by wildbow
“She’s quick witted, then,” I said.
“Not exactly what I meant. Might be that I’m extrapolating too much from too small a sample of info. Far as I know, she’s never been in a serious fight, but when you add that to the whole strong and desperate bits I just mentioned, it makes for a scary combo.”
“How’s that?” Grue asked.
“Right now, she’s scared, angry, desperate and frustrated, except all the dials are turned up to eleven,” Ballistic said. “She can’t hold back her emotions like she used to. She goes berserk at the drop of a hat, and this? Losing what she sees as her last shot? That’s more than a dropped hat. If she were a person who relied on her brain in a crisis, she’d be at a disadvantage, because she’s not in any position to think straight. The way she really operates, though? She won’t be any less effective because of that fear and panic. I don’t plan on getting in her way. I’m sitting out on this fight, for the record.”
“You’re out? You’re not working with us?” Grue asked.
“I’m holding territory, but I’m not a member of the team.”
“Same,” Parian said. “Sorry.”
“You don’t have to be sorry,” I said. “But I think you’re underestimating how bad this situation could be. I don’t think we can afford to have anyone sit out.”
“She’s scary,” Ballistic said. “Let’s settle for that. You don’t get within Behemoth’s range, you don’t aim for the long fight against Leviathan, and you don’t send everyone against the Simurgh at once, or you’re screwing yourself over. Trust me when I say this is better all around if I skip this fight. She knows me, and she’ll use me against you.”
“You talk about her being clever, but she didn’t seem that on the ball when we talked to her over the phone, back in your base,” I said. “You guys were lying to her about Tattletale, about Dinah, and other stuff. If she’s that clever, why didn’t she pick up on it?”
Ballistic sighed. “Honestly? She put her trust in Krouse, in Trickster. He betrayed that trust, and he did it pretty damn well. I don’t fault him for it, exactly. She couldn’t know the whole truth, or we’d be in exactly this situation, just at a worse time.”
“But you do fault him for something,” Tattletale said.
“He became team leader more because he’s fast at thinking on his feet than because he’s good at making the right call. He took it on himself to make a whole lot of wrong calls. I let a lot of that slide because he used to be a friend. And maybe because they weren’t blatantly wrong. Just a little wrong, a little disagreeable. But at some point every call was a disagreeable call and every word out of his mouth became a white lie. He started lying to us for what he saw as our own good. Not Noelle with her delicate state, but us.”
“And you realized he was never going to change,” Tattletale said. “His focus would always be on Noelle and himself, no matter what happened.”
“Yeah. We shouldn’t discount Trickster, by the way. Either as a threat or as a possible solution.”
“I hadn’t forgotten the possibility that he’d stick around and make life harder on us,” Grue said. “But solution?”
“Yeah. Whatever else, I’d say Noelle still believes in him. We can use that. If we’re willing.”
“And that’s only if we can get him on board,” I said.
Ballistic nodded.
“What does she do?” Grue asked.
Ballistic sighed. “Besides the ridiculous super strength, durability and the regeneration?”
“Besides that,” Grue said.
“To put it briefly, if it’s dead, she absorbs it and it becomes a part of her—”
“Powers included?” I asked.
“Don’t know. Haven’t had cause to believe it. In terms of raw material, raw mass? Yeah. She eats, she grows. But here’s the thing. If she absorbs something alive, she clones it. More clones if she’s angrier, we think. We don’t have a large sample size of incidents.”
“Clones?” I asked. “Isn’t that an advantage for us?”
“No. Because whatever they are, the extras come out wrong. They come out ugly, their powers don’t always work exactly the same way, they’re screwed up in the head, but all that aside, they’re stronger, tougher, they have the memories of the parent. Sometimes that means they’re just homicidal. Other times, it means they’re just as sane as you are, but their priorities are reversed. They want to end your existence, kill everything you want to protect, hurt everyone you care about, and dismantle your life.”
“Evil twins,” Regent said. “She makes evil twins.”
Ballistic nodded. “And that’s why I’m sitting this one out. She’ll come after me if she sees me, especially if she heard the bit about my defection. If she gets me, that’s even worse, because the clones she’ll get are capable of killing anyone and everyone here, easy.”
Bitch spoke for the first time. “Animals too?”
“Animals too. And microbes too, based on stuff she’s said before, though she might just treat them like she does dead material. I don’t know. For all we know, it ties into some other power.”
“Do the clones have an expiry date?” I asked.
“Not as far as I know. Any time we’ve had to deal with them, we were pretty ruthless in putting them down. They sort of made a point of being too problematic to be left alone.”
“They’re still people,” Parian said.
“No,” Ballistic replied. “They really aren’t. Trust me on that count.”
“I’ve got soldiers at key locations, keeping an eye out,” Tattletale said. “Just a few guys, and I’m paying them an astronomical amount. I won’t be able to keep it up for more than a few days.”
“Which is how you got this lead?” I asked.
She nodded.
“Okay,” I said. “Good. But we’ll need a way to deal with her. Ballistic, you said she regenerates?”
“Not that fast, but fast enough. Her lower body is tougher, but her upper body isn’t exactly vulnerable. I’ve seen her take bullets and barely even flinch, and that included one to the head. They do damage, maybe, but it heals too quickly for it to matter. And I think she’s gotten bigger and tougher since I saw her last.”
“When was that?”
“Maybe a week after we got to this city. A while before Coil put in the first vault door, there was just a garage door. I didn’t want to risk getting too close, not with the lethality of my power and the damage she could do. Her appetite’s increased, so it might be a pretty dramatic difference in strength from the last time I saw her out and about. You guys are going to have your hands full trying to kill her.”
“I don’t want to kill her,” I said. “Not unless we absolutely have no other choice.”
Ballistic turned my way, and he had a funny tone in his voice as he asked, “How do you think you’re going to handle this?”
“Containment,” I said. “If I get enough spiders together, I could try to surround her in web.”
“Not going to work,” Ballistic said.
“It almost worked against Crawler.”
“She’s stronger than Crawler.”
“Then we go to the heroes. We get their assistance,” I said. “Containment foam on top of my web. Vista to slow Noelle down, Clockblocker to put her on pause.”
“Tattletale told you, didn’t she? That we think she’s turning into an Endbringer. Why is lethal force okay against Leviathan but not against Noelle?”
“She’s still a person, under it all,” I said. “She deserves a chance.”
“You don’t seem to care at all about the subject of killing a friend, Ballistic,” Tattletale added.
“She’s not my friend. She’s not the person I knew. Maybe she has the same memories, fragments of the same personality, but that’s only surface stuff. Because even the bits that look like Noelle aren’t really anything resembling the original. She wouldn’t be able to heal bullet wounds like she did if they were. Stands to reason the bits that think li
ke her aren’t either.”
“Pretty cold,” Tattletale said.
“Fuck you,” Ballistic replied. He slid off the stuffed animal’s back. “I hope what I said was useful, and I wish you luck, but fuck you. You don’t get it.”
Parian’s animal had stopped, but Ballistic was already striding away, in the general direction of his lair.
“Go on,” Tattletale urged Parian. The stuffed dog started walking again.
“You told me I could protect people,” Parian said. It took me a second to realize she was addressing me. “How do I do that?”
“We could use your stuffed animals. If she can’t absorb them, then they’re frontline combatants we can use.”
“I don’t want to fight.”
“I really don’t think we have a choice. You fought Leviathan,” I said.
Parian shook her head, “I almost wish I didn’t. I only did it because I promised myself when I was a kid, when I first learned about the Endbringers, that I would fight them if I ever got powers. That’s why I did it, because I didn’t want to betray the kid version of myself.”
“Wouldn’t your child-self want you to do this?” I asked.
“I don’t know. But I didn’t make any promises to myself about this.”
Tattletale cut in. “Heads up. I don’t think we’re the only ones checking out the scene.”
“Who?” Parian asked.
“The Protectorate. The Wards. If you’re not up for a potential fight, this is the time to back off.”
“The Wards?” Parian asked.
Tattletale nodded.
“I’ll stay. I won’t fight, but I’ll stay. I made my decision and I’ll own up to it.”
It’s at least one more body on our side, giving them less reason to pick a fight.
“We do this peacefully,” I said. “We need their help, so we avoid confrontation.”
“This isn’t going to work,” Regent said. “Just saying.”
“We’ll try it anyways,” I replied.
I could sense the heroes well before we reached them, gathered by a ruined building. I used my bugs to get their attention before we appeared around the corner.
“Undersiders,” Miss Militia spoke, rifle raised and pointed in our direction. The other members of the local hero teams were at the ready just behind her. I noted Flechette gesturing, Parian shaking her head.
“Miss Militia,” I responded, when I realized none of the others were responding. Should have hashed this out with Tattletale. She can do the negotiating with hostile parties better than I can.
“You do this?” She jerked her head in the direction of the wreckage, not moving the rifle. Her voice was hard.
“Indirectly,” I replied. “But not really, no. I don’t know what that is, exactly.”
“I find that hard to believe,” she responded. “A hell of a lot of damage, reports of howling eerily similar to the reports we’ve had for Hellhound’s animals, and let’s not forget your penchant for kidnapping the good guys. Shadow Stalker, Piggot, Calvert…”
Kidnapping heroes?
With my bugs, I did a head count. Someone was missing.
How? Dinah said Noelle wouldn’t do any major damage before dawn.
“Vista,” I finished Miss Militia’s thought. “You’re talking about Vista.”
Interlude 18 (Donation Bonus #1)
“I am Kevin Norton, and I am the most powerful man in the world.”
Kevin made a hand signal, and Duke woofed lightly.
“I’ve saved millions of lives. Billions.”
Another hand signal bidding another small woof of agreement.
He held out his mug, but the pedestrians around him simply avoided him, ignored it.
The sole of Kevin Norton’s old shoe had come free at the toe a few days ago, and the tip of it dipped too low, catching on the cobblestone path. He tripped and nearly fell, and Duke danced out of the way, ears perked in alarm.
Kevin caught his balance by grabbing onto a bystander, a woman, and she almost thrust him away, her face suddenly etched in disgust.
“Sorry about that, miss,” Kevin told her, as she hurried on her way, quickening her pace. When he didn’t get a response, he raised his voice so she could hear him as he finished, “A sad thing, that a man of my stature can’t afford shoes, isn’t it?”
Kevin’s gait bordered on a limp as he adjusted his walk to avoid tripping on his shoe again. The path here was old-fashioned, cobblestones worn by the tread of hundreds of people over countless years. The area around him wasn’t so old. Renovated storefronts and new buildings were popping up, mimicking the older British styles while staying current, fresh and new.
“We won’t be able to stay for long, Duke,” Kevin said. “Amount of money the city’s dropping here, they won’t want vagrants around. But I only want to pay a visit to my old haunt, see what’s become of it.”
He saw a family approaching, held out a mug, “A few pence, for the most powerful man in the world?”
The kids stared, but the parents averted their eyes, the mother putting her hands around the little one’s shoulders as if to protect them.
Kevin shrugged and walked on. There were only a handful of coins inside the mug, rattling around as his arm swung.
“You wouldn’t remember much of this area,” he told Duke, “I’d already moved on from this before I found you. Ran. I’d pass through a few times when you were still small enough to hold in my hand, but I’d avoid this particular spot. Won’t say I haven’t missed it. The old owners used to give me some of the leftovers.”
He pointed, “Just over there, there was a bakery. They’d throw out anything more than a day old. Bags of rolls and pastries. Sausage rolls, pasties. When they realized I was coming by to partake, supplement my meager diet, they started leaving the bags to one side of the bins so it wouldn’t get soiled, and they’d leave other things. Little things. Some salads, so I had some greens. A comb, a toothbrush, soap, deodorant. Gentle folk.”
Kevin reached down to scratch the top of Duke’s head.
“Wonder what’s become of them. Hope the changes around here treated them alright. Be a crying shame if they were forced out and didn’t get what their shops were worth. They deserved that much, at least. More.”
Duke yawned, and ended the yawn with a little whine.
“Me, you ask?” Kevin said. “No. I don’t deserve much of anything. What’s that line, about power and responsibility? Most powerful man in the world, I have a bloody great deal of responsibility. Sure, I go to bed hungry, I slept terribly during that one spell of body lice, but the thing that really costs me sleep is the idea I might have shirked my responsibilities.”
Kevin looked down and Duke met his eyes, tilted his head quizzically.
“I got scared, boy. Because I’m a coward. There’s three good ways to get to where I’m at in life. Not talking about being the most powerful man in the world. Talking about how I don’t have a place to go, not a friend in the world besides you. One way you get like this is a lack of support. Caring family, friends, you can get through almost anything. No one there to back you up? Even the littlest things can knock you down a long way if there’s nobody to catch you.”
There was a dull rumble, and then the rain started pouring down, heavy.
“A summer rain, Duke. About due, isn’t it?”
The few people on the streets ran for cover, and the little side street was nearly emptied in the span of a minute. Kevin stretched his arms, letting the rain soak through him. He dragged his fingers through his hair to comb it back, raised his head to face the sky.
Duke shook himself after only a few seconds, spraying water. It startled Kevin from his reverie.
“What was I saying? Oh, right. Second way you get to circumstances like mine? Sickness. Sometimes that’s in the head, sometimes it’s in the body, and sometimes it’s a sickness you get in a bottle or a pipe. Third path is the one I took. Cowardice. Run away from life. Run away from yourself. Som
etimes the bottle’s a cowardice too. Run away from the truth about what you’re doing to yourself, I dunno. I have you to thank for sparing me that sin.”
He felt a cold wind and stepped under the eaves of the newly renovated buildings, to find brief shelter from the downpour as he walked.
“Too set in my ways to change, to live a braver life. Just coming back here is taking all the courage I can sum up.”
Duke forced his head under Kevin’s hand, and Kevin couldn’t help but smile.
“Good boy, good boy. Appreciate the moral support.”
They had to step out into the rain again to cross the street. Kevin quickened his pace, and Duke loped alongside him.
He ducked under the next set of eaves as he reached the next block. “I fucked up, Duke. I know that. I gotta live with that. I did a lot. More than most would, I think. But it’s not enough. If my gut’s right, it’s not nearly enough. Shit.”
Just down the street, a shop door opened and a young woman stepped outside. Petite, pretty, twenty-something, her black hair cut to a pixie cut and topped by a dark gray beret. Black tights, short, pleated gray skirt. Fashionable. She turned his way, an umbrella in hand.
He smiled at her, stepped out into the rain as they crossed paths, so she wouldn’t have to.
“Mister?” she called out.
He was just returning to the shelter of the eaves. “What is it?”
“Here,” she said. She had her wallet out, and handed him a ten pound note. He glanced at her.
Taking the note, he said, “Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome.”
He gave her a funny look. She was looking him in the eyes. “Usually I get two types. Some give me the money and don’t even give me a second glance. Those who do look at me are sure to lecture me on how I should spend it. So feel free to wag your finger at me, tell me I shouldn’t spend it on drugs, drink and fags. I’ll understand, and I can look suitably ashamed.”