Worm

by John Mccrae Wildbow

  “Yes. Any measures we take are still vital. They’ll help here, with this scenario, but if it never occurs, it will still help against the Endbringers.”

  “Are we assuming the Endbringers are at the core of this end-of-the-world scenario?” Eidolon asked.

  “Likely,” Alexandria said, “But let’s not rule anything out.”

  “Provided this is really occurring,” the Doctor spoke.

  “We can’t afford to say it’s not,” Legend said. ”You have precogs among your staff and customers?”

  “Some,” The Doctor answered. ”I can ask them about this end of the world scenario.”

  Legend nodded. ”Good. Eidolon, you want to try your hand at it?”

  “If my power lets me. It only gives me what it thinks I need, not what I want.”

  “We need all the help we can get. Let’s see if we can’t figure out how this happens, so we can stop it or mitigate the damage. There’s a lot of capes out there with the thinker classification. Get the word out, call in favors, offer favors. Anything to get more information on this.”

  There were nods and noises of agreement from his fellow Protectorate members and the Doctor.

  Legend quietly cleared his throat, glancing around the table. ”Speaking of great minds… there was another point I wanted to address, that came up during my stay in Brockton Bay.”

  He had their attention.

  “Alexandria, I expect you read the reports already. You didn’t seem that surprised when I talked about the precog and her end-of-the-world scenario, you’ve probably read up on my notes here.”

  Alexandria had originally named herself after the Library of Alexandria, though she’d ceased mentioning that, choosing to leave enemies in the dark instead. As strong as she was on a physical level, her mind was equally formidable. She never forgot a detail, absorbed information quickly, reading two pages of a book with a glance, and she learned quickly, retaining everything she picked up. She knew most commonly spoken languages, no less than ten styles of martial arts and she could match some of the best non-tinkers in the world when it came to computers. Not only was she rated well in the brute classification, but she held high scores in the mover and thinker categories.

  “I read what you provided, though I’m not sure what you’re referring to specifically.”

  “Siberian.”

  He saw a change in her expression, saw Eidolon flinch as if he’d been slapped.

  “I’ll explain for those of you who lack access to the PRT records or the time to peruse them. Siberian is not a brute-class cape. Siberian is a ‘master’, and the striped woman is a projection. I caught a glimpse of the man who is creating the projection before they retreated.”

  “And?”

  “And he had Cauldron’s mark tattooed on the back of his left hand, a swan on his right.”

  With the exception of himself, the Number Man and the woman in the suit, everyone present reacted with surprise.

  “You don’t think that was William Manton?” Alexandria asked. ”But why the mark on his right hand?”

  “I don’t know. It doesn’t fit on a lot of levels. A top parahuman researcher becoming one of the Nine?”

  “It happened to Alan. To Mannequin,” Eidolon said, his voice quiet.

  “There’s nothing in the records,” Alexandria said, “Nothing saying he was present at any of the places the quarantine protocol was put in effect.”

  She would know. She read every record, could call them to mind with perfect accuracy.

  “He could have stolen someone’s identity.”

  Alexandria nodded, “True.”

  “We have confirmation he’s alive,” Eidolon said, his voice quiet. ”We suspected, but-”

  “We made assumptions, and we were way off base. That’s what concerns me.” Legend leveled a hard look at the Doctor. ”See, we’ve been going by the assumption that William Manton, from the time he left Cauldron to the present day, has been continuing his work. We’ve been assuming he’s traveling across the world, experimenting on human subjects, giving them powers with physical mutations as a side effect, then releasing the victims back into society with Cauldron’s symbol tattooed on their bodies. Or at least, that’s what you told us.”

  “You’re implying I lied?” the Doctor asked. She didn’t look bothered in the slightest.

  “I’ve looked at the timelines. It’s not likely that William Manton could be conducting experiments to give some poor girl tentacles in Illinois at the same time Siberian’s busy attacking people in Miami. Not to mention he barely looked capable of taking care of himself, let alone conducting research.”

  He glanced at the others. Eidolon’s brow was creased in concern, while Alexandria looked pensive.

  “The pattern doesn’t fit,” he said, to drive the point home. He looked at the Doctor, “Which leaves me to wonder just who is conducting experiments on human subjects.”

  “We have no need for human experimentation. The Number Man can calculate the odds of success for a given formula.”

  “Maybe that’s the case. But just who is conducting experiments on human subjects, who knows enough about Cauldron to tattoo or brand them with the mark while simultaneously having access to these kinds of resources?”

  “It’s not us,” the Doctor spoke.

  Legend stared at her, studying her. ”And you don’t know anything about how William Manton is connected to all this?”

  “I’m as mystified as you are. If it would assuage your suspicions, you can examine this complex,” the Doctor suggested.

  “You and I both know this place is far too large to explore in one lifetime,” he answered.

  “True.”

  “And if we were to surmise that you’re the culprit here, there’s nothing saying you couldn’t have your doormaker maintain a path to another alternate reality where you have captives stashed away. It would even explain why there haven’t been any real missing persons cases that we can link to the case-fifty-threes, if you’re simply snatching them from another reality and depositing them in our reality when you’re done.”

  She spread her arms wide. ”I don’t know what I can say to convince you.”

  “You trust me, don’t you?” Alexandria asked.

  “Yes,” Legend said.

  “I’ve trained myself in kinesics. I can look at a person’s face and body language and know if they’re lying. And I can tell you the Doctor is telling the truth.”

  Legend sighed. ”Right.”

  “We’re okay, then?” the Doctor asked.

  Legend nodded. ”I’m sorry to accuse you.”

  “It’s understandable. This situation doesn’t make a lot of sense.”

  “I can’t add anything here, and my power’s not volunteering anything that could help to solve this particular mystery,” Eidolon spoke. ”I guess we have yet another unanswered question on our hands.”

  Legend sighed, “More than one. William Manton and his link to Siberian, the tattoo on his right hand, our end of the world scenario and the role Jack plays as the catalyst. Too many to count.”

  “None of this has to be addressed today,” Alexandria said. ”Why don’t you go home? We’ll consider the situation and come up with a plan and some likely explanations.”

  Legend nodded. The thought of holding Arthur and Keith in his arms energized him.

  The Doctor turned to Eidolon, “You want another booster shot?”

  “Probably another Endbringer attack coming up, it’s best if I’m in top form.”

  While the others talked and planned, Legend stood and left without a farewell.

  An opening between realities unfolded before he was half of the way down the alabaster white hallway. He stepped through the opening to the oil rig, and then began his flight back to New York City.

  But he didn’t go home.

  Instead, Legend descended on the rooftop of the NYC Protectorate offices. A tinker-made scanner verified who he was and opened the doors for him in time
for him to walk through.

  He nodded a greeting to everyone he passed. When people asked him how things had gone, he offered them a response that was polite but short enough that it was clear he wasn’t looking for further conversation.

  He reached his office and closed the door.

  He was careful to start up a virtual operating system preloaded with the standard PRT databases and software. Nothing that would leave a trace on his regular OS. He unplugged the fiber-optic cables and disabled the wireless.

  The precautions were little use if he was already being watched, but it made him feel better.

  Once his computer was isolated from outside influences, he withdrew a USB cable from one drawer, plugging one end into the keyboard. He reached up to one ear and withdrew an earbud. The other end of the USB cable connected to it.

  ASCII art of Kid Win’s face popped up as the earbud connected to the computer, along with the text, ‘thank you’.

  He couldn’t bring himself to smile.

  Problems of self-confidence aside, Kid Win had produced an interface that was easy to use. Legend clicked on the yellow button and waited. Voices played from the computer’s speakers. He adjusted the volume and listened.

  “We suspect that Bonesaw and Siberian also escaped, with Hookwolf as a new member of their group.”

  “I see.”

  “Any reason for the curiosity?”

  “Hard to keep track of what goes on beyond these walls, sometimes.”

  Text appeared, transcribing what was being said. The program paused, the image of the yellow button popping back out. A red word appeared below the last statement: LIE.

  A vague lie, but not a damning one. His pulse was pounding as he hit the waiting yellow button to resume the record.

  “We have no need for human experimentation. The Number Man can calculate the odds of success for a given formula.”

  LIE.

  He clicked again.

  “…Who knows enough about Cauldron to tattoo or brand them with the mark while simultaneously having access to these kinds of resources?” His own voice was the one playing from the speakers.

  “It’s not us,” the Doctor’s voice answered his.

  LIE.

  He sat staring at the screen, horrified.

  Cauldron had given him his powers, had given him what he needed to be at the very top, to lead the largest collection of superheroes in the world. They hadn’t wanted much in exchange. He kept an eye out to make sure nobody got too curious about Cauldron, diverted them if they did. He’d greased the wheels for some of Cauldron’s top customers. He was also ready to defend Cauldron if and when it became public knowledge. It was for the greater good, he told himself. There was no way for Cauldron to operate otherwise, lest the world’s governments fight over the ability to create whole armies of people with powers and interfere with the organization’s ability to operate.

  It would operate, he knew, it obviously wasn’t in a location where it could be raided or seized by military forces, but it wouldn’t be able to reach nearly as many people, and capes would come under scrutiny with the possibility that they’d purchased their powers.

  He’d committed to this because Cauldron was essential. With the rise of the Endbringers and threats like the Slaughterhouse Nine, the world was in need of heroes. Cauldron produced more heroes than villains, because there was none of the trauma of a trigger event to throw them off. Even for those individuals who turned to crime, Cauldron was able to leverage the favors that were part of the contract in order to guide their path. More superheroes meant better chances for everyone when it came to fighting the Endbringers and dealing with the big threats.

  It struck him that this wasn’t necessarily true. If the Doctor had lied about human experimentation, she could have lied about those details as well, too.

  Human experimentation on a large scale. Unwitting, or perhaps unwilling to connect the dots, he’d helped it happen in a way.

  His hand shook as he reached for the mouse. He clicked the button once more, hoping there would be something he could use to convince himself that this was a mistake. A false positive, a clue that Cauldron was really a force for good after all. Hadn’t Armsmaster said that his lie detection system was imperfect? Or maybe Kid Win had generated errors in the code. The alterations had been minor but comprehensive: Legend hadn’t wanted to be informed in real-time about the lies, lest he give something away.

  “And you don’t know anything about how William Manton is connected to all this?”

  “I’m as mystified as you are.”

  LIE.

  He knew what came next, with the conversation fresh in his memory. He didn’t want to press the button again, but there was little choice.

  “I’ve trained myself in kinesics. I can look at a person’s face and body language and know if they’re lying. And I can tell you the Doctor is telling the truth.”

  The red text popped up as the last four and a half words appeared. LIE.

  Alexandria knew. Of course she had. Her ability to read people, her vast troves of knowledge, her ability to see patterns. And she was the most willing of their group to take the hard, ugly road. Had been since Siberian had hospitalized her.

  Click.

  His own voice. ”I’m sorry to accuse you.”

  LIE.

  Had he been lying? He supposed he had. He didn’t like the Doctor, and he hadn’t truly felt sorry for his suspicions. Ever since he’d seen William Manton with the Slaughterhouse Nine, he’d harbored doubts about what was going on.

  Those doubts had become quiet conviction after he’d gone to see Battery in the hospital. One of Bonesaw’s mechanical spiders had cut her suit. He knew exactly the kind of disorientation, hallucination and waves of paranoia she would have experienced as the gas took hold. While she reeled and tried to get a grip on reality, she’d likely left herself open for further attacks. Whatever the case, one of the spiders had injected her with a poison Bonesaw had devised.

  Her death had been slow, painful and inevitable. It had been engineered to strike those notes in a way that millions of years of evolution had yet to refine a plant’s toxin or an animal’s venom. Lying in the hospital bed, still delirious, Battery had used halting sentences to tell him about Cauldon, about buying her powers, and about Cauldron asking her to help Siberian and Shatterbird escape. She’d planned to pursue the Nine, to offer assistance and then kill one or both of the villains. Battery had begged him for affirmation that she’d tried to do the right thing, that he would find the answers she didn’t. He’d reassured her the best he could.

  She’d died not long after.

  He almost couldn’t bring himself to click the yellow button again. Alexandria had been lying to him. And that only left…

  Click.

  Eidolon’s voice came from the speakers. “I can’t add anything here, and my power’s not volunteering anything that could help to solve this particular mystery. I guess we have yet another unanswered question on our hands.”

  The word was in red letters on the screen. It could have been his own pulse behind his retinas, but the letters seemed to throb with a heartbeat of their own. LIE.

  “All lies,” Legend whispered the words to himself.

  Arc 15: Colony

  15.01

  Bentley lunged in my direction, and I could feel my people backing away behind me. I stood firm. The mutant bulldog landed with both front paws first, the impact so heavy that spittle and moisture was flung from his massive body.

  A low, guttural noise tore its way from Bentley’s throat as he surged forward again. I could hear yelps and shouts of alarm from the crowd behind me.

  Wood splintered, cracked, and finally gave way. Behind Bentley, the husk of a fire-scorched building collapsed. Chains that had been lashed to the building’s wooden supports trailed from the dog’s harness as he bounded toward Bitch. Of everyone present, only Bitch and I held our ground as the dog barreled into his master, practically bouncing with jo
y.

  Bitch, for her part, wrapped her arms around his head as he lifted her off the ground. ”Good boy!”

  He’s just a dog. Beneath the three-thousand-ish pounds of muscle and the exterior of tangled muscle and bone, he was still a dopey dog who adored his master. Bitch had given him what he’d been yearning for since he was abandoned or abused in his past life. She’d offered him the affection and companionship he’d been wanting for years.

  I could relate. Not in terms of Bitch, specifically, but I could relate.

  “Get to work clearing that up!” I ordered. My swarm augmented my voice to carry it across the crowd of my followers. There were twenty-two adults and twenty kids. With Coil’s assistance, I’d brought in work gloves and black hazmat suits, but most people were wearing only the lower body of the suits. It was too warm for the full suits, and the masks were largely unnecessary. Everyone was dripping from the rain, but nobody was really complaining. I rather liked it; it was refreshing in the otherwise warm day.

  A generator stirred to life a short distance down the street, and there was something of a rush as people hurried to get away from the intimidating presence of the big bad supervillains and their mutant animals. That, and there was something of a fight to get the power tools. There were only so many circular saws and chainsaws to go around, and anyone who didn’t have one was tasked with carrying the cut wood instead.

  I created a barrier of bugs to stop one of the teenagers from reaching for a circular saw.

  “If you’re under eighteen, you don’t get to use power tools,” I called out. ”Priority goes to the people who know how the tools are used. Able bodied adults get second dibs. Listen carefully to the guys who know what they’re doing, and work somewhere dry if possible. We’ve had enough casualties, let’s not have anything stupid happening with someone slipping or losing their grip in the rain. If someone’s being an idiot, tell Sierra, and she’ll inform me.”

  Sierra glanced at me and nodded.

  I turned my attention to Bitch.