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Silence is Not Consent

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I feel like if it Tori tries to talk to Rachel again, she'll have a better time of it. It's that kind of animal mentality she has. Push and get pushed back, the establishment of dominance and recontextualizing what Tori wants to better fit with how Rachel sees the world.
 
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Supernova 5.3
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    • My jaw was throbbing sluggishly. My ears were ringing. I tasted blood in my mouth from where my tongue had been caught between my teeth. Lady Pho-Aunt Sarah had drilled us extensively on unarmed combat, and she'd doubled down on my lessons after I'd triggered. I knew how to take a hit to the head. Roll with the force, minimize impact, stay on your feet. If you can, use the momentum to create distance to recover and keep your opponent in sight. I remembered it all.

    But Bitch's punch had been so quick, so unexpected, I hadn't had time to react. I hadn't really been in a fight since I woke up, and it showed. I was out of practice. And too used to my shield saving me from the first blow of anything that surprised me. I hadn't forgotten I didn't have it, but I hadn't considered what that meant.

    All of this flashed through my mind as I stared at the rest of the Undersiders. They were saying something to me, but the words were muted, like I was hearing them through water.

    "–ori? You okay?"

    I tilted my head back and looked straight up to see Taylor looking down at me with something like concern in her eyes.

    "She can hit pretty hard if you aren't expecting it. I'd know. You need a minute?"

    I was still leaning back against her chest. I could feel the rise and fall of her breathing against my back. There was no softness to her; she was corded with lean muscle and warm to the touch. Hot, even; I could feel the faint perspiration of the hot day through her shirt and–

    hot clammy skin on mine, sweat trickling and pooling between folds of flesh, warm breath fanning over my neck as another body pressed against mine, slippery with–

    I pushed away with just a shade too much force to write off as casual, shaking my head slowly before I winced and thought better of it. It was always instinct to shake an injury in the aftermath – some kind of instinctual test to make sure the body still worked, maybe? But with head injuries that was usually a bad idea.

    "I'm fine," I signed as the world swam around me and the unwanted memories got shoved back in their box. "Which way did she go?"

    Taylor looked at me for a second as if waiting for me to add something, then frowned. "I'm sorry?"

    "You heard me," I signed, before a hot flush came up from the back of my neck. "I mean… you know what I mean. Where did she go?"

    The urge to move, to run, to fly, to do something was overwhelming. This was still fixable. I just needed to know where Bitch was and then I could take off and deal with it. Yes, I'd screwed up, but I could own that. I knew I'd been to Bitch's place before, but I'd been… out of it, at the time. I'd need an address to find my way back there.

    "Care to share with the class, guys?" Lisa's voice drew my attention away from Taylor towards the rest of the group. Alec and Aisha hadn't moved from their position on the railing, and Lisa was leaning against a tree with an eyebrow raised. Brian was watching carefully from a few feet away with his arms crossed, his face expressionless.

    "She wants to know where Bitch went," Taylor said. I shot her a glare. Traitor.

    Lisa snorted. "Seriously? You want to go after her? Because the last conversation went so well. Great idea, ten out of ten. Look, your jaw's already bruised, so leave Bitch be. You still haven't convinced everyone here." She paused. "Or anyone here, actually."

    I resisted the urge to snarl. Now wasn't the time for this. She was trying to wind me up, and I wouldn't let her win. "I made a mistake, now I need to fix it."

    Taylor translated distractedly without looking away from me, and didn't even leave the others space to respond before addressing me directly. "That's not how Bitch works, you know. Lisa's right; you gotta let her cool off at least. Otherwise she'll just punch you again."

    "Then she punches me." I shrugged. Frankly, after spending so long in this social quagmire of shifting alliances and political favors, part of me relished the idea of a straightforward fight. Something to fill my head and fists and distract me from everything else I couldn't fix.

    "I'm... not sure that's a good idea," Taylor said carefully. "She might just get angrier."

    "I'm not made of–" I paused. Forced my breathing to even out. Counted to ten in my head. Getting angry at Taylor was stupid; it wouldn't help. She was trying to help me, I knew that. It wasn't fair to snap at her for it.

    "Sorry. Thank you. I know it's risky. She might get angry, and if so that's on me. But I want to try and make things right."

    Taylor swallowed, and after a short moment gave me a nod. I relaxed. At least we were still okay. She drew in a breath to say more, perhaps to argue, perhaps to agree–

    "She's in the old meatpacking district, by the Docks."

    We all slowly turned to Aisha, still perched on the railing with that shit eating grin on her face. "What?" she asked with blatantly false innocence. "The lady asked where bitch number one is, so I told her. Why the looks? You're usually all getting on my back about not telling you things."

    A sigh escaped Brian. "Aisha… why?"

    "You take everything so seriously, bro," she said, rocking back and forth on the railing as she laced her fingers behind her head. "C'mon, what's the worst that could happen? Bitch punches her again? If Barbie over there is so pathetic that a normie can take her in a fight, she can just fly away. I'm helping!"

    "Stop helping," Brian ground out. For my part I struggled not to glare at the girl, and managed by herculean effort to instead give her a stiff nod. Regardless of her... everything, she was right. I could always just fly away if things went badly again. And she had given me the location I needed.

    "Thank you," I signed, against every fiber of my being.

    Aisha's grin only spread wider. The similarities between her leering demon mask and the face under it had never been so clear.

    "To–Victoria."

    I turned to face Taylor. She was biting at her lip, and for once I could barely read her. Maybe it was the lack of a swarm nearby to help me judge what she was feeling?

    I gave her the softest smile I was capable of with a still-aching jaw. It was sweet of her not to use that name in front of them. As much as the alternative… unsettled me, 'Tori' still felt private. Intimate. Something just for us. For a little while longer, at least.

    "I'm not going to stop you," Taylor said, drawing my attention back out of my thoughts. "But… be careful?"

    There was an edge of desperation in her eyes that told me this wasn't just about me. But if Bitch's life was anything near like what I'd heard from briefings with the Wards, I could understand the hesitance. Often the hardest people were the easiest to damage once you found a chink in their armour. Diamond was as brittle as it was strong.

    I knew that all too well.

    I nodded, and gently nudged Meepy off my shoulder with my index finger. She flew a lazy loop in front of my face and brushed my cheek with a wingtip before gliding back to Taylor and vanishing into her hair. I watched her go with a little pang of loneliness, but no regret. I wanted to do this on my own.

    "You'll text me the address?" I asked as I pulled my hoodie tighter against myself. My stomach twisted into a hot unpleasant knot even as I lifted off the ground, biting my lip.

    Taylor nodded, pulling her phone out. Mine buzzed in my pocket a moment later. "Just let me know when you're headed back."

    Awww that was sweet–

    "If you don't I'll assume the Protectorate detained you, and I'd have to do something unpleasant to retrieve you."

    Aaaaand there she was. I laughed under my breath. Some things never changed.

    "Sure thing, Skitter. Try not to challenge any world-class capes until I get back."

    Grinning at the look on her face, I took off before she could respond.


    Up high and in flight, the wind cut through my hoodie like a knife. Another difference my absent shield made – I was cold. Shivering, even. I knew about temperature in flight from carrying passengers in the past, but... well...

    Now it was my problem too.

    I pulled out my phone, awareness of my clumsy, wind-numbed fingers making me take extra care not to drop it as I checked the address Taylor had sent. Like Aisha had said, Bitch had apparently set up shop in one of the old meatpacking warehouses. That meant that I had a bit of time to think as I shot over the fog shrouded roofs of downtown.

    Looking back, I hadn't broached my topic well. My set-up hadn't been bad, but I hadn't stuck the landing. Especially with Bitch. I had trouble talking to her. Part of that was issues on my side. The way she'd questioned my right to even speak to them, when I was doing my best to keep them all alive and out of jail...

    My fists clenched.

    ... despite that. I knew I'd fucked up. I'd addressed the concerns she'd shared with me, the reasons why she'd become a Villain and stayed a warlord. Her agreement with Coil, taking care of her dogs, the simple desire for survival in a world where everything had been against her for a long time. But I'd been speaking past her, not to her. I'd forgotten one of the most important rules of negotiating, and it had probably cost me what little rapport I'd gained.

    I squared my shoulders and hunched inwards against the freezing wind. But... what else was I supposed to do? Taylor had said Bitch would calm down in time, and waiting was probably the right choice. The safe one.

    But that just wasn't enough. Not when I could do something about it myself.

    As I approached the old meatpacking district, I realized why Bitch's hideout was so isolated on the map. Taylor's was a converted duplex of some kind, hidden amongst the hundreds of others just like it in this city. Lisa was operating out of a converted hotel, convincingly full of foot traffic that didn't stick out too much.

    If Lisa's HQ welcomed people and Taylor's tolerated them, Bitch's home base dared you to set a foot over the line and backed it up with the threat of a mauling. The road outside was covered in jury-rigged roadblocks; huge metal beams and girders twisted together like anti tank obstacles. The fence out front was topped with barbed wire, countless spikes glinting in the early morning sunlight, and the ground just past the chainlink was visibly churned up from the paws of her monster dogs. The factory next to the field probably had its heyday somewhere back in the 60's, but hadn't been used since. A building inspector would conclude that the whole structure was rife with asbestos and long past due for demolishing.

    In a way, it was amazing how much I'd forgotten. I had been here… two weeks ago? Ish? The time since I'd woken up with Taylor standing over me all blurred together. The confrontation with Miss Militia, the Flechette incident, the talk with Carol, Dragon, Coil, my shield–

    The girl who'd followed Skitter back to her lair like a lost duckling was very different from the one who flew here now.

    I considered the building as I hung above it in midair. I didn't want to get off on the wrong foot for the second time in under an hour. I'd been here before, but that was a long time ago and under very different circumstances. Here and now, I hadn't warned Bitch that I was coming. She'd been angry at me when she'd left. I wasn't even sure that Bitch was here yet; her dogs might have a Mover rating but she didn't.

    In the end, honesty seemed like the best policy. Or at least, as close to honesty as I could get. I carefully floated down to the street, landed just outside the front door, raised my fist, and knocked. The sound echoed off the hardened steel, deep into the interior.

    No response.

    Well that figured. It was probably too early for anyone else to be here, and Bitch wasn't back yet. I sighed, turned my back to the wall, and slowly slid down until I was sitting by the doorstep.

    The only thing to do now was wait.


    The sound of barking startled me out of a light doze. I looked up into the jaws of a beast that blended alligator, wolf and dinosaur, and a hot breath that stunk of raw meat and blood washed over my face. Forcing myself not to gag or yelp, I looked up further and met the gaze of the girl growling at me from on top of her hulking pet.

    Bitch dismounted with a growl, and stalked towards me, leaning down. "What the fuck do you want?" she spat from inches away. "I told you not to fuck with my dogs. Told you to leave me alone. Why are you here?"

    "I'm sorry!" I signed, only to freeze. Fuck. I'd forgotten that Bitch couldn't sign. And I didn't have my notebook with me. And even if I did, Bitch couldn't read! I'd gotten used to Taylor understanding me, translating for me, accommodating me, but now she wasn't here and my useless voice meant I was incapable of doing exactly what I'd come here to do.

    How had I been this stupid?

    "What?" she snapped.

    Shit. How was I supposed to communicate? She was angry already, and the growling of her dogs wasn't encouraging either. God, if Taylor were here, if I hadn't rushed off…

    Wait. Taylor's phone! I still had it in my jacket pocket!

    I quickly reached for it, only to freeze when Bitch snarled at me. After a moment's pause I continued the motion, slowly reaching into my pocket while keeping a careful eye on the dogs. If they attacked, I was dead without my shield; in this position, sat down with the lead dog's jaws right in front of me, I wouldn't have a chance of dodging. And I couldn't afford for my passenger to hurt the dogs if I turned it on.

    I managed to get my phone out without getting mauled and sighed in relief. One small hurdle out of the way.

    "I wanted to say that I'm sorry." The voice from the phone's text to speech was harsh and staticky. But it was better than nothing. And it was all I had.

    Bitch grunted, still glaring at me, but stepped back. Her dog didn't. "Yeah? Well I don't want your 'sorry'. Doesn't do anything for me. Leave."

    I took a deep breath. I knew what this was going to be like before I signed up for this. I wasn't owed acceptance for my apology. But I was at least going to explain where I was coming from.

    "Look, I know I screwed up. If you let me apologize, I promise to leave you alone."

    She stared at me for a long moment as the dogs next to her growled. The breath of the one she'd been riding washed over my face again, and I couldn't help but wrinkle my nose. Doggy breath was bad enough when they were normal size. And not turned into giant monsters by a parahuman. I ground my teeth together behind thinned lips, but didn't twitch. I didn't know if the dogs were triggered off of movement, and I couldn't take off and get out of reach until the closest one backed off.

    "Fine," Bitch said finally, crossing her arms.

    I swallowed, and let out a long slow breath. Step one done. Now came the hard part. "I'm sorry that I talked to you like that back there. You were right."

    "'bout what?"

    I closed my eyes and forced my hands to swipe over the tiny keyboard. "That I don't have the right to force my values on you. That what I think is right might not be what you think is right. I want to help. I do. I want to help Taylor with her territory, I want to help Brian take care of Aisha, I want to help Alec be comfortable and have an easy life where he isn't in danger all the time. And I want to help you with your dogs."

    I took a moment to shake out my hands. The pain was starting to race up the inside of my thumb and index fingers in tight, pulsing lines. "But I can't do that if I'm not treating you like an equal. And I can't force you to accept help you don't want."

    There was a moment of tense silence. It took all the nerve I had, but I held her gaze. Whatever she was looking for, I wasn't going to hide. Not here, and not now. I wanted to respect her autonomy, and that meant she deserved my honesty.

    "You want to help the dogs?" she asked after giving that some thought, her brow furrowing. "Why?"

    I clenched my hands anxiously, leaning back as much as the door behind me allowed and hoping she'd call the closer one back out of my face soon. They were both slowly starting to shrink, but I didn't let the relief show on my face. "Because they're important to you. Because they're important to Taylor. Because I want to."

    Bitch growled and took a step closer, looming over me. Her dog rumbled, low and throaty, and took a step closer, forcing me to wedge myself further back against the door to stay away from its maw. "The fuck do you know about my dogs?" she snapped. "What did she tell you?"

    My breaths came short and fast. The doorstep dug into my thighs, and my back was pressed hard enough against the door that I was probably going to bruise. She'd left me enough space to breathe, but no more. "Nothing." I typed hastily. "We were at the memorial, and I saw the names. She told me they were your dogs. That's it."

    For the first time I saw something else other than aggression on her face. A flash of grief, maybe? Whatever it was, it was gone in an instant, then the spite and rage and mistrust came roaring back. "What do you care?" she spat. "You weren't there. You didn't see it."

    Grief and pain rose like a tidal wave. I took a long slow breath, and let it out through my nose.

    It was okay. I was okay. She hadn't meant it that way. She didn't know what she was implying.

    She didn't know.

    "I didn't know they were yours." I typed with shaking hands. "I lost half my family that day too."

    Bitch blinked. "So? What's that got to do with me?"

    "I know what it's like." I clenched my teeth, and felt a tear trickle down my cheek. "A part of my world died that day and it never came back. It was like all the color left and I was supposed to keep pretending nothing changed. I was so angry and no one would listen. I'm sorry. I'm sorry we couldn't save them."

    That was what had haunted me ever since I'd seen those names. How many Heroes had bothered to think about the dogs that held Leviathan back for precious seconds? Had putting them on the memorial even been considered? Or were they just disregarded as disposable minions; chaff to slow the monster down and forgotten just as quickly? I certainly hadn't thought about them once until today.

    I felt sick.

    "Yeah," Bitch said gruffly. Her eyes were unfocused and far away. Her mouth was slack for the first time since she'd arrived at the park. "They were… they were good dogs."

    I nodded slowly.

    The silence stretched between us, but this time I didn't feel the need to fill it. If Bitch needed the time to process or think, I'd give it to her. If I was honest, I'm not even sure what I would've said. What could you say to someone like that? Who'd suffered a loss so personal, and would likely never be able to fully communicate that to anyone?

    "You said you wanted to help the dogs?"

    I looked back up. Her eyes were focused back on me, but her brow wasn't furrowed anymore. She almost seemed to be studying me, though the stance in her shoulders was off for that.

    "Yeah," I typed cautiously. "I think the team unmasking could help with that. It's not just about unmasking. That's what I didn't manage to say before. Unmasking just lets you start doing things outside the Hero-Villain binary. It would let you be able to file for official government assistance–"

    "And what would they want?" she snarled. Shit. I'd stepped on a hot button. Probably the authority figure issue. Okay, backtrack, start over.

    "It's not about what they'd want. I..." I paused, thinking carefully. "I don't think you want to be a Hero or a Villain. Both of those things are tied up in the whole crime-fighting idea. You don't want to fight crimes that aren't dog abuse, and you wouldn't bother commiting crimes if you could get money some other way. You just want to take care of your dogs." She nodded. Okay. I had that right. Good. "If you unmasked officially with the rest of us, if we handled it right, you could make a deal with the government to be an independent. Set up an animal care non-profit or something. They could tell other people to give you their dogs they couldn't take care of." I had to reframe it as something else, something more central to her and her experience. That was the link keeping this together.

    "Like they'd go for it."

    Mistrust in the government, I was prepared for. That was one of the answers I had ready. "Let me and Taylor and Lisa handle that. I'm pretty sure we can make them go for it. Make it easier and safer to just give you what you want and call it a win for their side than deal with the trouble the Undersiders can cause them. I'm not asking you to trust me. But if Taylor and Lisa think it would work, would you consider it?"

    She stared down at me for a long moment, absently snapping her fingers and whistling. The giant dog looming over me perked up and retreated, giving me enough space to breathe, and I shuffled forward on the step. I didn't get up though. I stayed seated, adjusted my posture to something a bit more comfortable, and waited.

    "What do you get out of this?"

    I blinked. "What?"

    "I said what do you get out of this," she said, still giving me that stare. "Everyone wants something. What do you want?"

    I closed my eyes. Everything I'd said was true. I meant it all. But she was right. There was something behind all of this, and if she was betting her life and freedom on my word, I owed her honesty.

    "Taylor saved me when no one else did. When my family… hurt me, used me, left me to rot. No one else cared. I want to do that for her. Not just pay her back. Care for her. Protect her. From anything. From everything."

    It was unhealthy. Arguably possessive. Absolutely not the thing to be focusing on in light of my own feelings. And yet, I couldn't escape it. I owed Taylor and Skitter both a debt that I could never repay.

    But I had to try.

    "I don't… need you on board with this." I forced myself to be honest. Brutal. She'd hit me for anything less. "But Taylor wants you with her. I want to help her. If you can't, then fine." I stared her dead in the eyes. "But at the very least I need to know you won't sabotage us."

    She grunted and furrowed her brow. "Sabotage? What are you, crazy? Why would I do that?"

    I blinked. "You punched me."

    "Yeah," she snarled, "because you were being stupid."

    The dogs finished deflating. Bitch glanced at them, grunted under her breath and started digging them out of their rapidly decaying shells. I kept myself from grimacing with an effort of will. It was gruesome work to watch, and probably worse to do.

    Still, it gave me a moment to consider the gruff girl in front of me. I'd managed to de-escalate down from a fist fight, and yet somehow I felt like I understood her even less. How did Taylor manage to communicate with her at all?

    I hadn't come to an answer by the time she finished and turned back to me. "You're asking this for Taylor?"

    I nodded tightly. It wasn't like I hated Bitch or anything, but the punch to the jaw had hardly endeared her to me.

    "You like her?"

    I almost reflexively snapped something back, but then I caught her gaze. It was assessing, as if sizing me up. I suppose she was putting all of her cards on the table. I was obligated to do the same.

    "Yes," I typed. Because it was true. One way or the other.

    She gave a short, noncommittal hum as she started to wipe down the two dogs with a small towel she pulled out of her jacket. It was a wonder that she kept that thing unbuttoned the whole time, I would've been cold this time of day without my hoodie. She finished, and glanced back at me, as if asking a casual question.

    "You wanna fuck her?"

    ...

    ...

    I–

    What.

    "What?"

    Bitch huffed and scratched one of the dogs idly. "People make shit complicated. She wanted to fuck Brian before. Then she changed her mind. If you want to do this with us, for her, then I wanna know why. What you want from her."

    I gaped. Literally, I could feel my mouth hanging open. I outright dropped my phone, clumsy fingers fumbling it as I reeled. That bought me enough time to recover my balance as I shakily picked it back up and checked it for damage.

    God, what a question. I so, so badly wanted to snap that it was none of her business. That she was being rude and invasive to even ask. But then, she didn't see it that way, did she? She said exactly what she meant. And when you put it that way, the question was almost… protective.

    I could respect that.

    So for the first time, I stopped and really thought about it. Whether I wanted to kiss Taylor. If I wanted to have sex with her. Whether I thought I could.

    I'd always had an active libido, compared to most people I'd met. Or at least, most that I'd talked to about it. I'd gotten that impression from Dean after our first time, when I'd asked him point blank how much he'd picked up on other people thinking horny thoughts. I'd meant just to tease him, but the big dumb idiot had answered honestly. Because of course he had.

    I sniffed. My eyes hurt.

    All of that had changed after Amy. I just… hadn't wanted to think about sex. Ever. Losing Dean had been bad enough. What she'd done to me, on top of it? My libido had been butchered and buried in a shallow grave. But if I was going to be with the Undersiders in some form or another for the foreseeable future, then Bitch had a point; it was something I needed to think about.

    Which brought me back to the original question. Did I want to have sex with Taylor?

    My heart beat a staccato rhythm in my ears, pounding between my temples and pulsing at my neck. Mortified heat bloomed on my cheeks, vines of nervous giddy sick eager fear curling up from my neck and around the back of my ears. My fingers twitched, my mouth went dry. My legs tensed, my stomach flipped. Warmth curled from my chest down through my belly and hips. It pooled below my hips, and I felt a pulse that terrified me as much as it... interested me.

    Okay. Well.

    That answered that.

    But could I? Just thinking about it and feeling my body respond had me jittery with terror. Could I even kiss her without freaking out and flashing back to Amy? Would I ever be able to dispel my lingering doubts? Would Taylor even want anything to do with me, knowing where my feelings might be coming from?

    And that was just between us! Was it a good idea to act on any of this when the power difference between us was so great? What about that thing she'd mentioned with Brian? Or how the PRT would spin any admission of a relationship between us? Was I even safe to have intimate contact with, after whatever Amy did to rebuild me?

    I couldn't answer any of those questions. At least, not right now. But I could answer Bitch's.

    "No. Not yet."

    It was inadequate. But it was the only response I could give.

    She stared at me for a moment, then gave a gruff nod, seemingly satisfied. "Alright. So long as you don't fuck with her or the dogs, you're fine. Otherwise I tear your throat out."

    I swallowed and put a hand to my neck, trying to keep my eyes off her dogs' jaws. "Understood."

    I shook my head, trying to clear the faint haze that had settled over me at some point. It was time to go. I'd accomplished what I set out to do, despite all odds to the contrary, and it was time to talk to Taylor about it. If nothing else, Bitch's situation had reminded me of all the other skeletons the Undersiders no doubt had buried in their closets. Was she the only one with a potential murder charge hanging over them? I wouldn't be surprised if she wasn't.

    "Thanks, Bitch."

    "Rachel."

    I blinked, my eyebrows rising, and my eyes widened more as she offered a hand to help me up. I went to take it, then hesitated, tapping at the phone again.

    "Rachel?"

    She nodded.

    I considered her for a moment, then took her hand and let her pull me to my feet.

    "Alright," I typed. "Bitch."

    She let out a bark of laughter, baring her teeth. But for the first time in this conversation it didn't feel like aggression. It wasn't quite happiness, but I sensed approval, if nothing else.

    I'd take it.

    I gave her one last nod, waved to her dogs, and got out while the getting was good.


    A/N:
    Y'all have no idea how long I've been waiting for this one. Would you believe that I had that conversation with Bitch more or less mapped out since arc three? You know I had to give a nod to wolfspider there. We're starting to move towards some answers for Tori here. Or maybe not so much answers, as asking the right questions. Baby steps guys.

    It's interesting to note that Bitch is the team heart of the Undersiders in a way that not many people recognize. Aleph has gone into more detail on this elsewhere, but put simply she wears her emotions on her sleeve. Literally. She means and does exactly what she says, despises deceptions and politics, and is deeply affected by betrayal. Take all that in a slightly different context and you're describing a shonen or magical girl protagonist. But I digress.

    Today's rec is actually pretty topical. Snarling Lust by Profound Cranium is the toxic, violent, angry wolfspider we don't deserve. Luckily for you, the author posted it anyway. Go read it.
     
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  • Threadmarks
    • Excellent talk, and someone finally asked the question straight to her face.

    Best part is that BITCH asked the question, taking away a lot of the possible awkwardness from the dialog. Like, if regent or Brian asked there would be some assumption that they had an interest and Lisa had a reputation of being manipulative so her asking would be a red flag. Imp would be a heckling mood if she asked that question while brandishing that knife she has.

    Bitch is the best one to ask this question since everyone understands how blunt her thought process is.
     
    Supernova 5.4
  • Threadmarks
    • Brockton really was beautiful in the mornings. It wasn't the first time I'd thought it, but it bore repeating. The slow economic decline of the past few decades had left many parts of the city decrepit and weathered. New buildings were few and far between; most of the architecture dated back to the mid-2000s, before the port trade had dried up and the investors had pulled out. The flooding from Leviathan and the scars left from the Nine's visit had only worsened the dilapidated state of the city.

    But high above downtown, with buildings just barely poking out from the thinning fog, I could pretend that none of that had happened. That it was another day of flying to Arcadia, where I would joke with Sam and Leah and Carlos and Dean–

    It was nicer to pretend, sometimes.

    The phone buzzed in my back pocket and I flinched. It was really poor form to get lost in my head while flying like this, even if it had been a while. I could practically hear Aunt Sarah yelling at me for the lapse in focus.

    Pulling my phone out and cradling it in both hands, I squinted against the early morning light.

    "Are you okay? I assume Bitch hasn't started a fight yet."

    A fond smile spread across my face. Taylor didn't like to show it, but she worried in the sweetest ways when her walls came down.

    "Am fine, dndt start a fght, dw. headed back 2 U now."

    Thumb-typing meant I had to take extra care. With my dexterity issues, the last thing I needed was to drop my phone from a thousand feet up. I waited a moment for her reply.

    "If that's the way you text, I already regret sharing my contact details."

    A bright laugh burst out of me. Of course Taylor would text in full sentences like a grandma. The dork. That didn't mean I wouldn't reply in kind, even if it took nearly a minute to type out.

    "I'm terribly sorry my lady, please pardon the breach in protocol. I offer my profuse apologies and beg you to forgive this humble servant the transgression."

    The reply came in seconds, and only made me laugh harder.

    "Just get back to the hideout when you have time."

    I slipped the phone back into my pocket with one last giggle before I started accelerating towards the now familiar skyline around Taylor's base. I frowned as I came up on it, considering the distant building from above. Rachel had shared, if not her whole past, then enough to get me thinking about what came next in this plan of mine.

    The whole thing relied on PR. Well, PR, some deliberate steps back from Villainy and judicious use of threats of mutual destruction to get the PRT to go along with it. But the core idea was mostly PR. A part of me liked it just for that, for leveraging the same thing that had cut me so deeply as a weapon to keep someone else safe. Even though the idea of anyone protecting Skitter beggared belief.

    But then, that was the entire problem, wasn't it?

    Rachel had skeletons in her closet, some of them literal; I knew that much from the Wards briefing on the subject. Alec... I was aware he used to be Hijack. That was probably the worst of what I'd heard so far, but there was a compelling case to be made that if he'd had that capability for the whole time he'd been in Brockton and effectively never used it on anyone outside of the Slaughterhouse Nine, he'd already been operating under probationary behavior. Something could be worked out there. Brian... I didn't know much about Brian. What had the briefing on Grue been? Something about... being a bouncer? Or enforcer? Petty criminality, basically; nothing that had sounded too serious at the time. And Lisa was mostly just a bitch, which was annoying but unfortunately not illegal.

    All that was well and good. But, as much as I hated to say it, Skitter was still an issue. It wasn't because of anything she'd done, exactly. Which wasn't to say that her actions hadn't been awful, but they were manageable. Probably. The early statement of heroic intention to Defiant would never fly in a court, but with enough good PR built around her more heroic deeds - not to mention her origin story - she had a pretty good chance of working out a settlement without it ever going to trial.

    No, the problem was that I knew Taylor. And I knew she'd never initiate a conversation about something morally wrong that she'd done, even for the sake of something greater. If I wanted a list of all the crimes she'd committed that we might have to explain, I'd have to drag it out of her. Maybe there were no more; maybe she'd told me all the sordid details already.

    I doubted it.

    But if that wasn't the case, if there was something else hiding in her past waiting to stretch out its ugly hand and strangle my plan in the cradle, I needed to know ahead of time. So much of PR work was proactive in nature, and I could only work with something once I knew what it was.

    I was still trying to figure out the best way to broach the subject when I touched down on the roof of the small duplex. I took a moment to shake out my arms, bouncing on the balls of my feet to get the circulation running again. Flying wasn't necessarily a workout, but it did tend to leave some parts of your body asleep after a while.

    "I see you found your way back."

    A wave of relief crested over my shoulders, trickling down my arms to rest in my palms. Tiny wings fluttered by my ear, and I smiled. "Yeah, and in one piece too."

    "That's good," Taylor said as she stepped out of the roof entry. She was still wearing that tank top and jeans. How was she not cold? I squinted to see if there were goosebumps on her arms, then realized I'd been staring for a moment too long as she raised an eyebrow.

    "Something wrong?"

    I shook my head, but paused mid motion. Not the way she was referring to… but I did have something to talk about. "Could we talk? Inside?"

    She nodded and turned on the spot, headed back in the building. I followed her, the morning chill disappearing as the door closed behind us. Charlotte had gotten that fixed within a few days of Dragon leaving, since leaving it open after I'd smashed through it had been costing us on the heating. Even living with a supervillain, some things never changed.

    "Everyone else is downstairs," Taylor said as she entered her room, looking back at me. "So if you wanted to talk here it should be fine. What is it?"

    I hummed, pursing my lips. We'd talked about this to some degree already. Whether it was in that initial argument where I'd called her out on the reasons why she did what she did, the longer talk about her trigger and those cunts in Winslow, or the more recent conversation about unmasking and her legacy, such as it was. These were delicate subjects. Especially after my recent misstep with Rachel, I didn't want to risk another misunderstanding.

    ... I should probably lead with that, I decided.

    "I'm worried about the unmasking plan. I still think it's for the best, but I have some things I wanted to go over with you to prepare. I'm asking these questions to help, but I know some of them are hard. Will you tell me if you're taking anything badly?" That was probably the best place to start. She couldn't reasonably expect me to be a mindreader, so this much was fair.

    Taylor considered me neutrally as she leaned back against the newly cleaned bookshelf. Her swarm was absent, or at least hidden behind the walls and under the floors, making her hard to read. "Alright."

    I took a breath and steeled myself. No time like the present. I just had to say it. "Talking with Rachel reminded me about how important PR is to this whole thing. I wanted to know if there's anything else I need to know about before moving forward. With you especially."

    She gave me a look, and already I knew I was screwing up. Fuck. "You see what I meant about coming off wrong?" I signed, my brows furrowed. "You're the one taking care of me. The PRT's scrutiny is going to be harder on you than anyone else. I'm asking to make sure. I don't want to assume I know everything about you."

    Taylor sighed as the tension in her shoulders slackened. "Yeah, that's fair."

    Alright, baby steps. "So is there anything I should know about? With you and your team? Stuff like family–"

    "My family isn't a concern."

    We both froze. My hands were still curled midsign in front of me. That was… a remarkably quick response. And judging by the insects emerging from the walls and Meepy's anxious fluttering on my shoulder, Taylor knew it.

    "That is to say, there are no family issues on my end. The rest of the Undersiders have their own issues, and I won't betray their confidence here. You'd have to talk to them about it."

    I nodded carefully. Alright. I wasn't expecting her to share details on her team out of turn, and I definitely wasn't going to press her on the family stuff. Whether there was a problem there or not, it was Taylor's prerogative to share and I'd trust it wasn't anything disastrous from a PR perspective. Maybe it would be healthy for her to deal with whatever it was, but I'd be a hypocrite if I criticized the urge to ignore fucked-up family issues in the hope that they'd go away.

    "Alright," I signed after a moment, "Just you then. Anything else that's relevant?"

    "Do you want the chronological list?"

    I kept the sigh from escaping by the skin of my teeth. I trusted Taylor. I really did. It was hard not to at this point. I was pretty sure I knew why she wasn't… actively volunteering this information before now. It wasn't out of a desire to hide it, or she wouldn't have offered it so freely when I prompted. No, I only needed to look at the set of her shoulders, the fireflies flickering behind her, the shade in her eyes.

    She was still scared I would call her a monster.

    I took a deep breath. "Taylor, I'm asking because I want to help. Unless you did something as bad as what Amy did, I'm not going to run away screaming." We both shuddered uncomfortably at the image, but it needed to be said.

    "...alright," Taylor said after a moment. "Uh, thanks. I guess the first thing would be what I did at the bank."

    I frowned. "How do you mean?"

    "Well, it was the first thing I did as a villain," Taylor said as her eyes went distant. "I knew I was going to hell from the moment I attacked those Wards, from when I threatened the civilians with black widows just to keep them quiet. Why did I decide to do it like that?"

    I knew about this from the Wards debrief, but it still rang stark when she laid it out like that. Using her position now to take down Coil and cooperating with Dragon would count for a lot, but already I could tell we'd need to be careful.

    "You're right."

    Taylor startled and looked back up at me.

    "I can't condone that. I won't try. But people change. People grow. The fact that you can recognize that right now counts for something." Not much, mind you, but it gave me something to work with.

    Taylor hummed noncommittally before she kept going. "There was that attack on the fundraiser too. Coil ordered us to do it, back before we knew who he was. He said that he'd meet with us in person, tell us his plans. Once I had that, I could turn the Undersiders in. But I still did it."

    I barely avoided dropping my head into my hands. This was... technically... a good sign. Taking responsibility and ownership of her actions was the whole point of this. If she wasn't willing to do that much then none of this would work. But dear lord, how did she even get herself into these situations?

    "Why did you do it, then?"

    "A lot of reasons that made sense at the time," she said, shifting to the other foot. The pitch of the swarm shifted tone, gaining the high droning buzz of her fliers as nervous insects took to the air behind the walls and outside the window. "The villains did most of the work in catching Bakuda, and got none of the credit. It felt... appropriate, to make a point of that. I knew the heroes wouldn't start a fight. I wasn't going to hurt any of the civilians, and neither were any of the others. We tried to minimize the damage."

    "But you still terrorized a gala full of civilians."

    She glared at me. "Yeah. We did. I did. I made the best choice I could at the time. The only one we had. I thought we went over this."

    One step forward, three steps back. "Yes, we did," I signed patiently, "but you're going to have to go over this a lot more if you're really unmasking. What if it's a civilian asking you these questions? A reporter? A Hero? You need to have answers for this stuff."

    "If this is meant to sell me on unmasking at all, you're doing a poor job of it."

    "We went over this already. If you stay a warlord–"

    "I know!" she snapped, spinning to pace the room. "I know what you said." She visibly ground her teeth and the walls rustled with movement. A phalanx of yellow jackets buzzed past my left eye. I didn't twitch.

    "... fine," she said at length. "If only to keep the option of unmasking open, if we decide to." She paused, thinking. "There was also that time I almost got arrested for punching Emma in the face at the mall."

    "You…" I trailed off. Huh. I know as a Hero I should really say something here but... "you know, I'm not even going to say anything there. I probably would've done the same thing."

    "You what?" she said, giving me a look between disbelief and vindication. "You're a hero, you're supposed to be against hurting civilians."

    I stared at her. "Were you Skitter when that happened? Did I miss that part?"

    "That's not… that's not the point," she said, the bugs roiling in an amorphous mass around her. "I hurt a civilian as a cape. That matters."

    I smiled softly. It was so funny how she could be so vicious one moment, and so noble the next. "That's true, Taylor. And I'm glad you see that. But you're also allowed to be a human being. If someone treats you like shit and catches hands for it, I'm not going to stop you."

    She stared at me as if I'd said something ridiculous, but I didn't see the issue. Yes, I'd had… problems with violence as a cape before. But that was different. If someone was bullying me or– in school, that was a me problem. Not a Glory Girl or New Wave problem.

    "Well if you're fine with that, I also cut out Lung's eyes."

    My smile died. "What."

    She crossed her arms. "You said violence was fine. I cut out Lung's eyes after I beat him the second time."

    "You–the second time? You did this after you beat him? Taylor, what the fuck?" My fingers spasmed, and for a second I genuinely didn't know if it was from the rapid fire signing or stress. In what world did cutting a man's eyes out rate on the same level as punching a bitchy teenager?

    "He regenerates." The swarm, hidden when we'd entered the room, was creeping further and further out. Countless bodies flowed across the floorboards, churned beneath the bed and squirmed around her legs, crawling up and around her like ivy. "I asked someone on the scene and they said he'd regrow them. We were on a tight schedule, and I was the only one around to restrain him. I'd barely beaten him to begin with, and the trick I used wouldn't have worked twice. I needed a way to disable him that would be temporary, and easy. So I blinded him. He'd recovered by the time they Birdcaged him."

    For a moment, I could almost see the sick, twisted logic behind it. It was a solution to the problem she'd outlined. Strictly speaking it 'limited' the total amount of violence done. Just as long as you were willing to ignore the mutilation of a helpless prisoner.

    "Okay, we'll… we'll deal with that later. You're probably fine since Lung ended up going to the Cage anyways. That's pretty much as low as it gets for capes without being a part of the Nine, so no one is going to seriously criticize you there. Unless you did that to a Hero too?" Please, please say no. If I'd asked her that this morning it would have been a joke; now I half-dreaded her answer.

    "Well no."

    Oh thank god.

    "But I did attack Triumph and Prism in their civilian identities at the mayor's mansion. I said it earlier so I wasn't sure if we were counting that."

    ...

    One. Step. At. A. Time.

    "Yes, we did," I signed, squeezing my eyes shut and trying to keep the resigned look off my face. I knew this conversation was going to be draining, but this was bordering on ridiculous. "That's going to be delicate at best. The fact that it was the mayor and two Heroes in civvies makes it worse. Who was with you?"

    "Genesis and Ballistic."

    I hummed, moving to the couch and playing with the armrest idly as I sat down. "Were they directly involved, or was it mostly just you?"

    "Just me," Taylor said, slamming the coffin lid on the cautious bud of hope that had sprouted. "I told them I wasn't interested in a fight, that I could give Roy the epipen for his son if he just stopped attacking me."

    I stared at her. "Taylor, that's called blackmail," I said at last. "That doesn't make it better."

    "What do you want from me, Tori?" she snapped, stepping closer to me. The look in her eyes was sharp. "You were the one to suggest this! You're the one who wants me to unmask! I'm being honest. I don't have to share all of this if you're going to judge me the same way they did."

    I took a breath, and gently stroked Meepy's antennae. Taylor visibly softened. "I'm sorry. You're right." I looked up to meet her eyes. "Thank you for being honest. I know this is hard. I'm trying to help, and I want you to be better. I think you can be; that you want to be. You just need a chance. Someone to reach out first. This is me trying to do that."

    "Whatever," she said, hiding her eyes behind the fringe of her hair. "Was there anything else?"

    "Not unless you had anything else," I signed. Though… there was one thing now that I thought about it. "Sorry, no, last thing. What happened at the Endbringer fight?"

    She froze. "I'm sorry?"

    "Leviathan." I glanced at the moth slowly climbing down to my elbow. "You told me about Armsmaster and all that. And I heard some of the other stuff secondhand. But how did you wind up outing a Ward in the first place? What happened?"

    She was silent for a long time. The insects churned uneasily, at times obscuring her profile at the edges. Flies and hornets spilled out of her hair like rain, taking to the skies in unison with a warbling buzz.

    "Taylor?"

    Her breathing was unsteady, choppy. My head swam, and it took me a few seconds to realize I was matching her inhales out of habit, and the arhythmic pace was kicking my heartrate up and convincing my body I was in danger. I cut it out immediately, forcing my breathing to slow and even out before I sent myself into a panic attack.

    "I know this is sensitive. If you want–"

    "How much do you know?" Her voice was hoarse, cracking with something raw and painful that I didn't dare name.

    "You unmasked a Ward. Panacea threatened you. Armsmaster outed you as a traitor, Tattletale responded with blackmail. That's it." My words were clipped, precise. I couldn't afford error here.

    "Right," she muttered under her breath. "Right. Okay. I woke up after Leviathan with a broken back, and a PRT officer who cuffed my broken arm to the bed."

    I sucked in a sharp breath. That had never been on any of the reports.

    "Then Panacea came and healed me. After she pointed out that she could give me cancer, or liver disease, or any number of other awful things and I'd never be able to say it was her. She healed the bare minimum, insinuated that Tattletale was dead, and then left." Taylor's voice was still quiet and tight.

    "I remember that," I signed absently. "Miss Militia came by later to berate her for treating you like that. The Truce exists for a reason."

    "Glad to know something good came out of it then," she said with a bitter laugh.

    A twitch of a smile was all I could muster. "Yeah, fair enough. Wasn't fun at the time." My face hardened. "And then you outed a Ward."

    "It's… complicated," she said at last. "Do you know the identities of the Wards?"

    I nodded. It was a good question. Especially since the whole topic here was unmasking etiquette, we wouldn't want to make the same mistake twice.

    "Right." She paused for a moment. "I undid the handcuffs first. My bugs filched the key off of one of the officers nearby, and I managed to get it to my bed. I uncuffed myself, and stumbled away. I wasn't going to trust them not to arrest me after that."

    "Oh!" This was all making sense now. "So that's when you ran into Shadow Stalker! You just went in the wrong direction."

    She nodded mutely.

    "But that still doesn't make sense," I signed. I pursed my lips. "If it was an honest mistake... sometimes these things happen. Usually you just unmask back, make things even. But you didn't."

    She shook her head.

    "Why?"

    The silence stretched out between us. Dragonflies darted aimlessly in the air while spiders and beetles crawled over each other on the coffee table.

    "Sophia Hess was the one who shoved me in the locker."

    For a couple of seconds, I stayed perfectly still. The sound of the swarm faded into the middle distance as a dull roar filled my ears. I swayed on my feet as the room around her seemed to darken, my vision narrowing in on her face.

    "What?" I signed faintly.

    She nodded, as if to confirm what I'd heard. My lungs protested, and I belatedly sucked in another breath. My pulse pounded against my temples, and I felt the phantom pressure of my shield try to force its way out from my skin hard enough that I took a stumbling step back from Taylor on sheer instinct, enough to put her at a safe distance. Forcing it back felt like trying to hold a dam together with my bare hands. It was as though my power wanted to burst out, to scream, to be violent.

    What… what the fuck? What the actual fuck? How was that possible? How had the PRT missed a Ward bullying a teenage girl up to and through a fucking trigger event for... I tried to remember whether Stalker had been brought onto the Wards. Months? From the timeline Taylor had given, she must have been hip-deep in the bullying campaign already when she'd been brought onto the team. It had to have been going on for months already by then, maybe a full year. And nobody had flagged it.

    How could anyone have missed this? Why hadn't she been vetted and held accountable? She'd been brought in on probation, for fuck's sake!

    "How?" I asked helplessly, as if she would know. I was shaking, I realized. Trembling with outrage. Or maybe just rage.

    Taylor shrugged, her body language horribly, nightmarishly blank. "I don't know. I wasn't exactly in the position to ask. All I knew was that I couldn't unmask to her. No matter how much Legend and Armsmaster wanted me to."

    I nodded. "Yeah, no wonder. It wouldn't be safe. And she didn't deserve it. And... god, Taylor, I'm so sorry."

    I crossed the distance between us with three quick strides, and pulled her into a hug. She let out a soft noise as I buried my face into her neck and shoulder, and though she didn't move, I didn't let that stop me. My arms went around her back, holding her close. I could feel her heart against mine. The warmth of her skin, the smell of her hair, all of it.

    But… this wasn't about me, or my feelings. This was about the hurt little girl who died that day and never came back.

    "I'm sorry," I tapped onto her back. "You deserved better. You still do."

    Her hands slowly came up to cling to my back. "Yeah," she said shakily, her voice thick and clogged. I didn't say anything as her shoulders shook silently. Once. Twice. After enduring that kind of torture, only to have it thrown back into your face at the worst time possible? This was the least I could do to help. In a way, this was exactly what the whole plan was about. Why it mattered that they unmask and accept responsibility. To prove they were better than the corrupt, self serving system that had gotten them here.

    "Thank you," she whispered as she pulled away. I smiled and softly brushed something off her cheek.

    "So that's why you used Sophia to infiltrate the PRT?"

    "Yeah," she said, her eyes slowly clearing. "She came after me off patrol when she saw me walking somewhere. Tried to kill me. She'd tried to kill Gr–Brian several times before I joined. He bled all over the couch when he took one of her bolts to the gut. So we figured turnabout was fair play."

    I winced. That… it was more complicated than that. It almost always was. I wasn't sure I was willing to agree with that logic; it set a precedent for too many other things. But Sophia was a nonissue at this point, so I was willing to postpone that discussion. Taylor wasn't in a good shape for it right now anyway.

    "Thank you for sharing that with me," I said at last. I brushed Meepy with my thumb. She wriggled on my palm.

    "What about Atlas?"

    I paused. "Yes?"

    Taylor was looking at me again. She was… the bugs were roiling all over the walls and table again. We'd have to talk about that at some point. If the crisis ever ended. "He's a big bug and he's dying. I don't… I don't know what to do."

    I softened. Of course she was worried. Of course she wanted to help. I'd seen her with him last week. She loved that bug more than she'd ever admit, and we both knew it. "I'll try to figure something out. A cape from out of town, maybe."

    She nodded noncommittally. Her eyes were still distant. I tried to give her an encouraging smile. "Look, we need to get in touch with the PRT anyways. Maybe they have something that can help?"

    Taylor snorted. "The PRT isn't exactly in the habit of helping me as of late."

    I giggled, bumping her shoulder with mine. "Chin up, hero. I'm sure they can do something,"

    She smiled for the first time in the conversation.

    "Don't count on it."

    I gave her one last grin before my face sobered. This conversation was hard enough. Skitter had done… about as much as I'd feared. And while I could understand, in part, where she was coming from... that didn't tend to fly when you were dealing with law enforcement.

    My gut twisted. I knew this was going to be harder than I thought. The Undersiders still had doubts about my plan. Valid doubts; ones I couldn't easily answer. Which meant the next step was raising the idea with the PRT and sounding them out on whether it was feasible at all, and whether they would be willing to support it. Which was going to be an utter fucking nightmare.

    But I didn't let that stop me from gently raising my right hand, and kissing Meepy as delicately as I could.

    One step at a time.


    A/N:
    I. Hate. Canon. Not literally, but I definitely did while writing this chapter. Have you ever tried to make a systematic list of every single thing Taylor did wrong at any point in her career? And yes, I know the blorbo is perfect, that's not what I'm talking about. It's exhausting.

    Worse, then you have to write a conversation going over all of that while still being interesting and new, instead of basically "last time on worm!". It's a lot harder than it sounds. Hopefully I managed decently.

    And now, for something completely different! Two Bullets to the Head by ghstsnflwrs (yes I swear that's their name) is a no powers au centering on Taylor as she tries to leave Winslow behind. She manages to meet a new friend at Arcadia and things are looking up. That is, until a grisly murder leaves her as the primary suspect. Sound interesting? Go read it!
     
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  • Threadmarks
    • justanothercat said:
    Have you ever tried to make a systematic list of every single thing Taylor did wrong at any point in her career? And yes, I know the blorbo is perfect, that's not what I'm talking about. It's exhausting.
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...
    On the one hand, I'm sitting over here thinking "words like 'vicious', 'ruthless', 'vindictive', 'fucked up', these I'd agree with, but 'wrong' is a tough sell in a lot of these cases IMO".

    On the other, I'm thinking "hey, at least she hasn't brutally murdered Alexandria. You could be dealing with that little PR pickle."
     
    Stardust&Scotch said:
    On the one hand, I'm sitting over here thinking "words like 'vicious', 'ruthless', 'vindictive', 'fucked up', these I'd agree with, but 'wrong' is a tough sell in a lot of these cases IMO".

    On the other, I'm thinking "hey, at least she hasn't brutally murdered Alexandria. You could be dealing with that little PR pickle."
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...

    ... something something defense of others, mumble mumble extreme emotional duress...


    i have a whole thing i started to type up here but no point rehashing it. i'll just leave it at the pithy joke.
     
    Every single update of this story is an absolute treat. Also makes it quickly obvious that doing PR for Skitter is an uphill battle, to put it mildly.
     
    So like, to expand on what I posted earlier. Sophia shouldn't have had just 1 person watching her, there should have been t least a small group of people, because Sohpia's known for going for the kill and was on probation. By all accounts she should have been watched until she was shunted into the Protectorate at minimum but just ended up with a single line of failure to perform duties.
     
    mythfan12 said:
    So like, to expand on what I posted earlier. Sophia shouldn't have had just 1 person watching her, there should have been t least a small group of people, because Sohpia's known for going for the kill and was on probation. By all accounts she should have been watched until she was shunted into the Protectorate at minimum but just ended up with a single line of failure to perform duties.
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...

    Eh, I'm not convinced it actually was single point failure. If any teacher had ever taken disciplinary action against Sophia, or the Principle had, the Protectorate probably would have heard about it.
     
    hailcapital said:
    Eh, I'm not convinced it actually was single point failure. If any teacher had ever taken disciplinary action against Sophia, or the Principle had, the Protectorate probably would have heard about it.
    Click to expand...
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    It's also implied(or directly stated) that the teachers, until the Locker™, didn't even believe Taylor's story about being bullied, Ii was all about the clique of "star" girls being annoyed by a weird loner. After that they were all too deep into it to do anything.
     
    Was able to finally catch up and add this to my Watch-list. I have to say, OP, this story is really something special. I don't have much experience with some of the topics discussed, but even from my lack of a vantage point even I can tell you've explored them as carefully and as respectfully as possible. Not only that, the prose itself is also splendid. Watching the development of the characters, the exploration of their psyche, the conflict between doing what one's accustomed to against taking a risk on both Victoria and Taylor's side is something hard to find in most works, even if they explore similar subject material. I seriously lack the words to give enough praise to this work.

    Also! I noticed this fic now has a TV Tropes page! Congrats!
     
    Supernova 5.5
  • Threadmarks
    • The ringtone was startling in the anxious silence. We'd both been expecting it, loitering in Taylor's room pretending to occupy ourselves as we waited for the call. I was reading my sign language book, forcing my hands through new signs and trying to commit them to memory, more often getting distracted by the small black cellphone lying innocuously on the other side of the table. Taylor was at her desk, flicking through reports and taking notes, consulting the big map of territories and muttering quietly to herself under her breath. She seemed more focused than I did, but I hadn't missed the half-dozen flies perched on the phone with an eerie, unnatural stillness that could only come from direct control. If she was really as unaffected as she pretended, she only would've kept the one fly necessary to monitor for calls.

    Also, I had been keeping half an eye on her, and she'd circled back to studying the same stretch of waterfront south of the Boardwalk about four times in the past ten minutes.

    And yet, despite the way we were both so intensely focused on it, Taylor and I both jumped when the phone finally went off. Taylor gave me a quick look, waiting for my nod before she stood up from her desk, walked over to accept the call and put it on speaker.

    "Dragon?"

    It was a restricted number, but we both knew who was calling. Taylor's voice was tense, tight and controlled under the facade of forced calm she wore. Her hands were planted flat on the table as she leaned over the phone, the tendons on her neck and shoulders standing out from the strain she was holding there. She wasn't Skitter today, not quite, but she kept herself in check just as tightly, like a clenched spring waiting to go off. None of her bugs were airborne; instead they perched like sentries preparing for an assault, lining the walls and shelves and bedposts. Wings, antennae and stingers all moved in harmonic unison, coordinated ripples flowing in slow, sinuous waves around the room.

    "I apologize for the delay in getting back to you, I was otherwise occupied," came the tinny reply over the phone, limited by its low-quality speakers. The voice was calm, but if anything Skitter's tension only mounted.

    "So what was their answer?"

    There was a pause as Dragon considered her response and we waited with baited breath. This was the first really big test of my plan. The second hurdle, after suggesting it to the Undersiders, where it could trip and stumble and fall apart. I'd cleared the first obstacle – far from gracefully, but with enough leeway that none of the others had shown up to punch me again or declared the idea outright impossible. But a mediocre success there guaranteed nothing here and now.

    "She's willing to hear you out," Dragon said after a moment. "But she'll want concessions."

    Skitter growled as she pushed off the table and paced over towards the window. "What concessions? This whole thing has been one big concession!"

    I bit my lip and brushed a hand over the moth on my elbow. "You know she's on your side in this, Skitter. Just let her talk." If she looked at me or relaxed at all, I didn't catch it.

    "You must understand where we're coming from on this," Dragon said, confirming my suspicions. "If you want the PRT to come to the bargaining table with a group as notorious as yours, we need to be able to trust that you're serious, that it isn't a scheme or a trap. Even meeting with you at all is a risk–"

    "A risk?" Skitter snapped as she whirled around, glaring at the phone. "If it's a risk for anyone, it's a risk for us! You're the ones who firebombed us during a truce!"

    "And you're the ones who have used hostage-taking and terror tactics in almost every major public action you've been involved in, Skitter." Dragon's voice was ironclad, immutable as the ground beneath our feet. "If you want to take precautions yourselves, you're welcome to. We ask for nothing more than meeting us in the middle. If you're serious, this shouldn't be that much."

    "Who is going to be mediating then?" I asked in a bid to get us back on topic. This was going nowhere.

    "Defiant."

    Silence stretched out like a hangman measuring a noose.

    "Defiant?" Skitter said, disbelief coloring every syllable. The swarm came alive in a flurry of dense wings and bodies, blanketing the room in a roiling sea of displeasure. "Then this meeting was a waste of time from the start."

    "Skitter." Dragon was as close to angry as I'd ever heard her. "I am trying to help you. I said I would before, and I meant it. I would be managing this myself if I could, but my time is needed elsewhere."

    I bit the inside of my cheek. That was putting things lightly. From what limited info we had in Brockton, the Tinker could be handling anything from avalances and rockslides in the Andes to a thousand-acre wildfire in California to another appearance of the Nine. We'd gotten used to having Dragon on speed dial, but that was only ever going to be temporary.

    "Defiant will be in your corner on this," Dragon stressed. "He's an independent party, separate from the PRT. The director doesn't like it either. This was the best compromise I could get for you."

    That seemed to give Skitter pause. I took the moment to jump in myself. "If it comes down to it, Skitter, I'll fly us out." One of the few benefits of my condition was the ability to have hidden conversations at times like this.

    She glanced at me, eyes dark and guarded. "And if you can't?"

    My lips thinned. "I won't let him take you."

    She looked at my eyes for another moment before the tension dropped from her shoulders. "Fine," she said, addressing the phone again. "We'll do it. I can't speak to what failsafes Tattletale will want, but Victoria and I will be there. Just send us the time and place."

    A sigh of relief crackled out of the cheap cell. "Thank you Skitter, Victoria," Dragon said. "I understand this is less than ideal. But it's the best any of us can do. I'm… cautiously optimistic about this plan of yours, and I truly hope it works. But it's not my place to decide that."

    The two of us nodded. I'd doubted Dragon would be able to say anything definitive about PRT policy in preemptive negotiations, and Taylor had agreed when I'd said as much.

    "Looking at my calendar…" the Tinker hummed. "I should be able to arrange things for tomorrow. Is that manageable?"

    I had the sudden image of trying to arrange a doctor's appointment, and barely managed to contain a hysterical giggling fit. Skitter was gracious enough not to comment. "Thank you, that works," she said, short, clipped and efficient. "Send the details."

    She hung up, and let out a long breath. Flies and hornets sloughed off of her hair, and I reached out on instinct to brush her hand. Her head snapped down to stare at where my fingers rested on the back of her palm, and I nearly pulled back, but before I could she'd looked down at me again. A wry smile pulled the corner of her mouth up.

    "It won't be that hard, huh?"

    I shot her a mock glare. "It wouldn't have been if you'd let her talk for longer than two seconds at a time."

    She scowled. "So I'm supposed to have no doubts about facing off with Defiant in some abandoned building with almost nothing for protection?"

    I rolled my eyes. "Firstly, you're not 'facing off with him', he's mediating for us. Second, you have protection: me. And third, come on Skitter. If you can't find any traps or hidden backup before they jump on us, we have much bigger issues than Defiant."

    The scowl didn't leave, exactly, but it shifted into something I'd describe more as a pout, albeit not to Skitter's face. Or Taylor's, actually. "Fine, but you get to tell Lisa."

    I sighed, and reached for the phone. It never ended.


    It was a dreary Brockton morning as we approached the meeting location the next day. The overcast skies hadn't let up since before dawn, and the cloud cover was shielding us from the worst of the summer heat. Thankfully it wasn't low enough that it obscured potential flight paths, something Skitter had asked about before we left the apartment.

    It was a good precaution, considering the cape we were meeting.

    "Anything yet?" Tattletale asked. We'd met up with her earlier, since it was easier and safer to plan evac around one group rather than two. That, and Skitter could afford to obscure our location better. Her swarm moved with us, flooding the streets off to our right, keeping us carefully near the periphery to fool anyone targeting the center.

    "Nothing yet," Skitter said, walking at my side with the effortless confidence she always showed when she had her swarm out in force. "He's still there, and while he hasn't done anything yet, I'd be surprised if he doesn't know I'm there by now."

    I glanced at her with a question in my gaze. Skitter could be fairly subtle when the mood suited her, and she'd been scouting the old strip mall we were circling for about ten minutes now, moving at a cautious pace and checking everywhere for nasty surprises.

    "He has countermeasures for my bugs," she answered without looking at me. "Some form of electric shock from his halberd. Or spear now, I guess. He hasn't used it, but it's always safer to assume he's aware of my presence and has chosen not to deploy it than to bank on his ignorance."

    I nodded. After what she'd told me about her fights with Mannequin and Lung, I couldn't begrudge her default setting of caution and paranoia. Capes lived or died by those edge cases on the margins of what our powers afforded us.

    Skitter tilted her head towards Tattletale as we kept walking, still not bothering to turn to her. "The others?"

    I tried and likely failed to hide a wince. It had been two days since that disastrous meeting with the Undersiders, and I hadn't managed to gain any more traction since. I'd at least salvaged the situation with Rachel, but Alec, Brian and Aisha were unknowns at best, opposed at worst.

    The blonde nodded as she took out her phone and swiped through her contacts. "A lot is going to come down to how this meeting shakes out. Grue and Regent in particular still have serious doubts; that's to be expected. They didn't object to us doing this so long as it stays intel gathering, and if we walk away with a solid promise that the PRT will play along, it'll go some way to convincing them it might be worth it."

    My lips thinned. That conflict was coming sooner or later. Most of the mechanics of the Undersiders unmasking were wrapped up in hypotheticals. Would the PRT play ball? What concessions would they have to make? Were there any deal-breakers for the people still on the fence? Could they commit when it came time to put up or shut up? We were here to answer a few of those questions, but I suspected the rest would be less than pleasant.

    Still, as I glanced at the girl in gray and black beside me, I couldn't help but think this was the right path. The Undersiders would never be Heroes, that path had closed long ago. But so many of them could be something better, if they were only given a chance.

    If I gave them that chance.

    "Alright," Skitter muttered, "Looks like he got impatient and came out to wait for us, about a hundred feet ahead. Still no other contacts, the place is abandoned. We're good to go."

    I nodded and deposited Meepy onto my temple, where she fluttered her wings once and then settled in like a living hairclip. Hopefully she wouldn't attract too much attention there, but I couldn't bear the thought of accidentally crushing her while signing. I was about to turn to Skitter to ask another question when–

    "We've really gotta stop meeting like this," Tattletale said as the leading edge of the swarm parted around an armored figure. "A girl is going to think you've got untoward intentions."

    "Tattletale," Defiant said neutrally. He was leaning against the open doorway of what looked like an old Vietnamese restaurant, spear stored across his back, arms crossed. The name on the sign above him had been lost long ago to time and floodwater.

    "In the flesh," she preened as we stopped well within earshot. Still not close enough to touch. Not yet. The swarm spread out to leave us in an open space; enemies-turned-acquaintances in the eye of a storm. Or a plague. "I see you kept to your side of the bargain," Tattletale added. "Much appreciated. Getting bombed under a white flag is the kind of thing that really ruins a person's day."

    "As did you. Skitter, Victoria," Defiant said, not rising to the bait and instead looking at each of us in turn. I tried not to fidget. The last time we'd met the tensions had been… fraught, to say the least. This was going better, if barely. But this man had almost been my boss, and I'd had a near mental breakdown right in front of him. It was a bit hard to look him in the eye after that.

    Defiant was kind enough not to point out the red flush on my cheeks. "I took the liberty of scouting the inside for structural issues; it should suffice for our purposes. Skitter, you can verify if you'd like."

    She shook her head. "No need, nothing but a few roaches and rats. None of the latter now."

    Defiant nodded an easy acceptance. My eyes narrowed. It seemed Skitter's guess about Defiant hiding his observation of her bugs was on the mark. It was an easy assumption to make, and yet it was these kinds of critical oversights that often cut a cape's career short.

    "Well, let's get going then," Tattletale said, playing with her phone idly before slipping it into the holster on her belt. "The day's not getting any younger, and I have things to get back to."

    "Right," Defiant said, carefully not addressing whatever Tattletale was referencing.

    The two of them filed into the restaurant, and I shot a glance at Skitter. "Perimeter?"

    She nodded shallowly. "My bugs will stay on patrol. If something comes up, three wingbeats by your ear."

    I smiled. We'd agreed before we left that morse code would make for a good method of communication outside of Defiant's sightline. Normally I'd rely on sign, but that was too visible and easy to interpret. Skitter could understand me just fine through two small flies on my knuckle and fingertip, and could communicate back through the same. It was cumbersome and slow, but the stealth and utility made up for it.

    The restaurant had seen better days. Wallpaper was peeling away to reveal rotten drywall and even bare wooden support beams in places. There was a patina of grime and dinginess to everything that made me reluctant to touch anything. It was easy to forget, but one of the worst parts of flood damage was that it back flowed from the sewers, and spat everything down there up onto the streets.

    I was very careful to breathe through my mouth. As shallowly as possible.

    Defiant had apparently not been idle while he'd been waiting, as a small projector screen and video camera were set up by one of the few remaining tables in the main seating area. I gave the slumping ceiling to the right a wary look. Defiant and Skitter had both confirmed we weren't at risk of a collapse, but I could see now why they had to specify as much in the first place.

    "So what brought you out to see little old us?" Tattletale asked as we sat down.

    I glanced at her, confused. We'd already established that Defiant was here in Dragon's place. He seemed confused as well, glancing at her strangely over his shoulder. "You called this meeting. I'm here on behalf of–"

    "No no no, not what I meant," Tattletale interrupted. Her tone was light, but there was a severity in her eyes that belied her words. "Dragon is a busy bee, we all know that. I mean why you?"

    Defiant paused partway through erecting a small antenna from the tinkertech assembly by the camera. He turned to us in full and gave Tattletale a long, measured look.

    "I'm here because I want to be," he said at length. From the weight to the words, I was pretty sure he'd asked himself the same question before even arriving here. Probably more than once.

    Tattletale raised a challenging eyebrow. "Oh? You'd help some villains with a rebranding attempt out of the goodness of your heart? Villains that humiliated you in public?"

    Defiant's jaw twitched.

    "Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot. That wasn't you, was it?" Tattletale's grin was a red rag waved at a bull; her eyes glittered bright and eager as she went on the attack. She was provoking him. Deliberately. And from the way all of Skitter's bugs were so intently watchful, and the way she wasn't stopping her teammate, I didn't think Tattletale was doing it just for kicks. "Tinkers nowadays, such similar suits. Why, you'd almost think it was the same person–"

    Defiant shifted ever so slightly, and Skitter's swarm buzzed. It was only because I was already looking for it, half-expecting it, that I caught the slight shift of her footing towards Tattletale, ready to intervene if needed.

    "What she means to say," Skitter cut in, "is that we don't know why you agreed to do this. Dragon asked, but you didn't have to agree. Why us? Why now?"

    I looked at the Hero as well. It might've been phrased in poor faith, but it was a good question. I'd been wondering as much myself, though I'd had the tact not to bring it up before now.

    Defiant swayed back on his heels from where he'd leaned forward, and turned again to hunch over the equipment, hands cradling what looked like a transceiver. I imagined his knuckles were white underneath the metal of his silvery fingers. Not for the first time I wished his costume wasn't so full coverage. It was difficult to read Armsmaster on the best of days, and Defiant was somehow worse.

    "I made a mistake."

    The words were bland. Matter of fact. But no less cutting for it.

    "I was too focused on the big picture, I forgot to look at what was right in front of me." He stared down at the tinkertech, talking more towards it than towards us. "Don't mistake me, I'm not condoning your actions, Skitter. Or Tattletale, for that matter."

    He paused, his lips moving silently, and looked over his shoulder at us. "But I am sorry I didn't reach out more. That it had to end like this. I wish there could have been a better way. You could've made a good hero. All of you could've."

    Skitter's stunned silence was enough to stop even Tattletale from responding to that. For my part, I was studying the man as he finished setting up the electronics, obviously uncomfortable with the display of sincerity. Defiant was… odd. Prickly at the best of times. I'd known as much from my interactions with him before. He was heroic. Driven to a fault. And he knew it. For the first time I really considered the cape and the man in front of me, together. All that history, pain, toil, triumph and tragedy, wrapped up in a figure not much taller than the 16 year old next to me.

    He fit his new name.

    "That should be enough," he muttered as he made some last adjustments. He glanced back at us. "To be clear, I'm here as an intermediary. I'm not affiliated with the Protectorate or the PRT. I'm not condoning or condemning your actions up to this point."

    I nodded. This was fairly standard procedure when it came to negotiations with Villains outside of the Endbringer truce.

    "However."

    I blinked. This was new.

    "I will step in if things become combative." He looked squarely at Skitter. "On either side. Am I clear?"

    She nodded mutely. I tried and likely failed to contain the shock on my face. This was as close as he could get to outright supporting us, and he knew it. Technically nothing he'd said was outside the bounds of his role here. He hadn't given support to either side. But he hadn't needed to assure us, to assure Skitter, that he'd be even-handed. That he'd step in to shut down the PRT if they got too hostile towards her.

    He'd still chosen to.

    When he received no objections, Defiant pressed the button on the small controller he held. Immediately the projection booted up and covered the pockmarked expanse of drywall in front of us with a screen of white. It was the closest thing to a clean screen you could find in this place. Hopefully the resolution would compensate.

    The projector gave a muted beep, and the picture changed to a feed of the inside of the Director's office. Or at least I assumed as much, given that Piggot was sitting behind the main desk. I hadn't had much cause to tour this part of PRT HQ in my brief almost-stint in the Wards after Leviathan.

    To the Director's right sat Deputy Director Renick. He was an unassuming man, with a light tan, cropped hair, and a strong five o'clock shadow. But his eyes were sharp and calculating as they ran across us. I knew not to underestimate him. Piggot was a hardass, and she'd settle for nothing less than the best she could get as her direct subordinate.

    Miss Militia was on Piggot's left hand side, sitting on a cheap foldout chair clearly brought in for the purpose. She didn't seem to mind; the set of her shoulders was easy and relaxed. Her power flickered in her hands, bat-gun-knife-baton-brass knuckles, a constant shift of green that flowed seamlessly from one form to another. I'd never quite figured out if that was a nervous habit, or entirely unconscious.

    The last figure in the room gave me pause. Assault was seated to Miss Militia's left, giving us a thinly veiled sneer. His gaze was hard and flinty, even as his lips were tightly pressed together. His hands played idly with the edge of the desk, belying his ability to launch it at us with a thought. Why was he here?

    "Pi–" Tattletale's voice cut out with a sharp elbow in the side from Skitter. I resisted the urge to pinch my brow. It had been less than five seconds.

    "Director Piggot," she recovered as if nothing had happened. "So glad you could finally join us. Having a bit of internet trouble there?"

    The woman glowered at us through the camera. She may have had a business suit on and her hair tied behind her in a bun, but I knew her service record. Anyone in the building with more common sense than Clockblocker did. This was a woman who served on the ground in the PRT until her body gave out under her. She was no less dangerous behind a desk than she'd been in the field.

    "Tattletale. Skitter. I'm happy to see you haven't managed to pick up any more missing heroes on the way here. Seems to be a recent habit of yours." Her words would've been accusatory if the tone wasn't so flat.

    I bristled, but before any of us could reply she turned to me. "Glory Girl."

    I flinched.

    "I'm glad to see you're in one piece. I'd heard as much, but it's good to confirm it with my own eyes." I forced myself to hold her gaze. I wouldn't lose to her on this. I controlled my reactions, not the other way around.

    "U-g-d?"

    My breathing eased. Leave it to Skitter to break through a spiral without even glancing at me. "Good to see you too, Director," I signed. "The last few weeks have been hell."

    She let out a deep sigh, and seemed to deflate. "That it has." She looked at me, and for the first time in my life it felt like I was seeing her as an equal. Both of us miserably out of our depths, caught up in something far larger than we'd ever been trained for, but fighting like hell anyways to protect as many as we could.

    By the small quirk at the corner of her mouth, maybe that wasn't just wishful thinking on my part.

    "Now then," Piggot continued, "To business. Undersiders, you requested a meeting. Defiant–" she gave the cape a pointed glance "–is willing to vouch for you, as has Dragon. Here we are. Spit it out."

    Skitter took a deep breath.

    "We're considering unmasking and publicly renouncing villainy."

    There was a heartbeat's silence, then the connection erupted in noise.

    "I'm sorry–"

    "–ridiculous, I can't believe–"

    "Ma'am I'm not sure if–"

    "–don't deserve to–"

    "QUIET!" Piggot's voice roared, loud enough to drown out the din. I winced and carefully cracked my jaw to relieve the ringing in my ears. The speakers were very good. Probably Tinkertech. It felt almost like being in the room with them. And if it had been that loud over the connection, it must have been even worse in the room with them. Renick certainly seemed to think so, wincing and leaning to his right with a hand held up to shield his ear.

    "But ma'am, she–"

    "I said quiet, Assault," Piggot hissed, turning to him. "You were brought in as a consultant on this case, and I allowed it because the idea was sound. If you can't check your baggage at the door and do as you're told, the next assignment you'll be serving will be latrine duty."

    Fuck, she was serious. Even Wards were exempt from that kind of chore, and in the midst of the fallout from the Coil assault the PRT wouldn't be that low on personnel. If Piggot was threatening that kind of punishment, it was purely for the public shame. Assault must have been on her last nerve. And from the glower he was sending her, he knew it.

    Once he'd given her a grudging nod, she turned back to face us. "Now with that out of the way, explain yourselves. This had better not be a waste of my time."

    Skitter bristled as a carpet of spiders swept over the floor beneath her. I felt them on my toes through my shoes. "You heard me correctly. We're considering unmasking."

    The Director barked out a short laugh. "Well if that's all, go right ahead. If you want to hand your identities over to the PRT, I won't stop you."

    "You already know our identities," Skitter countered. Her hand was gripping the table. "You seized Coil's base. You know what he had over each of us. We're talking about unmasking publicly. All of us. Working with the authorities to restore government and legal order in our territories and stepping back from the hero-and-villain cape game. Becoming Independents."

    "And you expect what?" Piggot asked as she rested one arm across the desk. "For the PRT to say nothing? To ignore the crimes and damages you've committed? You're bank robbers, terrorists and violent warlords. Public crimes demand public prosecutions."

    "On the contrary, Director," Tattletale said, singing the last word. "If we do this, we want amnesty for past crimes. And we expect you to back us."

    The silence was deafening. Piggot was staring at Tattletale as if she'd just suggested opening the door of an airplane at cruising altitude. "I'm sorry, I must be hearing things. You expect us to what?"

    Tattletale smiled. "Come on Piggot, you know how this game goes. Don't make me bring out the big guns. This can still end civilly."

    The Director leaned forward. Her voice was a cold whisper. "Go ahead. Explain."

    "I thought you'd never ask!" Tattletale said brightly. Her grin spread, but it barely resembled a smile anymore; closer to an adrenaline snarl. "You see, it turns out the Undersiders were just a bunch of misguided capes the whole time. An independent team that unfortunately became embroiled in a plot far beyond their grasp when they fell in with Coil. An easy mistake to make when you're that new on the scene."

    The heat in Piggot's glare could've boiled lead.

    "Why, by the time they realized Coil's evil plan, it was almost too late." Tattletale continued. The glee in her voice was bursting from the seams. "But lo, they managed to turn the tables in the nick of time! They found Coil's base, the location of his secret hostage, and got the information to the heroes as soon as possible. The PRT were so understanding of their situation, given the obvious pressure on them, that they let them off with a warning."

    Tattletale got up and wagged her finger. "Now you kids be good, or next time you won't be so lucky. 'Swiper no swiping!' and all that. And in return, you get a team of independents who are going to be good little girls and boys, arrange for an orderly transition back to law and order in the territories you've not been doing anything to restore or protect since Leviathan. Then we'll either step away from the cops-and-robbers game altogether or hang around as independent vigilantes who'll stay on top of local crime and clue you in on any more big bad guys who come sniffing around! Win win."

    "And if we don't go along with this… plan of yours?" Miss Militia asked. Her voice said all it needed to about how likely that was.

    Tattletale's face turned dead serious in an instant. "Then I go public with every piece of blackmail I have. And we see who hits the ground first."

    Defiant glared at her. "You can't possibly–"

    "Ah ah ah," she said, glancing at the man. "I didn't say anything about you. You're not relevant to this discussion, anyway. Not Protectorate anymore. They can just write you off as a bad actor who's already been stripped of his position and kicked out. You're yesterday's news."

    The look on his face said he wanted to say a lot more, but Defiant slowly took a step back.

    "I fail to see how you have any leverage here," Deputy Director Renick said, drawing our attention back to the screen. "The PRT has been working at the behest of the civilians this entire conflict. And your own crimes far outstrip anything you could publicize."

    "Oh, is that right?" Tattletale leaned in closer. "Is that what they'll think when they find out that one of their Wards triggered Skitter?"

    I flinched.

    "What about all of Coil's moles in your organization, hmm? Oh what's that? You knew Dinah Alcott was in Coil's clutches for weeks before the Undersiders gave you the info and you did nothing?"

    Piggot's lips thinned. "There's no verifiable proof of your claims. And we've taken action as necessary in each of those cases."

    "No verifiable proof that you know of. Yet. And I don't even need proof." Tattletale's smirk could have cut glass. "All I need to do is muddy the waters. Make it such a pain in the ass that the math works out in our favor. Tell me, what do you think the local heroes would think about you letting one of the Undersiders be tortured at the hands of Bonesaw?"

    Skitter was shaking. The bugs around us were humming, a slowly growing pitch that told me Taylor was near her limit. "Ur ok," I tapped quickly, and shot her as comforting a look as I dared. "Part of plan."

    She didn't move.

    "How about when those same 'villains' fought Crawler on foot, and you firebombed them?" Teeth on display and eyes furious, Tattletale's expression would have made a shark envious. And quite possibly nervous. "Suddenly those aren't scary capes anymore, they're children. So no, Director, I don't think you come off well in this exchange at all."

    I squeezed my eyes shut. There were probably facial microexpressions to analyze, cues to note, positions to calculate. But I needed a moment. To center myself after all of that. I'd known most of it going in, but to have it shoved back in the PRT's face like that felt like being stabbed repeatedly in the stomach.

    "Here," Skitter's flies buzzed into my hand. I let out a soft chuckle, and nodded. "Here."

    "No."

    My eyes snapped open. Piggot's face was stone. "No. To start with, the PRT is not the arbitrator of law and order; we have no control over the courts, no influence on legal proceedings of publicly committed crimes and no authority to grant amnesty even if we wanted to–"

    "Oh come on, does anyone here really believe that?" Tattletale scoffed. "PRT leadership is practically running the–"

    "And even if we were able to give you what you want," Piggot rolled over her, "I will not negotiate with terrorists. We recovered Miss Alcott with all due speed, and while casualties during the Nine's attack were regrettable, they were necessary to eliminate Crawler. Which was accomplished successfully, with none of you the worse for wear."

    "Worse for wear? Talk to me about worse for wear when you–"

    "You're hardly ones to talk about killing allies while the Nine were here–"

    "Enough!"

    All sound from the other side of the connection cut off, and Defiant held up a hand, talking over Tattletale and, from the look of things onscreen, Assault. "All of you, take a breath. This is supposed to be a negotiation, not a shouting match. I'm giving you a moment to calm down and restore your tempers before I unmute you."

    Piggot's face was red with anger, but she nodded curtly and said something sharp and uncompromising to Assault – apparently Defiant's voice still broadcast to them, even if ours didn't. Tattletale took a breath and got herself back under control, while Skitter turned to me.

    "What we discussed," she murmured, voice low. "The ultimatum. Are you still sure you're okay with it?"

    I shut my eyes. My throat closed up, and I swallowed back the urge to hurl. My ears felt hot with humiliation and shame, my hands shook, the air itself felt clammy and claustrophobic.

    But. She wasn't asking if I was comfortable.

    She was asking if I was sure.

    I nodded.

    "Alright," Defiant said. "I'm restoring the sound. Remember why you're here."

    Before Piggot could speak, before Renick or Assault or Miss Militia could get a word in, Skitter stood.

    "You are going to back us," she said, that same charisma spreading from behind the terrifying mask that had pulled in me and so many others. "Do you want to know why?"

    "Enlighten us," Piggot said, rolling her eyes.

    "Because Amelia Dallon is a vindictive, spiteful, incestuous rapist who has proven herself both capable and willing to mess with people's brains to enslave them," she said bluntly. "She threatened to mutilate me while I was lying helpless on a hospital bed in her duty of care as a medic. She warped Victoria's body into something barely recognisable as human."

    My nails dug into my thighs hard enough that they'd be drawing blood if not for my jeans. My vision swam. Meepy's wing brushed over my ear – not the three-beat pattern for incoming hostiles, just a faint, feather-light touch. I blinked back tears and counted breaths. In for four. Out for seven. In for four. Out for seven.

    I was safe here. Skitter was with me.

    "And you knew all that," she continued mercilessly, "when you let her start healing people again. Assault. You hate me. You of all people have a reason not to trust anything I say. Would you let her get her hands on you again, to prove me wrong?"

    His jaw clenched. He said nothing. He said enough.

    Skitter barely let the silence drag out for a couple of seconds before moving on again, not giving anyone a chance to interrupt her. "How about you, Militia? Will you be going to Panacea next time you're hurt? Knowing what she's willing to threaten people she dislikes with? Knowing how sick and fucked up she is behind the mask? Can you really trust that she'll fix your wounds and stop there? Can you even be sure how she sees you? If nothing else, she's shown she's good at hiding the warning signs."

    Flicker flicker flicker, went the glowing green weapon. Not a word passed Miss Militia's lips.

    "What do you think will happen," said Skitter, low and intense and cruel, "to trust in the PRT, when they find out you've let someone like her loose on them without warning them about the monster you're putting them in the hands of? Not the civilian population. I know you don't give a shit about them. What do you think will happen to your heroes, when Panacea becomes a symbol of how low the PRT will stoop?"

    "Nobody will buy your bullshit," Assault growled. "With your reputation? After everything you've done? Nothing you say is trustworthy. You lie like you breathe–"

    "But I don't," I signed. Whatever translation program was running on Defiant's tech, it was quick; their eyes snapped to me before I'd even finished the last sign. "If you're willing to give her free reign over innocent people but deny," I hesitated for a fraction of a second, before spelling it out rather than using her name-sign, "S-k-i-t-t-e-r and her team the benefit of the doubt, then I can't trust you at all. If you wave away Amy's crimes but refuse to let them try to make up for theirs, I'll tell the whole world what she did to me. How many Heroes will lose faith in the system then? When they realize what kind of predators you're willing to shelter so long as they're useful? When they realize they might be the victims next, and you'll let it happen and cover it up if it serves your interests?"

    There was a long, horrible pause. Assault was about to say something else, but Piggot snapped at him; just his name, nothing more, and he shut up. Miss Militia's face was utterly, painfully neutral, her power flickering too fast to even make out a coherent form. Renick looked vaguely sick, as he had since Skitter started speaking.

    Piggot was frowning. Calculating. Weighing odds.

    "And what about you, Glory Girl?" Miss Militia's voice snapped me out of my thoughts. "If we go along with your demands. How do you fit into this plan?"

    I swallowed, and met her eyes. "Don't call me that." My signs were firmer than my voice would've been. A small mercy.

    Miss Militia's eyes softened. "Victoria, you know I don't mean anything by it."

    "I don't care." My eyes were still tearing up, but this time my fists were shaking with anger. "Glory Girl died a month ago, and no one noticed. Don't pretend to mourn her now."

    Her shoulders slumped for a moment. "Very well then, Victoria. Where do you fit here?"

    "I'm not joining the Undersiders. I can't agree with some of the things they've done, and I don't want to make that kind of show of support." I'd been sure of that from the beginning. I didn't want to bind my life, my identity, to anyone else's anymore. Not that closely.

    Not again.

    "I'm going to rebrand. An Independent, working together with the Undersiders. That's it."

    The older cape looked older still as she looked at me. "You'd be on your own, Victoria. With no support or network to fall back on. Are you sure?"

    I glared at her. "Nothing new there, then."

    She closed her eyes. "Very well then. I wish…" She trailed off before gathering herself. "That's your right, Victoria. Just tell us beforehand."

    "Ma'am," Renick interjected, "there is the small matter of the psych checklist."

    Piggot shot him a look before turning back to us. "As my subordinate so kindly pointed out, there is one problem here. We can't confirm that Victoria is sound of body and mind. Especially not after she's spent that much time with Regent and Tattletale."

    "That's out of line, ma'am." Defiant's answer was sharp and firm. "I've met with her independently. Footage from Dragon corroborates that she makes decisions of her own accord. She's called out the Undersiders in this conversation. That is enough."

    The Director frowned severely at him. "You damn well know it's not. None of that stands up in a court of law. Which her mother will drag us to, given the opportunity."

    I clenched my left fist. Carol. Even now she hung over me. Like a specter, bound to leap out of my shadow and–

    You know what? No. Fuck that.

    "Let me speak for myself then." I met Piggot's eyes. "We requested a psych field eval. Me and Skitter both. Give us one. Let her say what she wants then."

    There was a glimmer of not-quite-approval in her eyes. "I can work with that," Piggot said. "Provided the both of you are present and away from your other teammates."

    Skitter gave a short nod. "There won't be a problem…" the bugs behind us pulled in closer, forming a curtain that blocked out the light of the entire glass window behind us. "...so long as you don't make one," she finished.

    Director Piggot rolled her eyes. "Fine. Assuming you clear the psych evaluation, we will be open to discussing terms for a..." her face screwed up like she was smelling something unpleasant, "non-interference agreement for your transition into legal activities. If nothing else, it'll get a villainous group off the board."

    That last sentence was muttered, and I wondered if we were even meant to hear it. She raised her voice again and continued. "I can't and won't guarantee it will be possible, though. It'll need to be a policy decision; I can't give those unilaterally. We'll be in touch once I've looked into the matter. Renick, deal with this mess." She glanced over the three Heroes. "I'll see the rest of you in ten to debrief."

    The screen flickered to black, and I blinked. Was that it? Had we actually somehow gotten tentative approval from the PRT without an explosion or a city-wide crisis? The slow fluttering near my ear suggested Skitter was equally surprised.

    "I won't pretend to like how that happened," Defiant said, pulling our attention to him, "but I can't say I'm displeased with the outcome." He met Skitter's eyes for a moment. "Don't make me take that back."

    She gave him a short, tight nod. I suspected it was the most civil interaction the two had ever had. Still, it was progress of a kind. And after that near disaster of a meeting and the events leading to this situation, I'd take it. Because as Piggot had reminded me, I had a mess of my own to clean up.

    My family.


    A/N:
    Thank Aleph for this. Seriously. This chapter was 5k when it started, and 7k when she finished. And that doesn't account for the massive amounts of replacement work that she did with some of the finer dialogue points. She always does good work but this is arguably her masterpiece.

    In case it hadn't come across, I like Piggot. Or at least, I seem to like her a great deal more than the rest of the fandom does. I think that the sheer amount of fat phobia around a character who is described as "heavyset" once is incredible, and the casual dismissal of her field experience seems ludicrous. This is a woman who held the line against villains in a city that outnumbered her capes at least three to one, and that's if you count wards who shouldn't be fighting at all. She's far from perfect (she's a cop) but she's a damn sight better than anyone else in the same position.

    More than anything else though, I wanted to show how the PRT is not a monolithic organization. The way it behaves and reacts is often cynical and labyrinthian in nature, but it follows policies and incentives that do make sense on the granular level. And if you know which levers to pull, that structure cuts both ways. There's always one surefire way to make the PRT cooperate with you: make it hurt more if it doesn't.

    For a recommendation, today I have Interlude 11.L by tipsypastels. It's a brief look at a roleswap between Burnscar and Labyrinth in the interlude where the latter tries to fight off the former during the Nine attack. It requires a bit of canon knowledge to appreciate the parallels and horrible irony inherent in the situation, but everyone who reads this fic has read canon right? Right?
     
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    • Aloss said:
    Was able to finally catch up and add this to my Watch-list. I have to say, OP, this story is really something special. I don't have much experience with some of the topics discussed, but even from my lack of a vantage point even I can tell you've explored them as carefully and as respectfully as possible. Not only that, the prose itself is also splendid. Watching the development of the characters, the exploration of their psyche, the conflict between doing what one's accustomed to against taking a risk on both Victoria and Taylor's side is something hard to find in most works, even if they explore similar subject material. I seriously lack the words to give enough praise to this work.

    Also! I noticed this fic now has a TV Tropes page! Congrats!
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    Whoops I didn't reply to this. It's probably bad for to double post, but considering the above is a chapter post I figure I have enough leeway.

    Thank you. Seriously. I've said this elsewhere, but I was back and forth on posting this story at all for a long, long time. I was originally writing for the 10 or so betas I had in my discord channel, and that would've been enough to keep writing. I figured that if I posted this I would get nothing but toxic Amy stans or people yelling at me about Ward stuff that I wasn't aware of or pulling on. And there has been some of that. But the sheer amount of care and genuine emotion I've seen from people? The way that they're interacting with the complex themes and trauma I'm laying out with respect and enthusiasm? I never expected that. Certainly out of this fandom. So thank you for reading, and for commenting. People like you are why I write.
     
    This chapter was... wow. I don't have the words to say it, the payoff was well worth the wait, and even on a binge-read it keeps its impact (I re-read the prior chapters just to check).

    There's several lines of dialogue and internal dialogue that feel raw, and I don't mean raw as in uncooked or unplanned or unpolished, but more as in charged and heavy and loaded with so much uncooked (for a lack of a better word) emotion it just hits like a sack of bricks. It's a stellar use of building up to lines that appear simple but are charged with meaning regardless. "I sighed, and reached for the phone. It never ended", "I made a mistake", and "His jaw clenched. He said nothing. He said enough", come to mind as highlights. Needless to say, they're not the only ones and given more time there's no doubt one could find many more of them.

    Another great chapter. Thanks for the post!
     
    Aloss said:
    This chapter was... wow. I don't have the words to say it, the payoff was well worth the wait, and even on a binge-read it keeps its impact (I re-read the prior chapters just to check).

    There's several lines of dialogue and internal dialogue that feel raw, and I don't mean raw as in uncooked or unplanned or unpolished, but more as in charged and heavy and loaded with so much uncooked (for a lack of a better word) emotion it just hits like a sack of bricks. It's a stellar use of building up to lines that appear simple but are charged with meaning regardless. "I sighed, and reached for the phone. It never ended", "I made a mistake", and "His jaw clenched. He said nothing. He said enough", come to mind as highlights. Needless to say, they're not the only ones and given more time there's no doubt one could find many more of them.

    Another great chapter. Thanks for the post!
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    You're so very welcome! I know exactly what you mean about raw lines. A lot of those stuck out to me even in the draft, so we're on the same wavelength there. I'm really glad that came across in the final version. This chapter had a lot of moving parts over a long span of time (both in writing and in terms of the content covered), so knowing that multiple characters managed to come across as notable and emotional is great to hear. Thank you for reading!

    EDIT: ...are you implying you reread the entire fic just to read this chapter?
     
    justanothercat said:
    You're so very welcome! I know exactly what you mean about raw lines. A lot of those stuck out to me even in the draft, so we're on the same wavelength there. I'm really glad that came across in the final version. This chapter had a lot of moving parts over a long span of time (both in writing and in terms of the content covered), so knowing that multiple characters managed to come across as notable and emotional is great to hear. Thank you for reading!

    EDIT: ...are you implying you reread the entire fic just to read this chapter?
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    I'd wish! I only re-read the latest arc as a way to refresh my memory. I've fallen a long way since I used to devour books and articles on the daily, I'm afraid. 😅
     
    i do appreciate the tenor you give piggot here. a lot of the fandom really does seem intent to cast her as nothing more than a spiteful bigot.

    i mean. okay, she is a spiteful bigot, but she knows she's a spiteful bigot, and in canon visibly attempts to correct for most of her own deficiencies to get the actual job done. so she's far more than that.

    (i say 'most of' because she really doesn't have a whole lot of business holding the position she does with the health conditions she has. 🤷‍♀️ but apart from that)
     
    esotericist said:
    i do appreciate the tenor you give piggot here. a lot of the fandom really does seem intent to cast her as nothing more than a spiteful bigot.

    i mean. okay, she is a spiteful bigot, but she knows she's a spiteful bigot, and in canon visibly attempts to correct for most of her own deficiencies to get the actual job done. so she's far more than that.

    (i say 'most of' because she really doesn't have a whole lot of business holding the position she does with the health conditions she has. 🤷‍♀️ but apart from that)
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    I wouldn't even say she's a bigot. Thanks to Calvert, she hates both "normies" and paras as well, she's deeply deeply distrustful of any person in position of power, which in Worm tend to be capes.
     
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