Another druggie living in the land of denial. The smart thing to do would have been to drug all the merchants into dream land and steal all the money you can lay your hand on and run.
Another rebel without a cause down the toilet. He's going to be eaten for lunch and its a tossup as to who gets him first.
I liked the look at Dose this chapter. Seems kind of like what I'd expect with a merchant, someone just kinda going along with things. The Butcher's characterization seems interesting too. They seem hesitant or conflicted at times and that seems consistent with having a couple raving madmen in your head. I've always thought that Butcher is an interesting problem and I'm both looking forward to and afraid of how it will all play out.
I liked the Amp armor, Greg/Hephaestus work I guess? At a glance I would guess she was a sound-based blaster. So the misdirect is kinda good I think? Unless Hephaestus goes ahead and gives her sonic weapons built in.
Technically, I think that they do? In certain situations?
Or at least, Dr. Mother hints that they do when she says that Cauldron also sells second triggers, given I can't see any other method for them to actually do that.
... Though now I'm wondering why you couldn't get more than two triggers, given she also turned down helping Skitter because she had probably already had a second trigger. That doesn't actually seem logical, necessarily? Why would the alien space whales allow a second trigger, but not three or more?
Or at least, Dr. Mother hints that they do when she says that Cauldron also sells second triggers, given I can't see any other method for them to actually do that.
She input a code by the door, and William Manton set about opening it. Another wheel-lock.
"What would happen if a person with powers drank one?" I asked.
"Nothing at all," the Doctor said. "Believe me, we've tried hybridizing natural and Cauldron capes. You might as well drink water, for much the same effect."
I nodded, but I didn't take my eyes off the table.
"You hoped for a way to increase your powers? Or the powers of everyone here?" The Doctor asked.
"You think she's going rogue?" I asked, glancing over at Flechette as I continued my walk around the camp. Charlotte had suggested it, just as a way to be seen, and when I used my eyes, I did pick out a few things about the camp that mattered. One was that people were keeping the boxes clean like I'd hoped. All throughout the camp, I had put not just the fish bowls, but also boxes, here and there, to hold some of the spiders. The boxes had little latches that the spiders should be able to pull open if it came down to a fight, and I'd done a lot of work--the kind of work that I hadn't done since I'd had school projects--on making it.
"Well, that's one possibility with Panacea. She has to be watched, certainly. We've been fighting the E88 more directly now. Did you hear that Chevalier managed to drive off Fenja and Menja?"
"No, I didn't. You know I've been busy."
"Yeah, I do," Flechette admitted. She glanced around at the work that was being done. The two apartment buildings that actually weren't structurally damaged, the ones we'd been moving into, were almost completely built up, except for the top floors.
The camp should have been smaller, but instead, it was just as large, or maybe even larger. The camp was a growing creature that devoured food and filled porta-potties that Cassie had shipped in. It was an being that constantly squabbled and yet was holding together despite everything. The city was still a wreck, it hadn't been all that long since the attack, really. But things here were at least starting to come together.
We had working plumbing, and could even hope to bathe more than once in a never. We had electricity, even though it was spotty. We had batteries and food. We weren't doing great, but Butcher hadn't attacked in the three days we'd been prepping.
And we had diseases… but not among the population. Thank God. But I did manage to find some typhus once I started looking. Fleas on rats of all things, and so I gathered together the fleas and kept them separate. The plan was for my bugs to carry them to drop down on someone like, say, the Butcher. It was treatable, sure, but would she even notice it at first? Of course, I'd need to make an open wound, since no flea imaginable could make it through that thick skin.
Hell, if she ignored it for long enough, maybe it'd really hurt her. Though hopefully not kill her. Since I didn't want to have to turn myself into the Protectorate. I also had some ticks with Rocky Mountain, and I'd managed with some effort to find Lyme disease. That was a potent little cocktail, if I could get all of that into the Butcher.
...but I wasn't going to tell the Protectorate about that. Honestly, it sounded like something an evil villain bragged about before threatening to hold the entire city hostage.
Which it shouldn't, because it wasn't as if I was searching out bubonic plague. I was trying to find diseases that couldn't really be spread too easily, or at least were treatable. But only if the Butcher knew to treat it, and I doubted someone like her really paid that much attention, especially if she was as immune to pain as the rumors said.
"We've been busy too. We're fighting them on the beaches, we're fighting them in the streets," Flechette said. "And you're doing your part here. I've heard you have a new cape. He triggered just after the Butcher fight?"
"Stress from not being able to help us out," I said. "He's a friend of mine. Still hasn't picked a name out yet, though."
"Right, right. Names are pretty hard sometimes," Flechette admitted. "But as long as he's helping out, hopefully you should hold out against the Butcher."
The Butcher had been busy taking the Merchants apart, but I wasn't sure how long they'd really be able to last. There were stories about some of Butcher's men with powers that nobody had heard of, some even without costume: which meant that the Butcher had grabbed at least a few of the patches.
All in all, it was a chaotic, murderous clusterfuck. I'd heard stories of at least a handful of deaths already, and all I could do is wait where I was. With the way the city was wrecked and everything else, we were a sort of concentrated stopper to Butcher's expansion this way. She could always go south, and then along the docks and fight the E88 there, but that'd put her right in the middle of most of the other gangs.
If she wanted to get through this way into some prime territory and enslave more people on the way… then I was going to be a target. But she hadn't struck yet.
I didn't know why. But I didn't want to remind her that we existed, not until we were ready to really come after her.
"Yeah. Speaking of holding out," I said, distractedly. "How are you doing with Parian?"
"Hey, I don't ask you about you and Rachel," Flechette said.
"What about us?"
"Oh, nothing," Flechette said. "I don't know, because you don't tell everyone… and I won't either." Then, with a frown that seemed almost pouty, she added, "You already have bugs on everyone, so you know anyways."
"I was asking to be polite," I said. "I know you haven't asked her anything yet."
"I'm going to. Soon, very soon."
I nodded at that. I wasn't in my mask, because I didn't need to be. We were walking towards a very specific area, where Charlotte and Greg were hanging out, a huge tent of the sort you'd use for a revival or something, the way it looked. It was Greg's workspace, and he needed all of it. "How are you going to ask?"
"On my knees?" Flechette said with a slight smile. "I don't know."
"Well, good luck," I said. "Just… think about what she wants, and try to see to her needs."
"How does Bitch feel about the new teammate? There were a few hints, back when she was in the Undersiders, that she wasn't a team player. And she was alone for a long time, after she triggered," Flechette said.
"She's annoyed, but she'll get over it," I said with a shrug. I'd been a little too busy to talk to her about all of it, but it was just moping. I'd know if it were more than that. And her suspicion of Charlotte was outright absurd. She was just being a little ridiculous. And jealous. But I'd talk to her about it soon, I thought, fondly. Once we were more settled and ready for the Butcher, I'd have more time to talk to her.
"Well, you're the expert," Flechette said.
"Yes. I am. I know her pretty well," I said.
Flechette made a face, and I almost smiled at it. "You know," I said, "that I didn't mean it that way. Though that's true too." We walked by a family, two younger sons and a mother, who were carrying some of the food supplies off of today's truck. "Hey, you need any help Ms. Greens?"
"No thank you, Arachne. But thanks!"
I nodded in the older woman's direction.
"You know their names?"
"It's only the right thing to do. Charlotte said that it'd help them know that they've got a friend in me. And I guess they do?" I shrugged. "PR's important, I'm sure you know that," I said, too quiet for anyone but her to hear.
"Has she tried to convince Rachel to do the same?"
"...yes, actually," I said, wincing when I remembered the slight growling and storming off that had occupied the latter part of Saturday. I did need to fix that too, make Rachel under… well. Okay, make both of them understand each other, but Charlotte was clearly just trying to do the same thing I was. Just not as well.
"Ah, that bad, huh? Can I come in with you to meet this new cape?"
She'd recognized what I was walking to. I gave a shrug, glancing around at the sky. "Looks like it's going to rain soon."
"The weather?" Flechette asked. "That's what we're talking about?"
"If it rains, this whole place is a muddy mess," I said. "That much harder to get supplies about, and it means we'll have to use more hot water on baths or deal with being dirty. Not that I mind that much." Which was sorta true.
"You have been living out here for a while," Flechette said. "Still in a tent, even though…"
"Nah. In a tent puts us closer to the action," I said. "If there's a fight."
"I'm sure that's all," Flechette said, with a nod. As if she didn't believe me.
"It is. So, yes, you can meet him. Just be gentle," I said, and then I pushed open the flap and stepped into his workspace.
We'd had to gather a lot of stuff real fast, and if it wasn't for Cassie, he'd still be in the stage of having a lot of ideas and nothing to work on. But she'd managed to drive in, with Sierra's help, and the rest of the people online for that matter…
Well, this.
There were three workbenches spread throughout the room. On one rested a ton of notes and what looked like several radios that had been torn to bits. Because it was several radios that had been torn to bits. Plus, we'd sacrificed Walkmans and CD players and ipods to get him the parts he needed.
On the second table, there was what looked like the beginning of a helmet. It was thick and iron, but on the rest of the table he had this liquid that was still cooling. It was dark blue, and if I understood his design--and I didn't--part of the step that made it into power armor was soaking the equipment in it. That'd allow the armor to conduct the power running through it from the battery, which was a work in progress on the third bench.
The battery at the moment looked like a giant backpack of sorts, with dozens of tubes coming from it, and the idea is that it'd plug into the suit, powering the hover-boots, the cling boots, the built in laser guns, and everything else it had that in theory should make him a mid-level brute with lasers and flying.
If he had time to work on it, and all of the right equipment. That was a work in progress, which is why his first goal was something very, very simple.
Greg was out of costume, as short and excitable as ever, bouncing slightly as he explained things to Charlotte. "So, then that's when it really gets interesting! You see, the idea is, if we set up poles with this on it, then you could give random people powers!"
"But wouldn't anyone be able to seize my power? Wait, how does it work if I give a general command?" Charlotte asked, frowning. She actually was in costume, unlike him, and she started when she saw Flechette and I entering. "Oh, hey Arachne. Flechette."
"Howdy," Flechette said. "Hope I'm not interrupting."
"No, they're just talking about strategy," I said. Because of course I'd been listening in without really trying, while I'd been talking to Flechette. Which meant I knew what his idea was. "Great idea."
"I'm still not used to you knowing and seeing all!" Greg admitted, bouncing around a little. "But since you don't know, hey, hi, I'm… Suit? No, no, that's stupid. Mr. something? Nah, that's like my Dad or something." He frowned at that, looking briefly troubled, before he sunnily continued. "Ironmonger?"
"Well," I said, not sure how much to crush his dreams, because it was a better name than Powersuit, or Laser Law.
"Could use some work," Flechette said. "If you don't mind me saying."
"Of course I don't! You're only actually a real Ward and everything, and I'm still trying to build my costume and all, because that's what it's going to be, power armor. Though I guess I could get an underlayer of armor if I went with the Tron vibes. Hey, who made your armor by the way it looks very--"
"Ironmonger!" I called, trying to make my voice sound more authoritative. "Calm down."
Charlotte smiled softly, nodding and saying, "Yeah, just breathe. Also, Arachne, I've figured out super-strength, finally, and I think I have some leads on some other resonances, but I'll need to test out the strength first. Can you maybe get your girlfriend to please talk to me, boss?"
"Boss? That's a new one."
"Well, you're clearly the one in charge," Charlotte said. "And I'm glad of it."
"Well, thanks Amp. But I'm pretty sure Pelter and Cassie are…"
"You're the one everyone looks to," Charlotte said.
"It's true. I mean, online at least," Flechette said.
I shrugged, trying to brush it off. This was a partnership, between myself and Rachel, and between ourselves and everyone else. Rachel and I were a unit, as it were. That's the only way any of this worked.
Maybe? I glanced over at Flechette and said, "Anyways, Amp was just talking with Ironmonger here, because he had an idea to create a set of headphones as well as speakers. Headphones for his costume and ours, speakers for the camp, so that she can use her power. Walkie talkies have to be used, and it's possible for interference, intentional or otherwise, to get in the way. But--"
"Quantum!" Greg yelled. "The headphones communicate their radio waves through a quantum sub-dimension of the…"
Quantum sub-dimension. I listened for a moment longer, but couldn't make heads or tails of it. It was Star Trek babble, only less intelligible, and yet he was definitely making far too much progress for it not to rely on real, working principles.
Just ones that made no sense.
Flechette was clearly being lost here. "Anyways, yes, he's working on that, and Amp, what's this about Rachel?"
"I thought she'd like super-strength," Amp said, thoughtfully. "Since it is something that'd let her fight people directly."
"She just might," I said. "I'll try to raise it with her. Iron... "
Well, we'd think of a better name. "Uh. How long will it take for you to make the speakers?"
"Those? The quantum connection is the hardest part, and it doesn't have to be perfect, right? The earbuds I'm working on, you could hear her from the moon. But this just needs to get through easily and loudly, right?"
"Yes, though poles might not be the best idea. They could be knocked over. What about boxes on platforms, with the poles to help indicate where they are so people can gather for any instructions, if they need it?" I asked, trying to think seriously.
"Huh, that's a better idea than I had," Charlotte admitted, smiling at me. Smiling, not baring her teeth. I reminded myself of this.
"Yeah, I can do that," Greg said. "And ASAP, I assume? Because the Butcher's going to come here, right?"
"I'd come here," I said. "If someone had hurt people who were on my team as much as I hurt the Teeth." The Butcher was powerful cape, and more than that, one that was so loyal to the Teeth that it drove capes who weren't insane just to throw them in the path of rejoining the Teeth. There was no way that the people of the Teeth didn't matter to her.
Why else would they be so loyal if not to the people that make up the Teeth? It didn't make sense otherwise, I thought to myself. So she'd want revenge, she'd want to get back at us, and I wasn't going to let her. I wasn't going to let her hurt the camp, or those I cared for.
"Ah," Charlotte said, with a nod. "Got it."
Flechette said, "I probably should get going. I hope you all have it in hand. Remember, I'm there if you need me, and so is the rest of the Protectorate. We aren't your enemies, even if you seem to be trying to stand alone."
"I'm doing what I can," I said. "That's all. Do what you can, and what else can we ask for?"
Flechette didn't say anything. She just looked at me, frowning, then nodded and turned to leave.
"Bye, Flechette!" Greg yelled. "Wait… what about Artificer?"
"Artificer?" I asked, as Flechette turned, curious.
"Arachne, Artificer, Amp, Hellhou--"
"Bitch," I said.
"Yeah, B-bitch, Parian and Pelter,"
"Alphabetical except for my name, huh?" I asked.
"Well, you're first," Greg said. "But what do you think. Artificer?"
"I think that'd work," I said. "Charlotte, what do you think?"
Charlotte nodded. "I think so too. Hey, Artificer, I was thinking… I could also use a helmet, instead of a headset."
"Well… that'd take time, especially if I wanted to make one of the batteries for it, to give it some protection. Your power doesn't work on you, though, right? It's, like, your big weakness, your kryptonite," Greg asked. "What about, like, power armor, or…"
"It doesn't," Charlotte admitted, not commenting on his idea. I felt Flechette retreating, no doubt with things to tell the Protectorate about the team dynamics. I didn't know how I was supposed to feel about how much Charlotte seemed to be encouraging me to step up as leader. It was things like 'Boss' and stuff.
I wondered what they'd think of me. But I didn't care. Much, at least.
"So, I was thinking…" Greg began, ready to bury her in attention.
I took my leave as soon as I could.
********
The shelter was overcrowded by far. This would be a crisis, at least to other people, if it were people instead of dogs. But people just assumed that dogs would be able to cope, I thought. When I walked in the dogs started barking, and once one or two were at it, the others followed. Not all of them were the same kind of dog, so when combined it created this wall of sound, which trailed off or grew louder, thudding against my ears as I made my way towards Rachel, frowning a little.
Rachel was crouched next to what I thought was a poodle. I associated poodles with fluffery and fanciness, but this was a poodle that had rolled around in the mud, and seemed to have gone from perfectly groomed to bit of a mess in a very short span of time. It was a small dog, small enough that Rachel had to really bend over.
Rachel looked like a lump, strong, defined arms moving carefully to lift the poodle's leg as the animal whined a little, miserably.
It was really starting to warm up, and in deference to this, Rachel was wearing shorts and a T-shirt, which meant I could really see her arms.
And her legs, which could in theory use some shaving--but really did it matter?
She was a little bit of a mess too, her sneakers covered in mud, and I almost hesitated to approach her. "Hey Rachel," I said, stepping forward. "What's with the poodle?"
"She's in pain. Not sure why," Rachel said. "I think she's not used to running around. Found her rooting around in the garbage." Rachel's frown deepened slightly, and I could almost see the memories pass across her face for just a moment. "Trying to survive."
"This place is getting pretty crowded," I began, and then bit my lip. I wasn't stupid. I knew her, and I knew the way her scowl deepened yet further. "But then, so is our camp. The question is, what do we do to make more room for the dogs."
Rachel relaxed, and I could see the smile in her eyes, as she glanced down at the dog, then back up at me. "Yeah. Cassie's talking about donations and shit. Words, words, words."
"What's the matter, Rachel?" I asked, wishing she could understand the joke I'd just told.
"Dogs are getting crowded. That retriever bitch is whelping tonight, at the latest. You gonna be there?"
"Well, I wanted to patrol a little with Amp, see about making sure the camp's all good. Just like you're doing with your dogs," I said, a little defensively.
Rachel grunted. "Charlotte's just fucking whispering in your--"
"Rachel. I don't think this helps," I said. "I promise I'll pick up my dog by tomorrow morning. But Charlotte had this planned since Friday, and I didn't know the dog--"
"A week is a week," Rachel said, crossing her arms.
I stepped closer to her, shaking my head. "I'll try to get out of it, but there's a lot to do. We have to be ready. But as for the dogs, we could open another shelter, sure. But we could also maybe give them out to other people? In the camp, that is. Stefanie…"
"Well, my folks do like dogs," Stefanie had said of my idea.
"Stefanie likes dogs. She'd like one, definitely. I'm not sure if Greg is responsible enough, though. But there's people who could use the puppies, or dogs in general. And you know what happens if they abuse their dogs? We sock 'em in the eye," I said, making little fists and punching forward.
"Yeah." Rachel nodded, seeming a little more mollified. "Charlotte don't want one?"
"Not at the moment, no," I said.
Rachel seemed almost pleased, as if somehow I'd confirmed her low opinion of Charlotte. Her opinion based, it seemed to me, on nothing at all. "Anyways, so, we give away a few dogs, and then maybe we start looking to move into nearby buildings? Or maybe take them apart. Not all of them are really sound. Though I have no idea where we'd get the rights to build our own stuff." I frowned, shaking my head. This refugee camp wasn't supposed to be a chance to play SimCity, and so I probably shouldn't be knocking down buildings, even if that's what the ultimate result would be.
"Just do it," Rachel said.
Which was my first instinct too. Knock it down and fuck if anyone wants to say anything. And then maybe build some shacks to hold more of the dogs. Though we'd also need more people, I thought, looking around.
It was only a few seconds in that I was basically doing exactly what I'd thought I wouldn't. And it was thanks to Rachel.
"Maybe I will, eventually," I said, walking further into the mud to get closer to her. It was up to my ankles now, but I really didn't care. I could clean my shoes. "Other news, is that Amp figured out how to do super-strength. I thought you could help her test it out tomorrow."
Rachel looked over at me, her eyes almost playful. "Plenty strong already." She looked down at the dog, and then added. "Could help with this. But." She shook her head. "Always talking."
"You really don't trust her, do you? Don't answer that. But yeah, you are," I said, crouching down next to her and feeling her muscles. I was aware of what she meant me to think by that, but I was still blushing, still slightly warm. If only I wasn't so busy, maybe we could take time… no. No, I had to take charge. I had to get ready for the Butcher.
I needed to do my share of the work. Maybe even be the 'boss' if nobody else was willing to step up. "Hey Rachel," I asked.
"Yeah."
"What do we do if we really can hold off the Butcher? What do we do next?"
"Live?" Rachel asked, with a shrug. I ran my fingers along her arm, desire warring with duty. Duty won.
"Yeah. I can try that."
******
Charlotte picked her way around the ruins two blocks away from the camp. "We should maybe think about gathering anything left to take," I said.
Charlotte frowned. "You mean looting?"
"I don't know. It's just a thought."
Charlotte nodded. "We could do that, but I think most of it is gone already." It was late afternoon, and the streets still weren't any better than they'd been when Behemoth came around. This was almost Teeth territory, so of course nobody was going to bother to try to save the area.
We were within range of the camp, and help, at all times. Charlotte had her headphones, and she'd have a helmet too, before that long. If the Butcher even started coming here, we'd make it back in time. I was sure of that, as long as we didn't go much further than this.
It was like being tethered onto a leash, like being trapped, just a little bit, but it wasn't. I wanted to be back at camp, which was the odd thing: shouldn't I want to escape? If I was leashed, shouldn't I want to bite through it?
I didn't, though. Off in the distance, Rachel was playing a game with Greg. The bitch hadn't yet whelped, though I knew it was only a matter of time. I could see a lot about the camp, all those people crammed together, all of them relying on me. "Why do you want me to be leader?"
"You're the best leader," Charlotte said. "You should take charge more often: I've seen what happens when you do. You saved us, you threatened the Butcher and saved time… I don't know if I approve of the maiming, and the diseased bugs make me nervous." She shook her head, clearly trying to be open with me.
"That's fine. As long as you're willing to go along with it. I can try to do that a little more, but it's supposed to be a partnership. I wouldn't be where I was if it wasn't for Rachel."
"I know," she said. "I think I do. She doesn't like me. Do you know why?"
"No fucking clue," I admitted with a shrug. "She thinks you talk to me too much."
"I could try talking less," Charlotte said, dubiously. "I want her to like me, but she doesn't even listen to me. She doesn't talk with the girls I saved, either." I could see said girls, isolated in a corner of the camp. They stuck together, in a way that was both impressive and perhaps a little worrying. "We're all girls, surely she could have plenty to talk about."
I winced, considering what she was saying, "Like, what?"
"About shit we have to deal with," Charlotte said. She narrowed her eyes. "I wasn't talking about boys, fashion, and cute things."
"I didn't think you were," I said, which was only sorta true. "Rachel's been through a lot, but I don't think she really thinks of things like that. She's dealt with a lot, but it's not…"
Well, it wasn't the kind of thing where she could complain about it holding her back. Because so much else was just piled onto her. Her illiteracy--which she was only slowly fixing--her poverty, all sorts of things that… didn't really speak to talking with people about how much their experience sucked.
"Not what?" Charlotte sighed. "You should come sometime. We don't spend that long complaining, if you're listening in."
"I am," I said. It was another thing that I noted down without really processing it. There was so much that I couldn't really focus on, if I wanted to keep sane. Multi-tasking was far easier than multi-deciding and multi-evaluating. Especially when it came down to evaluations that weren't 'how many spiders should I sic on this gang member.' It all rattled around in my brain, and I knew that if I didn't write it all down, I'd forget it sooner or later. There were just so many details.
Still, I probably had written down notes on the discussions. The indignities they'd faced, the difficulties. The, without putting any finer point on the grotesque, rape and abuse. Sometimes not merely at the hands of the Merchants.
It was a cruel world, and a vicious one too.'Human beings suffer' I remembered my mother quoting once. It was some poem: despite my love of literature, perhaps I was not the best teacher for Rachel, when it came to appreciating literature.
What had I read, really, in the last few months?
"Oddly, it's kind of comforting, as long as you don't tell people about what we say," Charlotte said.
"Comforting?"
"That someone is listening," Charlotte admitted. "That someone might care. We can't do anything except cope, and try to get over it. You can." Snatches of memories of the poem came bubbling up, along with guilt, and doubt, and other things that perhaps should have been locked away.
"Do they hate that I fought the Teeth to try to prop up the Merchants?"
"They don't really get it, and even if they did, the Teeth are just the Merchants all over again. They do the same stuff. Butcher takes sex slaves you know, and does all sorts of other disgusting things. She too doesn't see gender in it… or they?" Charlotte shook her head.
I winced at the comparison. It was true that none of the Butcher's experiences had apparently given her any mercy or understanding of others, anything other than cruelty and loyalty to her own and nothing and no one else. "I suppose she doesn't," I said. I shrugged, frowning. I'd definitely spent a lot more time lately just doing things. Kneeling in the muck and punching people and taking charge, than I'd spent reading things, thinking through things that didn't have to do with the task in front of me. Perhaps I was changing, for better and worse, always both.
"I didn't mean to press you on it," Charlotte said. "I know you have a lot on your plate. Your girlfriend's dog is having pups, right?"
"Soon," I said. "And, all dogs are her dogs. Pretty much." There were well over a hundred dogs at the shelter, enough that anyone but Rachel would have trouble telling them apart or remembering what they were called.
"You should go. It's not like we're going to find anything more here, and I think the strength works? Try hitting that wall."
I lashed out with a hand, as lightly as I could. I left a cratered hole in it. I blinked, smiling. It hadn't felt like anything at all. "...huh. Now that's useful."
******
The retriever could barely waddle, she was so clearly pregnant. Her golden fur was well cared for, only a little mussed, and she lay down like she was unable to do much else.
Stefanie and Cassie were behind me, as were some of the shelter people, as Rachel did her work.
"How did you know when the labor was?" Stefanie asked Rachel, who was dressed in clothes she could afford to throw away, because no birth was simple. The dog panted, glancing around as if she were confused at all of the attention. She had food and water, and she was in this warm looking padded wooden cage.
"Temperature," Rachel said, as if it were patently obvious. "Other signs. Beatrice was vomiting this morning, and couldn't stop moving about. You know, this is going to take time. Bring a fucking book, it'll be hours. I'm only going to help if things go wrong. Otherwise, it's natural birth."
Cassie nodded, as if she was filing this all away. "I wonder how she feels about it."
"Ready for it to be over," I guessed, as Rachel stepped back.
"Now we watch," Rachel said. "Wait. See if anything goes wrong."
*******
The miracle of birth wasn't much of a miracle. There was discharge and water going everywhere, there was this strange thing that looked like a puppy's head, but wasn't, and then finally, after what seemed too long, the first puppy made its way out, blind and confused.
It took two dozen minutes before the second, and that was about normal. Nine puppies in all, which meant that by the time Stefanie had wandered off and then returned, looking a little less green, and by the time Cassie had already started to help out.
The mother, Beatrice, seemed to do most of the work. Cleaning up the puppies and licking them hard until they started whining and breathing like they were supposed to. They were small, tiny blind bundles of fur and feelings, though they weren't cute until one got all of the stuff off of them.
Until they, they'd reminded me of any sort of baby, slightly ugly at first glance, but oddly cute when you paid attention. Of course, that was probably just instinct kicking in, but I watched all of it, because I didn't want to look away and because Rachel didn't seem to care about the grossness of the whole thing.
Of course she didn't.
The puppies, once cleaned up, were tiny little things that dozed in between going for their mother's teats. Rachel had to lift them up carefully to remove all of the soiled blankets and replace them with clean ones.
I looked at these nine little puppies, and tried to imagine caring for one of them. Rachel was still going to stay up yet later, even though in theory we had a mission to monitor Coil still waiting sometime late in next… this, actually, now, morning.
"Rachel," I said. "Cassie and the shelter people can probably take over."
"Gotta watch the dam," Rachel said. "If anything's wrong with her, or she's too tired…"
"I get that," I said, nodding. "I'm sure the shelter can care for the puppies until they're ready to go to a home. How long will that take?"
"Nine weeks. No less," Rachel said firmly. "But you should come here to interact with them. Cuddle them, talk to them. Bond. Become known. Let them sniff your hand. Let them get used to you."
Nine weeks. It felt, in some odd way, like a very long-term commitment. "Are you going to take one of them for your own? I assume you won't empower a puppy."
"Nah. Share 'em out," Rachel said, with a nod, giving me a warm look. "Now, can you help me out a little around here before we sleep?"
******
So I was exhausted and without sleep when it came time to meet with Parian again. She'd made more of her stuffed animals, large bears and giraffes, beings that I knew she could animate with her power, and use as a weapon. Her whole room was now, in one sense, a trap. As many stuffed animals and thread and needles as there were, there was no way that stepping in wouldn't end in some serious pain. All she really had to do was spread them out, and she'd have a sort of network of attackers. Minor brutes, to add to the people that Charlotte was trying to talk around into being semi-common recipients of power.
She was part of all of this too.
Parian was looking as impeccable as ever behind her mask, which hid anything at all that might make one a little more relatable in the tired, grouchy mood I was in. But I could see from her posture that all wasn't well.
I'd barely slept three hours before dragging myself up to start it all over again. "Hey, Parian."
"Hey. So you wanted to talk about costume designs?" Parian asked. "Good. Let's talk about them."
"No hello, how are you?" I asked.
"Bad. Flechette came around. She asked if I wanted to date. Just came out and said it," Parian said, shaking her head. "I don't want to talk about it."
"What did she say?"
"I said I don't…" she said, trailing off and sighing. I'm just glad that you were asleep, so you didn't get to watch it. Like you watch everything."
"I can hardly help it," I said. Though now I was wondering whether that was timing on Flechette's part.
"Lily's just so frustrating. I'm not in the mood to get started on any of that, but she just asked me like she knew the answer, like she knew me." Parian grit her teeth, and I filed away the name for later use. "Like she assumes she knows best and I just need to put the signature at the bottom of the date."
I hadn't gotten that feeling from her earlier. Or at least, she'd seemed like she wasn't completely sure, but I didn't know what to say. They needed to communicate, that was important, and I didn't know why they couldn't just work through things and understand that a little better. "Ah," I said. "I'm sorry it didn't work out."
"I didn't say no. But I don't want to say yes if that's what she expects. Maybe I want her to kiss me, and we could just go from there, but I don't know. My family's only a few doors down. They have to know by now, I'm not subtle, but that's not the same thing as me having casual sex. My aunt, my mother, they…" Parian shook her head. "Here I didn't want to talk about it, but I thought you'd understand, with your father."
"Go on?"
"They're only somewhat okay with it because I'm helping people, and because they expect me to make something out of it? Like, I don't know how to describe it. First they wanted me to eventually settle down and marry a man and have kids, now they want me to settle down and marry a woman and have kids."
"Ah," I said. "That? I don't think Dad's really hinted at anything like that. But I do think he's more comfortable that our relationship is… formalized? Have you been talking to people about my Dad, to know so much?"
"Yes, I have been. I've been asking a lot of people about you. And Rachel. They mostly have good things to say," Parian said. "Speaking of good things to say, here's my idea for Artificer. Grey, steel grey for the body suit, with black, red, and gold to color outward in a sort of flame pattern, but not quite. I have sketches, for that. A tool-belt around his waist. Once he gets armor, we can get rid of the belt, and the boots too."
"Boots?" I asked.
"Big, thick black boots. Workman's boots. Since his name's Artificer. At least one of the tools on his belt should double as a weapon, so that he can interact with Amp. And he should have an open-faced helmet of some kind. Not closed, not until he gets his actual suit." She frowned and said. "I've actually done a lot of thinking about costumes in the last few hours. It's not my job, but I can always help out that way. Though your and Bitch's costumes are pretty much good? I can't think of how much I'd want to add to them. But Pelter's costume could use a bit more broadening? Once she can lift heavier things, then…"
Oh, right. Amp meant that what we could do and how we'd be 'themed' would be different, wouldn't it? I didn't see why the fuck I cared that much about it, and about image, but she had a point. I just was too tired to think too much about it. "Sure, that works. Sorry, tired."
"Why?"
"Was up all night watching puppies being born," I said.
"Oh, really?" Parian asked. "I know a few people in this building who might want new puppies."
"It'll be two months until they're really ready for going to new homes." I nodded at her. "The puppies won't be coming immediately."
"Will there be a camp in two months?"
"I hope so," I said. "I won't let Butcher--"
"That's not what I meant. We're re-opening the apartment buildings that aren't unsound, and eventually won't everyone be in a building, and the flow of refugees stop? Then what?" she asked.
"We protect the buildings. The green will still be there, and I'm sure that we could work something out. If it reaches that point, it reaches that point, but there's no point talking about it now," I said. "Not when we still have so much to do. And you're helping us with all of this, so sorry if I sound grouchy."
"Didn't get a lot of sleep?" Parian asked, sympathy evident in her voice.
"No, not really…"
Parian nodded. "You should try relaxing, just because… the E88 are still going to be there, and so are the Teeth, if you just take a few hours off to do something you find fun."
"I can rest when they're dead," I said.
Parian nodded, "Hmm. Now that's certainly a mindset."
"It's the way they think about us… in general and in specific," I said. "Why not fight back?"
"I can get behind that," Parian admitted. "I want the E88 to suffer. I want them jailed… dead. Uh, not really?"
"And I want the Butcher captured and thrown down a dark hole. The birdcage should be made for people like her. Instead of some of the people who wind up thrown there at the first mistake."
I realized I'd raised my voice, and shook my head. "So, are you going to show Greg this drawing?"
"Of course," Parian said. "You think he'd like it?"
"I think that he'd like anything that looked cool," I said. "Just go for it."
Parian shook her head. "Is that the advice you gave Flechette?"
I shrugged, not answering either way, looking at Parian, her hair and her mask and the room filled with cloth and dolls, and just considering Flechette's odds of recovering from her mistake.
Lower than I thought, perhaps.
"Well, it wasn't bad advice, but it wasn't good advice. Sometimes you have to not say things. I think?"
I nodded, more to indicate I was listening than anything, and after a little more chatting about menial details, I was gone.
Time to spy on Coil again.
*******
Something big was going down. Something so big, and so major, that I knew that it had to be bad news. Accord was out in force with a half-dozen super-powered gang members in all. I could recognize some of them, but not others.
Three men and three women, and I could only recognize a few of them other than Accord, who was hard to miss.
There was Citrine, one of Accord's main people. She was tall and blonde, wearing a yellow gown, with a mask that covered her face. She smelled of subtle, hypo-allergenic perfumes, and her mask was studded with gems that I guessed were Citrines. Her powers were something of a mystery except that she'd been seen cancelling other Parahumans' powers, and there'd been stories of her messing with gravity and temperature. Accord tended to run a tight ship, and it was sometimes impossible to figure out what his capes even did… besides win fights. I knew, from stories, that Citrine had been the one to consistently shut down Night back when she was in Boston.
I recognized Othello, who was another of the old hands of Accord who had accompanied him on this expansion venture. He wore a suit and had a black and white mask, and not much else was known about him, but his power seemed to involve teleportation and attacking people from a distance. Not much else was known.
The third cape, at least, I knew something about. His power was known even on the Parahuman wiki. Arturas was dressed like an odd combination of one of the three musketeers, with a medieval knight. He had a plumed hat, and and shining silver and gold armor. His weapon was a rapier, and he was supposed to be deadly and accurate with it. He was stronger and tougher than a normal man, though not that much, but the difficult trick about him was that he seemed to always know when and how to strike. Some sort of power that allowed him to see weak-points.
The other three, though? One was a slightly plump looking woman wearing an evening gown and a featureless mask, another was a short man in a purple and black bodysuit, spangled with feathers, and with a mask that had hundreds of painted red eyes on it. And the third was a tall, blocky looking woman with only a half-mask, wearing dark clothes with a short cape that made me think of a magician. Her hair was as perfect as Citrine's, and her makeup was equally subtly done, though her face itself was more plain than anything else.
Three new capes, and I had no idea what any of them did.
"I hope that's all of them," I muttered to myself. Rachel was pressed up against me, her fingers brushing against my stomach like I was a dog, clearly trying to distract me.
"Taylor?" Rachel asked.
"Yes?"
"What's happening?"
I leaned back a little, right into her. I was on her lap of course, but I wasn't really thinking about that sort of thing. "A huge meeting. Whatever this is, to bring all of these people out here, it's something big… and I can't even look in, because I bet Coil would be watching for even a single fly."
"Oh. So nothing's happening?"
"Everything's happening," I said. "I just can't see it."
"And won't, even if you watch?" Rachel asked.
"Yeah," I said.
"So. Wanna fuck?" Rachel asked, growling a little in my ear.
I shivered, but shook my head. At a time like this? There were other, more important matters. Dinah was still held captive, in a small room. Shivering. I could see her, but there was nothing I could do to save her yet, and I assumed that he'd have counters for it.
"No, not right now. I'm a little too busy, maybe later," I said, nodding to myself and leaning in a little more to watch.
"Kay," Rachel said, with a shrug. Slightly tense, but there'd be time some other day.
I kept on watching for almost two hours, until the meeting was done and they filed out.
"The Zunes though, were left untouched. I swore I could hear some whispering, out of the corner of my ears. Averting my gaze from them, as a sudden migraine spiked..."
It's good but it's tense. Maybe some people are putting it off for an arc or two, until certain things are wound up? It's easier to deal with that unease when you can plow through chapters rather than waiting week after week in that state of rising uncertainty. Considered it myself TBH. But if so it still means people are invested!
Lily your princess is pissed at you. Try talking to her instead of making statements.
Yeah Taylor you are the boss. Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them.
You happen to have both of those qualities. Its a had job but you're stepping up to do it.
It's good but it's tense. Maybe some people are putting it off for an arc or two, until certain things are wound up? It's easier to deal with that unease when you can plow through chapters rather than waiting week after week in that state of rising uncertainty. Considered it myself TBH. But if so it still means people are invested!
Pretty much this. I'm loving the story, and really loving the relationship between Taylor and Rachel, but it looks like there's so much trouble coming that I'm almost afraid to read each update. It took them so long to get to the good place they were in, and while I trust that a story named for their relationship won't end without their happy ending together, I don't know if I can go however many weeks it will take for things to be fixed between them when it all goes to hell. If it all goes to hell.
We're here for the love of shipping. I assume I'm not the only one, but the thing that called me to WolfSpider was it's interesting take on that, Taylor and Rachel. The current arc is both moving focus away from their relationship, and giving strong hints that there is going to be trouble in it. It's still a good story and your writing is amazing, but I am here for the ship and the ship is in trouble.
I hope you don't change anything because readers think this way, because the make up will, you know, make up for all the pain in between. I'm just going to hide for a little while and hope that things are happy again by the time I get back.
I think you need to cool down a bit on that front. You seem to do this every update and the chapter hadn't been out for long when you made that post. SV is kind of low traffic in the first place, the only stuff that seems to get a lot of comments here is the political threads.
I think you need to cool down a bit on that front. You seem to do this every update and the chapter hadn't been out for long when you made that post. SV is kind of low traffic in the first place, the only stuff that seems to get a lot of comments here is the political threads.
