"In the stories, the girl gets saved from the evil villain by the hero, and they lived happily ever after. So why is it a villain had to rescue me from real evil? From my sister?"
Victoria wakes up in the aftermath of the Slaughterhouse Nine to Skitter standing over her, with some choices to make.
C/W: This story heavily features familial rape and the associated recovery. Please read with caution.
"You did what I asked, now leave before I make you."
I blinked, trying to place the voice. It was familiar, but it had been so long since anyone other than her spoke to me, I felt…
"No, I need to explain, to tell her why -"
I flinched back, tensing as I grabbed the edge of the bathtub I was in. Porcelain cracked and splintered under my…fingers? Fingers. I had fingers. I don't know why, but that felt important.
"I don't care. Leave. Now." The voice came out harsh, as swarms of blackness chittered over the walls behind us.
I shut my eyes, clamping my hands over my ears. It was too much, I couldn't process. I couldn't let anyone see me, smell me, touch me. There was the distant sound of a door closing, and then silence.
"Glory Girl?" the voice said. I shut my eyes, my nails digging into my palms. God I never thought I'd be so happy to be able to do that again.
There was a pause.
"Victoria?"
I blinked my eyes open, and stared up at the figure standing by the door. She was dressed in black, with armored plates over her forearms, chest, and thighs. A face-mask shaped like the face of an insect, with yellow eyes met my gaze, and I shuddered. Skitter.
"I need you to tell me what happened," Skitter said.
The porcelain beneath me was cold and hard. The hand wasn't. It was warm. Warm hand on skin, reaching, grabbing, pulling, twisting. Clothes slipping off to the floor. Sight line bleeding and bending around the edges. The sound of breathing, hot and desperate.
I screeched and flinched back into the corner. Nononono not that… not her, never her, please don't make me go back, please I don't want it. I'll do anything just make it stop-
"Hey," Skitter said, breaking me out of my spiral. I focused back on her, my vision blurry and dim. "Are you with me?"
I nodded, almost reflexively. I felt like I was floating above my body in a haze, my thoughts just vague suggestions hovering above me.
"Are you able to talk?"
I opened my mouth and-
"________"
"Okay," Skitter said, even as my thoughts kept spinning, "different question. Do you want to talk?"
I shook my head. Talking led to thinking led to remembering led to— no. Easier not to. Safer.
"Do you have anyone to go to, right now? Somewhere safe?" Skitter said, evaluating me as I looked over myself. Clearly she was thinking the same thing that I was, namely that I looked like I lost a fight with a food processor. My skin was red and irritated in uneven splotches across my body. My hair was longer than I'd ever kept it, and dark with fluids I didn't want to name. My body was slick with… the point was, I looked like I crawled out of a nightmare.
I shook my head rather than try and talk again.
Skitter took a deep breath. "Do you need help?"
Did I need help? Of course I did, but… could I trust her? Could I trust anyone ? … What choice did I have? The heroes, my family, no one else was here. It was just her.
I nodded.
"Then you're going to need clothes," Skitter said, before tossing something at me. I flinched as it covered my head. I pulled it down only to realize that it was a set of bath towels and a robe. God knows where she got those from.
Skitter turned around. "I'll get you something more permanent to wear. Go get cleaned up." She paused as she headed out of the door, her hand catching on the frame. It was minute, but I could see her fingers twitching. If I didn't know any better, I'd think I was talking to a girl just as out of her depth as I was. "I didn't see anything. I won't watch. Knock on the door when you're done." Then she left.
I let my breath out in a giant sigh and just sat for a couple of minutes. I tried to process, well, anything really, without much success. Why now? Why her? Why help me? I wish I had answers.
There were some voices outside of the bathroom door, but it was too muffled to hear anything. I tried to make something out, but whoever it was, they were too far away.
I shivered. I was getting cold.
I slowly uncurled from the fetal position I had woken up in, groaning as my muscles tensed for possibly the first time ever. I tried not to think about that too much.
I patted myself dry, wincing as the towels invariably came away soaked in god knows what. Whatever, it wasn't like Skitter cared, so why should I? I stood up, and deliberately didn't face the mirror as I pulled on the bathrobe and cinched it around my waist. I didn't want to see what body she had left me with. It was too recent. I could deal with that later, when this nightmare was a bit further away.
I paused before the door to the bathroom, my hand inches away from the wood. What reason did I have to trust Skitter? The last time we met, I almost smashed her and her team into paste at the bank. And that bitch Tattletale was the one to set off this whole mess. This could all be some sick joke to get under my skin.
There was a creak, and I looked down. My other hand had latched onto the towel rack nearby, and it proved no match for me as I clenched down, immediately crushing and bending it. The metal squealed as I pulled it away and stared.
Okay, so that's at least one thing that hasn't changed. I let the twisted clump of metal drop down to the floor. The familiar assurance of my strength finally brought my heart rate down. At least if Skitter and the rest turned on me, I had a way out. The Undersiders were slippery for a reason – they hated straight up fights. I doubt they had a way to keep me there if I wanted out.
"Victoria?" I started as Skitter's voice called out from the room outside. "Are you there?"
I knocked on the door. The wood creaked ominously. Shit.
"Do you want to get dressed there or in this room?"
There was a pause as I thought about how to respond. "One knock for bathroom, two for this room."
I knocked once.
"Open the door a crack then. I'll close my eyes, but I need to pass the clothes to you."
Was this the moment where her patience finally ran out? Where she blasted past what remained of my boundaries and forced me to dress in my old clothes? If not now, then when? Was this even still the same Skitter that I met back at the bank so long ago? The one who casually held the lives of everyone in the building in the palm of her hand. The one who led to this entire mess in the first place. She certainly didn't seem to be acting like it. That Skitter would have just… left. At best. In retrospect, the Undersiders' MO until that point didn't match the bank job or everything that came after. It was also Skitter's debut, and I couldn't help but think the two were connected. How much of that had been…?
I opened the door a crack.
The dark hand of Skitter's costume entered briefly, holding a nondescript pile of clothes. She pulled back as soon as I grabbed them, closing the door behind her.
The clothes were worn in much the same way anything was after Leviathan passed through (and I suppose Slaughterhouse Nine as well). The jeans were a faded blue and ragged at the edges. The shirt was dark with what looked like a logo for a defunct band on them, the letters long lost to time or water.
Perfect. I closed my eyes, and started pulling the clothes on. Okay. It was time to consider my options. My history dictated that I make a break for the heroes as soon as possible. My… family wasn't exactly an option. Even if they took my side — and god, I didn't even want to consider the alternative — they weren't here. Maybe if Mom, or even Aunt Sarah were here, things would be different. As it was, I just didn't want to bridge the gap myself. Call it cowardice, but part of me just didn't want them to ever see me like this.
I buttoned my jeans. Alright, what about the heroes then? I wanted to believe the best of Battery, of Miss Militia, of Assault. But there were too many holes. Everyone heard what Armsmaster did during the Leviathan fight, to Skitter in particular. Yeah she wasn't exactly a saint, but even villains didn't deserve to get treated like that. The Truce existed for a reason. And Dean… Dean . I knew myself well enough to say that I wasn't anywhere near processing… losing him. Did he know what was going on with Amy? Maybe not specifically what, but given what he'd told me he could sense from other people, total ignorance wouldn't make sense. It also made some of the way he seemed to tread on eggshells around her…
I shook myself, and pulled the shirt over my head. Regardless of what Dean might or might not have known, I couldn't exactly ask him about it. Besides, I couldn't afford to think about that right now.
I caught a bitter twist of a smile on my face as I turned to put up my hair with the hairband Skitter had left. Speaking of which, that left my final option. Skitter. One of the… maybe not the biggest villains in the bay, but the scariest. This was a villain who had chosen to keep an entire bank hostage with black widows, who fought Bakuda head on without flinching, who put down Lung when her partner had already been out cold. Someone so unpredictable that the Protectorate regularly told me not to engage with if I spotted her. A villain who, when deprived of any other options, picked up one of Armsmaster's halberds, ran up to Leviathan, and stuck it where it hurt. The same person who… helped me, when she had no reason to.
Skitter had been, well, not nice, but definitely not who I remembered her being. And that brought up a whole other issue. How sure could I be of any of this? I couldn't exactly trust my memory since… that had happened to me.
I shuddered, and leaned back against the wall. The cool tile felt slick with my sweat and… whatever else was left on the back of my neck.
Okay, I could at least acknowledge that my recollection of events was suspect. And more to the point, nothing said that anything before that point couldn't have been altered. Maybe Skitter herself really had been planning this all since the bank, and I couldn't know any better. For all I knew this was a scheme between the two of them and—
"Victoria, let me know when you're done. My team is coming, but I've told them to stay back until you're ready. Truce rules."
I grimaced and tried to turn the sink on, only to flinch as the brittle metal handle shattered in my hands. I guess that was one way to shock me out of my thoughts. Good thing that running water was a rarity after Leviathan—can't believe I tried to turn the sink on to begin with.
I closed my eyes and tried to gather my thoughts. There was only so much I could do about any of this. Maybe Skitter was some mastermind that had me exactly where she wanted me. Maybe my family or the Protectorate were on the way right now, begging for me to resist for just a little bit longer. But none of them were here. Skitter was. And like it or not, she'd saved me. I at least owed it to her, and maybe myself, to hear her out. At least she'd been honest, telling me where her team was.
I glanced at my body in the mirror. As clean as I could get without running water, I supposed. I opened the door and stepped out to meet Skitter.
"Are you comfortable?" were the first words out of her mouth.
I gave her a look, and to her credit she had the decency to leave an awkward pause. "Considering the circumstances, at least."
I wished I could laugh at that. Comfortable, sure. At least she'd given me a familiar setting to focus on. Truce rules. No mastering, no secret identity tricks, no going after people for whatever else they did in costume. Fine, I could deal with that. The last thing I needed was Skitter going after the rest of my family. My identity was a matter of public record, sure, but there was a difference between fighting one of us at "work" and showing up at midnight unannounced. Aunt Jess had found that out the hard way.
Taking my silence as a response, Skitter continued, "My teammate is close by. Do you want to talk beforehand?"
I paused. She mentioned her team earlier, but she didn't say which one was coming now. For all I knew, it might be that bitch Tattletale again. Or Hellhound with those nightmare dogs of hers. Or someone even worse. I didn't know what to expect with the rest of her team. Skitter might be terrifying, but at least she was a somewhat known quantity.
I nodded.
"Alright," Skitter said before gesturing at two chairs and a table she had presumably pulled out previously. We sat down across from each other, her yellow lenses looking directly at me. For my part, I tried to really look at her for the first time again. Skitter's costume was, for the most part, unchanged from the first time I saw her. And that itself was notable, because that was the first time anyone saw her. Now that I was looking closely, I could see that the material of her dark bodysuit wasn't made of traditional fabric. Rather, it was tiny gray threads superimposed on each other, woven together into some kind of a lattice. That weave extended down past her waist before flaring out into an almost gauzy skirt. Something like that looked handmade, and my family would know. In my early days, my skirt used to break constantly. At some point, I don't remember when exactly, I got better at keeping it out of the line of fire. But until then, the bill for replacements was outrageous. Mom wouldn't stop talking about it.
The armored plates on her forearms and chest looked different than I had first thought. I (and many others) assumed she used kevlar or some Tinker equivalent. But now that I looked closer, they were actually tiny… were those beetle shells ? That was some frankly insane attention to detail for the sake of maintaining a motif. I hoped for her sake she hadn't run into any gunfire yet. Those didn't look like they'd stand up to higher calibers.
"She isn't going to hurt you again."
There was a pause as we both looked at each other. "I know that I said we were under truce rules earlier. And I meant it. But I thought you should know, you don't need to worry about her right now."
Right now? What did she mean right now? Was that a promise or a threat? I remembered earlier that she thanked her for 'doing what she asked.' Was Skitter going to call her back if I wasn't cooperative?
"W-w-what d-do you w-want?"
My raspy voice surprised me, and even her, judging by the way her attention snapped to my face. She tilted her head. "Immediately? For this to end better than the last time we met. Anything more is up to you."
More… my brain started to stall out as I tried to consider what that could mean. Would she hand me back to her when the time came? Could I go back to the heroes if I wanted to? My family? Would I even get a choice at all? A part of me didn't even want to think about all the ways this could end.
"For now, can I bring my teammate in to negotiate? You've been… out… for at least a few days, and we can fill you in."
Well. That was certainly better than most of the offers I'd gotten lately.
A/N:
Hey there! So this idea has been percolating in my head for a while now, and the beta chat that I'm in kept yelling at me to write it so here we are. I tried this new thing called "pre-writing the entire first arc before posting", so I can at least guarantee some content beyond the first post (this time). Miss Peacecraft came up with the original premise for SiNC, which has since taken on a life of its own. I'd like to thank my betas and everyone else who has supplied me with the endless support needed for me to write Consent. You all know who you are. Updates will be twice weekly on Monday and Friday, though I'll be around the thread for longer.
Some notes: this story deals heavily with themes of rape recovery and trauma. That's the central narrative. Please be aware of that, and protect yourselves accordingly. I'll note that I haven't personally experienced what Victoria has gone through here, so while I've done my research and I have sensitivity readers, I'm going to get some things wrong. I'm open (and eager!) for feedback, but please keep it constructive. Also while this story is going to be canon compliant in regards to the timeline for a while, it will eventually diverge. I'm choosing to stretch the time between existing events after the S9 to give Victoria a more realistic time for her recovery arc. Please keep this in mind.
Watched, read, subscribed, reread, loved, et cetera, et cetera. Also I'm gonna need at least three to seventeen more chapters of this - possibly as many as forty-two - but I'm willing to wait.
Watched, read, subscribed, reread, loved, et cetera, et cetera. Also I'm gonna need at least three to seventeen more chapters of this - possibly as many as forty-two - but I'm willing to wait.
Fourty two you say, that's quite a tall order... jokes aside, the current trajectory for this is going long. My backlong is about 14 chapters deep and I have outlines well past that point. I don't want to make promises... but at the very least I can say you'll be getting more than this.
"Well don't sound too excited to see me," Tattletale drawled as she settled into the chair across from me at the table.
I tried to not react to that as Skitter settled in on the third side, completing our little triangle. Okay, time to focus. The Protectorate didn't have much on Tattletale's powers up until now, and I doubted that changed recently. Ironically, I might have more experience dealing with her than most.
Tattletale smiled as I let out an involuntary twitch at that thought. "Not looking so hot there huh, Glory Hole?"
There was a faint whining in my ears as I was thrown back almost a month ago to that day in the bank. God, was that really how it had all started? I remembered Dean had told me to hold back, but they'd had my… sister. She was so scared, she'd barely got a text out before they took her phone, and I'd needed to go in–
No. Focus. Useful information. Tattletale was a Thinker, I knew that much. There was no way she could've known any of… that otherwise. I still didn't believe her psychic schtick. But given what she found out, and how little she had to go off of, it was probably safe to assume she could figure out anything she wanted to.
As if to punctuate my point, Tattletale leaned back, her eyes running across my form. I tried not to shiver. "So Skitter just found you here?" I opened my mouth– "Yes, a coincidental meeting. On both sides, I would think. Certainly not planned on Panacea's part." I couldn't maintain eye contact. The ringing in my ears grew louder.
"Now, how did Skitter convince her to fix you? I guess it doesn't matter really–" It sure mattered considering I was free again "–but you're still here. Given that your Brute rating is fine, you could leave if you really wanted. But you didn't. Seems like our friendly neighborhood wrecking ball is feeling anxious about seeing Mom and Pop. How am I doing so far?"
Most people think tunnel vision happens when something makes you so angry, so emotional, so vulnerable, that everything seems to fall away. Your vision narrows, the periphery goes dark, and everything seems tinged with red. Well, it's nothing like that.
Maybe tunnel vision isn't even the right word, but in this moment, I couldn't find anything else that felt like it fit.
Everything seemed sharper, harder. My vision never felt clearer, but instead of Tattletale's words, it was the tiniest things I found myself focusing on. The crease at the corner of her eye behind her domino mask. Was she angry? Nervous? The incessant ticking of the clock on the wall. I hadn't even noticed that when I sat down, yet now I couldn't unhear it. The low grinding of my fingernails into the hardwood of the table as I tried to keep myself from… doing something I knew I'd regret.
A word cut through the noise.
"Tattletale." Skitter was looking at her, posture loose and relaxed.
"Hey, I was playing nice, no need to get upset," Tattletale said, almost deliberately casual as she glanced over at Skitter.
"No, you weren't," she said.
The noise was all around me now, the constant whining and scratching. I turned my head to the side and suddenly I understood why. Skitter hadn't raised her voice – she didn't have to. The wall behind her was writhing, cockroaches and wasps and spiders and ants and who knew what crawling over each other in a frenzy. It was enough to drown us. A distant part of me thought back to my Parahuman studies course. Was this an instinctual reaction? A display of power? How fine was her control over these insects? Was the Master component all I had to worry about?
I swallowed roughly. Skitter was staring – glaring – at Tattletale, who seemed to be equally as worried about the situation as I was. Her eyes were wide, one hand clenched around the armrest as the other seemed to slowly be moving towards her belt. Shit. I had to break up this situation, but I couldn't think of the words.
My hand knocked twice on the table. I held my breath, and the buzzing lowered in intensity, pitching down to a low drone.
Skitter's voice drew me back to the conversation at hand. "She doesn't know what's going on, and she needs you to tell her. Talk, or leave and I'll do it myself."
"Fine, fine. So Glory Girl, up for a bit of a chat?" Tattletale said as she turned her attention back to me.
I gave her a look.
Her mouth curved up into a grin. "No, I guess you're not as chatty as last time. Fine. Confirmation is important, even if I'm doing the talking. So one knock for yes, two for no, three for I don't know or clarify further. Alright?"
I could feel my teeth grinding. The worst part of it was that I couldn't argue. That I couldn't throw her words back in her stupid face. I proved her point just by looking at her. I wanted to be sick.
I knocked once.
Tattletale smiled. "Good girl."
I glared at her as the hissing and clicking from the walls increased. "Alright. Since you've been out of the loop for a good while, I'll give you the short version. Crawler's acid got on you and took you out. We had to get your sister–"
I knocked sharply on the table, twice. There was a long pause, as Tattletale looked at me with what might've been the closest thing to respect I'd ever seen her give.
"Alright. Amy then. We had to get her to heal you since you were beyond any other help — the acid had gotten too far. Do you remember up until then?"
Did I remember…? I remember going in for a punch, the wind whistling in my hair. I was unstoppable. Then a hit, and pain. Pain like I never felt before, searing through my skin, my clothes, my hair, my eyes–
I knocked once.
Tattletale let out a sharp breath. "Okay, that's good. At least we don't need to cover up to that bit. Here's where things are going to get tricky. There's a lot that happened to the Bay, and to you, that none of us were directly there for. Or that we were only present for in pieces. I know most of it, and I'm gonna try to get through it, but you two have to promise not to bite my pretty little head off for saying something you don't want to hear. If you need me to stop, knock twice on the table. Deal?"
I nodded mutely. Skitter must've done likewise out of my sightline because Tattletale took that as her cue to continue.
"Right. Let's start with some background. When you came to us to prep for the bombing run, you were already mastered by Amy somehow. I don't know the exact details, none of our team saw it happen, but it was bad. Bad enough that even after Crawler got to you, you didn't want her help to heal you. You were so out of it that I judged she needed… convincing to heal you anyways. She did, but after that, she paralyzed you and flew off."
I stared at her, my focus narrowing. This was it. Tattletale. She was the reason why Amy got her hands on me in the first place. I had taken such pains to pull away, to police myself, despite that thing that she put in my head, and yet she got me in the end anyways. Turned me into that wretch.
Grey fingers snapped in front of me. "Breathe, Victoria."
I gasped, air flooding into me, into my lungs. Mine. I controlled them. I flexed my joints slowly; hands, elbows, shoulders, knees, ankles. Head to toe. I opened my eyes—when had I closed them?—and looked into Skitter's eyes.
"Are you with us?"
I nodded, not breaking her gaze. Her mask gave nothing away, like I was talking to a wall. Right now, that was almost a relief. I took the moment to organize my thoughts. Tattletale handed me over to Amy. I was not okay with that. At all. But she said to begin with that it was bad. That she wanted time to explain. Fine, I'd give her that much. But if I wasn't satisfied by the end, I'd make it her problem, one way or another.
I knocked once on the table.
Skitter nodded and turned back to Tattletale, who had been staring at us with an expression of not quite fascination on her face. She shook herself and continued.
"So I'm not going to pretty it up, things were bad. And we contributed to that. But this next part is important. The minute you weren't at risk of dying, we called her out. Told her she had to fix you immediately and leave you behind."
My eyes snapped to hers almost involuntarily.
"All that shit she did to you? Came after she saved your life, not as a byproduct. Yeah, you weren't fixed, but you were alive. I asked, argued, everything short of begged her to fix your head, and she refused. She took you, had you fly her off instead."
The room was oddly loud. The clock ticking in the corner, an occasional groan of water-warped floor against concrete as the natural expansion of the sun gave way to the evening, the nonstop scraping of a million tiny legs against plaster.
I registered none of it.
"The next time any of us saw you was at Arcadia. The firebombing plan worked – even though it almost killed us – and it caught Crawler and Mannequin. Bonesaw retaliated by threatening to release a virus on the entire city. Skitter was trying to stop her and ran into Amy in the process."
Her words came faster now, as if she knew she had little time to get them out.
"You were in a sort of cocoon, made of biomass she sourced elsewhere. It wasn't people, if that's what you were worried about."
It wasn't.
"It was supposed to heal you. And from what Skitter told me, it mostly had. She used you to drive Bonesaw off. Skitter got her to heal the disease Bonesaw had unleashed and make that cure spreadable. Then–"
Skitter knocked twice on the table. I startled. Why had she knocked? Surely she could've said something.
"Let me tell this part Tattletale, you weren't there."
Tattletale opened her mouth as if to argue but paused as she stared at Skitter. She slowly closed it then gestured at me, though whether it was mocking or sincere I couldn't tell.
"By all means then, the floor is yours."
Skitter turned back to face me. Her hands were laid flat on the table. Even the insects behind her were silent.
"I asked Amy to cure me from the agnosia plague Bonesaw had infected me with. It was causing me brain damage, and I needed to get the cure to the rest of Brockton. But that meant…"
She took a deep breath. "It meant leaving you behind. With her. I knew what she did, I told her to fix you, told myself that the Nine and the rest of the city were too important, but what matters is I left you there."
My mouth opened before my brain quite realized I had nothing to say. What could anyone say to that? To someone admitting to your face that their mistake led to you getting… I swallowed tightly. Okay. I wasn't… able to deal with this right now. But I could focus on one thing. Skitter didn't need to tell me this — it served her purposes much more to gloss it over — but she was highlighting it rather than letting me put the pieces together myself. It didn't make it okay… but it was enough to make me want to hear the rest of it.
Skitter waited for me to nod at her before continuing. "We confronted the rest of the Nine down at the shipyards and drove them off. From what we can tell, that left Amy with you here for about three days before I found you."
I swallowed and tried to clear my throat. The hacking sound that came out was wet and angry, but it felt more genuine than anything else that had come out of my mouth in the past hour.
Tattletale found words for the question I hadn't asked, and for once I was grateful for it. "No, there isn't anything else. Well, technically a whole bunch of other stuff happened. Battery died at some point. The Siberian turned out to be a projection, and now she's in the wind with the rest of the Nine. They also snagged Hookwolf, in exchange for Cherish. She's stuck in hell at the bottom of the Bay now," she paused and took a breath.
"But as far as the stuff related to you, that's all we know about. Normally we wouldn't go so far out of our way for a hero, but..." She gave a meaningful look at Skitter. "Well, the Rules may be Unwritten, but that doesn't mean that we don't treat them seriously. Unlike some people."
I let out a slow sigh as I tried to gather myself. It was more difficult than I'd like. You grow up with your family telling you your whole life that you're going to be someone – somebody important. That you're going to help people, put a smile on kids' faces, beat the bad guys black and blue and red, and the fantasy gets to you so bad that eventually it becomes reality. You throw yourself so hard into it that afterwards that, at some point, you forget you were anything else.
Eventually, things start to make sense again. Everyone has a role, and you get the one you were told to fit in since you were a kid. But then, when the chips are down and the people you… care for… turn on you. It's the villains you were fighting against that bail you out. How is someone supposed to respond to any of that? What was I supposed to do with that? Even if I assumed that what they just told me is true, which I had no real reason to, that meant what? Did I arrest them? After they saved me? Did I leave and tacitly ignore two of the biggest villains in the Bay right in front of me? If I left where would I go? To the family that had abandoned me? Would they even believe me over her? To the PRT after they hung the villains and me out to dry when bombing the Nine?
(Would the Victoria who went into that basketball game recognize who stared back at her in the mirror now? Should she?)
None of that made me feel any better. But I did know one thing: I needed a bed.
The rest could come later.
A/N: An exposition chapter! You know it had to happen. I remember this being fun to write. I had some ideas for specific conversations/issues Victoria would have with characters surrounding Taylor immediately, and Lisa was one of the most obvious. I love her, but she really does suffer from chronic foot-in-mouth disease.
On another note, I realized that it's perhaps slightly overkill to have almost four month's worth of backlog for weekly posting, especially given the rate that I've been writing these. So I'll be changing the update schedule to Mondays and Fridays. We'll revisit that at the end of Communication to see if I can continue that pace for arc two.
So, is this explanation canon (or your memory of it anyway)?
Because i did not realize Taylor knew what happened to Victoria when she met Amy, and hence i didn't know about it at all until Ward.
Do i remember badly, was it just implied, or was it just that missable if you didn't already guess what happened in those three days?
The earlier scene is basically as i remember, that the Undersiders didn't just let Amy and Victoria leave but were unable to stop a mastered flying brute.
So, is this explanation canon (or your memory of it anyway)?
Because i did not realize Taylor knew what happened to Victoria when she met Amy, and hence i didn't know about it at all until Ward.
Do i remember badly, was it just implied, or was it just that missable if you didn't already guess what happened in those three days?
It depends on which span of time you're talking about. If you mean between when Amy flew off in the aftermath of Brian's second trigger and the hospital encounter, then she knew because Tattletale made it clear what had happened. If you mean the time since the hospital and now, then that's something else. In canon Amy was found by Carol and Sarah, before going to the birdcage. Here, clearly something is different. I do explain this in a future chapter, so I don't want to go too much further than that.
It depends on which span of time you're talking about. If you mean between when Amy flew off in the aftermath of Brian's second trigger and the hospital encounter, then she knew because Tattletale made it clear what had happened. If you mean the time since the hospital and now, then that's something else. In canon Amy was found by Carol and Sarah, before going to the birdcage. Here, clearly something is different. I do explain this in a future chapter, so I don't want to go too much further than that.
I'm talking about the scene in the hospital, when Taylor interrupted Jack while he told Amy she had to "indulge" herself.
That whole chapter is like that, lots of implications in the things Jack is saying, but the only sign that Taylor might know is a line about Amy having a "dark look in her eyes".
Do you know what chapter Lisa explains it?
Also, funny detail about that chapter, that asshole Jack actually says "My ability to read people is learned, not given, I assure you." in the hospital chapter.
In canon Lisa calls Amy out on her shit in Prey 14.5, when she first heals and hypnotizes her. The hospital scene itself is a lot of implication and unknowns for Taylor in canon, yeah. I can't comment on that too much this early into the story as that would be spoiling things, but I can say that it will be made very explicitly clear how much Taylor knows regarding Victoria's condition before this point, how she knows it, and when she found out. That moment is in arc 2, if that helps set your expectations. Until then, if you're wondering "well how much did Skitter really know?", then I'd just say you're wondering exactly the same thing Victoria is, with the same lack of answers.
This might be a weird line to focus on, considering the (gestures at the first chapter)everything going on in this story. But I wanted to pull it out, because this is the line where it cemented for me that this is Victoria experiencing this. This is a premise in which it would be easy to kind of ... replace Victoria with her trauma. Make it all about what she experienced and not the fact that her trauma is an event, not her character, and it happened to her.
But this is Victoria. Even battered and a wreck and debilitated, she's done the research and built up her understanding of the local cape scene until these kinds of analyses come unconsciously under the most intense stress.
I love it when fic authors aren't afraid to write Tattletale as an asshole (specifically to anyone she feels in opposition to). Tattletale really does go too far and not know when to stop, and it's just a part of her character. (This might just be my read on her, but people who know when to stop prodding don't typically mouth off to Jack fucking Slash and get a red smile for it.)
I'm fascinated by this too. Was this conscious or unconscious empathy? Was Taylor consciously deciding to do it to make Victoria feel like someone was on her side, was with her, or unconsciously simply because she was aligning herself with Victoria's experience so intensely? It's a very interesting tidbit.
But this is Victoria. Even battered and a wreck and debilitated, she's done the research and built up her understanding of the local cape scene until these kinds of analyses come unconsciously under the most intense stress.
I'm glad that most people seem to feel this way. I was really wary of writing her character initially, especially since in a very real sense we've never seen her in this specific way. The influences that would lead to Antares in Ward are present, but haven't fully come together yet. Seeing her at this inflection point is... interesting.
I had some ideas for Tattletale early on, yeah. Don't get me wrong, I love her character. But you're also absolutely right. She's a grade-A bitch in a lot of ways. Her power went to exactly the worst person to have it (as they tend to). I think she gets a lot of credit in the fandom for pulling Taylor out of a potentially suicidal spiral. And don't get me wrong, she did do that. But I also think we tend to forget that she did that for almost entirely self centered reasons.
Was this conscious or unconscious empathy? Was Taylor consciously deciding to do it to make Victoria feel like someone was on her side, was with her, or unconsciously simply because she was aligning herself with Victoria's experience so intensely?
Yeah I'll admit my own opinion is split here. There are lots of potential answers. On some level, I think Taylor understand what Victoria has gone through, not literally but through the lens of analyzing how likely she is to go off. She wouldn't have been able to steer Lisa away - twice - otherwise. But also she's a master of compartmentalization. So as to whether she was thinking that consciously... I couldn't say. I did have a mental image of Skitter doing the equivalent of asking to speak next in a classroom when this happened though, so there's that.
Brockton Bay had seen better days. I knew that much before I stepped outside into the gloomy June air, but it bore repeating. Leviathan had crashed into the boardwalk and coastline with all the impact and subtlety of a bomb, and the weather hadn't been kind on what remained. Warehouses and open lots, already left in a state of disrepair from decades of economic stagnation, were literally rotting at the seams. The temporary camps and edifices that were starting to replace them weren't much better.
The scars of the Nine covered and crossed all of this. I could see the blackened crater of Piggot's plan to fire bomb them towards downtown. Tattletale hadn't mentioned any civilian casualties in her summary of the past few days, and I still wasn't sure whether to thank or curse her for that. There was still smoke rising from somewhere in between the bomb site and wherever we were. I had no idea what had caused that, but I doubted the fire department would be getting to it soon– if ever. The average time to get running water restored after a Leviathan attack trended towards six months on an optimistic estimate.
All of this flashed through my head as I squinted into the late evening sun. It had hardly been more than an hour since I woke up, but it felt like years.
"Victoria."
I brought my gaze back down to see Skitter looking at me.
"Are you ready to move on?"
I nodded, and Skitter started to lead me to the street where Tattletale was waiting.
"Come on, slowpokes! We're burning daylight, and I've got places to be," she said, her eyes scanning the gaping holes that used to be windows on nearby houses. Shatterbird wasn't kind to the places she visited.
Skitter took that as her cue. "Are we expecting trouble?"
Tattletale shook her head. "No. It was a good idea to keep patrolling for the rest of the Nine, but it was more of a holding action anyways. More important that we be seen doing it than actually trying to find anything. Glory Girl excluded."
She glanced back up at me. "No, our problem is more her."
Wait, me? How did that work? I tensed, my hands curling into fists. I thought we were under Truce rules as Skitter laid out earlier. Was that only for that meeting? Was this where they showed their true colors? We were out in public, surely there was only so much they could do. I couldn't scream, but I could still fly away… right? Shit, I hadn't actually tried until now, I had no idea if Amy left that part of my power intact.
Skitter must have been thinking similarly. "I thought we cleared her, Tattletale. Did one of the others say something? L, pear."
Tattletale blinked then rattled off, "A, banana. No, it's nothing like that. Our issue is that we can't walk her into your place, public or private."
I let myself relax, if only slightly. Right, that made sense. I didn't want to be publicly seen with the Undersiders as Glory Girl either.
Skitter paused. "She's public. You're right," she said, turning to me. "I assume you don't want to be publicly affiliated with us?"
I shook my head. Regardless of my intentions, I knew that wasn't a step I was willing to take yet, one way or the other. I was following them because they were offering relative safety with few strings attached, the last thing I wanted was to make a decision out of haste. That was how I got into this mess.
Skitter turned back to Tattletale. "That makes this complicated then. Victoria can't be seen entering any of our places. Options?"
Tattletale paused, her gaze distant as she seemed to turn over data. "Hmmm. Bitch wouldn't house her and doesn't have the facilities anyways. Regent wouldn't care, but that would never end well. Grue's territory is too close to old Empire territory to not catch flak from a move that public. That leaves just you, Skitter. You comfortable taking her in altered civvies?"
Skitter cocked her head. "Depends on how recognizable she is. What do you have?"
Tattletale looked at me as if sizing me up. "Tell me, Glory Girl, how do you feel about hair dye?"
Well, this was the second time today I was looking in the mirror and not quite believing what I was seeing, if for very different reasons. Tattletale hadn't cut my hair—I drew the line at anything permanent—but otherwise, the difference was stark. Gone were my long blonde waves, replaced by straightened black locks that fell down towards the middle of my back. She'd pinned my bangs to the side in a way that looked asymmetric but really wasn't, another way to throw people off the scent, she assured me.
My usual style of bright blouses and white skirts were, of course, nowhere to be seen. I had worn darker colors and shown less skin before, obviously, but when combined with the hair change, it really was something. Dressed up like this, I could probably walk right by my mother on the sidewalk and not get a second glance.
Tattletale nodded to herself as I continued looking myself over. "Damn if I don't do good work."
I had to nod despite how it rankled me to agree with her.
"Now, basic info. The dye we used is garbage, so it'll stay in your hair for about a week, but that's only if you don't wash it." Tattletale's snort covered up my instinctive clench. "Though with running water being as scarce as it is, that shouldn't be a problem. I did a bit of contouring on your face to hide your cheekbones, that shouldn't really last beyond today but that's all you need it for. Don't go outside until we get those colored contacts sourced for you. Got it?"
I nodded.
Tattletale gave me a smile that was only a little mocking as I moved to get up. "Thanks for letting me do you up, it's always fun to play dress up when I have a willing subject." She gestured at Skitter in the corner. "Especially now. It's been ages since this one let me do anything interesting."
Skitter muttered something too low for me to catch as she stepped back towards us. "Tattletale, are we ready to go? We're too exposed."
Tattletale waved her off as we got to the door. "We're good, Skitter. I would've gotten a ping if things were going south. Your territory's fine. Better that we do this slow and right the first time."
Skitter grunted and opened the door back outside. The sun had set in the time that we spent back in the house waiting for Tattletale's minion to deliver the hair dye and then for it to set properly on me. It was remarkable just how much the mood had shifted during that time. Skitter was dangerous on a good day, but at least in daylight you could more or less see her and her swarm. At night though? Her sleek profile and mask combined with the ever present clouds of insects and their accompanying buzzing to leave behind something dangerous and inhuman. Even Tattletale wasn't entirely comfortable, judging by the line of tension up her back.
"We're alone for at least one thousand feet. Let's move before that changes," Skitter replied as we started walking.
I followed behind. It was difficult to tell where we were going in the gloom, much less how far we were walking. I had never spent this much time down by the docks, especially not at this time of night. Mom never would've let me out this late, and even when I snuck out, it was only to fly out to Dean's house–
I flinched and tried to force the thought out of my head. The point was, the city looked entirely different than I knew it to be. Houses looked large enough to swallow us whole, with gaping mouths and empty windows. The trash piled up on the sides of the streets looked like it had been here long before Leviathan appeared, and the time since hadn't improved matters. Some flies spiraled up from one of the bags in particular and buzzed by my face. I slapped them out of the air on instinct.
"Don't swat at my bugs."
I jumped.
"I use them to scout, maintain a perimeter, and deal with threats," Skitter said. "If you're going to be staying with me, don't limit my ability to do that."
I swallowed and gave a slow nod. She didn't look at me, but evidently that was enough to signal my agreement.
I could hear the sound of the water against what remained of the boardwalk over the drone of the swarm. We must be getting close to the waterfront.
"Do you have any restrictions or requirements I should know about?" Skitter asked, breaking my train of thought.
I paused, then took a moment to look at her. This had to be the most surreal conversation I had ever had. I was taking a midnight stroll with one of the biggest villains in the Bay, who was asking if I had any allergies before she had me over for a sleepover. If only the Victoria from a month ago could see this…
Skitter evidently sensed my confusion, stopping to look back at me along with Tattletale. "The heroes are already after me for enough manufactured grievances. I don't need them to also think I assassinated Glory Girl… Victoria Dallon… by accidentally feeding her peanuts."
I couldn't help myself. I burst out laughing. Maybe it was the stress of everything I had gone through, maybe it was the sheer absurdity of the situation, I don't know. I had tears in my eyes as I tried to gather myself.
I finally looked up at Skitter, who without missing a beat said, "I carry Epipens on me, but they're expensive," which sent me into another round of helpless giggling.
"We're here."
I looked dubiously at the storm drain entrance.
I glanced back at Skitter. "You wanted the incognito entrance. This is it."
Fair enough. That didn't stop me from letting her take the first steps into the dark pipe though.
Tattletale let out a faint sigh as she stepped in behind me. "You know, if we wanted to kill or kidnap you, there are simpler ways to do it than this."
"Tattletale. Enough."
Skitter's voice was harsh, almost metallic as it bounced off of the sewer surrounding us. It was hard to tell how much of the effect was the echo and how much was the swarming masses covering the walls. I didn't even want to know how many insects she had access to down here. In a way, the darkness was almost a relief. At least I couldn't see the walls writhing half a foot in front of my face.
"Alright alright, we're almost there anyways," Tattletale snarked, as we turned yet another corner.
I tensed at the reminder. I tried to remember my reasons for coming here, for following these villains. Were my family really not an option? Even the Protectorate? I knew for a fact that Armsmaster hated these villains even more than I did before this mess, surely he had some reason to. The moment after Leviathan proved as much.
Then again, that just reminded me of the context surrounding my presence here. Skitter and Tattletale both confirmed that the Truce rules were in effect before escorting me here. Surely if there were any villains that would obey those rules, it would be them right?
The chittering coming from the walls grew louder, and I shuddered. I saw why they didn't bother to blindfold me before I got here. Partially because, as far as they knew, I could just fly up and get a bird's eye view. But also because I quite frankly didn't have any idea where we were anyways. I knew Tattletale had some sort of a Thinker power that was presumably letting her figure out where she had to go. But I had no idea how Skitter was managing in the dark. Night vision in the goggles maybe? The PRT speculated she might be able to hear and see through her bugs. If so, the sheer number of them down here meant she could almost afford to paint the walls in her minions to see through the blackness.
As if to confirm my thoughts, a swarm of gnats brushed over the forcefield by my cheek. Remembering Skitter's earlier warning, I tried to contain my shudder. Judging by Tattletale's aborted snort, I didn't quite manage.
Some more twists and turns brought us to a ladder built into the side of the sewer, leading up to a hatch in the ceiling.
"This is us," Skitter said as she turned back. "Let me know if you run into trouble on the way back, Tattletale."
"Sure thing, Skitter. Good luck wrangling Glory over there," I heard Tattletale say as her footsteps faded away into echoes in the darkness.
That just left the two of us by the ladder. It was hard to see, but I heard Skitter start to make her way up before she cracked open the hatch. The sudden light after the past hour blinded me.
I don't know what I expected as I made my way up and into the lower levels of Skitter's lair, but a nondescript basement certainly wasn't it. Pallets and crates were stacked with some semblance of organization I wasn't privy to. Now that my vision was adjusted, I could see the fluorescent lights across the ceiling that had blinded me earlier. A staircase in the corner showed the obvious way up.
"Alright, ground rules," Skitter said as she closed the hatch behind us with a muted clang. "Lowest level here is for provisions and storage. Don't take or move anything without permission. The floor above us is the ground level. That's communal space, and you'll treat it as such. Right now it's night hours. That means you'll be quiet and not disturb the residents. Is that clear?"
I nodded hurriedly. I might be unsure of what my place here was (if any), but despite all of her faults, Mom had raised us better than to make trouble in someone else's home.
Skitter nodded. "Good. The floor above that has my terrariums and personal supplies. You can look but you will not touch. The floor above that is mine and is inaccessible to you. Nod if you understand."
I nodded as best I could, though my attention was somewhat taken by the girl coming down the stairs. She was slight, with dark hair and had what looked like a hastily-applied domino mask hiding her features.
Skitter's posture relaxed minutely as the girl came nearer. "Charlotte." The girl – Charlotte, apparently, stumbled as she saw us from the basement landing.
"Good, you're up," Skitter said. "This is Victoria. Yes, that Victoria. She'll be staying here for an indefinite period. She's under Truce rules, so treat her as you would any of the others."
She turned to me. "Charlotte is my second in command. You have problems when I'm not here, you go to her. She'll get you set up with a room. I need to finish my patrol."
Skitter started up the stairs. Just as I was about to wonder if she had really left just like that, she ducked back down for a moment. "And one more thing. I may not be here, but my bugs still are. If you start something or hurt my people, I'll know. Don't make me regret helping you."
Then we heard nothing more than distant steps, and the sound of the door closing on the upper floor.
I looked at the girl–Charlotte–for a long moment, before she said exactly what was on my mind.
"What the fuck?"
A/N: Have any of you had to write the secret entrance to Taylor's base? Yes? Then you know my pain. Seriously, for being over a million words, canon can be frustratingly vague sometimes. But I'm happy we've gotten to one of my favorite characters in this fic! Seriously, Charlotte is a gem. I hadn't had any firm plans with her past the next chapter initially, but she really blossomed into a bigger screen presence.
Also… goddammit Skitter. Why do you have to be such an awkward nerd sometimes? You can't just shove two girls into a room together and think they'll get along. I promise she gets better in this fic guys. Any second now…
Damn, it was easy to forget what it meant that Skitter was blanketing surfaces in bugs, back in canon Worm. It's a lot harder to forget it from Victoria's perspective.
I don't know what I expected, walking into a villain's base for the first time, but Skitter's lair certainly wasn't it. While things were well laid out and obviously organized, it was also quite clear that this was a repurposed house or apartment building—I couldn't quite tell which. The living room on the main floor was crudely split off into multiple rooms through curtains of waterproof tarp. Belongings were strewn around on a sort of communal table in the front. Toothbrushes, handbags, glasses, half finished snacks, even a book of all things. I had no idea who had thought to hold onto that during the Leviathan attack.
Charlotte evidently saw me eyeing the main table and gave me a look. "Don't touch anything. None of it is Skitter's, and these people have nothing else. If you take any of it, she'll know."
I gave her a glare in return. I knew that any opinion from Skitter's minion regarding Heroes was going to be low, but I had some standards. I wasn't going to steal from refugees.
She seemed to understand what I was trying to say and rubbed the back of her neck. "We had some problems with belongings going missing in the beginning, before Skitter ironed things out. I don't want to have to deal with it again," Charlotte muttered almost sheepishly.
I nodded. That was fair. I couldn't even imagine the logistical nightmare of trying to get a group of Endbringer survivors to live together in relative peace so soon after that much chaos. My New Wave duties had always kept me far away above this level of the action–literally in most cases–so I didn't have much experience there anyways.
"And this is where you'll be staying," Charlotte said in a near whisper as we made our way towards the back of the first floor. I glanced around at the curtains around us, and Charlotte caught my confusion. "They're light sleepers, and if you wake them up it's my problem." I nodded.
Charlotte opened up the door to the left of the kitchen, revealing what looked like a small spare bedroom. There was a twin in the corner that looked recently used, as well as a bedside table, but otherwise there wasn't anything of note. Another door to the right presumably led to a bathroom, though who knew if it worked. Honestly, I was a bit thrown that they had a room like this empty given the situation in the living room.
As if sensing my unasked question, Charlotte explained, "We normally keep this room open for other Undersiders if they stay over, so it's vacant right now. Skitter said to put you here. If there's a problem, she'll say so later."
When I didn't say anything, she continued. "We're still getting the water working, so don't bother trying any of the sinks. For now there's fresh bottled water in the fridge. We have a portable generator running that, but it's the only plug that works. You don't like that? Tough. You're allowed four bottles of water per day, and that includes brushing your teeth. Don't take more. Skitter already went over the areas you have access to, don't go beyond those."
Charlotte paused, before giving me one last look. "I don't know exactly what you did to make her trust you, and I don't care. I don't. Don't make trouble."
She shut the door, and there was silence at last. Okay, deep breaths. I was staying in a villain's base overnight, this is fine. I had no idea what time it was, but from what Skitter said to Charlotte earlier it might be best to try and sleep. I should focus on that, and maybe things would look better in the morning.
I walked over to the dresser in the corner, opened it, and sighed. Goddammit. Of course there weren't any clothes here. This whole thing was clearly as much a surprise to Skitter—and especially Charlotte—as it was to me, I'd give them that much. It would be more suspicious if they did have clothes ready for me. But that didn't make the situation suck less. I kinda felt gross thinking about going to bed in jeans and a hoodie. That stank of depression, and while I was probably mentally there, I didn't want to be there physically too. It felt too much like Dad.
I shook my head. One thing at a time. PJ's first. There weren't any here, but clearly things in the main room were somewhat communally owned. Maybe I could ask Charlotte if there were any spares?
Sadly, either everyone slept in the nude here, or there were no spare sets to be found on the main floor. I was betting on the latter, and seeing as Charlotte had said everyone was asleep, I didn't want to push the point.
I paused. My search had ended in the kitchen, after going through the table in the living room (without taking anything, Charlotte). I found myself on the landing to the stairs going up to the second floor. I was already here… did I want to go up and see what was there? Skitter had said that, while it contained her bugs and terrariums, it was free space. So long as I didn't touch anything there, at least. Fine, I could deal with that. It was probably for the best anyways. My forcefield protected me from a lot, but Skitter had already proven that she could get through it if she tried, and I didn't want to test the point.
My heart pounded in my chest as I climbed the stairs. I knew she said I had permission to be up here, but I had to wonder if that was some kind of a screwed up test. Did she expect me to actually take her up on the offer? I was sure she had some way of knowing I was up here, considering the sheer volume of bugs an entire floor space would contain. Then again, how did I even know that she was in range? For all I knew, this was the equivalent of a trip to the insect exhibition at the Brockton Bay Zoo. At least before they removed that section because of poor funding after the last administration–
I blinked. I had gotten so caught up in my thoughts that I hadn't even realized I had made it up the stairs. Like many things in Skitter's base, her bugs were both overwhelming and surprisingly mundane on closer inspection. The floor was quite clearly divided into sections, with heat lamps and humidifiers set aside to presumably help with certain species. The far side of the room was dominated by a huge wooden structure, taller than I was. It had some half finished cloth across it, maybe the liner to some sort of jacket? I returned my attention to the terrariums dominating the rest of the floor, bending down to inspect the ones closest to the door first.
These looked like they housed some sort of centipede or millipede. I wished I had gotten around to studying insects more when Skitter debuted. Were they venomous? They didn't look all that intimidating as they just sat there curled up next to the water dish, but I knew from experience how uncomfortable it felt to have one halfway up your thigh.
My gaze turned to the terrariums by the stacked, currently unpowered heat lamps halfway across the room as I made my way deeper into the floor. It did get pretty cold in the Bay during the winter, so maybe these were a preemptive precaution? If Skitter was thinking that far ahead, then she clearly didn't plan on going anywhere. I… wasn't sure how to feel about that.
On closer inspection, these cases seemed to house Skitter's mainstay–spiders. So many different types I almost couldn't even count, nevermind name, the different species. There was only one that stood out: An entire section with multiple terrariums dedicated solely to black widows. They dominated the back corner of the floor. This species I knew how to identify on sight– especially after the bank…
I forced myself past my revulsion. Any amount of intel I could gain here was valuable.
The enclosures were small, usually only two to a space at the most. Now that I looked closer, the webbing was quite distinct from the other spiders. Where most of the species set up webs in neat, fractal patterns, the widows almost seemed to revel in chaos. There was no organization, no pattern to their webbing. It almost looked like a sort of gauzy curtain of silk, each cradling a black, bulbous spider with a red hourglass on their lower halves. I still remembered Armsmaster describing the symptoms of a black widow bite during the aftermath of the bank robbery. Redness, swelling, muscle cramps, intense pain… the list went on and on. While one bite usually wasn't fatal, Skitter clearly had more than one spider at her disposal. I didn't want to know what someone would look like after a run in with all of these, and this was just the stock she was willing to show publicly. Who knew how many more she had upstairs!
I straightened. Okay, that was it. I had been pretending this whole time that I wasn't here to gather intel, but I couldn't deny it any longer. Skitter's insect supply was terrifying. And as a Hero, I couldn't afford to ignore this.
I walked up to the door leading to the third floor. The one Skitter told me was off limits. I owed it to those people at the bank, to the Protectorate, to see what she was hiding. Skitter was still out patrolling, who knew how long my window of opportunity would last? I had to act now.
My hand paused on the doorknob. My eyes focused on the hoodie I was wearing, the fabric brushing against the cool metal.
Skitter found me with the remnants of my costume, enough to preserve my decency (what little of it remained). There was no reason for her to look for other clothing. But she asked. She respected me when she didn't have to and asked what I wanted. Could I really just do this, violate her space, so soon after she had given me mine?
The people at the bank, the Protectorate… I couldn't use other people as justification like that. Was I comfortable doing this? Everything I'd seen from Skitter up until today told me to open the door. To gather as much as I could while I was here, then turn it into the heroes as soon as I got away.
But… that would just make me a hypocrite, wouldn't it? I may not have been here under Truce rules, but the Truce certainly got me here. Skitter herself was the one to bring it up. She didn't have to do that. She was the one who opened what was probably the closest thing she had to a home to me. I didn't know that I could've done the same thing for her, if our positions had been reversed. What would it say about New Wave — about me — if I turned around and abused that trust?
I slowly released my hand from the doorknob.
"And just what do you think you're doing?"
I froze. God, how did I forget about Charlotte? I slowly turned around, and sure enough, there she was, with a glower hot enough to shame the sun.
"I knew it," Charlotte spat. "I didn't want to believe it, but I figured I'd stay up just to be sure. And here you are, red handed. Just what do you have to say for yourself? I'd love to hear the defense of the paragon of New Wave."
I could hear the disdain dripping off of the moniker. And what could I say to that, even if I knew how? That I stopped myself, even though the temptation was great enough to get me here? That I almost betrayed her boss' trust within hours of being given a place to stay? So I did the only thing I could. I let Charlotte talk.
"Hah, that just figures," she scowled. "You heroes are so noble and considerate when you're in the right. But when the truth comes out that you're just as much a corrupt fraud as the rest of us, and we call you on your shit, you go silent. That's real convenient, huh?"
My face shuttered, but I couldn't deny her words. Not just from my actions, but from the specter of Armsmaster that hung over this entire conversation. Ever since Leviathan, Mom had wanted us to pull away from the Protectorate, to show that our morals and standards didn't change when they were hard. I wonder what she'd say now. A part of me didn't want to know.
Charlotte stepped closer to me, never losing eye contact. "Those rules of yours seem awful important whenever they stop you from doing something about the real monsters in the Bay, but they never seem to matter when you're trying to pull something fast on a teenager. I know you don't know shit about Skitter, but wow does it really show right now."
I glared at her. Yeah, a lot of this was fair, but that was too much. I didn't know what she meant by rules exactly, but I knew bullshit when I heard it. None of whatever shadow agreements kept the peace protected Fleur when it mattered. She could throw a lot of this at my feet, but not that.
If Charlotte noticed my reaction, she didn't show it. "I don't know what kind of blackmail you had over Skitter to get her to house you here, but it ends now. Whatever fucked up family drama–" I winced "–or Hero politics that got you here, I don't care. Leave and sort it out yourself. Don't use Skitter as some kind of a hideout. Go back wherever you came from and leave her out of it, or I swear to god I'll hurt you."
I looked at Charlotte, at this teenager who couldn't be any older than I was. She had no powers and she was still willing to throw down with a Brute 5, just to defend her boss. I couldn't help but be impressed, despite myself. What kind of person was Skitter, I wondered, to inspire that kind of loyalty? I don't know if I could've done the same in her shoes.
My teeth clenched. Fuck. Charlotte was going to kick me out, and I couldn't even defend myself. What was I going to do? I could go back to my family… but I had no idea if Amy would be waiting there. I wouldn't–couldn't–trust that. Maybe the Protectorate? But we just finished going over why the local leader couldn't be trusted to enforce the same rules they stood behind. I couldn't trust them not to just tell Mom where I was before I was ready to face them myself.
Charlotte opened her mouth to make another point but paused. In the sudden silence, I heard it too: the front door closing.
Skitter was back.
A/N:
It's a bird! It's a plane! It's a wildly overused joke I promise not to use again! Yeah, y'all get an extra update this week. Tomorrow's is still planned. Is it because I have 2+ month's worth of backlog and I love the thread discussion/comments? Is it because it's my birthday and I felt like it? Is it because I can? You will have to decide…
I had plans for this chapter really early on in the drafts. Charlotte was a primary conflict in Skitter's base, mostly because I just thought she's really underutilized in fanon. If Victoria's characterization comes across a bit confused or muddled in this chapter, that's kinda the point. She's trying to figure out who she is and what she wants to be. Girl is trying her best.
I tensed, giving a quick look at the terrariums around me. Skitter was back, and given that her range was much larger than the distance to the door, that meant all the bugs around us were under her control. The frightening thing was that her power wasn't limited to line of sight, as far as I was told in the Wards debriefings, so if it was in her range, it was hers. I had no way of knowing just how long her bugs had been under her control, silently watching and listening to my argument with Charlotte. Was this it then? It's not like I was in the best place to explain myself. Even if Skitter hadn't noticed exactly what had happened, it wasn't like Charlotte was about to defend my presence.
I looked over at the girl in question, and winced. The glare Charlotte was shooting me could've melted glass– if there was any left in the city.
"Don't. Move," Charlotte mouthed as Skitter's footsteps moved closer.
I tensed before slowly forcing my hand to unclench. No. This was my bed, Charlotte had made that clear. If I was to lie in it, the least I could do was do it with dignity.
Skitter entered the room, and any noise we had been making instantly fell silent. Only the chittering and rustling of the bugs around us remained.
"Charlotte. Report."
Charlotte straightened. "I caught Glory Girl here after I showed her the room you left for her. She was about to open the door to your private quarters after I told her it was off limits."
Skitter tilted her head. "Did you ask her to explain herself?"
Charlotte tensed, but to her credit, she didn't back down. "Yeah, I did. She was dead silent."
There was a pause. Skitter's gaze slowly turned to me, and I tried not to react. Those yellow lenses really were unnerving—almost inhuman. Her mask covered her whole face and betrayed nothing. Even though I was in New Wave, I had received PR training just like any other affiliated Hero, and I knew the difficulties even a partial face mask imposed on socialization with civilians. Miss Militia in particular had explained just how much she had to emote to compensate for the usual facial expressions that her mask hid. Watching Skitter made it clear just why so few in the Protectorate used full masks; up to fifty five percent of casual communication was done nonverbally through body language and facial expressions. Between her mask and the insect cloud clinging to her body, Skitter gave away almost nothing.
"Victoria."
Skitter's voice made me jump.
"Did you go into my quarters?"
I looked her dead in the eye and shook my head.
Skitter nodded and turned back to Charlotte. "I gave her permission to be on the second floor, and she didn't go beyond that. If you have a problem with her in the future, speak to me first. Clear?"
Charlotte bristled before slowly relaxing. "Clear."
"With that taken care of, I need to fill you in on the patrol."
Charlotte's gaze sharpened. "Any problems we should know about?"
I tensed. After the Nine, anything that registered as a problem to either of them was something I had to be worried about.
Skitter shook her head. "No, nothing I couldn't handle. But I need you to keep an eye out for me."
Charlotte gave me a glance, and I tried not to shrink into the wallpaper. I wasn't entirely sure why Skitter had decided to have this conversation in front of me either, but I was even more afraid of what would happen if I tried to sneak away at this point.
"What for?"
"I caught Skinny trying to steal food again," Skitter said. The low drone from the bugs on and around her shifted into a higher pitch.
"Again?" Charlotte said. "I thought you dealt with that the last time."
"I did." Skitter said. "I had to make my message a bit… clearer." Her gaze turned to me as she said that, and I couldn't help but shudder. Even if I could, I wasn't sure I could bring myself to ask what she meant by that.
Her head swiveled back to Charlotte. "Let me know if there are any other discrepancies in supplies. I don't want to have to deal with this again. People are going to be relying on handouts from us for a while, and we don't need this uncertainty on top of it."
Charlotte's back straightened and while she didn't full out salute Skitter, it was close. "Will do."
Skitter nodded. "Do an inventory on our remaining stocks. If there's anything that looks off, let me know."
Charlotte practically ran to the stairs, and suddenly the two of us were alone. I gave Skitter a look of grudging respect. I wasn't sure if that was intentional, but I had to hand it to her if it was. That was a remarkably tactful way of getting her subordinate focused on something else.
Skitter seemed to understand what I wasn't saying. "She's better when she has something to do," she said in a low tone as she glanced at the stairs.
I nodded.
She took that as her cue to continue. "If you're going to be here for longer than a day–" she paused, looking at me until I nodded "–then you need some way to communicate. I assume talking is still not happening?"
I swallowed and shook my head. I didn't… couldn't, explain why it was so hard. Why the words seemed to get stuck in my throat, a mess of kah's and ruh's and en's that never resolved into anything coherent. Why even just thinking about it seemed to suck all the energy out of me. But my answer was the same.
If Skitter was put off by my glaring weakness, she didn't show it. "Fine, but we need some other way to let you talk. Do you know sign?"
I shook my head. The Protectorate sessions for affiliates had taught me some of the basics, but that was only for interpreting deaf or mute civilians. And in any case, it had been years since I had brushed up on it.
Skitter nodded. "I figured not. I can have a manual here in a couple of days, but in the meantime, I picked up a drawing pad and pen. Will that work?"
I stared at her. My jaw didn't drop, but it was a near thing. She didn't have to do this. I knew I'd said it before, but it hit me even harder this time. There was nothing obligating Skitter to treat me like this. Especially not given how we met all those weeks ago at the bank. Yes, according to her, this was all because Amy did something horrific beyond reckoning. And yes, her extending me this basic courtesy was to prevent future arguments with her lieutenant. But if that was the case, why the casual mention of letting me learn sign? Or the unspoken assumption that I was going to be staying longer? No, I couldn't mistake this as anything else. Skitter was being gentle to me because she could.
And that scared me.
"Victoria," Skitter said, snapping me out of my thoughts, "will that work?"
I blinked and nodded.
"Alright," Skitter said. "If that's settled, get to bed. I'll have Charlotte leave you that pad by your bedside in the morning."
She turned and made her way upstairs, the chittering of insects following her close behind. Well I had to give her this much; girl knew how to make an exit.
I let out a yawn, followed by a sigh. Much as it rankled me to admit it, Skitter was right. I needed sleep. Maybe this would look better in the morning.
It did not, in fact, look better in the morning. That was the first thought that hit after the early June rays finished blinding me through the gaps in the boarded up window. I couldn't quite tell what had woken me at first glance, but as I sat up in bed I realized it was the sound of Charlotte opening the door. She met my gaze, but didn't say anything. She just set down the small note pad and pen she had been carrying by the door, nodded at me, and left. I ran a hand down my face. I guess that meant last night had actually happened.
I still wasn't sure what to think about all that. The man she mentioned, "Skinny," had evidently been stealing supplies. But at the same time, she was so vague in what she had done to him that I had to assume the worst. What would a villain like Skitter be willing to do to maintain order and authority in her territory? Especially if it required making someone an example. If you asked me right after the bank, I'd have assumed that example would consist of torture, if not murder. Now… I didn't know. The girl from last night definitely could, but would she?
A sizzling noise distracted me from my thoughts. I knew what that meant from many early mornings at home: bacon.
I almost broke the door down trying to get out. Judging from the side-eye Charlotte gave me as she stood over the portable stove either she hadn't forgiven me for last night, or she had heard the squealing noises of protest coming from the door on the way out.
I gave a hopeful glance at the pan she was handling as I put down the pen and notepad next to me. Charlotte apparently decided to show me some mercy and rolled her eyes. "Most of the time I'm not cooking breakfast for the residents, but I'm on duty today. You want some?"
I nodded. She nodded at the plates to the left of her. "Come on then."
I grabbed a plate and held it out as Charlotte slid some fresh bacon onto it. She gestured to the left further down the counter. "Utensils are there if you need them. Just wash them after. There's a bucket of soap water under the sink you can use."
I smiled gratefully and dug into the bacon. Dear god, it had been way too long since I had some hot food. I suddenly felt like I was starving as I crammed it down.
"Do you have enough, Charlotte?"
I almost screamed as I frantically turned around. For a criminal who went toe to toe with the Nine and came out the other side, Skitter could be damned sneaky when she wanted to be.
Charlotte didn't seem to notice my distress. "Yeah I was just cooking up the last of this. If the kids want more they'll have to wait until tomorrow."
…Wait, kids?
As if to confirm my thoughts, Skitter turned to me and leaned in close. "Whatever you may think of me and the Undersiders, these kids came to us when they had nothing, and we gave them a place to stay. I didn't ask questions of them, just like I didn't for you. Do not judge them."
I swallowed and slowly nodded.
Sure enough, as I retreated to a small nook in the kitchen, kids began to emerge from the small curtained areas in the main living room. Almost none appeared older than thirteen. But most were much younger, closer to seven or eight. No wonder Charlotte emphasized not waking the "residents" up last night.
Most of the kids were quiet, especially as they saw me, but I was surprised that they all at least waved hi to Skitter. She didn't respond to any of the greetings but she did nod at each one as they passed. I couldn't help but stare at her as the kids lined up to get breakfast. If I was confused when I woke up... Well, now I was just lost. She couldn't be doing this for the image, or she would've made a larger public spectacle of this. But instead, she and Charlotte did just the opposite. Looking back on it, they both used deliberately obfuscated language to hide the ages of the kids from me. Maybe until I could be trusted, judging by last night? That or it just couldn't be reasonably hidden from me any further.
I shook my head. No, that wasn't helping. No matter what the reason, the fact was that Skitter had taken these kids in when she didn't have to, without any expectation of reward or quid pro quo. Just like… just like she did for me. I didn't know what to make of this girl. This person who would casually threaten a scavenger with a living nightmare one moment then take in a wounded Hero and a batch of presumed orphans the next. Every time I thought I had her figured out, she surprised me.
"The supplies should be taken care of, barring one delivery today," Skitter told Charlotte. "I'm going to be out for most of it planning our next move. The delivery should be around one to two. If you notice something wrong, signal me. Keep the kids safe."
Charlotte nodded, then caught sight of me out of the corner of her eye. "Understood but… what about her?"
Skitter turned to me. "Victoria. I'm leaving for the day. Charlotte should take care of you. Clear?"
It was clear that this was a rhetorical question, as she was almost turning away. But I steeled myself, and knocked three times on the table.
Skitter instantly turned back to me. Her mask was on but I could almost feel her raised eyebrow. "Yes? Do you need something?"
I nodded.
"Well, tell me what it is."
I swallowed and wrote the first thing I'd ever say to Skitter on the notepad. I could tell by the expression on Charlotte's face as I turned it around that this was going to be about as complicated as I thought it would be, but this was important enough for me to ask anyway.
"I want to call my Mom."
A/N: And now back to our regularly scheduled programming! This is where we start to see some of the development and exploration of Victoria's struggles with words in this fic, at least in a more explicit way. That, and her worldview being challenged by Skitter. Interesting stuff! ...or at least, I thought so when I was writing it. Ahhh Taylor, you can't just solve every problem by glaring at it, that won't always work.
So this week I was reminded by a dear friend in the beta chat that excellent fic exists with a similar characterization to Amy as I've written here, which is notably absent from most of the fandom. If that sounds appealing to you, I highly suggest checking out Queen In Exile. The sequel is currently on hiatus, but the first arc is complete and a great read if you want to explore a Skitter that went too far and chose another path.
Hoo boy, how is that gonna work? If Skitter reads what Victoria writes, it sounds like a hostage situation. And facetime doesn't exist in 2011, as far as I know.
But if Victoria has to talk, she has to find her words, and... she's going to have to put words to what happened.
Content Warning: this chapter contains a depiction of a non-graphic PTSD flashback. Please read with caution.
Instantly, all conversation in the kitchen ceased. The kids must have been talking, or otherwise making noise when I wasn't looking, because the sudden lack of verbal noise hit me like a truck. The only sound that remained was the clicking and hissing of the bugs surrounding Skitter like an aura. The wasps and hornets were vibrating their wings so rapidly her outline almost appeared to blur.
And still, Skitter didn't say a word. She just looked at me, her yellow lenses as indecipherable as ever.
"You have to be kidding me," Charlotte spat. "We house you, feed you, trust you even after I find you snooping, and now you wanna spit in our face? Where do you get the right–"
Skitter put out a hand, and Charlotte instantly fell silent. Her gaze didn't move from me. She said one word. "Why?"
I swallowed, but I refused to be cowed like this. "She hasn't heard from me for a week. She thinks I'm dead," my hand was shaky as I wrote. I pointed back at my first sentence, this time underlining the last word. "I want to call my Mom"
Skitter didn't say a word. I tried not to fidget. I knew how this looked, but this was important. I just… I needed to talk to her. One way or another.
Charlotte looked between the two of us. "You can't seriously be thinking of doing this, boss," she hissed. "The heroes could trace her. She could be passing info to them!"
"I'll do the talking, Charlotte," Skitter said. Her voice was dead even. I couldn't help but notice that there was a not entirely inconspicuous stream of bugs coming from upstairs to hover around her at this point. Was it an instinctive reaction? A defensive move? An attempt to intimidate or show bravado? I couldn't say. But I wouldn't let her faze me.
"How can I trust that you won't betray us?"
I swallowed. What answer could I give her? I didn't even know what kind of answer she was looking for. Another Victoria might have appealed to her track record in New Wave, to her sense of duty and fairness, to her status as a Hero. But I couldn't do any of that. After Leviathan, I couldn't rightly tell her that a Hero would never betray her. After today, even after the misunderstanding was cleared up, I couldn't say that she'd never question my integrity. In the end, there was only one answer I could give her.
"You can't. All I can say is that I'm here under the Truce, and I have yet to break that. I'm not asking you this as Glory Girl, I'm asking as Victoria."
There was silence, as my world narrowed down to just Skitter. What was the girl behind the mask thinking? How did she see me? Another conniving Hero, looking to make a quick bust on a villain? A tired teenager, hopelessly out of her depth?
"Alright. You get one phone call. But your place here is riding on this. There's a space here for Victoria, but not Glory Girl. Understand?"
I nodded. I had no idea when, if ever, I would be able to take back up the mantle of New Wave, but it definitely wasn't right now. If Skitter was offering a chance for me outside of that, I'd take it.
Skitter nodded. "Good. How are you going to make the call?"
"I was hoping to borrow a phone from one of you. I assume the cell towers are still up around here, if not, you could supervise as I find reception."
Skitter stared at me. "No… that's not what I meant. Victoria, how are you going to make a call when you can't speak?"
I froze. Oh my god, she was right. How could I have been so stupid? I hadn't even spoken in this conversation. How could I possibly have a phone call? My sketch pad stared up at me, my hastily scribbled words from earlier almost mocking now. My face must have been bright red. I was mortified.
"I don't know. Didn't think about it. Sorry." My hand was shaky as I wrote.
Skitter paused as she read, then considered me for a moment. This was the first time that we were sharing a silence that felt awkward, rather than imposing.
"Do you need someone to speak for you?" Skitter said.
My mouth hung open, surely she couldn't be suggesting–? I glanced at Charlotte, who was still staring at me with the burning hatred of a thousand suns. No, that clearly wasn't an option. So what did she mean?
I nodded.
"I figured," Skitter said. "Go up to the second story. I'll find someone to serve as a translator."
I tried not to stare again. I couldn't believe that she was willing to do this much for me. Maybe it had something to do with the method of contact? I remember something about text messages being easier to trace, since the connection was logged permanently, and waiting for a reply meant you needed to keep the burner phone active. Maybe that had something to do with it?
"Thank you."
But as I moved to leave, Skitter's hand shot out and grabbed my bicep. I flinched violently, backing into the wall. Skitter must have said something, but I didn't hear it. All I could focus on was my arm.
I could feel the imprint of the hand on my muscle, hot as it slid up to my shoulder and down to my chest. It smelled like stale sheets and dish soap. The weight on top of me pressed me into the mattress. I couldn't move my eyes away from her. I couldn't close them (I didn't want to). I just had to watch as it happened to me. As my body betrayed me, arching into the sick sensation of it all. Panting as she pleased me. Sweat pooled down my brow. Again, and again, and again. Bruises, bites, strokes, slaps–I felt them all (loved them all). I felt her fingers as they pushed down, her breath against my neck. Please not here, not again, I couldn't–
"Victoria!"
I screamed and hunched into a ball on the floor. The voices around me fell silent. I couldn't see what was happening. I didn't want to know.
"......take………..kids…."
".........will……..you…….her!"
"Don't……caused……fix"
"......trust…..her…….alone"
"Don't…..me..….call…….space"
The ground was hard and cool under my palms. Tile. I was touching tile. There was a rougher surface behind me, pressed up against my back. My hand slowly moved up, feeling the wood of the kitchen cabinet I was leaning against. I blinked my eyes open. The kids were gone. I didn't know where they were. Charlotte was gone too. I could only see Skitter looking at me. She was sitting close to the floor on her haunches, about six feet away.
"Victoria. Can you hear me?"
I nodded, unable to look away.
"Good. One knock for yes, two for no, three for I don't know. Can you do that?"
I nodded. There was a pause, before I belatedly knocked once.
"Okay. Do you know where you are?"
I looked around. The kitchen. I was in the kitchen. Charlotte had given me bacon here earlier. The door to the left, I slept there last night. The bed was soft but lumpy. To the right was the living room. The kids stayed there behind the curtains. Skitter's base. That's right, she took me in here after… after I left.
"Victoria."
I blinked, snapping out of my thoughts.
"Do you know where you are?"
I knocked once.
"Good. Do you remember what you were about to do upstairs?"
Upstairs… the phone call! I was about to call Mom. I knocked once.
Skitter nodded. "I'll find someone to speak for you, but I'm also going to be there to supervise. That's the tradeoff. Are you comfortable with that?"
I paused. That… was a reasonable request. I didn't like it, not really, but it was also more than she was obligated to give me in the first place. She was offering me privacy (of a kind), but she also had people depending on her. Charlotte, at the very least, but also all those kids. If someone like me facilitated a raid on her base, it wasn't Skitter who would really pay the consequences.
I knocked once.
"Okay. Do you need more time, or can you head up now?" Skitter reached out with my pen and drawing pad, and I tensed as she drew closer. She must have seen my reaction, as she slowly placed it down in the space between us. I relaxed, slowly breathing in and out. If Skitter thought anything of my freakout, she didn't show it.
"I can go now."
Skitter nodded. "Thank you."
I got up, only to pause as Skitter held out a hand to signal me to wait.
She cleared her throat. "I'll try not to startle you that way in the future."
That… good. That was good. As much as it hurt to admit, I needed that reassurance right now.
I nodded, trying to hold back the lump in my throat. Having said that, Skitter finally let me flee upstairs.
My stomach hung down towards my feet as I made my way through the living room. I don't know how much the kids saw of that, but I hoped it wasn't much. Bad enough that Charlotte must have seen all that. The last thing I wanted was the kids to be afraid or… laugh. If any of them were still around, none bothered me on my way up the stairs.
I leaned against the walls next to the centipede terrariums and sighed. Well, this was just great. Why did I have to go through something like that so soon, over something so inconsequential? It's not like Skitter hadn't touched me before now. Hell, Charlotte came right up to me when she confronted me about going up to the third story! So why now? Why was I so weak?
I clutched my pad close. What if it was always like this? Only ever a step or a wrong move away from breaking down. I didn't want to know what the rest of the family would think. How could I ever go on a patrol again? The absurdity of my situation almost made me laugh. I could bench press a truck — fly as fast as anyone else in the city given enough lead up — and here I was worried that I'd lose it over some fan or perp getting too close. It was pathetic. A sob caught in my throat. I couldn't let the rest of them see me like this, know that I was even more fragile than they thought–
The sound of plastic snapping was what broke me out. I looked down, at the notepad clenched between my fingers. I had been gripping it so hard, I snapped one of the binder rings. Fuck.
Okay. Okay. One thing at a time. I had to calm down. I couldn't afford to lose the one thing that let me actually communicate. Deep breaths. In and out. Slowly. After a few minutes, my heartrate calmed. I relaxed my hands. Focus on the immediate, put it into words. That was a flashback that I went through. A flashback to when Amy… raped me.
I shuddered. It hurt to say, even in my head, but I knew I had to. My sister raped me. And while I hadn't worked personally with any victims for an extended period before now, I knew from the few Protectorate Affiliate courses that I had attended on the subject that the trauma from experiences like the one I had gone through were likely to be… triggered… suddenly and often. Especially this early in the recovery process. At least here I knew what had caused it: Skitter reaching out to me. Many people weren't nearly as lucky. Even something as inconsequential as a smell or a shirt color could be enough. Skitter herself seemed aware of what she had done as well and had promised to avoid it in the future. I didn't know what that looked like, but at least she said she'd try. I was okay. Or well… I wasn't okay. I was self-aware enough to admit that. But I had a way forward. And the first step of that was calling Mom.
I glanced down at the centipedes and assorted insects that had been rather suspiciously eyeing me during all this and suppressed a laugh. Well, at least she was polite. I knocked gently once on the enclosure wall.
Taking her cue, Skitter came up the stairs. Standing across from me, she still wasn't emoting much. But her posture was… looser than I'd have thought. Maybe she realized just how little was holding me together? It wasn't as if I had been particularly subtle about it.
"Did you get someone?"
Skitter considered me. "Yes."
I tilted my head.
"Who?"
She seemed to ignore my question. "Whoever serves as your translator needs to sell themselves as being closely acquainted with you. That's the only way you staying at one of the other refugee camps is plausible. I don't want to give her any suspicions that you're staying here."
I nodded, confused. I didn't know why she was avoiding my question, but I followed her logic.
"Charlotte was unable to confidently say she could maintain the emotional distance to play that kind of character with you. Most of my other minions–" I had to almost stuff a fist in my mouth to stop myself from laughing hysterically. She actually called them minions? Skitter seemed to glare at me while I calmed myself before continuing, "–are out, otherwise I would have consulted them. I do not have the time to wait. I'm needed for a team planning session, and this must be handled now."
I tried not to react to the reminder of exactly who was housing me and what her team might have been planning to do.
"I will not ask the residents to help with this. This is a personal problem, but it is still too much to ask of them."
I agreed, but that still left us with our original issue.
"So then?"
"There is one other person who could help," Skitter said, looking to the side for the first time since our conversation started.
I underlined the, "Who?" I wrote before.
Skitter turned back and met my gaze.
"Me."
A/N:
This was one of the few chapters that wasn't specifically planned ahead of time. And I don't mean that in the sense of "oh this scene went on a bit long so I split it early instead", I never planned for Victoria to have a trigger here. Which, ironically, was exactly why I kept it. It was as unexpected to me as it was to her, in the moment.
I don't want to get too high-minded here, but this one is special to me. Not just in the flashback itself, but in having Victoria name (even only in her head) exactly what happened to her. I was really trying to hit the line between showing how horrific this experience was for Victoria, while still allowing her agency in eventually telling her own story. Hopefully I got it right.
Anyways in lighter news, I've decided to keep giving fic suggestions at the end of these until I run out of good material. This time my rec goes out to TWNY by the fantastic MissPeacecraft. It's a post GM RWBY cross, and it does a fantastic job at showing Taylor trying to come to terms with what she did and who she wants to be. RWBY really didn't do a good job of exploring the racial structures and discrimination it set up, and TWNY explores that divide and the minutiae of how it affects Taylor personally very well. It's good content.
well victoria isn't a "monster" this time so maybe carol wont be such a huge bitch?
lol of course not she's probably going to figure out its skitter talking and absolutely lose her shit. extra points if amy went home and carol insists vicky go back and "make amends" with her rapist sister...
I hope things get better soon, babe