I woke up feeling much better. The ideas seemed to have refined themselves and I had just a handful of recipes that had apparently met my unconscious mind's approval. I had to admit, they were pretty impressive. A hybrid of a mantis and hercules beetle for causing pain, a spider-dragonfly for spreading thread, and a few others that impressed me a little less but were probably more utilitarian. The weirdest thing, but which made sense as I thought about it, was that their senses were heightened. I'd given them additional brain mass for sight and hearing, using the extra space from their removed reproductive organs to add that hind brain. With just a bit of focus I realized that these senses would gel better with my human mind: I wouldn't need to zone out as much to sense through them.
I willed myself to spit out one of those mantis-beetles so I could see how it'd work, but my throat locked up. It was like trying to swallow something too big, but in reverse. Nothing would come. I couldn't feel my stomach roiling with whatever nastiness had enveloped the flies.
Well, shit. I'd invented superbugs, but I couldn't make them. Lovely. Oh well, thank god for small favors. I could still control the bugs around me. They'd do for now. I sat up and felt something weird on my head. Had I let bugs perch on it overnight or something? I stretched, feeling my restored physique – yes, I was still excited about that. I was fifteen, sue me – and looked back to the pillow to make sure I hadn't squished any. There weren't any bugs. Instead, my entire head of hair lay on the pillow.
"Daaaaaad!"
(BREAK)
My father had come in to quite a sight: his daughter, strikingly bald, hyperventilating and gawking at her hair all over the pillow. After I'd babbled and cried into his shoulder for a while, I managed to calm down enough to try to explain.
"...So you're a parahuman," he said. It wasn't really a question. "You triggered in the locker." Again, a statement, just to confirm it for himself. "And you can control bugs?" Now it was a question.
"Not just control them," I clarified. "Watch this." I closed my eyes and flipped a mental rolodex back to my first experiment, that modified fly. It wasn't flashy, but it was proof. I hocked it up and spat the violet glob into my hand, letting the fly-thing squirm free. "I can make bugs. I can...see how they work and create new ones. The problem is, the ones I came up with, the best ones? I can't make them for some reason." They melted back down, soaking in through my pores. A crazy idea had me send this mass to my ocular nerves, maybe to shore up my nearsightedness. Maybe it was a placebo effect, but my sight might have improved ever so slightly.
My father was dumbstruck. "I... That's amazing. Kind of creepy, no offense, but amazing. You can make living creatures!"
I shook my head. "Nothing like Nilbog. I can't give them functional brains. They have very, very basic mental processes, maybe inferior to real bugs. Maybe I'll be able to do more in the future." I ran my hand over my pristine scalp. "I still have no idea why I lost my hair, though."
Dad wrapped his arms around me. That little act of approval meant the world to me and I melted into his embrace. "Well, you absorbed the bugs, and bugs don't really have hair. Maybe...you're getting some bug traits?"
I turned a little green at that. I might not have a problem with bugs anymore, but I didn't want compound eyes or a mosquito mouth. "I really hope not. Or if I do, maybe I can influence it. I mean, some beetle armor around my vital organs would be nice. Or spider strength like those Earth-Aleph comics." I turned back to the matter at hand. "But what about my hair? I can't just go around bald!"
My dad would openly admit he wasn't as smart as mom was. He even said that I was smarter than him; that he was better educated, but once that was no longer the case I'd outpace him in the brains department. However, where I'd gotten my shyness from him, he'd learned enough from mom to understand people fairly well. When pressed, he could put up a forceful personality. "This...actually might not be a bad thing." At my incredulous look, he elaborated. "Look, if a new hero shows up using bugs, is about Taylor Hebert's height and build, and has her long, beautiful hair," I tried to suppress my grimace at the fact that I no longer had my long, beautiful hair, "what are people going to think? Someone's bound to put two and two together. But, if Taylor Hebert still has her long, beautiful hair and this new cape seems bald..." He grinned. "We have all your hair right here. We can get a wig made, find somebody who won't talk or pay them extra not to."
Here, my mind took over. "No, we don't need somebody to make a wig. Don't be scared," I added as he raised a questioning brow. I called a swarm of wasps and black widow spiders to me, reaching over to crack the window so they could come in. All in all, dad was taking things amazingly well. He barely shivered at all when confronted with the procession of dangerous creepies. I had the spiders start weaving their gossamer on nothing in particular, then the wasps began chewing it up, mixing it into a super-concrete with their saliva...or whatever bugs have. I knew what it was, but instinctively knowing didn't mean I could name it. The widows went to my hair, gathering it up to the shape of my head and weaving their silk through it. The wasps crawled into the locks from the other side, spitting their creation into my tresses. It dried clear, pasted down like hair glue. The silk would be soft to the touch and comfortable, and I could use sticky webbing to help adhere it to my head.
Dad watched in fascination. "...Hey," he finally said, "remember when we saw that special on civil engineering and scientists were working on mass-producing artificial spider silk?" I nodded, not quite getting where he was going with this. Then again, I was focusing on getting my head shape just right. If I was successful, it would look exactly like natural hair. "Well," he continued, "you've got excellent control of those spiders, and their silk is supposed to be tougher than kevlar at a fraction of the weight. How about you make a costume with them?"
He was caught off-guard as I bowled him over with a hug.
(BREAK)
Monday rolled around and it was time for me to go back to school. I'd managed to catch up on all my assignments over the weekend, with the help of some special bugs.
An interesting thing to note about humans is that there really isn't such a thing as multitasking. If we try to do more than one thing at once, we sacrifice efficiency for versatility. Same thing was basically true for capes and powers, actually. Sometimes you got somebody like Alexandria who seemed to get the best stuff, but most of the time capes with a wider array of powers had ones that were, individually, much weaker than somebody who had only one power.
I didn't have the multitasking problem. Some aspect of my power granted me the ability to devote 100% of my focus to every task, no matter how many there were, as long as my senses could handle them. With my eyeball bugs there to read the textbooks, hercules beetles to help hold the pencils and ants to move them, I was writing papers for three different classes all at once. Any more than that and I couldn't focus on the answers. Bugs were a lot simpler than Jane Eyre.
So I walked into Winslow with my head held high. I had power. I had control. My relationship with my father was so much better. Sure, the parts of me that had been beaten down over the multi-year hate campaign told me I was a monster, something horrific and aberrant. In fact, my very primal being would tell me that in the dark of night. But I'd survived the hate, thought of myself that way even before I triggered. I just quashed the thoughts and moved forward. I was better than my bullies. I had always been better morally and now I was better physically too. Yeah, it was petty but I think I'd earned a little pettiness by that point.
First period was Social Studies with Mr. Gladly, or "Mr. G" as he preferred to be known. Gladly always kept his tie partly undone and wanted to be friends with all the cool kids. If he wasn't such a dick I might have pitied him, but his trying to get into Emma Barnes' good books automatically put him out of mine. Okay, that might've been too petty. He might just be a sad little man who didn't realize what was going on, or ignored it because he wanted so badly to be accepted. It didn't make him a good person if true, but it would also not make him a bad one. I took my seat and got out my homework, feeling confident.
True to form, the Bitches of Eastwick slipped in just before the bell. Emma gave me a smug little grin that just promised future torment and it was everything I could do not to lunge from my seat and beat her to death with it.
Wow, that was violent. Was that the primal insect brainwaves? I looked back at my desk and noticed my homework was gone. Madison was handing it in and gave me a little wave as she went back to her seat. That bitch! I closed my eyes and centered myself, focusing on my bugs. I didn't control them, just took a headcount. That was calming for me, knowing I was part of something so much bigger than school; so much bigger than them.
I drifted in and out as Gladly waxed poetic about the founding of the PRT and Protectorate, mostly thinking about whether I should join the Wards. Maybe I should join New Wave instead. Yes, the PRT had funding and New Wave was mostly a family affair, but they had Panacea. She was a healer, and probably the most accomplished biological cape after Bonesaw of the 9. I'd love to pick her brain.
Gladly started to erase the whiteboard. "Alright everyone, read up on the Wards program for tomorrow. Hebert, can I see you for a moment?"
The snide comments were what I'd expected. "He's probably gonna tell her what a failure she is." "Maybe she's blowing him to try and get a good grade." I tuned them out and stepped up to his desk. He waited until everyone else was out.
"Taylor, do you think I'm blind?"
I just blinked. "You're going to have to elaborate, sir."
"I can see you're being bullied. Why aren't you doing anything?" He fixed me with a sympathetic look.
The Taylor from before the locker would have just ducked her head and suffered, crushed under the knowledge that no-one who could help cared, and no-one who cared could help. I wasn't that girl anymore. "The better question is why aren't you doing anything?" I bit the words out at him. "Your question is like a cop on-scene asking a mugging victim why he didn't defend himself," I continued before he could try to placate me. "You're a teacher. You're supposed to help your students. If you see actions like that, why don't you say something? Or is being one of the cool kids more important to you than actually doing your job?" It took so much effort to keep my swarm in place. They wanted to respond to my emotions, to tear him apart as best they could.
He just stared me down, his expression having gone cold. "That will be all, Taylor."
I didn't even dignify him with a response. I just stalked out. Right into the Terror Trio. Fuck.
"I wonder what Mr. G wanted," Madison asked to her friends, though it was directed at me, "a quickie?"
"Probably," Sophia agreed. "I mean, look at the little whore, stuffing her bra to try to look remotely like a girl."
"I'd hoped she wouldn't come back," Emma piped up. "You'd think she'd realize nobody wants her here. She's ugly, stupid and everyone hates her."
Gladly just walked past. He eyed me but kept going, despite having clearly heard the insults. Well fuck him and fuck them too. Just because I wasn't going to use my powers, I wasn't going to let these cunts walk all over me.
"Really, girls?" I spoke with a confident smile. "This from the prepubescent," I settled my gaze on Madison, "the bimbo," Emma, "and the thug?" I stopped at Sophia, holding her gaze. She was fairly tall, but I had a couple of inches on even her. I took advantage of that and loomed as best as my still admittedly gangly frame could manage. "I figure Madison here plays up the schoolgirl angle for whichever teachers are pedophiles in the classes where she can't simply steal the homework," I sneered, "since obviously she's too fucking stupid to succeed otherwise." I raised my voice to a brief shout, cutting off Emma's retort. "But Emma here's the most pitiful. Just because she has tits and her daddy has money, she thinks she's queen of the school. I'll see you in twenty years, Barnes, when I'm wealthy from my own achievements and you're a silicone-filled trophy wife. Or maybe you'll get lucky, fuck a celebrity, and get the time slot after the Kardashians."
For once, the crowd was silent. The victim was finally striking back, and hitting hard. They were waiting to see which side they should support. Fucking lemmings. I let my eyes drift back to Sophia. "And Hess, I can't even pity you. You're a violent, hateful thug who can run fast. You're pretty much every argument E88 has against blacks. Maybe I should let Kaiser know where your family lives." My voice took on an exceedingly dangerous tone. "You tried to kill me. It's only fair I return the favor, with interest, isn't it?" I watched the color drain and return the Sophia's face, her mind warring between fear and outrage. "But I won't," I continued. "Because I'm better than you. You have to hurt other people just to validate your own existence. I have a father who loves me and grades good enough to get into Arcadia. Maybe I should transfer and leave you all here in this shithole, just like you left me in that locker. So no, I'm not going to get you back for all of the evil things you've done to me. But I won't take any more abuse." I stepped into Sophia's personal space, flexing up what little muscle I'd built. Amazingly, from what I could see of myself from my bugs' eyes, my skinny frame actually made me look more ripped. "You come after me, or my family, and I will hurt you. I'll make you know the fear and pain I suffered as the maggots ate into my veins and I bled into that filth, knowing I would die." I pushed past her, elbowing Emma and Sophia. "This is your only warning," I spat as I left.
I managed to keep my composure – barely – until I made it to the bathroom. I ducked into a stall, locked it and sat down before choking down a sob. How had I done that? I'd been terrified the entire time. Surprisingly, the answer came to me. They didn't matter. My happiness mattered, my dad's happiness mattered. We were good people and we deserved peace. And, just like the Protectorate, we might have to fight to achieve that peace.
My stomach started churning, violently. I hopped off the toilet and turned, disgust welling within me as I was forced to grab the seat. I vomited a flood, a constant gush of that purple slime. It was thicker than before, more like pudding than chunky water. I shakily flushed the toilet as the bowl began to fill, but it continued to spew from me. How did I have this much in me? I could feel more churning, not just my stomach. My entire abdominal region was rearranging itself under my skin. The vomit finally stopped and I flushed for a third time, swallowing down the last of the residue. Oddly, it felt fine to swallow. None of the disgust or burning that typical barf brought with it. More than that, it felt filling, like a hearty meal. That was freaky, but I was a girl who could hock up bugs like others could spit loogies. It wasn't that bizarre. Hell, placenta was supposed to be nutritious, or at least that's what those crazy moms who claimed it should be eaten said. Maybe the same was for that goop.
I heard laughter. I recognized the laughter. "I knew you were a pussy, Hebert," Sophia said. "Just more prey. You tried to talk tough but you couldn't even make it to next period without puking your guts out. You're worthless."
Emma joined in. "Yeah, and I'll bet now you're gonna go cry yourself to sleep for two more weeks."
That was it. Something was pulled to its limit and snapped. I flung the door open. I idly noted, as I took control of my bugs again, that the bathroom door was open and people were peering in. And still no fucking teachers.
"Oh my god," Madison giggled, "she really is crying!"
Tears spilled freely down my cheeks. I didn't bother to wipe them, letting the salty droplets spatter on the floor. "You're using my mother's death against me?" My voice was sharp, accusing, dangerous. That little voice in the back of my head, the one that kept telling me I was an abomination, was silent. I'd seen true inhumanity. "Emma Barnes, you are a monster." The word was stressed to the degree that I imagined it's how the Spanish Inquisition would name someone a heretic. I'd said my peace. Nothing more needed to be expressed. I went to push past them again. Instead, Sophia planted her hand on my sternum and used her entire body weight to shove me back. I stumbled and my back cracked against the toilet pipes. Pain shot through me and for a moment I was worried she'd broken my spine.
Sophia was already on me. She grabbed me by the shoulders, then pulled a hand back to punch me square in the eye. Blood vessels burst and half my vision was red. She tugged me up and threw me against the toilet again. Those hands gripped my shoulders once more and the feral part of my brain took over. I grabbed her arms and pulled her closer, smashing the crown of my skull into her nose. I hauled myself up with her arms, then let go and planted a clumsy kick in her strong abdominals. Still, strength born of desperation and fury sent her practically flying out of the stall, her head impacting the sink. I could feel hot blood dripping out of my eye socket and I turned to the gawking crowd.
"Well!? Someone call the fucking cops!"
I turned back as Sophia started to struggle to her feet. I didn't want to kick her again; she could pull my foot out from under me. She wobbled a little, maybe concussed, so I decided to play on that. I didn't know how to throw a punch to save my life, so instead I delivered a vicious slap to the side of her head. I grabbed a tangle of her hair just as she had mine before shoving me in the locker. My intentions were more immediate, however. I slammed her head into the sink again and let her drop like a sack of rice.
Whimpering caught my attention. I turned to see Madison crouched on the ground, covering her ears, eyes squeezed shut. Good god, she really was just a little kid, wasn't she? But Emma still stood, arms folded under that damn ample bust of hers, a fucking smile on her face. Was that a smile of...pride? "What the fuck are you grinning about!?" I stalked toward her, my bloodlust growing. I was going to kill her and damn the consequences. She must have realized that as her expression turned to fear and she started to back away. Then two school rent-a-cops grabbed my arms, one of them lodging a billy club under my chin and making me choke.
690
Vherstinae
Jan 5, 2015
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Vherstinae
Vherstinae
Patron Saint of Cuddlebugs
Jan 5, 2015
#5
Spawn 1.03
No matter what that damn skeleton of a principal demanded, no matter how loud she yelled, I refused to speak without my father present. I figured if this was an analogue to some crime drama, dad was a fair substitute for my lawyer. Of course, the monsters had an actual lawyer in the form of Alan Barnes.
Of course, once my father had arrived, things were even more tense. Two generations of former friends, on opposite sides of a very real conflict.
"Miss Hebert," Principal Blackwell glared down at me along her knifelike nose, her tuft of white-blonde hair ringing her head like some sort of oversized mushroom, "attacking another student is a very serious offense."
"Fucking right it is," I spat. "So why are you telling this to the victim rather than the perpetrator?"
Her glare hardened. "You are the perpetrator, Miss Hebert."
"Bullshit."
"I'd thank you not to use such offensive language, Miss."
"And I'd thank you not to defend criminals, Ma'am." I couldn't keep the snarl out of my voice. "On whose word am I the perpetrator?"
"On Miss Barnes, Hess and Clements' word," she said matter-of-factly.
My dad tried to speak up but the fury was boiling within me. I replied before he could get a syllable out. "And are you taking their word because there are more of them? Or is it because Emma's dad is rich and Sophia's a track star? Justice, Principal, is supposed to treat everyone equally. The shy girl might not be as valuable to you, but are you actually going to sit there and insist that these three utter psychopaths are guiltless?" I stood and slapped my hands onto her desk. "How about you ask the dozen-plus other students who witnessed the fight in the bathroom? How about you ask the teachers? Mr. Gladly for one admitted he knew I was being bullied, though he also admitted he'd do jack fuck about it." At this, my dad's face became even harder.
Alan Barnes spoke up. "Winslow High School had originally declined to press charges against Taylor after her attack on the school staff last month, but with this now, I'll be representing the school in a civil suit against you as well as filing criminal charges against your daughter for her vicious and unfounded attack on my daughter's friend, Danny."
"You mean the panic attack she suffered after nearly dying in a locker full of biological waste, Alan? They had to clean it out with a hazmat team! And ask your daughter's friend how my own daughter got the very distinct imprint of the toilet pipe's screw in her back if she attacked Sophia and shoved her out of the stall?"
"Mr. Hebert," Blackwell interjected, "we just want this to go away. We won't press charges or counter-suits if you just agree not to press your own charges or suits."
"Danny, any court case like that will be fraught with numerous depositions, motions, counter-motions, hearings, and all of those cost money. Are you willing to bankrupt yourself as well as having Taylor sent to juvenile detention?"
My dad looked ready to lunge. Alan Barnes was bigger and more muscular than my dad, but dad was with the dockworkers almost every day. He was wiry. He could win, but a fistfight would prove nothing. I placed my hand on his arm and very gently gripped him. I turned back to Blackwell. "Alright, we'll drop the charges if you'll give us a single concession. You don't want any more of these fights. Transfer me to Arcadia. I have the grades, and you get to keep your track star."
The principal shook her head. "The waiting list for Arcadia is already hundreds of names long. We can't demand a fast-track just because of one bad apple with delusions of grandeur."
I just squeezed dad's arm harder, partly to keep him from flying off the handle and partly to keep my own hackles from rising. I stood. "Fuck you very much for taking time out of your day, then." I turned back to the trio and their wealthy backer. "Sophia, I'm considering rescinding my earlier mercy." I decided to just let her figure that out on her own. I slipped my hand into dad's and led him out. "Take me home," I said in a voice that was as small as I felt at that moment.
(BREAK)
The drive had been silent, both of us stewing in our bile. When we got home I took dad's hand again, led him to the couch, and fell against him. I let myself sob. He did as well, running his fingers through my hair. Eventually the wig came loose and fell off, which just made us both cry harder. I don't know how long it was before we'd cried out enough pain to speak rationally.
"Why didn't you fight, Taylor?" he whispered, apparently not trusting his voice not to crack. I didn't blame him.
"Because they'd win. The law always shits on the little people. Because it'd be so easy for me to whip E88 into a frenzy and get Sophia's whole family killed, but I'm not a monster like them. Because we don't have to be the little people." At his curious expression, I continued, idly running my finger over the bloody tear stains from my wounded left eye. "I have powers. If I join the Wards, they'll move me to Arcadia. I can make a difference, be a better person, and be free. We won't have to deal with those evil people any more. We just have to be good people," I mumbled into his chest.
(BREAK)
I must have cried myself to sleep, because I woke up the next morning in bed with a makeshift tissue bandage over my left eye. I got dressed and walked downstairs. After hugging dad, I told him to call the PRT and set up an appointment.
"Now? Taylor, you're still hurt."
I hoped that my retort sounded more resolute than defiant. "The sooner I get inducted, the sooner I can get the fuck out of that hellhole." I realized after the fact that I was using very strong language around my father. He was either too drained to comment or was of such like mind that he didn't care.
Dad called while I made breakfast. It was just grapefruit and toast, but it was the first breakfast of a new stage in my life. It tasted wonderful. The PRT contact told us to head to the little travel agency at the strip mall, where we'd catch a van to Protectorate HQ. I appreciated the anonymity. Our appointment was scheduled for eleven, so I took a two-lap run around our neighborhood's little stamp of houses. When I got back, I toweled off, got a drink, fixed my wig and hopped in the car with dad.
If the travel agency got too much traffic, I figured people would get suspicious. Plus, it was out in the boonies by the docks, like us. Probably just one of many stations. My suspicions were confirmed as dad and I were ushered out the travel agency's back door and into a white van. Inside was a very comfortable little setup with bucket seats. According to the PRT officer who sat back with us, the travel agency was real and the employees made a bit more than their regular salary on the stipulation that they didn't report anything PRT-related. Again, I thought this was very sensible. The Brockton Bay Protectorate were rather ineffectual in my opinion, but they had good policies in place at the very least. And they were my way out.
(BREAK)
The term "Protectorate HQ," as it turned out, was a total misnomer. It was mostly paper-pushers and some auditoriums (wouldn't the proper plural be auditoria?) for tour groups to meet heroes. The actual Protectorate headquarters was the Rig, a heavily modified oil rig that spent most of its time floating in the bay. In bad storms, we'd seen it drift over and dock into one of two piers on either side of the bay.
After dad and I had spent too much time filling out paperwork, we were led to the shuttle that would ferry me over to the Rig, where I'd be tested to prove I was parahuman, and then to categorize me. I'd already figured I was a high-level Master, with some points in Thinker and maybe Breaker, with my goo and custom bugs. Or would that roll into Master? Well, my hair had fallen out and I could add bugs to my body, so at least Breaker 1, I guessed. I gave dad a hug, sad that we had to part ways here, but it was – like so many other Protectorate policies – sensible. Too many civilians in the headquarters was dangerous. They might learn something and they couldn't defend themselves against hostile capes. Best to keep my dad ignorant and safe.
I was met by Miss Militia, second in command of the Brockton Bay Protectorate. I'd figured it would be her. Armsmaster might be an excellent tactician, but he didn't have what you call "the social skills." Yes, I did mentally quote that in Mama Boucher's voice. Miss Militia was only two or so inches shorter than me, her long black hair tied back and the only bit of her dark olive skin visible being her eyes and forehead. She wore modified army fatigues, not as baggy and clearly fitted with armor places. An American flag scarf covered the rest of her face. Her energy weapon was currently in the form of two holstered pistols. Her eyes crinkled with a smile and, somehow, I immediately liked her. "You must be Taylor." She extended a hand to me and I shook it. "I'm Miss Militia. If you decide to join the Wards, you may eventually meet me in my civilian identity. For now, though, come on." She walked with confidence but not arrogance. I could see the difference between her and someone like Emma or Sophia as glaringly as the difference between a dog and an iguana. She sat down with me in some surprisingly average chairs, the kind I'd expect in a teacher's office. I guess even superheroes had to deal with government budgets.
"Now then," she folded one leg over the other, hands atop her knee, "what are your powers?"
I blushed a bit, embarrassed. "Well, it's hard to demonstrate here, but...I control bugs."
She didn't react one way or another. "What kind of bugs?"
"Oh, all kinds. Not just insects, either. Spiders, worms, I think I felt some crabs and lobsters once when I was near the beach. If it's creepy-crawly and has a primitive brain, I think it's fair game."
She nodded. "Anything else?"
For some reason, I didn't tell her about my bug-making power. "Well, I don't know if it's related or just from the wounds I suffered from my trigger event, but my hair fell out." I gestured at my head. "I had my spiders weave my hair into a wig."
She stood and motioned for me to walk with her. "Trigger events are terrible things, Taylor. They are, at the time, the worst experience of a person's life. We don't discuss them because some people can still end up mentally back in the situation that caused them to trigger." I was reminded of the locker. "However," she continued as we exited to the Rig's exterior, "we are legally required to ask all Wards about their trigger events. We don't want them going into a situation that could cause them to break down, or for them to have a particular vendetta." She checked to make sure I was following the conversation. "Now, are there any bugs in your range?"
I nodded. "Some dragonflies. Want me to bring them up and show you?" She nodded and I went to work. It was effortless now, as simple as moving my hand or blinking. I had the dragonflies spiral up in a double helix pattern, then open into a circle, then come to rest on our heads. Miss Militia giggled. "I can control them for the most precise purposes, and I'm working on seeing and hearing through them. It's hit-and-miss, okay, more miss than hit right now. Bug brains are too simple to translate well."
"Are they safe?" At first I thought she was afraid of bugs, but her tone spoke of curiosity and of worry not for herself but for others.
I nodded, the dragonflies hanging on as my head moved. "While they're under my command, there's no instinct. They follow my orders explicitly. If I tell them to kamikaze or to feed themselves to spiders, they will. If I tell a black widow not to bite no matter what, it won't bite even if squished." I sent them off then released them from my control, watching them flit around.
"How many can you control at once?"
I shrugged. "As many as are in range. I haven't found a limit yet, and I've been in the hundreds of thousands at least. After a while counting becomes tedious, so I only stop to take stock if it's important to me. Otherwise, just having 'a lot' is enough."
"Well," she said thoughtfully, and I finally realized that she didn't have an accent. Parahumans Online said Miss Militia was Middle-Eastern by birth and had been naturalized, but I suppose I'd always expected in the back of my mind for her to have a bit of an accent. "Considering your fine control and ability to sense through your...swarm?" Yeah, that term sounded perfect. "I'd say you're at least a Master 5 or 6. With practice you might make it to 7. Likewise, with your senses, that's at least a Thinker 1 when you've got enough bugs."
Instead of shoulder angel and devil, I had shoulder spider and ladybug. Ladybug said I should tell Miss Militia about my other power, especially since it'll come out eventually. Better to be upfront and safe. Spider said no, that they'd think I could be another Nilbog. I might end up killed to be safe, or drugged up and used as a minion generator, or any other horrific thing my damaged brain could imagine. I decided to placate them both. I'd wait to learn more about the Wards. If I somehow decided I wouldn't join, I didn't want them armed with that knowledge. "So, what's next?" My question broke the somewhat pregnant pause that had stretched between us.
"Next, you meet the Wards. You should know who you'll be working with before you decide to join." She led me back inside and through the Rig, stopping at a large metal door. The heroine pressed a green button with a stylized domino mask and I could hear something like an alarm clock going off on the other side. "It's a signal to the Wards that a civilian is coming through," Miss Militia answered my unspoken question. "That way they have time to get their masks on."
After about fifteen seconds of buzzing, the door slid open to reveal a petite, quite cute girl in a green and teal outfit. I immediately recognized her as Vista. "Hello," she chirped and extended a hand. "I'm Vista, technically the most senior member of the Wards."
I took her hand with a smile. "Taylor. Nice to meet you. And technically the most senior?"
She nodded. "I may be thirteen, but I triggered at seven. I have more years of experience in the field than anyone else currently in the Wards. Aegis is the oldest, though, so he's leader. Chronological seniority policy," she grumbled, puffing out her cheeks.
Miss Militia smiled at the two of us. "Alright, I'll leave you to meet the rest of the Wards. I hope you like them, Taylor."
Vista led me inside and the door hissed shut behind us. "I hope you decide to join. I could use another girl to talk with."
I raised an eyebrow. "Isn't Shadow Stalker a girl?"
She actually snorted. "Aegis would get on my case if he heard me say this, but Shadow Stalker is a raging bitch. She's the most mean-spirited good guy I've ever met. So yeah, technically female in the same way Cujo was technically a dog."
I frowned, images of the monsters I was trying to leave behind coming to mind. "I hope the others aren't like that."
"Oh no," she bounced back from her grump, "the others are all really nice. Well, Clockblocker's annoying but he usually means well. Aegis is business most of the time but he's a big teddy bear under it all. Kid Win is fun and Gallant is exactly like his name. Sweetest guy on the team."
I noticed her cheeks color a little under her visor but decided not to press.
"Did I hear somebody talking about me?" Clockblocker rounded the corner. I noticed that some of the clocks on his costume really were moving, and the clock on his full helmet had all three hands tick-tocking in real time.
"Yes, Clock, and you also heard the signal, so how are you so late? That many clocks, the least you could do is be on time," Vista snarked.
"Ouch," he chuckled and offered me a handshake. "I'm Clockblocker, but you probably already knew that." He inclined his head slightly while I shook his hand, and I realized he was checking me out. At that point two emotions warred in my mind. The first was offense at how blatantly he was doing it, especially behind his helmet. The second was giddiness due to actually being acknowledged as female and attractive. I eventually decided to shelve the whole thing and continue with introductions, giving him my name in return. "Gallant and Kid are off today, and Shadow Stalker's apparently running late, but we can find Aegis somewhere. By the way, speaking of ouch..." He tapped his visor where his left eye would be.
"Master of subtlety, you are," commented the diminutive senior Ward.
I shrugged. "Got in a fight with the same people who caused my trigger. I came out ahead in terms of damage."
"No offense," came another new voice, "but you don't look like a fighter." Aegis was broad-shouldered and muscular, the mocha skin of his mouth and jaw the only part of his face exposed. His costume was a mix of rust and silver, with a shield emblazoned on his chest.
"I'm not, really, but there's something to be said for getting so pissed you go into a berserker rage."
"I can imagine you'd be angry. Trigger events are nasty business," Aegis commented. "What powers did you get to make up for it?"
I smiled. "I control bugs."
"No offense," Vista piped up, "but that's creepy. And gross."
"I could have ladybugs do a parade for you," I offered.
"And now un-gross."
We all laughed at that.
"No, it's actually pretty cool. I can control them down to the smallest detail, and send them on precise missions. I actually practiced having them style my hair." It was technically true, though the hair wasn't attached to my head at the time.
"So you could be a spy?" Aegis offered.
"Or a saboteur," I grinned. "A swarm of flies carries in a net of spider silk to drop on the bad guys. Stronger than kevlar and sticky on top of that."
"Okay," Clockblocker commented, "that sounds badass."
"I set the ones back home on autopilot. My spiders are programmed to weave silk for my costume, then eat other bugs so they don't weave themselves to death."
"Really badass," the time-stopper amended.
"What is?"
...No. No. I did not recognize that voice.
Shadow Stalker walked in and promptly froze.
NO!
She was the right height, the right build, her voice sounded the same...
I voice my suspicion. It came out as an accusation. "Sophia Hess."
I couldn't be certain if the soft gasps of surprise were from my knowledge of her identity or from the sheer murder in my voice.
"Hebert, what the fuck are you doing here?"
"I triggered when you tried to murder me, you monster." I didn't raise my voice, but even I could feel the bite of my cold tone.
Clockblocker stepped between us, probably ready to freeze whoever lunged.
"What are you talking about?" Aegis' tone wasn't accusatory like the other adults'. He sounded genuinely inquisitive.
"She's a crazy bitch who's been stalking me for a year," Sophia blustered.
"More lies and accusations," I snarled. I could feel my midsection churning, begging to spit up something new. "This psychopath has been conducting a terror campaign against me for two years. A month ago she trapped me inside a maggot-infested biohazard and left me to be eaten alive. I was comatose for a week." I finally put the pieces together. "That's why the school never did anything. It wasn't because you're a track star, or Emma's dad is rich. It's because you're a Ward! How is a Monster like you a hero?" I was clearly pronouncing it with a capital letter now, like Endbringer. "You're always going on about predators and prey. If I'd known you had powers, I'd have pegged you for building a CV to join the Slaughterhouse 9. They'd recognize a fellow Monster." How was I remaining relatively calm? I still hadn't raised my voice.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa." The distance between Sophia and me more than tripled as Vista spoke up. "Look, whatever's going on, it's only worse because it involves parahumans. Clock, keep between them. I'll keep them apart. Aegis, could you please contact Director Piggot?"
Instinctively, I wanted to tell them to fuck off, that I wasn't going to expose myself to another betrayal by an authority figure. But no, Sophia was not going to get another free ride. She was a hero? Someone as evil as her was allowed to be a hero? Fuck that. If this Piggy or whatever didn't come through, I would. Kaiser's people would get a tip.
If I'd had more time to think, I probably would have wondered about my new vindictive streak. I'd never been this violent, never been this willing to act on a grudge. Were my Master powers somehow affecting my mind? Whatever. I'd figure it out later. For now, I marched alongside Clockblocker.