Worm

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Worm Page 152

by wildbow


  I shook my head. “I—”

  I stopped and raised one hand. Sierra was outside, not too far away, and there was a small group of people around her. What had gotten my attention was the fact that she was tapping her finger against the origami cube. She’d wanted to signal me without doing anything overt, maybe. Or without my calling a swarm down to her location.

  “—Something’s going on outside. Come with?”

  Brian nodded.

  I headed upstairs and got my costume on in record time. I couldn’t help but note how dusty it was from last night’s encounter, and how the one arm was still crusty with old containment foam. It was torture to actually get my limbs into the legs and sleeves and zip up, and to contort myself to attach my armor. Especially doing it quickly. I ended up enlisting Brian’s help with the armor at my shoulders and back.

  I could feel Sierra’s steady but insistent tapping on the cube all the while.

  They were a short distance down the beach, but they started walking towards us a little bit after we entered the storm drain, and met us halfway.

  Sierra was in the company of a pair of Japanese boys and a petite Chinese girl with a pierced nose and a thousand-yard stare. There was a degree of attitude coming from them that was all too familiar. Gang members. Of course. Just because Lung and Bakuda were no longer around didn’t mean there wouldn’t be scraps of the ABB in the area. They wouldn’t be liked, but they were there, they were equipped for trouble and criminal activity was all they knew.

  “Sorry to interrupt your business meeting,” Sierra said, looking from me to Grue.

  “It’s fine. What’s going on here?” I controlled the tone of my voice. They didn’t seem too fazed by this encounter with two supervillains. Were they veterans of Lung’s rule? Or Bakuda’s?

  A Japanese guy with a mop of hair covering his eyes and a bad slouch looked from Sierra to me and spoke in a very American accent, “You still looking for muscle?”

  He didn’t look like he had much muscle, but I wasn’t about to comment on that. If nothing else, I was a little too stunned at what he was offering to say anything witty. “Pretty much.”

  “We heard you took on Mannequin,” the girl said. “That’s ballsy.”

  “Thanks,” I said, in my driest tone. Stupid as it was, that statement meant something to me. Nobody had really congratulated me since my fight with Mannequin. I hadn’t congratulated myself. It was hard for me to wrap my head around the fact that they respected me for what had happened with Mannequin. A victory was a victory, but people had gotten hurt, I’d gotten hurt.

  The second Japanese guy spoke up. He was in his early twenties and his accent was thick enough that I didn’t realize he was speaking English at first. He pronounced ‘girl’ more like ‘gurru’. “Other day, girl was knocking on neighbor’s door, talking about you. Said you was good boss. Nice, generous, fair. But we think that means you weak, before, not so much of that now.”

  I shook my head slowly. “No. I’m not weak.”

  “We know you has trouble with Lung and ABB before. Not friendly. But they gone, we still here.”

  “You should know this isn’t about preying on the people in my territory. Just the opposite. If you’re looking for an excuse to bully the people around here, you’re in the wrong place. The only people we fuck with are our enemies.”

  There were nods from all three.

  “No starting violence, no drug dealing, no prostitution, no threatening people, and no drug use or drinking unless it’s a hundred percent limited to your own time.”

  A look passed between the two boys. Which of my points had given them that momentary hesitation? Still, they nodded again.

  “Do you guys have a place?”

  “Nah,” said shaggy-hair.

  “Come on,” I said.

  I led them to the nearest spot to get from the beach to the old Boardwalk, and into the Docks.

  I had our destination in mind. During my stay in the area, nobody had occupied it. A thorough check of the structure found no splintering supports or framework, and there was no crumbling masonry.

  I opened the doors and strode inside, followed by the new members and Sierra. Grue followed at the tail end of our group.

  The square building had been a garage for the biggest sorts of trucks or for boats, and sported three sliding metal garage doors, only one of which still opened. A cargo container sat in the back corner. I had my suspicions that boxes of recyclables had been piled up along the walls when Leviathan’s wave hit. Now, scraps of metal, paper and other trash littered the floor inside until the floor was barely visible. “If you’re really interested in joining, you can start by cleaning this place up.”

  “Why?” the girl asked.

  “If my say-so isn’t good enough—”

  “No,” she raised her hands to stop me. “Just… can’t I know what the point is?”

  “I want you somewhere accessible. This is close to my command center, it’s dry, it took a hit from a tidal wave and it’s still in remarkably good shape, and it’s spacious enough to serve our purposes. At least to start off.”

  “Can I ask what they are?”

  I looked around, and it was Grue I looked at while I spoke. “Having everyone in the Docks spread out like this, over this wide an area? It’s a problem. We’ve got single families living in warehouses and factories that could comfortably house three to five families, and they’re dealing with problems that we could handle far more easily as a group. And there’s the logistics of it, getting supplies to everyone when there’s only three to six groups of people on a given city block. I want to bring people from the fringes in, so we’re not so spread out. Get everyone working for the collective good. Build a community and tie everything to a smaller area.”

  “There’s going to be resistance,” Grue spoke. “People aren’t going to want to move, and they’re too spooked about run-ins with Chosen and Merchants to trust one another.”

  “If—” Sierra started, but she stopped when Grue snapped his head around to face her, intimidated. She tried again, “If she’s going to try it, now would be a good time. Word’s getting out.”

  “About what, specifically?” I asked.

  “You fought Mannequin, you said you’d make him pay, and then you did. And you did it to save people, people from the docks. I think people are realizing you’re for real.”

  I couldn’t think of a response to that, and nobody volunteered anything further. Instead, I said, “Come on, let’s get to work.”

  It wasn’t the nicest of jobs, but my new employees worked without complaint. Or, to be more specific, the girl and shaggy-hair complained often but they didn’t direct those complaints at me or the job, specifically.

  Since the usual means of communication were out, and it might be some time before cell phone towers were out, I’d have to use messengers to pass word on to Coil. I began explaining what I planned to do with the space to Sierra, outlining the need for bunk beds, a cafeteria or kitchen and an area for people to sit. The area wasn’t a quarter of the size of Lisa’s shelter, but it was a refuge, maybe. A place where people could congregate and get some peace. And, ideally, it could be a barracks for my soldiers.

  I instructed my new employees to stack the crates of trash outside the door. I stayed outside with Sierra and Grue when they went back in to get more.

  “You’re going to have to watch those ones,” Grue said.

  “I know. Listen, I want to send Sierra down to meet the boss, pass on word about stuff I need. Can you escort her part of the way?”

  “Sure,” he said.

  “If you’re willing, Sierra? I know it’s somewhat dangerous to cross the city, and our groups don’t control all of the territory between here and there. I could send one of those guys with you. Bit of a walk, though. Maybe forty-five minutes both ways.”

  “No, I can go alone, if it’s not too bad.”

  “Good,” I said. I turned my head to see a trio of young men who we
re approaching us.

  It took the one in the lead a bit of courage before he could approach me.

  “Yes?” I asked, when he didn’t speak.

  “We were remembering how some girl was saying you were recruiting, the other day.”

  “I was and I am.” My heart was pounding. Why was this happening now, when it had met with only resistance earlier?

  “Don’t want to do anything illegal.”

  “Not asking you to. You okay with starting with some clean-up?”

  He looked at his buddies—or were they brothers?—and nodded.

  “Sierra here will tell you what needs to be done. Put in a good effort and I’ll pay you at the end of the day.” My thoughts were on the small safe that I was using as a bedside table.

  His eyes widened slightly at that. “Mind if I go and get my cousin? He’ll be interested too.”

  “Go.” I ordered, and Sierra led two of them inside while the leader of the newest group ran off at a half-jog.

  “Seems like you started something,” Grue said, when the last of them were out of earshot.

  I shook my head. “I don’t even understand how.”

  “Still think you’re moving too fast. Like I said earlier, there’s no good reason for it.”

  “Dinah’s a good enough reason for me.”

  “Maybe. But you’ve got to find time to relax, get some sleep, maybe have some fun. Or you’re going to make mistakes, and you’ll set yourself back days or weeks in your plan. Slow and steady wins this race.”

  “Can’t afford slow and steady,” I said.

  “Why? You were telling me earlier, but we got interrupted.”

  I’d been glad for the interruption, and I was profoundly disappointed the subject had come up again. I folded my arms and looked away, down the road to where it gradually sloped to the shattered Boardwalk and the ocean beyond.

  Here was the leap of faith. The test of my trust in him. “Because if I don’t amaze Coil, if I don’t force his hand and give him absolutely no reason to say I failed… he’s going to keep Dinah. If he does, the only way to free her is going to be if Tattletale and I take Coil down. And I don’t think we’d succeed.”

  Interlude 12

  “Which one of you dripping rectal cysts is brave enough for this one!?”

  The cheer bubbled up from the crowd, until it reached a crescendo that he could hear from his aircraft/podium. The wind ripped around him as he stood at the nose of the aircraft, his cape fluttering. Squealer’s vehicle was like a helicopter made by someone who had never seen a helicopter before, who’d decided to add their own improvements to the design when they were finished—more whirling blades spaced equidistant around the thing. Topping it off, it was roughly three times the typical size.

  “Green armband means poison, and this is a poison half of you wastes of air have already tasted! We’re gonna make it as bad as it gets! The worst of bad trips!”

  He held a bowl of pills that were dusted with assorted powders and raised it over his head, “One handful, then you take a nap in one of the coffins we have up here. Moment the lid shuts, you’ll find out what’s in store for you. Some have rats, some have spiders, some have nothing at all and some…”

  A beam of light speared down from the base of the fat bodied helicopter, sending chunks of earth where it hit ground. The moment it faded, a coffin fell into the hole that had formed, followed by a downpour of gravel.

  “Get buried alive!”

  The noise of the crowd was more bloodthirsty this time, unmasked and unashamed in their savagery.

  “Hope you rancid pukes have friends to dig you up! Put up with that shit while you’re on the trip of your life, and you get yourselves a green fucking armband! For the rest of the night, everything is as free as your mother’s pussy! For as long as you hold on to that baby, anything you buy direct from one of us head honchos is ten percent off! So which—”

  He stopped. There was a thump as the microphone hit the surface near Skidmark’s feet and then a violent but all too brief noise as it struck one of the propellers at the side of the aircraft and was promptly annihilated.

  Skidmark’s hands went to his stomach, where blood and organs were spilling out. He turned to run, but more slices appeared in his arm, his buttock, his back and the back of his neck. No longer in sight of the majority of the crowd, he continued to try to crawl away, only for his reaching fingers to be separated from his hand, flying away from him in a spray of crimson.

  The aircraft lurched and began to turn, but this maneuver ended up spelling out Skidmark’s doom. The surface beneath him was already slick with blood, and with only one hand’s worth of fingers to grip with, he slid. He used his power to change the surface and force himself upward, but it was too little, too late.

  He dropped into the blades of the spinning propeller and was puréed in a heartbeat.

  Standing on a rooftop across from the aircraft, Jack flicked his wrist and snapped the blade of his straight-razor back into the handle.

  Smiling thinly, he looked over his shoulder at his teammates. Bonesaw sat astride Siberian’s shoulders, in the midst of braiding a lock of the feral killer’s hair. Shatterbird and Burnscar stood on opposite sides of the group, the former holding a book in one hand, the latter with images in flame dancing a quarter-inch off her skin, showing people and familiar objects, many of the images replaying the scene of Skidmark’s demise in miniature. Bonesaw’s automatons were spread out over the remainder of the roof, and one of her Frankenstein creations waited patiently at the far end of the roof. Hack Job, she’d called it? It had started to rot alive, and Bonesaw kept it out of the way so as not to offend the sensibilities of her teammates. Cherish stood in Crawler’s shadow, pale, her hands clasped together. Her shoulders were drawn in, as if she was afraid she would be struck any second.

  Crawler, the most monstrous member of the group, loomed over the rest. His chest was ten feet deep from front to back, his head the size of a small car. He combined the most effective features of a bear and a panther. Sinuous, flexible, bristling with quiet menace, but also brawny with muscle. He had armor plates covering him, with scales where armor wouldn’t allow him optimum flexibility, and spines and coarse hair where the scales wouldn’t do. Head to toe, he had the coloring of an oil slick, black by default, but scintillating with rainbow hues in just the right light. A hundred black orbs studded the length of his body, set into the plates of armor. Caustic venom virtually poured from a mouth that bristled with mismatched fangs, spattering precipitously close to Cherish and eating at the concrete rooftop. Perhaps most unnerving of all were his six legs, each forking at the knee or elbow joint, with one larger limb ending in scimitar-like claws and a smaller set of limbs for each; tentacles for the rear four legs and a long fingered human’s hands for the forelimbs.

  Jack spoke, with no small amount of irony. “Looks like Skidmark’s hosting a party. I think we deserve a night on the town, after waiting as long as we did to reveal ourselves. Be sure to thank our hosts. I’m sure our invitation was lost in the mail.”

  Smiles spread across more than one face.

  Crawler was the first one off of the roof, throwing himself into the night air to land in the dead center of the crowd. The others followed quickly after, Shatterbird and Burnscar launching themselves to the far corners of the massed crowd, conjuring up storms of glass shards and flame to block their victim’s retreat. Bonesaw’s creations poured over the edges of the rooftop to herd the remainder of the crowd and keep them contained to one area.

  It was just four of them left on the rooftop. Siberian, Bonesaw, Jack and Cherish.

  Siberian reached out and gripped Cherish by the shirt collar. More graciously, she extended a hand toward Jack. He gripped it tight.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  Catching a ride with Siberian was something of an art form. Cherish had yet to master it, not even biting her tongue or keeping the short shriek from escaping her lips as Siberian stepped off the
edge of the roof. Jack, for his part, allowed himself to go limp the second Siberian pulled at him. The four of them collectively dropped, Bonesaw riding atop Siberian’s shoulders, gripping her hair to maintain her position.

  They were spared the messy fate of being pancaked on the pavement by a quirk of Siberian’s nature, transferring to each of them. Jack staggered, more because he’d let his whole body relax so he wouldn’t jar something when Siberian tugged at him, but he let go of his teammate’s hand and straightened. Cherish dropped to her knees.

  “Much obliged, Siberian.” Jack said. “Go. Have fun.”

  Siberian reached up and set Bonesaw down, and then was gone, one footstep carrying her into the midst of the crowd. She didn’t care if she hit anyone. Anyone unfortunate enough to be in her way was pulverized, their limbs broken, chests shattered and necks snapped by the impact. Even those in the general area were caught by the flying bodies and hurt just as grievously.

  Bonesaw laughed, and it was a sound without reservations, not shaped by social constraint or culture or self-censorship. It was the laugh of a child, free and without a care. One of her mechanical spiders leaped onto her back, and wound several of its limbs around her chest. Two limbs extended to connect to her wrists, so the mechanical arms mirrored the dimensions and length of her own. The ends fanned out into an array of scalpels, needles, saws, and other instruments so one tool sat between each of her splayed fingers. The smallest gestures of her hands forced instantaneous rearrangements of the tools, so another was ready for her to grasp and use. Two more spiders lunged forward and pulled one of Siberian’s screaming wounded away from the rest of the crowd, dragging it inch by inch toward the advancing Bonesaw.

  The crowd might have turned to fight her, but they lacked the courage. They scattered.

  Jack twirled his closed straight-razor around his fingers. “Cherish, stand up. You’re missing the show.”

  Obediently, Cherish raised herself up. She lifted her head just in time to see a blur of white and black against the night sky, followed by a large explosion from the side of Squealer’s flying aircraft. It tilted and bounced against the side of a nearby building, scraps of metal shearing off to land in the midst of the crowd. A series of small detonations that ripped forth from the interior of the aircraft cast just enough light for Jack and Cherish to see Siberian striding across the deck, one of the Merchants in her grip. In a heartbeat, she’d torn the woman’s limbs from their sockets and buried her teeth in the woman’s neck.

 

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