by John McCrae
“Problem, S.g.?” the girl asked.
“Hate my power, hate my power, hate it, hate it, hate it,” Scapegoat rasped. Wanton and Grace gave him a hand in standing. He was still making his way to his feet when Grace turned to me.
“You’re blind?” she asked.
“I was,” I said.
“It happened after we parted ways?”
“No,” I said.
She gave me a funny look.
I kept my mouth shut, deciding to let her draw her own conclusions. She looked down at Scapegoat, and I changed the subject. “You’re okay? No lasting effects from Noelle?”
“Ship shape,” she said. I wasn’t sure she was telling the truth; Grace looked a little worse for wear. Her hair looked wet, and the fluids that Noelle had been spitting out had congealed into the cracks and folds of her costume, with colors ranging from black to red to bilious yellow. I wasn’t sure how she’d looked before, but she looked tired. Was it waking up before sunrise, or had she been affected emotionally?
I probably didn’t look much better. At least my costume was black and gray. The muck wouldn’t stand out.
I felt better, though. Enough that I felt almost euphoric. Aches and pains I’d stopped paying attention to long ago were gone. It did a lot to help me disassociate from the images and scenes I’d seen inside Noelle.
Tattletale might have been right. Maybe working with Scapegoat was necessary. If making this permanent was an option, I was willing to do what it took to preserve the effect, keeping Scapegoat close and keeping myself in one piece.
It wasn’t something I had a lot of experience in, playing safe.
“Let’s go find the others,” I said. I didn’t like how Grue was acting when I left him behind. “Grace, Wanton, are you coming with?”
“The orders we got stand until we hear different,” Grace said. “We’re supposed to accompany you.”
“Good. Then let’s see about getting Bentley and putting him on the dog’s back.”
Tattletale shook her head. “Too many impacts, with him lumbering around like he does. Either you or he take too heavy a hit, and we’re back where we started.”
“What if we find a containment van and put him in the passenger seat?” I asked.
“The last van didn’t fare too well,” Tattletale said.
“We’ll use containment foam to keep him safe and in one piece if we have to,” I told her. “I hope it doesn’t come to that. Let’s go.”
I started to move to pick Scapegoat up off the ground, but Tattletale stopped me, putting one hand on my wrist.
“Treat yourself like you’re made of glass,” she said. “No heavy exertion, don’t get hurt, don’t strain yourself.”
“That’s a little extreme,” I said, but I didn’t touch Scapegoat.
It took two people to help Scapegoat to walk. Grace walked on one side of him, Tattletale on the other. When he’d taken on my injuries, had he received a more crippling variation?
I was hungry to observe and absorb every tidbit of information I’d been missing. I could see the heroes gathered, all eyes on the wreckage of the building. PRT officers were treading the perimeter, spraying volumes of containment foam onto the rubble.
Eighty heroes, if my bugs were counting right. Maybe eight in all were in the air. It made it easy to find Eidolon. Like Grace, his costume had been tinted by the film of dried fluids. He was a few stories above the ground, and his cape flapped around him in the strong winds.
It was hard to make capes look good. They had a way of clinging to the body, or flowing the wrong way, getting caught around an arm… it took a measure of majesty to make it work. Eidolon could pull it off.
Ironic, that the slang for a parahuman was ‘cape’, and so few of us wore them.
I’d worn a short cape, not so long ago, barely long enough to reach the small of my back. I’d adopted it more for utility than style, to give me more concealed area to hide my bugs and for the marginal extra protection it afforded me. I didn’t have it now, and I was somewhat glad. I might have felt more self-conscious, seeing Eidolon up there. I’d wind up worrying if I really had the ability to make it look good, when I needed to focus on projecting confidence.
There weren’t many villains here, and now that I could see, I was getting evidence to my previous concerns about being watched.
We reached the Undersiders, and I knelt beside Grue. Imp was beside him, and both Regent and Bitch were standing nearby. Regent gave me a nod, and I nodded back.
“Sorry to do this,” I said. I looked at the three heroes that had accompanied us, “But I’d like to have a private conversation with my teammates.”
The bugs flowed from my costume and the surroundings, forming a moving curtain that separated me from Grace, Wanton and Scapegoat. I gradually widened it, forcing them to back up.
Wanton let Grace support Scapegoat and tried to venture forward into the swarm. He snorted and backed up as bugs crawled into his nose, ears and mouth. I gave him a few seconds to experience the sensation, then removed them. He didn’t try a second time.
“What’s going on?” I asked, keeping my voice low.
“He’s gone quiet,” Imp said. “Not responding much. He flinched when I tried to touch him.”
“Being inside Echidna, you see things,” I said. “Variations on your trigger event, or ugly moments from your life.”
“Oh,” Imp said. “Oh.“
I looked at Grue. He was staring off into space, with darkness gathered in thick ropes around him, to the point that I couldn’t make out how he was sitting. He did that instinctively, I’d noted. The more he withdrew into himself, suppressed his emotions, the more his darkness manifested around him.
If it was this bad, then I wasn’t sure what I could do.
I knelt beside him, and even with the darkness that wreathed him, I could sense him pulling away.
“Imp,” I said.
“What?”
“You should take him home.”
“But… I can help.”
“I know,” I said. ”You’ve helped a lot already. But he can’t stay here. Not like this. If he relived his trigger event, he’s going to need reassurance from you.”
“His other trigger event was about you,” Imp said. She sounded almost accusatory.
“Maybe,” I said. I stared into the black lenses of her mask. ”Do you want me to take him? Because I will. I’ll leave, Tattletale can lead the Undersiders, and you can stay and focus on assassinating clones.”
She drew her knife, turned it around in her hands, as if she were considering it.
“Whatever you do,” I told her, “Make the call fast. If you aren’t staying, I want to get moving fast. I need to collect bugs before the fighting starts up again.”
She glanced down at Grue, then she looked at the others. Regent and Rachel were watching us carefully.
For my part, I looked at Grue. I wanted nothing more than to walk away. I’d be okay being partially blind, waiting weeks or months to see if maybe my senses came back, if it meant holding him, helping him through this, giving him whatever support he needed so badly.
I could so vividly recall the vision I’d seen of Mannequin, and all the people I’d cared about struggling to get to safety. Everyone had been counting on me, and I’d been failing them. Odd, that the recollection was somehow reassuring to me in this brief moment.
In the same moment, I turned to Imp and Imp turned to me. The black lenses of her mask met my yellow ones straight-on.
“You’re the leader,” Imp said, and that was answer enough.
I reached out and took Grue’s hand. He flinched, trying to pull away before I got a firm hold. I managed it anyways, seized his hand between mine.
“Grue,” I said. I kept my voice firm, but quiet. ”It’s Skitter. Taylor. I need you to listen.”
He didn’t budge an inch. I squeezed his hand. ”Listen. You’re going with Aisha, understand? I think I know the kind of thing you saw. What you exp
erienced. But you need to remember the important part, okay? You didn’t fail. You did what you wanted to. You saved her, you saved me, and you saved yourself.”
He tugged, trying to pull his hand away, and I held fast. The darkness was swelling around him.
“There’s only one more part left. Just like you did then, you need to walk away. Leave the scene behind. It’s the best thing you can do. You turn your back, and you walk away from where all the ugliness happened. Understand? Go with Aisha. You two go home together.”
I stood, and I pulled on his hand at the same time. He resisted.
“Take her home,” I said.
This time, when I pulled, he worked to climb to his feet. I took his hand and placed it firmly in Aisha’s. I watched them walk away, hand in hand, and when I couldn’t see them with my eyes, I sensed them with my power, followed the movements with the blotchy vision of my bugs.
The bugs I’d formed into a barrier drifted in my direction and congregated on me. The younger heroes were a short distance away, and Tattletale was with them.
They were watching as reinforcements arrived.
Alexandria and Legend had joined Myrddin, Chevalier and Eidolon.
The big guns. We were finally treating this like a class S threat.
When I approached Tattletale, the other Undersiders followed me: Regent and Bitch with a litter of dogs of varying size trailing around her, chains clinking where they were attached to collars and harnesses.
Tecton was on the other side of the crowd, looking somewhat worse for wear. Grace and Wanton started making their way toward him, and I followed by necessity, because they were helping a blind Scapegoat hobble along.
Our trip led us past the collection of major heroes, and the crowd that had gathered around them. Glancing at them, I could see Tattletale in my peripheral vision, a smile spreading across her face.
I felt a moment’s trepidation. I’d seen that kind of smile, had seen it on Emma’s face, often enough, just before she pulled something. It wasn’t directed at me, though. I reached out for Tattletale’s arm, but she was already speaking.
“Cauldron,” she said. The word just loud enough for the heroes to hear.
Eidolon managed to feign ignorance, not even moving a muscle, and Alexandria barely moved, nothing out of the ordinary for someone who’d heard a voice calling out. Legend, though, turned our way, looking straight at Tattletale. His lips pursed a fraction, and then he looked away.
Tattletale’s grin widened a fraction. She murmured to me, “All three know.”
In which case we just added three people to our list of possible enemies.
19.03
I could see the dirty looks from the heroes around us. Tattletale’s outburst would cost us something in the here and now, and I wasn’t sure there was anything to be gained long-term. Meanwhile, we were the only real villains that I was aware of, surrounded by people who didn’t trust us. People who expected us to try something.
I was acutely aware that the Chicago Wards and Scapegoat would be listening in if I said anything to Tattletale, and the thing I most wanted to say to Tattletale would be the worst thing to say on a lot of levels. Calling her an idiot made us look less cohesive as a team, and she never reacted well to it.
I didn’t want Tecton, Grace and Wanton to hear, so I put one hand on Tattletale’s shoulder to stop her, and spoke just above a whisper. ”That was ill-timed.”
“Only opportunity I was about to get, with all of them together,” she said. She didn’t bother to lower her voice. ”Big piece of the puzzle, knowing this much lets me start working out how everything fits together.”
“I know,” I murmured, “But it wasn’t a good moment. We don’t need to make enemies of the Triumvirate, and we don’t need a kill order put on our heads.”
“Miss Militia wouldn’t really,” Tattletale said.
“That so?” I asked. ”Or is that another one of your educated guesses?”
“Educated guess,” Tattletale said.
“Let’s not forget that there’s other capes with a reason to hate us, and provoking their bosses might motivate them to get on Miss Militia’s case about that kill order and cleaning up Brockton Bay. If an order comes down from above, it doesn’t matter if she’s willing to kill us or not. Let’s do our best to avoid seeming dangerous.”
“Sure,” she said. ”Got what I wanted anyways.”
I wasn’t sure I was happy with that outcome. She wasn’t saying she wouldn’t do it again. “Keep in mind that we’re tired. It’s easier to make mistakes.”
“I get it. It’s cool,” Tattletale said. “But just like you need time to get your bugs together, I need background info to work with before I get into a fight.”
“That’s not a fight we want to start right now,” I said. “Maybe ever.”
“I have ideas. Trust me a little,” she said, smiling a touch.
I frowned behind my mask, then led the way to the Wards. I couldn’t be lecturing her about picking her battles if I didn’t do the same, and arguing this point with Tattletale wasn’t going to help us right now. Something to address another time, another day.
“What’s going on?” Tecton asked.
“Discussing strategy,” I said. ”How are you guys? Wanton?”
“Myrddin caught up with me, collected all the radioactive stuff,” Wanton said. ”My other form feels a little weak. Might be that my real self is feeling drained, might be that whatever powers my other self is.”
“And Raymancer?” I asked.
Wanton glanced at Tecton, but he didn’t respond. I could tell from their body language.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“Nausea, vomiting, headaches, weakness… and even if he makes it through today, it’s probably going to kill him in the next while,” Tecton said.
“There’s healers,” I said. “Tinkers who understand radiation. I’m sure they’ve got good doctors looking after him now. If you’ll accept my saying so, I’d say your priority is here, now, this situation.”
Tecton shifted position, straightening his back so he stood a little taller. With his power armor, it put him head, shoulders and chest above me.
I had to admire the power armor. Even the idea of power armor, it was kind of scary to me. Putting together a piece of machinery that could bend steel bars and punch through concrete was impressive enough on its own, but doing that and then climbing into said machinery, walking around in it, knowing that a single malfunction could cause a potential catastrophic failure? Being trapped in that armor, or worse, having it accidentally leverage that terrible strength against the wearer inside?
I was still operating like I had when I was blind. A centipede crawled over the lens of my mask, obstructing my vision. I willed it to move away.
Tecton wore his suit well. He was a walking tank, wide as he was tall, a glossy rust-brown with brass highlights. His eyes were barely visible, but I could see his eyes behind the mask, studying me. He wasn’t venturing a reply.
Had I been too forward? Too presumptuous?
“Worrying about him is fine,” I said, and the image of Grue sitting at the base of the wall flickered through my mind’s eye, “But the best thing you can do for Raymancer is get through this thing alive, and when you’re done, you can do your job as team leader and find someone who can help him.”
“Myrddin will do that.”
“Maybe,” I said. “But are you really willing to trust the well-being of your teammate to a supervisor? Wouldn’t it feel better to handle it yourself?”
“Unless I have reason not to, I’ll rely on Myrddin and I’ll feel better doing that,” Tecton replied. “All of this, this whole scenario, the organization of it all, it doesn’t work unless there’s a measure of trust.”
“Okay,” I said. His reply had caught me off guard. I hadn’t expected Tecton to have that kind of faith in his superiors, and I couldn’t be sure if it was my own bias or naiveté on his part that were at fault for this gap in u
nderstanding. Even if I were right, though, it wasn’t my place to ‘fix’ him. “You lead the way you have to. Sorry to make assumptions.”
“S’okay,” Tecton said. “Doesn’t matter if you do or not. I’ll just keep making sure you and your team don’t create trouble.”
“Which we didn’t do, when we lost the armbands and let them move on Eidolon,” Grace pointed out.
“I’ll take the flak for that,” Tecton said.
“I mentioned it in passing to Miss Militia,” I said, “Better that you tell the truth and say we pushed hard for it. Blame me.”
“No,” Regent said, “Blame me.”
I shot him a look, and he shrugged. “Just wanted to get in on the fun,” he said.
“You want me to put the blame on you, even if it means you get the kill order?” Tecton asked.
“I’d rather not get the kill order,” I said.
“And I’d rather not be indirectly responsible for your death,” Tecton said. “I think that settles that.”
Maybe that’s for the best, I thought. “Then let’s talk strategy and priorities. Tecton, do you need anything? Gear? Time to prep?”
He shook his head. “No. Need time to clean my armor and make sure it’s all in working order, that’s all.”
“Bitch,” I said. “The dogs are okay?”
“They weren’t, but they’re getting better as they grow.”
I looked at the dogs. They were each about twice their usual size, rippling with interior and exterior muscles, layered in calcified skin and sporting bone hooks. They were walking, which was good. I looked over the rest of the group, trying to take in all the variables. “Regent, you have a bead on Shatterbird?”
“Sorta did, felt too shitty to do anything with her after metal boy yanked me out. Around the time I started feeling better, she disappeared.”
“What does that mean?”
“She’s out of range, she’s dead, or she’s inside Noelle.”