Worm

by John Mccrae Wildbow

  “The code was just to inform her everything was fine. No trap. But I think you’ll want to accompany her and the others, just to make sure they arrive safely. There’s still dangerous people on these streets.”

  Would she tell me Parian could handle herself?

  Flechette turned to look at Parian, apparently considering the same thing. ”You play dirty, Skitter.”

  “All things considered, I think I’ve been exceedingly fair.”

  “I can’t guard her and keep an eye on you at the same time.”

  “That was the idea.”

  “I could nail you down to the ground. Wouldn’t even be hard. You’d have to tear your costume to shreds and run back to your territory in whatever you’re wearing underneath that.”

  “You could.” I didn’t point out that if she did do that, I wouldn’t have a chance of tearing my costume.

  “I still think you have a warped perspective on things. I don’t think you’re right.”

  “I told you where the armband is. Slater street, women’s toilets, on top of the ceiling panel above the second of the three toilets. If Dragon hasn’t tracked and removed it.”

  “Right.”

  “Good luck,” I told her. ”Whatever happens.”

  “We’re on opposing sides, you know? The next time we meet, we’ll be fighting.”

  “Doesn’t mean I wish you badly.”

  “Right.”

  She didn’t free my armor from the floor, but she stood and joined Parian, who was already walking away. I heard her murmuring, “…to New York City. I’ll be finished here in two weeks…”

  And then they were out of earshot. There was the sound of Ballistic continuing his rampage, tearing Dolltown to the ground.

  Maybe it was good if this place was leveled to the ground. I wasn’t superstitious, I wasn’t religious, but with what the Nine had done here, even their relatively short visit to this area, it felt darker. Wrong. There was too much death and sadness that had occurred here.

  Was that true of the city as well? Was it better just to raze it to the ground and start anew?

  I reached over slowly, wincing at the coarse sensation of metal dragging against bone and the red-hot pain of my own tearing flesh.. The movement in my shoulder had shifted the metal spike Flechette had embedded there, pulling sideways against the hole it had punched in my shoulder. I could see the blood welling out, running down into the fabric of my costume. Once I had my hand in position, I began unstrapping the armor panel from my wrist.

  Free to stand, I used my knife and some kicks to get the armor free of the floor. Rather than pull the spike free of the flooring as I might have with a nail, I wound up pulling out a roughly cone-shaped chunk of wood, the spike and everything it had contacted seeming to have bonded together. I picked up the armor and tucked it under one arm.

  This could have gone worse. I might have to face some ramifications if the PRT took offense to my bringing up what had happened with Armsmaster, but somehow I felt like I couldn’t have let Flechette stay in the dark. I just wasn’t sure if that was for my sake or if it was for hers. The money I’d handed away would hurt, too, but it felt necessary.

  I needed medical attention, and I felt like I had to check on my territory after I’d seen Parian’s. I climbed onto Atlas. His flight would be smoother and less jarring than walking.

  I heard another crash as Ballistic continued tearing through Dolltown. I could have notified him that Parian was gone, but… no.

  Maybe this wanton destruction would give him a chance to vent and find release over whatever it was that was haunting him.

  I’d have to get in touch with Trickster and Genesis to arrange our visit with the Mayor for tonight. I’d have to deal with the threat on my life, whatever form it took.

  I didn’t feel afraid. Anxious? Yes. But not terrified, not quivering or panicking. I wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. Grue had lamented my lack of survival instincts, not so long ago. Had recent events worn them down even further?

  I shook my head. I’d have time for introspection later. For now, I had to plan.

  15.07

  How the hell was I supposed to get medical assistance when the guy I was supposed to ask was looking for a covert way to murder me?

  And I did need help. I was bleeding, for one thing. It had only started when I’d moved my arm to unstrap my armor. If I’d known, I would have tried to undo the straps with my bugs.

  Worse, the spike had penetrated the bone of my shoulder and any movement of my arm rewarded me with scraping sensations in my shoulder socket that made my skin crawl, not to mention the pain.

  I was surprised it didn’t hurt more. I hoped that wasn’t a bad sign. My fingers moved without a problem, but the lack of pain could still point to bigger problems. Pain was a natural response, after all, and the lack of pain was unnatural.

  I called Tattletale instead.

  “Skitter?” she answered. ”How did it go?”

  “Could have gone worse. I paid Parian off, and she’s leaving the city. No blood shed, mostly.”

  “Mostly?”

  “Flechette was there. I got stabbed.” I remembered that Coil could be listening in. ”I don’t want to bother Coil with it, busy as he is.”

  “Being stabbed is serious.”

  “It’s not too bad. Can you lend me your medic?”

  “You’re just leaving Dolltown now?”

  “Flying home.”

  “He should be there before you arrive. I know you two haven’t gotten along in the past, but he won’t trouble you.”

  He won’t trouble me. Was that her way of informing me that he was safe? Well, I still felt better than I would be if I were putting my life in Coil’s hands.

  My desire to convey the image of someone who was confident, fearless and untouchable had led to me getting impaled in the shoulder. It was something of a weakness, but I still found myself doing it as I reached my own territory. I landed Atlas on the beach and made my way into the storm drain, wincing every time my arm moved. By the time I was inside, however, I was pulling myself straighter, raising my chin and squaring my shoulders. I tried to focus on my power to remove my attention from my body. Checking the status of the various cleanup projects, some basic reconstruction, setting up dry and clean sleeping areas, stocking up on food and medical supplies…

  Sierra and her little one-handed brother Bryce were there as I stepped into my lair, along with a small cluster of older kids and Tattletale’s medic, Brooks. I sat down on the stool by the kitchen counter and Brooks started examining my shoulder.

  “You guys get the most interesting injuries,” he said, in his characteristic, hard-to-place accent that seemed to put hard emphasis on syllables.

  “Interesting?”

  “Metal bonded to the bone. You have some sticking through and into the cavity your socket sits in. I have no idea how I’m going to get to the far end, cannot pull it out, and if I try sawing it off, I am not sure the shavings and flecks wouldn’t do catastrophic damage over the long run. I would say you need surgery.”

  “Damn it,” I said. ”She probably intended for something like that, and every hospital in the area’s going to be looking for someone with a spike in their shoulder.”

  “I could try to handle it, but it’s going to take time to get necessary tools.”

  “What tools?”

  “At the very minimum, a small rotary grinder, suction, some fine wire, blood…”

  “We have those things.”

  He looked surprised.

  I looked to Sierra, “We did get that delivery of stuff for Dr. Tegeler?”

  “The dentist? Yeah. But it’s not unpacked.”

  I turned to Brooks, “We have rotary grinders that we’ve been using for the cleanup, not sure how clean they’d be. But the rest of that stuff, we’ve been having it delivered, so the people with medical training can start helping out. Since we already have an able-bodied dentist, we’ve been setting her up. It’s kind
of surprising how many people will start having issues with their teeth over just a month.”

  “Okay. Let me pack this wound and then I will need to go there. I’ll grab what I need myself.”

  I waited while Brooks unpackaged and pressed bandages in place around the spike.

  “How is the pain, on a scale of one to ten?”

  “Ten high? Maybe a three until I move it, then it’s more like a seven.”

  “I am surprised you are not passed out already. Do you have a high pain tolerance?”

  “I wouldn’t have thought so. But maybe. Or maybe the way it bonded kept it from damaging or exposing nerve endings?”

  “Maybe. Okay. Ginger girl, show me the stuff?”

  “Ginger girl?” Sierra asked, archly.

  Brooks smirked.

  “Brooks,” I said, “Treat my employees with respect or I’m going to have words with Tattletale about you.”

  “Yes. I am sorry,” he said, not sounding sorry at all. ”Please show me where I can find the dentist’s equipment.”

  Sierra looked at me, and I gave her a nod as my ‘go ahead’.

  That left me with the kids and Bryce. I studied him. His black hair was cut so short he was nearly bald, and like Brooks he was wearing dark gray cargo pants and a beige sleeveless t-shirt. He’d put on some muscle since I’d seen him last. His still-bandaged stump of a wrist tapped impatiently against his leg.

  And the kids… they were wearing some of the clothes I’d had shipped in, but they didn’t look like the typical bunch of kids one would see around a schoolyard. Before taking advantage of what I had to offer, they’d been eating the bare minimum, spending all of their time outdoors. But diet and exercise weren’t entirely to blame for the lack of softness in their faces or expressions. They’d seen people they loved die.

  I wasn’t sure what to say. Making small talk seemed like it would lower me to their level.

  I used my power to check on progress in the area instead. I’d had a hand in getting recovery efforts underway and ordering both tools and supplies, so I was fairly in touch with what was going on. The streets were draining or drained in the areas we’d settled, with sandbags holding back or diverting the flooding. Crews were filling more sandbags and loading them onto trucks at the beach. Still others were working to clear the storm drains of blockages where they’d verified that both sides were clear of water and that the storm drains were intact. The storm drain leading to my base had been classified unsafe for the time being, meaning I wouldn’t find strangers nosing around in there.

  Burned buildings were being torn down where there wasn’t any hope of salvaging them, and small crews of people with the necessary skills were working to assess what could be recovered, assigning simple tasks to people who didn’t have the training or know-how. Massive tarps were going up over roofs and being tied down.

  It wasn’t pretty and it wasn’t fantastic, but it was something. My bugs noted a hundred and seventy people at work, one-seventy-four if I included the kids here.

  One-eighty-four, I realized. I’d nearly missed a crew that was working beneath the streets. The numbers were growing.

  It was a little intimidating. I didn’t have any particular training or talents that really equipped me for a leadership position. Now I was in charge of this many people.

  Well, I’d do what I could. Supply what they needed, keep an eye on things.

  “Your name?” I asked one of the oldest kids.

  “Guy.”

  “Sierra didn’t have anything for you to do?”

  “We’re waiting until Char comes back,” he said, pronouncing it ‘shar’. “She said she was going to put us in charge of some younger kids, then have us run water out to the people working.”

  “Good. For now, you can run an errand for me. Head out the door, turn right, go two blocks. There’ll be an open manhole with a cordon around it.”

  “A what?”

  “Tape and warning signs. Ignore the warnings, just go to the manhole cover and shout down at them, tell them to get back to work. I know they’re just sitting in the dark and drinking. And tell them no power tools, now. Not if they’ve got alcohol on their breath.”

  “Okay. If they don’t listen to me?”

  “I’ll take care of that,” I told him.

  He ran off.

  “Big bad supervillain, giving orders to little kids,” Bryce commented.

  Why did people insist on testing me? Was it something about being in charge that demanded that they try to establish their dominance? Did people like Bryce have a natural propensity for bucking authority, with me as the only clear target? Or was it more that they were angry in general?

  Either way, what did that mean for this city in the long run, if anyone who tried to change things for the better was facing this sort of resistance.

  “I’m giving orders to everyone. Everyone contributes, everyone benefits.”

  “To be more specific, you’re having my sister give orders to everyone while you go out and get yourself injured in fights with other capes.”

  “Don’t you dare,” Sierra said, stalking back into the room. She put down a plastic tote of medical supplies. She sounded angry. And scared? ”Do not pick a fight with my boss.”

  “I’m just saying-”

  “Don’t. Don’t ‘just say’ anything. If nothing else, she saved your life.”

  “I wouldn’t have needed saving if she hadn’t been there,” Bryce said. He gave me a look that was just short of a glare.

  “Don’t be an idiot,” Sierra said. ”You were with the Merchants.”

  “And things were cool. Party all day, relax, had a girlfriend. If she’d left things alone, I’d be okay.”

  “I’m surprised Tattletale didn’t mention it,” I said. ”The Slaughterhouse Nine eradicated the Merchants. Barely one in twenty survived. The ones that are left are scattered across the city. If you’d stayed with them, you’d be dead.”

  “She did mention it. But I would have made it.”

  Cocky. ”Then you’d be starving to death, dirty, probably sick. Going through withdrawal, maybe. Don’t know what you were taking with them.”

  He scowled, glancing at his sister. ”None of your business.”

  “Hey!” Sierra raised her voice. She grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, and he slapped her hand away. She stabbed a finger into his chest, “Treat her with respect, damn it!”

  Again, that note of fear.

  “I treat people with respect if they deserve it.”

  “She does. She’s saved us, here. That’s big.”

  “Wouldn’t need saving if it wasn’t for the people with powers being around here in the first place.”

  He wasn’t wrong. As validating as it was for Sierra to stick up for me, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt at the idea that these circumstances were because of capes. Hell, if I hadn’t provoked the Nine by humiliating Mannequin then this district wouldn’t have come under fire by Burnscar. There was Dolltown too, and my complicity there. I was personally at fault when it came to some of the damage that had been done across the city.

  “You want a better reason?” she asked. She stepped close and pulled him down to hiss words in his ear. She wasn’t being as quiet as she seemed to think she was, trying to hide her words from me and the kids. ”…they attacked me and Char… mauled them… Mannequin…“

  I shifted positions, and Sierra must have seen it, because she lowered her voice to an inaudible hush as she finished.

  Rattling off a list of the things she’d seen me do. Reasons that gave her cause to be spooked if her brother was mouthing off to me.

  When we’d met, Sierra had commented that I wasn’t what she’d expected from a supervillain. Somewhere along the line, I’d painted a different picture. She clearly had no trouble with me on a day-to-day basis, but she also knew that when I was pushed… well, I’d gone easy on the three ABB members that had attacked her and Charlotte, but that was only in a matter of spea
king. I’d still left them fleeing in mortal terror.

  Bryce looked at me and I could see him give me a once-over glance, as if assessing me in a new light.

  “Go help Brooks,” I told him. ”I’ll direct you to him with my swarm.”

  It took him a second to weigh whether he wanted to or not, but he did turn and step out the front door, following the thin trail of bugs that I was gathering between him and the warehouse we were keeping supplies.

  “Want me to go, too?” Sierra asked.

  “Your choice. Might be better to give him space.”

  “I keep having to do that. When do we start being a family again?”

  I’m not the person to answer that question.

  “If you decide to leave him be, I could use a hand collecting some things so I can make effective use of my time.”

  “Okay,” she said. She seemed to pull herself together a bit. ”What do you need?”

  “My laptop from my room, and the surveillance stuff from the cellar. There’s another set of surveillance gear in the bag beneath the shelves.”

  Sierra hurried off to gather the equipment.

  The ensuing minutes were a little disorganized, as Bryce and Brooks both arrived with the last of the medical equipment.

  “Blood type?”

  “AB.”

  He took one bag of blood out of the box and placed it on the counter. ”Want to do this in your room?”

  “I have an armchair on the second floor I could sit in.”

  “Need you reclining.”

  “I have somewhere to be tonight,” I told him. Though this would be something of an excuse to avoid the kill. ”Don’t put me under.”

  “This is going to hurt.”

  I had another reason for not wanting to be put under. I wanted to keep an eye on him. My conversation with Tattletale had suggested he wasn’t a threat, but I’d feel a heck of a lot better if I could verify that for myself.

  “Do you have local anesthetic?” I asked.

  “Yes.” He tapped one finger on a tiny bottle. Lidocaine. I recognized the name. ”But will not prevent all pain. I do not want to use too much.”