Worm

by wildbow

  The building was an old quadruplex, and it had been reinforced with metal panels, sandbags and plastic sheeting to keep the interior crisp and dry, much as the other building had. Small rooms with bunk beds filled half of the lower level, with a bathroom, kitchen and living room taking up the rest.

  Finding the lower level empty, we headed to the second floor and found an open space supported by two metal pillars. There were a half-dozen mercenaries with Coil, as well as a collection of people who looked like they had come from every walk of life. Teenagers, professionals, and two guys that might have been capes—one thin, short guy with brown skin and a tattoo around his mouth, depicting a mess of sharp teeth penetrating the skin of his cheeks and lips. The other was burlier, shirtless, and wore a rusty, old fashioned looking mechanical rigging around his hands, with a bear-trap jaw plate. The frame seemed set up to hold metal claws around his fingertips while allowing his hands the full range of motion. He had a spiked collar of much the same style.

  Coil sat in a black leather armchair, with a laptop set on the table beside him. Dinah was there, too. She sat at the base of the chair, on a cushion just beside Coil’s feet, picking at the threads of her white dress with a dazed single-mindedness that told me she had probably received her ‘candy’ pretty recently.

  “Undersiders. Tattletale informed me you were successful, despite complications. May I see it?”

  Tattletale stepped forward and handed Coil the USB thumbstick. He plugged it into the laptop, then turned the computer so the middle-aged man to his left could type away.

  “Data’s corrupted, sir. Looks like the download was interrupted at the ninety-seven percent mark.”

  “Can you fill in the blanks?” Coil asked him.

  “Probably. Will take some time. There’s encryption. Good encryption. Maybe a few days, with the full team working on it?”

  “Most likely it is Dragon’s work,” Coil spoke. “Let’s assume it’ll take a week, minimum. Perhaps Tattletale will be able to assist.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Priority number one, I want the data on the Slaughterhouse Nine.”

  I felt a chill, but didn’t say anything. Was he intending to hire them? It would be a huge mistake in my book, if he was.

  Regent asked the question for me, “The Slaughterhouse Nine?”

  “At least some of their members have been seen in town, preying on the locals, disrupting recovery efforts. The recent chaos makes the city a playground for them,” Coil spoke. “One of my teams is bound to run up against them soon.”

  “How likely is it?” Tattletale asked. She tilted her head in Dinah’s direction. “Can you ask her?”

  “I suppose.” Coil put his hand on Dinah’s head, stroked her hair, then slid his hand down the side of her face until he could place his fingertips under her chin, raise her head to look at him, “Pet?”

  It was disturbingly intimate in a way I’d rather not think about. No, not intimate. That was the wrong word for the impression I was getting. Possessive. I looked away.

  “Yes?” Dinah asked.

  “Likelihood that one of my groups encounters the Slaughterhouse Nine?”

  “Who?”

  He moved to take the laptop, and the middle-aged man stepped back to let him. He typed for a few seconds, then turned it around so Dinah could see. It was a gallery of images.

  “Bonesaw.” he spoke. The girl on the screen looked barely older than Dinah, maybe the same age as Aisha. The image showed her wide-eyed, a spray of dried blood painted her face at a diagonal.

  “Shatterbird.” A dark-haired, brown-skinned woman with a helmet covering the upper half of her face, in a beak shape. I was reminded of Iron Falcon, the boy I’d tried to help, who’d died in the Endbringer attack. From what I’d read, Shatterbird usually used her power as the Nine arrived in a city, to maximize panic and terror. I supposed they were flying under the radar for now. Fuck, I’d have to do something about my costume, just in case.

  “Crawler.” No portrait, this time. It was a still from a surveillance camera, a misshapen silhouette, not even humanoid, in a shadowy area. I’d come across stories about him when I’d been researching possible superhero names for myself. Not pretty.

  “Mannequin.” Another long-distance shot. The figure was standing by Bonesaw in the photograph, with other hulking figures within the shadows of the background. He stood almost twice her height, and he looked artificial. His body was in pieces, each section wrapped in a hard shell of ceramic or plastic or white-painted metal—I couldn’t be sure. His joints were a mix of loose chains and ball joints. A tinker with a body-modification fetish. I couldn’t say how much of the transformation was his own power and how much was Bonesaw’s work.

  “The Siberian.” A woman, naked from head to toe, her body painted in alternating stripes of jet black and snow white. She had gone up against the Triumvirate—Legend, Alexandria and Eidolon—on a dozen occasions, and she was still around to talk about it. Or around, at least. From what I’d read, she didn’t talk.

  “Burnscar.” Younger, maybe an older teenager or a young-looking twenty-something. She looked almost normal, with her dark hair badly cut, but then I saw the vertical row of cigarette burns marking each of her cheeks, and a faint glow to her eyes.

  “Hatchet Face.” This was one I hadn’t even heard of. The man didn’t wear a mask, and his head was shaved. He looked like he had been beaten, burned and just plain abused so often that his face was as much scar tissue than flesh, and he didn’t look like he’d been handsome to begin with.

  “Jack Slash.” Jack looked like someone on the attractive side of average, his dark hair cut short and styled with gel. His beard and moustache were immaculately trimmed so that each had a serrated edge, and his shirt was wrinkled, only half buttoned so his hairless upper chest showed. He had kind of a Johnny Depp look to him, though he had more of a widow’s peak, a longer face and lighter eyes. Good looking, if you looked past the fact that he was a mass murderer. He held a small kitchen knife in the photo.

  There were parahumans who were fucked up before powers entered the picture, like Bitch, and there were parahumans who became monsters after they got their powers, like Bakuda. Then there were the really dangerous ones, the people who had probably been monsters before powers were even on the table, and then they got worse.

  And if that wasn’t bad enough, you had Bonesaw, who was like some kind of artist, as psychopaths went. The sort of person that drew other lunatics to her, just because they wanted to see what she would do next. Even that wouldn’t normally work as a dynamic, but as I understood it, Jack somehow managed to play them off one another and keep the group more or less intact. He was familiar enough with the psychology of his group and just plain charismatic enough to keep them from killing one another.

  Which wasn’t to say they didn’t. There were only eight members in their group at present, and the turnover rate was pretty damn high, because they had a tendency towards recklessness, infighting and showy displays. They thought nothing of descending on an elementary school, just because they could. When the heroes came for them, they came with lethal force.

  “Mmm,” Dinah said.

  “What is it, pet?” Coil murmured.

  “It’s him.”

  “Who?”

  She pointed at the screen, at Jack Slash. “Him.”

  “You’re going to have to explain it to us, pet. What about him?”

  “He’s the one who makes everyone die.”

  I shivered. What?

  “Everyone here?”

  Dinah shook her head, her hair flying out to either side. “Everyone. I don’t understand. Can’t explain.”

  “Try,” he urged her.

  “Sometimes it’s in two years. Sometimes it’s in eight. Sometimes in between. But if he’s alive, something happens, and everyone on Earth starts to die. Not that everyone doesn’t die anyways but they die really fast when that something happens, all one after another, and in a year almo
st everyone is dead. So I said everyone, if that makes sense and a few live but they die pretty soon after anyways and—”

  “Shh, pet. I think we understand what you’re saying. Quiet now, unless you think of something important. We need to consider this.”

  Silence reigned for a few long seconds. You could have heard a pin drop.

  “His power isn’t all that, I don’t think,” Grue spoke, slowly, as if considering the words as he spoke. “Space warping effect, so any blades he’s holding have an edge that extends a horrendously long distance, all with the optimal force behind the swing. Swings his knife, cuts through an entire crowd. Doesn’t make sense that he’d be able to murder everyone on Earth.”

  “Unless he somehow cuts the planet in half,” Tattletale mused.

  That was disquieting.

  “No,” Dinah spoke. “He doesn’t.”

  “I think we need more numbers if we’re to understand this, pet. What is the likelihood that he succeeds in this? To one decimal point.”

  “Eighty three point four percent.”

  “You said if he’s alive. What if we killed him? Now? To one decimal point. If I use my power.”

  “Thirty one point two percent chance someone kills him before he leaves the city, if you use your power. It doesn’t happen until fifteen years from now, if you do.”

  “So it still happens?” Coil asked.

  “Yes. Always happens.”

  Tattletale spoke up, “He’s the catalyst for something else, then.”

  “Is it always successful, pet? This something that kills everyone on Earth?”

  She shook her head, “Not always, not all the way. Sometimes more people live. Sometimes hundreds, sometimes thousands, sometimes billions. But millions or billions always die when it happens.”

  “If I were to send the Travellers? How likely would they be to kill him?”

  “My head hurts.”

  “Please, pet, this is important. To one decimal point.”

  “Twenty two point six percent. Thirty point nine percent chance some of them die.”

  “And the Undersiders?”

  “Eleven point nine percent chance they succeed. Fifty five point four percent chance they die if they fight those people.”

  Coil sighed, then straightened. He looked at the middle-aged man, handed him the computer, “I strongly recommend you get what information you can on the group. Any detail in the PRT records could be invaluable. Lose sleep if you have to.”

  The man took the laptop, swallowed, and then offered a quick bob of his head. The others in the assembled group around Coil looked just as alarmed by what they’d overheard.

  “We should contact the local heroes,” Grue spoke. “Let them know what’s up.”

  Coil nodded, slowly, “I’ll look into it. That said, I think the numbers illustrate one thing. You are not equipped to fight that group. If you encounter them, you—”

  “Sixty percent,” Dinah muttered.

  “Sixty percent, pet?”

  “Sixty percent chance the Undersiders encounter some of those people.”

  Coil turned to look at us. “So you’re likely to encounter them. When that happens, you run. Cede any territory, abandon any job. I would rather you were alive than successful in a job.”

  “Got it,” Grue spoke.

  “In the meantime, we move on to the next phase of my plan,” Coil spoke. “You may be wondering about this location, how it is similar to the new headquarters I provided you. I have outfitted these areas to be your stations, points from which you will operate, work to seize and keep territory. I have several more. If you’re amenable, I would have each of you take one of these stations for yourself. Grue, this would be your station, shared with Imp, which I assume is alright?”

  Grue looked around, “Big place and a lot of beds for two people.”

  “More on that later. Rest assured, I can provide staff, help. I expect you’ll wish to find and recruit people of your own. Contact me about funds—I will ensure that anyone you hire is paid well.”

  Grue nodded.

  “Regent? Your territory is near Grue’s, close to the water.”

  Regent nodded.

  “Bitch is absent?”

  “Interpersonal stuff,” Grue replied. “She’ll be back.”

  “A shame. Your other headquarters, where I moved your collective belongings, that will be her station. Barker and Biter here showed up for the Endbringer fight, and I got in contact with them. They, alongside these three young individuals,” he gestured to the two parahumans, and three college-aged kids who looked rather intimidated, “will work under her. Barker and Biter profess to be fearless, and should have little difficulty managing the dogs, even when Bitch’s abilities are at work. The men and the young lady I’ve provided have some degree of training in veterinary medicine or handling dogs. Let her know this. She is free to accept them or refuse them as she sees fit.”

  Grue looked over the five people who would be Bitch’s henchmen, nodded.

  “Tattletale, I’ve set up quarters near Lord Street, in one of the ABB’s old locations. I assume your teammates will want to be in contact, and this area is both accessible, and it can reach any other area readily. The area is already furnished with computers, and you’ll find staff there, people who are capable at gathering information, be it from media, computers or the streets. You’ll also find a small force of mercenaries that I’ve assigned to you, so you can act on that information where you see fit.”

  “Cool.”

  “Skitter, I have set up quarters near the south end of the Boardwalk. Reconstruction and repair work is still ongoing there, but if you will be patient, it may well be one of the more lucrative locations when things are up and running again.”

  I nodded. That wouldn’t be far from my old home, close to our old hideout. Did that mean something? Did he know who I was, or had Tattletale suggested it? I felt uneasy about that.

  “Regent, Grue, Imp and Skitter, I realize I have not detailed any employees to you to begin with. I leave it to you to start this task for yourself, to decide what you need and how you intend to operate. Once you have decided this for yourselves, let me know, and I will endeavor to help you fill in the blanks in your individual operations.

  “As you leave, you’ll receive emails on the locations of your individual headquarters. For the time being, all I require from you, for now, is that you establish order and assume some measure of control over your territories.”

  There were nods all around.

  “Your payment for tonight’s job will be in your accounts shortly, with a bonus for the obstacles you faced. Any questions? Any topics you would like to raise for discussion?”

  “A few questions, but I figure I’ll see what’s up with this new role we’re taking,” Grue replied. “Then I’ll ask them.”

  “Good.”

  “I’ve got something I’d like to talk to you about,” I spoke, augmenting my voice with the swarm’s noises to mask it. “In private.”

  “Yes. That’s fine, I was hoping to have a private conversation with you anyways. Anyone? Anything else before we part ways?”

  Nobody had anything further to say. Grue and the others turned to leave, and the crowd around Coil followed them soon after. One of Bitch’s henchmen—Barker, was it?—leered at me as he passed, dug his hand into his groin in some sort of scratch or a lewd gesture.

  Lovely. He’d get along great with Bitch.

  When the group had left the room, I could hear noises downstairs, as they moved about the house. Or maybe it was Grue, checking his new place. I was left alone with Coil and Dinah.

  I wasn’t sure I liked that our group was being split up like this. The timing seemed bad. I’d sort of been hoping I could repair the divide, and that would be hard if we were each in our own territories, doing our own things.

  I’d cross that bridge when I came to it.

  “I heard about the incident at the hospital, following the Endbringer attack.”


  I nodded.

  “Tattletale told me that you know I was fully informed about your true nature.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Did she explain how?”

  I shook my head. She’d told me about his power in confidence.

  “Well, I suppose I may share that detail at some point in the future. You understand my desire to keep certain things private?”

  “Yeah, no. I get it. It makes sense, it’s smart.”

  “Mmm,” he murmured. He turned to his pet, stroked her head like one might with a dog or a cat. She stared down at her dress, picked at a thread that was sticking out, stretching it out long. The thread snapped, and she let it drift from her hand to the ground. Then she started picking at another. Coil interrupted my observations, “So. You wished to discuss something?”

  “Yeah. I’ve made a decision.”

  “Do tell.”

  “Before, back in the limousine, you asked me what I wanted out of all this, what I desired from my deal with you.”

  “Yes.”

  “I asked you to fix the city, you told me you planned on doing that anyways, that I should ask for something else.”

  “And you’ve decided.”

  “Yeah,” I took a deep breath. “Dinah. Your… pet.”

  “You want me to release her. I’m afraid—”

  I hurried to cut him off, “No.”

  He stopped, tilted his head slightly.

  I swallowed, felt an ugly feeling in my gut, “I know she’s invaluable to you. I know how useful her talent is, and the lengths you went to in getting ahold of them. I don’t like it, but I get it.”

  He didn’t respond. He just stared at me, his mask lacking eye holes, just black cloth stretched over eye sockets.

  “I… All I’m asking is that you let her go when you’ve done it. When you take this city, when you succeed in your plan, you release her to go home to her family. If you do that, I’ll work for you. I’ll try harder than anyone, to get this city under your control, and then I’ll work for you for as long as you’ll have me, afterward.”