Worm

by John Mccrae Wildbow

  “I don’t even think that’s the worst of it,” Tattletale said, finally having broken away from Knave of Clubs to join this conversation. “He’s evolving, maturing. If you can even call it that. He was a blank slate, then almost like a baby, flinging destruction around like a baby practices moving their arms, as if to remind himself he could… and then he was like a child in this fight… except for the bit about Queen of Swords. That suggested he’s almost entering an adolescent phase. Something more complex than just raw fear and awe. Loss, despair. He’s going to start looking for ways to really hurt us.”

  “Instead of just annihilating us?” Legend asked. “Torture?”

  “Mental, emotional, more involved physical torture. Up until he hits adulthood. Then he probably destroys us, completely and utterly. I’d be surprised if we lasted more than two days, rate he’s developing.”

  “You’re talking about him as if he were human,” Saint said.

  “He is,” Tattletale said. “It’s the only reason he’s doing this, and it’s the only way we have to truly make sense of him, and it’s his primary means of making sense of us. Which is why he did it. He’s got our general biological makeup. He thinks, he feels, he dreams, he hurts, but it’s all buried so far under mounds and mounds and mounds of power and security, it doesn’t really supplant him. It’s never been exposed to the real world, really, so the human side of him hasn’t matured or developed.”

  “A weakness?” Chevalier asked.

  “Yes, but not a weakness we’re going to be able to exploit,” Tattletale said. “He’s too careful, and he would have foreseen it. Adapted around it, probably. Be awfully stupid for something like him to adapt traits of their targets and adapt vulnerabilities at the same time. Knowing this could help, but it’s not going to be the weak point we can target to finish him off. That makes zero sense.”

  “We know a lot of things like that,” I said. “A lot of tidbits about his behavior or who he is or what he is. But a lot of it isn’t reliable information. He cared a lot about my clone decoys multiplying during the fight on the oil rig, but he didn’t give a damn this time.”

  “He’s advancing, evolving. His focus is changing,” Tattletale interjected.

  “We know so many critical details,” I said, “And we need more. We need a way of paring truth away from fiction, or determining what’s no longer true. I don’t know for sure what we’re going to do to stop him, but I think any plans I have are going to start or end with Cauldron.”

  I looked around the group. Men and women, all in armor that made them stronger, bulkier or taller, it seemed. Legend was comparatively small, but he had presence to make up for it, even as tired and worn out as he seemed to be. Flying, casual flying as Legend tended to do, gave one a little more stature.

  I wasn’t short, but it felt like Tattletale and I were mortals in the midst of giants. Defiant, in particular, seemed somehow imposing. His body language was familiar with the way he’d naturally set his feet apart, his hand on his weapon.

  Even the place we were standing, it stirred memories. We were at the north end of the Bay, even.

  “Yes. The plan makes sense,” Defiant said. “I’ll trust you on this one.”

  Dragon reached out to grab and squeeze his hand.

  “What do you need?” Defiant asked me.

  “I was thinking I’d bring some of the capes that can’t or won’t participate in the fight against Scion,” I said. My eyes fell on Canary.

  “Me?” Canary squeaked.

  “Anyone, but capes like you,” I said. “Support capes who can’t support in circumstances like this. Strangers who can’t use their power on Scion. Capes like that.”

  “And if you can’t access Cauldron?” Chevalier asked. “I don’t want to put too fine a point on it, but your actions when you assumed control of the Simurgh were… heavy handed. You told an ex-teammate in the Wards that you weren’t intending to be a hero anymore. I don’t want to tell you I won’t cooperate any more than I want to tell anyone I won’t cooperate, but you’d be asking us to put a fair amount of power in your hands by sending capes your way. I… don’t know that I feel confident sending capes to you, if I don’t know how they’ll be put to use.”

  “Would you allow me to talk to other capes?” I asked. “You don’t have to send them my way, but maybe I could inquire?”

  “I’m not going to stand in anyone’s way,” Chevalier said. “I’m not the bad guy, here. But I’ve got to lead this battle, and I’ve got to do what I can to make sure things don’t get worse. If a cape needs to go, if they don’t have the courage to stand and fight, I’m not going to make them. I’ll try to convince them otherwise, but I won’t make them. And if they think they’ll be more useful elsewhere, I won’t stop them there, either.”

  I nodded. “I’ll settle for that.”

  “What else?”

  “Access to computers,” I said. “Tools. Resupplies. The Dragonfly.”

  He reached out of his pocket and withdrew a knife. He reversed it and extended it to me, handle first.

  I reached for the weapon, then saw Defiant pull his hand back. “Be aware of the safety and the activation switch.”

  I saw one of the switches, then took hold of the knife.

  “Keep it away from heat. If the growths start knuckling together, then it’s probably clogged at the air intake. You can unscrew the cap at the butt of the knife and access the air intake there. Bake it at roughly five hundred degrees to clear it, then thoroughly vacuum. Pay attention to how long it takes the growths to hit maximum length… you’ll know because the colors at the ends are a lighter gray. Three point seven seconds is the optimum time. If it takes shorter then you’ll know something’s wrong with-”

  “The knife won’t degrade too much in the next day,” Dragon said. “And we have spares, thanks to Masamune.”

  “You didn’t make this much of a fuss with my flight pack,” I said.

  “I included documentation,” Defiant said.

  “Thank you,” I said. I found the holster for my old knife, then put it through the belt at my back, holstering the new knife.

  “Where’s the Dragonfly?” he asked. I pointed.

  Dragon said something in Japanese to Masamune and Black Kaze. There were two nods.

  Defiant led the way to the Dragonfly, all business, Dragon, Canary, Tattletale, and me following. He seemed almost happy to have something to focus on. A problem that could be solved.

  Did he genuinely trust me? Was there a modicum of hope, here, with me mobilizing to go look into the Cauldron situation?

  He continued to hold his weapon, though the fight wasn’t about to start.

  I could imagine his outlook, the security the weapon afforded him, a hundred solutions in his hands. The ability to defend himself, to defend others, to move out of the way of danger. It made sense.

  Dragon, conversely… what was her security blanket?

  Different. I couldn’t put my thumb on it. But she’d lost to Saint, to the Dragonslayers. She’d been taken captive, effectively killed. Killed by a man who saw her as subhuman.

  She’d been altered by Teacher. Not so much she was a slave to him, but something had happened, and that was no doubt a large part of how she was disconnected from reality in the here and now.

  I looked back at Saint, Masamune and Black Kaze. Saint was taking a seat, his back to a chunk of destroyed aircraft, cross-legged. Calm, relaxed.

  “How can you stand to be near them?” I asked.

  “Keep your enemies closer,” Dragon said, her voice tight.

  “Don’t forget about the friends part,” I said.

  She shook her head a little. “I won’t.”

  “When we were waiting for the fight to start, I went around, looking for people I needed to thank. Important people to me, people who I wasn’t sure I’d get a chance to talk to again. I missed a few important ones. My dad… you two. I know the only reason I got my shot at being a hero, the only reason I didn’t
go to jail, was because you vouched for me, because you agreed to cart me back and forth and interrupt your schedule. I probably didn’t even deserve it, but you backed me up. I’m just… I’ve never been good at saying thank you and sounding as sincere as I feel.”

  “I think we benefited as much as you did,” Dragon said. “You needed to join the Wards to… make amends, shall we say? It was the same for us.”

  “For me,” Defiant cut in.

  “I had my own regrets,” Dragon said.

  “You had no choice.”

  “Regrets nonetheless,” she said, again. Her head turned towards Canary, and Canary smiled just a little. Dragon then looked to me.

  Was it possible for an artificial human to look weary? To look wounded, in the sense that she was bearing some grievous injury from recent events?

  We’d stopped outside the Dragonfly. I bid the ramp to open, controlling the bugs in the operating mechanism.

  Then, as it opened, I impulsively gave Dragon a hug. Returning a favor she’d given me some time ago.

  “Let’s get you set up,” Defiant said.

  “Hook me in while you’re at it?” Tattletale made it a question. “Whatever you need to do, so I can communicate with her and her peeps.”

  “I’ll see to it.”

  Tattletale glanced at me. “Ops?”

  “Please.”

  ■

  We circled twice before coming in for a landing. A cave just above water level, inaccessible except from the air.

  The receiving party consisted of Exalt and Revel from the Protectorate core group, with half of the Vegas team. Nix, Leonid, Floret and Spur. Vantage was waving a rod around, listening to steady beeps.

  “Oh god, finally. Something to take my mind off the beeping,” Floret said. She was petite, her hair in carefully layered waves of pink, with green at the roots.

  “Find anything?” I asked.

  “No signs of any portals that have been opened in the past. Harder than cracking Dodger’s gateways, apparently,” Vantage said. “Or they gave us bad instructions. How’re you doing, Weaver?”

  “I’m fine,” I said.

  “Wearing black,” he said.

  “Is everyone going to comment on that?” I asked.

  “It’s comment worthy. How’d the fight… nevermind. I can guess.”

  “Probably,” I said.

  “Grim group,” Floret commented. “I know black’s ‘in’ with the end of the world, but damn. Only one person with style.”

  I looked over my shoulder. Golem, in silver and gunmetal, his mask solemn. Cuff, again, in a dark metal costume. Imp, with her dark gray mask and black bodysuit that actually fit her. Shadow Stalker, in a black, form-fitting bodysuit like the one I’d given Imp, along with a flowing cloak with a heavy hood. All spidersilk, but the mask was hers, as was the crossbow. Rachel followed, her jacket, tank top and pants black, only the fur ruff at her shoulders, where it flowed around the edges of her hood, was white. Huntress and Bastard flanked her. Lung was still inside the Dragonfly, but I knew he had only his mask and jeans on. Barefoot, shirtless.

  Canary was the only one, apparently, who met Floret’s standards. Yellow body armor, her helmet in one hand, her hair and feathers free.

  “I remember you,” Spur said. He smiled. Teeth that had been professionally done, no doubt. He wasn’t bad looking, but not quite my type. Spiky hair, and a costume that mingled barbed wire tattoos with real barbed wire, where his skin was exposed. Mid twenties, with hair bleached to a near-white and acid washed jeans. His mask was simple, black, covering the upper half of his face, with only a circle of barbed wire at the brow. A trademark of thinker powers, to do the whole forehead thing. A precog who was most effective in the midst of chaos and heightened emotions, and fairly competent otherwise. “Bad Canary?”

  Canary’s eyes widened. “You remember my stage name?”

  “You were famous,” he said. “The whole trial thing. You-”

  Canary’s expression fell.

  “-got robbed,” he said.

  “Dick,” Floret said. “Like that’s how she wants to be remembered.”

  “I remember the music too,” he protested.

  “Yeah,” Canary said. She rubbed the back of her neck, avoiding eye contact. “It doesn’t matter anyways, does it? Long time ago, and we’ve got better things to worry about.”

  “Vulgarishous,” he said. “Ur-sound? Lineless?”

  “You’re probably cheating,” she said.

  “I could sing the lyrics,” he answered.

  “It would make me sure you’re cheating. I barely remember the lyrics.”

  “I don’t believe that for a second,” Spur answered her. “Eh, guys? Back me up. My power doesn’t give me a way to cheat, does it?”

  “No,” Floret said. “He’s genuine. And none of us have ways to clue him in.”

  I glanced at Revel, who only rolled her eyes a little. Exalt looked bored. He saw me looking and commented, “It’s fine here. We’re using substandard tools to find a portal that used to exist, and we don’t know exactly where it was.”

  Imp pushed her mask up until it sat on top of her head. “Finding a transparent needle outside of the haystack.”

  “Well put,” Leonine said.

  “Don’t encourage her,” I told him.

  He only smiled, which made Imp smirk at me in turn.

  Spur was murmuring the lyrics to the song, and he was actually doing a good job of it. Canary was trying to look like she wasn’t pleased as punch. It was cute. Cute and just a little ominous, considering who these guys were.

  Some things had come to light after they’d departed their positions in the Protectorate and Wards. Nothing definitive, but it raised questions that had yet to be answered. Questions that would probably never be answered, now that evidence lockers and court records throughout Earth Bet had been obliterated. Problems that had resolved themselves just a little too neatly. People, both bad guys and witnesses, who’d disappeared.

  “If I’m the lion, and you’re the goat…” Leonine was saying.

  “I guarantee I’m more dangerous than you,” Imp retorted.

  I could sense others in the group getting restless.

  “We’ll let you know if anything turns up,” Revel said, as if she’d sensed it. She smiled a little, a bit awkward, or apologetic. “Don’t let us waste your time. It’s the end of the world, spend it with people you care about.”

  Her eyes moved to Cuff and Golem, who were hanging back. The pair were the heroes of our group, so to speak. They’d feel the betrayal of the Vegas capes more sharply, even now. They looked at each other.

  I did too. Not that I counted myself as a hero. But I’d been there.

  “I could come with,” Exalt said. “If you’re going back. I’m only here to relieve Revel. I’ll be able to participate in the coming fight.”

  “Sure,” I said. “But I’d like to hear the password. From Revel.”

  “Good thinking. Belord, six-two, spauld,” she said.

  “On my seventeenth birthday,” I said. “What color was the cake?”

  “Seriously?” she asked. “Do you even remember? I should get a brownie point for this one. Because I care about my Wards. It was white.”

  “The frosting?” I asked.

  “Blue,” she said, sounding just a bit put out. “And you barely ate any.”

  I nodded, satisfied. “And… Leonine.”

  “Me?“ Leonine laughed a bit. “What kind of shenanigans do you think we’re pulling?”

  “He’s one of the Vegas capes,” Imp said, speaking very slowly, like I was mentally disabled.

  “I know he’s one of the Vegas capes. But I think I have to cover all of the bases. Who was your kindergarten teacher?”

  “You researched that?” Spur asked. “Dug through our entire histories to find something obscure?”

  He sounded offended. Every head had turned his way.

  “Do you have a problem with that?”
I asked.

  He frowned, but he shook his head, sticking his hands in his pockets as he leaned against the wall beside Canary. “No. No problem.”

  “Richie,” Leonine said. “Mrs. Richie.”

  “Great,” I said. “Great. Now let’s drop the fucking act.”

  “I gave you the answer you wanted,” Leonine said, smirking. “What the fuck?”

  “Spur?” I said, “Raise your right hand?”

  He did. There were bugs on the fingers.

  “He was moving his hand. A one-handed sign language. I assume everyone on your team knows it.”

  “I was thinking of Canary’s music,” Spur told me. He stepped forward, putting a hand on Canary’s shoulder as he did so. She turned, so they were both facing me. “Piano keys. Mnemonic tool. That is something our team uses.”

  “You’re being a little crazy paranoid,” Imp said. “Just a little.”

  “They’ve been playing us since the start,” I said. “The men were batting their eyelashes at you and Canary, probably the targets they thought they could work. Revel… I’d think she’s under some kind of compulsion.”

  “A lot crazy,” Imp said. “Way crazy.”

  “Maybe Tattletale can chime in,” I suggested. “Tattle?”

  “Mostly right. Exalt, Revel, Vantage, Leonine, Floret, all fakes.”

  “No shit,” Imp said. Her mouth dropped open. “No way.”

  “Jig’s up,” I said. “We know.”

  One by one, the Vegas capes changed. Flesh altered, and they assumed identical appearances.

  Six copies of Satyrical. Leaving only Spur and Nix.

  One of the Satyricals looked at the two who remained. “Take care of yourself. I’ll see you shortly.”

  “I know,” Spur said.

  Satyr looked at us, as if taking us all in. “And you, I suppose, we’ll run into. Sooner or later.”

  Then the Satyrs died. Flesh withered, and the Satyrs crumpled up. They made bloody messes as they hit the ground, like overripe tomatoes might, but with teeth and the occasional bit of withered organ.