The term "Protectorate HQ," as it turned out, was a total misnomer. It was mostly paper-pushers and some auditoriums (wouldn't the proper plural be auditoria?) for tour groups to meet heroes. The actual Protectorate headquarters was the Rig, a heavily modified oil rig that spent most of its time floating in the bay. In bad storms, we'd seen it drift over and dock into one of two piers on either side of the bay.
After dad and I had spent too much time filling out paperwork, we were led to the shuttle that would ferry me over to the Rig, where I'd be tested to prove I was parahuman, and then to categorize me. I'd already figured I was a high-level Master, with some points in Thinker and maybe Breaker, with my goo and custom bugs. Or would that roll into Master? Well, my hair had fallen out and I could add bugs to my body, so at least Breaker 1, I guessed. I gave dad a hug, sad that we had to part ways here, but it was – like so many other Protectorate policies – sensible. Too many civilians in the headquarters was dangerous. They might learn something and they couldn't defend themselves against hostile capes. Best to keep my dad ignorant and safe.
I was met by Miss Militia, second in command of the Brockton Bay Protectorate. I'd figured it would be her. Armsmaster might be an excellent tactician, but he didn't have what you call "the social skills." Yes, I did mentally quote that in Mama Boucher's voice. Miss Militia was only two or so inches shorter than me, her long black hair tied back and the only bit of her dark olive skin visible being her eyes and forehead. She wore modified army fatigues, not as baggy and clearly fitted with armor places. An American flag scarf covered the rest of her face. Her energy weapon was currently in the form of two holstered pistols. Her eyes crinkled with a smile and, somehow, I immediately liked her. "You must be Taylor." She extended a hand to me and I shook it. "I'm Miss Militia. If you decide to join the Wards, you may eventually meet me in my civilian identity. For now, though, come on." She walked with confidence but not arrogance. I could see the difference between her and someone like Emma or Sophia as glaringly as the difference between a dog and an iguana. She sat down with me in some surprisingly average chairs, the kind I'd expect in a teacher's office. I guess even superheroes had to deal with government budgets.
"Now then," she folded one leg over the other, hands atop her knee, "what are your powers?"
I blushed a bit, embarrassed. "Well, it's hard to demonstrate here, but...I control bugs."
She didn't react one way or another. "What kind of bugs?"
"Oh, all kinds. Not just insects, either. Spiders, worms, I think I felt some crabs and lobsters once when I was near the beach. If it's creepy-crawly and has a primitive brain, I think it's fair game."
She nodded. "Anything else?"
For some reason, I didn't tell her about my bug-making power. "Well, I don't know if it's related or just from the wounds I suffered from my trigger event, but my hair fell out." I gestured at my head. "I had my spiders weave my hair into a wig."
She stood and motioned for me to walk with her. "Trigger events are terrible things, Taylor. They are, at the time, the worst experience of a person's life. We don't discuss them because some people can still end up mentally back in the situation that caused them to trigger." I was reminded of the locker. "However," she continued as we exited to the Rig's exterior, "we are legally required to ask all Wards about their trigger events. We don't want them going into a situation that could cause them to break down, or for them to have a particular vendetta." She checked to make sure I was following the conversation. "Now, are there any bugs in your range?"
I nodded. "Some dragonflies. Want me to bring them up and show you?" She nodded and I went to work. It was effortless now, as simple as moving my hand or blinking. I had the dragonflies spiral up in a double helix pattern, then open into a circle, then come to rest on our heads. Miss Militia giggled. "I can control them for the most precise purposes, and I'm working on seeing and hearing through them. It's hit-and-miss, okay, more miss than hit right now. Bug brains are too simple to translate well."
"Are they safe?" At first I thought she was afraid of bugs, but her tone spoke of curiosity and of worry not for herself but for others.
I nodded, the dragonflies hanging on as my head moved. "While they're under my command, there's no instinct. They follow my orders explicitly. If I tell them to kamikaze or to feed themselves to spiders, they will. If I tell a black widow not to bite no matter what, it won't bite even if squished." I sent them off then released them from my control, watching them flit around.
"How many can you control at once?"
I shrugged. "As many as are in range. I haven't found a limit yet, and I've been in the hundreds of thousands at least. After a while counting becomes tedious, so I only stop to take stock if it's important to me. Otherwise, just having 'a lot' is enough."
"Well," she said thoughtfully, and I finally realized that she didn't have an accent. Parahumans Online said Miss Militia was Middle-Eastern by birth and had been naturalized, but I suppose I'd always expected in the back of my mind for her to have a bit of an accent. "Considering your fine control and ability to sense through your...swarm?" Yeah, that term sounded perfect. "I'd say you're at least a Master 5 or 6. With practice you might make it to 7. Likewise, with your senses, that's at least a Thinker 1 when you've got enough bugs."
Instead of shoulder angel and devil, I had shoulder spider and ladybug. Ladybug said I should tell Miss Militia about my other power, especially since it'll come out eventually. Better to be upfront and safe. Spider said no, that they'd think I could be another Nilbog. I might end up killed to be safe, or drugged up and used as a minion generator, or any other horrific thing my damaged brain could imagine. I decided to placate them both. I'd wait to learn more about the Wards. If I somehow decided I wouldn't join, I didn't want them armed with that knowledge. "So, what's next?" My question broke the somewhat pregnant pause that had stretched between us.
"Next, you meet the Wards. You should know who you'll be working with before you decide to join." She led me back inside and through the Rig, stopping at a large metal door. The heroine pressed a green button with a stylized domino mask and I could hear something like an alarm clock going off on the other side. "It's a signal to the Wards that a civilian is coming through," Miss Militia answered my unspoken question. "That way they have time to get their masks on."
After about fifteen seconds of buzzing, the door slid open to reveal a petite, quite cute girl in a green and teal outfit. I immediately recognized her as Vista. "Hello," she chirped and extended a hand. "I'm Vista, technically the most senior member of the Wards."
I took her hand with a smile. "Taylor. Nice to meet you. And technically the most senior?"
She nodded. "I may be thirteen, but I triggered at seven. I have more years of experience in the field than anyone else currently in the Wards. Aegis is the oldest, though, so he's leader. Chronological seniority policy," she grumbled, puffing out her cheeks.
Miss Militia smiled at the two of us. "Alright, I'll leave you to meet the rest of the Wards. I hope you like them, Taylor."
Vista led me inside and the door hissed shut behind us. "I hope you decide to join. I could use another girl to talk with."
I raised an eyebrow. "Isn't Shadow Stalker a girl?"
She actually snorted. "Aegis would get on my case if he heard me say this, but Shadow Stalker is a raging bitch. She's the most mean-spirited good guy I've ever met. So yeah, technically female in the same way Cujo was technically a dog."
I frowned, images of the monsters I was trying to leave behind coming to mind. "I hope the others aren't like that."
"Oh no," she bounced back from her grump, "the others are all really nice. Well, Clockblocker's annoying but he usually means well. Aegis is business most of the time but he's a big teddy bear under it all. Kid Win is fun and Gallant is exactly like his name. Sweetest guy on the team."
I noticed her cheeks color a little under her visor but decided not to press.
"Did I hear somebody talking about me?" Clockblocker rounded the corner. I noticed that some of the clocks on his costume really were moving, and the clock on his full helmet had all three hands tick-tocking in real time.
"Yes, Clock, and you also heard the signal, so how are you so late? That many clocks, the least you could do is be on time," Vista snarked.
"Ouch," he chuckled and offered me a handshake. "I'm Clockblocker, but you probably already knew that." He inclined his head slightly while I shook his hand, and I realized he was checking me out. At that point two emotions warred in my mind. The first was offense at how blatantly he was doing it, especially behind his helmet. The second was giddiness due to actually being acknowledged as female and attractive. I eventually decided to shelve the whole thing and continue with introductions, giving him my name in return. "Gallant and Kid are off today, and Shadow Stalker's apparently running late, but we can find Aegis somewhere. By the way, speaking of ouch..." He tapped his visor where his left eye would be.
"Master of subtlety, you are," commented the diminutive senior Ward.
I shrugged. "Got in a fight with the same people who caused my trigger. I came out ahead in terms of damage."
"No offense," came another new voice, "but you don't look like a fighter." Aegis was broad-shouldered and muscular, the mocha skin of his mouth and jaw the only part of his face exposed. His costume was a mix of rust and silver, with a shield emblazoned on his chest.
"I'm not, really, but there's something to be said for getting so pissed you go into a berserker rage."
"I can imagine you'd be angry. Trigger events are nasty business," Aegis commented. "What powers did you get to make up for it?"
I smiled. "I control bugs."
"No offense," Vista piped up, "but that's creepy. And gross."
"I could have ladybugs do a parade for you," I offered.
"And now un-gross."
We all laughed at that.
"No, it's actually pretty cool. I can control them down to the smallest detail, and send them on precise missions. I actually practiced having them style my hair." It was technically true, though the hair wasn't attached to my head at the time.
"So you could be a spy?" Aegis offered.
"Or a saboteur," I grinned. "A swarm of flies carries in a net of spider silk to drop on the bad guys. Stronger than kevlar and sticky on top of that."
"Okay," Clockblocker commented, "that sounds badass."
"I set the ones back home on autopilot. My spiders are programmed to weave silk for my costume, then eat other bugs so they don't weave themselves to death."
"Really badass," the time-stopper amended.
"What is?"
...No. No. I did not recognize that voice.
Shadow Stalker walked in and promptly froze.
NO!
She was the right height, the right build, her voice sounded the same...
I voice my suspicion. It came out as an accusation. "Sophia Hess."
I couldn't be certain if the soft gasps of surprise were from my knowledge of her identity or from the sheer murder in my voice.
"Hebert, what the fuck are you doing here?"
"I triggered when you tried to murder me, you monster." I didn't raise my voice, but even I could feel the bite of my cold tone.
Clockblocker stepped between us, probably ready to freeze whoever lunged.
"What are you talking about?" Aegis' tone wasn't accusatory like the other adults'. He sounded genuinely inquisitive.
"She's a crazy bitch who's been stalking me for a year," Sophia blustered.
"More lies and accusations," I snarled. I could feel my midsection churning, begging to spit up something new. "This psychopath has been conducting a terror campaign against me for two years. A month ago she trapped me inside a maggot-infested biohazard and left me to be eaten alive. I was comatose for a week." I finally put the pieces together. "That's why the school never did anything. It wasn't because you're a track star, or Emma's dad is rich. It's because you're a Ward! How is a Monster like you a hero?" I was clearly pronouncing it with a capital letter now, like Endbringer. "You're always going on about predators and prey. If I'd known you had powers, I'd have pegged you for building a CV to join the Slaughterhouse 9. They'd recognize a fellow Monster." How was I remaining relatively calm? I still hadn't raised my voice.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa." The distance between Sophia and me more than tripled as Vista spoke up. "Look, whatever's going on, it's only worse because it involves parahumans. Clock, keep between them. I'll keep them apart. Aegis, could you please contact Director Piggot?"
Instinctively, I wanted to tell them to fuck off, that I wasn't going to expose myself to another betrayal by an authority figure. But no, Sophia was not going to get another free ride. She was a hero? Someone as evil as her was allowed to be a hero? Fuck that. If this Piggy or whatever didn't come through, I would. Kaiser's people would get a tip.
If I'd had more time to think, I probably would have wondered about my new vindictive streak. I'd never been this violent, never been this willing to act on a grudge. Were my Master powers somehow affecting my mind? Whatever. I'd figure it out later. For now, I marched alongside Clockblocker.
Spawn 04
Vherstinae
Patron Saint of Cuddlebugs
- Location
- Home
Spawn 1.04
I never really believed in God. I was mostly an agnostic little girl, until mom died. I know some people found solace in religion after something like that, but for me any such consolation was an insult. I didn't want to believe in a supreme being who allowed evils like the Slaughterhouse 9 to go unchecked while good people like my mother were taken from us.
Well, now I believed. God existed and He was fucking malevolent. Only the orchestrations of some cosmic Caligula could result in such a confluence of events.
Vista kept her power active, stretching the interrogation room to about sixty feet wide, with Sophia on one side and my dad and I on the other. Seated between us were Vista, Clockblocker and Miss Militia, and equidistant from all of us was Director Emily Piggot.
The best way I could describe Piggot, at least physically, was a ball of lard. She was obese, little more than a sausage casing stuffed with fat drippings; paler than I was, with an upturned nose that, were she closer to my build, would have been cute. As it stood, it made her look like a sow. Despite all of that, however, she radiated confidence and authority. When I'd first seen her she'd looked at me with barely hidden disgust and I'd thought the meeting was a foregone conclusion; however, she looked at everyone that way, except for my dad. I suppose when you spend your life cleaning up after parahumans you could come to despise them.
"Why are we still waiting?" My father's voice was quiet but vibrated with the tension of a guitar string about to snap.
"We are waiting, Mr. Hebert, for Armsmaster," Piggot replied. Her voice had that slight wheeze that really fat people got when their pudge pressed on their lungs. "He is commander of the Protectorate for this city and, as such, is required for any disciplinary hearing such as this."
"Disciplinary!? You're taking that bitch's side already?" Each time she yelled, I watched Sophia's arm twitch: elbow moving backward, wrist downward. She was trying to restrain herself from drawing her crossbow and shooting me. I doubted that was from any attempt at self-reformation; she thought she could get away with destroying my life, again, and didn't want to out herself as the Monster she was.
"You're not earning yourself any credit with those outbursts, Stalker."
Before things could devolve further, the door slid open and Armsmaster stepped inside. I had to clutch my knees to keep from grinning like an idiot. Sure, I liked Miss Militia as a person, but Armsmaster was one of my idols, my second-favorite hero behind Alexandria. I still had some underwear with his image on them. It struck me, now that I saw him in person, how big he was. It wasn't just his Tinker armor, either: Armsmaster was at least six feet tall, only a bit shorter than my dad, and built to a degree that Alan Barnes looked scrawny. The guy could give Dwayne Johnson a run for his money in sheer bulk. The only part of his body left exposed was his jaw and neatly trimmed goatee, which had earned him the nickname Halbeard on PHO.
Armsmaster sat down beside Miss Militia, nodding at Director Piggot. "I was pulled away from very important work," he cranked. I figured he must practice his 'hero voice' every day because he somehow managed to not sound whiny. "One of our Wards has been accused of attempted murder. What, exactly, are the allegations?"
This time it was dad gripping my arm. He didn't want me flying into a rage. These people weren't like Principal Blackwell; they were able and potentially willing to hurt me. "The accusations are assault and battery, aggravated assault, attempted murder, grand larceny and destruction of private property." Huh. I guess he'd learned some tricks in his time with Alan.
Piggot let out a sigh like an impatient babysitter. "Mr. Hebert, before, your daughter was just accusing Shadow Stalker of trying to kill her, now you're inventing further allegations?"
He stared her down, unflinching. "They're not invented, Director Piggot. Sophia Hess has frequently struck, slapped, and pushed my daughter down flights of stairs. Yesterday she attempted to break Taylor's spine. She also stole an antique flute, an heirloom from my deceased wife, and subsequently destroyed it. This is all on top of causing my daughter to suffer a psychotic break and nearly die, spending one week in a coma. I'm sure the hospital has sent you the medical records."
"You're not lying." Armsmaster's declaration was as flat as it was sudden. "Or at least you believe this yourself."
"At best you have circumstantial evidence, Mr. Hebert, and not much of that. Winslow has never brought any such incidents to our attention and a cursory inquiry has produced no witnesses on the side of Miss Hebert."
My stomach boiled. Well, not really my stomach anymore. Whatever happened in my guts, I now had some sort of additional bladder that held the purple goop. It churned, wanting release. Another fucking authority figure who was all too willing to throw me under a bus. I hated her already. Some part of me said I could take them by surprise, birth the right insects to kill them all before they understood what was happening. The darkest recesses of my heart took pleasure in that knowledge.
A small sound, more apropos to Cindy Lou Who than a superhero, broke the staredown. "Excuse me," Vista spoke up, "may I say something?" She took a breath and composed herself. "Shadow Stalker is a bully. She belittles my and my teammates, obviously disdains the Wards, and frequently skirts violation of her parole by splitting up and going solo during patrols. After all, she's only here because she crucified a man to a brick wall and left him to die." She cleared her throat. "What I'm saying is, with my knowledge of Shadow Stalker's character, I'm inclined to believe Taylor's side of the story."
Clockblocker spoke next. "Look, I know you didn't want us to take sides, and I figure you'll find some way to punish us for this later, but Vista's right. Shadow Stalker is a ball of hate and violence. It wouldn't surprise me one bit if she was abusing someone like that just because she could." Piggot looked like she was trying to burn a hole through his skull with sheer force of ire.
Miss Militia turned to Armsmaster, tapping him on the shoulder. She leaned in and whispered something to him, to which he nodded solemnly.
"Director," the Protectorate commander began, "in light of these accusations, I cannot in good conscience advocate on Shadow Stalker's behalf. She has bent the rules of her probation and, if some reports are to be believed, violated them with use of lethal ammunition. I had chosen to overlook these indiscretions since she got results, but if her own team are willing to believe a stranger over her, I can't stand behind her."
Sophia looked stunned. Was this really the first time she'd been called out on her actions? Actually, it probably was. Her athletic, curvy body was ridiculously hot, then she'd become Emma's friend, then a Ward. Sex, money and status, she had every defense. And now little skinny, unattractive, shy Taylor Hebert had broken her. Her hand flew to her crossbow and suddenly we were mere feet apart. Clockblocker reached over and casually tapped her, freezing her in place. The room swam again as Vista returned the dimensions to normal.
"And that clinches it," Miss Militia said with a tone that would brook no protest, even from her commander. "Director, I'd like to recommend that Miss Hess be transferred to a juvenile detention facility for violation of her parole."
Piggot just nodded, then turned back to dad and me. "Taylor, Mister Hebert, I'm sorry that you had to go through that. I hope you'll understand that I was just doing my job and protecting my people. That said, you helped expose a corrupt element. For that I would like to thank you and offer Taylor a position with the Wards."
I practically saw stars. I'd beaten Sophia, crushed her completely. And now I would get the chance to be a hero, to work alongside Armsmaster!
"No."
Every head in the room snapped toward me, so I continued. "It took an outside element to bring anything to your attention. You were all too happy to let an attempted murderer and a clear psychopath violate the rules of her probation so long as it got results, not even caring that you were knowingly breaking the law by doing so." I stood up and took dad's hand. "I can't in good conscience work for such an organization. How could I be expected to uphold the law when my superiors won't do so?"
Piggot's eyes narrowed. I realized I'd just cost her a Ward, taken a cape off the streets, and made an enemy of the PRT's director. I couldn't bring myself to regret my decision.
"Maybe, eventually, I'll come to realize that the PRT is the best way to go and I'll ask to join up. But for now? I don't think I could trust you not to stab me in the back. Miss Militia, would it be too much of an imposition to ask you to lead us out?"
I could tell she was smiling sadly behind her scarf. "Of course, Taylor."
(BREAK)
I was tense the entire way home. Dad didn't even speak for fear of accidentally pissing off my bugs. When we finally got through the front door, I whipped off my wig, threw myself on the couch and just bawled.
Dad sat beside me and pet my bare scalp. "Taylor, I want you to know how proud I am of you." He spoke loud enough that I could hear him over my whimpering. "You stuck to your morals even though you wanted so badly to be a Ward and work with Armsmaster. You did good, Janis."
Even through my tears, I snorted. "You're still calling me that?"
He gave me that lopsided smirk of his. "You still haven't sung 'Take a Piece of My Heart'."
"Maybe I'll stuff some moths up your nose tonight."
Dad gathered me up into his arms and we snuggled. I felt like a little girl again, when my daddy could scare away all the bad things in the world. "So, honey, what do we do next?"
I looked up at him. "I don't think you're going to like it."
(BREAK)
New Wave was a family business, no two ways about it. There was pretty much zero chance they'd accept an unknown into their ranks. I'd need to make a name for myself, win a few fights, then contact them. To win fights, I needed two things. The first was a target, a baddie I'd have a decent chance of beating. I wasn't going to risk going up against someone like Kaiser, Hookwolf or Lung, so that left the Merchants. Skidmark would be the biggest threat: his wind would bat my bugs aside, so I'd need to get the drop on him.
The second thing I needed, and the more important one, was a name. If you didn't have a name, you'd need to hope you made a good impression or the media would start calling you something like Bug-Eyes.
Names were a bitch, especially bug-themed hero names. Too many bug terms skewed to the gross or villainous. Swarm sounded too threatening. Crawler was creepy, and was taken. Plague or Pestilence? Taken, and also, ew, no. Dad suggested Weaver but that reminded me of that annoying mousy redhead on one of the Law & Orders.
Eventually I settled on something cute but creepy, which I guess described me now: Skitter.
(BREAK)
The Merchants were a hard group to find, mostly because they were widely known as the worst gang in Brockton Bay. If they weren't so disgusting and didn't peddle drugs to attract some of the most wretched scum of the city, they'd probably be the collective butt of jokes, sort of like Über and Leet. Problem was, since they were such a shit gang, the Merchants had virtually no territory and what land they did hold was subject to change at any moment. A crack house one week would be a hobo hotel next week after the Merchants got their asses handed to them by whoever.
I was doing my best not to hum the Mission: Impossible theme as I scuttled across the rooftops. I'd gathered a sizeable swarm and augmented them with my spy bugs so I could see what was going on. I was in full costume, and it was a thing of beauty.
The full-body suit was made entirely of spider silk, which was delightfully soft and comfortable. It fit me like a second skin so I could move freely. I'd spraypainted it black with waterproof paint so I didn't have to worry about it going semi-transparent in the middle of a fight. My success with the wasp spider glue trick had inspired my armor plating: until I could afford better armor, the plates were made from beetle shells reinforced and held together with the spiderweb concrete. Plating covered my chest and upper abdomen, my knees and shins, elbows and forearms, and also shielded my head and spine. I'd fashioned carapace claws for my fingertips so I could grip more confidently, in case of either a fall or a fight. My eyes were protected by reinforced divers' goggles, the lenses a luminous orange. I'd settled on orange not only for intimidation factor but also because it seemed like the best color for keeping my vision sharp in daylight or at night. The inner lenses were my prescription, so I could see just fine.
I'd originally wanted to go with a full face mask, but my ability to spit up bugs would make such a mask a hindrance. Instead I fashioned carapace into stylized mandibles around my mouth, covering most of my face but leaving enough exposed that I could vomit up more help if necessary.
Wrapping things up, the armor on my spine held several compartments for my equipment: zip-cuffs, pepper spray, and five epi pens just in case of anaphylactic shock.
So now, as Skitter, I leapt from rooftop to rooftop like a bona fide superhero. Or a parkour nut. My improved physique practically sang at the exertion and I practically sang at the feeling of absolute freedom.
Some of my earbugs (seriously, I needed to get better with names) buzzed through the warehouses, listening for suspicious noises. Thus far I'd just heard bums and strung-out druggies. Wait...shit, that sounded like someone checking their gun. And not just a pistol, either. That sounded like a rifle from out of the movies. I turned and headed toward the sound, staying on the roofs. Something odd about humans, even in a world filled with flying kooks in Spandex, is that we so rarely look up.
I got to a vantage point and quietly spat out a sight bug, sending it down to observe. The guard paced into view, and my bug caught sight of a darkish hand. Please be hispanic, I thought to myself. Nope. His jacket was emblazoned with the letters ABB. Fuuuuck.
My bug caught sight of more movement inside and I sent it in, having an ear bug tag along. I really needed to mix those two together, but I still couldn't hock up that invention. Did I need to level up or something?
It took me a moment to process the images, mostly because I thought I was seeing in my bug's compound-eye vision again. Nope. There were at least thirty of the Azn Bad Boys in the warehouse, each with an automatic weapon. FUUUUUCK. And worse yet was at the end of the warehouse. Standing on a raised platform, shirtless and rippling with muscle, was none other than Lung. Okay, that was it. No way was I going to take on the guy who'd fought the entire Brockton Bay Protectorate and gotten away, the monster who'd fought Leviathan single-handed. And then my ear bug got in close.
"...that they're kids. Once they're down, you give the bitches two more in head to be sure. These cocksuckers too uppity for their own good. They need to be reminded who owns this town!" His English was shoddy and heavily accented, but I got the message. The ABB were going to kill kids.
Dad still had a phobia of cell phones, since mom had been talking on one when she died. Out of respect for them both, I'd stopped carrying one as well. Never had I regretted that decision more than right now. I couldn't run and call the PRT; god only knew where the nearest payphone was, and it looked like the ABB were getting ready to move. I couldn't let them go off and murder children; I could never live with myself if I did. I had to at least try to stop them.
I sent in my widows, one on each ABB mook. I had them all bite simultaneously, only injecting a small amount of their potent venom. Most of them would be incapacitated in moments, but hopefully none would die. When his men started crying out and staggering, then falling, Lung immediately started looking for the culprit.
According to PHO, Lung always had low-level pyrokinesis, enough to light a cigarette or glow like a candle. The longer he fought, however, the stronger his fire grew and the stronger he grew. The man became a veritable dragon, covered in armored scales. I'd need to take him down before he could get too tough. With that in mind, I brought in all of my worst bugs. He was a regenerator, so I'd have to get him really hard. Bees flew in carrying spiders like bombardiers, dropping black widows onto the massive Chinese man while more widows and brown recluses crawled up his legs. To distract him from the real attack, I sent the bees to sting him in the face.
Lung snarled in annoyance, the sound quickly rising into something between a roar and a scream as my spiders bit into him. He spasmed, falling to his hands and knees, and started to grow bigger. His muscles surged in size, bubbling up beneath his skin, and scales began to grow over his flesh. Shit, I didn't have much time. I had them keep biting, crawling to areas with more blood flow: his thighs, elbows, armpits, neck, even his groin.
The dragon-man exploded. The windows shattered outward from the sheer force of superheated air as flames erupted from his body, flash-frying my spiders. I sent in another bombing run, but it already looked useless. At the very least, the fire and explosion might have gotten someone's attention. Now I just needed to get out of here. I'd incapacitated his soldiers and delayed Lung himself. Job well done.
Of course not. Somehow – maybe he saw me, maybe he smelled me, maybe he had psychic dragon senses – Lung had figured out where I was. He burst through the wall and leapt up onto the roof in a single smooth motion. If I hadn't already been moving to leave, he would have landed right on me. This close to him, I could feel the heat rolling off his body. Every inch of him glistened with silvery scales and his mouth was split like a hideous crossbreed of cat and lamprey. I swore under my breath and drew my pepper spray, hoping that somehow the chemicals would do their work even if they caught fire. The creature didn't even flinch as the burning spray hit him.
I stumbled back from him, feeling real fear for the first time since the locker. He was going to kill me. My first act as a superhero would be to die at the hands of Brockton Bay's most powerful villain. I gripped my stomach and gurgled, dry-heaving a little. Lung took a moment to laugh at me, the pitiful, scrawny girl about to puke from fear. Except it wasn't fear, and it wasn't my stomach that was heaving. I braced my hands on my thighs and raised my head to look at him before opening my mouth wide and vomiting forth a torrent of purple slime. Like last time, there was even more of it. It was like there was a firehose inside me, pumping out gallons at a time.
More than that, however, Lung was being driven back. And not by the sheer force of my spew, though that was not inconsiderable. His body spasmed as though he was being struck, and then I saw it. At the edges of the spray, I could sometimes see neon green explosions. Somehow my body had instinctively brewed up something to protect me. I couldn't keep going, coughing out the last of my slime, and hocking up several more meatball-sized green critters. They looked like tumorous pillbugs, their rear halves swolled obscenely and glowing a putrescent green. I shifted my gaze back to Lung and saw raw, seared flesh. His scales had been eaten clean through, seemingly by acid. He was already healing but his surprise was evident. I pressed the advantage. Shifting the bugs to my left hand and then dropping one into my right, I pitched it as best I could. While I didn't hit his face, it burst like a water balloon on his chest and Lung howled in pain. I licked my lips and prepared to throw another.
Lung bolted.
He stomped through the purple glop that was already dissolving, leapt off the rooftop, and was promptly T-boned by an enormous, monstrous something. It had four legs, I thought, and a head. The rest was all malformed muscle and bone. Two more joined it, piling on Lung and wrenching him back and forth. The biggest one got him around the waist and shook him like a rope toy before a sharp whistle cut through the night. It spat him onto the ground and reared on its hind legs to stomp on his head. Lung didn't get back up.
"Nice work."
I'd been so preoccupied staring at the beasts, hoping they wouldn't decide to eat me, that I'd released control of my bugs. The voice caught me by surprise and I spun to see a strange quartet on an opposite rooftop.
Standing in front was a tall, broad-shouldered man in motorcycle leathers, all black, with a white skull mask beneath his helmet. To his left was an attractive blonde in a simple bodysuit of mostly purple, a black domino mask fitted over her eyes and an Egyptian eye emblazoned over her breasts. To his right was something like a Renaissance faire reject. Curly black hair spilled down to the figure's shoulders, where it wore a miniature Elizabethan collar like out of a Shakespeare portrait. A creepy porcelain mask and puffy shirt straight out of Seinfeld completed the look. A short distance away was a fourth member, a bulky woman in clothing that screamed 'homeless' and a dollar-store plastic dog mask.
The voice came again, and this time I could match it to the man in front. "When we got word that Lung was after us, I'm not ashamed to admit we panicked. Oni Lee hit us, but he's a coward at heart. We got the upper hand and he ran. We wondered what was keeping Lung, decided to go on the offense, and find that you'd already kicked his ass." He inclined his head. "I'm Grue, by the way. She's Tattletale," he jerked his thumb at the blonde, "and over there is Bitch, or Hellhound if you're being PC."
"Fuck PC," Bitch grunted.
"And last but certainly least..."
"Fuck you, Grue," Puffy Shirt chuckled. Okay, that was a male voice.
"...Is Regent." Okay, now I could see the little crown above the creepy doll mask. And that thing at his hip was a scepter, not a billy club. "How'd you bring him down, anyway?" Grue asked. "I've never seen Lung run from a fight.
"A highly potent alkaloid secreted from some sort of insect," Tattletale answered before I could. "And..." she looked at the last of the slime as it dissolved, "...yeah, I got nothing."
Regent's head snapped toward Tattletale at that, and Grue glanced her way before looking back to me. "Look, for whatever reason, you did us a solid. We owe you one. For now, I suggest you get out of here. Armsmaster's on his way and he's not about to let another villain go just because you did his job for him," he gestured at Lung's unconscious form, then looked back to me. "By the way, what's your name?"
I just stared blankly at them. These were the kids Lung was going to kill? Villains? And they thought I was a villain too?
"Is she mute?" Regent asked while those monster thingies climbed the walls on Bitch's command.
"No," Tattletale replied, "she's just really shy." She smiled toward me. "Can we give you a ride?" Not trusting my voice, I just shook my head in reply. Tattletale frowned but nodded. "Okay. Stay safe." She and Grue mounted one beast, Bitch and Regent the other, and they left. I just sat on the roof's edge in a daze.
Soon enough I heard the roar of Armsmaster's Tinker-tech motorcycle. I didn't want to deal with the Protectorate, but I needed to claim this win. He approached, saw Lung's mutilated form, then looked up and saw me. He drew his halberd. "You gonna fight me?"
"I wasn't planning on it," I replied in a raspy voice. My mouth had gone dry from the events leading up to now.
"Didn't expect a villain would take down Lung and then just turn herself in," he commented as he injected the criminal with something.
"I'm not a villain," I said with no small amount of indignation. "I'm not a melee fighter, so I need to go with stealth and intimidation."
"You'll certainly have the latter," he commented. "You took him down by yourself? First off, that's impressive. Second, that's incredibly stupid."
"No shit," I snarked back. "But the bastard was going to murder kids. I couldn't just do nothing."
"Ever hear of a cell phone?"
"Can't afford one. I'll start saving up now."
"That's a lie," he replied. Right, he must have a lie detector built into his suit.
"Okay, fine, I don't have one for personal reasons that're none of your damn business, but I'll be getting one for the future. Happy?" He looked like he was about to scold me for being so grumpy. "Look, I threw myself into a suicide mission to save children I'd never met, on my first night as a cape. Excuse me if I'm a little frazzled." Hell, even my apology managed to sound like an insult.
He ran a hand along Lung's shoulder. "You control bugs, right?" I guess he recognized me. "These weren't made by any kind of insect. You had help?"
I shrugged. "Sort of. Lung tried to run away and another group of villains blindsided him. I was content with making him run but they did me a favor by putting him down for the count."
"And you didn't apprehend them?" I could practically see the incredulity in his words.
"Honestly? They did me a favor by helping bring Lung down. Turns out I did them a favor in return, since Lung was gunning for them and they couldn't have taken him by themselves. I figured it was only fair to just go our separate ways. I wouldn't arrest a mugger after he rescued people from a burning building, after all."
He didn't reply, but I suspected he disagreed. "So this is your first night as a cape? And I can't convince you to join the Wards?" I shook my head. "Then maybe you should let me take the credit for this one. Hear me out," he continued as I must've looked ready to pounce. "If you take credit, that makes you one of the heaviest hitters in Brockton Bay, and an unknown. Other capes will be gunning for you. If I take credit, the target falls on my chest and you're free to build a reputation more safely."
"I appreciate your concern, Armsmaster," I said in what wasn't quite a lie. If his concern was genuine, I did appreciate it. But paranoia and distrust in authority led me to suspect his motives weren't so altruistic. "But I want this. I put myself in danger to save others and I want the gangs of the Bay to know it. Like you said, I'm an unknown, so they have something new to fear. The Protectorate has to follow rules, protocol. But does this Skitter have to? Is he a hero? A vigilante? A villain painting himself in a good light? Is Skitter a man or a woman? What does the name mean?" I smirked. "If you can, just release his injuries and my name to the press. It should keep the baddies on their toes, and maybe make your job a little easier." I was forgetting something, but what? "Oh!" He jumped a little at that. "I forgot. Get him some antivenom soon. I covered him in christ-knows how many spider bites, mostly black widows and brown recluses."
And with that, I scampered up the rooftop and disappeared into the night.
I never really believed in God. I was mostly an agnostic little girl, until mom died. I know some people found solace in religion after something like that, but for me any such consolation was an insult. I didn't want to believe in a supreme being who allowed evils like the Slaughterhouse 9 to go unchecked while good people like my mother were taken from us.
Well, now I believed. God existed and He was fucking malevolent. Only the orchestrations of some cosmic Caligula could result in such a confluence of events.
Vista kept her power active, stretching the interrogation room to about sixty feet wide, with Sophia on one side and my dad and I on the other. Seated between us were Vista, Clockblocker and Miss Militia, and equidistant from all of us was Director Emily Piggot.
The best way I could describe Piggot, at least physically, was a ball of lard. She was obese, little more than a sausage casing stuffed with fat drippings; paler than I was, with an upturned nose that, were she closer to my build, would have been cute. As it stood, it made her look like a sow. Despite all of that, however, she radiated confidence and authority. When I'd first seen her she'd looked at me with barely hidden disgust and I'd thought the meeting was a foregone conclusion; however, she looked at everyone that way, except for my dad. I suppose when you spend your life cleaning up after parahumans you could come to despise them.
"Why are we still waiting?" My father's voice was quiet but vibrated with the tension of a guitar string about to snap.
"We are waiting, Mr. Hebert, for Armsmaster," Piggot replied. Her voice had that slight wheeze that really fat people got when their pudge pressed on their lungs. "He is commander of the Protectorate for this city and, as such, is required for any disciplinary hearing such as this."
"Disciplinary!? You're taking that bitch's side already?" Each time she yelled, I watched Sophia's arm twitch: elbow moving backward, wrist downward. She was trying to restrain herself from drawing her crossbow and shooting me. I doubted that was from any attempt at self-reformation; she thought she could get away with destroying my life, again, and didn't want to out herself as the Monster she was.
"You're not earning yourself any credit with those outbursts, Stalker."
Before things could devolve further, the door slid open and Armsmaster stepped inside. I had to clutch my knees to keep from grinning like an idiot. Sure, I liked Miss Militia as a person, but Armsmaster was one of my idols, my second-favorite hero behind Alexandria. I still had some underwear with his image on them. It struck me, now that I saw him in person, how big he was. It wasn't just his Tinker armor, either: Armsmaster was at least six feet tall, only a bit shorter than my dad, and built to a degree that Alan Barnes looked scrawny. The guy could give Dwayne Johnson a run for his money in sheer bulk. The only part of his body left exposed was his jaw and neatly trimmed goatee, which had earned him the nickname Halbeard on PHO.
Armsmaster sat down beside Miss Militia, nodding at Director Piggot. "I was pulled away from very important work," he cranked. I figured he must practice his 'hero voice' every day because he somehow managed to not sound whiny. "One of our Wards has been accused of attempted murder. What, exactly, are the allegations?"
This time it was dad gripping my arm. He didn't want me flying into a rage. These people weren't like Principal Blackwell; they were able and potentially willing to hurt me. "The accusations are assault and battery, aggravated assault, attempted murder, grand larceny and destruction of private property." Huh. I guess he'd learned some tricks in his time with Alan.
Piggot let out a sigh like an impatient babysitter. "Mr. Hebert, before, your daughter was just accusing Shadow Stalker of trying to kill her, now you're inventing further allegations?"
He stared her down, unflinching. "They're not invented, Director Piggot. Sophia Hess has frequently struck, slapped, and pushed my daughter down flights of stairs. Yesterday she attempted to break Taylor's spine. She also stole an antique flute, an heirloom from my deceased wife, and subsequently destroyed it. This is all on top of causing my daughter to suffer a psychotic break and nearly die, spending one week in a coma. I'm sure the hospital has sent you the medical records."
"You're not lying." Armsmaster's declaration was as flat as it was sudden. "Or at least you believe this yourself."
"At best you have circumstantial evidence, Mr. Hebert, and not much of that. Winslow has never brought any such incidents to our attention and a cursory inquiry has produced no witnesses on the side of Miss Hebert."
My stomach boiled. Well, not really my stomach anymore. Whatever happened in my guts, I now had some sort of additional bladder that held the purple goop. It churned, wanting release. Another fucking authority figure who was all too willing to throw me under a bus. I hated her already. Some part of me said I could take them by surprise, birth the right insects to kill them all before they understood what was happening. The darkest recesses of my heart took pleasure in that knowledge.
A small sound, more apropos to Cindy Lou Who than a superhero, broke the staredown. "Excuse me," Vista spoke up, "may I say something?" She took a breath and composed herself. "Shadow Stalker is a bully. She belittles my and my teammates, obviously disdains the Wards, and frequently skirts violation of her parole by splitting up and going solo during patrols. After all, she's only here because she crucified a man to a brick wall and left him to die." She cleared her throat. "What I'm saying is, with my knowledge of Shadow Stalker's character, I'm inclined to believe Taylor's side of the story."
Clockblocker spoke next. "Look, I know you didn't want us to take sides, and I figure you'll find some way to punish us for this later, but Vista's right. Shadow Stalker is a ball of hate and violence. It wouldn't surprise me one bit if she was abusing someone like that just because she could." Piggot looked like she was trying to burn a hole through his skull with sheer force of ire.
Miss Militia turned to Armsmaster, tapping him on the shoulder. She leaned in and whispered something to him, to which he nodded solemnly.
"Director," the Protectorate commander began, "in light of these accusations, I cannot in good conscience advocate on Shadow Stalker's behalf. She has bent the rules of her probation and, if some reports are to be believed, violated them with use of lethal ammunition. I had chosen to overlook these indiscretions since she got results, but if her own team are willing to believe a stranger over her, I can't stand behind her."
Sophia looked stunned. Was this really the first time she'd been called out on her actions? Actually, it probably was. Her athletic, curvy body was ridiculously hot, then she'd become Emma's friend, then a Ward. Sex, money and status, she had every defense. And now little skinny, unattractive, shy Taylor Hebert had broken her. Her hand flew to her crossbow and suddenly we were mere feet apart. Clockblocker reached over and casually tapped her, freezing her in place. The room swam again as Vista returned the dimensions to normal.
"And that clinches it," Miss Militia said with a tone that would brook no protest, even from her commander. "Director, I'd like to recommend that Miss Hess be transferred to a juvenile detention facility for violation of her parole."
Piggot just nodded, then turned back to dad and me. "Taylor, Mister Hebert, I'm sorry that you had to go through that. I hope you'll understand that I was just doing my job and protecting my people. That said, you helped expose a corrupt element. For that I would like to thank you and offer Taylor a position with the Wards."
I practically saw stars. I'd beaten Sophia, crushed her completely. And now I would get the chance to be a hero, to work alongside Armsmaster!
"No."
Every head in the room snapped toward me, so I continued. "It took an outside element to bring anything to your attention. You were all too happy to let an attempted murderer and a clear psychopath violate the rules of her probation so long as it got results, not even caring that you were knowingly breaking the law by doing so." I stood up and took dad's hand. "I can't in good conscience work for such an organization. How could I be expected to uphold the law when my superiors won't do so?"
Piggot's eyes narrowed. I realized I'd just cost her a Ward, taken a cape off the streets, and made an enemy of the PRT's director. I couldn't bring myself to regret my decision.
"Maybe, eventually, I'll come to realize that the PRT is the best way to go and I'll ask to join up. But for now? I don't think I could trust you not to stab me in the back. Miss Militia, would it be too much of an imposition to ask you to lead us out?"
I could tell she was smiling sadly behind her scarf. "Of course, Taylor."
(BREAK)
I was tense the entire way home. Dad didn't even speak for fear of accidentally pissing off my bugs. When we finally got through the front door, I whipped off my wig, threw myself on the couch and just bawled.
Dad sat beside me and pet my bare scalp. "Taylor, I want you to know how proud I am of you." He spoke loud enough that I could hear him over my whimpering. "You stuck to your morals even though you wanted so badly to be a Ward and work with Armsmaster. You did good, Janis."
Even through my tears, I snorted. "You're still calling me that?"
He gave me that lopsided smirk of his. "You still haven't sung 'Take a Piece of My Heart'."
"Maybe I'll stuff some moths up your nose tonight."
Dad gathered me up into his arms and we snuggled. I felt like a little girl again, when my daddy could scare away all the bad things in the world. "So, honey, what do we do next?"
I looked up at him. "I don't think you're going to like it."
(BREAK)
New Wave was a family business, no two ways about it. There was pretty much zero chance they'd accept an unknown into their ranks. I'd need to make a name for myself, win a few fights, then contact them. To win fights, I needed two things. The first was a target, a baddie I'd have a decent chance of beating. I wasn't going to risk going up against someone like Kaiser, Hookwolf or Lung, so that left the Merchants. Skidmark would be the biggest threat: his wind would bat my bugs aside, so I'd need to get the drop on him.
The second thing I needed, and the more important one, was a name. If you didn't have a name, you'd need to hope you made a good impression or the media would start calling you something like Bug-Eyes.
Names were a bitch, especially bug-themed hero names. Too many bug terms skewed to the gross or villainous. Swarm sounded too threatening. Crawler was creepy, and was taken. Plague or Pestilence? Taken, and also, ew, no. Dad suggested Weaver but that reminded me of that annoying mousy redhead on one of the Law & Orders.
Eventually I settled on something cute but creepy, which I guess described me now: Skitter.
(BREAK)
The Merchants were a hard group to find, mostly because they were widely known as the worst gang in Brockton Bay. If they weren't so disgusting and didn't peddle drugs to attract some of the most wretched scum of the city, they'd probably be the collective butt of jokes, sort of like Über and Leet. Problem was, since they were such a shit gang, the Merchants had virtually no territory and what land they did hold was subject to change at any moment. A crack house one week would be a hobo hotel next week after the Merchants got their asses handed to them by whoever.
I was doing my best not to hum the Mission: Impossible theme as I scuttled across the rooftops. I'd gathered a sizeable swarm and augmented them with my spy bugs so I could see what was going on. I was in full costume, and it was a thing of beauty.
The full-body suit was made entirely of spider silk, which was delightfully soft and comfortable. It fit me like a second skin so I could move freely. I'd spraypainted it black with waterproof paint so I didn't have to worry about it going semi-transparent in the middle of a fight. My success with the wasp spider glue trick had inspired my armor plating: until I could afford better armor, the plates were made from beetle shells reinforced and held together with the spiderweb concrete. Plating covered my chest and upper abdomen, my knees and shins, elbows and forearms, and also shielded my head and spine. I'd fashioned carapace claws for my fingertips so I could grip more confidently, in case of either a fall or a fight. My eyes were protected by reinforced divers' goggles, the lenses a luminous orange. I'd settled on orange not only for intimidation factor but also because it seemed like the best color for keeping my vision sharp in daylight or at night. The inner lenses were my prescription, so I could see just fine.
I'd originally wanted to go with a full face mask, but my ability to spit up bugs would make such a mask a hindrance. Instead I fashioned carapace into stylized mandibles around my mouth, covering most of my face but leaving enough exposed that I could vomit up more help if necessary.
Wrapping things up, the armor on my spine held several compartments for my equipment: zip-cuffs, pepper spray, and five epi pens just in case of anaphylactic shock.
So now, as Skitter, I leapt from rooftop to rooftop like a bona fide superhero. Or a parkour nut. My improved physique practically sang at the exertion and I practically sang at the feeling of absolute freedom.
Some of my earbugs (seriously, I needed to get better with names) buzzed through the warehouses, listening for suspicious noises. Thus far I'd just heard bums and strung-out druggies. Wait...shit, that sounded like someone checking their gun. And not just a pistol, either. That sounded like a rifle from out of the movies. I turned and headed toward the sound, staying on the roofs. Something odd about humans, even in a world filled with flying kooks in Spandex, is that we so rarely look up.
I got to a vantage point and quietly spat out a sight bug, sending it down to observe. The guard paced into view, and my bug caught sight of a darkish hand. Please be hispanic, I thought to myself. Nope. His jacket was emblazoned with the letters ABB. Fuuuuck.
My bug caught sight of more movement inside and I sent it in, having an ear bug tag along. I really needed to mix those two together, but I still couldn't hock up that invention. Did I need to level up or something?
It took me a moment to process the images, mostly because I thought I was seeing in my bug's compound-eye vision again. Nope. There were at least thirty of the Azn Bad Boys in the warehouse, each with an automatic weapon. FUUUUUCK. And worse yet was at the end of the warehouse. Standing on a raised platform, shirtless and rippling with muscle, was none other than Lung. Okay, that was it. No way was I going to take on the guy who'd fought the entire Brockton Bay Protectorate and gotten away, the monster who'd fought Leviathan single-handed. And then my ear bug got in close.
"...that they're kids. Once they're down, you give the bitches two more in head to be sure. These cocksuckers too uppity for their own good. They need to be reminded who owns this town!" His English was shoddy and heavily accented, but I got the message. The ABB were going to kill kids.
Dad still had a phobia of cell phones, since mom had been talking on one when she died. Out of respect for them both, I'd stopped carrying one as well. Never had I regretted that decision more than right now. I couldn't run and call the PRT; god only knew where the nearest payphone was, and it looked like the ABB were getting ready to move. I couldn't let them go off and murder children; I could never live with myself if I did. I had to at least try to stop them.
I sent in my widows, one on each ABB mook. I had them all bite simultaneously, only injecting a small amount of their potent venom. Most of them would be incapacitated in moments, but hopefully none would die. When his men started crying out and staggering, then falling, Lung immediately started looking for the culprit.
According to PHO, Lung always had low-level pyrokinesis, enough to light a cigarette or glow like a candle. The longer he fought, however, the stronger his fire grew and the stronger he grew. The man became a veritable dragon, covered in armored scales. I'd need to take him down before he could get too tough. With that in mind, I brought in all of my worst bugs. He was a regenerator, so I'd have to get him really hard. Bees flew in carrying spiders like bombardiers, dropping black widows onto the massive Chinese man while more widows and brown recluses crawled up his legs. To distract him from the real attack, I sent the bees to sting him in the face.
Lung snarled in annoyance, the sound quickly rising into something between a roar and a scream as my spiders bit into him. He spasmed, falling to his hands and knees, and started to grow bigger. His muscles surged in size, bubbling up beneath his skin, and scales began to grow over his flesh. Shit, I didn't have much time. I had them keep biting, crawling to areas with more blood flow: his thighs, elbows, armpits, neck, even his groin.
The dragon-man exploded. The windows shattered outward from the sheer force of superheated air as flames erupted from his body, flash-frying my spiders. I sent in another bombing run, but it already looked useless. At the very least, the fire and explosion might have gotten someone's attention. Now I just needed to get out of here. I'd incapacitated his soldiers and delayed Lung himself. Job well done.
Of course not. Somehow – maybe he saw me, maybe he smelled me, maybe he had psychic dragon senses – Lung had figured out where I was. He burst through the wall and leapt up onto the roof in a single smooth motion. If I hadn't already been moving to leave, he would have landed right on me. This close to him, I could feel the heat rolling off his body. Every inch of him glistened with silvery scales and his mouth was split like a hideous crossbreed of cat and lamprey. I swore under my breath and drew my pepper spray, hoping that somehow the chemicals would do their work even if they caught fire. The creature didn't even flinch as the burning spray hit him.
I stumbled back from him, feeling real fear for the first time since the locker. He was going to kill me. My first act as a superhero would be to die at the hands of Brockton Bay's most powerful villain. I gripped my stomach and gurgled, dry-heaving a little. Lung took a moment to laugh at me, the pitiful, scrawny girl about to puke from fear. Except it wasn't fear, and it wasn't my stomach that was heaving. I braced my hands on my thighs and raised my head to look at him before opening my mouth wide and vomiting forth a torrent of purple slime. Like last time, there was even more of it. It was like there was a firehose inside me, pumping out gallons at a time.
More than that, however, Lung was being driven back. And not by the sheer force of my spew, though that was not inconsiderable. His body spasmed as though he was being struck, and then I saw it. At the edges of the spray, I could sometimes see neon green explosions. Somehow my body had instinctively brewed up something to protect me. I couldn't keep going, coughing out the last of my slime, and hocking up several more meatball-sized green critters. They looked like tumorous pillbugs, their rear halves swolled obscenely and glowing a putrescent green. I shifted my gaze back to Lung and saw raw, seared flesh. His scales had been eaten clean through, seemingly by acid. He was already healing but his surprise was evident. I pressed the advantage. Shifting the bugs to my left hand and then dropping one into my right, I pitched it as best I could. While I didn't hit his face, it burst like a water balloon on his chest and Lung howled in pain. I licked my lips and prepared to throw another.
Lung bolted.
He stomped through the purple glop that was already dissolving, leapt off the rooftop, and was promptly T-boned by an enormous, monstrous something. It had four legs, I thought, and a head. The rest was all malformed muscle and bone. Two more joined it, piling on Lung and wrenching him back and forth. The biggest one got him around the waist and shook him like a rope toy before a sharp whistle cut through the night. It spat him onto the ground and reared on its hind legs to stomp on his head. Lung didn't get back up.
"Nice work."
I'd been so preoccupied staring at the beasts, hoping they wouldn't decide to eat me, that I'd released control of my bugs. The voice caught me by surprise and I spun to see a strange quartet on an opposite rooftop.
Standing in front was a tall, broad-shouldered man in motorcycle leathers, all black, with a white skull mask beneath his helmet. To his left was an attractive blonde in a simple bodysuit of mostly purple, a black domino mask fitted over her eyes and an Egyptian eye emblazoned over her breasts. To his right was something like a Renaissance faire reject. Curly black hair spilled down to the figure's shoulders, where it wore a miniature Elizabethan collar like out of a Shakespeare portrait. A creepy porcelain mask and puffy shirt straight out of Seinfeld completed the look. A short distance away was a fourth member, a bulky woman in clothing that screamed 'homeless' and a dollar-store plastic dog mask.
The voice came again, and this time I could match it to the man in front. "When we got word that Lung was after us, I'm not ashamed to admit we panicked. Oni Lee hit us, but he's a coward at heart. We got the upper hand and he ran. We wondered what was keeping Lung, decided to go on the offense, and find that you'd already kicked his ass." He inclined his head. "I'm Grue, by the way. She's Tattletale," he jerked his thumb at the blonde, "and over there is Bitch, or Hellhound if you're being PC."
"Fuck PC," Bitch grunted.
"And last but certainly least..."
"Fuck you, Grue," Puffy Shirt chuckled. Okay, that was a male voice.
"...Is Regent." Okay, now I could see the little crown above the creepy doll mask. And that thing at his hip was a scepter, not a billy club. "How'd you bring him down, anyway?" Grue asked. "I've never seen Lung run from a fight.
"A highly potent alkaloid secreted from some sort of insect," Tattletale answered before I could. "And..." she looked at the last of the slime as it dissolved, "...yeah, I got nothing."
Regent's head snapped toward Tattletale at that, and Grue glanced her way before looking back to me. "Look, for whatever reason, you did us a solid. We owe you one. For now, I suggest you get out of here. Armsmaster's on his way and he's not about to let another villain go just because you did his job for him," he gestured at Lung's unconscious form, then looked back to me. "By the way, what's your name?"
I just stared blankly at them. These were the kids Lung was going to kill? Villains? And they thought I was a villain too?
"Is she mute?" Regent asked while those monster thingies climbed the walls on Bitch's command.
"No," Tattletale replied, "she's just really shy." She smiled toward me. "Can we give you a ride?" Not trusting my voice, I just shook my head in reply. Tattletale frowned but nodded. "Okay. Stay safe." She and Grue mounted one beast, Bitch and Regent the other, and they left. I just sat on the roof's edge in a daze.
Soon enough I heard the roar of Armsmaster's Tinker-tech motorcycle. I didn't want to deal with the Protectorate, but I needed to claim this win. He approached, saw Lung's mutilated form, then looked up and saw me. He drew his halberd. "You gonna fight me?"
"I wasn't planning on it," I replied in a raspy voice. My mouth had gone dry from the events leading up to now.
"Didn't expect a villain would take down Lung and then just turn herself in," he commented as he injected the criminal with something.
"I'm not a villain," I said with no small amount of indignation. "I'm not a melee fighter, so I need to go with stealth and intimidation."
"You'll certainly have the latter," he commented. "You took him down by yourself? First off, that's impressive. Second, that's incredibly stupid."
"No shit," I snarked back. "But the bastard was going to murder kids. I couldn't just do nothing."
"Ever hear of a cell phone?"
"Can't afford one. I'll start saving up now."
"That's a lie," he replied. Right, he must have a lie detector built into his suit.
"Okay, fine, I don't have one for personal reasons that're none of your damn business, but I'll be getting one for the future. Happy?" He looked like he was about to scold me for being so grumpy. "Look, I threw myself into a suicide mission to save children I'd never met, on my first night as a cape. Excuse me if I'm a little frazzled." Hell, even my apology managed to sound like an insult.
He ran a hand along Lung's shoulder. "You control bugs, right?" I guess he recognized me. "These weren't made by any kind of insect. You had help?"
I shrugged. "Sort of. Lung tried to run away and another group of villains blindsided him. I was content with making him run but they did me a favor by putting him down for the count."
"And you didn't apprehend them?" I could practically see the incredulity in his words.
"Honestly? They did me a favor by helping bring Lung down. Turns out I did them a favor in return, since Lung was gunning for them and they couldn't have taken him by themselves. I figured it was only fair to just go our separate ways. I wouldn't arrest a mugger after he rescued people from a burning building, after all."
He didn't reply, but I suspected he disagreed. "So this is your first night as a cape? And I can't convince you to join the Wards?" I shook my head. "Then maybe you should let me take the credit for this one. Hear me out," he continued as I must've looked ready to pounce. "If you take credit, that makes you one of the heaviest hitters in Brockton Bay, and an unknown. Other capes will be gunning for you. If I take credit, the target falls on my chest and you're free to build a reputation more safely."
"I appreciate your concern, Armsmaster," I said in what wasn't quite a lie. If his concern was genuine, I did appreciate it. But paranoia and distrust in authority led me to suspect his motives weren't so altruistic. "But I want this. I put myself in danger to save others and I want the gangs of the Bay to know it. Like you said, I'm an unknown, so they have something new to fear. The Protectorate has to follow rules, protocol. But does this Skitter have to? Is he a hero? A vigilante? A villain painting himself in a good light? Is Skitter a man or a woman? What does the name mean?" I smirked. "If you can, just release his injuries and my name to the press. It should keep the baddies on their toes, and maybe make your job a little easier." I was forgetting something, but what? "Oh!" He jumped a little at that. "I forgot. Get him some antivenom soon. I covered him in christ-knows how many spider bites, mostly black widows and brown recluses."
And with that, I scampered up the rooftop and disappeared into the night.
Spawn 05
Vherstinae
Patron Saint of Cuddlebugs
- Location
- Home
Spawn 1.05
By the time I made it home, I was exhausted. I seriously needed to work on my stamina. I unlocked the door, staggered past dad – I felt guilty that he'd stayed up waiting for me – while telling him I'd give him the full story in the morning, and barely made it into my room. I didn't even take off my costume; I just flopped onto the bed and was out like a light.
(BREAK)
I awoke the next morning to the doorbell. Blearily I looked around, noticing that I was out of costume. Dad must've tucked me in after I passed out. I sent some bugs around to find my wig while I read the note on my little nightstand.
Taylor, had Union stuff. So glad you're okay. Tell me everything when I get home.
I couldn't begrudge him that, I supposed, even though I didn't want to terrify him with the full truth. A small squadron of flies air-lifted my wig over while I threw some baggy pajamas over my sports bra and athletic shorts. I felt surprisingly energized for not getting much sleep after such a harrying event. The doorbell rang again and I grumbled, adjusting my wig as I grumped my way down the hall. I really wanted to get some more sleep.
I opened the door, realizing as I turned the knob that this was a stupid thing to do. I should've had an eye bug check out who was on the other side. I only continued to mentally kick myself as the door opened to reveal Emma Fucking Barnes, with a huge smile on her face.
"Taylor!" Before I could react she'd closed the distance between us and enveloped me in a bearhug, like the last two years had never happened.
"What the fuck!?" I squirmed to get free but Emma wasn't budging. I'd need to get rough with the psycho bitch, and–
"I'm so proud of you!"
...What.
"I knew you were strong! Sophia told me you were nothing but prey but I never believed her. You're so strong, Taylor, and now you're free, like me!" Had I been pulled into another universe overnight? My brain whirled with possible explanations, before completely shutting down when Emma kissed me.
Emma Barnes, one of the most evil people I'd ever known, was kissing me. Apparently taking my stunned immobility as consent, she shoved her tongue into my mouth. That woke my reflexes and I finally broke away, shoving her back into the wall and lunging backward myself for as much distance as I could get.
If Emma was hurt by my rejection, she didn't show it. "I knew you'd broken free when you came back to school, but you were just acting like your old self. Then you finally fought back," she exclaimed giddily. "Not even Sophia is as strong as you!" Emma practically bounced on the balls of her feet.
In that moment, everything clicked. Every last ounce of disgust and hatred I felt was wicked away and replaced with pity. "Oh Emma," I said softly, "you never stopped being my friend, did you?"
She pounced on me again and I pulled my head away, not wanting a repeat of earlier. Still, I didn't push her off. "Never! I couldn't have lived with myself if I didn't help free you. You're my best friend, Taylor, and you always will be. I love you."
I just gave her a sad smile. "C'mon, join me on the couch. I just need to make a call first." I ushered her into the living room, ignoring her squeal of happiness, and then went to dial Alan Barnes.
"Mr. Barnes," I spoke into the receiver, "it's Taylor Hebert. Your daughter is at my house. Alan, there's no easy way to say this," I was keeping my voice down so Emma hopefully wouldn't hear. "I think your daughter is mentally ill." I winced as he started yelling. "No, you asshole," I snarled, "just get in your fucking Mercedes and drive your ass down here." I hung up, barely resisting slamming the phone down.
I strode back to the living room and found Emma lounging on the couch. The moment she saw me she put on her best bedroom eyes. I had to resist a shudder of revulsion. Had she always lusted after me? Even while she was torturing me? The insectoid part of my brain told me that she was, as I'd always known, ridiculously attractive. Of course, there was no separating her looks from the sheer loathing I'd felt for her over the last two years. Still, I swallowed down my bile and sat beside her.
Emma grinned at me. "I always know when you're coming into a room, sweetie. You shine brighter than anybody I've ever seen, even brighter than Sophia!" She draped herself over me and I had to grit my teeth to keep from whimpering.
I had to keep her attention on anything but me. "What do you mean about shining?"
She giggled, almost drunkenly. "Oh, you know what I mean! You broke free, and now you're so bright!" She looped her arms around my neck and started kissing my throat.
"Ah, ah," I said in a gentle reprimand. "Not yet, sweetie." I rested a hand on her sternum and gingerly pushed her away. "You were telling me about this shine. How did you know I could, ah, break free?"
She smirked. "I could see it inside you, like a pilot light. And now you're glowing like a lighthouse!"
"And what about Madison? Did you help her to break free?"
"Of course not," Emma said knowingly. "She has no light. She wouldn't get free; she'd just break."
My mind whirled. I understood now. Emma had triggered. She saw parahuman potential! Whatever other mental trauma she'd suffered, Sophia's savagery and the nightmare of Emma's own trigger event had twisted the poor girl. I just couldn't bring myself to continue hating her. She was just a stupid little girl. I hugged her to me and pet her hair. "Oh, Emma..."
(BREAK)
The discussion with Alan Barnes had been long and angry, but in the end he'd conceded. Emma was damaged, possibly even broken. We'd eventually convinced Emma to go to therapy when I told her I'd consider being friends again if she got help.
In all honesty, I wasn't certain if I could ever be her friend again, no matter what help she got. I could never forgive her, that was for certain. No matter what was wrong with her mind, the evils she had perpetrated on me would never go away. Perhaps one day I could stop hating her, but she would never again be my best friend.
Dad had gotten home just as I bade goodbye to the Barneses and I now had two long stories to tell him. By the end of the discussion, he needed some booze and I needed to relax. I went into dad's office and logged into Parahumans Online.
(BREAK)
Topic: Lung Taken Down!
In: Boards > News > Events > America
Nuclearpickles (Original Poster) (Veteran Member)
Posted on February 2nd, 2011:
Halle-friggin-lujah! One of the biggest villains in Brockton Bay is on his way to the Birdcage right now. Looks like Lung bit off more than he could chew in some villainous civil war, and then ran straight into Armsmaster after his fight. Our own Protectorate commander finished him off and brought him down! Congrats to Armsmaster and the PRT!
I just stared, slack-jawed. That utter bastard! He took the credit anyway! Before I could get too angry, however, I backed out of that topic and noticed a new one.
Topic: Bug
In: Boards > Connections > General > America
Guest
Still owe you one. Would like to repay. Same place, same time?
Tt.
Pages of questions and theories followed, but I understood. Tattletale had found a way to contact me.
(BREAK)
Why was I here? I could have just not come. Why did I decide to meet a group of villains? I wanted to be a hero, damn it! But the PRT was ineffective and most likely corrupt, and fucking Armsmaster had stolen my win so I still had nothing to show New Wave. Hell, maybe I could do more good working with villains, hunting other bad guys.
I still hadn't managed to get a cell phone, but I remembered how to make those bomb-bugs. I would probably be safe if I could take down Lung with them, and it was unlikely they'd try anything since they saw what I could do. I looked around for any sign of them.
I spotted Tattletale's long blonde hair first and she smiled when she saw me. It was weird, how open she was. In fact, none of them struck me as typical villains. I'd come to think of villains as murderous psychopaths like Lung, Hookwolf or Sophia; token "Mwahaha!" types like Über and Leet; or subtle tyrants like Kaiser. It was a bit of a reality check to be reminded that villains were human beings too.
There were only three of them this time. I didn't see Bitch's stocky frame or her monsters anywhere. "Hi," Tattletale chirped and I was reminded of an older, blonde Vista. From her body shape I figured she was a year or two older than me. She was attractive but relatively slender, none of the ridiculous jailbait development like Emma. She turned and gave Regent a smug smile, their shortest member grumbling as he passed her twenty bucks. "C'mon," she smiled back at me, "we have a place where we can talk in private. I just didn't know how else to get in touch with you without giving ourselves away."
I fell in step, keeping my goo bubbling at the back of my throat just in case.
"So what's your name, anyway?" Regent idly flipped his scepter, repeatedly almost dropping it.
"I've settled on 'Skitter'," I replied. "All the other names were taken, or sucked."
Tattletale chuckled. "Yeah, I get that. My first, what, seventy names were already claimed."
"Like you didn't already have another seventy picked out," Grue snorted. "She came up with my name, y'know," he said to me. "I didn't even know what a Zork was."
"You are likely to be eaten by a grue," I quoted.
"Fuck you," he laughed.
(BREAK)
It was weird, not being afraid. We were walking the back alleys of Gangland, USA, yet I wasn't nervous about bumping into E88, the ABB, or Coil's tech soldiers. I had to admit to myself that I felt like a predator. Not like that Monster Sophia, though. I felt like a king cobra, an apex predator that didn't need to fuck with people. It was perfectly content to live and let live, because it knew how dangerous it was. That just about anything that messed with it would be lucky if it lived to regret.
We finally came to a nicer warehouse a few miles from the boardwalk district. The bottom floor was gutted but the upstairs loft was well furnished. Plasma screen TV, Playstation, several plush couches. The kitchen was well-stocked from what I could see, and there were several other rooms, each with a decorated door. One had the same Egyptian eye as Tattletale's costume, one had a poorly painted crown, and the other had crude drawings of dogs. There was a fourth, but the door was blank.
"Welcome to Undersiders HQ," Tattletale smiled, then peeled off her mask. "Hi, I'm Lisa." I could see why she wore the mask. Not only were the freckles dotting her nose and cheeks recognizable, they were painfully cute. Nobody would take a villain seriously if they wanted to pick her up and hug her.
Grue removed his helmet and mask, revealing a handsome yet slightly gawky black man. He was clearly older than me yet looked still in his teens. With a mouth slightly too wide for his face and a narrow nose, he looked like he still had to grow into his features. His hair was done into tight cornrows, presumably to keep it from getting in the way. "I'm Brian."
Regent flopped down onto the couch and pulled off his creepy doll mask, thank god. He was pale like me, with very pretty features. I might have gone so far as to call his face effeminate, but he looked maybe a year or so younger than me so I chalked it up to being mid-puberty. "Call me Alec," he said before promptly ignoring me and switching on Soul Calibur.
Brian just rolled his eyes. "Rachel, Bitch, isn't here because she's not exactly a fan of adding to our ranks. But you took down Lung and we need more firepower in our group. Lisa says you wouldn't fuck us over and that's good enough for me."
Silence stretched after that and I realized they were waiting for me to reveal my own identity. I balked as I realized that I didn't have my wig. Despite the confidence I had before, I now felt very weak. I sighed and steeled myself, pulling apart the mandibles and sliding the mask off my head to pool behind my neck like a hood. I was fully exposed: my dark eyes, my pale skin, and my completely bald head.
Ring Out!
Alec was gawking at my lack of hair and his character had been pitched into the water.
"Hi," I said shyly, "I'm Taylor."
"So," the brunet boy spoke up as he let the Continue meter tick down, "is that a fashion statement, or are you a cultist or something?"
Brian slapped him upside the head in a motion so practiced that I expected it happened several times a day. I was briefly reminded of Beavis and Butt-Head.
I shrugged. "It just all fell out after I triggered. I made it into a wig but I didn't bring it with me. I should start doing that in case I need to change in an emergency."
Brian nodded. "So what are your powers, anyway?"
I hesitated. Should I tell them the whole story? I mean, they were villains, so they'd be less likely to attack me on principle if I demonstrated Nilbog-esque powers, but they were villains. They might backstab me just because I seemed too big a threat. Then again, they'd put themselves on the line. Bringing me here to their base, revealing their identities...
"Well, I control bugs. But there's more to it than that." I stepped over to a window and opened it up. Making sure I had their attention, I coughed into my hand. Another green grenade bug squirmed free of the violet amniotic fluid. I threw it as hard as I could and watched as it exploded on the side of a nearby building, dissolving the concrete.
Alec zipped over to stand beside me. "That was fuckin' awesome! You make bomb bugs?"
I nodded. "Not just that. I can make any sort of bug. I've got some even more impressive ideas, but I can't make them yet. I can't hock them up. It's like if you try to swallow something too big, but in reverse. They won't even form."
"So, what exactly is that purple stuff?" Again, Grue and Regent looked at Tattletale in disbelief. She noted my curiosity. "I'm a Thinker. My power helps fill in gaps in my knowledge. If I can get a proper cold read or see some clues, I can piece together the whole story. But that stuff you cough up? It's like I'm getting static. Same with that bug. I could tell it was filled with a volatile base, but as for what kind of critter it was or where it came from? Nada."
"Then you know as much as I do," I replied. "It started out coming from my stomach, but then my insides rearranged themselves and I have some sort of additional bladder that holds all the goo. I think it also makes the bugs"
Lisa nodded, her eyes slightly wide. "That's really, really impressive. That's got to be a high-level Master, at least a 7 or 8." She got a faraway look for a moment. "You can sense through them too, can't you? Shit, you're lucky!"
I scoffed. "Sure, lucky. I got my powers thanks to nearly dying from blood poisoning. I suffered a psychotic break and was comatose for a week."
"Shit," Brian voiced what everyone seemed to be thinking. He got back on track. "Look, we'd like to invite you to join the Undersiders, Taylor. You don't seem like a typical villain, which is good. We're not looking to be murderous psychos like the ABB or genocidal rulers like Empire Eighty-Eight–"
"Speak for yourself," Alec interjected.
"...Point is, we're all here because we want something out of this. Stability, freedom, safety, what have you. We make a good profit along the way and we fly under the radar. Your power could be the edge we need to keep from getting wiped out by the likes of Lung or Kaiser." He locked eyes with me. His chocolate-brown orbs were very pretty, I noted. "Are you in?"
I closed my eyes and took a few moments to just think. Did I want this? As long as the PRT needed to keep its PR up, they wouldn't let an outsider claim wins. New Wave had power and legal backing to get past that, but one teenage girl? I'd never get enough clout to join a hero team, and I couldn't trust the Protectorate. I locked eyes with him again. "I want two things: to keep my family safe, and to clean up this city. E88, the Merchants, the ABB, they're destroying it. My dad can barely make ends meet, while the rich sit on their shiny hilltops and shit down on the rest of us. The city needs to be revitalized, and that can't happen while we have maniacs on the streets." Why was I saying this? They'd think I was a hero – okay, I wanted to be a hero – and they'd probably attack! "So yeah, I'll work with you. But that's my goal: to get rid of the major threats, and help Brockton Bay get on its feet again."
It was Tattletale who replied, stepping into my field of vision. "That works for us. From what I've figured out so far, our backer wants pretty much the same thing."
I blinked. "We have a backer?"
Before she or Brian could reply, the door opened. "What the fuck!? I thought I told you no! Brutus! Judas!" Bitch gave a sharp, angry whistle and the dogs were on me. They tackled me from behind, each taking one of my arms in their jaws and wrenching.
I cried out in pain, feeling them try to rip my shoulders out of their sockets. I squeezed my eyes shut and called. I felt the arachnids hurrying up the walls and stairs, heard Regent squeak in fear. Black widows piled on Bitch. "Call them off or I fucking kill you," I shouted with as much authority as I could muster through overwhelming pain.
"Bitch." Grue's tone was hard. He believed I'd do it. I pulled my arms inward as best I could, thankful that my spider silk was holding. Bitch eventually relented just as I was getting ready to have the spiders bite her. With another sharp whistle, she called the dogs off of me.
Villains don't show weakness. I wanted nothing more than to collapse on the ground and moan in pain. Instead I grit my teeth and used my legs to haul myself upright. "What the fuck!?" The words left my mouth, accompanied by spittle and flecks of purple, as I whirled on her. I was moving fast, almost watching myself like an out-of-body experience. Wait, I was watching myself. Most of my sight was, for whatever reason, coming from the spiders. I swept my leg through her knees, knocking Bitch onto her back, then stomped on her ribcage. And again. I stopped, leg raised, ready for one more, before I stepped back. "Fuck with me again," I growled in as low a tone as I could manage, "and I'll have my spiders rot off your arms."
Several tense seconds passed.
Alec flopped back onto the couch and picked up his controller again. "Well that was exciting. Bitch, Skitter. Skitter, Bitch. Introductions are done, now shut the fuck up."
I offered my hand to the bulky girl, and she grudgingly took it. She was a lot heavier than me and my arms still screamed in pain, but I managed to haul her to her feet. "Teammates shouldn't distrust each other," I told her. "I won't hold a grudge if you won't."
She just eyed me before stomping off to her room, dogs trotting behind her.
"Don't mind Rachel," Lisa said. "She had a seriously fucked childhood and she never really got over it. She's reliable in a fight, and she's loyal. Once she gets to know you, she won't like you, but she'll have your back."
"So," I said, in an attempt to break the tension, "what's everybody else's powers?"
Brian smirked and led me to an overstuffed chair, where I let myself collapse and just rest. "I put it out there that my power is darkness generation, but it's more than that." He held out a hand, palm up, and a grainy black cloud appeared. "It blocks light, dampens or even mutes sound, and can mess with some powers. It also apparently can block radio waves and radiation, according to Lisa."
"Mine's not that flashy," Alec commented. He flicked his hand and Brian's arm flailed for a moment. "I cause little seizures in people's extremities. It's damn useful in the right places."
Lisa continued for him as Alec zoned out once more. "Making people trip, drop their weapons, pull a trigger early. We gave him that souped-up taser so he wouldn't be dead weight the moment somebody reached him." Alec waved his middle finger at her.
"Bitch affects dogs," Lisa continued. "Those monsters you saw take down lung? Those were Brutus, Judas and Angelica. She makes them bigger, tougher and scarier. They also heal any injuries when they transform, and when they change back."
"Wow, that's helpful."
"Yeah. She makes it a habit of finding homeless dogs and briefly changing them to cure things like heartworm and lyme disease."
"That's...actually sweet," I said, disbelief evident in my voice.
"Rachel understands dogs better than people," Brian replied. "She can trust them, gets what makes them tick. After how many times she's been fucked over, I don't know if she'll ever trust humans again."
I nodded, then noticed the clock. "Oh shit, I need to get home!"
"At this hour?" Lisa shook her head. "Not a good idea. Look, how about you just call your dad and let him know you're staying with friends?"
Brian booted Alec off the couch. "You can crash here for tonight, then tomorrow we'll get you some furniture for your room," he jerked his thumb at the unadorned door. He passed me his cell phone, and I noticed Lisa miming a phone at him.
"Yeah," I said sheepishly, "I don't have a cell of my own."
"We'll get that for you tomorrow, too," Lisa said. "You're probably still wiped from dealing with Lung, so feel free to get some rest."
"And to steal my fucking seat."
"Just use the chair, Alec. Christ."
I couldn't protest. I flopped down onto the couch and dialed dad's number.
By the time I made it home, I was exhausted. I seriously needed to work on my stamina. I unlocked the door, staggered past dad – I felt guilty that he'd stayed up waiting for me – while telling him I'd give him the full story in the morning, and barely made it into my room. I didn't even take off my costume; I just flopped onto the bed and was out like a light.
(BREAK)
I awoke the next morning to the doorbell. Blearily I looked around, noticing that I was out of costume. Dad must've tucked me in after I passed out. I sent some bugs around to find my wig while I read the note on my little nightstand.
Taylor, had Union stuff. So glad you're okay. Tell me everything when I get home.
I couldn't begrudge him that, I supposed, even though I didn't want to terrify him with the full truth. A small squadron of flies air-lifted my wig over while I threw some baggy pajamas over my sports bra and athletic shorts. I felt surprisingly energized for not getting much sleep after such a harrying event. The doorbell rang again and I grumbled, adjusting my wig as I grumped my way down the hall. I really wanted to get some more sleep.
I opened the door, realizing as I turned the knob that this was a stupid thing to do. I should've had an eye bug check out who was on the other side. I only continued to mentally kick myself as the door opened to reveal Emma Fucking Barnes, with a huge smile on her face.
"Taylor!" Before I could react she'd closed the distance between us and enveloped me in a bearhug, like the last two years had never happened.
"What the fuck!?" I squirmed to get free but Emma wasn't budging. I'd need to get rough with the psycho bitch, and–
"I'm so proud of you!"
...What.
"I knew you were strong! Sophia told me you were nothing but prey but I never believed her. You're so strong, Taylor, and now you're free, like me!" Had I been pulled into another universe overnight? My brain whirled with possible explanations, before completely shutting down when Emma kissed me.
Emma Barnes, one of the most evil people I'd ever known, was kissing me. Apparently taking my stunned immobility as consent, she shoved her tongue into my mouth. That woke my reflexes and I finally broke away, shoving her back into the wall and lunging backward myself for as much distance as I could get.
If Emma was hurt by my rejection, she didn't show it. "I knew you'd broken free when you came back to school, but you were just acting like your old self. Then you finally fought back," she exclaimed giddily. "Not even Sophia is as strong as you!" Emma practically bounced on the balls of her feet.
In that moment, everything clicked. Every last ounce of disgust and hatred I felt was wicked away and replaced with pity. "Oh Emma," I said softly, "you never stopped being my friend, did you?"
She pounced on me again and I pulled my head away, not wanting a repeat of earlier. Still, I didn't push her off. "Never! I couldn't have lived with myself if I didn't help free you. You're my best friend, Taylor, and you always will be. I love you."
I just gave her a sad smile. "C'mon, join me on the couch. I just need to make a call first." I ushered her into the living room, ignoring her squeal of happiness, and then went to dial Alan Barnes.
"Mr. Barnes," I spoke into the receiver, "it's Taylor Hebert. Your daughter is at my house. Alan, there's no easy way to say this," I was keeping my voice down so Emma hopefully wouldn't hear. "I think your daughter is mentally ill." I winced as he started yelling. "No, you asshole," I snarled, "just get in your fucking Mercedes and drive your ass down here." I hung up, barely resisting slamming the phone down.
I strode back to the living room and found Emma lounging on the couch. The moment she saw me she put on her best bedroom eyes. I had to resist a shudder of revulsion. Had she always lusted after me? Even while she was torturing me? The insectoid part of my brain told me that she was, as I'd always known, ridiculously attractive. Of course, there was no separating her looks from the sheer loathing I'd felt for her over the last two years. Still, I swallowed down my bile and sat beside her.
Emma grinned at me. "I always know when you're coming into a room, sweetie. You shine brighter than anybody I've ever seen, even brighter than Sophia!" She draped herself over me and I had to grit my teeth to keep from whimpering.
I had to keep her attention on anything but me. "What do you mean about shining?"
She giggled, almost drunkenly. "Oh, you know what I mean! You broke free, and now you're so bright!" She looped her arms around my neck and started kissing my throat.
"Ah, ah," I said in a gentle reprimand. "Not yet, sweetie." I rested a hand on her sternum and gingerly pushed her away. "You were telling me about this shine. How did you know I could, ah, break free?"
She smirked. "I could see it inside you, like a pilot light. And now you're glowing like a lighthouse!"
"And what about Madison? Did you help her to break free?"
"Of course not," Emma said knowingly. "She has no light. She wouldn't get free; she'd just break."
My mind whirled. I understood now. Emma had triggered. She saw parahuman potential! Whatever other mental trauma she'd suffered, Sophia's savagery and the nightmare of Emma's own trigger event had twisted the poor girl. I just couldn't bring myself to continue hating her. She was just a stupid little girl. I hugged her to me and pet her hair. "Oh, Emma..."
(BREAK)
The discussion with Alan Barnes had been long and angry, but in the end he'd conceded. Emma was damaged, possibly even broken. We'd eventually convinced Emma to go to therapy when I told her I'd consider being friends again if she got help.
In all honesty, I wasn't certain if I could ever be her friend again, no matter what help she got. I could never forgive her, that was for certain. No matter what was wrong with her mind, the evils she had perpetrated on me would never go away. Perhaps one day I could stop hating her, but she would never again be my best friend.
Dad had gotten home just as I bade goodbye to the Barneses and I now had two long stories to tell him. By the end of the discussion, he needed some booze and I needed to relax. I went into dad's office and logged into Parahumans Online.
(BREAK)
Topic: Lung Taken Down!
In: Boards > News > Events > America
Nuclearpickles (Original Poster) (Veteran Member)
Posted on February 2nd, 2011:
Halle-friggin-lujah! One of the biggest villains in Brockton Bay is on his way to the Birdcage right now. Looks like Lung bit off more than he could chew in some villainous civil war, and then ran straight into Armsmaster after his fight. Our own Protectorate commander finished him off and brought him down! Congrats to Armsmaster and the PRT!
I just stared, slack-jawed. That utter bastard! He took the credit anyway! Before I could get too angry, however, I backed out of that topic and noticed a new one.
Topic: Bug
In: Boards > Connections > General > America
Guest
Still owe you one. Would like to repay. Same place, same time?
Tt.
Pages of questions and theories followed, but I understood. Tattletale had found a way to contact me.
(BREAK)
Why was I here? I could have just not come. Why did I decide to meet a group of villains? I wanted to be a hero, damn it! But the PRT was ineffective and most likely corrupt, and fucking Armsmaster had stolen my win so I still had nothing to show New Wave. Hell, maybe I could do more good working with villains, hunting other bad guys.
I still hadn't managed to get a cell phone, but I remembered how to make those bomb-bugs. I would probably be safe if I could take down Lung with them, and it was unlikely they'd try anything since they saw what I could do. I looked around for any sign of them.
I spotted Tattletale's long blonde hair first and she smiled when she saw me. It was weird, how open she was. In fact, none of them struck me as typical villains. I'd come to think of villains as murderous psychopaths like Lung, Hookwolf or Sophia; token "Mwahaha!" types like Über and Leet; or subtle tyrants like Kaiser. It was a bit of a reality check to be reminded that villains were human beings too.
There were only three of them this time. I didn't see Bitch's stocky frame or her monsters anywhere. "Hi," Tattletale chirped and I was reminded of an older, blonde Vista. From her body shape I figured she was a year or two older than me. She was attractive but relatively slender, none of the ridiculous jailbait development like Emma. She turned and gave Regent a smug smile, their shortest member grumbling as he passed her twenty bucks. "C'mon," she smiled back at me, "we have a place where we can talk in private. I just didn't know how else to get in touch with you without giving ourselves away."
I fell in step, keeping my goo bubbling at the back of my throat just in case.
"So what's your name, anyway?" Regent idly flipped his scepter, repeatedly almost dropping it.
"I've settled on 'Skitter'," I replied. "All the other names were taken, or sucked."
Tattletale chuckled. "Yeah, I get that. My first, what, seventy names were already claimed."
"Like you didn't already have another seventy picked out," Grue snorted. "She came up with my name, y'know," he said to me. "I didn't even know what a Zork was."
"You are likely to be eaten by a grue," I quoted.
"Fuck you," he laughed.
(BREAK)
It was weird, not being afraid. We were walking the back alleys of Gangland, USA, yet I wasn't nervous about bumping into E88, the ABB, or Coil's tech soldiers. I had to admit to myself that I felt like a predator. Not like that Monster Sophia, though. I felt like a king cobra, an apex predator that didn't need to fuck with people. It was perfectly content to live and let live, because it knew how dangerous it was. That just about anything that messed with it would be lucky if it lived to regret.
We finally came to a nicer warehouse a few miles from the boardwalk district. The bottom floor was gutted but the upstairs loft was well furnished. Plasma screen TV, Playstation, several plush couches. The kitchen was well-stocked from what I could see, and there were several other rooms, each with a decorated door. One had the same Egyptian eye as Tattletale's costume, one had a poorly painted crown, and the other had crude drawings of dogs. There was a fourth, but the door was blank.
"Welcome to Undersiders HQ," Tattletale smiled, then peeled off her mask. "Hi, I'm Lisa." I could see why she wore the mask. Not only were the freckles dotting her nose and cheeks recognizable, they were painfully cute. Nobody would take a villain seriously if they wanted to pick her up and hug her.
Grue removed his helmet and mask, revealing a handsome yet slightly gawky black man. He was clearly older than me yet looked still in his teens. With a mouth slightly too wide for his face and a narrow nose, he looked like he still had to grow into his features. His hair was done into tight cornrows, presumably to keep it from getting in the way. "I'm Brian."
Regent flopped down onto the couch and pulled off his creepy doll mask, thank god. He was pale like me, with very pretty features. I might have gone so far as to call his face effeminate, but he looked maybe a year or so younger than me so I chalked it up to being mid-puberty. "Call me Alec," he said before promptly ignoring me and switching on Soul Calibur.
Brian just rolled his eyes. "Rachel, Bitch, isn't here because she's not exactly a fan of adding to our ranks. But you took down Lung and we need more firepower in our group. Lisa says you wouldn't fuck us over and that's good enough for me."
Silence stretched after that and I realized they were waiting for me to reveal my own identity. I balked as I realized that I didn't have my wig. Despite the confidence I had before, I now felt very weak. I sighed and steeled myself, pulling apart the mandibles and sliding the mask off my head to pool behind my neck like a hood. I was fully exposed: my dark eyes, my pale skin, and my completely bald head.
Ring Out!
Alec was gawking at my lack of hair and his character had been pitched into the water.
"Hi," I said shyly, "I'm Taylor."
"So," the brunet boy spoke up as he let the Continue meter tick down, "is that a fashion statement, or are you a cultist or something?"
Brian slapped him upside the head in a motion so practiced that I expected it happened several times a day. I was briefly reminded of Beavis and Butt-Head.
I shrugged. "It just all fell out after I triggered. I made it into a wig but I didn't bring it with me. I should start doing that in case I need to change in an emergency."
Brian nodded. "So what are your powers, anyway?"
I hesitated. Should I tell them the whole story? I mean, they were villains, so they'd be less likely to attack me on principle if I demonstrated Nilbog-esque powers, but they were villains. They might backstab me just because I seemed too big a threat. Then again, they'd put themselves on the line. Bringing me here to their base, revealing their identities...
"Well, I control bugs. But there's more to it than that." I stepped over to a window and opened it up. Making sure I had their attention, I coughed into my hand. Another green grenade bug squirmed free of the violet amniotic fluid. I threw it as hard as I could and watched as it exploded on the side of a nearby building, dissolving the concrete.
Alec zipped over to stand beside me. "That was fuckin' awesome! You make bomb bugs?"
I nodded. "Not just that. I can make any sort of bug. I've got some even more impressive ideas, but I can't make them yet. I can't hock them up. It's like if you try to swallow something too big, but in reverse. They won't even form."
"So, what exactly is that purple stuff?" Again, Grue and Regent looked at Tattletale in disbelief. She noted my curiosity. "I'm a Thinker. My power helps fill in gaps in my knowledge. If I can get a proper cold read or see some clues, I can piece together the whole story. But that stuff you cough up? It's like I'm getting static. Same with that bug. I could tell it was filled with a volatile base, but as for what kind of critter it was or where it came from? Nada."
"Then you know as much as I do," I replied. "It started out coming from my stomach, but then my insides rearranged themselves and I have some sort of additional bladder that holds all the goo. I think it also makes the bugs"
Lisa nodded, her eyes slightly wide. "That's really, really impressive. That's got to be a high-level Master, at least a 7 or 8." She got a faraway look for a moment. "You can sense through them too, can't you? Shit, you're lucky!"
I scoffed. "Sure, lucky. I got my powers thanks to nearly dying from blood poisoning. I suffered a psychotic break and was comatose for a week."
"Shit," Brian voiced what everyone seemed to be thinking. He got back on track. "Look, we'd like to invite you to join the Undersiders, Taylor. You don't seem like a typical villain, which is good. We're not looking to be murderous psychos like the ABB or genocidal rulers like Empire Eighty-Eight–"
"Speak for yourself," Alec interjected.
"...Point is, we're all here because we want something out of this. Stability, freedom, safety, what have you. We make a good profit along the way and we fly under the radar. Your power could be the edge we need to keep from getting wiped out by the likes of Lung or Kaiser." He locked eyes with me. His chocolate-brown orbs were very pretty, I noted. "Are you in?"
I closed my eyes and took a few moments to just think. Did I want this? As long as the PRT needed to keep its PR up, they wouldn't let an outsider claim wins. New Wave had power and legal backing to get past that, but one teenage girl? I'd never get enough clout to join a hero team, and I couldn't trust the Protectorate. I locked eyes with him again. "I want two things: to keep my family safe, and to clean up this city. E88, the Merchants, the ABB, they're destroying it. My dad can barely make ends meet, while the rich sit on their shiny hilltops and shit down on the rest of us. The city needs to be revitalized, and that can't happen while we have maniacs on the streets." Why was I saying this? They'd think I was a hero – okay, I wanted to be a hero – and they'd probably attack! "So yeah, I'll work with you. But that's my goal: to get rid of the major threats, and help Brockton Bay get on its feet again."
It was Tattletale who replied, stepping into my field of vision. "That works for us. From what I've figured out so far, our backer wants pretty much the same thing."
I blinked. "We have a backer?"
Before she or Brian could reply, the door opened. "What the fuck!? I thought I told you no! Brutus! Judas!" Bitch gave a sharp, angry whistle and the dogs were on me. They tackled me from behind, each taking one of my arms in their jaws and wrenching.
I cried out in pain, feeling them try to rip my shoulders out of their sockets. I squeezed my eyes shut and called. I felt the arachnids hurrying up the walls and stairs, heard Regent squeak in fear. Black widows piled on Bitch. "Call them off or I fucking kill you," I shouted with as much authority as I could muster through overwhelming pain.
"Bitch." Grue's tone was hard. He believed I'd do it. I pulled my arms inward as best I could, thankful that my spider silk was holding. Bitch eventually relented just as I was getting ready to have the spiders bite her. With another sharp whistle, she called the dogs off of me.
Villains don't show weakness. I wanted nothing more than to collapse on the ground and moan in pain. Instead I grit my teeth and used my legs to haul myself upright. "What the fuck!?" The words left my mouth, accompanied by spittle and flecks of purple, as I whirled on her. I was moving fast, almost watching myself like an out-of-body experience. Wait, I was watching myself. Most of my sight was, for whatever reason, coming from the spiders. I swept my leg through her knees, knocking Bitch onto her back, then stomped on her ribcage. And again. I stopped, leg raised, ready for one more, before I stepped back. "Fuck with me again," I growled in as low a tone as I could manage, "and I'll have my spiders rot off your arms."
Several tense seconds passed.
Alec flopped back onto the couch and picked up his controller again. "Well that was exciting. Bitch, Skitter. Skitter, Bitch. Introductions are done, now shut the fuck up."
I offered my hand to the bulky girl, and she grudgingly took it. She was a lot heavier than me and my arms still screamed in pain, but I managed to haul her to her feet. "Teammates shouldn't distrust each other," I told her. "I won't hold a grudge if you won't."
She just eyed me before stomping off to her room, dogs trotting behind her.
"Don't mind Rachel," Lisa said. "She had a seriously fucked childhood and she never really got over it. She's reliable in a fight, and she's loyal. Once she gets to know you, she won't like you, but she'll have your back."
"So," I said, in an attempt to break the tension, "what's everybody else's powers?"
Brian smirked and led me to an overstuffed chair, where I let myself collapse and just rest. "I put it out there that my power is darkness generation, but it's more than that." He held out a hand, palm up, and a grainy black cloud appeared. "It blocks light, dampens or even mutes sound, and can mess with some powers. It also apparently can block radio waves and radiation, according to Lisa."
"Mine's not that flashy," Alec commented. He flicked his hand and Brian's arm flailed for a moment. "I cause little seizures in people's extremities. It's damn useful in the right places."
Lisa continued for him as Alec zoned out once more. "Making people trip, drop their weapons, pull a trigger early. We gave him that souped-up taser so he wouldn't be dead weight the moment somebody reached him." Alec waved his middle finger at her.
"Bitch affects dogs," Lisa continued. "Those monsters you saw take down lung? Those were Brutus, Judas and Angelica. She makes them bigger, tougher and scarier. They also heal any injuries when they transform, and when they change back."
"Wow, that's helpful."
"Yeah. She makes it a habit of finding homeless dogs and briefly changing them to cure things like heartworm and lyme disease."
"That's...actually sweet," I said, disbelief evident in my voice.
"Rachel understands dogs better than people," Brian replied. "She can trust them, gets what makes them tick. After how many times she's been fucked over, I don't know if she'll ever trust humans again."
I nodded, then noticed the clock. "Oh shit, I need to get home!"
"At this hour?" Lisa shook her head. "Not a good idea. Look, how about you just call your dad and let him know you're staying with friends?"
Brian booted Alec off the couch. "You can crash here for tonight, then tomorrow we'll get you some furniture for your room," he jerked his thumb at the unadorned door. He passed me his cell phone, and I noticed Lisa miming a phone at him.
"Yeah," I said sheepishly, "I don't have a cell of my own."
"We'll get that for you tomorrow, too," Lisa said. "You're probably still wiped from dealing with Lung, so feel free to get some rest."
"And to steal my fucking seat."
"Just use the chair, Alec. Christ."
I couldn't protest. I flopped down onto the couch and dialed dad's number.
Interlude: PRT
Vherstinae
Patron Saint of Cuddlebugs
- Location
- Home
Interlude 1.x
Closer...
Carefully...
The proximity alarm beeped and he began slowly extracting the probe. Damn, he'd have to start fresh.
Miss Militia kicked the door open just as Armsmaster was removing the tungsten rod from his newest project. "What the hell, Colin!?"
"Make some more noise," he groused. He hated being interrupted while he worked. "If you were a little faster you might've caused me to explode.
"Don't try to set me on the defensive, Wallis." Hannah's dark eyes blazed with fury. "I read the report. No way the Undersiders did that to Lung. It was somebody else, somebody new." She'd already put the pieces together and was giving him a chance not to dig himself deeper.
"Yes," he huffed as he walked over to his old threadbare sofa, "it was Hebert. She fought him into retreating, by herself." Colin flipped up his work goggles and dropped onto the aged piece of furniture, which groaned in protest.
Hannah folded her arms across her chest, having pulled down her scarf so he could see in full detail the disapproving frown on her face. "And you stole the credit for her win?"
"She's powerful, Hannah. Incredibly so. She wasn't even scratched and she'd done more lasting damage to Lung than I'd ever seen. Somehow the alkaloid she'd hit him with was suppressing his regeneration." He frowned right back at her. "We're losing this war, slowly but surely. Anders shows people that he can provide them the safety we can't, and all they need do is subscribe to his ideology. The Merchants have the best chance of picking up traumatized new parahumans. And now we need to run damage control and keep Hess' actions out of the press."
Colin idly began fiddling with his goggles, needing something to keep his hands occupied while he spoke. "The PRT is struggling. All across the globe, we're faced with seemingly insurmountable challenges. And we can't even go after the villains like we should, because we need their power against the Endbringers. Hebert needs to understand that it's for the best if she joins the Wards. We need that kind of power and dedication, that moral compass."
Hannah stepped forward and popped him in the forehead with the heel of her hand. "So you undermine her success? You idiot! You come across as a glory hound and the Protectorate appears to be a tyrannical 'us versus them' situation! If anything, you've guaranteed that she'll never join!" She turned to stalk out of the room.
"Hannah. Don't make this worse."
She stopped but didn't turn around. "I don't think I could. But we owe this girl for our failings. I might not be able to fix everything, but I can hopefully show her that we're not all like Hess."
Colin sat in silence for several long minutes, scratching at his fingertips with his thumbnails. He eventually walked over to his computer, firing up the innumerable racks of servers. "Dragon, are you there?"
The screen flickered and changed to show a slightly grainy image of a pretty, petite redhead. "Colin. You look upset."
He told her the entire story. Despite the fact that they lived more than a thousand miles apart and had never met in person, Dragon was his dearest friend. He spared no detail, desperate for her advice.
Dragon's face scrunched up adorably in thought. "That's...yeah, that's a problem." She sighed and let her shoulders droop. "Look, Colin, I'm not gonna mince words. You screwed the pooch on this. My recommendation? Stay out of it. The girl has good reason to hate you and any action you take will be seen in the worst possible light. Hannah's a smart girl; I trust her to do her best to make the situation salvageable. Meantime? Just focus on the Protectorate. Let others handle Taylor."
Colin could only nod. "I'm sorry for causing this mess. I just...you know I'm not good with people."
She smiled. "I don't know about that. You're good with me."
"That's because we can talk Tinker tech. We understand each other. I..." He sighed.
"Colin, stop stressing over this. You can't repair it. Let others, people with the specializations to deal with these things, handle it. Now, what are you working on over there?" She pointed past him to the tungsten rod on his workbench.
(BREAK)
Hannah huffed to herself, her energy having formed into a pair of padded gloves. She pounded the heavy bag, needing to get her frustration out before she took any more action. That utter idiot! How could he do that? Armsmaster had potentially made a permanent enemy of, by all appearances, an extremely powerful parahuman. Sure, he had good intentions, but he went about it in exactly the wrong way.
Toweling herself off, Hannah shifted two a pair of uzis and holstered them. She picked up her smartphone. "Director, I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"
"Not at the moment. I'm on dialysis for another hour or so and there's nothing good on TV." Emily Piggot might hate parahumans, but she almost liked Miss Militia. Hannah had seen true evil and understood that parahumans were even more dangerous than zealots with guns. The two were of like mind on many subjects and, had Hannah been normal, Piggot could have seen them becoming friends. "I hope this isn't an emergency."
"Not exactly. If you haven't seen the report already, Armsmaster made a significant mistake with Hebert last night. It may have burnt any bridges between her and the PRT, and all evidence points to her being a heavy hitter."
"That's unfortunate. Do we need to designate her as a villain?"
"That's...not what I was thinking, Director. I think that we still have a chance, or at least I'd like to hope. Hebert has a strong moral compass and doesn't trust authority. It makes sense, since she's been failed by those in power so often. I'd like to offer her an olive branch, granting at least one of her requests. She wanted to transfer to Arcadia; let's make that happen."
"You think that will be enough?"
"Doubtful. But it's a start, and more than anyone's done for her in years, I'll wager. We need to show her our best side, and not the photoshopped PR side. We need to show her we do genuine good. If we can win her over, maybe we can do the same with other troubled parahumans."
"Fewer capes with the gangs, more with us. Alright, I'll see what I can do. And Militia? Good work."
Closer...
Carefully...
The proximity alarm beeped and he began slowly extracting the probe. Damn, he'd have to start fresh.
Miss Militia kicked the door open just as Armsmaster was removing the tungsten rod from his newest project. "What the hell, Colin!?"
"Make some more noise," he groused. He hated being interrupted while he worked. "If you were a little faster you might've caused me to explode.
"Don't try to set me on the defensive, Wallis." Hannah's dark eyes blazed with fury. "I read the report. No way the Undersiders did that to Lung. It was somebody else, somebody new." She'd already put the pieces together and was giving him a chance not to dig himself deeper.
"Yes," he huffed as he walked over to his old threadbare sofa, "it was Hebert. She fought him into retreating, by herself." Colin flipped up his work goggles and dropped onto the aged piece of furniture, which groaned in protest.
Hannah folded her arms across her chest, having pulled down her scarf so he could see in full detail the disapproving frown on her face. "And you stole the credit for her win?"
"She's powerful, Hannah. Incredibly so. She wasn't even scratched and she'd done more lasting damage to Lung than I'd ever seen. Somehow the alkaloid she'd hit him with was suppressing his regeneration." He frowned right back at her. "We're losing this war, slowly but surely. Anders shows people that he can provide them the safety we can't, and all they need do is subscribe to his ideology. The Merchants have the best chance of picking up traumatized new parahumans. And now we need to run damage control and keep Hess' actions out of the press."
Colin idly began fiddling with his goggles, needing something to keep his hands occupied while he spoke. "The PRT is struggling. All across the globe, we're faced with seemingly insurmountable challenges. And we can't even go after the villains like we should, because we need their power against the Endbringers. Hebert needs to understand that it's for the best if she joins the Wards. We need that kind of power and dedication, that moral compass."
Hannah stepped forward and popped him in the forehead with the heel of her hand. "So you undermine her success? You idiot! You come across as a glory hound and the Protectorate appears to be a tyrannical 'us versus them' situation! If anything, you've guaranteed that she'll never join!" She turned to stalk out of the room.
"Hannah. Don't make this worse."
She stopped but didn't turn around. "I don't think I could. But we owe this girl for our failings. I might not be able to fix everything, but I can hopefully show her that we're not all like Hess."
Colin sat in silence for several long minutes, scratching at his fingertips with his thumbnails. He eventually walked over to his computer, firing up the innumerable racks of servers. "Dragon, are you there?"
The screen flickered and changed to show a slightly grainy image of a pretty, petite redhead. "Colin. You look upset."
He told her the entire story. Despite the fact that they lived more than a thousand miles apart and had never met in person, Dragon was his dearest friend. He spared no detail, desperate for her advice.
Dragon's face scrunched up adorably in thought. "That's...yeah, that's a problem." She sighed and let her shoulders droop. "Look, Colin, I'm not gonna mince words. You screwed the pooch on this. My recommendation? Stay out of it. The girl has good reason to hate you and any action you take will be seen in the worst possible light. Hannah's a smart girl; I trust her to do her best to make the situation salvageable. Meantime? Just focus on the Protectorate. Let others handle Taylor."
Colin could only nod. "I'm sorry for causing this mess. I just...you know I'm not good with people."
She smiled. "I don't know about that. You're good with me."
"That's because we can talk Tinker tech. We understand each other. I..." He sighed.
"Colin, stop stressing over this. You can't repair it. Let others, people with the specializations to deal with these things, handle it. Now, what are you working on over there?" She pointed past him to the tungsten rod on his workbench.
(BREAK)
Hannah huffed to herself, her energy having formed into a pair of padded gloves. She pounded the heavy bag, needing to get her frustration out before she took any more action. That utter idiot! How could he do that? Armsmaster had potentially made a permanent enemy of, by all appearances, an extremely powerful parahuman. Sure, he had good intentions, but he went about it in exactly the wrong way.
Toweling herself off, Hannah shifted two a pair of uzis and holstered them. She picked up her smartphone. "Director, I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"
"Not at the moment. I'm on dialysis for another hour or so and there's nothing good on TV." Emily Piggot might hate parahumans, but she almost liked Miss Militia. Hannah had seen true evil and understood that parahumans were even more dangerous than zealots with guns. The two were of like mind on many subjects and, had Hannah been normal, Piggot could have seen them becoming friends. "I hope this isn't an emergency."
"Not exactly. If you haven't seen the report already, Armsmaster made a significant mistake with Hebert last night. It may have burnt any bridges between her and the PRT, and all evidence points to her being a heavy hitter."
"That's unfortunate. Do we need to designate her as a villain?"
"That's...not what I was thinking, Director. I think that we still have a chance, or at least I'd like to hope. Hebert has a strong moral compass and doesn't trust authority. It makes sense, since she's been failed by those in power so often. I'd like to offer her an olive branch, granting at least one of her requests. She wanted to transfer to Arcadia; let's make that happen."
"You think that will be enough?"
"Doubtful. But it's a start, and more than anyone's done for her in years, I'll wager. We need to show her our best side, and not the photoshopped PR side. We need to show her we do genuine good. If we can win her over, maybe we can do the same with other troubled parahumans."
"Fewer capes with the gangs, more with us. Alright, I'll see what I can do. And Militia? Good work."
Interlude: Therapy
Vherstinae
Patron Saint of Cuddlebugs
- Location
- Home
Interlude 1.y
Alan Barnes toyed with a crease in his slacks, as he'd been doing for the last hour at least. He was starting to wear at the fabric but couldn't bring himself to care. His beloved daughter, his beautiful, perfect Emma, was in the other room speaking to a cape therapist. Moreover, she'd been in an intensive-care facility for victims of trigger events or other psychotic breaks for nearly a week beforehand. Alan had wanted nothing more than to bundle Emma up, hug her tight and never let her go, but he'd already failed her before. She would need these sessions, one-on-one with an acclaimed parahuman psychiatrist, to recover and hopefully be herself again.
He was still coming to terms with the fact that Emma was a parahuman. The thought made him sick to his stomach. Capes always had to choose a side; rogues never lasted long. Usually they ended up forcibly recruited into a villain group or just killed outright. That meant that his baby girl would have to join the Wards for a chance at safety.
He couldn't protect her anymore.
That was what hit him the hardest. He found parahumans abhorrent and had caught himself thinking about Emma's status with some degree of revulsion, but beyond any of that he was her father. He was supposed to keep her safe, no matter what. He knew she was bullying Taylor, but that was her decision. She deserved to be able to decide what to do with her life. Daddy would always keep her safe. But now, now he couldn't. Someone like Kaiser wouldn't care that he was a lawyer. Alan couldn't threaten to sue the Merchants.
Alan liked to think of himself as a smart man. When Emma started suddenly hanging off of Sophia, he'd eventually put two and two together and realized that the black girl was the vigilante who'd saved Emma from those rapists. But somehow he'd missed Emma's...he had to admit it. Emma's madness. Perhaps it was simply that she was happy, perhaps it was because he couldn't "shine," as she called it. And as he sat in the waiting room, he put together the facts again. That was why Emma had gone back to Taylor: she could shine. Danny's girl was a cape too.
Taylor. Alan tasted the foul bile of shame. Even after everything Emma had done to her, after he'd betrayed Danny's friendship, Taylor had still called him and told him about Emma's problems. The Heberts were better people than he could ever hope to be. The realization hit him like a haymaker to the jaw, and he tried his best to deny it. He was more successful, his word carried weight. Danny was nothing but the leader of the dying Dockworkers' Union. Emma was beautiful and had a modeling career in front of her. Taylor was gawky and plain, and painfully shy.
But the Heberts were better people. God, it hurt to acknowledge that. But he couldn't find a way to deny it. Alan had been all too willing to throw his childhood friend, and his daughter's childhood friend, to the wolves in order to protect a daughter whose suffering he hadn't even noticed. He and Emma both would have to try to make it up to them. Even without having wronged them so badly, they still owed Taylor for helping Emma.
(BREAK)
One hour earlier
Jessica Yamada smiled at the girl in front of her. The redhead was stunningly gorgeous and was studying her like she was some sort of animal. Of course, if she let herself be offended by that, she couldn't very well be of any help to someone like Garrote, could she?
"Alright, Emma, this therapy is for your benefit. I specialize in counseling parahumans, so you can trust me to keep any secrets about you or your friends."
"Funny that you counsel capes, yet you can't shine."
Jessica tilted her head. "Shine? I'm afraid I don't understand."
Emma just smirked knowingly. "People keep telling me that. I guess I'm the only one who can see it. Sophia, Taylor, your secretary, they all had little lights inside them. I call them pilot lights. And then, when they break free, those lights blaze forth and just shine." The girl said it so romantically, it sounded awe-inspiring.
Jessica connected the dots. "So, after they have their trigger events, they shine?"
Emma nodded, happy that Dr. Yamada understood. "Yeah. I was worried I was confused when I saw Taylor again. I thought she started to shine in the locker, but then she acted exactly the same when she came back from the hospital. But then she started to fight back, and she beat Sophia. And then, when I saw her last time, she was shining even brighter! I've never seen one so bright before!"
"And that's when you kissed her."
Emma had the grace to blush. "Yeah. I'm a little embarrassed about that. I was just overwhelmed. She was so bright..." The girl spoke like it was a fetish. "It's, well, I guess it's a turn-on. I wanted to be close to Sophia. She shone, and she was so strong. She's a predator, and she knows it. But Taylor... It's like the difference between Seth Rogen and Brad Pitt."
"You couldn't help yourself."
"It helps that she's gotten prettier. I mean, I usually like boys, but Sophia's really hot. Taylor doesn't have her looks, but that shine makes up for it and then some."
"Did you know she'd shine so bright?" This girl was a very interesting case. Jessica just hoped she could set her right.
"No. I just wanted her to be free. Taylor, she was always so shy and weak. It hurt me to see her like that, when I knew she could be more."
"And that's why you hurt her. You knew trigger events are caused by trauma, and you needed to hurt her until she triggered."
The girl didn't show a hint of remorse. "It had to be me. Somebody else, even Sophia, would have just wanted to hurt Taylor for the sake of hurting her. Only I understood her well enough to make it work. When she didn't break free, no matter what, I came up with the locker idea. And it worked!" Okay, scratch that. Not only was she remorseless, she was proud.
"Emma," Jessica kept her voice even and calm, "you realize that, because you succeeded, that means you hurt Taylor deeper than anything else has."
Emma smiled back. "I knew she could take it. She's always been the strong one, after all. I made it through my trigger and I know I'm not as tough."
Dr. Yamada flipped through her notes. "Emma, after your trigger, you had your friends and family to support you and help you recover. Taylor triggered after losing her mother and the only friend she had. You must realize that, regardless of your intentions, Taylor sees that her best friend hurt her mercilessly for two years. She had no support except for her father. While you knew Taylor would be there for you if you needed it, you betrayed her." Jessica knew she was taking a gamble: either Emma would actually listen, her love for her friend overriding the psychosis that was clouding her perception, or she would reject the truth and slip further away. "You never stopped thinking of Taylor as your friend. But you hurt her, without any remorse or apology. You made Taylor stop thinking of you as her friend."
"Well, yeah, but..." The smile slid from Emma's face. Reality had just found its way to her. That blank expression gave way to shame and self-loathing. "Oh god. Oh fuck, how did I not see that? Oh Taylor..." Emma started to cry, slumping forward in her chair. "My Taylor..."
Dr. Yamada took the opportunity to bite her lip and let a concerned expression work its way onto her face while Emma wasn't watching. This girl was deeply disturbed, fixated on her former friend and obsessed with parahuman power. Jessica calmed her emotions again. "Emma, the fact that you've realized your mistake is a good thing. This means you can try to make things better." The girl gave her a questioning look through watery, bloodshot eyes. "Taylor still called your dad. She doesn't hate you. Maybe she pities you, but even that is better than outright despising you. You need to make amends. Maybe here, if Taylor agrees to come. Maybe with your parents and her dad present. Either way, you need to show her you're willing to do what you can to make it right."
Emma nodded eagerly. "You're right, Dr. Yamada. I hurt my best friend and I need to fix it." She looked down again. "It's just, I don't know if I can. I hurt her so badly, for so long. I was just focused on setting her free, I didn't think how it might affect her."
"Then think of this as a lesson. We all need to take a step back and look at the potential results of our actions. You know the saying how the road to hell is paved with good intentions? This is what that means: you wanted to do something good for your friend but didn't consider how she'd feel about what you did. The ends do not justify the means, Emma." Jessica looked the girl straight in the eyes. "I'd like to see you next week, and we can discuss your own trigger event and your ideas for making things better. Now, I want you to promise me that you won't try contacting Taylor until we've had a chance to discuss things. You don't want to accidentally make things even worse."
Emma nodded, silent and subdued. She was a vastly different girl than the one who'd come into the office. Dr. Yamada could only hope it was a change for the better as she led Emma to the door and invited Mr. Barnes into the office for a moment to discuss things with him.
Outside, Emma eyed Dr. Yamada's secretary. The woman had a pilot light glowing within her head, begging to be freed. She forced down the urge to help. Dr. Yamada had been right; trigger events were horribly traumatic. If she tried to help, she'd probably end up hurting the woman. She needed to take stock of her thoughts, figure out a way to help people without torturing them.
Emma had a new goal in life. But before she could pursue it, she'd need to make reparations to Taylor.
Alan Barnes toyed with a crease in his slacks, as he'd been doing for the last hour at least. He was starting to wear at the fabric but couldn't bring himself to care. His beloved daughter, his beautiful, perfect Emma, was in the other room speaking to a cape therapist. Moreover, she'd been in an intensive-care facility for victims of trigger events or other psychotic breaks for nearly a week beforehand. Alan had wanted nothing more than to bundle Emma up, hug her tight and never let her go, but he'd already failed her before. She would need these sessions, one-on-one with an acclaimed parahuman psychiatrist, to recover and hopefully be herself again.
He was still coming to terms with the fact that Emma was a parahuman. The thought made him sick to his stomach. Capes always had to choose a side; rogues never lasted long. Usually they ended up forcibly recruited into a villain group or just killed outright. That meant that his baby girl would have to join the Wards for a chance at safety.
He couldn't protect her anymore.
That was what hit him the hardest. He found parahumans abhorrent and had caught himself thinking about Emma's status with some degree of revulsion, but beyond any of that he was her father. He was supposed to keep her safe, no matter what. He knew she was bullying Taylor, but that was her decision. She deserved to be able to decide what to do with her life. Daddy would always keep her safe. But now, now he couldn't. Someone like Kaiser wouldn't care that he was a lawyer. Alan couldn't threaten to sue the Merchants.
Alan liked to think of himself as a smart man. When Emma started suddenly hanging off of Sophia, he'd eventually put two and two together and realized that the black girl was the vigilante who'd saved Emma from those rapists. But somehow he'd missed Emma's...he had to admit it. Emma's madness. Perhaps it was simply that she was happy, perhaps it was because he couldn't "shine," as she called it. And as he sat in the waiting room, he put together the facts again. That was why Emma had gone back to Taylor: she could shine. Danny's girl was a cape too.
Taylor. Alan tasted the foul bile of shame. Even after everything Emma had done to her, after he'd betrayed Danny's friendship, Taylor had still called him and told him about Emma's problems. The Heberts were better people than he could ever hope to be. The realization hit him like a haymaker to the jaw, and he tried his best to deny it. He was more successful, his word carried weight. Danny was nothing but the leader of the dying Dockworkers' Union. Emma was beautiful and had a modeling career in front of her. Taylor was gawky and plain, and painfully shy.
But the Heberts were better people. God, it hurt to acknowledge that. But he couldn't find a way to deny it. Alan had been all too willing to throw his childhood friend, and his daughter's childhood friend, to the wolves in order to protect a daughter whose suffering he hadn't even noticed. He and Emma both would have to try to make it up to them. Even without having wronged them so badly, they still owed Taylor for helping Emma.
(BREAK)
One hour earlier
Jessica Yamada smiled at the girl in front of her. The redhead was stunningly gorgeous and was studying her like she was some sort of animal. Of course, if she let herself be offended by that, she couldn't very well be of any help to someone like Garrote, could she?
"Alright, Emma, this therapy is for your benefit. I specialize in counseling parahumans, so you can trust me to keep any secrets about you or your friends."
"Funny that you counsel capes, yet you can't shine."
Jessica tilted her head. "Shine? I'm afraid I don't understand."
Emma just smirked knowingly. "People keep telling me that. I guess I'm the only one who can see it. Sophia, Taylor, your secretary, they all had little lights inside them. I call them pilot lights. And then, when they break free, those lights blaze forth and just shine." The girl said it so romantically, it sounded awe-inspiring.
Jessica connected the dots. "So, after they have their trigger events, they shine?"
Emma nodded, happy that Dr. Yamada understood. "Yeah. I was worried I was confused when I saw Taylor again. I thought she started to shine in the locker, but then she acted exactly the same when she came back from the hospital. But then she started to fight back, and she beat Sophia. And then, when I saw her last time, she was shining even brighter! I've never seen one so bright before!"
"And that's when you kissed her."
Emma had the grace to blush. "Yeah. I'm a little embarrassed about that. I was just overwhelmed. She was so bright..." The girl spoke like it was a fetish. "It's, well, I guess it's a turn-on. I wanted to be close to Sophia. She shone, and she was so strong. She's a predator, and she knows it. But Taylor... It's like the difference between Seth Rogen and Brad Pitt."
"You couldn't help yourself."
"It helps that she's gotten prettier. I mean, I usually like boys, but Sophia's really hot. Taylor doesn't have her looks, but that shine makes up for it and then some."
"Did you know she'd shine so bright?" This girl was a very interesting case. Jessica just hoped she could set her right.
"No. I just wanted her to be free. Taylor, she was always so shy and weak. It hurt me to see her like that, when I knew she could be more."
"And that's why you hurt her. You knew trigger events are caused by trauma, and you needed to hurt her until she triggered."
The girl didn't show a hint of remorse. "It had to be me. Somebody else, even Sophia, would have just wanted to hurt Taylor for the sake of hurting her. Only I understood her well enough to make it work. When she didn't break free, no matter what, I came up with the locker idea. And it worked!" Okay, scratch that. Not only was she remorseless, she was proud.
"Emma," Jessica kept her voice even and calm, "you realize that, because you succeeded, that means you hurt Taylor deeper than anything else has."
Emma smiled back. "I knew she could take it. She's always been the strong one, after all. I made it through my trigger and I know I'm not as tough."
Dr. Yamada flipped through her notes. "Emma, after your trigger, you had your friends and family to support you and help you recover. Taylor triggered after losing her mother and the only friend she had. You must realize that, regardless of your intentions, Taylor sees that her best friend hurt her mercilessly for two years. She had no support except for her father. While you knew Taylor would be there for you if you needed it, you betrayed her." Jessica knew she was taking a gamble: either Emma would actually listen, her love for her friend overriding the psychosis that was clouding her perception, or she would reject the truth and slip further away. "You never stopped thinking of Taylor as your friend. But you hurt her, without any remorse or apology. You made Taylor stop thinking of you as her friend."
"Well, yeah, but..." The smile slid from Emma's face. Reality had just found its way to her. That blank expression gave way to shame and self-loathing. "Oh god. Oh fuck, how did I not see that? Oh Taylor..." Emma started to cry, slumping forward in her chair. "My Taylor..."
Dr. Yamada took the opportunity to bite her lip and let a concerned expression work its way onto her face while Emma wasn't watching. This girl was deeply disturbed, fixated on her former friend and obsessed with parahuman power. Jessica calmed her emotions again. "Emma, the fact that you've realized your mistake is a good thing. This means you can try to make things better." The girl gave her a questioning look through watery, bloodshot eyes. "Taylor still called your dad. She doesn't hate you. Maybe she pities you, but even that is better than outright despising you. You need to make amends. Maybe here, if Taylor agrees to come. Maybe with your parents and her dad present. Either way, you need to show her you're willing to do what you can to make it right."
Emma nodded eagerly. "You're right, Dr. Yamada. I hurt my best friend and I need to fix it." She looked down again. "It's just, I don't know if I can. I hurt her so badly, for so long. I was just focused on setting her free, I didn't think how it might affect her."
"Then think of this as a lesson. We all need to take a step back and look at the potential results of our actions. You know the saying how the road to hell is paved with good intentions? This is what that means: you wanted to do something good for your friend but didn't consider how she'd feel about what you did. The ends do not justify the means, Emma." Jessica looked the girl straight in the eyes. "I'd like to see you next week, and we can discuss your own trigger event and your ideas for making things better. Now, I want you to promise me that you won't try contacting Taylor until we've had a chance to discuss things. You don't want to accidentally make things even worse."
Emma nodded, silent and subdued. She was a vastly different girl than the one who'd come into the office. Dr. Yamada could only hope it was a change for the better as she led Emma to the door and invited Mr. Barnes into the office for a moment to discuss things with him.
Outside, Emma eyed Dr. Yamada's secretary. The woman had a pilot light glowing within her head, begging to be freed. She forced down the urge to help. Dr. Yamada had been right; trigger events were horribly traumatic. If she tried to help, she'd probably end up hurting the woman. She needed to take stock of her thoughts, figure out a way to help people without torturing them.
Emma had a new goal in life. But before she could pursue it, she'd need to make reparations to Taylor.
Essence 01
Vherstinae
Patron Saint of Cuddlebugs
- Location
- Home
Essence 2.01
I awoke, tired and cramped. No more sleeping on couches. I arched my back, feeling my muscles pop. Immediately bloodflow increased and I felt revitalized. I didn't question it much; my physique had been improving almost daily and I had some goo sac in my guts. Getting rid of stiff joints was pretty low on my list of weird things.
"Good morning!" Good lord, was Tattletale always this cheery? I might get up early most mornings but I wasn't exactly happy about it. She perched on the arm of the couch. "I got you some clothes," she grinned, "so you don't have to go out as Skitter."
"That was smart of you," I replied, sitting up. She immediately dragged me off to the empty room – my room – and picked up a plastic bag.
From within, she extracted a crop top, a pair of short shorts, and a baggy hoodie. She smirked at my raised eyebrow. "You've never been the type to show off." It wasn't a question. Damn that power of hers. "But you're a pretty girl, Taylor. You shouldn't be afraid to flaunt what you've got."
I scowled at her but she just smiled in return and left the room. Hell. It's these clothes or running around as Skitter in broad daylight and trying to sneak back home. I stepped into the shorts, slipped on the top, and zipped the hoodie. Pulling the drawstrings, I made sure the hood was secure around my scalp.
Lisa wolf-whistled as I stepped out. "Nice pins, Taylor!" She grinned wide. "Give us a little shimmy!"
Was I suddenly a magnet for lesbian lusts? I winced to the side and saw Brian standing there. Oh, so she was just trying to embarrass me. Oddly, it didn't feel hurtful like Emma's actions did; more like she was just ribbing me, trying to get a blush. It felt...normal.
I decided to take the high road and stick my tongue out at Lisa before thumping her in the stomach. "So who's gonna walk me home?"
"I called dibs," Lisa replied. She smirked at me and tugged my hoodie down. I mussed her hair in reply.
Yeah, it felt good to have friends.
(BREAK)
"Dad, I'm home!"
My father practically shot out of his office and pulled me into a tight hug.
"Dad," I laughed, "we have company."
He chuckled but didn't fully let go, one arm around my waist. "You must be Lisa," he smiled. "How did you and Taylor meet?"
I could tell that Lisa was ready to cook up some story, so I cut her off. "Lisa's part of my new team. Well, more accurately, the team I'm partnered with."
The blonde quirked a brow and I looked up at my dad. "Dad? I need you to keep a secret and not make judgments until we're done."
Lisa looked at me. "Taylor, are you sure?" She fidgeted uncomfortably.
I nodded to her. "Dad, Lisa's a villain." I cut him off as he was about to get flustered. "Armsmaster fucked me over, dad. The PRT doesn't want me succeeding on my own; they're trying to force me to join the Wards. I'd never be able to join a hero group without a reputation, and the Protectorate seem determined to keep that from me. Only other way would be to show my full power, and that's more likely to get me quarantined as a proto-Nilbog."
I gestured to Lisa, who still looked ready to bolt. "Lisa and the Undersiders gave me a chance. They put themselves on the line to treat me like a normal person. They might be criminals, but they're also my best bet at taking down the real bad guys."
Dad was still clearly confused. "But, Taylor, you'll be labeled a villain. That was never what you wanted..." He hugged me tighter. "Baby girl, I know the Protectorate hurt you, but you can't retaliate like this."
I kissed his shoulder. "No, dad, I thought about it. I'm only with them to take down other villains. This comes down to doing what society sees as right, or doing what I know is right. I could join the Wards, sign autographs, make photo ops, and never do a goddamn bit of difference. Or I can let myself be reviled and feared, and subsequently take down threats like Kaiser. Save Brockton Bay."
He shook his head and chuckled a little sadly. "I never should've let you watch The Dark Knight."
Lisa joined in on the chuckles, noticeably less tense. "Hey, Aleph has it right this time. Sometimes you gotta play the bad guy to be the good guy."
My father fixed her with an icy gaze. "Will she be safe?"
"Safer than most, I think," Lisa replied. "We'll do our best to protect her. Rachel's a bit of a psycho but she should eventually come to protect Taylor. Mr. Hebert, my power tells me that Taylor's a good person. I already really like her. I don't want anything to happen to her."
I just blinked, my expression deadpan. This kind of loyalty, after one night? What happened? Or was this more of Lisa's power? Did she see – or somehow foresee – a huge benefit to being my friend, or a massive threat if she made an enemy of me? Regardless, it felt like she was being honest and that meant a lot to me. Maybe I was just desperate to be able to trust someone after two years of hell, but I wanted to believe her.
Dad had been quiet, presumably processing everything. He nodded, mostly to himself. "Alright, Lisa, come sit down and tell me about your team."
(BREAK)
By the time Lisa departed, she'd done a lot to allay dad's worries. Mine, too, were I being honest. The Undersiders felt like kids trying to make the best of their own bad situations after having been hung out to dry by authority figures. That reminded me a lot of myself. Had circumstances been different, I probably would've ended up with the Undersiders as a full member. But, as I'd stressed to Lisa, I wasn't. I was no villain, and I wouldn't help the team steal from civilians. Gangs and villains were fair game; I'd rob the shit out of E88. But if they had another job like their recent casino heist Lisa had told us about? I wouldn't be there.
Lisa informed me as she left that I'd have some basic furniture waiting for me at base, as well as a new smartphone. She also passed me a roll of cash and told me to buy new clothes to keep in the loft for when I'd need to change.
It was still bizarre how well dad was taking this. I suppose he saw it the same way I did: the Undersiders were the best of bad options.
(BREAK)
The day went surprisingly well after that. Kurt and Lacey, two of dad's friends, came over to visit. The couple were as inseparable as the letters K and L in the alphabet, with Kurt working a crane at the docks and Lacey running a food truck. Kurt was about my height, broad in shoulder and in forehead. He looked like a wild-haired neanderthal, all tanned skin and scratchy brown hair. He was quick to laugh and kindhearted. Lacey was, as some might describe her, the silver medal. She wasn't the prettiest girl around, nor the smartest, and her fashion sense was somewhere between New Jersey and a truck stop. But she was loyal, hardworking and as sweet as could be.
As the pair got settled in, I opted to go for a run. I got back just as the mail was coming in.
"Bill, bill, junk, charity, ad..." I sifted through the letters, sorting them into the pile to show dad and the pile to just throw out. I stopped when I came upon a letter from Arcadia High School.
Normally I let dad open the mail, mostly because I didn't want the headache. This time, however, I delicately tore open the envelope and read the contents.
Dear Ms. Hebert,
Based on your grades and the recommendation of several community members of high standing, we at Arcadia High School would like to offer you the opportunity to transfer and complete your education within our institution.
A lot of self-promotion followed, and it was signed by Principal Joseph Corwell.
My first instinct was just to toss the letter. It was obviously a ploy to weasel into my good graces, the "members of high standing" clearly Protectorate capes. But that was just my anger talking; whatever else was at work, Arcadia was the safest and best place for a teenager to get an education. I'd talk it over with dad once Kurt and Lacey were gone, but I figured we'd be stupid not to take the opportunity. Arcadia might represent the interests of the Wards, but I wouldn't pass up the chance for a fresh start.
(BREAK)
The next day I was up with the dawn. I felt better than I had since we'd lost mom. I went out for a run before breakfast and completed my laps without even feeling winded. Breakfast was just cereal, but I got the chance to spend some time with dad before he headed down to the docks. I then packed up my Skitter costume into a messenger bag and took off to Undersiders HQ.
Despite the fact that they were villains, the Undersiders looked like any other bunch of teens when they weren't on a job. Rachel was grooming one of her dogs – Brutus, if I remembered right – Lisa was on the phone, and Brian and Alec were playing a racing game. Lisa and Brian looked happy to see me, Alec was his usual jackass self, and Rachel didn't acknowledge me. I supposed that was better than sic'ing her dogs on me, at least. Lisa passed me the key to my new room without even pausing in her discussion, which was in some other language. German or Swedish, maybe.
I let myself in and smiled. It wasn't much now but I could make it work. A decent mattress, California King to accommodate a girl of my height; a nice tiered desk with drawers and a rolly chair; and a big fluffy chair, presumably for recreation. I could pick out more stuff later, like a TV of my own. If I would be spending time here, it wouldn't do to go stir-crazy.
Lisa stood in my doorway. "Hey, can we talk?"
I shrugged and gestured to the overstuffed chair while taking a seat on my bed. "What's on your mind?"
"When you said you weren't really with us..." She let it hang, allowing me to finish her sentence in my head.
"I meant it," I replied, sticking to my guns. "If we have a backer, I figure we'll be expected to hurt innocent people steal from civilians. I'm not going to take part in that. If absolutely necessary I can pose as a hostage, but I don't want to be seen as someone who hurts people. I want to be a kingsnake, a villain who hunts other villains."
"I get that," she said, her tone cautious. "It's just a very naïve view for someone so otherwise jaded." She rested her chin on her fist. "Rogues don't last long because the world has a very black-and-white view of capes. If you're not part of the PRT, you've got to have some dark reason you don't want to be. So in the public's mind you're a villain or the next worst thing. There are very few capes who can survive on their own, and even then it's usually by integrating into some other system." She realized I wasn't exactly following.
"What I'm saying, Taylor, is that you're going to have public opinion against you from the moment you step out in costume. Unknowns are dangerous and scary, and you'll have the further handicap of working alongside established villains." She looked me in the eyes. "I'm saying you're going to eventually have to go up against the good guys in order to survive. You're not with them, so you're against them, and they'll have no compunctions against letting you do all the work for them and then dumping you in the Birdcage so they can take the credit."
I was reminded of Armsmaster's backstabbing. "Jesus, Lisa, you're even more cynical than I am."
"But I'm not wrong. Eventually you won't be able to be a hero with bad PR. You'll have to decide if you'll be content living your life in the Birdcage, or if you're willing to fight for your freedom."
"I'll cross that bridge when I come to it," I said in a voice far more certain than I felt. "For now, my caveats stand. If you want me to leave because of that, I will. But to speak my peace, I like you guys so far. I think we could be friends. And I feel, sadly enough, that out of all the capes in the Bay you're the ones I can trust the most."
Lisa snorted. "Yeah, that is kinda sad. Okay, I'll break it to the others as best I can." She patted my shoulder as she passed. "You get settled in."
After Lisa left, I laid on the bed and just let myself think. So the Undersiders had a backer. That made sense; the group was too disparate to have come together naturally. Grue was the leader but he didn't seem the type to rally others to a cause, particularly one of villainy. Tattletale had said their backer's goal was to revitalize the Bay. Could I believe that? Maybe, but then again Kaiser's goal was to revitalize the entire country, starting with Brockton Bay. I'd seen sections of the city controlled by Empire Eighty-Eight: they were safer than anywhere protected by the PRT, but only for those who fit E88's agenda. Non-white ethnicities, Jews, the disabled, homosexuals, "sexual deviants," they were all killed or driven out. Revitalized didn't necessarily mean safe or even good.
But the Undersiders themselves all reminded me of myself, in a way: kids dealt a shitty hand in life and trying to make the best of it. This backer, I'd have to feel him out myself and determine whether he'd be a threat. Brian, Lisa, Alec and even Rachel? I found myself genuinely wanting to be their friend.
Again I had to take stock of my own mental processes. Was it my mental trauma, my psychotic break that was making me more aggressive? Or was that a side effect of my power? Would I have to work to rein myself in lest I become a savage killer like Jack Slash or Shatterbird? It worried me. We still had so little understanding of how powers worked. We–
My mind froze. I leapt off the bed and bolted out the door, nearly bowling over Lisa in the process. I dropped, cracking my knees on the linoleum, and began to vomit into the toilet. Like before, it was a seemingly endless torrent of thick, custardy slime. And like before, I could feel my innards writhing beneath my skin. This time it wasn't limited to my stomach: I could feel veins and fibers in my arms and legs slithering around, a strange tightening sensation in my ribs, and a strange heaviness around my spine.
Brian flushed the toilet for me while Lisa rubbed my back. My jaw was frozen in place as still more flowed, necessitating a second and third flushing. Finally I was able to snap my mouth shut, gasp desperately for air, and fall over onto my side. I swallowed the remnants and saw Alec and Rachel in the doorway. Rachel stared in a sort of morbid curiosity, Alec in fascination.
My chest heaved, lungs burning as I sucked in air. Lisa paced around me, eyes roving up and down my body. Ordinarily I might have been offended, but the clinical expression on her face made her eye-undressing creepy in the evil surgeon way rather than the serial flasher way.
"Huh," she commented, and for a while that was all she said.
"...Well? Spit it out!" Alec clearly wanted the scoop on my weirdness.
"Her musculature has completely rearranged itself. Instead of individual muscle groups, it's now more like nanotech. Well," she admitted sheepishly, "that's the best analogy I can think of at the moment. Her entire body somehow shares the burden of anything she does, yet each individual fiber does its own job. Quite frankly, it's fascinating. Could you roll onto your stomach, Taylor?"
I complied, and got another 'huh' for my troubles. "Your spine now has some sort of cartilaginous sheath, presumably for increased resilience. I can also see the same stuff beneath your ribcage."
"This is the weirdest shit I've ever seen in person," Alec commented.
"I second that," I surprised everyone by replying.
Brian helped me stand. He was tall and well-built, but still, being lifted up really showcased how strong he was. I tried not to blush. "Are you alright? That didn't look normal. I mean, normal for you."
I chuckled. He sounded as awkward as I usually was. "It's not. Only happened once before, when my body rearranged itself for my goop bladder. No idea why it'd do this, though." I rapped my knuckles on my ribcage. "I can't say I'm upset. More protection is always a good thing."
"That's what she said," Alec sniped.
Rachel had already gone back to her dogs, apparently having decided I was no longer interesting.
"We should get you in bed," Brian said.
Again that brought other thoughts into my mind – damn teenage hormones – and I mumbled a protest while taking a step forward. My knees promptly buckled and Brian easily caught me.
"Taylor, whatever happened, you're in no condition to walk." I'd expected him to scoop me up bridal style but instead he flipped me over his shoulder in the fireman's carry.
Lisa walked ahead of us and untucked the sheets so Brian could lay me down. I was too tired to protest. That one semi-fall seemed to have reminded my body that I was in no condition to move, and now the room wouldn't stop swimming. My mind reeled and I pushed into my bugs in an attempt to steady myself. I overheard the conversation outside.
"I need to head back home, check on Aisha. Can you make sure she's alright?" Shit, I was having trouble differentiating voices. That one just sounded mechanical. Since Tattletale had a room here and Grue didn't, I presumed this was his voice.
"Of course. And before you ask, no I don't know how all that happened. I'm suspecting it's some specialized Breaker or Changer power, and that she doesn't have full control over it. If she did, I figure she'd have regrown her hair by now."
"Maybe she'll grow a tail next, or beetle wings!" That jovial voice had to be Alec.
"As long as she won't be dead weight." Bitch, probably. Though it could also have been Brian, or at least that's what a little voice in the dark corner of my mind told me.
Things got fuzzier still and I couldn't make out anything. The world went dark as I slipped away.
Destiny.
Agreement.
Trajectory.
Agreement.
Intersect.
I awoke, tired and cramped. No more sleeping on couches. I arched my back, feeling my muscles pop. Immediately bloodflow increased and I felt revitalized. I didn't question it much; my physique had been improving almost daily and I had some goo sac in my guts. Getting rid of stiff joints was pretty low on my list of weird things.
"Good morning!" Good lord, was Tattletale always this cheery? I might get up early most mornings but I wasn't exactly happy about it. She perched on the arm of the couch. "I got you some clothes," she grinned, "so you don't have to go out as Skitter."
"That was smart of you," I replied, sitting up. She immediately dragged me off to the empty room – my room – and picked up a plastic bag.
From within, she extracted a crop top, a pair of short shorts, and a baggy hoodie. She smirked at my raised eyebrow. "You've never been the type to show off." It wasn't a question. Damn that power of hers. "But you're a pretty girl, Taylor. You shouldn't be afraid to flaunt what you've got."
I scowled at her but she just smiled in return and left the room. Hell. It's these clothes or running around as Skitter in broad daylight and trying to sneak back home. I stepped into the shorts, slipped on the top, and zipped the hoodie. Pulling the drawstrings, I made sure the hood was secure around my scalp.
Lisa wolf-whistled as I stepped out. "Nice pins, Taylor!" She grinned wide. "Give us a little shimmy!"
Was I suddenly a magnet for lesbian lusts? I winced to the side and saw Brian standing there. Oh, so she was just trying to embarrass me. Oddly, it didn't feel hurtful like Emma's actions did; more like she was just ribbing me, trying to get a blush. It felt...normal.
I decided to take the high road and stick my tongue out at Lisa before thumping her in the stomach. "So who's gonna walk me home?"
"I called dibs," Lisa replied. She smirked at me and tugged my hoodie down. I mussed her hair in reply.
Yeah, it felt good to have friends.
(BREAK)
"Dad, I'm home!"
My father practically shot out of his office and pulled me into a tight hug.
"Dad," I laughed, "we have company."
He chuckled but didn't fully let go, one arm around my waist. "You must be Lisa," he smiled. "How did you and Taylor meet?"
I could tell that Lisa was ready to cook up some story, so I cut her off. "Lisa's part of my new team. Well, more accurately, the team I'm partnered with."
The blonde quirked a brow and I looked up at my dad. "Dad? I need you to keep a secret and not make judgments until we're done."
Lisa looked at me. "Taylor, are you sure?" She fidgeted uncomfortably.
I nodded to her. "Dad, Lisa's a villain." I cut him off as he was about to get flustered. "Armsmaster fucked me over, dad. The PRT doesn't want me succeeding on my own; they're trying to force me to join the Wards. I'd never be able to join a hero group without a reputation, and the Protectorate seem determined to keep that from me. Only other way would be to show my full power, and that's more likely to get me quarantined as a proto-Nilbog."
I gestured to Lisa, who still looked ready to bolt. "Lisa and the Undersiders gave me a chance. They put themselves on the line to treat me like a normal person. They might be criminals, but they're also my best bet at taking down the real bad guys."
Dad was still clearly confused. "But, Taylor, you'll be labeled a villain. That was never what you wanted..." He hugged me tighter. "Baby girl, I know the Protectorate hurt you, but you can't retaliate like this."
I kissed his shoulder. "No, dad, I thought about it. I'm only with them to take down other villains. This comes down to doing what society sees as right, or doing what I know is right. I could join the Wards, sign autographs, make photo ops, and never do a goddamn bit of difference. Or I can let myself be reviled and feared, and subsequently take down threats like Kaiser. Save Brockton Bay."
He shook his head and chuckled a little sadly. "I never should've let you watch The Dark Knight."
Lisa joined in on the chuckles, noticeably less tense. "Hey, Aleph has it right this time. Sometimes you gotta play the bad guy to be the good guy."
My father fixed her with an icy gaze. "Will she be safe?"
"Safer than most, I think," Lisa replied. "We'll do our best to protect her. Rachel's a bit of a psycho but she should eventually come to protect Taylor. Mr. Hebert, my power tells me that Taylor's a good person. I already really like her. I don't want anything to happen to her."
I just blinked, my expression deadpan. This kind of loyalty, after one night? What happened? Or was this more of Lisa's power? Did she see – or somehow foresee – a huge benefit to being my friend, or a massive threat if she made an enemy of me? Regardless, it felt like she was being honest and that meant a lot to me. Maybe I was just desperate to be able to trust someone after two years of hell, but I wanted to believe her.
Dad had been quiet, presumably processing everything. He nodded, mostly to himself. "Alright, Lisa, come sit down and tell me about your team."
(BREAK)
By the time Lisa departed, she'd done a lot to allay dad's worries. Mine, too, were I being honest. The Undersiders felt like kids trying to make the best of their own bad situations after having been hung out to dry by authority figures. That reminded me a lot of myself. Had circumstances been different, I probably would've ended up with the Undersiders as a full member. But, as I'd stressed to Lisa, I wasn't. I was no villain, and I wouldn't help the team steal from civilians. Gangs and villains were fair game; I'd rob the shit out of E88. But if they had another job like their recent casino heist Lisa had told us about? I wouldn't be there.
Lisa informed me as she left that I'd have some basic furniture waiting for me at base, as well as a new smartphone. She also passed me a roll of cash and told me to buy new clothes to keep in the loft for when I'd need to change.
It was still bizarre how well dad was taking this. I suppose he saw it the same way I did: the Undersiders were the best of bad options.
(BREAK)
The day went surprisingly well after that. Kurt and Lacey, two of dad's friends, came over to visit. The couple were as inseparable as the letters K and L in the alphabet, with Kurt working a crane at the docks and Lacey running a food truck. Kurt was about my height, broad in shoulder and in forehead. He looked like a wild-haired neanderthal, all tanned skin and scratchy brown hair. He was quick to laugh and kindhearted. Lacey was, as some might describe her, the silver medal. She wasn't the prettiest girl around, nor the smartest, and her fashion sense was somewhere between New Jersey and a truck stop. But she was loyal, hardworking and as sweet as could be.
As the pair got settled in, I opted to go for a run. I got back just as the mail was coming in.
"Bill, bill, junk, charity, ad..." I sifted through the letters, sorting them into the pile to show dad and the pile to just throw out. I stopped when I came upon a letter from Arcadia High School.
Normally I let dad open the mail, mostly because I didn't want the headache. This time, however, I delicately tore open the envelope and read the contents.
Dear Ms. Hebert,
Based on your grades and the recommendation of several community members of high standing, we at Arcadia High School would like to offer you the opportunity to transfer and complete your education within our institution.
A lot of self-promotion followed, and it was signed by Principal Joseph Corwell.
My first instinct was just to toss the letter. It was obviously a ploy to weasel into my good graces, the "members of high standing" clearly Protectorate capes. But that was just my anger talking; whatever else was at work, Arcadia was the safest and best place for a teenager to get an education. I'd talk it over with dad once Kurt and Lacey were gone, but I figured we'd be stupid not to take the opportunity. Arcadia might represent the interests of the Wards, but I wouldn't pass up the chance for a fresh start.
(BREAK)
The next day I was up with the dawn. I felt better than I had since we'd lost mom. I went out for a run before breakfast and completed my laps without even feeling winded. Breakfast was just cereal, but I got the chance to spend some time with dad before he headed down to the docks. I then packed up my Skitter costume into a messenger bag and took off to Undersiders HQ.
Despite the fact that they were villains, the Undersiders looked like any other bunch of teens when they weren't on a job. Rachel was grooming one of her dogs – Brutus, if I remembered right – Lisa was on the phone, and Brian and Alec were playing a racing game. Lisa and Brian looked happy to see me, Alec was his usual jackass self, and Rachel didn't acknowledge me. I supposed that was better than sic'ing her dogs on me, at least. Lisa passed me the key to my new room without even pausing in her discussion, which was in some other language. German or Swedish, maybe.
I let myself in and smiled. It wasn't much now but I could make it work. A decent mattress, California King to accommodate a girl of my height; a nice tiered desk with drawers and a rolly chair; and a big fluffy chair, presumably for recreation. I could pick out more stuff later, like a TV of my own. If I would be spending time here, it wouldn't do to go stir-crazy.
Lisa stood in my doorway. "Hey, can we talk?"
I shrugged and gestured to the overstuffed chair while taking a seat on my bed. "What's on your mind?"
"When you said you weren't really with us..." She let it hang, allowing me to finish her sentence in my head.
"I meant it," I replied, sticking to my guns. "If we have a backer, I figure we'll be expected to hurt innocent people steal from civilians. I'm not going to take part in that. If absolutely necessary I can pose as a hostage, but I don't want to be seen as someone who hurts people. I want to be a kingsnake, a villain who hunts other villains."
"I get that," she said, her tone cautious. "It's just a very naïve view for someone so otherwise jaded." She rested her chin on her fist. "Rogues don't last long because the world has a very black-and-white view of capes. If you're not part of the PRT, you've got to have some dark reason you don't want to be. So in the public's mind you're a villain or the next worst thing. There are very few capes who can survive on their own, and even then it's usually by integrating into some other system." She realized I wasn't exactly following.
"What I'm saying, Taylor, is that you're going to have public opinion against you from the moment you step out in costume. Unknowns are dangerous and scary, and you'll have the further handicap of working alongside established villains." She looked me in the eyes. "I'm saying you're going to eventually have to go up against the good guys in order to survive. You're not with them, so you're against them, and they'll have no compunctions against letting you do all the work for them and then dumping you in the Birdcage so they can take the credit."
I was reminded of Armsmaster's backstabbing. "Jesus, Lisa, you're even more cynical than I am."
"But I'm not wrong. Eventually you won't be able to be a hero with bad PR. You'll have to decide if you'll be content living your life in the Birdcage, or if you're willing to fight for your freedom."
"I'll cross that bridge when I come to it," I said in a voice far more certain than I felt. "For now, my caveats stand. If you want me to leave because of that, I will. But to speak my peace, I like you guys so far. I think we could be friends. And I feel, sadly enough, that out of all the capes in the Bay you're the ones I can trust the most."
Lisa snorted. "Yeah, that is kinda sad. Okay, I'll break it to the others as best I can." She patted my shoulder as she passed. "You get settled in."
After Lisa left, I laid on the bed and just let myself think. So the Undersiders had a backer. That made sense; the group was too disparate to have come together naturally. Grue was the leader but he didn't seem the type to rally others to a cause, particularly one of villainy. Tattletale had said their backer's goal was to revitalize the Bay. Could I believe that? Maybe, but then again Kaiser's goal was to revitalize the entire country, starting with Brockton Bay. I'd seen sections of the city controlled by Empire Eighty-Eight: they were safer than anywhere protected by the PRT, but only for those who fit E88's agenda. Non-white ethnicities, Jews, the disabled, homosexuals, "sexual deviants," they were all killed or driven out. Revitalized didn't necessarily mean safe or even good.
But the Undersiders themselves all reminded me of myself, in a way: kids dealt a shitty hand in life and trying to make the best of it. This backer, I'd have to feel him out myself and determine whether he'd be a threat. Brian, Lisa, Alec and even Rachel? I found myself genuinely wanting to be their friend.
Again I had to take stock of my own mental processes. Was it my mental trauma, my psychotic break that was making me more aggressive? Or was that a side effect of my power? Would I have to work to rein myself in lest I become a savage killer like Jack Slash or Shatterbird? It worried me. We still had so little understanding of how powers worked. We–
My mind froze. I leapt off the bed and bolted out the door, nearly bowling over Lisa in the process. I dropped, cracking my knees on the linoleum, and began to vomit into the toilet. Like before, it was a seemingly endless torrent of thick, custardy slime. And like before, I could feel my innards writhing beneath my skin. This time it wasn't limited to my stomach: I could feel veins and fibers in my arms and legs slithering around, a strange tightening sensation in my ribs, and a strange heaviness around my spine.
Brian flushed the toilet for me while Lisa rubbed my back. My jaw was frozen in place as still more flowed, necessitating a second and third flushing. Finally I was able to snap my mouth shut, gasp desperately for air, and fall over onto my side. I swallowed the remnants and saw Alec and Rachel in the doorway. Rachel stared in a sort of morbid curiosity, Alec in fascination.
My chest heaved, lungs burning as I sucked in air. Lisa paced around me, eyes roving up and down my body. Ordinarily I might have been offended, but the clinical expression on her face made her eye-undressing creepy in the evil surgeon way rather than the serial flasher way.
"Huh," she commented, and for a while that was all she said.
"...Well? Spit it out!" Alec clearly wanted the scoop on my weirdness.
"Her musculature has completely rearranged itself. Instead of individual muscle groups, it's now more like nanotech. Well," she admitted sheepishly, "that's the best analogy I can think of at the moment. Her entire body somehow shares the burden of anything she does, yet each individual fiber does its own job. Quite frankly, it's fascinating. Could you roll onto your stomach, Taylor?"
I complied, and got another 'huh' for my troubles. "Your spine now has some sort of cartilaginous sheath, presumably for increased resilience. I can also see the same stuff beneath your ribcage."
"This is the weirdest shit I've ever seen in person," Alec commented.
"I second that," I surprised everyone by replying.
Brian helped me stand. He was tall and well-built, but still, being lifted up really showcased how strong he was. I tried not to blush. "Are you alright? That didn't look normal. I mean, normal for you."
I chuckled. He sounded as awkward as I usually was. "It's not. Only happened once before, when my body rearranged itself for my goop bladder. No idea why it'd do this, though." I rapped my knuckles on my ribcage. "I can't say I'm upset. More protection is always a good thing."
"That's what she said," Alec sniped.
Rachel had already gone back to her dogs, apparently having decided I was no longer interesting.
"We should get you in bed," Brian said.
Again that brought other thoughts into my mind – damn teenage hormones – and I mumbled a protest while taking a step forward. My knees promptly buckled and Brian easily caught me.
"Taylor, whatever happened, you're in no condition to walk." I'd expected him to scoop me up bridal style but instead he flipped me over his shoulder in the fireman's carry.
Lisa walked ahead of us and untucked the sheets so Brian could lay me down. I was too tired to protest. That one semi-fall seemed to have reminded my body that I was in no condition to move, and now the room wouldn't stop swimming. My mind reeled and I pushed into my bugs in an attempt to steady myself. I overheard the conversation outside.
"I need to head back home, check on Aisha. Can you make sure she's alright?" Shit, I was having trouble differentiating voices. That one just sounded mechanical. Since Tattletale had a room here and Grue didn't, I presumed this was his voice.
"Of course. And before you ask, no I don't know how all that happened. I'm suspecting it's some specialized Breaker or Changer power, and that she doesn't have full control over it. If she did, I figure she'd have regrown her hair by now."
"Maybe she'll grow a tail next, or beetle wings!" That jovial voice had to be Alec.
"As long as she won't be dead weight." Bitch, probably. Though it could also have been Brian, or at least that's what a little voice in the dark corner of my mind told me.
Things got fuzzier still and I couldn't make out anything. The world went dark as I slipped away.
Destiny.
Agreement.
Trajectory.
Agreement.
Intersect.
Essence 02
Vherstinae
Patron Saint of Cuddlebugs
- Location
- Home
Essence 2.02
For the second time in a week, my arm felt like it was being ripped out of its socket. I collapsed to the floor and managed to open my eyes, blurry vision solidifying into Rachel looming over me. She reached down and I braced myself for the pain to come, but instead she hauled me to my feet. "We have to go," she said simply before whistling. One of her dogs, already the size of a pony, trotted in. Its flesh was still slick with blood and whatever other fluids burst from it during the transformation. "Get changed, then climb on Angelica." She stooped low to the ground, looking like a hound on guard. The tension in her posture was infectious and I felt my own body coiling to react.
I was too tired to protest or ask further questions. I slipped out of my clothes and into my Skitter costume, then staggered over to drape myself over the dog, keeping my legs tucked up and linking my arms around her ribcage. Angelica swelled a bit more to compensate for my weight and followed Bitch down the stairs.
Brutus and Judas were already there, grown to the size of Clydesdales. Grue, Regent and Tattletale were likewise in full regalia, and I noticed belatedly that Grue had clogged all the windows and doors with his darkness.
"What's going on?" I managed to croak out the question despite every nerve telling me to just fall back asleep.
"Bakuda's gone off the deep end," Grue replied. His power caused his voice to echo and distort, the result very unsettling. He took in another breath but winced as the building rumbled. I realized that was the shockwave from an explosion. "The ABB are going berserk, attacking anyone and everyone they can reach. Others are planting bombs and destroying whole buildings."
"Is this retaliation for Lung getting taken down?"
"Possibly," Tattletale replied. "Bakuda's also a complete psychopath, so maybe without Lung to rein her in she just decided to play cut-price Armageddon."
"Point is," Grue continued, "the bombs are following a pattern for the most part, spiraling out from a spot on the Boardwalk. If that pattern holds, our base might get hit." He climbed atop the dog, offering Tattletale a hand up. "Our best bet is to move into areas that've already been bombed, take shelter and plan our next move."
I put the facts together as Bitch hauled Regent onto the other dog. "My dad–"
"Will be safe for now," Tattletale said with an air of certainty. "The initial bombing pattern will pass him by and the city is already organizing an evacuation. Protectorate and Wards are mobilizing, as well as the DHS and National Guard."
Angelica grew again, this time to the size of an average horse, and Bitch gave a yell. She took the lead on her beast and the other dogs followed.
(BREAK)
I'd never seen a warzone firsthand but I was willing to bet that the aftermath of Bakuda's bombings approximated one well enough. Buildings were collapsed or gutted with flame, others seemingly shaken apart. There was such a wide variety of carnage and destruction. Of course one of the villains here in Brockton Bay would have to be an evil Tinker, and a mad bomber no less.
I'd gathered a decent-sized swarm as we rode, keeping the bugs to back alleys and rooftops to avoid drawing attention. I wasn't sure how useful they would be, but I was damn sure I wouldn't be caught unarmed.
"So," I spoke up as we sheltered inside one of the gutted-by-fire buildings, "what did you mean when you said the bombings were mostly following a pattern?"
Tattletale hopped off and hit the ground talking while Grue helped me stand. "It's mostly a pattern sort of like the Milky Way." She drew the multiple spiraling arms in ash on the wall. "But then," she poked several random dots around the pattern, "she's hitting other locations. A grade school, a hospital, a fucking used car lot..." She shook her head. "It's so precise and then she does this. It doesn't make sense."
"Down," Bitch whispered in a steady tone and her three monsters laid on the ground, staying silent. We followed suit, letting Grue shroud us in darkness.
"ABB patrol," his voice echoed around me, "three guys. Leave them be for now. Until we have a plan, we don't want to draw attention."
I could tell Bitch wasn't happy about that decision, but Grue grabbed her by the leg and she relented. I understood his reasoning. Of the five of us, only I was wearing reliably bulletproof gear and even then I wouldn't expect my costume to last long under automatic fire.
While we waited, I turned around and looked at the drawing Tattletale had made. Perhaps I could sort it out. "...Tattletale," I whispered, "what other spots have been hit outside the pattern?"
"Uh...grade school, hospital, car lot... A parking garage, an apartment complex, and a fire station."
I sat in confusion. Sure, a school and a hospital were high-value targets, as was a fire station, and an apartment complex would require a lot of search-and-rescue, but the garage and lot? None of these sounded special enough to matter. It was just random nonsense in the middle of a mad bombing.
"Maybe that's it." I didn't realize I'd said that aloud until Grue, Regent and Tattletale had turned to look at me. I blushed a little at the attention. "Look, none of these spots really matter in the grand scheme of things, right? And certainly not to the ABB. But they do matter to the city. The car lot and parking garage are huge destruction-per-square-foot, while the others are important for search-and-rescue." I turned to face them. "I was thinking that these spots are nonsense, but it's all nonsense. What if this isn't to send a message or to destroy a certain target? What if it's all a distraction?"
Regent waved his hand. "...For?"
"For busting out Lung, I'll bet. On the one hand the ABB get to show that even with their leader gone they're still a threat – and maybe even a bigger threat, which should give the PRT pause in arresting him next time. On the other, with everyone focused here on Brockton Bay, who's paying attention to whatever's taking Lung to the Birdcage?" My mind was racing as I spoke. I couldn't tell if this was a genuine deduction or just rambling while grasping at straws, but it was the best I had.
It was Regent who spoke up. "Skitter, can you spread your bugs around?"
I nodded, doing as he asked. "Sure. Why?"
"Because if you're right, Lung will probably be on the warpath when he gets back. I'd like for the ABB to have as few members as possible once he gets here." He turned that fucking mask toward me. "I say we start setting up some ambushes."
(BREAK)
I decided that, for future endeavors, we'd need to get bluetooth earpieces or something so we could better coordinate across distances. For the moment, we were limited to about a block, giving each other signals from windows. The plan was simple enough, and I was thankful to Regent for thinking of it. The only thing that killed us now was the waiting. Bitch especially was getting restless. Thankfully, before anything could come of it, a patrol happened along.
There were four of them this time, coming from the same direction as the previous group. The ABB must have been planning to hold all of the bombed territory. Sucked to be them.
I watched, waiting for the opportunity. As the quartet came to the middle of the street, the one in the rear suddenly had a spasm in his leg and fell with a cry. The others turned, looking around for the culprit. The moment they looked down to their comrade, I struck. Thousands of bugs poured off the rooftops, undulating curtains of dark chitin. They landed on our targets, biting, stinging, scratching, harrying. The point wasn't necessarily to kill, so I kept the majority of spiders on silk-weaving duty.
Several seconds after my assault started, Grue blanketed the area in his darkness, muting the sound. We ducked back inside as bullets snapped against the buildings' walls, the gunshots lost in the ebon miasma. I could still feel the figures inside struggling until, one by one, they lost hope and fell to the ground. I brought in my widows to drape silk over them, leaving them bound.
I wiggled my smartphone through the window, the metal back catching the sunlight and flashing repeatedly. We all came out of the buildings and Grue pulled back his darkness. Regent systematically tased each one of them, I got them zip-cuffed, and we dragged them into the building's interior. Even better, now we each had a submachine gun. Well, except Bitch, but she was insistent that she only needed her dogs. As the beasts were now the size of small SUVs, I couldn't disagree.
Grue dusted his hands off and straightened up. "Great work. I figure we can follow that strategy a few more times before anybody starts to catch on."
I felt some of my outlying bugs die, an earbug picking up what might have been the roar of engines. "Shit." I ushered the others deeper into the building. "Something's coming this way. A vehicle of some sort, moving fast."
I got us ensconced deeper into the bombed-out depths of the structure and coughed up some eyebugs to check what was going on. Three vehicles pulled up, two dune buggies with trailers loaded with bangers – at least twenty ABB grunts – and one contraption that looked like the mutant love child between a humvee and a pick-up truck. A huge machine gun was mounted in the bed, and leaning on the roof of the cab was the only person in costume: Bakuda.
"Oh dear," she called out, her acting intentionally bad, "whatever has happened to my soldiers? I sent them here to patrol, and they never reported in!" Her lips split in a sadistic grin. "Oh well..."
The room where we'd stored the gangbangers exploded with enough force to launch me through a window. I impacted another building and my vision was shot, seeing in blurry quadruple-scope. I tried to focus on my bugs but most of them had been blown up or baked by the resulting heatwave. I dropped to my hands and knees and heaved, much like a cat with a hairball, coughing up a waterfall of several hundred mutant bugs. Eyebugs and earbugs, certainly, but also some of my older inventions: a bumblespider for spreading silk; a ladydragon that was immune to most poisons and could, in large numbers, airlift a body; and lots and lots of pissed-off yellow widows, their stingers filled with potent spider venom. My limbs gave out and I collapsed in a boneless heap. I'd never called up that many bugs at once, and I was paying for it. I closed my eyes and let my senses leave my body. I couldn't do anything with my own self, so my bugs would have to suffice.
So many eyes. It hurt my mind to process so much at once. Touch and location was simple enough, but having to process such detailed information from so many different sources, it felt like my brain was on fire.
Regent was bleeding through his shirt, Tattletale trying to staunch the hemorrhage. I sent my bumblespiders to her, laying silk over Regent's wound to serve as an exterior clot. I left them on autopilot to finish their work and then rejoin the swarm, so that I could conserve my brainpower.
Angelica (somehow it was easier to identify the different dogs through my bugs' eyes) lurched to her feet, concrete and glass lodged in her side. Brutus and Judas stood guard around Bitch, who was barely conscious. It was difficult – Bitch was stocky and heavier than I'd expected – but my ladydragons lifted Rachel onto Brutus' back and rested her there. Then I sent some more bumblespiders in to help secure her to the monster-dog's back.
And Grue... Bakuda's footsoldiers were loading Grue onto the technical. I launched my yellow widows after her and the ABB grunts, ready to inject them with potent venom. Inches before I could strike, Bakuda slapped something onto Grue's chest. "Stop or I vaporize him," she shouted.
My yellow widows froze midair. Damn it all... If I made a move Grue would die. I knew Bakuda would make good on her threat.
"So you're the bug bitch who took down Lung," she sneered. "Come on out so we can say hi."
Damn it. I couldn't move. I couldn't reveal myself. I just pulled my bugs back further, praying that Tattletale or Bitch could intervene.
Pain. I was bring grabbed by the neck. My senses surged back into my body. "Hi there," an Asian girl sneered at me, chapped lips curling back over yellowed teeth. She slammed the butt of her gun into my forehead.
(BREAK)
Again, I felt the pull on my wrists, my shoulder sockets. My toes brushed the ground and I felt moderately seasick, swaying slightly. My environment faded into view and I whimpered.
We were in a warehouse, each of us hanging by our wrists in a sort of suspended pillory. We were arranged in a sort of pentagon, so we could see each other. "Hey there, Skitter," Regent murmured.
I frowned. "Regent. How long have we been here?"
"Unno. Prob'ly a few hours, at least."
As if on cue, a heavy metal door slammed open. Bakuda sauntered in, a sadistic smirk on her face. "Yo." She stepped over and jostled Grue's helmet. "Wake up!"
Tattletale just stared at Bakuda, analyzing her in silence. I likewise did my best not to be noticed, as I brought in a parade of bugs. I had them squash themselves against my cuffs from top and bottom, their gooey innards dripping into the gaps between the metal and my wrists.
"So you're the Undersiders," Bakuda sneered as she slipped some metal knuckle dusters onto her right hand. "You fucks've been making things very inconvenient for the real gangs of this city." She juked forward and delivered a hard jab to Grue's ribs. "But on the other hand," she punched lower this time, probably bruising his intestines, "you gave me the chance to run the ABB. As useful as Lung is at keeping the PRT away, he's not an ideal leader. So," another punch, she wound up this time, "I'm not going to kill you. I'm just going to break your fucking bones." She finished with a punch to Grue's helmeted head, the impact leaving him reeling. Bakuda moved over to Regent next.
This would take a lot of concentration, but I had to focus. Very carefully, I spit up an earbug as quietly as I could. I then flew it in formation in front of Tattletale: TALK with an arrow pointing to my little listening insect.
"The room's rigged with explosives," she whispered as I brought the earbug as close to her lips as I safely could. "Same with her new recruits. It's all hooked to a dead-man's switch, so if she dies everything explodes. She controls the bombs with processors in toe rings." I looped the fly like one might rotate their hand in a 'keep talking' gesture. "Right foot," Tattletale concluded.
Regent cried out in agony, and I told myself I didn't just hear his ribs crack. I kept the procession of bugs, wriggling my wrists. The pain was excruciating and I was certain I'd break my hands, but I fought through it. I scanned the room and saw the combat knife on Tattletale's hip. I put together a plan as my left hand slipped free. I gripped the metal bar and wrenched, biting my lip hard enough to draw blood so that I didn't cry out. I timed my landing with Bakuda's next blow to Regent's midsection, then lunged for Tattletale's belt. Every last one of my bugs charged the bomber, doing everything they could to harry her.
I unsnapped the holster and drew Tattletale's knife, stalking toward Bakuda. Since I still didn't know how to punch, I let loose with a left-handed backhand slap, throwing my body weight behind it. I threw so much weight that I fell forward, throwing out my right arm. I aimed and prayed that I was accurate.
The asian madwoman screeched in agony when the knife separated her toes from the rest of her foot. I probably broke my elbow on impact but all that mattered was that I kept Bakuda from setting off her bombs. I grabbed her leg and stabbed again and again, intent on severing every last toe just to be safe.
Bakuda fell on me, using the same trick I had in order to slam her metal knuckles into my spine. I rolled under her, throwing the knife to the side. I couldn't afford to accidentally kill her. As we grappled, I was thankful that she wasn't a Tinker like Armsmaster, who worked on his body as much as his equipment. Without our powers, we were just two gawky young women wrestling on the ground. I eventually managed to yank off her armored mask and headbutt her, which did more damage to her than me. I received a fist in the mouth for my trouble and Bakuda managed to leverage me onto my back, where she latched her hands around my throat.
I was taller than her, with longer limbs, so I pushed against her chest with every ounce of strength I had. If I could push enough, she couldn't keep her grip on my neck. My vision, which had already tunneled from the panic of such a feral fight, was blurring as she cut off my air supply. I couldn't breathe and I was slowly weakening.
For the first time, I willingly put myself back in the locker. I remembered the pure panic, the fear, the determination that, even if I died, they would pay. With one last maddened shove, I managed to push her back. I pressed my newfound advantage and planted my foot in her solar plexus, using the last reserves of my strength to do whatever damage I could.
Bakuda crumpled into a heap but, much sooner than I would have liked, she rolled onto her hands and knees before vomiting up the contents of her stomach. The psychopath didn't even bother to wipe her mouth before she started crawling toward me again. I tried to do anything: put up my hands, crawl away, kick at her. My body wouldn't respond. I was completely spent. The world began to go black as she clawed her way up my torso.
Then a pair of black gloves grabbed her by the shoulders and hurled her backward onto the ground. Grue kicked her in the chest then landed on her, lifting her shoulders off the ground with one hand and punching her in the head with the other. Bakuda's head bounced off the concrete floor and she went still.
I could barely see the purple-and-black form of Tattletale picking the locks holding Regent before I slipped into unconsciousness.
(BREAK)
Intersect.
Intersect. Trajectory.
Agreement.
Exchange.
Defer.
Exchange.
(BREAK)
Voices. They swam through my mind like koi fish, occasionally putting on bursts of speed but mostly just lazily drifting. I tried to draw them closer, to understand them or even put a name to each voice, but it was like trying to reach through plastic. No matter how hard I pushed, I couldn't reach.
Colors blurred. Was I seeing them with my eyes? Were they blotches from irregularly firing nerves? Or was I seeing through my bugs? A white ceiling, or maybe a floor. A shock of gold. No, yellow hair. Brown fur. A bald scalp. Mine? White clothes. Regent. No, a coat. Labcoat? Doctor?
The sounds were making colors now. They rippled through my nerves, tickling. I'd been high on painkillers once. This was so much better. I giggled and the sound was strange, like hearing through tapioca.
Shiny. Silver, like ice skates. Glided along pink, leaving trails. White within, rising in spots like rocks under the tide. Unhappy sounds. I could understand now. No words, but I understood pain. Was I coming back? Where had I been?
The earth swirled like a flushing toilet. I could feel it now. My mind had been within my bugs. It had left my body. Why? I thought it was a good enough body. I reached out and plucked bits of myself from the swarm, cradling them close and squishing them together, trying to put myself back into one piece.
Slip. That's a weird sensation, entering yourself. Not in the concept of the spirit entering the body, but in the context – that's what I was looking for, context – of pieces coming together. It felt slick, like warm butter. Things were getting clearer. A body thrashing on a metal slab, two broad shapes holding down the limbs. I couldn't feel scared yet; couldn't really feel.
(BREAK)
Our eyes see everything upside-down, then our brains turn that image right-side up. Each eye was whirling, the images flipping again and again. I clenched my eyelids shut, ordering my brain to start making sense. I could hear Alec screaming. I needed to help. I opened my eyes again.
I was in a doctor's clinic, or what passed for one. Bitch and Grue were holding Regent down while the doctor did something in his chest. Flecks of white. I guess Bakuda must have broken his ribs after all. I could only hope that he'd be alright. A wet cloth passed across my forehead and I turned to see Tattletale sitting beside me. She jumped a little.
"Oh! You're finally lucid." She gave me a warm smile. "We were worried. You lost oxygen flow to your brain for a bit, then you just went all glassy-eyed and catatonic."
I coughed and had to swallow down the slime. "Is everyone okay?"
"Yeah. You and Regent got it the worst. Grue's gonna be bruised for a while, but nothing broken. You've got two sprained wrists and will need to wear turtlenecks for the foreseeable future. Doc Q says Regent's gonna be okay."
I winced as the brunet screamed again. "Are...are you sure?" I eyed the younger boy with concern.
She just nodded. "I'm sure it hurts, bad, but he'll live. We'll need to lay low for a while after this."
"How'd you get free, anyway?" I needed to keep the conversation going; I was starting to fade out again.
"You inspired it, actually. I saw what you were doing with your bugs and, well," Tattletale held out her hands, to show me her bandaged wrists. "I didn't have an army of critters to suicide themselves for me, so I needed some other lubricant." She gave me a guilty look. "Hey, I don't want to impose, but...can we stay with you and your dad tonight? I'm not sure if the base survived and it's too dangerous to go through there anyway."
"How can I say no?" I watched as the doctor started to stitch Regent's chest shut. "This doctor's trustworthy, right?"
"He has to be. Works on anyone who can pay. If he squealed, he'd have an army of pissed-off parahumans and other assorted psychos after his blood." Tattletale reached over and squeezed my shoulder. "You were amazing tonight."
We sat in silence until it was time to leave. Grue sat on Brutus and held Regent upright, taking care not to touch the stitches. Bitch did the same with me, and Tattletale took Angelica.
I felt the world swim again and slumped against Bitch, resting my head on her shoulder. She held me tighter.
For the second time in a week, my arm felt like it was being ripped out of its socket. I collapsed to the floor and managed to open my eyes, blurry vision solidifying into Rachel looming over me. She reached down and I braced myself for the pain to come, but instead she hauled me to my feet. "We have to go," she said simply before whistling. One of her dogs, already the size of a pony, trotted in. Its flesh was still slick with blood and whatever other fluids burst from it during the transformation. "Get changed, then climb on Angelica." She stooped low to the ground, looking like a hound on guard. The tension in her posture was infectious and I felt my own body coiling to react.
I was too tired to protest or ask further questions. I slipped out of my clothes and into my Skitter costume, then staggered over to drape myself over the dog, keeping my legs tucked up and linking my arms around her ribcage. Angelica swelled a bit more to compensate for my weight and followed Bitch down the stairs.
Brutus and Judas were already there, grown to the size of Clydesdales. Grue, Regent and Tattletale were likewise in full regalia, and I noticed belatedly that Grue had clogged all the windows and doors with his darkness.
"What's going on?" I managed to croak out the question despite every nerve telling me to just fall back asleep.
"Bakuda's gone off the deep end," Grue replied. His power caused his voice to echo and distort, the result very unsettling. He took in another breath but winced as the building rumbled. I realized that was the shockwave from an explosion. "The ABB are going berserk, attacking anyone and everyone they can reach. Others are planting bombs and destroying whole buildings."
"Is this retaliation for Lung getting taken down?"
"Possibly," Tattletale replied. "Bakuda's also a complete psychopath, so maybe without Lung to rein her in she just decided to play cut-price Armageddon."
"Point is," Grue continued, "the bombs are following a pattern for the most part, spiraling out from a spot on the Boardwalk. If that pattern holds, our base might get hit." He climbed atop the dog, offering Tattletale a hand up. "Our best bet is to move into areas that've already been bombed, take shelter and plan our next move."
I put the facts together as Bitch hauled Regent onto the other dog. "My dad–"
"Will be safe for now," Tattletale said with an air of certainty. "The initial bombing pattern will pass him by and the city is already organizing an evacuation. Protectorate and Wards are mobilizing, as well as the DHS and National Guard."
Angelica grew again, this time to the size of an average horse, and Bitch gave a yell. She took the lead on her beast and the other dogs followed.
(BREAK)
I'd never seen a warzone firsthand but I was willing to bet that the aftermath of Bakuda's bombings approximated one well enough. Buildings were collapsed or gutted with flame, others seemingly shaken apart. There was such a wide variety of carnage and destruction. Of course one of the villains here in Brockton Bay would have to be an evil Tinker, and a mad bomber no less.
I'd gathered a decent-sized swarm as we rode, keeping the bugs to back alleys and rooftops to avoid drawing attention. I wasn't sure how useful they would be, but I was damn sure I wouldn't be caught unarmed.
"So," I spoke up as we sheltered inside one of the gutted-by-fire buildings, "what did you mean when you said the bombings were mostly following a pattern?"
Tattletale hopped off and hit the ground talking while Grue helped me stand. "It's mostly a pattern sort of like the Milky Way." She drew the multiple spiraling arms in ash on the wall. "But then," she poked several random dots around the pattern, "she's hitting other locations. A grade school, a hospital, a fucking used car lot..." She shook her head. "It's so precise and then she does this. It doesn't make sense."
"Down," Bitch whispered in a steady tone and her three monsters laid on the ground, staying silent. We followed suit, letting Grue shroud us in darkness.
"ABB patrol," his voice echoed around me, "three guys. Leave them be for now. Until we have a plan, we don't want to draw attention."
I could tell Bitch wasn't happy about that decision, but Grue grabbed her by the leg and she relented. I understood his reasoning. Of the five of us, only I was wearing reliably bulletproof gear and even then I wouldn't expect my costume to last long under automatic fire.
While we waited, I turned around and looked at the drawing Tattletale had made. Perhaps I could sort it out. "...Tattletale," I whispered, "what other spots have been hit outside the pattern?"
"Uh...grade school, hospital, car lot... A parking garage, an apartment complex, and a fire station."
I sat in confusion. Sure, a school and a hospital were high-value targets, as was a fire station, and an apartment complex would require a lot of search-and-rescue, but the garage and lot? None of these sounded special enough to matter. It was just random nonsense in the middle of a mad bombing.
"Maybe that's it." I didn't realize I'd said that aloud until Grue, Regent and Tattletale had turned to look at me. I blushed a little at the attention. "Look, none of these spots really matter in the grand scheme of things, right? And certainly not to the ABB. But they do matter to the city. The car lot and parking garage are huge destruction-per-square-foot, while the others are important for search-and-rescue." I turned to face them. "I was thinking that these spots are nonsense, but it's all nonsense. What if this isn't to send a message or to destroy a certain target? What if it's all a distraction?"
Regent waved his hand. "...For?"
"For busting out Lung, I'll bet. On the one hand the ABB get to show that even with their leader gone they're still a threat – and maybe even a bigger threat, which should give the PRT pause in arresting him next time. On the other, with everyone focused here on Brockton Bay, who's paying attention to whatever's taking Lung to the Birdcage?" My mind was racing as I spoke. I couldn't tell if this was a genuine deduction or just rambling while grasping at straws, but it was the best I had.
It was Regent who spoke up. "Skitter, can you spread your bugs around?"
I nodded, doing as he asked. "Sure. Why?"
"Because if you're right, Lung will probably be on the warpath when he gets back. I'd like for the ABB to have as few members as possible once he gets here." He turned that fucking mask toward me. "I say we start setting up some ambushes."
(BREAK)
I decided that, for future endeavors, we'd need to get bluetooth earpieces or something so we could better coordinate across distances. For the moment, we were limited to about a block, giving each other signals from windows. The plan was simple enough, and I was thankful to Regent for thinking of it. The only thing that killed us now was the waiting. Bitch especially was getting restless. Thankfully, before anything could come of it, a patrol happened along.
There were four of them this time, coming from the same direction as the previous group. The ABB must have been planning to hold all of the bombed territory. Sucked to be them.
I watched, waiting for the opportunity. As the quartet came to the middle of the street, the one in the rear suddenly had a spasm in his leg and fell with a cry. The others turned, looking around for the culprit. The moment they looked down to their comrade, I struck. Thousands of bugs poured off the rooftops, undulating curtains of dark chitin. They landed on our targets, biting, stinging, scratching, harrying. The point wasn't necessarily to kill, so I kept the majority of spiders on silk-weaving duty.
Several seconds after my assault started, Grue blanketed the area in his darkness, muting the sound. We ducked back inside as bullets snapped against the buildings' walls, the gunshots lost in the ebon miasma. I could still feel the figures inside struggling until, one by one, they lost hope and fell to the ground. I brought in my widows to drape silk over them, leaving them bound.
I wiggled my smartphone through the window, the metal back catching the sunlight and flashing repeatedly. We all came out of the buildings and Grue pulled back his darkness. Regent systematically tased each one of them, I got them zip-cuffed, and we dragged them into the building's interior. Even better, now we each had a submachine gun. Well, except Bitch, but she was insistent that she only needed her dogs. As the beasts were now the size of small SUVs, I couldn't disagree.
Grue dusted his hands off and straightened up. "Great work. I figure we can follow that strategy a few more times before anybody starts to catch on."
I felt some of my outlying bugs die, an earbug picking up what might have been the roar of engines. "Shit." I ushered the others deeper into the building. "Something's coming this way. A vehicle of some sort, moving fast."
I got us ensconced deeper into the bombed-out depths of the structure and coughed up some eyebugs to check what was going on. Three vehicles pulled up, two dune buggies with trailers loaded with bangers – at least twenty ABB grunts – and one contraption that looked like the mutant love child between a humvee and a pick-up truck. A huge machine gun was mounted in the bed, and leaning on the roof of the cab was the only person in costume: Bakuda.
"Oh dear," she called out, her acting intentionally bad, "whatever has happened to my soldiers? I sent them here to patrol, and they never reported in!" Her lips split in a sadistic grin. "Oh well..."
The room where we'd stored the gangbangers exploded with enough force to launch me through a window. I impacted another building and my vision was shot, seeing in blurry quadruple-scope. I tried to focus on my bugs but most of them had been blown up or baked by the resulting heatwave. I dropped to my hands and knees and heaved, much like a cat with a hairball, coughing up a waterfall of several hundred mutant bugs. Eyebugs and earbugs, certainly, but also some of my older inventions: a bumblespider for spreading silk; a ladydragon that was immune to most poisons and could, in large numbers, airlift a body; and lots and lots of pissed-off yellow widows, their stingers filled with potent spider venom. My limbs gave out and I collapsed in a boneless heap. I'd never called up that many bugs at once, and I was paying for it. I closed my eyes and let my senses leave my body. I couldn't do anything with my own self, so my bugs would have to suffice.
So many eyes. It hurt my mind to process so much at once. Touch and location was simple enough, but having to process such detailed information from so many different sources, it felt like my brain was on fire.
Regent was bleeding through his shirt, Tattletale trying to staunch the hemorrhage. I sent my bumblespiders to her, laying silk over Regent's wound to serve as an exterior clot. I left them on autopilot to finish their work and then rejoin the swarm, so that I could conserve my brainpower.
Angelica (somehow it was easier to identify the different dogs through my bugs' eyes) lurched to her feet, concrete and glass lodged in her side. Brutus and Judas stood guard around Bitch, who was barely conscious. It was difficult – Bitch was stocky and heavier than I'd expected – but my ladydragons lifted Rachel onto Brutus' back and rested her there. Then I sent some more bumblespiders in to help secure her to the monster-dog's back.
And Grue... Bakuda's footsoldiers were loading Grue onto the technical. I launched my yellow widows after her and the ABB grunts, ready to inject them with potent venom. Inches before I could strike, Bakuda slapped something onto Grue's chest. "Stop or I vaporize him," she shouted.
My yellow widows froze midair. Damn it all... If I made a move Grue would die. I knew Bakuda would make good on her threat.
"So you're the bug bitch who took down Lung," she sneered. "Come on out so we can say hi."
Damn it. I couldn't move. I couldn't reveal myself. I just pulled my bugs back further, praying that Tattletale or Bitch could intervene.
Pain. I was bring grabbed by the neck. My senses surged back into my body. "Hi there," an Asian girl sneered at me, chapped lips curling back over yellowed teeth. She slammed the butt of her gun into my forehead.
(BREAK)
Again, I felt the pull on my wrists, my shoulder sockets. My toes brushed the ground and I felt moderately seasick, swaying slightly. My environment faded into view and I whimpered.
We were in a warehouse, each of us hanging by our wrists in a sort of suspended pillory. We were arranged in a sort of pentagon, so we could see each other. "Hey there, Skitter," Regent murmured.
I frowned. "Regent. How long have we been here?"
"Unno. Prob'ly a few hours, at least."
As if on cue, a heavy metal door slammed open. Bakuda sauntered in, a sadistic smirk on her face. "Yo." She stepped over and jostled Grue's helmet. "Wake up!"
Tattletale just stared at Bakuda, analyzing her in silence. I likewise did my best not to be noticed, as I brought in a parade of bugs. I had them squash themselves against my cuffs from top and bottom, their gooey innards dripping into the gaps between the metal and my wrists.
"So you're the Undersiders," Bakuda sneered as she slipped some metal knuckle dusters onto her right hand. "You fucks've been making things very inconvenient for the real gangs of this city." She juked forward and delivered a hard jab to Grue's ribs. "But on the other hand," she punched lower this time, probably bruising his intestines, "you gave me the chance to run the ABB. As useful as Lung is at keeping the PRT away, he's not an ideal leader. So," another punch, she wound up this time, "I'm not going to kill you. I'm just going to break your fucking bones." She finished with a punch to Grue's helmeted head, the impact leaving him reeling. Bakuda moved over to Regent next.
This would take a lot of concentration, but I had to focus. Very carefully, I spit up an earbug as quietly as I could. I then flew it in formation in front of Tattletale: TALK with an arrow pointing to my little listening insect.
"The room's rigged with explosives," she whispered as I brought the earbug as close to her lips as I safely could. "Same with her new recruits. It's all hooked to a dead-man's switch, so if she dies everything explodes. She controls the bombs with processors in toe rings." I looped the fly like one might rotate their hand in a 'keep talking' gesture. "Right foot," Tattletale concluded.
Regent cried out in agony, and I told myself I didn't just hear his ribs crack. I kept the procession of bugs, wriggling my wrists. The pain was excruciating and I was certain I'd break my hands, but I fought through it. I scanned the room and saw the combat knife on Tattletale's hip. I put together a plan as my left hand slipped free. I gripped the metal bar and wrenched, biting my lip hard enough to draw blood so that I didn't cry out. I timed my landing with Bakuda's next blow to Regent's midsection, then lunged for Tattletale's belt. Every last one of my bugs charged the bomber, doing everything they could to harry her.
I unsnapped the holster and drew Tattletale's knife, stalking toward Bakuda. Since I still didn't know how to punch, I let loose with a left-handed backhand slap, throwing my body weight behind it. I threw so much weight that I fell forward, throwing out my right arm. I aimed and prayed that I was accurate.
The asian madwoman screeched in agony when the knife separated her toes from the rest of her foot. I probably broke my elbow on impact but all that mattered was that I kept Bakuda from setting off her bombs. I grabbed her leg and stabbed again and again, intent on severing every last toe just to be safe.
Bakuda fell on me, using the same trick I had in order to slam her metal knuckles into my spine. I rolled under her, throwing the knife to the side. I couldn't afford to accidentally kill her. As we grappled, I was thankful that she wasn't a Tinker like Armsmaster, who worked on his body as much as his equipment. Without our powers, we were just two gawky young women wrestling on the ground. I eventually managed to yank off her armored mask and headbutt her, which did more damage to her than me. I received a fist in the mouth for my trouble and Bakuda managed to leverage me onto my back, where she latched her hands around my throat.
I was taller than her, with longer limbs, so I pushed against her chest with every ounce of strength I had. If I could push enough, she couldn't keep her grip on my neck. My vision, which had already tunneled from the panic of such a feral fight, was blurring as she cut off my air supply. I couldn't breathe and I was slowly weakening.
For the first time, I willingly put myself back in the locker. I remembered the pure panic, the fear, the determination that, even if I died, they would pay. With one last maddened shove, I managed to push her back. I pressed my newfound advantage and planted my foot in her solar plexus, using the last reserves of my strength to do whatever damage I could.
Bakuda crumpled into a heap but, much sooner than I would have liked, she rolled onto her hands and knees before vomiting up the contents of her stomach. The psychopath didn't even bother to wipe her mouth before she started crawling toward me again. I tried to do anything: put up my hands, crawl away, kick at her. My body wouldn't respond. I was completely spent. The world began to go black as she clawed her way up my torso.
Then a pair of black gloves grabbed her by the shoulders and hurled her backward onto the ground. Grue kicked her in the chest then landed on her, lifting her shoulders off the ground with one hand and punching her in the head with the other. Bakuda's head bounced off the concrete floor and she went still.
I could barely see the purple-and-black form of Tattletale picking the locks holding Regent before I slipped into unconsciousness.
(BREAK)
Intersect.
Intersect. Trajectory.
Agreement.
Exchange.
Defer.
Exchange.
(BREAK)
Voices. They swam through my mind like koi fish, occasionally putting on bursts of speed but mostly just lazily drifting. I tried to draw them closer, to understand them or even put a name to each voice, but it was like trying to reach through plastic. No matter how hard I pushed, I couldn't reach.
Colors blurred. Was I seeing them with my eyes? Were they blotches from irregularly firing nerves? Or was I seeing through my bugs? A white ceiling, or maybe a floor. A shock of gold. No, yellow hair. Brown fur. A bald scalp. Mine? White clothes. Regent. No, a coat. Labcoat? Doctor?
The sounds were making colors now. They rippled through my nerves, tickling. I'd been high on painkillers once. This was so much better. I giggled and the sound was strange, like hearing through tapioca.
Shiny. Silver, like ice skates. Glided along pink, leaving trails. White within, rising in spots like rocks under the tide. Unhappy sounds. I could understand now. No words, but I understood pain. Was I coming back? Where had I been?
The earth swirled like a flushing toilet. I could feel it now. My mind had been within my bugs. It had left my body. Why? I thought it was a good enough body. I reached out and plucked bits of myself from the swarm, cradling them close and squishing them together, trying to put myself back into one piece.
Slip. That's a weird sensation, entering yourself. Not in the concept of the spirit entering the body, but in the context – that's what I was looking for, context – of pieces coming together. It felt slick, like warm butter. Things were getting clearer. A body thrashing on a metal slab, two broad shapes holding down the limbs. I couldn't feel scared yet; couldn't really feel.
(BREAK)
Our eyes see everything upside-down, then our brains turn that image right-side up. Each eye was whirling, the images flipping again and again. I clenched my eyelids shut, ordering my brain to start making sense. I could hear Alec screaming. I needed to help. I opened my eyes again.
I was in a doctor's clinic, or what passed for one. Bitch and Grue were holding Regent down while the doctor did something in his chest. Flecks of white. I guess Bakuda must have broken his ribs after all. I could only hope that he'd be alright. A wet cloth passed across my forehead and I turned to see Tattletale sitting beside me. She jumped a little.
"Oh! You're finally lucid." She gave me a warm smile. "We were worried. You lost oxygen flow to your brain for a bit, then you just went all glassy-eyed and catatonic."
I coughed and had to swallow down the slime. "Is everyone okay?"
"Yeah. You and Regent got it the worst. Grue's gonna be bruised for a while, but nothing broken. You've got two sprained wrists and will need to wear turtlenecks for the foreseeable future. Doc Q says Regent's gonna be okay."
I winced as the brunet screamed again. "Are...are you sure?" I eyed the younger boy with concern.
She just nodded. "I'm sure it hurts, bad, but he'll live. We'll need to lay low for a while after this."
"How'd you get free, anyway?" I needed to keep the conversation going; I was starting to fade out again.
"You inspired it, actually. I saw what you were doing with your bugs and, well," Tattletale held out her hands, to show me her bandaged wrists. "I didn't have an army of critters to suicide themselves for me, so I needed some other lubricant." She gave me a guilty look. "Hey, I don't want to impose, but...can we stay with you and your dad tonight? I'm not sure if the base survived and it's too dangerous to go through there anyway."
"How can I say no?" I watched as the doctor started to stitch Regent's chest shut. "This doctor's trustworthy, right?"
"He has to be. Works on anyone who can pay. If he squealed, he'd have an army of pissed-off parahumans and other assorted psychos after his blood." Tattletale reached over and squeezed my shoulder. "You were amazing tonight."
We sat in silence until it was time to leave. Grue sat on Brutus and held Regent upright, taking care not to touch the stitches. Bitch did the same with me, and Tattletale took Angelica.
I felt the world swim again and slumped against Bitch, resting my head on her shoulder. She held me tighter.