AN/Well, here it is the rewritten chapter of IPH it's a softer start to be sure. But worry not this is based on worm and things will go horribly wrong in short order. So it will still be the same grim-dark hell scape we all know Worm to be. Just not quiet so in your face as it was the first time around.

[beginning restoration from astral backup]

Gasping in heaping lungfuls of air. I couldn't move, couldn't breathe, it was dark; I was so, so scared, I did not know when the bad man who hurt mommy and daddy would come back and open my box. Whenever he did, it was only to hurt me.

In time he opened the box, my box. I felt the biting cold of fresh air on naked skin. I-I was naked too. "Well, awake, are we, Pet?" he asked, when I refused to answer him. When I continued to struggle. I felt the biting cold steel of a blade on my belly. Instinctively, I tensed my whole body and went rigid. As still as the grave.

"Eventually you'll learn, for now I will leave you with this." he slowly drove the knife down into me. I groaned in agony. I felt every inch like a firebrand. It left me breathless, speechless. My everything was on fire. I wanted to curl up. "You'll break, eventually, they all do." he said, his firm grip on the knife digging around inside me. With a firm jerk, he yanked the knife from my helpless form. And closed the lid to my box. Left me in darkness, pain my only constant.

The constant burning pooling fire in my belly, the sticky, clammy feel of my pooling blood. The bitter cold and rapid pitter patter of my heart, my panting breaths that would never come. Those were all I had to focus on. I did not know how long I was like that. It could have been minutes, days, hours. They all blended together. All I knew was that from time to time he would check open my box and stick me with something. And just like magic, everything would snap back into crystal clear focus. The burning would return with fury. I would scream myself hoarse. Until the real darkness seeped in. the numbing feeling… the cold. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't stop the cold forever. The cold was peace… safe.

I gasped awake, the chill of death running through my veins, as if the grim reaper had just gripped my heart, like someone had just walked over my grave. Panting in utter terror, it took me a while to come back to reality. To realize just where I was.

I let out a silent, shaky sigh of relief. Holding back tears. It was another memory, another hellish nightmare. Just like the dozen or so I had since I woke up in a body not my own. And that was three weeks ago now. Just like with the others, I could still feel the phantom sensations of the blade. The acrid metallic taste of blood in my mouth. If I closed my eyes, I could still see his face, his immaculately trimmed goatee. I let out a silent whimper before curling up into a ball, rocking back and forth. The tears I was holding back finally leaked out.

I told myself I was safe; he was not here, he could not hurt me. But even as I told myself that, I knew it to be a lie. To be false. Even if it were not Jack, someone still trapped me on Earth Bet in Brockton bay. The heart of conflict for the next year, at the very least. For what purpose I did not know.

Eventually my crying jag ceased once my nerves settled down. I looked around the room I shared with five other girls, In the runaway shelter. It was one of many shelters in Brockton bay. A shelter in the better part of town. Glancing around, I was glad I had not woken up anyone with my panic attack. That was good, but I was covered head to toe in sweat, sticky and gross. I desperately needed a shower. But, I was bone dead tired. For a while I debated the merits of just trying to go back to sleep. But after that… I'd never be able to get back to sleep. With a mournful sigh, I glanced at the clock. And of course it was three in the morning. I slipped out of bed, Silent as a ghost. Grabbing what I needed on the way.

The shelter's shower rooms were more of locker rooms, one for boys and one for girls. I entered the shower room. It was still a strange feeling for me to enter the girl's locker room. But I did so, and as quickly as I could, I showered. Scrubbing away at this body ignoring the pain. I felt so dirty. I kept at it until I felt clean, until I rubbed skin raw and red…

[beginning restoration from astral backup]

I scowled in the instant those words echoed across my mind.

[restoration complete]

With a sigh of defeat, I turned off the water. Skin unblemished, pristine. Wrapped myself in a towel. Drying off with an almost mechanical detachment. Sitting on a bench in front of a mirror while I worked a comb through my hair, relying on muscle memory and the memories of a life I never lived. Staring back at me was a face I did not know, one that was becoming all too normal to me. Where once I was a black man of twenty-seven years of age. Having just finished celebrating my birthday with friends and family. I was tall, god was I tall, sitting at six foot eight inches. I was the tallest in my immediate family. With brown eyes and black hair with a bit of white because of a skin condition, I was an introvert. And was happiest with a book in hand.

Now when I looked into that mirror. What stared back at me were the yellow golden eyes and long waist length dirty blonde hair, and a dusky skin tone. That of someone of Mediterranean descent. But what I felt was the most noticeable changes. Was that I was now in a body, not my own, that of a rather young girl. One who was barley four foot one and not even eighty pounds on a good day. Worse were the PTSD induced night terrors brought about by what I could only assume were our memories of the past. Worse, with each passing day I felt the distinct line that separated the me that was William Daniels. From the girl that was Alexandra Miles. Blurring day by day, eroding into nothingness. Part of me was worried about what would happen to us. And strangely another part was ok with it.

Once I was done with my hair, pinning the fringe that were my bangs out of the way. I got dressed. Slipping on my underwear, then a pair of jeans, a t-shirt and hoodie. A pair of old trainers. By the time I was done, it was half past four. Which meant that it was almost time for the others to get up. Grabbing my pack, I left the changing room. I had wanted to slip away unnoticed however… leaning against the opposite wall of the changing rooms was Michael. His full name was Michael Holt. He is one of this center's full-time staff. He was a tall man of African-American descent, Broad shouldered, and had eyes that sparkled with amusement.

Wordlessly, he approached me, offering me his hand. I took it without protest; it was the routine we slipped into whenever I had a night terror. Like I did tonight, it was either him waiting for me or his partner Harley who would come in to check on me. "So, another awful night, huh?"

I nodded.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked me.

I shook my head in the negative. I'd rather pound sand than relive those memories. Not while it was so fresh, so vivid in my mind.

"Ok, would you like to tinker?"

My grip tightened around his as I mutely nodded my affirmation. It was another one of our little routines. Ever since he found me half crazed, positively rabid, starving and rummaging through a dumpster in the bad part of town. It brought a smile to my face, thinking about how we met.

I dressed in rags, diving into a supermarket's dumpster. The only thing I had worth anything amounted to super mace and a one shot laser pointer that caused temporary blindness. Like it or not, Lookout I was not. Both devices I had cobbled together using literal trash I found in dumpsters. I was grateful that rather than hand me over to the PRT, the kid who just hit him full in the face with super mace. He took me in, fed me, clothed me, and did not ask questions about my past. And for that, I felt I owed him a debt I could never repay.

And if I used what little materials, he gave me to make a better than ever super mace 2.0, made with everyday mundane materials, more painful than a bullet Ant, guaranteed to strip the paint off a car and still temporarily blind someone and put them down in mind melting agony. Cleverly disguised as regular pepper spray, He said nothing of it. Merely giving it out to the other runaways with a vindictive smile. And if I worked out of the boiler room, no one said a thing. Everyone thinks I'm some kind of little poor disabled prodigy who has an interest in chemistry, rather than the cape I'm. Even if I play up the poor 'deaf' mute girl, I make myself out to be.

Eventually the time came for breakfast so I had to halt the production of the super mace to get something to eat.

Breakfast was a quiet affair, comprising oatmeal, a banana, a bowl of mixed fruit, and two slices of toast. Truly the breakfast of champions. Once I was done, I grabbed my pack full of what I would need for the day. Bundled up for the coastal winters that Brockton Bay still had, even in the middle of January. Then I was off to the library. I had a project to finish, and I needed to do some research.

Hopping on the bus, swiping my metro card, I sat down ignoring the odd occasional glance I got. For not being in school, when yes I should probably be in school. But I had other things to do. I had brilliant plans to enact, and I had goals to accomplish, even if they were slightly less than legal.

Pulling the cord, the bus idled to a stop about four blocks from the Library. After getting off the bus, I watched it turn the corner and head off in the opposite direction of the library. I trotted along the four blocks and up the library stairs. With no trouble.

"Hello, dear," the librarian Mrs. Pelosi greeted, as I looked at her greeting her with a silent wave. "Same project again, dear?"

With a matching conspiratorial grin, she said, "well the computer in the back is free."

With a nod, I left to go to the computer lab, taking a spot in the back. What I was working on was a virtual intelligence. I called him Enki. I built him based on several AI like Jarvis, Mogwai, and several others, while no artificial intelligence, he would give the best programmers a run for their money. And now it was time to set him free on the 'internet' as it were.

Plugging in the custom Hard drive that contained every bit of code I had put into making Enki. my fingers ran across the keyboard as I worked. Uploading the programs that were his core functions onto this computer, the library servers, eventually his program would spread to unsecured computers across the city. Linking a small miniscule portion of the processing power of every unsecure computer in the city into a custom network of my own. I waited for what felt like forever, for something, for anything to happen. But it was really more like two hours.

The screen flickered to black for a split second. Then a chat box cleverly disguised as a PHO chat room popped up. I grinned. It was a success.

{Enki: hello, Master.}

I was absolutely excited as I typed in my response. Using my PHO user name as a matter of course.

{Mechanized_Angel: hello Enki}

{Enki: query, how can I be of service?}

This was the test if all went according to plan then I would really be able to build a power base.

{Mechanized_Angel: Enki state your primary directives please.} and I said please because VI or not manners are important.

{Enki: Primary directives are as follows. To support creator, to ensure makers safety at all costs, to monitor and predict movements of entities designated 'S-Class' threats.}

Excellent, everything was going well so far. Now for a bit of mischief.

{Mechanized_Angel: Enki I would like you to get the attention of one Mouse protector.}

Of course, While I did not know when she was taken by the Nine. it was better to warn her than not. It would be absolutely criminal to not warn her of Ravager's criminally insane down fall into suicide by stupid. honestly who hires the SlaughterHouse Nine and not expects for things to go horribly wrong.

{Enki: of course mistress, searching…}

{Mechanized_Angel: Enki I would also like you to find Tattletale. Birth name Sarah Livsey, assumed name Lisa Wilbourn.}

We both had a vested interest in the disposal of a certain snake themed criminal after all. Mine was because if he even caught a whiff of me then I could expect to be drugged and chained up in a cell peddling tinker tech for him. Or worse, a concrete coffin. Her, because his severance bonus included a nine millimeter and a shallow grave.

{Enki: yes mistress.}

I knew it would take a while for him to accomplish the tasks I set out for him when he was just starting out. Enki's processing power would grow in time. But I had to strike now while I could. It's not an exaggeration that soon it will be all but impossible to set things into motion if I wait.

{Mechanized_Angel: I will check back tomorrow if possible. Good bye for now Enki.}

{Enki: farewell, mistress}

With that done I closed out the window leaving Enki to his assigned work. Looking at the clock on the wall. I saw it was roughly 1:30 in the afternoon, so I had just enough time to eat my packed lunch, skim through some books on sign language. And then head back to the shelter before it closed its doors at half past six.

I logged out of the PC and grabbed my lunch. Heading to one of the comfy chairs in the back, next to the reference section of the library. I had plans for a tinker tech option. But using it in public would obviously out me as a cape. I had to find a better mundane method for communicating, after all.

For the next couple of hours it was self study. Constant repetition, referring to books, and practice. But like all things, my study time ended. So I bundled up as best I could against the bitter cold of New England weather. And quickly left to wait at the bus stop.

As the bus approached, the echoing sounds of police sirens blared off in the distance. I thought nothing of it as I boarded the bus back to the shelter, Back home.

]|[

Armsmaster eased back on the throttle of his bike, as he and the convoy of three PRT trucks came upon the crime scene. Coasting to a stop just outside the yellow tape blocking off the dilapidated crack house and the alleyway behind it.

Getting off his ride, he approached the tape as the forensics team and troopers disgorged from their vans. An officer talking to one of his colleagues saw them and hurried over to greet them.

"Armsmaster Sir, right this way." the young rookie said, lifting a section of the crime scene tape for him and his entourage to pass.

"What can you tell us about this one, officer…" the hero inquired.

"It's Larsen Sir, Erik Larsen. And it's bad, real bad. Eight of them just ripped them apart. And one was lynched, sir. They were just kids." the young rookie explained, his tone growing rather hard. Looking rather pale at what was just inside. "What kind of monster would do this to a bunch of kids?"

Armsmaster frowned. It was worse than he had originally thought. "Who is in charge here?"

"That would be captain Montoya and lieutenant Sawyer, sir. They're inside with the techs, looking over the scene waiting for you."

"Right, thank you, officer." Armsmaster made haste into the crime scene, following the laid out path. Followed by the CSIs until he found who he was looking for. Captain Renee Montoya, and her second Maggie Sawyer. And laid out before them was a massacre.

Even Armsmaster paused to take in the scene. Seven kids in their late teens, all tied to chairs, brutalized in every way imaginable. Burned, bruised, fingers broken or missing on some. Teeth missing, blood everywhere. Throat's slit. Someone took their time with this. Their methods cruel and crude.

"It's quite the sight, isn't it?" the Captain said aloud.

Armsmaster turned to face the captain who had just spoken. "Yes." he was quite terse in his response but who could blame him. "Where is the Eighth victim?" he asked.

"They hung her from a tree out back. They did a shit job, it's the only reason she lasted as long as she did." the captain responded glibly.

"So we have a survivor?" the hero inquired.

"No, she died on route to the hospital."

Armsmaster sighed, "I see…" it was clear to see that this weighed heavily on the man. "Our techs will take over processing the scene."

"Of course, and you'll keep us in the loop. We need to work this from both angles to nail these empire bastards. They've gone too far this time." Renee said, with a scowl on her face.

"Yes," Armsmaster agreed. His grip on his halberd tightening. "This brings me to why I came here personally."

"Oh, and why is that?" the until now silent Detective Sawyer asked.

"There have been seven such open murder cases involving the Empire in the last week and a half. We noted a spike in Empire activity around the time of the incidents. They are targeting the homeless youth. To find out who is producing this." he said, pulling from a compartment on his armor what looked like a rather mundane can of pepper spray. It had a rather professional label. That had all the proper warnings and health information. However, it was the brand name that was off. 'Perv away super mace 2.0' was not one she recognised.

"Is it tinker tech?" she asked.

"No, detective, it is not. I have already analyzed this substance. And while completely mundane. It has compounds similar in effect to the venom found in bullet ants." the blue and white hero replied. "While we obviously have to find who is doing this. We must also find who is the source of the pepper spray. Before the Empire does."

"Right then, we will work the case from our end. Any information or resources are at your disposal, Armsmaster." captain Montoya said, offering her hand for the hero to shake.

Taking her hand in his, shaking her hand with a firm grip, Armsmaster said, "thank you, hopefully we can get ahead of this."

It was a grim sort of determination that filled them both as they resolved to find just who was murdering the homeless and hunting the manufacturer of the pepper spray before the Empire did.

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