Spawn 1.02

Emma, Sophia and Madison were monsters. If any of them had powers, I could see them fitting in well with the Slaughterhouse 9 in a few years. But I almost wanted to thank them. My dad and I were closer than ever. Maybe reality hadn't set in yet, because I was still on bedrest from my ordeal. Dad hadn't contacted Alan Barnes, hadn't threatened to sue the school.

As for me, my recovery was like lightning. Within a few days I had filled out to my usual gangly self, but hadn't stopped there. We hadn't been able to pay for physical therapy, so dad had me on a light exercise regimen, and I was somehow building some muscle tone. Maybe before I got back to school, I'd start running. My biggest squee moment, however, had been when I'd discovered I might actually need a bra. Sure, it was only an A-cup, but I wasn't so painfully flat anymore. And with the bit of tush I'd developed from muscle tone, I actually felt like a teenage girl instead of some genderless mannequin. Sure, my three tormentors were still radically more developed than me, Emma especially, but I didn't need to be some pin-up model. Just feeling like I had a gender was enough.

The only thing that had me worried was my power. I wasn't certain I wanted to tell my dad. I wanted, needed to make the world a better place. I needed to use my power, and I knew he'd worry if I told him. We'd already lost mom; he might try to forbid me from being a hero in an attempt to keep me safe. We'd just reconnected, and this power was part of me. I couldn't just not use it. I couldn't help but wonder if this was what gay kids felt when debating whether they should come out to their parents.

This was all just too much stress. I was tired from just thinking about all the ways it could go wrong. As I laid in bed, I watched a fly buzz around my room. Feeling bored, I decided not to control it and just watch what it would do naturally. It landed on my hand and I just blinked at it. Did it not realize that I could take away its autonomy with a thought? Or was it trying to be my friend so I wouldn't?

Jesus, I knew I was paranoid about other people, but was I now second-guessing a fly's motivations? I just wanted the stress to go away.

Like before, a switch seemed to flip in my mind. This time freaked me out a lot more. The fly just dissolved and melted into my skin. I just sat there, utterly stunned. My mind whizzed as I suddenly understood every aspect of the fly's physiology. I got it down to the cellular level. I started to wonder... With a thought, I summoned another fly and held it in my hand. I focused on the critter, willed it to change. Nothing. I focused harder, all of the information whirling through my brain, to the point I expected my hair to catch fire. Still nothing. I laid back and let out a huff of frustration, giving it up as a lost cause. Then the fly dissolved.

My brain was assaulted again, though it was easier this time. Fewer new bits of information, only the variations between this fly and the last one. Then came the changes. I improved its mitochondria, streamlined its nervous system. The single tiny eye in its ass expanded to a full compound eye for better protection, and I added a second pair of wings like a dragonfly to reduce energy expenditure. I nixed the reproductive system to save mass and reduce its need to eat. Finally, on a whim, I shrank it to the size of a gnat so it could be a better spy.

When I came to after this whirlwind of thought, I realized it had all taken place in only a few seconds. So, where was this new fly? I held out my hand, expecting it to melt into being. Instead, I got a strange urge to vomit. It didn't feel painful or unnatural like usual, nor did it remind me of the locker. My throat clenched up, and I coughed out something into my hand. The tiny glob of purple slime twitched, something crawling out from the center. It was my fly, the one I'd designed. I could feel it just like any other bug, but somehow I could still feel the presence within me. I had the blueprint filed away in my mind. Could I...?

At that thought, I coughed again, spitting out another fly. I focused on it and realized it was identical to the one I'd already made. With a thought I absorbed my new creations, and the weird purple placenta-slime-whatever that came with them, back into my body. No, that's not right. I'd generated them but I hadn't expended anything to do so. Somehow these flies were mass added to me, rather than extracted and returned. My brain whirled with the new possibilities. Immediately I called one of each kind of bug in my range, and I absorbed them all. The mass flowed into me and, though I didn't understand how, I instinctively sent it to my muscle fibers. The addition was negligible, but I did feel just a tiny bit stronger. I tried, but, no. I couldn't move the mass once I'd allocated it.

More importantly, however, were the thoughts in my mind. Just as I could control each and every one of the bugs in my range, my brain was churning with countless possible combinations. Somehow, though, I knew none of them would breed true. Like mules, they would be rendered sterile. This allowed me to eliminate the reproductive systems, giving me more possibilities for alterations and streamlining. The ideas that came to mind were monstrous: a mosquito that could inject targets with spider silk, creating blood clots; a hercules beetle with venom sacs in its pincers, able to pierce thicker skin and inject potent spider venom; a dragonfly that could perform kamikaze bombings with high-pressure mixes of venom and stinkbug spray. The ideas kept coming, kept refining.

I was starting to get a headache. Just because I could invent all of these ideas didn't mean that trying to understand every nuance even while I was further improving the concepts didn't get confusing and overbearing. I pushed it into the background, just like I'd learned to do with my bugs. I could leave the insects on autopilot, a technique I'd developed out of necessity. If there's a new cape who uses bugs and all the bugs in an area freeze in place every night, it'd be pretty easy for villains to figure out who was behind the mask.

I rolled over and went to sleep. I'd figure things out tomorrow.

(BREAK)

I woke up feeling much better. The ideas seemed to have refined themselves and I had just a handful of recipes that had apparently met my unconscious mind's approval. I had to admit, they were pretty impressive. A hybrid of a mantis and hercules beetle for causing pain, a spider-dragonfly for spreading thread, and a few others that impressed me a little less but were probably more utilitarian. The weirdest thing, but which made sense as I thought about it, was that their senses were heightened. I'd given them additional brain mass for sight and hearing, using the extra space from their removed reproductive organs to add that hind brain. With just a bit of focus I realized that these senses would gel better with my human mind: I wouldn't need to zone out as much to sense through them.

I willed myself to spit out one of those mantis-beetles so I could see how it'd work, but my throat locked up. It was like trying to swallow something too big, but in reverse. Nothing would come. I couldn't feel my stomach roiling with whatever nastiness had enveloped the flies.

Well, shit. I'd invented superbugs, but I couldn't make them. Lovely. Oh well, thank god for small favors. I could still control the bugs around me. They'd do for now. I sat up and felt something weird on my head. Had I let bugs perch on it overnight or something? I stretched, feeling my restored physique – yes, I was still excited about that. I was fifteen, sue me – and looked back to the pillow to make sure I hadn't squished any. There weren't any bugs. Instead, my entire head of hair lay on the pillow.

"Daaaaaad!"

(BREAK)

My father had come in to quite a sight: his daughter, strikingly bald, hyperventilating and gawking at her hair all over the pillow. After I'd babbled and cried into his shoulder for a while, I managed to calm down enough to try to explain.

"...So you're a parahuman," he said. It wasn't really a question. "You triggered in the locker." Again, a statement, just to confirm it for himself. "And you can control bugs?" Now it was a question.

"Not just control them," I clarified. "Watch this." I closed my eyes and flipped a mental rolodex back to my first experiment, that modified fly. It wasn't flashy, but it was proof. I hocked it up and spat the violet glob into my hand, letting the fly-thing squirm free. "I can make bugs. I can...see how they work and create new ones. The problem is, the ones I came up with, the best ones? I can't make them for some reason." They melted back down, soaking in through my pores. A crazy idea had me send this mass to my ocular nerves, maybe to shore up my nearsightedness. Maybe it was a placebo effect, but my sight might have improved ever so slightly.

My father was dumbstruck. "I... That's amazing. Kind of creepy, no offense, but amazing. You can make living creatures!"

I shook my head. "Nothing like Nilbog. I can't give them functional brains. They have very, very basic mental processes, maybe inferior to real bugs. Maybe I'll be able to do more in the future." I ran my hand over my pristine scalp. "I still have no idea why I lost my hair, though."

Dad wrapped his arms around me. That little act of approval meant the world to me and I melted into his embrace. "Well, you absorbed the bugs, and bugs don't really have hair. Maybe...you're getting some bug traits?"

I turned a little green at that. I might not have a problem with bugs anymore, but I didn't want compound eyes or a mosquito mouth. "I really hope not. Or if I do, maybe I can influence it. I mean, some beetle armor around my vital organs would be nice. Or spider strength like those Earth-Aleph comics." I turned back to the matter at hand. "But what about my hair? I can't just go around bald!"

My dad would openly admit he wasn't as smart as mom was. He even said that I was smarter than him; that he was better educated, but once that was no longer the case I'd outpace him in the brains department. However, where I'd gotten my shyness from him, he'd learned enough from mom to understand people fairly well. When pressed, he could put up a forceful personality. "This...actually might not be a bad thing." At my incredulous look, he elaborated. "Look, if a new hero shows up using bugs, is about Taylor Hebert's height and build, and has her long, beautiful hair," I tried to suppress my grimace at the fact that I no longer had my long, beautiful hair, "what are people going to think? Someone's bound to put two and two together. But, if Taylor Hebert still has her long, beautiful hair and this new cape seems bald..." He grinned. "We have all your hair right here. We can get a wig made, find somebody who won't talk or pay them extra not to."

Here, my mind took over. "No, we don't need somebody to make a wig. Don't be scared," I added as he raised a questioning brow. I called a swarm of wasps and black widow spiders to me, reaching over to crack the window so they could come in. All in all, dad was taking things amazingly well. He barely shivered at all when confronted with the procession of dangerous creepies. I had the spiders start weaving their gossamer on nothing in particular, then the wasps began chewing it up, mixing it into a super-concrete with their saliva...or whatever bugs have. I knew what it was, but instinctively knowing didn't mean I could name it. The widows went to my hair, gathering it up to the shape of my head and weaving their silk through it. The wasps crawled into the locks from the other side, spitting their creation into my tresses. It dried clear, pasted down like hair glue. The silk would be soft to the touch and comfortable, and I could use sticky webbing to help adhere it to my head.

Dad watched in fascination. "...Hey," he finally said, "remember when we saw that special on civil engineering and scientists were working on mass-producing artificial spider silk?" I nodded, not quite getting where he was going with this. Then again, I was focusing on getting my head shape just right. If I was successful, it would look exactly like natural hair. "Well," he continued, "you've got excellent control of those spiders, and their silk is supposed to be tougher than kevlar at a fraction of the weight. How about you make a costume with them?"

He was caught off-guard as I bowled him over with a hug.

(BREAK)

Monday rolled around and it was time for me to go back to school. I'd managed to catch up on all my assignments over the weekend, with the help of some special bugs.

An interesting thing to note about humans is that there really isn't such a thing as multitasking. If we try to do more than one thing at once, we sacrifice efficiency for versatility. Same thing was basically true for capes and powers, actually. Sometimes you got somebody like Alexandria who seemed to get the best stuff, but most of the time capes with a wider array of powers had ones that were, individually, much weaker than somebody who had only one power.

I didn't have the multitasking problem. Some aspect of my power granted me the ability to devote 100% of my focus to every task, no matter how many there were, as long as my senses could handle them. With my eyeball bugs there to read the textbooks, hercules beetles to help hold the pencils and ants to move them, I was writing papers for three different classes all at once. Any more than that and I couldn't focus on the answers. Bugs were a lot simpler than Jane Eyre.

So I walked into Winslow with my head held high. I had power. I had control. My relationship with my father was so much better. Sure, the parts of me that had been beaten down over the multi-year hate campaign told me I was a monster, something horrific and aberrant. In fact, my very primal being would tell me that in the dark of night. But I'd survived the hate, thought of myself that way even before I triggered. I just quashed the thoughts and moved forward. I was better than my bullies. I had always been better morally and now I was better physically too. Yeah, it was petty but I think I'd earned a little pettiness by that point.

First period was Social Studies with Mr. Gladly, or "Mr. G" as he preferred to be known. Gladly always kept his tie partly undone and wanted to be friends with all the cool kids. If he wasn't such a dick I might have pitied him, but his trying to get into Emma Barnes' good books automatically put him out of mine. Okay, that might've been too petty. He might just be a sad little man who didn't realize what was going on, or ignored it because he wanted so badly to be accepted. It didn't make him a good person if true, but it would also not make him a bad one. I took my seat and got out my homework, feeling confident.

True to form, the Bitches of Eastwick slipped in just before the bell. Emma gave me a smug little grin that just promised future torment and it was everything I could do not to lunge from my seat and beat her to death with it.

Wow, that was violent. Was that the primal insect brainwaves? I looked back at my desk and noticed my homework was gone. Madison was handing it in and gave me a little wave as she went back to her seat. That bitch! I closed my eyes and centered myself, focusing on my bugs. I didn't control them, just took a headcount. That was calming for me, knowing I was part of something so much bigger than school; so much bigger than them.

I drifted in and out as Gladly waxed poetic about the founding of the PRT and Protectorate, mostly thinking about whether I should join the Wards. Maybe I should join New Wave instead. Yes, the PRT had funding and New Wave was mostly a family affair, but they had Panacea. She was a healer, and probably the most accomplished biological cape after Bonesaw of the 9. I'd love to pick her brain.

Gladly started to erase the whiteboard. "Alright everyone, read up on the Wards program for tomorrow. Hebert, can I see you for a moment?"

The snide comments were what I'd expected. "He's probably gonna tell her what a failure she is." "Maybe she's blowing him to try and get a good grade." I tuned them out and stepped up to his desk. He waited until everyone else was out.

"Taylor, do you think I'm blind?"

I just blinked. "You're going to have to elaborate, sir."

"I can see you're being bullied. Why aren't you doing anything?" He fixed me with a sympathetic look.

The Taylor from before the locker would have just ducked her head and suffered, crushed under the knowledge that no-one who could help cared, and no-one who cared could help. I wasn't that girl anymore. "The better question is why aren't you doing anything?" I bit the words out at him. "Your question is like a cop on-scene asking a mugging victim why he didn't defend himself," I continued before he could try to placate me. "You're a teacher. You're supposed to help your students. If you see actions like that, why don't you say something? Or is being one of the cool kids more important to you than actually doing your job?" It took so much effort to keep my swarm in place. They wanted to respond to my emotions, to tear him apart as best they could.

He just stared me down, his expression having gone cold. "That will be all, Taylor."

I didn't even dignify him with a response. I just stalked out. Right into the Terror Trio. Fuck.

"I wonder what Mr. G wanted," Madison asked to her friends, though it was directed at me, "a quickie?"

"Probably," Sophia agreed. "I mean, look at the little whore, stuffing her bra to try to look remotely like a girl."

"I'd hoped she wouldn't come back," Emma piped up. "You'd think she'd realize nobody wants her here. She's ugly, stupid and everyone hates her."

Gladly just walked past. He eyed me but kept going, despite having clearly heard the insults. Well fuck him and fuck them too. Just because I wasn't going to use my powers, I wasn't going to let these cunts walk all over me.

"Really, girls?" I spoke with a confident smile. "This from the prepubescent," I settled my gaze on Madison, "the bimbo," Emma, "and the thug?" I stopped at Sophia, holding her gaze. She was fairly tall, but I had a couple of inches on even her. I took advantage of that and loomed as best as my still admittedly gangly frame could manage. "I figure Madison here plays up the schoolgirl angle for whichever teachers are pedophiles in the classes where she can't simply steal the homework," I sneered, "since obviously she's too fucking stupid to succeed otherwise." I raised my voice to a brief shout, cutting off Emma's retort. "But Emma here's the most pitiful. Just because she has tits and her daddy has money, she thinks she's queen of the school. I'll see you in twenty years, Barnes, when I'm wealthy from my own achievements and you're a silicone-filled trophy wife. Or maybe you'll get lucky, fuck a celebrity, and get the time slot after the Kardashians."

For once, the crowd was silent. The victim was finally striking back, and hitting hard. They were waiting to see which side they should support. Fucking lemmings. I let my eyes drift back to Sophia. "And Hess, I can't even pity you. You're a violent, hateful thug who can run fast. You're pretty much every argument E88 has against blacks. Maybe I should let Kaiser know where your family lives." My voice took on an exceedingly dangerous tone. "You tried to kill me. It's only fair I return the favor, with interest, isn't it?" I watched the color drain and return the Sophia's face, her mind warring between fear and outrage. "But I won't," I continued. "Because I'm better than you. You have to hurt other people just to validate your own existence. I have a father who loves me and grades good enough to get into Arcadia. Maybe I should transfer and leave you all here in this shithole, just like you left me in that locker. So no, I'm not going to get you back for all of the evil things you've done to me. But I won't take any more abuse." I stepped into Sophia's personal space, flexing up what little muscle I'd built. Amazingly, from what I could see of myself from my bugs' eyes, my skinny frame actually made me look more ripped. "You come after me, or my family, and I will hurt you. I'll make you know the fear and pain I suffered as the maggots ate into my veins and I bled into that filth, knowing I would die." I pushed past her, elbowing Emma and Sophia. "This is your only warning," I spat as I left.

I managed to keep my composure – barely – until I made it to the bathroom. I ducked into a stall, locked it and sat down before choking down a sob. How had I done that? I'd been terrified the entire time. Surprisingly, the answer came to me. They didn't matter. My happiness mattered, my dad's happiness mattered. We were good people and we deserved peace. And, just like the Protectorate, we might have to fight to achieve that peace.

My stomach started churning, violently. I hopped off the toilet and turned, disgust welling within me as I was forced to grab the seat. I vomited a flood, a constant gush of that purple slime. It was thicker than before, more like pudding than chunky water. I shakily flushed the toilet as the bowl began to fill, but it continued to spew from me. How did I have this much in me? I could feel more churning, not just my stomach. My entire abdominal region was rearranging itself under my skin. The vomit finally stopped and I flushed for a third time, swallowing down the last of the residue. Oddly, it felt fine to swallow. None of the disgust or burning that typical barf brought with it. More than that, it felt filling, like a hearty meal. That was freaky, but I was a girl who could hock up bugs like others could spit loogies. It wasn't that bizarre. Hell, placenta was supposed to be nutritious, or at least that's what those crazy moms who claimed it should be eaten said. Maybe the same was for that goop.

I heard laughter. I recognized the laughter. "I knew you were a pussy, Hebert," Sophia said. "Just more prey. You tried to talk tough but you couldn't even make it to next period without puking your guts out. You're worthless."

Emma joined in. "Yeah, and I'll bet now you're gonna go cry yourself to sleep for two more weeks."

That was it. Something was pulled to its limit and snapped. I flung the door open. I idly noted, as I took control of my bugs again, that the bathroom door was open and people were peering in. And still no fucking teachers.

"Oh my god," Madison giggled, "she really is crying!"

Tears spilled freely down my cheeks. I didn't bother to wipe them, letting the salty droplets spatter on the floor. "You're using my mother's death against me?" My voice was sharp, accusing, dangerous. That little voice in the back of my head, the one that kept telling me I was an abomination, was silent. I'd seen true inhumanity. "Emma Barnes, you are a monster." The word was stressed to the degree that I imagined it's how the Spanish Inquisition would name someone a heretic. I'd said my peace. Nothing more needed to be expressed. I went to push past them again. Instead, Sophia planted her hand on my sternum and used her entire body weight to shove me back. I stumbled and my back cracked against the toilet pipes. Pain shot through me and for a moment I was worried she'd broken my spine.

Sophia was already on me. She grabbed me by the shoulders, then pulled a hand back to punch me square in the eye. Blood vessels burst and half my vision was red. She tugged me up and threw me against the toilet again. Those hands gripped my shoulders once more and the feral part of my brain took over. I grabbed her arms and pulled her closer, smashing the crown of my skull into her nose. I hauled myself up with her arms, then let go and planted a clumsy kick in her strong abdominals. Still, strength born of desperation and fury sent her practically flying out of the stall, her head impacting the sink. I could feel hot blood dripping out of my eye socket and I turned to the gawking crowd.

"Well!? Someone call the fucking cops!"

I turned back as Sophia started to struggle to her feet. I didn't want to kick her again; she could pull my foot out from under me. She wobbled a little, maybe concussed, so I decided to play on that. I didn't know how to throw a punch to save my life, so instead I delivered a vicious slap to the side of her head. I grabbed a tangle of her hair just as she had mine before shoving me in the locker. My intentions were more immediate, however. I slammed her head into the sink again and let her drop like a sack of rice.

Whimpering caught my attention. I turned to see Madison crouched on the ground, covering her ears, eyes squeezed shut. Good god, she really was just a little kid, wasn't she? But Emma still stood, arms folded under that damn ample bust of hers, a fucking smile on her face. Was that a smile of...pride? "What the fuck are you grinning about!?" I stalked toward her, my bloodlust growing. I was going to kill her and damn the consequences. She must have realized that as her expression turned to fear and she started to back away. Then two school rent-a-cops grabbed my arms, one of them lodging a billy club under my chin and making me choke.