“There are individuals out there right now, who have kept quiet about recent events. Only last month, there was an event in this city, a threat that was theorized to be a nascent Endbringer. In the wake of that event, Alexandria was revealed to be partially responsible.”
The reporters, I noted, were deathly still. Deer in the headlights.
“Good capes,” Chevalier said, “Burdened by conscience, walked away from the PRT. Without them to serve as our backbone, we were left gutted. There has been rampant speculation on what has been going on within the PRT, on what might have caused so many capes to abandon it. We -they- couldn’t speak because Alexandria held a position of power, because she was purportedly invincible, unassailable. Because of the threat she posed, and the resources she had at her disposal.”
Others were joining the crowd of reporters. Civilians, returning now that the blockades had been taken down, maybe going home, only to see the scene, the heroes in the spotlight. They clustered, or parked at the periphery of the crowd, getting out of their cars.
How many millions were tuning in right this moment?
“Some of us left, because their consciences couldn’t bear serving a corrupt power. Others, many of us on the stage included, stayed, because we felt the PRT, the Protectorate, the Wards program and the teams that draw on us for resources were too important. I’m not here to say one decision was better than the other, or to lay blame with those who sided with her. In coming weeks and months, our capes, accountants and lawyers will be meeting with anyone and everyone in a position of power within the Protectorate program or the PRT, ensuring nothing of this scale occurs again.”
Something moved into my range. An insect. Large.
Atlas.
I moved him experimentally, and felt how incredibly weary he was. His reserves of energy were drained, his body dying. His forelegs touched the walls around him. He’d been placed in the back of a van.
And the occupants of that van – bugs entered open windows to make contact with the others. Lisa, Brian, Alec and Aisha. I could hear the echo, time delayed by five seconds, as they watched Chevalier speak on a tablet PC.
”Alexandria betrayed us on a fundamental level, and the whole cape community has felt that. The public has felt that. I urge people not to blame her. She had no less than eighteen fights against the Simurgh. We had been led to believe her powers rendered her immune, but she was clever enough to hide and alter the evidence. She was a victim, and it’s a testament to her character that she fought off the Simurgh’s influence for as long as she did.”
And there’s the first egregious lie, I thought.
With luck, nobody would believe anyone that was callous enough to point it out. Nobody would want to believe them. It was an ugly thought, that Alexandria could be twisted to act against our interests just because of who she was. She’d worked with Cauldron, had experimented on humans, all in the interest of… what? Creating powers? Selling them?
I swallowed hard. I knew what came next.
“It was due to a concerted effort this evening that we were able to stop Alexandria before more damage could be done.”
Chevalier reached out, put a hand on my shoulder. He drew me closer to him, until I stood in front of him and he had both hands resting on my shoulders.
“Many will recognize Taylor Hebert, revealed to be Skitter in a controversial confrontation at the school just a week ago, a confrontation Alexandria ordered. Taylor Hebert played a crucial role in stopping Alexandria in a moment of crisis, ending the fight.”
And now half the world hates me, I thought, staring forward. The glare was so intense I thought my eyes might start crossing. And the other half… I don’t know what the other half thinks.
I’d agreed to share ‘credit’ for the kill, but only because there had been a consensus that people wouldn’t believe it if I took sole responsibility.
Chevalier wasn’t speaking. I saw a red light go on at the corner of my collar. The microphone Dragon had clipped there was live. The signals would be received by all equipped, official cameras. Something the PRT had arranged for convenience’s sake some time ago.
I had a chance to speak in my own defense, in front of countless tens or hundreds of millions of eyes, and the words were dying in my throat.
My thoughts were grinding to a standstill. What was I supposed to say? We’d barely had any time to prepare. We hadn’t had time to prepare.
There were whole lines I was supposed to give. Ideas I was supposed to express, striking the right tone, and I’d gone blank.
I couldn’t defend myself like this, even with rehearsed lines.
Chevalier rescued me. He spoke, his voice clear. ”This isn’t a happy day.”
It was a reminder of what my line was supposed to be. I’m not proud, I’m not happy that it came to this…
“It’s not a happy day, but it’s a good day,” he said, skipping ahead two or so minutes. ”It marks change, and it marks a step forward. A chance to fight Endbringers and other threats without sabotage, without worrying who stands beside us, or whether our leadership is compromised.”
Dragon’s ships descended from the sky above. My hair and the hood of my sweatshirt flapped as the vessels landed to either side of us. Eleven vessels. The ones we’d destroyed had been rebuilt, updated. Others, old Dragon suits, had apparently been set up with A.I. to fly on their own. They gleamed, various shades of chrome and gunmetal, with trim in different metals and colors for decoration and highlighting.
She had more made, I thought.
“A chance to fight Endbringers without as many casualties,” Chevalier said. ”And hope. We’ve investigated the portal to another world, and confirmed that there are resources and even shelter, a possibility of escape in a time of emergency.”
I stared at the van where the Undersiders were.
“And new allies, as unlikely as they might be.”
His hands dropped from my shoulders.
I reached up to the zipper of my sweatshirt. I pulled it down, then shrugged out of it. Chevalier took the piece of clothing in one hand.
I bent over and stepped out of the loose-fitting prison sweats as well.
Defiant handed me my new mask, and I pulled it on. Electric blue lenses, the opposite of the yellow I’d worn before. They helped with the glare, though they weren’t so good against it as my old lenses.
Light gray fabric where I’d had black. Armor panels in the same dark gray as before, albeit with cleaner lines, less bulk, and less in the way of edges. I had no points at the tips of my gloves, and both the mantle around my shoulders and the cloth that hung around my belt were marked with an electric blue border, with my gang emblem in miniature at each corner, flipped upside down so they faced skyward, altered to match my new color scheme.
“I admitted to reprehensible things,” I said. ”I won’t challenge that, or pretend I didn’t say or do those things. By all rights, I should go to jail. I may serve a sentence, if the courts will it. I won’t challenge that.”
I paused. For a terrifying moment, I thought I’d forget what to say again. Then I fixed my eyes on the windshield of the van, at the far end of the crowd.
It struck me that I hadn’t suffered stage fright. It had been something else entirely. I hadn’t wanted to speak, because there would be no going back.
When I finally spoke, I didn’t follow the cues I’d been given. My eyes didn’t leave the spot where the Undersiders were watching from.
“I seized a territory in Brockton Bay. I led the local villains, and we defeated all comers. I was secure in my position. I had wealth, friendship, love and respect. People depended on me. It was everything I’d ever wanted, if not quite the way I’d initially imagined it. I could have stayed and been comfortable.
“Except there are bigger things. More important things.”
The eyes and cameras on me made me feel like I was deep in the ocean, a crushing weight pressing down on me.
“I believe in the idea of a
new PRT that Chevalier is talking about. I believe in it enough that I was willing to turn myself in and take action to bring it to fruition. That I was willing to leave everything I had behind. If I have to serve time in jail first, then so be it. If I face the Birdcage… I hope I don’t. But at least I could tell myself that seeing the supervillain step up might convince others to come back. Change the minds of heroes who gave up on the PRT for one reason or another.”
A lump welled in my throat. I knew I didn’t have many more words left before I wouldn’t be able to speak.
“This is what I want to do, above all else,” I said, and I said it to the Undersiders. ”Given the chance, I’ll serve the people. As I fought Leviathan, the Slaughterhouse Nine and other evils, I’ll fight to the last gasp to protect all of you. When-”
A howling in the distance interrupted me.
Moments later, others took up the cry. Ten dogs, then twenty. Others took up the cry around the city, from various shelters and homes. A hundred, two hundred dogs, and the wolf cub that had started them off.
“-When and if I do take up the job,” I finished, speaking around the growing lump in my throat, “You can call me Weaver.”
Chevalier set a hand on my shoulder.
“That’ll be all,” the hero said. ”We’ll have another statement and a conference to answer questions early tomorrow, when we know more for sure.”
The reporters were already calling out questions. Is this the first time you’ve recruited a villain? How did Alexandria die? What crimes did she commit, exactly?
More questions, until it was a jumble.
He led me away, one hand steady and firm on my shoulder, and Miss Militia, Defiant, Dragon and my lawyer fell into step behind us.
I cast one last glance at the van, then entered Dragon’s ship.
“You stumbled,” Defiant said. ”Improvised. But that was good.”
I didn’t respond.
“You know you can’t stay here. There’s a conflict of-”
Dragon reached out and pressed an index finger against the ‘mouth’ of his mask.
Then she folded her arms around me. She was cold to the touch, hard and unyielding, but she still managed a motherly embrace.
My face pressed against her shoulder, I found myself glad that my mask hid my face from view.
22.x (Interlude, Charlotte)
“…you can call me Weaver.”
The broadcast ended. A hush took hold of everyone present, a silence that deepened when someone muted the television.
The spell was broken by one of the kids. Ephraim. “She’s going to be a hero?”
“She’s going to try,” Forrest answered.
Charlotte looked around at the collected residents of the Boardwalk. It was customary, now, to have a block party every third night of the week. A mass-barbecue, a bonfire on the beach, or some other big meal that would bring everyone together. Community.
Skitter’s community, though Skitter was gone, in more senses than one.
Taylor had turned herself in, early in the day, and word had spread. They’d hooked up a television, the biggest they could get their hands on, and set it up beneath a waterproof tent for good measure.
For the better part of the day, they’d watched. People had stopped by, glancing at the latest news. Any update, however large or small, was met by shouted alerts, by hollers and speculation.
Charlotte had taken the day off school, taking only the time necessary to see the little ones off and to bring them back. She wouldn’t have been able to focus, anyways, and the schools were still being lenient.
And now, finally, this.
“It’s done,” Charlotte said. “For better or worse.”
“For better,” Forrest said.
“I’m not so sure,” Charlotte said, lowering her voice so others wouldn’t hear.
“She’s a hero,” Forrest said. “This is where she’s supposed to be.”
“Maybe,” Charlotte answered. She couldn’t help but think of how scary Taylor had been when she’d dealt with the ABB thugs. How easily the girl had slipped into her role as a leader of the territory. “But even if it’s where she’s meant to go, they won’t necessarily accept her.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Forrest said. “It’s out of our hands. We’ll wish her the best, give her some moral support if they let her get fan letters, and handle our own business, so she doesn’t have to worry about us. And speaking of handling our own business…”
Forrest directed a pointed look at the kids who were sitting around Charlotte.
“Right,” she said.
“I’ll be along to see to the lads,” Forrest said. “Just have to clean up first.”
Charlotte nodded. Bed time for the littlest ones. She rose from the bench. “Show’s over, come on, it’s time to go to bed.”
There were groans and grumbles here and there. Charlotte knew who it was without looking. She identified Mason, set a hand on top of his head, and pulled him closer to her as she walked back to their place. “Be good.”
Mason mimicked the exact same groan he’d given a moment ago.
“So dumb,” Kathy was saying. She was one of the older children, looking after Jessie and Aidan. “I never had to go to bed this early before.”
“It’s easier,” Charlotte said. “And we can all use an earlier bedtime. It leaves us in better shape to face tomorrow, don’t you think?”
“I wasn’t talking to you,” Kathy said.
Kathy and Mason were the most likely to fight, to challenge her. When she was hurrying to get them out to the bus stop for school, it was Mason who would decide he’d suddenly forgotten how to tie his shoes, or who would drag his feet to force her to seize his hand and pull him along. He needed that attention in moments of crisis, however small. Kathy was the opposite. Charlotte hadn’t uncovered the details, but the girl had been burned by someone in authority, and rebelled against it as a matter of habit. Kathy wanted to be independent, but she was too young.
“You were complaining about something I said.”
Kathy glared at her. “I could stay up, watch TV for another hour or two, and then go to bed. I’d be quiet.”
“And what if you were too tired to look after Aidan and Jessie?”
Kathy scowled, but she didn’t reply.
Jessie wet the bed most nights. She never came to Charlotte to let her know. More than once, Charlotte had found the girl sleeping on the floor when morning came. Aidan had nightmares that left him screaming and wailing well after he’d woken up, refusing to listen to her. More than once, he’d actually had the nightmares while sleepwalking.
It was hard to deal with, frankly. She’d taken to setting her alarm for one, three and five o’clock in the morning, rising from bed and checking in to make sure the kids were alright, that Jessie’s bed was dry. It was embarrassing to admit, but there had been four occasions when she’d been terrified as she had run into Aidan, standing in the bathroom or sitting at the table in the kitchen. Each time, he’d been gripped by whatever terrors it was that found him at nighttime. Half the time he fought her, the other half the time he just screamed, bloodcurdling.
Kathy, a little more than half Charlotte’s age, took it in stride, almost thrived on looking after the younger ones. She had endless patience with Jessie’s nighttime accidents, and virtually every time Aidan’s screams woke her, Kathy was already at his side, speaking calmly, waiting until he’d relaxed enough that she could hug and cuddle him.
They made their way inside, and Charlotte was sure to close the shutter just beyond the front door. Aidan watched carefully as she fed the chain through the ring at the base of the door and the small gap in the floor. She locked it, then tugged it for good measure, demonstrating how secure it was.
“Safe,” she said.
Wordless, his forehead creased with the sort of worry he shouldn’t have for another fifteen years, Aidan turned and walked away.
“Girls in the bath first, snacks after,” Charlot
te said. “Boys, cookies and milk before your bath.”
The O’Daly clan had collected their kids, most of their kids, finally. It left the number more manageable. Kathy, Mai and Jessie made their way to the bathroom. Aidan, Ephraim, Ethan and Mason found stools at the kitchen counter while Ben, the oldest of the boys, got the cookies, glasses and milk out.
Charlotte checked on the girls to make sure that they were getting along okay, then shut the bathroom door and got her laptop out.
Welcome to the Parahumans Online message boards.
You are currently logged in, Char
You are viewing:
• Threads on Subscribed Boards
• Last 12
• Topics only
♦ Stickied Topic: Alexandria Discussion (July 14th) Goes Here
♦ Topic: Alexandria Dead
♦ Topic: chevalier’s ‘new PRT’ vs. endbringer
♦ Topic: What the fuck happened?
♦ Topic: Skitter
♦ Topic: The Endbringers, Thread XXXIV
♦ Topic: Dragon Suits: Continued Escalation of Cape Militarization?
♦ Topic: Weaver
♦ Topic: Undersiders
♦ Topic: Alexandria died
♦ Topic: Issues with recruiting villains
♦ Topic: Portal confirmed ok by Chev 2011-07-14
“She’s famous,” Charlotte said aloud.
“Because she was on TV?” this from Aidan.
“Because she was a bad guy, and she turned around and decided to be good,” Charlotte said. “And because she helped beat Alexandria. It’s controversial stuff, and I think people are going to be arguing about it for a long time.”
“She’s not a bad guy,” Ben said, taking a seat beside the other boys.
“Was too,” Ephraim said.
“She was scary and mean,” Ben said, “But she’s not bad.”
“They’re the same thing.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Charlotte says.
“She got us pizza,” Ben said. “That’s all that matters to me.”
Worm Page 362