Queen of the Swarm (Worm; Complete)

[Vherstinae]

Interlude 5.y



Mary Vicars was a walking contradiction. From her name, one would imagine a girl from Middle America or the Bible Belt, rather than a second-generation Korean. Her slender, delicate frame stood in harsh contrast to her voice, husky enough to be mistaken for a man over the phone. In order to survive in Brockton Bay, she had kept her head down, done as she was told, run errands for the ABB.



That quiescent attitude was the exact opposite of the domineering force of sheer personality that was Migraine.



The villain regarded Brockton Memorial Hospital through the lenses of her new mask. Ever since the battle with the Teeth, where her team had been further intercepted by the Undersiders and Protectorate, Mary had shifted a significant portion of her gains into protective gear and had encouraged the others to do likewise. Well, Trainwreck made his own armor, but Circus and Juggernaut acquiesced.



"The plan is simple, so long as we don't fuck up." She drew lines in the dirt with a stick. "Wreck, you set up in the bodyshop here; wait for our signal. You did already bring the parts, right?"



The bulky bald man nodded. "Yeah, sets for speed and power." When Migraine had first forcibly recruited him, Trainwreck had plotted ways to murder her without being seen as a rule-breaker by the cape community; however, in the time since, she had been a fair and reliable leader. Oddly enough, he liked working with her now. "And yes, I remember which signal is which."



"I'm still amazed you can read," Circus quipped, "so forgive me if I don't hold my breath." Circus' voice was just as androgynous as Migraine's, though it tilted toward the higher pitch.



"Just keep me covered, clown. Juggernaut," the blue-clad villainess looked over to her enforcer in leather, "you keep the entrance clear."



Juggernaut's new kevlar-polymer balaclava featured tightly woven mesh over the eyes, making the mask seem featureless. In the usual moving-through-water speed distortion, he held up an OK sign.



"And you're sure the ass-inspection gloves are necessary?"



Migraine pulled on her own pair of long latex gloves, letting the bands snap against her forearms. "Risk mitigation. If half of what he said is right, one touch could knock you out or fucking kill you." She made sure her mask was firmly in place. "Okay team, break."



(BREAK)



Considering what kind of a hole Brockton Bay was, it wasn't a surprise that the hospital receptionist didn't react too strongly to a pair of villains strutting in.



"Don't hit the silent alarm or attempt to run," Migraine said in a casual tone. "I don't want to waste my power on you, so instead I have a gun." She brandished a .50-caliber monster of a handgun. "I'm not the best shot, so it's going for center mass. Got it?"



Something Migraine had discovered was that parahuman powers, while intimidating, often didn't faze non-capes in places prone to hero/villain fights. Attacking civilians was an easy way to get a kill order, after all. So brandishing a gun instead of threatening with a power helped to make sure nobody started shit.



Circus drew her latest creation from thin air, a combination of fire axe and sledgehammer fastened together with duct tape, wire, zip-ties and twine. She leveled the mutant weapon at the receptionist. "Now, what floor is Panacea on?"



To his credit, the receptionist didn't buckle under the pressure. "She's not here. Glory Girl already picked her up."



Circus grabbed his tie and jerked her hand back and then forward, tugging him forward and driving her fist into his face. "Let's try this again." She slackened her grip on her axe-hammer, the sheer weight of the weapon driving the bladed head deep into the counter without any force on the clown's part. "We're going to kidnap Panacea. That means capes will be gunning for us until we hand her off. Mutilating you won't get us in any hotter water. Capisce?" She drew her smile wide enough to be mistaken for being part-shark.



"...Let me page her, then. If you're going to have a cape fight, I'd rather you didn't do it around critically injured patients."



"Fair enough." Migraine walked around to stand behind the receptionist, watching his actions.



"Yeah, it's reception. Can you let Panacea know she's needed down here, urgently? We've got a patient who can't even wait for a room. Yeah, it's that bad. Okay." He hung up, looking back at Migraine. "I hope she gives you cancer."



While his head was turned, Circus put away her sledgehatchet and pulled out a taser, electrocuting the man into unconsciousness. "This is turning out more convenient than I'd expected."



"Eh, this place has always had good service," Migraine replied with easy confidence. "One of the few bright spots in this hellhole."



"You're always dumping on the Bay. If you think it's so shitty, why do you stay?" The taser was stored inside nothingness and replaced with a candle lighter.



The Asian woman shrugged. "Stockholm syndrome? I don't know. My parents died here; maybe I'm trapped by old ghosts."



Circus nodded. "That's kinda deep."



Their existential conversation was cut short by Panacea's emergence from the elevator. In her white hooded robe with an enormous red cross emblazoned on the front, the girl appeared like some sort of knight-templar mystic. The two security guards behind her drew their weapons the moment they saw the villains at the reception desk but were blinded by a cloud of cinders. "Run," one of the men shouted through smoke-induced coughing.



Panacea ducked low and bolted, doing her best to imitate Victoria from back before she triggered. She felt the wind behind her as Circus dashed into the space Amy had just occupied. The twisted clown created a gap in the blazing ashes, flipping into a handstand and driving a boot into each guard's head, slamming their skulls against the sides of the elevator. With a smooth backbend she was on her feet once more and tased each man for good measure.



Migraine waited until Panacea was out in the open, and therefore safer to approach, before unleashing her power. She could best liken it to an old stovetop Jiffy-Pop inside her head, unknown sensations crackling and popping as energy tried to expand her skull before finally finding another head in which to take root. From there, as the discomfort left her own head, it transformed into word-defining agony in her targets.



The brunette hero showed off an impressive set of lungs as she wailed in sheer torment. She flopped like a beached fish, too pained to make any attempt at supporting herself. Migraine approached with that same smooth casualness she'd maintained through the entire crime and checked her gloves. Satisfied that they were in place, she drew her own taser and zapped Amy twice just to be safe. "Circus!"



"Coming!" With an entirely necessary series of cartwheels and flips, the grab-bag parahuman was at Migraine's side. She produced a body bag and the pair loaded Panacea into it, securing her wrists with zip-ties and closing the girl up. Circus lifted the bag onto her shoulder with only a mild grunt of effort. "Well, that was eas...fuck, I even pre-emptively jinxed myself!"



Outside, Glory Girl plummeted from the sky like an avenging valkyrie to impact Juggernaut. The sheer force caused the asphalt to crater around his feet and the hospital's windows to crack. The dust cloud obscured vision but Glory Girl's screams of incoherent rage were distorted to sounds like a pod of whales, indicating that she was in Juggernaut's aura.



Migraine sent the signal for fast evac.



The dust cleared to show the pair of Brutes grappling, with Juggernaut rapidly (well, relative to him) gaining the advantage. He eventually managed to grip both of Glory Girl's wrists with one of his long-fingered hands, which freed up his other to deliver a brutal blow to the blonde's gut.



The Adrift's leader fully expected Glory Girl to shrug off the blow; rumor had it that she wasn't entirely invulnerable, but was at the very least protected from the first hit. Instead, the teen crumpled, doubling over on his fist and coughing up some blood. By his body language Juggernaut looked surprised at this turn of events. He let her drop and backed away.



"And our day just gets worse!" Circus pointed up into the sky at Photon Mom, who sent a blast of energy at Juggernaut.



As expected, the beam slowed and distorted when it approached him. Not as expected, however, was the result. The energy blast bubbled and swelled before exploding like a bomb. Juggernaut was lifted bodily off the ground, moving in slow-motion for only a few seconds before his power lost traction and he crashed – and nearly embedded – into the hospital's wall.



Glory Girl pushed herself off the ground. She spat out some more blood and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Her eyes blazed with positively murderous intent as she stalked toward the villains, slowly rising from the ground.



"Uh," Circus laughed nervously, "Migraine? Please tell me you have some charge left."



"No... We may be fucked." Her power's biggest drawback was that it was an all-or-nothing situation. It seemed to be equally effective no matter how many targets, but whether that number was one or a dozen, the full charge was always expended.



The teenage heroine spun and delivered a haymaker to Trainwreck's armor, the villain having come screaming out of nowhere going at least 100 miles an hour. By sheer virtue of mass Glory Girl was the one sent flying, but while she seemed no worse for the wear except for some scrapes and road rash, Trainwreck's armor was missing a sizeable chunk.



"Change of plans!" Migraine gave Circus a shove forward, breaking into a full sprint. She bowled open the door and began firing wild shots in Lady Photon's direction. She leapt onto Trainwreck and held out an arm to help the clown climb on. "Get going," she screamed at the armored villain. "We can't take Juggernaut with us!" She could tell that her subordinate wanted to argue so she cut him off. "Just go! Circus, bang 'em!"



The clown reached into her hammerspace and withdrew a whole bandolier of grenades. She grabbed the ripcord and slung it like she was David and New Wave was playing the part of Goliath. Eight flashbangs erupted in the heroines' faces while Trainwreck's metal wheels screeched against the street, ferrying them away.



Juggernaut ripped himself from the hospital wall after regaining his bearings and attempted to make his escape, dipping into a crouch before launching himself with a super-strength jump. Yet another bizarre interaction of his power with the laws of physics was that his aura maintained when his movement was voluntary, and it somehow slowed the effects of gravity itself upon him. He smoothly lifted into the sky, passing over multiple city blocks.



And then the next energy bolt hit him from above.

 

[Vherstinae]

Interruption 5.03



Amy had been taken.



The Adrift had all but violated the Endbringer Truce, kidnapping the most powerful healer on Earth. Nobody knew what could have provoked an otherwise antisocial villain team to suddenly take this kind of action, but we were damn well going to find out. Dragon was on her way down from Canada, Legend was coming from New York, and the entirety of the local PRT, Protectorate and Wards had been mobilized.



As for the Undersiders, half of the group were joining the search while Lisa, Alec and I helped with the interrogation of Juggernaut. Well, technically Alec was there to keep Juggernaut from escaping while we helped Piggot, Rennick and Armsmaster.



We had Juggernaut in one of the Brute containment cells, a foot-thick barrier of Tinkertech safety glass between him and us. Armsmaster switched on the intercom. "Hello, Juggernaut." The disdain in his voice was almost palpable. "You are guilty of aiding in the kidnapping of one of the most important and benevolent parahumans on the planet. If you do not cooperate with us now, help us find her, you will be lucky if you only end up in the Birdcage."



Juggernaut made a noise so deep that the glass rattled.



"In case you hadn't noticed," Foresight pointed out, "he can't exactly speak like an ordinary person." She thought for a moment before snapping her fingers. "That's it!" She turned to Piggot. "We have security cameras with sound, right? Can we get accelerated playback? I'm not sure exactly how his aura works, but that could speed his voice up to normal."



Juggernaut made a louder sound at that.



Piggot looked over to Rennick, who nodded. "I'll get a laptop for us. One moment." He left, already pulling out his phone to bark orders.



The meaty woman turned back to the leather-wrapped villain. "As you've heard, we may have a way to communicate with you. Know that, even if you help us, you may very well go to the Birdcage. This is, above all, a chance for you to avoid immediate execution."



Another long noise like whale song.



"What I still want to know," I stepped forward, "is why you thought this would be a good idea in the first place. Even if you and Migraine are new to the whole cape thing, Trainwreck and Circus had to know what would come of this." I paced a little, eyes locked onto him. "What could the reward possibly be to make this worth your while?"



A short, quieter sound.



Rennick popped back in. "Okay, the boys in IT have the old noises sped up to what they hope is an intelligible speed. They'll be feeding us the rest as he says 'em." He hit play.



The voice that filtered through, while rendered robotic from the modifications, sounded surprisingly youthful, like someone only a little older than me. I tilted my head at Juggernaut as his quotes played. "No shit." "Seriously? You can do that?" "Yeah, I get it. Can we move on?" "Our lives."



We all stopped to blink at that part. "Wait," Rennick said, rewinding the last quote. "Did he seriously say that?"



"My lie detector hasn't noticed any tells, although with how his power affects him I can't be certain that it would even work properly."



"He's being serious," Foresight confirmed. She stepped closer. "What do you mean by that? You were threatened into it? By who?"



"The carrot and the stick. We cooperate, we get paid. We don't, we die. I might live through it but Migraine wouldn't. Wreck and Circus would be done, too." The ongoing deep sounds rattled my bones, causing my creep to splash inside me.



"Those could be seen as extenuating circumstances," Piggot nodded mostly to herself. "But we need a name. Who put you up to this?"



"The Blade Ghost." Foresight took a step back at that, which caught all of our attention. It was obviously something bad. Before we could ask, Juggernaut spoke again. "I'm sorry."



Lisa let out a scream of rage, lunging forward and punching the glass. "Motherfucker! He's wearing a tracking device!" With her other hand, she pulled out her phone. "Everybody send an APB, NOW!"



Juggernaut sat down cross-legged, looking very tired. "I'm sorry," he repeated.



Metal erupted from the walls, grinding and screeching as lengthy blades reached across hallways and formed stalactites, carving into the ground. Kaiser, or rather, the Blade Ghost might not know exactly where we were, but he'd gone insane enough to not care about collateral damage. Blades slammed into Juggernaut, not seeming to affect the Brute other than shoving him around, forcing him against the glass hard enough to crack it.



Regent screamed and I saw a blade slice his leg off below the knee, the incredibly sharp edge springing up from the floor. Armsmaster caught him as he fell and held the smaller guy in his arms.



I reached into the depths of my mind and pulled, calling out to the raptors, the spiker, and Atlas. "We need to move!" I spat a shower of bursters to clear some of the metal as the blades closed in on us. "Follow me!" Between volleys of my destructive little green bugs, I coughed up swarms of eyebugs to help keep track of my friends behind me and also scout ahead.



We ran for our lives as the PRT building became unrecognizable, all silver metal and glinting edges spattered with blood. Shrieks of panicked agony echoed all around us, reverberating off the metal, trapping us in a hell of death and hopelessness. I saw human beings bisected and cut into pieces before my eyes and didn't even have time to process the nightmare of what I was witnessing.



I spun around and spat around my friends, catching fresh blossoms of deadly metal. One shard managed to escape my notice and hit Armsmaster, cleaving off his elbow and some extra flesh. He cried out and staggered but managed to keep going, shifting Regent over his shoulder.



The main hall would have been beautiful if it hadn't been a deathtrap. Metal spiraled in a helix pattern to the center of the room, where gallons of blood leaked off of the blades. God knew how many people had been caught on the spikes and drawn together to be ground into jelly. And, disrespectful as it felt, I had to further destroy their corpses. Another heavy barrage of bursters melted through the metal and opened the center, where the thick copper-scented soup slopped out.



I was losing momentum, using so much creep all at once, but I needed to get us out of here. I opened my throat again and sent another surge, the luminous green eating through the metal and exposing the overcast daylight. I staggered forward, losing my balance, and found myself supported by Foresight. She helped me hobble to the exit. We were just about out, feeling genuine hope, before the metal started grinding again, pushing in all around us.



Dear god, how had I not realized this? Anders must have had a vantage point to here. This is how he killed all those other people, and I led my friends into the trap. I tried to cough up more bursters, tried to speak a warning, but I couldn't. My attempted warning was drowned out by Foresight's own, but we were done for. We couldn't reach the exit quickly enough.



Then I was blinded. Metal shrieked as it ground against something unyielding, the noise utterly torturous. But if we weren't dead, I wasn't about to stand around and ponder. Armsmaster took the lead, guiding us the rest of the way out. I followed his voice, praying that he knew where he was going through this cascade of blinding white.



Outside, shining like the sun or a beacon of hope, was Legend. His solidified energy beams were holding back the metal.



Still more blades erupted from beneath us. Rennick took one through the midsection, Foresight just barely managed to dodge, Piggot lost a chunk of flesh...and I was impaled. The blade erupted from my mouth and then split to snap my arms out to the sides. I tried to scream but my larynx was torn.



A cluster of green missiles brought down a nearby building. An armored SUV pulled up, Miss Militia standing up through the sun roof with a huge missile launcher rested on her shoulder. The back doors opened and Coil's soldiers stepped out. One pressed a finger to his ear. "Triage protocols in effect. S&R low priority. Main priority is Kaiser. Search and destroy."



A veritable fleet of the vehicles showed up, a good number of the people outfitted with medical equipment. The rest set out to find Kaiser.



Velocity showed up with Battery on his back, Assault was bounding across buildings with a kinetic explosion accompanying each jump, and Dauntless hurtled through the sky. The speedster set Battery down. "We need Scanner to help find this bastard! I'll be back!" He took off, dodging around bladed attempts to sever his legs.



Thankfully, the Blade Ghost seemed to have higher priorities than finishing me off. Huge pylons flipped cars, still more blades hit the troops. It was all a distraction, that much I could tell. He wanted to create as much carnage as possible so we couldn't afford to chase him.



Another shower of missiles. While some of them were plucked out of the sky by needle-thin protrusions, still more continued to level the building.



My vision was fading, consciousness slipping away. I sent my mind into the swarm.



The troopers swept the rubble with their lasers while Assault and Dauntless continued demolishing. Battery stood guard, ready to move people out of danger. Another pylon flipped Miss Militia's SUV and she managed to fall out and get clear before the multi-ton weight could land on her.



The rest of the Undersiders showed up astride the classic trio of Brutus, Judas and Angelica. My bugs could see and hear – but not understand – their horrified reactions at my state and Regent's injury. Dauntless found a few impaled PRT troopers and managed to pull a survivor from the wreckage. Another garden of edges almost shredded them while thicker blades knocked the dogs over. Imp screamed and scrambled after Grue while Cerberus did her best to direct her dogs through the chaos.



Velocity returned with Scanner in his arms. The redhead took one look around, screamed and pointed. Her gaze rested on the very PRT trooper Dauntless had saved. Blades erupted from his combat armor in a manner reminiscent of Marquis, slicing into Dauntless and driving him back. Still more metal rose out of the ground as the Blade Ghost attempted to make good his escape. Miss Militia took a hit, so did Cerberus, and Imp.



Then Anders dropped over.



He didn't get back up.



My bugs inspected the body and found a blade sticking out of the back of his neck. From the inside. I tracked back to Regent, whose arm was still shakily extended. He let himself drop onto Armsmaster's shoulder and passed out. One of Coil's men put two bullets and a laser into Anders' skull just to be safe.



Legend landed in front of me, looking understandably appalled at my state. I focused as hard as I could on comprehending his speech. "Dear god, Skitter... How do we help her?"



Foresight stepped up beside him. "If we can get the metal out of her, I think we can save her." She looked at him. "Do you trust me?"



He eyed her. "I don't know. But I do trust that you care about your friend."



"Then I need you to hit her with two lasers, cutting ones." She traced down my suit. "One inch to either side, here, five and three-quarter inches deep. Can you do that?"



Legend nodded. "I can. You'd better know what you're doing."



"I'm saving her life," Foresight confirmed as Legend shot me.



Despite the agony I was already in, those shots were staggeringly painful. "Grab that arm," my friend ordered as she caught my left limb. "It's only gonna hurt worse," she apologized before grabbing the metal shaft and starting to pull. I wailed as best I could through the white-hot distress and the metal in my throat. Legend did the same on my other side. "Now this is the worse part," Foresight muttered. "I need you to fly her off the center pole, while keeping her head and body steady."



"Dauntless!" Legend summoned the other flier to help him lift me. Still more agony. I passed out at that point.



(BREAK)



Beep. Beep. Beep.



Hssssh-ffff. Hssssh-ffff. Hssssh-ffff.



At least they've added a new instrument to the orchestra. With each weird hissing noise, I felt air flowing into me. Then the air went back out. Ah, so I had an artificial lung. Lovely.



My world was pain. Most of my wounds had closed up, thank god, but that meant that I had holes running all the way through my body while it tried to restore my flesh. The inch-wide voids of space were a big no-no, and the sheer agony my nerves continuously relayed to my brain was my body's way of declaring how wrong my situation was. Not that I disagreed, of course, but it got tedious after a while.



I finally managed to flutter my eyes open and found my father sitting beside me.



"We have to stop meeting like this, Janis," he smirked. Well, if he was in good spirits then things couldn't be all bad. Unless he was expecting my body to restore itself. "Don't worry; you've only been out for a day or so this time, and most of that was the doctors making sure you could breathe. How are you feeling?"



I had a fly airlift in some ants and used them to spell. Like death. How is everybody else?



"They're good." Dad passed a moist cloth over my forehead. "Everybody's okay." I raised an eyebrow and he chuckled. "They found Amy. The Adrift – that's what they're calling 'em, right? – took off as soon as they heard Kaiser was dead."



"And," said a familiar voice, "thanks to bureaucracy, she had to go through Master/Stranger protocols to make sure she was okay." Shelby, the nurse from my last stay here, stepped into my field of vision. "How are you, sweetie? You're certainly hard for the bad guys to take down, huh?"



I have mineshafts in my body. How do you think I am? I tried to smile through the pain to let her know I wasn't angry.



Her cheeks flushed a little. "Yeah, I should've guessed that. Well, let me tell Panacea you're awake and she can take care of you."



I looked back at dad and he seemed to read my mind. "She specifically requested to be assigned to you. You've got a fan, Tails."



I rolled my eyes.



Amy walked in, Shelby close behind. She looked tired, as always, but there was something different this time. It was a kind of relief. Something had happened, in addition to the kidnapping, that must've somehow given her closure. Maybe she talked with Brandish, or got to see that Carol was willing to fight to save her? I could speculate later. For now, I gave her my best intubated smile.



"Hi, Skitter," she smiled back. "I've been waiting to patch you up. After I fix you, I'm going to bed for, like, a week."



Good idea. And yes, you have my permission.



"Alright then," Shelby said. "I'm going to remove the breathing tube so it doesn't get in the way. You're going to have no oxygen for a few seconds while Panacea does her thing, so don't panic." The nurse switched off the machine and I could feel the air leave my body. The tube was extracted while I did my best not to panic despite my instincts telling me that I was suffocating.



Amy smiled and rested a hand on mine. I felt my reservoir draining, the mass burning off to accelerate my healing. I let my eyes drift closed and just felt. My range extended further still and, besides the bugs, I could feel the presence of other living things in a much smaller radius. Experimentally, I tried to see if this meant I could control them as well. Reaching out to my father since I knew he'd trust me, I could feel his presence, somehow could tell it was him even without sight or hearing, but there was no semblance of control. At least it'd be hard to sneak up on me.



I sat up, careful not to move too fast, and gave Amy a tight hug. "Thank you," I murmured. "I'm going to get you a present."



She blushed. "You don't need to–"



"I know. But I want to. You deserve something for all the good you do."



I let go and Panacea fidgeted a little, looking awkward, before finally just saying goodbye and walking out.



"Did I do something wrong?"



Shelby smiled. "I don't think so, Taylor. From what I've heard about her, I think you're the closest thing to a friend she has, outside of her family. She probably doesn't know quite how to deal. Now then, your father and I will step out while you get changed."



Dad set my backpack at the foot of the bed. "Your suit's kind of ruined, so I grabbed you some things from home."



I smiled thankfully as they left, and I changed into the t-shirt and shorts he'd brought for me. I stepped out of the room to find dad signing me out, and I caught the way Shelby was looking at him. It was my turn to blush.



Dad deserved some happiness of his own. Maybe I'd see if I could encourage him to meet up with her again.



(BREAK)



A/N: This is too short to be a proper interlude, so I'm including it here, as it is important to the story.



(THE PREVIOUS DAY)



Amy had already screamed herself hoarse from within the bodybag, and had torn up her wrists trying to free herself from the zipcuffs. She thrashed but Circus held her fast.



Gunshots rang out and Amy heard noises of surprise from her captors. A deep voice, silky and slimy at the same time, rose from the sudden quiet. "Der Klingengeist is dead. You have no reason to hold Ms. Dallon any longer. Out of professional courtesy, if you leave now and don't force my men to waste bullets and laser charges, I will provide you with a nominal fee later. Otherwise, we will kill you."



Amy found herself being set down.



"Good choice. I will contact you with the dead drop's location."



She heard Trainwreck tear off, the deafening sound of his metal wheels fading into the distance. The bodybag unzipped, revealing a deathly-thin man in a black bodysuit, an alabaster cobra winding its way down his form. "Ms. Dallon, a pleasure to finally meet you. My name is Coil and, while I may be a villain, I understand your objective value to humanity, particular during Endbringer battles. That said, I am not a charitable man. My aid does not come for free. In the future, I will request a favor. Nothing illegal, though there is the possibility of danger. You do this favor for me, and we will be square. Fair enough? Good."



Coil returned to his vehicle without waiting for Amy's reply, which would have been a long time coming considering that she'd lost her voice. Amy lay there in the open bodybag, hands still tied, for several minutes until Brandish found her.



Carol Dallon threw her arms around her daughter and wept.

 

[Vherstinae]

Interruption 5.04



As we headed out of the hospital, we were stopped by a PRT agent in a 'respect mah authoritah' uniform, instead of the usual heavy battle armor. "Skitter," he said in a surprisingly deep voice considering he was built like my father, "I hate to intrude when what you probably want to do is to just go home and rest, but if you could stop by the BBPD building first, we'd really appreciate it."



Dad tilted his head. "The PD? I thought they did their best to stay out of parahuman messes."



The agent shuffled. "Well, HQ is full of metal and the corpses of my friends, so we have to squat at the cop shop until we can make room at the Rig."



"I didn't– I mean," my father blanched, stammering an apology.



"No, I understand," the agent said, holding up a hand. "If I had a kid in that fight, her safety would be my first – hell, my only – priority. Just, remember how many people didn't make it out." He sighed. "But thank you, Skitter. I know you couldn't save everyone, but you did what you could."



"I wish it could've been more," I said, my voice honest in its solemnity. I regretted every single life lost, even though logically I knew I couldn't have saved them.



He forced a smile at that. "I figured you'd say that. The boys always said you were a sweetheart. Anyway, it is important that you go down to One Police Plaza." With that, he turned smoothly on his heel and exited.



Dad and I exchanged looks of mild confusion before heading to the car. "So, how's everybody else holding up? People got hit pretty bad..."



"Like I said," he mumbled while twisting the key, trying to force the engine to turn over, "anybody who didn't die at the scene is okay. All patched up, pieces back in place." The car sputtered to life and we eased out of the parking lot. "Panacea really does work wonders. It's incredible, to see her do her thing in person. I...once I knew you would make it, it was fascinating to watch her close wounds." We pulled to a stop sign and, out of nowhere, dad punched the dashboard, making me squawk in surprise. "Damn it!" He pounded his fist on the imitation leather several times. "Damn it! Fuck! Why you, Taylor!?"



I shrank into the seat, completely in the dark as to what he was asking.



"Why you? Why not anyone else?" His rage left him like it was helium and he was a balloon, and he deflated over the steering wheel. When next he spoke, his voice was very small. "Why does my little girl have to go out and fight? I just..." He turned to look at me, continuing to idle at the stop. "I know what you can do, how strong you are. Not just physically. But, you're up against so many things that are so much worse. I...I know chances are good that one day you're not going to wake up in that hospital bed, or maybe we won't even be able to find you. I mean, I know – in my heart as well as my mind – that you have to do this. You couldn't live with yourself otherwise." A car pulled into the mirrors' view and dad resumed driving. "I'm just so powerless, in both senses of the word."



I rested a hand on his shoulder, giving a sad smile. "No, you're not. First off, you'll always be my dad. We...we lost that once, after mom." I had to swallow before I could continue. "We're not going to lose it again. Second, have you seen the good the Union is doing around the Bay? That's all you, dad. It was your idea and you're the one who keeps it going. I stop the monsters, but it's up to you to put things right."



He gave me a weak smile in return. We drove the rest of the way in silence; I couldn't decide whether or not it was a comfortable silence.



(BREAK)



One Police Plaza was swarming with people like a hornet's nest somebody sprayed with Coca-Cola. I spotted Grue at about the same time he sighted me, and the big guy practically bowled over the people between us to pull me into a hug. "I'm so glad you're okay," he said in a soft tone. He leaned back, hands on my shoulders, and took a moment to evaluate me. "It's like the universe is constantly trying to ventilate you or something. But you are okay, right?"



"In context to what we just went through? Sure." I let out a heavy sigh I hadn't even realized had been building. "Dad said everybody's alright, but..." I let my sentence drift off with an upturn, leaving the question unspoken. My bugs sighted my father getting out of the car; he'd had to drive far to find an available space, though that wasn't surprising considering the throng of people. At least a block in every direction had been commandeered, littered with tents and prefab buildings; the whole mess was divided into zones, with huge signs designating things like Missing Family Members or Parahuman Gang Activity, and one enormous tent labeled Triage Center covering the entirety of a parking lot. I hoped that Brian would give it to me straight: it wasn't that I lacked trust in my father but he did have a tendency of trying to sugar-coat things since our reconciliation post-locker. With his little blowup in the car, I was afraid of what I might find.



"He's right," Grue replied with an even voice. "Everybody who lived through their wounds long enough for Panacea to get to them? They're fine."



"You better not be bullshitting me. Regent lost a leg. Armsmaster's arm was hanging on with shreds of meat."



"They call her Panacea for a reason." Despite the deadpan tone, I could tell he was smiling beneath the demon-print mask I'd made for him. He waved at my father over my shoulder. "C'mon, let's head in. Everybody's helping out: Foresight's coordinating relief efforts, Cerberus is reinforcing the K9 unit for search and rescue, and Regent and Imp are helping with triage overflow from the hospital."



"I should probably see the chief anyway," dad said as he caught the tail end of Grue's statement. "Frankie's been liaising for me while I've been with T-Skitter, but I don't really trust anybody but me to run the Union."



"What about Kurt and Lacey?" I fell in step with my father, Grue on his other side.



"Handling work in the field. Apparently Klingengeist – that's what Kaiser called himself after he went crazy – got some of the Nazi diehards to attack various places. Not sure if it was intended as a distraction or just to hurt people that much more; who can understand a crazy man?" Dad shrugged. "So I have them actually giving out the orders once Frankie gets them. The system works, I guess, but..."



"...It doesn't feel right if you're not there to lead it," I finished for him. I understood that, the need for control. If I was right, it was what influenced my trigger to focus on bug control. Maybe, once upon a time, my father had potential to trigger as well. Or maybe I just inherited his attitude in that respect.



If the exterior of the police department was barely-controlled chaos, the interior was utter madness. People tore across crowded rooms with arms full of papers; multiple whiteboards and those glass board-thingies where they hung photos (I had no clue what the technical term might be) were scattered haphazardly, with small groups of officers huddled around each one; the lockup section had apparently overflowed to such a degree that they needed a Tinkertech electric pen to keep criminals from busting out.



People parted for us, though, and it was easy to see why: it wasn't necessarily because we were parahumans. It was because we'd been there, at ground zero. We'd fought Der Klingengeist, and we'd survived. Hell, Regent had been the one to kill him. Grue led us to the chief's office, which we found had been turned into the main staging center.



In one corner of the room, tucked away and trying his best not to stand out, was Frankie. He brightened when he saw me and dad, but didn't offer more than a little wave. He had clearly been told off a few times by the more aggressive personalities in the room.



In another corner, also by himself yet apparently in voluntary isolation, was a sickly-looking bastard. He looked as thin as I had been at my worst, yet he was taller than my father. And also a man. His eyes were sunken yet predatory, a great weariness coupled with the sort of easy aggression you find from psychopaths or the worst kinds of soldier. His blazer hung on the back of his folding chair, the pocket of his shirt emblazoned with the logo of Fortress Security Solutions. My new psychic aura – as good a term as any, I suppose – moved over him and I immediately pulled it back. Yep, his whole presence felt wrong, dark. Maybe this guy was useful, even helpful, but he was most certainly a monster.



Standing around the massive table in the center (well, 'table' is a strong word. It was an enormous whiteboard laid over what I presumed to be the chief's desk) were Foresight and two others I didn't immediately recognize. Well, one was obviously the chief of police, judging solely by his clothes. He was about five-nine with a physique that had at one time been near-perfect but had fallen to disrepair over years of desk work. His curly, kinky black hair and dark complexion left his race kind of ambiguous, but what I really recognized, when he turned his head, was the scar. In every press release, my eyes always zoomed in on Chief Tryol's mouth, the brutal scar that split both his lips and carried down his chin. If I remembered the news stories, he'd been on a sting and someone blew his cover. That scar, and numerous others on his body, were the result of the torture he'd suffered before the sting turned into a full-blown shootout.



The third person, however, I didn't have a clue. She was average height, relatively slender, with straw-blonde hair in a pageboy cut and deep blue eyes. Her nose was slightly upturned, the quintessential button nose... That jogged my memory. The nose, the haircut, the eyes? Dear god, that was Director Piggot. She'd dropped about two hundred pounds, courtesy of Panacea most likely, but even with her significantly reduced mass and the little-girl look her nose lent her, she was still the same intimidating hardass. Her steely gaze softened a bit, however, when she saw me. "Ah, Skitter. Glad to see you. We've been handing out duties to every available parahuman, and I need your help for something important."



Why did that fill me with unnameable dread?



"I need you and your creatures to help watch over our parahuman captives."



Oh, that's why.

 

[Vherstinae]

Interruption 5.05



Mental note, I said to myself, don't get arrested in Piggot's jurisdiction.



Juggernaut had been kept in the PRT building's holding cells simply because he had no murders on his record. He was a regular parahuman, so he got regular treatment. The really dangerous ones, I discovered, were kept here.



'Here', being the bowels of the Rig in a ready-to-jettison attachment. There were no vacuum seals or other protections: if this cell block was ejected, the full pressure of the bay's waters would flood the cells through the ventilation systems. Before we were even allowed inside, I was drilled in proper conduct and evacuation protocol. I'd brought all six raptors, Atlas, the spiker and another spiker I'd made just to have redundancies. Atlas, of course, couldn't fit indoors but it was good to have him nearby.



The cells themselves were Tinkertech, apparently a joint project between Dragon and Armsmaster. The interiors were changed as detainees warranted. At the moment, we still had five 'guests' waiting for transfer to the Birdcage.



The first was Hookwolf, who paced back and forth just like an animal. His greasy blond hair spilled over his shoulders, prison jumpsuit unzipped and half-off, exposing his scarred upper body. From what I'd been told, his cell contained two extremely powerful magnets. If Hookwolf started to transform, they'd activate and start pulling him in opposite directions, eventually ripping him in half.



Second was another of the former Empire's heavy hitters, Night. She didn't look like much at the moment, just another woman. She was permitted a simple domino mask in lieu of her signature costume, so she was just a small, slender blonde. Her transformation was prevented by an artificially-grown human eye complete with clear eyelids, meaning that it could blink without losing sight of her.



Next door was her husband, Fog. At the moment he was just a purplish cloud. Honestly, his cell was the easiest to deal with: it was a simple air-injection system that prevented him from moving into the ventilation.



The fourth cell held someone I'd never seen before, but the name rang a bell: Paige McAbee, alias Canary. She'd been on her way to the Birdcage, moving through the various PRT checkpoints, when the war broke out. Her feathery hair was disheveled and her face – what could be seen behind her high-tech gag – bore an expression of pure suffering, causing my heartstrings to automatically twang. The circumstances of her trial were very hush-hush, but just by looking at her I felt immense sympathy.



The final prisoner, on the other hand, caused no such feelings. Lung was strapped to a bed and being constantly fed a cocktail of tranquilizers and adrenaline suppressors, keeping him in his human form.



The prisoners all looked over when the doors opened, and I heard at least one gasp when my creatures followed me inside.



"So," Hookwolf snarled, "the bug bitch returns. I'd heard you went all circus freak, but it's interesting to see firsthand." He strode to the reinforced window. "I'm surprised they didn't just put a bullet in you, Little Nilbog. But then, the heroes always were fucking stupid."



A spiker hissed at him, not liking his tone. I stroked its foreskull to calm it.



Fog solidified, craning his neck to get a better view from his location. As a human, he was blond as well – typical for one of Gesellschaft's experiments – with the sort of hang-dog look about him that you'd expect from someone with a drudge of a job who doesn't get enough sleep. A twisted villain didn't exactly fit the profile, but then I took a moment to recall what he and his wife had done for Purity, and Assault's explanation.



I felt bad for them. They didn't choose to be tormented and turned into these monsters; all the same, however, they had the choice to rebel against their programming and didn't do so.



"You made them?" Night's voice brought me out of my thoughts. Unlike Hookwolf, neither she nor Fog seemed openly hostile.



"Yeah," I replied, careful with my words. "It's part of my power."



"They're beautiful," she said, her tone sad. "They're like what I wish I could be, rather than the mishmash of parts I am." The way she said that...she didn't think of her human body as her true self, did she? Her true self was a monstrosity so twisted and disgusting that she, on an instinctive level, couldn't let anyone else see it. Ever. Damn it, Taylor, stop feeling sorry for the Nazis!



A soft tapping caught my attention and I looked through a raptor's eyes, where it was playing peekaboo with Canary. She tapped the glass again and wiggled her tablet before beckoning me over.



This little guy is so cute! Canary turned the tablet back to herself and typed some more. Does he have a name?



I gave the raptor some scratches behind the horns, using my claws ever so slightly just as he liked. "He and his siblings are all called raptors. They all have the same personality, so giving individual names is needless." I stooped down and switched to my baby-talk voice before I realized I was doing it. "Isn't that right?" I gave the raptor some more rubs and he gave a high-pitched growl of agreement.



Thank you for making me smile. It's been hell in here.



Tentatively, I extended my aura again to get a feel for the prisoners. As expected, Hookwolf was savage and hateful. There was no hidden depth; he was as much of a brutal cretin as he seemed. Night and Fog...they barely felt like people to me. They'd been so twisted by whatever had been done to them back in Germany that their very minds now bore only a passing resemblance to humanity.



Canary...I almost got lost in her. A pure black hole of despair, regret and self-loathing emanated from her, threatening to swallow every happy thought I had. I pulled the aura back and stamped down on it yet again. Great fucking power, I groused to myself. Thus far the majority of uses had made me sad, nervous or upset.



"Why are you here, anyway? You don't strike me as the villainous type."



She looked like she would burst out in tears. It was all a stupid mistake. My ex came to me after a show, being an abusive prick as usual. I told him to go fuck himself, and apparently my power came out while I was upset. He mutilated himself and died from blood loss.



I blinked at that. "So that's what," I scrambled for the legal term, "involuntary manslaughter? And you're getting Caged?"



"You act surprised by this," a deep voice rumbled with a very familiar accent.



I stepped over to get a proper look at Lung. He was still marked with scars from my bursters, the majority of damage healed but the superficial injuries apparently being stubborn. "Of course I'm surprised. It's a miscarriage of justice."



He laughed openly at that. "Justice? Little girl, you are so naïve. Even before parahumans, government was not about justice. After, well, it's much more obvious." He sat up as best he could, given his restraints. "It is about power. For me, power is personal. I am Lung, I am singular. But those without personal power seek other types. Secrets. Blackmail. Manipulation. Money. They gather others, giving them a fraction of that power, so that they will then lord it over others." He let his words hang in the air for a moment. "When something challenges my power, I meet it in combat, to break it or be broken. But these insects, scrambling for crumbs? They use their laws. Thinkers prevented from going into business. Masters sent to the Birdcage. No threat to society; threat to power. Even if just a potential threat, that's enough."



From across the room, Hookwolf let out a braying laugh. "So when you can't just burn things, you try to go all philosopher? Fuck yourself, slant."



"I am a simple man." I couldn't be sure if Lung was replying to Hookwolf or just ignoring him. "Personal power is my means and my end. I exist for my own strength. Others see that strength, latch onto it, and I use them to expand my influence, show still more people my superiority over them." He looked straight at me. "We are both powerful: because I am powerful, I have followers. Because you have followers," his eyes roamed over my creatures, "you are powerful. But there are others who have no power, except when people believe that they do. Parahumans can change that, reveal them as frauds, so they stop it before it can begin."



"Dear god," Fog chuckled, "the Jap's also a dirty hippie! 'Down with the man'," he laughed.



"Actually, I think he's a Chink," Night supplied. "If I remember my old school days, Lung is Chinese for 'dragon' while in Japanese it's... 'ryu', I think."



"Jap, Chink, a slope's a slope," Hookwolf said in as sagely a tone as he could manage.



"Such stimulating conversation," I said in a deadpan. "Makes me wonder why people look down on Nazis."



Canary tapped the glass again. Why are you here, anyway?



"Oh, they're finally getting the paperwork through to transfer you, so they wanted me here to make sure nobody tries anything stupid."



"And you think you could take us?" Hookwolf's tone was a mix of incredulous and disdainful.



"Me? Probably not. Them? Easily." My critters let out simultaneous hisses and growls.



"Little girl," Lung was talking again, "tell me, why are you a hero?"



I'd given an impassioned speech to Piggot on this very subject, so it was easy to reply now. "Because it's the right thing to do. The world is coming apart at the seams, in no small part due to psychopaths like you and Hookwolf, and so few people care about putting things right. I want to leave the world better off than when I came into it."



He scoffed. "And you think you can do this? Stand against all the monsters of the world and make things alright?"



"I don't know," I said, making sure my conviction showed in my voice. "But I'll certainly try, and I won't be dissuaded. Fucks like you? Obsessed with power and the so-called natural order of things? You're the kind of scum I need to fix. We get people safe from your kind, then maybe we can start making a difference against the drugs and human trafficking. People need each other. We have to start cooperating again instead of exploiting each other. Unjust laws? I want to change those too, if I can. But whatever I do, I'll still be better than you." With a sneer, I turned away from Lung.



"...You may have a point," he rumbled. "Humans are pack animals. Designed to work together. I am no mere human, but if a group of cavemen could kill a mammoth, and even I could be defeated with numbers..." He fell into silence and I didn't pry. Honestly, I didn't care what else he had to say.



I moved back to Canary's cell. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry for what happened to you. I wish there was something I could do..."



So do I. The frown creases on her forehead deepened. I never asked for these powers, or these changes. I just wanted to be a singer, to make people happy. And now I'm being shut away with the world's worst monsters, because of one mistake.



"No, it's not fair and it's not right. But there's nothing I can do without becoming a criminal myself. And with powers like mine? It wouldn't be the Birdcage; it'd be a kill order."



Then we're both stuck in a shitty situation. I hope you can make some of the changes you talked about. Make the world a better place for me, OK?



I gave her a sad smile. "Okay."



The elevator hissed open and a technician entered, flanked by four PRT troopers armed with containment-foam sprayers. "Alright," the tech said as she ran a stylus over a tablet, "transport's here, kids." With a few more taps and swipes of the stylus, she caused Hookwolf's cell to dislodge from its place and begin to roll toward the elevator.



Unfortunately for us, while Hookwolf was a savage, he wasn't stupid. There were precious few seconds when his cell would lack power, but he intended to make use of them. He speared a hand into the window, fingers turning to blades just before impact and blossoming into wicked hooks to pry the hole wider.



The troopers shouted in alarm and began to hose the gap with foam, but Hookwolf just turned his body into a snakelike form and seemed to slither through the foam by digging deeper and withdrawing his other end in time, resulting in a tunneling motion. The monster burst from the foam, the barbed tip of his body opening into an octopus of vicious spikes to drive into one of the Troopers, ripping him to pieces. A pair of metal legs impacted the floor and launched Hookwolf toward the elevator.



I took careful aim through my spikers' eyes and fired a pair of thick, barbed spines at his center mass. With any luck, the barbs would catch on his hooks and trip him up. My aim was true and both spines impacted him, easily punching into his metal body and slowing their movement the myriad bits of metal, lodging halfway through his body.



Hookwolf dropped with a piteous groan, his metal limbs curling in on themselves as he twitched on the ground, unable to properly move. It seemed that the spines had gotten themselves lodged into what passed for his main body, trapping his metal and preventing him from slithering free.



"Just give it up," I ordered in the most stern tone of voice I could manage. "My alkali could dissolve Kaiser's metal in less than a second and can eat through Lung's scales. What do you think it'll do to that metal body of yours?" I let the thought linger for a moment. "Just give me a reason to end you, Wolf."



He stopped struggling and let out a defeated grunt.



"Good dog." I stepped into the elevator while the remaining troopers dragged Hookwolf's body inside. My critters stayed behind to guard the rest while I helped keep Hookwolf docile until we got him properly restrained.



(BREAK)



Night and Fog didn't struggle, though I could see the despair on their faces even without my aura. I still couldn't help feeling bad for them. They were broken people, after all. It wasn't entirely their fault, and it was a tragedy that they'd ended up like they had. I couldn't deny that they belonged in the Cage, though.



I rested my hand on Canary's cell window, and she did the same, our fingers lining up. "I'm sorry." I forced myself not to choke up. "I hope you can at least find some peace in there..."



Lung just grinned at me. "We will be seeing one another again."



"It'll be your third strike, then," I snarled back. "If we do see each other again, I'll kill you."



And with that, the last of the Birdcage's newest guests was loaded into one of the enormous armored transports. Oni Lee and Bakuda were also loaded up, having been in standard lockup. With Lee in blackout glassea and Bakuda restrained, they were barely any threat.



As I watched the transports roll away, I couldn't help the empty feeling in the pit of my stomach – or, well, what used to be my stomach. People like Sophia were just plain evil, but how many villains out there were victims themselves, forced into acts of evil because they had no other option? Our government prevented most parahumans from attaining employment in normal jobs, and there were tragically few therapists available (and fewer still willing) to help capes deal with their issues.



The way things were going, things were slated to only get worse. Something had to give, or we'd eventually see the world descend into anarchy.



Somebody had to do something.



Why not the Undersiders?

 

[Vherstinae]

Interruption 5.06



There's a quote from a Drew Barrymore movie, Ever After, that seems to apply to my life, Brockton Bay, and the world in general: "No matter how bad things are, they can always get worse."



In this case, the 'getting worse' came not a minute after the transports were loaded up and driving onto the pier. As the Rig began to drift back into its standard position, a rather flustered-looking trooper told me that my presence was requested in the conference room.



The poor bastard wasn't much older than me, maybe early twenties, and he was doing his best not to fidget as he led me. I hoped, for his sake, that he wasn't hoping for undercover work. I extended my aura again, feeling his emotions spill over me. The more I used this power, the more I understood how it worked. It wasn't a sixth sense so much as it was an entire second suite of senses, underlying my normal senses. I perceived emotions in my mind's eye rather than interfering with my interactions with the world at large.



In this trooper's case, the dominant emotion was the oily feeling of fear, undulating between varying degrees of apprehension, concern for another, and concern for self. I didn't bother wondering how I was able to interpret this, or why it was getting clearer the more I used it. Instead, I focused my curiosity on what threat was waiting for me in the conference room.



(BREAK)



Well, fuck me.



The way they all looked at me, I realized I must've said that out loud. Fuck it. I was allowed to react like this. Seated in the conference room were Legend, Alexandria and Eidolon. My critters, who had been following me, shifted to stand in front without my order; they were intent on protecting me. I placed a hand on each spiker's shoulder, gingerly parting them and standing between my larger creations. If I was to have any hope of salvaging this, I'd need to not come off like I was itching for a fight.



Even worse, my adrenaline was warring with fangirl enthusiasm. Alexandria was here, to talk to me. ALEXANDRIA WAS HERE TO TALK TO ME!!! I had to almost physically tamp down my urge to squee. Instead, I drew in a breath and said (in a shakier voice than I'd hoped), "Okay, you've successfully blindsided me. Are you here to toss me in Ellisburg?" …I need to get better at the whole "off-the-cuff" speaking thing.



"Perhaps," Alexandria replied, her voice cold.



My blood – if I still had blood – went as cold as her voice at that. Fuckfuckfuckfuck... "L-look, I just want to help people. I didn't choose my powers; I'm just making the most of the hand I was dealt." One of my raptors let out a murgle of agreement.



"Be that as it may," my personal hero continued, "the fact remains that you are in possession of an incredibly dangerous power, you are at an age prone to mood swings, and you have suffered vast amounts of mental and physical trauma. You're a bomb waiting to explode."



My insect instincts told me to fight. My human ones told me to run like hell. I chose a third option, drawing on the fury that built in the face of bullies. "And what about any of you?" My voice was haughty and patronizing; this was an enormous gamble but I wasn't about to let them lock me up, take away my freedom for the crime of being fate's bitch. I was through being abused, stuck in the corner and ignored. For good or ill, I determine my fate from now on. It's my choice. I pressed forward before one of them could interrupt. "You're invincible and can toss tanks around. Legend's lasers would let him depopulate whole cities or commit genocide with no unintended casualties. And Eidolon's Eidolon. Any one of you is just as big a threat as me, if not bigger. So why are you allowed to go around helping people? Shouldn't you be Caged, or executed, in case you decide to become a threat?" I did my best to lock eyes with each of them. "But people don't fear you, even though according to your logic they should, because you have years of heroism under your belts. If you got the chance to prove yourselves instead of being locked away, why do I not deserve that same opportunity?"



...Wow. Public-speaking powers, activate. I guess I'm like a reverse of that old comic-book hero who got stronger as he got angry; for me, I get more eloquent. I guess that's a bonus.



Alexandria stared me down from behind her visor and I did my best not to wilt under the invisible, yet withering, gaze. "You have a history of poor decision-making, Miss Hebert. You refused membership with the Wards in favor of operating solo, then you joined with a group of villains. You've murdered two people, including one unpowered civilian. Many of your actions in combat indicate unconscious suicidal tendencies, including two direct confrontations with Lung."



I snarled, the sound guttural and monstrous. I realized, through my critters' eyes, that my own eyes started glowing when I snarled. "I refused membership with the Wards because they lacked proper oversight, allowing a psychopath to operate free of consequence. I joined the villains because actions on the part of your Protectorate stripped me of the chance to join an established hero group. And I noticed that you conveniently glossed over the fact that these 'villains' defended several neighborhoods during the war, with no thought to personal gain. The two people you say I murdered were attempting to murder me at the time. And fighting Lung? The first time was to save innocents, the second was at your organization's request! And now those 'villains' are a well-respected independent hero team." I shook my head in disgust. "I'm starting to think that you're just jealous. You don't want any other heroes with the kind of power you can throw around, because we might steal the spotlight from you."



"Whoa, whoa, okay," Legend stood, hands up in a placating gesture. "This is drifting toward a catfight and that's not the point of this. Alex, I know you usually take point in these things, but right now you're not helping." He stepped around the table, halfway between me and his partners. "Let's clear the air, here: Alexandria's method is to pick at your insecurities and issues, see how long it takes you to break, and your reaction when or if you do. It lets us know if you'll be an actual help or if you're just a ticking time-bomb. But I'm seeing The Thing on the horizon if you two keep at it." He paused to chuckle. "I think you're the first lady as hard-headed as Alexandria here."



"Our primary concern," Eidolon's deep voice interjected from the depths of his hood, "is this: Nilbog is an S-class threat because of the sheer numbers and raw power he can produce. But his creations require food to sustain themselves. You can apparently produce food for your creations. This makes you, potentially, an even greater threat because your creatures' numbers are limited only by you."



I blinked. "Holy hell, I'd never even thought of that. You've got a point there..."



Alexandria cleared her throat. "I apologize for my antagonism, though I hope you understand my reasoning. I can see that you are willing to fight and even risk death for your principles, and that gives me confidence. But I have to ask: will you reconsider joining the Wards?"



I shook my head. "Sorry, but no. First, the Wards would place too many restrictions on my powers as well as requiring publicity patrols, limiting my usefulness. Second, as I've said before, the Protectorate needs people on the outside able to do what they can't. My team is familiar with the other side of the law; we can help handle threats you might be too mired in red tape to properly address."



"You've thought this through," Legend smiled.



I smiled in return and began to let my guard down. "Yeah, way too often. Being a hero is grueling work, for the brain and emotions as much as the body and powers. Maybe even more so. We did good work during the war, saving people and keeping the peace. We want to keep doing that, helping to make the world a better place. And without Protectorate regulations, we have more freedom to act. We could potentially deter threats before they make it onto your radar."



I discovered that Eidolon's glowing eyes do indeed represent his real ones, as one moved like its eyebrow was rising. "By 'deter', you mean...?"



"I mean deter. We're not some murderous vigilante group. Even as villains, the Undersiders tried to keep casualties to a minimum and had a strict policy against killing. But if we can intimidate enemies into not even trying to act, so much the better."



"Well," Legend chirped, "I'm satisfied. You seem to have a good head on your shoulders."



I blinked at the sudden pleasantness. "S-seriously?"



"Yeah," he gave me a reassuring smile. "We read your case file – the redacted one – and you've had plenty of chances to turn the Bay into Ellisburg. You've got strong morals and serious determination, and if you haven't yet decided to murder everyone, I think there's little chance of you doing so now."



I let out a breath and finally felt myself relax, if only a tiny bit. At least it didn't seem likely they were going to Cage me...yet. "I have to say, I'm surprised you felt the need to come here. Hasn't the Director vouched for me?"



"The Director," Alexandria frowned, "is only still in her position due to the power of public opinion. If we didn't have a PR nightmare on our hands, she would already have been put through court-martial for insubordination. Yes," she cut off whatever reply was trying to form in my mind, "the end result was good. But we have protocols for a reason. If we allow the ends to justify the means, we descend into anarchy at best, tyranny at worst." She leaned forward, her voice less harsh and more like a stern teacher. "We, as a species, can justify anything to ourselves. How long before someone decides that dropping a nuclear warhead to stop the Slaughterhouse 9 is appropriate, without caring for the thousands of people in whichever city they're currently visiting?"



And how many people would that save? Would have saved, if we'd done that earlier? I found it difficult to justify not using that kind of overwhelming force. How many heroes had the 9 killed? How much better off would the world be? If I didn't have my own powers, would I be willing to die to ensure that a threat like the 9 was wiped out of existence? Yeah, I would. But could I take that choice from others? There was the sticking point.



"You're right," I said with a heavy release of breath. "It would be easy to justify that. But it wouldn't be right. I'm not afraid to kill one of those monsters, but I can't justify slaughtering innocent people on the off chance of stopping them." A spiker draped its limbs over my shoulders and snuggled up against me. D'awww!



"You've already made good steps toward being a hero," Eidolon commented. It was weird, with his entire head hidden beneath the hood; there wasn't any indication of movement, even head bobs, so any time he spoke up was a surprise. "I suppose we can allow you the same chance that the world gave us." He stood, his cape swirling like some sort of movie aftereffect. "However, we will be watching."



A blindingly white rectangle appeared behind the Triumvirate, and the others rose as well. Like something out of a movie – maybe they had somebody like that Michael Bay from Aleph working PR for them? – they vanished through the portal.



My spiker looked at me from over my shoulder. I met his eyes and shrugged. "Yeah, that was weird to me, too." He chittered at me in agreement.



(BREAK)



The shuttle brought us back to the shore and we found my dad waiting for us, apparently having borrowed a Union member's heavy-duty truck to transport my critters. We popped two raptors in the cab itself, while the other four and the spikers sat in the bed. I rode Atlas and we made it home in time for dinner.



It was Lisa's turn to cook that night, and she'd made pasta. Yay!



"So, wait," dad said, shaking his head in confusion, "the Triumvirate came to visit you – came to practically intimidate you – and you're just telling me about this now?"



I chuckled sheepishly between bites. While I might not need to eat, I still enjoyed the taste of food. "Honestly? I didn't want you to crash while we were driving." A raptor nudged my foot, wanting some table scraps. I tickled under its chin with my toes. "I mean, there's no way to say that casually. Without coming across like I have no grasp of the situation, at least." I looked down at my plate. Huh. I could've sworn I had three garlic rolls...



"Good point," Aisha said between bites of a garlic roll. "I mean, Alec and I are the types to just not give a shit and even we'd pause for gravitas before announcing something like that." The brunet leaned across the table and they fist-bumped. "Honestly, I'm more surprised they didn't do something more...dramatic."



"They might have," I admitted, "if not for Legend. I think he's the one who made the difference. Alexandria's scarily intense and Eidolon feels like he just doesn't really care either way."



Lisa waited until she caught my gaze. "But, despite all that, it's not what really has you upset, is it?"



I sighed and took another bite, the food losing its taste as I remembered the pain in Canary's eyes. "No, no it's not." With a heavy heart, I began the story of the Birdcage's future inmates.

 

[Vherstinae]

Interlude 5.z



Legend peeled off his shiny blue domino mask and smoothed out his hair. "Seriously, Becks, I've never seen you act like that. You looked ready to come to blows with the kid."



Alexandria pulled off her own visor, exposing the vicious scar that marred her otherwise perfect features. Though he felt no attraction to women, Legend could admit that Rebecca Costa-Brown was like a work of art, a stunning fusion of beauty and power likely caused by her shard mixture. "I pride myself on the ability to read people, Dom. The signals she was giving me were pretty much the exact opposite of what her reactions actually were." Rebecca sighed and ran a hand through the sea of her jet-black hair. "It's like she was Mastered, but she wasn't."



Eidolon pulled down his hood, the illusory effect dissipating and exposing his heavyset, jowled visage. "I had one power going to check for such influences. She wasn't Mastered, and she wasn't controlling her creations."



The other two turned to look at him when he said that. "Care to elaborate, Dave?" Legend asked as he pulled up a chair.



"Sure." David stalked over to the wall and unlatched the tablet, the overlay appearing on the wall. He began drawing crude stick figures. "She has a permanent link with all of her creations – at least the ones that were there, and one more that wasn't. I think that's her giant beetle."



"Atlas," Legend supplied.



"Thank you, Dominic," Eidolon deadpanned. "So, the connection is there, but it's like...a wifi signal. It's present but not necessarily active. The creatures were acting on instinct, protecting and even comforting her."



"That's reassuring," Alexandria remarked. "If she prefers to make kindhearted creatures, we have less risk. Although, she still looked ready to fight if pressed." She sighed. "I guess I shouldn't have been surprised by that. Her father is known for his temper and her mother was a crusader. Ran with Lustrum in the early years."



"Again, so glad I'm gay," Dominic snickered. "Bitches be crazy." He winced when Becky lightly punched him in the shoulder.



"Need I point out the Harper's Mill riots, Dom?"



Legend responded with an exaggerated pout. "I'll be good."



David gave a long-suffering sigh. "Her powers felt...off to me. They weren't solid."



That got Alexandria's one good eye to swivel back to him. "Wait, she's one of ours?"



"Yes. No. Rgh," he grabbed at his balding head. "I don't know! She's fucking strange! I felt a power root that was both whole and scrambled."



"Okay, so we have a cuter Nilbog with some sort of mutant shard. Anything else terrifying?"



"You should know not to jinx yourself like that, Dominic." Doctor Mother entered, Contessa in tow, but the Italian woman didn't look quite like she normally did. Her eyes held the vacant mixture of fear and primal violence that arose when she remembered killing the being now codenamed Eden.



"Something is wrong," Fortuna stated in a flat voice. "And it is your fault."



Each member of the Triumvirate took a moment to blink at that. "Alright," David enquired, "what's wrong and what did we do?"



"That is exactly the problem. I do not know."



Dom held up his hands. "Okay, before my brain starts to hurt any more, can we start at the beginning? Like, when did something go wrong, and how do you know it's our fault?"



"I continually monitor S-class threats within our jurisdiction. While designation Skitter is not currently S-class, her powers make give her the potential to be upgraded to the status. The prior method for neutralizing her was simple: take one of her loved ones hostage, decapitate her, use an anti-Brute sniper rifle." Fortuna stood in the center of the collected heroes. "This changed during your meeting with her. Now, the Path declares that avoidance and non-interference is the best policy."



David shrugged. "I don't yet see the problem. It's no different from Nilbog or Sleeper in that respect."



"Except, when I looked for a Path explicitly to destroy Skitter, other consequences ignored." The Italian woman paused for emphasis. "No result."



That got a response. Rebecca actually rose from her seat. "What do you mean? That it's impossible?"



Contessa met her gaze. "I'll repeat myself: I. Don't. Know. Until now, the only beings that exist outside the Path are Eidolon, the Endbringers, and Zion itself. Skitter...exists at the edge of the Path. Plans to interact with or avoid her are forthcoming, though they lean toward appeasement. But the Path goes blank when I request her destruction."



"Obviously," Doctor Mother interrupted, "this represents a serious threat. Even if Skitter remains a hero, she is independent. With so much potential power, as well as some of the PRT's dirty laundry being aired in the aftermath of the war, we risk losing legitimacy should the Undersiders' star continue to rise."



Dom shook his head. "So, what, we sabotage them? Is that even remotely a good idea?"



"There are too many potential futures, too many steps." Contessa took a breath. "Still, when I focus on Skitter, the Path indicates that avoidance or appeasement will be most conducive to the true goal."



Rebecca frowned. "So we're supposed to bend over backward for one little girl? We already have to tiptoe around Panacea, now this?"



"Alexandria, you're too focused on the person and not the power," Doctor Mother chastised the invincible woman. "What if Skitter can somehow create a creature specifically designed to kill Zion?"



The Hispanic woman paused, her mind crunching the possibilities. "If that's possible...she would be an asset of value equal only to Contessa. Perhaps greater."



The enigmatic Doctor rested a hand on Rebecca Costa-Brown's shoulder. "Everything we do is for the singular goal of ending the waking nightmare we've lived with for decades. I'm not saying that we should suddenly build her a golden palanquin and defer to Skitter in all things. This will require much more study and vetting. But such a drastic shift indicates at least some measure of potential value."



Alexandria nodded. "Yes, I suppose I got overly defensive. The PRT is too important to simply toss aside and I should never have presumed that's what you were suggesting." She looked over the Doctor's shoulder. "Fortuna, maybe you should get some juice and take a nap. You've got to have burned yourself out checking and re-checking the Paths." She then looked at her companions. "Want to grab lunch before we head back to our posts?"



(BREAK)



The little blonde bounced excitedly. "So Manny an' me organized the database. With all the hacking and interrogations, I think we've got a good assessment of the new players." From her perch atop her mother/big-sister figure, she activated the powerpoint presentation.



The image of a tall, well-built man in black leather appeared, a twisted off-white demon face leering out of his helmet. "Grue, the de facto leader of the Undersiders. From what I can gather, he's a savant at hand-to-hand combat. Dangerous even against low-ranked Brutes, and that's without even taking his power into consideration."



Mimi raised a finger. "That's darkness generation, right?"



"Close! S'what I thought, too, until I checked file footage more thoroughly. It's not just darkness. It disrupts communications and victims report a feeling of being in an infinite void. Moreover, his power interferes with certain others'. We know he adversely affected Shadow Stalker's Breaker state, but we don't have enough data to figure out exactly what it affects and how."



"Eh, he's boring. Might be a bit of a pain to face if Crawler isn't front-and-center, but not worth candidacy. Next!"



"Aye-aye, Mister Jack!" The next slide revealed a Renaissance Faire reject.



"I'd recognize that hair and fashion sense anywhere. Hello, Jean-Paul!"



"Right. He's your candidate, right Cherie? Okay, so he's a really powerful Master. Even more so than we thought, because check this out." The slide clicked to a photo of an armored PRT trooper, a blade of metal sticking out the back of his neck. "This was Kaiser. Regent killed him by taking control of his own power."



Cherie toyed with the streak of red in her hair. "Huh. Didn't know he had it in him. Impressive. Just makes him more valuable."



"Well, other than his power, he's not exceptional. No real melee combat skills, not particularly fast or durable. Relies on his scepter if enemies get close."



The next slide clicked over, a bulky and broad-shouldered girl in a heinous-looking dog mask. "Cerberus, formerly Bitch." Her 'ride' perked up. "So her power is enhancing dogs. She can turn an ordinary pound puppy into something that can trash mid-level Brutes." The next slide showed several of her mutated dogs: an emaciated-looking monster with a mouth like a cayman, a broad beast with a mouth as large as the rest of its body, a creature covered in claws and bladed bone spurs. "She's ruthless, unafraid to kill, and she's no slouch in hand-to-hand. While she's not really trained, she has the strength and mass to make up for it. Now, I still say they should've classified her as a Shaker, since she doesn't actually control the dogs, but I didn't invent the dumb system.



"And next is a Power Ranger!" The blonde giggled and clicked to another girl in a form-fitting bodysuit and helmet in a mix of violet and black. "Foresight, a powerful Thinker. Nobody's quite sure how her power works, but she claims to be psychic. Regardless, she seems to just know things that should be impossible for her to know. Not much potential for candidacy or too great a threat, but we should keep an eye on her. If she could somehow see a chink in Crawler's power or no-sell Atika, we'd be in significantly more trouble." She wiggled her legs. "Even worse, what if she figured out how to hurt you?"



The silent woman gave an exaggerated frown.



The next slide only had a single image, a zoomed-in still from the Undersiders' coming-out party when they officially declared themselves heroes. "Imp. Powers unknown, other talents unknown. Even the name is suspect. I'm betting on a Stranger power, and apparently a fairly strong one. Unfortunately, we can't decide candidacy on supposition, even if she's really the second coming of Nice Guy.



"And finally..." The slide was covered in images, a progression of appearance from human to decidedly less so. "Skitter, the Undersiders' main source of firepower. Before her induction, Cerberus was their heaviest hitter, but Skitter is apparently a Nilbog-style Master." She clicked over to a slide full of (mostly blurry) photos featuring various monsters. "According to what Manny could take from the PRT, the big one's named Atlas. The littlest ones are called raptors, and the snakies are spikers. She makes other creepy-crawlies, too, but no good photos."



"And that's what I'm talking about. This girl is practically the ten plagues of Egypt in one package! If we can convince her to join on, we might not have to go to ground nearly as often as we do currently."



"I'm still mad you picked her for yourself, Jack." The room rattled with the overwhelming basso voice. "She adapts after she's hurt. She'd make a perfect protege."



"Hey, you can take her under your wing – maybe by then you'll have wings – if she survives the tests. But I like her for the fear she can instill. Anyway, since Hookwolf's been sent to the Cage, that means Atika needs a new candidate. Pull up the next file and we can re-check the other rosters."

 

[Vherstinae]

Colony 6.01



Feel the music. Let it flow through you, guide your steps. Move in time. In gymnastics, as with virtually everything else, practice made perfect. In this case, I had an advantage during practice: I could see myself from multiple angles, understand my mistakes and work to correct them. And all without breaking my concentration.



While I focused more on things like the uneven bars and balance beam for their practical benefit (being able to swing around and balance on tiny ledges was undeniably useful as a hero), the floor routine held an appeal of its own. Maybe I was being goofy, but moving across the mats as I did, a combination of lyricism and strength, it made me feel sexy. It was something normal, something beautiful that took my mind off my continuing changes. The latest update was that my joints – from my knees to my knuckles – were now a subtle purple. Apparently they'd been further reinforced with subdermal armor, and my plating was a lilac color.



Day by day, my body was becoming less human. I didn't want to focus on that, get myself into a rut. So instead I focused on how the muscles moved in my bare legs, how I felt attractive when just a year ago I would've been too embarrassed and shy to try anything like this.



The music cut off and I popped out my earpiece, giving it to a bumblebee to carry back to my locker.



"Alright, ladies, take five!" Coach Tusch offered us all a smile. The middle-aged woman wasn't even five feet tall, a former gymnast herself. Her skin tone was somewhere between brown and yellow, her ancestry tracing back to one of the -stans from south of Russia. She was a harsh taskmaster, but offered plenty of encouragement to balance things out. "Miranda, excellent work. Taylor, if you weren't a cape I'd say you had a chance at the ISGC. Cadence, come talk with me when you have time. You're making a few major mistakes that I think we can fix." Tusch stopped me with a touch on the arm as I walked past. "I'm serious, Taylor: you're really impressing me. For being so tall and having that hair mess with your inertia and center of gravity, you have amazing control."



I blushed at the praise. I'd been blushing purple recently, too. "Thanks, coach. I just wish I could compete, make your work on me worth it."



She clucked her tongue. "Alright, enough with the self-deprecation. Go get yourself cleaned up."



I smiled and strode off to the locker room.



Miranda Kline was the star gymnast of Arcadia's sophomores. She stood about five-two, dark hair in a pixie cut, and she was built like a tank. If gymnastics didn't work out for her, I figured she could do reasonably well in Miss Olympia. She smirked at me while removing her leotard. "Careful, Tails. I think the coach has a girlcrush on you."



I just gave a halfhearted smirk back and went about my business. I didn't like Miranda. While she wasn't antagonistic to me, that was only because I was forbidden from competing. She was the kind of hyper-competitive, type-A personality that led to vicious 'pranks' between athletes. Andrea, on the other hand, was a sweetheart. And speak of the devil, the little blonde plopped down beside me.



"So what song are you using for your floor?" Andrea's voice might have been annoying if she wasn't so damn nice. It was a high-pitched squeak rather like a chihuahua's bark.



I grinned back at her. "Iron, from the new Within Temptation album."



Andrea just blinked, her peppiness unflappable. "I haven't heard that one yet. I'll have to give it a listen." She leaned a bit closer. "You know, nobody judges you. You don't have to wait to shower till everybody's gone."



I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Andrea, it's my own hangup. Nothing to do with the rest of you."



She shrugged. "If you say so. I've been trying to get a peek at you, but whatever." She wandered off, leaving me to gape.



Wait, what? I worked my mouth a few times to no avail. Had sweet little Andrea just hit on me? What was it with girls flirting with me? Did I trip people's gaydar or something? She does have a nice butt, my traitorous insect brain contributed. I told it to hush.



(BREAK)



After that strange little interlude, I just barely managed to shower and make it to my next class, Writing for Theater and Film. Still couldn't believe they abbreviated a class 'WTF'. I slid in beside Dennis, the spastic redhead having saved me a seat as usual. He usually made horrible jokes, but his script ideas were unfailingly hilarious even if I was laughing at him more often than with him. He didn't seem to mind either way. I fist-bumped him as had become our convention (at his insistence). Professor Konrad's assignment this week had been a crime drama. While I'd been inspired by Buffalo Soldiers to set the story on a military base and follow MPs unraveling a coverup, Dennis had done a tribute to Dragnet...called Drag-Net, about 1920s officers dressing as women to catch criminals. Needless to say, Konrad was less than impressed.



The rotund teacher, who looked like a fusion of Alfred Hitchcock and Colonel Sanders, roamed the classroom and offered advice when asked. When I called him over for his opinion on character motivations, he gave me a short lecture about how our past shapes our present and that the best thing for me to do was to think about what my villain's formative years were like. "But don't strive for perfection," he cautioned. "Not only is it unattainable, but you only have five days for each script. I'm looking for improvement, not a Hollywood-ready masterpiece."



Of course, Dennis was snickering to himself all the while. The bug on his shoulder led me to roll my eyes at the redhead when I saw a line about garrote-wire garter belts. Konrad and I gave one another a look of shared suffering.



(BREAK)



Lunch, if anything, was even odder than usual. First off, Vicky didn't get the chance to kidnap me this time as Dennis enthusiastically dragged me over to meet his friends. Furthermore, Rachel was at another table. Talking to a boy. I sent a bug over to listen in as Dennis plunked me down on the bench.



"Guys, this is Taylor. She's awesome. Taylor, these are the guys. They're dull."



A bulky hispanic boy flipped him the bird.



"See what I mean?" Dennis gave a long-suffering sigh. "Grinch there is Carlos. He's going for the Guinness World Record for biggest stick up an ass." Dennis gestured at a blond boy with hair as curly as his own. "That's Chris. He's nice but boring."



"Blow me, firecrotch."



"Love you too. And lastly there's Luke. He's boring but nice."



"...Thanks?" Luke was huge, at least six-six and built like Armsmaster. He was also quite handsome, though his features tended toward more blocky, caveman-style good looks rather than the wispy prettyboy style of someone like Patrick Dempsey.



It all clicked. The attitudes, the body types...these were the Wards. Clockblocker beside me, Aegis and Browbeat opposite, and probably Kid Win sandwiched between them. "So what do you guys do in your downtime? I'm stuck with the hero thing so I don't exactly get much 'me time'," I smiled.



"I guess that's one of the problems with being indy," Chris observed. "You guys and New Wave see so much more action than the Wards. Can't tell if that's a good thing or a bad one."



"Probably both," Luke rumbled. Out of his Browbeat costume he seemed much more comfortable with himself. "On the one hand, you'd get a lot more experience so you can better deal with the kind of threats you'd face in the Protectorate. On the other, I doubt many villains would be merciful just because you're a kid. Lotta danger out there."



"You've got that pretty much right, Luke," I smiled and tried not to ogle him. "I was there at ground zero when Anders went all S-class on us. Almost died, myself. Worst thing is, there aren't really any parahuman shrinks out there."



Dennis nodded solemnly. "Yeah. From what I read–" he ignored Carlos' coughing fit that sounded a lot like 'Cape nerd!' "–most parahuman therapists only have inpatient facilities, so you'd need to check yourself in like a rehab clinic. Nobody's got time for that shit when you have explodey dragon men running around. Only one who'll do outpatient, that I know of, is Dr. Yamada. But she runs a hospital for crippled capes, so she's not really on-call 24/7."



"Well that sucks. I was hoping we could get somebody for Regent to talk to. Heartbreaker messed him up bad when he was a kid." I shook my head. "But on to less depressing stuff," I jerked my thumb over my shoulder. "Who's the boy Rachel's talking to?"



Carlos tilted his head to see around my hair. "I think his name's Sean. He's in my chemistry class. Nice guy, I think. Real quiet."



"They're mostly just talking about Judas – her dog," I clarified, "and dogs in general."



Chris blinked. "You're eavesdropping?"



"Rachel had a shit life. She's my friend and I want to make sure nobody hurts her."



Dennis gave me a little hug, and just grinned playfully when I looked at him like he'd sprouted another head. "That's sweet of you," he smiled. "To look after your girlfriend like that."



If he'd been hoping I'd look scandalized, I dashed those hopes. I was too frustrated with that kind of thing today. "She's not my girlfriend. Closer to being my sister. I actually think my dad's trying to get up the courage to ask if we can adopt her, but with her history I'm sure he's afraid that'd blow up in his face."



Luke smiled wide. "Aw, that's swee–"



And I would walk five hundred miles, and I would walk five hundred more... My phone started ringing. "Sorry, I gotta check this." Sure enough, it was the PRT. "Skitter." I ignored Dennis' whisper of, 'note the serious face'.



"Miss Hebert," said a cautious voice that I recognized as Deputy Director Renick, "there's been an incident. Your father was caught in a crossfire between the Merchants and the Teeth. He's being taken to Brockton Memorial as we speak."



"I'll be right there!" I hung up and leapt from the bench before Renick could say anything else. "Rachel!" I screamed across the cafeteria. "Dad's hurt!"



Rachel unclipped Judas' leash and likewise leapt from her table. With a sharp whistle she had Judas running alongside of her. Only about a minute after we'd exited the building, the dog was big enough to ride.



(BREAK)



The rest of the team was already at the hospital, with Alec not far behind us. The Undersiders waited in the lobby, since only family was allowed to visit. Dad was in the intensive care ward, his car having been sucked into Mush's trash ball and then used as a projectile via Skidmark's directional field.



He looked so small and frail in the hospital bed, hooked up to various IVs and monitoring cables. He smiled at me as best he could through a broken jaw, swollen eye and various bruises. "Hey, kiddo," my father wheezed.



"Christ, dad..." I pulled up a chair and took his relatively uninjured right hand. "Are you–" I stopped myself. That was a stupid question. "Will you be okay?"



"I think so." He took a breath between almost every word. "I got banged up pretty bad but no–" he coughed. "...No bones in my lungs or anything. Just need a lot of rest."



I smiled and kissed his forehead. "Okay then. You take five. Lisa and I will hold down the fort."



He nodded a bit and let his head loll to one side; whatever medicine they were giving him was obviously working as his breathing evened out quickly and he was asleep before I left the room.



Back in the lobby, I gathered the Undersiders – in and out of costume – in a corner. "Alright," I growled, "we're going back to HQ and getting our costumes and my bugs. Then we're crashing this little rumble."



"Whoa, whoa," Grue said under his breath. "This is the Teeth we're talking about. Last time the Adrift had 'em softened up for us; this time they're just trading potshots with the Merchants. I don't think we can–"



"They hurt my family," I stated with deific authority as my eyes glowed. "They're not getting away with it. Teeth, Merchants, I'm going to crush them both. You can come if you want. Or don't. But I'm going." By the power of great timing, Atlas landed outside as I spoke.



"I'm coming with you." Imp was suddenly at my side. "If only to make sure you don't do something stupid."



I didn't even have the spare energy to make a snarky remark in return. Instead I just took her hand and led her to Atlas. Grue and the others followed behind.



(BREAK)



My creatures all looked like they were having panic attacks, raptors running around on the creep-covered floor while the spikers tried to slither up the walls. It was obvious they were reacting to my distress, but they all snapped to attention as soon as they saw me.



"Alright," I bellowed like a drill sergeant. They already knew the problem – at least, I expected they knew – but this was for my benefit as much as theirs. "Dad's been hurt. Bad. The Teeth and Merchants are going at it, and who knows how many other people are going to be caught in the crossfire." I slammed my fist into my palm. "This ends today!"



My speech had afforded Rachel and Alec the time to get suited up. "Alright, we're hunting these fucks down, and then putting them down!" I leapt atop Atlas, who lumbered out the warehouse door. The rest of my creations flooded out around him.



(BREAK)



The fight had started in the slums and moved through the docks. At this point, the villains were careening down Lord Street, the three Merchant capes aboard Squealer's latest abomination of a vehicle and the Teeth giving chase astride the quadruped form of Animos. Skidmark and Mush stood in what I took to be a truck bed, tailgate hanging open. Skidmark had set up a veritable railgun from layering his power, and Squealer's erratic driving kicked up debris for Mush to grab onto, which he then launched through their leader's field to hurtle at breakneck speeds at their pursuers. Skidmark himself had an enormous machine gun – the kind that requires a box for the ammunition belt – and was firing wildly.



Butcher sat frontmost on Animos, soaking up gunfire and helping protect his teammates. Behind him, Quarrel reloaded her arbalest and Hemorrhagia launched spears of solidified blood.



I coughed up a group of voicebugs, sending them to my friends. "Alright, fuck all kinds of this. I'm taking down Squealer. Regent, topple Animos." I had Atlas dive and grab a spiker by the tail, lifting it into the air. From its inverted position, my spiker took careful aim and launched a barbed spine straight into the vehicle's engine block. As soon as that happened, Animos' front legs splayed out and he tumbled forward in a heap. Quarrel screamed in pain as she was trapped under the Changer's bulk, while Butcher and Hemorrhagia were thrown clear.



Grue immediately blinded Quarrel while Regent went to work on Butcher. The gang leader's own multifarious powers were turned into a liability as Regent just started stimulating them at random. Butcher teleported in all directions, zapping himself with his pain power, and all manner of other problems. I could see the strain it was taking on Regent, to control that much raw power, but he was being smart about it. Instead of taking the reins he was just panicking the horses, to use a bad analogy.



Hemorrhagia charged, aiming for Regent, when Cerberus intervened. Blood blades met three enormous monster dogs. While the hemokinetic originally had the advantage with enormous coagulated lances, once the dogs encircled her she didn't have a chance. I heard her joints breaking and tried not to take too much pleasure in that.



My critters had swarmed Squealer's vehicle under the cover of an actual insect swarm. I did take pleasure in the horrified screams as the raptors and spikers tore into the chassis and grabbed at the villains. Mush ejected himself from his trash ball and made a break for it before spasming and collapsing in a heap as though he'd been tased. Imp, I realized. I stalked a raptor over to Mush, feeling my hackles rise. These fucks had hurt my father. They'd forcibly addicted god knows how many people, trafficking in human lives. I would stop them, for good.



I licked my lips, crawling fully into the raptor's mind as I raised its blades for the finishing blow.



Then the most horrendous sound I'd ever experienced ripped through my consciousness. My mind was ripped from the raptor's and forcibly thrown back into my own body. I lost all control of the insects, which flew away in a desperate attempt at self-preservation. I clung to Atlas, watching in terror as the tide turned. Animos' scream had torn away Grue's darkness, shrunken Cerberus' dogs, revealed Imp, and freed Butcher from Regent's control.



My creatures interposed themselves, Atlas landing to join the living wall. The Teeth would not have my friends. If I'd had more presence of mind, I would've been amazed that Cerberus' dogs returned to normal while my critters were unaffected.



Butcher made the first move, teleporting in to attack Regent. Before anyone could react, however, Atlas was already there. He caught Butcher with the inner curve of a bladed limb, throwing him back before bringing down the flat of his other blade to smash Butcher into the ground. A small amount of blood dripped from Atlas' hooked blade. The Butcher had been wounded.



And that was the cue. Out of my control, my creations descended on the Teeth in a frenzy of violence. Animos tried to fight back, forcing himself to scream again, but to no avail. Raptors leapt atop him and tore at his legs, removing his footing. Bladed limbs dug into his back and sides, then teeth further tore open the cuts. His next screams were much more human as he was literally torn apart. Quarrel simply fled, hobbling as fast as she could. Hemorrhagia charged a spiker, having noticed that they avoided melee, and skewered it in the chest. It screeched in pain but brought down one of its forelimbs and lopped her arm clean off. At that point, Hemorrhagia opted to follow Quarrel's example.



Butcher tore himself from the small crater and fought tooth and nail, ripping limbs off of my raptors as they fell on him. When he had room to breathe, he too ran shamelessly.



I looked over to see that the Merchants had escaped in the ensuing chaos. I let out a roar of frustration and despair before staggering forward to try comforting my mutilated raptors. Feeling one pass away, I buried my face in its side and sobbed.

 

[Vherstinae]

Colony 6.02



After our powers recovered, we used Cerberus' dogs to bring the wounded critters back to HQ where they could feed on creep and hopefully fix themselves up. Once we got back to the common room, however, the atmosphere turned harsh.



"Taylor," Brian started as he took off his helmet and mask, "what the fuck happened out there?"



"I, Animos' scream stripped my control. Then the Teeth tried to hurt us, and the critters went apeshit." I stammered my way through the explanation, feeling completely drained from the day's events.



"That's not what I meant, and I think you know it. Before Animos, you were about to kill Mush. I'm not gonna say someone like him doesn't deserve it, but that's not what we do. We don't kill, except in extraordinary circumstances." He sighed and flopped on the old chaise lounge we'd gotten from the goodwill. "I just want to know why."



My words didn't come. I...really had no explanation. I felt suddenly helpless, lost.



"I can answer that," Lisa spoke up. We all looked to her. Well, except for Alec and Aisha, who were on the patched-up loveseat sharing a bag of tortilla chips. "You needed the world to be black-and-white again."



I blinked in confusion.



"Great fuckin' answer," Rachel grumped from the corner.



"I was pausing for emphasis," the freckled one huffed indignantly. She turned back to me. "Think about what you've had to deal with, recently. Canary getting railroaded into the Birdcage, the Triumvirate threatening you... And even before that, the PRT at large refusing to help during the war, Sophia getting away with what she did for so long, the list goes on." Her green eyes locked onto mine. "Things are so mired in gray that it's getting harder for you to tell who's actually a good person. So, with something like this happening, it was an opportunity for you to deal with real bad guys, no ambiguity."



I began to feel comforted. Until Lisa resumed speaking.



"But that's not why you were going to kill Mush. The reason for that is simple: revenge. The Merchants hurt your father, and that was the last straw. You need someone to pay for all the horrible things that you've witnessed, that you've personally suffered. He just happened to be there." She stepped into my personal space, poking me in the chest armor. "What Alexandria told you was right: you're a ticking time bomb. You need to figure out how to defuse yourself."



Brian motioned for further exposition. "And she can do that how?"



"That's easy," Rachel replied, Brutus curled up in her lap. "Just do something nice." She gave an angry frown when we all looked at her. "What? If fighting is getting her upset, then she should do something nice. Like buy somebody a stuffed animal."



I couldn't help giggling at that. "Rachel, only you could talk about stuffed animals while looking pissed-off."



"She has a point," Aisha piped up. "You've been focused entirely on making combat critters. Yes, they're sweet, but their main purpose is still fucking people up. Maybe you should work on critters who can be gentle and helpful?"



Lisa continued the train of thought. "Amy's had a hell of a time recently; maybe she could use a new little friend?"



Brian's phone rang. "Let's table the brainstorming. PRT's on the line." He answered the call. "Grue here. Yes, I understand. We knew it'd happen sooner or later. Can we have somebody come here for the debrief? We're all understandably wiped. Okay, thanks." He sighed and draped himself over the lounge. "So some rubbernecker caught the feeding frenzy on video and, like an asshole, uploaded it. People are nervous."



I punched a concrete pylon, causing a crack and hurting my knuckles. "Fuck! As if we didn't have enough problems!"



Lisa hugged me from behind. "It'll be okay. We have the local PRT's support and we'll get to tell our side of the story in the debrief. Animos stripped your control and then pissed off your pets; he basically killed himself."



I rested against the pylon, feeling her arms around me. "I just wish things could be good," I whimpered, feeling tears start to well in my eyes. "I only ever wanted to help people, make their lives better. Instead things start looking up only to end up getting worse!"



"So people'll be afraid of you," Alec muttered flippantly. "Give 'em a reason not to be. I mean more than just, 'I'm a good guy so you don't need to be afraid!' You can make creatures. What if you made, say, custom pets? Things to make people smile, so when they see you they think of cute critters rather than a death-swarm."



We all paused at that. "...Wait," Brian finally spoke up, "did Alec just have a good idea?"



"Sounds like it," Aisha chirped. She pecked the brunet on the cheek, causing Brian to lose his shit and the rest of us to laugh, distracting us from the heavy mood until the PRT eventually arrived for debrief.



(BREAK)



For less dangerous visits, the PRT employed reinforced sedans – black, of course – generally carrying two troopers and a specialist officer. In this case, the specialist was a coronologist, a researcher specializing in parahuman powers. We greeted them in full costume and led them into the HQ's common room. Our idea for an Undersiders complex was still moving slowly, but at least we had the central building mostly furnished with mismatched furniture from various pre-owned stores.



While the troopers stood at the ready, the researcher sat down opposite me. He was an unassuming man, average height and build, mid-thirties with a short haircut and dark brown eyes only a few shades darker than his skin.



"It's a pleasure to meet you all," he said in a gentle voice, a small and diplomatic smile on his lips. "Now, the main reason I'm here is for your account of the events; I was sent specifically because of the fact that your creations remained even when your powers were neutralized. That is a very rare talent for a Master to have." He leaned back a little. "So, who wants to start?"



As team leader, Grue spoke up. "I got a call from Skitter that her father had been injured in the running fight between the Merchants and Teeth. We met up here at HQ and gathered our resources to stop the conflict. It was pretty easy to track them with all the wreckage, and we stopped them near the intersection of Lord and MLK. Skitter had one of her spikers take out Squealer's vehicle while Regent caused Animos to fall over. Quarrel and Butcher were the biggest dangers, so I blinded Quarrel so she couldn't use her power and Regent went to work on Butcher. Cerberus took on Hemorrhagia while Imp and Skitter handled the Merchants. Then Animos screamed and I lost control of my power. Everything went wrong: the extra meat on Cerberus' dogs dissolved, Skitter's swarm flew away, we were screwed. But the raptors, spikers and Atlas intervened and defended us, wounding Butcher, maiming Hemorrhagia and killing Animos when the Teeth tried to attack."



The coronologist looked over to me. "What happened, when you lost your powers? Can you describe it?"



I nodded. "It was like losing all five senses at once. I can see, feel, hear, et cetera through my bugs and critters so I suddenly lost all of that. Worse still, I couldn't feel them anymore." I took a breath, deciding to be honest and straightforward. "It's a great comfort, always having them in the back of my mind. Even if I'm too far away to control my creatures, I still know they're around. Suddenly I felt completely alone. It was...terrifying."



"I'm rather impressed that they protected you, rather than just running away."



I couldn't help the smile that spread across my face. "My critters are all sweethearts. They're loyal, like good dogs. Most of the time I don't control them, letting them run on instinct alone, and they're generally helpful. It didn't surprise me at all that they stepped up to protect us." I felt my happiness wick away. "...Even if a lot of them died in the process."



"While people are going to be understandably frightened by the killing, your explanation should do a lot to allay their worries. Do you give the PRT your permission to release that part of the information? That is, that your creations are gentle unless attacked?"



I blinked in surprise, then grinned. "Certainly, and thank you."



He waved me off. "Your thanks are unnecessary, Skitter. We've collected the corpses from the scene of the fight. Our biologists are eager to see how they work. So you can consider us even." He stood and the troopers relaxed, ready to move out. "One more thing: you might need to give a press conference if mob mentality prevails and people let themselves continue to be scared."



"We're having her brainstorm making cute things," Regent volunteered.



"Excellent idea. If you can manage to find people who'll accept your creations as pets, it'd do a lot of good for public perception." He gave us a salute. "Thank you all for your time."



Lisa looped an arm around my shoulders after the coronologist left. "So, while we bounce ideas off each other, I have the perfect ambiance music."



She opened up her computer and linked it to the wireless speakers. Owl City's Fireflies began to play.



Lisa was a wonderful friend.



(BREAK)



I sat with my eyes closed, listening to the ideas being tossed around. Rachel suggested it be like a plushie, Alec added that it should squeak, and countless other recommendations. The worlds swirled in my mind, forming into appearances. It had to be huggable, sure. Soft and round, without rough edges. Not the whole thing, of course, or the head itself could get damaged. I would add the head, protruding from the central body. Bright, bulbous eyes to go with the stuffed-animal look, a little mouth... I could implant a creeper inside the body to make it squeezable and keep it fed, and an air bladder. Yes, it would squeak when squeezed.



Color...I wouldn't fight it; purple seemed to be the natural go-to for my creep, while the armored hides tended toward gray. Purple could also be brightened up to pink, which could work nicely. Yellow-orange eyes, and I could add inner luminescence. The tiny little mouth would flap open when it squeaked.



The creep... When Amy regenerated me, my body drew on my creep to restore damaged tissue. If the new squeaky had a creeper inside it, maybe it could spit out creep for Amy to use as fuel so she wouldn't need to draw on body mass like she did with Piggot.



I opened my eyes. "Okay, I think I've got it. Let's head to the hive."



The "hive" was what we'd taken to calling my section of the base, while Cerberus' was called the kennel. The rest of the Undersiders, without critters to care for, all had their own rooms in the central building. Rachel held me up while I coughed out an uglybug, and the little monstrosity went to work.



This egg was the smallest I'd ever made, and it didn't explode or rupture like the others. Rather, it was like watching a turtle hatch: the egg ripped and deflated, and my creation crawled out.



It was adorable. Wide eyes blinked up at me, its tiny mouth making soft gurgling noises. It scuttled forward on six stubby legs and two blunt pincers, the volleyball-sized creature moving with a slow and ponderous gait. I scooped it into my arms and it nuzzled against me. I was pleased with the weight, too: it should be easy for someone like Amy to carry it. The blunt little claws were for grabbing and manipulating things, so it could fetch or tug a sleeve or climb onto a couch. And now for the real test...I squeezed the little ball.



Squeak!



It raised its pincers in the air, joining my celebration. Aisha pounced me. "Oh my god, that's so cute! I want one!" She grabbed the critter and gave it a slower squeeze.



Squ-eak!



I looked over at the rest of the group and noticed Lisa was on the phone. What, did she not care about this little cutie-pie in my arms?



The blonde hung up and grinned at me. "Amy says you can come over."



(BREAK)



Even though I'd only been there once, I could only describe the Dallon household as though a malaise had been lifted from it. I remembered the conversation I'd eavesdropped on between Panacea and Foresight, so things had obviously undergone a major change since Amy and Carol were happily sitting beside one another.



"Thank you again for letting me come over," I smiled at the pair and inclined my head to Mark, even though he was in the kitchen with his back to me. Apparently Vicky was on a date with her on-again, off-again boyfriend (even though they were supposed to be in an "off" stage).



"Oh, no problem," Flashbang piped up as he made himself a sandwich. "Amy told us that Foresight was helping her with, let's say parental issues, so when Carol's shell finally cracked it was easy to fix bridges we'd thought were burned."



The blonde lawyer had the grace to look sheepish and took Amy's hand. "When Amy got kidnapped, I realized the antagonism between us was so petty when my little girl was in danger. We had more than a few shouting matches while figuring out where we stood with each other, but..."



Amy picked up where her mother left off. "For the first time, it actually feels like I have a mother. It's a little late, but better that than never. Now," she looked straight at me, "what's in the box?"



In my lap was a good-sized cardboard box, the flaps folded over one another to keep it shut while letting air flow. I couldn't help grinning. "Well, you've done so much to help me and, while I know you don't accept payment, consider this a gift to make up for the stress I inadvertently caused you." I leaned across the table and deposited the box in Amy's lap.



She immediately opened the flaps. "So, what could it–" She cut herself off with a yelp as two little pincers gripped the open edge. A round head rose out of the box and gave a soft gurgle.



"I made you a little friend!" My smile wouldn't shrink an inch.



The brunette gently lifted it out of the box, which Carol moved aside. It immediately snuggled into her lap and yawned. "Oh, wow," she whispered. "I...this thing is amazing. So many nuances and intricacies...it reminds me of you, but while your DNA is mutable, this thing's DNA has been altered but is...locked into place, for lack of a better phrase."



"He'll be your pet, your traveling companion, and he can produce creep – that's what we call my biomass – that you can draw on to help heal your patients."



She nodded in understanding. "Okay, I get all that, but what's this bladder for?"



I stifled a giggle. "Give him a squeeze."



Amy raised a brow, but did as I said.



Squeak!



I could practically see stars in her eyes. "Oh my god, this is so cute!" She squeaked him twice more, and the little thing gurgled with happiness. "What's its name?"



I shrugged. "That's for you to decide; he's your pet. Well, I refer to it as a 'he'. My creations are asexual, so you could call it 'he' or 'she', whichever you prefer."



"I'll think on it," she said while nuzzling the little ball of goo. "You're so cute, yes you are," she cooed to it in baby-talk. It reached up and toyed with her hair. Amy took a moment to look up at me. "Thank you, Skitter. I mean it. This...this is wonderful."



Lisa had been right: doing something kind, something peaceful, and seeing the happiness it brought? It really did my heart good. The stress and pain that had been knotting around my heart untangled, if only slightly, and I realized something.



I could do this. I could make companions for people, make their lives better. I didn't have to limit myself to just fighting bad guys. In fact, I didn't have to stop at companions. I could make so much to make the world better, and I wouldn't be forcing it on people, just offering them the choice. This made me happy, yes, but the look on Amy's face was what really made this worth it.



We chatted for about a half-hour before I left, ideas percolating in my mind. Foremost was this: when dad got out of the hospital, I'd ask him how to start a business.

 

[Vherstinae]

Interlude 6.x



Welcome to the Parahumans Online Message Boards.

You are currently logged in, Mugglicious



+Topic: So...Skitter. Yeah.

In: Boards > News > Heroes > America

Bagrat (Original Poster) (The Guy in the Know)

Posted on April 20, 2011:



I'm pretty sure we've all seen the video. If not, here it is. Dear god, I didn't know a person could scream like that, even if he was a Changer. I just...I'm torn. Part of me is glad that a murderous psychopath can't hurt anyone again, but part of me is completely terrified. And apparently they had her guarding Hookwolf and Lung, among others, for Birdcage transport. By herself.



So, yeah, I think I'm gonna go with shit-my-pants terrified on this one. But what do you think?



(Showing page 70 of 72)



> Jazzhands (PRT Wife)

Replied on April 20, 2011:



Look, yes she's frightening in this, but with hubby in the PRT I know some things about the major players, so let me reiterate: Animos was a Changer, yes, but his real power was in his Trump rating. If you were caught in his scream's AoE, you'd have your powers temporarily neutralized. Skitter's power is to control bugs and those monsters that look like bugs. Take away that power, and they act like giant monster-bugs would normally act. In essence, Animos committed suicide-by-cape.



> Nuclearpickles (Veteran Member)

Replied on April 21, 2011:



Even if Animos' death wasn't her fault, Skitter's still in tenuous control of giant murder machines. After seeing those things' true selves, I don't know if I can feel safe with her on the streets.



> Chaturagh (Verified Cape) (New Orleans Rogue)

Replied on April 21, 2011:



No fucking way you just said that. So now if a cape's powers are scary or dangerous we shouldn't let them help? I'm sure you were singing a different story when she melted Lung or Regent killed der Klingengeist (aka Kaiser). What about Sele, whose power is to suck the water out of living creatures? There's virtually no peaceful application for that power, yet he's a trusted member of the Protectorate. Because I use necromancy and Prophet is independent, does that make me a threat too? Want to throw me in the Birdcage right alongside some of the people I helped put there post-Katrina?



People want to help. Let them help. Unless you think the cops can handle the Endbringers by themselves. How about when the 9 come calling? We're all in a bad situation, but we can try to make it better. Or we can let our fear control us and collectively buttfuck humanity.



You're toeing the line here, Chaturagh. I get that you're upset but tone it down or you'll run into the banhammer. –TM



> Happyfish

Replied on April 21, 2011:



I get where both of you are coming from, but let's calm down for a second. Yes, Skitter is terrifying. Yes, we need heroes to deal with the Endbringers and with villains. I think we need to take a wait-and-see here. Skitter's "victim" was an unrepentant murderer; I just can't see that as anything other than self-defense. Now, if she flies off the handle again or outright executes a fucker, THEN I'll agree we have a problem. For now, though? I think her monsters were justified.



> Rosary (Verified Cape) (Haven)

Replied on April 21, 2011:



This is a real moral quandary for me. All life is sacred, after all. Yet on the other hand, we should be permitted to defend the sanctity of life. If evil encroaches, our first priority should be protecting the lives of the innocent, not of the aggressors. While I fundamentally disagree with kill orders I can't say that Skitter should have let the Teeth kill her. She's trying to do good, they were doing evil.



> Da_man_downunda (Veteran Member)

Replied on April 21, 2011:



That's some dangerous moral absolutism there. All life is sacred, yet some is more sacred than others? I'm not saying you're wrong, necessarily, but that maybe your reasoning is.



> Chaturagh (Verified Cape) (New Orleans Rogue)

Replied on April 21, 2011:



Okay, now that I've taken some time to calm down, let me be a bit more reasonable.



I also do my best not to kill. Of course, the Returned don't always follow my exact orders, so that's a problem. But they've also never harmed a bystander, cop or hero. Prophet has killed two villains so far, the rest of my Returned have three kills among them. While I regret not being able to bring them in alive, I don't feel guilt over their deaths. Every single one of them was a bloodthirsty killer and my home is a safer place without them.



Skitter obviously has better control over her (creations? Partners?) than I do, at least until a Trump steps in, so I think we don't have to be as afraid of her as people are making it out to be. Maybe it's just because the kill was so brutal. It's one thing to just shoot or stab somebody; to watch a person be ripped apart, screaming all the while? That provokes a visceral reaction in us.



> Xenomalleum (Sneakiness!)

Replied on April 21, 2011:



Wait, Chaturagh, you've killed people before? I know the basin feuds were a rough time, but I didn't realize they got that brutal. Did the records just get swept under the rug or something?



> Chaturagh (Verified Cape) (New Orleans Rogue)

Replied on April 21, 2011:



Yeah, a lot of the records from that time were lost or destroyed. I don't even remember the names of half the villains I iced, mostly because they were newcomers looking to indulge in a rudderless city: make it some sort of modern Tortuga. But seeing people who'd survived the flooding, the riots, the gang activity, only to be cut down by some sort of evil road-trippers? Yeah, that shit didn't fly.



Life was brutal, and we were basically reduced to animals, but I stayed because there were people who needed protecting. I'm no hero; I don't do this for a living. But I have power and I take offense to those who treat people as nothing more than meat.



> Rubberbabybuggybumpers (Verified Dropout)

Replied on April 21, 2011:



This is getting heavy. These are some deep philosophical questions pointedly not being asked.



...*grabs popcorn*



(BREAK)



+Topic: Nilbogette

In: Boards > Cape Theory > Heroes > Undersiders

KittyKittyFangFang (Original Poster)

Posted on April 20, 2011:



Okay, so first Skitter supposedly had some monster she used in the big brawl at the end of the gang war. Then she has that Atlas bug. Now she has a whole litter of crawling and skittering abominations.



She claims she found Atlas. Does she think we're stupid enough to believe she found all the others too? What, did Blasto flush his mutant goldfish? With the mutations and the monsters, she's obviously some sort of monster-maker.



Two of my uncles died in Ellisburg. Is this how the PRT honors their sacrifice? Letting another living plague run around free as a bird?



(Showing page 19 of 19)



Mugglicious

Replied on April 21, 2011:



What is the problem with you people!? You're ready to start a witch hunt against somebody who's fighting to protect you? I'm old enough to remember Marvel comics and this is the kind of shit I'd expect in X-Men's dystopian world: "He has powers and saved my family's lives! Run him out of town!"



I get that she's different and different is scary. But we live in a world where people fly, space and time are mutable, and Godzilla's cousins come out to play. Taking that into consideration, if she really is that powerful, do we want to chase her away and convince her to stop doing good?



Brocktopus (Veteran Member)

Replied on April 21, 2011:



Jeez, what're you, her mom? People sure are going to great lengths to protect this freak. I hear the local PRT's bending over backwards for her.



Scanner (Verified Cape) (Wards ENE)

Replied on April 21, 2011:



I know Skitter personally. She's suffered through experiences that would completely shatter most people, even most capes. Since she hasn't gone Nilbog yet, she's not going to. Stop with all the hatred and paranoia. Something else I know personally is that ordinary people can cause much more damage than capes and you're setting up for some genocidal ideologue to come along and grab the torches and pitchforks.



Bluebell_bonnet

Replied on April 22, 2011:



Bit melodramatic there, Scanner. But I agree with you that this has the potential to go too far. Do I want more oversight for independent capes, especially ones as shit-your-pants scary as Skitter? Yes. But I don't want them locked up, if for no other reason than so they can fight villains and Endbringers.



(BREAK)



"Mr. Hebert?" Nurse Shelby Alene cracked the door and saw, as usual, the lights off except for the glow of the smartphone. She stepped inside, one hand on her hip. "Danny..." The name came out as an exasperated huff. "You need to get some rest. I know someone on the internet is wrong, but you need sleep if you ever want to get home."



Danny sighed and logged out. He'd set up the account shortly after they'd moved into the new house, wanting a way to better keep tabs on public opinion regarding his daughter and her friends. Being that he was the only ordinary person in the household, Mugglicious had seemed like a good name at the time. He looked over at the pretty nurse, his eyes bloodshot. "Shelby, I'm terrified that a lynch mob is going to form after my daughter. The video of what happened to that Changer, Animos, is all over the place."



She sat down beside him, close enough for him to notice in the dark that she had her wheat-brown hair in a bun today. Her tan hand came to rest over his pale one before taking the phone away, setting it on the EKG. "And you're waging a crusade of your own over the message boards?" She clucked her tongue. "Whatever you do there is nothing compared to what Taylor needs. She needs her dad to be there for her. But for that to happen, you have to get better. And worrying yourself sick and staying up all hours isn't exactly conducive to healing."



"I can't just do nothing..." Danny would have shaken his head if his neck didn't still hurt like hell.



"Hate to break it to you but you're doing nothing anyway. You're only hurting yourself trying to solve a problem in the wrong way," she tried to glare down at him but couldn't muster the proper attitude. "You need to take your mind off this for a while."



"Yeah," Danny snarked, "and how the hell'm I supposed to do–"



Shelby silenced him as her lips met his. After a brief, gentle kiss, she left Danny to his thoughts.



Said thoughts were currently nonexistent. The surprise and unexpected happiness had caused his brain to blue-screen. Without his mind occupied, Danny was finally able to drift to sleep.

 

[Vherstinae]

A/N: In order to further flesh out the world of Worm, I'm borrowing blatantly from real life. I'm not writing any real people, as that's just awkward, but I expect a number of you will recognize the upcoming format.



Colony 6.03



The floodgates had opened.



Talk of my being the new Nilbog had spread like wildfire across PHO and even moved into Brockton Bay itself. My bugs could hear absent conversations regarding me; while it was a bit of a comfort that I wasn't received entirely with fear – awe and intrigue were two other major emotions people seemed to have – I really didn't want to be correlated with an S-class mass murderer.



Dad rolled his eyes as I paced past the couch yet again. "Taylor, you're gonna make me strain my neck. Will you perch or something?"



Dammit, parent playing the guilt card. I should see these things coming, but even when I do they still sting. And here I was happy you finally got released from the hospital, I thought wryly. I sat down beside Aisha, who gave me a hug.



From his seat beside my father, Brian spoke up. "I still don't get why you're so dead-set against another press conference. The last one went pretty well."



Lisa and I replied at the same time, our voices mingling into nonsense. She stopped and nodded for me to talk. "Yes, it did go well last time, but now people are already commenting on the PRT making major allowances for me. I can't come out and reveal the reasons why Piggot trusts me, so something like that is going to lead to suspicion. Corruption at best; thinking I've got the Director mind-controlled at worst."



The blonde shrugged. "Roughly what I was gonna say. Way I see it, we're kind of up shit creek."



Lying atop a spiker, the both of them in a patch of sun, Alec added his two cents. "Why not go around giving out your little squishy-bugs? Seemed to work with the Dallons."



I shook my head, inadvertently whipping Aisha with my hair. She let out a few choice curse words before going off to flop beside Alec. After I took a moment to blink at that turn of events, I recovered my train of thought. "Problem is, people would think I'm trying to go all brain slug on them. I wouldn't have too many volunteers...here..."



"Oh good god," Lisa said, noticing as the gears in my head began to turn. Maybe she knew what I was going to say before I said it, but she didn't necessarily protest.



"Alec, you're right in a way. We need the human element, a way to show people I just want to help. Something not as...sterile as a press conference."



"Fuck me, this is such a bad idea but I can't say no," Lisa muttered.



I smiled around the room. "What do you guys think of doing a talk show?"



Brian and my dad had nearly identical nonplussed expressions. "...Taylor," Brian started, "you do realize why heroes don't do talk shows, right? The drama, the blindsiding, the danger of being in a less-than-secure location?"



"That's why it's a good idea," I argued. "For one, nobody will be expecting it. For another, it'll give people the chance to observe us in a much more...congenial setting. When we're not being badasses we're just a goofy bunch of kids trying to get by. I'd peg us for a sitcom rather than a horror movie."



"I dunno; you're practically giving me a heart attack right about now." While I understood my father's objection, his phrasing still felt like a low blow. "Taylor..." He must've noticed how his words affected me. "I'm just afraid for you. So much could go wrong."



I tried not to sniffle. "Dad, Nilbog isn't a name people throw around casually. Sure, not everybody's freaked out, but if I keep fighting villains things are eventually going to escalate and more people will get scared. If we don't do something to show them our good side, to give them hope, then eventually I'll end up labeled a threat."



"And you haven't done enough of that already? Taylor, I really hope you don't take this the wrong way, but it seems like powers just make everything worse."



I laughed; it sounded a little hysterical. "No, you're totally right. Powers...we trigger when we're at our absolute lowest. I don't think it's the universe's way of making up for a shitty life; I think it's yet another challenge piled onto us." I toyed with a dreadlock. "But I have powers, and other people have them. People can do things we can barely imagine, and a lot of them use those powers for really bad things. It's not fair, but I feel obligated to use my powers to stop those really bad things."



Alec piped up again. "We gonna be having this same philosophical discussion every week? 'Cause if so I can write up a script for you guys."



"Well I'm sorry we can't all channel Cheech and Chong," dad retorted. He moved his eyes back to me. "Look, this still worries me, but Lisa hasn't nixed it yet and I'd figure she'd say something out of self-preservation at least. So maybe this idea of yours has a chance. And yeah, life sucks, but we make the best of it. And I'm proud of you, kiddo."



"I think it does have a chance," Lisa confirmed, "especially if you bring more squishies."



Brian just facepalmed. "Why did I ever let myself get saddled with you people?"



"What do you mean, 'you people'!?" Aisha snapped. "You're sayin' it that way because I'm black, aren't you?" Her brother just let out a groan of endless suffering.



"It'll be a good chance to see if my power works through cameras," Alec grinned. "Look for a news story the next day about rampant cases of open masturbation."



Aisha slapped him upside the head this time.



Brian shook his head. "Okay, fine. We're doing this. Now, who's gonna tell Rachel?" Before the last syllable had fully left his mouth, he transitioned into two dreaded words. "Not it!"



(BREAK)



New York was still arguably the media capital of the world. That it was relatively close to the Bay also helped. Dad always had a soft spot for The Late Show, so we contacted Terry Norman's people. Thankfully, the host and his producers all smelled ratings gold and jumped at the chance to get us on set. After only a couple hours' negotiations, we were scheduled to appear on Friday.



Preparing for the trip, though? That was the problem.



Alec waved his wallet at Brian. "I've got my license, dammit! I'll drive!"



"It's fake. Plus, you're a dick."



"What's your point?"



Across the room, Rachel was debating which dogs to bring, and looking terribly cute doing her best mother-hen. Not that I'd ever tell her that. "But Angelica gets nervous when she's alone, and Brutus doesn't like loud noises, and Cassie has bad experiences with cars..." A spiker wrapped its tail around her and snuggled her close, making her pause.



"Look," Aisha interjected now that Rachel had quieted down, "we'll only be gone for a day or two. We can put most of the pups in HQ and they'll be fine. Judas and Twinkles are registered therapy dogs, and Bentley's cute. How 'bout we bring them? We can rent a minivan or something to keep 'em in the back."



Rachel nodded, the spiker gently nomming her hair. "Okay, that sounds...yeah, that sounds okay. You gonna help me with that?"



Our youngest member shrugged. "Why not?" They got the spiker to release Rachel – albeit grudgingly – and went to round up the dogs.



I sat with dad, going over the security schtick. "So are you okay with just two raptors here?"



He chuckled. "Yes, kiddo. Two armored deathbugs should be enough to keep your old man safe."



"They're not just deathbugs. They'll help you around the house, grab drinks, that kind of thing. They can't open doors, though."



"Long as they can use the fridge handle, I should be good."



I giggled. "Yeah, they can do that."



"Cool. And at headquarters?"



"Two raptors and a spiker will take shifts keeping watch. With the dogs in the kennel, we should be safe in that department." I sighed. "I'm not sure if I want to bring Atlas. He could be a big help in keeping you safe..."



Dad rested a hand on mine. "Yeah, but he helps you with your stress. You'll need him more than I will, little owl." He drew my hand over and gave it a little kiss. "I might not be able to keep you safe, but I can still give you good advice. Take him with, kiddo."



And then Lisa spoke up. "Everybody shut your ass. I got us a van."



(BREAK)



Manhattan was huge. Yes, Brockton Bay covered more area than New York's most famous island, but Manhattan made far better use of the space it had. Buildings towered into the sky, narrow streets crisscrossed in order to make the most of the limited room. There weren't really any single-story places to be found: everything was built on top of everything else.



I found it to be incredibly efficient, even if the human element led to congestion. The idea of building up and using the underneath for transit was a good one, like those giant African anthills, and gave me ideas for updates to the hive. Perhaps I could install a second story, bring in some sheet metal and hold it up with creep. It'd give my critters a lot more room.



Lisa had recommended that we go straight to the studio and see the sights afterwards, which was a sensible suggestion. In light of that, I'd had Atlas rest up in an old farmhouse the night before so that he could fly straight in. No sense in having him flit from building to building and draw too much attention.



We pulled up to the back of the studio and were surreptitiously ushered inside, fawned over by a number of crew and interns before finally getting to the green room. We must have looked like something out of a comic book: six capes, three dogs, two raptors, one spiker and a partridge in a pear tree. And Atlas, who would be flying in a few minutes before the show started.



As we did our best to center ourselves, Terry Norman himself came into the green room. He was a little taller than me and a little shorter than Brian, his skin a light tan sort of like Nurse Shelby's. His ash-colored suit was crisply pressed and his black hair was clipped short. The talk show host gave an easy smile. "It's a pleasure to meet you all in person," he said, immediately plunking into one of the unoccupied chairs. "I figured I should double-check with you before the show, make sure you don't have any other topics I should avoid, that sort of thing." He was doing his best not to glance nervously at the spiker.



"Well, I'm still not sure how well-publicized it is, but trigger events – the things that unlock powers – tend to come from Silence of the Lambs-level shit," Foresight expounded, "at least for first-generation capes. So just remember not to press too much if we start getting uncomfortable. For as badass as we are, we all suffered through nightmarish situations when we were just kids."



Norman shuddered a bit. "Gotcha. And I didn't know that about powers, thanks." He looked over to me. "I know you've assured us all those things are safe, but they're still kinda scary..."



Before I could reply, Regent stepped in. "Did Cujo make you scared of Saint Bernards? Just because you saw 'em at their worst doesn't mean they're not good pets." He skritched behind a raptor's horn and it gurgled happily.



He shrugged. "Fair enough. And the other critters?"



Buzzing from the roof was his answer. "Right on time," I grinned. I stood and my raptors rose with me. "We'll be right back." After only a couple of minutes, we returned with four bucket of uglybugs. "If one of the crew could show me to a stock room or something, I can turn these ugly things into pure adorableness."



(BREAK)



It was interesting, sitting in the green room and waiting for our cue. The TV showed us a live feed and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't bouncing in my seat. Despite everything, this was still ridiculously exciting. Three beeps in a row signaled the beginning of the broadcast and we all turned to watch.



"From New York, the greatest city in the world! It's the Late Show with Terry Norman!" The usual opening video played. "Tonight, in a VERY special episode: straight from Brockton Bay, New Hampshire... The Undersiders!"



Terry did his usual schtick, various current-events wisecracks and mocking over-the-top news stories. The words were so much noise to me; I think I was suffering stage fright. I'd actually be exposing my powers and personality in a live, mostly unscripted broadcast. Old anxieties flared and I almost started hyperventilating. Before it could progress further, a cloak of comfort settled around my shoulders. Atlas connected his mind to mine, accepting my stress. I let it wick away and took the time to re-center myself. I didn't need to be scared. This was where I'd truly prove I was a good guy, where the Undersiders would reassure the nation.



A page poked her head in and smiled at us. "Okay, c'mon out. He's about to announce you."



Sure enough, as we walked, Terry's voice echoed through the speakers. "And now, for our special guests. In the first parahuman interview in, jeez, twenty years? We have Grue, Foresight, Cerberus, Regent, Imp and Skitter. Ladies and gentlemen, the Undersiders!"



Lisa had selected the music for our walk over to the chairs, and I could have kissed her.



I'm just a soul whose intentions are good... Oh lord, please don't let me be misunderstood.



We took our seats, Grue in the front and Cerberus and I furthest from Terry, mostly so we could keep close to our pets. Judas and Twinkles were decked out in their orange vests and Bentley had his big mouth open in a huge doggy smile, hamming it up for the cameras. My raptors laid at my feet and the spiker rested his head on my shoulder.



"Now, it's great to have you all here," Terry smiled, "but what made you decide to come on the show? I was under the impression that capes were boycotting talk shows."



Grue shrugged. "We needed the human element. There's only so much you can convey in a sterile press conference, and that creates distance between us and the people. After our last fight, some folks are understandably scared. We want to fix that, show them we're not here to hurt innocents."



"You gotta admit, though, you're all pretty intimidating. And the fact that Cerberus has living tanks and Skitter has...whatever those critters are, well, it's not the easiest thing to be comfortable around."



"I don't think people should be comfortable around us," I interjected. "We don't do PR events like most other heroes; if we show up, that means there's a good chance something bad is going to happen. What we want is for people to not be afraid of us. Yes, our being somewhere means danger is on the way, but we're there to prevent that danger and keep people safe."



Norman nodded. "Good point. Now, I'm sure what everybody's wondering is, how did you all get started? What caused the Undersiders?"



Foresight fielded that one. "It's not too exciting. We all got hired by a client to run a job; I guess they wanted to cover their bases, so they grabbed four different capes. Turned out, we worked pretty well as a team. Figured it'd be safer to keep working together than to go out alone."



"And what about the name?"



She laughed. "Would you believe none of us remember? I'm sure we came up with it at too-damn-early o'clock and thought it sounded good. Guess we stuck with it because we couldn't think up anything better. Now, of course, it makes more sense: as heroes, we cover the seedier sides of the cape world. We have insight into villain culture, for lack of a better phrase, so we can handle threats from different angles than the Protectorate or New Wave. It also helps that we're not so mired in organizational red tape."



Terry took the reins of the conversation. "And speaking of your being heroes, I understand you had a lot to do with that, Skitter."



I blushed; it was probably visible at the borders of my mask. "I don't know about that. My teammates are all good people who just ended up in bad situations. I think I might've been the final push they needed to genuinely do good, but they all had it in them."



"That's sweet of you to say. Now, Imp, you're the youngest member of the team; how'd you join?"



She shrugged. "Well, Grue's my brother. He didn't want me getting into danger, so I wasn't part of the Undersiders until Bakuda went Sum of All Fears on us. At that point it was too dangerous to keep me tucked away, so I made a nuisance of myself until they let me help."



"She's good at that," Grue confirmed.



"You're all teens, working close together," Terry's grin was like a shark's. "Is there any inter-office romance going on?"



"You got us," Regent confessed. "They're all in my harem and Grue's my bouncer."



Foresight, Grue and I all slapped him upside the head in succession. He just laughed.



"No," Foresight corrected, "there's no romance yet. But we are hormonal teenagers, so it's a possibility. But it certainly won't be in the tabloids if something does happen."



"Spoilsport," the host said with a good-natured grumble. "Anyway, I've been dancing around the topic for long enough, but I think the audience will skin me alive if I keep going." He paused for the audience to laugh. "Skitter, from your perspective, what happened with Animos?"



All the laughter died off and I almost froze. Being put on the spot like that was a surprise, even though I'd been expecting the question. "W-well," I stammered, "you're familiar with flashbangs, right? They blind and deafen you, leaving you totally disoriented. While most capes simply lose their powers, I lost a whole suite of senses. It was like waking up and finding out you're paralyzed."



"Even without her powers, though," Foresight added, "her critters are still good animals. They lined up to protect us. You've seen news stories about, say, a dog fighting off a bear? Same principle. The raptors – these guys," she tapped the sleepy one with her foot and it cracked an eye and grunted grumpily, "really are like big dogs. They'll protect those they care about. The spikers – like this guy – wanted to keep their mommy from getting hurt."



I picked back up. "They would've been fine with just staring down the baddies until they left. It was the Teeth who escalated, trying to attack us. Without my control to keep them from exercising lethal force, they met attempted murder with attempted murder. My critters were just more successful."



"Dark," Norman said flatly. "Still, at least it's a little comforting hearing you explain things." He turned toward the camera. "We'll be back with more dirt on everyone's favorite former criminals."



The house band teased me by playing Jitterbug during the commercial break.



"Annd we're back," the host smiled at the camera. "So we're here with the Undersiders and their pets. Now, something I think we've all been wondering is how secret identities work out. Cerberus and Regent, your alter-egos are public knowledge and Skitter, your...appearance means you can't really have a secret identity. How does that work for you?"



"I don't really care," Cerberus grunted.



"One of the rules of parahuman conduct is that we don't go after people's alter-egos," Foresight explained. "For people like Skitter, Narwhal or Case-53s, that means when they're off the clock. You're probably all wondering why villains would go along with this. Well, that's pretty simple: if the villains don't obey those rules, we won't either. We'd seize all their assets, throw their loved ones in the slammer, or just snipe 'em while they slept." She shrugged. "It's a code that keeps crime from turning into full-out war. It's not necessarily the most pleasant idea, but villains have just as much of an interest in keeping the status quo so they come down hard on any baddies who get the idea of breaking that rule."



"Pretty much the Golden Rule for capes," Regent affirmed.



Terry nodded, the wheels in his head turning. "So, you three go to Arcadia, right? How's school treating you?"



"I want to murder everyone associated with school."



I sighed at Cerberus' statement. Yeah, that's what the public wants to hear...



"Except Sean." I could hear Regent's grin from behind his mask. He stage-whispered over to Terry. "First crush." The brunet found himself bonked in the head by one of Cerberus' boots. "Aww, she wants to defend her boyfr-wagh!"



Cerberus tackled him and the pair rolled around behind the couches. None of us flinched.



Grue took hold of the conversation. "While those two settle their differences, what else did you want to ask?"



"...I take it this happens a lot?"



"We're teens and Regent's an ass. Yes."



Terry let out a genuine guffaw. "Alright then. Let's see...well, I was gonna ask if Cerberus had any Stupid Pet Tricks, but since she's busy..." He stood up as the pair rolled past him, taking out his chair in the process. "You're sure we don't need security?"



The audience was dying with laughter. I think they were under the impression this was a skit. Well, it might as well have been.



"How about you, Skitter? Your guys do any tricks?"



My raptors stood up. One moved into a handstand, its forelegs and blade limbs supporting it. The other stood on his companion's rump, balancing precariously. It gurgled in the rhythm of a common Arcadia High cheer. The spiker slithered over and the topmost raptor hopped off his companion to stand on the spiker's head. The serpentine critter hissed happily and did a little dance.



"We just came up with that on the spot," I smirked.



Terry grinned. "Well I'm impressed. Now, I've gotten word that we have the go-ahead on your next little idea."



My smirk erupted into a thousand-watt smile. "Well then, allow me to do the pitch." The raptors ambled backstage and began to bring out large cardboard boxes. "With my father's help, I'm starting a business: Skitter's Critters. Panacea of New Wave is already a satisfied customer, and to help with publicity I'm giving everyone in the audience my company's first product." I reached into the box and lifted out a round, squishy little critter. It waved a pincer. "The cuddlebug!" I handed that one to Terry.



He stared at it. It gurgled. "...This is almost painfully cute."



"Give him a squeeze," I grinned.



The host did so and was rewarded with a soft, gentle squeak. "Okay, so I'm keeping this one. The rest of you can get your own."



"That's the plan!" I directed the raptors to lift cuddlebugs out of the boxes and hand them to audience members, two by two.



The cameras switched to the audience, showing people cuddling their gurgling new pets.



I smirked up at the announcer. "Give 'em the spiel, Rick."



"If you say so... Introducing the cuddlebug, the world's first no-maintenance pet! It never needs to be fed, needs no litterbox, and is there to be your friend! Cuddlebugs are the perfect first pet, durable and able to generate antibacterial goop to help with cleaning or injuries. They can tell you when they're upset and make it known when they're happy. The cuddlebug: it's like a pillow that hugs you back! ...Really, Skitter? That's your tagline? Whatever."



"You do need to get a professional writer," Terry confirmed. "Still, for anybody in the audience who's nervous, we've had these little bugs checked out and they're not dangerous at all. If you don't want it, you're free to return it at the end of the show. Otherwise, enjoy!" He squeaked his again. "After the break is the Top Ten!"



I smiled warm and wide. This was what genuine hope felt like.