Queen of the Swarm (Worm; Complete)

[Vherstinae]

Interlude 2.x



The ragged group approached Taylor's street from the direction opposite Undersiders HQ, having made a detour and looped around a large section of the city. Skitter might have protested but she'd been fading in and out as they rode. At the very least there was less destroyed road on this side.



The neighborhood was in a panic. At least three houses had been demolished from the shockwave of a bomb blast, and the rest were barricaded. Even in the failing light of evening, furniture could be seen propped against windows, plywood nailed up by the people who had it.



Tattletale gently urged Angelica to stop, the beast coming to rest on my front lawn. She hopped off and helped Grue carry Regent. Grue held the smaller boy bridal-style, with Tattletale walking backward to keep him steady. The ride had been worrisome enough; they needed no further reason to fear popping his stitches. Bitch likewise gave Skitter a surprisingly soft push forward, so she rested on the dog's neck and shoulders. The bulkier girl dismounted and then helped Skitter off, looping the thinner young woman's arm around her shoulders and helping her walk to the door.



While the Heberts didn't necessarily live in a bad neighborhood, anywhere in Brockton Bay that wasn't a gated community was usually fair game for the gangs. Years earlier, before Annette's death, the family had come up with a few different knocks to signify safety, being held hostage, and others. Skitter pounded on the door in the familiar rhythm, and after a few seconds she heard furniture being moved. Danny pulled open the door and wordlessly ushered them inside. Bitch whistled for her dogs, which had already shrunk to half their size and were steadily returning to normal.



Bitch let go of Skitter, letting the girl stagger to rest against the wall. She helped Danny push the bookcase back in front of the door. Tattletale led Grue to the couch, where they laid Alec down. The blonde began examining his stitches to make sure nothing had ruptured.



Once the barricade was back in place, Danny let his emotions free. "Jesus fuck, Taylor! What the hell happened? Is happening? What're you all... Fuck!"



Taylor couldn't help but wince at his tone. Her father rarely raised his voice in her presence. He'd once told her that he didn't want to be the kind of man who'd hurt his family, with violence or with words. But fear combined with the indignation of a father at his little girl who didn't stay safe, and he was screaming.



Brian was beside Taylor in an instant, fists clenched. She recognized that shaking, rigid posture, the remnants of trauma she'd seen in her own body after the locker. She staggered off the wall and rested a hand on each man's shoulder. "What happened is that we had to fight for our lives. What happened is that Bakuda went off the deep end and probably massacred hundreds." She locked eyes with her father through orange lenses. "What happened is that we took her down and saved hundreds if not thousands more, including you."



Danny surged forward and Brian's hand shot out. Before anyone could even really process what had happened, Taylor had slapped Brian's fist aside and was hugging her father. "We didn't want to fight," she spoke in a low tone. "We just wanted to hide and stay safe. But Bakuda found us. We took her down because, if we didn't, we would have died." She pulled down her cowl and smiled at him, eyes bloodshot and still moist with tears. "But I'm safe. We're all safe, and we're going to be keeping a low profile for a while."



Taylor shot a glare at Brian, who got the unspoken message. Apologize. "I'm sorry, Mister..." He removed his helmet while Lisa interjected with our last name. "...Hebert. I, well, I don't have a good history with older men and girls I care about. I should've realized that you weren't like that with her." He offered a handshake to my father. "Brian Laborn. Your daughter saved all our lives, sir."



"And I'm Aisha. Where's your pantry?"



Danny and Taylor practically leapt into each other's arms with an undignified yelp made all the worse in stereo. The same thought was in both of their minds: What the fuck!? Where had this girl come from? She was little, maybe thirteen, and already somehow more developed than Taylor. The girl was dressed...well, trashily was as good a term as any. Her attire was pretty much a halter top, cut low, and ripped leggings. Danny paused in his appraisal of his daughter to wonder how the hell this little girl got here. Had she–



Danny finished checking Taylor for obvious wounds, much to her consternation. In an attempt to shift attention, she made with the introductions. "In costume, Brian's Grue," dad snorted at this. He used to be a huge nerd. "Lisa, you know, is Tattletale. Alec, on the couch over there, is Regent. And Rachel, with the dogs, goes by Bitch but the PRT calls her Hellhound."



"Dumbass name," Rachel snorted while she helped her dogs bed themselves down on the living room rug. Again Taylor found herself drifting, this time musing about Rachel. She'd been amazingly gentle ever since the fight with Bakuda. Why was that? Taylor's head hurt too much to contemplate further.



"Mr. Hebert," Lisa spoke up as she stood, "we don't want to impose–"



"I do," Alec interjected weakly. Nobody bothered to smack him like usual.



"But we need someplace to stay and recover. With Bakuda out of the picture, hopefully things will cool down a little. We don't know if our base survived the bombings, and it's not safe for us to go find out while we're injured."



Taylor's dad nodded. "For tonight, I'm just glad my little girl's safe. You can stay and we'll talk more in the morning." He stooped a little and looped Taylor's arm around his neck, walking her to her room.



Making sure that they hadn't been followed, Danny shut the door behind them. All of this madness was too much at once. He needed to make sure they weren't making her act against her will. "Taylor, are you really okay?"



Taylor opted to reply by pulling down her costume to expose heinous purple-black bruising on her throat. If not for the fact that she was alive and talking, Danny would have assumed someone with those injuries to be dead. "Bakuda tried to kill me. Almost succeeded. They say I saved their lives, but they returned the favor." She hugged him again. "They're all fucked-up, maybe even bad people, but they're good to me. Please, treat them like my friends."



He gave Taylor a sad smile. This was much for him to take, so much hurt and fear and carnage all at once. However, despite everything else, he looked at this as a small blessing: after feeling helpless for so long, he could actually be the patriarch again, protecting his little girl. "Okay, Tails." He kissed his daughter's forehead and went over to the dresser, pulling out some pajamas. "Let's get you tucked in."



Taylor flushed in embarrassment and giggled a little, but didn't protest. If her father needed her to be his baby girl again, to briefly live in the moment when she was tiny and family was her whole world, she could oblige. At least for one night, the world and its problems could stay out there. He turned around while she changed, then pulled back the covers and tucked Taylor into bed. With a kiss on her bald pate, he switched off the light and exited.



Danny carefully shut Taylor's door, wanting his daughter to drift peacefully to sleep. He ambled down the hall and looked around the living room at the five – wait, no, four – teens there. Not for the first time, he thought about how fucked the world was. Children had to fight while adults cowered in their homes or shook their fists impotently at implacable threats. He was one of those adults, helpless to do anything meaningful in this...this war.



He stopped that train of thought. He couldn't let himself think that way. Something that he'd always tried to instill in Taylor – that Annette had taught him – was that every action, no matter how small, holds meaning. Danny might not be able to fight villains like Lung or drive back the Endbringers. He might not be able to cure world hunger or kill Kaiser. But right here, he could be Taylor's father. He could give her stability and safety. Whether parahuman powers were a gift, a curse, or just a freak accident of nature, Danny knew Taylor would use those powers to make the world a better place. He would be there for her, giving her the anchor she would need.



"Alright," he said as he stepped into the living room and pulled up a stool from the kitchen, "tell me the whole story. What happened?"



Seated with his back against the couch, Brian turned to look at Danny. "Taylor was asleep for a lot of today. Yesterday she had another of her, uh..."



"Barf-her-guts-out sessions?" a young female voice offered helpfully.



"...Sure," the skepticism was rolling off Brian's tongue, "let's go with that. Anyway, while she was out, Bakuda went apeshit. Bombs were going off everywhere and it looked like the whole goddamn city was gonna be leveled."



"Would've been badass if she didn't also want to kill us," Alec groaned from the couch.



"Quiet, you. Rest and try to get some sleep." Brian set some of his darkness around Alec's head. "Uh, where was I? So Rachel grabbed Taylor while we got organized, Lisa checked out what was happening, and we made a plan."



"Real simple plan, really." This time it was Lisa interjecting. "We'd hide in one of the places Bakuda had already hit and feel things out."



"Problem was," Brian continued seamlessly, "we didn't really know what Bakuda's endgame was. Lisa's a Thinker but that crazy bitch was so random things didn't really make sense. Taylor came up with a theory that made the most sense: whatever others reasons the ABB were bombing Brockton Bay, the main reason was probably to cause a distraction and bust out Lung." He shrugged. "Made sense to us, so Alec figured Lung would go from bombings to full-out war once he got back. Our original plan was to take out ABB footsoldiers, leave Lung with fewer people to start trouble with."



"I didn't realize until after the fact that, not only did Bakuda have bombs in her new recruits, she probably also had monitors hooked up to their vitals. When we brought down a group, she knew." Lisa frowned. "Damn Tinkers."



"Fucking huge explosion," Rachel spoke up. She was piled together with her dogs, the poor mangy things sleeping soundly around her. "Sent Skitter through a window, glass through Regent's side, and almost knocked me out. Skitter helped me get on top of Brutus and I might've made it out if Bakuda hadn't hit me with some sort of gas."



"A chloroform-based sedative bomb," Lisa supplied.



Alec bopped Brian's head and the black boy released his darkness. "She hung us up like something out of Saw. Came in gloating, beat the shit out of Brian then went to work on me. Taylor got loose, chopped off Bakuda's toes for some reason, and then beat her up. Lisa got free, picked Brian's locks, and then Brian took her down."



Lisa rolled her eyes. "Taylor got loose by having her bugs squish themselves to give her enough lubricant–" She ignored Alec's chuckling about lube, "to slip free. Bakuda controlled her bombs through processors in toe rings she made, so that's why Taylor chopped off her toes."



"After that," Brian said, "getting out was easy. When we announced Bakuda was unconscious and couldn't set off her bombs, the new recruits in the warehouse gunned down the veterans and called the PRT. With luck, they'll have the bombs out of their bodies and be back to their families within the week. We grabbed Rachel's dogs–"



"Fuckers shot them, but my dogs are tough."



"–and swung by my apartment to pick up my baby sister before coming here."



"Hey," the little girl waved to Danny as she sat beside Alec on the couch.



Danny narrowed his eyes at her. "Okay, who are you? Taylor didn't introduce you and I damn sure don't remember letting you in." He gripped the stool, ready to use it as a weapon. Maybe he couldn't do much in a world of capes, but he'd be damned if some saboteur hurt the last family he had.



"Whoa, whoa," Brian held his hands up in a placating gesture. "It's okay. Aisha's a parahuman too. She's still getting a hang on turning off her powers." He smiled. "You get better at remembering her the longer she keeps her powers off. First day, I actually forgot I had a sister."



Aisha snickered. "And I thought you were being a jackass and pulling a prank on me." She turned back to Mr. Hebert and smiled. "Lisa says I'm probably a mid-level Stranger. People don't notice me, and even forget me after the fact. I have to consciously turn it off, which is kind of a bitch."



"I could trust Aisha to hide someplace safe while the carnage was going on, but the moment we got the chance I had us swing over to rescue her. I'm not leaving my sister in a warzone."



Danny let go the stool, color returning to his knuckles. He rested his chin in his hands and sighed. "So what's next? For Brockton Bay, I mean."



Lisa laid her head on Judas' stomach, using the dog as a pillow. Rachel gave her a dirty look but didn't begrudge her the spot. "Well, if Lung decides he's still angry, he'll probably try to make another demonstration of the ABB's strength. With all the destruction already, Homeland Security and the National Guard will be properly mobilized in a couple days and the Protectorate will pick up the slack, or at least pretend to." She yawned, idly rubbing her wrists before realizing what she was doing and forcing herself to stop. "Biggest problem will be Empire Eighty-Eight. A bunch of Asians running rampant and massacring people? That's exactly the kind of situation a white supremacist loves. I fully expect Kaiser to make some sort of power play and argue that only the Nazis can keep people safe."



Danny grimaced. "Look, I'm sure you've expected to be asked this at some point, but why are you all villains? You seem like decent kids who've all had a run of bad luck, not bad guys out for themselves."



"Sometimes a run of bad luck is all it takes," Alec said with surprising solemnity. Lisa nodded in agreement.



"Alec, just go to sleep," Brian muttered. "Mr. Hebert, when you're a parahuman, you really only have two options: join the Protectorate and be part of the system, or join some villains."



"Third option is die," Aisha added helpfully.



"And when the system fucks you over, you're left with an easy choice: go to work with an organization that seems dedicated to making your life hell, or take your chances at acceptance and freedom outside the law," Brian concluded.



"Jesus," Danny breathed, "you kids are too young to be getting this dark and philosophical. I thought Taylor was unique because, well, she's really smart and has been through a lot."



"I won't deny that Taylor's probably smarter than most of us, barring Lisa, but there's no monopoly on life being shit. In fact, out of everybody here, Aisha and I are probably the most well-adjusted." The African-American boy sighed and looked down. "Look, this is getting really heavy for this late at night, and we're all exhausted. I probably have a concussion, Rachel's bruised and Lisa had to slice her wrists to get free. Can we table any other questions until tomorrow?"



Danny agreed and went to the hall closet, getting blankets for the kids. After making certain they were settled, he trudged to his own bedroom and burrowed under the covers. Danny Hebert had always thought that one of the major goals in life was to make things better for the next generation. After talking with the Undersiders, he could only conclude that the world had failed at that goal.

 

[Vherstinae]

Essence 2.03



I had earlier likened Brockton Bay to a warzone, in the aftermath of Bakuda's bombings. I realized that my assessment had been in error. In the days that followed, as the Undersiders hunkered down at my house, I saw what a warzone truly was.



On the one side was the government: the PRT, Protectorate and National Guard, with the Wards unofficially helping out. On the other was Empire Eighty-Eight, the largest and most powerful single organization in Brockton Bay. And in the middle were all the innocent people, trapped in the crossfire as the ABB continued its rampage. Streets were cordoned off, huge APCs and other vehicles rolled in, and soldiers commandeered destroyed buildings as staging centers and barracks. But they were intruders, strangers with their hands tied.



The National Guard didn't know the area; even natives didn't have the intimate understanding of Brockton Bay's underbelly that the gangs did. They were held back by rules of engagement and orders to avoid harming civilians. This forced them to only react rather than take proactive measures, keeping them at a continual disadvantage.



Worse still, E88 refused to attack, taking out National Guard troops only if provoked. Kaiser made a public statement that Empire Eighty-Eight was there to restore order and defeat the ABB. The Nazis had troops on the ground, wearing gang colors to identify them to the public while they hunted down the manic Asians. They acted swiftly and without mercy, unafraid to take actions that would get US soldiers court-martialed. The entire thing was like a huge PR stunt for Kaiser and company.



Coil's forces, the most militarized of the gangs, were taking no action besides holding their own territory. They allowed E88 and government troops to pass through, but did not tolerate combat within their borders or encroachment by other gangs. The Merchants seeped into the cracks like tar, stealing land from the ABB but being continually pushed back by Lung and Oni Lee, who now were inseparable. Lee would teleport himself and Lung away whenever the PRT showed up, sacrificing their grunts for their own sake. In fact, if the ABB didn't face death from Lung's wrath, they would probably have all fled already.



(BREAK)



After the first few days, I had encouraged the Undersiders to come out and mingle. With the city sectioned off, neighborhoods had become like little villages, pooling resources. The National Guard informed us that supply drops would be once per week, so we'd need an accurate head count.



At the moment, we were all sitting in the living room debating what to watch.



"WWE!" Alec was still stubbornly insisting on watching oiled-up neanderthals manhandle one another. He was promptly slapped in the face with a sock.



"Hell no," Rachel grumped. "Switch on Nick." Her head and sock-flinging arm were the only things visible beneath the pile of dogs atop her.



"No, BET," Aisha demanded, causing Brian to raise an indignant eyebrow. "What?" she smiled. "Somebody needs to play to stereotypes."



"Well it's not gonna be you." He tugged the end of one of her cornrows. "Danny, could you switch on the Discovery Channel?" Brian ignored Aisha's exaggerated gagging noises.



Lisa opened her mouth but I cut her off. "No, Lise, we've been watching the news too much lately."



Dad chuckled. "It's good to see you kids acting like, well, kids. Taylor, it's our TV, so what's your pick?"



"Nepotism! Picking your daughter over the injured party!"



"Shut up, Alec," the other four said almost in unison.



I smiled at my dad. "Discovery Channel sounds good to me." It did, of course, but even if I hadn't I would probably have said so. Dad was taller than Brian but the teen was broader and more muscular; aside from some clothes we'd borrowed from neighbors, he couldn't properly fit in other outfits, so he'd gone shirtless today. I was seated in front of the couch on the floor, explicitly so I didn't absently ogle him.



"Look," I said as my father changed channels, "I'm thinking we should start patrolling the area, maybe two of us at a time, at least until Alec's better. The PRT can't be everywhere–"



Lisa snickered. "Plus they're about as useful as the UN in situations like this."



"–and I'll be damned if I'm gonna let a bunch of Nazis, Asian gangbangers or druggie Merchants walk all over the innocent people of Brockton Bay."



"I hate Brockton Nazis," Alec paraphrased. We all chuckled, even Rachel. I doubted she got the reference but she'd been pretty mellow since we had opted to stay here.



Brian hummed to himself in thought. "Yes, that could work." We turned to look at him and he continued. "Look, Kaiser and the other Hitler Youth are using this as a PR opportunity, presenting themselves as the better alternative to the PRT. With Coil solely focused on holding territory, E88 are the only ones making headway to clean up the city." He grinned. "We already have the cred from taking down Bakuda; we can capitalize and clean things up, and undermine Kaiser at the same time. He needs all that power and all those parahumans to even attempt to keep peace, and we're doing it with just five people."



"Hey!"



"Well they don't know about you, Aisha," he placated.



"I was thinking that we should go out in teams that complement each other," I interjected. "For example, Grue and me, Regent and Bitch, Aisha–"



"Imp," she corrected me.



"...Huh?"



"Imp," Aisha repeated. "Everybody else gets a cool name; I should have one too. My big brother's a monster, so I'm an Imp!"



"Okay, Imp then. Imp and Tattletale would make an excellent scout team for spying on enemy groups."



"And why the hell do I get stuck with Regent?" Rachel protested.



"Hey fuck you! You're lucky to get stuck with me." Alec blew a raspberry at her.



"You're stuck with him because we heavy hitters need support, and your dogs can't see through Grue's darkness, while I can feel with my bugs without interference. Regent can make enemies trip, then the dogs can get 'em while they're down."



She nodded. "Okay, I guess that makes sense. He's still annoying, though."



"Thank you," Alec said with a smile.



Rachel's hand disappeared back into the pile of dogs, then flung her other sock at Alec's head.



"Fuck!" he sputtered as the sock hit him in the mouth. "Keep your foot sweat to yourself, Bitch!"



"Then shut your hole," she said definitively.



I just pinched the bridge of my nose. "Why did I ever agree to let you all stay here?" I looked over to my father, who was laughing his ass off. "And you're not helping!"



(BREAK)



Grue and I walked down the street, each wreathed in undulating black. With Grue, it was his darkness, while for me it was a section of my swarm. We had originally thought about sneaking around, but an overt show of power would make more of an impact. We headed east toward Blunt Street, where the intersection was choked with hedgehogs and razor wire. ABB forces had been pushing, and the National Guard was trying their best to push back. They certainly hadn't expected a pair of apparently very intimidating capes to come from the other side.



The soldiers on duty spun to face us and I clenched my fist under cover of my swarm. This was the moment of truth: if we'd judged this wrong, we'd probably be dead or arrested. I kept my mouth set in a hard line since I hadn't yet figured out how to speak audibly over the drone of my insects. It wouldn't do for a villain of my power level to sound like any other teenage girl.



Thankfully, Grue didn't have that problem. "Settle down, boys," he intoned, his voice deepened and distorted through his darkness. It spread through the vents in his helmet, revealing his chalk-white skull mask. "You're not wearing gang colors, so you're safe from us." We didn't stop walking, moving into the blockade. "Think of us as the native resistance."



"Besides," he said as he gave me a subtle nod, "if we wanted you dead, you'd know it."



With a thought, I pulled my swarm together out of the crevices, back alleys, rooftops and storm drains where I'd been hiding them. An ocean of black, skittering figures undulated over itself, flowing around the men before taking to the air and blocking out the sun.



We must have looked like something out of a nightmare, a demon wreathed in a black cloud alongside some sort of fragmented lamia, standing beneath a churning cloud of death. And, as far as we said, we were the good guys.



I dismissed my swarm, sending them to hide again. Message sent, now we just had to hope it was properly received. As for us, we went into no-man's land to hunt the gangs.



(BREAK)



"Skitter checking in."



"Everything copacetic so far?"



"Yeah, Tattletale. No resistance encountered as yet. Message delivered and we're not full of holes, so that's good. Call you again if anything comes up."



"Gotcha. You two stay safe."



I hung up and slipped my phone into my pack. "Okay, Grue, what's the game plan?"



"Spread your bugs to your maximum radius and scout for any gangs. If we find any, we intercept. If not, we loop back and head home." It was weird, hearing him refer to my house as home. I supposed that, for someone who might not have an apartment anymore, my place probably was the closest thing to a definite home.



As I sent my bugs scouting, I felt an uncomfortable silence fall upon us. Perpetually awkward girl that I was, I felt the need to make small talk. I got in closer so we wouldn't be overheard. "So, why is Aisha living with you? Do you not have parents?" Stupid, fucking stupid. Why did I phrase it that way?



"None that matter," he muttered. "Well, maybe that's unkind. My father tried, really he did, but he was a hard man. Not the kind that should raise a child. He was a fighter. Really, the only kind of bonding we got was when he was yelling at me for not hitting the heavy bag hard enough." He sighed and slowed down. "Dad got custody of me in the divorce; for whatever reason, despite the fact that she was an addict who'd probably sell her daughter for another hit, the court decided that she deserved custody of Aisha." Grue kicked a rock as we walked. I was thankful that I was keeping watch, because he was getting too deep into memories. "Can we talk about something else, please?"



"Of course. And...I'm sorry for bringing that up. I'm, well, I'm bad with people. I get nervous and always say the wrong thing."



"I don't know about that," he replied. "You've been good company while we're staying at your place."



"O-oh, thanks." I was glad that my mask hid my blush.



I could feel people all around, most of them ragged refugees, people who had lost their homes to Bakuda's bombing runs. But there were others I could feel now, moving not necessarily in formation but with purpose. And armed. Flies crawled over the weapons, feeling their dimensions. Too large for submachine guns. Assault rifles, then. The ABB wouldn't have that kind of firepower, but E88 could smuggle it in.



I tapped Grue's shoulder. "E88, one o'clock, moving away. Should we intercept?"



He nodded.



(BREAK)



One never really expects real life to mirror movies. For example, I wouldn't expect the Nazis to be going around talking about nothing but ethnic cleansing and uttering a racial slur every other word. What I truly hadn't anticipated, though, was for them to be discussing discussing character deaths in a video game. It was disturbingly humanizing and, for a moment, I found my resolve shaken.



For once, I was grateful for the new vicious side of my personality. I was reminded of the fact that these men were indeed Nazis, and were working to undermine the government and institute a mini-reich. I gave the signal to strike.



This time we reversed the order of our last ambush. Grue sent his darkness surging in, blinding the group. Once that was done, I flooded the room with my swarm. Again, my goal wasn't to kill. While wasps stung the men's faces and arms, widows scurried up and down their bodies to wind silk around them. Their flailing caused the men to become entangled, and they collapsed in a pile. A little more silk to make sure they were restrained, and we were good to go.



As we left the building, I dialed the Brockton Bay PRT. "Please connect me to Director Piggot, Armsmaster, or Miss Militia. It's rather important. Yes, I'll hold." We continued walking.



After several long, awkward minutes, the connection clicked on. "This is Armsmaster speaking. State your business."



"Armsmaster, this is Skitter, partnered with the Undersiders. We've apprehended a team of Empire Eighty-Eight soldiers and restrained them in a building at the intersection of Third and Ivers. The Protectorate has an ally in us, at least until Empire Eighty-Eight is beaten back. We have no interest in seeing Brockton Bay fall to Nazis."



He was silent for too many seconds. "...Normally I'd tell you to go fuck yourself. But this situation is dire. So long as you don't attack us, we'll return the favor."



"Then we're agreed." I hung up and looked over to Grue. "That was a lot easier than I'd expected. I'll admit, this makes me nervous. Either we're more fucked than I realized, or this is yet another attempt to not completely alienate me."



"How would they know it was you?"



"Bug name, working with the Undersiders, when Armsmaster is reasonably certain you helped me take down Lung. It's not that difficult to figure out, especially if he also had Piggot or Miss Militia in the room."



Grue shrugged. "Fair point. So why are we leaving, rather than staying to make our point?"



"Because I still don't trust the PRT. I wouldn't put it past them to arrest us and claim we established the truce just to try ambushing them."



He chuckled. "And here I thought you were the first girl I met who wasn't heinously bitter."



"So sorry to disappoint," I smirked back.



(BREAK)



We returned past the barricade, using Grue's darkness and my swarm to conceal our escape. Brian and I split up, got changed, and met back at my house. When I opened the door, Lisa dragged us inside.



"Perfect timing," she declared. "Sit down and watch!" She shoved Brian onto the floor in front of the TV and toppled me over to fall in his lap. Lisa scurried back around to sit beside Alec on the couch; had Alec even moved an inch in the time we'd been gone?



On the screen was the "PR-friendly" logo of Empire Eighty-Eight: an enormous E, with two 8s looping through the middle arm of the letter, all in distinctly gothic-German font. I figured the voice speaking over the icon had to be Kaiser, though I'd never heard his voice before. "...still the threat is not met with the appropriate response. The PRT refuses to take the action necessary to deal with even so pitiable a force as the ABB due to some misguided righteousness, a belief that by not exterminating these vermin they are somehow superior, that the 'moral high ground' makes up for the lives lost by their inaction!"



"And this is why Kaiser's such a big threat," Lisa said quietly. "He preys on people's fears, makes them believe his arguments. Hell, he even makes good arguments. It's the results that make normal people regret following him."



"Empire Eighty-Eight is willing to take the steps necessary. We are not worried about bad press. We do not bend to government sanction. We will excise the cancer from Brockton Bay: gangs, drug addicts, other such parasites ruining our chance at a peaceful society. Empire Eighty-Eight will undertake this action, regardless of what public opinion chooses to say of us. We will be this city's salvation."



An empty soda bottle hit the TV. "Change the channel already!"

 

[Vherstinae]

Interlude 2.y



"You're kidding me."



Maxwell Anders sat on his plush red suede couch, looking up at his lieutenant in confusion. Hookwolf did his best to vet any information he passed up, however, so Max didn't automatically disbelieve what he was hearing. A quick glance to either side told him that the twins, Jessica and Quinn, were just as incredulous. He ran a hand through his dark hair and took a breath.



"Alright, Wolf, let me run this back so we can make sure I didn't have a temporary stroke: You're telling me that five minors, whose previous biggest score was robbing a civvy casino, are now successfully beating back our entire organization." Max's words grew harsher as he spoke, but it was hardly surprising. Empire Eighty-Eight was, truthfully, the most powerful single organization in Brockton Bay. Even the local Protectorate, supplemented by the PRT and Wards, couldn't match them pound-for-pound. And yet, two weeks after the war had begun, they – and every other criminal group – were being systematically forced out of the docks and surrounding areas by so pitiful a group as the Undersiders?



"That's about the long and short of it, yes," Hookwolf rumbled. "Most times they use guerrilla tactics to ambush and restrain our footsoldiers, but when we send our own capes after them they fight us to a stalemate and escape."



Kaiser rubbed his temples, letting out a groan of frustration. "And what's worse, they're also cleaning up the city so we can't go after them without public opinion turning on us. We smack them down and we're seen as just another gang capitalizing on the chaos: we won't be able to spin attacking other do-gooders." He looked up at Hookwolf, who was nodding along with his words. Wolf may have been a savage, but he was a savage who knew strategy. He'd undoubtedly figured Max would come to that conclusion.



"So, sir, what do we do about them?"



Max took a moment to think, eyes closed and lips pursed. Then he chuckled. "For now? Nothing. We leave the docks to them, but we push back if they try to take our territory. We accept their 'help' in cleaning up the city."



Quinn stretched, a smirk on her perfect lips while rivers of gold cascaded down her shoulder. "And then we find a reason to pin blame on them."



Jessica finished her twin's thought. "And we finish them off, with the goodwill of the Bay behind us."



Maxwell lounged back, slipping an arm around each beauty's waist. "Exactly. This is more than a ground campaign, Wolf. It's Hearts & Minds. We've worked this long to purify this city; we can wait another few weeks or even months while we continue to ingratiate ourselves to the public." He gave a kiss to each of his girls. "Now, if you'll all excuse me, I have another appointment coming soon."



Hookwolf nodded, clicking his heels together before walking off. The twins, like the perfect blend of lioness and tiger, unfolded themselves from the couch and strode off behind Wolf.



Max stood, stretched and then ambled over to the window to open it. By the time he'd gotten back to the couch, the blinding white glow was already in sight.



Purity landed and deactivated her powers. Kayden glared at Max; she might have a child with him, but that didn't mean she had to like him. "I told you not to contact me anymore," she growled as best she could. Kayden did not strike a particularly charismatic or intimidating figure when she was not Purity. Her small frame and mousey looks did her no favors. "And yet what do I find at the condo? A note. And not even from Max, but from Kaiser. You asked me to come out of respect for the old days, so you've got five minutes."



Max smiled. She might not look the part of the reich's potential queen, but that fiery passion of hers always entranced him. "You can't pretend you haven't noticed what we're doing, Kayden. We're finally making headway at cleaning up the city."



"Yes, by pushing your agenda of genocide," Kayden bit her words.



"Have you really convinced yourself I'm so intolerant? Or is it just so you have a dichotomy to reference, a yang to your yin? You have to paint me as the love child of Hitler and Stalin in order to make your own crimes seem minor in comparison, so you can tell yourself you're a good person." Seeing his ex-wife bristle, he continued. "But you are a good person, just not by the infantile, self-defeating perceptions of society. You're continuing our work in your own way, trying to help others. You're just not as forceful or militarized as we are." Max locked eyes with her. "But tell me, Kayden: in your heart of hearts, do you really feel the same when you see a white person committing a crime as you do when you see a black, or an oriental, or a spic?"



Seeing Kayden's resolve cracking, Max suppressed a smirk and pressed his advantage. "I'm not pushing genocide. I know that doesn't work, and besides, if we're going to lead the world then we can't exterminate the majority. Just as the Third recruited the Japs, we can command others if they're willing to follow. But they need to know their place." He stood and walked to the window. "When you fly over the city, do you catch glimpses of them? The addicts, the downtrodden, the homeless who are further preyed on by the savages that stalk the back alleys? Their enablers and tormentors, often one and the same, are given free rein in a misguided attempt to do what's best for the public."



Kayden still hadn't replied. Max's words were seeping into her and, god damn it all, but she couldn't help but start to agree.



"The public does not need anarchic autonomy as we attempted to give them. They need structure. Look at the Mideast. When you take away their dictators, they go into a frenzy, killing and raping and fucking eating each other. We have insane asylums because madmen cannot be allowed to go free. But when an entire civilization is insane, they can't just be committed. But they can be controlled and even pushed to good work. But they need a strong hand, need leadership that is unafraid to treat rebellion harshly. That's what we need here. The suffering needs to end."



Kayden swallowed and stepped forward.



(BREAK)



"Emily."



"Thomas."



The old comrades-in-arms nodded to one another as they passed in the halls of the PRT building. Emily Piggot was on her way for another week's briefing with Chief Director Costa-Brown. Things were actually getting better, she had to admit. Since the Undersiders had started actively resisting incursion, E88's war machine had stalled. The Nazis were back to hunting the ABB rather than taking more territory, while the Undersiders slowly expanded their own controlled land.



Piggot sat down in her customized chair, adjusted to hold her bulk. She switched on the communications screen and waited while the PRT logo rotated. After nearly a minute, the scarred face of Rebecca Costa-Brown appeared.



"Chief Director."



"Director Piggot. How goes the war?"



Emily sighed. Straight to the point yet still condescending. Bitch. "Honestly, Chief Director, it's not as bad as it could have been. Empire Eighty-Eight has been stalled and may lose face in light of its defeat at the docks."



"Yes," Costa-Brown said, looking at a folder for effect, "the Undersiders, if this information is correct. They have a new member?"



"Correct. Designated Skitter, this new cape seems to be a ringer, a decent-level Master. From what we can gather, she insists that she is not a full member, and is instead only involved to hunt other villains."



"Yes, Taylor Hebert, if my information is correct. And you let a parahuman get away, who later went on to defeat Lung single-handed." She didn't give Piggot a chance to respond. "And this has to do with Shadow Stalker. Oh yes, Director, I have not overlooked this failing of yours. Were it not for the fact that Brockton Bay is in the middle of a war, you would already be 'reassigned'. As for now, you get a reprieve. Clean up this mess and your reassignment may be deferred indefinitely."



"We are also working on a PR campaign to discredit Empire Eighty-Eight. At the moment, Kaiser's charisma is making the everyman see the Nazis as the safest option. We're going to remind people why Nazis are bad, as sad as that sentence is."



Costa-Brown's face showed no hint of emotion, as usual. "Have Rennick submit his support for the PRT and National Guard's plan of action." And with that, she cut the transmission.



Emily took a moment to brace herself before lifting her bulk from the chair. She never enjoyed dealing with the Chief Director; something about the woman rubbed her the wrong way. Costa-Brown was also a huge fan of assigning blame, punishing those lower on the totem pole while she sat in her ivory tower and sucked up federal dollars.



Brockton Bay needed more support. It was the battlefront for the entire country, and the Nazis were winning. If Brockton fell, there was a great chance that Kaiser's influence could expand to the rest of the United States. In a world ravaged by the likes of the Endbringers and the 9, too many people would be willing to sacrifice freedom and even their own humanity in the name of safety. Worse, Piggot couldn't blame them for it.



She spied just the person she needed and veered off her previous course. "Militia," Piggot called.



The olive-skinned heroine turned. "Director. What can I do for you?"



Piggot drew closer. "I've been especially stressed today, Miss Militia. I'll probably need another hour of dialysis to take care of it. I can only wish we had more capes to put on the street."



Miss Militia nodded, an eyebrow raised. "True, if only more parahumans were willing to work with us. Should we send out an olive branch to the Undersiders, or Faultline's crew?"



Emily Piggot sighed theatrically. "Unfortunately, PRT protocols prohibit us from officially contacting any villainous or rogue groups outside of the unwritten citywide truces, and we are certainly prohibited from hiring mercenary teams or offering gifts to villain teams." She looked at Miss Militia, hoping the female hero had gotten the message. "Neither can I advocate or even hypothetically discuss a policy counter to the Youth Guard's official guidelines wherein the Wards would be assigned to maintain safer districts so that the Protectorate can take the fight to the gangs."



"Yes," Miss Militia nodded, "it's too bad about that."



(BREAK)



The Levons Juvenile Detention Center was not normally equipped for housing parahumans. For the most part, it was simply juvie hall. But in the aftermath of Empire Eighty-Eight's war, it housed one parahuman delinquent who had previously been scheduled for transfer.



Sophia Hess sat on the ragged couch, idly rapping one of her bracers against the armrest. Her bracers also served as her cuffs when locked together, and had a powerful electric current coursing through each bracer.



Seated beside her was an unfortunate-looking, bulky girl named Lara. Lara was a next-generation follower of Lustrum, in spirit if not in knowledge. The girl was imprisoned for brutally beating several young men, and that sadism was something the girls could bond over.



Lara smirked at Sophia, eyes drifting to the athlete's bracers. Sophia nodded back.



Tomorrow.

 

[Vherstinae]

Essence 2.04



Two weeks.



We'd been fighting against Empire Eighty-Eight and the ABB for two weeks, patrolling every day and steadily expanding our territory. The Undersiders were now the warlords of the docks and their surrounding suburbs, holding the land with an iron fist.



Well, at least for the villains. Since we were running a counter campaign against E88, we needed to present ourselves as the better alternative. Tattletale came up with the idea: in addition to keeping the area safe, we accepted protection money. But we didn't demand or threaten. Rather, we told the people the simple truth: money meant we could acquire more resources and therefore better defend our territory. Amazingly, in the eight or so days since we'd put out that little memo, thousands of dollars had poured in, along with a fount of goodwill.



I was of two minds about this: on the one hand, we were protecting the people and getting rewarded for it. We were, for all intents and purposes, heroes. On the other hand, I could easily see the voluntary protection money becoming tithe and tribute, and our status as warlords being officially cemented. We were teenagers, capricious and fickle. One bad day could turn us from protectors to oppressors. Holding the hearts of the people, controlling the territory, it was an incredibly empowering feeling. It was easy to see how even well-intentioned groups could turn to tyranny.



Was that what had happened to the PRT? Had that kind of unchecked power led to corruption, bloated certainty in their moral righteousness preventing them from seeing what festered beneath? I told myself I'd eventually find out. Arcadia was inextricably linked to the Protectorate, so once the citywide lockdown was lifted I'd get to see the Wards – if I could identify them – behaving like normal people. Maybe an outsider's voice could break through to the truly good people in the Protectorate. Sometimes it only took one more voice to shatter the illusions.



For the moment, however, everyone needed to live in the present. Planning for the future wouldn't matter if we failed. According to Lisa, the Protectorate wasn't sending reinforcements because they were doing their best at a media blackout. Until things settled down, we were on our own. Of course, that was typical. The bigwigs wouldn't risk losing face. So what if several thousand people died while they sat on their asses? The Protectorate's star would remain squeaky-clean and the war would be remembered as just something else shitty that went on in Brockton Bay.



I stretched my consciousness further into my bugs, finding my mind on an unpleasant spiral. My earbugs and eyebugs, paired up for the best chance of noticing trouble, flew in concentric circles to watch for strangers or looters. At the eye of the metaphorical storm was this week's supply drop. Brian, Rachel and my dad hauled their own box of rations and assorted sundries while I, as Skitter, stood guard. Brian had designated me as the guard for the supply drops because my power gave us the best chance of intercepting any gang presence.



Tattletale walked up to stand beside me, folding her arms and leaning to one side to almost perfectly mirror my stance. It was hard not to grin. She always found a way to inject a little fun into things. "Any trouble, Skitter?"



I shook my head. By now I'd gotten used to not having thick, flowing hair follow my head's motions. Sometimes I found myself grievously missing it, but overall I'd come to accept my baldness. "All quiet. I think we've cleared enough territory that any looters are afraid to push this deep." I turned to look at her. "So what's the news around the city?"



She smirked. "Pretty good, overall. I'd like to think that the PRT are learning from our example, but regardless, it seems that the Wards aren't sticking to their token patrol routes." Somehow she could just tell that I'd raised an eyebrow, her vulpine grin stretching larger. "They're also pointedly not being punished for their deviation. The Wards are patrolling the more peaceful areas of the Bay, putting down small crime and freeing the Protectorate to take more decisive action."



Tattletale leaned on me, almost causing me to topple over. Yeah, I had a good four inches on her but I was still skinny, dammit! And I also wasn't a traffic pylon! "I think they're poking the bear with E88, sweeping in and arresting any downed grunts to the point that they let other gangs leave unaccosted. They want Kaiser to make the first move, to directly attack them, so they can lay blame squarely on the Nazis and call in the Triumvirate."



"You're sure about that?"



"Pretty sure, yeah. We're making E88 look like fools and they're starting to run out of unpowered footsoldiers. Something's gotta give, and I doubt they'll start recruiting from their fronts and legit businesses to make up the difference. Either they'll come after us, in which case we have the backing of our territory and can swing it into a PR win for us and the Protectorate, or they'll try hitting the PRT directly. In which case I say let 'em fight it out and we can intervene if it looks like the Nazis have the upper hand." Tattletale started adjusting my arm to make me more comfortable for leaning on, at which point I gave her a little shove.



"Any other cape activity?" I tried to maintain the facade of strength in front of the public, hoping that they hadn't seen their terrifying protector horsing around with her friend.



Tattletale nodded with a grin. "I've kept an ear to the ground and there are a few very interesting developments. First off, there's a cape calling herself Parian who's basically taken over a mall, Dawn of the Dead style. She's playing guard dog for a group of refugees but has made it clear she wants no part in the war. They leave her alone, she does the same. Thus far, she's been holding off any incursions."



"One cape? She must be pretty powerful," I commented.



"Seems so. She's an established Rogue with some sort of Master ability that lets her create and control giant, well, let's call them cloth balloon animals. Teddies with razor-sharp claws, all that jazz. Either way, she's obviously more concerned about the people than anything else. So you and she might get along." Tattletale took a short breath and brushed some of her hair from where it had stuck to her neck. "Also, Faultline and her crew are on the radar again. Considering they'd been hunkered down in the Palanquin, my guess is they got a contract." The blonde leaned closer, her impish little grin almost painful to look at. This was her 'I know something you don't know' face. "The biggest development, though, is the Travelers."



I blinked. "The Travelers. Why the fuck would they come here at this time? Isn't their leader black?"



"Part-black, at least," she confirmed. "But everything I'm getting is that they've been here. For a while. My best guess is that they showed up for some reason just before Bakuda went insane, then were forced to hunker down. For whatever reason, they've gotten more active to the point they can be identified among all the other insanity."



"All of this new activity? Something's definitely going on."



"Were I a fortune teller, I'd be going on about foreseeing an end to this war. As it stands, I can only say that I expect things to come to a head and, hopefully, settle down after that."



I looked away from her, watching with a small smile as the last crate was carted off. "We can only hope."



"One more thing. Well, technically it's the reason I came out here, but I didn't want to distract you..."



I swung my head back to her. "Really?"



Tattletale just shrugged, not apologetic in the slightest. "Coil's calling a meeting of the remaining presence in the Bay; that is, those who haven't officially declared a side. You, Grue and I are gonna be there tomorrow."



I just sighed. "Seriously? You drop this on me now?"



She just laughed and looped an arm around my shoulders. "Gotta keep you on your toes somehow, Bug-Eyes."



(BREAK)



Somer's Rock was a pub only in the most polite use of the word. It was a run-down hole, dingy and depressing inside and out. Even the staff were depressing, a ragged-looking waitress in her twenties and identical twin brothers behind the bar who were pointedly not looking at us. Though the place had been cleared of its regular clientele, the scent of booze and cigarette smoke still hung heavy as their calling card.



Grue, Tattletale and I had gotten there early, just as the normal patrons were leaving, so we could scope out the place and observe everyone walking in. We were soon approached by the waitress, who stared wordlessly at us and set down a pad of paper on the table.



"Excuse me," I said, "do you–"



Tattletale interrupted me. "Skitter, she's deaf. Just read through the menu and write what you want on the pad."



I had to consciously force myself not to shrink down in embarrassment. Yet again I was thankful that my mask hid my blush. I some Surge knockoff citrus soda, then leaned back into the booth. "So who do you think will be coming?"



"Coil, obviously," Grue replied. "The Travelers too, if Tattletale's intel is right."



"Which it always is," she added.



"I'd also guess Faultline, particularly if Coil's the one who bought her services." He looked over at the blonde, who had stiffened a little. "Christ, Tats, I don't like that she managed to poach on us, but can you try not to shank her if she shows up?"



"Sorry," Tattletale grumped, sounding not at all sorry. "She just still rubs me the wrong way."



"Shut up," I said under my breath, hopefully loud enough for them to hear. The others were arriving.



The first was Coil, as I'd figured. The man was...creepy. Dressed in a black bodysuit and helmet distinguished only by an alabaster cobra that splayed its hood across the top of his helm and wound its way down his body, the man was taller than my father and rail-thin. I found myself wondering why he went with the snake theme rather than a skeleton or scarecrow. Coil arrived unaccompanied and unequipped except for his sidearm. That was either a clear demonstration of power, or a display of overconfidence. From what Lisa had told me about him, I suspected it was the former. He sat down at the largest round table and casually beckoned the waitress over. I figured he had to have a lot of experience in leadership – and in being a decent leader – because he managed to look like he owned the place without his body language coming off as arrogant or abrasive. Coil nodded our way and Grue nodded back.



My drink came and I looked to Grue, who gave me a subtle nod. I tried not to look too childish sipping my soda through a straw, but my mask's mandibles kept me from drinking straight from the glass.



Next came the Travelers, in full force. Tattletale named them as they entered. Trickster was in the lead, his costume something of a hybrid between Baron Samedi and Dr. Facilier from that Disney movie. Behind him was Sundancer, a good-looking woman in a black bodysuit decorated with red suns. Next was Ballistic, in bulky armor also with the red/black color scheme. Apparently that was their version of a uniform. The fourth and final member showed me why that kind of uniform was necessary.



A massive, squat creature resembling some unholy hybrid of gorilla and squid managed to shuffle its bulk through the door and sat down beside the booth they'd selected. Genesis was, apparently, some sort of Changer who could mutate between different monstrous forms at will.



Next, which Tattletale and I both stopped to blink at (Grue probably did too, but you couldn't tell beneath the mask), came the Merchants. Ugly. Trashy. Scum. The lowest of the low, the Merchants were simultaneously drug dealers and walking anti-drug PSAs. They were all disgusting but the leaders seemed to take trashiness into an art form.



Skidmark was in front, in a gray flasher coat and a mask that covered the upper half of his face. The lower half was dark-skinned, with a badly trimmed beard and rotten teeth. People talk about rotten teeth, make references to it with bad breath, but actual rotting teeth are a horrific sight. Slimy and fetid, and framed with horrifically chapped lips. And what's worse, Squealer was supposedly his girlfriend. She willingly kissed that abominable pit.



Mush and Squealer were behind him, Mush stooped over and garbed like a diseased hobo, while Squealer was the worst combination of white trash fashion and ghetto chic.



Finally Faultline arrived, accompanied by Newter and Spitfire. Each group leader claimed a seat, though everyone eyed Skidmark. Coil was the first to speak. "Skidmark, I extended this invitation to you solely on the basis that more hand make for lighter work. If you make me regret that course of action, you will not live to make amends."



"Fuck your mama after I'm done plowin' her," Skidmark spat back. "We're here because you need us, because the Merchants are powerful, especially now."



"Bullshit," Grue interjected, his darkness distorting his voice. "You were invited because you might prove useful. We have more than enough power already, and the Merchants are just getting by sneaking around behind Lung's back."



Skidmark leapt out of his chair and looked ready to lunge across the table. Grue just stared him down. "You sure you want to start something? The Undersiders took down Bakuda and her entire platoon. Skitter, by herself, beat Lung into the ground." His voice was even, his darkness letting the calm confidence show through. Skidmark's eye twitched before he sat back down.



"Leaky, worm-riddled asshole..."



"On that note," Faultline spoke up with false pleasantness, "our services have already been engaged. But, since the goal is to stop this war, we're happy to work with the rest of you toward that goal."



Coil nodded to her. "We're glad to hear that, Faultline. Your team will be a significant help." He looked around the table, his hidden gaze coming to rest on Trickster. "I will admit, I'm surprised the Travelers haven't simply left Brockton Bay. Surely there are better places to go."



Trickster snorted a little. "Of course there are, but we can't simply leave with the lockdown in effect. We'd be picked up almost instantly and, while we could fight our way free, we don't want to reduce the PRT's strength. We might be villains, but we're not Nazis." He practically spat out the word like it was a particularly unpalatable bit of gristle.



"Then we can count on the Travelers' assistance?"



Trickster smirked. "You shouldn't need to ask if I'm up for fucking over some skinheads. The fact that it benefits us all means my team's all on board too."



Coil cracked each of the knuckles on his right hand. "Then let's get down to business. The only reason that Kaiser was able to make this push is because of the ABB. So long as Lung continues his rampage, Empire Eighty-Eight will be able to leverage it into power, both local and political. So," he leaned forward, "I propose we hit the ABB first. This is as much a PR campaign as it is an ethnic cleansing; if we get rid of Kaiser's current raison d'etre, we force him to reveal E88 as the group of maniacs it truly is. When public support is clearly on our side, the powers that be will be more forgiving of a Nazi-extermination campaign."



"You think it will come to extermination?" Grue asked. "That the Protectorate will let it come to that?"



Coil leaned back. "Kaiser may be a threat to Brockton Bay, but his ideology threatens the entire country. Considering the stakes of this war, I suspect that they will be willing to turn a blind eye to E88's destruction."



"We don't do murder," Faultline spoke up, "even in these circumstances. We can help apprehend, however, and once they're down and we're gone, our conscience is clear."



"We're on the same page, then," Grue nodded to her. "We don't like to kill either."



Coil's body language shifted almost imperceptibly, but I suspected that he was a little frustrated. "Very well. I'll be in touch with you all. Keep safe. If we lose any of you, our chances of this war coming to a satisfactory conclusion."



We all got up and filtered out. Faultline gave Tattletale a dirty look as we left. The blonde leaned closer to me. "Coil knows a lot more than he's letting on. There's something else going on here, more than just taking down Kaiser or even taking control of the city."



For some reason, I was even more tense now than I had been when this war started.



(BREAK)



We returned to an odd sight: Bitch's dogs were surrounding someone seated on a fire hydrant. As we drew closer, I could see that it was Miss Militia. Despite being surrounded by monstrous living tanks, she still radiated confidence.



Miss Militia stood, as calm as if she were in the middle of the PRT building. "Ah, Skitter, just who I wanted to see."



"So I'm not fucking important enough?" Bitch sneered at her. "Asshole."



I could tell Miss Militia was smirking at Bitch behind her scarf. She stepped forward, slow and calm, and passed by the dogs. Bitch didn't order them to follow. "Do you have a place where we can talk in private?"



I nodded. By this point the Undersiders and I had come to understand one another well enough to plan around one another. Grue threw out a cloud of darkness, occluding us from view.



Tattletale looked at me. "You sure this is alright?"



"She already has my file. It's not like this is any big secret for her." We continued on to my garage. Once we were inside, Grue let his darkness fade. I turned to Miss Militia. "So why are you here?"



"I never was," she replied, smiling beneath her scarf. "The Protectorate refuses to send additional reinforcements, and we are forbidden from enlisting the aid of Rogue or villain groups." She leaned against the wall, next to the upright toolbox. "However," she reached into her pocket, "if some earpiece communicators were to go missing, our comms department might not recognize the names of a few young villains and might let them in on our plans for ending the war. And," she set six communicators on the worktable, "if some upstanding citizens were to return the communicators afterward, we'd have no reason to press charges or ask questions."



I couldn't help but smile. Finally, someone was doing something. "Was Arcadia your idea too?" My smile only widened at her slight nod. "Thank you, Miss Militia. I won't forget this."



"You mean we can finally kick some ass without the PRT trying to crawl up our own?" Regent grinned. "Sweet!"



"Sounds like fun." Even Miss Militia flinched when Imp made herself known. She didn't have a proper outfit thus far, but she'd put dark lenses into the eyes of an old devil mask from a Halloween years ago.



"Imp..." Grue sighed. "Could you try and keep from surprising the highly trained cape whose power is guns?"



Miss Militia surreptitiously holstered the uzi she'd manifested. "We've gotten scattered reports that the Undersiders have a sixth member. It seems that they were right." She stepped away from the wall and the communicators she'd left. "If I could ask for an escort back out, the same way?"



Grue nodded and walked her out.



(BREAK)



The seven of us, dad included, sat around the living room coffee table. The six communicators lay there.



"So what does this mean?" dad asked.



Lisa drew in a breath. "It means that the local Protectorate is bending the rules. It means that, even with the Triumvirate refusing to intervene, we have a chance."



"It means," I interjected, "that I may have been wrong about them."

 

[Vherstinae]

Essence 2.05



Beep. Beep. Beep.



My eyes fluttered open. Briefly, I thought I was back in the hospital. But the beeping, while rhythmic, wasn't quite the same. I looked over and saw my earpiece on my nightstand, flashing. Some sort of LED inside the piece, glowing out of the meshwork?



I leaned over and grabbed the communicator, popping it into my ear. Somehow it activated instantly. Tchh. "Skitter," I rasped, my voice distorted by fatigue and cottonmouth.



"Whoa, it really is you." Who the hell was calling me at... I looked at the clock. 2:37 AM? "Honestly, I thought they might've been jerking me around. Sorry; this is Faultline." I just blinked. How had Faultline gotten this frequency? Did she have a communicator of her own? Had the PRT broken the rules even further and actually hired mercenaries?



"Faultline? What the fuck?" That was Grue's voice, wasn't it? "How did you get this frequency? And Tattletale, if you're listening, don't you dare speak up. I know you and Faultline hate each other, but we don't need a feud."



I yawned, loudly on purpose so Faultline would know I was tired and cranky. Put her on the defensive, etiquette-wise. "Better than how is why. As in, why are you calling us? And, why are you calling us at two thirty-goddamn-seven in the morning?"



"Settle down, Skitter. We don't want her dead yet," Grue admonished. Of course, he picked those words for the intimidation factor.



"Honestly, I wasn't sure what time it was. So, sorry. We just finished a job dealing with E88. Managed to take down Night and Fog. For the most part we – that is, you and us – will be going after the Nazis. Keeps the PR conflict to a minimum. But apparently the Protectorate's gonna be hitting the ABB's last big stronghold tomorrow. That is, tomorrow as in the next twenty-four hour cycle, not tomorrow as in once the sun's up." I think she could feel my incredulous stare through the aether. "Look, I'm still hopped-up on adrenaline and I probably have a concussion. Point is, they want the Undersiders with them since Skitter brought down Lung last time."



I licked my lips, throat suddenly dry. The Protectorate would have to see the full extent of my power if they expected me to fight Lung. Whatever goodwill they were extending my way was likely to evaporate the moment they figured out I could create living things.



I heard my door opening and saw Lisa standing there in her little striped pajama pants and oversized shirt. She sat down and took my hand, clearly understanding what had me nervous. "That'll be fine," she said over her own earpiece. "Let the PRT know we'll be ready, but for now we need some sleep. If we're going after their last bastion, Lung won't give it up easily."



"Thanks for the heads-up, Faultline," Grue picked up after Lisa. "We look forward to working alongside you in the future."



I took that as my cue to hang up, setting my earpiece back on the nightstand. Lisa did the same, wrapping hers in a tissue so we could tell the difference. I wasn't sure if it mattered, but ownership was still important. Lisa cuddled in beside me, and for a moment I was worried she'd pull an Emma and try to make a move. Instead she rolled over, so we were back-to-back, and spoke softly. "You're scared what the Protectorate will do. They don't know your full power yet."



"I think I have every right to be." My voice was thick. Exhaustion had combined with nervousness and my eyes were blurring with tears. I gripped the bedsheets tighter.



Lisa rolled over again and placed a comforting kiss to the back of my head. "You're a good person, Taylor. If they can't see that and try to judge you solely on what your power might do, we'll protect you." She gave me a hug and then crawled off my bed. "Try to get some sleep. We can discuss plans in the morning."



(BREAK)



What little sleep I did get was broken up as I tossed and turned: an hour here, a half-hour there, all filled with nightmares. Some were just abstract fears I couldn't remember once I woke, while others were seemingly prophetic visions of being hunted by the Protectorate, my personal hero Alexandria leading the charge.



I had begged off breakfast on account of my stomach not feeling well. It was true, but I was also just plain too nervous to get out of bed. Leaving my room would be equivalent to facing the world, and I was too afraid to do that.



Dad came in and sat beside me, having gotten everything set up for the rest of the Undersiders. "Hey kiddo," he smiled as he reached over to rub my head, "I saved you an omelette, just how you like it. How're you feeling?"



I let out a stuttering sigh. "Terrible. I'm stuck between being petrified and hating myself for being scared." I turned my head to look at him. "There's a chance – maybe even a good chance – that after tomorrow the Protectorate will be hunting me..." I let the sentence hang.



"I know," he replied. "Lisa filled us in while I made breakfast." He laid down beside me and hugged me tight. "Wanna know what I think? If they do, screw 'em." He gave me a little squeeze and I couldn't help smiling. "If they want to hurt my baby girl, then fuck them. Fuck the Protectorate and fuck Brockton Bay. We'll fake our deaths and move to Germany or something. But," he took a moment's pause, "I'm still holding out hope. The Protectorate here is already bending the rules, doing what's morally right and not what their laws say is right. If they're good people, and I'm hoping they are, they'll keep your power under their hats and the rest of the Protectorate will be none the wiser. And if not," he patted my pate, "you can take 'em."



I rolled over and returned the hug, clinging tightly to him. "Thanks, dad." Nothing more really needed to be said.



He held me for a few minutes longer before slipping out of my grip. "I need to go make sure Alec and Aisha aren't having a meat-throwing contest or some other stupidity. I know you need time alone with your thoughts, but please don't shut yourself away. We're all here for you." He kissed me on the cheek and shut the door behind him.



After he left, I sat in silence for a while. It could have been minutes or hours spent staring at a blank spot on the wall while my mind whirled. I could allow myself to hope. I deserved that much. After everything I'd suffered, the universe fucking owed me, and I was going to find some way to collect. For now, though, I needed to focus on the immediate: not the what-if of the Protectorate starting a witch hunt, but the will-happen of Lung trying to murder me.



He wouldn't underestimate me after last time, considering the damage I'd done to him. I wouldn't have time to breathe or to heave up more bugs, and therein lay the problem. My grenade bugs were fragile, needed to be in order to properly explode when they impacted something. Of course, that also meant that they were a bitch to transport. I could try airlifting them with horseflies or string silk between dragonflies like two swallows carrying a coconut but even then the issue of bug biology came in. Bugs were natural creatures. They got tired. And I couldn't very well have an armada of dragonfly-bombers hovering in the air without rest, but neither could I risk them landing and the grenade bugs (seriously, I needed somebody's help in naming these things) bursting from collateral damage.



Maybe I could have them land on a nearby roof, far enough away that there was a good enough chance the bugs wouldn't explode, and then only call them up once I sighted Lung. Even with all that, though, there was still the chance of friendly fire or other collateral damage. The grenade bugs weren't exactly shaped charges, after all; most of their goo ended up on whatever they hit, sure, but there was still spray. Bitch's dogs were the best choice, but even then I was seriously worried. The grenade bugs melted through Lung's scales so what if they did too much damage to the dogs for them to properly heal? Rachel wouldn't forgive me nor would I forgive myself. No, I needed something bigger and scarier, some sort of bug that could distract and serve as cannon fodder. Problem was, Lung's fire caused my bugs to explode when they got close. Obviously that wasn't an issue with the bomb-bugs (bob-ogs, kind of like in Mario? No, that sounded like something Über would come up with), but even the toughest bugs I could spit out wouldn't last, so they wouldn't serve as a distraction. I needed something else...



At first I thought my stomach was heaving, but I realized it was actually my goop-bladder thingy. I felt a twinge of excitement that was quickly replaced with discomfort. Just like the sensation of the stomach being tied up in knots, the bladder sent waves of pain and other bizarre sensations through my body. I groaned and leaned over the edge of the bed, too shaky to run to the bathroom. I squeezed my eyes shut as the pain reached a crescendo and something forced its way up my throat. It was thick; I could feel it stretching my neck out as I heaved, unable to gasp for air as the bulk and pressure forced my windpipe shut. My lungs burned, vision spotted with black the few times I managed to open my eyes. My fingers gripped the underside of my mattress, the artificial fibers fraying under my grasp and cutting into my fingertips. I had the feeling I might die here, on my bed, and I didn't even have the energy to panic. Finally I forced whatever it was out of my throat and drew in a desperate gasp of air, coughing and wheezing for breath. My heavy breathing eventually subsided and I became aware of an odd squishing, squirming sound. My brain reminded me that I'd just coughed up something new as it rebooted. I could feel my power reaching out again while I looked over to see what I'd made.



I screamed.



The creature was something out of a nightmare. More than a foot long, it was bloated, limbless and malformed. Its body was the slimy gray-white of uncooked oysters, bulging like someone had poured a lot of potatoes into a plastic garbage bag. That is, if the potatoes undulated and shifted places in an unnatural way. The noises I heard were from the thing writhing and its body shifting, causing the amniotic fluid around it to ripple. But the body wasn't the worst part, hard as that was to believe. The head was gray-black, like organic gunmetal, a tiny blackhead on one end of the pale tumor. Mandibles sort of like a termite's clicked lazily, a needle-thin red tongue flicking out between snaps. The tongue wriggled on its own, like an earthworm in fast-motion. Its eyes, pits like obsidian tar, stared vacantly at nothing, and I knew there was no sentience within this creature even before my power reached it. There was no instinct. This monstrosity was solely my creation and had no mind of its own whatsoever.



I couldn't help it. I vomited. And it wasn't purple this time, but actual vomit born from disgust and self-loathing. I sobbed between heaves as my stomach emptied itself. I was an abomination, an unnatural creature that probably deserved to be hunted. I cried louder, thick saliva dripping from my mouth along with the previous day's meals. I closed off my mind and shut my eyes, wanting to never again feel that...that evil thing's presence, but it didn't leave me. I had shut myself away from every other bug, yet that thing was still there. I could feel every inch of it, see through its vacant, mindless eyes. I screamed again, more puke bursting from me.



By this time dad and the Undersiders had made it to my room, which only amplified my self-loathing. They saw what I'd made, what I truly was. They had the chance to run. The monster was still dry-heaving and sobbing, lost in its own despair. They could escape before it recovered. Instead they moved closer. My father sat beside the monster, beside me, and actually hugged me, reaching to dab my mouth with a tissue. I shrieked and pushed away from him, gangly limbs flailing as I babbled incoherently. Maybe I'd been able to articulate something about my being an unholy insult to human existence, but mostly it was just nonsense gurgled through a soup of stomach acid, mucus and drool.



Dad held me tighter and the rest of them crowded around me. Good. Perhaps they were going to smother the monster. Dad was still young. He could try again; maybe luck of the draw would give him a child who wasn't an insult to nature next time.



Brian sat on my other side and embraced me. No, this wasn't right. They needed to kill me before I became as hideous and monstrous on the outside as I surely was within. Lisa rested against me from behind, then shifted over as Rachel outright hugged me. Aisha rubbed my head and Alec even took my hand, his face filled with nothing but concern.



I cried harder.



(BREAK)



I must have sobbed for an hour at least. My voice was ragged and my head felt like it was going to explode from all the screaming and crying I'd done. Finally, though, I'd bawled as much as I could. I looked around at them, utterly confused. "Why..." My voice cracked and I coughed. "Why are you still here?"



"You're family," Rachel said from behind me.



If I'd had any more tears, they'd have started flowing anew. I reached back for Rachel and returned the hug as best I could. I knew most of her story, thought I understood her pain and her fear. For her to say that was, to me at least, better than a blessing from God. Perhaps we were exactly what she'd needed: people who accepted her for who and what she was, who didn't place false expectations on her or try to force her into a role. Regardless, the fact that I'd done that for her restored my hope in myself. Perhaps I wasn't a monster.



"I don't want to make you cry again," Brian's voice was soft and soothing, "but I need to ask: did you make that thing?" I couldn't voice a reply yet, so I just nodded. "And it's what got you so upset, right?" He received another nod from me and hugged me tighter. "Lisa, maybe if you told us what it was we might feel better."



Lisa's little blonde head poked up over mine and she stared at the monstrous thing for nearly a minute. "Wow..." Her tone wasn't of horror, but one of awe. "Taylor, I know you probably don't want to hear me say this, but that thing is incredible! Part of what's scaring you is that it doesn't really have a brain, right?" I could tell she was grinning when I nodded. "Well that's because it's a living egg!"



I looked back at her and noticed that everyone except dad was giving her the same incredulous look. Dad was still just hugging me, focused on his baby girl to the exclusion of everything else.



"It has some kind of mutable DNA inside its torso," Lisa clarified. "That's why it doesn't seem suited for anything; it's not. In fact, I think it's designed to eat that purple stuff you make and use the nutrients to fuel a metamorphosis." She rested her hand on my spine, between Rachel's body and my own. "Look past the hideous thing you see on the floor, and see if you can access the possibilities inside it."



I really didn't want to. I'd been trying to keep that monstrosity as far away from my mind as possible. But they had faith in me, and I wasn't going to let them down. I focused on the creature and felt something click into place within my mind. Like a lock had been opened, I could feel the essences churning within the thing. It was amazing, beautiful in an unconventional way like particularly moving bagpipe music. I plucked genetic fragments out of the aether and began to build, like I was a kid with legos.



It needed to be powerful, yes, but speed and size were just as important. Too big and it'd just get in the way. Bitch's dogs brought the size and power, so I went with something about the size of a mastiff. I wanted to give it legs like a velociraptor for speed, but it also needed stability, and a method of gripping. Ideas spun faster in my head. Raccoons had those hand-like forelimbs, so a thinner and more maneuverable set of forelimbs with an opposable dewclaw for gripping a target. I basically had to choose between strength and fine motor skills. This creature was meant to be a weapon; I could turn my own doorknobs.



I blunted the snout, putting the teeth up front and having the rest of the skull slope away from the jaws. Added curving horns, short and stout, to help protect the head and neck. What else could I include? A random thought flew in: Alec's Dead Space game, where the monsters had those long blade-arm things coming out of their shoulders. I started with a set of vestigial wings, then turned them forward and thickened the bones. The webbed fingers pinched together into a single digit, which was then converted into a long blade of bone. This would be the primary weapon: the foreclaws and teeth would be more for holding onto a target, while the blades did the real damage. I did my best to hit a mental "Save" button so I could use this template again.



I pulled out, returning to the real world. "Okay," I rasped, "let's go to the garage."



(BREAK)



I set the squirming thing in the middle of the garage, still unable to keep from looking at it with disgust. "Brace yourselves, folks," I murmured. "This is probably gonna get gross."



I focused and began to spew violet glop onto the creature, the mess swiftly pooling around it. The thing flopped excitedly – apparently there was some instinct in there, just needing the right trigger – and planted itself face-down in the spew. Somehow it began to soak up the goo and I knew more was needed. I spit up even more, another gallon or so being sucked up. The body rounded and began to bloat, now interlaced with thick veins the same color as my spew. As I upchucked more, I resolved to ask the others for help naming some of this shit.



Soon the pulsating egg-cocoon was a good four feet around and I only had to spit every now and then for maintenance. After another minute or so, I warned everyone to brace themselves. I could feel the presence within the egg awakening.



The egg burst in a shower of purple viscera, and the first thing visible was a pair of luminous red eyes. I hadn't planned on that, but it certainly had a good intimidation factor. The dark-gray body was a combination of chitin and scales and the new creature shook itself off. I could feel instincts within it, a basic mind programmed to my liking: this was a pack animal, fast and cunning and, above all, loyal. I hoped that my efforts would prove fruitful, that I could leave it with a more complex autopilot script when I slept. It twitched its blades and uttered a gurgling growl.



"Wow," I said in a hushed voice. I couldn't stop myself from grinning. I stepped forward and ran my fingers along the length of its body, the new beast twitching with delight. I was its master, and even without my mental commands it still enjoyed my affection. This must be how Nilbog felt, being able to create companions of his own. Unlike him, however, I had no urge to replace people with these things. I hugged my creation around the neck. Not being like Nilbog didn't mean that I found no enjoyment in creating new life.



Alec was the first to speak up. "That...is fucking awesome." He took a step forward. "Is it friendly?"



I nodded. "I think so. If he starts acting up I'll take control, but he should be safe."



He stepped up and patted it on the head. It didn't mind.



After that everyone was crowding around it. Lisa darted every which way, studying the new lifeform, while Rachel evaluated it like a breeder would a dog. Dad stepped beside me and hugged me close. "This is amazing, Taylor. I'm so proud of you."



My heart swelled and I realized I was proud of myself as well. Maybe I wasn't a monster. Maybe I truly was just a girl playing the hand she'd been dealt.



"So," Aisha spoke up, having used her power to sneak up on my creation and take a seat on it like a pony, "what're you gonna call it?" The beast grunted in frustration and poked at her with the elbows of its blade-limbs, wanting her off.



I took control and bucked Aisha off of it. "He doesn't like that." Interestingly enough, despite having an almost wolflike level of intelligence, the creature took no offense at my controlling it. I guessed since I made it, it found my control natural. I tapped my chin, looking at the critter. "Well, since I based it on a dinosaur before anything else...I think I'll call it a raptor."

 

[Vherstinae]

Essence 2.06



We spent much of the afternoon playing with the raptor. Despite its rather terrifying appearance, it really did act like a housepet with us. If I hadn't specifically designed it to be a lethal weapon, I might've worried about just how effective it would be in combat. I hadn't named it yet, because there was a good chance it might die in the fight with Lung and I didn't want to get too attached.



Brutus, Judas and Angelica had been rightfully disturbed by the newcomer, spending at least a half-hour pacing around the raptor and sniffing it from all conceivable angles. When they finally concluded the weird new thing wasn't a threat, they decided to let him join in the little game of keep-away they would play with an old rope toy.



Honestly, it wasn't a fair game in the least. My raptor was noticeably faster and several times stronger, in addition to being the size of a bull mastiff, but he was a good sport and let them steal the toy just so the game could continue. Watching him bound around, wiggling his little stump of an aerodynamic, vestigial tail was a relaxing way to spend the day. We also found out that he liked hugs and would make a funny gurgling sound when you snuggled him around the neck. It was truly amazing how much of a personality the creature had when I had only really designed him as a weapon. Perhaps my sense of whimsy had come out to play as I'd put him together.



All play and no work, however, gets you immolated by a dragon (Shut up. Between "Skitter" and "raptor," I seemed to only get one cool-sounding name or phrase each month and I was tapped out). We settled down, me and Rachel on the floor resting on our respective pets, and I asked Tattletale to contact Coil. While we'd been playing and chatting my brain hadn't been idle. I had a plan.



(BREAK)



I hadn't expected Coil to have a secretary, let alone one who sounded as nonchalant as if she worked in a nail salon. She asked me to hold for Coil, so I switched on speakerphone while we waited. I was silently thankful that he didn't have elevator muzak on his idle line.



"Skitter." The man's voice, as before, was deep and full of presence. But there was also an undertone of greasiness, an unease that said he was untrustworthy. He was honorable in a way and kept his deals, but he was always looking for a way to fuck you over. "I had said that I would contact you. What prompted the Undersiders to reach out?"



I kept the raptor silent, having it take slow, shallow breaths. It wouldn't do for him to get suspicious. "We're hitting Lung tomorrow night in a joint assault with the Protectorate. I have a plan to take out both Lung and Oni Lee, but I need the Travelers' cooperation. Specifically, Trickster and Genesis."



"Interesting." He let the word hang in the air. "Are you going to share with the rest of the class?"



"You don't need to know the details, Coil," Brian spoke up. "You just need to get us in touch with the Travelers. We have the same immediate goal but we don't owe you anything."



I thought I saw Lisa twitch. Maybe I'd ask her later.



"Very well." It must have burned for a planner like Coil, being left out of the loop. He rattled off a number that would supposedly connect us to the Travelers. "I hope that it does not bear reiteration, but try not to die. Empire Eighty-Eight is waiting to pounce and we'll need all the manpower we can get if they make their big push." He hung up without another word.



We looked around at each other and shrugged. I tossed the phone to Lisa, who was the only one I figured would remember the Travelers' number since I hadn't thought to write it down, and she dialed them up.



"What is it, Coil?" I figured that was Trickster's voice.



"Not quite. This is Skitter and the Undersiders. We're taking down Lung tomorrow and we could use your help."



"...I'll need to hear more than that before we agree to anything." Smart. Then again, the Travelers were all about self-preservation, nomads who did some work and then left when the heat got to be too much.



"Well, you've seen or heard the reports about how Lung's been using Oni Lee as a human backpack, right?"



"Yeah, and they teleport away when they're cornered. Honestly, I'm confused about that. I thought Lee could only poof himself."



"That's how his powers have always worked until the war," Lisa chimed in. "Either he had a second trigger event or, being a kill-crazy bastard, he never tried."



"Either way," I reined things in before we could get too pedantic, "I have a plan to stop them from escaping. I really just need you and Genesis, but Sundancer and Ballistic would be good backup just in case. But first I need to know: can Genesis change into something fireproof and durable enough to take a few hits from Lung?"



I heard Trickster relay the question. "Yeah, she can."



I grinned and told him my plan.



(BREAK)



Next, we needed to let the PRT know what we were working on. We popped in our earpieces, dad squatting down next to me in an attempt to hear as well. I couldn't help giggling at his awkward posture, and had to steel myself before calling.



"Undersiders calling in. Can we get in touch with the Director, Armsmaster or Miss Militia?"



"One moment, Undersiders, I'll check who's available," the operator replied calmly. Either he was calm under pressure and the risk of the greater PRT getting wind of this breach of protocol didn't faze him, or he just didn't give a shit regardless. "Okay, patching you through to Armsmaster."



Not my first choice, but whatever.



"Armsmaster," he said simply. "You've put together a plan for tomorrow night?"



"We have," Brian replied. "Instead of an ambush, we'll be coming in from the northeast in a pincer attack to hedge off all means of escape by the ABB. We're bringing in the Travelers as additional firepower should E88 try to capitalize on the fight, and we also have a plan to keep Oni Lee from escaping with Lung. But to make sure it goes off without a hitch, we need Miss Militia in our group. Is that doable?"



The communicators crackled in a pregnant pause. "...I don't understand why, but apparently she trusts you enough to agree to this. She'll be at Skitter's place at 1800 tomorrow." He didn't ask for approval or even check that the time was agreeable. "I'm working on a weapon that should be able to kill an Endbringer. If you hurt her or betray us, I'm testing it out on you." He cut the transmission after that threat.



"Ominous," Alec quipped.



"So we know the plan for everybody else," Aisha said as she made herself known again, a granola bar in hand, "what about for us?"



"Pretty simple, actually," I said as the raptor yawned. "Tattletale, Regent and Grue will hang back as ranged support. Grue's primary goal will be confusing Oni Lee, while Regent's will be to get Lung off-balance and give us openings to attack. Tats, you'll be feeding us information through the earpieces. Enemy plans, structural weaknesses, anything that looks like we can take advantage of it." I looked over to Aisha. "Imp, you'll be a scout. You're not trained to fight so even that taser is an absolute last resort. Your main schtick will be to get new angles on the fight and give us info. If you're positive that you can intercept someone without putting yourself at risk, I'm trusting you to use proper judgment in taking them down."



"In other words," Brian clarified, "remember that you're my baby sister and the only real family I have left. Please don't get yourself hurt or killed."



Aisha was going to snark back at him, but his sincere expression of worry stopped her. She eventually nodded. "Okay," she said in a subdued voice. I think the seriousness of the coming fight had finally sunk in.



I nodded in approval and looked over at Rachel. "Bitch, you and I will be the front line. You hit them from the ground, I'll hit them from the air." I brought in a swarm and had them assemble into little cubes. "I figure they'll be using this warehouse as their base of operations," I pointed to the largest cube and had a firefly light up at the top. "It's big and sturdy. Now over here," I let the warehouse's firefly wink out and lit up one to the right, "this building is bad for snipers or what have you, so it should be pretty safe for me to land my bomb bugs. We'll want to try luring Lung near here so my bugs will be able to get the drop on him. I melt him, your dogs ragdoll his ass, we call it a night."



"Fuckin' A," Rachel grunted.



"Now if you'll all excuse me," I said as I stood, "I need to head out to the garage and barf up a new complement of grenade bugs." I looked over my shoulder. "By the way, somebody has to help me name the freaky shit I make."



"I volunteer!"



"No, Alec." Even my dad joined in the chorus this time.



(BREAK)



After about an hour, the purple mess was dissolving and I had a bucket full of glowing green death. The next step was to talk with everybody, one-on-one. I knew Grue was the leader and would probably be doing the same thing, but I was still the outsider – or at least I felt like it. Overall I knew so little about them. Since tomorrow night was going to be an immensely risky venture, with the best chance of somebody ending up dead since I'd joined up with the Undersiders, I wanted to learn a bit more because otherwise it might be too late. I knew that was morbid even for me; I was probably still reeling from the egg-bug fiasco.



The first person I wanted to talk with was Rachel. It was easy enough to get her alone since she preferred to be on the outskirts. My raptor and I sat down beside her. "Hey."



"Hey," she muttered back.



This was probably going to get me punched but I didn't care. I leaned over and hugged her tight. I felt her stiffen but when the blow didn't immediately come I kept going. "Thank you. What you said earlier, I think you saved me."



She just blinked in confusion.



"When you said I'm family. I felt like such a monster, an abomination. And I know you started out not liking me, so it meant even more."



Rachel shrugged, still looking confused. She probably didn't get why that mattered so much to me. "You are," she said matter-of-factly. "I don't give a fuck if you're a monster. Monsters are badass, like Crawler. You get me. Your dad gets me. I think Lisa gets me too but the bitch never shuts the fuck up." She scoffed. "Fuckin' words. The dogs are so much easier."



"It's okay," I said. "Just say what you want to. Don't worry about it being pretty."



"Fine," she huffed. "Shit. You guys, you make me feel like I'm okay. All those fuckin' foster homes, they always made me the bad guy, made me the one who needed to change. You tell me I'm okay as I am. Your dad tells me I'm okay as I am." She turned to look at me. "You put your life on the line. You're part of the pack. You're family." She couldn't help laughing. "Fuck you, y'know? Now you're just like Lisa, tryin' to get me talking." Rachel gave me a shove and I flopped back against the raptor. "Storytime's over. Go yak at somebody else."



It was pretty clear she was at the end of her patience, but I thought I saw the ghost of a smile as she chased me off.



As I ambled back to the living room, I couldn't help but wonder. First Grue opened up in the middle of the street, now Rachel was more talkative than I'd ever seen her. Was there something in the water? Actually, that'd be interesting. Maybe the PRT had a bio-tinker mess with the supply drops so people would be more apt to spill their guts. It'd be a novel way to root out gang supporters.



Alec was next, seated on the couch beside my dad, the both of them watching WWE. I rolled my eyes. I managed to catch dad's eye and wiggled my phone before dialing his number. He got the message and stood up, looking to Alec. "I need to take this. Lemme know how it turns out."



I took the spot my father had vacated. "Hey."



"Shut up," was his eloquent reply. He pointed at the screen.



I couldn't care less about two beefy actors throwing themselves around. I huffed for a moment before remembering who I was dealing with. Might as well appeal to his own brand of weird. "I was trying to do the whole 'talk with the group before the suicide mission' schtick. But if you'd rather watch these guys grope each other than unload your darkest secrets..."



"Oh eat my ass," he chuckled. "Look, I haven't told anybody much about my past, not even Brian. I figure Lisa already knows because her power is bullshit, but thankfully she's keeping quiet. If I live through this fight, I might consider telling you." He grinned at me. "Till then, fuck off and let me watch these guys grope each other."



I just rolled my eyes and mussed his hair. Well, I was 1 and 1 so far, with three more to go. I passed dad and let him know it was safe to go back to the impromptu man cave.



"So am I your next stop in Caring and Sharing Time?"



I whirled around to see Aisha grinning at me. "Ah, shit. You've been following me the whole time, huh?"



"Yep!" Aisha's grin didn't leave her face. "But there's not much to tell about me. Mom's a druggie, I got powers, I was gonna live with Brian, now I'm living with you." She stepped forward. "I'm more interested in you. Your powers are freaky as shit and I'm curious."



I rolled my eyes. She'd spy on me anyway, so I might as well tell her straight-out instead of letting her form her own conclusions. From the way she and Alec had a similar sense of humor, I figured letting Aisha put facts together would lead to a story about my dad and mutant bug lovin'.



I led her to my bedroom and sat down on the bed. "Well, do you know how I triggered?" When she shook her head, I explained. "My former best friend teamed up with a vicious psychopath to terrorize me for two years, culminating in trapping me in a locker filled with biohazard waste. After I was in a coma for a week, I woke up with powers."



Aisha's jaw hung slack. "...Okay, I think you might win on the shitty-trigger-ometer with that one. So, with your friend, I mean what the fuck?"



I couldn't help chuckling. "Turns out, she'd triggered. Had some sort of power-detecting ability. And the vicious psychopath? She was a Ward. Shadow Stalker, in fact."



"No shit," she interrupted. "Stalker always painted herself as Brian's personal nemesis. She always went with the lethal ammo when she came for the Undersiders."



"Makes sense. Anyway, with her new powers and Stalker feeding her this social-Darwinist bullshit, my friend basically went crazy and decided she needed to torture me into triggering."



"That's, yeah, that's fucked. So," she bounced from somber to jovial faster than I could properly register, "what else can you do with your powers?"



I shrugged. "You've pretty much seen the extent of it. I went bald for some reason and my body reinforced my ribcage and spine, but other than that I control bugs, hock up new inventions, and almost choke myself to death producing abominations to nature that I then turn into cool new pets."



"I was hoping you'd been holding out on us and were gonna turn into a giant killer bug to fight Lung. Oh well." Aisha shrugged and just left. I'd never understand that girl.



I stood up, stretched, and decided to find Lisa next.



After wandering the house, I found Lisa in the garage, studying my bomb-bugs. I walked up to stand beside her. "Wanna know something funny? You probably know more about these things than me." Lisa gave me a confused look and I elaborated. "I made these on instinct to protect me against Lung. I have no clue where the blueprint for them came from, and it's hard to modify them. Anything I try in my mind messes up their base function – that is, popping like a water balloon and melting things."



Lisa shrugged. "There's a lot of things about them – about you – that don't make sense. These guys aren't big, but they aren't small either. To produce as many as you do, not only must they form as they're being launched from your reservoir, but your throat has to somehow expand to allow them to fly out." She held up her fingers to indicate the size of their abdomens. "They're not much smaller around than your egg-bug thing, yet you coughed them out with barely any effort." She paced around the bucket. "Then there's the fact that when you change you vomit up gallons of your purple stuff. Is that your body purging the old and making way for a new, improved batch?" She groaned. "There are so many questions that I can't answer, and I'm not used to that."



"Let's focus on something else for the moment, then," I said to her in a serious tone. She looked up. "Our backer is Coil." I didn't phrase that as a question.



She gave a mirthless chuckle and shook her head. "Too smart for your own good, just like me. Yeah, he's our backer, and he'll kill me if anybody else knows before he's ready to reveal himself to us."



I blinked. "Well that's fucking strange. Why does he want to remain anonymous? And why would he employ someone with your power, who'd surely figure it out?" Coil made less sense the more I knew about him.



"He told me from the get-go. Long story short, he had an agent come to me with a gun in one hand and a big bag of money in the other. Work for him or die. I'm smart, but I can't somehow out-think a bullet." She sighed. "I never wanted to be a villain. I was a small-time crook, siphoning people's bank accounts until I could get myself set up. I wanted to get into stocks." She afforded herself a moment of wistfulness. "And as for why he wants to keep in the shadows, best I can figure he has his fingers in a lot of pies. He's in the government or the PRT, that's almost certain. I can't skip town without him knowing about it and he will find me. The Undersiders are some sort of experiment, a proof-of-concept or something. I don't know what he had planned, but this war was definitely not on his agenda." She looked me in the eyes and even then I had to fight the urge to hug her. Damn those freckles. "If we can somehow keep deviating from his plans, maybe we can find a way to one-up him and get out from under his thumb."



I excused myself from the conversation. I had originally planned to talk with Brian and then with my dad, but after that information dump I just needed to sit for a while and process it all. While Empire Eighty-Eight might be the most immediate and tangible threat, I got the feeling that Coil would be the greatest foe we'd face.

 

[Vherstinae]

Essence 2.07



It's weird. After my talk with Lisa, maybe I was just so flooded with stress that I came full-circle to calm, because I drifted off to sleep and had arguably the best rest I'd gotten since the war started. Of course, I was tense as an overtightened guitar string once I woke up, but small favors and all that. My raptor followed me around the house, gently nudging me and wanting me to pet it. I think it realized my stress and, good pet that it was, wanted to make me feel better. There really had to be something different in my brain chemistry, like how Rachel understood her dogs: while the others looked at the raptor as a novelty, a fascinating thing to be studied or something crazy to have fun with, I genuinely cared about it like it was a pet I'd had for a long time. It was mine, and I wanted to keep it safe, which only made the knowledge that it'd probably die fighting Lung hurt even more.



Throughout the morning we tried to keep the conversations light. I couldn't be sure if everyone else was as nervous as I was, or if they were restraining themselves for my benefit. We finally all settled down in the living room to watch the original Star Wars trilogy. I couldn't help thinking that dad had picked these movies for their underlying message. Well, not the black-and-white, good-vs-evil message, but the one about hope and determination defeating overwhelming odds.



Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end. As dad was preparing an early dinner for us, our earpieces beeped. I had a couple houseflies carry mine over and popped it in. "Skitter here. The others are getting their comms set up as we speak."



"Good. It's Miss Militia. Have Grue ready to cover my entrance and we can discuss the plan you have. I'll be on your block in about five minutes."



"Roger," I replied. "We'll get into costume." I switched off my earpiece. "Okay, for anybody who didn't get their communicator in, we need to get in costume ASAP. Miss Militia's almost here."



Brian nodded. "I'll cover her approach. Think we can use the garage again?"



"Sure. That way she can see my bomb bugs. And also..." I swallowed hard, feeling like my throat was lined with sandpaper. "...I'll have to show her the raptor."



Brian stepped closer, putting a hand on my shoulder. He didn't say anything but he lingered long enough before leaving to change.



(BREAK)



"Once we get a proper headquarters again," I told Imp, "I can weave costumes for everybody. Until then, you wear layers. Why do you even care about fashion, anyway? Your power is to go unnoticed."



"A girl likes to feel pretty," she stubbornly replied. I just shook my head, pinching the bridge of my nose through my mask.



Grue's darkness blocked out the windows and we ceased our (unnecessary, in my opinion) conversation. Miss Militia opened the door and stepped in. She regarded us all as Grue entered behind her and came over to stand with us. "Well, you all look outfitted for combat. What's the plan?"



I shouldn't have been surprised, yet I was. Miss Militia had always been the kindest of the adult capes I'd interacted with, even going so far as to act a little girlish just to help me feel comfortable. Now, she was all business. Despite the fact that it was my plan, Grue was the leader and I was still the shy girl I'd always been. He cleared his throat and began to speak.



"Before we go into detail, I need you to know that this plan hinges on violence. Are you okay with blowing off Oni Lee's kneecaps and elbows?" His query sounded more casual than I'd have phrased it. I didn't want her to think we were psychopaths. The last thing I needed was for someone to think Sophia and I had anything in common.



Miss Militia winced a little, but she was a survivor of real war. It probably wasn't due to the violence, but to Grue's phrasing. I hoped. She looked him straight in the eyes through his mask. "To stop this war and save Brockton Bay? I am." She propped her foot up on a nearby box. "Now tell me the plan."



We spent a good fifteen minutes going over what was originally a very simple plan. Now more than ever I was thankful that Miss Militia was a good guy. She added further brutality to our strategies, suggesting new formations and pointing out places on the human body to deal the most damage with the least effort, as well as the most effective points to hit if you only wanted to incapacitate someone.



Inevitably, the question "anything else?" was asked. Grue nodded to me and I swallowed again. I walked over and lifted the lid off the bucket. I hadn't secured it so my bugs could still breathe; I honestly wasn't sure if they would still be volatile after death. I saw Miss Militia's eyebrows rise as the green glow was revealed.



"This is how I beat Lung last time," I said, tilting the bucket so she could see. She made a soft noise of revulsion at the malformed, glowing insects. "I call them bomb bugs, or grenade bugs, but I'm bad with names."



"Those creatures aren't natural." She didn't say it in an accusatory manner, nor a hysterical one. It was a statement of fact, one I couldn't refute.



I took in a deep breath to steady myself. "No, they're not. I made them." Thankfully, she waited and let me explain in my own time. "Somehow I have the ability to see how bugs work and put together parts to build new things. These ones, though," I picked one up to show how swollen it was, "I made on instinct when Lung was going to kill me."



"The alkaloid that took him down?" Lisa interjected. "That's them."



I felt like I myself was a bug under Miss Militia's scrutiny. I couldn't keep the words from spilling out. "Yes, I knew when I came to see the Wards. I was terrified you'd see me as the second coming of Nilbog and lock me in the Birdcage or something just to be safe."



"How do you make them?" Her tone was flat. At the very least, being flat, it wasn't the tone of someone afraid or forming preconceptions. On the downside, it also wasn't a sympathetic voice.



I coughed into my hand and a fresh bomb bug squirmed in the purple slime. "The more I make, the more it takes out of me. When I brought down Lung, I nearly collapsed afterwards. And..." This was the moment of truth. Fear lanced through my body like needles somehow using my spine as a racetrack. "That's not all." I gestured to the inner door and the raptor stepped through. "I made him too."



"I don't see how you could have coughed that up." Was she trying to be jovial? Hoping that she'd come to understand my powers before she arrested me? Would she just blow my head off?



"I didn't, not really. I nearly choked to death making something else on instinct. It was a kind of living egg, and I 'hatched' it into him." The Undersiders had closed ranks around me. At least if I died, they'd avenge me. Or maybe the show of solidarity would keep Miss Militia's finger off her trigger.



She eyed me, as thought only she and I existed. The Undersiders didn't matter to her. I somehow knew that, even if I could take her down, she could still kill me in retribution. "...We'll discuss this more after tonight," she said, voice flat. "For now, we still need your power."



Grue, eager to give us a different threat to focus on, spoke up. "Alright then, let's move out. We need to meet the Travelers and get in position."



(BREAK)



We met the Travelers in a decently-sized house. Well, the ruins of a decently-sized house, anyway. A wall had been blown out and it was condemned, but it was stable enough. They had arrived in force: Sundancer, Ballistic and Trickster. I knew that the fourth one was Genesis by sheer virtue of her looking entirely different. This time Genesis was some sort of hybrid between a monitor lizard and a hedgehog. Deep red and roughly the size of a person, she had six limbs with vicious-looking claws and was covered in barbed spines.



"So," Trickster said, currently lounging on a charred La-Z-Boy, "think you can handle things long enough for the plan to come together?"



Bitch looked like she was ready to rise to his challenge and start an argument we definitely didn't need, so I called in my pet. The Travelers all looked with confusion at the raptor, who was balancing the bucket of explosive bugs on his back with the help of his blade-limbs. I didn't opt to explain, instead summoning a horde of dragonflies to lift the bomb-bugs out of the bucket and land on the roof for now. As we'd moved I'd gathered bugs from everywhere and had a swarm at least a million strong. Of those, a significant number could fly even without the hundred-or-so dragonflies who were now playing bug bomber.



"Okay seriously," Genesis croaked out, sounding like a cartoon frog, "what is that thing?" Her overlarge eyes, normally rotating like a chameleon's, were fixed on my raptor.



"He's one of our secret weapons," Grue muttered as he tossed the bucket aside. I allowed the raptor to stretch now that it no longer had to hold the weight. Sundancer noticeably flinched at the sight of those blades flashing in the dim light.



"Oh relax, you pussies," Regent admonished the group. "He's under control."



Reflexively, Grue slapped him upside the head. "Regent, don't antagonize our temporary allies." He turned back to Trickster. "Protectorate says we should wait somewhere on Harger until the shooting starts, so we don't get caught in the crossfire. It'll also be a good way to catch them off-guard." He flicked his hand in a 'move-out' gesture and we fell in line behind him. Miss Militia increased her stride to march alongside Grue, and the Travelers shrugged to each other before following.



The Undersiders, Miss Militia and I all had our earpieces in, and we'd synched our phones with Trickster's for quick walkie-talkie messages just in case. Once we'd set up in an overgrown lot on Harger Drive, Miss Militia announced we were in position, and we waited for her cue to strike.



Gunshots in real life aren't the pop-pop-pop you hear on TV or in movies. I'd seen a special once that explained a simple pistol shot was as loud as a jet engine, and that it was only the briefness of the sound that made it not quite as deafening. Still, a lot of gunshots at once could damage the human ear, and the noise carried far. We could hear the back-and-forth shots between the ABB and the PRT, our side supplemented by the National Guard. Finally, after at least a minute of exchanged fire, we got the go order.



Miss Militia, Bitch and I each leapt atop a monster-dog and rode off, my raptor easily keeping pace beside us. I thought I was on Judas this time as I gently guided the dog with my boots in his flanks, holding onto a spur of bone for leverage. The rest of the group came behind us, keeping their distance for safety.



I sent my swarm up and around, scouting the rooftops. I relayed an order for all of our side's snipers to briefly grab their right shoulders with their left hands, which quickly allowed me to differentiate the good guys from the bad. Enemy snipers and other assorted unpleasants waiting to get the drop on us quickly had their feet mobbed by roaches and beetles, distracting them long enough for my fliers to get in. Even houseflies, without their genetic cousins' ability to bite, could scratch and itch enough to be a problem, especially if they managed to scratch eyes. Wasps and hornets, of course, did what they were meant to and covered every inch of skin in stinging welts. In the process, I had my spiders sneak into the warehouse and prepare to drop down.



Several of the enemy staggered off their positions, falling over the rooftop edges and landing with hideous crunching sounds. I forced myself to harden my heart, ignoring the people who had probably died. There was greater danger afoot.



As if to punctuate that thought, Battery crashed through the warehouse wall, tumbling in the glass and shattered bricks. She tried to stand but it was slow going. Assault repeatedly tried to close with Lung but Oni Lee kept intercepting him with clones. I could see the fury in Assault's expression as he obliterated every copy the moment they came within reach. Lung was at least nine feet tall and bristling with scales, which was probably bad for my raptor, but the important thing was that he was outside of the warehouse. The ABB inside no longer had Lung's heat to protect them.



Horseflies and wasps swarmed the grunts while dragonflies swooped in, tails laden down with fire ants. They landed on bigger, tougher-looking soldiers and released their cargo while the spiders dropped down from the ceiling and began winding silk. Outside, Miss Militia and I leapt off the dogs and let Bitch take control.



One of the ABB fought through the pain, breaking a window and opening fire on me. Before I could even react, the raptor had leapt in front of my face to shield me from the worst blows. I screamed in despair as the bullets impacted its body, barely noticing the shots that hit my arm and shoulder. While they didn't puncture my suit, the sheer force had broken my forearm and at least dislocated my shoulder. The raptor growled and I realized the bullets hadn't hurt it. It was just mad.



Miss Militia manifested a behemoth of a weapon, some sort of light machine gun, and laid down suppressing fire into the warehouse. The grunts dropped, giving my spiders an even better angle to mummify the bastards. On the other side of the warehouse, I could see the fight clearly due to illumination from Lung's flames. Oni Lee had attempted to cut Battery's throat Assault had lost all pretense of cooperation. He was pursuing the assassin with everything he had, and the collateral damage had almost certainly killed the few grounded snipers who hadn't died from their falls. Lung, wanting to capitalize on this, went after Battery but was waylaid by Armsmaster, who boldly faced down an opponent four feet taller than him with nothing but his tech-halberd.



I had to admit: while I didn't necessarily like Armsmaster as a person, I could respect and even admire him for his skills. He expertly wielded his halberd, fighting defensively and spinning the weapon to keep Lung off-balance. He scored a few hits but they meant little to those thickening scales. Suddenly Lung's arm jerked and Armsmaster managed to hit him in the throat, causing the dragon-man to stagger back. The rest of the group had reached the fight.



"Trickster!" I pointed in Oni Lee's direction and trusted the veteran would know what to do. At my shout Miss Militia re-formed her weapon into a shotgun and took aim at Genesis.



It all happened in a matter of seconds, but the elation of my plan coming together made me see everything in slow motion. After his last teleportation, Oni Lee found his vision obscured by darkness. The moment's hesitation this caused was all Trickster needed. Lee vanished and was replaced with Genesis, with Assault coming to a screeching halt before hitting her. Lee appeared where Genesis had been, only to scream in pain as Miss Militia shot him in the knee. She clearly wasn't playing around, as the force of the blast blew off his entire lower leg. Lee collapsed, still clutching his knife, and Miss Militia's next shot turned his arm into ground beef. Then Imp appeared and jabbed him with her taser.



I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding and gasped for air. I needed to give the next order, but my mouth wouldn't work. Thankfully, Grue took the lead. "Lure Lung toward us! We can take him down!"



His voice in my ear jarred me into action and I took command of my raptor. Tattletale spoke up next. "Okay Skitter, Lung's favoring his left arm ever since Regent gave him that spasm. Hit him from the left and he's more likely to retaliate, then you can lead him back here. Bitch, get your dogs in a triangle surrounding where the raptor is right now. We'll want to keep Lung isolated. Assault, Armsmaster, we may need you to double-team him and drive him back if our bait doesn't work."



"The hell's a rap– HOLY SHIT WHAT IS THAT THING!?" Apparently Assault had just caught sight of the raptor as it charged Lung, moving at least 40 miles per hour. It slammed into Lung and drew a blade across his leg, the glinting shaft of bone carving through the scales and drawing blood. It took another two jabs at him, each one puncturing Lung's hide, then leapt away. Lung fell forward, though he was already perpetually stooped, and carved a trench out of the asphalt with one massive claw. He lunged and the raptor danced away, still faster than Lung and far more agile. His hands and feet – or rather, all four feet, considering he was pretty much a quadruped at this point – left gouges in the ground as he gave chase.



Armsmaster and Assault followed at a fair distance, in case Lung should double back. My raptor suddenly spun and slipped between his legs. He tried to scoop the raptor off the street but Regent caused his arm spasm. My raptor dodged around his claw, bladed limbs pointing up to carve deep trenches in his thighs. Lung hit the ground, chin furrowing the asphalt, before attempting to turn. My raptor danced around to remain behind him, continually stabbing him in the flanks. Something bulged in Lung's back, and I was worried that he was sprouting blades like the raptor's.



"Shit, he's growing wings!" Strangely, Tattletale's observation scared me less than the other possibility.



"I've got him," I shouted into the earpiece. My dragonflies were already airlifting the bomb bugs. Diving in kamikaze arcs, wave after wave of bomb bug impacted Lung, each erupting in a shower of fluorescent green, that lit the night as effectively as Lung's own fire.



Lung released a roar that sounded something like, "No!" His body shuddered as the green glop ate through his muscles. His front legs gave out and he groaned piteously. Scales burst further out of the undamaged parts of his body in some misguided attempt to compensate for his wounds, which refused to regenerate. Now he was some sort of spiky abomination more reminiscent of Hookwolf.



"Bitch! Now!"



She ordered her dogs forward, their mighty claws and teeth digging into his injured flesh. They wrenched him back and forth, slamming him into the ground. He tried to find purchase, flailing his enormous bladed fingers and eventually taking a chunk out of one of the dogs.



"Fuck! Pull them back!" I gathered what few bomb bugs I had left and launched one final bombing run, targeted at his remaining scales. In the aftermath, I wasn't taking chances. My raptor and I screamed in unison as I ran it up Lung's massive thigh. It leapt into the air, letting gravity and its body weight drive its blades deep into the dragon's back. I was in my raptor's mind, the two of us one. I stabbed again, carving out his wing before it could sprout further. The adrenaline pounded in my head, in both of my heads. I felt like the ultimate predator, glutting myself on the suffering of my prey. My human body stomped closer to him so that he could hear me. "You've lost, Lung! Give up now before I slice out your fucking spine!"



"Skitter, no! Get back!"



Before Tattletale could even finish her sentence, Lung threw everything he had into one final lunge. He moved fast enough to topple the raptor off of him, and I didn't even have time to dodge. His fingers, mangled and all too human, wrapped around my head while he desperately supported himself with his other three limbs. His strength was sapped enough that he couldn't crush me like a grape, but it still hurt. Panicked, I drew my knife and stabbed his arm again and again. Lung's mutant eyes, slitted and glowing purple, bored into mine through my lenses. He finally understood that he couldn't batter me to death. So he set me on fire instead.



I felt blades of pure heat piercing my skull, then stampeding down from my head to the rest of my body. The pain was so acute, so very present, that I couldn't even scream. The dogs were on him again, trying to force him to release me. Miss Militia stepped out of the warehouse, splattered with blood that definitely wasn't hers, and blasted Lung with a rocket launcher. I was enveloped in Grue's darkness, presumably in an effort to mute the heat.



I dropped to the ground all of the sudden, which was strange as Lung was still clutching my head. I impacted the street and, having fallen out of the cloud, my burns started hurting again. I saw Armsmaster standing above me, halberd in hand, threatening Lung. He'd cut the dragon's arm clean in half and was daring him to try again.



I barely managed to focus enough to bring my raptor around, standing guard between me and Lung in case he tried to spit fire again. I hated to think it, but the raptor was replaceable while I wasn't.



"Enough of this." Miss Militia walked over to stand beside Armsmaster and raised her weapon, some bizarre sort of shotgun with a boxlike magazine. She opened fire and, instead of buckshot (or her energy equivalent), shards of her energy blasted forth and carved deep into him. One more shot to center mass had Lung on his back, where Bitch immediately restrained his arms and Grue blinded him. Armsmaster stabbed Lung with his special tranquilizer.



"Alright," the hero said as he stood back up, "it's over. We need to get medical attention for Battery and Skitter–" He was cut off when a metal column burst from the ground and impacted his chest, sending him into the air.



"I wouldn't say it's over just yet," Kaiser smirked.

 

[Vherstinae]

Essence 2.08



As Armsmaster descended from Kaiser's hit, an emormous, needle-thin blade of metal rose to meet him. I tried to shut my eyes but one of my eyelids had been charred too much to close. At the last moment, Armsmaster was replaced. With a wet schluck, one of my mummified ABB soldiers was impaled on the lance. My remaining bugs caught sight of Trickster hiding on the warehouse's roof. I began to plot, though thinking was difficult through such pain. We couldn't take the fight indoors, or we'd lose our trump card. Where were the other Travelers? Had they also been hiding, waiting for this very thing to happen?



I managed to drag myself over to a wall, pushing myself into a sitting position. I had to take stock of my resources. Bugs? Not many, and certainly not enough to waylay somebody like Kaiser. Or Hookwolf. Or Menja. Or the tag team of Othala and Victor.



...And they were all here. Shit. Okay, raptor? I only had the one, but he was a tough little guy and could be helpful. Earpiece? Wasn't working. Body? Well and truly fucked. I was a glorified fleshy paperweight.



Okay, new plan. Bugs as messengers. I did my best to keep my raptor out of sight while I gathered what few fliers remained and sent them to Tattletale. I had them fly in formation. Does your earpiece work? I couldn't really understand her one-syllable reply, but it was a deeper noise. Definitely not a 'yes'. Fuck. Something was going on. I had the bugs shift between names. Kaiser. Wolf. Menja. O & V.



Kaiser didn't seem too perturbed by Armsmaster's reprieve. He stepped forward, his minions closing formation with him. Menja rapidly swelled to her full thirty feet, while Hookwolf began generating his metal.



A truly deafening gunshot rang out and Kaiser's head snapped back before he crumpled. Miss Militia stood tall, an enormous sniper rifle in her hands. I think that kind was called an anti-materiel rifle. She turned to aim at Othala next.



Kaiser sat up.



He was bleeding pretty bad, but then head wounds usually do bleed a lot. The important thing was that he wasn't dead.



Tattletale knelt beside me, having snuck around. "I think Othala gave him invulnerability. It'll be at least as hard to put him down as Lung." She winced as she looked me up and down. "I doubt you can make another storm of bomb bugs, huh? Then do you think you could make bugs who can transmit human voices? Just a handful?"



I tried to quirk an eyebrow at her and winced. Well, I could try. I saw Grue and Bitch walking up to stand in formation with Assault. Genesis slithered out from somewhere and reared up on her four hind legs, flexing her foreclaws. God damn it. We didn't have the manpower to deal with this. Othala had probably given Victor super strength, which meant we'd be dealing with a skinhead Bruce Lee who could benchpress cars. Combine that with Hookwolf, the behemoth Menja, and a super-durable Kaiser...we were fucked.



Armsmaster staggered out of the warehouse, his armor dented from Kaiser's first attack. With a flick of his hand, his halberd rematerialized in his grip. "Come in," I heard him say under his breath. "Dauntless, Velocity, Director Piggot, come in!"



One of the new bugs I'd just managed to cough up floated beside his head. Vents in its sides opened and closed, producing a robotic-sounding voice as I relayed Tattletale's words. "It won't work. There's some sort of jammer active at HQ. Can you rig up some sort of local relay so we can try to communicate from here?"



He nodded. "Yes, but I won't be able to join the fight while I work."



"Getting the word out is more important right now. If the Nazis win and we can't tell the world what really happened, then this could turn into the United Reich of America!"



"Right. I'll get on it. Good luck." Armsmaster ducked back into the relative safety of the warehouse.



I gritted my teeth. Now we were down one of our heaviest hitters and we were up against some of the most powerful and vicious capes in the Bay.



Hookwolf and Victor charged, and Regent made them trip into each other. Victor's enhanced strength made him bowl over Wolf, while the Changer's metal blades bit into Victor's flesh. They tumbled and righted themselves just in time to dive aside as the enormous metal spike, still stained with the blood of the ABB grunt, sliced through the street like a buzzsaw. I looked over to see Ballistic had punched it. Assault closed the distance and punted Hookwolf, sending him sailing. He then barely managed to dodge Menja's spear as she jabbed at him.



Grue blinded Menja while Bitch ordered two of her dogs forward. The injured one, Angelica – I was getting better at recognizing them even while transformed – hung back to guard her. The dogs tackled Menja's legs and bowled her over, while Genesis slithered in so the blonde would land on her spines. The dogs were swiftly impaled by a forest of metal as Kaiser stalked forward.



I had my raptor leap out of the shadows to attack Kaiser. He rolled at the last second and summoned up a flat metal plate to protect him, but the raptor's blade tore through that shield and left a nasty gash in the Nazi leader's side. He retorted with another cluster of blades, which my creature easily leaped away from. It was far faster and more agile than Bitch's dogs, and had the added advantage of my eyes telling it where to dodge.



I heard an agonizing crack and saw Tattletale go down. Victor had punched her in the gut hard enough to knock her unconscious with a single hit. He then loomed over me. "Skitter," he growled. "Good to finally meet you." He stooped down and wrapped his hands around my throat, ready to wring my neck.



Another deafening gunshot and I was splattered with hot viscera. Victor fell on top of me, his head blown apart. Miss Militia kicked the corpse off of me and stalked past, eyes harder than I'd ever seen. This was a woman who didn't like killing, didn't want to kill, but would not hesitate to pull the trigger to save others. I was simultaneously awed and terrified. She switched to that bizarre shotgun again and planted a blast in Menja's center mass as the giantess attempted to stand. The blonde fell back and shattered the lemongrass spikes of Kaiser's blades, squashing more ABB soldiers. Huh, I guessed Trickster must have swapped out Bitch's dogs when I wasn't looking.



Kaiser stomped forward, absolutely livid. Metal bristled from every solid surface as he attempted to hedge us in. My raptor tore through most of the spikes surrounding it until it was pinned down from behind and held immobile. Menja broke off the original column that had launched Armsmaster and swatted Miss Militia like a baseball while Hookwolf had managed to pounce Assault and was doing his best to keep the kinetic manipulator from shaking him off.



I could feel Sundancer on a nearby rooftop, still not doing anything. I sent one of my new voicebugs to her. "Sundancer, you have to do something. You need to help!"



"I-I can't," she muttered. "I don't want to kill people..."



"Either you fight to save your friends or Empire will kill them and then kill you. They'll make it slow and painful." She didn't move. I focused, trying to send my actual voice through the bug, the agonized voice of a scared, hurting girl. "Please! Help us!"



Sundancer took a deep breath and held her hands out in front of her like she was cupping a beach ball. Slowly a bright red-orange sphere materialized, growing larger and larger. It descended from the roof and I saw nearby concrete blackening. The metal began to melt. The...the sun she had created drifted toward Kaiser.



I sent my mind into all of my voicebugs, trying to amplify my voice enough. "Surrender or we turn you to ash!"



I saw Menja gesture at Sundancer on the roof and my mouth went dry. A lance of metal pierced the blonde's abdomen and she collapsed onto the glinting shaft, either dead or in shock. The sun winked out.



Oh god, we were dead. Grue couldn't fight them off, Regent was just the north side of useless, and my raptor was captured. There was nothing we could do, nothing I could do. I was trapped in a broken, useless body and I had no bugs worth using. I...



I could feel it. Roiling in the sewers, the residue from my vomiting. My mind fully left my body and I became a nebulous cloud in the darkness. I pulled on the ethereal threads and the goop began to surge together, swimming through the stagnant waters. I grabbed and twisted, psychic hands molding the slime into a familiar shape. I kneaded and pressed, forming the limbless body and tiny, hideous head. I opened its mouth and forced the...goo, biomass, whatever...into it. I needed something big, powerful and durable. The egg swelled bigger and bigger, far exceeding my raptor until it was as large as a minivan. I had let my instincts guide its construction and launched it forward as soon as it hatched.



Seconds later, the ground beneath Kaiser exploded. He was hurled into the air by an enormous, glossy black shape, gossamer wings blurring as it carried higher and higher. I turned and flung Kaiser back down, knocking Menja flat. The creature dove, shattering the metal spikes, and tackled Hookwolf. Now that my raptor was free I sent it after Menja. It leapt onto her back and stabbed her again and again, the death of a thousand cuts. She slapped it off of her with enough force that impact with a building knocked it unconscious.



Assault staggered to his feet and rushed Menja, focusing all of the kinetic energy he'd gathered into one strike. The punch caused her shin bone to shatter, the bone erupting through her skin. She hit the ground with a booming scream.



Kaiser staggered to his feet, blinking owlishly. I guessed that he was concussed. He looked ready to retaliate when he was laid flat by an explosion. I looked over to see Miss Militia, lying in a pile of broken brick, holding a rocket launcher. She let her arm drop, exhausted from the fight.



My earpiece crackled to life. "–eat, this is Armsmaster of the Brockton Bay Protectorate, on all frequencies! Empire Eighty-Eight has launched an all-out assault on the people of this city! Anyone who can hear this, get word to the National Guard and the Triumvirate! We need backup!"



Another voice came through. "Dauntless reporting in! We're dealing with Purity, Fenja and Rune! Velocity's doubled back to support PRT headquarters, which is under assault by Stormtiger and Cricket! If anybody with New Wave can hear this, supplement Armsmaster's group and HQ! We can't let them win!"



Hookwolf wrestled with my creation, starting to gain purchase. He drove metal anchors into the ground, securing himself and pushing back. Assault almost casually walked up to him and punched him in the head, knocking the scarred savage unconscious. Metal sloughed off Hookwolf's body, dematerializing as it left his skin, and my bug dropped him. Armsmaster walked outside to stand beside my new giant bug, facing down the sitting Menja. He lifted his halberd. "I sliced off Lung's arm with this. His will grow back. Will yours?"



She eyed him before shrinking back down, admitting defeat.



Out of the corner of my perception I finally spied Othala, who'd managed to sneak around the battlefield. She touched Kaiser. If PHO was correct she could only give one person a single power, so I really hoped she hadn't just had a second trigger and was giving him laser eyes or something. He coughed up a little blood and began to float off the ground.



"No, damn it!" I shouted through my bugs because my throat was too ragged to speak. Grue and Regent both tried to waylay him and Armsmaster opened fire, but Kaiser erected thick plates behind him to cover his escape. I launched my creature after him but it wasn't the fastest and Kaiser's new flight speed combined with a head start meant that there was no chance of catching him.



The Tinker grunted and kicked the wall. He tapped his earpiece. "...This is Armsmaster. Kaiser has escaped but we've captured Hookwolf, Menja, Othala, Lung and Oni Lee. We need priority-one medical care for several parahumans."



Piggot's voice crackled through the communicators, filled with static. "D****tor ***got here. We've rep***** the incursion. Fewer deaths **** expect**. Cu***ntly searching for the jammer, but we're ***sting the signal for now. Sending Pa****a your way. Everyone meet at the Rig for ****ief. Everyone. Piggot ***."



Armsmaster walked over and stooped beside me. He checked Tattletale's pulse before looking to me. "Are you alright?"



I could only nod.



He looked away. "I'm sorry, by the way. For taking your credit. I thought I was doing the right thing." He rubbed his fingers together. "I'm not good at talking to people. It's something I don't want getting out. A dear friend convinced me to apologize. But you need to know, I didn't do it to hurt you."



I didn't get the chance to reply. Before I could bring a voicebug over, he'd already stood and walked to the center of the battlefield, standing guard over the fallen villains. Assault held Battery tightly to him, trying not to cry. Trickster had teleported Sundancer off the spike and he and Ballistic were trying to bandage her gaping wound. Grue, Regent and Imp came over to tend to Tattletale while Bitch just sat with her dogs, who had shrunken back to normal size and were seemingly unharmed. The world swam around me and I struggled to keep awake.



(BREAK)



A few minutes later (at least from my perspective; it could have been significantly less or more), New Wave showed up. Lady Photon was in the lead, tiara shining in the night, looking almost as though she were running interference for her nieces. Glory Girl flew in, carrying Panacea. I'd seen them on the news before, and the girls were different as night and day. Glory Girl was tall and built like a Victoria's Secret model, all blonde hair and lush curves and beautiful face. She pissed off so many girls at Winslow, who were envious that Glory Girl had power and looks. Panacea, on the other hand, was small and meek: short brown hair, dark eyes, and a thoroughly average body. She was pretty enough, but even Lisa was noticeably more attractive than her.



Glory Girl gave a very un-heroic screech when she saw my creation standing guard. "What is that thing!?"



"Stand down," Armsmaster said wearily. "It's on our side." He looked to Panacea, finally holstering his halberd now that the cavalry had arrived. "Thank you for coming. We eked out a win but not without cost. Sundancer of the Travelers is probably in the most immediate danger, with Skitter a close second, then Battery and Miss Militia. Tattletale is unconscious and may need care, and if you're willing I'd like you to give the rest of us a checkup and make sure we're not contaminated in any way. We had some...strange firepower being thrown around."



Panacea said nothing and almost robotically walked over to Sundancer. She placed her hand on the flesh around the blonde's gaping wound and I could see the hole closing. Glory Girl, meanwhile, approached my new beast as if to prove to herself it was real. Once she got within about fifty feet, the giant's entire behavior changed. It released a buzzing hiss and slammed its pincers into the ground, taking an aggressive stance. I seized control before it attacked her outright. Everyone present had turned to see the commotion and I brought a voicebug over. "He doesn't like you." I reached into its mind and felt the cause of its distress. Somehow, Glory Girl was producing a...psychic aura of sorts that it felt was a threat to the...alpha? The queen? I couldn't properly phrase it, but whatever the right term was, it instinctively knew me as its leader and took the teen's presence as a threat. "Your aura makes him upset."



She looked around for the source of the voice before her eyes settled on the comparatively little voicebug. "What the hell are you?"



"A voicebox for the human matchstick to your left," I replied. She looked over and saw the charred lump of flesh that was my body.



"Jesus," she muttered. "What happened to you?"



"Lung happened. Overall, though, I think I gave better than I got." By this point Lung's body had shrunk back down to normal and he looked like those images you see of men who've been attacked with acid. His flesh was twisted and emaciated, one arm entirely missing.



"Jesus," Glory Girl repeated.



I had my newest creation crawl over to where my raptor had fallen. "Can you check if the little guy over there is breathing? I really hope he didn't get hurt."



To her credit, Glory Girl actually did walk over and actually reached down to check its pulse. When she couldn't find out where to touch it, she settled for listening and checking for hot breath. "...I'm sorry. I think it's dead."



Despite the pain, I choked out a little sob from my actual mouth.



"Was...was it your pet?"



"He was so sweet. He was willing to die to protect me. I knew he might, but it still hurts..."



She hovered over to land next to me. "I'm sorry for your loss." While she was doing a piss-poor job of hiding her disgust at my injuries, the fact that she was making an effort made a difference for me.



She stepped back as Panacea came over. The girl looked me up and down with dead eyes. Panacea looked so broken, so resigned to whatever fate came her way. "Do I have your permission to heal you?"



She was good, I'd give her that. She did an excellent job of faking friendliness, or rather faking any sort of emotion. Were she a real doctor, she'd probably have amazing bedside manner. Unfortunately for her, I was an expert at faking those same emotions and I saw through her. I brought a voicebug to land on my shoulder and focused on manifesting my real voice. "You don't have to."



She blinked. "You mean you're a regenerator?"



"No. I'm just saying, you don't have to. I'll survive. If you don't want to do this, if you're tired of it all, then don't bother with me." I met her gaze with my one good eye. I could see she was about to sputter a protest. "You're hurting. I know. I've faked the same emotions. Whatever's hurting you, you can't just shrug it off and pretend it doesn't exist. I tried and almost got murdered because of it." Glory Girl stared at us both in utter disbelief. "Just because you have a power doesn't mean you're obligated to use it."



Panacea looked completely stunned. Had nobody else really noticed this? "I am obligated to. I can save so many people. If I just stopped, I'd feel like such a horrible person."



"But there's never enough hours in the day," Glory Girl continued Panacea's thought, as though summarizing an oft-stated argument.



What would I have said to myself back then? Get Sophia with a taser and break her fucking neck, then pin it on E88. Okay, not useful. What would I have said to myself, back then, if I'd had this girl's problems?



"You're seeing the forest but not the trees."



The sisters both looked at me.



"You're seeing the big picture, how many people are hurt and dying around the world, how many people just here in Brockton Bay, and it feels pointless. But you're not looking at the individual lives you're saving, the difference even a single life can mean to people." I lifted my less-injured left arm. "Hi. I'm Taylor. I was bullied mercilessly by a truly evil person simply for the crime of existing, got powers after nearly dying, and decided to be a hero. Then the war happened. I came here to fight because I couldn't bear to not do something when I had the power. Just like you can't bear not to help with your power. But I don't have the power to protect the entire city, and neither do you. What I can do, however, is promise to do my best to help others. Not because it's a duty, not because it's an obligation that comes with my powers, but because it's the right thing to do." My voicebug fell over dead from too much vibrating. I brought in a new one, which shoved the corpse off my shoulder.



I let it get itself ready, then continued. "You can't save everyone. That shouldn't be your goal. Bad things will always happen. You can do your best to help, but people need to realize you're still human. You can only do so much. You're a person in and of yourself, and you deserve happiness too."



Panacea just stared into my eye for an indeterminate length of time. I really hoped I'd said that right. My speech had rambled and hadn't been as coherent as I'd wanted it to be, but I thought I finished with what I really wanted to say. Finally, she reached out and touched my charred arm. "Oh...oh wow..."



She seemed to get lost in a little dreamland, so I spoke up. Well, my bug did. "What is it?"



"This...is new. My power lets me understand how living biology works. All I have to do is touch you. That's how I know that Sundancer's body absorbs heat energy and uses it to more easily spawn the next sun, which renders her completely fireproof. But you? You're a mystery. I can see what you are – well, kind of what you are – but your biology is full of possibilities. Things that are like the rabbit hole to Wonderland. I just got lost following a single potential trail." She flushed, embarrassed. "I'm sorry. This is just entirely new to me. Look, I don't know how any changes I make will work. I could turn you into a lizard or end up with your brain calcifying. So I'm just going to accelerate your natural regeneration and let your body determine its own course."



She kept her hand on me and I felt my body shifting under her touch. I felt the urge to vomit, my goop bladder – no, reservoir, that's what Lisa had called it – roiling. But instead of upchucking, all of that slime absorbed into my body, being converted directly into fuel for my healing. My eye healed and my vision sharpened. I guessed that I'd no longer need my glasses. My scalp regrew skin and I felt more sprouting from it. I was getting back my hair! I felt my muscles tensing and hardening, and my skin growing tougher. I'd be more difficult to put down next time.



Finally Panacea removed her hand, her expression blank. Glory Girl, on the other hand, was a mixture of awe and utter revulsion. "What. The. Fuck!?"



Again, the brunette had turned robot. She stood and walked over to Battery. I looked to Glory Girl. "Um, do you have a mirror?"



She grabbed a particularly shiny shard of Kaiser's metal and held it up to me. I went pale.



The eyes that looked back at me were not my own. My eyes were brown, hazel in some lights. They were now a luminous yellow-orange. What spilled down my shoulders and back was not hair in the normal sense. It was as though someone had taken a hair zoom-in from a shampoo commercial and placed that on my scalp. Hundreds of thick, cool-to-the-touch dreadlocks of...keratin? Chitin? I didn't know. They moved like dreadlocks or braids, rather than the disturbing angular movements of insectoid limbs, and for that I was thankful. I looked down at my exposed arm, rotating it. My muscles were even more pronounced, now the physique of a gymnast or an athlete. But there was something off about my skin. I pressed a finger against my bicep and felt a bizarre sensation. It was as though there was a miniature honeycomb under my skin, providing additional padding and shock absorption. My eyes focused on the fingertip. My nails were now thick, black and sharp. Like claws. I flexed my toes and the scratching I felt confirmed that all twenty nails were alike in that regard.



The blonde was lost for words. Glory Girl stammered for something to say. "I, um..." She looked around a little, then just gave up. "Armsmaster!"



(BREAK)



Armsmaster hadn't said anything as he looked me over. Instead, he assigned a newly healed Battery and Assault to escort me back to the Rig while he contacted my father. I didn't know what exactly was going on, but whatever it was had Armsmaster curious and a little shaken. The Protectorate's leader assured me I'd meet up with the Undersiders at the Rig later for the full debrief, which made me a but less uncomfortable about going alone. I had my new creation follow me there, and really everywhere, mostly because I didn't know its instincts well enough to leave it alone.



On the plus side, the ride back to the Rig allowed me to study the behemoth I'd created. It was huge, easily the dimensions of a mid-size sedan if not larger, carapace colored black with glossy hints of deep blue. Its legs were thick and sturdy, ending in claws reminiscent of my raptor's back feet. It had the beetle plating that opened to expose four massive wings, which beat quickly enough to achieve lift. Its head, however, was the most impressive. Jutting forward from each side of its thorax was an enormous scythe of bone, moveable enough to block some attacks or serve as pincers. A third blade protruded from the armor protecting the top of its head. While last time I had used a dinosaur as the template, this time I had apparently used a supersized beetle. The huge blades reminded me of the mandibles of the hercules beetle. I decided to name this one. Something bigger and stronger than Hercules... I couldn't remember the Greek name for the Hundred-Handed Ones, nor any of their proper names, so I went with the titan who held the world: Atlas.



(BREAK)



If I had any questions about why we'd been moving so slowly on our way to the Rig, they were all answered when I saw my father waiting for him. The heroes let me run to hug him and, while he returned the hug, dad also looked at me with disbelief. Before I could explain things to him, a thoroughly average and forgettable man approached us. "Skitter, Mr. Hebert, I am Deputy Director Renick. Please follow me. Before the general debrief, we have to discuss some things with you."



"Um," I spoke up before I could really form a thought. "...Could we have Miss Militia with us for this meeting?"



He shook his head but his expression was sympathetic. "I'm sorry, but she'll be having a meeting of her own. While I don't personally have a problem, she did kill a cape who didn't have a kill order on his head. Protocol demands that we give her a private debrief and assess the circumstances. Of course, with everything else that's been going on, I'd say it's really a formality." Renick led us to a small, metal-plated room with a little aluminum table. I bristled and he understood why. "I'm sorry for the room. Again, this is just protocol. This is not an interrogation, nor are you under arrest. Um," he took on the expression that many adults got when they wracked their brains to relate to today's young people, "can I get you anything? A Coke or something?"



"Okay," I squeaked.



"I'll take one too," my dad said, "since I figure you don't have beer on hand."



Renick called it in and invited us to sit. "Now, for this interview, do you mind if I call you Taylor?" I shrugged and he continued. "Taylor, have you ever seen this before?" He passed over a square piece of paper with an image on it, sort of like a gothic C or a sideways Omega symbol.



I thought for a moment. "Yeah, I have. I saw it on Newter, one of Faultline's crew."



"Anywhere else? On your own body, perhaps?"



"Wait a minute," dad interjected, "what is this?"



"To be frank, Mr. Hebert, we're not certain yet. Taylor, have you experienced any bouts of memory loss?"



"I don't think so. I was comatose for a week, though."



Renick nodded to himself. "And you can remember your childhood?" I nodded, and he looked pensive. "Are either of you familiar with the term 'Case-53'?"



"The so-called monstrous capes, right?" I asked. "The ones who don't look quite human?"



"Correct. Normally, powers do not affect physical appearance. There are very few documented exceptions to this in typical circumstances – Crawler and the Siberian are the most obvious, but Narwhal and Big Rig, a Tinker working with the Toybox, both increased in height after their trigger events." Renick put the picture back into his pocket. "Case-53s are the exception to the rule. To date, every single Case-53 is found without memories – most times complete wipe of personal memories yet understanding at least one language and a typical variety of skills – but some have early childhood memories or smatterings of memory from different points in their lives. Also, every single Case-53 is noticeably abnormal. This can be as little as different eye color or as noticeable as Newter or Gregor the Snail."



I ran a clawed hand through my new 'hair'. "And you're thinking that, because of this..."



"We are. Our working theory was that, for whatever reason, whoever or whatever creates the Case-53s affected you during your coma."



I couldn't help tensing. "My powers can't be natural?"



"They can be, I admit, but it is a significantly lesser possibility. More importantly, we offer therapy and education options for Case-53 parahumans."



"But only if they join the Wards," I finished the thought for him.



Renick did his best not to lose steam. "Normally, yes. However, you have fought to do the right thing with absolutely no reward. While we can't offer you a position in Arcadia's home-study program, we can put you in touch with a highly acclaimed parahuman therapist and see if we can get her to reduce her rates."



"You people are really bending over backward for Taylor, aren't you? That desperate to get her on your side?" Dad was looking for the catch.



"I won't deny that we would love to have someone with Taylor's level of power in the Protectorate." Renick turned to look at me. "But you made a serious impression on the higher-ups, including me once I read the reports. We're doing this not for Skitter, but for Taylor."



I turned to look at my dad. "I...I won't really have a normal life no matter what, looking like this..." My gaze shifted back to Renick. "Can we think about it and get back to you?"



"Of course," he smiled at us. "But don't leave just yet. We're holding the debrief in Auditorium B. I'll get someone to escort you."



We exited the 'interview' room and followed a PRT officer down a long hallway. Dad looked over to me. "Taylor, what happened out there?"



I winced. "You'll find out soon, dad."

 

[Vherstinae]

Interlude 2.z



Director Emily Piggot sighed to herself. Speeches weren't her thing, but someone needed to pass around the attaboys and the ones to traditionally do it were in the audience. Besides, ordinary humans had fought just as hard as the capes in defending PRT headquarters. It would be unfair to them to let someone like Armsmaster congratulate his team and conveniently forget to mention the non-parahuman lives lost. With that in mind, she stepped up to the podium.



"I don't have a speech prepared," she said, looking around the room. PRT uniforms and multicolored costumes blended together, and near the middle was a single man in casual dress, Danny Hebert. Honestly, seeing the PRT and capes together was heartening to her. It helped remind her that people were still people. Yes, parahumans were unpredictable and dangerous, but if she treated them all as abominations, how was she any better than Kaiser and his ilk? That didn't mean she had to like capes, but having something against which to compare helped her keep perspective.



She took another heavy breath, the sound echoing through the speakers. "I didn't have a chance to prepare one. I was in the hallways, trading shots with Empire Eighty-Eight." There were murmurs of confusion from the capes. "I know I'm not in any sort of fighting shape. Haven't been since the Nilbog Incident. But I couldn't live with myself if I cowered in my office while the men and women under my command died in my place." She smiled to herself, gaining steam and figuring out where to take the speech. "That's what tonight was about: the indomitability of the human spirit and the triumph of good over evil. Kaiser thought that we would be easy prey, tired and vulnerable. He thought that parahuman power could overwhelm the ordinary people, force us to bow, just as he thought Aryans could do to the rest of the world. On both counts, he was wrong."



Piggot straightened up, squaring her shoulders and raising her voice. "You could all have run away, declaring this to not be your fight. You could have escaped and left the city to its fate." She took the time to rest her gaze on each of the Undersiders. "Instead you chose to stand for what's right, and you proved the strength of the human spirit. We won tonight because each and every one of you stood your ground to protect others, rather than caring only for yourself. I would especially like to thank the men and women of the PRT. You faced opponents with abilities you could only imagine, unafraid to give your lives to defend the lives of the innocent and helpless. Some of your number did just that, and their sacrifice will not be forgotten.



"Now, to the actual debriefing. Tonight was arguably the most significant and decisive victory the Brockton Bay Protectorate has ever achieved. We successfully apprehended nine dangerous parahumans and have outright crippled the two most powerful gang presences in Brockton Bay. For once, we will no longer be fighting an uphill battle. But we must not let this victory make us complacent, because we will be facing future tests. And while this is a happy night, we've also suffered our own losses. Seventeen members of the PRT died in defense of headquarters, and nineteen more were injured. We will be erecting a memorial for their loss and in commemoration of our achievement.



"Finally, I would like to extend thanks to the parahumans who chose to fight for the city even though they were under no obligation. First, to the mercenary organization known colloquially as Faultline's Crew: Faultline, Newter, Gregor the Snail, Labyrinth and Spitfire. Your defense of others went above and beyond the terms of your contract and for that you have our thanks. Second, to the rogue group known as the Undersiders: Grue, Tattletale, Hellhound–" Piggot heard a scoffing snort. "Regent and Skitter. You have been helping to protect Brockton Bay for more than two weeks. I would like to welcome all of you to the Rig, and to let you know that while you're here, you can consider yourselves to have temporary amnesty. Feel free to make use of the cafeteria or the bunks."



Piggot did her best to step down from the podium without wheezing. Her body was suffering the effects of her willingness to fight. She kept her composure until she was offstage and out of view, at which point two PRT officers helped walk her to her office. She settled in at her desk and started writing the report she'd submit to the Chief Director. Fuck you, Becky, Piggot smirked to herself as she shamelessly included her hiring of Faultline and recruitment of the Undersiders.



(BREAK)



Prejudiced against capes. Wants to focus accolades on PRT rather than Protectorate. Genuinely thankful to us. Reason? Our willingness to fight on behalf of others? Tattletale had barely listened to the speech, instead focusing on the nebulous aspects of the PRT director's attitude. Called us rogue group rather than villains, openly admitted to hiring Faultline's Crew. Middle-finger to national Protectorate for refusing to help. Outside capes reinforced bigotry, local capes challenged it. Shifting us-vs-them mindset. Exploitable?



The blonde looked around for Skitter. While she was in the corner with the rest of the Undersiders – a voluntary positioning since Bitch wanted to stick with her dogs and avoid other people – Skitter had been shuffled off by herself. Tattletale managed to spot Danny's head bobbing above most of the crowd. And those strange dreadlocks beside him, yes, that was Taylor's new hair.



This is all thanks to them, she thought with a smile. If it hadn't been for Taylor's moral compass, they might not be here right now. More likely, the Undersiders would have taken cover and Kaiser would be hanging swastika flags on the Rig.



Taylor never ceased to tug at Lisa's heartstrings. The girl had serious denial issues with her power, even now. She continually teetered on the brink of suicidal tendencies whenever she was forced to recognize what was happening to her body. Taylor was a survivor above all else, even if she hadn't survived for herself. If not for her dedication to family, reluctance to cause her father any pain, she would likely have taken her own life long ago. She was an expert at pushing down negative emotions, sometimes convincing even herself that her pain didn't exist.



She can't deny these most recent changes. Tattletale couldn't get a good enough look at Skitter through the crowd to assess the newest alterations, but Imp had given her a decent description. It was worrisome to say the least; if Taylor couldn't make herself ignore her changes, she might fall into self-loathing or worse. More interesting than the physical, at least to Tattletale, was the mental. The speech Skitter had given to Panacea sounded like a cut-price version of one of Lisa's own speeches, picking out individual quirks and driving to the heart of weaknesses. The difference was that, while Tattletale used her speeches more like Hannibal Lecter (that is, to torment and weaken), Skitter seemed geared to uplift.



Maybe that's more because of her family, though. Lisa had, of course, seen the photos of Annette around the Hebert household. She'd always had a kind, gentle smile in those pictures and looked like the sort of person who could make everything better with a hug. That kind of automatic acceptance had been passed on to Taylor and amplified to superhuman levels by her powers. I don't think she even realizes she's doing it, Tattletale thought. Skitter had done everything right to get Bitch to trust her, but none of it ever registered as having been planned. From establishing dominance and then immediately asserting pack unity – appealing to the canine aspect of Bitch's brain – to simply accepting her as she was and not trying to force her to change – appealing to Rachel's human heart – Taylor had probably become Bitch's closest friend entirely by accident. Of course, with Bitch, the term 'friend' had to be used rather loosely. Danny had made just as much of a difference, following Taylor's lead and accepting the girl with no strings attached. An adult not trying to change her must have seemed like bullshit to Rachel at first, but neither Hebert had ever shown an ulterior motive. Funny how Skitter's better at manipulating people without even meaning to than most people are when trying their hardest. To be honest with herself, Tattletale had to admit that she too had been caught in Taylor's unintentional web. It was funny how the girl was so genuine to everyone except herself. Her desperation for friendship and acceptance caused her to wear her heart on her sleeve and it was difficult not to care for her.



Even if Lisa hadn't come to care for the gawky girl, she still would have gone out of her way to be Taylor's friend for the sole reason that the girl was powerful and had the potential to become even more so. Without people to help ground her and remind her that not everyone was out to hurt or take advantage of her, Taylor could easily become another Nilbog as the former brunette so feared she might. After all, Mannequin had been a good man driven to madness and now he was one of the parahuman community's bogeymen. And his power was nowhere near as potentially destructive as Skitter's.



Skitter was... Skitter was standing right in front of her, wearing a little generic domino mask since her own mask – and much of her costume – had been destroyed by Lung's fire. "C'mon, guys," the lanky girl said with a smile that didn't reach her eyes, "let's go home. We have a lot to discuss."



(BREAK)



With the crisis averted, Thomas Calvert was finally able to clock out for the night, exiting the PRT headquarters and driving home. At least, that's what people expected. While his destination was in the general area of his home, it was much more significant to him.



As he drove, he considered how much danger had been averted and what that meant for his plans. The PRT was stronger than ever which, while preferable to a Nazi-controlled Bay, was still bad for him. Greater stability meant that it would be more difficult to insinuate himself and his catspaws into positions of power, and only so much could be done by manipulating events from the outside.



Were Calvert more whimsical, he might have likened himself to Batman as he drove his car through the secret entrance to his headquarters. The abandoned warehouse was owned by a shell company, so he would never have to worry about relocating. One of the thick slabs of concrete floor rose up and revealed a ramp, which wound through its own reinforced tunnel before leading to the rear of his sanctum. The room was little more than a small garage with a wardrobe for switching the clothes of his civilian identity with the uniform of his villain alter-ego. He quickly got changed into his costume with a speed that came from rote. Now firmly ensconced in his Coil persona, he picked up his phone. "Trickster, you and the Travelers take time to rest. I need to check with my advisor before we debrief and discuss further plans."



A false wall panel slid open and Coil stepped into his office. He pushed the intercom. "Penschotte, make sure our little guest is ready for a visit. I need to discuss tonight's events."



Coil steepled his fingers, slipping into his own thoughts. The alternative timeline where he forbade the Undersiders from intervening had resulted in them pulling away, resulting in an even greater net loss with the Undersiders and Skitter directly opposed to him. Skitter in particular was a problem. The girl was powerful, incredibly so if Miss Militia's debriefing was accurate, and she was therefore infinitely preferable as an asset than as an enemy. But she was a bad influence on his little group of villains, providing a moral compass. Official reports were now even referring to them as rogues!



Perhaps, though, he could leverage this. If he couldn't slink in as easily as he had originally planned, then he could focus on destabilization from a different angle. Kaiser had been pushed to the brink because another group of villains had proven they could enforce order in the city better than E88 could, and without the ethnic cleansing that an Empire-controlled Bay would entail. What if Coil were to make the same gambit? Turn the Undersiders into an independent hero team like New Wave and leverage their influence and public goodwill to create friction with the established order. The old guard would fight back, losing public support due to malicious politicking rather than focusing on the greater good. Then Thomas Calvert could arrive, offering a happy compromise between the PRT and the Undersiders.



The plan was sound. Now he just had to check if it had a good chance of working. As if on cue, his door slid open to reveal little Dinah Alcott and her handler. Coil grinned beneath his helmet. "Hello, pet."



(BREAK)



Amy Dallon had done her best to keep her emotions hidden away. She had healed the other heroes, not saying anything more than the requisite, "Do I have your permission to heal you?" She had kept herself robotic, doing such a good job of shutting off her emotions that she barely felt the visceral thrill of Vicky's aura when her sister embraced her for liftoff. Throughout their flight, Vicky had acted genuinely confused as to why Amy had shut down. Could she not see? Did she really not know that Amy was the daughter of a villain, or that their mother barely tolerated her?



Actually, she probably didn't. Amy loved Vicky – in every sense of the emotion – but even she would admit the blonde was rather narcissistic. The girl was almost entirely focused on herself. In truth, it shouldn't have been any surprise to Amy that her sister hadn't noticed their mother's treatment of the brunette, nor that Victoria had no idea that Amy was descended from evil. That was Vicky in a nutshell, really – a self-focused Pollyanna pin-up model. And Amy couldn't help but love her.



More than ever, Amy forced herself to focus on that love as her emotions muscled their way back into her mind. Her self-loathing was greater than it ever had been. This was not the first time she'd hated her powers; in fact, she spent most of the time hating her powers. Hating the responsibility placed on her head, the burden of healing, the guilt whenever she wanted to rest. Other people wanted to live, and she was a horrible person for wanting to relax while burn victims were suffering and cancer patients resigned themselves to their fate. Moreover, Amy hated the fact that her powers came from a legacy of evil. Every time she touched someone, she could see little tweaks she could make to their minds. It would be so easy to make her sister just as passionate for her, so simple to make her mother slavishly devoted to her rather than abusive in her standoffishness.



It would be even easier to sever a brainstem, to render someone a quadriplegic or to just kill them outright. And there was always that little urge in the back of her mind telling her to try it, just to find out how it felt.



No-one had the right to play god, especially not a fuck-up like her.



Tonight had been the worst night in her memory. Because it had been the first time in so long that she'd been able to hope. Skitter, Taylor, had somehow seen right through her. From how she talked, the pain in her one good eye, Taylor had a history of self-hatred as well. All of the possibilities within her genetic code, how easily she could become an inhuman beast like Crawler, it was easy to see why she would despise herself. But Taylor had talked, laid everything out and reminded Amy that she deserved a life of her own.



And then Amy had to go and prove why she didn't deserve that. She hadn't meant to change the girl, only to heal her. But even then, with all her focus, her mind had wandered and she'd started to mutate Taylor without even realizing she'd been doing it. Worse still, she couldn't reverse it. Somehow that had become the girl's natural state and trying to undo would have opened even more possibilities for nightmarish alterations.



As she sat on her bed, looking at the open pair of scissors, Amy could no longer deny it. She was a monster playing at being a person. She had to take a stand before she fell any further. Amy held the blade over her wrist, hand shaking. She could do it. One deep slice and then she could just fall asleep. She had to do it. Amy gritted her teeth.



She moved her wrist away. Panacea let out a grunt of frustration and sorrow as she realized guilt wouldn't let her end her life. She would be denying healing to so many people. She threw the scissors across the room with a snarl and curled up on the bed. Even now she couldn't stop rationalizing, inventing reasons why she needed to keep on living. She was a coward as well as a monster.



Amy cried herself to sleep.



(BREAK)



"Keep running, you fuck!"



"Hey, eat me! You're a runner and you're black! Sue me if I can't keep up!"



Sophia Hess looked back to Lara, whose surnamed she hadn't learned and didn't care to. "I'm not gonna hang back with you and get arrested again," she sneered.



"Oh come on," Lara muttered, leaning against a tree to catch her breath. "I don't think they're even still following us. It's been almost a day." She continued forward, though at this point her run was more of a lurching stagger. "Besides, you couldn't have escaped without me. You fucking owe me."



Sophia was surprisingly easy to manipulate. Insist that she was weak or prey and, so long as you could survive the beating she'd deliver, you had her wrapped around your finger. Of course, this would probably only last until they were back in what was familiar territory to Sophia, but until then Lara would exploit it for all it was worth.



Sure enough... "Fine," the athlete huffed. "Let's get a little further, then we'll find somewhere to rest. Pussy." Sophia wouldn't admit it but she was on her last legs as well.



"Why...why do you even want to go back to the Bay? You're a fuckin' criminal. Wouldn't it be easier to just go somewhere else?" Lara couldn't help it; now that Sophia had agreed to rest, she was staggering from tree to tree as her strength left her.



"Because Taylor fucking Hebert is not going to win. I'm gonna put that little cunt in her place and make sure she stays there. She's weak, she's prey, and she thinks she's better than me?" Sophia's voice was savage, boiling over with hate. "If I have to, I'll kill the bitch."

 

[Vherstinae]

Adaptation 3.01



Breathe in. Breathe out.



In. Out.



My clawed fingers flexed rhythmically on my knees. My thick, ropey hair brushed my shoulders and shuddered from the shuttle's vibrations. I once again noticed my mutant body, the disgusting state I was in. My breath hitched in my throat.



Four, seven, eight. I'd read that that was the ideal time for a relaxing breath. Inhale four seconds, hold for seven, exhale slowly for eight. Repeat. I shut my eyes tight and extended my mind, forcing it out of my body. I couldn't stand to be in that hellhole, to see the hideous changes. My bugs crawled and flew around. I didn't need to control; I just needed to feel. To be reminded that there was so much more than me and my problems. My mind touched Atlas.



My stress started to wick away. Atlas, somehow, was my rock. He gave me strength. He was my protector.



I startled as my father hugged me tight. My luminous eyes snapped open and I barely withheld a yelp. No, no, I couldn't have him pulling me back into the present, into the body I was so desperately trying to ignore. I could not withhold, however, the whimper that passed my lips. I shrank into myself and away from my dad; I couldn't help it, no matter how guilty I felt about it. He didn't need this. Dad was trying so hard to deal with everything. I choked down a surge of vomit.



Brian reached across the aisle to me but Lisa gently gripped his arm. I was thankful to her, but I couldn't offer her a smile.



The shuttle dropped us off at the travel agency. Dad took my hand and led me to the car. I must have seemed catatonic as he had to sit me down and buckle me in before starting the engine. Atlas landed beside us, getting some rest before we kept moving. Atlas saw Rachel lead the dogs out of the shuttle, starting their growth. After nearly a minute they were large enough to ride: Brian and Aisha climbed on Angelica, Lisa and Alec on Judas, and Rachel took the lead on Brutus.



We led the parade down the street, dad and my body in the lead, the Undersiders following behind, and Atlas – with my mind hitching a ride – flying above the dogs. After about ten minutes' drive, we reached our neighborhood and Brian threw up his darkness so we could park in peace. Dad must have thought ahead, as he pulled into the garage on one side so that Atlas could scuttle inside and rest his weary wings.



I let Atlas close his eyes and settle down. He'd had a big day. Dad opened the door on my side and tried to help me up, but apparently my body was denser than it had been and he couldn't pull me up by himself. He continued diligently until Brian and Rachel helped him. They lifted me up like a rag doll and carried me into my room.



Atlas finally fell asleep and I let him slip away before realizing that this meant my mind would return fully to my body. I tensed as I regained consciousness, eyes refocusing. Brian smiled as he met my gaze, thinking that this was a happy occasion. His joy in the moment was painful, and I couldn't help it. I started screaming. My eyes opened wide, glassy and unfocused as I shrieked endlessly. I flopped on the bed, wailing and clawing at my face, wanting to destroy myself. In the cruelest twist of fate, my claws slipped back into my fingertips and prevented me from tearing open my face.



As they had for Alec at Dr. Q's clinic, Brian and Rachel grabbed my arms and restrained me. The first instinct I had was to bite at them, to summon up a swarm to cripple them and help to end my life. But I couldn't do that to them, couldn't hurt my friends.



God damn it all.



God damn the world, for being so fucked-up. For taking my mother from me, for breaking my childhood friend's mind, for turning me into a monster.



God damn my father for loving me even as I mutated and making me regret wanting to end my life, for actually making the effort to reconnect with me rather than slipping away and giving me further reason to destroy myself.



God damn the Undersiders for accepting me as I was, for giving me hope and being my friends, because now I couldn't bring myself to fight them.



And, more than anything. God damn me. It was my fault that mom died. If I hadn't been texting her, hadn't needed her to comfort such a weak daughter, she'd still be alive. I let Emma drift away. It was my fault Sophia got her claws in her, my fault she went crazy. It was my fault dad was so stressed, my fault for being so pathetic that I let three bullies destroy my life. I couldn't even help Panacea. A monster like me trying to make her feel better? My entire existence was a cruel joke.



My screams gradually faded into choking sobs. I was too exhausted to try to fight them off as they piled around me, offering me comfort. I shouldn't have been surprised; I'd never really had control over anything. It was all just an illusion, a prank I pulled on myself. I was nothing.



"You're wrong."



My eyes snapped open as Lisa spoke. Could she read my mind? My glowing orbs turned to her.



"You're thinking that you're a monster, a burden on us all, and everyone would be better off if you were dead." Not exactly, but that was an approximation. "You're wrong." She gently took my left hand, while Rachel continued to hold down my arm, and began to pet my palm. "You helped us win. You helped protect the city. You gave the people hope." Lisa hadn't broken eye contact with me. "You gave us hope."



"Warm fuzzies all around," Alec quipped as he sat on the edge of the bed and toyed with my Alexandria action figure. "But seriously, you're awesome. You're fun to hang out with and you deal with my shit."



Lisa gave him a pointed look.



The brunet groaned. "Lisa, do I have to do this?" He received a reply in the form of Lisa's glare intensifying. Alec sighed and continued.



"Fine. Shit. Alec Merceau isn't my real name; I ripped it off of Prototype." He blinked as Aisha suddenly appeared and swiped the toy. "My birth name is Jean-Paul Vasil. My dad is Niko Vasil, Heartbreaker."



I was shocked but too near-catatonic to respond. Dad gasped for me. We'd read the stories of Heartbreaker enslaving women to use as his personal breeding stock, wanting his own army of second-generation parahumans, and then Vasil had just vanished off the map.



"Every day, my father would subject me to emotional and physical torture, trying to force me and my siblings to trigger." He looked over to the blonde. "Dammit, Lisa, I wasn't ready to tell everybody. Why do I have to do the whole kumbaya shit?"



"Because I'll break my foot off in your ass if you don't," Lisa replied simply.



Alec clearly didn't understand, but Lisa had given us no reason not to trust her advice. "Look, I dealt with all that shit, and I got away. I'm a dick, and I'm scarred from it all, but I survived. You can too."



Aisha poked him with Alexandria's fist. "You kinda suck at the whole pep-talk thing."



Alec play-swiped at her. "Kiss my pale Quebecois ass, Imp." He looked back over to me. "Besides, Taylor, you look badass. Like some sort of kinky goth pin-up girl. I'd do you."



My father snapped his head over to look at Alec. "First off, touch my daughter and I'll kill you. Second, aren't you, like, fourteen?"



"Screw you, old man. I turn seventeen in April. I can't help it if I'm kinda scrawny."



Damn them all. They were tempting me to smile. Lisa petted my forehead, passing her hand over my hair-tendrils. "We're all here for you, Taylor, like you've been here for us."



Dad leaned over and kissed my forehead. "You'll always be my baby girl, Taylor, no matter what you look like." He hugged me close. "You'll never be a monster. You're too much like your mother, little owl."



I whimpered, a burst of air passing my lips. I started crying again and hugged him tight. Why did he have to remind me of mom? Why did he use my childhood nickname? Why did I have to love him so much?



Through teary eyes, I saw Lisa usher everybody else out. Aisha kept my toy.



Once they'd left, dad tucked me in and laid beside me. I looked over at him, wiping my eyes. "How are you so sure? Why aren't you afraid?"



"The very fact that you're so worried about being a monster is proof to me that you're not. You could have hurt us all with your claws or your bugs, but you didn't. You care about us all, and monsters don't have those kinds of feelings." He smiled a tiny smile and kissed the tip of my nose. "You can't let yourself get consumed by guilt. You shouldn't fear yourself." He hugged me tight. "Take your time to deal with this, but don't shut us out. We need you, kiddo."



I let myself fall asleep in his arms.



(BREAK)



I awoke to the smell of eggs and bacon, finding myself ravenously hungry. The gray PRT jumpsuit that they'd given me to replace my burned-up costume was itchy now that I was conscious enough to feel it. I ignored my growling stomach for the moment and changed into some regular clothes. I couldn't help but chuckle to myself at the irony when the first pair of underwear I pulled out of the drawer had Armsmaster's picture on them. Regardless, I stepped into them and slipped on a pair of sweatpants, leaving my claw-nailed feet exposed. I really wanted to try wearing a t-shirt, so I grabbed a pair of scissors in case I had to widen the collar. Sure enough, the extra mass on my head wouldn't fit, so I had to snip open some of the front. I resolved to get more v-necks in the future.



Once I was fully dressed, I stepped out and walked to the kitchen where I found Brian cooking breakfast.



"Morning, Taylor." Aisha walked by, eating an ice cream bar. Why hadn't dad stopped her? We had rules, after–



"Oh hey, Taylor," Brian said. He wasn't tiptoeing around me, making me feel weak and fragile. Lisa must've let him know I wouldn't appreciate that. "I didn't know when you'd wake up, so I'll make your omelette next. Danny told me how you like it."



I nodded, swallowing hard. I needed to be strong. Not just for dad, not just for my friends, but for myself. I pulled up a stool at the counter and looked around. Dad waved at me from the living room table, where he and Alec were playing poker, while Lisa and Rachel played rope-toy with the dogs.



Aisha popped up beside me with a bowl of cantaloupe. She held up a fork. "Want some?" I shrugged and accepted. It was strange, being so freakish but being treated as normal. I instinctively wanted to deny it, to say I didn't deserve it, but I refused to do that. I was strong, I was a good person. I could do this. It would be long and difficult, but I could push past this. I just needed to focus on accepting myself.



Brian plated up my omelette and passed it to me. "Here you go, Taylor. Enjoy," he shot me a smile.



I took a bite and couldn't help making a happy sound. Ham, cheese, green pepper, a little bit of onion... It was just as good as dad would make. "This is fantastic," I muttered between bites.



"Oh," dad spoke up, "I also have some tea steeping for you."



Brian nodded in realization and poured me a cup.



Lisa let go her end of the rope toy and Judas pranced around triumphantly before Angelica and Brutus pounced him. The blonde came over to sit beside me. "So I've stared at you enough to get a basic idea. Do you want to know?"



No. "...Yeah." Idiot.



"Okay." She poked my arm. "The biggest thing is this honeycomb structure beneath your skin. It's situated between the dermis and muscle. Not only does the framework," she increased the pressure on my bicep, "distribute blunt trauma to reduce physical impact, but the holes are filled with a heat-absorbent substance. This basically gives your skin a much higher melting point. Outside of powers or tech, you're pretty much fireproof." She held up a finger. "That doesn't mean fire won't hurt, but just that it won't tear you apart."



"Lovely," I deadpanned.



"Also, your musculoskeletal structure has been further reinforced. You're probably just shy of a Brute rating at this point, and with your new musculature distributing weight throughout your body, you'll have a much harder time straining yourself or getting a charlie horse." She batted one of my hairs. "As for those? I don't really know. They seem to serve no purpose except to imitate hair. Your eyes give you enhanced vision and night vision. And your claws are durable and retractable, so you don't accidentally cut yourself or others. I think your toenails can do the same, so you should be able to wear shoes."



"Thinker powers are bullshit," Alec muttered as he laid down his cards, "which is why I never play poker with Lisa. Straight flush."



"Little bastard," dad grumped and re-shuffled the cards.



I took a deep breath. "Okay, I have to ask: how are you all okay with this? I still have to push down on my emotions not to just have a panic attack, while you're sitting around all la-di-da."



"Because you're not that weird," Brian replied, sitting on the other side of Aisha. "Gregor the Snail is obese, slimy, covered in snail shells, and barfs up all sorts of chemicals. Lung's a psycho who turns into a dragon. Glastig Uaine steals the powers of dead capes and thinks she's some sort of fairy. And Jack fuckin' Slash, who looks as normal as everybody else, is one of the most twisted son-of-a-bitches in the world." He smiled and reached around Aisha to squeeze my shoulder. "So, you looking a little weird? That's not a problem."



"So what's the plan for the future, anyway?" Alec was now playing war with my dad.



"When the lockdown lifts, we go see my shelters," Rachel spoke up.



"And the lockdown should be over in a few days," Brian added. "Last supply drop is later this afternoon. But I think Alec was more asking in the long-term." He looked over to Lisa.



By this time, I'd come to understand the group dynamic of the Undersiders. Brian was the leader, the charismatic one who helped settle disputes and keep everyone working together. Rachel had originally joined the team because she really had nowhere else to go, but she'd come to accept the group as her pack. Alec and Aisha were pretty much with the group sheerly "for the lulz." But Lisa was the core of the Undersiders. Without her mind and ability to plan, they wouldn't have been anywhere near as successful as they had. And Brian was a confident enough leader that he was willing to admit his weaknesses.



Lisa took a heavy breath. "Well, I've pretty much used up my power for a while, but I have some ideas already. First off, we've built up a lot of goodwill. In fact, we might even be able to leverage that to be a hero group."



"The fuck!?" Alec and Rachel spoke up at the same time.



"Oh shut up," Lisa replied smoothly. "Think about it: is the extra money worth having to always run away from the good guys?" She turned to face the two darker-haired teens. "As an independent hero group, we could set our own rules, accept donations from the public. We already don't kill, so what do we really lose by hunting baddies exclusively?"



"Independent team, huh? Good, because there's no way I'd join the Wards," I spoke up. "They had Shadow Stalker on their team; who knows who else are psychos?"



"And we're not?" Alec asked indignantly.



"Well, you might be psychos, but you're not evil."



"Okay, okay, bring it back," Lisa smirked. "So, does anybody have a reason not to start a hero group?"



"We're criminals," Rachel grunted.



"We saved the Protectorate's lives," I interjected. "I bet we can leverage that into pardons"



"Be nice to not have to worry about them shutting down my shelters."



"You could probably even get funding for them and trustworthy people to help with the dogs," I continued, pressing the argument.



"...Okay. If we can get help with the dogs, I'm in."



We all looked over to Alec, who looked back. Dad used his distraction to cheat and swap some cards. I didn't bother to speak up.



The brunet shrugged. "It is easier to get fangirls if you're legal... Fine, if you can get us pardons and all that shit, I'll go along with it."



My father leaned back. "Now, all this planning is all well and good, but we're overlooking something pretty big: school. Now, Brian has his GED and Lisa's been cheating her way through college courses–" he ducked a balled-up napkin, "but the rest of you, if you go legit, will have to deal with school."



"No, no, no," Rachel growled. "Fuck that noise."



A crackling noise caused me to pull back my hands. There were some slight indentations from where I'd been gripping the linoleum counter. "I..." I couldn't even voice my concerns.



"Look," dad said as he stood, "I'm good with negotiations and Lisa could serve as our trump card. Arcadia and Immaculata would be willing to help you all out, and Arcadia of course is good with capes. Rachel, I'm sure we could work something out." He walked over and stooped beside Rachel. "I'll do my best to help. You can trust me."



If looks could kill... Actually, considering Rachel's power, a look could kill if one of the dogs picked up on the source of her distress. I was ready to leap away from the counter, though I wasn't certain if I could intercept. But Rachel didn't attack, didn't even answer. She just looked away, a sour expression on her face.



Lisa hugged me around the waist. "Taylor, I get why you're worried. But New Wave goes to Arcadia too. If people don't stare at Victoria Dallon everywhere she goes, I doubt they'll give you too much trouble."



"But what about a secret identity? I mean, I can't exactly hide."



Lisa flicked my hair. "Didn't you just hear me, Taylor? New Wave are known to the public by their real names. But we all play the game and pretend we don't really know who they are." She smirked. "After all, the Protectorate knows who Kaiser really is, but they can't act on that knowledge without violating the truce. And we need that truce to help fight back against threats like the Endbringers. So if the villains don't hunt down Panacea, they won't come after you."



I rested my face in my hands. "I need to think about it. I...I need time."



"Speaking of time," Brian said, "it's about time for the supply drop. I figure you want to stay inside for today, right?" I nodded in reply. "Then, Bitch, we'll need you to guard the drop today."



Rachel looked immensely thankful to get away from the thoughts my dad had put in her head, and went to get suited up.



I just sighed. "I'm gonna go lay down for a while."