by wildbow
“You’re rambling,” Tattletale admonished.
“Anyways, this is kind of like the movies where you have the stray dog the kid found and the first owner, and it’s the end of the movie and they’re both calling to see who the dog is willing to come to.”
“That’s the fucking stupidest thing I ever heard of,” Rachel said.
Imp only grinned. “And the dog starts going one way, until the bad owner does something like bring a choke chain out of his pocket, gets out the riding crop he used to beat the dog in the beginning of the movie, or or says a fatally stupid line, like, ‘come on, my precious money machine.’ And the dog gives the abusive owner a final fuck you, peeing on him before going back to the kid, or something like that.”
“My precious money machine,” I echoed Imp. “Really?”
“You know what I mean. Just that line that signals, ‘I’m so evil.’”
“Be better if the dog tore out the abusive asshole’s throat,” Rachel said.
“That’d be so fucking awesome,” Imp said, grinning. “I went through this phase where, you know, I sort of wanted a movie to change it up. Catch the kids off guard, show them that, hey, the good guy doesn’t always win. Got to the point I was getting depressed after watching those happy flicks. Then my mom’s new boyfriend Lonnie got her ‘cleaned up’, and she started waking up on Saturday mornings, and that was it. No more movie time for Aisha. Never got back into it.”
“That’s too bad,” I murmured. Where the hell is she going with this?
Imp paused, frowning. “Fucking Lonnie. Anyways, I remember wanting the dog to go back to the first owner, and like, that’d be it. Movie over. Bad end. Life doesn’t always fucking work out peachy.”
“Doesn’t,” Rachel said. “But I’d probably stop watching movies if I saw an ending like that.”
“We’re rambling,” Tattletale repeated herself. “And I’m suddenly feeling Grue’s absence. He’d keep us in order, here.”
Imp gave Tattletale an annoyed look. “Anyways, this is kind of like that, isn’t it? Like the kids begging and pleading for the dog to follow them. Except not.”
“The opposite,” Rachel said.
“The reverse, yes,” Tattletale corrected. “Yeah. Well, let’s get this over with.”
Rachel got on top of Huntress’s back, and I activated my flight pack. Imp mounted Bastard, while Tattletale mounted a dog I didn’t know. The same dog Bitch had lent to me while we were mobilizing to go after the Nine. Each of us moved in different directions.
High above us, the Simurgh turned. With the innumerable wings that extended behind her, she was capable of a surprising amount of finesse and expression. There was an aggression apparent if her wings were fully extended, with only the tips drawn slightly forward, like a claw with the points extended forward. There was a outward focus when she flexed her wings to their limits, as if she were watching, observing. Conversely, she was capable of introspection, of focus on a single thing, her wings all folded in. All the while, her expression was neutral, her gaze cold.
I wasn’t going to underestimate her, though. Too easy for all of that to be a bluff.
When she moved, it was almost careless. Two of her three largest wings unfurled as if she were waving a hand dismissively, aiming that gesture at the world. She turned in the air, then threw every wing back behind her, driving herself forward.
Well, we knew who she was following.
“Fuck me,” I could hear Tattletale muttering with the bugs I’d planted on her. The Simurgh came to a stop directly above her. She repeated herself, as if for emphasis. “Fuck me.”
I felt my heart sink.
Some of that was on Tattletale’s behalf. Of course the Simurgh had picked her to follow. Tattletale had done the talking. Tattletale was a thinker, just like the Simurgh. She was the de-facto leader of the Undersiders, in many respects.
But a small part of me had hoped that the Simurgh had picked me to follow. That same part of me had almost believed it, taken it for granted. It was horrible and scary and almost wrong, having an Endbringer at one’s beck and call, but I’d been prepared to shoulder the burden. I wanted to handle it, so people I cared about wouldn’t have to.
Another part of me? Maybe it had wanted her to be stuck to me, just to have one more tether keeping me connected, at a point where I felt like I wasn’t very connected at all.
And perhaps I wanted it to have the power so close to hand, so I could be relevant.
Humanity was being wiped out, settlement by settlement. Continents rendered uninhabitable, ecosystems demolished, weather patterns shifting. Our opponent was nigh-untouchable, capable of crossing between different Earths like we crossed a room, and we barely understood him.
And here I was. Strip away all of the pretense, the reputation, the connections and the image, take off the mask, and I was only a girl with the ability to control bugs. A hundred and thirty pounds.
I’d bemoaned my innate limitations before, but I’d never felt them as a crushing pressure in the way I felt it now.
The shock of seeing the Simurgh pick Tattletale had thrown me. I forced myself to take a deep breath and get centered. I turned to the relaxation techniques Jessica Yamada had taught me.
Tattletale needed support, and I couldn’t discount the idea that this was just the Simurgh being the Simurgh. Explicitly or instinctively fucking with our heads.
We collected as a group again. The dogs turned around and slowly made their way back.
I saw Tattletale’s expression as she looked at me. The lines of worry in her forehead that she tried to mask with a raised eyebrow, the feigned confidence, the lopsided grin.
I knew she read me ten times as well. The little shifts in her expression as she glanced at my hands, at my face. There was no doubt in my mind that she was reading me like a book. She knew every train of thought that had just crossed my mind, the worries, the anxieties, the shameful fact that I’d wanted the Simurgh to follow me.
Her lopsided grin widened just a little, but there was sympathy in her expression.
“Guess I’m going to hold the fort,” she said. “Probably makes the most sense, really. You guys go. Do what Narwhal said.”
There were nods from Imp and Rachel.
“You know the drill, Scotty,” Imp said. “Take me home.”
“Yeah,” Rachel added.
Two portals opened.
They passed through. I stayed in place.
“I could stay with you,” I said.
“You could,” Tattletale said.
“But?” I asked.
“I don’t think you should, and I don’t think you can. Go.”
“Tattletale… Lisa—”
“I’ll be fine. I’ve got her for company.” Tattletale pointed skyward. The Simurgh had collected her guns and built several others. The halo of individual components was now almost entirely made up of guns in varying sizes. They were arranged in a careful formation, so the small guns marked the spaces between the large ones, and the largest gun barrels and nozzles radiated outward like the rays from a star.
I gave Tattletale a dubious look, she only grinned.
“I’ll be here,” she promised. “Go. Like Narwhal said, get your affairs in order.”
I didn’t budge. Instead I looked to the fields of grass again. It took me a second to figure out why one patch was darker than the rest. Then I remembered the Simurgh. She was casting a shadow.
“Realistic. We agreed to go down fighting, right?”
“Right,” I said, turning back to Tattletale.
She shrugged. “But we’re going down. Let’s not pretend, because that little self-delusion isn’t going to hold up when push comes to shove. Better to focus our energy on believing that we’re going to get wiped out, but we’ll take that motherfucker down with us.”
Not exactly the most encouraging sentiment.
“I’m… not so pessimistic,” I said. “I think we can take him down, and we can do it without get
ting completely annihilated in the process.”
“There we go. That’s the attitude I was looking for.”
I stared at her.
Was she bluffing? Hiding something?
“You know something,” I said.
“I know lots of stuff.”
“And you’re deflecting. What are you keeping from me?”
“Not just you,” she said. Tattletale sighed. “It’s not helpful.”
“Tell me.”
“I thought you wanted blissful ignorance.”
“Time for that is past. Might as well share.”
Tattletale frowned. “Contessa’s power.”
“It’s telling her victory is impossible?” I asked.
“No. Well, maybe. I don’t know. Haven’t exactly had a long conversation with her. No. I’m saying… well… Scion has it. Her power. That line he fed Eidolon? It was calculated to devastate the man at the point he was flying highest, so the fall would be more catastrophic. It’s something I couldn’t pull off. I watched some footage of the fight, where Scion’s power didn’t nix the cameras. Corroborates the evidence. He wasn’t actively using the power, but there’s a confidence there.”
“Scion sees the path to victory?”
“Or something close.”
“You’re sure?”
“The evidence, his attitude, as far as he has any attitude at all… yeah. None of the limitations like Contessa has, I don’t think. No blind spots. Just… yeah.”
I nodded. The wind was making a magnificent sound where it ran through the grass, punctuated by the crashes of waves far below us. A flock of tiny brown birds took flight from the midst of the fields. They deliberately avoided the Simurgh, as though there was a bubble around her that they refused to pass through.
“You have my complete and total permission,” Tattletale said, “to swear a little. Swear a lot. You’re doing this thing where you’re going distant. It’s not like your body language isn’t hard enough to read anyways, but you’re lost in thought, and I figured you’d be flipping out.”
“I don’t really flip out.”
“You, um—”
I knew what she was thinking about. It was almost a relief to find we were still on the same page, after all this time apart. I understood her, she understood me. We were friends.
Her thoughts were on Alexandria and Tagg. The point where I’d killed them had also been the same point that I’d taken leave from the Undersiders. Joined the other side.
“I don’t flip out on or around my friends,” I said.
“I’m telling you he knows how to beat us. He only has to reach for that one power, and he’s got a solution to whatever we throw at him.”
“Every power has a weakness,” I said.
“A power that lets you win automatically is kind of hard to circumvent.”
“Hard, but not impossible,” I said. “Is it odd that I almost feel more optimistic?”
“Yes. Exceedingly,” Tattletale said. She cocked her head a little to one side. It was something I’d seen her do before, as if she was a bird, trying to see things from a different angle. “What are you thinking?”
I shook my head. “Nothing. But… some of the best powers we’ve gone up against have had pretty fatal weaknesses. When we went up against Butcher, her having fourteen consciousnesses to draw on might not have helped a ton when she was trying to deal with Cherish’s ability. We used Echidna’s ability to absorb dead matter and grow to trap her in Coil’s base. Bought ourselves time.”
“I think Scion’s schtick is that he doesn’t have fatal flaws. We got our powers because they gave them out. He crippled the powers, so we wouldn’t be able to fight back if it came down to it. Crippled yours, limiting you to bugs, crippled mine by limiting my ability to analyze them. He started all this because he was certain it would work, used that path to victory to map it all out. Wondered if we’d fight back, then mapped out a path where he’d have enough power to take humanity on in every conceivable scenario.”
“Then we create an inconceivable scenario,” I said.
“How?”
I shook my head. “Don’t know. But I’d like to think the Endbringers won’t fit into his grand plan.”
“Not enough,” Tattletale said.
“Cauldron too.”
She shook her head, a little too forcefully. Strands of her blonde hair fell across her face. “They’ve caused as many problems as they’ve fixed.”
Something in that, in the way she was almost too preoccupied to fix her hair, it flicked a switch in my head. A warning bell. I was already stepping forward in response.
“Tattletale,” I said, interrupting her before she could speak again. I grabbed her hand with both of mine. “Stop.”
She froze, like a deer in the headlights.
“Stop,” I said, again. I pulled her into a hug.
The negativity mingled with the bravado… I hadn’t picked up on it. Hadn’t truly understood my friend. She was scared, and she’d been hiding it.
She stood there, the bridge of her nose hard against my collarbone, and I was reminded again of how she was shorter than me.
“Attacks that pretty much penetrate any defense,” she mumbled. “We have yet to really hurt him. Mobile. Perceptions are out there. And he wins. He gets victory as a power.”
“There are options. There are always options. Ways to circumvent powers, ways to trip him up. He really didn’t like it when I created multiple swarm decoys. When anyone duplicated. Maybe there’s a clue in there.”
“Maybe,” Tattletale mumbled. I could feel her fingernails against the fabric of my suit, at my back. “Fuck this. I hate feeling so dumb. So much shit I don’t know, shit I can’t know. Like fucking Ziz here. Fuck, I’ve barely ever given a crap about anyone except myself and my friends, and now I’m fucking caring what happens to everyone, when I can’t do anything about it.”
I held on. I could have gone on, told her that there were ways to cheat. That, with all the powers in the world, there had to be ways to cheat. But she didn’t need reassurances.
She was a master of bluffing, wore a mask better than anyone I knew, and she’d adopted her persona in a way that nobody else in the Undersiders or Wards had. In the midst of all of this, she’d been a pillar, a source that everyone had been turning to when they had questions.
But where was someone in that position supposed to turn to when they needed support?
A minute passed before she broke away. She turned her back to me before I could see her face.
“All good?” I asked.
“Peachy,” she said, without looking at me. She stretched, then wiped at her eyes. “smudged my makeup, where I painted my eyelids black inside my mask, smearing it across your shoulder.”
I played along. “I always liked the lenses. The goggles, if you want to call them that.”
“Sure, but you can’t have too many people with the lenses on the same team, or you look like you’ve got a theme, and only the lame-ass teams do that.”
I smiled a little.
She looked up, “You don’t say a word about this to anyone. Morons are going to get the wrong idea if they hear we were hugging. Way overactive imaginations.”
Talking to the Simurgh?
She turned around, and I was momentarily confused. Her makeup was smudged in a way that suggested it had been smeared by my costume. No signs of the running makeup that had followed the rain at the Elite’s court, no sign of tears.
She smiled a little, conspiratorially.
“You and the Simurgh are a good fit after all,” I said. “Fucking with people’s heads.”
“We’ll see. Now, I think it’s time you stop babysitting me.”
I frowned.
“Come hang out later, if you don’t find anything more pressing. Which you probably will. I’ll be okay, now I’ve got something figured out. Something to look for. Plus I should get back to looking after Dragon’s stuff. Reams of shit to cover.”
; I nodded.
“Go,” she said.
I went. There was a gravity here of its own. If I didn’t go now, I wouldn’t go at all.
The introvert, seeking out people, and the extrovert left with only a silent Endbringer for company.
I’ll be back soon, I thought.
* * *
“I want to pet her.”
“My turn!”
I could sense them with my bugs before I’d even approached. A cluster of kids, an adult woman, a fenced-in area, a small furry animal.
I didn’t want to intrude, so I reached out and gathered a swarm of butterflies.
They stirred, gathering in a small, localized storm.
“What? Oh. Skit—Weaver’s coming,” Charlotte said.
I held back on using the flight pack, walking instead. Wouldn’t do to use up too much charge, in case I found myself having to fight at a moment’s notice.
The cottage was one of the outposts that Tattletale’s crews had put together. North End of town, overlooking the spot that would have been the boat graveyard, a forty minute walk from the Brockton Bay settlement.
Three stories tall, hidden from plain view by a line of trees and a short hill, the cottage had a small fenced-in area next to it. Three dogs stood guard.
They growled at my approach. I didn’t flinch or slow down, and the growling intensified.
“Hush,” Charlotte said. “Stand down.”
The growling stopped.
I approached, and Charlotte gave me a hug. She looked good, if maybe about five years older than she was. She was dressed in a very utilitarian way, but I couldn’t help but notice the gun she wore at her belt.
The kids, for their part, hung back, wary, staring.
I pulled off my mask, then rubbed at my face where it had been tightest. I put on my glasses.
“How bad?” Charlotte asked, her voice quiet.
“Hm?” For an instant, I thought she’d mention my dad.
“The situation.”
Oh. It was only that. “The world’s ending. About as bad as it gets.”