Worm

by John Mccrae Wildbow

  Trickster unmasked as well. He definitely didn’t remind me of one of the jocks. His hair was longer than many girls wore theirs, he had light brown skin and an unfortunate hook nose. Combined with his intense stare, he gave me the impression of a hawk or some other bird of prey.

  Grue, Tattletale and Regent all unmasked as well while they got themselves seated. Trickster offered each of them a cigarette, then offered one to me. I turned him down, as did the others.

  “So what are we discussing here?” Sundancer asked from behind me. I turned and saw a rather attractive blonde girl with a long neck and delicate features. Her hair was expertly pinned up behind her head. “I was under the impression that the Slaughterhouse Nine were pretty much unbeatable.”

  “No,” Brian said. “Some of them, maybe, but others are as vulnerable as you or me. Thing is, Dinah told us that our odds against these bastards aren’t good. Our chances of winning are pretty low, and it’s pretty damn likely we’ll get killed if we confront them head on.”

  “So we don’t confront them head on,” Trickster said.

  Feeling conspicuous as the only one with a mask on, I pulled mine off. It took me a second to adjust to the blue tint that everything had after I’d spent over an hour looking through the pale yellow lenses of my mask. I realized Trickster was setting up a laptop. He placed it at one corner of the table, facing the rest of us.

  “Oliver?”

  “I’m here, Trickster,” a male voice came from the computer.

  “Feel like patching in Noelle?”

  “Sure. She’s in an okay mood. A little drowsy. I’ll be right back.”

  Trickster pressed a button on the keyboard and then turned to us, “Tattletale. I’ll be as quick as I can. Coil promised he’d get you to help us, but he’s taken his time introducing you to our group. The cynic in me suspects there’s a reason, and the pessimist in me says that reason is that he’s already figured out what you’re going to tell us, and it isn’t going to be pretty.”

  “Okay.” Tattletale was all business.

  “Noelle’s going to ask you for help. Lie to her. Tell her you’re already on it. Roll with it if she gets angry, or if she gets impatient. She’s sensitive. I don’t know how your power works, really, but if you realize whatever it is that Coil doesn’t want us to know, don’t tell Noelle.”

  “She’s the one Crawler visited?” I asked.

  Trickster nodded once.

  “Hello?’ A girl’s voice came from the computer. Trickster hit a key, which I assumed was to take himself off mute. He hit another combination of keys and a webcam feed snapped up to cover the screen.

  Noelle had long brown hair and she wore a red sweatshirt. She looked like someone who was ill. She was horribly pale, she had dark circles under her sunken eyes, and her lips were chapped. I was reminded of drug addicts in an early stage of addiction, where they were deteriorating because the drugs took a higher priority than taking care of themselves. Was Coil drugging her too?

  ”Noelle, “ Trickster said, “You’ve asked to be included more. I thought you’d be okay with this?”

  She nodded.

  “Left to right, we have Grue, Regent, Skitter, Bitch and Tattletale.”

  There wasn’t a flicker of a smile or any interest on her face until she heard that last name. “Tattletale?”

  “Noelle,” Tattletale spoke, “It’s nice to finally meet you. Listen, I’m working on your situation. Coil’s filled me in on the basics and I’m chasing down some leads, but something’s come up with the Slaughterhouse Nine, and everything’s on hold until we can be sure they won’t try to kill us in the meantime.”

  I could see Trickster tense. Was Noelle so high strung or desperate that she’d throw a tantrum over being asked to wait?

  “Coil was telling the truth,” Noelle said, in a small voice, “You can help?”

  “Honestly? I don’t know. But I’m a fucking genius when it comes to getting answers, and Coil’s got all the resources in the world. If there’s help to be had, we’ll give it to you.”

  “How soon before you know?”

  “No idea. I don’t think it’ll be as fast as you want, but it’s doable, and it won’t take so long that you should give up.”

  “Okay.”

  “In the meantime,” Trickster cut in, giving Tattletale a thumbs-up gesture from a position outside of the laptop’s field of view, “We need our old field commander’s brain on the Slaughterhouse Nine sitch.”

  “A distraction would be nice,” Noelle smiled for the first time.

  Field commander. She used to be the leader of their group? I wondered if I could dig up any information about her if I hunted far enough back.

  I could see Brian fidget under the table. He wasn’t liking the constant distractions from the subject at hand.

  “Eight enemies,” Trickster said. “Now, I’m not a serious player of the game, I’m sorry to any of you Undersiders who are irritated by the way I’m about to butcher it, but the way I see it, their leader is like the king in chess. More raw power than a pawn, but in the end, he’s simultaneously the second weakest piece in the game and the one everything hinges on. We take him down without getting massacred in the process, I think we win.”

  “Jack Slash,” Noelle said.

  “Right. Siberian’s like the queen. She’s fast, mobile, one of the strongest physically, and the bitch of the matter is, she can’t be taken off the board, and she can’t be contained. A special queen, if you will. Physically she’s an unstoppable force and an immovable object any time she wants to be.”

  To my right, Bitch picked up the puppy and settled it in her lap. It curled up and nestled against the cupped circle of her arms and hands.

  “Then there’s Crawler, who visited us the other night. Maybe not as fast or agile as Siberian, and he can be contained, but he can’t be taken off the board. A special rook.”

  “I’m wondering how far you can stretch this chess analogy, Trickster,” Ballistic commented.

  Trickster ignored him. “Shatterbird and Burnscar are like bishops. They’ve got mobility, reach, and they can bury you damn fast if you don’t have the right kind of cover.”

  “What about Mannequin? Another rook?” I asked.

  “I’d peg him a knight. He’s more close range, but he’ll catch you from an oblique angle, maybe slip past whatever defences you think you have.”

  “Which leaves Cherish and Bonesaw,” Grue said. “We’ll have to trust Regent to give us the details on Cherish.”

  Regent nodded and tapped his finger against his chin, “My sister. I don’t know if you could call her a third bishop or a knight. Long range on her power, gets stronger as she gets closer. Affects your emotions and as far as I’m aware, there’s no way to defend against it or to take cover. If she decides she wants to hurt you or make you hurt yourself, she can find you and she’ll make it happen.”

  “But she has no special defences,” Grue cut in. ”She’s vulnerable to pretty much any knife, gun or power we can hit her with.”

  “Can we gang up on her?” Sundancer asked.

  “She can affect multiple people at once,” Regent said. ”So it’s not that easy.”

  “That means we have to beat her at her own game,” Trickster mused, “Track her, beat her in long-range warfare.”

  “I could use puppets to go after her,” Regent said, “But she can paralyze them with the kind of uncontrolled physical reactions I can’t cover with my power. I am immune to her, for all the good that does.”

  “How far does her offensive range extend?” I asked.

  “No clue. I’d guess she can sense emotions across the entire city, which is how she’s finding people, but in terms of attack? I don’t have any basis to make a guess. Farther than my dad, Heartbreaker, but not city-wide, no.”

  “The ability to track us by our emotions is a good enough reason to take her out of action ASAP,” Trickster said. “So long as she’s active, it’ll be that much harder to catch the
others off guard.”

  “Maybe…” I started, then I hesitated. Feeling the pressure of everyone’s attention on me, I said, “…Maybe my power will outrange hers? Not in terms of what we see and sense, but in terms of who can do more damage from further away?”

  “It’s a thought,” Grue agreed, “Risky, but we don’t have many options. Trickster, where does Bonesaw fit into your analogy?”

  Trickster shook his head, “She doesn’t. She’s relatively weak in terms of raw power, but her presence on the field threatens to change the rules. She’s a medical tinker. The medical tinker. So long as she’s in play, we can’t be certain of our enemy’s attack power, we can’t know that any enemy we clear from the field will stay gone, and there could be harsh penalties if they catch or kill one of us. It sucks to think about, but if Bonesaw got her hands on, say, Sundancer, I’d be a hell of a lot more worried than if Hookwolf or Skidmark did.”

  Sundancer muttered something to Ballistic, but I couldn’t make it out.

  “What about our side?” Noelle asked.

  “Lots of playing pieces, not all cooperating, and we have one debatable advantage,” Trickster said, “We know in advance, pretty much for a fact, that if any of us, Undersider or Traveler, try to fight these bastards, we’re going to lose, and we’ll lose hard.”

  “Tattletale say that?” Noelle asked.

  “Coil did,” Trickster answered.

  Odd. So Noelle was staying with Coil, but she didn’t know about Dinah? Another secret or white lie from her team?

  “I can’t help but think of the Desecrated Monk scenario,” Noelle said. I saw Trickster, Sundancer and Ballistic all nodding. When I turned to my team, they looked as confused as I was. Was this Desecrated Monk someone the Travelers had gone up against at some point before they came to Brockton Bay?

  “Go on,” Trickster encouraged her.

  “The rules are unfair. Half of our opponents are pretty blatantly cheating. But we have to deal with them anyways. So either we cheat back-“

  “Which we can’t.”

  “Or you guys handle it the way we did it before. You don’t fight the way they want to fight.”

  “Okay,” Trickster nodded, “So the first question we ask ourselves is how they want to play this. What do they want? In terms a five-year-old could understand.”

  “They want their ninth member,” I said.

  “Right.”

  “They want to hurt, scare and kill people,” Tattletale put in her two cents.

  “Why?”

  “Reputation, entertainment,” Tattletale said, “These guys are monsters, and pretty much anyone who watches T.V., surfs the web, or reads the papers knows it.”

  I saw it out of the corner of my eye. Noelle’s expression shifted all at once from being animated and engaged to the same look she’d worn when the webcam feed first went live. Disinterested, hurt, hopeless.

  She’d been scouted. Unlike Regent, it hadn’t been to mess with her. It had been because a freak like Crawler legitimately thought she was one of them.

  If Tattletale was sitting next to me, I would have kicked her under the table.

  Noelle suddenly perked up, saying, “They want to hunt. They’re predators.”

  “Okay, how can we use that?” Trickster leaned forward to look at the screen.

  “They want to be the predators, we make them prey,” Noelle said. She was looking more animated again.

  “Not sure that’s possible, but keep going.”

  “It’s not possible because, um. You described them like they’re chess pieces, and we’re thinking in terms of a chess game. What if we changed the game?”

  “I always preferred Go,” Trickster said, “But Go is about territory, give and take, less about aggression than an educational sparring match between two master swordsmen, each walking away with a new kernel of knowledge. Go applies more to taking over the city than it does to this scenario.”

  “Shogi?” Noelle suggested.

  Shogi. I got her meaning almost immediately, and I wasn’t alone. Tattletale, the Travelers and I all looked at Regent.

  Regent, Bitch and Grue, for their parts, were left looking bewildered.

  “Maybe you should clarify?” Grue suggested.

  “Shogi is an Eastern variant of chess,” I said, “Some of the pieces move a little differently, though I can’t remember how. But the big difference is that there’s a rule that says you can take any of the opponent’s pieces you’ve captured and place them on the board as your own.”

  “More or less right,” Trickster said.

  “So the question becomes,” Grue thought aloud, “Who can we beat in an indirect confrontation, capture and control?”

  “Jack, Bonesaw-“ I said.

  Grue shook his head. “They know they’re vulnerable. Either they’ll be watching their backs or the others will watch their backs for them.”

  Regent said, “Siberian is out, and while we might theoretically be able to catch and contain Crawler or Mannequin, I dunno if we could keep them still long enough for me to use my power on them. If I can. Their bodies are different.”

  I counted the enemies off on one hand, “Leaving Cherish-“

  Regent shook his head, “She knows me, has measures in place.”

  “Burnscar and Shatterbird,” I finished.

  “The bishops,” Trickster said.

  “Easier said than done,” Grue sighed.

  Noelle’s face disappeared from the webcam, and a blond boy popped up in its place. Oliver? “Trickster, Genesis is waking up. She’s done whatever you had her doing.”

  “Long stint,” Trickster replied, “She’ll be groggy.”

  “That means Imp is probably done too,” Grue spoke.

  “She’ll need a ride back,” I finished his thought.

  “Should leave her there for a bit as punishment for staying behind,” Grue grumbled. Still, he stood and pulled on his helmet. “But it’s not worth the grief she’ll give me.”

  “Softie.” Tattletale grinned.

  “Are you coming back?” Trickster asked.

  “How long will it be before Genesis is able to brief us on the meeting?”

  “Fifteen, twenty minutes?”

  “Then we’ll be back to finish the strategy session,” Grue responded.

  Trickster turned to his teammates, “Mind giving Noelle and me a minute to talk?” Sundancer and Ballistic stood.

  Joined by the two Travelers, we made our way up the disguised ladder to the second sub-level of the parking garage. As one of the last to head up, I saw the adorable sight of Bitch managing the sleeping puppy, tucking it against her body with one arm so she could scale the ladder one-handed.

  As she reached the top, I could hear Sundancer cooing, “It’s so cute. Is it a he or a she?”

  “He.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Bastard.”

  “I’m guessing you named him?” Regent asked, as I reached the top and stepped down onto solid ground. I missed Bitch’s response. Had she nodded?

  “I was surprised you brought him tonight,” Grue said, being remarkably delicate about the fact that Bitch had undercut any presence our group had by bringing the cute ball of fluff. It would have been better if he’d brought it up earlier, but he might have felt the same way I did about provoking Bitch before a major event, when she’d been so short tempered lately.

  Bitch’s response was surprisingly verbose. “Had to. For the first year and a half, he’s going to be like a dog. Need to train him as much as I can, get him used to me. It’ll be too hard if I wait.”

  “Like a dog?” I asked. In the corner of my eye, I could see Tattletale’s expression change as she looked at the dog, clearly realizing something. As fast as I could turn her way to try and piece together what that was, something else got her attention.

  “Shit,” she breathed. She clutched at my arm with one hand and at Bitch’s with the other, stepping back to pull us with her. Bitch pulled her
arm from Tattletale’s grip, looking angry at the invasion of personal space.

  “Oh fuck,” I muttered, as I saw through the darkness to spot what Tattletale’s power had noticed first.

  Four of the Slaughterhouse Nine were stepping through the entrance of the parking garage. The Siberian was in the lead, her waist-length hair blowing in the wind from outside, her eyes practically glowing in the gloom. Behind her, Jack Slash held Bonesaw’s hand as the young girl skipped to make it so she only walked on the yellow lines that divided the lanes. They were accompanied by a young woman who might’ve been eighteen or so years old, who bore a striking resemblance to Alec. Cherish. None of them wore costumes. The Siberian didn’t wear anything. She was as nude as the day she’d been born, her skin patterned with stripes of alabaster white and jet black.

  Jack Slash noticed us, and his his eyes drifted around the arch that led from the parking garage to the wet outdoors. He smiled, “This is not an exit.”

  12.04

  “This is not an exit. Kudos for the reference,” Tattletale said.

  “I try,” Jack replied. He didn’t say anything more, looking us over. I felt a chill as his eyes stopped on me before moving on to Regent and the Travelers.

  Shit, shit, shit, shit. What options did we have? Running? Siberian was bound to be faster than the dogs, and none of them were big. We’d be dead before Bitch got them to grow. That was even without considering Jack’s ability to cut us down from where he stood.

  Fight? Again, Siberian was the biggest problem. She could take all of us on and win. I suspected the only people who could really go toe to toe with her would be Scion, Eidolon and the Endbringers, and even then, I wasn’t sure if they would really be able to stop her. At best, Scion and Eidolon would survive and keep her from killing any civilians. The Endbringers would hold their own, but civilians obviously wouldn’t be a concern.

  Could we escape under a cover of my bugs and Grue’s darkness? I didn’t think Siberian would be able to see us, and if we surprised them, ran back the way we came-