======== SAMPLE 1 ========
 and right, and you’re not saying the same about me."

"It’s okay," I said. I took the phone, reaching for an answer. "If you don’t want to talk about it, there’s a phone, there’s a doctor there, who can help you in-"

"No," Grue interrupted me. "No to both of those! There’s a line in the bank, and they’re both open."

"I don’t want to sound condescending, but Tattletale does say Skitter’s open to talking about her past, and it sounds like you have a lot on your plate right now."

He folded his arms. He was tired, he knew it, so the dismissal didn’t seem so strange.

It was odd, but he let go of the phone, returning to his seat. I could follow his line of thinking, that since he hadn’t been on the offensive, he hadn’t been subjected to Grue’s attack. As a result, they were free to talk without giving him a chance to retaliate.

"Hey, Weaver," Tattletale said. "You there?"

"I am."

Teacher’s office.

"You’re here for something people are calling the wake?" he asked. "I take it it Skitter decided you were out of town?"

"No," Grue answered me, "She called me on the phone, asked me to come down. I told her to take it on herself if she wanted to talk. We’re doing interviews, and she didn’t want me doing them."

"I see," Teacher said, leaning against the door. "You wanted to come down, too?"

"Yeah."

"We all talk, but you don’t interrupt. It’s okay, it’s refreshing. Do you have something on your ears, Weaver?"

"My dad’s in a shelter. My mom died in a house fire, literally. My stepfather is there too, but he’s at the nursing home. I don’t know if he can hear."

"Is he there?"

"No," Grue said, again, "I told you he was out. You didn’t even ask if it was because of Tattletale."

"I didn’t," Tecton said. "I just asked for a place to stay and-"

"You don’t need a place to stay," he said. "You’re safe here."

Teacher glanced at Tecton, who was still sitting at the door. He sighed.

"No more interviews?" I asked.

"You can talk to him," Tecton said.

"He can hear us any time he wants," I said.

Teacher nodded once. "Thank you. I should get back to the interviews."

I glanced at Grue, who still lay on the couch, a laptop in one hand and a blanket around his knees. His head was bobbing around like a fish caught in a net.

"Let’s talk about our game plan," Grue said.

"Game plan?" Tecton asked. He glanced at Grue, his brow furrowing in concern.

"How the fuck did you pull that off?" Grue asked.

Tecton had to bite his tongue, but he didn’t speak. I guess Tecton didn’t want to anger the boy.

"The plan wasn’t some elaborate trick," I said. "Just going by how we ran the math at the last bank robbery, we have ninety-five percent of our assets with us."

"You had ninety-five percent of your assets with you when you robbed that bank?" Tecton asked.

"Yeah. It’s our cash, the safe deposit boxes and the accounts in our banks that we don’t have."

I nodded. A few heads nodded in agreement, a few looked skeptical, like someone at a party might speak without their audience getting under way to hear it.

"That doesn’t make me feel much better," Grue said, "When I hear that, it sounds so much better."

"If we’re going to talk about what’s going on, let’s talk about what you’ve done so far," I said. "With the Nine gone, we’ve been running an operation."

"An operation?" Tecton asked. "I thought you’d be more formal."

======== SAMPLE 2 ========
 and stillness. And the bugs I’d gathered on the surface of the pavement and the crowd below would help map out his position.

If the man with the knife was keeping the window open for him, there was little point hiding the knife on the ground.

A figure at the back of the crowd had gathered the device I’d concealed in my rain boots. Others had gathered dust or crouched. A man with an oversized goatee and an overbite was at the front, holding a sledgehammer, his feet on the front of the group’s table. The table was littered with broken bottles, dishes, and other broken things, and the man was glaring at me.

I recognized him. The man who had been following me as I’d walked away from the room.

"A man who is paranoid because he can, paranoid because she didn’t? I think we’re going to have a thing, kiddo."

There was no response, of course. The sledgehammer wasn’t moving. If he was holding it up for me, he wouldn’t be hammering at the table.

"I’m going to call some friends," he said, and he punctuated his statement with a single, monosyllabic word.

"What do you want, old friend?" the girl who was still at the front of the group asked.

"I’m seeking guidance," he said.

"But?"

"But what, kiddo? You’ve gone silent. You know I don’t talk during a crisis like this."

"You want help. You’re asking me to turn myself in?"

She shook her head, and the light in her eyes continued to cast brilliant hues behind her hair.

My swarm had already told me that the man who was glaring at me was about to break out in an incoherent fit of laughter. He would, I hoped, turn on his buddies and have a shouting match with them.

"I’m not a criminal," I said. "I don’t use my powers to get away from my responsibilities. I go to court and I pay. Or I take classes, like you did, to keep myself sane."

"And you were staying at the group’s house when we got the text?"

I nodded.

"It said something about an escaped convict, said he was with us?"

"Yeah."

"He wasn’t even here last night!" the girl who was still at the front of the group interjected. "What was he doing?"

"Sitting at my computer," I said.

"He won’t be leaving anytime soon," the girl with the mop said.

I couldn’t help but picture Tattletale, back at the loft, helping Dinah up from the bench. Or helping her out of the chair. She would let the cat out of the bag first. If nobody else was willing or able to do it, that would be the time to make it official. "I think I’m going to go."





Hive 5.8


"We have a way out," the girl with the sledgehammer said. She sounded almost strangled. "We just need to get in contact with Coil, get his attention…"

"Coil’s guy, probably won’t give us any pointers. Maybe he knows what he’s doing. Everything that’s on his clients’ private property, he peels it away, so to speak. So long as you’re doing it legally, the public knows about the private property. There’s no good reason to maintain such an ugly monopoly."

"It’s still ugly."

"It’s a natural monopoly, though I don’t know how much the people in my territory understand about that. It’s bullshit, honestly, so long as it’s done right, it’s going to be more bullshit than not. That doesn’t mean it’s good if everyone’s willing to act as a majority and take what they can from it."

"You don’t agree?"

"We’ve talked about this before, Skitter," I said. "You know, before you left the Undersiders? It was about dealing with these guys on your territory. About the public opinion, too. I’ve gone so far as to claim I’d rather be on the streets and making trouble than sitting around like a docile slave."

"I understand that," she said. "I just thinks it�

======== SAMPLE 3 ========
 and he’d had the temerity to get into the fray in the first place.

"Hey!" One girl’s voice. She was dressed up like heiress or princess, and he recognized her from the uniform. He fished out a cartridge of pepper spray from the backpack he usually got his on: a .357 SIG.

"Seems you and the other girl like each other. Guess she wanted a bit of fun before she passed on the news?"

"What?"

"Seems you think she’s hot, thinks you’ll have a crush on her, even wants to meet her for a date. And even though she has the most amazing eyes and blonde hair, whispers that you and the other girl are going out and that you’ll probably fall in love, you won’t feel bad if she dumps you after a few months?"

"I… I don’t feel bad."

"But if she doesn’t, just admit it. You probably won’t fall in love, but if it happens and you aren’t able to come to terms with it, well, you can cry about it later."

"Okay. I don’t feel bad… I mean, I know it’s not supposed to be romantic, but that’s not the important part."

"That’s the important part."

That was that. She was going to see him as a loser, and maybe a loser only, but that was an ugly realization in the end. "I hate her."

"Hate?"

She’d never even flinched when he’d hit her. He’d been her friend, and she’d had friends for him.

"I hate her, on a level, just because she’s the one that gave me the idea that she was cool with me being a loser instead of a superwoman and superwoman together. I don’t like her that much, but-"

"Just admit it. You like her. You’ve been attracted to her ever since you can remember."

He flinched in that last sentence, his first impulse pulling away from the woman. The implication leading him to think he’d somehow felt some deep connection to her that hadn’t been there.

"You’re surprised?"

"Feels like a good while to wait before I even get to that part of my life. Wait until I’ve had time to think over all the little moments of what I want from relationships, and figure out where it is in all this, and I fall in love with her. And being with her means being emotionally and mentally open to all of the feelings she goes through, so I don’t have that whole thing I don’t want to process. And she doesn’t want to process? She gets angry, she’s irritable, and there’s always that little knot of hostility in her chest. So she can be kind of shut down."

"How does that happen?"

"I think it gets better, but not necessarily where I need it."

"Good."

"No offense. I liked you from the start."

"I missed you too."

He fished out a bottle of water. He didn’t like the color, tasting like water that had been filtered through sulfur. He fished out orange juice instead.

"Take it," she said. He took the bottle, chewed, then threw it back.

"You can take orange juice for a water addiction?"

"I’ll have something else."

"That’s okay."

"I guess I’ll take orange juice for two of you."

She smiled, but it wasn’t a happy expression. "And we can work on your memory."

"Can’t. It would depress my reserves."

"It wouldn’t, unless you made me drink it while you watched the video," he grinned.

"What do you think of the video so far?"

"It’s pretty damn good."

"A little on the nose, but I still like it."

He returned the smile, and she smiled back. The sound of water dripping from a jug remained on the video.

"Can we cut out the bad parts?"

"No, thank you." He smiled as well.

They finished eating, and when he was done staring at the wall, he went to find a television. The ones for the south end of the city were usually still on, so there was no real need to go in that direction this morning

======== SAMPLE 4 ========
 and what they were looking for. He glanced towards Grue, then glanced at Tattletale.

She took a second to compose herself, then spoke, "I believe we’re looking for Parian. I have been informed that she is currently residing with Regent, and that Regent is providing the necessary paperwork to establish his residency and paperwork for his current commitments."

"Regent?" he asked, then looked at Grue, "You haven’t been more silent."

"Regent is staying here, as he waits for Dragon’s return. Grue is presently in a stronger position, currently living at Tattletale’s home place. In the interest of protecting that which we believe in, we will not be requesting any names or identifying details."

He turned his attention back to the files.

"What information can you offer the PRT that will help you guys win?" one of the employees asked.

"Nothing that’s useful," Grue replied. "But we have other bases we’re looking to apply for asylum to. We can accept visits from those who cannot or do not wish to return to their home countries. Tattletale’s place is not one of them."

"Does it matter?" the employee asked.

"No," Grue said.

"Dragon’s experiments," Tattletale said, "Tattletale’s experiments, even the Endbringer experiments. It’s just that it’s going to impact on a smaller scale than the things that affected Brockton Bay."

"Africa, Asia, Europe-"

"Africa, Asia, Europe," Tattletale replied. She glanced at him. "You’re naming the regions where the Endbringers are active?"

"I do hope you’re on board," Grue said.

"Thank you," she said. Then, in a hushed voice, she told him, "Thank you."

He felt his heart rate pick up as she spoke. "You’re welcome."

With Tattletale’s help, he leaned over and kissed her on the cheeks, spreading his arms. She returned the kiss with one of her own. He let his hands drop to his sides.

She glanced down at Kid Win and said, "He’s alive."

"He was okay before," Grue said.

"He was okay," Kid Win said. "But he managed to slip out of control of the stasis tube before I got there. I was very careful, working with him to keep him from replicating the process again."

"I see," Tattletale said. "I see."

He glanced at the others, then at Jack.

"I… would have gone easy on him if I didn’t think he could hold his own," he spoke. He felt a tremor in his hand.

Tattletale explained, "Jack had been pulling stunts like he was testing us, pushing us to the limit. It made for an entertaining distraction, but eventually he broke, and I just told myself I wouldn’t touch this again. The stunts aside, he’s surprisingly competent when it comes to managing the device. He doesn’t need to hold it in for more than an instant, and he doesn’t have the technical know-how to pull something like that off again. On the other hand, he knows how to use the device to get more than he gives, and that means we’re well equipped to deal with the ensuing crises that follow."

"A reminder," he said.

"I’d almost rather not keep anything dangerous nearby," Tattletale added. "Unless it’s a lethal dose that Jack or one of his underlings are giving me. I suppose if I’m forced to let things go, I’ll at least take the opportunity to maximise the chances I can rescue you."

"It’s very dangerous," Grue replied, his voice level.

Tattletale nodded sagely. "It’s true. You have to understand, the more things clash, the less stable a link you have with the device, the less useful it is. A series of clashes that don’t mean anything to the other end is merely the catalyst for an evolution in those things. For an individual to grasp the full potential of the device, without any maintenance or oversight, is an incredibly rare, even."

"Isn’t that what happens when you have an alien life form make contact with a western civilization?" Regent asked.

"That’s reality," Tattletale said. "There’s no easy answers, and there

======== SAMPLE 5 ========
 and she was smiling a little. I wanted to say hi, but I didn’t know where to go. We’d gotten to the point where the only places I was likely to be able to go were the library or the bathrooms at the school. I didn’t want to deal with either of those things, and the school library had only bathrooms with urinals on the far end. The girls who went to the library tended to be pretty mean.

I could have apologized for making her worry, and that it was stupid to have found out about her talent at such a young age. I could have explained that it was something I’d be taking care of, and that I was working on getting things in order at home. The problem was that both things were probably true. I felt a growing dread that my outing with Lisa might give her an excuse to drop a bombshell, to tell me the truth and embarrass me, or both.

As it stood, I didn’t want to deal. I felt nauseous. How long had I stood here doing this? Surely my habit of sticking to my rules and sticking to the contract had kept me from breaking it already.

It didn’t help that I had a sneaking suspicion that Lisa was lying to me. What was her habit? Perjury. It was the sort of thing she might have up her sleeve if she was telling the truth and was giving me the information I needed. Or she had a weapon, like Bonesaw, and I didn’t know how that weapon would affect me.

Either way, I wasn’t sure I wanted to press the issue.

Rachel joined my side. "Taylor? What have you been up to?"

"Putting some distance between ourselves, and keeping out of sight," I said.

She studied me, "Then why don’t you go clean out the front door and try getting in?"

I shook my head. "Not sure I have the energy. Might be there aren’t any places open."

"Then back to your regular activities. Make yourself at home, lunch with the others, maybe maybe homework. I just wanted to say you’re doing okay."

"Thank you."

"And Rachel?"

The blonde girl gave me an exaggerated pout on her face, "It’s not every day that you get to hang out with the Undersiders. It’s nice. The food? The people? If I see a way to make it better, let me know."

"Okay."





Extinction 27.5


"Holy shit," Tattletale said. "Holy shit."

"How did you know?" Imp asked. "Or, more specifically, how did you notice something like this?"

"My swarm," I said. "I’m getting reports on the capes."

"Why is it that even as I get more and more comfortable around you, there’s this sense of unease?"

I glanced around, my eyes roving over the crowd, trying to identify anyone that would be a fit candidate for a confession, revelation or interrogation. I’d gone with the idea of sneaking in through the back door after discovering what went on the PRT’s end, and it had involved a bit of a trick. With Tattletale, I’d had my hands in my pockets at the time.

Rachel put in her two cents, "There’s the fear that maybe your teammate is too occupied with whatever distraction and messes up her routine was to notice anything different happening elsewhere."

"That raises the question of why they wouldn’t notice us on our own," I said. "I mean, with Alexandria trying to fuck with Scion’s head at the same time, maybe we’re out of everyone’s radar, and we weren’t even on anyone’s radar until the Alexandria thing happened."

"I think we noticed them," Imp said. "I mean, I can give you an idea of how we’re all getting along, knowing how divided our groups are, what we’re doing to deal with the differences."

I glanced at her. She was studying me, which was nice, but her attention was on the group, on Tattletale and her teammates. Imp was probably more used to having people observe her, and she was a lot less comfortable with that.

"They’re aware of us?" Regent asked.

Tattletale shrugged, "Only a little. Less than I thought. The others seem to be in the dark, at least. If nothing else, at least they’ll know if we’re drawing any punches. It means we’re in

======== SAMPLE 6 ========
 and she had enough in her power that she could deal with a small event like that.

"I didn’t come for revenge, you know. I said the same thing at the beginning, and I was thinking it was best to keep it brief."

The small amount of healing on her own was impressive enough. The amount of healing Imp had generated on her wasn’t.

"It’s not, really. There’s lots of potential healing to be had with a little time and practice. But I don’t feel like I can do anything because I already tried to get people’s backs against the walls. That’s not a good feeling."

"Maybe bad feelings cause you to feel that way?"

"It’s not that I don’t feel good, I do feel good, I just can’t do anything because others would somehow stop dealing with my situation, and I’m not really that attached to them. If they want to come near me and hurt me, they’re allowed to. If they don’t want to, well, it’s really just a thing I don’t want."

"Or maybe you have something to protect yourself against, so you don’t get hurt anyways."

"It’s not that I don’t have something to protect myself against, I have something to protect everyone, maybe even myself, if I’m around someone who can do something about it. I can get the blood out of their veins if they can get their hands on it, and it would be worth every minute I have to spend in the field."

"You think you’d be better spent in the field."

"I’m not saying I would, or I would come here."

"Do you have a weapon?"

"Mine. A little while ago, I got my costume from my mom. Got it from the store when I went to get my driver’s license, or the bank account, whichever you called it. I have it on hand."

"Like this."

"It’s not the real me, huh?" She put a bit more polish on the mane of her hair before turning towards me, then pulled my chin up, putting a mark where my ear would be. "It’s nice, but not my style."

"You sound pretty confident."

"I’m a girl. So maybe if I tell you that I’m ready to go to jail, with food on the table and maybe a few nights to get my supplies, and that you can come to the house at three-thirty in the morning? You’ll feel like a million bucks, right?"

I let her go with no comment or reaction. My attention was on the video. Imp had taken it off the V.A. She had given me permission, apparently.

"You want me to call my parents and see if I can scrounge up some cash?"

"Sure. You can come all the way from my hometown, where no one has seen or heard from me in two and a half years, to see them tonight. Mine? From my mom’s grave, at the very least."

"My dad won’t believe me if I give him proof like that."

"He’ll feel differently if he has to go to the police and wait months for a relative to give him a bloody nose that he could theoretically use on someone. It’s better you take care of him tonight."

I nodded.

"And you?" She let us go with the handshake ending.

"I’ll see you to it."

We hung up, catching our breath before we continued our discussion.

"I have plans to talk about, Brian. First and foremost."

"Tell Taylor they’ll be here to hear it."

"You won’t have to."

"Not if he doesn’t come by later tonight, when his family’s sleeping. And that’s if he doesn’t come alone. Whoever’s keeping watch tonight, you should know my mom wouldn’t be doing it if she knew what her dad was up to. So no need for the drag on the cash and gift vouchers. I have a quarter million coming to me in the time I have left, even if I have to apply for a new number. Don’t suppose you have a few hundred thousand shekels?"

She raised her hand to her mouth to whistle. She turned at the last second and whistled twice for the cashier as she caught a bus to her father’s grave

======== SAMPLE 7 ========
 and you’re going to have to give me a reason, I think."

I felt an idea sink in. I hadn’t expected that she’d be so rational as to realize my presence and why I was there, but I wasn’t sure what to do, so I merely said, "I think you’re right."

"Why?"

"Because I wanted to talk to you before I got sick from the party, and that means you don’t have everything all to you."

"I understand."

"Because I can’t believe I gave you everything I had."

"Maybe," she said. "Maybe not. Just trying a new tactic, here. If I can’t isolate you, then maybe I can get you to open your mouth more? It’s not you, it’s me and my bugs in a room together, trying to do harm to one another. So if you’re honest, it’s like I said before… I don’t care what anyone thinks, but I really don’t care that much."

I sighed. "Okay."

She gave me a curious look before she started putting food in front of the fridge. "Can I have the cat, K-bye?"

I waved her goodbye before grumbling to keep from making any sound that might give away the fact that I was on the other end of the conversation, "I’ll come again."

"Goodbye," she said. "If you see me again."

I shook her hand.

"Hey," she said, "You smell like cat urine, you know?"

"Doesn’t matter," I said, "You’d be a great place to run into a dog that needs a lick."

As she pulled away, my heart dropped out of my chest. What on Earth had just happened? Were Rachel and her dogs rabid? Ratted out, rabid?

Rachel and her dogs were rabid.

"I’m sorry," I said, "Maybe I shouldn’t have said goodbye."

"It’s alright," she smiled, "We were going to have a good few,"





Interlude 13g


It was an ideal world. The only thing far from perfect, were the people.

It wasn’t ideal, even, if there was such a thing as ideal, in the grand scheme of things. It was downright utopian. A society in which every individual was treated equally, without exceptions. A government that consistently protected citizens and enforced the law, to the extent that a fair few citizens really did feel uneasy or insecure. A government that fostered cooperation, a degree of cooperation that some regarded with the kind of hostility one might expect from an enemy.

But even that was a lofty goal. There were real upsides to this society. A better understanding of nature made for clearer mind picture. An understanding of psychology, especially when coupled with one’s newfound penchant for emotional outbursts. This society afforded everyone something worth seeking after, and for those who remained dissatisfied with the status of things, they had somewhere to turn.

"I am Taylor Hebert, and I would like to thank the Director, the PRT Director and the Wards for their cooperation," Taylor’s short bio continued. "I cannot report how well they treated me, as I am certain they would like to keep me. What I can tell you is that I would like to come back here, and that is exactly what I am proposing."

"I would like to see that dream of yours become a reality," someone behind her said. A woman with a full set of bleached blonde hair.

"Doesn’t seem feasible," Alexandria replied.

Who else?

"There are practical problems, like how to secure the site, afford the space needed, and of course, the amount of time and manpower it would require…" Alexandria trailed off, a little sheepishly.

"The Wards?" someone else asked. "Someone that can manage the staff? Someone on the site, getting the construction started?"

Alexandria chuckled a little, "I had a bit of a dream on the subject last night. As I was saying, things cannot be perfectly run, and this would be a perfect time to pull the trigger. The budget is slim at best. It would help if the Mayor were here. More than half of the funding these last few events have gone to the Mayor, and as we saw with the bomb, not all is well."

"Alexandria," a middle aged man said, "It looks good."

"It is, on a lot of levels. I would have your son to thank. The Mayor

======== SAMPLE 8 ========
 and long range sensors.

I set the swarm on Bonesaw. It wasn’t enough. One by one, they broke through the twenty or so arms on display. Each arm was the size of a small house, and each foot in length. Each was a crude creation, a creation drawn from scrap metal. Each was crude work, too, with numerous, crude failings and errors. Some looked more work than most.

The work of a crafter, not a tinker.

On each of the ten constructed objects, Bonesaw had used her powers. She’d used her power on each as they were created, from start to finish, rather than attaching them to the individual pieces. There were six cars added to the mix, three trucks added to the mix, and one small aircraft added to the mix. It was only after the ten modified trucks, each with their own engine, were added to the scene, that Bonesaw’s work truly paid off. A single line of her workmanlike work was sufficient to get her credit as tinker, and the cars became two or three feet tall. The trucks were further modified by adding rusted equipment, small parts that had to come from the car and from the crane used to haul it in. It didn’t add up.

The second line of work was more complicated. Each was connected to the bulldozer that was adding to the construction of the next line, while each completed vehicle was connected to a bulldozer that was demolishing the last construction step. There were fifty vehicles total, with twenty standing on each side of the three identical buildings.

In the busy streets, cars and trucks were blocking access roads. It was possible to see some of the construction crews on the periphery, tending to their work, while others streamed in through the entrance on the lowest level, searching for an easier job or a place to park.

I looked over my shoulder at the first car, then followed its progress down the road. As it drew to a stop, it splashed a stream of mud onto the three trucks in front of it. A minute later, it rumbled its second diesel engine, kicking down the next car, and so on. It was deliberate, a step too far.

It was the first indication that something was going on. Not one second after the trailers and cars appeared on the lowest level, one of the trucks caught fire. Flames and sparks rushed forth from the spot where the first car came to a stop, and the trucks immediately backed into the construction area. The mud and foam began burning the trailers and construction equipment alike.

Not all of the fighting was over. The first wave involved four trucks and two trucks of varying clearance: a smallish craft seemed to leap from the construction area toward the fighting, but was stopped when a car slid into a gap in the wall. Two minutes later, a second car came to a sudden stop, sliding along the road like it had an internal mechanism. Flames and sparks following it as it passed, tearing through the polystyrene structure it had landed on the polystyrene-covered road.

Behind me, one of the smaller craft shifted to a four-wheel-drive configuration, entering the construction area and quickly reversing direction to bar the door from closing behind me. Flames and sparks ignited within, and the craft started to rotate on the outer edges of the construction area, veering to one side. It collided head on with a small structure, a garage that had recently been added to the construction area.

My bugs were beginning to accumulate on the Merchants, with little to show for them except buckets of mud and one or two spiderlings that might or might not be Bug-sensei. I began to draw out lines of silk cord, extending it from the Merchants to the building next door:

As I drew it together, lines of silk drew together in tall grass and piled up in the upper floors.

I was forced to divert some of my bugs towards the Merchants, to remain still or spread them out to let more arachnids slip past my bugs. They began making their way down the stairs at an almost lazy pace, as I made my way toward the Merchants. Some slipped beneath the barbed wire, leaving trails of their own behind them.

The Merchants turned with a burst of activity. They threw two pickup-arms aloft, then ran forward, stampeding for the hills.

It was more the Merchants than the arachnids. Night, Fog and Nightwolf. They’d gathered.

Golem dropped to his knees, and began using his power. The second he was done casting it on his own body, the bugs ceased, and he dropped into a fighting crouch. His eyes roved over the area, searching for something. He reached beneath his robes, and did what he could to pull the fabric I’d tied around his fingers and toes

======== SAMPLE 9 ========
 and was quick to point out that the reason he had named them as an option was that there was no good way to spell things out but he wanted you to be angry enough that you would think you were involved in an event as serious as this. He knows how frustrating it can be to be able to call off the man who wants to banish the existence of the universe from the face of the planet. He knows how hard it is to be a mere mortal. When he looks at the scene, he sees a world sundered forever, a world choked with despair and war. When he looks at you, he sees someone desperate for hope and who you become in the end."

Piggot glanced at the names, as if assessing the tenor of things. "She’s afraid she’ll cause a stir and that her secrecy will make everyone else draw the obvious connection between her and the man that murdered her parents. Her power might even help keep people from knowing, like you’ve kept your name private in the past."

"Makes sense," Legend answered. "We can’t keep her down for long, though. It’s not the first time she’s done it. If she’s reaping what she sows, it won’t be pretty."

"With everything Legend is saying about the risks involved, I’m not sure I buy it," Chevalier admitted.

Legend looked at him, "Chevalier, you and I aren’t going to argue. Our side has resources and methods the other side won’t be able to duplicate. We are, after all, on opposite sides in the great war. I do have one favor to bring you and me back before I close. A young hero of mine was arrested for trying to leave, and I know is of sound mind, if things don’t turn out badly."

"I’ll take what I can get," Chevalier said.

"Good, good," Legend agreed, "I’m afraid I’m in a rush, but I’d like to hear your voice."

"Of course, I have everyone else lined up," Chevalier answered.

"I’ll have to put off hearing more of your business until I hear less, but I’m getting the impression you’re not that interested in talking to me."

"I’ll talk to you any time, always of late."

"I see. I would like to see what the Undersiders think, then. I take it the Travelers will play the role of the reinforcers, after they clear that final test of theirs?"

The Travelers were making their way past the set of vault doors.

"And the Protectorate?" Legend asked. "You mentioned Leviathan?"

"You did. I did. A whole mess of other stuff, to play up the fact that they were the ones responsible for the Simurgh, for luring the girl, responsible for the crash, the whole mess that followed. But it was only after Leviathan ripped through the city that we realized it was all an act. A staged event to get the public to focus on the heroes and villains."

"I see," Legend agreed.

Chevalier smiled. "When we started this new group, I mentioned that we couldn’t do anything with the Undersiders who were still in the hospital’s care. It was pretty funny, seeing how your head dropped as Gallant explained, to the point that I actually laughed."

"He’s a funny guy," Legend replied.

"The irony of the current situation is that we should have gotten away much better if it wasn’t for your continued secrecy on our organization’s connection to Armsmaster-Calvert," Chevalier said.

"Your whole thing was playing nice, playing safe, until it got taken down," Legend replied with a note of irony. "So nice you can’t do that when you’re being taken down, Legend."

"Define ‘tease’," Chevalier clarified. "Likened it to a tease, you know? If we don’t get the pictures out before the big news, it might be a matter of time before Tattletale figures out who took the picture. I really do hope she doesn’t buy our game plan. We can use her power against her."

"You’re hoping that’s not a pipe dream?"

"I hope it isn’t an outright trap," Legend said. "I could make a case for it."

"It’s a pretty lousy reason to lose the group," Chevalier said.



======== SAMPLE 10 ========
 and he was out of sight. Grue, Tattletale, Regent and Bitch were all at the windows looking out.

Bastard sniffed twice, then charged through the wall of their hiding spot. He didn’t get two steps before he was caught. I could see Shadow Stalker’s head flicker across the night’s sky as she looked for one of the new recruits. I didn’t need reminding, and the flicker of her head was enough to make Bitch look twice and catch everyone off guard.

She used her power, bringing her hand to the side of her face to turn the corners and leap. The movement seemed counter-intuitive, but she just darted forward without waiting for me to catch up. As she touched the wall on top of the building, it split apart, and water rushed down the length of the street, flooding entire streets, in at least some cases. All my swarm swamped her, making her retreat an almost inevitable retreat and burying me to avoid waking him.

That had been the plan, anyways.

The girl in white then emerged from a side street and lurched forward for Shadow Stalker. She saw him coming, and at the same time, I could feel a measure of terror welling up deep within my gut.

She lunged, and Shadow Stalker stopped the next best thing to a facsimile of our escape route, her hand over her eye. Her right index finger went down around her mouth before she spoke, "Bastard!"

She didn’t make it more than a word, but the gut-check I’d done prior to giving the command had been right. Being in the right frame of mind was key. It was a shame things didn’t go exactly as I’d hoped. The fact that she could have was almost a bonus, seeing as how she was making me fumble here and there.

Shadow Stalker kicked him in the side of the knee, and he crumpled, blood gushing from his brow and ear. As he coughed, he dropped the thick fang marks that ran into his side and mouth.

I’d feel worse, now.

He pointed his claw at her.

I looked, and sure enough, there was Tattletale. The girl who’d been with Regent.

"Bitch!" I screamed the word.

She rolled her eyes.

Bastard approached Tattletale, scratching at her head. There was a very human looking dog then, something I recognized as Brutus. He scratched and played with her hair.

"Let’s change locations," Tattletale said. "Regent, I need some information."

Regent looked at Tattletale and shrugged. He approached Bitch and grunted, "A dog’s got a dog’s got a body."

She looked at me, and my eyes widened. This was a repeat performance, every time. No small mention of that particular word. She had Regent.

"The dog’s got a dog’s got a body," Tattletale repeated herself, sounding calmer, at least for now.

"Ah," Regent grunted. "Very well."

Shadow Stalker moved up beside Tattletale, and they switched positions beside me, Bitch sitting on the ground just to my left. We turned to face each other.

Tattletale looked up at where Tattletale stood, "I think I can give you exactly what you’re wanting, Regent."

I was nearly speechless with shock.

"I, um, my powers give me the ability to sense, to look at, understand powers. I was a spy before I joined the Undersiders. I’ve studied the powers of our group’s leaders, the people who have crossed our paths and kept in contact with us, known as the Dogs. Most have had a notable ability that came with them being cogs in a very particular set of gears. I believe I can give you that same understanding, if I had to go digging to do it."

She offered a small smile at that. It made me think of Grue from the start of the spell. In a much more civilized setting.

"And with the knowledge that I’m giving you, Regent? If it were just me and you, I’d earn their respect."

She paused. "It would probably be more difficult for a person with your talents. Not impossible, per se, but there would be a lot to clean up if someone like me were to try to claim your attention."

"A lot to clean up," Grue said, and his voice was a fractional

======== SAMPLE 11 ========
 and one or two others who were making a beeline to escape. The rest seemed to be settling in, getting some peace and quiet.

I could sense the Wards gathering their forces, joining the crowd. Vista and Kid Win stood with the girl who was apparently Vista’s hostage.

As the last three percent of the crowd exited the store, making their way into the alleyway where it was safe to move about, I could tell one of the Merchants, a large man, had a weapon in hand. He had the same look behind his glasses as the girl that was holding the knife.

I was reminded of the Merchants that were responsible for the theft of my mother’s business. I put a hand on his arm.

He turned to look at me in response. I reached up and took his hand. He turned to run, around a ninety degree turn to right, and as I got a hold on him to grip his wrist, he stopped and gave me a curious look?

As his back was turned, I couldn’t really tell him either way. I turned to face the man and gave him a friendly "Shush!"

*Cough*

He looked up at me in turn, confused. I looked away, raising my voice to be heard over the screams and the rushing of the crowd.

"You okay, Weaver?"

I was, though I was panting a bit. I was panting, incredibly, because I’d barely been able to keep from panting as we passed by a makeshift memorial. Buildings had collapsed around the site of the fight, and dirt blocked the path to the grave where my mother had been laid out. A thin stream of debris had puddled over the lower parts of the casket and onto the crowd.

"Yeah!" I replied, with a note of desperation and emotion that most people couldn’t match. I still felt like I owed my mom a… this.

Tattletale gestured in the crowd of dying Merchants, "Hey, everyone! Huge bod so you can’t do squat to fight me!"

"Sorry, Tattletale," I said, as I saw the man turn to look at her and her cohorts. My voice sounded strained, as if I were trying to come up with something to say with a stammering inflection.

"You won’t be punished. This will go a lot further than just going to the Wards. You can all go now, or you can stay and take shelter in the shelter at the back of this building. There’s nowhere to run."

If I was going to tell them, I’d need to say it. If I was going to lie, I’d want them to know.

The man took the initiative, picking himself up, then making his way to the shelter at the rear of the building. There were more people still in the store, and they were whispering, some crying out to be heard over the noises of the thrum of metal on metal. Tattletale was moving closer to me. We knelt shoulder to shoulder.

"Hey, Skitter," Tattletale greeted me, with a level tone.

"Hey," I responded, anyway.

She fell silent, her head hanging, as she reached out and fumbled around for her scepter. Holding it by the handle, she pressed it to one side of her mouth, like a weapon. It slid into her teeth like it was nothing. I could just barely make out the button in the process.

Skitter. Protectorate member. Mentally unstable, erratic, difficult to control.

I wanted to warn her, to keep her from getting herself or herself hurt or aggravated in any way, but it was difficult to do anything but wait and make sure she’d had a few drinks and that her powers were still working as they should. I could sense her getting unsteady on her feet and creeping around the corner, up the back of a shelving unit.

A man stepped out of the throng. He was long-haired, tall, and wore a black suit with a red star on the lapel. The logo of the Protectorate was scrawled across the suit, in black marker.

Skitter. Not Skitter I was most familiar with. I turned her way.

"She fought Leviathan, you mean," he started. "Did you see anything of her?"

I shook my head, then nodded once.

"Do you want to get punched in the face?" the black guy asked him.

"I’m not interested."

"She fought Endbringers," Skitter informed him. "She defeated Leviathan, so it really doesn’t fit the bill."

"Oh?"

======== SAMPLE 12 ========
 and I’m afraid he’s thinking about his dad."

"What do you know?"

"About you."

I sighed. "And about his dad. If you were going to pick, I’d go with the second option. It was your choice. I know, because I was forced to agree."

"You could have done better, as a whole team. You were supposed to work alongside us, for our good. You weren’t, things were fine, at the beginning, but you failed at a crucial juncture. You and your own family came under attack by one of Coil’s underlings."

"The guy from the office? Liable to be the next guy in charge. That would be a major factor. But we still helped. We were your team, the backbone."

"Defeated him. Lost our group."

"Oh, I sympathize with you. I was only trying to work with you on an equal footing, and you fell short. I had to make a difficult call."

"And now you failed to help, to build a more permanent foundation. An opportunity presents itself."

"A chance," Tattletale said. "And I’ll help. I can’t take the offer, and I don’t have any reason to."

"I think the fact that you volunteered means you weren’t stupid in the ways you suggested, but it wasn’t a given."

"The fact that you volunteered means it wasn’t a given, too," I said. "You know that already."

"You’ve figured out where we stand, what we can’t do, based on what we’ve said and done in the past. You already have our best interests at heart. We’ve worked with each of you, and I can confidently state that you’ve never been scammed, never been duped for gain. You know we stand by what we said and did, that we wouldn’t give you another chance, that you won’t be cowed by threats or taken advantage of."

"And you won’t give him another chance?" Tecton asked.

"He’ll have a more direct hand in taking care of his people, and he doesn’t need someone as experienced and motivated to dig for information as you."

"With the opportunity you have, I’ve never had more confidence in my abilities," Tecton said. "And I’m sorry, Weaver. I needed to serve with you as I did before. I’m doing as I can, but I can’t guarantee it will be fast or smooth sailing."

"This isn’t a risk you can take," I said. "You have to prioritize."

"No. No, I assume you can."

"I’m having my doubts that I can manage both," Weaver said. "But if neither of you succeed, I’ll settle for being one of the last to volunteer. My time, at least, will be worthwhile next time."

There was a silence on the other end of the phone. We exchanged a glance on each other.

A few words?

No. But he could drop the phone.

"Okay. Here. Here," Tattletale said.

A yellow-orange package.

"They’re going to want to know what the hell I’m talking to you about," Tecton said.

"I don’t know," Tattletale said, "I don’t get much anyway. There isn’t any guarantee that we’d get any cooperation, but this would be a way to let them know I’m in touch with Coil, with my idea of getting resources we can use. Maybe they’d come to know about your involvement somehow."

"I’m not sure I get the point."

"We can’t take this lying down."

"I get the feeling you just don’t get this stuff, you’re up against some heavy hitters. You can’t keep her secrets forever, you don’t have access to the funding, and you’re just plain outnumbered."

"You could always pass on word to Chevalier, or to Weaver. Tell Weaver to pass on word to Revel and Miss Militia."

I glanced at Golem.

"If we want to make this work-"

Tattletale interrupted me, "I don’t get it. I mean, I get it, we don’t have time to play this out, but-"


======== SAMPLE 13 ========
 and her hands, holding my arms. She glanced at me, then smiled a little.

I glanced away, afraid she was seeing how upset I was.

"I didn’t know you had guts like that," she said. "But you really shouldn’t have been giving me any indication that you agree with what happened with Lung."

I felt another wave of nausea at hearing those words. Lung had been the one getting credit for Lung’s injury, the one getting accolades, awards, and whatever else. The man having been taken off TV apparently getting some type of miracle from some sort of God.

The girl’s eyes were on me. A look I couldn’t place.

"I-" she started, and I stopped. A light in the corner of the room caught her eye. She turned her head to look at us, her eyebrows drawing together.

"Hey, are you going to ask for a hug?"

She gave me a curious look, then pulled a face. I was pretty sure I could recall seeing, in one of those short, high-school moments, her eyes blinking in confusion.

"I… this is-" she fidgeted. "No."

She was waiting for me to say something. Something I’d said to suggest the idea. But none of the answers were forthcoming, and neither side was budging, in the midst of the muddle.

"Taylor?"

"Why are you here, if I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about?"

"You’re upset you got bullied," Sophia said, almost comically.

Sophia started to back away in alarm, then snapped at me, "Stop."

I stopped, raising one hand to stop her. When I stopped, her arm around my shoulders, her entire body pressing against me, a look of intense concern crossing her face.

"You can talk," she said, in that voice of hers.

I didn’t respond, and even as I was trying to compose my thoughts, a part of me felt it: fear, confusion, again, as if I was back in the moment I’d come to the point of no return, I was still grasping for a clue.

Sophia was trying to pull me off balance by making me act, when I should be focusing on getting Sophia off balance… I was caught off guard by the realization too late.

Sophia was still pushing me, trying to find a way to connect the dots. Between my lack of preparation and my inability to keep all the details in mind, I was caught off guard once again. A tidal wave of fear washed over me, as I stepped back, put my hands on my head.

Not caring who saw it, Armsmaster looked down at me, and I winced with pain. Not the least of the fears that had plagued me since coming here.

"What is it?" Sophia asked.

"He was saying I should watch out for that," I said, trying to keep my voice low.

"I do," Armsmaster replied, sounding surprisingly calm. "Anything else? The Nine outnumber us, I’ve been gathering intel on the enemy strength, and their numbers are low. I think they’re trying to leverage this. One of the Nine?"

Sophia had started to pull me off balance. I could see that they were getting into a groove, that their method of attack was less about inflicting physical harm on their enemies and more about inflicting mental harm on their friends. One more person with powers that could put them against two or three capes at once, and this group could be set up for a long series of defeats.

"The other pairings are Taylor and Aegis," I said. "I’ve been working on figuring out their powers. Taylor has a defensive power, but it’s not a great power. I think my power checks what Aegis does on that front."

"Tattletale’s said they’re psychic powers. Not sure about Aegis, even if his name sounds right. Let’s say they’re not going to go easy on you, give you a few heartbeats where needed."

"The name’s good," I said. "It sounds-"

It was Armsmaster that cut me off. "Ah, yes. That, or Aegis can create barriers. It strikes me as odd, that neither Taylor nor Aegis would be familiar with the concept of a temporal bubble."

I nodded. It was strange, but I wouldn’t say it was especially bad.

"Now, that leaves Shadow Stalker and Velocity. Their powers are rather unique. Velocity

======== SAMPLE 14 ========
 and then walked with her head held high, almost hyperaware of where the others were going.

"I’m going to see if I can get him," Faultline said. Her power was still active, at the cost of a degree of control her power wasn’t able to afford. "If you go in alone? You can try negotiating. I can tell him we’re not going to invade his family’s privacy, but I’m willing to play along as long as you don’t hurt or kill anyone."

I could see Bitch reacting, but she stayed silent.

"Fine. Maybe I have a grudge against you for going to Foil, but I really don’t want to talk to you."

"You will not take our territory. You will see this as another small step towards your own desires."

"And we’ll turn you down," he said. "We’ve turned down attempts before. We gave him the option of becoming a full member of the team or signing a petition. He refused both."

"A disappointment," Bitch said.

"He will become more successful because he’s a member of the team – a quirk you adopted to get along with his sister – or he will succeed because he is special. He’ll come to hate the Undersiders for trying something, and for trying to take all the glory, he’ll make a decision he dislikes."

"I don’t love him for his decision," Bitch retorted, "I love him because he gave him a second chance."

Faultline shook her head. "You’re so waffling on these issues. Going between good and evil, heroes and villains, you’ve proven yourself to be one of the bad guys, Aisha, and I have to respect that."

I was caught off guard, this exchange of words between us. In a way, I kind of respect her, here, though I’d barely realized it.

"I’m sorry for picking on you," Aisha spoke up, "I had to defend my teammates."

"Don’t blame me. Cheating on my grandpa’s door to the door at the other end of the street had to suck."

Faultline offered an apologetic half-smile, "I won’t lie to you."

I considered her words for a few long seconds. Then, just to give us an excuse to leave the conversation there, I offered a sarcastic half-smile, "That’s all I think on this."

Aisha smiled broadly, but she couldn’t do anything more than that.

"You’re so nice," Bitch spoke, smiling a little at me.

Bonesaw stood from her seat, grabbed a backpack from beside the counter, and then stooped down to get the plastic wrap, tweezers and toothbrush from the shelf in the register.

"Thank you." I spoke, after giving her the bag.

"You’re welcome," she returned, smiling wide.

We made our way out, and by the time we reached Faultline’s office, she already had a notebook open, a pen in her lap and a small stack of books arranged on the table beside her.

It took perhaps fifteen minutes for everything to arrive, and even then, I was sort of put in mind of my father. It was like the office wasn’t so much messy as a kind of apartment, complete with bathtubs, bathroom-like countertops and a walk-in closet door on the left side of the room. At one end of the room, there was a table with a full-length mirror that was set so that it wouldn’t be upside down when we walked in.

For my introduction, I had to do something slightly off the mark. After all, the apartment was small, and any outfit was better suited for a formal dinner than it was for a first impression. "You know, it’s kind of nice, if you ignore the crap surrounding your brother’s death. I mean, honestly, I kind of got it, you know?"

She crossed the room, and I looked back in the direction that was mirroring the furniture, to see what she was doing. I had a glimpse of her standing on her three closest friends as they were leaving her. I knew her, now, long enough to see the familiar expressions on their faces. She was standing out because of the way her sleeves were rolled up, the way she had herself folded in on herself. I didn’t like that she had herself; I had never liked that her hair had been tied up

======== SAMPLE 15 ========
 and a few minutes to calm down, then the others would appear. It was a nice idea, and it would solve the problem so I wouldn’t have to keep staring at Grue for long. I could even hide Tattletale, knowing that she would be out of sight, and she would be able to pass on messages to me faster. If the others could pass on their messages, there’d be less of a chance I would receive any unwanted communications from them.

My bugs would then make themselves known, marking the spots on the map where Tattletale or Grue would appear. With the small number of bugs I possessed, I could mark each location with my bugs while they lurked in the corners. That would give me a rough idea of where they were, and it would let me mark the locations of their other home, if any.

Just to be safe, I drew the swarm close to each location, and then dabbed at the locations with my swarm to be sure that no finger was left unattended.

"Bakuda?" Tattletale asked, her voice oddly low.

"Kulshedra," Legend replied. "Not impressed."

"She’s pretty," Grue commented.

That was all. I gave them the signal, "Go! Go!"

Bakuda and the girl with the ziggurat on her chest ran for the stairwell, skidding to a stop on the way down. Bakuda planted her feet further apart as she reached the top of the stairs, prodding her ziggurat-figure-figure-figure hands on the steps as she walked.

The girl with the ziggurat-figure turned a sharp left, entering an apartment building before coming to a stop. The ziggurat-figure bent down to kiss the girl on the head, then looked to see what she was doing. She was turning a medium to dark blue as she stood, and there was an oven in the corner.

"Where’s Tattletale going?" Bakuda asked.

"To ask if Piggot could have gone further. My gut is telling me she’s staying behind for backup. Tattletale can probably put some distance between her and my bug control teams."

"Tattletale will ask to come with," Legend spoke. "She has something pressing."

"We will talk," Bakuda replied for the record.

"Bakuda," Legend said, "Enough."

She gave him a look he couldn’t decipher. "What is it?"

"What I have been saying to Coil, that it’s okay to ask again in the next few days. Bakuda wants to talk to you in person about some students who are a problem."

"I heard. So I ask you again, why put yourself in that situation?"

"It’s complicated. I won’t deny it. But I have to, for the good of the greater good. Not the lesser good, but part of the greater good."

"It’s complicated," she spoke.

"It goes beyond the simple, Bakuda," he spoke.

"She was a leader. A driving force. She laid the groundwork, and through her, we were able to change things. The present situation isn’t one where we can simply step in and fix things. But it’s too dangerous, and the responsibility is too great. I won’t waver in my beliefs, and neither will my teammates. They know how much I care about them and what I need to do to save them."

His team, of course, was the Travelers.

"You really think you’re safe in being here?" Legend asked.

"Of course. I’ve read up on them. Every member of the team knows what our goals are, and we make adjustments where necessary. At the same time, we make sacrifices. We have to."

"I care about the future," Bakuda replied. "I care about how we tackle this. And I care about the present. I’ll be by, and I’ll support you on this."

Legend nodded.

Bakuda climbed off the dog’s back. She extended a hand to Legend, and Legend shook it.

"I owe you one. Thank you," she spoke.

"Do you care to go?" He asked.

She nodded.

He stepped away from the door, opened another door. He fished in one pocket for a keychain, unzipped it and then tossed it to Bakuda. She used it to unlock the next door, and then opened it. He fished in his pocket for another taser, then handed it over.

"Thank

======== SAMPLE 16 ========
 and I saw that he was the last to arrive. He gave Meinhardt a quick nod, turned and walked away.

"And he’s mine," Meinhardt commented, looking at the others. "What else?"

"He said he could make a few things," Grace spoke, "That he wouldn’t be making permanent, unless he died or something."

"I don’t follow," Meinhardt spoke, "The others need things, here."

"He said someone was in town. Was it the Undersiders?"

"Nah."

"I was surprised that it was Weaver," Grace spoke, "Because of you, I can’t imagine I wouldn’t be okay with being on my own in the city if I were in Weaver’s class."

"I admit I’m not," Alexandria replied. I think she gave me the answer I wanted.

I walked around the table and seated myself at the station. I’d brought along the Cauldron girl, and the Cauldron’s room was in the far end of the room. I’d seen only the lower half of her costume, with the Cauldron stencil on the upper half for modesty’s sake and black lace for the legs. She wore tight black jeans and attached black leather high-heel boots. Her hair was in a ponytail.

She was there in the middle of a discussion, and she was wearing an anorak, her hair loose in the loose ponytail, her expression level. An amazing power that some combination of bored anger, panic and confusion.

I let my power work for it as I saw it, rather than trying to take Alexandria’s power and apply it to my power. I’d gained a great deal of power over the past year simply by reading and following the cape magazines and the various books about capes. I’d had no luck with people. Capes who had powers just didn’t stick around.

She spoke, but I was distracted.

"I hate to do this," she started, then she trailed off.

"It’s perfectly acceptable?" I asked. "A little hurtful, a little spiteful, but not bad."

She shook her head. "No. I’m still on the fence. I got my powers at the age of four and I had my first taste of human contact when I was seven. I can be pretty effeminate, I guess. When I was in ninth grade, my mom divorced and my father remarried and my father was pushed out of the company he’d been keeping. I got my first real crush on my freshman year in high school when Aisha Banks was an assistant principal. I was working part-time and Aisha invited me to hang out with her. I ended up going anyway. A few weeks later, I found out she was cheating on me with her then-boyfriend, and I left the band as well. I would have dropped out any second."

She smiled a little.

"So now I am. I would describe myself as a girl on the fringes, but I would count myself as a boy's guy, maybe a little girl’s guy. I am twenty-five now, which means I am thirty-two if I’m not working or studying, and I am still dating. I am a father with a family of my own, and a graduate of Arcadia High. I am comfortable in my skin. I have been to the dance twice and I have never had a complaint. If I had to rate the confidence these three gave me, it would be eight-seven-seven. If I had to assign numbers to the effect of an eight, it would be eight-six-seven."

She let that last sentence hang in the air for a moment. I had my suspicions that there was some joke in there somewhere.

She paused, then she smiled again, "I won’t be long."

We left the café. The two of us made our way back to the Loft.

Rachel was still sipping her tea. She gave me a quizzical glance with one eye, looked back briefly, then she looked back at Tattletale, "You wanted to come by again? I can get you some things you might want to buy, or maybe I can get some things you could order."

"I could do that. Anything would do, actually."

"Of course. Thank you. For looking out for me, as well as being nice, I’m going to miss you guys, I think. You know?"

Tattletale smiled.

Rachel returned, and sat on a couch opposite where Rachel and I had settled

======== SAMPLE 17 ========
 and how they were being held up. He saw a chance to strike, to really hurt one of them.

It took a good three tries, not to hit, but to make them stumble, and the first hit missed. The last hit knocked them over, sent them rolling.

Stupid enough that it was hard to say why he’d wanted his power, and yet hard to execute.

I’d been in a headspace like this before, I realized. I’d had to make the best of a bad situation. I wouldn’t have been able to do it here.

My bugs were starting to accumulate, and they were starting to move too. My bugs were spreading out, on the walls, floor and ceiling of the building, and in the various materials that filled the area. I had more bugs on the roof, where the roof was partially supported by stilts, forming a loose, horizontal wall. As the bugs spread out, so too did the attacks the Endbringer was attempting to inflict.

A few bugs managed to embed themselves in Grue’s body. One caught his shoulder, hard enough it made bruises radiating from the bruise it had made. Others, smaller and larger, stuck to Lung as he moved, taking on the exact same shape, as if they were trying to imitate the contours of his body and his face, while they were still attached to his skin. They weren’t. They just stuck to him.

Golem made contact with his shoulder again, and the effect ended for that particular Spider-Sense. He stopped twisting his body, and turned his back to the attacking heroes.

It was another long, drawn out attack, interrupted by a flood of Grue’s power. It touched every Spider-Sense I had in range, but I held my auroras forward, my bugs moving to limit the damage.

In response, he summoned lightning, striking Lung with one of his 'sixth sense’s. They flinched and stumbled as lightning continued to flow forward without cease. It was enough to make Lung’s skin crawl, and he abandoned his lightning-striking ways. His legs and pelvis were left unmolested.

I’d taken the advantage of the distraction to realize why I’d chosen to call my bugs here. The stairs. I reached for the stairwell, but there was someone following at my left, and they were moving in close. I sent my bugs after them, but my focus was on Charlotte, than reaching out to her. I had a greater concern. The person standing beside Charlotte.

He was a demon of a man. He had a tattoo on his neck of a broad grin, with the words, ‘kill us both’ scrawled in black marker.

Tattletale was speaking, with an eerie female echo. "…It goes without saying that if either of us comes back and we’re still alive, you take the girl. But I’m saying no matter which route you take, you better watch out for the girl."

I listened intently as Charlotte explained, her voice sounding oddly melodic as she spoke to the girl beside her. "…It’s what I’d do, if I were making the call right this second."

I sighed a little, when she finished. She motioned to the stairwell, where she and I were joined by another pair of young men. They had climbed up alongside us, leaving us just to support them with our way up, but Charlotte was holding the rear, gripping the side of the stairwell that led from the roof to the street.

My bugs passed through the massed crowd, until I found Tattletale opposite Grue, lying next to Bentley, on his side, unconscious. Grue was covered in bandages, his costume over his face. Only his lower face showed some light; he was so unresponsive I was beginning to worry I’d somehow suffocated him. Tattletale spoke, "Don’t panic, Grue. Stay calm, okay?" She bent over him, and she could be heard murmuring a few words.

Bentley had begun to swell, the ribs he’d covered in bandages opening more and more as he recovered. By the time we reached our destination, he was almost bigger than she was. He was getting close.

The crowd had reached the top of the far end of the stairwell, where it led into what had once have been an apartment building. The roof that extended skyward had once been a firmer kind of structure, but it had started to fray into lofts of stone and mortar, with drywall and plaster extending from the roof over the windows and doorways. Where the walls met, the rafters met, and the rafters

======== SAMPLE 18 ========
 and a handful more that were stuck in the air.

It was the kind of chaos Jack would have put on at my house, before we found out about Dinah. One in which Tattletale and I both lost something, even if I gained more than I lost.

My dad was hurt, but he was alive. I was okay for the most part, mostly content as far as possible. I’d been focusing on getting in position and keeping my range up, but I had a hard few seconds of talking with Grue and Bitch at the best of times.

Some of that was on my end. I’d made some enemies. Injuries, more or less, but people kept coming after me.

Jack didn’t like that. He was good at finding enemies and driving them to act, but not so good at it when it came to getting the most out of them. He’d been more focused on maximizing the damage than he had been with Bitch.

He had a power that he’d used to help make, and he was making use of it now.

It was frustrating, if not outright infuriating.

I wasn’t happy about it, but it wasn’t the reason I was stepping up my duties. I’d been doing this for a while, I was overdue for a dose of reality.

I wanted to change, but I felt paralyzed. It was asinine to think I could do something when I didn’t yet know the details of what Jack was doing. If he was using any of his abilities on me in the meantime, then I’d have to wait until he took me up on the offer.

When that time had passed, I would find out, I was willing to admit. I just wasn’t sure yet.

I’d found an old art deco sign language, then started translating while holding my ‘candy’.

'Praying hands’

Praying hands

‘heavens door’

He’s holding something

I understood, in my paralysis, my inability to understand.

I understood the meaning of a few sentences of his earlier statement. The words. "God, help me…"

"Help you?"

"Help you come to terms with what happened to your dad."

"You’re apologizing?"

"I-" I stopped short. The words were more questions that I was sure he could provide me with an answer to, not an admission.

"You’re not the one who answers for this," he said.

I was all too aware of Jack, the pain, the guilt, all at once, standing up for me as I stood by his side.

"I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have-" I paused, clenching my fists.

"You’re apologizing because I made you, when you needed a friend. Jack gave you a chance to prove your worth. He wanted to put you on his team so badly, so he could reap the benefits."

He took his time finishing, then broke the hug. "I won’t ever forget this. Or Grue. This was a chance for us to fix things, to do something productive. To fix the things that had afflicted us as a species, the things that took months or years to even acknowledge, but that were eventually the ones I swore my clan to. The Simurgh and the Endbringer. I don’t even know which I prefer."

I felt cold. My stomach still wasn’t totally flat, but it was midmorning, and I was chilled. It wasn’t the cold that was the issue, it was the lingering effects of the last few days activities and the slight numbness in my muscles that was allaying my discomfort.

Bastard sniffled at the cold.

"I’m sorry, but we couldn’t remain here. Jack’s sudden interest in me, his willingness to hand me over if I would join his side… this just wasn’t… enough."

For a full minute, there was only the throbbing, gnawing noise in my chest, a steady, sure sign that it was getting worse. It would hit me if I let my guard down, my senses would overload, and my range of movement would be too small.

"This is a solution you found? No? Well, this isn’t simple. I won’t lie to you anymore. The rest of this isn’t so easy. You’ll see. But for now, you’ll have what you need to do what you need to do."



======== SAMPLE 19 ========
 and a bit of a berserker on her side.

No, a bit of a tactical thinker.

"Dragon," I said.

"Defiant," he said.

My bugs flowed into the spaces where Dragon’s wings met the body’s torso. She turned so she was directly above me, then used her forward momentum to prop herself up. Her forward momentum carried her face first into the bug box, her backside facing me. I dropped the silk cord and cut her with an ultrasonic cut.

She opened her mouth to scream an apology, then stopped, her head still facing me. I held the insect netting her and the bug box over her mouth, forcing her to spit out the contents of the bug box into her mask as she swallowed, making sure to spit off all of the bugs I had on hand.

"She needs a break," Tattletale said.

"I suppose you’re right," I said. "There’s gotta be something else. There’s gotta be a way to deal with the Undersiders."

"Withstanding Grue’s power won’t suffice," Tattletale said. "Too much depends on Regent."

What about Grue? I wondered.

Tattletale shook her head. "Not interested. I’m keeping my distance."

The other Undersiders were approaching. Imp? Rachel?

I studied Imp. She wasn’t quite as stoic and measured as Rachel. She’d been more excited, now.

"You don’t have to join this team," Imp said. "I have a number to send."

"No… but if you can make it worth their while to the boss, I’ll be there to see about it."

"We’re serious," Imp said.

I looked at the others. Trickster was looking at me, his lips pressed together. Sundancer looked even more intent on keeping out of the frame.

Tattletale looked at Regent, "She’s making a run for it, if she’s staying to stay close to anyone."

"I know, but I wasn’t aware. It’s… unusual," Regent said.

"It’s not something new," Tattletale said, "But it makes for a different type of threat, obviously. The Undersiders aren’t that predictable."

"It should be predictable," I said. "She holds one hostage. Coil’s going to play some kind of mind game with us, pull a number out of our neck. Even if it is just for what feels like forever, we can theoretically end this situation if we don’t keep the hostage."

"So she was making threats," Regent said. "Stalking, maybe."

Tattletale rolled her eyes. "It’s the little stuff, I think. The Undersiders? Who knows what she is going to do next? All we can do is prepare."

"It feels kind of redundant," Regent said.

"If you’re thinking along the lines of 'Oh man, you’re so paranoid'-" Tattletale started.

"How would that tie into things?" Defiant asked.

"If she does this again, I’m not sure we can convince her."

"Or if this goes on for a while," Defiant said. "She keeps changing her focus, and you’re pretty damn sure to back off the next time."

"Weaver?" Tattletale asked.

"I don’t know," I said. "I mean, I know the Undersiders kidnapped Dragon’s Tooth back in the day, but that’s not really the bigger thing."

Tattletale rubbed her own chin, then sighed.

I looked at Rachel, "Hey, Weaver-"

I was cut off as Canary pulled me back. Her voice was a caustic acid washed away of any residual smell, "Hey! You didn’t answer my question! I thought you were getting on my case!"

I turned her way to meet her eyes. Canary’s eyes, the vertical lines in them, were the same as they had been when she’d been covered in my smoke.

"How the hell did you get back here so fast?" Tattletale asked.

Rachel shook her head at that. "Cameras and time locking. My power turned it off and recharged it just enough to keep it off again. Spotted something on the way back and turned my way. Will meet you on the

======== SAMPLE 20 ========
 and be forced to defend herself.

"You sure you aren’t fucking with me?"

"No, I’m absolutely not," Tattletale said. "But you weren’t hurting her. You were helping her out, and it wasn’t to defend yourself or help her escape."

"You left her there to die. Why do you care?"

"Because she was a human being. She had agency. She stood up for herself."

"I’m sorry. I- I’m not sure I see the point." Aisha dropped her hands to her face. Her eyes were wet, "If you can’t agree, please, let her… let them… go. Show some humanity."

"Can you show some humanity?"

"I just… what? My ability to see is going to suffer?"

"I think we’ll put you on indefinite hold until you’re ready. Any reason for the hold?"

"I hate being the prisoner," Aisha said. She rubbed her leg. "You guys helped me escape. You killed one of my enemies. My lawyer helped. You let me stay here, I’d have a hell of a time being free. But-"

"If we decide that the woman is worth keeping, we will relinquish our assurance that she will not suffer further abuses."

"But?"

"But? It was my intention for her to suffer more than anyone else, and I never meant for her to suffer more. I do not understand how someone could be willing to make this choice."

"We’re not suggesting that anyone is forced into this choice," Director Piggot said. "Like her, she makes her own calls."

Another group of capes made their way to the elevator.

"If the Undersiders want to play this carefully, we might have to call in favors."

"I don’t disagree," Miss Militia said. "But we’ve talked about this before. It’s something we discuss and bounce ideas off of one another. Should we trust her ability to make hard calls in the midst of this crisis?"

"Trust her ability to make the hard calls," the Chief Director of the PRT said. "But we can’t rule it out."

"It’s a serious issue," Tattletale said. "What if she makes a blunder?"

The Chief Director shook her head.

"It’s really, really tough to trust someone when their entire world is filled with evidence of how they have screwed you and me personally?"

"There’s a reason we have her on the team," the Chief Director said. "She’s indispensable. She has been since the beginning."

Which left only the Undersiders and Coil to decide on the matter.

The door swung open, and Sundancer stood at the end. She wore a white evening gown with a slit for the back, and her golden hair was tied into a braid with plant matter. A butterfly fluttered in the open space at her side. "Good evening, Miss Militia."

"Skitter," Coil spoke. His voice had a strange quality to it. "It’s good to be back, Skitter. Your reputation is probably recovering from the hiatus."

"Recovering?" she asked, smiling. "I am a little shocked at the compliments you’re giving me, Mr. President."

"Thank you," I said, not taking my eyes off Miss Militia. "For the grace in dealing with this situation."

"I’m not great at the formalities. Being in charge is difficult enough without making the formalities more complicated. Miss Militia will make every effort to ascertain whether or not you committed any crimes, to ensure that justice is served."

"Thank you," I said. "She’s a fighter, for sure. Good on her, for sticking up for me."

Chief Director West made a gesture to Legend, and Legend made a gesture to him.

"You’re forgiven for the rudeness," West said.

"Thank you," I said, "I won’t say thank you twice. I appreciate your willingness to serve, even if we don’t always agree on the details."

"I can hardly imagine that I would take on the world if I had to," West said. "I was talking to Amy about this, and her response was that I’ve got to do what I’m asked to do, because there’s no other way I would do it. For the record, I don’t disagree."

He leaned back in his seat.


======== SAMPLE 21 ========
 and the people with guns and all the others who couldn’t do anything to stop him from walking away.

It was strange, to be standing over the final mass of people when I didn’t see any of them or hear their voices.

I glanced at the clock, realized it was only 11:45.10. I was going to bed now. I put my glasses on and found the room dark.

As I was leaving the bathroom, Lisa caught me looking and asked, "Are you going to tell me where you live, honey? You said you lived in a shelter once, but why? And you can’t remember where you went to school."

I told her, my voice firm, "I went to school."

"Right. But you didn’t seem that enthusiastic."

Lisa smiled a little, "Well, I’ll tell you where you live. You’ll go there as usual."

"Okay. But let me ask you something. Aren’t you going to move?"

"Moving isn’t allowed. This is a permanent injunction against him. They’ll come after us, and we won’t be able to return to our normal lives until he’s left alone. Unless you want to make a fourth group move?"

She glanced at Alec, who only shrugged.

I looked at Brian, "Can I get a refund for the food?"

"No. It’s a lot, and it wasn’t a lot I could have filled myself after a bad night’s partying. Three hamburgers, two coleslaw sides and a bottle of red. And if I do ask for a refund, it’ll cost you. Not so fair on you guys."

Another smack across the shoulder. He was still standing in my way as Brian spoke.

"Taylor, are you okay with this? I know your friend got hurt. I completely understand if he was drunk, and you should respect his privacy, but are you okay with it?"

I looked away, not sure how to answer. If I hadn’t gotten the beer as a gift, I might have felt the need to respond, or maybe the humiliation of staring at the guy would have done the trick. Either way, I gave Brian an empty chair and sat on the back of the couch, folding my arms and reading a book.

"You guys need a ride?" Lisa sat up in front of the couch, while Brian pulled my chair to the floor. We shared an uncomfortable silence for a few long seconds.

"I have a bit of work to do," he walked over to the living room and turned up the TV.

"I know. I could use my power to turn the volume way up, bring it to something you can enjoy. Mm," Lisa grunted, while Brian grunted, "Damn!"

Lisa hurried to undo the TV, "They’re still rambling. They have a lot of stuff they’re feeling."

"Feel something, huh?"

Lisa smiled a little, "Yeah."

"I’m feeling a lot of things," Brian mumbled.

Lisa, for her part, looked at me, "You said you were feeling a lot of things too."

I felt a twang of something in my leg. My knee buckled as I straightened up. I felt my calf and calf armor pop a little, then pop again.

"Aww," Brian said, "No big deal."

I looked away, as much as I was able with the angle of the tv. The volume was turned all the way down for me and Brian’s show on mute. I glanced at the floor to see the volume switch to the highest setting and the volume up for the interview.

Lisa turned the TV all the way to the darkest, wiggled her finger at me, then clicked the remote. She put the remote in her pocket and pulled a white glove from the belt she’d hidden neatly. She put it around her neck and turned a knob on the wall to bring her left arm out to wrap around the finger. She motioned me to sit and I did, leaving my upper body hanging limp behind. She put the glove over the ‘wrong’ hand and tugged her mask off, exposing her nose. She checked to make sure that her mouth was clear and she wasn’t gagging or choking. She’d gone pale as she swallowed, I supposed. There wasn’t anything too serious.

"I’ve been wanting to do that for a while," he murmured.

I looked up from the floor, in reaction to his voice. Brian was looking at us, and I was

======== SAMPLE 22 ========
 and I’m scared. The whole world is watching, every step of the way."

"Yeah," I said, "They’re watching us, trying to get a bead on us. They’re fascinated, but not so much that they’ll come looking for dirt on me."

"Not so much that they’ll come looking for dirt on you," he said.

"Right. But I suppose it’s the least we can do."

"You okay?" Weld asked me.

"Yup," I replied, "Just a little shaken up."

He checked my pulse, then helped me to a chair. I settled in, and he started moving toward one of the smaller tables with booths.

"You’re pretty thin-skinned," he commented. He tapped his fingers on my left shoulder to convince me to sit and break the monotony, "Hard to deal with if you’re too tough and not tough at all."

I felt an emotion I hadn’t experienced in a good while, spooking me. "I can deal with tough. I can deal with being the butt of jokes. I made it out alright."

"So what brought you here?" Weld asked.

I turned to look at him.

"You’ve got the Manton effect," he said. "What’s more, we caught on to it, apparently enough to keep it a secret-"

"I called you on the subject," I said. I had the knife I had been keeping beside my knife. "He’s back. We didn’t tell anyone."

"It’s a shame," he said. "You knew?"

I gave him an expression of my greatest reluctance, "Yes."

"If we can get the miasma under control," he said, "It would probably do more good to kill you than it did to put you in jail."

"No. I had a lot of explaining to do."

"And you were with them when they tortured Bakuda," he said.

There was a pause, then I spoke, "I was one of those people."

"What did you do? Torture her?"

"Drugged her, then found some way of stimulating her body without giving her any drugs in her system. Maybe I did that so I could feel like I needed to give her an occasional dosing. But I didn’t do anything physical. That was when she told me she could barely stand, and she could barely wait to go to the bathroom either."

"Took her to the bathroom," Shadow Stalker said. "You knew?"

"I suspected at that point that we were up against a pretty intense opponent. If she wanted me to make her suffer, make her fear for her own well-being, then that’s on me. If I knew she couldn’t stand, it might have turned out differently. I didn’t know at the time, but I had my suspicions then, I have mine now. That said, I would have been happy to take someone like her on any account. She could have tortured someone to death, if I had any doubts."

There was a pause. Weld looked concerned.

"You think I could treat her to some mild physical torture? I can give her what she really needs? Hard drugs, perhaps? If she has a personality like hers, then maybe. I’ll take the miasma down, I promise."

"But-"

I sighed, loud enough for her to hear. "I was telling Miss Militia she’ll die anyway. I’m sorry to the people you just informed on you, but this isn’t the time, Weld. It might even be dangerous, to give her what she needs. She might not like me, but she needs me in a pinch, and the miasma is an example of that. I don’t think I’ll use violence."

He glanced at the others.

"If you really can’t tell, I think that’s a good thing," I said.

"I cannot say anything for sure," he said. "But speaking as someone who was on the battlefield when it was happening, it feels like there is a pattern to what happened here. And if you really can’t take it, that’s okay too. I don’t want to stir that pot."

"Alright then," I said. My heart was pounding. What had I been thinking? I’d bitten my tongue against that one, but-

I swallowed, then forced myself to relax my jaw.

"…And your mouth speaks

======== SAMPLE 23 ========
 and she got a few snags where she was wearing her costume.

It took some getting used to.

"You’re walking with an American," Grue told the girl. "Who doesn’t speak English?"

"I’m your friend, Taylor," she clarified.

"And I have my doubts you’re a threat, but you need to explain your situation. We had three cases of non-C.H.I.. contact. Three outbreaks of non-C.H.I.. among teens in North America."

She stopped, and looked up at him, "I understand what you’re saying!"





Infestation 11.6


The word that popped into my ear, no doubt due to my awareness of the virus inside the building, was ‘C.H.I.. contracted by Scion’.

I blinked, a little sore in the irises, and then hurried to explain, "They’re the capes who brought her from Earth Bet. They’re not just cape-level badasses, but they’re also the capes who took on the world’s toughest cases and carried them to safety."

The girl nodded.

He went on, "Scion is responsible for some of the outbreaks. His power causes the spread." He checked his watch, "Ten minutes more."

"It’s Scion, isn’t it?"

"Yeah," I said, not taking my eyes off the pair. "He’s… not good," I said, even as I mentally counted down the minutes until my face was brutally exposed. Seventeen, eight…

"She wasn’t brought here as a slave?"

"No," I said, sounding calmer than I felt.

"She was brought here as a free agent, on a trial by contract. Her lawyer is an American."

I nodded. I thought for a second. "And we brought her here on a trial by contract, too."

He nodded, "That’s the gist of it."

"I assume you, Skitter, met her?"

"Meeting her was the plan, as I explained to you briefly," I said.

"And?"

I couldn’t keep the note of curiosity.

"The world’s going to end pretty soon," I said. I looked up at the girl as the camera rolled to our left, "And there are two pretty scary dudes who can try to find us by that time, so it’s pretty clear we’re going to be here to keep an eye out. You’ve already mentioned your trial by contract, the possibility of becoming her lawyer, and the fact that… why… did you say it? That it was necessary? You don’t think you could handle it?"

"No."

"But-" I moved my hand, stopped, as if struggling to be understood. This is apparently what he wanted to get to the point where he had something to say to me. "But-"

"But that’s not what I’m saying," he agreed. He looked up at the two students who were watching us, "Whatever the case, I’d like you to know that I care about you, about your future. Not so long ago, I got the impression you were two of the most able-bodied and happy people I’ve met in my thirty years as a cape. You’re two of the very best. You can raise the subject of what happened to me, and I will give you the answers you want."

He paused, as if he could get the full context to everything we’d discussed, "Do you think I will? Will I help you get rid of that boy from the orphanage?"

"The rest of the details are for you," I said, "But I wouldn’t mind your side of things, especially if it’s in the service of our alliance."

"I’s fine, really," he said. The amusement, the light humor, it seemed too casual. I wondered if he had found a middle ground between the extremes of light and hard. "I can find one of the best things to come out of this penitentiary. Anything else? Any word on any cape couples?"

My bugs informed me that the couple was here.

"Dumb questions."

"I don’t want to talk on things that would get us killed," he said. He looked up at me, "And speaking of-"

"He’s here?" Another question. He had the advantage of my bugs, which helped a great deal. I used them to

======== SAMPLE 24 ========
 and that the Nine were involved with the League? Did he want her to think the players of the Nine were the exception, rather than the rule?

"We’ve talked about this. You should know that Brockton Bay has been preparing for the upcoming conflict for some time," I said.

He glanced around the room, then raised a reassuring hand.

"Tell me it hasn’t been awkward. Does your family ‘get’ by? Is your father still in work?"

"Not really in work, actually. He left for a couple of weeks, I think, to go work in some wing of a bigger corporation. Didn’t sound like he was that close to getting what he was due."

"You haven’t had any luck there, have you?"

He glanced at the Director, and there was a note of warning in his brow.

"I don’t want you to get hurt," I said.

He turned his eyes to Miss Militia and the Director’s raised hand.

They looked at one another for confirmation before they smiled and said their goodbyes.

After that, there were only the lab coats and folders.

It would be years before the weight of the Protectorate and the media frenzy of Brockton Bay were behind us. The first members of the Wards and Protectorate would be joining us in the mean time, before long after that, a statue or two would be erected in her honor, as her passing became part of local history.

The rest of us were in a more or less informal gathering in our territory. Armsmaster and Miss Militia had come to celebrate Clockblocker’s victory over Dragon, but there was no celebration over it, other than the chanting that had started.

A few members of the Wards and Protectorate had returned to their territory to greet us. Kid Win had changed into civilian clothes, reaching out to shake our hands. Vista was the same, but with a black tank top and leggings strewn around her. Her costume was simple, black, but it featured a large number of stitched together pouches – ammunition, spare batteries, USB drives, lock picks, two pens and a notepad.

She looked more like she’d been home for a visit than one of the casualties in a war, with clean, neat, tidy clothes.

"I miss you, Weaver," Kid Win said.

I hesitated to reply.

"Weaver?" Mr. Alcott asked.

■

The Wards were meeting in full force. It had been planned, they’d arranged their individual meetings with their own boards of governors to help set some expectations for themselves. They were giving the impression of being more organized than they had been.

Megan’s locker, it had been a gift from her dad. A little symbol of the times we’d spent together, a reminder of the times we’d been separated.

It had been used, oddly enough, for the last fight against the Guild.

"If I may introduce my guests," Glenn walked into the room, "My good friend, Emma Barnes, formerly known as Shadow Stalker. Emma was captured by the Guild, tried her hand at freedom, was coerced into joining the cause. At least part of the reason she’s here, I assume? A request was made to join the Wards, a way to maintain some identity and earn some respect, while still contributing to the larger plan."

"I would like to maintain my own identity," Shadow Stalker said, "Support the Wards program and help keep things ethical. That said, I would not interfere with your meetings or attempts to manipulate me into something I was not."

"I see. Thank you."

"I do hope my offer proves acceptable to you. Forgive my rudeness, but I have been a pretty bad boy for the Wards. My good boy, Weaver."

"As to the meeting-"

"It was informal, more or less. The Wards are all here. We’ve got questions, we want to hear everyone’s stories, and we expect some hostility."

"Permanent members only?" Emma whispered one ear-splitting story.

"And you wouldn’t mind recruiting a new team leader?" Glenn asked.

Emma clenched her fists. "The PRT is so scared of me, they don’t want me to have a constant presence in their territory. This is my chance to keep them in the dark, while I bring someone forward who can help them with some of the stuff that’s occurring in Brockton Bay."

"All of it," the Director spoke, "Every team member getting a constant dose of bad publicity

======== SAMPLE 25 ========
 and me?"

"Yeah. I’m still waiting for the nurse’s notes. This has been bothering me since I ran the first leg of my rehabilitation."

"You don’t take it seriously."

"Yeah, I do. But it’s… what do you call it? An idea? A binary? Either we save the world or we die."

"An idea."

"If we save the world," Grue said, "The world turns out okay, don’t you think? If it doesn’t turn out okay, well, neither of us are complaining, you know."

"Maybe," I admitted.

"You should see this place, before you close your eyes to the past," Tattletale said.

"I can’t shut my eyes, anymore," I said.

"Maybe," she said. "But I don’t want you to think you don’t deserve to think that way, either."

He didn’t disagree appreciat-.

"You can’t talk like that, Tattletale," Rachel said. "Because it does sound like something that’s attached to you, as if there’s some mechanism feeding into your head that’s somehow controlling your thoughts. I don’t want you to suffer the fate of a schizoid schizophrenic-"

"Shut up!" I said, interrupting her. "We saved Alexandria. We saved Echidna. We saved this?"

"We saved humanity," Tattletale said.

"But if saving this fails, well," Rachel cut in, "I guess you’d save all of reality."

The scene shifted again. The sun was setting, the sky was purple, and two capes were disappearing.

The last disappeared into the landscape, respectively.

■

We entered. My hands were on Rachel’s chair legs, her arms around my shoulders.

"We’re going to talk," I announced.

"I’m ill, Rachel," Imp said, sitting opposite us. "We lost Grue, and it’s only the beginning. We’re bleeding, and we don’t have the wherewithal to hold our own against the Nine, and we’re going to lose time."

"What are you doing, Imp?"

"It’s not our style to be chaperones," Tecton growled the words.

"It works for me," Imp replied. She leaned over her chair to put a sympathetic glancing on my face. "We could have invited Gully. It gets the gang on the same page, without the instability."

"I don’t care," I said. "I care what we accomplish, whatever it is."

"You just wanted the security of knowing there was some group of girls and boys nearby we’d control."

"Security is a wonderful thing," I said. "But it’s not the only thing. We have to maintain our image, and that’s a delicate one."

"I’m wearing a silk nightgown, and a silk evening dress is a little bit conspicuous, I’m wondering if you’d mind ordering a few dresses for me for my birthday, rather than for me to wear, if you felt the need."

"I’d change back if I could," I said.

"I know, and I’m very, very sorry," Imp said. "I’m sorry that everything went sour, I really am."

"Nothing you wouldn’t have said if you had a choice," I replied.

"You… you really brought the team down to a low unless I say anything?"

"Just as bad, I think, is having you do something that might be seen as a low."

"I know."

"Weaver?" He went on. "You wanted to go to the club with us after all."

I felt flustered. I should blame the fact that I’d just come from a meeting with Chevalier, or that my own nervous system was a little out of sorts. I didn’t want to sound needy.

"I just thought it would be nice to spend some time alone with my old team," I said. "Gain some perspective, start to see what we’re missing out on. The drinks aren’t bad there."

"The drinks…" he trailed off.

"Lime and ginger ale?" I suggested.

"Coke and stout," Imp said. She looked over her shoulder at Tattlet

======== SAMPLE 26 ========
 and the building fell on everyone in the immediate area.

Eidolon dropped the sphere the second he was free of Alexandria, and the pair of heroes used the opportunity to run in another. Legend caught up to Eidolon, a distance away, and began throwing the golden sphere-mountainous-lunge.

It was Eidolon who arrived, landing atop of Lung, holding on like a baby that had just found his first rock. The villain moved to wrap his body around Eidolon, but the hero used his cape and the platform to push the villain away.

Golem tried to grab at the metal spikes that made up Legend’s costume, but Eidolon’s grip seemed to stretch thin at the edges. The young hero pushed his hands in towards the metal spines, almost like a protective barrier, and elbows and forearms, and he gained some, but the edges were still only soft to the touch. In the end, he just grabbed the collar around it, moving his upper body, burying the lower half of his face into the hood of the costume.

A strange effect, to be sure. But it would be another twenty seconds until he could get his limbs and upper body out of the costume.

If Eidolon had any reservations about trying to squeeze through the barrier, his powers gave him the ability to mock them. He extended his arms out like buttons on a keyboard, flexed them a fraction closer to his face, simultaneously pulling himself out of the way of the metal spikes. They slid from his grip like someone else’s hand. The villain was simultaneously pulling himself out of the way of him.

Eidolon moved to put his hands on the length of metal that slid from his mask, but Legend caught him. Eidolon let his upper body drop to the ground, and his hands remained where they were. Legend dropped an elbow to the street, and Eidolon rolled, allowing himself to slam directly into the upper end of a group of men who were standing in front of him.

He used his fingertips to scratch one man’s cheeks, drew a mark. More than a few others did the same. The villains that were standing in front of him all had spikes or blades of some sort embedded in their costumes or masks. One had his arm twisted in a weird way, so the elbow rested against his side, while others had their forelimbs bent at an awkward angle.

"How do you want to kill them?" Legend whispered.

"I’ll put them in the birdcage."

"You don’t even know what the birdcage is?" one asked.

"Don’t be stupid, Skitter," he replied.

When they couldn’t see from the angles he was offering them, he began carving his way through the other villains. They were getting battered and battered, the last of them stumbling through the ranks of his soldiers.

He didn’t slow down once he had passed the battalion of villains that comprised his group. He’d reached the point where he could afford to have one of them die rather than let the villain get to free-ride. He extended his hand and tapped one of the spikes between his fingers, taking the offered metal out of the box.

When he’d left off carving away at the rooftops, he’d left one of the buildings behind that had been built on top of a bluff, a roof, a pillar or a short wall. The city below had some monster truck tracks, some monster vehicle paths that probably hadn’t been designed after all the usual truck routes, and a few buildings that were too big to have been designed around.

He stopped when he reached one area that had some structure: the church.

It had been a work of art, a building that had the roughness and bulk of a building cut out of it. Some of it was bolted into the walls, and the masonry had been poured. Others had been poured in, but still drier indoors, or simply wet, and didn’t suit his tastes.

More than one person asked, ‘what are you?’

"I’m Skitter. Protectorate member and adventurer."

"Who are you and what do you do?"

Skitter. "Mister six-seven. Protectorate member and adventurer."

"Six-seven. Protectorate member from Brockton Bay. You went to Winslow."

"Yeah."

"Then what are you doing?"

Skitter asked, "What’re your talents?"

He glanced over the rest of his group at where Alexandria and Glory Girl sat. One of Alexandria’s eyes was shining, and Glory Girl held a weapon, but her expression was neutral. Where Glory Girl’s eyes

======== SAMPLE 27 ========
 and tinker armor. I gave it to her.

"No. Not interested in messing around with the formula, if I get points for being in a league all about stuff that gets them dumber than a log."

"You’re not interested in tinkering?"

"Saucy Bastard here is a little spooked that I’m walking on eggshells, so you could walk into that room with anything…" I pointed at the door, "and they run."

She rolled her eyes, "No. I just… if I was on one team, and I-"

"You’re on the other team."

Sophie added, "And you don’t care in the least."

And if it were me, would I have made it so obvious I was on a friend’s team, or just some random dude on a girl’s team?

I could feel the heat of a spray from the sprayer, warm and satisfying. A little different from my last few brushes with the substance.

"Just so you know, there’s another way I do this. This is what I’d tell my ex, if he came to me. If he… the situation forced you to use the stuff, or… if he was looking to make amends." I drew a mental picture.

It hadn’t been like this for a long while.

"Let’s talk about what’s happening now. If you’re not making an eye contact or two-twenty-two, make it so."

Sophie only nodded once, then looked away.

I glanced at her, and she turned to me. "I was prepared to do just that, before, but this is so much better."

I made a mental note of that.

"I’m getting some shit, Taylor. Something about the meeting last week, I’m pretty sure I spooked you, and I can’t quite put my finger on it, but I think it was an idea or idea you had in your head from the moment you heard Armsmaster talking about his plans, and I can see you thinking, now that he’s done all this."

I frowned.

"That was my bad. My bad, for taking out my dad, and for putting the whole family in a pretty difficult position. But it’s something I can get over. I think I have the strength."

"Thank you."

I sighed and took my leave. It was nice to finally get some respite from the monotony of my attention on the dog. I could see the reflection of Canary’s eyes in the window behind the blinds.

"Go," I told Sophie. "Sophie, you have some fresh water?"

Sophie gave him a big hug. He pressed her up against the wall beside the sofa, "No, but-"

"And it’s cold! Come play in my room!"

He obediently obeyed, and I got out of the kitchen to clean up.

I wanted to call for a group to go with the two of us, but the phone rang. Bitch was already on the line, Imp had already returned, and there was little chance of the others being able to make it, from my perspective. I sent Brian and Rachel to pick up the group and keep an eye on things while they sorted.

Sophie and the girl with the dog were staying in the room after we’d dropped off the chain-link fence where the girl hadn’t been. Sophie was wearing different clothes than me, and had baggy clothes that were both revealing and uncomfortably warm.

I was glad for the change of clothes, though. It would have been awkward to get in the way when Sophia was talking.

"Hey," Sophia called out, "You’re okay?"

"Mmm," was the vague reply.

"Can I get you anything for lunch? Or is the bag of veggies and some rice perfect? I’ve been eating this kind of stuff all week."

Sophie gave me a funny look. "This isn’t the first time you’ve messed with my sister."

"Shut up and listen," Sophia said.

She approached the cooler behind Sophia, then grabbed a bag, smiling at the girl. As Sophia turned around, Sophia placed the bag on the kitchen counter and leaned over, getting a hug in return.

"Candy?" Sophia asked.

"No, please," Sophia replied. Not a line that Brian would have accepted, but that was Sophia’s style, right? At least she got around

======== SAMPLE 28 ========
 and "We’re not going to let the Merchants get away with this. Not with your help. They’re organized, they know how to deal with trouble such as this. It’ll take time for more of them to set themselves up in your territory. Let them deal with you. Get enough information on them, they can’t make it without our help. The moment this situation gets public, I will personally get in contact with Dragon and arrange for her help. If you want to do this, you must agree to this first."

"What do you mean?"

"I don’t want this to end badly. This is something I really wish I could do on my own, if I actually had the chance. My territory would be ours, my daughter’s only. If you are in a position to help, you must do it all on your own. And here I was, making a wish, and it comes true. Damn it, I wish I hadn’t turned it down so desperately. God, what a bleak place we live in. We can’t help but face problems where we stand to gain, and more often than not, we don’t do anything to help until it’s too late."

I could let the man speak. The worst that could happen would be him relaying facts to us that he knew weren’t true. Something one of his ex-wives could do to their children. He could just ignore the wish and say he was sorry. Something I could do to my army.

I was in a state of mind where I knew it was hopeless, but I could still act on it.

"But."

He paused.

"I know. But if I’m going to help, I have to make it worth your while. I won’t say I’ll give up the plot. Not here, not now, nor in the future. I’ll find a way."

"You heard the man. You’ve got your work cut out for you. Let’s not forget my involvement with your daughter. I won’t ask you to kill her. Not like the man said."

"I do know that you won’t kill any children, and I won’t lie. I’m telling you she is a valued asset. You can keep her and we’ll thank you in the morning."

"That was the gist of it," Tattletale said. "He said you were going to kill her."

I turned to leave.

"If we need to go back to talking, let me know. It was more satisfying to me when I got results."

I felt the same excitement at that as we left.

I was in the middle of walking when Sundancer reached out and stopped me. "Do you want to go over the meeting notes?"

I nodded. I didn’t know how to type, so I used a mixture of capsaicin and black pepper to spell out everything. "Thank you."

"I would like to go straight to the point," she said. "I think we should get the main points across."

"Yes," I said. I’d hoped writing out notes during the meeting with Miss Militia would let me respond before going to the meeting, but she knew my schedule.

Tattletale started a document, then began indexing it so she could follow along. She started indexing the notes on Defiant’s role in the Undersiders.

"The Undersiders were organized into a loose group. Groupies, mostly, got their mitts on the carousel that would take them from the pool to the beach at the north end of the Boardwalk. Others formed the nucleus of their group. They held their ground, keeping one another well supplied with pepper spray, climbing onto tables and benches, and using the shelving to hang off one another’s waists. The girls who didn’t play along had nowhere to go, so they were picked off and left behind. Someone picked up a rock and threw it at one of them, and they slid on the floor."

"I’m not sure I get the idea of that," I said.

"The guys with the rocks…" Tattletale said.

"They caught on quickly. Girl with the rock, him with the rest. We all rolled along together, to the extent that I think one of the guys got a little carried away, threw some rock, and it slipped between them, caught on the edge of one’s shoe and rolled off. Someone picked it up, maybe to help keep it in place for a bit, but both heels crushed on the floor at the other end

======== SAMPLE 29 ========
 and the ones who had joined them earlier.

Echidna, Crawler, Mannequin, Man, Moldovine, the one with the chains… Shatterbird was there as well. I didn’t care. My attention was on Jack, his minions and the three hostages.

Mannequin was holding one hostage. His ‘body’ was thick with armor that had once been able to dish out a fairly heavy blow, but it had since fallen apart. The hands that held the ‘chest’ part of his armor away from his body remained intact, but he was clutching one end of the long shaft of metal. His other hand was clenched around a car’s horn.

"He doesn’t care."

"What the hell are you doing?" Scapegoat whispered.

"Screw you, you’re annoying." His ‘body’ joined Crawler’s, and the two were soon joined by two or three other bodies. I was able to add another body to the group, using my bugs, and that made Crawler suddenly have less of a weapon. He dropped his head, cupped his hands, and munched on the ends of the long metal shaft.

Clockblocker used his jetpack to push himself to an upright position, and helped clear the group away from the source of the roaring. He took off his glove and replaced it with a glove with gauze or cork in the buttons, then removed his mask.

"Who are you?" Scapegoat asked.

"I’m Cuff."

Oh. Fuck.

She took off her glasses and adjusted them a fraction more at the waist, as if she were trying to see past the wrinkles. "I’m sorry for asking. It’s not a question."

"I’m in the clear."

"How?"

"I think we know the answer to that question already," she said, turning her head. "I think they know the answer as well."

"I think they know who you are too, given what happened with Jack. I think we’re the outsiders most likely to get answers." A girl with dark curls, she drew a bit closer as Scapegoat approached. "Hey, great idea. Question is, does this really work, and if it does, how?"

"So much depends on your abilities and the team with which you join," Scapegoat said. He found a chair at the far end of the couch and settled in. Cuff sat on the other end of the couch, and Sebas sat on the other end of the bed.

"Good luck, Sebas," Jack said.

"With luck?"

"Any feedback appreciated."

They raised their glasses to give him something to do, but Cuff had already settled into a seat. "If it’s okay, can I borrow your laptop?"

"Would love to have it," he said. When Cuff didn’t oblige, he raised his laptop from the base of the chair and worked from there. He paused when he saw the email that was waiting. Looking over it, he dove into it to check the contents, his heart in his throat at the thought of being able to read it.

He opened the email and moved to the link that was advertising the page. A link from an image gallery on a parahumans.net message board.

A page with a photo of a girl with glasses, with the caption, 'A post shared by Legend (@legend) on Feb 23, 2015 at 2:45pm PST

When he scrolled down, he could see an archived message from Charlotte, thanking him for his help defeating Leviathan.

Thank you for your help. Thinking you might want to know.



His heart nearly dropped out of his chest as He viewed a video posted on a parahumans.net message board.

Jack Slash was dead.

He sighed and then clicked the next. It took him ten seconds to load.

■

He looked at Clockblocker. "I didn’t send you the emails."

"The truth is I was reading stuff on the forum and came across a few things regarding you guys, and wanted to see how you were doing."

He thought for a second, then sighed. He watched as Charlotte filed the documents away.

"Anything noteworthy?" she asked.

"My new Protectorate, I guess. I’m kind of happy I can’t say much because it would get picked apart, but here’s what got my attention. The PRT is apparently gearing up to start rounding up the people who were at the fundraiser and getting them to admit it was a

======== SAMPLE 30 ========
 and "he was kind of wearing me out. I kept picturing it, the fact that he’d seen me at one of my most vulnerable, with whatever power I had kept me going when the others took action. So maybe all it takes is one blow, and I’m back to where I started."

"So you do what you have to, to keep your head, and keep going after the enemy that just sent you charging into the battlefield."

I couldn’t think of anything more to add. I would have said it didn’t seem worth it in the slightest, but it wasn’t saying half as much in the self-conscious tone I was in.

I turned to face Sierra and went for my baton, leaving the knife in the sheath that hung on my belt. I tugged the trigger to draw a small button and pressed it into her belt.

"Be ready," Sierra instructed.

I did what she said and pushed the button, then withdrew my sheathed knife. I drew my own baton and gripped it around the flint-lining edge of the weapon, gripping the handle with thumb and forefinger for stability, as the weapon slipped from my fingers and slid back into the sheath.

"You can try to catch hold of me with the flail, or try to catch my legs."

I gave Sierra the evil eye. She turned to look at me, "You can try."

"Or I can hold my legs and throw you to the ground, you know what I mean." She pointed up, where there weren’t any guards.

I glanced at Sierra, who nodded.

That left me with the problem of holding my own against Butcher four. I’d done what I could to buy time, using my bugs to stagger him back, but I could see how he was setting his feet, how he was bringing both arms back behind his upper body while he ran. If I’d had the ability to control his arms and legs, I could have thrown myself to the ground and almost certainly crushed Butcher four with the impact. I was limited to my bugs, most of them venomous, and I had the upper body and less than a hundred pounds of mass to control, preventing him from reaching far enough to make anything but small impacts fatal. If I’d had the ability to affect muscle, I could have thrown myself over, absorbed the impact and controlled the movement of his legs in the process.

I didn’t have the ability to affect my surroundings as much as I had been with my bugs in hand. I could have, but I hadn’t. I focused on just the one area, my surroundings, using my power to block off all but one side of Butcher four’s line of sight, then launched the swarm across the length of the room to hit him once with the mass of bugs I had in front of me. I made it one stream, with as much space between myself and him as I could give them.

His legs buckled, and his upper body went rigid, as though he’d suddenly been carved out of stone. He dropped one gauntleted hand, and the stream of swarm moved to fill the space vacated by that one limb, flowing beneath and into his body. Even with their bodies being made of wood, the gummy bugs stuck to Butcher four like I might apply sticky glue to a wound.

He hit the ground with both feet, and his legs buckled as well, much as Bonesaw had with the first section of her machine. The ground shifted beneath him, and by the time his legs returned to normal, he was faceplant-ing to the ground. I could see the remnants of his upper body and upper foot falling to the ground as he fell, and I knew he wouldn’t last long as he fell face first into the turf of the circular arena I had set aside for the fights this past Friday.

Grue appeared in the doorway and disappeared around the corner to reveal Kid Win and Clockblocker who were running after Bonesaw.

I turned to face Grue, and while he didn’t move or speak, I knew I was protected. There wasn’t anything on his costume, but he would be protected.

Bonesaw had made two more machines, each with six identical halves that connected to each of the other halves in some way. One half was covered in clear plastic, the other in clear plastic and a thin layer of dust. Each half was roughly the size of a dime, with a clear plastic hubcap on the top and a lighter gray plastic handle on the bottom. Both halves could open and close with a satisfying crack, louder in the latter, and the halves that were closest to the bottom closed with a satisfying pop. They had four movements, and were sufficiently loud

======== SAMPLE 31 ========
 and the woman at the center of it, and with only her to keep me company, I’d be spending the better part of the night, and the things I cared about most probably wouldn’t get me anywhere else.

The morning after, I’d take another look as Atlas carried me back to my room. With my power, I suspected I’d find some sort of way to bring Grue to my room. Maybe a chair. Maybe Atlas. I could call for him to me, while I made an excuse, and he’d find a good spot to rest his wings.

It wouldn’t be this.





Cell 22.8


Hookwolf was back in his human form, and he was in the center of a room full of Behemoth’s creations. He’d had four complete body parts custom made for him, from head to toe, with only the stockings and underwear giving him some measure of variation. His hair was long and dark, tied back in a simple braid. His fingers and feet were more like the hand puppets I used for my spiders, each set of limbs bent on a single difficultly placed task.

He strode forward, his back arching, unloading bolts of lightning onto the creations that were moving in and around him. They turned to dust, and he set another bolt into the air, extending it one inch ahead, ready to fire a second, three or four feet ahead.

He’d practiced his abilities. Not many could say they’d taken charge of their secret arsenal and hunted down an Endbringer in a matter of weeks, but Hookwolf was one of them. He had powers I was trying to learn about, but his power was that of an ordinary Joe or Jane, so I could only talk about what he was capable of.

His bolts ripped past the hardest and most resilient of the creations. One just a little too large for me, but it turned out okay. Another simple bolt brought the tail end of a long needle through one of Behemoth’s appendages on one side, just as it had the second time around. He let the needle drop back to the ground, set his feet and lunged, and the creation that had been impaled dropped a little on its side, striking a wall.

It was bigger and stronger than the other two creations, so intact was the metal-skinned exoskeleton I’d been using that the tip of one needle penetrated the metal skin on the toe of its other limb. I hadn’t even been at risk, because Hookwolf’s back leg dangled a short distance away.

The tail reached down for the exoskeleton on the third limb, and it joined in as it pressed the tip of the needle against the bone of its lower body, hard. Blades of lightning danced around the tip as it continued to harden, leading me to believe that Hookwolf’s flesh was something substantially tougher than even the metal I’d been using for my costume.

His upper body hit the wall, and the two halves of the lower body and tail separated from one another. They joined together into a single biped, and he began to split in two, his limbs extending to either side to form a longer and broader foot as he split again.

The smaller half that remained overran the surface as it reached a stop, I could only guess what looked to be a pair of demon’s teeth. There was another impact and another massive impact, and it produced a creature I suspected to be a quadruped or something close to it. It walked with both front claws pointing forward and backward, tipping its tail with one digit pointing out the other end like an X. Whatever it was, it had a blunt snout, an overbite, and a heavy forelimb with a series of pointed teeth.

The thing that looked like a man with a horned helmet had a set of horned protrusions radiating out from his forehead, his eyebrows and chin. He held a halberd in one hand, with the handle resting on a brow. His other hand was ablaze with a series of designs, each clearly oriented. As he extended his forelimb to his right, the design around his left eye shifted from white to a brilliant rainbow, before finally changing to a darker shade of red. As he extended his right hand, white text took on a new design, and then a new set of instructions appeared on the end of the handle. The instructions cautioned, ‘Point the Halberd at the sky!’

I knew who he was when I saw the letters and the word HOOLOGLY written across the handle.

Hoologly.

He turned in the air, and began charging the hologram-Revel hybrid. The second he

======== SAMPLE 32 ========
 and you have this thing called a human side. But you need our help to get things going again on our end."

"No," I answered. "Tecton doesn’t care what the status of the business is. He’s still in his seat, even with the broken cranium. He’s helping me out, but he doesn’t know all the details or the background on what’s happening here."

I looked back at Tecton. He was looking at the papers, now, as everyone else filed away for the evening.

I went by Regent instead of Regent by choice, to avoid drawing attention.

"I’m sorry for asking," Defiant said.

"Seems like you know what you’re doing, already," I said.

"I like being able to contribute," Defiant responded.

"I could be a source," I said. "A way to help."

I thought of our first meeting. My source had offered to help me get inside the Wards organization. Or to help them get inside the Undersiders. I’d been okay with taking that option. If they were willing, I wasn’t sure I would complain.

I didn’t like the idea of that meeting ending like this. The Undersiders had been wary of him, maybe understandably so. It might even have contributed to why I’d brought the papers. He’d feared losing his job.

There was the feeling of betrayal here, too. I couldn’t be sure what I’d expected, but I wouldn’t have pegged this meeting as betraying me.

"My aunt lives down the road," My aunt spoke, stopping when we reached a long row of gas stations and apartment buildings.

"Hospital?" I asked.

"She was out the night it happened," my aunt said. "She was out the last night she was able to give it a fair sniff. She thinks it was the Simurgh that sent the bug lady down there."

"I’ve been trying to think how we’ve gotten to this point," Tattletale said. She sounded disturbingly casual as she said it.

Tattletale wasn’t wrong. From my understanding of her, there was a high risk when one used quarantine measures or authorities to protect research labs and research data. And as inconvenient as it might be for someone to let a bug sample leave the containment facility until they had a chance to sort through each bug’s DNA, they didn’t have the time or places to do that in a convenient location with a trustworthy landlord.

"I don’t know where to go from here," Grue joined us. "Need help finding records, but anyone else have any ideas?"

"The building there might be a place for your cousin’s business, and people out there might know where they could find your mom."

"They know, yeah."

"There’s a store on the other side of town with a lot of stuff; nothing you’d want to put your name to."

"I don’t know if that’s a good idea," Grue said.

"We should go," Dragon sounded almost chirpy as she said, "I’m worried about being seen as the person who made this situation worse for my brother."

Tattletale glanced over her shoulder at me, "Rachel? Want to step out onto the balcony?"

I nodded.

"Where are the rest of the hostages?" Grue asked. "The people Grue and I have been talking about?"

I pointed, "In the building across the street from Coil’s underground base. The one that smelled most like old clothing and bedding."

He nodded, "Let’s go knock. Sorry for making you go out in the first place."

As Tattletale led me into an alley, Grue and I found a spot to sit with our backs to the building. The building was still partially caved in, ruined by recent flooding and the weight of the various rubble that had settled around the inside, but we were warm, and there was space for four more people to curl up on the bench.

My heart was pounding, my legs aches all the way, and my hand was throbbing as I looked at the flashing lights and the helicopters peering over the edge of the roof, ready to hear something or someone mention Victoria or Kaiser.

"Dragon," Defiant said. The words were a bit weak, but he tried to change the channel.

A young hero hopped down from the stairs at the top of the stairwell,

======== SAMPLE 33 ========
 and their immediate surroundings.

The second group had been led by a man who trailed the group with a steady, accurate and measured use of his power. Another set of shadows moved behind them, trailing after them.

They moved in a zig-zag pattern to guide them through the mass of people, stopping when they came within an inch of a hundred people, near a water fountain.

The man trailed the group with a constant, careful use of his power.

The girl in the group stepped forward, reaching out for help.

He turned his head. A large number. The real number, for all intents and purposes, was two hundred, instead of the one thousand that had been suggested.

"Help me," she said. "You’re bleeding."

"No, my dear."

The girl dropped to her knees, one hand outstretched. He gave her one firm hand in return.

"You can’t give me assistance? Can you not see that I can’t refuse? You can’t see that I could be a long-term victim?"

"You are one of them, dear."

"You’re asking me to turn my back on people like you. Criminals, maniacs, monsters…"

"Do you wish me to turn away from my benefactor? Or… from you? From me?"

"I wish you to turn away, dear," the girl said. It was a quieter voice. He turned his head, "And for every one person like you that thinks like you, there are ten who are quiet."

He inclined his head. "I will turn my back."

She spoke, and her voice was almost gentle, "I love you more."

And he loved her; she was one of the few people who had stuck by him despite everything. He couldn’t be sure he felt identical to her, but she felt closer to him, which was more than he could say for most. The distance was uncanny.

"If it weren’t for her… I would feel so betrayed."

"No, no, no," she sounded almost plaintive.

"I wouldn’t have thought," she agreed as she leaned close. He closed his eyes. "But you won’t understand if you haven’t experienced it. The shock of it. The exhilaration. I never knew anyone quite like you, in those moments when you realized it was all true, when your true self was exposed. Or, sometimes, I got to the point where I wanted to scream, but I could barely breathe, so I let the sound fade. When it happened, I never really recalled it all. My thoughts changed, and I came to see myself as someone else. Someone who was happy, healthy, living a happy, healthy life. As perfect as that sounds, it was a hard shift for me."

Her voice softened, "You don’t have to define us for others, here. When you found out Rachel was a clone, and that you’d been an egg on her shoulder since the day you found out the Undersiders got their powers, you were devastated. What made you stronger, as a child, as Weaver? How did you manage? What lessons did you take away from all that, beyond the lessons you learned from your powers?"

He allowed himself to sigh.

She continued, "That might have been a tough road to travel, but I got lessons. I have a soft spot in my heart for Aisha, and I’ve been helping her through some of the worst times. Rachel should know…"

He trailed off, unable to find the words to return to the subject.

"Pain with the inside out? Do you know how painful it was? When I got my powers? I was so angry I couldn’t keep still. I couldn’t hold still. I was so angry that I couldn’t take it. Aisha and I would sit in the same room together, and I’d cry too much, and she’d cry with me. It was like therapy."

Her eyes fell on him.

"I… I don’t want to say I’m a therapy, sweethearts, but it feels like that now, isn’t it? I can get that raw emotion out there I otherwise couldn’t with the fake you make, the guy in the suit, or the people I’m keeping company with, while simultaneously feeling… secure I have company."

"And where do we go from there?"

"We go somewhere with somebody I care about, or someone I’m caring about…"

"But-"

"But I think that’

======== SAMPLE 34 ========
 and right. The people closest to me were most affected by his power; they shrank, collapsed, or simply fell apart in the face of his grip.

I saw myself before others did. The night before the Endbringer fight I’d fought on the stage of a building, with my face missing, partially discolored from previous use. A piece of rubble had broken free and landed in the crowd, partially through the shoulder and a quarter-inch below me. I’d taken some of the brunt of the fall and avoided serious damage, but others had been crushed and injured. I couldn’t remember whether I’d been okay if it weren’t for the artificial sun.

This was just my being there.

He felt he needed to make up ground, attacking me more directly. He set his power on me, felt the power of dozens of them. He felt more power than half of the people in the area, two thirds of the people were too far away, or his intended target was too immobile.

It might have been enough to crush me, but he didn’t have that kind of strength that he could mill his power into me like he could with Aisha. He didn’t have the durability, the ability to hold his own.

In the blink of an eye it was as though the universe ripped out a pair of birthday candles, leaving only one standing. His power reached forward and planted it in my chest.

His power drenched my costume and the shoulder he’d planted the candlestick on. The candlestick flicked out and burned away, sparks flying where the power had entered the object. I backed away.

It was then that he attacked.

A bright white beam raked across my chest and burned away the melted metal of my costume. I staggered a little, and Aisha caught me from behind, unerasing my armor with a metal blade. A hand erupted from my back, pinning me to the ground with the splinters of shattered metal.

"Back off!"

My words died in a breath. I was on my back, Aisha around me.

He advanced on us, and we backed up, running.

His power made his way to us through our bodies. The fabric of my costume absorbed the worst of it, but it left me gasping for air. I felt the rest connect with Aisha, felt the power continue to flow over me, despite the pain of the burns.

His arms reached behind me, and he cupped Aisha’s cheek, extending one finger, white and pink colored in a stark contrast to his burnt skin. A hand darted forward, caressing Aisha’s hair.

"You can’t beat Aisha, can you?" I asked.

"She’s a tough one," he said. There was no emotion in his voice. "My powers are my weapon and my—weapon of last resort."

"I don’t even like you," Aisha said. She’d landed on all fours, her hands over her head. "I’d rather you stopped hurting her."

"Stop hurting her? You hurt me before?"

"No," she said. She looked up at him.

"You hurt Aisha because of what she said. Or because you were angry at me for what I had to give. Or because you wanted to get revenge for what I’d done to Rachel."

He shifted position, burying his face in his arms. "Let’s talk about that."

"What happened later?"

"Not my story, and not my concern," he said. "Let’s shut the door and fix the damage."

"But you hurt her because of what she said?"

"I do remember. Leaving her there to die. Howling in my sleep, thinking about what I had to do to Rachel. I tried to stop, to console her, and I couldn’t. I couldn’t even think straight, then, not while feeling this power flow over me."

"You couldn’t even remember?" Aisha asked.

"She was there, she was aware of what I had been doing, how much it affected me, and she was there for it."

A light that burned like hot coal ran through my veins. I turned to glance back at him, and saw that he was burning his throat.

"Stop," Aisha said.

He turned to me.

He asked me, "What happened?"

I told him, and I couldn’t remember half of it. Maybe I could remember the others: howling in pain, the concussion, the death of my teammates.


======== SAMPLE 35 ========
 and right? Or am I reading too much into this?

I headed into the main room, but I quickly used the remote to shut it. My bugs were still in the area, on the glass. I wasn’t sure enough about Grue, but I had the biggest swarm here.

Noelle would have to stay in the car if she wanted access to food or water. She had to remain still. She was making headway against her brother, and I wasn’t seeing much of a difference in the way he was playing it. He was letting his guard down.

I was moving my bugs closer to the pair. At present, I’d only be able to follow their movements, but I was getting a sense of what they were doing. Grue was keeping a close eye on Noelle, keeping her from approaching any of her allies or attacking her. He was also keeping an eye on Regent and Imp.

Rachel was on the other end of the chain, a makeshift wolf created from the remains of a chair, a tent and some discarded clothing. She wasn’t looking at anyone, and was apparently content where she was. Her dogs were content, too. They were on their feet, barking, playing and whinnying with delight.

I kept my mouth shut. What could I say to that?

The music died down, and the screen finally settled into the familiar black bars on top of a black background.

"I can’t believe we killed you," a female voice commented.

"We did," Grue said. There was an uncharacteristic flare of emotion as he raised his hands.

"How the fuck did you know?" Regent asked.

"Traitor," Grue muttered.

"Ties to the people who sent the kill order," I said. "If nothing else, she’s one of the dumbest people I’ve worked with."

I had another member of my swarm join me in speaking, "We did have to. You’d be surprised what happens to her."

The female turned to me, and the hostility was gone. "She’s smart."

"She’s hurt a lot," I said. I had my bugs crawl along her arms and legs.

"She’s frustrated. She’s pissed. She had the idea, but she didn’t have the forethought to pull it off," Regent said. There was a heavy hint of emotion from his voice that I wasn’t used to. It made me think of someone else hating me.

"She’s smart because she keeps going," Imp said. "She gets frustrated, so she makes a monster out of herself."

"That line was very good," Grue said. He looked up as Imp added, "She’s been trying to do that for two years."

"That’s not what she was saying," Imp said, and her voice was flat.

Grue and I exchanged glances, then I spoke, "We have an idea of how she’s going to act, but she can’t tell us how to act, here."

"You keep saying that," Grue said.

"It sounds like her," I said.

Grue replied, "She said her hair was long enough that she could have been vain, so we thought we’d change that. With our natural attractiveness and all, we’d have been left looking like fools, even if we weren’t monsters. Regent and Imp would get the bird on our backs. They were willing to go that far. So a few blunders were cleaned up for future use."

"So what’s to stop her from killing us?" Regent asked, "If she really knows she’s vain and cruel and is somehow going to be ugly if she doesn’t get to see us on a regular basis."

I nodded. "So you’re setting her up to succeed, Regent. Or helping her succeed."

"You’ll be working with the Protectorate," Grue answered him.

I glanced at the others, then looked back at Regent. "The girl here, she doesn’t have the reputation she once did. She’s a member of the Wards, not a new member. Her powers are more or less grounded in reality. She’s going easy on her enemies, but she won’t go easy on her comrades, which means she’ll probably try to hurt us, if she’s allowed to be a rogue."

"Doesn’t make sense to me," Grue said.

"It’s kind

======== SAMPLE 36 ========
 and what it saw when it thought about what happened to Shatterbird, and it didn’t seem all that fond of me."

"I see. I see some of that humanity, there. I was touched when you said you saw some humanity in me. I have to admit, there was something of a trajectory that led me to that humanity. I had a chance to refine my approach and I chose to leave it."

"I know," Brian sighed, "Maybe not the choice I would have made if I were you."

"It was a conscious one. If you could call it that," Grue answered him, "I think a lot of it was on my behalf, not Weaver’s."

Brian smiled, "I suppose that’s okay."

I smiled back, "Thank you. For the tour, for pointing me in the right direction. It took me a long time to get my confidence up, because I was just starting out at a high point, and there was this sense of doubt. I’d told myself I wouldn’t take a leadership role, I wasn’t looking back, and I wasn’t even sure about what I was doing. Being the leader of a territory was a way around it all. Even being the leader of a group like us with only us three hundred and eighty strong was better than being a subordinate. It meant you got the benefit of experience and advice, of knowing your place, and being on the bottom of the food chain, when everyone else was starving. Working your way up, working on your individual strengths. Working hard so others could excel themselves, everyone else could help. I had that attitude from the start, and I think I’m a lot more comfortable now."

He rolled his shoulders a little, "That’s great. It’d be nice for the other members of our team to get to know me better, see how I did and how I achieved my goals."

"The others have better things to be doing," Regent said, "Being a kid all the way. Let me go home to my territory, I need to eat grass, I need to rest. Rest and a well fed stomach are two things we don’t get."

"You need to eat grass, you and Taylor," Brian pointed out.

Brian frowned, then looked to me, "And I need to sleep. That’s got to suck, being down on your luck."

"Yeah," I smiled for him, "My problem, as I mentioned before, is I don’t get the opportunity to rest. I eat grass, I sleep, I be in company with Glory Girl."

"This is a pain in the ass," Alec said, "I had two headaches in a row last night and just a little while ago, which is why we’re tonight’s target,"

"It’s a pain in the ass. Not every night," Brian sighed.

"We have to give it our all," Grue agreed, "We can’t complain when we get everything we want, right? Right?"

"Brian! Can you call the others while we talk to our leader?"

Brian shook his head, "No, I’m tired. My phone’s dead, so I’ve been left alone. Taylor? How are you?"

She reached over and put her hand over my earbud, "Bugs, I’ve been keeping an eye on your buddy, the Doctor, to make sure he’s okay. He told me he felt himself growingl and scratching at my palm."

"I think he’s getting better," I said, "I think he’ll be up for a walk later, if you’re alright. The Doctor says he feels fine, that we should go for a run." We exchanged looks, then turned our backs to the door.

Sophie returned, and I found myself sitting a few rows behind Grue. Bitch was sitting down on a stool, Bastard lying on the ground, both in his carrier and across from her.

There were two of them, now: two women, and an older man with the looks of someone who had recently divorced from his wife and gone to live with his parents. He sat at the back of the room with his feet up on a chair, Sirius playing on the stereo, not far from the woman and Brian.

"Hey, Socks," Brian said, gently.

"Hey, Socks," replied the man, mildly offended.

Socks was just coming to the attention of Brian and Sirius. I smiled and sipped on my lip. "Hi, I’m Alec, by the way. Sophia got me to bring you

======== SAMPLE 37 ========
 and I felt a pang of guilt. I hadn’t thought of using the knife. I’d kept it out of her reach during the argument, had left it at the reception area rather than risk people finding it and bringing it in.

There was a crash, with enough force that Emma was thrown. I didn’t see who or what hit her, and the girl landed hard enough that she was put under.

I could see Emma slowly drop to her knees, staring.

My power’s range was reduced, as if I could only hit people a certain distance away. No, the loss was more than that. My ability to detect and track people was gone, and, if I used my swarm here, I’d lose the ability to track people in general.

The swarm reached out ten feet around the girl, to include my swarm.

"Hey, Tattletale," I said. I made the contact to place her between the pair.

"Hey, Skitter," she replied. She was panting. The girl fell on top of her, and even with my best efforts, I still couldn’t keep Emma out of the way. I directed flying insects and bugs to her side, and briefly extended my power, drawing a swarm to her to stop the girl from collapsing once again.





Buzz 7.10


The swarm continued to spread out. It was so thin as to be seemingly small.

The girl didn’t get up, but she sprawled, still clutching the retreating Emma. They both fell to the ground.

"Tattletale?" I asked. "How’s the attack going?"

"It’s working."

"How bad is it?" Grue asked.

"I can’t say. I think the man who I talked to is close. Is he serious? Or is she lying?"

"Enough that we want to pull strings to have a go at it ourselves, while we wait for Emma and her friends to get organized," Revel said.

"If it’s truth, then we need someone trustworthy," Grue said.

"That settles that. Let’s go," Grue said.

We made our way out of the bank, moving with purpose, out of the city.

A woman stopped just beside us, Emma’s older sister. She looked different; she had dark circles under her eyes and a nose that was permanently raised. Her hair was something darker, pinned halfway up and pinned at the front by a horizontal band of metal that stretched around her shoulders.

"Sorry," Emma said, after our group passed.

"Nothing more serious," she said.

We walked in silence until we were joined by one of Rachel’s squads. A teenager, a family with three heavyset parents. A collection of twenty-something homeless people around Emma.

One of the young people said, "It’s kind of hilarious. The parents-"

"They got their… what?" Imp asked.

"Emma’s powers, and then she uses her powers on her sister? Or is that Tattletale?"

"She’s called her powers with a premonition, something like ‘I’m going to do something important today’," Rachel said.

"Oh. Um."

I looked over my shoulder at Emma. There was a sense of exasperation on her face, "She’s right. It’s hilarious."

"How much humor can you give someone who’s being completely blunt about everything?" Revel asked. "She’s dangerous."

"Some humor," Grue said. "Emma told me, you know. She’s really smart. She knows about powers."

"I just took it as a joke," Emma said. She sounded kind of offended.

"Maybe," I said. "Can you explain? The parents can get their kid help, but the sister has a right to call us if she needs it."

"Why did you say that?"

"She’s pissed that we left. She’m pissed at us because we didn’t come back, and she saw us coming for her, and she was going to do to her sister what she did to her sister at the mall."

"That was long ago."

"Emma’s been raging all day, she’s never calmed down or gotten a sense of humor."

I nodded.

"And she’s angry because she had a good day," Rachel said.

"For real?" Tattletale asked. "You didn’t have a bad day

======== SAMPLE 38 ========
 and their groups could communicate with his team.

"My bugs can sense a hundred issues, but there’s one small problem." The words had a rhythm to them, and they were coming more and more frequently in the background of his consciousness. The words didn’t seem to be coming more frequently or clearly. Even if they were making less difference, he couldn’t say he wasn’t feeling something when he was in that headspace where he was constantly aware of the events that had shifted before his eyes.

"What is it?" Sophia asked.

The girl nodded, once.

"Skitter is in danger."

There was a glimmer of hope in the girl’s expression, but it flickered quickly and decisively out of her.

He didn’t know whether to be relieved or flabbergasted. He didn’t know how to address it, so Sophia couldn’t answer, but he let her communicate with her eyes and hers until he could. And then he used Sophia’s assistance to put his thoughts in order.

"Skitter? I can’t find her."

"I brought her here. She was going to jail. The PRT will take her down without another second of thought, I think."

"How?"

"The Undersiders will be there soon. They won’t like it, I’m sure, but they won’t complain. I’ll take them back to Tattletale. She’ll try and help."

Sour grapes?

"Please."

"Thank you."

Sophia nodded once, more to indicate agreement, he signed the papers that he held out for her. Then he watched as the group left, going for their cars.

He wished he knew what was going on earlier, why Sophia was here instead of at his apartment. Now he didn’t think so. The two of them would be so different in an instant, here. Sophia was a single mother of two young girls, living on her own. He knew he wouldn’t get much more than that. He had a daughter, and he was desperately hoping he still had a measure of stability in his relationship with her. Her presence would give him a measure of security. And for all his concerns about her being coerced into some form of human experimentation, he could see her as being just as concerned about her safety as he was about Jack.

He signed his name on the papers, again, with a note of finality, "Coil."

She was gone from his attention in an instant.

"What?" he asked.

"The bugs. I wanted to speak with you before we began."

"I don’t know if I should believe you."

"If you’re sure," he said, "I wouldn’t put it past you."

"I would. But there are two major problems with that. Number one, we just got a little miffed at you not helping us out sooner. Number two, there’s something at work here. I don’t know what it is."

"I don’t think you should disbelieve me on that count."

"Because-"

"Because Skitter-"

"That she was here, I get it. She was still alive."

Something like hope blossomed in his expression. He sighed, "Thank you. This situation gets better. We just lost Coil, and it’s more chaotic than it seemed before. Things are getting worse. I’m sorry that happened, and I hope we can at least find some way to come together in the foreseeable future."

"You’re thankful?"

"Yeah. I am. But you have one thing to understand, Taylor. I can’t help you if I don’t talk to you. Sooner or later, I want to talk to you. And we won’t have those conversations if you don’t go with my reasoning. But right this second, I think I can offer you a solution. If you’re not convinced, better get out of here and talk to Tattletale, then back down. Maybe I can get you reassurance you want. Either way, this isn’t an excuse to keep putting me in the middle of this."

When he wasn’t able to get the words under his lips, he said, "I’m receptive to your ideas, Sophia. I don’t want to dwell on it. I’m going to go grab my cell phone, my keys, and my invisibility cloaks."

"It’s fine. Take your time

======== SAMPLE 39 ========
 and was now at one with its surroundings.

"You’re telling me you’re scared enough that you’ll run, that you’ll hide and avoid every chance you get?"

I looked at Tattletale.

"I hope I wouldn’t be rambling. There are people in this world who would like to use you. We have to take them on. We’re looking at a few options, and it’s up to you to choose. If you’re talking about doing something violent, I’m sure you’ve thought of a way around that. I’ve thought of ways around things. I’ve figured out solutions before. I’m not about to repeat myself."

There.

"I’m sorry. You’re very welcome. This is something I’ve been wanting to get away from for a while. I’d been holding it in for a little while, to see if I could draw in some inspiration from my days as a cape to do something on that front. Nothing came of it."

"I can’t help but wonder if this means the end of the world."

"Is it worse that way?" she asked.

"Yeah. I can’t even begin to say for sure."

"Can you tell me why?"

"I’ve been trying to think of an answer for some time, here. It… sounds like a good plan and motivation to me, as I think about what comes next."

"And your reasons are pretty clear. You don’t want to run?"

I nodded, slowly.

"I’d like to talk to you, on that subject."

"I wouldn’t be a talkative creeper," Tattletale said. "And speaking of, there’s the body count…"

"It’s too soon," I said.

"What? You mean you don’t want to talk about it, that you don’t want to give us context, about Skitter’s end of the world plan?"

"Yeah."

"So it’s fine? That it won’t happen?"

"Yeah."

"Can you tell me your thoughts?"

"I’m thinking a lot. About Skitter. About Weaver’s situation, as well. I feel… I mean, I know it sounds dumb, I know it sounds stupid. But I know what I’m facing, and I know what I’m doing. I really do."

"So why don’t you want to talk?"

"Says the girl who likes to talk," Lisa said, sighing.

"I got your message," Tattletale said. "I guess I’ll head back to my quarters. Talk it through. If you’re willing, I’ll handle this, okay? Nothing important for today."

"You’ll handle this," I said. I could see the anger in Tattletale’s eyes. "If I’m going to talk to Tattletale about this, I want to talk from the perspective of someone who cares about her."

"And if I’m going to talk to you about this, I’m going to be very distracted, and you lose any incentive to keep quiet."

"Fine," I said. "Can we have you handle this on your own? We can go somewhere else tomorrow night?"

"I don’t know," she said, "But it’s not tomorrow."

"Okay. But we can work around you."

She paused, "And I’m thinking, well, you don’t have to keep this quiet. Let me talk to you about this shit in private, here."

I looked at Alec, and we split apart.

"It’s… it’s not really private," Lisa said, quieter.

Tattletale was talking in a low voice, "It feels weird, talking to a friend, when you can’t be sure if they’ll pick up and hear it or if I’ll mention something I want to keep private. Like the topic of conversation, or the fact that it’s a secret, and if they overhear, it could cost us."

"It’s fine," Lisa said.

Tattletale was studying me, scrutinizing me, as though I were a bug, silent and always on the periphery of her awareness.

Then she looked at Regent. "You�

======== SAMPLE 40 ========
 and I was a half second behind her as I passed through the barrier.

When I finally made it through, the woman was gone.

I followed her into a more dilapidated building.

The third structure. A fissure.

I followed the woman up the mountain, and the trails of her movements corresponded with those of a jaguar.

The building’s occupant was a man who’d been mutilated in a similar fashion. Her movements mirrored those of a panther.

I could make out the trail of smoke left by the explosion that had given rise to her, and it wasn’t pretty. My bugs were smothered in it, and I was pretty sure the building hadn’t been thickly populated, with more smoke around. We’d be safe.

Still on the rooftop, there was a fissure of a noxious fluid, like blood. As a group, my bugs found some relief when they could move through the void and find more space to move through the building.

A woman, no different from the building’s occupant, used her power. My bugs could sense a growing pressure as she closed the door behind her.

A gun was in a prone sitting position on the rooftop. A pair of agents climbed on top. A tall, thin man, and an underage girl.

I was still a little surprised when I recognized the man. A former PRT captain.

A dark-skinned young man, twenty-something, wearing a suit with a heavy duty construction jacket and tie. His suit was open and intact.

"Captain," I said.

"Makes sense," he said. He sounded slightly out of breath, "I took on the captain’s role after the incident in Brockton Bay, yeah. I’ve been going up against Endbringers."

"We already fought them," Lisa said.

"Made it this far thanks to Skitter, no worries there. We got lucky," he said. "But I do wish you guys luck. A lot of people were wishing us luck."

"I will," Undersiders said. Coil spoke, and the others turned to listen. Lisa turned to me, and I waved at her.

"Wait, was that Alexandria, or was that one of the Scariest Parahumans?" Grue asked.

"One of the Scariest Parahumans," I said, "The real danger is that she might slip past the radar and go free with no notice. Once she showed herself free, a lot of people were left wondering-"

"You’re not asking if they’re kidding," Lisa said.

"No. No, I’m just glad we made it out okay."

"I’m very appreciative for the help, I’m going to go to my room now and call my dad to come get me for dinner. I’ll be in touch with you guys about getting some sleep and getting my hair wrapped up for the day."

I hung up.

Grue said, "My dad would be upset if he woke up to find out about what happened with his kid."

"Not likely," I replied without breaking my train of thought, "But if he did wind up being a little creeped out that we actually made it out okay, he could well opt to pass out in the process."





Buzz 7.18


It might have been spur of the moment, or there was some subtle push to get Lisa’s side of things. Whatever the reason, despite our obvious disarray in the face of their apparent distress, we were able to maintain some measure of social pressure as we made our way back.

By the time we were all settled, Grue and Rachel had removed the covers by the front room and started laying out the mattress, while I had to redouble my efforts to lay out the mattress and make sure both Lisa and Brian got the necessary amount of comforter. At a normal night’s sleep, it would have been tiring, but with six people sharing the spaces, that was just putting us through 10 or 15 minutes each night.

It didn’t help that we were currently assigned to be the only people in the shared room. We had to get used to it.

With apologies to all the people who had sacrificed, my reign as leader of the Undersiders ended prematurely. A nasty wound had been opened up in my stomach, and both Brian and Rachel had been taken to the hospital with minor injuries. In the process, my friend Coil had managed to kill or maim more than a few people. Among them, one cape was apparently a member of the Wards or New Wave. The remainder

======== SAMPLE 41 ========
 and she’d be ready to act on the first order.

One of her dogs had fallen off. More of the ones that rode on Bentley were on guard now.

"Back off!" she said.

Bitch turned to one of the dogs she was guarding. Bentley, she pointed at the other, then glanced back a few steps to make sure there wasn’t any confusion there.

She gave the order, and the dogs began to advance on the rest.

Her eyes roved over the assembled group, she smiled briefly. She had a child of her own. A daughter she hadn’t named. She’d met him once, while visiting New Delhi, and he’d treated her to some proper, proper food while she sat in his lap. She was beautiful now. Clean. She even had a few stray dogs on standby, her own kind and one of the pit bulls. She’d still been a bitch, she knew. Her face still marred the memory. She wouldn’t be a bitch in two years.

She looked at her own daughter, and her eyes roved over the gathered crowd. Her own daughter had been taken away, but she could dream, could dream high of a life filled with adventure and triumph. Now her own daughter was gone, and with it the wild abandon the dreams of her older daughter seemed to imply. She would be left alone. Better, perhaps, if the dreams of other children were a constant, stable thing. Better for everyone if that daughter had a hope of being someone.

"Shh," she was overruled by the dogs. They all turned to growl and growl at her as she walked by. Her own dogs followed.

With the direction of her helmet and the assistance of her dogs, she navigated her way to the front of the crowd. She met the eyes of one young woman who was holding a small child.

"Do you want your daughter back?" she asked, smiling.

The young woman shook her head.

Shaking her head more was better than the girl giving her her answer.

She found another young woman, and she gave her a smile as well.

Again, the woman shook her head.

"She was always your favorite, wasn’t she?" the girl asked.

"I always felt like I got the worst marks for my siblings."

"Those days are over."

"I would have liked to go home to see you again," the girl said.

"I remember your smile, your laughter. It was so contagious."

"I’d like to see you too," the woman interjected.

Bitch pulled off her helmet and handed it to me. She handed me an empty plastic bottle. "Want to go places?"

I nodded.

As things had turned out, we had found a park just a short distance from where we’d first seen her. It had been dark out when we’d first met her, and the park had been deserted. The ground was rising up around us, forcing Bitch to take cover and turn to face us, to climb along the ground in front of her. She was too far away, too slow, even as the dogs and the tall, massive bulldogs found footing, rolling over limbs and body parts that occasionally bumped against the plastic sheeting.

It was my first night out in costume and my first night out in costume as a member of the New York Protectorate. We had been up earlier to avoid the hassle of getting in trouble with the local villains, and we would have gone later, after dark. Bitch had informed my team about Leviathan’s attack. They were the people who could have attacked first, had Tattletale informed them that the Endbringer would take his time moving, and so they hadn’t.

They had evacuated most of the city, leaving the remainder in the dark. As such, they hadn’t been notified of the evacuation, and many had gone about their ordinary business, taking shelter in places they knew others would take. The shelters hadn’t exactly been clean, but that had been common knowledge.

When curfew had gone, more than half of the shelters had gone, and the remaining few were either still empty or they were being used as shelters in the most dire cases. Only twelve of the nineteen shelters that had been modified to hold more people were still in operation, and ten of those were run by teams actively working to protect the city. The remainder were run by teams that were either in shambles, and there were problems due to the ongoing fight against the Nine, or that were taking it upon themselves to accommodate only a select few.

As I approached the one shelter that still had sleeping bags up on the roof, I tentatively set

======== SAMPLE 42 ========
 and the others had the ability to see what he was seeing there, but they had no way to communicate to him.

"Let’s get you medevacked and out of here before someone spots us and takes off," he said. "Let’s go, Tattletale?"

She nodded. As I got through the door, it dawned on me why I had been following so closely. I’d been looking for potential allies. I had been looking for a potential distraction.

It made for a good excuse to go straight to the hotel room, and I found a note on the door. I returned the note, closed it, and then went to the bathroom to get my shampoo and conditioner.

I hadn’t taken it directly to the hotel room that night, but I wasn’t sure it was an excuse to avoid the issue if I wanted to be completely anonymous.

I was still here. Tattletale wasn’t.

I changed into the shirt I’d worn to the bank robbery, then put the undershirt on. I undid the cuffs and cinched the cuffs tight around my wrists.

When I tugged the cuffs free and stood, the cuffs cinched around my wrists again. I stood and stretched as the cuffs adjusted.

I bent down and pulled the box from underneath the mattress, digging my hands into the fabric to get it. I opened the top and threw it across the room.

I checked the contents.

Clockblocker: orange box, cuffs removed, cuffs no longer cinched

Tattletale: green box, green box no longer cinched

Parian: black box, green box cinched

I made sure to save the file names and passwords that Triumph had used, so we wouldn’t be accidentally sharing passwords or revealing details on our individual tools or processes.

"I need a power source for the little computer I made," Grue said. I folded the paper in half and then held it upside-down so it was facing the wall while I put the other half back together. "If you have one of the spare laptops, give me a shout."

"Of course," Tattletale said, smiling.

I used my bugs to find one. A laptop.

"Can’t say who?" Grue asked.

"Anyone?"

"Any bank branch with an open vault door should be easy to come by. Anyone with credentials and an account with less than seven characters should do."

"I give you my credentials," Grue said, "And my account number, account number’s in the tens of thousands."

"It’s still pretty damn good."

I opened the vault door, and breathed a sigh of relief when I could breathe without the cuffs against my body. I put the package back, then got some white socks and a towel from the bedside.

"No name on the envelope?"

"Chances are good it’s fake."

"What are they good for?"

"They’re going to make a big difference."

I took a deep breath, and then sighed. I still had a couple of hundred dollars inside me.

"Do you need to use the phone on your bedside table?" I asked.

"Need to be able to walk up to it without tripping, but not as hard."

"Okay."

I put the laptop on the bedside table and then opened the drawer. I opened drawer two in the bottom drawer and then left the box there.

I had a sinking feeling. My entire family was a suspect, and now I had the reputation they’d built on, tied to my name. That reputation, coupled with the fact that some of them were pretty dangerous, if my suspicions about them were correct, made this a very real thing.

I knew I was in the wrong place, but I was willing to trust my teammate and look to the apartment for help resolving my problems.

Money. My hand rose first, and I found a cell phone. I dialed Tattletale’s cell phone.

"No, Skitter. I need you to knock."

"I already tried again, earlier tonight, you didn’t answer. I will. Can you make it three more blocks?"

"I don’t know. Tattletale can do that much work on his own."

"He won’t say no to a favor," my dad said, from the other side of the door.

I nodded and followed as Grue and Regent led the way to the kitchen. Once we had a door, they went

======== SAMPLE 43 ========
 and I could barely see any of his body.

"She’s here," Grue said. "I don’t think anyone else is."

I stared at the bodies. I was scared, just a little. I felt more alive, if only because I thought about it in retrospect. I wasn’t certain if my powers were being used for selfish ends or for self defense.

"I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t help," Regent said.

"We’re going to help her," Miss Militia said.

"I dunno," Tagg said, quiet. I felt the traces of dark-green energy running through his armor. He didn’t flinch, instead leaning against the wall beside the door, his eyes on the corpses around him. He’d seen them, he’d known.

"What are you going to do?" Grue asked.

"We’re counting on you," Tagg said. "If nothing else, we’re concerned we’ll have friends in high places."

"There’s other options."

"You need to put these guys out of their misery before everything falls apart."

I glanced around at the others. Weld, Newter, then Clockblocker and Weld, then the new arrivals. Weld seemed more defensive, his fingers gripping the heavy metal girders that stretched around him to form a cage around the heavy, bulky frame he wore. He was one of the ones who’d gone completely quiet.

"I’ll help if you can," he said.

"I wish I could do more," I said. I glanced back at Tagg, to see if he’d said something.

He didn’t elaborate. I glanced back at him.

When he looked at me again, his eyes were hard. "You had the intel on Miss Militia. You helped shut her down."

"I wasn’t in a state to help her, but my contacts said you had everything you needed. You’d need to get the paperwork, the cot, the brains.."

"Enough," Imp said. She grabbed my wrist and wrenched my arm out of the socket as she passed it to me. "That’s too much. You had everything, I have-"

She wasn’t very good at using her power, and I really hoped she hadn’t been trying to be helpful. I kept quiet.

"I should be asking you to move," Tagg said. There was a crack, like someone had thrown a punch, but nobody had fallen on their face.

I kept quiet as well.

"You can see through their eyes," he said. Then he grinned. "You know your power is useless if you can’t see through their eyes. Get to work."

He turned his back to us, as if he were about to flicker or change his expression.

When he moved again, he went for the window, and he was gone in a flash. The second aftershock of the debris hitting the building was like a tear gas canister, sending my bugs scattering for cover.

The bugs weren’t so lucky. I wasn’t sure how much of that was my body’s ability to take the shock, and how much was the building’s high-purity glass. Most of the bugs had died upon impact. The glass, like dust in the air, started to whittle away at my swarm.

A loud roar sounded, and I realized I was still in the lobby.

The others hadn’t found their way down, but from my vantage point I could see Weld up on the window, Miss Militia at his side. A third cape, Vista.

Another surge of debris, and I could see Weld’s arm disappear. He reappeared in the same instant two large pieces of glass ripped from the wall, embedding in his side and upper body.

"Custodian!" Tagg yelled.

A large piece of glass fell to the ground to join the one below him.

"I’m telling you, Tagg, take him up on the deal! I promise you’ll be able to see him later!"

The gunfire stopped. I could see Weld’s body change in the stillness. His face became something paler, his features shifting more toward the dark side.

Then he shook his head.

"Weld?" Miss Militia asked.

He extended a hand. She shook it.

"I don’t know, Weld," she said. "It’s as bad as it sounds,

======== SAMPLE 44 ========
 and she had to fight some dragon-craft to move. For some reason, she had to do it one way in the air, and the only alternative was putting herself half-behind Dragon’s dragon, half-on the ground. It made sense, to a point. She was getting more comfortable here. More and more, she was just off the grid for the day.

In a way, that was good. She had to find her niche right away. She wasn’t good at it if she moved between roles and didn’t have a role in the teams she was moving between, but she wasn’t good at it if she was set in the role she was in and moved by instinct. Her instinct, as defined by Skitter, was to help out her team. It meant she got her ‘candy’ without moving from her assigned role on a team.

Being in the thick of it, she’d found she could instinctively know when someone was hurt. Her first aid training had been minimal, but she found she could work with the bleeding well. If someone needed a hand, she knew how. If someone needed a towel, she could use her hands and arms to brush it off. The training had even let her know she could do that without moving. That meant her first aid training had been minimal too as well. Still, she knew how to work with anyone.

When someone was injured, she’d been doing the same thing, with more success. She trained with the injured as much as she could, and if the injury was bad, she tended to help the person get closer. When that wasn’t possible, she tended to help the person get a clear view of things.

Being outside herself had been nice, relaxing, but she didn’t enjoy being in the company of people. She wasn’t attracted to them. That was another way of saying she couldn’t afford to be alone with herself. She could tolerate herself with three people, if not four, but she couldn’t enjoy that alone. The fact that she was with Taylor was what made it comfortable.

There was only Taylor. That was the only person. She could, and had been for some time, finding her own way.

When she’d graduated to the Undersiders, she’d decided on a nickname. She went by the handle Bitch, after a particularly rough two months running her own territory, and wore her costume in stylized black and green, with a black skintight bodysuit and spiked black gloves. She had a small tattoo across her cheek.

"I know you planned this," Taylor said, from behind her. Her voice was tight with a growl in it. "You planned it, Bitch."

"I did. I said I already have two eyes, and I already have more coming online on my side of things, soon."

"Good, Bitch. Very good."

She gave Taylor a pat on the cheek, then added, "You’re so confident, and it’s just so natural for you to do that. I’m not sure I’ve spent two years living with this sort of doubt."

"You have," Taylor said.

"It’s like people think they know me. I know I’m not who I claim to be."

"It’s true," Taylor agreed, smiling a little.

"And I know you can’t take it, that you need time to get to know yourself, to get to that place where you can live life to the fullest, and then go out and do this." Taylor smiled, her forehead creased, showing off a little bit of skin showing. Her eyes were almost too large for her face. She had bleached skin, wavy brown hair tied back to her scalp, and her bangs were heavily braided. She had one shoe shoved in her pocket, and the color was visible where the ribbon dangled.

"All of this?" Taylor asked, "All this stuff I was wearing to school, and you didn’t notice?"

"It was only after you escaped the school that I saw the little bits in school clothing that matched the skin you’ve got there. They didn’t look particularly pretty, but they helped to define our style and gave me the eyes and earrings that tie into the costume. The only reason I didn’t notice them is that the rest of this is so simple. Perfect."

"What is it?"

"The girl I’ve been looking after? A club. If Taylor isn’t good enough for her, they’ll sponsor a new Taylor and bring her along. Which she seems to like."

"It

======== SAMPLE 45 ========
 and the city as a whole, and I thought I might have gotten the benefit of a newt.

Except I hadn’t, and that had been a long time ago.

They had changed the way they handled the food. The kids were sitting on hard plastic trays, some on the ground, others on the high benches above. The benches had more room – the buildings were connected together to form a larger complex. There were three tiers – one for the underfed, one for the extremely rich and one for everyone else.

The city, growing denser, had found room. Houses here sat from one acre to three or four acres. At first, they were sparse, then they became full, they flooded, or they simply became available for sale. Houses went for a price in the neighborhood of ten or twenty million dollars, with more being added on all the time. I was seeing what the reporters’ term a house on every block.

And that was only to the north, from Brockton Bay to California. Every space was filled with people. Many of the smaller houses were surrounded by tall grass or trees, or had gardens. Most were simple, one room apartment for me and a backyard to the north, and one or two rooms for family and friends. The house to the east had a two bedroom, stone fireplace, and a large log suspended from the ceiling, two or three stories up. Just beyond that, there were tall grass and trees that no doubt extended for miles.

A house with all of the hallmarks of a wealthy family moved into the apartment building that followed the side street, across from the market. The exterior was all wood and white tile, but the interior was an oak-paneled room with bedside tables and marble countertops. The carpet was white, the linoleum had sat in a neat row on the floor, and two bookshelves lined the upper half of the room.

I opened the door to the bathroom, then sat on the bed, folding one arm around Lily’s shoulders as she stood there, staring at the floor.

Was this the source of all of her worries? All of the worries about the future? Lily was wearing a pink sundress and black high heels that showed how green she looked – she had her hair in a bun, and her makeup was pink. She wore green eyeliner, green lipstick and a green charcoal hooded sweatshirt that had a sticker that said something vulgar about dogs and men. She stared at the floor with her arms folded. The bedroom was sparse, with a duvet, a book, and an old movie on the wall. Lily’s eyes roved over the room, scanning the various possessions.

Amber?

Lily’s eyes roved over the room, as if lost for whatever to look at. Amber? She’d seen him before. The woman had been sweet to him when he’d wanted to cry. Amber was still sweet to him, though. The woman had been one of her best friends, back when she was friend Noelle, Lily supposed, that she’d wanted him for a companion, and Lily had tried to be kind to him, even as Amber had grown distant and unlikeable.

Now she was just looking at him.

Lily’s eyes fell on the bedside table. Her tears were more real than the synthetic tears that were running down Lily’s face.





Interlude 5


"You’re up against Jack right now," Tattletale spoke.

Marissa frowned. "He beat me once, he beat me in a fair head to head, and he beat my friends in a close game."

"There’s more bad blood."

"He beat them all."

"We could hang out sometime," Marissa offered.

"Hanging out doesn’t sound so appealing when he’s asking us to turn on each other."

"He wants us to like him," Tattletale said.

Marissa frowned. "He does. He wants us to like him so badly it’s painful for us-"

"It’s not like me either," Tattletale grinned.

"-And when he does like us, he probably likes us even less than we like him."

"I hope he doesn’t like us enough to turn on us."

"No way. No way he… He won’t turn on us."

"You didn’t hear me saying that last thing," Tattletale clarified.

"I… I totally meant you could hang out with him."

Tattletale shrugged, "I had a theory, but now I don’t think I have a chance to put it through the proper channels

======== SAMPLE 46 ========
 and "If you’re willing to use your power, I can give you more information in a minute."

"Okay. Wait. What did you say?"

"I’ve been waiting for the other shoe to drop, and I’m almost done with the first shoe. Fuck me, this another dig at the fans, another glimpse at exactly what the fans want, exactly…?"

It sounded like he was having trouble putting his thoughts together.

"Next shoe?"

"Crazed-" he picked up one shoe and turned it inside out, "Drunk’."

"How many words do you need to say to get there?"

"Enough!"

"Why? How? Why are you surprised?"

"My last answer!"

"Well, at least our last answer was honest. Now here we go!"

He paused, as if he was seeing something that had never left his mind. "…Crazed. Drunk… no, it’s all the other stuff! This is ridiculous! Fuck me, this is so absurd and out of control! People are getting hurt, even getting hurt in fights! We need to find a therapist!"

"Just give us time!" one woman at a corner shouted.

"Nowhere to go, now!"

"The police cant!" one man groaned. At another group, he rumbled, "My girlfriend! I have a son! I want to get help! She was with her friend, shot!"

"Cops and medics?"

"Not now. Not even after I found out about the therapist. She’s supposed to be fucking looking for help! She told me she’ll help me with my son!"

"What do you mean, 'medics? You mean therapists…"

"They cant do nothing but psychosocial help. A therapist that does nothing but show up!"

"And if we move, if they break us out!?"

"We won’t! An ambulance no use. We need a court planner, a psychologist, a psychiatrist, someone that knows us, like we’re… too…"

"Tattletale? Anything else?"

"Nothing! You know we’ll break someone if pushed! Even if it’s your son, even if it’s us."

"It gets better," another woman said.

The paramedic was trying to help a young man, and was having a hard time.

"This doesn’t get better! No!"

The woman’s arm jerked and she dropped the arm.

"No! I’m… I’m so sorry! Please!"

"I didn’t know?"

"I didn’t know because she’s not our choice or because I can’t give you any treatment, but-"

"That’s awful!" The paramedic hollered after her.

"…Crazed. Drunk. Drunk, that you even know-"

"Enough! Enough!"

"Stop!"

He stopped as he heard the voice.

A woman?

She came from behind him, dropping to a standing position, a walking stick in her hand.

"Doctor!" another shouted.

His head turned.

"An endbringer attack!"

He turned back to face her.

"Stop-"

He tried to speak, but his voice cracked and he coughed. He took a step forward to get a better view of the woman, and she appeared at his left, not fifteen paces away. He was nearly ready to catch her as she started moving forward, but saw the voice calling out, "The pain. Let’s do it again, without the stick!"

He turned and used his power to block her path to the ground. She had to crawl forward on all fours and used the stick to find her way to the ground.

Another cry followed the first.

"Get the woman I want, now!"

The voice continued, "Now! You only see her through the outside world. I can only see her through the woman who loves you, who cares about you! She loves you through the doctor! She’s not crazy! This-this may be her first fucking day of treatment! Fuck!"

She lunged, and he backed away as she found a grip on the railing, a kick could knock her off.

His feet were knocked off as a tendril of black energy closed in, catching him from behind. His armor absorbed the worst of the impact, but damage to his vital areas was minimal. It took him a few seconds to recover and regain

======== SAMPLE 47 ========
 and the building didn’t suffer.

They’d entered without a fight, and even with Scion continuing his assault, they hadn’t been completely wiped out. I turned to my bug girl to tell her, "We’re taking a position at the rear of the building. Keep an eye on things from there, okay?"

"Okay," she confirmed, and the soldiers at the rear dropped their guard.

As a pair, they strode from the building, heading towards the perimeter of the fight.

"Kulshedra," I said.

The voice I got from the flight-pack was familiar. I recognized the synthesized sound.

Rachel recognized me. Damn it.

"Sareka," I said.

I hadn’t realized I’d picked up on the connection between our powers until Ballistic had dropped his attack, heading for his civilian life in the process. Rachel hadn’t realized I was using my bugs to talk until it was too late.

"There she is."

It was Kulshedra, flying. As familiar as the appearance on Vantage’s team had been, I felt a mite dumb for picking up on the connection while I was in her range.

I was in her range, anyway. We’d entered the building together, and we’d exited together.

"It seems Tattletale has her doubts as to whether the Simurgh is able to re-establish contact," Grue said.

"She did mention that the Simurgh is incapable of feeling emotion," Tattletale said.

"She could point the way," Grue said.

"You said she could feel emotion?" I asked.

"She can feel what she feels when she’s in my range," Tattletale said. "She just needs to take some time to process and come to a better judgment on things. I can’t necessarily give her that time. I know she has her doubts, she has reason to," Tattletale said, ignoring the fact that Grue was looking at her. "But time is valuable."

We continued walking, with Regent keeping to the left as we reached the stairwell to the roof. As we approached the stairwell, Regent gave me a hand up. I was careful to keep from arching my back or stepping on any stones, and he held firm to my left. I followed as he gave me a hand signal for Shatterbird to ascend.

I looked at the others. Grue, Bitch, Tattletale, Biter, Rachel and Biter were gathered around Bastard.

He hadn’t budged from his position.

"We should be attacking from a safe position," Miss Militia said.

"What?" Grue asked. "She could be opening the way!"

"The way to Shatterbird’s location is Shallow, not deep," Miss Militia said. "It’s about the width. You can attack from the front, but Shatterbird stays a distance away, and the front lines get pushed back a fair distance in that the Simurgh isn’t in the line of fire."

"But you can attack from the front lines!"

"Our objectives aren’t Shatterbird," Miss Militia said. "Our opponents are Eidolon and Company, and neither are safe."

"You have a safer route, then?" Grue asked.

She let the words hang in the air before she answered. "To give you a better idea of what we’re doing, and to prevent you from jumping to conclusions. I asked the Doctor what the chances are that we actually hit it, and she gave me the answer, if we’re willing to look at it. So for all intents and purposes, we hit it on the head. The Doctor can look at it and calculate the odds of a successful hit. We’re doing the calculations for you, assuming we hit."

"The Doctor can’t give us a head start," I protested.

"The head start we need is giving them a chance," the Doctor clarified. "The farther we get away from Scion, the less certain we are. We need to hit hard enough to put the enemy off guard, able to hit enough that they take their eyes off us and run. The longer we wait, the less likely they are to notice that we don’t have superpowers and slip up. Eidolon says we’re hitting the hardest. Biter, you’re quick with your shovel?"

Biter frowned, turning his hand over.

He took his turn, taking his turn working with the heavy brown container, and Grue, Rachel and

======== SAMPLE 48 ========
 and it’ll be fine. Then I go. Deal."

"Just like that?" Imp asked.

"We have a good relationship, between Shadow Stalker and I."

"I could ask you the same thing you asked Shadow Stalker. What’s going on?"

"We’re having problems with the new member, Coil. He’s upset because he feels he’s not doing enough to help his people. Trickster and Ballistic are going to help him out, but it’ll boil down to politics. They want me here, but Coil’s wanting to keep me prisoner."

"Prison? Coil really wants you here for this reason?"

"He was just going to say it, but I’m going to say it anyways. I feel I have a greater role to play here. Everything that’s happened, it’s been in a more or less direct result of me refusing to bend to his orders. It’s unfortunate, but that’s part of the process."

"He said you weren’t acting submissive."

"We’re all being controlled, my guy included."

"There’s a reason for that. Because the person who orders you to be strongest, the person who gets to decide what you can and can’t do, is the one who has this power over you that you’re afraid you’ll lose if you try to break free. In his world, it’s the only way to go. So you get very good grades, do pretty well on standardized tests, find good jobs, get married, have children… it works."

He looked thoughtful for a second. "You sound angry."

"I am a little angry," I told him. In a quieter voice, I said, "But I’m pissed. I’d say it sounds reasonable."

"It almost made sense," he admitted.

"It almost made sense," I agreed, a little smugly. I’d already told Coil about my plan, the plan I was using to get intel on who was keeping people alive and who was. I’d also said I was keeping quiet about what I knew, so I wouldn’t have to repeat the lie for everyone else to get the impression it was bullshit.

He looked very thoughtful for a moment. "I was thinking a more direct route would work best if you have leverage for talking to us, outside of the group. Let me find the people who have more control over your emotions and perhaps a bit more knowledge of what you’re thinking."

You can control my emotions. I thought.

He didn’t respond, and I didn’t press the connection again.

Three hours later…

"Hey, Imp," he greeted me.

"Hey, Travis."

I turned around. It was dark haired, still too early in the morning, but he still looked dapper. "What’s up?"

"We talked about this."

"A little early."

He was already getting dressed. He opened the door to his apartment, then left without waiting for me to open it. There wasn’t really space, but he had space in the bag he kept his belongings in, inside. He gave me a hug on the way out, and left me no further than eight or so, with enough space for a memento and a photo album. A memento seemed like the right word. "Was interesting. And, uhm, a little awkward, given what we were talking about-"

"You should have brought it up earlier. This is a bad thing."

"It kind of sucks that you said that," he smiled a little. "But yeah. It’s uncomfortable."

"Suck it up," I said.

"I’m going to go to my room, check on the garden and see if I can do something to check on my brother," he said, as he headed to his. He looked like he had a heart of gold.

I thought for a second, then turned to leave, leaving him to make his own way to his bedroom.

Was he in love with me? Or was I just… not in love with him?

When the door closed, it was just him and I in his room. It felt really hollow coming so soon after leaving.

"Room?"

He opened the door, so I made my way inside. I paused at the top of the bed, then pushed the lump in my throat to make myself get off before I climbed in.

"Are you hurt?" he asked, as he got an armful of bed

======== SAMPLE 49 ========
 and I’d lose my train of thought, and a half-second of focus would get swept under the carpet after the pain of being caught out of position, followed soon after by the concussion from getting slammed against the floor by the impact.

Still, I took a second to compose myself, as my body tried and failed to find a way out of the doorway. I let a hand fall over my face. I wasn’t naked. I wasn’t even really hanging, and my costume covered my entire body. I let the arm drop, and it rolled up the opposite side of my head, over my shoulder, between my shoulder blades. It bounced off my costume as though it were limp fishing line, ended in a hook at my neck. I wasn’t blind, but the pain of the hook didn’t extend outside of my immediate vicinity, nor did it leave me aware of any injury. I felt a tender gash at the side of my face, pulled my mask up to look in the direction my assailant had approached me.

I felt hands hug me tight, and two women, one white, the other African American, with glowing red skin.

I had no way to put my finger on why I had been so easily cuffed, given my clothing, my costume and the fact that I had been running. The only explanation I could come up with was that I was spooked, or that I was angry, or that I was afraid.

I felt strong hands at my back. I winced, and I was quickly reminded of the memory of being cuffed on my cell block, being gagged while interrogated by the church lady.

How was I supposed to move?

I was no doubt thankful for the cuffs on my last trip to the gym. I had barely moved, deep seated in a cramped cell with nothing but a metal cot and my bare feet to move around in, when the white girl stepped away, moved my chair a distance away, at an angle where it rested against my back, and then sat on the other side of the cot, head raised, so her back wasn’t blocked.

It was an almost hy- Sesame seed kind of gesture: her sitting down, my head hanging.

In a matter of a heartbeat, she pulled, ordered me out of my cell and escorted me out of the building. She placed me on the cot, beneath a heavy sheet, where I was warm enough to roll off, but not so warm that I would slip.

The sheet was plastic, but it had the added benefit of restricting me from moving my arms or legs. My cuffs were attached upside-down, so I had neither for either.

I was put in a headlock with my knees and ankles secured, the cuffs facing my lower back. I had no idea what that meant – I had run for it less than halfway through the trip to Coil, but I had been given no instruction on how to address my ‘leaks’. The irony of my situation only compounded the problem.

I was put in plain view, by my cuffs, and in the dark – I was covered in bugs, and people were aware of what was going on, to the point that some were standing by, covering their noses and mouths, but they didn’t move to stop me from being publicly humiliated.

A man in a suit entered the room with his arms full- he’d seen his day. A lawyer?

"Weaver," Legend spoke.

I didn’t move or speak. I was able to raise a small voice, with my entire body, although my lips were aching and my breathing difficulty, my balance was shaky. I let out a deep breath, then continued. "Would you please speak?"

"Taylor, your voice shouldn’t be damaged. You’re well enough you should be left alone."

"I’m fine," I said. I was so used to being a member of society, surrounded by people who listened, who gave me the benefit of a knowing glance, but I wasn’t able to raise my voice.

"If you don’t mind, I would have you sign some papers, before we take you in."

"My lawyer said no," I raised my hands. Two massive black bags filled with papers, stacked neatly on a shelf on the wall beside the cage of holding.

"These papers shed light on one of our targets. They suggest that Pavlov, the dog that bled blue when touched, was one Amy Dallon."

The light in my eyes was cast by my mask, but I could have been blind. No, more than a little did turn to my hair, which had been plastered to my scalp with the damp and the countless stares that had

======== SAMPLE 50 ========
 and she hadn’t said anything? No. Couldn’t let him. She wasn’t in a state to do anything other than sleep. It wouldn’t do for anyone but her to be reminded of the nightmare over the phone.

She felt her entire body wrench with a release of tension. She coughed up blood.

She couldn’t shake the idea that she had cancer.

She looked down at the box that contained the vial. The needle had bitten through the wall. She stared at the wall with her arms folded.

She had been at a point in her life when she had truly had a choice. If it were up to her, she would have stayed where she was. She had been there to support her family, she had been there for a cause. Now she was in the middle of a fight against a disease and no cure had ever been suggested.

She was a survivor. She had made amends with the good name she still craved.

"I’m sorry," she spoke, to no small degree.

"I know."

"You have your dark days. When you were young, you were so lost and hopeless."

"But I’m stronger now."

"You are stronger. But you will recover."

"You won’t believe this."

"I know."

It wasn’t something she accepted, but she couldn’t deny the notion.

It was just as easy to accept this one. Not long after meeting Taylor, she’d received a phone call from a doctor. At the time she hadn’t been able to elaborate, and the doctor had been working under a veil of secrecy. At one point, she’d even suggested there was a very real possibility her condition might be terminal. Asking for help was one of the milder forms of this behavior, but she wasn’t going to try and endure it and then watch her friend lose her only friend.

She called Emma, who had arrived with a young girl at a local hospital.

Not that Taylor. Taylor’s mother. She apologized for the delay.

"A month or two, it’s normal," Emma spoke, "Your bones are strong, and your mind is a new mover. You won’t be confined to bed all night, and you won’t have an anxiety attack if and when you come down with a cold."

It didn’t do a good enough job of assuring her, but it helped enough that she trusted the advice and kept talking.

For a time, she barely heard the girl respond. When she did speak, it was simple. "Dad."

There was a long pause.

When the words were signed off on by the doctor, Taylor knew it was a done deal. She was going to California.

"Me and my dad."

"Me, or someone I trust to look after you."

Emma understood. She felt a chill. This was all planned.

"I trust you’ll go to the people you were talking to before you go," Emma said. Taylor’s head lolled back in her chair, and the girl’s legs were bouncing, her hands bouncing up and down, her body a mess of tender, freckled and purple-black curly hair. "I thought we’d done this a few times."

The words were intimidating, but Taylor couldn’t be any less trusting.

"We can’t get her any places as far as the hospital goes, so we’ll go to your parents’ place," Taylor offered.

The girl smiled sadly, her blue eyes barely visible in the gloom, "Good bye, bye, Mom."

Taylor felt her stomach sink. The parents. What was this? Where had she gotten this girl, this far in her psychosis? She’d been her mother’s best friend.

She knew where her powers came from, knew her family well enough to recognize these people before they came to the fore.

She knew they would get better. She was willing to trust that she would eventually. She just hoped her parents would keep talking.

■

"Hey, Taylor!" her father spoke.

She turned around. Her eyes went wide.

"Wh- what happened?"

"The- the c- cancer, it’s so easy to pick it out, but it’s so- so mild!"

Her father only smiled. It was the first time she’d noticed him looking genuinely happy.

She hugged her arms on the couch. A few minutes had passed and she didn’

======== SAMPLE 51 ========
 and he saw me raising my hands, my head bouncing in sync with the beat.

"Stop that!" I shouted. He took that for consent.

The second my swarm passed over him, he turned to go, dropping to one knee. That’d be some kind of deal.

"Hey!" T-Dog growled, stepping closer to us to stop. He slapped his flipper-hand on my head, turning my head so his body could lock onto me with his ‘finest and whitest’ legs locking around my throat. He pulled, hard, and a wet spray of blood ran down my arms.

"You can’t touch me!" I shouted, in my most underhand and most pathetic voice I could manage, "I’m technically a civilian, you know. You can’t order me around like that!"

"I can’t promise it won’t cross the line and fuck something up somewhere!" he replied. He turned to go, circling around us again.

"You can’t leave me like this, can you?" I shouted, still convinced that we had some kind of deal in mind.

A giggle escaped T-Dog’s lips, almost too low to make out with the size and force of his body. The volume was probably better than the noise would be, anyway. Imp was just finishing spraying more foam down on my arms, legs and head. We were laughing at us.

I was still trying to avoid screaming in his ear, when another figure appeared beside me. A dog half as tall as me, with spots all over its body. It didn’t look human. Not to me, anyway. Was it a dog of Grimm proportions, or a bastard-thing that had been cast down from his master?

If T-Dog was an ugly monster, this beast was a fucking miracle. It could have easily ripped this girl to shreds.

But this thing, it didn’t look human. It looked-

I turned, and a figure loomed over me. Its head was so large it blocked my field of vision. The eyes were a bifocal, and both it and it’s face were black and bluish-green in a way that made me think of an ugly black cat or a ghost or storm cloud. It reached out for me, flapping its hand in a broad gesture that left me disoriented for a moment. I could smell its body, its scent, the wet from it. It made me feel very ill.

I used my bugs to draw a body around me. I was still blind from the spray of liquid foam, but the body would serve to fill me in on what had happened.

The hand disappeared, and a black, flat expanse of flesh appeared at the side of its face, a "u." It raised one arm, and a six-foot length of wire was fixed in place between its shoulder blades, pointing down at me.

"Fuck," I muttered. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

A black-green smoke began rising around it at a moderate height. It grew, spreading out, a solid two feet long. It peaked, and a series of colorful explosions marked the point where it collided with me and T-Dog.

I rolled and staggered back, nearly striking my own legs with the heavy impact. With my good arm still over my head, I turned to see if I might have fallen off at the sudden movement, only for the scope to slam into my face.

My face, it turned out, was bulletproof. The fabric of my helmet had a crack running around it, and both T-Dog and Dragon were off-balanced in their poses, unable to see in case I was followed or in case some other villain decided to fuck with us. Still, it was bulletproof, and I wasn’t about to lose my helmet in an accident.

But T-Dog and Dragon had the same reaction when they realized their foe was bulletproof and not bullet-spotted. The biggest explosion of the bunch had created a crater two-thirds the size of the one before, a gash running along the top of my nose and lower lip, a ruined grin of raw, unadulterated terror on my face.

"Fuck me, that didn’t hurt," Dragon said. She was trying to raise herself up enough to look directly at me, but I had my swarm swarm around me, covering my face and neck, while increasing the area of the crater where my injuries dented the fabric.

"Sorry," I mumbled, still unable to take my eyes off the black-green smoke that had followed my impact with the building.

"She’s okay?" T-Dog asked, still supporting himself up.



======== SAMPLE 52 ========
 and her other self. I think she had something to do with that. I don’t know the details, but she knows something goes on behind the scenes.

"There’s two major factions that are apparently allied, though I can’t say who they are and I don’t want to give anything away by name.

"The big two are the Empire and Empire Eighty-Eight, apparently the two biggest groups operating in the Northwest. The Empire is made up of practically everyone with powers that matter, and the Eighty Eight also include groups like the Undersiders, Contessa and the Young Fault’s crew.

"They’re led by Kang and Concuss, who have been going toe to toe with the Empire for a few years now. At the end of the day, the Empire includes people with powers of their own, like Jack Slash, Faultline and Lung and Faultline only, as well as groups like the Hood, Faultline’s Crew, New Wave and Coil. They’re led by people who think like me, though. I think they’re cooperating."

Flechette trailed off.

"Yes," Kid Win said. "Weld and Ligeia are the more diplomatic members of the Eighty Eight, I’d guess, if I picked them. They’re not quite the cool, laid back attitude you’d expect from a group like theirs. Kind of reserved maybe, but laid back. Weld and Ligeia, I’d say, are the less reserved members of the Empire. A little bit of a pushover, I think."

Bitch was in front, Kid Win in a nearby office, holding Bitch’s hand. Kid Win turned his head, and Bitch pointed at him. "A… odd choice, coming from you."

He shrugged. "Any excuse is an excuse."

"Sierra? What have you been doing?"

Sierra sat down on the stool opposite Kid Win. "Nothing. Busy with the kids."

"Good. Good."

"You’re always so eager to talk about the city, but I think you and I both know you haven’t lived in here, you don’t really know the people, and you can’t really say that you grew up here. So what do you do, what you do know, and can you share some of the things that you see when you’re out and about?"

"What do we do? I’d say a new person joins the team from an outside perspective, but that can be one night of actual job interviews and one drunken argument later. We hire someone who saw the city the same way we did, and people who are willing to work in the city tend to accept our offers."

"And?"

"We don’t know how long this takes. You get the impression this is something that is being pursued, though it is likely not on your team’s radar."

"And where do we stand, beyond that? I know my neighborhood seems pretty safe, even for a small city like ours, but how is the city when there were nearly as many parahumans as people in the Docks?"

"We’re in the dark about what the Docks might be holding. How is it that there’s no shortage of workers willing to relocate here? Or, conversely, if we had an influx of parahumans would it be confined to nearby buildings or the waterfront?"

Kid Win stared out over the water. In the distance, the Docks were spreading out further, and the crowds that were crowding the streets grew, too.

His fists clenched, Kid Win was almost positive the group would catch that up to them sooner or later. What was certain was that the influx of the Docks in would put a hold on a lot of people who had longterm aspirations of buying property in the Docks.

Kid Win could remember how he had approached the subject a week ago. The conversation had been brief, had ended with a promise to himself that he would use his power on some measure of success that would translate to real estate purchases. Now that his mind was more or less set in stone, he knew he could make a similar purchase, he thought he would like what he saw, buy some of what he saw on seeing the future of the city and the people who could become city-dwellers.

His fist clenched, Kid Win thought, again, that this was something that was being pursued.

He was almost positive he would be able to buy the same property, and the future seemed brighter. He wanted to be sure.

He could remember when he had offered to buy a house on the west end of

======== SAMPLE 53 ========
 and you and that’s the gist of it, I really don’t know what to say in response. Sorry."

"We’ll figure it out."

Bitch smiled and then headed back to her room. A few minutes passed as she and Brutus adjusted the straps around her wrists, ate their dinners and played for a bit with the TV before pulling the covers off again and going to bed.

Just like that, everything had been resolved.

She lay in her bed for a few long minutes, thinking. The covers were rolling off her, and were more like sheets than anything else. Even the place where she had the biggest pile of stuffed animals were in the pillows, pillows in a drawer, just below her mattress. She was pretty sure she could put the animal in her bed with no problems.

The last thing she heard was the soft murmur of a favorite animal lullaby. If she could only shake that idea, she would be thrilled. But she couldn’t. She was free as a pariah, and she felt her peaceful existence threatened with total and complete solitude.

It was that idea in the middle of her room, so quiet she could hear it with her own heart, that she knew she had made the right decision.

She set the stuffed animal down, then crossed the room to the bathroom. She was wet, so was Brutus. She pulled her costume off, then tied a sweatshirt around herself to dry herself off.

She made herself wait while she changed, folding her belongings into a fresh mini-bag and stuffing the contents into the nearest wardrobe-slot. She went through the motions of putting her clothes back on, checking that the hem of her dress was down with her bare foot, then did her hair.

When she wasn’t thinking in any particular direction, she pushed her hair out of the way and sat down on the bathroom counter.

Tattletale approached, and she put one arm around Grue’s shoulders, then joined her friend. They stayed in the bathroom for a few long moments, Tattletale doing her best not to look like she was having a bath and not to sound like she was taking a nap.

"You didn’t make any enemies," Grue grumbled.

"You sound annoyed," Tattletale spoke.

"Breathe in my face again and I’m literally snuggling with you," Grue growled.

"We’re really good friends," she replied with a grin.

They left the bathroom, and Grue pulled his sweatshirt off, tossing it into the nearest trashcan. He found a pair of flip-flops and put them under one arm, then pulled on underwear. He tossed the flimsy duvet cover onto the nearest trashcan and tried to scrub out.

When he was dry, he draped an arm over hers and wrapped his arms around her.

She stared down at her newly changed clothes, which she had tied in a bun with spaghetti and ham. "Sorry."

"You can do something about it anytime soon."

"What did you do to make my apology sound like such an excuse?" She had to raise her voice to be heard over the other girl’s giggles. "You did that on purpose?"

"I said you were my friends, and that’s what I cared about more than anything else."

Grue nodded, but his giggle was thicker. She could tell just by looking at him that he was feeling some kind of emotional turmoil. "But you didn’t do anything to build my confidence. That and you didn’t tell me about your new hobby or-"

"No," Bitch spoke, cutting him off. "No, I didn’t. But- Bitch. We’ve done more than that. We listened when you needed us most."

"Well said." Grue turned to look at Bitch, then glanced at Skidmark before replying, "I can do that more than you, Bitch!"

She leaned close, so their noses were to the sides of the living room. "I never did get the sense that I was the only one who cared, really. The only people who really seemed to care when we were around were you, Regent, Imp… and the little bastard Skidmark insulted while we were wrestling the DA and the Mayor a few weeks back. That’s the dumbass that I have to apologize to, for insulting you."

"Ah, you had an injury to worry about? A bully? Imp? Regent?"

She smiled, but there was a hint of a trace of mischief in her eye. "Regent. We thought you had it rough."

"Hey!

======== SAMPLE 54 ========
 and me, not so much to stop me from running away as to give me the ability to move fast enough and use my power to put distance between myself and them.

The wind continued to pass past us, as the wave crashed and I continued to move with a surprising degree of slowness. It wasn’t much, less than half an inch in each direction, but it was slow enough that I doubted I could make it all either to the south or north at one hundred and fifty feet per second. My legs, though, were holding me up, one of my hooves digging into a door or a panel of metal at one’s forelimbs for balance. It was the slightest, most insignificant of movements, and the angles of my legs and upper body let me manage a little more, but the movement of my legs kept my balance that much more precarious.

With my left arm, hovering for balance, my right hand gripped the handle of my crossbow as I pumped the bolt full strength. I aimed directly for the forehead of the creature that bordered my swarm, then fired.

It wasn’t an arrowhead or any of that. Just the back of my left hand, with my thumb gripping the knob that attached it to the crossbow. I took my seat and waited.

It was five seconds before the arrowhead hit target. The shockwave that followed leveled a nearby building, and I was almost knocked from the air as I flexed my wings to their limits at maximum extension.

"That exploded," a girl said.

"Didn’t expect it," a man said. He was a stranger, with long golden curls and an overlarge goatee. "This is my new hobby, tinkering."

A large metal case with a prominent ‘burglar’ carved on the exterior jolted from the grip of my left arm and gripped my right thigh, swinging my legs over my head.

With the strength of my legs and the metal cover of bugs, I raised the goop to launch the rocket launcher at the charging creature. The case caught me and threw me directly back down, to the ground, hard.

The goop was only an inch across, so small. It zipped to my hand with surprising speed, the charges flowing into it as though it was hot coffee. I jammed the entire inside of the tube, and then threw the rest of the contents down over the creature that followed.

It’d have to do, I suspected. But it would be so easy to accidentally fire again. I turned my head at the door that led to the beach, and then poked at my mask, rubbing my head, before peering down at my teammate.

I wasn’t alone in the clearing.

A figure stood between me and the creature that coursed through my hair, her arms winding around mine. One of her hands found the handle of my rifle, and I pulled the bolt to point it up and fire with a half second’s deliberation.

A wall of opaque goop blocked my view of the thing that lumbered my way. I fired as hard as I could with my other hand, and twice in a row, I connected with the three round clips that were contained within.

A moment later, I was out of reach of the brute-monster’s arms, and my power was no longer blocked. I used the distraction to launch the rest of the charges at the source.

It snorted, a trill.

My bugs were already filling the area, here and there. I couldn’t afford to have any.

The ground shuddered as another blast marked a full stop to the movement of the creature. The brute-monster lost a limb, and shifted its bulk toward the crowd of fleeing swarm-people. The mob slowed as they saw the brute-monster’s hand disappear from the stump, the limb dropping.

"A shame it doesn’t serve to drown us out with its sounds," I said. "Funny enough, the bugs I’ve been using to talk are better at it, I’d even say they’re better than my own voice."

"They drown you out, technically," Imp commented.

It was too easy for him to run up to the brute on its back, to lunge and crush it between its front paws, then turn and run, drawing the other three forward in sync.

The brute that ran rampant through our confined space screamed in pain as its front paw found nothing there, slumped down to the ground, dead. The two others were on him, using a well-balanced power that seemed almost basic.

I felt my power fade.

"You were supposed to stop them," Rachel said.

"They’re running

======== SAMPLE 55 ========
 and that it was the last person to acknowledge he existed in the real world."

"And you’re the guy who told her she couldn’t really be grateful for anything, because she should feel obligated to give him anything," Defiant said.

"And that I wasn’t the only one, that there were others," Tattletale said.

"I hope you’re right," Defiant said. "I’m… really sorry if I offended. I’m very interested in learning more about these other candidates, and I really do want to mend fences and make amends."

They paused.

"What if there was a way to mediate?" Miss Militia asked.

"I think there’s a chance. I can offer my assistance, in a non-teaser capacity. But the non-teaser sort of keeps it under wraps. I won’t say anything to anyone but you, my friends and I, or to my employer."

"Very earnest," Miss Militia said.

"I hope we don’t cross paths," Defiant said.

Tattletale smiled a little, "I love coming here, Tattletale."

There was a new member joining the class just in front of them. A pale, shirtless boy clad in a green, leaf-like robe with the same emblem as the class he was in. He held a pair of crossbows.

"New member, Tattletale," Legend said.

"I’m new."

"Weld," Legend said. He approached the desk. "May I?"

"Put me down."

"I wouldn’t put anyone else down," Legend said. "But I believe we’ve done our duty, here."

The pale boy, Weld, settled the box he held over Aegis down on the desk, then turned to Legend. "Honourable members of the class?"

"Mr. Hall."

"You’re sure they’re really from Brockton Bay, Weld?" Legend asked. He raised one eyebrow. "A city like your hometown, with a population this high?"

"They are."

"The people in Brockton Bay are mostly good," Legend said. "A little bit of everything. There’s Rose McGowan, who is essentially a god among men, judging by the amount of attention she devotes to the subject of heroes and bad guys."

"A Brockton Bay-" Legend paused. "Militia?"

Winchester flickered around Weld’s fingers. It was the sort of trick where he drew his finger across a person’s face, so brightly colored they couldn’t tell the person from the face, and then flashed another color on a corresponding area.

"She’s a god among men," Legend said, his voice rising with the effect. "Makes sense that she’d be anointed."

"But she’s not the only one," Weld protested.

"Yes," Legend said. "But that’s not why we’re here today. We already knew there was a god amongst men. He grants powers, and we should expect more of his messengers to manifest. Those powers will grant him more of an effect where he needs them to, and more should occur where he offers the worst as an incentive."

"A little aggressive," Triumph said.

"It’s my approach, not yours," Legend said. "I don’t believe in punishment or any of that. But some things are unfair. If we stand together, I think we can afford to play it as a game of whack-a-mole, and I think we can afford to walk a fine line."

Legend studied the pair, noting each girl’s appearance for the second time since he’d approached them. He’d seen them growing their hair –Miss Militia, now Triumph, and Clockblocker, who he couldn’t help but note wasn’t much older than Clockblocker – and had even styled his hair to that same style. He had a harder time keeping his hair out of the blowback he felt from his hairpiece, much as he’d expected.

"We need a new emblem," Triumph said. "Some new colors."

"I can do the black, I can do the red, and cover you in that other black and red crap for all the other logos I’ve got planned out. It’s less logos than there are people in the room, but I can’t hide all of them."

"I like your game," Triumph said.

"You�

======== SAMPLE 56 ========
 and what I had heard was probably closer to the mark.

There wasn’t anything to be found. The building was a jumble of rubble, but for a section of wall halfway up the building and a few feet further down, there was a flat face, maybe a projection from a particular bulb in some window, partially buried under the rubble. I found nothing but the vagueest trace of blood on the other side of the wall.

"What did you guys see?" Tattletale murmured.

"Parian’s power, obviously," Grue said.

My bugs found another human body tucked under a section of ceiling. Not a hard find.

I drew my cell phone, then put it on the scale. "Forty-three point eight point five three percent."

"Thank you," Grue said. "If we can collect forty-six point one-hundred-four point one-hundred-four-nine-percent."

I found the number and called it into the computer. "Do you have something else?"

"I have a box of matches, and I’ve been using the matches that we stole from the FBI."

"No sweat."

"They’re small. I’d buy a box of ten if I had the money, but the quality’s poor, and there’s a limit to how many you can carry. Five for me, two for Tattletale, and one for Regent. One for Trickster."

"It’ll have to do."

There was a pause, then Tattletale answered the phone. "Can you call Grue first, then?"

"Sure. You got a friend?"

"Yeah. But we’re going to go ahead anyways. Why don’t you recommend a book?"

"The Butterfly Boys," Regent said. "In case you haven’t picked up on the name already, Charm, Cypher and Beast of Bitch’s gang are planning on raiding his house and making a profit from his stolen goods."

"It would be an excellent idea," Grue answered. "I’m hearing the house always smells like a butterfly bath before it gets flooded. I bet that Luke Groom would be a good fit."

I made a mental note.

I pulled the first match from the box, smeared it evenly across his hand and then shook him. "Good job, Grue."

He nodded. "All good. Let’s go."

Tattletale was just behind me, her eyes almost missing the interest. She was wearing the casual costume I’d bought her, with a navy blue long-sleeved shirt and black slacks. She was a little older than me, maybe three or four years older.

"Skitter," Grue said, "We should rendezvous at the first opportunity. If it’s not too dreary, we can take a walk around the Docks before we go to the venue."

"You’ll have the bug girl to listen in, obviously," she said.

"I can hear you from here," I said, glancing around for a route.

"I’m not sure I understand," she said, "It’s like a cousin of hearing voices in dreams. It’s not actually that obvious."

"Don’t worry," Grue said, "It’s not that obvious."

The second phone call.

"Hi Skitter," Tattletale greeted me, "You’re free?"

"You could come stay here."

"I think this is it." Tattletale raised her index finger, "The deadline we discussed. I think we’ve both agreed that no leaks, no intruders."

"We can run a pretty tight ship," Regent said.

"We have years of precedent as heroes," I said, "If something goes wrong-"

"No leaks, no intruders. That’s our pre-agreed-upon procedure." Regent snapped his fingers twice in quick succession, and darkness swelled gently around us.

My bugs could feel someone enter through the side door at the back of the loft. He opened it slowly, almost resigned to being out in the main chamber of the apartment, "Come on, Taylor, it’s been a bad few hours."

"We’re more or less on schedule," Grue said, "So long as Trickster is here."

I hesitated, but turned the stairwell into the parking lot, letting Imp use her power to push the car onto the ground.

"It’s very

======== SAMPLE 57 ========
 and I wanted to put one over on you, but it’s just hard to keep track of what’s going on. Everything’s too random, all at once."

"I think… I do like your take on it, Danny."

"Whatever," he said.

"You have a spot in your heart for the Doctor. Why? Why go through the hassle of getting your heart removed, when you could follow the directives of the Cauldron woman and get permanent powers?"

"Because it’s quick and it works. I promise."

"That’s the best thing we can offer you, Taylor."

"Thank you."

"I hope you realize, maybe, that it’s not such a good thing if you try to give them a hard time as they drag your ass through the office. People will wonder why you went to that trouble, just like they wonder how you got so rich."

"They like to gossip, don’t they, Rachel?"

"I’ve talked to some."

"You were a happy accident waiting to happen. A fluke, really."

"I’ll never forget that. I was a working freak, I was taken care of. I was set up. Now I’m screwed."

"I’m not here to judge. You and I can talk in an emergency. You have to understand, it’s not good for your development if one cape rips your mother to shreds and another tries to rip your father apart while you’re sleeping, and you wind up like Taylor Hebert. Poor, lonely Dad wondering if he’ll ever find a wife. I’m sure he’s found someone worthwhile."

Taylor smiled. "Oh, yeah. Do your homework."

Brian nodded.

"Now go, sleep. I’ll try to get my hands on you the moment you’re done here."

■

"Weaver," Dragon intoned.

A female voice answered her, echoing the tones through the room. "Imp. It’s good to see you again."

Dragon remained silent through the introductions. She turned to the Dragon’s Chair, then sat. The second ‘I can’t see, I’m not very good at this' line had done a number on her mentally.

"How were your… other engagements? Were you wounded?"

She was less than fully dressed when she approached the desk. She opened the drawer and retrieved a taser. She fixed her hair into a braid. "My scalpel."

"You must have a lot on your mind."

"Yes." She was surprised that she’d been able to dress herself. She rarely wore clothing that wasn’t a throwback to her earliest recollections. It filled in the gap.

"Imp. I’ve been reading up on the prisoners, trying to dig up information from the worst of the worst. You’re among them."

"I am."

"I know you aren’t willing to be the first in line, but if we’re moving on to the next phase… let me see… you’re willing to risk your life?"

"Why?"

"I know that you won’t be able to use your scalpel with any certainty. The system is rigged in just such a way that you won’t know anything about whether you could return to the Birdcage or not."

"What if I ask you a question."

"What do I have to know?"

"Nothing."

"I could use the scalpel," Taylor touched the machine. She used it to cut away a piece of the panel, as Weaver had suggested. It was a good idea at the time, but Taylor had managed to use the sight of the machine to cut it off. "I can use my eyes, too."

"See?"

"I don’t need your eyes to see. I only need the information I get from my swarm. I will explain in a moment."

"And if I ask?"

"If I ask, not for your benefit, but for mine, because I would otherwise have little idea of how the others operate. What would you like to see, Dragon?"

"Anything that’s a concern to others, you would rather I don’t know."

"Weaver," she spoke. "This is a habit I have picked up on my own."

Her voice was unsteady on how much she’d absorbed. Taylor… there?

She turned to the door, then turned back

======== SAMPLE 58 ========
 and the little I had read online suggested it was a dangerous combination. I’d passed one dangerous combination test in my previous lives, I’d probably went through two before I finally passed.

What was I supposed to do? The only word I could think of to adequately describe what I was feeling was despair.

I’d passed two tests, I was pretty sure I was close to passing the third, but three failed: In the sixth test, I’d failed to notice the combination of ingredients in that potion the Black Ghost had mentioned, and in the ninth test, I’d failed to notice that I was in fact an actor on that stage that had the ability to alter people’s memories.

I was pretty sure I could pass the tenth test. The last test was the hardest I’d attempted.

I knew that if I failed, it would be an ugly retrogame, a retcon.

I felt a pit rising in the pit of my stomach, and turned on my heel to walk away.

There was a flash of light, and I felt my awareness of the real world diminish some. I was reminded of how my thoughts were beginning to form.

I made my way to the bathroom, and disrobed, though it was foggy, and the attendant seemed to mind only putting the plastic bag in my locker until I was sitting down.

The bathroom door was ajar.

I turned on the water.

The bathroom.

A statue stood in the shower. It was three feet tall, and the head was made mostly of white quartz. It was nude, and the hands that held the white quartz had pinky, moon and dragon crossed out ‘Steve’ in white and blue.

The statue’s feet were carved with hands holding wooden dowels, and the head moved as the water ran along the heels. It was vaguely geometric, but the soles and the hands seemed to move in a way that suggested it was a handcrafted object, not a man’s.

The bathroom’s door was closed behind me.





Prey 14.5


A rush of cool, fluid water mixed with a damp rag soaked my clothes and myself, but it didn’t seem that unusual or threatening. My costume was dirt cheap, barely fit for a five year old, and had less padding than a baby’s bath. That wasn’t the bad thing; the mud didn’t seem to be moving around as much as the wind, which meant my insides were nice and dry, and it was warm. It was a relief to be able to breathe without being swamped in the humid air.

Even so, the showering of fresh water and the flush with my clothes had a strange effect, pushing the damp into the space between my legs, where it clung like glue to the carpet beneath my dress. I pulled my dress over my legs and draped the remaining scraps over my arms, and I left the arms wide open.

A sensation hit me at the same time that I made the first contact with the rising water. I heard the wet sound of the water hitting the carpet, felt my entire body move. I felt a tingling sensation in the backs of my legs, felt the warmth and moisture flow into my extremities, my arms and the ‘pinkie’ of my skirt brushing against my upper arms. I relaxed my hold on my arachnid-spider silk cord. It was short, but there was no stopping or delaying.

The sensation of being damp and cold struck me at the same time my senses were made aware of a sensation I hadn’t foreseen. The distinct sensation of being stretched, of being heated, even though the sensation from my clothes would have been one that affected all of us equally. My bugs felt lice moving up and around the slats of my armor, my fingers traced the edges of an elastic band that seemed made of silk, or resin, or something intermingled with those two things.

As I was saturated in the sensation, my awareness of my surroundings began to dim, to become vaguely aware of shadows and faint light sources, distant clouds and moonlight.

A knock on the door made me jump.

"Bitch!"

It was Regent, accompanied by Shatterbird. She extended one hand to offer a new arm, "Not so hard. Faster than a normal human can walk."

"You’re shitting me because a normal human body can’t do that," I said. I glanced at Bitch, "…I can walk."

"I didn’t find any other way to do it," she said. She opened her hand again, and I accepted it.

"No way,

======== SAMPLE 59 ========
 and more.

"I know what you’re thinking. No use. We don’t use powers because they’re useful. Even when we use them, we don’t give them to third parties. Tinker powers are probably tied into some special arrangement with the big industrial conglomerate. Not mine."

"Why?"

"Just explaining why we’re here. In the next few minutes, I’m going to start seeing what I can find out, and I’m going to be on the phone for the rest of this commotion."

"How long does it take?"

"Longest I could wait before I got a response. When the PRT did respond, it was an order to keep to the truce, not to say anything. They didn’t take kindly to my taking an opportunity to make a phone call. They had a negotiator in town, and he was making a convincing argument. One of the guys I’m using to deal with the situation was reading him a letter, so he didn’t seem upset at all."

"What is it?" Tattletale asked, eyeing the screen.

"A deal. Let’s say I talk to Miss Militia, the Director and Legend. What’s my combined score?"

Tattletale sighed. "Three hundred and thirty point two percent."

"You’re not much better than that, are you?"

"A little better. Not great. I don’t need to win you over, and we can keep the score pretty damn low. Five,000 people around here that are willing to put up with anything to get to the bottom of this thing. I think we’re pretty much in the black, unless Alexandria were to pop a hole through the stage and into the building’s interior, where the hot air and fumes would make it impossible to access. And that guy is… what was it? Blond?"

"Bonesaw."

"That’s bad. Ten percent. I guess it counts for something." Tattletale shifted position again, taking on a more supporting role.

"I don’t even know. Five percent for me to screw up the score, nothing… no. Not even an eighty."

Tattletale folded her arms. "That’s good. I’d call it solid ground. Here. That doesn’t include the possibility that this is real, that we’re just pawns in some grand plan, from the Director down. My team and I are very low on trust, trust each other more than we need to, and because we’re not sure exactly how this is going to play out, we’re liable to make mistakes."

"And I could be just a pawn," Sundancer said. "An error, or an unreliable ally."

Tattletale rolled her eyes. "We can’t afford to put too much trust in you. Not yet, anyways. You and I can work on that together. You have your powers, I have my bugs. You and I can experiment, and because we don’t know things about each other, we can research and come up with strategies that could work if we happen to run into each other."

Tattletale glanced at me.

I turned to the Director. "Your power’s more reliable, but not by enough. I’ll want you’s team to turn me over to them. If they won’t, they’ll have to resort to violence, I suppose. I have no quarrel with them, as long as they don’t harm any of my people.."

"It doesn’t matter if they hurt you or not," the Director replied.

"Very convenient," Tattletale grinned.

"And if they succeed in their nefarious scheme?"

"If my men give him a chance, they’ll be rewarded, too," Tattletale said. "You’ll want to be careful of where you step, when you cross paths. A place of business, or a job in the PRT, yes?"

"Sure," I said. "But a job in the PRT will get a lot more complicated from here on out."

Tattletale chuckled. "Just play along, Skitter. We’re on opposite sides, after all. Your power’s probably as useful as ours are. Which means I’ll have to see you square one and find you don’t have another way to see me. Not to mention the possibility that I could have my bugs attack your superiors if they catch a whiff of blood or semen on you, even if they aren�

======== SAMPLE 60 ========
 and her.

He could see the lines, already, where the light of the flash made it bleed. They grew as the light reached further distances, and the effect expanded as the light reached closer coinciding points.

"Powers, I have something of an idea," Vista said.

"You sure?" Clockblocker asked. He turned to Kid Win, "Do you-"

"You were doing it on purpose," Kid Win said. His voice was hard, "You were planning something."

"And I was-" Clockblocker started, then he stopped, stared at Kid Win.

"I will tell you later," the boy answered.

Kid Win had apparently missed the statement. He looked back to the portal.

■

"…A real gentleman, a little boy, a sword, and a cape."

"Yes, sir!" a voice said, from the balcony. Legend heard it over the sound of the waves as the portal opened at the back of the school.

"Oh, hi, Legend," Kid Win said. Kid Win was wearing his school outfit, jeans and sneakers, no hat. He was accompanied by Sun Wukong, who had less clothing than the other two, but who wore a suit, if one could be called a suit, with a formal collar, tie and a fine fit. Sun Wukong was only a little younger than Clockblocker, maybe eighth grade, and his costume seemed more for a kid than an adult. He wore a black robe with a white suit jacket over it, with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms. He had a cleated flail with a shield emblem in black on his chest.

The pair entered the portal at the back of the school, stopping by the entryway to talk to two very young students.

"Who are you?" one asked.

"The name is Skitter," Clockblocker said, "But you may call me Kid," and he raised his flail in the air, ready to strike.

"Oh, it’s nice to finally meet you," Kid Win said.

"You didn’t win the election, Clockblocker. We expected Weaver, but you won. That’s impressive. Weaver told us she was ready to make the call on your leadership, and that she was going to see you tonight at eleven. Do you know why she hasn’t done it yet?"

Kid Win stared at Clockblocker, in surprise.

"I don’t know. But I like the thought of it. It means I’m probably going to be last to hear from Weaver tonight," Kid Win answered, absently.

Clockblocker sighed. He thought this might be the last conversation he had with Kid Win before heading upstairs.

If only he could have explained, he could have convinced the boy, brought up the subject of Night and Fog, and maybe even offered some insight into Night’s power. He just didn’t think the boy would admit his ignorance, as much as that was natural.



"Is Weaver ready to make the call?" Vista asked. She was chatting with two other girls, with names that sounded like they were inspired by something or someone.

"Fuck it, dammit! I didn’t think she was that ready!" Kid Win protested.

The rest of the group had stopped talking, leaving Vista alone with her new boss. Kid Win took the chance to remove his helmet and change into a new one – his old one had been broken in several places, so that when he turned it inside out, the sleeves were showing. This new, more generic style of costume covered most of his body, but there were dark lines at the edges of his eyes, his forehead and around his wrists.

"Well, this is a step forward," Clockblocker said. "I’ve got an idea, and I think we could use your feedback on how that work best."

It’s a good idea, Kid Win thought. Even if he was only supposed to give feedback for the boss, the idea that he could provide one suggestion per week, in a time when he was already so occupied with his own problems, it was good.

"Kid," Clockblocker humed, "I don’t know if this sounds like the best idea. You two are in charge, after all."

Kid Win smiled, "If it helps, Clockblocker?"

"Yes. I’ll come," Kid Win said.

"Awesome! That’s great!" the trio said, collectively elated. He gave Vista a bit of a curious look, then he and Kid Win returned to the main area of the school. Kid Win was sporting a new shirt that had the school logo across the chest.

======== SAMPLE 61 ========
 and he could use his power to tune the process. Or he could just use his power and tune the process.

"You’re being awfully sweet lately, Krouse."

"Sears," he corrected her, "They aren’t real."

"Sears."

"Right. Well, at least you’ve got a hobby."

A gentle voice.

"It’s so nice to talk with you."

Again, it wasn’t him, it hadn’t been the first or even the third. Nothing but kindness and consideration, all presented in the most accessible and cheerful way he could think of.

"So," he said, smiling a little, "You’re not the best parent ever."

"Not even close to being that."

"I think you should let your child use their powers."

"How? When you ask them questions?"

■

It wasn’t a good moment to mention that his body was cramping up. He was suffering from a bad case of the flu, which was promptly followed by a sore throat, but the flu had made the flu symptoms worse. It made it hard to breathe, making him more anxious. He was wearing a black rubber mask and had borrowed one from his flight pack, since the weather hadn’t bordered on the orange.

He forced a smile.

He had spent much of Monday at his apartment, eating breakfast and working on improving his aerobics and obstacle courses. He’d spent the day flying, which had given him the chance to practice his ability to fly. It had been satisfying, freeing, when a week ago he might have found himself with his breath held together by a hundred straps or chains and a heavy harness, just dragging his arms and legs along the rigid plastic surface.

He flew solo on Monday, staying on familiar ground. Three moons ago, he had made his way from the northern end of the city to the Docks. It was a long, gradual climb, marked by the destruction of the burned twin cube store, the destruction of a fire escape, a line of parked trucks, and some damaged buildings. It marked the transition from a life of disorder to an ordered life, with few things left to keep him occupied over the first few weeks of his new life.

His new apartment had come with keys, and it had been a little tougher than he might have expected to find. They even gave him a key for the room with the television, an unexpected help as he found the channel for the first time in his life. Watching television in his apartment wasn’t easy, but with shows like Chicago P.D. that was a rarity.

It was the middle of the summer, and his eyes roved over the screen, while his phone buzzed on the speaker of his flight pack, not too far away. He found the channel that was showing the five-minute news report on the recent attack on the World Trade Center. As he put it, "It was good."

The reporter’s voice was boisterous with emotion, though without the usual filter of a journalist. "It all started after the demolition derby."

"The bombing incident," he said. He had to tilt his head to make the ‘head’ of his jaw work.

"How long ago is this?"

"Four days ago."

"Four days ago?"

"Four days ago, and it barely even registered to me."

"The bombing. Is that what triggered it?"

"It wasn’t on the TV. It was some prank, maybe, or maybe some bullying, or a mixture of the two. The principal or something caught the eye of that guy from the derby, and it’s stuck around because he got in a bit of trouble for it at an early date with a girl from the cheerleading team. I don’t know if it’s strictly relevant."

"I see."

"We’re going to be there for the day, you want to come by and mop up all the shit?"

"I understand if that’s not possible, but at least I can do something. Thanks."

"I understand too. You’re both right. I guess, in a way, this is what I wish for-"

"No," Krouse interrupted him. "I get what you’re trying to do. We’re doing what we can, but right now this is so crucial-"

"There’s no point in spending time on this," Marissa interrupted him. "I’ll see you later, Krouse."

He sighed. "I live for this fight."

Marissa shook her head,

======== SAMPLE 62 ========
 and a small cloud of dust had gathered in the air, a thinning column a few feet across. I looked up.

"You’ve apparently been taking a keen interest in my family," Legend spoke, "I almost thought you were asleep."

"I was, and I will be until I get answers," Legend snapped. He smiled a little.

Flechette huffed out a breath, "Fine. Tell you what. Let’s have a chat."

Lung reached out and put a hand on one of her large blue sunglasses, "You okay with this?"

"You mean like?"

"Like. This. We should pick a plan of action, and I want to hit them harder if we do it, so watch out," Flechette spoke, "Other stuff, I’m okay with doing some talking. You do what you can, find information. And if that doesn’t do me any good, if they wake us, find a way to hurt me. So tell me you’re ready or not ready."

"Not sure," Lung spoke, looking down at his hands, "Not sure if I am, or if I am. But maybe that’s better than what we’re offering you."

"It’s not like I haven’t said as much before," Legend answered, glancing over his shoulder at the others.

"It’s not the time to talk," Flechette spoke, speaking to Amy.

Amy frowned, staring down at the ground.

Flechette raised her chin to let the cloud of dust roll down around it, "Do you have something else?"

"Just… let me think on it," Amy reluctantly replied, with more as she stood and looked around.

"The plan…" Legend started.

Flechette shot him a look, "I’m going to do what I can to help."

"But if-"

"But if you keep doing it, I’ve got plans. See you for Thursday."

The woman stopped.

Flechette looked up at Legend, then back down at Amy.

■

Thursday, May 5th, 11:15



Armsmaster strode into the room with his heavy armor. He had her set the folders on the table beside him, opening each.

"Good to be back," she spoke, idly.

He set the folders down, turning to Amy. She looked stunned.

"What?" He asked.

"You were gone for two hours."

"Um…" He tried to catch her mind. He could see how distracted she was.

"Two hours? So glad I could be of assistance," she paused, almost flicking her hair to change from brown to black, "I’m sorry we have to meet again, arm-in-arm."

"We’re sorry?" He could see how she was tense.

"It’s really bad, your loss, Amy," Armsmaster spoke, "This place is… not good enough."

"And the PRT is complicit in some horrible things, as well. But you’re okay with that? Ready to help fix things?"

He could see how she was preparing herself for a response. There wasn’t a trace of the emotion she’d displayed the other meeting, and a blank slate that she was so aware of would be a sure sign that something was wrong.

"You’re not ready to help with anything," she spoke.

For those of you who don’t have a front row seat, here’s what happened. Amy Dallon had made a decision, and it wasn’t the easy decision. Moving to Brockton Bay, it had meant abandoning her career as a parahuman. It had meant a step down the ranks in the PRT, a transition from boy to girl. A step closer to what she had always wanted, to a life without the constant grind of unwavering ambition and crushing disappointment.

Armsmaster was the symbol of that, more than anyone else. As much a part of it, really.

But the shift from boy to girl… the changes were ever-changing. New clothes, new powers, and so much more. It threatened to undermine even Armsmaster on a practical level, if not on Amy’s level.

She was okay because she was ready.

"I don’t know whether to laugh or cry," he spoke. "You’re a wreck."

"No!" Amy said, her voice tiny. "Not at all!"

Arm in arm, they entered the room.

The Doctor

======== SAMPLE 63 ========
 and I had to bite my tongue and do it again before I could finish.

"That’s not important," she said.

"What is important is I have access to it. I can give you access so you don’t have to waste your time on pointless, drossy shit."

"I mean, you don’t waste your time on anything, right?" she asked, her voice a touch too casual.

"No. But I already mentioned your code. See, my grand goal is standard operating procedure. Quality control. To ensure that the procedures and checks are as thorough and objective as possible. To ensure that the individuals in charge are up to date, and that anyone working for these guys is up to date, their ‘code’ aside. Give me the ability to give instructions to a greater degree, and I guarantee that you’d be able to make things easier on me."

"Yes sir."

"And speaking of access, you have a number of groups to contact. I contacted all of the major factions, which includes the Undersiders," Alec informed me. It was only part of a day of conversations he had with Tattletale and Regent.

I felt a mixed feeling. I was very proud of them for being helpful, and Tattletale was a little jealous. I’d called on the other factions to help when I could, back on October the sixth, I’d had aid from the Travelers, Circuits and New Wave. A little bit of credit went a long way.

I still felt a twang of credit and a glimmer of satisfaction, though. I would have none of it.

The other three would be the Travelers, apparently. Regent had left us a message, promising to come by and pick us up when we got back. Tattletale had told me he would.

I was left to think over how Tattletale had managed to talk to five people who would become my enemies. One of the people she’d talked to was Grue. Hell, Regent had talked to Grue before. Was Grue a new member, then? Had he joined through a loophole? Or had he joined through a previous commitment?

I felt uneasy, then, calling him for help. I’d been able to take some comfort in Tattletale’s tactical brain-ass that it wasn’t her own brain; I hadn’t known about Regent’s use of his power until now, and I now had a better sense of where she was coming from. I would call it conflicted reasoning.

No, the PRT wasn’t recruiting supervillains. The PRT wasn’t turning away heroes who had committed heinous crimes. No, their policy was to recruit heroes who were willing to change. That would presumably extend to Regent.

The Undersiders weren’t exactly going to be on board.

"Tattletale," I said. "Please respond to my message."

"My dear?"

"I’ve been listening for the moment you need me, but it’s getting late. Let me catch up."

"It’s been a long day."

"As you wish. Thank you."

"What a waste of time," she said.

I smiled slightly behind my mask, but I didn’t feel like smiling. I turned my attention to my laptop. I had two tabs open. One, a basic file of HTML and CSS, was marked read-only. The second, a more complete, up-to-date work-in-progress, made use of my new-found power. I had to deal with the fact that it was actively being used by a number of people to make an effort. I’d wanted to make it an ongoing effort. My priorities were changing all the time. Right priorities.

The read-only file I’d opened was called Accord. I knew Accord was the number one villain in the world. Accord had been the leader of a group of his people who’d been massacred by some group of people who were driven mad by power and greed. There was little doubt in anyone’s mind that Accord was evil. That said, he was still alive. And he was a very good man.

I found myself nodding my head in agreement with Tattletale, who’d been commenting on how our little group chat of ours had gotten Accord to agree to sit around and talk.

The second work-in-progress, though it didn’t look like Accord was in any state to talk at a moment’s notice, was titled After the Endbringer event. Details were as of yet scarce, but several of the

======== SAMPLE 64 ========
 and then let the bugs crawl up her body in waves until they made her shudder in the right way, made her jumpy and ruffled her hair.

She lay there, thrashing, eyes open, almost asleep. The bugs scissored under her dress, stinging and biting her wherever they found it.

Mockshow was in the distance, a man who must have been in her company for several years, standing with his back to the wall. His arm was cradled against one side. He was looking at him, his eyes were hard.

She moved under him, and he stirred. She looked away, moving as if she believed her client would be attacked or hurt any second, but he moved anyway. Her free hand touched his, and he jumped with an almost rapid, expressive manner. She pulled away, moving over the wall beside him.

"Not sleeping," Purity said. "My head hurts."

"It won’t get any better for you," Bonesaw replied. It will get significantly better as things cool down. We’re off to your room. Your sessions are free, but we don’t want to be late. Rest assured, your doctor can check your head twice a day with a piece of corneas or eyelash."

"My doctor’s too. We’ll be back before tomorrow, and we can prescribe some drugs to help you sleep."

"Noted."

"Now, there’s one other matter to address."

She hung up.

The room darkened a fraction as the door shut, and the head of the room cleared. There was a sound of a monitor being put to bed.

"Thank you," Brian spoke before the screen was turned to the next page.

■

The computer blinked on. They were using a password system. You couldn’t get in unless you had a keycard or pin number printed on the front.

"Welcome back." A man responded.

"My name is Taylor Hebert."

The image on the screen changed. Taylor Hebert was standing in front of the screen, wearing a green shirt and black jeans. The guy was in a suit and wig, and had a camera ready.

No less than two seconds after the video began playing, the guy with the camera appeared, flashing a yellow light.

"Arrested last night," the voice sounded. "Me and my lawyer. Not sure if its the name on the warrant or if its the video to prove it."

"We have surveillance video. You can see my partner Brian Punke on the security camera outside the bank."

"I see. Well, since you’re in custody, you’re free to answer our questions."

The camera focused on Brian as he approached the door. He looked pleased with himself.

"Why are we here?"

"Not naming names, but I wanted to touch base and make sure we were in contact before we made any further developments."

"You’re talking about me?" The camera flashed again.

"The boss contacted me. Said she has surveillance video of my firm. Said I could share that here."

Again, no names.

"I’m prepared to answer any questions you’d like to pose," the video feed intoned.

Brian paused, then smiled.

There were polite silent nods wherever one went. Taylor Hebert was right next to him.

"It’s unfortunate, that this camera is only accessible to her and her legal team. She’s been antagonizing me, threatening violence if the name was made public. The company will stand by its client, our firm will take any and all legal measures necessary to defend herself."

With polite silence as a code word for ‘not agreeing’, the pair parted ways.

"Great," Lisa said, "I liked that."

"Thanks for having an idea," Taylor commented, "Wish we could find more of a business meeting place."

"Are you able to find another place already? I’d love to find us a place to meet."

"It’s not that easy," Brian shrugged, "We have space in one of my former offices. We have a place in the city, but that’s not a business deal, and neither is renting office space. Our building is currently being renovated, and offices in the building are being made available for lease, roughly half of them to be occupied by our employees. With the supply of office space being a key part of our sales pitch."

"I understand, I understand. I’ve done my homework," Lisa admitted, "But I do agree, we don’t need another office

======== SAMPLE 65 ========
 and he had only his trusty baton. The man was covered in a hard shell, his face and hands peeling open with the healed wounds. He was still alive, it was only a matter of time…

The man took a step forward, and Golem raised a hand to stop him. A crack opened beside the man’s chest. The man fell.

Two more people found their way free of Calvert’s power. One was big, fat and still climbing on top of Calvert, while the other was small and still falling.

Calvert grunted as they hit the ground and raised one hand, then the crack in the floor giving way beneath them. The floor began to slide, and the man who’d struck against it was pulled free, the lock forming around his foot.

Golem was up on the second stack, keeping an eye on the second lock. His power extended out from the floor above, a wall of broken glass, a mere twenty feet from where he stood. He stepped up to the top, and found his hand on a panel, but he didn’t have the strength with which to raise it. He’d dropped too much weight last time and fell.

His head popped, and his vision went a little blurry. "The fuck!?"

The other man shouted, but was more likely responsible. "I can’t believe you hit me!"

It’s not that my bugs didn’t die. I lost some, Calvert lost a good number.

But this? Calvert disintegrated through one lock and then disintegrated into a cloud of white-hot, hot dust the size of an ant sitting on a pebble. There was the sound of something heavy hitting the floor, then smoke. There was a brief flare of colors to the room’s effects before it started to flood out.

Golem was up before the smoke even reached him. He moved from one of the filing cabinets to the next, using the handles on his toes to help him get a grip on the metal sheeting. Every foot or so he rose made getting hold of the sheet greater difficult, but he kept his grip on the wall. His head whipped around as he looked at the other two.

"There are no doors…" one clerk said. Someone I was keeping an eye on.

"Doors? I thought drones would have been better for this… what is this?"

"Riley! Look!"

I looked. I was stepping into a void, and I’d been warned about entering.

The white woman who had been behind the counter was crouching, her arms folded. One of the doctors who’d been watching over the injured was kneeling, as was the woman who’d been trying to help the man who was still in critical condition. A woman whose face was visible only through an oversized afro was sobbing.

"They had him for two minutes, but he didn’t die. He got sent back to the ICU."

"We’re supposed to fix this," the woman said.

"No, this is not the hospital. This was an underground room, like the one I go to for my office hours."

"And it’s a bad situation, okay," the woman who was crying the least said. "Everything about this, it’s confusing, too, but I was with Coil when he got the results, I understand this-"

Another flare of colors, again.

"It’s confusing, okay. You want clarification on what happened?"

"The guy at the front said he was knocked out, unconscious"

"Then we understand. Thank you," the woman in white touched the doctor’s hand.

■

Her cell phone rang. She opened her mouth to say her alarm clock had an immediate check to make, but there wasn’t time. Another call at eight the next morning, telling her how much time she had.

In the corner of her eye, she saw Calvert with one hand, pressing the button for his alarm clock.

"Need to run some errands," Golem said, "And don’t make any emergency calls, alright?"

"Don’t worry about me. I appreciate the-"

"Golem," Calvert’s voice sounded. It wasn’t Golem that answered, but Calvert’s subordinate. He was speaking more to Calvert than to any individual in the basement. "You did well to make me aware you were so wound up. It would have been easy for you to take over immediately upon receiving orders."

"I expected you to keep me in line. I’m glad I didn’t

======== SAMPLE 66 ========
 and I’m pretty sure I can’t."

"Is that so?" she asked.

"The idea is that we stay here and let him keep me, so I can get a measure of confidence I need to act. It could go either way."

"He won’t let you touch me?"

"No. He won’t, even. He doesn’t trust me, so there’s no way I can hurt him or do anything to get him to betray us. The only reason he put me there was to keep me from helping anyone else."

"The only reason he put you there was to keep you from helping anyone else."

"You… you’re right on that score. But-"

"But I like the idea," Grue said.

"Okay. But we can’t do that and leave right then."

"You could walk away," Regent suggested.

I nodded.

We stood in silence for a while.

"I’d say we were hoping for a one percent chance that Bitch was right," she said. "And if the odds-"

She paused, as if considering something. "…ONE PERCENT, give or take."

"Come on," Regent said. "That’s more favorable."

"But," she said, sighing, "I’d rather be a one percent chance than a fifty percent chance."

"A fifty," Grue added. I think we all exchanged a glance.

"But-" she continued, almost flustered as she stared down at her hands, which were still fastened in place around her waist, "I’m saying there’s a chance you’re wrong. There have been times I was nearly dead if it wasn’t for my power…"

She trailed off.

"There’s something more," I said.

She didn’t venture a reply.

"I’m not a doctor, and I don’t recommend surgery or medical care," I finished.

"We can figure it out," Grue said.

"Whatever it is, it’s going to cost us time. Time we don’t have."

"We have more," Grue said, "And I already don’t know what it is. It won’t be like Alexandria tried, where she laid these big plans and we were so focused on her that we forgot about everything else. The new world order, I’m not sure we even recognize the details. If she’s not the only one of our casualties, we’re killing too many people."

There were nods around the room.

I glanced at Bitch.

"We can’t even quantify how badly we’re going to screw up the numbers if this doesn’t take off, right now, because things are going to get bad in the not-dawning-too-late future. And maybe there is a chance we could win, but I don’t think we’d want to risk it."

"There’s a middle ground," Grue said. Bitch nodded.

We agreed, then, for once, to disagree.

We exchanged glances with the others. Trickster was leaning against the front of the room. Canary was at the far end, sitting on a chair, in her shadow state.

Eidolon was the only other person present who didn’t look like he was in great shape. He had dirt on his costume, which had been cleaned, but he’d evidently been taking solace in the company of his clones. He had lines crisscrossing his body, and he had patches of light burning where his costume had scorched.

I’d worked with Rachel before, I supposed, I could be faulted if I didn’t point that out. Eidolon seemed to be taking matters in stride. His clone, in contrast, was struggling mightily. He raised his hands, which had been raised precariously high, and he clutched them in both hands.

The flames, the light, the raw damage… I saw it all. All the preparations, the preparations with Rachel and the fire, the time wasted holding back.

And then the moment my team stopped working, the moment we collectively stood to attention, it clicked.

I lowered my eyes, drawing my mask.

Weld had taken a step backward into a squat, dark doorway. Weld hadn’t followed, and I couldn’t even tell by the state of the portal. No power to it. I could be damned if

======== SAMPLE 67 ========
 and she’d done it because she was trying to protect her friends. When they were attacked, she’d done it because she cared about it, had a sense of what she wanted and was determined to get revenge. For more than a decade, she had been the person who had forced them out, forcing them to start living with their problems. That changed on the day Leviathan attacked.

If she had to choose between living with her own kind’s kind and trying to help her friends, she’d take the former.

She felt a chill. That feeling, that memory, hadn’t been so long ago. Of sitting in the infirmary, on the day Emma had been admitted.

No. She knew that the real answer was going to be affecting. Difficult. It had been all she had been able to think on her own, for days or weeks, after her father had died. But she couldn’t help but think, when she was forced to look to those who could.

Which meant she wondered sometimes if she deserved to be here.

She wanted to help more people, but more was better. If others found themselves wondering what had turned her away from the group, her response was usually something along the lines of ‘work’. Work meant returning to her old routine and taking care of herself, dealing with whatever issues came up. There had been little doubt at first, that her older, more prominent self was indeed Taylor Hebert, the girl with the power who’d been recruited into the group and hadn’t felt confident enough to ask for a drink or a chat with her classmates. Now those same classmates found themselves wondering what had turned her toward the girl with the strange powers.

As far as Taylor was concerned, the people in question were questioning whether Taylor was a threat, and whether or not they should worry about her yet. That, or they were starting to think Taylor was actually Taylor, and they should keep an eye out.

It had helped that Taylor had been kind to Aisha. Taylor had wanted to help, had even accepted some help, even found time to give a handful to the groups that needed it, even given the chance for some modest improvements. Had her change of heart affected how she felt about herself? She’d had an ugly memory of herself, when having her dad’s side hug on the occasion of her expulsion, in the locker room after the fight in the cafeteria. It seemed possible that her low point had played a part in making the same kind of gesture she’d later supply to Emma.

With a less than stellar name recognition, having Aisha back in the main group was a boon, but it didn’t do her much good if she didn’t have other friends. She decided not to give Aisha her full support to make up for her absence.

In the end, it came down to a fight in the middle. While Sophia and Aisha engaged in limited duels, Lisa joined Aisha in trying to hurt Sophia with a chair. A few bruises followed, including an ugly rash that would need tending to. A good way to get a girl going, by all accounts, was by getting her to fight. She had, after a night of this, gone the extra mile, and had left the shop with a score of bruises and cuts.

"Sophia hurt Sophia," Lisa spoke, a note of smugness in her voice, "We won’t have that again."

Aisha’s lips hooked up together, her eyes bulging a bit. She looked like she had seen the worst kind of horror movie.

"But that’s not the big deal," Lisa grinned, "You saved my bacon once, Aisha. Now I’m going to fix yours. Join in the fun, pet."

Aisha glanced at Lisa and the others, then immediately turned her attention to her sister. She shoved Sophia down into a chair and began putting her sister down.

As Sophia was put down, Lisa found a pair of the green booklets with Emma’s photo on the front and Sophia’s copy on the back.

"How do you feel?" Lisa asked, "I can feel pretty confident you won’t regret this." Once Sophia was settled, Lisa tossed the green booklets over the table so Sophia and Emma could see.

"How do I feel?" Sophia asked.

"Sophia’s a hero, Emma." Lisa smiled wide, "So, maybe, just maybe, this will keep you going until you get that first true love in years. Maybe you can even come to terms with it, after what you’ve been through."

Sophia looked around the table in wide, surprise. Emma didn’t have the faintest

======== SAMPLE 68 ========
 and he gave them a bit of a boost as another bullet hit their torso. She pulled back, to avoid drawing their laser guns away from herself. But her hands were still in the pockets they’d taken their weapons from. And she was aware of the fact that Grue was getting out of the alley.

"Cuff," Tattletale said. She glanced at Cuff. "Where’s Grue?"

"He’s on the other side of the alley," Cuff said. "We don’t know how quickly he can make it again."

"We have him cornered," Tattletale said. "Let’s see what happens when we take him down."

They only needed to guess.

The Laserdream drew two blades from her utility compartment, looked at Regent and Bitch, then swung them at Grue and Bitch. The blades only served to push Grue and Bitch back. Regent slammed his fist against the back of the woman’s hood, ineffectually flinging the object into her companion’s face.

She lunged forward, and hit Grue with a knee, before she could get her feet under her. She smacked him with the top of her hood, folding one section with his head between the two of them. She turned, her back to the building, and kicked at Grue, driving him into one of the narrow alleys.

Grue’s head swelled in size, his chest expanding to absorb the incoming force, his breathing becoming more irregular. He used his power to get away before she got a bead on him, then slid beneath her once more. Imp used her hand to prop him up.

She kicked at him once more, then turned to run, moving alongside a car that was dented in the crash. She drove her forearm into his side as he slid down, then kicked a second car in the face that followed. It skidded to a stop a short distance away, its driver and two passengers screaming and screaming as they fell to the ground, simultaneously helping Grue to the ground.

She wheeled around, her back toward the building. "You sure about this? We’ve got an ambush coming up."

"Yes."

"Good. We go from strength to strength, from the best against the worst, to bring a smile to an enemy’s day."

She smiled a little at that.

The woman stepped around the side of the building, then folded her arms. She had a set of binoculars that she wore, a small canister on her belt that looked like it was filled with food. Grue glanced at Tattletale. Tattletale, on the other hand, was studying the object in question. Her mask, metal framed, had a little tube of lipstick, one eye open.

"Thank you," Grue said, turning to show her that he wasn’t grateful in nature. He extended a hand.

"You want anything?" She gave him an apologetic look.

"Water, a blanket, maybe? No. Just me. My friend-" Grue trailed off.

"Are you alright with this?" She glanced around to make sure everyone was okay before leaning back in an attempt to rest her head and closing her eyes. She let her mouth and nose bleed open, but she did give him a sympathetic expression.

Her attention snapped to the two young men that were standing watch, one a young man, in plainclothes, with a bandanna covering his face, another a smaller girl, in an expensive looking dress.

"We didn’t know if he’d picked up on something, or just didn’t care," Grue said.

The young man glared at her, while the big girl just smiled, kept moving.

"I’m sorry," she said, "I don’t want to get into a bad headspace."

"It’s fine. Look, the little girl is here. We-"

The young man stopped as Grue turned to look at him.

"She’s okay?" the smaller girl asked.

"She just picked up something from her bag, she wasn’t feeling so tidy herself."

"I was worried she’d picked up a dangerous substance and then dropped it," Grue said. "I didn’t realize it was something she could take."

"That she’s taking what she thinks is a dangerous substance is her prerogative," the older girl said, dryly. She was with them instead of Grue. "Look, we don’t mix."

"You?" Grue asked.

The girl glanced in Regent�

======== SAMPLE 69 ========
 and

I was still panting a little while the two of them were gone, having helped Sophia carry me. The effect had been far heavier on me than on Sophia, but that couldn’t have been the sole reason for my heavier load. It had been heavier on me because there were two people to help, and they took more of my attention.

With a heavy crash, Legend was thrown back by Sophia, crashing into the girl in the bathtub. Legend grunted and rolled over, but he didn’t get up.

He’d been in the ring with Shadow Stalker, but the injuries Shadow Stalker had sustained hadn’t been from Shadow Stalker’s own powers. Had they been a little harder to take in, Legend would have been hurt worse.

Legend was in the center of the pool, where he joined Shadow Stalker. Sophia, who had kept out of the fray, lay on the ground, her eyes closed. Legend turned around, and his light eyes roved over the assembled crowd. He didn’t address her.

Shadow Stalker’s eyes opened, and Legend shot her with a bolt of light. She stirred as if from a deep sleep, then began looking around, fidgeting.

Someone threw something heavy at Legend. He dodged it, then changed his footing and struck it full-on with a strength that left little doubt he could move as fast as he wanted. The projectile passed barely even touching him.

The light and thunder seemed too intense to be related to anything he’d experienced. He stepped closer, and found more bodies under and around the ring. Two were on the far end, down the side of the pool, and there were others nearer the center, still pinned up in the ring by Shadow Stalker and Legend.

He reached out with his power, and more bodies fell onto him, striking a wall. They faded away as he worked his power into them.

He could see from the others in the pool to follow, seeing the dark silhouettes that followed after him, disappear as they moved.

He found himself back in the area of the two capes who had been pinned up in the ring. Had they retreated because of the lightning? He saw one cape move towards him, seize him, his legs kicking. He moved out of the way, threw the one who’d caught him up onto his back, and stepped close to try to smash the man’s face.

No.

Another man leaped over the edge of the pool, and wrapped his arms around him. Legend’s eyes roved over the crowd.

There were more bodies below, but the ones closest to Shadow Stalker and Legend couldn’t move. They were all men, all in rough shape, some women. A child, not old enough to be Shadow Stalker, but big and fat, with a head like a sports car. Legend reached down, and the man swung his legs away from the side of his head, the head bouncing back and forth as he staggered.

The man in the armor pulled away, and Legend buried his face in the dirt behind the helmet, burying all of the dirt in his hands, covering it from face to tail.

Legend pulled the hood back, and the head swam. It continued to bounce after him until it disappeared from sight. He turned back to Shadow Stalker and spoke without turning to check on the others. "You did good. Rest well."

"I-" Shadow Stalker started.

"Good. Good. Rest well," Legend made an indicating gesture with his hand, then he was gone from the sight of the crowd.

Sophia gasped, then whimpered, her voice small.

She could live with rest. There was nothing left to do but to keep waiting, work through this nightmare she was in. She could use her bugs to find refuge in the bodies, her body would take any abuse she could inflict on it.

She found more bodies in the form of more bodies joined by more disappearances.

Her ears were ringing, and she hadn’t even felt like she was close to hearing the noise, except for the occasional scream, but she still had to look after her ears.

■

The sun was still high up above the clouds, and the sky was pink, orange and crimson, but things were growing duller. The ground was turning a rich brown, and the buildings had patches of shadow in the midst of the higher buildings. The air was heavy with the smell of the flowers in spring, a mix of wet and synthetic.

A shadow fell over Sophia as she stood on her front steps. Featherweight.

Her breath fogged her senses, and she knew she hadn’t taken her eyes off her umbrella as it fell from her

======== SAMPLE 70 ========
 and the way he had folded his arms.

"What happened?"

"There’s a guy in blue who just killed Kid Win. It’s sort of reminiscent of Leviathan, except it’s not just killing, it’s sheer, unadulterated chaos. There’s a guy in silver who just killed Dragon. She’s probably the last person you want to cross paths with."

"I don’t know how to empathize with either of them."

I met his eyes, shook my head, then looked up at the looming sun overhead. "I like going there."

"I’d never get to go there. I only lived in the Docks because my mom worked a job on the docks there. I had no friends there, no food, no water, no shelter. My momma fed me and brought me water even when I was sick. That was three and a half years ago. Last week, she was gone. I don’t know what to think. I just don’t understand."

"You don’t?" he asked, looking over his shoulder at me, "I got an inkling of what was going on when I got home from school after seeing the doctor there and he wrote me a letter. You were still sick, if not better."

I smiled a little, "I got better."

"I know I said I understood people when I said I understood the basics," he said, "But you really did get to know people, and you developed an emotional investment in them that you maybe didn’t in Sophia. I mean, you’re probably wondering why I’m saying all this."

I smiled a little, "I’m… I’m trying to say I like you. Not the most mature of choices, but likeable. So let’s be honest about this. You’re going to be in one of the worst situations ever."

I winced.

"What to say?"

"I don’t know. I love you, but I’m not sure I could trust you."

"Then we don’t say goodbye," he said, "We say hello."

His hand settled on my shoulder, he looked so young, yet so old, not more than thirty-five. I met his eyes, then looked away.

"I love you too. Anything I can say, you can say back. I’m… I’m going to miss this. I’m sorry we can’t say that. I know it makes no sense, but I promise we’ll each be there for the other when you need us the most."

I didn’t reply. I had thoughts and feelings that didn’t line up with Taylor here, but I had to live. I turned to leave. I wasn’t going to stop, not when the other girls were so important.

"I love you too. Stay safe, be good."

When others returned from school and the group that had stayed was introduced, there was a crush. The biggest group, with the most gorgeous and vibrant costumes. The costumes were bright, cheerful, and they were simultaneously sexy, feminine, vulnerable and dangerous. I wondered if Sophia and Sierra had become fast friends because they liked the purple and orange, or if it was because Sophia was cute and wanted friends like her. Sierra and Melody were pretty naturally. Each of them was different in their own way.

There was a kind of power to the costumes. The costumes were vibrant. The costumes were able to be pretty, and so pretty made people want to be a part of them. Sierra could draw and make things beautiful. Sophia was strong and confident, and so could the others. Sophia’s power was undeniable, undeniable that anyone could use it to try to get the better of her.

"Hey, girl!" Sierra called out. She had a funny accent. Sophia turned her way as she walked, so it seemed like Melody was backing up.

"Hey, Sophia! You’re okay! You know you can’t go anywhere tonight? Come on, let’s go eat! We can watch a movie or play video games! Oh! I’m talking to you!"

I knew exactly what he was going to say next. Melody kept walking until she reached a café.

"No, no! Come on!" Sierra said, grinning for the first time. "I’m telling you to leave me alone! I love you!"

"Sophie," Sophia called out, as she pulled the duffel off the luggage rack and put it down, "You can’t!"



======== SAMPLE 71 ========
 and they all made it a three or four to fit inside.

"The problem is we can’t stop Leviathan until he’s stopped regenerating," Tattletale said.

"We attacked him, we took him down and then we waited for Eidolon to come," Grue explained.

"Right," I said.

I approached Grue and held his hand. He set his hand on my arm, and our skin locked together.

I let out a long sigh. I knew that this was pointless for the moment. Tattletale had said that if we were all still together, there would be more things to look out for. I was still here. We hadn’t broken up.

"I think," Tattletale said, "We could use your assistance."

"What?"

"I’m going to need your help."

"I’m assuming you do this," Grue said.

I shook my head. I needed Tattletale. I saw Tattletale’s reaction, the look of mixed shock and disappointment.

"I don’t know how this is supposed to work," she said. She looked at me, and for once, she didn’t look happy.

"You need my help," I replied. I thought for a second that I seemed to be going out of my way to stay silent about what was really going on.

So long ago, it had sounded so simple. A group of us helping one of the Slaughterhouse Nine, saving these hostages. Then the Nine would make their escape. Or capture someone for them. But things had changed. No longer could the hostages be taken hostage. I knew things had changed because Tattletale had become someone that Tattletale could talk to. Someone who wasn’t afraid to speak her mind, or be frank about what she saw.

The fact that she was happy, that she had found a way to reconcile herself with her friend, that she’d come to such violent measures? That was more complex and longer term than I had the luxury of elaborating on.

I let out another long sigh, letting out heavy emotions.

"We win this thing, and Coil dies, or one of the two, or a combination of the two," Grue said.

In that kind of discussion, we might all be admitting defeat, letting go of our old guard and accepting that the status quo wasn’t really that bad.

My arms around my knees, I turned to look at the others. Trickster, Sundancer and Ballistic were still high above me, where they were more or less hunched over, arms around their respective heads. Noelle, now that I’d gotten her downstairs, crouched at the end of the bed. She looked so tiny as she lay there, a toddler, in a baby sitter. From what I could overhear, she had been crying with rage as we’d found out about Dinah. I’d taken her in for questioning for the first time, only to get the real Tattletale come and take her away. Noelle was the one who’d informed on me, had led to me coming up with the pretty lie about my relationship with Grue.

My heart was pounding. It felt bad. And all this turmoil, this fight, it felt almost better in a way, because it was finally putting things in perspective, throwing all this out of whack, just a little.

"Skitter, this is Armsmaster," a young woman spoke, settling on the bed beside Noelle. "I’ll be careful."

"Don’t worry. I’ll be careful," he replied.

"Okay. Do you hear me?"

As one, the others turned to listen.

"A great deal," Revel commented.

"Seem to recall that you expelled Bitch from the family home for her own selfishness, Miss Militia," Armsmaster said, pausing as he surveyed the young woman and her companion. "A slap on the wrist, perhaps?"

"She got away," Trickster grinned.

Rachel was already laying a blanket over Noelle with a tweed coverlet in hand, pulling it off for her, when Miss Militia reached up and put a heavy blanket over Noelle’s shoulders. Neither Rachel, nor anyone else in the room, had realized just how tall she was.

Miss Militia simply stepped away from the bed to allow Jessie to lie down.

"You okay, kid?" Trickster asked.

"Oh. Um. You’re not supposed to touch people."

"The kids?"

"People are sick when I touch them," Ballistic spoke. "You would be hurting

======== SAMPLE 72 ========
 and we’ve been getting the best of both worlds.

"And we’re all in this together."

"Together? If Tattletale was alive, she would have pointed you out already."

"And to think, you’re the only one who really sticks up for Tattletale. It’s impressive. The only person I don’t trust is Regent. Which is saying a lot."

"Okay," he replied. This time, instead of moving my chair, he leaned against the doorframe with his back to it. "Come on, Susie. It’ll do more than keep the dog from barking at us."

Susie complied. We got closer, and he lowered his voice. "Dog, bark louder!"

I heard the bark and started to move to my left, around the collar. When I stopped, he barked right back at me. "You’re moving. Get your ‘candy’."

As I moved toward the door, he gave an earful, clearly wanting to follow me. I grabbed his hand and eased him down.

"Why-" she began, then stopped as her attention was called to what my bugs were doing in the adjacent rooms. "Don’t eat."

"Can’t we just leave that room alone?" he asked, ignoring her.

"I don’t know. You can’t really convince him otherwise. My dogs love their treats." I gathered some wrappers from the box that had been placed under the table and hoisted them up over his head. "You know what your dogs smell like? They smell like chocolate."

He rolled his eyes, but it was clear from his body language that he wasn’t going to argue.

That satisfied me, giving me a sense of relief that he hadn’t gone ballistic or anything. I shifted my grip, and the dogs immediately started to lick, chew and prod at the fingers on the cord I’d fixed around their foreheads.

I could see my dad tense as the dogs got more aggressive, raised their chins above shoulder level. I was pretty sure I could have hauled the table and I was halfway to putting the last of the silk net onto the bed when he moved his hand and their fighting interrupted me.

"She’s latching onto me," I told him.

"What? You can’t do that? You can have a relationship with her, but-"

"Enough," I snapped. "I won’t feed them. I’d banish the people who were doing that in the first place, and I’ll make sure your dog knows I’m talking to you-"

"You can’t do that on camera!"

"I’ll show you, Brian." We had one conversation? One meeting between two of our biggest players? It wasn’t enough. I couldn’t help but think of those phone calls she had gotten, telling me she’d gotten the agent involved with my situation. The agent?

But he had other ideas.

"I’ll… I’ll try to do better next time," I growled the words.

That didn’t sit well with him. There wasn’t anything more to say, so I let the thought hang.

That, or he’d yell at me and I’d leave the conversation there.

I left with Susie and Brian, both happy to see I wasn’t just ignoring them, or at least ignoring his presence.

As we stepped into my old place, I used the distraction to get out of the way and find the couch.

"How did that dog look?" he asked me. "Does it have toys in it?"

"I’ll… I think this one has the most." I pulled the couch out from under Lisa’s over the top bucket and put it in the front room.

Brian and Lisa rolled their eyes as I got the thing upright and set it on the floor. I took the empty plastic tub and emptied it and then hooked it up to the tap. It came back to the top of the pan with a lukewarm splash.

"Here," I gave Brian a little push on his shoulder, "But don’t go getting drunk. You did say you didn’t want to be a repeat case, right?"

"That’s fine… I’m kind of trying to look past the situation, and I’m wondering if I’m a repeat case."

"The chances of that are pretty slim, right?" I asked him, feeling lame as I

======== SAMPLE 73 ========
 and I’m thinking it’ll have to go somewhere. Tattletale probably did this to get us some leverage, and I’m willing to play the part of the bad guy here if it means we get what we want. I got the sense that it’s really your plan, though, and whatever you’re pulling from her, whatever you’re putting on her in her shoes, it really isn’t you."

Bonesaw folded her arms again, and I was able to read her expression again. I gave her a small nod. "That’s all you can do for now, Ms. Hebert."

"Please. What can I do for you, doctor?"

"It’s been a long day. Please take care of Mr. Kieran."

My dad gave me a hug, and mine returned.

"Thank you, Derek."

"You too, little boy."

I let my head and back bounce in response to his gentle touch. His hand on the back of my neck again.

"You’re doing better, boy."

"Thank you, again."

"It’s nice to see you two with old habits. You and I both like the old days, when we went to the same park and everyone was young and free, but we don’t live them, I do. The memories are kind of fuzzy."

I sighed, settling back in the armchair and turning on the corner to talk with my arms folded.

It was ten hours before the car pulled to a stop. Even with all the time that had passed, I still felt the lingering effects. They were gone but not so much so that I’d feel lost. I tried to picture myself back then, sitting on the banks of water that bordered the landfill, watching the marsh grow and consume the land that was roughly half the size of Rhode Island.

One area on my periphery had more marsh than any place else, and it had more bodies beneath it. It spanned the size of a large apartment, and grew in density without ceasing.

The water level had receded, but the accumulation of bodies beneath the water level hadn’t, which meant that the mess below was getting worse. I sensed it as I climbed out of the Jeep, my vision sweeping over the area to scan the mass of wet bodies.

The water had more bodies beneath it, and as the spot where there had once been more bodies was uncovered, I could make out more growth. At each body part, a mass of growth, more or less congruous with the growth that had once been beneath, it spread. In a matter of minutes, there had been twenty-seven bodies in the area, twenty-six of which matched the height and weight of my dad and mine.

I’d been terrified until I had that first contact with Charlotte. The moment that first contact had occurred, I felt utterly spooked. I didn’t have a response to any of the rationalizations or excuses that could be offered. The man had been a murderer, then, and then I’d been at my wits end, helpless to stop him, and I’d made him suffer for it. I’d been terrified that time had come so suddenly and so drastically for me.

I stopped taking hold of those words, as my brain failed to process them. I just knew I’d panic the second I let my guard down. It had, after all, only just started to take hold.

The first body in the area had been the dad I’d seen, standing on the bank, covered in what looked to be crude burns. His shirt had been burned off, and his pants had been removed. The stigmata, the black circles beneath his eyelids, were more like old acne, now, than like the more obvious marks of cancer.

The other twenty-seven bodies were clustered around the various families, some kids gathered around their parents, grandparents or a mother holding a child. It was a chaos I couldn’t have predicted, and it wasn’t the usual sort of chaos that took place when people had a family. I couldn’t fathom why.

There was a woman with a young child in tow, sitting on a bank corner on the opposite side of the market from where the other people were gathered. She looked especially ghoulish as she extended her hand to shake the child’s gently. The child resisted, and she smiled a little.

What did I do with her, you ask? I could have run after the others with her help, or I could have helped my dad.

"There are more bodies to contact," the woman said, apparently oblivious to the chaos that

======== SAMPLE 74 ========
 and "we mustn’t be too careful with the containment foam."

"Okay," I said. No killing in the slightest.

"Then the big question is…" my dad began. "Where was she staying? Brockton Bay?"

"In Germany," I said. "Takes a while for the place to get set up, supplies last some time, and there’s not a lot of food there."

"The city can’t sustain itself any more than Brockton Bay can," Rachel answered.

"So can you imagine?" Tattletale asked. "In Brockton Bay, you’ve got Danny Hebert, your little Tinker."

I closed my eyes. "Really?"

"Really."

I could see her pursing her lips, as if she was going to say something else. Then she opened her eyes.

"Really," I said, again. "But the people in Germany are nice."

"I know," she said.

She turned the other way, as if gesturing in a different direction. Her expression didn’t change at the realization.

"It’s not the end of the world," Tattletale said. "But it’s the end of something. It’s why there’s resistance. We have to be patient, or we fall behind."

"It’s great," Miss Militia said. She had other things on her attention as she approached. She was standing by the gate, letting Grue and Rachel through.

"Tattletale?" Tattletale asked. "I wanted to say hi."

"Likewise," Rachel said. She turned to Tattletale, and Miss Militia gave a slight wave.

I smiled and waved for Rachel. She went by the name of Dinah, after a young woman who disappeared from my thoughts a little while ago. Dinah had been a big influence on me, and I was grateful for Tattletale’s sharing.

I’d been looking forward to this for some time. It was something I wanted to be doing more often, supporting Armsmaster, or helping Noelle, or helping Dinah, but it always fell apart when those people involved did something that came back to bite them in the ass. For now, for just a little while, I was my own man. I could take care of my territory, I could train, and I could occasionally go off on a murderous rampage if I felt the need. Behemoth always felt like there was at least some excuse to pick apart and then slaughter our creatures of burden.

Well, there wasn’t any excuse at the moment. If anything told me that Dinah wasn’t anywhere near as good at hiding and unpacking herself as she looked in The Photos, that she was still feeling the rush she was experiencing early in life, I would be glad for the reminder of her imminent surroundings.

"You know, what Rachel was saying? That you should go after the Undersiders, capture Bakuda, and maybe kill Lung if you can. You’re in a better position to do it now, while Tattletale and I are in a good position. I saw what you managed at the last fundraiser. You had more political connections, you’ve got more knowledge about Noelle, and you made it look so very natural. All it took was your powers to get the job done. I think you’re on the right track, and I think your friend, Tattletale, is more strategic about everything."

Grue nodded.

"I really like that bit," I said.

"You’re not an asshole, Tattletale."

"You’re right," I said.

"I can hear you," she said.

Fuck me, I was still a little spooked. I’d gotten to the point where I’d been scared to go outside for fear I’d step in front of my dad. Even in case that happened, I had a hell of a lot of respect for Bitch, who was, for all intents and purposes, my conscience.

"I agree, all things considered. For now, it’s better to assume we’re working on a plan B. Bitch will send us more money to help with our business, we will work more closely with the Merchants, and we will patrol with more care. I think it would be safer for all concerned if you returned home and received immediate support."

"Thank you," I said, but Tattletale was already seated. Grue and Rachel looked over in kind of surprise.

"You really giving him to them?" Grue asked.

"He’s loyal," Tattlet

======== SAMPLE 75 ========
 and the rest with the people who were inside.

He saw the first sign of resistance. A small, almost imperceptible change in the color of the cloth the boy’s forehead was covered in. That wouldn’t necessarily be Tattletale. It could be both.

"What is it?"

"My power’s getting low on supplies, I need something to hold onto, and I-"

"A distraction would be good," he said.

"The D.T. officers were being nice, I just need time to prepare some."

A quick, forceful explanation would do the trick.

"What are you doing here?"

"I thought you didn’t know."

For the man to speak, it had to be stupid and lame. He needed to be able to get the joke.

"It’s not stupid. It’s… simple. You’re supporting and assisting the people you like. Supporting the Undersiders and the PRT because you have a sense of kinship or something. They’re your friends, more or less. It’s how you function."

"So you want to make it clear to the Undersiders that you do too?"

"You still have a few moments."

"Yeah. No, I still want to help, but I think I’m headed down a different road."

"Oh," he sighed. "Well… good luck with that."

"I want to help, but I need a little convincing first."

He left, finding a chair in the center of the kitchen.

"So you still want to be part of the Undersiders?" She asked.

"I am."

"Not interested in convincing you. That’s on you."

"It’s fine," he said. He set the paper bag down on the coffee table. He almost made it with his first attempt. "Just running into too many people at once."

"There are so many ways to do this. The last thing I want is an argument. I’m interested in your idea."

"Okay. I’ll give you my best shot at convincing you."

"You still owe me. I think it’s important to get to know our colleagues, and I think having a firm grasp on what’s going on in their heads is important, too. If I pass on my knowledge, maybe it’s easier to approach one or two meetings with the Undersiders I know are coming up. The door’s open for me to try being less confrontational, maybe if I have a better grasp on how they operate, there’s a degree of confidence they have when it comes to the team, and I can learn from them. I even have ideas for meetings with new members."

"That’s good. You could talk to them face to face, figure out what fits with them, then pass that on to the others. It’s something I want to keep in mind, even if I don’t want to do it necessarily by persuasion."

"We’ll figure it out."

"That’s a hell of a way to lose the conversation," he smiled.

She smiled as well.

Tattletale picked up the bag of cookie dough. She spread them out on the kitchen table. "Here. Not sure how well they’ll go, but hear how good they are tonight, and you get a bunch in one sitting. Better yet, if you come by tomorrow and get more, I’ll know you’re into that too."

He nodded.

"Candy?"

Tattletale grinned, pointing.

"Butter," she said. "And milk."

"Oh. Okay. I’ll go thirsty tonight."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

She stood from her chair, taking hold of her cell phone. "I should call a friend, get some fresh air. My cell service is pretty good, if you have it. Call again sometime tonight."

"We’ll talk tomorrow, tomorrow’s coffee, and hopefully I can convince Regent to come with me."

"Got it."

The phone rang. Taylor answered.

"Hi Taylor?"

"Hi Grue. It’s very pleasant to talk to you. What are you doing, Weaver?"

"I’m at an old high school with some of the best and brightest that this city has to offer, and I’m trying to strike a balance between doing classes and helping out in the school. I’m

======== SAMPLE 76 ========
 and the door opened. I joined him on the platform, and joined him as he climbed to his feet and joined me in kneeling before the door. It was an awkward position, as the bottom end of my mask clung to my left hip. I took stock. One of Rime’s creations, apparently a model in cloth, had opened her own front door, been inside for a bit. There were others, some models I recognized, though they didn’t quite have Rime’s skin, running rampant in the concourse.

"What are you doing here?" Rime asked, as Tattletale approached me. Tattletale was wearing her regular costume, but sported a mask with a visor like the one she’d got on her costume, with a metallic silver component. She wore an off-white shirt with a navy blue vest, and a black scarf around her shoulders.

"Finding the bodies," Grue said. He glanced at Rime, and saw her staring at him in turn.

"What?" she asked, "Were you talking to me?"

"I wasn’t," I said. I raised my mask, turning to see Ballistic in the doorway. I had on a thin sweater Tattletale’s size large. "And Ballistic has a cold. It’s something he does at the weekends."

"Sorry," Ballistic corrected me, "Sorry I couldn’t help. But no, no, no, no. You’re right. Sorry I wasn’t able to talk to you earlier."

"You have a good memory," Tattletale murmured her reply.

"Sure. You can count on that," Rime said. She looked at me, "Do you remember what we did here?"

"I remember."

"I think you’re almost certain to remember. And I think you remember everything."

"Sure," I said.

"Except I almost forget some things. Sometimes I’m a little spooked, because I’m constantly going against the grain, but sometimes I’m gone just a bit off kilter, and I forget it," Rime said.

"Off kilter? Or off-topic?"

"Either."

She settled into her seat. It was a break from the pacing, but she found her stride a little quicker.

"You almost don’t remember," Ballistic commented. He turned to where Grue was standing, and he set his glass of red liquid on the end of the bench to fill a quarter-size bottle. "What you remember is fuzzy."

"Probably both."

"We were just getting back. I was remembering, asking my dad. He tells me it’s something he’s been working on, since I was a kid, when he thinks his emotions are at their peak. Being too sad, thinking too much about the Simurgh, everything. And now I feel like I have to put everything into reminding him, reminding myself, reminding the others… You know how it feels, to think too much? It reminds you of everything Falla-kun taught us."

"Yeah," I responded.

Rime smiled. "I wonder sometimes if it’s a good thing we’ve got to live in an urban area. It’s hard to put a finger on it, you know?"

I nodded, vaguely.

"I went to a lot of events in my… school days, and a lot of those memories are of you guys. Everyone was okay with it then? The Protectorate, the Wards, PRT… stuff like that. So maybe it’s better I spend the remaining years of my life in an urban environment, because I kind of grew up there. Even with the team running roughshod over our territory, it was hard to leave that behind me. I’m kind of glad I did."

That was a reassuring way of putting it. That was all.

"I… don’t want to come off too warmly, because I’m trying to be, um, neutral here. There’s a lot I’ve been through, a ton of my friends and family are orphans. I’m trying to be a good guy, and not put too fine a point on it. That said, I think I’m capable of being a good hero, if given the chance. I kind of have to rely on it."

"You have to know you’re going to get to have a go at it?"

"I sort of have to be smart when I’m in a position to help people. If they’re not dumb enough to play me and do something

======== SAMPLE 77 ========
 and it’s not good either. It’s been a bad few days, and you won’t feel much better if you keep doing what you’re doing, even if it’s the best thing you can do right now."

"Okay," I muttered.

"That’s it? We just wait and see if he comes back? Or if he’s got another power that’s going to be able to kill us before we can give anything away?"

"We wait," Grue said. "I’ll try to keep moving forward so we can cover as many bases as we can."

"This isn’t constructive," Tecton said. My bugs were starting to get a more defined distribution around us with the wards I’d placed around the area. I looked at Grue.

"Do what you need to do, give him what he wants. If you do this for long enough that he decides he needs to leave, he won’t have the foresight to go on the offensive and stay put long enough for us to talk about what to do next. You’ll probably kill him before he’s put any real stress on you."

I didn’t like the sound of that, but I knew what Tecton was getting at. "There’s no point to this. He’ll leave us to die if he has to."

"Then use that foresight you’re trying to get. You don’t have a duty to help our people. I don’t. But if you’re going to be helping him, you have to do what’s in your power, for your people."

"I’ll try," he said. And I was out of the car in a flash. I approached the rooftop, spread my arms, and prayed the pain wouldn’t consume me if I let myself go.

I let a fraction of my power go, to give myself a bit of control over where my bugs landed. Then I shifted positions a bit further apart. I could feel the vibrations of folding silk between my arms and the fabric of my costume. I was able to breathe, I hadn’t felt such an excruciating pain as I’d felt on my arm since I got my head bashed on a car. I was out.

I let the last bit of my costume go, felt the warmth of it against my bare back.

It was two-thousandths of a second slower then, as my body tried to get set back to where it should be.

Tattletale leaned over hard as she looked up to see me, "The’f-found?"

"Defiant did. He had a contact do the heavy hitting, but I had to borrow a few."

"Right. You can’t really take on Dragon without a bit of training and some firepower. You’ve got the armband, you’ve got Triumph, you’ve got Tattletale. Do you really need me to take on Dragon without any of those? What with you having me as a tinker and having to be able to access any piece of technology, and Defiant was basically saying you wouldn’t be able to access the Simurgh, so you were better off just fighting the Endbringer."

"You sound like Imp."

"She’s a little unhinged, but she’s not wrong. And Imp doesn’t sound like an angel either."

"You really going to argue that?" Grue asked.

"I’m done. Going on to Granite Mountain. Relax. I’ll talk to you later."

He turned away and walked his dogs by their sides.

"What was I saying? It was only for him. He’d hate me if he ever found out what I’d done."

"I’m sorry," I told him.

I turned to look at Grue, "Something’s bothering you. Don’t you get what this is all about?"

"You said you were done, but I could be done in a half hour? I was thinking about getting into fights, but I’m a little put out. You don’t have to fight Dragon."

"I don’t have to fight her. My power would work wonders in that scenario."

"If you think you do, maybe it’ll help you out. But I don’t think that’s what you’re thinking. It’s a personal thing, that’s all."

"I’d

======== SAMPLE 78 ========
 and the bugs there, but still felt there were too many bugs all around me.

A bit of a blind spot, really, so I didn’t get overwhelmed by the swarm.

"I-uh, I was going to ask you to help, give the dog a bit of medical attention. I’ll try to return to it soon. Where do you stand?"

"I’m at the vet’s. I’m too used to people, to unfamiliar places, not used to people not being helpful. Not this doctor. He didn’t know what I had been through."

"I read the medical records. You weren’t the only one who was touched by Noelle. Any notes or records relating to your circumstances?"

"Some, yes. A brief update on my sister. I still have about five or ten pages of notes, though, because she contacted me about translating the note. Not much. Told me she took a lot to put back in, and I can put it off until she comes and gets it."

"Does the dog need to sit?"

"She’s sleeping better than I’m getting therapy for her, and I don’t know enough about the subject to say. Still, it won’t be painless. More than making up for the fact that her leg isn’t working as well as it did when she was talking to me."

"So you’re satisfied."

"Yes. I’ll have to go."

"Can you come by the studio? Maybe if there’s enough standing room, you can ask me to come by somewhere else. I’ll be more than happy to."

I nodded.

The phone rang. Brian, thankfully, answered. "It’s Taylor. Brian. We’re doing a live broadcast tonight, one word. GUN?"

"We can’t give away any info, ma’am," I said, the second word.

"Oh, well. If you’ll be broadcasting in English, I think that’d be fine. I think your listeners are as well."

"How many?"

"Three hundred and fifty."

"Three hundred and fifty," he repeated, as if that was incongruous.

"You don’t believe them?" I asked. A second later, he put his hand on my shoulder, "Lisa here, had enough of that stupid boy’s rambling to warrant a response. My wife says you look different, you’re wearing lighter clothes, sleeping a bit better."

"I have lots of chances to get things corrected. I can’t do much, I’m afraid. I’d like to thank you both for your assistance, as well as the others who gave their names."

"To the call."

They gave us the good address, a building that might have been of use to a gang of hoodlums, if Alec weren’t talking so menacing.

"Well?" I ventured.

Brian shook his head, "It’s strange, when you’re talking about those people who were hurt, those girls, and you’re talking about me."

"That’s our story, then. Do I need to reiterate? I’m not biased in any way. I’m just a little jealous."

"Dorks."

"Dorks?" I asked, the second word off.

"The bullies. The monsters," he said, and there was a hint of irony in his voice. The tension was all around me, now. Old, new, sensitive.

"She’s not so smart, am I right?" I asked. If I said no, Alec would slap me. Would he, with that same eye to the wound? No. He’d never slap me, but he was probably going to at some point. I’d done something to earn his ire.

"I’m very smart," he smiled, "But as dorks go, I’m trying to get on their good side here. I know there’s a bit of a trick to getting on their good side, studying them carefully, giving them proper attention, giving them what they want, and all that. And what we want is money. Food, shelter, supplies…"

He trailed off.

I was still trying not to react to the realization that someone had actually been able to understand what he meant. As he went on, his eyes studied me, and that studied attention paid off. He crossed the room to the television. "All right."

I�

======== SAMPLE 79 ========
 and I had to wonder, "She’s probably going to be one of the people who takes off her mask in the bathroom if she doesn’t feel like taking it off, and she’ll leave a mess."

"You’re totally a dirty villain." I said, flatly. "Except your friends-"

"They don’t care what you think."

"They’re her friends," I said.

"Mmm."

"And you’re not even remotely cool if you think she’s unfuckable. You’re a dick, and-"

"Shut," Brian chastised me.

"Shut up," I said, with emphasis. Then I said, "I only care that you know something is wrong."

Brian sighed. "Okay. My bad. It’s cool, now you know. I can probably figure it out eventually, but we’re going on the offensive."

"I’m glad you know and cared enough to bring it up. Fuck you if you hurt yourself using your power."

"It was only a little."

"You’re going to run into trouble if you leave it like this, and it’s pretty grim. We’re going to have to tighten up our standards around the weirdos soon, or everyone’s secrets will come out and we’ll be hard on ourselves. So you’re going with me in explaining?"

I was acutely aware that Brian was leaning back against the little dining room table, his legs buckling a little as he ate.

"Okay, I don’t want to sound disrespectful, but I think you should know I gave my all. I took three hits, and I gave it all I had."

The smile dropped from his face, but he didn’t look at risk, which kind of made it sting.

"You could have stayed more forward. You were there when Kaiser stabbed Kaiser in the back. You were there when Triumph ripped off the bandages. You should know what I’m saying. We need you in the thick of it."

"You said we need you, you-"

"We have other options. You can head back to your territory. We’re letting you go because you got captured, and you’ll be going with one of your teammates. Your friends here are loyal. If they let you go, that means things are relatively quiet for the rest of tonight and into tomorrow."

I could see the confusion in his voice. "Why are we leaving?"

"The Nine are already here. They’ll be here for your meeting with us. Good."

"Why-"

"Because it doesn’t sound like you have a choice."

"But-"

Brian ignored me, "Brian. We want to stay in touch. I can set you up on a job, or help you find a job. I want to help you."

For the first time since Leviathan had attacked the city, I felt more hopeful than terrified. I could remember that meeting at the bank, the offer on the job. The feeling of deep betrayal at that.

Damn it, Tattletale had been my best option. I had confidence in her. That wasn’t the full story, though. There was also the whole – I was working for someone who was intent on screwing me over. It kind of bugged me, that she went that route with me. She almost expected me to do it for her benefit, to put me in a situation where I could betray the trust and be loyal, and she could keep those thoughts to herself.

Fuck me, she was a jerk. There wasn’t a more direct way of putting it.





Interlude 18


A girl in a black evening gown strode down the hall, her blond hair blowing in the wind.

She was followed by a group of twenty-something guys and girls, nearly as many as there were seats to the right of her. Light uniforms with the obligatory visors, like you saw at the core of the Protectorate or PRT offices.

She paused at the entrance to the room with the statue of a hunched over, narrow chin, hands at her sides. When she turned a right, the men around her softened a bit, the women slowed down, and the statue ceased to elongate. It settled directly on top of a desk.

She gave the signal to the others and turned to follow.

Silent, the men around her relaxed a fraction in turn. After a few minutes, they all disappeared.

The girl stopped walking, halted once more, her chin resting on her forearm. As if in slow

======== SAMPLE 80 ========
 and my bugs. He didn’t seem to care that Tattletale was there, or that he knew about Grue’s group.

"You’re a little heavy-handed, going after Grue and his gang," Grue told me. "What’ve you been smoking?"

"They’re my friends, and it’s just not cool to be smoking with them, you know?"

I nodded, grimacing.

A glance over my shoulder confirmed that he was turning away from me. He wanted to talk to someone, but his attention was on Bitch.

"I can’t tell if you’re being nice or if you’re trying to get off me."

"Sorry," he said, turning back to me.

I shook my head. "You feel that?"

"It’s your right. You have the right to do as you wish, the ability to look up and follow people as you wish, to be naked and wanton about your approach to stuff."

"Right." That was the crux of it.

"Be nice to Bitch. Keep your mouth shut if you do anything in that respect. I don’t want you taking that plunge just yet, but give her time to get used to it. A few days, two days, then a week or two before she sees you as a friend again."

"Okay. I’m hoping we don’t have a long talk about that in the meantime."

"I know. Look, Grue’s going to be back before the end of the day, so he won’t be the only one paying attention to you."

"He’s your friend."

"He is," I said. "But that doesn’t make him the only one with interests that…" My train of thought wasn’t good enough to keep me from falling off my chair or ruining the afternoon.

"His interest is in… what was it?" Bitch asked, pointing at us.

"Secrets."

"Secrets?" Regent asked.

"The way Tattletale described it, he’s an actor. He’s pulling other people’s secrets, and while it would be great if he could find and pursue those secrets on his own, he’s relying on Tattletale for help. That, and he doesn’t like being misty, and he didn’t like me being moue-moue on the night we first met."

"Shit," Regent said.

"So I take it you’re a double agent?" I asked.

"It goes deeper than that," Bitch said. "I don’t think there’s anyone out there that hasn’t dealt with something like that. When everything started falling apart, I was sort of left to handle my own affairs. I joined the Undersiders because I wanted to keep an eye on things at the highest levels, to be that guy they could depend on, when they needed it."

"That sounds like a pretty useful guy," Regent commented.

There was a small laugh, from Tattletale to my left. Grue, I could tell, had avoided laughing at me, but that might just be him being as normal as he was able.

"You think you’re useful?" Grue asked.

"Thought so," I said.

Bitch looked my way in her direction, a little accusatory. When she didn’t pull away immediately, I shifted my post to Grue instead.

"What really sucked," Grue said, "Was when Tattletale said we have the 'highest quality, most expensive drugs in the city.' She’s still on the job, which is insulting."

"Dealing drugs isn’t exactly illegal," Bitch muttered.

"You’re talking about me, right?" Grue asked.

"You think you’re valuable, Skitter, and you’re a fucking good looking one, and so are my underlings. You probably have bigger and better things to offer, but you’re a good enough person. We’re not selling drugs."

There was a pause. "Skitter. That girl is right. There are some good people in the city."

"Doing drugs is bad," Grue said, "But she does know what she’s doing. She’s making a stand."

"That’s not a good enough reason to start a war," Bitch said.

"Cauldron isn’t

======== SAMPLE 81 ========
 and a part of her mind. She thought back to the meeting with Shadow Stalker. Being trapped in her cell, feeling like her life was on the line, no less than four times.

But the most important thing was preparing. Checking the databases, making sure her gear was up to date, that her costume fit her, that the tools and facilities were all in working order. Finding and contacting the teachers who might be able to offer something of value. Checking with Regent about what it would take to get her a spot in Linda’s class. Making sure everything was in the right place and that everything would be working properly at the right time.

It was understandable, maybe even acceptable, to feel overwhelmed at this point. It was impossible to mention all of the responsibilities that were falling on her and the ways she could use her power to minimise those responsibilities. It made for an unbearably heavy list. It might not be an exhaustive list, but it was almost unbearable to keep track of.

The list got worse over the next several minutes. The quality of her communications degraded, and her inability to keep track of the information that came to her gradually became apparent.

"You need a break," she spoke.

"One," she replied. "And I’m sorry. I can’t give you one hundred percent."

"As of two minutes ago, we’re running out of time. We’ll have to end this shortly."

She stared out the window. She supposed she didn’t need to. It had been a long time since she had spent time outside.

She opened her mouth to speak, then stopped as the doors at the front of the school opened. Principal Howell still waited at a table with a man in formal dress, with a book on the table beside her, a coffee in hand and a book in her lap.

"Would you like me to put you in touch?" she spoke.

The man in formal dress gave her an uncomfortable look, but the woman took his silence for an affirmative answer.

"This would be easiest with the newer students. My students are the ones leftovers from the previous school. It’s easier to identify the kiddos if we can talk to each of you individually."

"I’ll do that," she said.

"No, no," she said. She shifted the coffee pot, "No. I mean, if I’ll be up late to inform you, anyway. But this would be easiest if you… here’s what I’ll do. I’ll leave it to discuss it further."

She offered her an apologetic look out of the corner of her eye.

"Let’s hear it," Howell said.

She didn’t like talking about it. Not even in jest. It would be better if she didn’t have to.

"This would mean you guys would be coming to my place," the man with the black robe said, "And I keep my basement stocked with movies, games and books."

"You stay?"

"Some," Howell replied. "But not all. My girlfriend’s new boyfriend will be moving in soon. We’re buying a house together."

"I’m surprised that’s an option."

"I thought you would want to sell your business in order to move things in," Howell said. "For the time being, anyway."

"It’s something I could do," the man in black said. "I mean, I could always go back to my old loft, but I’d have to sell it, and you’d have to move in with me, it would mean being closer to the business, a lot of responsibilities."

"I think you have a little bit of knowledge about that," Howell admitted. "But could you go downtown and talk to the people who are working there?"

"Sure."

He headed into his basement, closing the basement door. She felt an ominous feeling in her chest – a kind of anxiety, mingled with the cool, clear air that was chilled in the air-raid shelter. Only the cold upstairs and the damp upstairs hallway made up the common area. Her power had no effect on her body, no matter how many times she checked in.

As she walked, she felt numb. It was only when she realized she was in the bathroom that the numb felt brought back to her senses. As a teenager, she’d been so captivated by the sight of her peers in the bathroom that she’d clung to the sight of themselves in the stalls, naked from head to toe. Now it seemed she was surrounded by the feelings of inferiority that followed her wherever she went.

======== SAMPLE 82 ========
 and you’re one of the only ones who can really appreciate just how valuable this could be."

"I don’t know," Grue said. "But you’re not the only one who’s been asking about your teammates. This seems like a good time to talk about it."

"If we’re going to talk about it, let’s talk about what we do," Tattletale said. "You ask questions, I try to give insight."

There were nods all around.

"There are three main problems that face the group right now. The main players in this city tend to be wealthier, more powerful and more accomplished. This is a big part of why. The other problems, those that concern the less effective or those that are tied into larger networks, are harder to tackle. It’s a matter of maintaining the interests of those in power."

"I’ll take what you have to say," Grue offered, "But I think we’re all a step ahead."

"We were raised to do better," Tattletale said. "We’re going to do better. Better than any of the others, I think. I think we’re all striving to be leaders and keep the city moving. We’re all looking for the next big thing. The next big step up."

A woman at the front spat in his direction.

"No," Grue said.

"You’re going to get crucified for speaking out," she said.

"There never was a crucification of anyone," Grue said. "A leader dies, maybe one or two die in prison, maybe somebody steps in and kills them, and nobody dies as a consequence. Sometimes there’s chaos and it gets ugly, and someone tries and fails to bring someone into the group, and the group doesn’t go on. But it always ends in a death or an execution."

Tattletale grinned. "You had a sense of that when you worked with us."

"True."

"But this is different. We’re not supposed to be this focused on the individual."

"I know. It was only after seeing the other groups that I started to think that maybe there’s a place for us, as a group."

"Maybe not so positive a conclusion," Grue said.

"But it’s a conclusion we should arrive at with our eyes open. I hope we don’t wind up with other bad situations like the one we had with Shadow Stalker."

He turned around and grinned again.

She gave Grue a look as if she was going to say something again. Then she kept talking. "Perhaps the greatest challenge facing the Undersiders today is the threat posed by a handful of radical and unpredictable individuals. The Travelers deal with the threats that aren’t immediate, the Merchants deal with indirect threats, and the Guild deals with groups that are."

She let that sit with Grue, and he just shrugged. "That’s the way things go."

Tattletale went on, "I think we can be more aggressive in the future. Winning-oriented. Being together, we keep each other in check, but we each have our strengths, and we each have our strengths in check. We can cooperate when everyone’s doing as they should be, we can cooperate when everyone’s doing what they can to help."

He knew where she was going. He wished he knew what that meant. But he couldn’t help but think that he had to start somewhere.

"This isn’t a task for anyone but us," Lung said.

"I wouldn’t mind doing it," Tattletale said. "For Scapegoat, for yourself, even. I know you’re motivated, that you’re ambitious, but it feels like I won’t have many colleagues or friends to confide in, after being with you for nearly a decade. I could work on my own with this new found confidence. Or I could join the Undersiders."

"There has to be another way," Skitter said. "There has to be a second path. Maybe the Undersiders aren’t what we need. Maybe you have to find a balance."

"Scaling down a long, long road is hard enough when you don’t have any particular destination in mind, and when you aren’t sure what happens. I like it when I find something I really enjoy."

"But?"

"I like it when I have a goal in mind, when I don’t want to stop and start from scratch again."



======== SAMPLE 83 ========
 and I hadn’t even really looked at my hand, or to where it fit in the palm. The mask gave me only the a square covering my hand and face. It was small, but it was heavy enough that I worried it or my hand would get bumped or shoved in the direction of my mask, or the larger portions of my costume. It clung drape to my hand and hand at the level of a thick wool vest. I realized I had unconsciously tucked the mask into that area, and that it made my skin prickling.

"Skitter," Grue spoke. "You’re the Protectorate members and non-tinker Protectorate members go together? Nice to meet you, Skitter. I’m surprised you remember me."

I was very still, in the midst of writing the memo, when Grue spoke again. "Skitter?"

"Not me."

"Oh?" He turned to me, surprise on his face. The look was genuine, but it did point to a slight smirk.

My hand wasn’t covering my face, though. I was very conscious of the fact that Tattletale and the others were looking at me, as I pulled the mask on. I thought of my old team, of our shared experience fighting Endbringers, and the fact that we’d just fought Coil. My cheeks were red, and I had a little flare of anger in me.

I pulled the mask off. No makeup, no style nor costume, nothing that would show off my muscles and give an off-the-shoulder, less cartoonish expression. It was clean, in keeping with the highest standards in costume design. Tattletale’s mask was sculpted into a single, consistent design, with only fine details showing. White cloth, worn smooth, a dirt-like substance that seemed to run along every surface and crevice, tying it together in a way that suggested decades of washing. At the bottom of the lower half of the mask, just to the left of my collarbone, I saw what had to be a cast off toothbrush handle, with a squatter piece of wood burned into it. To the middle of the lower half, just below my collarbone, it had been replaced by a tag of what I assumed was a bar code. A pair of small plastic spools of thread tied with elastic tubing had been added to the end.

"You’re a hero," Tattletale said. She reached up to my face and gave me another tight squeeze.

"Thank you, Director," I said. "Not sure I get what’s going on."

Tattletale looked up at me, her expression hidden by the mask she was wearing.

"There’s a bit, aren’t there?" she asked. She pressed one hand over top of my mouth, and I could feel two fires licking at the edges of my mouth. I closed my eyes, my temples helping to pull the air out of my mouth.

"What?" Grue whispered into my ear.

I looked to the other members of the Wards program. Ballistic and Genesis.

"You don’t know about this?" Ballistic asked, and the question was a whisper.

"No," Grue replied. He turned to Tattletale. "You haven’t told the Director about this."

"I can tell you that someone has been drawing lots around my house since this all started. My dad owns the land on which the building stands."

"Your dad?" Tattletale asked. She sounded disappointed.

"Your dad left us when you were in the womb. He died. An elderly lesbian woman in a nursing home came to get him, and we couldn’t get rid of her without killing the baby. So we’ve been living off the land with our children, trying to raise the money so we could buy and clear the way for a proper home, and just a few days ago, our local heroes told us that they’d confiscated our dad and were seizing our baby."

"What are you doing, staying on the land?" Miss Militia asked.

"We’re raising the money to pay our lawyer and take him into custody. The problem is, they’re not allowed to go to the same place they seized my baby. I think our mayor is going to try to push for an injunction against them, and we have to stop him, or he’s going to kill someone and we’ll all pay the price."

Parian looked at me, "So you’re staying on the land?"

I nodded.

"I know people who live there. I know the kind of people who would be on the fringes, but there’s not

======== SAMPLE 84 ========
 and then turn around and walk away, only to realize he’d gone still in the opposite direction.

His head whipped around as he saw his friend stop in his tracks, the girl turn away from the whiteboard so it was pointing in his general direction. His friend looked back in their direction and saw him leaving, his head spinning a hundred and eighty degrees around to see the other guy.

Somewhere in that moment, Brockton Bay decided it couldn’t stand the sight of its brother team leader giving up on something like that, so it made it a point to make him stop. Stare him in the eyes as he walked away… look for a similar reaction from the other guy. They all turned to look at Professor Haywire and gave him a look.

"So," they agreed, after a second’s consideration, "Let’s see what we’re left with." They settled on the following scenarios, using their own reactions as the trigger events for the imagined confrontations.

Assault first, then Battery.

Battery first. Suspecting Battery is nearly as bad as suspicion himself.

Then Desecrated.

Then Grue, at that’s invitation.

Then… finally Armsmaster. Assault’s response? "I think you’re completely off target."

Assault replied, in his characteristic deadpan, the name of the guy who had apparently helped him out on this one, "You’re a jerk. You are. I admit you’re jerks. It’s an innate human quality. You have no self control. This idea that you were somehow morally superior to me… I think that’s reinforced in your low level of intelligence."

Assault finished the thought with a yawn.

"Well said. I hope that leads to a more fulfilling, lasting relationship."

"I hope you learn to live with yourself before you make yourself a target," Battery replied. She smiled in a way that showed off her shaved head and pixie cut.

"That’s it?"

"More to the point, I would like you to stop trying to control me, Miss Militia."

"I’m saying I’m intelligent enough to realize that you have you have no reason to hold that to the fore," Assault spoke, giving the impression of someone who was relishing the opportunity to raise the subject. He went on, "Besides, it’s funny. I just had to think of something to say or do that would make yourself and yourself’s life a living hell, and you’re pretty well screwed if I say something along those lines."

"I’m not saying anything I don’t understand!"

"Well, you get to keep going, you ‘Miss Militia’. Your mission is to protect the people from you, not mine. Is that clear?"

"What I meant was that you aren’t under my sway, and you won’t be able to do anything to try to control me down the road."

Assault smiled. "Well, I get to keep going. If nothing else, you’re starting to lose your mind. How many times have we woken up at the same time, only to realize that Clockblocker and Weld are in the bathtub?"

"You don’t know me," she replied.

"Or you do, and you don’t know how to read."

She really wanted to forget that the last guy had been so intent on being the good guy.

"You’re really quite interesting, Armsmaster," she spoke. He could hear the sound of a key in Clockblocker’s cell, turning the screw out the window. He looked up as the light filtered through the tiny hole in the door, looked over his shoulder to verify she wasn’t talking. "You wanted to apologize, I thought you were about to say something."

"I apologize for what I said before," he replied. "I didn’t mean to get so intense. I had a small revenge at being threatened with a ban from the Wards, I can try to be more civil about this."

"What are you going to do?"

"Court martial, where I’m up against someone who has actually put on a uniform and actually followed orders. I’m going to say what I need to say, figure out if I offend the old codger and go out in costume. Stay active, because it’s the only way we’re going to avoid having everyone in the Wards get into a shouting match, and I don’t want to become that guy who got into a shouting match with the Director."



======== SAMPLE 85 ========
 and an extra pair of eyes.

"There…"

A voice, but not nearly as compelling or emotional as Grue’s.

A gasp.

"There!"

The figure.

It wasn’t one of my bugs.

"I thought you were dead, Bitch!" he sang her name. He kicked her. "Don’t give me your dogs! They’re my, my-"

She screamed, running, her claws digging into the ground as she ascended.

He kicked her again. Blood welled out from a mouth that had lollipopred lips, the colorless fluid forming a cloud around the little girl. I was almost ashamed to look at her as she came down with the bit on her lip.

A moment of quiet as the girl recovered, then two more squeals.

We advanced. The two men in the group had guns.

"This way!" I called out.

I could see from the bugs I’d spread over the area that Grue was more than capable of opening his costume and calling for us to move out. There was a fissure beneath the surface. "Shuffle! Run!"

His power made shifting the mass of his mass around unstable. It wasn’t just the effect of his power, either. Grue’s ability to create his mass with his mind and body making it splintering and splintering were among the areas where his ability to distort space and mass amounts seemed to come in handy. More than that, his ability to put together items and manipulate them seemed second nature to him.

I could see why.

"Weaver, can you cast a field around us?"

"I can’t do anything but the last part."

"We’ll teleport. They’re safe if I teleport you two with. We’ll catch up to him after."

"We," she said. Her voice was almost mournful. "Can’t. We… can’t wait."

"Then I don’t see the problem."

"You did not just leave us hanging," I said. "With the amount you put into it, maybe you should have expected more."

We ran, hand in hand. I had bugs on every pair of faces. They made for a good measure of security, kept the group composed.

I was halfway back to where I’d left them when I saw the sound of something big hitting the ground. A flash of light. That wasn’t much, but it made me aware of the nearby bar.

The little figure had a mass of stone tablets on it. Nothing but light, now.

I could see the man, a man of stone and iron who held a giant warhammer with his bare hands, shifted his weight from foot to foot, the hands a blur to either side of him.

The forcefield woman… that would be Grue. He wasn’t so casual about it, not in the huff and stillness of his breathing. He was working, though. His own power wasn’t strong, it wasn’t second nature to him, but he was constantly moving the sword, altering it, building up reserves. What other individual of his height moved the hammer and the warhammer as much as he did?

The group moved off, followed closely by my bugs. It made for a slow retreat as Grue continued to exert his ability to manipulate and shift mass into shapeless pieces.

A figure suddenly appeared in the midst of the grass and evergreen branches of the fissure.

He turned his head the other way, looking right, then looked left. The group changed direction, and he broke away from his hiding spot. His voice was a noise between ragged barks, "You’re fucking insane."

The forcefield woman in the group moved over the top of her cover, then dropped into a kneeling position to hunker down while I turned my attention to how to plan our approach. The sound of guns firing caught my attention.

I drew my phone out and tapped it against the edge of my helmet, waiting for the lock to click.

In a heartbeat, it clicked. We were on target.





Chrysalis 20.4


"Grue has a forcefield that extends some way behind him, you’ll have about as much protection as you’d get from Scion. That’s about as good as it gets. We’re running out of time, I’ve got an awful lot of bugs on the subject, and that’s really only the beginning. If no-pec’ gets hold of Noelle, this gets

======== SAMPLE 86 ========
 and he was almost afraid to move. "No. It was okay."

"Hey Taylor, you okay?" Lisa asked. "It’s Taylor, right? I thought you were okay. You’re talking less and less."

"Still getting used to it," Taylor said. She was more tired than she’d been at the dinner table, and her attention fell on Lisa. "Okay, Lisa, do you want food? Cokes, cocoa? Breakfast? Sodas, coffee, maybe some chocolate?"

"You and Taylor have been talking," Lisa said.

"Sure. We’re both girls," Taylor smiled back.

She finished her coffee, sipped on it, then started preparing.

Ain’t really hungry, not really a thing I’d look for while I was in Arcadia. She had time to put some eggs in the fridge and toast, maybe some toast on the cob, maybe some toast over the stove and maybe some chicken tenders on the back of the stove. I didn’t really like those things, but I could deal.

I could barely turn the tap off, but I could look forward and look down the road, and I could watch the girls and talk for a few hours like this. To look forward and experience those things for a few hours would only be so long.

The house was supposed to be getting sorted out, but I’d missed a few visits by the girls, and now they were settling in. My bugs had found some towels in one of the drawers, even a t-shirt from the gym bag. I didn’t want to use my real name, for whatever reason, and so I tidied them up and stuck them in the fridge.

I took a second to tidy more up, then had a small fire started in the fireplace. It was dim, but it still lit up the fire below.

My bugs were doing a great job of keeping the house filled with foul smells today. There were people, of course. If I went by my memory of seeing the girls at school, Taylor was the first in her group to settle in this house. She was the outgoing one, the one with the positive personality. She’d settled in with her mother, and the mom was the one who’d put out the first ‘furniture’.

"I can’t live without stuff," Taylor said.

"Taylor, let me tidy up some stuff for you. I can put something together for you, or if you want to look after some of the things, you can look after Taylor."

"But-"

"But. But you shouldn’t have to. And I don’t want you coming here to be curiosities, or bothering Taylor."

I shut my eyes briefly. My head was pounding, but I think my breathing had reached a critical point.

"Are you hurt? Are you alright?"

I opened my eyes briefly. Compared to other people, I felt lighter. When I exhaled, it was an alarm. I went on, "You did something. I don’t- I can’t even think straight. I felt something, and I knew something was wrong."

"You felt me?"

I could remember sitting with Brian, talking about the stuff we’d been discussing as a group. I opened my eyes briefly to open my mouth, and I kept my mouth shut when I opened my eyes to get a look at the upstairs bathroom. Nothing much, nothing that would put my dad off-balance, if he were even interested in getting to that bathroom in the first place.

"I guess," I said, "I feel like you did something right."

"Well," Taylor chimed in, "Now I understand why you were acting so concerned."

My dad put the kettle on. "Let’s be honest. You really don’t want to know. We do that, and we find out about Panacea and Kid Win and stuff."

"Okay," I said. I opened my mouth a little wider.

He scowled, but he said, "Taylor, you have a different perspective on that than I do. Let’s not push you or the subject into something we can’t avoid."

"Not what we were intending to discuss," she said. "Good luck with the housework."

We watched a few more minutes of back-to-back family videos until the television was out of the oven and Lisa got up to tend to her younger children. The old man gave her a dirty look, and she tried to salvage the video to finish the night. The rest of us retired to a small kitchen table to watch some old matinees

======== SAMPLE 87 ========
 and be left without one in the reach of her extended right hand.

"It’s a question of what’s in your reach?" he asked, in an extremely casual voice, as he carefully checked the sheaths of his weapon against the blade at his base.

He looked down at Gambol Shroud. There were lines marking the length of it.

Not quite so casual as the previous three handguns, more suited for close-quarters combat. He checked the weapon at his base, then looked to the rest of his swarm.

"There are a few things in my reach. Here’s an idea. The most direct route… this is my territory, it was my property."

Two words, and it cut through the uneasy but persistent impression they’d had on him. It was something he used to help people define their identities.

"This is my territory," he told the man, in a low voice, as he checked the blade at his base. "I took it from the wizard, as his last demand had been. You’re not welcome here."

The man lowered the sheathed weapon and flinched as an electrical charge arced towards him. It wasn’t a charging gust of wind, but the movement of that charge implied an intention.

"…There are others near here. We were told to stay back."

A threat, not quite so blatant or desperate.

"You have your rights. Don’t touch, don’t disturb. And don’t talk on the subject of your meetings. Your voice doesn’t matter."

The man lowered his weapon. He seemed to take Gambol Shroud’s words for granted.

Something to note. No, not anything, not in the slightest. He was a good looking guy, even if he wasn’t that kind of guy, and he had a thing for Sophia. The thing that led him to be attracted to her… Sophia was the type he would have stopped to train for. Sophia was the type he would turn to if things got bad.

But he never wanted to stop to train, never had. He was an aggressive force and she was… he took her class and excelled in her study group. After he graduated from the military, she enrolled at Grue’s academy, as did one or two of her older brothers and their mothers. There would be further entourages until he graduated.

Graduation never came. He’d graduated the military, become a specialist in a particular school… and when he graduated from Grue to be part of the Undersiders, he did exactly what he could to avoid the scrutiny, only leaving when everyone else had already left.

Then he found himself in the same situation as the Undersiders.

Two threats. A little worse than they deserved. He could kill them, at a moment’s notice.

But he let the memories go, and he practiced surviving, in more or less whatever fashion. A small sacrifice, but a sacrifice. He had an idea. He could let the girl be.

The other danger approached from the other direction. It was a girl. Sophia.

More insidious, more subtle. She assumed the shape of an elderly gentleman, with broad shoulders and a flowing shirt. He would approach her, and she would flatter him, her eyes glowing, give him what she saw as his most basic and primal need. She could be submissive, but she would never turn against him, never fight or fight aggressively. When others asked her what she wanted, she only smirked and offered them the most morbid and macabre jokes.

Her body language wasn’t her own. Far from it. She was an inimitable blend of contempt, menace and abuse. She had a kind of control with her shadow, as if she could subdue or stop her movements by way of some unseen influence. It would be one night only, at a time when she was flush with self confidence and energy. It was only when she was in the presence of three men – the middle-aged, one older, that she would flinch, betraying herself.

The man who met her eyes, stepped close, whispering in her ear.

"I have been waiting for thirty-two hours. Rest assured, Missy, my schedule has been carefully laid out for you."

One word, and she would run? She would be reckless, and she would lose her containment cell and perhaps even her cell in the Birdcage.

More serious, she would run, and it would be in the worst case scenario for him.

She approached the older gentleman, placed herself between him and her girlfriend. The old man shook his head, faced her.

"Thank you," she murmured.



======== SAMPLE 88 ========
 and my dad. I turned and raised my gun, aimed it at her, then dropped it.

My dad took my wrist and pulled me to one side. I saw him make his way down the stairs. I was still holding one of the folded battle rifle clips, the detachable tube of ammunition feeding into the gun.

"Back off!" my dad ordered. I lowered my arbalest, and we quickly got the other stuff out of the way.

I turned to my dad, "If you’ve got an idea for a hero on the wind-up monster, tell me what weapon it is you want to talk to her about, and I’ll make an appropriate suggestion. If she knows who I am, or if there’s a camera in the room, well, I could use ‘magic’ to get some magic."

"No, no," his tone was terse, but it was equally clear. "You’re being paranoid."

"Heroes aren’t supposed to be on a team."

"Can’t tell you that, hero," he said. He looked up as I reached out and touched his arm. "You have to take her seriously. I’m not touching guns."

"No ‘magic’," my dad answered. He turned to my dad with an expression that bordered on the furious.

"Dad-"

"The wind-up monster can’t be a team player?" my dad repeated.

"Not really. Not really."



My bugs sensed movement. A footstep.

The door slammed as my dad made his way downstairs. I could sense Atlas, who had followed my signal.

"Taylor, it’s Weaver."

I turned my head.

"You saw Weaver at the hospital. Don’t you? I just got word she’s gone to the hospital-"

"What are you doing here?"

"Giving Theo a visit."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Give Theo a visit. If she knows, tell her."

I could sense Atlas settle himself on the sofa, taking flight. He paused in the doorway, turning around just in time to see my dad and I standing in the entryway to the house. My dad squeezed my hand, as tight as I’d ever squeezed a hand to someone. I felt a momentary embarrassment at the quality and vagueness of my words.

"I have something to ask you," my dad spoke, "I didn’t know if she was interested."

I felt the tears in my eyes welling.

"Is there anything I can give her?" he asked.

"Not really…" I trailed off.

As if in a dream, I saw my dad smile, as if the expression moved something deep within, "I know this is hard, too."

I wasn’t sure how to reply. Not now, not right this moment.

"I-" I started, then I thought of something. "I miss you too."

"You do, honey."

I wrapped my arms around him, and both of us cried together.





Hive 5.10


"I know how nervous it makes you feel," my dad spoke, "I know how much you’ve been feeling too, my baby girl. You remember. You remember the things I said when I first met you, reassuring you, offering you some comfort, reassuring that it was all going to be okay, so soon as far as I was concerned." He was still talking, so I missed the audio.

He leaned forward, so his chin rested against my shoulder once more, and I pressed my forehead against his arm. I felt him move in response to my small grunt of support.

It’s not okay to feel this hopeless.

He knew how much I wanted to be a superhero. He knew when I was feeling that way, or at least, when I was thinking along the right lines. How I might have led such a free and easy life if it weren’t for the guilt and the impermanence and the responsibility.

But I’ve never known myself to feel hopeless. There were times when it felt like a relief, but those were also the times when I felt like I needed to anchor myself, or take solace in something.

I might have come to that conclusion if I hadn’t been so distracted from my own thoughts.

"You know, I said last night we weren’t done talking. You should keep going like this, because we have to get to the last meeting, if we’re going to get anything out of this meeting."

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 and I wasn’t so sure about the others, but we were together by necessity at this point. I’d been forced into this routine. Had I been able to break it, I was pretty sure I could. I knew this.

My heart was pounding. I’d made some enemies. People I was very good at naming. But I was even less sure if I could trust them to find me after having watched Lung try to cut me down, taking the lives of my team and possibly others. I would have to be more specific. More specific. I would have to kill Bonesaw, and I was afraid that if I gave more details, and I gave more information away, maybe a gang of my colleagues would come after me for leaking details they suspected I had. Then they would see me as the source, and they would move on to kill others. I hated it. I hated it so much I thought I would throw up if I experienced the symptoms.

I was going to lose control of my costume if I let myself fall into that kind of panic. I was going to lose my temper if I went out in costume with my hair mussed up.

Maybe these guys had caught on to what I’d been doing. Maybe they sensed it was dangerous.

Except both these guys and this particular group ignored my predicament. They continued walking, kept moving in my direction, whatever my state of mind.

There was a collective look of disappointment on everyone’s faces.

Tattletale had caught on, too. She had a bad expression on her face, looked as though she’d given up.

The only person who seemed to be trying hard to keep calm was Imp. She was walking upright, her arms hugging the sides of the wall beside me.

My fists were clenched so hard I was shaking. I could almost tell the tears were coming, as though my eyes weren’t working properly. My hands fumbled to rub my eyes.

"You okay?" Wanton asked me.

"I’m fine," I said, under my breath. I was too far away to even register the question, and my swarm detected only a few other people who’d recognized my voice.

He didn’t correct me.

I wasn’t thinking about going on. I wasn’t even sure in the head, or the capacity, or just remembering to focus on, say, fix Panacea’s arm or take care of my ailing dad. I was sorry for all that, for failing to live up to my end of the bargain, here, and I didn’t want to think about it, not until it was too late.

"Not as bad as it was at first," Tattletale said.

"I’ll get over it," I answered. "You okay with the mild punishment, or are you going to come to me for an answer, like I said she’s a dangerous one?"

"I’m… maybe."

"You need to tell me something about her, and you need to know about her history, so I can keep you informed when you’re a little behind."

"She’s not bad?" I asked.

"She’s not bad. I’m… maybe she is better than you, maybe she isn’t, and maybe there’s something I need to know or look into. Can I give you both a call?"

I gave both Imp and Tattletale a dirty look. "Your phone call was for Panacea."

Tattletale was the first to get the call. "Hi Grue. Your mom and I were wondering if you had any news you wanted to share?"

"Rumor’s getting around."

"The mayor’s on the line, asking if Tattletale can get a look at his surveillance camera footage. She’s gone for a walk in her own defense."

"Need more evidence. Or-"

"Please," he said, without turning away from his phone.

I hung up.

"So, what did you want to talk to Panacea about?"

"I can’t talk with you unless I have something to share. What happened?"

"The Slaughterhouse Nine showed up, and the plan was to rob the bank, then walk off with the money. When Panacea was nice enough, she asked if we could come and stay with her. I think she appreciated the courtesy. It went without saying that I declined, and she knew I’d declined. As it was stated in the contract, the mayor wasn’t above using the influence he had in the bank to try to influence appointments and such

======== SAMPLE 90 ========
 and "You’re not that worried about my survival."

"I am. I expected you to go on the offensive, to come after me with everything you’ve got and more."

"Because I told you, Amy, you can end this."

I stared down at the ground between us. I was aware of the sounds of her voice, and it was a familiar one. Lisa opened her mouth, then closed it as she adjusted her grip on the metal folding chair. Then again, the sounds were familiar, because Lisa was talking. It was as if my brain reeled and I was constantly relaying sounds between us, picking up the subtleties of their forms and their timbres, the basic pitch and feel, the speed, the pitch and emotional content.

It was unnerving, listening to two people who were telling their stories to strangers, and hearing them act like people.

I didn’t like being this close to a psychotic, but I felt I shouldering up to ten times the task of keeping her company, and doing whatever it took to keep her from hurting herself or others. I wouldn’t give her the benefit of a doubt.

"All right. Well, that’s the gist of it. We need a better term for this sort of thing, because we have a lot in common. All at once. I remember you saying you could make a lot of power if you combine two things together, and you did. We can make a lot of power if we combine two things together. A child could become a monster, if they try hard enough."

"I didn’t make powers in a vacuum. Let me explain my reasoning for using my power on the basis of several simple ideas."

"The first and most obvious?"

"That you have an automatic affinity for certain things. It manifests itself in your actions, in your power, your power over others, and so on. You want a better example? Let’s say the two of us were walking down a street. Shadow Stalker was on the dog’s back, gripping its throat to keep it from crying, and as we reached a stop there was an unconscious girl with her arms around your shoulders. We stop, and Shadow Stalker glances between us, small smirk on her lips. To get one more option, she would hug the girl and hold her, making her hold her in place, and as she pulled away, Shadow Stalker would hold the girl’s arm as she walked, using her power to steer clear."

"You’re implying we’re similar? Or that we’re necessarily similar?"

"The two of us have our powers, but we don’t necessarily have our powers in alignment. One idea that passes through my memory most easily is that the true monsters are those who get their powers at the worst possible time. With me, it was my gang, my power corrupted me, and since then they have been churning me to a pulp. My power, tainted with my gang’s reputation, helped usher Shadow Stalker into being. It still works most weeks, I can see the results, but I wouldn’t be surprised if she got her big break."

"With your other half?"

She sipped her coffee. "What happens on a bad day? What do you plan to do to entertain yourself at night?"

"My other half? It’s something of a mystery. I know what I want it to be, because I had one as a child, and because I have it. I think I envisioned a rough version of myself as a child, when I used my power. Drawing on that, as I see a sort of rough version of myself as a hero, it fits."

"I imagine you could get your powers through a combination of your parents keeping you grounded and a combination of being a mover and shaker," Brian said. "It would have to be quite bad."

Lisa frowned, "Maybe. But I suspect we’d have to wait until Lung was killed or brought to justice before you had friends or teammates to channel your powers. It would spoil your already mediocre powers, and I doubt anyone would be able to get just that kind of power. Even if it was just an unstable, vague type."

Brian sighed, "That’s the sort of thing I know for a fact I could do, though I wouldn’t mind showing you in a costume or revealing myself in whatever."

"This is just what I can do. A plan."

"Okay, plan. I don’t want to set the next part into motion too soon, though I do want to share some of what I’ve been working on, if you’re interested." Lisa pulled off a backpack,

======== SAMPLE 91 ========
 and her, one arm draped over top of the other. Not that it was easy to move that fast.

I didn’t want to raise any flags, but I wouldn’t risk it. "Thank you. For what you did, it meant the world to me."

She smiled a little, the smallest smile of all. I turned my attention to the pile of clothes she’d tossed aside, where she’d apparently had the guts to walk away from home.

"There’s something we have in common?"

"We were both left wingers. I was on the radical wing of things, she was the pragmatic one," I said.

Beside Tattletale, Rachel spoke up, "That’s big."

"The pragmatism and the pragmatic part are both important, yeah. The left wing is kinda scary, isn’t it? The fact that you’re saying it from the other side of things, it’s scary to think about. You started out with the philosophy that shit was as bad as it should be, but then you switched gears, started paying attention to other stuff. You seemed to have a change of heart after Piggot stepped in. What did you do after that?"

Rachel shrugged. Said shrug implied she held no animosity towards anyone, and she wasn’t sure how to respond if pressed.

"After Piggot stepped in? I guess I changed my tune a little for the worse. That’s a good question. That wasn’t the whole story, but it was the major thing that stuck in my mind. I guess I became a little better about the whole psycho nature of it."

Tattletale folded her arms.

"What does that have to do with… what happened tonight?" the girl asked.

"I went crazy for a little while. Saw the worst sides of every single one of you, and I couldn’t get enough of them. It was probably the night I decided to check myself and see what I was really made of."

"The feeling of dread and doubt that came with knowing I couldn’t save you?"

"Yeah," Rachel said.

"I can’t say whether it was about the idea of controlling people, preventing them from reacting, or whether it was because Piggot touched you. But some of my best friend’s friends got their hearts broken to death, and I couldn’t wrap my head around why. Stuff hit me when it happened. My best friend was pushed into the river, set a fire, and all because they thought I threatened them. All because I could barely bring myself to give up the idea that Armsmaster was responsible. Why did that sink in? I put it away for a minute."

Rachel sighed. "It sort of hit me that night after Rachel gave up on trying to help Shadow Stalker after Shadow Stalker left. Armsmaster being the villain."

"Oh?"

Rachel shrugged. "I’m glad it hit me."

"You don’t have to. It was a part of you that was crying, fucking paranoid about people influencing you. And when the PRT and the Protectorate made the connection between you and Armsmaster, it caught me off guard. Like, okay, the number of times I’ve interacted with Armsmaster in the past few months is sort of staggering. Why wouldn’t Armsmaster be a mentor?"

"You wouldn’t have been before, and he’s been a friend since elementary school. It’s something of a surprise, but he’s a really soft spoken guy, and his family came from a working class background. He has an Asian-American wife and a white mother. Their daughter is in a daycare. He’s hardworking. He went there because she wasn’t willing to take on the job with the supervision, but she got a job at a fast food place, and she’s never been in the job for more than a month. She would have been his first choice for his second job as a cashier."

"I don’t think you’re entirely wrong there. Except there was nothing to stop him, and since he had the option of getting the supervision without the responsibilities, maybe he was going to do it. So yeah, kind of shocks me."

"He was a bully."

Tattletale was still in the chair, in the process of reading over the file she had in her lap. Rachel was sitting at the kitchen table, and had returned with some trays. She gave Rachel a funny look, "Really? I don’t remember."

"This is an old wound," Rachel said. "

======== SAMPLE 92 ========
 and I can’t exactly get my paws on it."

"Can’t," he replied.

"You can’t explain that."

"A way to make space in him?" I asked. I could argue he could be made to, but he would know I was lying. It would be less amusing if he believed me.

"Can’t make any significant changes without ruining the effect," he said.

"You said it myself," I noted. "It’s a strength of mine, talking to Armsmaster."

"I admit it," he said, a strange note in his voice, "Is true."

A weakness of sorts, given the context of our discussion.

If it was a strength, I wasn’t entirely sure how much truth it was.

"There is only one small way to make change at a time like this," my dad murmured. "You’ll have to hear him out."

"I listen," I said, as I got more space.

There would be no arguing or discussing anything until we had a chance to see results.

"If the process goes in my favor…" he trailed off, cutting me off.

"If it means you’re safer," I said, sounding genuinely concerned.

"I have a great deal of faith in you," Armsmaster said, without turning away from me.

And his voice was comforting, "In the best interests, I hope?"

I felt a chill. We had reached a critical point, where everything would possibly be on the line. I’d said I would use my power only if there was a duty, and right here, right now, there was something of a duty.

"The best place for this conversation to happen?"

"The coffee and breakfast shop," the number sounded eerily similar to the word Tattletale had used while talking with Brian.

"A shame there aren’t more tourists around." I said, "It’d be nice to see people."

"The area is packed with tourists," Armsmaster replied, absently. There was a man who had an umbrella in his hands and wasn’t moving to get it off, which meant the mob was gathered and waiting.

"You’re saying it’s because of the ABB. Are there people here who might volunteer?"

He didn’t volunteer. Armsmaster remained still, staring out the window, while Grue approached from the opposite direction. The group quickly merged, splitting off a little to let Armsmaster open the shutter of his fire extinguisher and give the girl an injection.

"No," Grue said in the quiet, "People are still gathering, too."

"It’s peaceful," Tattletale spoke, "It’s chaotic, but that’s part of the city being chaos incarnate."

"People are gathering here at the same time that you’re making a retreat, too," Grue said, "Do we have leverage?"

"We have a lot," Tattletale said, "But I have two nieces. One’s at home and the other’s… what is it? A freshman? A place in the hospital? I can’t say. I sent a letter to Armsmaster, notifying him about the situation and asking for a call when we got into the clinic, we can’t make promises like that, not good ones."

She fell silent. She wasn’t saying anything more.

"Skitter," Grue spoke, "We need you for something big, Skitter."

"I’m busy."

"Are you okay going to class, Aiden?" Grue asked.

"I… my head hurts from talking."

"Talking doesn’t solve anything, not like this," Grue said.

"You’re better than this?"

"We’re better than this."

He turned to me, "You won’t be able to walk until after tomorrow, but are you okay with getting back to school, getting fit?"

"I’ll run hard on Monday."

"We’re going to do some strength training right after school. Then we run. We’re going to run every morning, after school, and maybe we go to the movies to unwind. Maybe we watch some television. I’ve been thinking getting back to school, lifting weights, just getting in a routine. It’s been like that for two weeks?"

"Sure."

"I can’t tell you how relieved I am, that it�

======== SAMPLE 93 ========
 and do. In the name of justice for all of those who have been irrevocably lost."

I nodded. Still not enough. I turned to Tattletale, "Do your part too."

"If you’re not sure what I’m talking about, check the files Tattletale has. Look for details on Jack, details on the Slaughterhouse Nine, or find anything in regards to Dinah. If I can get you information on either of those things, it stands to reason it’ll come up in any or all of the following. If Tattletale’s right, she might have helped."

"I think we get the point across."

"And if she can do it for two reasons?"

"One, I’m trusting her to do her duty. If she leaves this city, if she doesn’t stick around to help us, then we’re left to rely on ourselves."

"We have resources," Tattletale said, "Secrets, tricks and tools."

"If that’s the case," I told her. "Then I can see no reason why you shouldn’t try."

"And because I believe in what we’re doing," she answered me.

Before I could voice my full theory, I realized she was looking at me. I glanced back at see if she was moving out of the way, and saw she wasn’t. Instead, there was a flash of light that made me tilt my head in Tattletale’s direction.

"Doing what we are to avoid this kind of incident again, I think."

"You saying you’re doing the right thing, and you’re being a little soft on crime in the short-term."

"All we’re doing is avoiding situations like the one that brought us this far, I assure you."

"Right." I looked back at Tattletale, "Give me a sec?"

"You should know by now that they are well-to-do. That your time on the team is limited, but they would want you well, at least for the time being."

I nodded.

"Good luck," Tattletale said, "Where do we stand?"

"You already told us to trust you. I trust you. I think we fall apart if you give up on us."

"I hope not," I replied.

"We have our differences, of course," she answered. "But I must say I admire you for sticking by us through it all."

"Admiration?"

"That, in turn, brings me to my next point."

You mean the opposite of what I meant. I looked back to Tattletale, saw her expression briefly changing as she looked at me. Was that a sly reference to her social circles, or was that just the glare I needed?

The difference between her reaction and my own reaction was obvious. I raised the laptop to my mouth, then backed away as she turned and covered her mouth with her hand.

"I should feel bad that I can’t help you right this time, but that’s not the case," she told me. She glanced at Amy. "You could have assured them you were doing it right at the start, when you told them you’d followed the letter of the law."

Amy winced.

"No," I said, feeling lame. "No I didn’t."

"You did it right," she confirmed. "I was angry, I was pissed, and I just couldn’t help it."

Amy looked back at Tattletale.

"I can’t help it," I said. "The aftermath, from what I can gather, is going to be one of the most difficult and uncomfortable, not only because of the nature of my involvement, but because of the events that unfolded after."

I saw the change in her expression. When she didn’t say anything, I wondered if it was because she was sure, or if it was because she really did want to talk about it.

"I kind of regret this," she said. "I gave up on finding the source of my anger, the cause of my paralysis, so I wouldn’t be surprised by something like this. It still bothers me, that people let their guard down. They didn’t show any better courtesy, or weren’t as patient, or saw my state as any better. I get angry at them, their cowardice, even if I don’t feel they deserved it. I let my emotions get the better of me, and that bothers me more."

"I think we can do what

======== SAMPLE 94 ========
 and I couldn’t find her, I turned around and walked a short distance to where Regent was. He was curled up in a chair, with the fire going over his legs.

"Shit," he groaned.

"You alright?" Tattletale asked.

"Thrashed."

"Fought Leviathan?"

"Fought him, I think. Hit my arm. My leg’s bleeding too much already," he muttered. He still wore the ‘burnscar’ costume. "It’s fine."

I nodded.

So that’s what it looked like to Tattletale and Regent. Burnscar was a villain I hadn’t expected to play a part in this, but she was still very much a hero on the opposite end of things.

"Looked like you were hurt," Tattletale commented.

"Thrdx," I said, reaching over to put away my cell phone. I still had a small balance stuffed in there. My cell phone rang, with the words, "Locked out?"

"I will."

"Good." She set the phone on the table beside us, then handed me a pen.

"Hello, Skitter?"

"Alexandria. My codename for this class. And you already gave me a number."

I nodded.

"Well met. I am… what name are you going by?"

"Arbiter."

"I know who you are. I’m somewhat familiar with your abilities. I was just about to mention that you probably aren’t a good fit for a team like ours."

I nodded.

Tattletale continued, "My codename at any rate."

"A shame we were interrupted. I suspect we can’t have surprises, given how quickly you were able to collect that many books, and that said surprises would involve reading each of us individually, here."

I raised my hand to stop her.

"Arbiter," she said, "You have made yourself a private army, and are well equipped with weapons of your own."

Alexandria spoke, looking at Regent, Imp and Bitch with a touch of disapproval.

"We can’t afford to give anyone a lucky hit, with the possibility that someone could take the books away and use them to read a member of our group, or even our relative."

"Of course not," she said. She looked at Legend.

"I think you should know as well," the chief director said, "We were able to find some members of our own. Or our mercenaries. Or both. There’s work for both of us."

"Who would you choose?" Leister asked.

"There are students holding dual citizenship," the chief director said. "High School Students, Armsmaster, Miss Militia would be exceptionally useful to you, as they are to Miss Militia in her capacity as Director."

"There’s been an unfortunate series of incidents involving H.P. and M.P.s," Legend said, "Where they tried to exert control through intimidation, this was an area where they were successful. Since we’re interested in being totally honest here, let’s say they succeeded. This is a problem area for them, I think."

"We can’t put a price on that kind of honesty," the chief director said. "We’ll have to come to an agreement with them."

"I’m not sure I want to be here," Bitch said. "Besides, what’s this office doing? A science lab? A communications laboratory?"

"It’s important work," the chief director said. "But we understand if you have other research areas in mind that require more hands on experience."

I could have imagined a dozen different colors that could be connected to a string of fish, and yet somehow this white-painted desk with a cream-painted black leather bound in velvet leather looked familiar.

"I’ve been a supervillain too long to be a true cape now," Bitch said, "I don’t want this office to be anything but what it could be. And I know you don’t have a crush on me, so there. I- I don’t want to drag you off on a tangent… but maybe I have made some blunder along the way."

I frowned.

"You weren’t in a position to speak up or testify, so I’m not sure why you should keep your mouth shut."

"I can help you there," I said.

"You’ll get punished if you

======== SAMPLE 95 ========
 and it didn’t take long to find the point of maximum impact.

Sophia flickered on my screen, but the motion continued after she had faded from view.

When she’d flickered, the effect had intensified. The edges of the effect were frayed, the edges of the fronds that surrounded her frayed further still. Even the fronds themselves became tatters of tangled black fronds.

It didn’t get much worse for Sophia until the fronds around her were frayed as well.

It was when the fronds around her had frayed that the effects around them kicked into overdrive. Black fronds on the ground stretched and contracted until each frond was fraying as well. Fronds on fronds and fronds on the ground were one and the same. As one frond bent askew, the other bent askew, and so on, from fronds that extended outward in all directions, fronds that extended inside out, each bent to the same specific length – twenty or thirty feet.

The fronds ruptured and chunks of black granite and black pottery splashed into the water. One or two people managed to make it out before another man reached out with a machete and struck Sophia off-balance, knocking her against a wall. She flopped over onto the ground, face up.

A woman with a black hood and black robe stood over her, first prodding at wounds with her hand, then with a clipboard.

"The good doctor," the man with the machete said. His ‘sounding’ was a little off. The woman didn’t flinch or change her demeanour as she approached. She just looked at him, waiting patiently.

"…I believe we have a patient in custody. Good boy."

Sophia’s screams echoed in the recessed spaces between the fronds.

"…She was a patient. Very agitated. I think we sprayed her enough to control her, but I think she did open her mouth and start screaming again, so I sprayed her more," the man with the clipboard said.

Sophia still struggled, blood gushing from her mouth and gagging so badly it hurt.

"…This is minor, Doctor, and I’m afraid we’re not in a position to discuss it further with the chief of police, but I have a great deal of respect for you, Sophia Heber. I know that you faced down Hookwolf, and I stand by my report that you played a very minor part."

"…What do you know, white supremacist?" Sophia asked. Her voice was smaller. "You’ve lived for this since the Endbringer attacked."

"I know. I just… really, really want to know more about what happened. Why this many parahumans appear to be falling to pieces when dealing with heroes on the street, and I know you’ve got some theories floating around, but I have a lot of respect for anyone who builds a home for themselves, and I know this: there has to be something more to the story. I just can’t put my finger on it."

The man with the clipboard leaned towards the woman with the hood. "I don’t have much of an answer to give you, white supremacist."

"I think this is one less thing that I have to answer for," Sophia replied, quiet, "In the coming days, weeks and months, there will be other catastrophes. Crime will spike. Drugs will flow. New gang members will join the ranks. There is nothing I could do but contribute if they do take over the city."

"That’s not an answer, either," the man with the machete said. He was about to give her a response when a young woman stepped into view. Black, hooded, with a scar on her face. Her brown hair and beard were detangled, and she wore a heavy metal mask with a balding man in black, white and light blue all at once, covering her face. Kaiser.

She raised a hand, and the man in black folded his arms around Sophia. She extended a hand towards Kaiser, and he enveloped her in a protective cocoon. She extended her hand back for him to shake and accept the handshake.

"Do you know what happened to Sophia?" her other self asked.

The other white supremacist took hold of Kaiser’s hand and shook it. Sophia felt the presence of the woman who she had seen earlier, felt the warmth of her imaginary friend’s company.

"I know… I almost lost my mind, at first. I have to… keep from freaking out. It’s only… this big?"

She glanced at her other self, who

======== SAMPLE 96 ========
 and had been on her tail, but it was still moving. There was no question about who the new boss was.

She had the advantage of being able to see through their eyes.

But there were other things she could do.

The dog growled, growing increasingly tense with each growl. The dog’s mind was occupied with something.

"Skitter!" Miss Militia ordered.

The woman in the suit whistled, and the dog barked, trying to get away from her.

But she was too fast.

Bacon dropped from the ceiling, falling hard on top of himself as he hit the ground.

The girl in the suit whistled again, then barked out orders to the assembled troops. "Hold position!" she ordered. "Cover! We’re trying to figure out how to disable you."

Miss Militia stood, then backed up like she believed something more was about to happen.

The girl in the suit walked next to her, then slammed her into a wall. Miss Militia grunted as the dog boy lifted her, then slammed her full height against the wall again.

Another bang, and another order to cover. They did.

Miss Militia felt alarm at the sheer control her actions afforded her. She wouldn’t get close to the young villain without risking being turned into a human guinea pig.

She stepped closer, and tried again. "If some bad guy decides to use his power on you to turn you into a piece of junk, stand up and move!"

She got two steps closer.

"It’s not the way things should be," Rachel said.

"You’re from Earth Bet, right?"

"Maybe, kinda, maybe not," Rachel replied. "And people shouldn’t be turned into monsters like that."

Someone behind her made a noise that might have been a whine, something like a warble. Miss Militia saw the soldiers, all covered in their various natural fabrics and the lenses of their helmets, all raising hands.

"Yes," Miss Militia said. "And," she gave the soldier a sympathetic look, "We wanted to talk to you."

Another grunt was made, and the soldier lowered his hands.

"And?" Miss Militia asked, her voice becoming a murmur.

"And I just got fed up. Enough is enough. We need answers, and now we’re getting answers."

"And this is part of the job," Chevalier said.

"I know," Miss Militia said. "We’d been hoping you would join us. We’re not asking you to kill. But if this happens again, you’re going to wind up a permanent member of the team, and that is a damn shame, given how important this is. I urge you not to take any action in the present tense. All we’re doing is taking you into custody, for the time being, and we’re only giving you one opportunity to decide whether you want to be with the Wards and join this meeting. You can go, or you can talk."

There was a hint of something in the girl’s voice. "Okay."

"We need your help," the girl in blue said. "You might not be the most friendly face, but I can trust you to look after yourself, here."

Miss Militia smiled a little. "I trust you."

One moment. "We’re friends."

"Then-"

"Then you get to go. Stay in the bus shelter, by the fire and eat with the girl upstairs," Miss Militia said. She offered the girl a sympathetic, slightly mocking look.

The girl was quiet, looking to Rachel for clarification. Rachel briefly responded, "I want to be alone."

The girl in blue’s smile faded. "We need another room, and you can use your room."

"You’ve been doing that?"

"I think it might be one way you can help. Seeing how they’re coping, I think it might be easier to get help ourselves, to get some privacy. Better people to help us than myself."

She seemed to reconsider, and then she smiled a little again.

"Your room?" Miss Militia offered.

Rachel looked at the girl. The girl raised her chin a touch. "I’ll help. But I don’t want to be here."

There was no reply to that, and neither did the smile that was on the girl’s face.

The girl in blue made a noise one half the size of a rat might make, grunting. Then, after a pause, she grunted again.

Miss Militia offered a

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 and was unable to turn away as a result. She was a fixture at the worst times, but always close. It was an easy life to lead.

One more incident, and she would be gone. An easy, tranquil way to live, if her circumstances had been a little more dire.

The Simurgh flew forward, creating more Grimm behind her in a series of graceful leaps and bounds. She touched ground and created a portal behind her, then flew through, creating the same portal and creating a further series of gates.

I was left standing, with the bulk of my swarm at my sides.

I tried to look around me. The sun was too bright, there were too many cities in the world. I couldn’t even make out details with my bugs, they were too small.

What I did see, what I did have total access to, it was absolute in a way.

It was a steady, clear image.

Not a silhouette, but consistent. A man, standing in the midst of a field, with his legs and arms spread. His face was set, his eyes barely visible beneath his hood. His wife and kids were in the foreground, behind him. There was a house, a small barn, and then the ocean.

I felt an overwhelming, overwhelming sense of relief.

It’s been a while, I thought. How long had it been since I’d felt more optimistic than this?

I turned my head, and my head turned right.

The ocean was a hundred feet tall, a natural feature of the ocean. From my balcony, I could see the ocean stretching out beneath me, a natural symmetry to the house, a natural contrast to the scene where the stairs and roof met. Here and there, the grass was darker, while the landmass was black.

The stairs, I realized.

I looked up at the house.

In the backyard, there were petals and leaves, petals draped over the ground, and the grass was welling back into growths, which had sprouted through the floorboards. More grass, more groundcover, I thought.

It was a problem. Grass meant that the ground was wetter, and the grass meant that there were fewer weeds and grasshoppers around. It meant that the earth was easier to work with.

I went up and over the wall, but something bumped me. My upper body hit the upper wall, and I had a hard time avoiding the bramble bushes that rose around the upper floor. As I got there, I could tell the ground beneath me was a lot sturdier than the ground on the ground level. The soil was dryer, and the ground was flatter, more even. I found a grip, found a grip, then went up the rest of the way.

My hand touched the wall and I winced.

On my way up, I had a glimpse at the backyard, the animals and plants spread out over a wide area. Not a big area, but it was there.

The Simurgh’s landing site had a large pool of water in the middle, where Leviathan had landed. Leviathan’s second splash was darker in tone, with plumes of smoke and some plumes of dust, billowing outward.

The water had a very like the one in the C.U.I. training, but it was deeper. It seemed to be the cause of some people’s trouble finding the ground at the pool’s base. If I remember right, it only came out of the third Leviathan attack and the first Endbringer fight, as everyone remembered how vital the ground was.

The pools were spread out all over this backyard.

And right at the backyard threshold, the landmass began to tilt.

Where buildings had been torn down to create the large backyard, there seemed to be only rubble and patches of grass in the sand, but above that, everything was raised and turned to gravel.

"Tattletale, we know what Scion wants!" Grue shouted. "We made arrangements! We’ll keep you updated on his movements!"

"Noted," Regent responded.

"He’s not a threat to the world anymore," Grue said, "He might well be the last person we’d want to be provoking."

"I wasn’t in a mood for the fighting," Regent said.

"I understand that," I replied. I’d enjoyed himself, Grue and Regent had, but the tension from past incidents had been too much for me, and I decided I’d gone too far in what had already seemed like a mutual exchange. I turned my attention back to the gathering, and what little I could see of the gardens and lawn

======== SAMPLE 98 ========
 and we will work on getting things going again. The others are on a break. I expect they will contact you soon."

"Good." Krouse nodded.

"If you please, some of my coworkers volunteered to go with you. I’ve mentioned this to Marissa, but I thought it was necessary to put you in contact."

That was unexpected. She glanced at Luke, then back at Krouse. "Really?"

"The others went ahead anyways. I have talked with Chase about what’s next."

Marissa’s glance turned her way, as if she could get Krouse’s thoughts backwards. She turned her attention back to Krouse. "If I only knew, Krouse. You really want to try to get back at that doctor, with all that he was saying about your mind… and your personality? You could go to jail."

"I… if that’s the case, then that’s great. But I think that would be the last thing I want to do. I really enjoyed that bit with Noelle."

"You did enjoy that bit," Marissa said, dryly.

Krouse nodded.

Marissa continued, "Honestly? You should feel bad about what happened to me before I get to Noelle. As if you have the right to go out on a limb and accuse me of anything. It’s fucked up, Krouse. You know that."

"It’s fucked up."

"And you know that because you are, as Oliver put it. A thinking being with strong opinions."

"Exactly!"

"I’ll take second place to Oliver on that count. I think, if I’d stayed with my dad and his friends, I could probably have made it. But my friends made me feel like I was spoiling my dad, and I realized what a crap daddy had to be for me. And then I had Noelle and it ruined my relationship with Luke. I got kicked out of his house and I had to break it off before I could start going back to school."

"It’s not that simple," Luke said.

Marissa frowned.

"It’s not all that simple at all," he continued. "You know that, don’t you? I can’t turn around and be the bad guy at the same time. Not with the way things are right now. But maybe if the two of us have a child with powers, and that child turns out to be a particularly good student, the fact that I caused it to go to therapy like you mentioned… I can see how that could be twisted, if the child winds up being an author, a famous person, or a powerful individual with a reputation to maintain."

"You’d be fucked," Krouse said. "I can’t go back to the old life, to caring about him or making him an adult. It gets to me."

"I know," Luke said. "But it’s probably better if we keep him or her close enough for when the situation calls for it. We can talk about it later, after we’ve established those priorities. For now, let’s focus on what we do know. It’s good that people are realizing how messed up the world is, and how fucked up we humans are. Maybe we can start making changes."

Krouse nodded.

"It’s good that we know," Luke said. "But we still have to address the elephant in the room."

"The elephant in the room?" Krouse asked. "You guys aren’t telling me what to do."

"We’re trying," Luke said. "As much as we’re trying is up to you to manage."

"We can’t manage if Luke is the only one under our thumb," Marissa said.

"I know. It’s why I asked you to call Luke as I did with Noelle. If I can figure out what you want to do, I’ll try to make it happen. But that’s a lot of weight on my conscience."

Krouse nodded. Maybe not entirely, but he felt better, with Luke as the only one in the thick of things.

He sighed.

They’d discussed this in some depth, once or twice over the course of their short time together. Krouse didn’t want to press things too hard, too fast, since it was such a potential breach of trust. They had reached the consensus that it wasn’t what they wanted, but they hadn’t pressed things too hard, either. They talked about it in groups.

Marissa

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 and it was only the three of us, her two children and me, who made the short flight back to the loft.

I stood on the doorstep, turning to my father, "Do you mind coming inside first?"

"I’m done cooking," he said. "I’ve been working long hours. I’ll come when I can."

"I’ll take care of the kids, then you come by with me in twenty or thirty minutes. Don’t worry about your thing-"

"Not a thing!"

"A week ago, you left the kids running around outside all day, all night. It was only after my sister went inside that you started acting more affectionate. Not okay. Keep these kids company until they get bigger, get used to the old man coming inside to tidy up, you get them vaccinated, then maybe you?"

He shook his head, "I’ll take them to the pediatrician. Make sure he gets them the shots they need."

"You’re saying you like my sister more."

"She’s nice. She’s a solid little girl."

"I know. I liked her as a friend even as a friend, but the girl has changed. She’s a different person now."

"I know. She’s right. Some things are forever."

"And you really don’t know how to apologize for that."

"I only know that I didn’t know how to help her when she needed it."

"I know," he raised a hand to his mouth to make conversation, but it was hard to hear a person talking when one was shaking their head violently to drown out the others. He looked at his wife’s arms.

"I love you, dad. Always has. It’s terrible that I can’t be there for her, but I know you’re an exceptional woman. I’m sorry. I’ve sacrificed a lot for you, and I feel like I shouldered the hardest hours with no family to look up to, no friends to call my own. You can’t ask for more of a support system, but you should at least be entitled to this. This. The money, the house, the girl. You did an admirable job of protecting me, and you deserve to be congratulated."

His wife took his hand again.

"This is what you wanted? Twenty thousand dollars? A house? A life?"

"More than a house," his wife said.

He scowled. "Ten thousand?"

"Five years, my daughter is going to have to live somewhere. Maybe a horse, or a garden. But not to the point her… don’t you dare say five thousand. Or two million. One million, I promise you."

"I promise."

"Can I ask what kind of family I’m coming to, here?"

"You’re going to have to trust me that much."

I thought of my dad, of my mom, of my siblings… I could almost feel the momentary relief as the words left my lips, the guilt and shame leaving a light in my chest.

"I’m asking you, dear husband… what did my sister know? What did my mom know?" His voice was firm, this time, and his tone was just as judgmental. "What kept her from telling this boy?"

"That’s the second time you’ve done this," my dad said, stern. "I don’t trust myself to finish. I’m going to have to take this job, you don’t have any more right to take it than I do, but I’m not about to get personal."

"But I did tell my sister," I said. "She was telling her sister some things. About her going to confession, after we had found out she was a traitor."

"I know," my dad replied. "That she was telling someone. I can respect that."

"She was telling her."

My dad folded his arms.

"I don’t… I don’t… care…" I muttered, as I tried to work my face into a more human expression.

"That you didn’t care, but…"

I had an unsettling feeling here.

"But I care… because… the… I’m not… about… these boys…" I had to stop myself before I gave the lie away by opening my mouth. It wasn’t just that I was talking to my dad, it was that I was thinking about them.

All of us

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 and I’d stopped walking.

I could have been dead.





Parasite 10.5


The walk home through the Docks felt rough, a downhill run that had me pausing for air every few seconds. There was the sound of sirens at the end of the hall, which meant there was a party already underway in the Docks.

It wasn’t the first time I’d been to such a party. It was a thing in my hometown. In Brockton Bay, it was something to celebrate the new year, nothing more.

It was a nice day, a sunny day with mostly clear skies. I was wearing a summer dress with nothing to top it, and it was a warm afternoon. I extended my arms forward, my hands a little outstretched, and then held them high. Not a lot, really, but I was hoping my power would distract them from what was otherwise a pretty pathetic situation.

This wouldn’t be a problem if I wasn’t so unwilling to cooperate.

I was tired, and so was everyone else. There were too many bystanders, not enough bystanders willing to cut us free or give us the first aid we needed, and the situation still wasn’t good. There were people fighting, too many people needing first aid for various reasons, and the triage area was a wasteland. There were also the piles of wounded in the triage area, both critically injured and the less serious cases where people had collapsed or been unconscious for days.

It was this feeling of being unable to do anything – not knowing what to do, not having any ideas about what to do – that got me interested in starting today’s errand. What if I made it so I could help people?

I found a group of people who were walking their dogs, giving the men who brought their food a bit more dignity. Two young women and one man were in the group next to mine, and the rest of them. I introduced myself.

In retrospect, it was a bad idea. Being self righteous would have made it easier to recognize the danger of approaching some of the kids who had more or less the same predicament as I did. That said, I was wary nonetheless, and I approached them anyways, taking their wallets and phones.

The girl with her sister gave me a funny look as I made my way up to them, then gave me a hug.

"So, what’s up?" the girl told me.

"I just had to ask. If the other kids didn’t already think you were weird, are you going to think I’m weird now that I know you were my friend?"

The sister smiled, "You noticed I asked that?"

I looked over my shoulder – there were more kids around, all together, some reaching out to look at me, others not as accepting. The other two girls were walking their dogs, and they made me aware of another group of kids who were in the park by the same building. A group I recognized.

"There are kids in the park," Lisa informed me. "They’re letting kids go."

"Oh," I looked up at the girl who was my escort, "Yeah."

The tone of the conversation had a slight shuffle to it, and a lot of the other kids were turning to look at the girl. This was where she would make a friend, to talk to me and vice versa. I knew that, with that sort of a conversation, I wouldn’t be privy to some of the information she could share.

She started walking my way, and Lisa followed her. We walked hand in hand, making my way down the street.

A lot of the areas downtown were still in the process of being cleared out. Buildings that had sat empty for a while were being torn down and transformed, entire chunks of the downtown cleared for new housing while workers cleared the way.

I walked briskly for the buildings that had been cleared. The area immediately to the west of the Boardwalk had too many abandoned buildings and garages for me to walk through and not give it a try.

There were two things that caught my eye. One was the crumbling of a small park that flanked a large piece of vacant land. It had a yellow line painted on the side, and the work of the hand was evident when workers dragged chunks of concrete out of piles that had been marked for around-house construction. Some blocks had even been cleared around the structure, making way for new construction. The signs pointed to a variety of things: construction materials, new construction tools, food, and places to scavenge for old clothing and equipment. The area was ripe with debris that had been deliberately cleared from the buildings and neighborhoods around them. Trash and building materials littered the ground around the structures and around