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Chapter 21
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"It wasn't us." Sundancer's voice shook with horror, her throat constricting until it squeaked. "I swear. It wasn't us."

I didn't hear a word of it.

The sounds flowed through one ear and out the other. Indecipherable. Meaningless. I was numb. Empty. A soulless void. My thoughts were trapped in the prior moment. Frozen upon the still image of Tattletale's fall. The blood exploding from her skull. Her body slumping toward the ground like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

Deep within, terrible emotions stirred.

Antediluvian anger burned in me. It rose like a torrent. A raging wildfire that swept through my swarm. The motionless horde erupted. Wings buzzed, jaws chittered, the mass unleashed an unearthly, soul searing screech. A ghastly howl. Primordial emotions given voice then twisted by alien distortion. All at once, the air was filled endless insects. They rampaged with mindless fury, forming a chaotic storm. My feelings echoed in the mass, feeding on themselves until they transformed into some terrible eldritch thing.

"Run."

Ballistic's voice croaked. Roaches and wasps pattered against his mask like hail or heavy rain. Others tore at his costume with pincers and stingers. The man wrenched the combat knife from his thigh, then lurched to his feet. Blood oozed from the wound, the stench of it spreading as a pool formed in the fabric.

"But – " Sundancer noised, the woman's gaze shot from side-to-side in panic. The Shaker half cringed away from the blind throng, shielded in part by the tiny star orbiting over her head.

"Run!"

Ballistic roared. Ballistic didn't waste a second. He ran. He ran without a single glance back. The giant Striker crashed through the chaotic horde, rushing away from Sundancer's illumination and deep into the dark.

The chittering of my swarm grew louder. Insects poured in like a river, drawn toward me from every direction.

"I – I'm sorry," Sundancer apologized. Her hands shook with terror. "I'm so sorry."

With that, she reached down and grabbed Trickster. The red-masked Mover gave me a nasty look then turned his head toward a distant locale. In a moment, the pair vanished, replaced by loose rubble.

I never noticed any of it.

Something inside me broke. My secondary circuits suddenly turned on. They seethed with prana outside my control, like snakes wiggling in my back. My power expanded. My range doubled at its own will. Then it doubled again. My circuits burned as though filled with lava. My power growled like a loathsome beast. It reached out. Space twisted. The edges of my range warped and warbled, stretching out in spikes and waves.

My horde went mad.

I didn't control them. I couldn't control them. My existence shattered into layers. One fragment oversaw my swarm. In that piece existed my anger. My indignation. My abominable rancor given form. Heteroclite emotions concocted from insect, Taylor, and extraterrestrial shard. The aggregate stewed, boiling in a cauldron constructed from incomprehensible dimensions until it amalgamated into an uncontrollable, monstrous will.

The rest of me turned into crystal.

My heart went still, my soul as clear as a lake. Feelings vanished, leaving naught but glacial logic. Human eyes fell upon Tattletale while insect antennas scoured the world. My thoughts were mechanical. Efficient. Lacking any form of self-deceit.

A head shot. The bullet struck above her right ear, then exited near the left. Instant death.

I blinked. No. That was a misconception There was no such thing as instant death. Humans weren't bodies. They were cells. A lump of living tissue strung together by a system of infrastructure. Heart. Lungs. Blood. Veins and arteries. The last two had been torn apart along the wound channel. The cells surrounding shattered by the hydrostatic shock.

Those parts were dead and gone.

But in the space outside, the remaining matter lived on. Trillions of cells. Individual fragments that made up the gestalt called Tattletale. Those pieces held onto their last breath, fueled by scattered molecules of oxygen. But the pipelines were ruptured. The brain hemorrhaged. The last cells screamed in agony, awaiting the death knell called apoptosis.

The life that lingered was but an illusion. A ghost clinging to its past. A phantom on the verge of vanishing from this world.

Unless, of course, something were to interrupt it.

I had such a something.

Avalon.

Realization gave birth to hope. Hope, like a hammer, cracked the boundary dividing affect from rationality. My hands started to shake. Desperately, they reached for my mask, frantically working the belts and buckles. After a few fumbles, I tore it off. But my quest was far from complete. With increasing frenzy, I shoved a hand down the neck of my costume and grabbed at the beetle necklace hidden beneath.

"Archer!" My shout had a panicked tinge to it.

My swarm was seething. Insects heedlessly struck out at anything I might register as an enemy. There was no sense of formation, no solidified numbers, only pure chaos. Madness and unfocused rage were the Traveler's fortune. With it, angry jaws and stingers were like raindrops. Without it, thick carpets of chitin would have enveloped their forms before reducing them into bloody meat.

But though the horde was blind, it possessed awareness. The throng swirled around me, expanding out in a spiraling mass. Thick rivulets flowed into nooks and crannies. Streams slipped into buildings and warehouses. As one, my swarm searched. It searched with mindless obsession and terrible fury.

Then the scent of powder hit.

A great jolt ran through my horde. Like a great beast, the scattered mass turned, drawn to the sharp, fresh scent of a gun's discharge. For the briefest moment, the night hung in eerie silence. All was still. Then a billion wings beat as one. The world howled. The throng surged forward, rushing toward the sniper nestled on the third floor of a building a full kilometer away.

A mosquito was the first to find him. Gnats gathered shortly after, landing on his neck, drinking his sweat. The taste and smell was like static knives plunging into my brain. A thousand eyes united as one. In an instant, I grasped his appearance. Male. Lanky, but fit. A long rifle rested in his lap, already half disassembled. His clothes? A standard-issue PRT helmet and body armor.

Somewhere, deep within the buzzing swarm, my anger grew louder.

My hand gripped the beetle necklace. I quickly wrenched it out of my costume. All at once, I sank to my knees and pressed the jeweled ornament against Tattletale's chest. The blonde girl twitched. Her fingers trembled. One eye cracked open, pupil turning toward me.

My breath stilled.

"C-" she gurgled. "C-calver..."

Her head lolled.

It felt as though I had swallowed a lump of ice.

My hand tightened. The necklace ground into my palm. Dammit. I had the necklace, but, what was it worth on its own? I needed Avalon. The damn sheath. But, how could I pull it out? I never asked. Fucking hell, why did I never ask?

A pair of armored boots scuffed the pavement next to me. Archer squatted down at me side. A reassuring hand drooped atop my head, but I didn't miss that his expression was grim.

Terror roiled in my swarm like a shout before echoing back. My heart felt heavy. My hands were covered in sweat. I was shaky, nervous. I could barely breathe without wanting to choke.

"Tattletale – "

"Trace on."

Rather than answer, Archer muttered his aria. He drew his hand from my head, a familiar blue sheath forming in his grip. Archer placed Avalon atop Tattletale's chest. A whisper of golden light coiled around it, drawn from the topaz beetle sitting at it's side. My quickening breath eased.

"I need to take her to Caster, now," Archer informed. His tone brooked no argument.

"Will she live?"

Archer stood, lifting Tattletale in both arms. I looked up, hopeful. Archer did not answer.

"They killed her," Bitch's growl interrupted my thoughts. The butch girl sat on Angelica's back, her eyes burning with deep, animal rage. "Then I'll fucking kill them. I'll tear them apart."

Bitch let out a series of sharp whistles. Angelica huffed then put her nose to the ground, sniffing for The Travelers' scent.

I stood, shoving my mixed emotion back into my swarm. Clinical cold covered me with its comfortable shroud. Tattletale's fate was out of my hands. I wasn't a healer. I couldn't help her. Rather than focus on the things I couldn't do, it was better to focus on the things I could.

Like the sniper.

And the Undersiders.

"Don't." My command was arctic.

Bitch turned on me in rage. "You're telling me to fucking stop?"

"They didn't kill her."

Of that much I was certain. I couldn't forget Sundancer's shock. The Travelers didn't plan this. Of course, that didn't mean they were innocent either. Their timing and positioning was suspicious, to say the least. They may well have been used.

Or, just as easily, they might merely have been taken advantage of. Luck was real, and so were precognitive Thinkers.

My head turned toward the sniper's position. The gunman had finished packing his weapon and was rushing down the stairs. He touched the first floor when my horde hit. An incredible wave of insects blasted into the building like a physical force. The man gave them one glance, fixed a rebreather to his mask, then hit a switch.

Poof. Poof. Poof. Dozens of bug bombs went off on every floor. Not just in the building the sniper occupied, but on the roof and alleyways nearby. Thin sprays of poison mist filled the air, thickening until they clouded the sky with a persistent fog. My swarm wavered. Thousands, then tens-of-thousands of bugs dropped. But the horde did not stop. The throng thinned as it charged forward. Hundreds hit him then bit down. They were a mixed lot. Most couldn't even be called a threat.

Jaws filled with the taste of blood, the last of my insects fell. With dying eyes, I saw the sniper rush out the bottom floor. After that, I had nothing left with which to observe.

I scowled. The whole thing was a god damned setup.

"Lisa's dead? Well, that sucks."

Regent's comment shook me from my thoughts. I turned. The Renaissance cape had arrived alongside Grue. The pair were on Judas's back. Brutus pattered past, bumping up next to his master Bitch, who quickly changed mounts.

"Don't say her name," Grue reminded. "And have some fucking respect."

"She's dead, what does it matter?" Regent pointed out.

"She's not dead." I stated. I looked at Archer.

Under Archer's guidance, Avalon sank into Tattletale's chest. Once the sheath was in place, Archer moved my beetle necklace, wrapping it around Tattletale's neck.

"She'll survive," Archer answered seeming satisfied. He gave me a comforting nod. "But I need to take her to Caster." The redhead looked over at Grue. "Can you clean up here?"

"Whoa, she took a shot to the head and she's alive?" Regent noised appreciatively. "I don't know whether her luck's good or shit."

Grue slammed an elbow into Regent's gut. Regent choked. Served the asshole right. With that problem solved, the skull faced cape addressed Archer.

"Don't worry about it. Just look after Tattletale."

Archer nodded. "Overmind, with me."

"We just going to let them get away with it?" Bitch spat.

"No," I interrupted. "We aren't.

Archer frowned. I met the redhead's steely gaze with my own.

"I've tracked the sniper to the building over there," I said, pointing toward the west. "But he used bug bombs to cover his escape. Hundreds of them, all wired to a switch. No way that's last minute prep. This was an assassination. He knew we'd be here. He knew that if he waited, he'd get a shot."

I paused, allowing my words time to sink in, then I continued emphatically. "We can't let him escape. Someone's gunning for us, and gunning hard. The sniper is our only clue."

No. Not our only one. I had a lead of my own. Coil.

But I couldn't announce that out loud. Not right now. Tattletale had shared that information with me in confidence. More to the point, pulling out Coil's name now would create unnecessary contentions. I had no way of knowing how the Undersiders would react.

Further, I couldn't be absolutely sure it was him. I only had Tattletale's word to back me up. Coil hired mercenaries. The sniper could have been his. Though the man was dressed in PRT colors, putting together a fake uniform was easy enough. But, just the same, the sniper could be part of the PRT proper. Hell, they had plenty of motive. Butcher and Boston were more than enough.

And that was hardly the last of the threats.

The E88 was gunning for us. This kind of plot didn't feel like Kaiser, but as Tattletale said, Gesellschaft was providing advice. If they had the right Thinker, pulling a job like this would be easy. What's more, the Empire had the most to gain if Unit 09 went to war with everyone else.

And I couldn't dismiss Accord.

No matter who I wanted to accuse, I needed proof. Not to move my team. Caster wouldn't give a fuck. But I needed proof to flip the Undersiders. If Coil did this, he'd touched Grue's bottom line. That'd put the Undersiders firmly on our side.

More importantly, I wanted to be sure. If Unit 09 attacked the wrong group... well, we'd still find the assassin. Magecraft and Hypnosis were utter bullshit like that. But it'd sure as hell be a lot cleaner and faster if we started in the right place.

Besides, like Bitch said, no matter who the sniper was working for I wasn't going to let the fucker get away with it.

In the face of Archer's hesitation, Grue spoke up. "We'll have her back."

I twitched. The sniper resurfaced half-a-block from his prior position. My swarm picked him up the moment he stepped out of the fog. Rather than immediately strike, I spread the horde thin. Then I stealthily snuck a few critters into the vehicle he had prepared.

The sniper slipped into the driver's seat.

"We have to go, now." I gave Archer a challenging look.

Archer returned a steady gaze. Then he looked at the body in his arms. Tattletale's limp form was pale. Faint light coiled around her. The blood oozing from her head slowed. Her chest fell and rose. Still alive. She's still alive. I reminded myself of that, each breath stiff and fearful.

"Don't take risks!" Archer warned, sharply. "One's already too many."

I nodded. Archer took off. His movements were smooth and fast. I watched after and hoped for the best.

Tattletale was alive.

… but would she be whole?

I shuddered, then buried my emotions within my swarm. I walked toward Angelica. My gaze swept the Undersiders.

"No matter what happens, no matter who asks, Tattletale died," I said grimly. "Until Unit 09 says otherwise, Tattletale died. Got that?"

My statement was directed at Grue more than the rest. If Coil really was behind this plot, it was better he thought her dead. Both for Tattletale's safety and so he'd be caught off guard when it came time for counter attack. Coil, after all, didn't know that I knew. Logically, there was no reason for Unit 09 suspect him. Our teams had never come to blows.

But all that changed if Tattletale survived. A living Tattletale would definitely talk. Hell, even if she didn't want to talk, Caster would make her do it.

And Coil knew that as well as I. If Tattletale lived, Coil had no choice but to escalate. Well, that or pick up his things and run away.

"Where is he?" Bitch demanded.

Surprise, surprise, schemes and plans were not Bitch's thing.

I offered a hand to Angelica. The dog sniffed, licked, and whined. Once she was comfortable I pulled myself atop. Giving the poor girl a pat on the head, I flicked my awareness back to the Neo-Taiping.

The ABB was still in hand. Machina had things under control. A few gangsters had slipped their shackles during the fight, but her men had reclaimed the majority of them. Bạch Hổ, however, was gone. Through my swarm I got one last glimpse of the great cat before it vanished past the edge of my power. Bạch Hổ was headed north, toward the suburbs and the loosely populated woods beyond.

It was meaningless to concern myself with him now.

I buckled on my mask.

"Let's go."

Fireflies lit the way.

We dashed forward as a group.

Brutus took the fore, taloned feet tearing at concrete with every step. Our pace picked up speed. In seconds we were dashing down streets at eighty-kilometers an hour. I could feel the air rushing past my face, the folds of my costume whipping in the wind. Maybe it was just my imagination, but there seemed to be a grim, deathly silence amongst us.

The sniper had a massive head start. My five secondary circuits thrummed in weird state, having traded power once and control twice to obtain a stretched out range. The oddities of my shard worked with me, exaggerating the effects of my power. My reach was half again what it should be, and the loss of control far less than I'd expect.

I wondered at my shard. Had it been moved by my emotions? Or were our thoughts merely in sync? Through my warmed circuits, I could sense the alien thing. An enigmatic pressure throbbing in my skull. A ragged pulse in my circuits. A hole. Deep. Abyssal. A yawning, fathomless void filled with twisting, twining dimensions. Shapes that were not shapes. Colors that could not be seen. Crystalline flesh whose very presence seemed to rend reality.

I jerked my mind away with a shudder. My head pounded. Fragmented thoughts danced like ephemeral petals before they scattered.

A two lane intersection suddenly rushed up on us.

The lights flipped red. I grimaced, frustrated by my distraction. My swarm was thin, the mass dragged out, but I had enough to sense the trio of cars rushing toward us. I opened my mouth to shout. Bitch beat me to it. The butch girl pressed two fingers against her mouth and let out a sharp whistle. Brutus jumped. Beneath me, Angelica lurched. My stomach smashed into my chest. The dogs soared over the intersection, metal cross bars and all. Then, with a gut wrenching jolt, they smashed back down onto the earth.

I pushed my awareness outward.

The sniper's vehicle was two kilometers ahead. The van meandered forward at the speed limit, which ran around forty in these parts. At our current pace we'd catch up fast.

Which meant there was no need for a risky route.

My perception shifted. This time I drew back so I grasped my entire swarm. The sensation of it was somewhat like unfocusing my eyes to take in an entire scene at once. Unpleasant and uncomfortable. But it was the best frame from which to map out the streets. It took a few seconds to find the right path. A place with low traffic and fewer eyes.

In the air, a dozen fireflies flickered to show the way.

Brutus veered right, flashing down a side road before making a hard switchback to the left. In the next instant, we were on a bike path. A minute after that, we were cutting across backyards. Trees zoomed around us. Grue shouted. My head turned. He yelled again. His voice was lost to the howling wind. But I deduced the gist and offered a confident nod in return.

Then I threw my awareness to the fore.

The sniper's van stopped at a red light. I snagged I century of fliers then ran them around the vehicle's back. A quick glimpse gave me the license plate. I doubted it was worth much, but I repeated the number to myself half-a-dozen times to memorize it. While I worked, a score of bugs started poking around the interior.

First thing I noticed? The rifle was missing. Not in the cabin or trunk. But the sniper still had two guns. One on his waist and another in the glove compartment. His whole body reeked of chemical stench. Powder, poison, and sweat. I was tempted to search the man more thoroughly, but I feared doing so would leave me exposed.

"One kilometer ahead!" I shouted at the top of my lungs. I wasn't sure the others heard.

Grue yelled a response. He pointed up. I looked. A group of capes flew overhead, roughly three blocks to our right. New Wave. Shit. They hadn't seen us, but if they were in the area...

Weeoo weeoo weeoo! Loud sirens roared by on a parallel street. I could see the flashing lights flickering in the passing alleys.

Damn it. "Go. Go. Go!"

My words were wasted, but Bitch must have caught the mood because she leaned into Brutus and kicked up the pace.

Three alien beasts and four riders burst out from a wooded trail. We turned right, claws scampering over a four lane road.

The sniper's van was ahead. The white paint glimmered under yellowed street lights. Slick beasts cut through the night. I saw the sniper start when he saw us in his rear view mirror, but the van cruised on with cool motion. Against anyone else it would've been a good move. Hitting the accelerator would only give him away.

Against me, that tactic didn't change a thing.

It took fifteen seconds to catch up.

Brutus came along the van's side. The demon dog huffed, unleashing thin trails of steam. Bitch leaned in. The massive, biological monster shifted, smashing into its mechanical opponent like a freight train. Metal crumbled inward. The van skewed onto two wheels, wobbled, then tumbled over onto its side. Paint tore. Sparks flew in a cascade. Metal unleashed a terrible screech as the vehicle skidded atop road for a full two score meters.

"Over here!"

Now that we weren't moving, Grue's eerie call was easily heard. The skull helmeted man waved at us from a nearby alley. Bitch grunted, clucked her tongue, then gave a low whistle. Brutus reacted to her command. The giant, alien beast bit down. Sharp teeth sank into the metal van, tearing through steel as easily as a dog would rip through flesh. Brutus steeped back. Reee. The van dragged three meters.

Angelica growled then rushed forward to grip the van's rear door. As one, the two beasts pulled the beaten vehicle into the alley.

Grue sealed the entrance in shadow.

Thick smoke boiled up into a wall, blocking off sight and sound. Angelica and Judas pattered around, filling the other end of the path with their great bulk. Angelica let out a whine then rested on her haunches.

At Bitch's prompting, Brutus hopped up on top of the van's side. The monster put a paw on the driver's side window then pried it open. Clung. Bolts popped. The gap widened until it was twice its prior size.

The dog's maw reached in through the aperture. Brutus's jaws caught the sniper's arm. The beast stepped back, wrenching the man out of the beaten van. With a twist of his neck, Brutus threw the sniper to the ground.

The sniper hit with a thud. His PRT helmet came loose, clattered off asphalt, before rolling to a stop at Angelica's feet.

Bitch's already furious expression turned ugly. "It's the fucking PRT."

The butch girl turned and spat. Brutus circled the sniper slowly, his clawed talons clicking on the pavement. Grue dismounted then folded his arms as he studied the sniper. Regent remained in place, offering no more than a bored yawn.

As for me? I already knew what the sniper looked like. And more than anyone, I wasn't ready to assume his allegiance.

"We don't know who he's working for," I pointed out. "The uniform could be a fake, or this could be a side job."

The sniper wobbled, lifting himself up onto his hands and knees with a sputtering cough. Slowly, he sat up, raising his arms high before slowly folding them behind his head. He looked at us. His expression was cold. Hard. Blood dribbled from his brow, but he showed no sign of noticing. He looked like a solider. Like one of Coil's mercenaries. But I wasn't sure. It felt like I was projecting. Pushing my assumptions into an absence of information.

"What do you want to do with him?" Grue asked, nodding toward me.

"We take him to Caster," I answered instantly.

Was there even a reason to ask? Grue looked at me, as though waiting for me to catch what I missed. I paused, annoyed. Then scowled when it hit me. Yeah. That's right, before dragging him toward the mansion we needed to put him out or tie him up. Preferably both. And that meant...

"Hold him down," I said. I reached for my mask. I really needed a better way to do this.

Before I touched the first buckle, my hands froze.

A motorcycle rumbled on the road, rolling by at close to a hundred-miles-an-hour. Armsmaster flashed past the alley. For a brief second, his headlight reflected shattered glass. Then the Tinker wrenched his vehicle to the side. The motorcycle tilted sixty-degrees. The back tire wheeled around in a squealing skid. He came to a stop.

Armsmaster's gaze shifted. His eyes swept over the fragments left behind when Brutus smashed into the van. Shredded paint. Torn metal. Fragments of glass. His visor rose then rested upon the wall of dark, smoky fog that sealed the alley.

My swarm stirred.

"HQ, I have suspicious activity on 27th. Requesting backup," Armsmaster said in clipped tones under his breath.

The blue armored Tinker swung his leg over the edge of his motorcycle, servos hissing. Armsmaster reached down, gauntleted hands pausing over the first of three halberds mounted to the side of his vehicle. Then he decisively skipped past it to grab the third.

"What is it?" Grue asked, drawing my mind back.

"Armsmaster," I answered nastily.

"Heh. The great halbeard himself," Regent mocked. "We can take him."

"It's not Armsmaster that I'm worried about. It's all the people who'll show up while we're fighting him," I said, frustrated. Surely, after all the shit I had put up with today, I was owed something going right for once?

Grue nodded in agreement. His skull faced mask turned toward his team.

"Regent, help me pack the fellow up. We'll knock him out once we've dragged our PRT friend somewhere nice and quiet."

Regent groaned. The Master turned then started climbing down from Judas' back.

The sniper moved.

A trained man can be amazingly quick. Almost as fast as I could blink, the sniper's hand whipped around the back of his head to his front pocket. I turned and lurched off Angelica's back. In the same instant, my swarm reacted, surging toward the man. The horde I had gathered was thin, but given a good ten seconds it was enough to cover the man entirely.

Unfortunately, I didn't have that much time.

"The – "

I barely got one word out before a metal can clanked off the pavement. The weapon bounded once then – BANG! The world shattered in a wave of sound and light. My vision went blank, my swarm blind. Heavy concussion slammed into me. Deafening noise shook my senses. Halfway off Angelica, I stumbled then crashed onto the ground arms first.

Runes sewn into my costume crackled with life.

Grue recovered before I did. His motorcycle helmet was filled with his smoke. But even then, it was only because I had to pick myself back up onto my feet first.

"Sniper!" I finished.

I needn't have bothered.

The flashbang had torn my gathering swarm apart, but Grue was already in motion. The sniper hit the smoke with a three second head start.

And that was the end of it.

Before that moment, I had never properly appreciated the deadliness of Grue's power. It wasn't just darkness, it was something more. The instant the sniper set foot in the mist he tripped over his own feet. The man wobbled dangerously, caught himself in the stumble, then rammed head first into the alley wall.

Grue tackled him from behind.

The Undersiders' leader pinned the sniper with professional precision, twisting the man's arms around his back before he could recover. Then Grue reached for his belt and did what we should done in the first place, bind the man's hands with plastic cuffs.

Armsmaster approached.

The blue armored cape stopped just outside of Grue's darkness. There was a strangeness to it. The leader of the local Protectorate stood, with calm demeanor while – no more than two meters away – Grue tightened the sniper's cuffs. It was almost as though they were in separate worlds.

Then the head of Armsmaster's halberd started to ring. Reee...

The dual prongs of the halberd head trembled, giving rise to a deep resonant note. The thin cloud of insects watching from outside began to drop. Dong! Brutal sound blasted out like a bell. The sky shook. Wave stacked upon wave. Acoustic force formed into a column then crashed into Grue's darkness. Smoke pulsed as though hit. Misty darkness was violently shoved outward and upward. It compressed into itself, then surged into the sky like a shadowy thunderhead.

A tunnel was carved into the smoke. Lingering wisps curled in the air, like floating black silk. Half obscured by the dark, my eyes met those of Armsmaster. Yellowed lenses gazing into blue visor. Light versus dark. Young against old. The law standing against chaos.

In a different circumstance, we might have walked right on by. The relationship between Unit 09 and the Protectorate was cold, but not hostile. At least, that was how I judged things from our last interaction. There was a silent truce of sorts. A recognition that though we were not friends, we were not – explicitly – enemies.

And now that truce was being tested.

I saw Armsmaster's gaze drop. His eyes fell on Grue then the sniper. Blood poured from the man's broken nose. Even with the tufts of shadow, the PRT uniform was as clear as day.

Armsmaster's hand tightened on his halberd. The Tinker's stern lips curled with anger.

Today was officially shit.

"It's not what it looks like," I announced. I knew before I spoke that words were useless.

"Step away from officer," Armsmaster ground out.

Grue's skull faced mask turned toward me. I hesitated. Part of me wanted to try and talk it out, no matter how hopeless. The other didn't trust Armsmaster further than I could throw him. Fake or not, the sniper had shot Tattletale while wearing a PRT uniform.

A fact that had stuck in the Undersiders' minds more than my own.

"It's not what it looks like? It's exactly what it fucking looks like," Bitch interjected. The butch girl's eyes were wild as she stared down from atop Brutus. "You took one of ours, so now we're going to take one of yours."

My eyes widened. "Don't!"

But she wasn't listening. Bitch let out a long, sharp whistle and it wasn't the hurt signal.

"Brutus, kill!"

Brutus lunged. The beast's paws tapped atop the van's beaten frame as it leapt. Two tonnes of demon dog threw itself at Armsmaster. The blue armored cape's expression shifted. The man whirled his halberd. The dual pronged blade quivered. Reeee!

The harsh, piercing note was like a knife to the skull. The shrill vibration infiltrated my bones. My vision warped. My teeth gritted. It felt as though my skeleton had been sharpened into points then dragged across a chalkboard.

And if it was bad for humans, the sound hit Bitch's dogs far worse.

Angelica crumbled. With a pained whimper she placed a paw over both ears. Judas went down in a roll. Brutus misstepped. But the dog was already in motion and his momentum was too great. Brutus smashed into Armsmaster like an out of control bus.

The Tinker met the demonic dog head on.

Armsmaster's halberd rose in a sharp slap. The shrill cacophony cut off. Metal struck bone. Dong! A bell exploded, heavy enough to make my heart skip a beat. Air pulsed. Against all odds and physics, Brutus's head was smashed up and around so hard that the dog not only stopped, but rammed into the alley wall.

But the Tinker wasn't done. Armsmaster twisted the haft of his weapon. The dual pronged halberd head popped open like a claw, then shot out. The claw blade blurred toward Grue. Fast, but I was already rushing in and only needed one last step. Clang! C-zap! Taming Sari met the halberd's head with a heavy, metallic ring. Lightning crackled, then rippled down my costume in a current. Runes sizzled hot enough to make me hiss.

The claw bounced off the nearest wall. I reached for my belt. Before I could so much as touch Nanatsu-Yoru, Armsmaster twisted the haft back. The claw's metal cord retracted.

Grue hefted the sniper up then hit the Tinker with a flow of darkness.

Thick currents of shadow drowned the blue armored cape, before expanding out to fill the alley interior. Grue started a hasty walk back as he loosed his column of smoke.

"Fucking bastard," Bitch growled before spitting blood. "I'll kill him. I'm going to fucking kill him."

Brutus peeled himself out of the wall then shook his head. Bitch had been half smashed into the brick. It was only by luck that her leg hadn't been crushed.

"Cool it and pull back," Grue barked. "We're leaving."

"Leaving! We're leaving?" Bitch raved. "They shot Tattletale!"

"And we have the gunman," Grue reminded. "And we can get the rest later, after Caster has had her way with him."

"Right. We're not here to fight the Protectorate. We're here to collect the sniper then go."

I met the butch girl's eyes. My cold, bug-like lenses glinted in the night.

Bitch ground her teeth and growled.

Duuummm.

A deep, rumbling, tone rippled out, sounding like the world's biggest gong. The note rose not from the air. Instead, it was birthed from earth beneath our feet. The quivering vibration sank into legs and spine, leaving both numb and shaken. Grue's smoke suddenly bulged, as though it were an inflated sack.

"I think that's as good a sign as any," Grue commented, pulling the sniper faster. He raised an arm and sent out another waft of darkness.

I rushed toward Angelica.

Duuummm! The gargantuan gong sounded again. The dark cloud swelled out. Fog ripped along the seams, thinning until gaps could be seen through the murk. Though cracks I caught sight of Armsmaster, halberd point trembling like a tuning fork. Reee! The weapon rang with shrill force, the sound somehow dull and distance, as though devoured by the darkness surrounding.

Armsmaster shifted his grip then leveled his halberd like a gun.

Armsmaster twitched. The halberd tip jumped to the right. The Tinker twitched again, but this time it wasn't just his hand that moved. Armsmaster's whole body jumped as though shocked.

"Heh," Regent laughed, his tone cruel and mocking.

The coroneted cape's body jerked. Armsmaster drove himself into a wall.

Bang. Brick shattered under mass and metal. Armsmaster angrily dragged himself out. His halberd snapped up, shaft twisting. Regent jiggled his arm. The weapon's tip suddenly went wide. The claw blade ejected, shooting out like a bullet only to strike a wall three stories up.

Weeoo weeoo weeoo!

Regent's leg muscles pulse, throwing Armsmaster onto his hands and knees. The Tinker growled and tried to rise, only to be buried anew under Grue's shadow. The Undersiders' Shaker was at Judas's side, sniper already hoisted onto the dog's back. Grue flooded the alley, filling the space with complete black as we retreated.

I grabbed a bone spike on Angelica's back and pulled myself up.

Bitch gave Grue's smoke one last glower, then turned Brutus around to face the other direction.

With Regent's spot taken by the sniper, I had to wait until he crawled up behind me. His presence was like a sharp stab in the gut. That was where Tattletale usually sat.

She's alive.

Bitch kicked Brutus into motion.

Cop cars marked with a bold PRT whipped by as we burst from the alley. One skidded into a half circle, all but spinning out of control. Fifteen seconds later, the smoke Grue left in the alley puffed, then exploded out. Armsmaster charged after us, his powered armor suit chugging with every motion. On the street parallel to ours, his motorcycle came to life. The bike took off on its own then rushed up behind the Tinker.

Armsmaster mounted his vehicle without missing a single step.

But we already had the advantage of distance.

The PRT cop cars turned, then accelerated toward us, red and blue lights flashing in the night. Grue looked back then lobbed trails of darkness into the space behind us. The puffs ballooned out when they hit, forming clouds of smoke that devoured half the road. Armsmaster made a hard left, jumped a median then skewed back right to evade.

Regent shifted a shoulder. Armsmaster's motorcycle jilted into wobbling skid before steadying anew.

The Tinker loosed one arm from the handle bars then leveled his halberd.

Just in time to run straight into the spider silk line I had prepared.

The thread wasn't thick. The back force hardly more than a heavy jolt before it broke. But that was enough to tug Armsmaster off balance and set his bike into a dangerous shimmy.

By luck, Regent managed to twitch his legs at exactly that moment.

Armsmaster tumbled. His bike flew out from underneath him. The Tinker hit pavement in a long skid, showers of sparks lighting the dark as his armored exoskeleton slid across asphalt.

"Nice shot," Regent lauded.

The Undersiders' Master offered a hand. I gave it a confused glance. Wait. Did he want a high five?

Right then Velocity zigged out of an intersection. The speedster moved at a blur, his red costume no more than a streak. He appeared near me in a flick, pausing for a brief second as he tossed a small, hand sized cylinder in my direction.

Puff.

The plastic shell burst, spreading splatters of dark, yellow liquid. The fluid quickly bubbled up, paling as it expanded to a hundred times its prior volume. Half-a-dozen silly string sized strands stuck to my shoulder. Hundreds more struck Angelica's chest and thigh. The massive beast bulled through the hardening foam, ripping free with a jolt heavy enough to make her stumble.

I wasn't nearly so lucky.

The impulse tore me from my seat. Two-thirds of the expanded strands ripped at the start. The rest snapped before I hit ground. Concrete pounded into my shoulder. I rolled. My head cracked against cement. Stars filled my eyes. I tumbled dizzily before coming to a rest seven or eight meters from my starting spot.

I blinked twice then picked myself up, right hand fumbling for Taming Sari.

In the last few seconds, everything had gone straight to hell.

While I was tumbling, Velocity had flickered toward Grue before unleashing a pair of containment foam grenades. The first had struck Judas on the rear legs, trapping him in expanding forth. The second caught Grue on the waist after he'd been thrown from the dog.

Which left Grue with no recourse except to inundate the local space in massive, growing cloud of shadow.

A tactic which proved surprisingly effective. Grue's mist flooded the street. Velocity had been caught in the midst of it. Without sight or sound, the hero could barely move. But the effect was worse than that. Somehow, Grue's smoke pulled at the hero, cutting his speed down a mere fraction of what it was before.

However, that bulwark was a double edged sword.

The darkness cut Grue off from his companions. Neither Bitch nor Regent could function within his smoke. Instead, they were left pinned. With nowhere to retreat, Armsmaster quickly caught up. The Tinker brandished his halberd, unleashing a shrill ring. The trembling note sent shivers through my spine.

Regent's shoulder twitched. Armsmaster jerked, his halberd slamming against dirt. The earth swallowed the vibration. No longer weakened by the sound, Brutus regained his feet. Bitch's mount lunged toward the Tinker. The blue armored cape barely had time to raise his arms to meet him.

Only to be thrown off balance by Regent anew.

The demon dog crashed into Armsmaster, bearing him down onto the ground. Metal screamed in protest. Brutus's great maw bit down. Dagger like teeth met the haft of Armsmaster's halberd. The two begin to wrestle, size and supernatural strength struggling against sci-fi servos.

Angelica came pattering around, stopping beside me. The alien beast's tongue lolled from her jaw as she breathed in and out with heavy huffs.

"Fuck," Regent noised, nursing his right shoulder.

"I'm fetching Grue. Keep him busy," I ordered. I turned and left before the Master could give an answer.

"Better make it fast or my power will start backfiring," Regent called after me.

I dashed into Grue's cloud.

Grue's darkness was like oil. The mist clung to me, thick, slippery. It oozed into my costume, wiggling in through the pores as though it were alive. The slimy substance coated my skin, leaving me cold, empty and numb. It was quiet. A suppressive silence made all the more eerie by the brutal battle taking place just outside. Not a scrap of light made it through. Pitch black. A devouring darkness that left one utterly blind not only in terms of sight but also hearing, smell and – to an extent – balance and touch.

It was as though I were walking through a void.

If it were anyone else, Grue's smoke would be impassible. No different than a vast swamp or a giant wall. But I was not limited to mere eyes.

Though I was blind, I could still sense my swarm. The position of every bug was clear to me, and in return my location in relation to them. Like me, they could not see or smell. But they could fly blindly and clamp onto ground, walls, and flesh. They were like little stars in the night, illuminating everything.

With my horde as a guide, I moved swiftly through the smoke. Grue was ten meters ahead, leg and hip glued to the earth by sticky glops of foam. The frothy substance didn't seem like much, but containment foam was tough, strong, and elastic. Grue pulled against it. The pale yellow glop stretched with his motion then slowly sucked him back into place.

Grue paused, skull helmet focused on the foam pinning him in place. After a few seconds of thought, the Shaker reached for his belt. I was sorely tempted wait until he pulled off his pants, but as enticing as that might be, we were in a rush.

Unsheathing a copy of Nanatsu-Yoru, I approached.

Grue looked up when I was three meters away. Clearly his senses weren't limited within his smoke. Velocity passed by, crossing within a street's width of us. The hero moved using a creepily quick crawl. Velocity's speed, combined with his stilted pauses for thought, made him appear disturbingly like a ghost in a horror film.

I knelt at Grue's side. Anfang Ader. Prana crackled in my system, then flooded into the blade. My circuits drained in a breath. Vile lines grew like bramble, crisscrossing the world's surface. Grue shadowed mist seemed to fade, dispersed by blighted light. Nanatsu-Yoru flashed. The knife carved through a thin line that slashed through the containment foam.

Pale matter parted.

Grue picked himself up. He patted his leather pants. A large, yellow glop still hung from his hip like a cancer.

"Thanks." Grue's voice was muted and distant. It was as though he were speaking from the bottom of a well.

"Don't mention it." My words were dull, their depth devoured by the black. "We need to break the pursuit." My head turned. "That and bail out – Shit!"

"What is it?" Grue asked in alarm. He was peering off in the distance, skull mask directed toward Bitch and Armsmaster.

"Dauntless just showed up."

"Fuck," Grue cursed.

Grue shot off. For a second, I was tempted to follow. Then I realized that I was just as useful inside the mist as out. My swarm had been building every minute since we stopped. Now I put it to work. A battalion of mosquitoes, backed by an elite squadron of bees and wasps, rose up toward the newly arrived hero. Dauntless didn't even see them coming. One second he was floating down from the sky, glowing shield at the ready, the next he was covered in a swarm of stinging, biting insects.

Dauntless reacted belatedly to my attack. The hero, for all his power, was utterly vulnerable to my swarm. His shield only covered his front. His armor had plenty of gaps. Dauntless defended himself in the only way he knew how, by suddenly accelerating away from my throng. His boots flared white, sending him toward distant heights. Then his arclance lashed out, shooting brilliant lightning through my horde.

Bugs died by the dozen.

Which was pretty much the same as doing nothing at all.

I didn't have a whole lot of time. Sooner or later, Armsmaster was going to call Dauntless toward him, and it'd only take one ring of the Tinker's sonic halberd to obliterate my entire swarm. I had two choices. Judas and the sniper.

Judas, like Grue, was pinned by containment foam. Unlike Grue, Judas was big, strong, and had claws sharp enough to shred steel. The massive beast was already tearing at the hardened material, ripping through the foam and digging up the road to get through it. The monstrous beast didn't need my help. In this darkness, I wasn't sure I'd survive giving it, either.

Which left the sniper.

In our rush, the sniper had never been properly secured. His hands had been hastily bound by plastic cuffs, but his legs were free to do as they pleased. More importantly, we never got around to removing all his equipment.

And the sniper, apparently, carried a lot of equipment. I found the man a good ten meters from Judas, with one shoulder up against a wall. The sniper walked slowly in a half kneel while he worked the plastic cuffs with a hidden knife.

Under the cover of Grue's smoke, there was no need to hide my footsteps. I moved quickly. Despite that, the sniper cut himself free before I could get to him. I paused, then circled cautiously.

The sniper nursed his wrists then moved forward. One step. Two steps. When the man moved to take a third, he walked face first into a decorative fixture. His speed wasn't much, so the blow was more an annoyance than a threat. Or, at least it would have been, if I hadn't been there waiting for a chance to take advantage of his mistake.

I lunged in. Taming Sari swept through the mist, deathly silent. I felt a dull twack when the weapon struck.

The sniper stumbled. I kicked the knife from his hand before he could recover.

Realizing the threat, the sniper quickly jumped back. He looked to either side instinctively. Useless. In this oppressive dark, all advantages belonged to me. Even the sound of our breath had been devoured.

I moved, circling to a new position.

In a fight, there were fundamental factors that couldn't be changed. The most immediately important was that the sniper had half again my mass. If I was stupid and careless, he could turn this into a wrestling match. A wrestling match I'd lose. So a certain degree of caution was warranted. The second major issue was that I wanted him alive. Which meant I needed to injure the sniper without killing him.

And for that, my most potent weapons were useless.

My swarm could kill and harass, but it couldn't subdue. Nanatsu-Yoru would gut the sniper like a fish. Taming Sari was a happy medium, but repeatedly hitting the man upside the head would make him more dead than unconscious. Body blows were out for another reason, the sniper was wearing an armored vest. Add that to the man's advantage regarding size and my arms would probably wear out long before his gut.

That left the joints.

When the sniper moved to my right, I shifted left. My leading foot lashed out in a low side-kick. In the darkness, the sniper didn't get a last second warning. My heel hit the man unprepared on the knee.

I felt the limb shift in its socket.

The sniper dropped. I danced around to his right then jabbed him under the armpit, neatly avoiding his plated vest. The sniper turned like a snake. A wide hook brushed past my cheek. I couldn't have asked for a better chance. I slipped in and caught the man's wrist before the blow could finish, then twisted the sniper's arm into a vicious lock Saber taught.

The sniper strained against my grip. I tightened the pressure then shoved his face against the nearby wall for emphasis.

"Give it up," I ordered. My words were almost a shout, even then I wasn't absolutely certain he could hear. "You can't win. Not here. Not in this."

The large man struggled for a second longer then relaxed. I all but breathed a sigh of relief. In terms of position and leverage, my advantage was perfect. If the sniper wanted to escape, I'd have more than enough time to twist away and snap his arm in three places.

But that didn't mean the sniper couldn't escape. If he was willing to sacrifice his arm, he could drag out this fight for quite a bit longer.

Especially given that I had no way to move him anywhere.

"I have a grenade," the sniper said suddenly. His voice was harsh, echoing, like he was yelling through hundred meter tunnel. "If you don't let go, I'll use it."

My breath stilled. I noticed, too late, what the sniper had used his free hand for. Like he said, he had a grenade. Worse, he'd already pulled the pin out. Was it a bluff? I was no expert when it came to munitions. The grenade he was carrying could be another flashbang, or it could be something more deadly.

I stopped and thought. Time was ticking. The Undersiders were holding their own. Grue's help had come at a time when it was sorely needed, but Dauntless, as I had feared, had gone to Armsmaster for help. The swarm I had gathered had all but been wiped out. With the two heroes joined, the battle had entered a grueling stalemate.

But there was no way that stalemate could continue. New Wave was in the area. More of the Protectorate would show up. Meanwhile, Unit 09 was on the the other side of town. Caster, at a minimum, was committed. Archer was a maybe. Only Saber remained a free agent.

Which would be more than enough. The blonde knight was worth three of Brockton Bay's finest at her worst. The problem, though, was one of timing. Best case scenario was that Archer called her in before he took off with Tattletale. If she rushed, that'd put her at what? Five minutes out? And that was assuming Saber knew where to find us.

I didn't like it. Five minutes was too long. Too risky.

We needed to get back on the move now. I couldn't let the sniper's threat drag this out. Besides, my gut was telling me that he was lying. The facts didn't line up. The sniper had surrendered too quickly when we first caught up. After that, he'd taken every chance to skip out with his life.

Those were the actions of a man who wanted to live, not those of a fanatic ready to die for a cause. Would a man like that blow himself up?

Decided, I twisted his wrist until the sniper's joints were at the breaking point. I could feel the man squirm in my grip.

"You don't have the guts," I said, grimly.

There was a moment of quiet between us. The fly on the sniper's sleeve caught his quiver. The man's hands were sweaty. He was nervous.

"A deal," the sniper finally shouted. "I want a deal."

My expression darkened. I felt a stab of anger. For a second, I contemplated smashing the sniper's skull against the concrete wall.

"Do you think this is a negotiation?" I hissed. I had to restrain myself before I broke the man's arm. "This is how it's going to work. You talk and you talk to Caster. No more trouble. No more bullshit. You play along, and when we're done asking questions, we turn yourself over to the cops. But if try to run one more fucking time, I'll feed you to my bugs."

Then, right after saying it, a dozen roaches bit down. They tore into flesh and tasted blood. The sniper twitched in my grip. At his reaction, I felt an edge of vicious satisfaction.

At that moment it occurred to me that I might not be a good person. Not because I took pleasure at his pain, but because I meant it. I really meant it. If I couldn't bring the sniper with me, I was going to fucking kill him. Right here. Right now.

Maybe the sniper caught that. Maybe he just figured he'd play along. Either way, the man nodded.

I hesitated for a moment, then let him go. After stepping away from me, the sniper shifted the grenade to his now freed hand then readied to put the pin back into the weapon.

Chaos was the heart of combat. Events run out of control. In such conditions, it was inevitable that something stupid would happen. In the darkness, the sniper fumbled the pin. At the same moment, Armsmaster's halberd unleashed a great toll. The concussive wave swept out, smashing aside billowing smoke.

It was only happenstance that the Tinker unleashed that force in our direction.

Dong!

Shadow split. A heavy gust of rammed into my chest, pushing me half a step back. For me, it didn't matter much. But for the sniper, whose hands were covered in sweat, who was already bungling in the dark, the sudden pulse came at the worst possible time.

The grenade slipped.

It fell from the sniper's surprised hand. He stared, pin still in hand, glinting dimly in the now revealed streetlights. There was no sound when the grenade hit. Though Armsmaster's halberd had blown away our cover, smoke still enveloped our shins. In this instance, that depth was like an infinite void, swallowing all sound and sight.

The sniper's expression twisted. Dismay turned into shock. Shock transformed into terror. It wasn't a flashbang, I realized. The grenade was real. I had enough time to complete the thought before –

Boom!

Black mist exploded out. The blast knocked me off my feet. Metal shrapnel pattered against my costume like rain. I hit the earth, still dizzy from the trauma.

The sniper didn't have my protection. His ballistic vest blocked half the metal death. The rest rent every centimeter of flesh still exposed. Skin was ripped apart. Meat was torn from his body in chunks. Blood flowed out in rivers.

I was dazed. Numb. My emotions were scattered. What did I feel? Vindication? Horror? No, I felt confused. Bewildered. How did it turn out like this?

Before I could recover, Armsmaster's halberd shot out toward me. While my mortal mind was in flux, Taming Sari was not bound by such conditions. My body turned in an acrobatic twist. My baton rose with impossible grace. Clang! Metal rang as Taming Sari meet the open claw that was the Tinker's fired weapon. The shock jolted me from my funk.

Just in time for the halberd head to clamp down.

Zzzt! Thunderous current sparked. Electric flux roared through my baton. Lightning shot over my costume before sinking into the earth. Taming Sari heated. The hilt grew warm then hot. The metal glowed red hot.

Armsmaster twisted the halberd haft. The ejected head retracted. I grit my teeth against the pain and wrenched back.

Lightning flared. Dauntless's arclance struck me in the stomach.

The hero's weapon was more than mere thunder. It was physical force. Electricity and lance in one. The weight of it was like a punch to the gut. Air exploded out of my lungs. My hand loosened. I watched, helpless, as Armsmaster reeled my weapon in.

Judas, guided by Grue, lunged out of shadow. Armsmaster plucked Taming Sari from the clamped halberd head then swung his weapon around. Dong. The halberd hit with a bell's pulse, softer this time for lack of build up. Judas staggered. Grue unleashed a pillar of smoke.

Dauntless's arclance flashed, striking Grue's shoulder with electric force. The hero descended, shield at the fore. The energy barrier crackled when it hit the smoke, then burned a path straight through it.

Dong! Armsmaster halberd let out another bell ring, sending darkness fleeing in all directions. But by then, Grue had already vanished back into the mist. But I could still sense him through my swarm. He was looking at me.

"Don't," I said to his unspoken query.

The Undersiders were already half beaten. Bitch was banged up to the point she could hardly cling to Brutus's back. The dogs were worn from the long fight. Regent's power had been used to its limit. Most important of all, Miss Militia and Triumph were thirty seconds out.

Dauntless floated back, his armored boots crackling with brilliant light. The hero stopped over the sniper's corpse, which incidentally put Dauntless right next to me.

Dauntless nudged the sniper with his spear.

"Uh, Armsmaster, I think he's dead."

Armsmaster's already unpleasant visage turned grim. The Tinker strode over with heavy chungs. Armsmaster reached down and grabbed my costume by the back of the neck. I made no motion to resist as he dragged me up onto my feet.

"Tell Archer not to do anything stupid. I'll be fine," I ordered toward the empty mist.

Armsmaster jerked me toward the open street.

"Quiet," he growled.

"What about them?" Dauntless asked, pointing at the silent darkness.

"The Undersiders are masters of escape," Armsmaster countermanded. "We don't have the manpower capture them and hold her."

Weeooo Weeoo. A PRT van came skidding to a stop. Miss Militia and Triumph stepped out along with two agents.

Triumph's eyes widened when they caught sight of me. "We caught one of Unit 09?"

Miss Militia looked at Armsmaster questioningly. The Tinker dragged me toward the back of the van.

"There's a dead body, call it in," he said. The Tinker pulled open the van's back doors then pushed me inside.

"You have the right to remain silent," he said, gruffly while cuffing me in place. "Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you."

As I sat in silence, nobody noticed the phone I had long ago turned on.

-oOo-