1.2
"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, but I was," Mesa said to Karma as they hiked up the trail towards the crest of the misnamed mountain in the predawn darkness.
"About what?" Karma inquired. She was a pretty blond, taller than him, with a sad smile on her face. She insisted on walking with both her hands clutching his left arm. Mesa thought she needed the familiar comfort. While David and Eric were not identical twins, they bore a striking resemblance.
"His students, yesterday's memorial." Mesa responded, concentrating on the trail ahead. The storms Leviathan had brought with him had blown branches from the trees and debris from who knows where, leaving the nature preserve's usually well cared for trails in a bit of a mess. The footing was uncertain, and he did not want her to trip in the predawn lighting. "I know things are really messed up all over the Bay, but I would have expected at least some of them to attend."
"I tried contacting those who I could find numbers or emails for directly but didn't get any responses. I also posted on various platforms on which Eric was active. But it is a hard time for everyone."
"Yeah, but it was just you, me, Seavers, and a few of our parents' friends that are still on the Island. No one from Winslow at all." Mesa moved a fallen branch aside to clear their way.
"The people that mattered were there." She squeezed his arm.
When they reached the top of the trail, they found themselves at the edge of a clearing. The top of Mt. Frost was a rocky dome with no trees blocking the panoramic view. There was a small platform built up an additional two stories at the crest of the dome. The pair climbed up. On top were coin-operated binoculars and four long maps attached to the railing mirroring the landscape that could be seen from the vantage. Points of interest were marked clearly.
"This was his favorite spot," Karma stated in a hushed voice, more suited to the inside of a church than the top of a mountain. As they stood the sun crested the straight-line horizon where the water met the sky. "He loved watching the sunrise over the ocean."
"Our parents used to take us here when we were kids. After they died, we would trek up here together on their birthdays and the anniversary of their death." Mesa recounted with none of the emotion that should have been evident in his voice. "They used to point out all the features on the maps and tell us stories about the history of the area - the tribes, the pilgrims, and the revolution. I think that's why Eric got into history."
"This is good." Karma pulled out a beaded bag. In it was a ziplock full of ashes. It was small.
Too small for a human's remains, Mesa thought expertly.
"It's just some of his hair and his favorite clothes and books," she replied to his unspoken question. "More his spirit than his body."
"Oh." Mesa had no idea how to respond.
"Step back," she warned.
He watched silently as she opened the bag and spread the ashes into the wind. He offered a farewell to the faux ashes of his faux brother as they sailed over the island towards the bay.
When Karma was finished, she folded the ziplock and put it back in her beaded bag. They stood and watched the sun rise. Once it was well above the horizon, she turned to him and looked into his eyes.
"I know you're not David, but I appreciate your standing in for him yesterday at the remembrance and especially this morning. It would have been hard to do this alone." She hugged him.
"What do you mean, I'm not David?" Not-David asked.
"David didn't survive Leviathan any more than Eric did. You came out instead."
"What? How?" Mesa did not know how to press for information without confirming her accusations.
"Something happened when Eric was killed. Something happened to me," she started, her voice hollow, almost desolate. "It was like my third eye was suddenly opened. Now it's like I'm tied into the collective unconscious or maybe something even bigger. I get visions of the past and the future. I know what people are feeling. I know so many things that I never learned. It's not constant, or even consistent. More like flashes of intuition. And I knew you weren't Eric's brother the moment I saw you."
"Can anyone get powers in this crazy world?" Mesa muttered.
Karma smiled. "The universe tells me all it takes is one really bad day."
Mesa had tried to find David's memory of how he got his powers, but it was broken. He could not understand what had happened. But it had been a really bad day in Boston involving villains playing a game.
"So, you're not from this world?" She asked as she once again wrapped her hands around his arm and began leading him towards the stairs.
"I didn't say that."
"No, but it's true, nonetheless. I hope that means David passed on to the next turning of the wheel peacefully when he gave you his body. They all deserve peace."
Mesa made no reply. For some reason he did not want to lie directly to the odd woman. But he was not willing to admit to his circumstances. While his research had shown the people of Earth Bet knew of and had interactions with parallel Earths, he did not think they would take kindly to the idea of someone from an unknown parallel hijacking the body of one of their heroes.
They made their way down to the parking lot in silence. He drove her to the pier where some clever teens had set up water taxis going back and forth to a public recreational dock on the edge of Shanytown.
"Thanks for this. I'll see you on Thursday. I understand you'll be busy on the weekend." Karma gently caressed his cheek. "My agency has me working with the refugees at the camp, mostly with the kids, but everyone there needs our services. I'll be free Thursday. Come to my place. It survived and I should be able to get enough food to put together a nice dinner. We can talk more then. Maybe you'll tell me more about yourself."
Mesa hesitated but the blond steamroller ignored that and finished with a "See you then!" as the boat motored away. He had no idea what to make of her, but figured that, unless he was caught in a fight or something, he would be there on Thursday.
Vector had gotten a call from the Protectorate. Battery wanted his backup on a mission. He agreed to meet her at the PRT HQ, as the Rig had been destroyed in the attack. When he arrived at the rooftop landing pad the heroine was waiting for him.
"You see that?" she pointed out towards the bay as she handed him a communicator.
He looked as he donned the earpiece. Near the Boardwalk there was a cloud gathering, lifting into the air from the buildings.
"Smoke?" he asked almost to himself. "No. It's moving wrong. What is it?" He wished she had given him the visor with its telescopic capabilities as well, but this was not a convoy escort, so he did not get all the goodies.
"Bugs," she replied flatly. "Skitter causing it. We had word the Undersiders were up to something and after their attack here we've been ordered to split up and find out what. Skitter is deemed to be the most dangerous of the team, so I requested backup. Piggot didn't want to involve the Wards so you're what's available."
"Thanks for your confidence," Vector offered sarcastically.
"You ready? We need to get there quickly." She ignored his response.
"Should I carry you?" he asked.
"If you can," she agreed.
The outworlder grabbed the government hero in a bridal carry and pushed off from the roof. It only took a few minutes to close the distance, but in that time the insect swarm had grown in size at least tenfold. It was actually blocking the light in some areas.
Mesa was not happy with the mission. It had nothing to do with Surfside. But he still thought of himself as a cop, if in a different uniform. And cooperation between agencies was a thing that happened on occasion. He could afford to cooperate with the Protectorate so they would be more likely to back him up when he needed it. There were some gangs in the area with half a dozen or more parahumans. He did not like his chances holding back an all-out attack on the island from one of those groups without other heroes on his side.
"Land there." Battery pointed to a street corner. The area, being so near the shore, was in pretty bad shape. Standing water was everywhere and the buildings showed no lights or noise from radios or TVs. More than half of Brockton Bay was currently lacking plumbing or electricity, with more than a few unfortunate individuals having neither. This seemed to be one of those neighborhoods.
"Some of you know of me! My name is Skitter!" The insect master stood on the gate of a truck. Bugs swirled around her, tightly packed together so they were moving in tendrils and loops. The noises of the swarm accented her words, giving them an eerie, strangely loud echo. It was intimidating as hell.
Mesa looked over the crowd she was addressing. So many kids. So many who looked sick, pale with red cheeks. Some people were dressed too heavily for the warm weather. Everyone was dirty and damp, their hair greasy and clothes wrinkled. The people of Surfside looked so much better. Mesa was reminded again how lightly the Island had been hit in comparison.
"I am laying claim to this area!" the villain announced. "From this moment, I rule this territory!"
"What the hell?" Vector murmured to Battery. She raised her hand to shush him but never took her eyes off the masked girl.
"I'm not the ABB, I'm not the Merchants, the Empire, or the Chosen! No, I'm acting in your interests!"
Mesa thought she sounded like she was selling something, mostly to the crowd but partially to herself as well.
So now the villains are policing themselves? He thought. Something told him this would not happen without resistance. He looked around for any other gang members. He noticed the men she had on the truck – well armed and likely trained from the look of them. He did not see any immediate opposition but knew it would come.
"I demand no money from you, I don't intend to interfere in your lives unless you interfere in mine! I don't want to take or destroy what you have!" Skitter pointed at the crates that were on the ground beneath her. "These supplies are yours, a gift from me to you. And there will be more, delivered regularly for as long as I'm here. My abilities will mean there will be no buzzing or biting flies harassing you, no cockroaches crawling over you as you sleep. I'm offering you protection, security, and reprieve, for as long as you're my subjects! All I require is that you obey my rules, so hear me!"
Mesa listened as she laid out her rules. They were simple. No one from the other gangs was allowed in her territory. Not to sell drugs, steal from her people, or even live there. Nor were her people allowed to offer them aid or assistance. Or to break her other rules.
This was followed by threats of sending her swarm to strip the flesh from their bones. She was not playing nice. He wondered if her descriptions of her capabilities were accurate, and if so, why would she give out that kind of information. More likely they were misleading boasts.
Skitter kept glancing towards Battery as she spoke. Occasionally she spared a look at Vector, but it was the government hero she was wary of.
After brandishing the stick, she offered the crowd the carrot. "Each box contains enough basic food rations for four people. They also have first aid supplies and water filters. These supplies will keep you going until we can start fixing things and making more basic conveniences available."
"If you want more, work for me. This work doesn't have to be criminal. I need people to pass on messages, act as spokespersons for these neighborhoods, and clean up or rebuild. For anyone who does assist me, they and their families will have access to some of those foods you miss, to showers and electricity, and generous payment. You and your loved ones will be dry, clean, and you will have fresh clothes."
"How the hell is she getting these supplies?" I hissed at Battery. "Are they hitting the convoys? Stealing from the camps?"
"I don't know?" Battery replied tersely.
"Thank you for listening," Skitter concluded. "These supplies are yours to take. One to each family or group, up to two if your family is large enough."
Slowly at first, then with a hint of desperation speeding their movements, the people started lining up to take the boxes from the guards. Mesa noticed Skitter used her bugs to keep the crowd in order, stinging those that misbehaved. Just having a bee fly in their face was enough to get most people's attention.
When one man, a junkie by his demeanor, drew a blade and threatened the villain, she allowed him to stab her several times, to show the futility of attacking her. She then quickly took him down and grabbed his knife.
That was when Battery decided to move. Vector rose into the air to back her up. He observed as Skitter and the Protectorate hero argued. As did most of the crowd, including the armed guards. Vector kept most of his attention on the mooks, ready in case one decided to start the party off with a bang.
When Skitter tossed the knife towards Battery, Vector tagged it with a tractor which caused it to fly into his hand. This left his partner unencumbered. He quickly tucked it into his belt. Both of the other parahumans glared at him for a moment then returned to their "discussion".
"… I'm the lesser of a whole lot of evils that are in the city right now." Skitter stated smugly.
"Mm. For now." Battery admitted reluctantly.
Vector rose up to check the rooftops. There was a small crowd of mostly teens watching the gathering from a safer distance. They scattered when they saw his flying form. He was not sure what it said when the citizens gathered for a villain but ran from a hero.
"… I've got supplies from an outside agent … at my own expense … policing this area … not about to get in my way, are you?" He only heard part of what Skitter was saying but it sounded like she was trying to do the right thing, likely for the wrong reason. And that was what worried him. He returned to standing behind her.
Battery's response was no less concerning for a longtime police officer. "When we first set post-Endbringer measures in place, your team was listed as low priority, and we were instructed to ignore you. Too costly in time and resources. I suspect someone intended to change that after your little stunt the other night, but the memo hasn't gone out yet. You hear me?"
Skitter nodded silently, her expression, or what could be seen of it through her rigid mask was grim.
"So, I'm going by the book, and I'm walking away." Battery looked like she was holding back from poking her finger into the villain's armored chest by willpower alone. "But I'll be keeping an eye on you, on this, and the moment you go too far, we're coming after you, no holds barred."
"I wouldn't expect any less," Skitter growled.
Battery spun to me and barked, "Let's go."
Mesa thought for a second. Skitter was part of a gang. If she was claiming territory, chances are the others were too. Taking advantage of the chaos and lack of unified opposition to take control of great swaths of the city.
He needed to make sure Surfside was left out of their plans. The best way to do that, was to talk. If necessary, he would fight, and call for all the back up he could get if he was facing the full gang. He though Skitter was trying to be reasonable right now. He wanted to take advantage of that to try to strike a deal. This was not something he was comfortable doing in front of the fed.
"I think I need to stick around a bit," he said quietly. "Can you get back on your own?"
She looked at him like he was an idiot and shook her head. Then, with a flash of light, she was gone.
Skitter stared at him. He stared back. He was pretty sure his repulsor field would keep most of her bugs off him. But he still needed to breath and see so his eyes, mouth and nose were vulnerable. He really wished he had a full-face mask at this point.
"Are we going to fight?" Skitter asked.
"I don't see the need at the moment." Vector replied.
"What did you want to talk about?" she asked.
"You're taking territory. Are the rest of your gang taking territory of their own, elsewhere in the city?"
She went silent and still, unnaturally so. Her sharp eyes behind her tinted lenses and her long hair were the only traits confirming her humanity.
She gave the smallest shake of her head then replied. "Yes. With the Empire and ABB effectively gone and the authorities flailing ineffectively with their hand tied by political bullshit, so ones got to take control and see the people get fed."
"The whole city?" he pressed.
"More or less," she confirmed.
"Then we may have a problem."
"What problem?"
"Surfside is not up for grabs," he stated bluntly. "Our people are not starving, and our government is still functioning. We don't want or need anyone to come and take over."
"That's who you are!" she said, sounding almost relieved. "I knew you looked familiar. I just couldn't place you."
"Yeah. I guess you could say Pentucket Island is my territory."
Again, she looked at him blankly. "You'll have to take that up with Genesis."
"Who's that?" he asked.
"Surfside is just off Shanytown, right? Connected by a bridge."
"The bridge is down until it gets cleared and repaired, but yeah."
"Shantytown and its surroundings are Genesis' territory. But I can set up a meeting between you. Let you work it out." Skitter offered.
Mesa thought about it. Talk-talk was better than war-war Churchill had said. Meeting was better than fighting, unless it was a trap, an ambush.
"Where and when?" he asked. "And how will I know it is safe? I don't want to walk alone into an ambush, and you don't want me bringing the Protectorate with me."
"Neutral ground," she replied. "You can meet at Somer's Rock, if it's still standing. If not, we'll come up with another place."
He considered for a moment. It was probably the best he would get. He pulled out a card – the mayor had insisted he have them to give out to tourists, usually with an autograph – and gave it to her. "The number goes to an automated mailbox, but you can get a message to me. The system will track your number and put you on a list for Surfside tourist spam. Fair warning."
"And they call me a villain."
He shrugged.
"We'll contact you," she replied.
"In the meanwhile, I'll prepare to repel any invasions. Like I said, it's my island." Mesa almost smiled. He wondered if that film had ever come out here.
With that last quip he pushed into the air and flew home.
