Scrawlings - [Ziel's Collected Works]

[Ziel]

Family Business


The jukebox hitched, spluttered, and then died halfway through a scratchy rendition of Hotel California.

A few angry voices called out their displeasure, and Danny waved a hand to calm them. "Give me a minute."

He sidled out from behind the bar to go examine the aging machine. Plug, check. Cord, check. Record... Danny opened the case and plucked the record off the reel. That's enough of that one, I think. He pocketed it and shut the jukebox. Pressed the on button.

Silence.

"Cmon, Danno!" One of the regulars roared. "Give it a whack!"

Danny shrugged, and then knocked the back of his hand against the jukebox. It had worked for the Fonz after all.

Nothing.

"Lemme give it a try."

He looked up. Lauren was standing there, wiping her hands on her apron.

"Go for it."

He stepped back and let the barmaid take her shot. Lauren examined the jukebox for a long moment, her pretty face pensive.

"I think..." she murmured. "Here."

And then she hauled up and drove the heel of her combat boot into the front of the juke. The machine rocked back on two legs, teetered precariously for a moment, and then resettled with a deafening crash. A record clicked into place. They waited, breath held as the record whirred into life.

Dark Side of the Moon filled the bar.

Danny exhaled, raising a hand in acknowledgement as a few of the patrons made noises of congratulations.

"Thanks." He nodded to Lauren. "Didn't realize you knew your way around it."

She rubbed a hand through her hair, ruffling the short blond locks about, looking slightly embarrassed for some reason. "Just a magnetic touch, I guess."

Danny returned to the bar and started pouring out another drink for Louis. The old man gave an appreciate nod and buried his face in the beer.

Lauren joined Danny a moment later.

"How's everything in the back?" he said softly.

She very casually lifted a glass and began cleaning it with a dish rag.

"Should be fine. It's just the two old men talking shop. Big K's here, and two of Mark's guys."

She stretched to put the glass onto the top shelf, and as she did, her shirt sleeve pulled back, exposing the edge of her tattoo. He looked in spite of himself. The sleeve pulled back a little further as she set the glass down, just far enough for him to see the eagle holding the two black lightning bolts on her shoulder. And then she dropped down, adjusting herself.

"I meant to ask," she said. "I know there's been some talk about the Teeth lately. Butcher reincarnated again and he's making waves. You're right on the edge of their territory."

"Yeah."

He knew. He knew it bone deep.

"I could talk to Dad-"

"No." Danny shook his head.

"But-"

"No," he said again, more forcefully this time.

Lauren grimaced. "Neutrality is a dangerous game, Danny."

He met her eyes, his gaze even and unflinching.

"I know. But it's better than the alternative."

Lauren made to speak again, but a woman approached the bar. Though, 'woman' was pushing it. The girl couldn't have been more than sixteen. Danny exchanged a look with Lauren, both of them smiling now.

"Got a license?"

She did. It just had what looked like a school photo pasted over the actual picture.

He tossed the girl out with a gentle reminder to come back in five years and returned to the bar. Lauren was grinning as she mixed a drink.

"That was pretty brave," she snickered.

"Pretty stupid." He held up the fake license. The name read very clearly, "Patrick McKinley."

Lauren's shrill laughter drowned out the final notes of Tiny Dancer.

Danny was still smiling as he slipped into the back hallway. It could only be reached from behind the bar. There were four doors. Kitchen, office, and at the very end, just before the back door, the door to the back room. He headed for the office.

Only an hour or two now until Annie got off work and came by to pick up Taylor. Hopefully she hadn't gotten too bored and started rooting through his drawers again. Hopefully...

Danny stopped in the doorway. Taylor's coloring book was spread out across his desk, the pages open to a half-done picture of a dinosaur. She'd even stayed inside the lines, though he doubted whether any dinosaur was colored neon and chartreuse.

And Taylor was not in the room.

"Shit."

XXX

"I think that's amenable, don't you?" Marquis said.

Allfather examined the map of Brockton. Highlighted areas denoted their respective territories, and a line of push pins designated the proposed attack against the Teeth.

"How long will you need?" he said.

Marquis took a sip of his drink. "Within the week. Redrum is still out of action. I'm hoping Bastille will be back from her trip by the end of the week though."

Allfather nodded. He'd personally put Redrum in the hospital, but neither of them were going to bring that up. No, what Marquis was implying was that if Allfather were to say... use Blut's powers to heal Redrum, he would take steps to bring in Bastille.

Two more of Marquis' pieces on the field. Attrition from the Teeth would certainly get some of them, and it wouldn't be too hard to put Redrum back in the hospital...

"I'll get Blut," he ventured. "Redrum is useful enough to bring back."

Marquis smiled, the expression the only part of his face not hidden behind his bone mask. "Gracious of you." He turned and addressed one of the men behind him. "Talos, call Redrum and tell him to get ready."

The cape nodded and headed for the door. The door swung shut behind him.

Opened again.

Allfather turned to look. Had the man forgotten something?

"Hi!"

A little slip of a girl stared up at him. She had wide eyes, magnified even more by a set of thick glasses, and was practically swimming in an adult-sized t-shirt. The front of the shirt said "I Heart Alexandria" in big red letters.

"Who's this?" Marquis said.

"I'm Taylor!" The girl beamed at them. "My daddy owns the bar and I was in the office but I got bored. Are you a superhero?"

Allfather exchanged a look with Marquis that was clear even through his helm.

"Something like that."

XXX

Danny hurtled back to the bar. Lauren was still there, and had been joined by the short-order cook, Maggie. They both looked at him.

"Where's Taylor?!"

"Bathroom?" Lauren said.

"Not in the kitchen," Maggie ventured.

He tore away toward the bathroom.

The men's room was empty. He knocked on the women's door.

"Occupied!" Someone - not Taylor -said.

She couldn't have gone outside through the back door without setting off the fire alarm, and she couldn't go through the front without him seeing.

That only left...

He forced himself to a walk as he returned to the hall. One of the capes, a burly man in a bronze-colored tactical vest, was at the far end, his head bowed as he spoke into a cell phone. Danny came to the door to the back room.

Knocked. "Excuse me, it's Danny."

"Come in!" A deep voice he recognized as Allfather's called.

Danny opened the door.

Five men looked back at him. Five men, and one little girl sitting on Allfather's knee.

Danny thought his heart might stop.

"Daddy!" Taylor cried, her face alight with wonder. "Supervillains!"

"Yours?" Marquis said bemusedly.

"Er- ah- yes, she's mine." Danny stammered.

He walked slowly forward. Taylor seemed unperturbed by anything around her.

"She wasn't a bother, I hope?"

"None." Allfather said.

"Talks a lot though," an armored man leaning against the wall said. "It's like having Rain around as a kid."

Allfather chuckled. "Rain didn't talk nearly as much as you, Kaiser." He sighed. "They do grow up don't they, Marquis?"

The armored Nazi lifted Taylor under her arms and handed her to Danny. She latched onto him like a limpet and began regaling him with what kind of supervillain she was going to be.

"Sorry for any interruption," Danny said.

"It was no problem, I was just telling Allfather that I have a child about her age." Marquis said. "However..."

Danny paused, already preparing to take Taylor and run.

"Could I get a refill?" Marquis raised a glass.

"Of course, just a minute."

Danny turned and walked out of the room. He carried Taylor away, not back to the office, but behind the bar.

"Everything okay?" Lauren said.

"No."

He met Taylor's eyes. "Please be more careful. We're going to talk about this when I get back. Do not go anywhere."

And then he bent and kissed the top of her head, clutching her to him.

"Sorry," Taylor whispered.

"You worry me, sweetie."

He handed her to Lauren and went to the tap. He poured out the drinks and set them on a tray. As he headed back to the meeting room, Lauren spoke to Taylor.

"So, did you meet Allfather?"

"The big armored guy?"

Lauren laughed. "Yup." And then, so softly he almost didn't hear. "That's my dad, pretty cool huh?"

A moment of silence, as Taylor digested that fact, and then-

"My Dad's cooler."

XXX

A repost off of SB. Original premise was discussion of Danny owning Somer's Rock, and I wrote this as a response to someone doing a oneshot with Danny as bartender with Squealer. I wanted to do something with Allfather and Taylor, and having Iron Rain as the barmaid was just too fun not to do.

Probably my favorite of the oneshots I've done, and the one I'm most satisfied with. There's a small continuity error with the back of the bar, but I'm otherwise quite happy with it.

Not sure how I'd continue it, but probably with something in the vein of Taylor growing up with a steady supply of supervillains around her.

 

[Ziel]

Doctor Nine


The doctor kneels behind him as he cuts. Each time, she leans a little closer, until she's whispering in his ear. Her breath is cherry licorice, but her hair smells like blood. Beneath that, a smell like the nurse's office at school lingers around her. He wonders if that's just how she naturally smells, like how Mommy smelled like violets, or Daddy gun oil.

"No no, Jackie," the doctor says. "That's crooked."

It's hard. If his hand shakes even a little, the arc goes wild. The scalpel blade is a tiny thing, and the cuts it makes are paper thin. It would be difficult even at an arm's length, and he's not at arm's length. No, the doctor has him cut from across the kitchen. (Daddy) The patient is propped up against the far wall, unconscious, already riddled with failed cuts.

He expects her to hit him; to yell and slap the side of his head like Daddy would, but she hasn't done that. Not even now, after he's messed up the cuts so many times.

But, in another way, what the doctor does is worse than hitting. Much worse.

"Let's try again." She says.

"I'm sorry." Jack says. His lips are dry, and he can't stop himself worrying the lower with his teeth.

"Don't be sorry, kiddo. Practice makes perfect, after all!"

Her hand leaves his to fish in the pocket of her coat. She has a lot of pockets and jingles like coins whenever she moves too quickly. The remote she withdraws looks like a tv remote, but with more buttons. This is the tenth time he's seen it today.

Click.

Spidery little robots emerge from one of the cupboards. It's the one where Mommy puts his cereal, low to the floor so he can reach it. He was big enough to make his own breakfast. The spiders click and whir across the linoleum until they reach the man. One spider deploys gauze from its abdomen, while the other wields a needle and thread to stitch the cut closed.

There are seven identical sutures on the man's bare torso alone.

Jack waits in silence. The doctor hums quietly to herself, idly twirling one of her long, blonde curls.

The spiders finish and return to their spot in the cupboard. Jack feels his hand begin to shake. She'll make him cut again now.

"Alrighty, Jackie, let's try it again." The doctor says.

"It's Jack." He says.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. He shouldn't have said anything. Now he's in trouble. Being stupid is what let Daddy trick him in the first place.

But the doctor laughs, high and musical.

Jack actually turns in place to look at her. Kneeling, she's not much taller than he is, and he's still not sure about her age. Older than him, but younger than Mommy. Old enough to be an adult though.

She winks a mismatched eye at him before smiling. Her smile stretches from ear to ear.

Literally.

The ends of her mouth are stitched closed, but the line of threads goes wide, elongating her smile into something dreadful.

"Just Jack, huh? You know…" She says slowly, one mutilated lip quirking upward. "I never introduced myself. How rude of me."

Her hand, each nail painted with a red cross, sweeps out to point at the striped woman in the corner of the kitchen. Jack tries not to look at her. She's naked. The striped woman doesn't react to the attention; continues gnawing on (Mommy) a woman's arm.

"That's my bestie Siberian," the doctor croons. "And King, and Toothsome, and MurderRat, and Hatchethands, and…"

Each new name merits a new line of terror down Jack's spine. They aren't people. None of them are people. They're Frankensteins. Dead, ugly things stitched together like mismatched puzzle pieces. She brought Frankensteins into his house.

"And then there's me," she says. "Doctor Bonesaw, the one and only!"

The pause stretches out uncomfortably. Doctor Bonesaw, the one and only raises an eyebrow at him.

He fakes a smile.

"Yay."

She seems satisfied. She resettles herself behind him, one hand resting on his shoulder.

"Now then, Jack, can you begin with a six inch incision in the patient's throat? Make it vertical, beginning with the underside of the jaw and ending at the top of the sternum."

He doesn't know what any of the words mean, only that he's expected to cut again. He can't. Not again. Not even if it's Daddy. Because Daddy lied about a lot of things, but that didn't mean that Jack wanted him to-

Her cloying breath brushes his ear. "Do you need some help?"

He can't.

Jack spins, his swing wild. The silver arc sweeps out from the scalpel blade, cuts across two cabinets, the wall clock, Bonesaw's face, and then ends with the cabinets on the other side.

A coil of blonde hair hits the floor.

She slumps backward, joining her hair on the floor.

Siberian stands up, meat and gristle falling from lips suddenly bared in a snarl.

Jack raises the knife toward her too, but a sound freezes him on the spot.

Laughter.

The doctor sits up, head lolling bonelessly. The gash across her face goes from her right jawbone to her left temple. One side of her mouth is slack, the stitches severed, exposing the glistening flesh inside her cheek. Her right eye is a weeping, oozing mess, the eyelid in two flaps.

And she laughs. The sound bubbling up through a mouthful of blood to fill the kitchen. Her hand comes up to probe the cut; fingers pressing into it indiscriminately.

"Very good, Jack. That's the cleanest cut you've made all day." She rolls her head up, smiling crookedly. "Siberian, be a dear and get me that woman's eye, please."

Siberian nods.

Jack turns away, but the wet, squelching noises sends him heaving. He vomits into the potted plant by the door. One of the Frankensteins is standing next to the plant, looking at him. The thing's smell- like old, moldy meat, has him coughing up bile, trying to empty an already empty stomach.

A hand pats him on the back, rubs him gently, like Mommy always did when he got sick.

Jack turns, wiping his mouth.

Bonesaw beams down at him. The cut he made has already closed, but her face is still bloody.

"I'm sorry." He says.

He's not sorry. Doesn't know what to say anymore.

The world has stopped making sense.

"That's okay." Bonesaw says. "You'll get it with practice."

She holds the scalpel out to him.

"We've got all the time in the world, Jack."

Bonesaw winks at him with his mother's eye.

XXX

A repost of an old oneshot. Bonesaw and Jack switch places/characters, giving us an adult-Bonesaw recruting a six-year old Jack.

It didn't turn out quite as I'd hoped, and even now I can't think of it as anything more than 'interesting.' A lot of the narration style came out of rereading Stephen King's The Shining, and being inspired by Danny's child's perspective on horrifying things.

 

[Ziel]

Appointments

1

"This is it. Are you sure you're ready?"

The woman in the bed nodded. She leaned forward, her face catching the morning sun. The light illuminated all her fine lines, like wrinkles in thin paper.

"I've said my goodbyes." The woman said.

The girl sitting next to the bed held up a sheaf of papers. "You'll need to sign these, Mrs. Meers."

Mrs. Meers' hands shook slightly as she took the pages.

The girl swallowed audibly. "You can back out at any point. It's really okay."

"I- …no." Mrs. Meers reached out for the girl's hand. She patted it reassuringly. "I've had a good life."

"But-"

"No." Mrs. Meers said emphatically. "Trust me. For me to do some good with my- …like this. That's how I want it to end. I've spent too much time wasting away in this hospital bed."

Slowly, moving the pen with the too-delicate motions of an arthritic, Mrs. Meers began signing the papers. The girl sat silently, her hands clasped tightly in her lap.

"There." Mrs. Meers held out the pages. The girl took them, placing them into a satchel bag. Mrs. Meers smiled at her. "Don't look so gloomy, child. I can't tell you how good it feels to just… finish it all up. No more waiting, no more wondering, none of that."

The girl hesitated for a moment before sighing resignedly. "Alright. If you're absolutely sure."

She stood. Her gray robe whisked softly as she moved.

"Do you have any last words? I can take a message to your family if you want."

Mrs. Meers shook her head. "I've told them what they needed to hear. I'm ready."

"O-okay… Just close your eyes. Count back from 10 and that'll be it."

Mrs. Meers shut her eyes. Her sense of relief was painted bold in every line of her face.

The girl shuddered briefly, and the room darkened as she used her power. The girl's shadow elongated, trailing up the wall and across the ceiling, growing impossibly. It thickened, growing black as pitch. Her guardian rose out of it. The shadow bubbled and rippled as he came.

He had a ram's skull this time. The eyesockets were as black as the shadow, and the bone was pitted with age. Skeletal feet left the shadow, dragging the darkness along behind him. He stood hunched under the low ceiling, hands resting on the girl's shoulders.

Mrs. Meers was quiet, seemingly listening to the sounds.

"Count, please." The girl whispered.

"10, 9, 8…" Mrs. Meers began.

The girl gestured, and he stepped forward. Utterly silent, he stretched out his withered hands to Mrs. Meers. She cried out as his fingers pressed against her chest, sinking in like he was reaching into water. The contact was only for an instant.

Mrs. Meers gasped once, and went limp. He leaned in. A horrible rasping noise came from his mouth; like he was tasting her last breath.

"Enough." The girl said.

Guardian straightened, returning to his place behind her. Once more, his bony hands rested on her shoulders. It was unclear whether the gesture was protective, possessive, or something in between. She patted one of his hands.

"Thanks."

He was silent. She stood staring at Mrs. Meers' body for a few moments before the door opened. A nurse poked his head in.

"Miss uh- Guide, are you ready to- Jesus Christ!" He stumbled backward, gaping at Guardian. Guardian turned his horned head slowly, tracking the newcomer. He looked to Guide as if waiting instruction.

"Not him." Guide said.

Guardian nodded once; the briefest jerk of his skull. She knew his response without looking.

"I'm done in here. Time of Death is…" Guide checked her watch. "19:20."

The nurse still looked nervous about Guardian, but he jotted down the ToD on his clipboard.

"Uh… I need to uh-" He gestured vaguely at Mrs. Meers.

"Of course." Guide said. "I'll be going. C'mon."

Guardian sank back into her shadow. It was only when the tips of his horns vanished that Guide moved. She gathered her things and left the room.

It never got any easier. She thought. Why did her power have to be so… frankly, it was monstrous. Utterly monstrous. Even if Mrs. Meers had been glad to go, she couldn't take any joy in having taken the old woman's life.

But at the same time, a part of her- a part she did her best to ignore at all costs, was tallying their newest gain.

Two-hundred-twenty-one…

If she was ever going to make a difference, she needed more.

Guide walked down the sterile hospital hallway. Nurses and doctors nodded to her as she went. She was as familiar a sight in the hospital as any of them. She walked until she reached her next destination.

Room 341. Mr. Redmond was waiting for his appointment with her.

Two-hundred-twenty-two…

XXX

A very, very early fic I had. This came out around the very beginning of Speak with the Dead. I had vague plans for the entire thing, eventually aiming towards Taylor/Amy. I ended up choosing to continue Speak over this, and eventually lost interest because I don't really care for Tay/Amy.

 

[Ziel]

Appointments

2

Panacea waved half-heartedly at the nurses. The tall one- her name was… something with an 'M,' smiled as Panacea passed. She saw the woman every day. Why couldn't she remember her name?

"How are you doing?" She asked M. Maria, Mary, Megan, Mina…

M turned slightly, and Panacea could read her nametag.

Zelda.

What the hell?

She waited until the nurses were behind her before she rubbed her eyes. They still itched. She was too tired for this. How did the nurses always manage to stay so chipper? They came in, day in- day out, and had to deal with the patients. She only did it for a few hours a day- as many as she could manage- and it was still burning her out.

Left, then right to the elevator. She stepped around a patch of wet tile by Room 212.

One of the patients had vomited there when she came in. Ruptured appendix, two cracked short-ribs, a black eye, and a husband waiting in the wings with a set of bruised knuckles.

Classy.

The enclosed space of the elevator made her more conscious of the hospital's perpetual antiseptic smell. It had long since soaked into her clothes. She tried not to look at her reflection in the elevator's doors.

Her watch read 9:50. She'd spend 10 minutes having a coffee, then heal until 11:30. Victoria would meet her at the exit, fly her home, and she'd be in bed by 12. School from 7-3. Two hours at home for homework and family time, then back to the hospital.

Repeat, ad nauseam.

She smashed down her realization that the high point of her day was her five-minute flight home with Victoria. Why that was didn't bear thinking about. Not unless she wanted to spend the rest of the night in a nice little spiral of self-loathing. And of course, thinking about not thinking about it just made her think about it harder.

Ugly waves of guilt and shame began roiling in her stomach. She stopped halfway through the break room door. She didn't want coffee anymore. She turned, about to leave, and then froze in mid-step.

There was a cape sitting in the break room. Panacea went through the door before she could stop herself. Capes never came into Brockton General. They- she, for Panacea saw now that the newcomer was definitely a girl, was sitting at a table in a corner. She was flipping through one of the dog-eared magazines that accumulated in the break room over time.

The girl looked up as Panacea approached. Their outfits were actually similar, now that Panacea saw her clearly. They both wore hooded robes, with a face scarf. Black hair peeked out from the edges of the other girl's hood, and her scarf was a fine, lacy material.

She stared at the girl for a few awkward moments before remembering to speak.

"H-hi."

The girl's brown eyes went wide behind her glasses.

"Are you Pana-" She cut herself off, blushing slightly "Hi."

The girl held out a hand and Panacea took it without thinking. At once, details about the girl's body came streaming in.

Old breaks in both femurs- both healed. Healed fracture in her left wrist's growth plate. Moderate astigmatism. Germs touching her skin died on contact. Partially healed bruise on her right elbow. Bruised knee. Presence of Corona Gemma. Presence of Corona Pollentia. Chemical imbalance in brain that spoke of-

She jerked her hand away.

"Sorry!" She said. The girl looked confused.

"What for?" She said. "I'm uh- I'm Guide, by the way. You're Panacea, right?"

Panacea knew that name from somewhere. ...but where? She ought to pay better attention to other capes.

"Yeah. It's nice to meet you. You're with the PRT, aren't you?" That was a guess. She honestly had no idea.

Guide dropped her eyes to the tabletop. "Sort of." She said quietly.

Panacea wanted to slam her head into the table. She'd said three words to Guide and already managed to make her uncomfortable.

"Sorry." She said again. Guide met her gaze after a moment.

"No, you were right. I'm an ancillary Ward. I don't really patrol much."

Panacea nodded knowingly. "Yeah. It's kind of like that with me and New Wave." She turned to the coffee machine sitting in the corner. It would taste like sewer runoff, but she needed the caffeine right now. She took a deep breath and smiled at Guide.

"You want a coffee?"

"Sure." Guide said. "I like it with a lot of cream and-"

Something moved beneath the table, shaking it slightly. A hand rose up next to Guide. A bony hand. Wisps of… blackness trailed around the hand like smoke. It held up a cup of hospital coffee, still steaming.

Panacea gaped at the sight.

"Oh! Thanks Guardian. You charmer." Guide giggled. She clasped hands with the skeletal hand before it disappeared below the table. Panacea ducked down to look. There was nothing there but scuffed tile and chair legs.

"You want one?" Guide asked. She caught sight of Panacea's expression. "That was Guardian. Guardian, can you get Panacea a coffee?"

After a second, the table shook again, and the hand rose up with another coffee. Guide handed it to Panacea. She took it without thinking, still staring at Guide.
"What… was that? Another cape?"

Guide shook her head. "Nah. Guardian's part of my power. I've got a living shadow." She gestured at the chair across from her. Panacea realized she was still standing, and hurriedly sat down.

Panacea sipped her coffee, searching for something to say. She knew Guide's name from somewhere. It was on the tip of her tongue.

"So- you uh- work in hospitals too?" She finally said.

Guide dropped her gaze again. Her discomfort was palpable.

"Y-yeah. I've been doing it for about a month now."

A little bolt of excitement ran through Panacea as she thought of the implications. Another healer! Someone to take the burden off of her. There'd be that many less people who went unhealed now. Only…

"Are you a healer?" She said. Please please please-

Guide shifted in her seat, still not looking at her.

"I… well… I'm-" Guide pulled out a silver pocketwatch and checked the time. "I've gotta go." She stood jerkily and turned to leave. Panacea bolted in front of her.

"Hold up!" She needed to know. Guide tried to walk around, but Panacea stepped in front of her.

"Wait, please." A note of pleading crept into her voice. She didn't care. There was no way she was letting another healer just walk out of here.

"I- I really need to go." Guide said. The same pleading edge was in her voice.

Panacea opened her mouth to reply. She never got the chance. There was an explosion of black and something rose up behind Guide. It was too tall for the room; only fitting because it was hunched protectively around Guide. Skeletal arms upon arms upon arms embraced her from behind. Some held her tight; others pushed out as if to ward off Panacea. Billowing clouds of shadow surrounded them.

One empty eye socket peered from behind Guide's hood.

It was… looking at her. Somehow she knew that. Just like she knew that it didn't like her.

She stumbled backward, her legs smashing into a table, and fell.

Guide pulled away from the skeletal thing, moving toward her. Panacea scrambled away, trying to get away from the nightmarish creature. Guide stopped, holding up her hands.

"I- dammit- sorry- I just-" She stuttered. She shook herself, and when she spoke again, her voice was commanding. "Guardian, that's enough."

Guardian rustled its bones angrily, but released its hold on Guide. It took up position behind her, still glaring balefully at Panacea.

Guide pulled Panacea to her feet.

"Sorry, I'm really sorry about that. He's protective, and I didn't mean for that to happen, and…" She kept apologizing until Panacea stopped her.

"I was just surprised." Panacea said. That was an understatement. Her heart was still pounding like a jackhammer. Slowly, keeping her eyes on Guardian, she stepped out of Guide's way. The other girl didn't move.

"You're okay, right?" Guide said. Panacea nodded.

"Are you okay?" She asked. She was the last person to be asking anyone that, but even she could see that there was something bothering Guide.

"I'm… I'm not a healer." Guide whispered. "I didn't want to tell you. I visit the people that-" She swallowed. Guardian rested several of its hands on her shoulders.

"I see the people that you can't heal."

Panacea stared at her. What did that- …realization crashed home. Victoria had mentioned Guide to her. Because Guide was visiting the Brockton hospitals. Because Guide-

"You're… that Guide." Panacea said through numb lips.

Guide nodded.

"The one who kills patients."

"It's not like that-" Guide began. Panacea cut her off.

"You kill people! All to feed that- thing." She waved a hand at Guardian.

Her anger and disappointment were growing. Guide wasn't a healer at all. Just some opportunistic vulture that preyed on the ill.

"I don't like it any more than you." Guide snapped, spots of color blooming in her cheeks.

Panacea sneered at her. It wasn't enough that she couldn't heal everyone; this bottom feeder had to come in and remind her of it. Guide fed on her failures. Every person she didn't or couldn't heal was another candidate for the other girl's predations.

"Monster." She hissed. And with that, she turned and stormed out of the break room. She looked back only once. Guide was standing stock-still. Guardian was wrapped around her again, stroking her hair.

She slammed the door behind her.

 

[Ziel]

Booke of Worms

1- The Earl of Manton


The Earl of Manton was a traveler. In his youth, he walked from one end of the continent to the other. He saw lands beyond imagination; things never seen by any of his countrymen.

He did not walk the lands out of any lust for gold or spice or trade. He traveled because he was a traveler. For him, meeting new people in strange places was a gift far beyond any material wealth. Even in lands where the folk did not speak a language he knew, he was met as a friend, for his kind, good-hearted nature made friends where another would have found enemies.

The Earl traveled for many years. When he'd seen enough of the continent, he boarded a ship to Africa. It was like nothing he'd ever seen. The people, the animals, the places were like something out of a dream.

He would say later that "the first time I saw Kilimanjaro, I wept." And it was true. He had wept, for Africa was truly that beautiful.

His time there was dear to him above almost all else. But even beyond his love of travel, the Earl held his family in his heart. His wife and daughter were his world. His love for them was boundless.

He loved them so that he even gave up traveling for them. Another man might have grown to resent his family for taking something he loved so much, but the Earl knew that his family was worth more than any sights he might see.

And so, he settled down, turning his sights to managing his Earldom and providing for his family. He was a brilliant man, made cunning and canny by his travels. Under his hand, the Manton family's star rose, becoming a true jewel of England. His lands were peaceful and well-tended, and the people content, for the Earl knew that he must govern with an even hand.

But all was not well, sickness spread throughout the land. The Lady of Worms walked near to Manton, and plague walked with her. The Earl was untouched, spared even a glancing blow from the reaper's blade, but his wife and daughter were not so lucky.

His wife grew weaker and weaker, wasting away slowly, agonizingly, fighting for each day but still losing ground. The Earl called for all his physicians, but they were too busy fighting the Lady's plague, and could not come. The Earl sent word to London, begging for help. But the men who had once called the Earl friend were cowardly.

"What if it brings the plague down on us?" They moaned.

No doctors would come to the Earl.

He turned to alchemy, pouring over all the books in his library. Every scrap of mystic knowledge he'd collected over the years fueled his burning desire to cure his family. He grew more desperate with each day, becoming ever more frantic in his efforts.

It is said that the Earl knew much of alchemy; that he knew many of the secrets kept even from more accomplished alchemists. Though he would never be as accomplished (or mad) as the great Chirugeon, the Earl was brilliant in all things. But even he could not break the plague that gripped his family.

The Lady's touch was as sure as the seasons, and his wife passed first. The Earl held her hand on her deathbed, his alchemy forgotten; begging, pleading, praying for her to please hold on. Let God give him one more day, one more try.

The miracle did not come. Her death was as slow and agonizing as her sickness, and she died screaming. The Earl sat beside her bed for a long time then, talking quietly to her, though she could not hear any more.

When the sun rose, the Earl covered her with a sheet and left the room. He did not go see his daughter, returning instead to his alchemy. If before he was determined, now he was a man possessed. The kind, gentle light that shone from his eyes had faded, replaced with an eerie calm. The servants who saw him whispered to each other.

"The Earl's gone mad." They hissed.

And then they fled the house, leaving the Earl alone with his daughter.

He did not notice. From day to night he worked, searching ever more for a cure. His daughter wasted away, just as her mother had done.

The Earl would stop working every now and then to look to the sky.

"Please, let me save her." He prayed.

There was no answer, just as there had been no miracle.

His experiments grew more and more desperate; more demented with each day. He crossed lines not meant to be crossed by mortal man, searching ceaselessly. And he still failed. Each new hope was dashed to pieces in the inexorable face of the plague.

Finally, his daughter lay on her deathbed, and the Earl knew her time had come. He went to his study and locked the door.

In the rear of the study, chained to a pedestal, surrounded by holy wafer, was a book. It was a Black Book. One of the Black Books come out of the North when Lemuria fell. He had sworn never to open it as long as he lived, but he did it then, and thought little of it.

And in its pages, he read the words he needed.

The study grew dark, the candles burning out one by one. The Earl waited, and as the last candle faded, he saw that his summons had been successful.

The Devil stood in the shadows, and he laughed at the Earl. It was no wonder the Earl's prayers had failed if he'd been harboring the will to do such a thing. But the Earl only nodded and made his wish.

"Let my daughter be well. Take the plague from her."

The Earl needed more, needed to be sure that his daughter would never take ill again. And he thought of Africa; thought of the stories of Africa that his daughter loved so dearly.

"Devil, take the plague and make her strong!" The Earl cried. "Do this and I am yours!"

The Devil just smiled. A great darkness seemed to pass across the room, and then he was gone.

The Earl rushed to his daughter's bedside, eager to see that the deal was done.

His daughter lay dead. The Earl's final gambit had come too late.

The Earl fell to his knees, clutching her withered hand, and…

His daughter put a hand on his shoulder.

But she was not the girl in the bed.

A new daughter stood beside the Earl. But she was not his daughter.

"What have you done to her?" The Earl shouted.

The Devil's laughter rang through the room. "I made her better. Didn't she just love your stories of Africa? Now she can be as strong as the lion, and as graceful as the gazelle!"

The Earl stared in horror at his un-daughter. Even her skin was striped and mottled like the zebra.

He'd given it all, and lost everything. He had damned himself and still lost his daughter. The only thing left in the world was the un-daughter. And she was little more than a shade; an echo of his daughter, made perverse by the Devil's hand.

The Earl reached out slowly and embraced the un-daughter.

And then he began to laugh.

XXX

I vaguely recall this coming out of a prompt about Fantasy AUs for Worm. My attempt at doing a fairy tale style story. Not my most successful attempt. Probably could have done with another draft, but I like the general vibe.

 

[Ziel]

Booke of Worms

2 - The Rake's Daughter

The Rake was a man who wanted for nothing. He ate as he pleased, walked where he wished, and could always find a place to lay his head when the urge took him. While many others enjoyed similarly free-wheeling lives, the Rake was different.

He had not worked for his.

The leisure time he enjoyed in such quantities was time an honest man would have spent making a living. The Rake spent it carousing in bars, drinking on the coin of others. When the time came to pay, the Rake would always have an excuse. He would take his hat in his hand and smile earnestly.

"Friend, I'm on hard times and have not the coin at the moment." The Rake would say.

And because he always chose kind-hearted drinking companions, the issue would be pushed aside, the cost paid, and the Rake free to drink the night away. There were always more good, generous folk for the Rake to swindle, and he did so with a light heart.

Many were taken in in this way, and most not at something as minor as a drink. No, the Rake fancied himself a charmer. The same honeyed tongue that filched other men's money was the same that filched their wives as well.

The Rake would come calling when the men were away. Where another stranger might be turned away, the Rake was welcomed in. His honest face and gentle countenance unlocked many doors for him. Even faithful wives found themselves lured in by the Rake's siren song; their kindness and trust fooled by his words.

"I swear," the Rake would say to them. "You must be the most beautiful maid in all of Christendom. May I trouble you for a moment?"

And trouble them he did. The Rake left scores of broken marriages and sullied wives all across England. Each time he would swoop in, take his fill, and then move on, scurrying to the next town to work his wiles again. More shameless than any beast, and even more rapacious in his own way, the Rake was a blight on all he met.

Eventually though, the Rake tired of his vagrant life. Where some might have found this a time to make a new start, to make an honest living for once, the Rake thought otherwise.

"I shall be like a sheikh." He said, admiring his reflection in a lake.

And so he set to work. Using his adder's tongue, the Rake gathered women. Soon, the Rake kept his own harem, treating the women as little better than animals for his amusement. Their coin and labor paid the costs, while the Rake sat idle, reaping the benefits like a great spider.

Where conflict arose, the Rake was always there to soothe it.

"Please, dearest," he would say. "We are a family, let us not fight."

And each time the wives would retreat, lest he turn his sweet words sharp, tearing into them with the same skill he might use to calm. He cared not either way, so long as they obeyed.

As time went on, the Rake was blessed with many children from his wives. He paid them even less mind than he did his women, for they had nothing to offer him. Little more than a messy consequence of his predations. Unwanted, and undesired, the children were little more than spectators to the Rake's decadent court.

As a fruit left untended grows sour and spoiled, the children rotted. They had no father to teach them discipline, for the Rake knew nothing of discipline or fatherhood. And where the children should have learned duty and compassion from their mothers, they learned nothing, For the mothers already had a child of sorts, and his name was the Rake. He was their world; his demands and desires above all others.

The children grew wild, weaned on their parents' debauchery. Each learned of the power their father wielded; of his skill with words. And in turn, the children became wordsmiths of their own, honing and tempering their misdeeds with the same sweet lies that their father begat them.

Words have their own magic, and the magic that the children wrought was among the foulest. Each had their own passion. The eldest boy liked to frighten others, to terrify them into doing his bidding. One of the younger boys was fond of ensnaring with his words. He would spin them slowly, winding them around an unwitting mark until they found themselves caught and danced about like a puppet. The youngest daughter spoke in riddles, hiding her wishes between the words so to influence the mind.

But the worst was the eldest daughter. She was not the worst in deed or thought. No, the eldest was worst because she had ambition. Where her siblings were content with their sybaritic lot in life, the eldest was not. She wanted more. Where even the Rake settled with a handful, the daughter desired an empire. Always more. More power, more control, with her holding the reins.

She started small. If her father could do it, so could she. If she controlled him, then she would wield the power in the family. So she laid plans. She studied the ways in which the Rake and her siblings spoke. How they manipulated and schemed. How they controlled. They were second rate to her, of course. How brilliant she was, to think of this plan.

She turned each method in her favor, weaving the plan like Arachne at her loom. Her father would fall to her; there was no shred of doubt in her mind at that.

And when the time came?

Her plan failed. The eldest daughter's weeks of effort came to naught. The Rake saw through her scheme in a moment, and ripped it apart in another. Surrounded by his wives, the Rake laughed at her, positively shaking with amusement.

"A poor try, my most cherished daughter." He said. "I will be lenient this time."

The eldest daughter bowed her head that day. It was only when she left his sight that she raged, striking out blindly in her fury.

The Rake's kindness had stemmed from pity at her attempt. As though he was too embarrassed by it to punish her. He didn't consider her a threat.

"I shall best him!" The eldest daughter shrieked, alone with her anger. "And then we will see who is lenient!"

She renewed her scheming with new vigor. Where before she had studied idly, now she threw herself into the plot with almost monastic focus. Every failing in her previous plan was dissected; every flaw unraveled and reforged in the crucible of her greed.

This time, her plan was perfect. Her previous plan had been an exercise in arrogance. As though it really would have worked. Laughable that she'd thought so. How silly she'd been.

And then the second plan failed as well. The Rake was barely troubled by its intricacies; not deceived at all.

"Cherished daughter," the Rake said, frowning. "You try my patience. Do so again and I will see that you regret it."

The eldest bowed her head again, hiding her tears from her father.

Where another of the Rake's children might have cut their losses, the eldest would not. Her second defeat had only intensified her fervor. It was an insult to her; a spot on her shining, swollen pride.

This time, the eldest daughter did not bother with studies or examinations. She would do anything to have her victory. Her father was but a mortal man, and all men have their limits. The eldest daughter's pride knew none of these limits. If she could not outwit, she reasoned, then she must overwhelm.

And so she left the Rake's mansion. From there, she traveled alone, over hill and dale, until she reached a foul swamp. She peered into the murky gloom, eyeing the fetid waters.

"Farther in." She mused.

She lifted her skirts and waded in. Vile creatures slipped and swam around her legs as she walked, but the eldest daughter was undeterred. Her victory was worth any amount of foulness.

Finally, in the heart of the swamp, the eldest daughter found what she was seeking. There, in the crook of a tree, slept a serpent. Its sinuous trunk was as thick around as a strong man's chest and its scales as hard as any armor.

"Brother Snake," the eldest daughter called. "I ask a boon!"

The snake opened one eye.

"Please, Brother Snake. Grant me some of your poison."

The snake opened its second eye, fixing the eldest daughter.

"What will you offer?" He rumbled.

The eldest daughter smiled broadly. She told the snake of her plans, and of all the things she might bring him once she had the power. Such glorious sweet meats, suckling pigs, gold and riches of all sorts. The daughter wove a tapestry for him with her words, threading each new gift with ever greater praise.

The snake was not fooled in the slightest. The eldest daughter thought herself smarter than he, but few are those who can trick a serpent. She spoke with ever more grandiosity, and the snake merely nodded to each new prize.

"I will give you my venom." The snake said finally.

"And the boon?" She said.

The snake's magnanimous smile shamed any the Rake had ever had.

"There will be no need for a boon." The snake said. "Take freely and enjoy."

He opened his mouth and let fall a single drop of venom from his saber fangs. It fell like a bead of amber onto the waiting tongue of the eldest daughter. The daughter shrieked with pain as the venom burned into her, staining her lips and tongue with poison. It was like being baptized in fire, and her screams carried all through the swamp.

When the pain finally faded, the eldest daughter was alone. She made her way home, this time traveling more slowly. Only the certainty of her victory allowed her to push on, even though she was weary and pained from the poison.

With no pause to rest, the eldest daughter pushed her way into her father's court. The Rake frowned as she approached, for his indulgences for her had worn thin. The other children whispered behind their hands and the mothers tittered. The eldest daughter only smiled secretively.

When all had fallen silent, the eldest daughter spread her hands and spoke. Where before she had cajoled and threatened, beguiled and tricked; now she simply spoke. She barely raised her voice, and yet the words stabbed into all who heard them. The eldest daughter knew now. Her serpent's tongue knew the words that would hurt most. Words that she could wield more keenly than any blade. Words that could not be resisted or ignored; piercing straight to the mind.

She pierced her audience with them, and they cried out, for the words hurt them. The eldest daughter found the chinks in their armor with ease. Their joys and sorrows were as an open book to her, and she laid out every failing with unseemly joy.

The brunt of her words were turned on the Rake. He was a veteran of innumerable dialogues, but even he quailed now. The poison in the eldest daughter's argument sheered through his words; turned them feeble and dull in his mouth.

When the eldest daughter finished her speech, the Rake rose to his feet. He took a few shaking steps forward, and then fell to the ground, stone dead. She had spoken him to death, like a siren; her argument too terrible for him to even comprehend.

The eldest daughter stepped over his corpse to take his seat at the head of the room.

"Let us rejoice!" She cried.

Only, the mothers and siblings wailed and covered their ears at her words.

"Please, let us feast and make merry." The eldest daughter said.

And again, the others gnashed their teeth as she spoke. She tried again and again to speak to them, but it hurt them each time. Her every word cut like a knife. Even her kindest praise came as barbed as an arrow. The more she tried to talk sense into her family, the more they suffered.

Finally, one of the youngest fell, struck dead by the eldest's pleas. The eldest brother rose from his seat and rallied the others.

"Cast her out!" He roared.

No amount of her words could stop them. They suffered through the pain and chased her from the house with stones until her words could no longer reach them. Beaten and bruised, the eldest daughter sat weeping at a crossroads.

The serpent had repaid her with a poisoned chalice.

She had gotten exactly what she wished for.

Her words were venom.

She wept there at the crossroads for a long time before stirring. The eldest daughter was no longer anyone's daughter.

She traveled alone, much as the Rake had done so long ago. And where he had found amusement and entertainment, the girl found only anger and fear. She could no longer so much as greet others without being driven from them like a leper.

It would be a pitiable state for any, but the girl was still the same arrogant child she had always been. She took each rejection as further proof that others were simply not worthy of her presence. She didn't want to associate with vermin like that anyway.

With every shunning, she grew harder, more vicious and venomous. Where she would once have greeted another as a friend, she now met them as an enemy. Her poisoned words were turned indiscriminately against all she crossed. Instead of remaining silent, she spoke and sang as loudly as she could, crying out the deepest fears and shames of all she saw.

"The priest indulges on your coin!" She would shout. "Goodwife Selwin committed adultery with the baker! Cowardly fraud of a soldier- you never went to war!"

The girl had become more like her father than she realized. Like a traveling plague, she wandered the country, spreading her unique misery to all. Each new encounter was an opportunity for her to tear into others; each new village a stage for her to cry her loathing. When she was driven away now, it was only further incentive for her to hate more.

It was on one of these occasions that she met Jack Scratch.

The girl sat at yet another crossroads, nursing her wounds, when a shadow crossed hers. A rider towered over her; a man with hair and eyes as black as his cloak. Seven others followed him.

"My dear, why are you hurt?" He said, not unkindly.

She glared at him.

"Go away, murderer!" She snapped. "Cannibal! Freak! Unloved orphan bastard!"

The rider didn't even flinch as she spoke. He only laughed and started twirling a knife in one hand.

"Such a tongue," he mused. "Would you perhaps care to ride with me for a time?"

The girl made to call him more names, to pick his wounds with such venom that he would drop dead on the spot. But when she spoke, the words that came were-

"I would be delighted."

For she knew this man. He was Jack Scratch, and these were his Riders. The girl had not forgotten her earlier ambitions. Her urge to rule had not abated. Certainly, this man held more power than the Rake had. Why, ruling the household was positively small-minded compared to this.

And so, the cherished former daughter found herself traveling alongside Jack Scratch and his Riders. They could withstand her venom in a way that no one she'd ever met could. But that was acceptable, for the girl could spin her poisonous words slower than time, and deeper than any blade.

Her venom would seep through the cracks and eat away at them, bit by bit.

Because her tongue was sharper than any sword.

And her greed vaster than the world.


===

Another entry in the Fairy Tale!Worm category. Someone got inspired by my previous snippet, 'The Earl of Manton,' and wrote something really neat about Dragon and Armsmaster, and it made me want to write this.

Little bit more of a fairy tale feel to this one. It's a little muddled though. Cherish was meant to be a gossipy, lying child in the original draft. Someone who constantly deceives her parents until she's punished with poison tongue or something. Something with a moral at the end like you'd see in a bad fairy tale. This ended up being more... betrayal-y. Also, Cherish has a habit of being an arrogant, prideful little bitch, so that was governing most of this.

Meant for the Vasils to be witches, but kinda forgot. Would have made a little more sense that way, I think, but I like the imagery of Cherish seeking out snakes just to win.

 

[Ziel]

Chimera

1

Somehow, when I imagined becoming a superhero, moments like this never occurred to me. I was on the roof of some building in ABB territory, nestled between an air vent and a wall. The incessant rattling of the vent didn't help my concentration, but if I moved the link would break and I'd have to start over. I wished I could have stayed with the form I got earlier. Flight made it so much easier to get out here, but her form was too cumbersome for what I had planned tonight.

I took a deep breath and tried again to shut out the world. The sounds of traffic in the distance, a helicopter passing overhead, the air duct; they weren't important. What mattered was inside me. My surroundings slowly faded away as I felt for my power. It was always there, but to actually draw on it was difficult and time-consuming.

Finally, after long minutes of concentration, I grasped it, starting it into motion. It welled up slowly, like filling a bathtub. Excitement bloomed at my success, but I pushed it down. Getting excited would break my focus just as much as getting angry would. I stayed motionless, waiting for my power to peak.

It took even more time to reach my limit. There was a close call when a car alarm went off a few streets over. I almost lost focus and ruined the whole process, only barely managing to hold onto it. Even this small bit of control was leaps and bounds over what it was like when I first triggered. As frustrating as my powers were at times, it was nice to see some progress.

Even at my limit, I continued holding onto it. Power without direction was useless. At worst, I'd just waste the charge and all the time I'd spent building it. At best, I'd maybe ping one of them. It'd be just as much of a waste of time if I got the wrong form for this fight.

I had run recon earlier, before I dismissed her form. The ABB drug lab next door was a factory with an open floor. There was little cover but for the long tables full of narcotics. The guards were heavily armed, and while I hadn't seen any capes, it was still a possibility for a target this deep in ABB territory. It wasn't suited for the Third, and I haven't tried the Second yet. I needed a form that could take a hit and dish one out. I wanted him. The First.

I pictured him in my head, imagining him as detailed as I could, willing my power to focus on him. And then, praying that this would work, I released my charge. Instantly, the energy burst out of me in an invisible wave. It flew in all directions, with me as the center. In less than a second, it crossed the horizon.

Finally. I wiggled out of my hiding spot and stretched. Now that I'd sent it out, I just had to wait for it to ping and come back. Behemoth would be pretty close by, wouldn't he? He stayed so deep in the Earth that he was almost equidistant from any point on the surface. So it didn't matter whether if he was in this hemisphere or not, any of my power that traveled downward would eventually hit him.

Although… Simurgh might be pretty close by; I'd pinged her quickly when I transformed earlier. I'd just have to hope that focusing on Behemoth would bias my wave toward him. I still wasn't sure if it worked like that, but I could hope.

It took almost twenty minutes for the wave to return. I spent the interim time looking at the city. It seemed bigger at night, and I think I liked it better. Night hid it; took the glare of reality off it. It was stupid to think that way- I knew that in many ways, Brockton only showed its true face at night. All the crime and violence didn't start up until the sun went down.

Maybe… maybe I liked that night gave the city possibilities. If I couldn't see what it was like, I could imagine it. It was like having a blank slate; all potential for something else. I could see it not how it was, but how it should be. How I wanted to make it. Going out like this to fight crime would change things for the better. Even if my powers came from Them, I wouldn't quit. Not until I'd made a difference for-

<contact>

(awareness)

<communication>

The connection was made.

…shit. I know instantly that I've hit the wrong one, but it's too late to start over now.

Even though he sleeps, we can still converse.

Our exchange is difficult to describe. There's nothing human to compare it to.

<greeting>

There are no words, only-

<intention>

meanings and thoughts.

A wave of feeling and imagery strikes me and I respond with one of my own.

I can tell him from the others just by his thoughts. He is swift, moving from topic to topic with ease. There's a certain flow to him that I find refreshing. Not as straightforward as his brother, but not as intricate as his sister. It's relaxing to sink into the ebb and pull of our mixed thoughts. There is no clumsy, awkward human communication here, only-

(union)

an exchange. I ask-

<request>

and he responds.

(assent)

(communion)

I change.

The world went dark as my eyes reconfigured. I had a moment of fear as I adjusted to this new change- my eyes hadn't shifted like this as Simurgh or Behemoth. It didn't hurt, but it was so strange as to be uncomfortable.

My skin itched, and there was an odd tugging sensation in my arms and legs. I was growing. Becoming more like Brother. Wait, no. Becoming more like him. He's not- he can't be. I shook my head to cancel that train of thought. That wasn't how it was, and it wasn't how I was.

My eyes reformed. The world gained a new layer. Lines of blue traced through the houses and streets. The lines ran straight, but curved at angles, forming a maze of linework around me. Lighter spots of blue dotted the pavement where there were puddles and runoff. Even the air and sky had a blue haze now as I perceived the water vapor in the air. It was interesting to see the city this way, but the real thrill came from the people.

Humans are what- 70% water? It had never been more apparent than now. Even through walls, I could see them. Blue shapes, more like silhouettes than people to my new vision. I closed my eyes to confirm a guess. I didn't even have to look. I could feel them. Not only the people, but all the water around me. It was like I had a map in my head of all the water.

Leviathan was growing on me; water vision was actually pretty cool. I wondered if Behemoth had a similar way to sense energy. I'd used his form the most, but hadn't gotten that ability yet. My changes progressed a little further each time- both in form and powers, so each union was a new learning experience.

I examined myself, noting the changes my new form had wrought. Judging from my clothes were stretched, I'd gained a few inches in height. Previous experiments using Behemoth and Simurgh had done a number on my closet, so tonight I'd just worn a cheap black hoodie and black pants. My face was probably not recognizable while transformed, but I'd included a bandanna to hide it, just in case. A layer of scales coated my body, a murky sort of green-gray. They were tough, transforming made me tougher overall, but I wasn't going to risk them against anything serious like a gun or a knife. Just because I'd regenerate while transformed didn't mean I wanted to.

My arms were definitely longer- probably a good six inches on each. Claws sprouted from each fingertip. I tested them on the wall, cutting deep furrows into the brick with ease. I'd have to watch those around people. It'd be too easy to kill someone. My legs were a few inches longer. They felt a little off. Like they weren't finished yet. Leviathan had reversed legs, digitalgrade or something like that. I guessed I would get those later on. I slipped off my shoes and put them in my backpack. My feet were probably tougher than any shoe at this point.

Alright. I'd gotten a new form. It was time to show the ABB who was boss. I vaulted over the edge of the roof and dropped three stories to the ground.

Ow.

I was extremely thankful that the alley was completely deserted. It took a little while for my legs to regenerate, and I spent the time haranguing myself for my stupidity. Of course Leviathan was going to have different capabilities than Behemoth. I could have made that drop easily as Behemoth because the energy would just redirect into the ground. Leviathan lacked that ability.

My enthusiasm gone, I managed to get to my feet. I'd taken nearly an hour getting this far, but the ABB members continued working inside the factory. This far into their territory, there'd be few interruptions so they could probably operate non-stop.

There was a fuse box on the wall further down the alley. I dug my claws into its metal frame and ripped the door off. The factory went dark as I destroyed the inside of the fuse box. The water-shapes of the gang members went into a flurry of activity. One shape directed the workers into one corner. The others started moving around the building. From their postures, it looked like several had guns, and all seemed to have at least some form of weapon.

I kicked in a side door and ran into the factory. The inside was dark, the only light coming through the high windows. It wasn't as dark as I'd hoped though. I'd have to rely on my dark clothes and scales to blend into the shadows. Water vision made it easy to see the ABB, but my regular vision wasn't much better than normal. Even if I could see them, it wouldn't do any good if I tripped over something in the dark.

As soon as I was away from the door, I ducked down behind a table to get my bearings. I was on the factory floor. The ABB members were still scurrying around trying to get things under control. My guess outside was right; most of them were carrying weapons.

That was going to be a problem. I'd planned to have Behemoth's form tonight. I could shake off gunfire easily as Behemoth, and his Blaster abilities could hit the ABB from across the floor. Instead, I was stuck with Leviathan, a form I had no idea how to use or even what it could do.

Now wasn't the time to experiment with it. One of the ABB was passing out flashlights. If I stayed where I was, they'd find me. I started crawling toward the back of the factory, where the ABB members were. There was a doorway back there that I thought led to an office. I'd take them out, search the office, and then call the police. Right… I'm sure it'd be as easy as that.

The floor underneath the tables was dusted with cocaine. My clothes were getting covered in the stuff, and I tried not to breathe too deeply. It probably couldn't affect me, but it wasn't worth risking. I was finding that Leviathan was definitely more agile than Behemoth. I maneuvered through the maze of table legs and old machinery without trouble. Even on all-fours, I moved quickly and quietly.

The gang members finished passing out flashlights, and one of them, an officer, began giving orders in another language. They were still a good thirty feet away, and I wanted to take them out before they started searching. I could hit the group all at once, but if they were spread out, I'd attacked from all sides.

I threw stealth to the wind and scrambled under the tables as fast as I could. Beakers and packages toppled to the floor as I bumped into tables. The ABB started shouting as they noticed the disturbance, but I didn't stop. My claws dug into the concrete floor and propelled me forward faster than a man could run.

Twenty.

They were shining flashlights under the tables.

Fifteen.

The factory rang with noise as someone started shooting.

Ten.

A bullet went past my ear with a horrible whining noise. I burst out from under the tables and leapt forward, covering the last ten feet in a single bound. I saw it in slow motion. The gangers were in disarray; some raising guns, others open-mouthed with terror, some even turning to run. A screaming roar ripped from my chest as I spread my claws.

I hit the officer in the chest with both feet, driving him into the ground. Without stopping, I went among them in a whirl of claws. I moved as I did under the tables, lizard-like, darting around their legs. One man fired wildly, hitting his fellows but missing me. I wove past knives and pipes with sinuous ease.

My every move was an attack. My wariness at this new form was forgotten as I ducked and dodged. Leviathan knew how to hurt them; how to make every motion count. When I struck, men fell back with ruined hands or cut tendons. My claws parted flesh at the lightest touch, moving with a surgical precision that this body knew. It was natural for this form to send gangers screaming. As natural as breathing.

The knot of gangers collapsed within moments. The few remaining ABB ran for their lives. The rest, too hurt to run, were left behind. I rose slowly, surrounded by the injured. The floor of the factory was coated with blood. I realized for the first time that I was covered in blood also. My clothes were soaked, but the worst parts were my hands. They were bloody all the way to the wrist. None of it was mine. The few blows they landed didn't even penetrate my scales.

The workers were still huddled in the corner, staring in horror. Some part of me was reacting the same way. I'd just hurt a lot of people really badly. Was this what a hero did? Another voice spoke up. They were just gang members- they'd probably done much worse things. None of them were dead. They were still alive, and they wouldn't be hurting anyone for a while.

I stood and debated with myself for a few moments. On one hand, I'd really overdone it- hurt them way more than I should have. On the other, I just couldn't feel bad about doing that to a bunch of drug-dealing thugs. But… I couldn't go around hurting people like that. It'd only be a matter of time before someone died. Actually- no. I couldn't do it because it wasn't right.

Heroes fought crime and helped people. Coming out tonight was all about being a hero.

I could still salvage this.

With that in mind, I stooped down to examine the remaining ABB members. None of the wounds seemed immediately life-threatening, but it was still possible for them to bleed out. I used my first aid training and began bandaging their wounds. A few shoved me away, but most were motionless with fear or pain. I used their shirts and bandannas as makeshift bandages, moving methodically through the crowd until I was satisfied that they were taken care of.

I'd have to practice with this form before I used it again. It was just too easy to kill someone, and I couldn't pull my punches in an unfamiliar body.

Wielding a flashlight, I started directing the workers out the side door I'd come in. They were only wearing underwear and it was chilly out, but they'd be okay until the police arrived. Most of them wouldn't look at me, averting their eyes out of fear. I couldn't blame them. I'd scared myself tonight.

 

[Ziel]

Chimera

1.2

Once the workers were all herded out, I headed back to the gangers. I requisitioned a cell phone from one and called 911.The operator came on immediately.

"Brockton Bay 911, what's your emergency?"

…most of the emergency was people I'd hurt. "Injured ABB members at 43rd and Pine. It's a- uh… drug warehouse." I said.

That was interesting; my voice was deeper in this form. That would come in handy. People would take me more seriously if they didn't think I was a teenage girl. And it meant I didn't have to worry about someone recognizing my voice.

"Are you injured ma'am?" The operator asked.

I looked at my bloody hands. "N-no. I provided first aid to the injured, but we'll still need the police."

"You said it was a gang building? What happened?"

"I'm a cape. There's a lot of injured ABB here."

"A parahuman? Do you have a codename?"

…shit. I'd forgotten to pick one. Whenever I'd tried, I'd end up with a bunch of stuff like "Endbringer Girl."

I hung up the phone and went into the office. All the office furniture was shoved into a corner. They'd been using the space to hold their money. Uneven stacks of bills sat around the room, and a long table in the center held bricks of cocaine. Probably the higher quality stuff.

There were plenty of duffle bags at hand. I grabbed every last bit of cash and ended up with four lumpy bags. I didn't think money would be so heavy. Even with my enhanced strength, it was a cumbersome load. I'd have to maintain Leviathan's form all the way home in order to carry it all.

As for the drugs… Now that the ABB were out of the way, I wanted to try something. If Leviathan had hydrokinesis, there was a very good chance I did too. I didn't get all of their powers- Behemoth's kill aura was something I was glad to be without, but something as basic as hydrokinesis I ought to have.

Water ran through pipes in the walls. If I could just- I reached out to it using my new senses, and pulled.

Nothing happened. I tried again, pulling harder. Still nothing.

What the hell?

Pushing, twisting, increasing the flow, reversing the flow, stopping it.

Nothing. None of my efforts so much as rippled the water. It kept flowing without any regard for me.

I pushed one last time and then gave up. I'd just ask Leviathan later. Shouldering the bags, I walked back to the alley. I'd climb back up and run home along the roofs. There would be less witnesses and interference that way.

Tonight had been… interesting. Interesting and frightening. I'd successfully shut down a drug mill and gotten a lot of ABB off the streets. On the other hand, I'd also come very close to crossing a line. All those heroic ideals I valued, and I'd forgotten them the instant I started fighting. That was going to be a priority from now on. If-

The sound of boots on gravel cut into my thoughts.

There was someone nearby. I hunched down behind a dumpster, dropping the money bags. They'd only get in the way if there was a fight. With my water-vision, I could see two shapes above me. They were on top of the same building I'd occupied earlier and they were getting closer.

I was concealed by the dumpster, but if they searched I'd be found in about 10 seconds. Regardless of who they were, I didn't want to be seen in Leviathan form down a dark alley. I didn't resemble him closely enough for anyone to draw a comparison, but I still stood out in a bad way.

I needed to change, but I didn't want to give up his powers. Could I maybe… If drawing on his form made me look more like him, then… I eased up on my power, letting Leviathan's form ebb away. I didn't release it entirely, just lessened its strength.

My eyes burned, and when I blinked, my water-vision was gone. I'd lost his powers, but my form wasn't different in any way. Dammit.

Two figures hit the pavement at the end of the alley. I peeked around the dumpster. Two men in bodysuits. Capes. Definitely a wonderful time to lose water-vision.

Frantically, I refocused my efforts on changing back to normal. Letting go of Leviathan's form hadn't worked. What if I held onto it even tighter? Not keeping it controlled, but pushing it down- suppressing it. I felt for his template, melded and shaped with my power, and forced it inward. The sense of direction was purely metaphorical, but that was how it felt. I pushed his form back into the well of my power, imposing my form instead of his. This time, when I released my hold, it stayed there.

All at once, my skin rippled and bubbled as my scales were pulled back into it. My clothes loosened, and I had to adjust my balance as my arms and legs shortened. The night became colder, and I was suddenly very aware that I was barefoot.

Even so, I'd never been so glad just to be me.

I peeked around the dumpster again. The two capes were closer; they'd be on top of me in a minute. They were close enough now that I could see them better. I let out a deep breath as I recognized them. Kid Win and Aegis. They were heroes- members of the Wards. We were on the same side.

Leaving the bags of money behind, I stepped out from behind the dumpster with my hands raised. Instantly, Aegis dropped into a ready-stance and Kid Win aimed his gun. There were a few very tense seconds before Aegis spoke.

"What are you doing?" He made it sound like an order.

"I was waiting." I said lamely. "I er- I'm the one who called the police."

"You called? The operator said there was a cape involved. Was that you?" Aegis said.

"There's blood all over her." Kid Win interrupted. He pressed a button on his rifle and a flashlight came on at the end of it. The light was blinding after being in darkness for so long.

My clothing was ruined. My hoodie was dusted with cocaine and damp with blood. The sleeves gaped open, stretched so far they'd torn. I realized that I'd forgotten to clean my hands. They were sticky, smeared to the wrist with blood. I checked that my bandanna was still on. It was crooked, but miraculously still in place.

"Identify yourself." Aegis said. They both looked even more serious now that they could see me clearly.

Crap. Again with the codename. I could improvise- I'd be… Something that doesn't mention the Endbringers. Er…

Kid Win pointed his gun right at my face.

"I don't have a codename." I said quietly. I hoped my flush of embarrassment wasn't visible around the bandanna. I was making a mess of this too. "It's my first time out."

Aegis motioned for me to continue.

"There was an ABB drug operation in there. I went in and stopped them."

Kid Win lowered his rifle, relaxing his stance. Aegis stayed where he was.

"Where'd the blood come from?" Aegis said.

Another hot streak of embarrassment ran through me. Telling a Ward- an honest to god PRT cape how I'd screwed up was infinitely worse than having just screwed up.

"I kind of… over did it."

"They're not dead, are they?" Aegis said. I shook my head. He sighed heavily and relaxed. "Let's go see." We made our way back to the side door of the factory. They stopped in the doorway while Kid Win fished around in his utility belt. He tossed something into the darkness, and after a moment, it ignited into a flare.

The harsh, flickering light of the flare made everything look so much worse. Like something out of a horror movie. Shadows were cast into stark relief, wavering under the flare light. Close to a dozen men were sitting on the factory floor, moaning in pain. Blood was splattered over almost twenty feet of floor, like the aftermath of some hellish rainstorm.

"Jesus Christ." Kid Win whispered. He and Aegis both stared at me.

"They're all alive." I said. "I did first aid on them." My excuses sounded incredibly feeble in the face of this bloodbath.

They went over to inspect the ABB members. Aegis looked them over, examining my makeshift bandages. Kid Win put a finger to his ear.

"The situation is under control. We're gonna need transport for... ten suspects, all injured."

Each gang member got their hands zip-tied together, and then searched by the duo. I stood by, awkwardly hovering in the background.

The PRT transports arrived quickly; they'd probably been close by, waiting for a signal. Most of the ABB were too injured to walk, so PRT officers put them on stretchers and loaded them into the transports.

The two Wards watched the gangers get loaded on, and then turned back to me.

"So- uh… you're a parahuman? What powers do you have?" Kid Win asked. He sounded as uncomfortable as I was.

"Yeah, I-" (channel Endbringers) "Can shapeshift. I had claws tonight, so that's why they're like that."

This was torture. Having to bare myself to these capes and explain my mistakes was agonizing.

Aegis stepped closer. "Listen, I know you were trying to help tonight. You said it was your first time out?" I nodded. "You did alright, but those people could have died. Even if they're ABB or Empire, you can't operate that way. If you keep going like this, you'll end up in prison."

It felt like the bottom suddenly dropped out of my stomach. There it was- a Ward was telling me that I was on the path to the Birdcage. My first time out and I'd done so poorly that they were bringing up the Birdcage.

"The Birdcage?" I whispered through numb lips.

Aegis held up a hand. "No, no. I'm just saying that there are still laws and regulations that cover how we can fight crime. There are rules. I'd like you to come with us. We can discuss this further back at PRT HQ."

My hands started shaking. They were arresting me. I'd earned a trip to the Birdcage on my first day.

"Aegis, you're scaring her." Kid Win said. He put a hand on my shoulder. "Look, we're not going to lock you up or anything. We just want to talk to you. Same way we do for all the new capes. You'll probably get an invitation to join the Wards."

What?! "The Wards?" I must have misheard. There was no way- after what I did tonight.

"Yeah. We try to recruit any capes we can. We're not going to turn you down just because of… all this." He waved a hand at the long smears of blood on the floor.

"You just… want to talk." I said slowly. My brain had come to a screaming halt. How could they possibly want me?

Kid Win nodded patiently. "Trust me on this. Even if you don't want to join the Wards, giving the PRT a face and a name makes a big difference in how they're going to handle you. They don't like unknown capes running around."

"Can I have a minute to think about this?" I asked.

He shrugged. "Go ahead."

I walked to the other side of the floor. After making sure neither Ward had followed me, I pulled off my bandanna. Deep breaths. Nice, deep breaths. The factory air was dusty and stank with coppery blood scent, but it still helped. Funny how I could fight all those ABB and not break a sweat, but talking to people left me a wreck.

That wasn't important at the moment though. I'd spend plenty of time ruminating over it later, but for now I needed to focus. They probably weren't going to arrest me. An elaborate trick to lure me in was possible, but it just didn't seem likely. I'd heard of new capes getting recruited by the PRT, so there was precedent for it. Hadn't Shadow Stalker joined up like that?

If they weren't going to arrest me, I had nothing to lose by going. Kid Win had said they might even offer me a job with the Wards. That… that was going to be something to think about. I'd have to hide my powers, for one. But on the other hand- it was the PRT. I'd be an official hero. Hadn't that been what I always wanted?

I tied my bandanna back on and went back to the Wards.

"I'm ready." I said.

"Good choice." Aegis said. "We'll go now. The police will handle the rest of this."

Kid Win smiled at me, then took my arm and positioned me between himself and Aegis. "Get ready, new girl." He pressed a button on his gauntlet. "Chariot- Aegis and Kid Win coming in with a guest. Zero delta nine nine zero five."

A voice spoke from his gauntlet. "Confirmed. Three coming in. Transport begins in 60 seconds."

I wondered why they didn't call the PRT transports like that earlier. Was this going to be different? After a moment, another thought occurred to me.

"Did you two just 'Good Cop, Bad Cop' me? Because that is totally-"

The world exploded in a flash of white.

 

[Ziel]

Chimera

1.3

I had the sensation of being turned inside out and then shaken to bits. None of my senses worked; I was nowhere and everywhere. It lasted for far longer than it should have- seconds bleeding into minutes. We were teleporting, weren't we? Shouldn't this only take a few seconds? And yet it continued. Endlessly. Time meant nothing with nothing to base it off. There was only my mind, floating helplessly in a void.

The feeling of distortion, of nothingness grew worse and worse until I couldn't stand it. Memories of Emma- of hands beat bloody on metal- the stinking darkness. I was back there. This was the locker. The void was empty, but it closed in regardless. Too close. All around me-

Leviathan spoke.

(danger)

A question. I responded.

<confusion>

<fear>

His response came immediately.

A vision of rocks on the seashore, standing firmly against the tide, and a feeling- oneness. The reiteration of our unity.

(strength)

I sank into our link. His message didn't fade. I clung to it- to his presence, using it to hold back the dark. Memories struck me. The locker. Things moving in the dark. Rotting, visceral nothingness. A faint recollection of stars, and then…

(union)

(kinship)

They had spoken to me. Comforted me in the same way he did now.

We were together.

The void didn't scare me anymore. We waited patiently, as was our way. In the same way that he waited, sleeping, for his time, I would wait for-



Hands scraped on concrete. Legs tangled together. Eyes burned by the sudden light.

Meaningless. We were together, and-

I felt the change and let my link with Leviathan fade.

My senses rushed back to me at once. A face swam above me, blurred and indistinct. Someone was shaking me. Shouted words that meant nothing.

"Hey! Hey!" Someone- A boy in red goggles kept shaking me. He was- Kid Win kept shaking me. I didn't like people shaking me. I put my hands on his wrists and pushed him away.

"Are you alright?" He asked. Words that I understood the more he said them.

Slowly, I took my bearings. I was on the ground. Kid Win was above me. My clothes were a mess. The girls at school had beaten me up. No, that wasn't right. I was fighting crime tonight. This was my costume. Kid Win was a Ward. They wanted to take me to the PRT to 'just talk.' We had… transported there? Teleported?

The scene was still blurry. My glasses were probably dirty. I pulled them off and the world came into focus. That got my attention. I tested my vision with my glasses on and off. I didn't need them anymore. Had my powers done that? I tucked them into a pocket. I'd investigate later.

"Are you alright?" Kid Win repeated. I fully understood what he was saying for the first time.

"Don't know." I said. My voice came out as a rasp. The words felt strange. Too simple after all that time spent communicating with Leviathan. Just sounds. No intentions or pictures.

"What happened?" I asked Kid Win. He shook his head.

"I don't know. We teleported back to PRT and something went wrong. It took longer than it should have. Like we were in limbo or something. Aegis and I were fine, but you uh- freaked out. Had a seizure, I think."

"How long were we in?"

Kid Win checked his watch. "Almost 40 minutes. Something really got fucked up with the transport. It's supposed to only be a second or two." 40 minutes. Christ. It had felt like days.

I made to get up and he stopped me. "Easy. Aegis is getting a medic. We need to make sure you're okay first."

"I'm just gonna walk around." I said. I needed to do something. Laying there felt too vulnerable. Too exposed- I touched my face.

"Where's my mask?"

"Oh uh- listen, normally we'd never do that, but we thought you might choke on your tongue." He held up my bandanna. My hands were shaking as I took it from him. My whole body was shaking, and I couldn't stop it.

"I'm really sorry to unmask you, but we-"

"Don't worry about it." I said. I was too tired to care. It had been a paper-thin disguise to begin with, and Kid Win wasn't going to know me from Eve. I still tied it back on.

"Aegis saw too?" I asked.

"Yeah. But he won't say anything. That's one of the Rules." I could actually hear the capitalization when he said it.

"Rules?"

"The Unwritten Rules for capes. Don't kill. Don't go after someone when they're not in costume. Stuff like that."

I pulled myself up to a seated position. Kid Win sat down beside me.

"You sure you're okay?" He was so worried about me. It was kind of off-putting for someone to care so much. He and Aegis had been suspicious not too long ago. Could they really open up to a stranger that fast?

"Could you…" Something to help me not think about that void. Anything to help me stop shaking. "Could you tell me about the Rules?" I asked.

He looked surprised at my answer, but started talking anyway.

"Okay, there's not a list or anything, but there are rules that generally every cape follows unless they wanna get hunted down. 'Don't kill' is the big one. Capes who start killing don't last long. Then you've got stuff like…"

He talked, and after a while, despite my initial reticence, I talked back. How long had it been since I had a real conversation with someone my age? Someone who didn't hate my guts. He told me about the Rules, and had just started on the dynamics of heroes, rogues and villains when Aegis returned.

There were a few white-clad PRT officers who I assumed were medics, and a dozen armored PRT with guns. Just in case, probably. Hot on their heels were two capes. I recognized the first, a man in power armor, as Armsmaster, but the second was an unknown. He wore power armor as well, sleeker than Armsmaster's, but less elaborate. He looked younger, so I thought he might be a Ward.

Armsmaster took the lead, with Aegis and the boy standing to his sides. Kid Win scrambled to his feet. I made to follow, but Armsmaster held up a hand.

"Stay seated please." I knew Armsmaster by sight, but I'd never heard him speak before. He even sounded like a superhero.

"We're not sure what happened with the teleport. Before we continue, I'd prefer that you undergo a medical examination. If you don't mind, Miss…" He stopped, waiting for my name.

"Uh-" Again with the names! If they kept putting me on the spot like this, I was eventually going to say something damning. I needed something that summed up who I was as a cape that also didn't blow my secret. Vessel. Channeler. Adapter. Monster Girl…

(sister)

"Chimera."

The word came unbidden. Where had that come from? I'd never-

(amusement)

A peal of laughter ran through my thoughts. Dammit. Her. She just couldn't mind her own business.

The worst part was that she was completely right. Like always.

The name was perfect.

The melding of three beasts.

Chimera.

That was who I was.

 

[Ziel]

Chimera

1.4

It was nearly 3am by the time we finished. I'd gone through an endless battery of tests and exams at the hands of the PRT medical staff. Some were simple- blood samples, heart rate, listening to my lungs, things I'd see at any regular hospital. Others used machines more advanced than anything I'd seen before; some I thought might even be tinkermade.

Regardless of whether I understood them, all the tests were still awkward and uncomfortable. Paper gowns and doctors with cold, cold hands were not the way I wanted to spend my first night as a hero.

My embarrassment was compounded by the presence of Armsmaster and Chariot. The older hero insisted that they be there to figure what had gone wrong. I had the feeling that he blamed Chariot for what had happened. My money was on myself rather than Chariot. How was he supposed to know that I was some kind of… whatever the hell I was?

The tests finally ended, and everyone filed out of the room so I could get dressed. The clothes I'd worn were basically bloody rags, so I just let the doctors throw them away. For a replacement, I was given a plain black bodysuit. It was one of the spare costumes they had on hand for when a cape got their clothes damaged.

I wasn't keen on wearing a bodysuit, but once I actually got it on I was gratified by what I saw. All the weeks I'd spent training my powers had been weeks spent running. I still wasn't going to win any beauty contests, but for the first time in my life, I could look at myself and like what I saw. That revelation almost made up for having to go through all the medical tests.

As a bonus, the costume came with a full-face mask. I had to put my hair up to get it on, but I felt better once I did. Aegis and Kid Win may have known what I looked like, but I didn't intend to share with anyone else tonight. I'd left my bandanna on during the exams, but it was a pretty pitiful disguise. When I made my own costume, I'd definitely have something more concealing.

Part of me was worried that the PRT could track me down now. They had blood samples, and they'd seen most of my face, so it couldn't be too hard for them. I just had a feeling that they wouldn't. Like it'd be against the Rules that Kid Win told me about. On a more cynical level, I reasoned that it'd be a bad move for them to track me down using medical information I'd given freely. A violation of my confidence or something.

Once I had the costume on, I went into the waiting room. The clock on the wall read 3:14. By the time I got home, it'd be time for me to get up. There was no way I was going to school on no sleep. It'd be like painting a bullseye on my back. I'd have to tell Dad that I was sick, or maybe just skip school once he left. As it was, my whole body ached from the teleport, and the late hour was catching up with me.

Chariot and Armsmaster had their heads together with the doctors, poring over some papers. They looked up as I approached. Chariot grinned uneasily.

"H-hey. We got your results back." He said. He was nervous. Did he think I was mad about the teleport?

Armsmaster rifled through the papers before selecting one and handing it to me.

"The summary of your analysis." He said. "Your results were within normal ranges for a teenage girl on almost all counts."

"Almost?" I said. Did they know? Had they somehow found out about my link to the others?

"Yes." He pointed to a highlighted section on one page. "There's an unknown crystal compound in your blood. We're assuming that it's linked to your powers, but that's just a theory. Do you have any idea what it is?"

(caution)

Simurgh spoke to me. I had been about to lie to Armsmaster and tell him that I had no idea what they were. She was indicating that it was dangerous somehow. Dangerous to lie, but telling him the truth would be suicide. Regardless of who I was, they weren't going to tolerate someone with my abilities running around.

She thought this was a big enough deal to force our link. I hadn't been connected with her like I was with Leviathan. She had initiated contact all on her own. Our contact earlier had been for a joke, but she was all business now. This was the first time it had happened. She was usually content just to meddle for fun. If she was serious, then it was vitally important that Armsmaster trust me.

She spoke again. Images of bent arrows, lines curving in the sand, fingers broken, paths that doubled back on themselves. A feeling of deception.

(mislead)

She wanted me to bend the truth.

I glanced over the forms for a moment, pretending to study them. I couldn't make heads or tails of them, but stalling gave me time to think. Finally, I looked up, meeting Armsmaster's gaze. It was hard to make out his eyes behind his visor, but I did my best to meet them.

"I'm not sure what they are, but I think you're right about my powers. I didn't explain how they worked, did I?" I said.

Armsmaster shook his head. "Would you mind?"

"Sure." I said. Chariot leaned in, looking interested. "I can uh- sort of ping people with my powers. People I ping-"

"Ping?" Chariot interrupted.

"Like radar. I send out a wave and bounce it off someone. Whoever I ping, I can copy their powers." None of that was untrue, I'd just left out some key details.

"You can use this on anyone? How many at a time?" Armsmaster said. He was having a hard time keeping the amazement out of his voice.

His response actually raised more questions for me. Could I hit someone who wasn't an Endbringer? I was linked to Simurgh and Leviathan at the same time, could I mimic both their powers? When I answered, I didn't have to fake my surprise.

"I didn't think of that. So far I've had trouble not hitting people at random. Like tonight, I got the wrong powers for what I wanted to do, and things got messed up. I've got a bunch of drawbacks like that. It takes forever to charge up my powers, and I only get a watered down version of the people I copy."

All of that was true as well. I was actually pleased at how well I'd maneuvered. Simurgh would be proud.

Armsmaster rubbed his beard thoughtfully. "That's quite an ability you've got. Would you mind going through some more tests? We could examine your power and see how it affects Chariot's tech."

Chariot cleared his throat. "Sir, it's 3:30. I have school in the morning. Chimera probably does too." Armsmaster looked between us. I nodded at what Chariot had said. I wasn't going to school, but I damn well wasn't spending all night getting tested.

"I suppose it is getting late." Armsmaster said. "Chariot, you're dismissed. Chimera, would you be able to come back tomorrow? I'd like to talk to you about joining the Wards. We all got a little… distracted tonight." He smiled for the first time.

"Sure. It shouldn't be a problem." I said. The Wards. They were really serious about it.

Armsmaster handed me a business card. "That has my contact information on it. Use it if you can't come or need to reschedule."

"Sorry about the teleporter." Chariot said again. "You sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine. Really." I actually felt like I'd gone ten rounds with Behemoth, but Chariot seemed pretty upset about the whole thing. What he didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

"Y-yeah, I just didn't want- I mean, as long as you're okay." He said, shifting uncomfortably.

"We'll work on it tomorrow. The test samples I sent to Dragon should be back by then." Armsmaster said. "Chimera, I'll walk you out." He moved toward the door and I fell into step beside him.

"Did you say 'Dragon'?" I asked. "The Dragon?"

"Yes. I sent a copy of your test results and a sample of your blood to her."

"I thought Dragon mostly made power armor and stuff?"

Armsmaster paused as we got into an elevator. I could barely feel when it started moving.

"Dragon works with many of the PRT's tinkers. She's versatile. Biology is not one of my strong fields, but it's one that she's familiar with, so I asked for her help."

The elevator stopped and we got out in the lobby. It was empty but for a few guards at the desk.

"That's pretty impressive that she can do all that." I said.

"Yes, yes it is." Armsmaster smiled again. "Dragon is quite impressive."

I was surprised at how much a smile changed his demeanor. I thought I might like him better if he smiled more. It made him more human.

We walked to the exit. The automatic doors slid open as we approached, letting in the chilly night air. I could see the night sky, washed out by the city lights, stars twinkling faintly in the background. The breeze carried the salty tang of the ocean, and I inhaled deeply, drinking it in. After hours in the sterile PRT medical ward, it was absolutely beautiful.

Armsmaster held out a hand and I shook it. "I hope to see you again, Chimera." He said simply, already turning to leave.

As I walked away, I angled away from the path leading to the docks, heading into a patch of deep shadow by the edge of the artificial island. The spot was dark; the spotlights covering the rest of the area were burnt out. It wasn't a perfect spot, but it was better than standing in the open.

I looked up, watching the sky. I could feel her, far overhead, drifting along like a rogue star. With a sigh, I thanked her for her help tonight. She annoyed the hell out of me, but she did help.

<gratitude>

She responded with a laugh like birdsong, and then spoke. A vision of eggs hatching, my mother holding me as an infant, the sun rising over the horizon. A feeling of hope.

(beginning)

Indeed. Things would be different from now on. I'd be more than just Taylor Hebert.

<agreement>

<union>

Our link surged as I drew on it, copying her form into my well. I unzipped the back of the borrowed jumpsuit and let the change come.

Feathers twirled and grew, elongating into elegant, alabaster white wings. Wings upon wings, asymmetrical, folded around me like an embrace. I brushed my hands across my feathers, letting the tips and edges play through my fingers. It was something I did whenever I took her form. Something about the softness of her wings, that I could touch them this way, when I knew them to be razor sharp and as hard as iron. Something about that delighted me. Maybe I felt closer to her by doing it.

I contented myself with that while I waited. The next change typically took a little longer, probably to let my body reconfigure for the necessary power. After a few minutes, my senses expanded, extending around me in a field. My telekinetic range was larger than it was last time. I pulled myself into the air with it, leaving the earth without ever using my wings. It was only when I reached the end of my range that I spread them.

They opened all at once, blooming around me like a flower. I stretched them to their limit, enjoying their increased size. My new muscles ached to be used. There was no way I'd run home as Leviathan. Not when I could do this.

With my heart lighter than it had been in weeks, I took flight in a shower of shining feathers. And when I laughed, cheering my delight into the sky, I sounded just like her.

<joy>