by wildbow
The whine of the lightning gun increased by an octave. I saw Dragon’s upper body shift in reaction.
“Move the insects away from my suit, now,” Dragon ordered me.
“Why would I—”
“Now,” she ordered, and there was an urgency in her tone that banished any suspicion on my part that there was a ruse or that somehow it might serve my interest to disobey. I withdrew my bugs, but I kept them poised to return if needed.
Dragon moved back, and her body coiled around the spot where the gun had fallen, segments meeting to loosely interconnect with one another, forming a dome-shaped encasement. Two shoulder turrets began dispensing foam directly downward, into the dome.
“Count yourself fortunate, Skitter. I’ve never killed a criminal without explicit permission and all the filed paperwork, and I’m not about to start with you. I’ll be in contact.”
“What?” I had to raise my voice to be heard over the high pitched whine. I couldn’t figure out what she meant.
“Think about what I said. Take a close look at those priorities of yours.”
The vapor had melted enough foam that I could pull myself free and stand. I got five paces away before the whine ceased. A second later, lightning began to spill from the gun in overtime. Dragon’s body served to block the vast majority of it, but a few arcs slipped through the cracks in her body.
The full meaning of her words struck me the moment the gun detonated. A large portion of her suit was destroyed, as was one of the limbs. Dragon fell to one side.
She’d saved me?
Regent had said Dragon was inside, piloting it, hadn’t he? I stepped closer, trying to see if she was okay.
Regent was right. There was someone—something—in the suit of armor.
It looked like a fetus: the features were crude, barely humanoid in any sense of the word. The eyes were half-formed, and it had no nose, only a beak-like mouth. The head was half-again as large as the body below the neck. Wires wove in and out of orifices.
It turned to look at me, then made a low mewling sound. The metal around it began to glow red-hot, then white-hot. Burns consumed the thing and the flesh changed to a charred black texture as the metal of the frame began to melt and dissolve. Whatever had happened with the Dragonslayers, it seemed Dragon was dedicated to eliminating all traces of her work when her suits were damaged.
But was that Dragon?
No. She’d seemed to know she was sacrificing her suit, but she’d also said she was going to get in contact with me in the future. I backed away, then ran for the window.
So what the hell had I just seen?
Had that been someone who was physically affected by their powers? I wasn’t even sure if it was human.
I had a growing, uneasy feeling that this wasn’t related to powers and trigger events in the conventional sense. I pushed it out of my mind. I had something more pressing to focus on.
I set my foot on the bookcase, then stepped up and through the window to exit the building. I could see the others dispatching two members of the Protectorate. Tattletale hurried towards me, said something about the explosion, that she thought I’d be out by now. I barely registered it. My attention was on one person as I strode forward.
Bitch.
Parasite 10.6
The residual foam on my glove made my hand sticky as I reached into the compartment at my back and grabbed my baton. It took me two tries to get my thumb onto the button so I could whip it out to its full length.
I strode towards Bitch, weapon in hand. Tattletale hurried to catch up to me, turning to keep an uneasy eye on the ongoing fight with the Protectorate.
“Hey, Skitter!” Tattletale grabbed my shoulder.
I whirled to face her, hand clenching my baton. I could see the change in her expression as some piece fell in place for her.
“Shit,” she swore. “Hey, listen—”
She didn’t get a chance to finish. White smoke billowed around us. My first thought was that our adversaries were using some sort of bug spray.
The way today was going, it would be just my luck.
I held my breath and hurried out of the cloud, Tattletale following, and searched for the source. Assault was taking on Regent and Imp, while Grue and Shadow Stalker were dealing with Battery and Weld. Bitch and her dogs, on the other hand, were facing down Triumph. Not the matchup I would have chosen, taking on the guy with the sonic shout using dogs with sensitive hearing.
I almost went after Bitch right then and there, but self-preservation won out over any desire for retribution. As Tattletale and I made our way around the cloud, I spotted Miss Militia.
A black-green energy crackled in her hand, and she lobbed a grenade my way. I scrambled back, only for it to turn out to be another canister of smoke, billowing out between Miss Militia and me.
Why the smoke?
The bees I had in the smoke were acting funny. I was surprised to find out why. I’d known that beekeepers used smoke to pacify the bees before collecting the honey. My assumption had been that it acted as a tranquilizer, putting them to sleep. In reality, it was forcing them to revert to instinctual behavior. It made them want to eat and feed and to flee. For those near enclosed spaces or even the corners of walls or the foundations of buildings, it made them adjust their wingbeats to divert the flows of oxygen.
If she’d been intending to use the smoke to screw with my insects, she’d underestimated my power. I canceled out the instincts and sent the bugs through the smoke, blind, feeling out for her. I found her running towards us, through the smoke.
“She’s coming!” I shouted.
In retrospect, that was a mistake.
Much as I might have warned Tattletale and the others, I’d also informed Miss Militia on my location. I turned to run, but she was already raising her gun to fire with an ear-shattering crack.
From the way it cut past my bugs, and the wake of disturbed air the pellets left behind them I could only guess she’d just grazed me with a shotgun. I collapsed sideways to the ground, and the pain came a heartbeat later, radiating over half of my upper body, from my shoulder to my right butt cheek. I was guessing it was nonlethal ammunition—it could well have been lethal, for the sheer degree of hurt it delivered, if my costume had prevented it from penetrating.
Before she could shoot again, I directed my bugs to her hands and eyes, hoping to incapacitate her. I still had a small few of the capsaicin-loaded bugs, and sent them all her way.
As hard as it was to see in the smoke, there was still faint light. That light disappeared the instant Grue used his power.
Miss Militia was staggering and reeling as her hands and face lit up with stings and burns. The gun wasn’t in her hands anymore, which meant we weren’t at risk of getting shot. I sent more bugs across to the other members of the Protectorate, to try to disable them.
Tattletale fumbled around and found me in the darkness, clasped her hand around the same hand I held the baton with, and helped me to my feet. She gave me her support as we limped away. Nothing seemed to be broken, judging by what I felt.
The darkness disappeared after we’d traveled across the street. Grue greeted us. “Dragon?”
“Kaput, thanks to Tattletale,” I spoke.
He looked back the way we’d come, “Damn that smoke. Listen, Tattletale, head down this street, wait for us. Skitter and I are going back in to find and retrieve the others.”
I supposed that would be another benefit of using the smoke. If you didn’t expect to be able to see, then it didn’t hurt to deny your enemy that same privilege. Miss Militia had been thinking about this. If her team wasn’t so sparse on members, she could have done a lot more damage.
“My bugs are telling me they’re over there, there and there,” I pointed in the direction of our teammates. “That’s all I can do for you. I kind of got shot, not sure I’m up to running around.”
His head snapped around to face me. “Shot?”
“I’m okay, it was nonlethal. I think,” I assure
d him, “Go!”
He did, glancing over his shoulder to look at me before disappearing back into the midst of the darkness.
Tattletale and I made our escape. We got three blocks away before we found a spot to hide. Tattletale got out her phone and began sending messages, presumably to Grue and Coil.
Our hiding place was the lobby of an apartment building. Boards had been placed over the windows, and there were signs that some people had camped out here, not long ago. It was otherwise similar to Grue’s apartment complex. Less tidy, obviously.
“You okay?” Tattletale asked me.
“That question seems to come up a lot.”
“I’m sorry. I knew the gun would inevitably overheat, and what little I could read off of Dragon told me she’d deal with that above anything else. I didn’t think you’d be stuck there, too.”
“No. Your gun thing there saved my skin. The real problem was…” I trailed off. I still had the baton in my hand—the residual containment foam meant I’d probably have to peel the glove away from the weapon. I clenched the weapon tight.
We sat in silence for nearly ten minutes before the rest arrived as a massed group. Shadow Stalker was limping, and two of the dogs were their normal size, draped across Bentley’s back, but everyone was more or less intact.
Bitch’s eyes widened fractionally as she saw me.
I was already standing, barely feeling the hurt from where I’d been grazed. Blood pounded in my ears, and I could feel the buzz of my insects.
“How—” she started. I didn’t let her finish. My baton held in both hands, I struck her in the upper thigh. When she didn’t fall, I let go of the baton and backhanded her. She toppled, and protests and shouts echoed around me.
It hurt. Damn it, I’d never really hit someone with my hands before. I wondered if I’d managed to break something.
There were still bugs on some of my teammates. I could sense them approaching, Grue and Imp moving to stop me. I ducked out of the way of their hands before they could grab me, and then held up my baton, menacing them. I cast a momentary glance towards Shadow Stalker, then augmented my voice with the buzzing and chirping of my swarm, “Don’t.”
“What the hell are you doing!?” Grue roared.
“Ask her,” my response was barely above a growl.
Grue glanced down at Bitch, who was rubbing her chin, opening her jaw wide, as if testing it.
I dropped down to a crouch so quickly that my knee slammed into the ground. I grabbed the upper end of the baton and pulled it over Bitch’s head, forcing the bar between her teeth, pulling back hard.
Grue moved to stop me once more, and I shook my head. He hesitated, then stopped.
Bentley was pacing towards me, snarling at the attack on his owner. I met his gaze with my own, unflinching, and he didn’t lunge to attack, maybe because he didn’t want to hurt his master in the process. I didn’t break eye contact with the dog as I spoke with the swarm buzzing in accompaniment, “Regent, this isn’t for Shadow Stalker’s ears.”
“Got it,” Regent spoke. Shadow Stalker moved to the bench by the elevators, sat down, and buried her face in her arms, covering her ears. Regent informed me, “She can’t hear much of anything, now.”
“Bitch,” I pulled on the bar, eliciting more struggling from Bitch, “just tried to fuck me over in the fight with Dragon. Shoved me into the foam.”
Bitch made a muffled noise, then jabbed me in the side, where I’d been grazed by Miss Militia’s shotgun. It hurt, and in the interest of keeping her from doing it again, I shifted my position so I could force Bitch onto her back against the ground, her head pinned down by my baton. She could still hit me and jab me, but my shins could take a lot more abuse than her jaw could. I belatedly realized I’d taken my eyes off Bentley, but he didn’t maul me. When I looked up, I saw Tattletale had a grip on his chains.
“You’re a coward, Rachel,” I spoke. “You just did the very same thing you hate me for almost doing. You stabbed me in the back. You fucked over your own teammate.”
She mumbled something around the bar. The look in her eyes made me seriously worry she would kill me when I let her go.
“I’m in a position to hurt you now, and I’m pissed enough to do it,” I spoke, my voice low. “But I won’t. This vendetta against me ends, now. You got your shot at me, you fucked it up. If you’re still mad at me, you fucking better cope, got it!?”
She snarled out two muffled words. I suspected they were rude.
When I spoke next, I bent low and whispered the words for her and her alone, “When you’re tossing and turning and trying to sleep, remembering what I did and said here and getting pissed off about it? Remember that you were the weak one. You embarrassed yourself, fucked up, you were the weakling, the wuss who couldn’t even confront me face to face. And knowing you like I do? I’m betting it’s going to gnaw at you. That’s as much a punishment as I could inflict, I think. That’s on you, not me.
“You said it yourself, a while back. It’s a mistake to underestimate me. You want another shot at it, it had better be really damn good. Because if it isn’t, I’m going to survive, I’m going to get away. And then I might break your jaw for real. For starters.”
I stood, removing the baton from her mouth and stepping away, to give her room to stand. Leaning against the wall, I pressed the button and collapsed the baton into the handle. I stared at her.
Working her jaw, she stood and glared at me. She either didn’t have a response for me, or she did and her jaw hurt too much for her to try giving it. None of the others were jumping into the middle of this.
In the face of the silence, I offered one final comment, “I think I’ve already covered what happens if you want to continue this vendetta. Now I’m going to offer you a deal. Number three, I think, and my deals with you are usually pretty fair, if I may say so myself.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“I fucked up, you fucked up, whatever. Insult for insult, blow for blow, I’d like to think we’re even. So now I’m going to trust you to have my back. I’m going to put myself in more situations where you have a prime chance at fucking me over, backstabbing me, catching me at my most vulnerable. Because we can’t function as a team any other way.
“I’m going to treat you like a damned teammate, Rachel, but I’ll go one step further. You think you can put this behind you and satisfy yourself with what you tried to pull earlier tonight? Cool. Because if you’re willing, I’ll come with you to help take care of your dogs. I’ll bring fucking lunch, if you want it. That’s the deal I’m offering you, pissed as I am right now. I’ll be your damn friend.”
She looked away, down at the ground, scowling.
“Take it or leave it.”
She decided to leave it, apparently. Bitch stomped away, slamming the door the moment Bentley passed through it, leaving the rest of us standing there in the rubbish-strewn apartment building.
Grue sighed audibly and looked over our group, “We’d better go. We should decide what we’re going to do with Shadow Stalker, now.”
“We could keep her,” Imp spoke.
Regent shook his head, “Nope. There are drawbacks to this, and one of them is that I lose control of anyone I’m controlling while I sleep. Better to get rid of her on my terms than have her trying to shoot me in the throat while I take a nap.”
“And it’s kind of fucked up,” I spoke.
“I thought you were all-in,” Regent said.
“I am. But that doesn’t mean I’m an idiot,” I retorted. “This kind of mind control—”
“Body control,” Regent interrupted, his tone bored. “Her mind still belongs to her.”
“Semantics. This kind of mind control is pretty high up there on the scale of fucked-upness. People are going to respond to that. It might be the nudge they need to start responding to us with lethal force. Think of how different tonight would have played out if Dragon and Miss Militia hadn’t held back.”
“Sure,” he shrugged. �
��Whatever. I don’t know why you’re arguing with me. I agree, we should get rid of her.”
“What did you do, back in the old days?” Tattletale asked.
“Kept three people I used regularly, with my sister’s help. But this is fine. Look, watch.”
Shadow Stalker stood, lowering her hands and arms from around her head, and walked over to the door. She faced Regent.
“I’m letting you go,” he spoke.
And then he did. She dropped to all fours on the ground, grunting. A second later, she was loading her bolt, spinning to point her crossbow at him. She stopped before firing.
“There’s a catch,” he spoke. “My power? Once I’ve figured someone out? It’s a lot easier to control them, after. Any time you come near me, I can do this. I can use my power and retake control in the blink of an eye.”
He had her raise her crossbow and point it at her temple. It was a tranquilizer dart, but the meaning seemed pretty damn clear.
“Next time I get control? I’m keeping you for a full day. Maybe two, if I feel like pulling an all-nighter. And here’s the funny part,” there was no humor in his voice, “I’m going to do it even if I’m in civilian clothes, if my power tells me you’re in range. You won’t even know when it’s coming. You’re now a liability to the Wards, and you won’t ever know when or where I’m going to get control again…
“Unless you leave. Skip town. Join another team.”
She nodded, slowly. The movement was jerky, which was peculiar. Was he giving her limited control of her own movements?
“Now let’s walk you off to the other end of the city before I release you. I don’t think you’re quite stupid enough to try and follow us, but I think my teammates would be more comfortable if they were sure.”
Shadow Stalker turned and walked through the door.
Regent looked at us, shrugged. “Good enough?”
“She might be mad enough to come after someone else in our group, but yeah. Good,” Grue said. “Let’s go deliver the stuff.”
* * *
We didn’t meet Coil in the underground base, and the people surrounding him weren’t all the same uniformed mercenaries that had made up his entourage in our prior meetings. The meeting place was at the south end of the Docks, near the border to the downtown area, and it was closer in appearance to the refurbished, ramshackle building where I’d reunited with the Undersiders than anything else.
