Worm

by John McCrae

  Shamrock was busy giving Spitfire a tracheotomy. A fedora filled with slime was plastered to the younger girl’s face, and she was struggling weakly. Shamrock’s own face was covered in blood from nose to chin, and her efforts to administer the tracheotomy were limited as the fingers of one hand were bent at awkward angles.

  “The woman in the suit,” Faultline said, dropping to Spitfire’s side. She noted the slime. Gregor’s. And Gregor had been burned with Spitfire’s breath? “Power thief?”

  Shamrock let Faultline take over, positioning the clear plastic tube that was sticking into the hole in Spitfire’s throat. She had to spit blood out of her mouth before speaking, “No. I don’t know. She came in here and took us apart in twenty seconds. We didn’t touch her.”

  Spitfire coughed, then started breathing at a more normal rate. She gave Faultline two pats on the wrist, calmer. A signal of thanks?

  “Super speed? Super strength?” Faultline asked.

  “No. Don’t think,” Shamrock spat blood onto the floor. She tried to stand and failed, put one hand to her leg. “Nothing I could see.”

  “A thinker power. Precognition? No, that wouldn’t work with your power. Fuck!” Faultline scrambled to her feet, hurried to Labyrinth’s side. “Hey, Elle, calm down. It’s okay, it’s over. Stop screaming.”

  Labyrinth shut her mouth, whimpered. The cuts to the face were thin. They’d heal with little to no scarring. The hand-

  Faultline stopped. There was a piece of paper beneath the hand.

  She helped Labyrinth raise her hand where it was impaled, leaving the knife in place.

  The bloodstained piece of paper had a message on the underside.

  Final warning.

  -c

  18.z (Interlude; Echidna)

  “Scout it,” Noelle gave the order. “Recuperate while we wait.”

  Marissa sent a hawk flying through the dense foliage. Noelle could feel that dull thrum of adrenaline, feel as though time had slowed down, her perceptions and reaction times cranked up to the maximum as she assessed every skeleton and bog zombie between her team and the hawk’s ultimate destination – a clearing with a withered crone standing idle in the center.

  Everything was a clue, the placement the enemy had chosen for each unit crucial, because it would force them to maneuver one way or another. Was that treasure chest placed at the back of the swamp-dungeon because the enemy Overlord had wanted to put it as far out of reach as possible or was it because he wanted to bait them into a trap on that side of the room?

  It would be impossible to guess from that one clue alone, but the position of the monsters, lighter on that end of the room-

  “Stay to the right,” she ordered.

  There were reports of assent from the others.

  Like being aware one was dreaming without actually disturbing the dream, it was a rare thing to be in the zone and to be aware she was in the zone. She knew she was right.

  “Cody, go ranged.”

  Cody’s Highwayman sheathed his rapier and drew twin pistols from his belt.

  “Luke, wind magic, wind spirits. Dimplecheeks doesn’t usually use casters as an overlord, but he’ll stick to old habits. He’ll have teleportation. Mars, circle around, poke at her from range. Go!”

  They charged into the clearing. The hag, Dimplecheeks, summoned two Über demons as they breached the threshold, then teleported to the far end of the room. Luke’s shaman was already setting down wind spirits who were spewing forth miniature tornadoes, casting out gusts of wind that would accelerate his team and slow down or push their enemies.

  “Enemy team just turned around,” Jess reported. “They’re backtracking for the portal. They’re going to invade en-masse.”

  “Fuck,” Noelle said. Her mind was racing, covering a dozen factors at once – positioning her Challenger to best benefit her allies in the fight, avoiding the hag’s spells, calculating the damage her team was doing, keeping track of her items, and those of her team. “How many rooms?”

  “They were one room past portal, they’ll be entering around now.”

  Ten seconds at best. “We can’t kill her before they show.”

  “Want me to send troops?” Jess asked.

  “No. Fortify your dungeon. If they take us out, you hold them off.”

  “You know my boss monster isn’t that strong. They’re only three rooms from fighting it.”

  “Hold them off,” Noelle said.

  Sure enough, the enemy appeared at the entryway of the boss room. Her team was hurt from the fight with the hag, and the enemy team hadn’t ventured far enough in to burn all of their resources.

  Dying was inevitable. That didn’t mean that their efforts were futile. She had to slow them down- She challenged the enemy’s Chronomancer to a one-on-one duel, consequently shrugged off the vast majority of the damage the remainder of the enemy inflicted, and charged to close the distance to strike the mage down in three blows.

  She challenged the hag the second her target was down, landed two good hits, dropping their target to a third of her total health.

  Then Cody fell, with Luke falling shortly after.

  Noelle managed to use her own body to absorb the worst of the enemy attacks while Marissa ‘kited’ across the area’s perimeter, maintaining a consistent distance as she fired arrows at them.

  Caught between the approaching enemy and a cloud of poison fog the hag had cast, Mars chose to rush through the latter. Her health dropped to zero and she collapsed.

  “Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Cody was shouting. He kicked something.

  It was as though Cody’s tantrum were happening in a very distant place. Noelle’s focus was entirely on slowing the enemy down. She challenged the enemy’s barbarian, because he did the lowest damage and everyone she didn’t challenge would do less damage to her. She took a swig of the potion she still had in her inventory from the start of the game. It wouldn’t restore even five percent of her health, but there was a dim possibility that it would force the enemy to land just one more attack. Take a half second, or invest a few magic points into an ability to catch her. Magic points they couldn’t use to take Jess on.

  The three remaining enemy heroes bum-rushed her, cutting off her fighting retreat and forcing her into one location. The hag landed a toxin-bomb on her, and her health disappeared in an instant. The screen turned to shades of crimson and black, and a timer appeared in the dead center.

  Forty five seconds to respawn. The enemy players were surrounded in flares of light. Level ups. It would make up for the expense of passing through the portal. It had been a good maneuver, perfectly timed, so they could disengage from Jess’ own forces and backtrack through her dungeon.

  “Fuck!” Cody shouted.

  Cody would take thirty seconds to respawn. Thirty to forty-five seconds before they spawned at the checkpoint…

  No, the enemy’s bandit was backtracking through the dungeon. Hacking away at the checkpoint flag.

  Now twenty to thirty-five seconds before they spawned at the dungeon entrance.

  She watched the clock count down, bought new items, continued to watch the clock.

  Cody respawned.

  “Go!” she shouted.

  Luke appeared soon after. So did the enemy Chronomancer, in Jess’ checkpoint room. The enemy was on the second to last room, dispatching goblin grenadiers and goblin gunners, fighting their way past the trenches Jess had laid down.

  They defeated the last of the monsters. The blood gate was satisfied and opened, giving them free rein to fight Jess’ end boss, an ogre king.

  The boss Dimplecheeks had put in the checkpoint room, halfway through his dungeon, was just as tough and more dangerous.

  Mars and Noelle respawned, and they charged through the dungeon.

  Jess had half her health remaining, the hag had one-third, but there were four enemies in Jess’ boss room and Cody hadn’t even reached the hag.

  By the time Cody and Luke were in the hag’s room, it was th
irty-twenty five in the enemy’s favor. The ogre king was tough, but slow, easy to hit. The enemy delivered damage steadily, while Luke and Cody were forced to adapt as the more fragile hag teleported to inconvenient spots, costing them precious seconds each time.

  Noelle and Mars joined the fray.

  When the fighting stopped and the screen went dark, Noelle wasn’t entirely sure if they’d won or lost.

  Letters in gold script flashed across the screen. ‘Victory!’

  The others were out of their chairs, cheering. She joined them. They hugged. She turned, saw Krouse perched on the desk in the center of the room beside Chris and Oliver. He was smiling.

  Noelle hugged him, and for once she was able to forget all her doubts and insecurities, all her issues, the way even physical contact would leave her with a pit in her stomach. She hugged him tight, and it was good. It felt right.

  “We’re going to nationals!” Cody whooped.

  “That was you,” Krouse whispered to her. “You made the difference. You won.”

  ■

  Her breath was too hot as it passed through her lips. The exertion, this body mass, it made her feel feverish. Worse than feverish. She felt like she had when she’d been camping as a child, standing too close to the fire, seeing how long she could endure it.

  Only it was all over, inside her. A prickling, almost unbearable heat.

  I know why you showed me that, she thought. She looked at Trickster; he adjusted his hat, swapped Sundancer with one of the flying capes. The sun fizzled out as she landed. One threat out of commission. Ballistic and the other cape he’d arrived with were down as well.

  She tried to read Trickster’s body language. Back straight, walking with confidence. He’d hesitated when she’d asked for his help. Now there wasn’t a trace of doubt.

  She’d admired that about him, had been jealous of it. The confidence. The sense of pride.

  But the memory that had flashed across her consciousness, almost more vivid than reality, the emotions very real as she recalled them, it hadn’t served the intended purpose.

  You can’t convince me that way, she thought. This victory and that one don’t even compare.

  There wasn’t a reply, of course.

  “Bitch! Run!” Regent hollered. “Go to Tattletale!”

  Only his head, shoulders and one arm were free of Noelle’s grip. She tugged and pulled him in faster. He put his free arm inside her flesh, found something more or less solid and managed to push back enough to avoid having his head pulled in.

  Trickster and Noelle wheeled around. Bitch, the girl with the dogs, was the last Undersider here. Trickster couldn’t find an angle to swap the girl with anyone else. The boy in the armor would be too large, and Trickster’s field of vision didn’t allow for him to get his eyes on her and someone more appropriate.

  Noelle tagged several of the bodies in her internal stomachs, felt flesh constrict tight against them, felt the pre-prepared nuggets of flesh in her gullet forming into close replicas in an instant. Timing was crucial; if she spat them out too soon, they’d be malformed, missing limbs or features. Too late, and there was extra material.

  She retched, sending them flying in the direction of the girl with the dogs. Bodies for Trickster to use.

  But the boy with the armor was already moving. He slammed one hand into the ground, and a cloud of debris and dust masked him and Bitch.

  She couldn’t wholly control the vomit, lost one of the powered ones. Not one of the Undersiders, she was relieved to note. It had been the big one, who’d been with the tinker. He’d called himself Über. She didn’t try to reclaim him. He was more or less useless. The loss still pained her. Better to have him than one of the unpowered ones.

  Her vomit caught Genesis, who was presently a charging bull with a jellyfish-like tentacles trailing behind her. The vomit blinded Genesis, and Noelle struck her hard enough to kill. The body collapsed and started disintegrating.

  “Hey,” Regent said. “Monster girl.”

  Noelle snarled as she glanced down at the boy who was stuck inside one of her legs. Only his face was left to be consumed. Her voice was hoarse with emotion as she asked, “What?”

  “When you make my clone, do you think you could give him a goatee?”

  Noelle didn’t dignify the question with a response. She flexed and drew Regent completely within her body. She’d hurt him later. For now, she needed him to help her escape so she could hunt down his friends.

  She ran. The simple act of moving flooded her body with endorphins and adrenaline. It felt good, made her feel strong. That was another avenue of attack, as her body tried to work its manipulations on her mind. The hunger, the heightened emotions, rewarding her with pleasant memories and good feelings when she operated in sync with it.

  It was a matter of weeks, days or hours before she lost enough ground that she was the one trying to manipulate her body into doing what she wanted, with it calling all the shots. If the process continued, she would eventually be subsumed entirely, unable to do anything but observe, and maybe not even that.

  The pavement had been cracked like a sheet of glass, and the footing was unsteady, but the mass of her body was crushing fragments underfoot, and she had four good legs, with five more for further support. Falling wasn’t a concern.

  Noelle passed through the cloud of dust that the one in armor had sent flying into the air. She saw the armored tinker punching the ground once more, leaped to clear the ground that suddenly plunged into a pit in front of her. She picked out a selection from those within her and, with her rightmost head, sent a stream of bodies at him. He punched the ground with his other hand, and pavement tilted upward in a makeshift barrier, blocking the worst of the stream and flying bodies.

  The ones who did land in his vicinity were on him in moments. One was the little space-warper, another was a copy of the firebreathing acrobat with the rich smell, and three were copies of the unpowered people she’d absorbed. They mobbed the armored tinker.

  She hadn’t included the Undersiders in that stream. Until they were more fully absorbed, there was a good chance that she’d spit them out if she tried to copy them. Using any one person too frequently carried the same risks, and she suspected that it would be more difficult now that she was so full.

  The girl in silver armor, with white flowing clothes was dashing toward her from the other side, not any slower for the shattered ground underfoot. Noelle picked out unpowered individuals she could afford to lose, closed her muscles tight around them, and spat out the partially formed nuggets along with a mess of the internal fluids.

  The girl ducked low, landing on a fragment of road, using her forward momentum to skid toward Noelle as though she were snowboarding. There was an explosion of debris as she kicked off the ground, and the girl soared toward Noelle, twisting in the air to land a kick with that same foot.

  It felt like getting hit by a cannon. Noelle’s stride broke and she had to plant one foot to the side to keep from falling over.

  She’d lost ground, and Bitch was swiftly increasing the distance between them.

  Noelle hesitated, then decided to let the girl go for the time being. Better to defend herself, establish a better position. While stationary, she could spit up an Undersider, swallow them back up again. She’d read up on them, had talked to Trickster about them. She had a good sense of what they were capable of.

  But which one? She had three. Regent might work against this girl in white, but his influence would be too minor in the big picture. His smell was weakest of the three.

  Not that it was really a smell… but she was peculiarly aware of the people with powers, active or otherwise. Each had a texture and a tone and a flavor, something she felt like she could come to understand. She might have said it was taste, might have compared it to when she’d tried wine that one time and tried to see what the wine aficionados looked for when they sampled a vintage. Except the word ‘smell’ worked better, because smell and taste were really very
similar and smell worked over distances.

  There was a difference in Skitter, Grue’s and Eidolon’s smells, along with a handful of the other visiting capes. A smell that set them apart from the other parahumans in the same way that the other parahumans were set apart from the people who could have powers but didn’t. An intensity.

  She wished she’d spent more time researching the powers. She hadn’t been able to bring herself to, had wanted only to distract herself from the thoughts of what was happening to her.

  Which one to use? Skitter was more dangerous in a general sense, but she wouldn’t stop the girl in white now. That left Grue.

  She didn’t spit, but simply contracted and let the body spill forth. Sure enough, the real Grue tumbled out, prostrate, unable to move. A tongue snaked out of her center-mouth and caught him before he could try to escape. She’d swallowed him by the time her Grue was on its feet.

  Noelle only had a glimpse of her Grue’s real form before he started cloaking himself in darkness. He was muscular, broad-shouldered, his long hair slicked to his head by the fluids of the vomit. Angry red ulcers studded his dark skin at set intervals.

  He cast a glance over his shoulder at her as the darkness crept up over his shoulders and the back of his head. His eyes were black from corner to corner, his teeth too large, misshapen much like his fingernails were, tangled together to the point that he couldn’t open his mouth. It forced him into a perpetual grimace with his teeth bared.

  He turned his back to her as the darkness covered his face, squared his shoulders. The body language was clear. He was protecting her.

  He’s one of the useful ones, then. Her copies of the little space warper had been like that. Naturally inclined toward teamwork, disciplined. The other three were more likely to run off. They were still useful, but they did things in their own way.

  Spheres of darkness appeared in her Grue’s hands. One after the other, he hurled them at the girl in white. The first missed, and the second seemed like it might do the same, until it arced in the air to strike her from the side.