Predatory

by sinereal

A Worm/Venom/Prototype fusion SI. Lewds, murder, and more lewds ensue. Warning: politically insensitive content, graphic content.

18. 17

Predatory

17

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"Why is it so hard to find an asshole when I want to punt his head in?"

"You know what they say about a watched asshole," Miles shrugged their shoulders and Missy rolled her eyes.

Two days they had spent hunting down Alabaster, Crusader, and Stormtiger—or rather, waiting for them to poke their heads out of their hidey holes. Hitting Empire targets just to stir up the hornet's nest and see what came out, with no luck so far. Walking into known Empire bars and talking shit, only to have said bars peacefully vacate—no one daring to take the bait. Hunting down known Empire mooks and associates using the PRT's information along with MJ and smacking them around for information, only to get absolutely nothing. No one knew where they were.

And they were getting less and less of a reaction each time they did it. In fact, according to MJ, the Empire had begun shifting their assets out of town entirely and were only bringing them in piecemeal—so those safehouses that had been full of guns, money, and/or mooks were drying up fast. The list of known mooks was drying up just as fast as word got around that Widow was looking for trouble, and the last few she had tried to track back to their homes had been gone—either left the city or hunkered down somewhere else.

The redhead's theory was that the thing with Crusader, Alabaster, and Stormtiger was a planned ambush, and they likely had other safehouses staked out by other capes. They had enough capes to cover a good fourteen targets if they spread out their forces and included everyone. Removing Kaiser and Othala from the roster—Kaiser because unlike Lung, he likely wouldn't be bothered to show up in person for anything short of the Protectorate, and Othala because you never send the healer—that left twelve capes. MJ supposed they were working both individually and in groups—the weaker capes like Alabaster, Cricket, and Victor working with a stronger cape or two for backup while the powerhouses like the twins, Hookwolf, or Krieg working solo. It was just bad luck that they had run across one such safehouse, not detected the three capes inside mixed in with the mooks, and couldn't bail out safely.

Even the known Empire hangouts, like the fighting pits (both human and dog) had emptied out—which was damn strange according to MJ, considering Hookwolf wasn't the type to run from a fight. She had a few thoughts on that though. Namely, now that they saw Widow had shifted from harassing and raiding their assets intermittently to directly targeting their people—beating more than one of them like they owed her money and sending them to the hospital with serious but not life-threatening damage—they were shifting tactics. Likely ramping up for a big counter-offensive.

Dissatisfied at yet another night with no resolution for dealing with the problems in question, Missy sat frustrated on the edge of a roof watching over the piece of Empire territory where MJ had been ambushed—now abandoned by all but those who lived in the general vicinity. Picking up a chunk of gravel off the roof, she tossed it down and across the street, where it broke a window on the building in question.

'You know what the biggest annoyance is? We fucking know where Alabaster is at least!' Missy mentally shouted. 'We could drag his ass out into the street and beat him until he squeals on his buddies and there's not a thing he could do about it.'

Miles sighed. "And piss away Widow's good reputation. You know we can't just camp his house and wait, either. Unwritten rules, blah blah blah. And we both know you want to stomp their heads in as Widow, not Noh Face. Visible retaliation from an involved party, as opposed to a monster coming along and conveniently eating them."

It was true. If they wanted to kill him, they could ambush Alabaster right now and dig the locations for the other two assholes out of his head—assuming he knew. But because Widow needed to be seen obeying the so-called unwritten rules, any encounter had to look at least semi-random—or like they had staked out a general location and not tracked him down in his civilian identity.

Standing up, she let out a frustrated breath and… had exactly a quarter of a second to react before she caught a bullet in the chest, instead of the head. The bullet flattened against her breast and Widow fell back and took cover reflexively as the crack of a gunshot echoed over a nearby rooftop. The sound echoed off the nearby buildings, distorting its origins somewhat but it was still good enough to pinpoint with her enhanced senses.

'Did they just shoot at us?!'

"Someone sure as fuck did."

'Yes! Let's go introduce ourselves!' Missy cheered.

Widow rolled to her feet and made a standing leap across the gap of the street between rooftops, twisting her body in midair to dodge two more shots as the sniper fired again. She crossed a full block, ducking between air conditioning units and occasionally swinging around buildings, but it was less than a minute before she was coming down on the roof across from her attacker. Victor stepped out from behind the rifle he had been using, leaving it propped on its bipod on an air-con unit, before pulling a pair of knives from sheathes at his sides.

And the good news just kept coming as her electro-perception and infrared picked up new signatures approaching from all directions.

Alabaster stepped out from behind a stairwell access off to Victor's side, drawing a pistol from under his jacket.

From a roof across the street, Crusader—overlaid with one of his projections—floated across the divide from where he had been waiting inside another roof access stairwell, before spawning half a dozen more 'clones,' who fell into a phalanx formation around the cape.

From behind Victor, shielded from sight by the building itself, a slab of concrete rose up courtesy of Rune—carrying the buzzcut blonde and cage-masked form of Cricket.

"Wait, wait, wait," Rune called as Cricket hopped off her platform, drawing her kamas and giving them a twirl. "No one said we were going after the spider—"

"Time to put up or shut up, Rune," Crusader remarked caustically, resting his staff on his shoulder.

"All this for little ol' me?" Widow beamed, the eyes of her mask exaggerating the effect. Pointing one finger at Rune, she turned her head enough to make it clear that's where she was looking. "Now, you be a good girl and stay right there while the adults work this out, okay? I'll deal with you when I'm done with them."

That seemed to be the signal to start as Alabaster opened fire—big, heavy .45 rounds smacking into Widow's upper chest and face as he ran through an entire magazine's worth of seventeen (sixteen plus one) rounds… and the spider-themed cape simply tanked it, letting the jacketed hollow points flatten on her suit and hit the ground around her, before turning an amused look on him under her mask.

"Low Brute rating, then," the albino man assessed, drawing and slotting in a spare magazine.

"I took a," she paused and turned a look on Victor's rifle, "What is that, a .308?"

The man shook his head stiffly. ".338 Lapua."

"Oh, nice. Yeah, you weren't fucking around with that," she nodded, before turning her attention back to Alabaster. "Took one of those to the chest and you thought pistol rounds were going to do any better? Or did you not confirm the hit?"

"It's dark and you moved. Thought I missed," Victor answered brusquely. "You fucking dodged two in the air, so…" the man shrugged.

Pointing to Alabaster and Crusader, she said, "Look, I only really have a problem with these two chucklefucks in particular today. The rest of you can call it a night and leave. No need for you to be a part of this ass kicking. Do that, and I'll stop fucking with your guys, for now. I only want them, because they tried to ambush and kill my sister—and we've got a no tolerance policy for escalation." She paused, then snapped her fingers as if suddenly remembering something, "Except Rune. She stays. And if you could do me a favor and call Stormtiger in for his ass kicking? That'd be great. Please and thank you."

Widow's fake Spider-sense went off and she tilted her head to one side as a kama streaked through the space her head had occupied. She took a step back and dodged a follow up slash to the belly from the second kama, then a twist to the side to avoid Victor coming in from the side opposite Cricket and trying to put a knife through her lung and kidney. She dodged out of the way of a flurry of strikes and slashes, occasionally pushing a blow aside here and there, before on some unspoken signal, Cricket and Victor both shifted and made room for Alabaster to get into her face with his pistol at point blank range in his off hand and a stiletto in his dominant hand. The flash and bang of the gun was distracting, but Miles tuned their enhanced senses to filter it after the first shot and healed the damage done while turning away the blade.

If they were at all shaken by the rounds flattening and falling off of her face the same as they had her chest, they were professional enough to not let it show.

"You guys," dodge a kama swing, "do realize," duck a bullet to the face, "I," somersault to the side away from a knife thrust, "completely," parry kama, parry knife and kama, parry knife, "outclass you in," catch knife in Alabaster's hand, "CQC, right?" Widow asked, casually crushing Alabaster's hand around the grip of his knife, only for the hand to reset 4.3 seconds after she released it.

Her Spider-sense blared and Widow jumped, pulling into a backflip and tucking through a swiftly closing gap as six spears came in from what should be multiple of her blind spots—one from directly behind with Crusader himself, two from below and to the sides, two from through the floor itself, and one from above. Two of them caught Alabaster due to his previous proximity to her while the others were pulled back short of reaching Victor or Cricket. Not that Alabaster seemed to mind as the ones in him jerked out and he healed a few seconds later. Widow landed behind Crusader and stood up as the man and his clones reoriented.

Cutting a sidelong look at Cricket, Crusader asked, "You're using your powers?"

Cricket nodded once. Her voice came out as a rasp as she answered, "Immune. She uses echolocation, too."

"Hey now, stop giving away my secrets," Widow chided.

"So we've got nothing here that'll do the job," Victor assessed, holding his blades up in a defensive position but not attacking. "She moves like fucking Cricket." The girl with the throat scar nodded at that.

"It would seem that way," Crusader murmured.

"Strategic withdrawal then," Alabaster suggested. "I'll distract her while the rest of you pull back. Call in Hookwolf—"

"Ah, ah, ah. No," Widow shook her head. "You've all earned yourselves a beating now. If you want to call in Hookwolf, be my guest, but you aren't going anywhere until I'm done with you."

"Rune! Back us up—" Crusader called, only for a ball of webbing to seal his mouth shut.

"No. Rune, you stay right there, or you're going to earn yourself a spanking, just like the rest of these shitheels. You are not too old for me to take over my knee," Widow warned. The blonde in question hesitated, and that was enough for Miles and Missy.

Weblines shot out, snagging Victor and Alabaster. Before either could attempt to cut the lines attached to them, Widow yanked them off their feet. Alabaster, she caught in the chest with a punch hard enough to shatter and pulp everything in his rib cage, and the only reason she didn't punch a hole straight through him was her arm swelling to several times its size and sprouting armor an instant before she punched him, before shifting back to its normal form. The man spat—and likely shit—blood with the force of the blow as she let him fall to the ground.

At the same time she was pulping Alabaster's guts with one hand, she caught Victor by the collar of his vest with the other. Once Alabaster hit the ground, Widow began sticking him to the roof. Before she was finished webbing Alabaster in place, Victor had brought his knives up and tried to cut his way free, only to get his knives stuck in her line. Deciding to cut his losses, the masked cape reached down and hit the quick release for his plate carrier. He had just enough time to shrug out of it before Widow brought her fist around and clocked him in the jaw with an audible snap of bone cracking—but that was it. Unlike Alabaster, Victor couldn't regenerate, so she pulled her punch.

Victor grunted but instead of trying to pull away, he actually tried to close in and grapple her, his longer reach enabling him to get his arms around her and a leg behind hers. Widow allowed herself to be pulled to the ground, only to use her superior strength to roll the man off of her while breaking four of his ribs with a series of fast, hard punches. Victor lay on the ground groaning quietly as Widow stood and took a moment to kick him in the balls just for good measure—again moderating her strength enough to not actually do lasting damage, but he would certainly be feeling it for a few days. Then, she kicked him over to Alabaster and webbed them together.

Crusader was halfway across the gap between buildings, floating away, when Widow aimed for a gap where the ghostly 'clone' didn't quiet overlap his form. She snagged him with a webline and yanked him back. Her fist caught him squarely in the back as he flew at her, catching the same vulnerable area and flipping the man through the air with opposing forces. A hammerfist blow to the chest in another vulnerable spot cracked ribs and sent him crashing into the roof below, knocking the wind from him and stunning him in the process. His clones moved to defend him, but she laid her suit-clad foot over his throat. "I'm not going to kill you, but I can certainly make your life miserable. Dismiss the clones and I'll call your beating done."

Crusader dismissed the clones and Widow webbed him to the ground, after giving him a kick into the pile of other villains. Looking around, she saw Cricket had stood to the side, talking quietly on the phone through some kind of electric voice box while Widow fought her comrades. Crossing her arms, Widow tapped her foot impatiently. Eventually, Cricket hung up. "Thanks," the girl rasped, putting her phone and voice box away and pulling out her second kama before giving both a twirl.

"Hookwolf on the way?" Widow asked, and Cricket nodded. "Great. You ready?"

"Let's go," Cricket confirmed, before launching into an attack, swinging her kamas in from the side.

Widow stepped back out of the arc of the swing, then abruptly reversed course to close range and throw a punch at Cricket's head. The scarred girl ducked the blow and torqued her body into a spinning leg sweep. Widow hopped over it and tried to catch the blonde with weblines, only to have those dodged and have to dodge a followup kama strike in return. Cricket quickly closed the distance between them and Widow was forced to parry blows, returning them with counters, which Cricket then had to dodge or parry. Given the nature of Widow's 'spider-sense' and Cricket's own powers giving her something very similar, they were pretty much stalemated in a purely hand-to-hand match.

Not that Cricket minded, given the huge grin Widow could see through the cage mask around her head. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?" she asked, in between trying to kick Cricket across the roof and the buzzcut blonde pulling the splits to duck under, only to try to catch Widow in the crotch with a kama in a particularly dirty move.

Cricket nodded after she rolled to her feet. "Good fights are rare."

"Battle junkie," Widow accused and the villainess shrugged. Her ears flicked and in the distance, she heard the sound of a chainsaw in a woodchipper approaching. Cricket likewise turned her head that direction. "Game called on account of interference?"

Cricket scoffed and leapt, bringing her kamas down in an overhead swing. Widow stepped back a step and fired a wide-area web, snatching the woman up as she rolled her hips and yanked, slamming the villain into the roof and pouring on more webbing to stick her there. "Sorry. It was fun while it lasted, but I'm not going to let you fuck around and distract me while I'm dealing with your boss."

Seeing as the chainsaw in a woodchipper wasn't quite there yet, Widow made her way over to where Rune hovered. "You waited."

The blonde looked away. "Yeah, well, nobody told me we were going to be trying to gang up and murder a hero. I didn't sign up for that shit. A little fighting, sure, but murder? No. I don't need that on my record."

"Why not leave?" Widow asked, her ears twitching as the sound of an impending murder storm grew closer.

"Nowhere else to go," Rune shrugged. "Unless I tried to go hero. Don't really think that'd fly."

Raising an eyebrow, which made one of her suit's eyes widen, Widow asked, "Why not? I am absolutely certain the Wards program would gladly take you in. They let in Shadow Stalker and she was kind of a shit."

"Isn't that the nig—bitch who crucified one of our guys?"

Widow shrugged. "Their track record for decision making is questionable, but they're desperate for capes and willing to throw a lot of money and resources towards anyone who joins voluntarily. Stalker was on probation and they had her over a barrel for that incident. If you walk up and offer to join in exchange for clemency and some financial help getting on your feet and a place to stay, they'd take it in a heartbeat. And if you're not comfortable fighting against your former allies, they'd be willing to relocate you to another city. Their PR people are going to work pretty hard to distance whoever you wind up as from 'Rune.' You'll have to watch your mouth—can't say things like that in public, or to anyone who knows your identity. And you'll have to assume they'll be listening 24/7/365 for a while, whether you're in costume or not. But if you genuinely want to turn over a new leaf and leave all of this," Widow gestured at the group of villains piled up behind her, "behind, then that'd be the way to go. Or you could try your hand being an independent, or joining another group. But you'll have more money and resources with the PRT."

Rune hummed, nodded once, and asked, "What about you?"

Widow slowly shook her head. "I'm kind of kicking myself for having to do this, but I have to say no." Rune opened her mouth and Widow held up a hand. "It's not because you're Rune, or would be coming from the Empire—though that is the biggest part of it, just not for the reason you're probably thinking. If you haven't killed anyone or committed any major crimes, I wouldn't be against having you—but it would just be the one chance. I don't give a fuck about your opinions and beliefs so long as you're not trying to shove them down my throat. It was still a free country, last time I checked—though, given the parallel justice system for capes," Widow trailed off and shook her head. "Silk is my adopted sister and she's Asian. I'm in a three-way relationship with an older guy and another girl. Would either of those be an issue?"

"Not really," Rune murmured. "I'm straight and don't really want to see that, so as long as you keep it to yourself…"

"Fair enough. PDA is kind of tacky anyway. It's not enough to give you a hard no over. No, it's because unlike the PRT, we give not a fuck about keeping the status quo in the Bay. Your friends were right in that we've been targeting the Empire—but we've also been harassing the ABB and Merchants as well. We're going to start picking off members of all of those groups and arresting them, and we're not going to stop until they're gone—until there aren't enough of them left to break their buddies out. If you join us, you're going to have to watch that and I'll be honest here, I don't know you well enough to trust you to have our backs for this and choose our side over that of your former comrades. And if we can't trust you, we can't have you. If you wanted to wait until after we're done, when this wouldn't come between us working together, then my answer would be different. But until then, you'd be on your own."

"But you'd be willing to give me a chance," Rune clarified, and Widow nodded.

"Just one. You fuck off, you're on your own," she confirmed. "The PRT would cut you more slack than I would because, as I said, they're desperate. And they have more money to throw around. They've got more rules than me though, and they're big on PR and heroes looking pretty over getting work done, so the choice is up to you."

Rune considered for a moment before sighing. "Okay. I'll think about it. I should go, I can hear Hookwolf coming. You should too. He's… definitely going to try to kill you."

"Get going, I'll be fine," Widow waved her off. Rune hesitated, but nodded.

"Can I, uh, grab Victor first?" Widow tilted her head in an obvious 'really?' gesture. "He's dumb, but he's family. If I tell him we're done, he'll follow."

Widow sighed. "If he's with them when we start taking them out…"

"I get it."

"And I'm not working with him. If you're a package deal, I'm going to have to decline," Widow added, getting a nod from the blonde.

Groaning quietly, Widow flicked a hand towards the mess of bodies. A webline snagged Victor and yanked him free, and she caught him out of the air. Rune moved closer and Widow tossed the trundled up man onto her platform. Then, the telekinetic took off, fleeing as the sound of metal on metal reached a crescendo and Widow heard the sound of loping footsteps tearing their way up the side of the building. And then a whirling dervish of steel topped the building and settled onto the roof, before withdrawing into the form of a man.

Wearing only a set of torn jeans and a metal mask shaped like a wolf's head, the man was tall and muscular, with long, stringy blond hair. Looking around the roof, he stuck his thumbs in his pockets as he took in the pile of bodies. "They dead?"

"Nope," Widow denied.

Nodding, he asked, "Before we start this, you know why we're doing it?"

"I assumed it was because we hit your people."

The blond man shook his head. "If you had just played the game, we wouldn't be here right now. You show up, we smack each other around, everybody goes home. If you're not a dick and it's bad enough, whoever wins might even drive you to the hospital. It's no fun killing someone who can put up a decent fight, cause then you can't fight 'em again later. But you didn't. You and yours fucked with our money. That's business. We can't let that go."

Widow nodded. "So, what happens if I beat you? Do you people keep throwing more idiots at me, or do you leave it alone?"

Chuckling, Hookwolf shrugged. "Not my call. But the big man wouldn't want to waste people on someone who could do that. Thing is, you won't. But you're welcome to try."

Gesturing at the downed men, Widow said, "Not here. Too much risk of your people and civvies getting caught up in it. How about we move this somewhere else?"

"Not gonna try to run, are you?" the villain asked, and she shook her head. "Train yard should be empty. The bums know not to come around any more."

'Hey Amy, I'm about to go fight Hookwolf. Think you can come call the PRT to pick these three goons up before their buddies come get them?' Missy asked after opening up her connection with the brunette.

Amy sent the impression of a blink. 'Hookwolf? Really, guys?' She sighed. 'Fine. I'll swing by.'

'Thanks.'

"Thanks Amy," Miles sent, earning a mental eye-roll from the brunette.

"Alright, let's go." Widow took off running for the edge of the roof. Behind her, the man became a massive, wolf-shaped meat grinder as he followed along.

As they went, Miles sent Missy the impression of a grin. "So, two things. Firstly, this is a good chance to deal a huge blow to the Empire if we can take him down."

''If?' Come on, we could kick his ass into next week.'

"As Widow?" Miles asked, raising a mental eyebrow. "Working under those limits, it's doubtful. Even if we're willing to risk revealing a few cards in our hand, we don't really have a way to deal with him if he's in murderblender form, based on how it works. Noh Face could, but that's because she's a cheating cheater who cheats and it's pretty well-established that powers fuck off when she's around and aiming to kill someone. We don't have anything that can punch through all that metal."

'Not even the Blacklight stuff?'

"No, because of the way it works. It'd be like trying to take out Carol in her Breaker form—not going to happen."

'So… what if Noh Face showed up and finished him off?'

"Too convenient. Looks like she's allied with us or something," Miles countered.

Missy shook their head. 'Not really. We've established that she comes and goes where and how she pleases. In fact, that's kind of the point. That she can show up anywhere, at any time, and kill anyone. She's never gone out of her way to kill a hero, except Eidolon. And having her show up at the same time as us gives us a pretty decent alibi.'

"We'd be kicking off the purge of Brockton Bay early," Miles pointed out, to which Missy shrugged. "Okay then. Sounds like we have a plan. Kick each other around a bit, let him think he's got the upper hand, see if we can eat his shard, then have Noh Face show up and finish him off."

'You said there were two things,' Missy reminded.

Something twinged in Missy's brain, from the same region that Miles had fiddled with to allow her to pick up normal radio signals. Her head filled with radio traffic—not from FM or AM stations, but from the bands reserved for police, fire, military, and PRT. "Someone noticed and they're dispatching the Protectorate. Assault, Battery, Armsmaster, and Ms. Militia are heading this way with a whole bunch of PRT. Looks like they're planning to intercept once they figure out where we're going."

'So we should wait for them to show up before a Noh Face interrupt,' Missy guessed, and Miles sent a mental nod.

"Pretty much. Sound good?"

Missy hummed quietly, thinking it over as they swung. 'Sounds like a plan. Let's do it.'

"Works for me."

Not too long after, they swung into the train yard and had to resort to bouncing from train car to train car to make their way deeper inside, to an area of mostly clear ground suitable to fight on. It was dark. Very dark, since there were no street lights out here and it was an overcast night—and that was perfect in their book. Setting down in the middle of the open space, Widow turned and faced Hookwolf right behind them as the man landed and shifted back to his human form.

Seeing an opportunity, an area of 'shadow' zipped out from under their feet and closed the distance between them. "So, any ground rules here we need to be aware of?" Widow asked, stalling for time.

"Only gonna make this offer once. We finish this between me and you, one way or another. I beat you, I won't kill you, but you and your people leave town or we're coming after you to finish the job. You beat me, I'll talk to Kaiser and see if I can get him to stop sending people after you and yours—as long as you stop fucking with our business. Otherwise, we're back to square one. Except next time, there won't be any deals offered."

Widow considered the offer as her shadow connected with his boot and ran up, touching the skin of his leg, where tendrils burrowed up and into his body. A moment later, they cracked open his shard connection and ate it, drawing a twitch from the man but little else. Their shadow withdrew a moment later, its job finished.

"Funny thing? He actually means it."

'Too bad we have no intention of leaving them alone,' Missy mentally shrugged. 'They have to go sooner or later.'

"Yeah, but if we decided not to use Noh Face to finish this, we could buy some more time. Time for MJ, Cindy, and Taylor to get better," Miles pointed out.

Missy sent the mental impression of a head shake. 'I'm getting tired of waiting. Kill him, then move on and take out the rest after we've secured the area around the Bay. I didn't leave everything behind just so I could let the rot fester, because it was convenient as something to sharpen our friends against. That's getting into PRT levels of lazy and it rubs me the wrong way, Miles.'

"Okay then," Miles agreed. "Let's talk to MJ later and see if she's finished with our list of priority targets. We'll start there."

Widow nodded. "Sounds like the closest thing to a fair deal either of us is willing to offer."

"Glad you fucking think so," Hookwolf growled threateningly. "Now, if you're done stalling?"

Widow chuckled quietly before taking up a loose martial arts stance. "Come get you some."

"That's what I want to hear," the man rumbled, before leaping at her as metal sprouted from his form.

Widow's hands came up before he was halfway into his leap, webbing spraying over his form and coating the swirling metal with it. Enough webbing that the sound of metal on metal was temporarily muted as Hookwolf's cocooned form fell out of the air. More webbing allowed Widow to turn the ball of silk into an impromptu wrecking ball as she yanked, swinging her whole body into the motion and throwing the ball of silk straight at a boxcar. The webbing shredded from the inside as Hookwolf's metal form expanded, but that did nothing to slow him down and stop him from crashing into the boxcar she had thrown him at.

Widow was not expecting for the murderblender to chew straight through the boxcar upon impact, wood and metal fragments kicking up in a cloud of debris that went up a moment later when dry, rotten wood met with sparks from the metal being chewed up on Hookwolf's form. The fire and dust temporarily obscured his form, but Widow knew better than to assume he was down.

He proved her right a moment later as a giant, gleaming lupine form leapt through the flames and charged her, tearing up the ground under his feet as he rushed her. At the last second, Widow rolled to the side, letting him pass. Weblines shot from her hands, attempting to wrap him up again, but Hookwolf simply shredded them before they could do anything as he turned around and rushed her again.

"Protectorate are here," Miles pointed out.

'That was fast,' Missy mused as they dodged again.

Weblines streaked into the mess Hookwolf had made earlier, grabbing up flaming debris and swinging it around and into the big metal wolf, only for it to be shredded. More weblines shot out, grabbing metal debris left in the rail yard after they had closed down. Sticking it all together, she swung it around herself twice as Hookwolf approached again. When he got close enough, she smashed the mass of metal and webbing into the big wolf's head. It sounded like a gong thrown into a blender as blades snapped, metal sheared, and debris was ground down as sparks erupted from the wolf's frame. More webbing gathered up the mess of metal and stuck it back together and Widow was able to smack him twice more before there wasn't really enough left to do anything with.

That was when Hookwolf, showing a speed he had yet to display, launched himself at Widow. Their Spider-sense went off, but Miles held them in place, bringing up their hands to brace for impact. One paw, roughly the size of her torso, slammed into Widow's arms and chest, the smack sending her tumbling through the air and skipping off the ground before landing in a heap against an empty tanker. Widow stood, the front of her suit shredded and leaving most of her upper chest and lower face exposed and bloody. Hookwolf was on her in the next second, the wolf's head coming in for a bite.

Widow reacted by punching the wolf in the nose. The wolf rocked back several paces as it rang like a struck gong, but the explosion of blood announced the complete destruction of the hero's right arm from the elbow down. Hookwolf swatted her again, sending her tumbling away from the tanker and rolling along the ground. Hookwolf's metal form shrank as he approached, bare feet clanking on the rocky ground from the metal protruding under them.

"We gave them a chance here. Any idea why Piggot is ordering the Protectorate to stand by?"

'…No. Normally, they'd be all over this. Maybe—'

Her brain twinged again and more radio bands opened up for her. "Okay, I've got the rest of their encrypted channels. Looks like something else is going on. Lung and an unknown—"

"So, you give up?" Hookwolf asked as Widow rolled to her feet.

They were about to respond when an explosion echoed through the train yard. It was pretty far away, but still loud enough that everyone there heard it. Widow's ears flicked in the direction of the sound as radio chatter increased and reports from PRT agents came in.

[HELP!]

The world slowed as Miles' shard brain dropped into accelerated time to decipher the message sent from Queen Administrator—containing Taylor's current physical state (wounded and harried), Lung's state (getting bigger and starting to melt everything around him), and her projected odds of her host's survival (slim and growing narrower). A shark-like grin spread across his features as he sent his reply.

[Proposal.]

[Acceptance!]

[Assistance?]

[Agreement.]

The world returned to normal. 'Is that what I think it is?' Missy asked as Miles fed her the 'conversation' with Queen Administrator.

"Yup."

Hookwolf paused in his approach, cocking his own head. "Sounds like that came from the docks."

"It did. PRT radio chatter says it's Lung and one of mine," Widow confirmed.

Hookwolf's attention shifted back to Widow and he raised an eyebrow as he took in her state. The man had been in a lot of fights over the years and she didn't sound like someone who was hurt. "You playin' possum over there?"

Widow chuckled once before her form rippled, wounds healed, rips in her suit closed, her mask returned to normal, and her arm regrew. "Seems that way."

"Fuck me," Hookwolf laughed. "Let me guess. You were never on the ropes, were you?"

"Not even close," the girl confirmed. "I was buying time to think of a way to deal with all the metal."

From nearby, they heard a set of bikes tear away and Widow rolled her eyes. Hookwolf shook his head. "Sounds like the Protectorate. Did you call them?"

"Nah," she denied. "But I knew they were there. They followed us out here from about halfway. Look, I need to go take care of this—"

The man nodded. "Let's go."

Widow blinked. "What's this 'let's' bullshit? Weren't we just fighting?"

Hookwolf snorted. "And we can do it again later. I'll call this one a draw. That should be good enough to get the boss off your tits for now. Next time, I won't hold back, since I know you can take it—and that's gonna be fun as fuck. But that's Lung and I want to remind that flamin' slant lizard he's not the only swinging dick in town."

The hero considered it for a moment.

'Two for one special?'

"Oh yeah," Miles agreed.

"Alright then. Let's go."

Widow took off at a run. Hookwolf, to her surprise, quickly loped past her. From somewhere in the mass of blades, the man laughed derisively. "You're a Changer and you can't run faster than that?"

Within Widow's form, Missy was mass-shifted away, replaced by a similar amount of biomass—the blonde's attention split between remote-piloting Widow and Noh Face (her body inside) exploding out of a raven perched on a building overlooking the running battle with Lung and Taylor. Widow's legs shifted, joints, muscles, and feet changing before she bounced past Hookwolf on digitigrade legs.

"That's more like it!" the man called as he hurried to keep up.

It wasn't long before they were out of the train yard and back among the old brownstones leading into the docks area. Widow shifted over to swinging and Hookwolf gained ground ahead of her as she gained what little altitude she could get among the four and five story buildings. There was another explosion and, through Noh Face's senses, they watched as Skitter was blasted across half a block as Lung finally caught up to her in their game of tag.

Then, they were gliding through the air between swings and leaps, leaving behind a faint red trail that dissipated behind them—gaining speed. 'How do we want to do this?' Missy asked.

"Go hard right from the start," Miles answered, as they spotted their target with Widow's eyes. Lung had gotten big—eight feet tall, covered in silver scales, muscled and with a thick neck, his head looking barely human any more. Skitter was down nearby, on the ground in front of the big parahuman, the suit around her partially melted and everything from the thigh down simply gone—burned away.

'I thought we were trying to preserve Widow's 'harmless' image?'

"Fuck it."

'Fuck it.' Missy nodded.

Lung turned at the sound of a murderblender bearing down on him. "OO!" Lung yelled, barely intelligible as he glared down at Hookwolf as the wolf-shaped blade storm slammed into him from the front like a freight train. Sparks and blood flew as blades scraped against scales, occasionally finding purchase and digging in, but not doing enough damage to outpace Lung's regeneration.

Widow launched herself from their next building. Her body shifted in the air, growing heavier and denser as they accelerated towards their target. Armor sprouted over Widow's body, leaving her covered in angular, chitinous armor but still just as lithe as ever. Right before impact, their right arm changed from the shoulder down—becoming a flexible, muscled tendril from shoulder to elbow and from elbow down, a long tapered, curved and serrated blade that extended back over her shoulder.

Lung heard nothing over the sound of Hookwolf's distraction. The blade, driven by roughly a ton of biomass compressed into Widow's small form, punched through his back between his shoulder blades and the small wings beginning to sprout there, severing his spine—at least temporarily. The force of the impact shattered concrete and drove Lung to the ground and into Hookwolf on the other side, who took complete advantage to use his wolf form's jaws to try to crush the dragon.

Tendrils spread beneath the skin from the point of impact consuming muscle, bone, tendon, scales, and more—including the shard itself.

"Oh, this thing is a fucking all you can eat buffet," Miles grinned as silver scales sprouted all over their body, replacing the chitinous armor—a layer of slick, smooth scales barely bigger than the width of a human hair, covered by a second layer, each roughly a millimeter across at their largest. Their coloration quickly shifted back to Widow's normal outfit colors, resulting in a half-second ripple of silver across her form just a second or so after she impacted Lung to anyone watching.

Then, Lung yelled and fire burst around him. The fire didn't bother them or Hookwolf—wouldn't have even before they consumed his fireproof scales—but he did manage to reach up and grab Widow's blade, shoving it back out of himself and throwing them off as his form swelled up another three feet in height. "ILL OO!"

"Keep him distracted!" Widow yelled, before snagging a building with a webline and yanking herself away as Lung tried to swat her. Her swing brought her to Skitter, who she scooped up into a one-armed carry and hauled up to the top of a nearby building. Making sure they weren't being watched, Widow jerked Skitter's mask down and covered the other girl's mouth with her hand. Red-streaked black poured in, biomass filling Taylor's body. Her shard connection cracked open and, instead of resisting Queen Administrator welcomed them in with open arms. Metaphorically. Literally, it was more like two Lovecraftian horrors mating in a swirling mass of tentacles, tendrils, and other parts.

Widow and Skitter both shuddered as the shard was assimilated and slotted into place. And suddenly… everything clicked. All the parts Miles had been struggling to hold together fell under QA's control, which was under his control—the shard's multi-tasking taking over running of various other shards' systems, herding the pack of cats that was the eaten shard AIs and reinitialized formerly dead shard AIs into a cohesive whole.

Miles breathed a sigh of relief as the mental pressure that had built with each eaten shard simply dissipated. "Oh, that is good," he groaned mentally.

'Enjoy it later. We've got a lizard to bitch slap before out alter-ego drops in and eats it,' Missy reminded.

They pulled up Skitter's mask, leaving her there sleeping as Miles set to work regenerating her missing limbs. Down below, Lung had thrown Hookwolf through the front of a building. Armsmaster was approaching on his bike, while Ms. Militia had set up a ways back with a grenade launcher—likely with containment foam. Widow jumped down, her mass shifting again as she dropped towards Lung. He looked up as she fell, reaching up to swat her out of the air. An instant before impact, her right arm shifted into a bladed claw—a foot long blade replacing each of her fingers and thumb as she snagged Lung's arm and drew a line of gashes down it before shifting her hand back to normal.

"How's it going?" a man's voice called from beside her as Lung suddenly rocked back, staggering under a blow from the red costumed form of Assault.

A woman in a black costume with blue, glowing lines running down it filled the hole Assault had made, delivering another punch to Lung and knocking him the rest of the way onto his ass. "Quit flirting and get to work," Battery chastised.

Lung rolled to his feet, raising his hand to catch an overhead slash from Armsmaster launching himself off his bike, but the blurry-looking blade he used severed the pseudo-dragon's hand off in the middle. Lung looked at the damage, which was already healing, then back to Armsmaster. "I think you pissed him off," Widow quipped.

Lung roared and charged the blue-and-silver armored form of Armsmaster, only to be side-swiped by a massive, whirling storm of wolf-shaped blades and knocked to the ground again. Flamed erupted off of him, white hot and starting to turn the leading edges of Hookwolf's form cherry red as the dragon man stood, only to get knocked on his ass again as Widow attacked from behind, kicking his legs out from under him and following up with a blow to his sternum. Assault and Battery ran off, but a fire hydrant erupted nearby as one of them got the cap off and Assault used his power to direct the stream at Lung.

Steam exploded out around the dragon even as his form continued to grow, then it dissipated as his heat grew to the point of overcoming the water and everything around him burned. He grabbed up Hookwolf's metal form, the blades tearing into his regenerated hand, before throwing him at Armsmaster and Widow.

"Fastball special!" Widow yelled, raising both hands and snagging the murderblender with weblines as Armsmaster ducked under his passing form, rushing into the space left by Hookwolf and slamming his bladed polearm into and through Lung's stomach, sending blood spilling out across the ground—which quickly caught fire under the heat and forced the man to back away. Hookwolf's blades stopped shifting as Widow spun on her heel, apparently getting the idea. The spider-themed cape swung the bladed killer around and returned fire at Lung, Armsmaster ducking under the man-turned-projectile again as the chainsaw in a woodchipper sound started up again an instant before Hookwolf's balled up form slammed into Lung's chest like a truck, sending more blood spraying.

"We have to draw him deeper into the docks, towards the bay," Armsmaster called out from nearby as Assault and Battery returned, giving up the hydrant as a bad job.

"What's the plan, boss?" Assault asked with none of his usual lip.

Turning a speculative look on Widow, he asked, "You're fireproof?"

He did not ask if her suit was fireproof. Still, Widow nodded. "Am now," she confirmed.

"Can you cut him?"

Widow nodded again. "I'd prefer not to show that off, but if it's time to get serious…"

"It is," the power armored man nodded.

"Then yeah."

Armsmaster turned a look to his teammates. "Assault, Battery. Regroup with Militia and head for the bay after us. Wards."

"Sir," Aegis responded over the radio.

"Kid Win, on fire suppression. Gallant and Aegis, SAR sweep for people trapped in burning buildings."

"10-4," Aegis responded.

"Widow," he hesitated, "Hookwolf," he did not sound happy about including the man, but beggars couldn't be choosers and this was Lung they were dealing with, "and I will lure him there. Once we're at the bay, try to drag him into the water. Get him deep enough and it should overwhelm his pyrokinesis."

"Roger that," the spider-themed cape confirmed.

"Alright, g—" Armsmaster paused as something caught his eye. The people around him were already moving, but they froze as he shouted, "Hold!"

Even Lung paused in his fight with Hookwolf long enough to send them a curious look. That was when the shadows dancing under Lung's flaming form, which hadn't quite been moving in time with the flickering of the fire around him and had caught Armsmaster's eye, abruptly stilled. A single point of light opened up on the ground between Lung and Hookwolf—an eye, red and slitted, staring up at them.

"Oh, shit," Assault muttered.

More eyes opened—along the street under Lung and Hookwolf, on the sides of cars and buildings. Mouths filled the space as well, teeth gnashing at the pair's feet to no real effect. A pale, black haired, female form rose from the writhing sea of madness around the men, who had by now put their own fight on hold in order to assess the newcomer.

"We should—" Armsmaster began.

Widow slowly shook her head. "Stay right here, be very, very still, and hope her visual acuity is based on movement," the blonde muttered.

"I kind of agree. I mean, it's like watching Godzilla and Gigan go at it, only for Cthulhu to show up. I've got no dog in that fight. At that point, it's just safer to sit back and watch," Assault chimed in.

Battery sighed, reaching over and smacking him in the arm. "What about Militia? She could carpet bomb the area with con-foam. Problem solved."

"Lung burns through containment foam," Armsmaster reminded in a tone that suggested he deeply wished it weren't so.

While they were quietly arguing over what to do and holding position, Hookwolf decided that he wasn't done fighting for the day. Charging the newcomer, he leaped into the air at her standing form, blades whirling as he came down on her like a ton of knives.

Noh Face drew her own knife, the short blade looking positively tiny compared to the mass of gnashing steel bearing down on her. As the avalanche of metal fell on her, she stepped forward, stabbing into one particular spot in the middle of the mess before disappearing and reappearing on the back side of Hookwolf… who fell and exploded into a rusted heap of scrap as his metal form tore itself apart into fragments. The blond man coughed violently as he fell to his knees, even his mask rotting into rust particles and falling down around him as dust.

"What," he coughed, "the fuck—"

He was cut off by a torrent of whispers filling the street.

"Little wolf."

"Little wolf.""Little wolf.""Little wolf."

"Let"
"me"
"in~"

"Fuck," hack, "off."

"Oh me."

"Oh me.""Oh me.""Oh me."

"How"

"many"

"eyes~"
"I have."

"The better"

"to

"see"

"your"

"sins~"

The man hacked up a red, rust-filled mouthful of spit as he chuckled, pushing himself to his feet. "Well, come on then."

"Oh my."

"Oh my.""Oh my.""Oh my."

"What"

"big"

"ears~"

"I have."

"The better"
"to"

"hear"

"your"

"cries~"

"If I'm gonna die, it'll be on my feet, not begging in the street like a bitch." Hookwolf stomped towards her, only to be forced to stop as one of the mouths in the ground locked down around his ankle. He jerked at his leg and, seeing it wasn't coming free, pounded his chest and roared, "COME AND GET YOU SOME!"

"Oh dear."

"Oh dear.""Oh dear.""Oh dear."

"How"

"many"

"teeth~"

"I have."

Wolves rose from the thrashing sea of shadow—black and gray of fur, red of eyes. They circled around the trapped man, drawing ever nearer. Noh Face tilted her head, turn turned away to leave him to his fate.

"The better"
"to"

"eat~"

"you with."

Armsmaster flinched as the wolves dogpiled Hookwolf, teeth and claws flashing as they began tearing him limb from limb, ripping flesh from bone and then chewing that up too. To the man's credit, he didn't scream until they went for his face—and even that was more of a bellow of impotent rage. Battery turned away from the sight, pulling up her helmet and throwing up on the pavement. Assault rubbed her back while keeping a partial eye on the goings on.

"Oh fuck, that's awful," the red-suited man shuddered.

Lung, who had silently watched Hookwolf taken down—all the while shrinking as he lost his hold over his dragon form—stared down at the girl as she approached. Crossing his arms over his bare, tattooed chest, the maskless man gave her a nod. His accent was thick as he spoke, but understandable. "That was good. The Nazi deserved to die. You will do well, serving me—"

"And who"

"said"

"anything"

"about"

"that~?"

Lung flinched as the whispers turned their attention on him. His muscles clenched and his veins bulged as he clenched, but nothing happened—beyond a constipated look crossing his face.

"How does it feel~"

"to be"

"powerless?""powerless?""powerless?"

"Just"

"like"
"those"

"you've"

"hurt~"

"kidnapped""stolen""sold""raped"

"Kenta~?"

Lung flinched back a step. Quietly, in Japanese, he said, "I cannot control what some of the gang does. The former Triad—"

"And yet"

"yet""yet""yet"
"you"

"profit~"

"from"

"their actions."

His hands clenched into fists at his sides so hard Widow heard his knuckles cracking from where she stood. His jaw muscles flexed, but the man nodded once. "I can put it right."

"You"
"would"
"beg~?"

Lung fell to his knees, pressing his forehead to the ground. "Let me put it right! Give me a chance—"

"You have had"
"all""all""all"

"the"

"chances~"

"in the"
"world~"
"Kenta."

"At least"

"die""die""die"
"with"
"dignity~"

Twirling the knife in her fingers, Noh Face walked up to the kneeling man, who had pulled himself up from his kowtow. When she was barely a yard away from him, a new figure appeared in her blind spot—wearing a black bodysuit, a bandoleer of knives and grenades, and a leering oni mask, Oni Lee drove a knife into Noh Face's side.

Lung jumped to his feet and ran—straight towards the Protectorate heroes and Widow.

The bone masked girl paused, tilting her head to face the oni masked form of Lee. She looked down to the knife in her side and Lee followed her gaze, to where black leaked from a new tear in her school uniform—black, filled with slowly opening tiny, red eyes. Noh Face shook her head, before driving her own knife into Oni Lee's throat. Reaching out, she grabbed the pin of one of his grenades and kicked him away, dragging the knife the rest of the way through his throat in the process and sending him skipping along the surface of her shadow.

"No"
"soul""soul""soul"

"left"

"to"

"eat~"

She dismissed the man, who was scrambling with his vest to find the grenade Noh Face had pulled the pin on with one hand and clutching his throat with the other. Instead, she disappeared, reappearing low at Lung's side as the man ran by. Her knife cleanly severed the man's foot from his ankle, sending Lung sprawling into the sea of shadow, eyes, and mouths—mouths he had somehow avoided stepping in before now, which gladly began gnawing on him as he tried to stand.

"Not like this! Not like this!" Lung screamed as he tried to roll away from one set of mouths, only for another to bite chunks out of him. Not too far away, the grenade finally went off with an explosion that sent shrapnel pinging off the surroundings, making dirty fireworks of Oni Lee.

"Enjoy"
"the"

"death""death""death"

"you've earned~"

The whispers taunted as Lung started sinking, being pulled under even as he was devoured. With one last gasp, his head went under, and Lung was seen no more. Noh Face turned and faced the gathered heroes as her shadow swiftly shrank down, eyes and mouths closing as it did.

"So, uh," Widow muttered, just loud enough for the Protectorate heroes to hear, "who wants to go first?"

"Not it!" Assault whimpered.

"Not it!" Widow echoed.

"Not," hurk, "it," Battery groaned.

Armsmaster hefted his halberd and pointed it at the walking horror. "Militia, now."

From somewhere nearby, something cracked like a gun going off. A half-second later, something exploded above Noh Face and white liquid rained down—entirely too late, as the masked girl fell into her own shadow and was gone before the liquid ever touched the ground. Turning, Armsmaster glared at all of them. "We could have subdued her—"

"Above my pay grade," Widow immediately denied. "I'm a friendly, neighborhood spider-girl. I did not sign up for… for dealing with the Lovecraft lovechild of Nyarlathotep and every J-Horror movie monster known to man. I'm good, thanks."

"I couldn't just leave Battery like that," Assault protested, gesturing at the woman in question. "What if someone else showed up? She'd be a sitting duck."

Battery gagged. "Too sick to fight," she managed to croak out.

Widow nodded. "There you have it. Sorry. Anyway," she mimed looking at her watch. "Look at the time. I need to get going. Kinda hungry though. Anybody else want to grab a bite?"

Assault went a little green around the gills at the mention of food while Battery dry-heaved. Armsmaster's beard twitched, unsure whether he wanted to smile at Assault's discomfort or frown in disgust. Hesitantly, he asked, "How do you still have an appetite?"

The girl shrugged. "Teenager. When aren't we hungry?" Armsmaster and Assault both stared at her as Militia approached. "What? Just because I don't turn green like a pussy or puke my guts up like some fuckin' rookie doesn't mean that shit was fun to see. Some people just handle it better than others. Later."

"Widow, could you wait?" Militia called as Widow fired a line up to the side of a nearby building.

Glancing between the line in her hand and Militia, Widow sighed. "What? It's been a long night and I'm ready to go."

"We need to debrief you on the incident involving Hookwolf and other members of the Empire," Ms. Militia supplied.

Groaning quietly, Widow shook her head. "Nope. Not tonight. I'll run one of you down later and we can have a chat. Good night."

With that, Widow swung away to find something to eat and somewhere quiet to unwind.

---

Widow sat on the corner of a building overlooking the city, lit from below by the diffuse glow of street lamps, neon signs, and the occasional light from passing cars. They were actually a flight higher than one could normally get by taking the stairs, since the were seated on top of an elevator mechanical room.

'So…'

"So?" Miles asked.

Missy sighed. 'I want to talk, but I don't want to talk about what happened.'

"Ah. Yeah. So…"

'Amy really wants us to spill the beans to her family?' Missy asked, shifting to pull one knee into her chest and hug her arms around it.

"Some of them," Miles nodded their head.

Missy raised an eyebrow in question. 'Some of…?'

"Some of the beans to some of her family. Specifically, she wants you to come out and admit that Widow is actually Vista. Maybe why and how that is." Pausing, Miles considered for a moment before quietly adding, "And that I exist and Vicky isn't crazy or exaggerating about getting laid, how, and in what ways."

'I dunno…' Missy hemmed. 'Big V could do with some doubt in her life. Maybe deflate that ego a little. Love her to death, but she's always been a little full of herself.'

"There's also the whole infidelity thing with Carol, Mark, and Neal," Miles added, and Missy winced. Before she could voice her curiosity, Miles explained, "Amy wants to break the news to her aunt and ask how she should approach her adopted dad about it. She hasn't said as much, but…"

'But you're in both our heads,' Missy supplied, earning a nod in answer.

"And I know she really wants us both there for emotional support."

Missy nodded her agreement. As she did, she turned over the event in question and how it could've happened. '… Maybe it was something like what we do? I mean if someone comes up to me and tells me Amy is pregnant and it's yours, I'm gonna say 'duh.'"

Miles shook their head in denial. One hand came up, gesturing absently as he explained, "Men aren't nearly as okay with that kind of thing as women tend to be, and even that is a very low percentage of the population overall—both in America and globally. Generally speaking, we're the weirdos. Extenuating circumstances what with the whole…"

Missy's lips pulled into a grin. 'Budding hive mind and thoughts starting to bleed over?'

Miles rolled their eyes. "Yeah, that. We've got an unfair advantage over most people in that we all know how each other feels."

'I know you won't leave me for Amy. Amy knows we both like her. You know we won't ditch you for each other. Though, to be fair…'

"Yeah. If I were normal and we weren't connected at the brain… If I was dating a woman and a girl who looked a lot like Amy came along, I'd be tempted," Miles admitted.

Missy's head bobbed, sending her hair waving. 'Ditto. On the other tentacle, if we weren't connected at the brain, I would've never been forced to change my preferences and never would have seen Amy as anything but a hot friend. Something you notice, but never really do anything about, you know?'

"Of course. It's pretty much SOP for straight guys. Your buddy's a good looking guy, or you compare yourself to other guys on the street or in the gym to see how we all stack up, and that's as far as she goes. But we're getting off track."

'Sorry. You were saying? About normal relationships.' Missy paused, before tilting her head and palming her face as she was forced to adjust her definition of 'normal.' 'For relationships between people who can't read each other's minds.'

"Our definition of 'normal' feels like it's changing by the day," Miles admitted with a chuckle. "Usually? There's a whole lot of jealousy and insecurity any time someone brings up any form of sharing, open anything, and so on. That's human nature and it's the normal reaction. Hell, jealousy and insecurity are normal any time someone slightly more attractive than yourself walks by and catches your partner's eye—doesn't even take a suggestion of giving them a hall pass to get there. However many thousands of years of survival and reproductive instinct hard coded into our DNA. You can fight it, but it'll always be there."

'Well, it's gotten us this far as a species,' Missy shrugged.

Miles nodded. "Practical example: If I were dating some chick and she asked for a hall pass to fuck her hot female friend, you know what I'd say?"

''Yes, as long as I get to play too?' I mean, you're a guy. What guy doesn't want to see two girls—'

"Fuck no." Miles interrupted. "That's the difference between instinct and wisdom. That kind of shit can ruin relationships because someone's feelings almost always get hurt. Tried it once, told her that's what would happen, and in the end? It happened exactly as I called it. Everyone got jealous of everyone else and eventually, she cheated. And if she cheats, it's over. It takes a 'special' kind of person to be okay with that. In one way or another. And that was how I learned I'm a jealous, possessive asshole and learned to live with it."

Seeing where he was going, Missy asked, 'So you think that because they haven't imploded already that they never tried any kind of wife/husband swapping stuff? Even just for fun?'

Miles shook his head. "Probably not. It's what experience and the territorial, red blooded, heterosexual human male in me says. And given what I think I know about Carol and her trust issues, and why that is? Fuck no. She'd be more likely to fuck her sister or daughter than her sister's husband on the regular. If she had a son and you told me she started grooming him at a young age, I wouldn't even be surprised."

'But then how would she even cheat in the first place if it were such a big deal?'

At that, Miles shrugged their shoulders. "Best guess? Spur of the moment thing. With swapping or swinging, you have to work this shit out ahead of time. Plan it. Talk about it. Every step of the way. I think Carol would get stuck in her own head and ixnay it inside of an hour. But… give her a bottle of tequila?"

'Tequila makes her clothes fall off?'

"Maybe. Alcohol's as good an excuse as any. Better than 'I was horny, they were there.' She doesn't have to think about it and can blame the booze later—it's a baked-in excuse. Like I said, that's just my take on it, best guess. MJ's shard can't exactly extrapolate that sort of shit without more data to work with and I haven't had a chance to sit down with Dinah's shard and review things. Not even sure if it could. But now that I've got QA in my pocket, I'm going to try. Or we could just go straight to the horse's mouth and let Amy ask Sarah."

'Well, everybody loves cape drama,' Missy admitted. 'Better than daytime soaps.'

"It's an acquired taste. I could take it or leave it," Miles countered.

Missy hummed quietly. Eventually, a feeling of mischief filled her and Miles knew trouble was afoot. '… But you're not red blooded, you don't even have blood unless you make it,' Missy pointed out, a teasing tone to her mental voice.

Sensing that Missy was trying to rile him up, Miles rolled their eyes. "Shut up."

The blonde's lips pulled into a grin. 'And you can't really claim to be human anymore either.'

The man sighed, an annoyed look stealing over their face. "That's a technicality. I was a human a lot longer than I've been a tentacle monster."

Missy leered. 'Pretty sure you don't qualify as 'male' anymore either—'

"Hey now," Miles' tone was warning.

Missy went there anyway. '—Especially when you spend most of your time in me and Amy and only rarely bring out your own body."

Their expression went flat. "I know what you're implying there and it's too far."

Missy's mirth was so thick the only reason their body wasn't laughing was because Miles' annoyance counter-balanced it as she continued, 'And you like a good dicking as much as either of us—'

"That's masturbation, you brat!" Miles growled in warning. "You must be desperate for attention, because you're sure as fuck going the right way for a smacked bottom."

'Oh no. Don't spank me, daddy. I'll be a good girl,' Missy's tone suggested anything but as she grinned.

Miles sighed, bringing a hand up to rub at their forehead. "You're awful. Fine. I'm taking you back home and breaking out the tentacles later. Maybe I'll do you like I did Amy and Vicky."

The blonde pouted. 'Still annoyed about that. Didn't invite me and wouldn't even tell me what you did. What, are you keeping it as a surprise or something?'

"I figured. And yes. We were planning to blow your mind later," Miles confirmed. "Tell you what, you agree to this thing with Amy's family and I'll talk Vicky into going for a foursome. And I'll do the thing to your body."

It was Missy's turn to sigh. 'Fine. This had better be good if I'm letting you bribe me with sex.'

"Oh, trust me. You'll like—"

A noise from behind drew their attention to where someone was climbing up from the roof below. After a moment of padding hands and feet on the maintenance ladder, a head of red hair peeked over the edge, follow by a teen boy as he leveraged himself onto the roof.

For several long seconds, they stared at each other. Gwen, with her mask off and hood down—big, furry ears twitching occasionally. Dennis, in his street clothes and clearly having just come from home—looking like he was unsurprised to see someone there, but surprised at who it was.

Finally, the boy nodded and walked over to sit down beside her. "Come here often?"

"Sometimes. When I want to think. Or be alone. I like—"

"Hard to get to places," Dennis finished for her, and she nodded.

Gwen went silent, staring down at the city and contemplating how best to leave without being a jerk about it. Dennis, on the other hand…

"I didn't want to believe it."

"Hm?" Gwen hummed in question.

"I kept thinking to myself that something didn't seem right," the boy admitted. "That Missy would never just leave without saying goodbye. She liked the work too much. Everyone else gave up on the search, even if they're officially 'still investigating.' Then, she showed up again, less than a week ago, out of the blue. When some new hero needed help, there she was. And now, I find you sitting here, just like she used to. For the same reasons, even. Every time you got into a fight, you came here to unwind after. And as it turns out, there was a fight tonight. Two, actually."

Gwen raised an eyebrow. "I didn't hear a question in there anywhere."

Dennis sighed. "Fuck me sideways, you even act like her. How the hell didn't I see this when we met you at the Boardwalk?"

The platinum blonde shrugged. "Because Dean pissed me off?"

Dennis chuckled mirthlessly. "Probably. And you realize you just confirmed who you are?"

"Are you wearing a wire, recording this, or were you followed?"

The boy shook his head. "No. I've been coming here every night I could, since. Pretty sure someone was watching the first few times, but it's become routine now, so…"

"So SOP says a return to normal surveillance level is acceptable, and they're just tracking your phone," Gwen supplied.

"Left it at home," Dennis assured her.

Holding out her hand, she demanded, "Hand. Gimmie. And I swear to God, if you freeze me…"

"Heh. I deserve that," he shrugged. Dennis put his bare hand in her gloved one without an ounce of hesitation. If he had suspected the tendrils that would burrow into his brain and take up temporary residence, along with eating his shard, he might have hesitated.

Gwen let go a moment later. Then, her form rippled and shifted, 'Gwen' melting away to be replaced by Missy, their Widow costume changing into jeans, a long sleeve, boots, and a jacket.

Dennis stared. "You're going to have to explain that one. That's not, like, a second, third, or even fourth trigger like they talk about on the forums."

"It's not," Missy confirmed. Picking up a piece of gravel from the roof they were seated on, she twisted space and threw it forward, causing it to smack into the back of Dennis's head.

"And you definitely have your original powers. Powers in a can? You know, those rumors about guys handing out vials?"

"Those are real, and no, they don't work on someone who already has powers from what I understand," Missy denied. "I'm going to explain and you're going to listen. And if, at any time, you say the words 'Master/Stranger,' I'm going to throw you off this building."

Dennis grinned. "You wouldn't let me hit the ground."

"No, but I'd loop space and let you fall for hours," the blonde threatened.

Dennis looked a little green at the thought. "Right. No M/S shit. Gotcha."

Missy eyed him speculatively for a moment before beginning the tale. She started with finding Miles and the man in question demonstrated his presence by wagging a tentacle. She covered talking to Amy and having the healer clear her, in her professional opinion, of Master influence. She told him about why she ran away and left the team. How the Protectorate, PRT, and their leadership were all incompetent and she felt like she could do a better job on her own—or rather, with a single partner—than she could working on the Wards; and how over the past several months, she had proved that time and time again. She told him about forming a team and picking up a couple of amnesiacs with C-shaped tattoos, one of whom had powers similar to her and the other who was a minor Tinker with some other stuff thrown in the mix, who decided she liked the idea of a theme enough to emulate their powers.

It was a very edited and sanitized version of the truth, but it was close enough in their book.

Dennis was skeptical at first and asked a lot of questions.

"So, you ran away because you met some guy and he convinced you that—"

"No," Missy growled. "What did I say about the M/S shit, Dennis?"

The boy held up both hands. "Sorry, I'm just calling it as I see it. If it looks like a duck, walks like a duck, talks like a duck—"

"It's a fucking mountain lion," Missy countered.

"And this guy now lives in your body—" He was cut off by Missy again.

"He didn't fucking ask, I offered. And if you say the word 'separate,' I'll Sparta kick you off the building." The girl turned enough to glare at him and Dennis rolled his eyes.

Shaking his head, Dennis asked, "Okay. Fine. Say I trust Amy's judgment—"

"As you should."

"—even though you say she's also got this guy living in her body too now." Missy's eyes narrowed, but she remained silent. "What could have possibly been enough to convince you that any of this shit was a good idea?"

Missy considered the question for a moment before shrugging. "End of the world as we know it. Short version: Miles got a one-shot pre-and-post-cognitive look at the world and what might have happened. It wasn't good. I decided to try to prevent as much of it as I could."

Raising an eyebrow, Dennis asked, "Such as…?"

"Brockton Bay getting bombed by a Tinker, then getting hit by Leviathan, and the hits just keep coming with the Nine coming to town and a bunch of other shit. Fucked with a sandpaper condom covered dildo—full force, no lube, all available orifices." Dennis winced. "But. No bomb Tinker, no bombs. No bombs, no Leviathan. No Leviathan, no Slaughterhouse. We paid her a visit and convinced her to fuck off. Problem solved," Missy shrugged. "And that was before the Endbringers just fucked off for no apparent reason."

Dennis fell silent for a few moments, before eventually nodding. "Okay, yeah. I get it. Any other surprises you want to throw at me?"

Missy turned her head enough to meet his eye. "You don't want to see how far down the rabbit hole goes. It's rabbit holes all the way down. Just trust me that I know what I'm doing and we're not safe yet."

"That bad?"

"That bad," Missy nodded.

Sighing, the boy scratched at the back of his head. "So, can I at least talk to this dude?"

"…You don't want to do that. It's weird from the outside. I think you'd rather just talk to me, Dennis." The boy sent her a flat look and Missy rolled her eyes. "Okay then."

Missy's bearing shifted slightly as she sat up, let go of her knee, and stretched out a bit as her legs spread and she physically took up more room. Her head tilted slightly and she sent the boy an expectant look. "Well?"

The voice was the same—still Missy's voice, still in the new neutral accent, but something about the tone… Dennis shook his head. "Okay, yeah, I see what you meant."

Missy's face and hair changed, shifting back to 'Gwen.' "Better?"

"Much," Dennis nodded immediately.

"We had the same problem with a friend, just not to that degree," she shrugged. "Alright. Ask away and I'll try to answer."

Frowning as he turned and sat cross-legged to study the 'girl' beside him, Dennis asked, "Why not change into a guy?"

Miles considered the question for a moment before asking one of his own. "Why change clothes just to go to the store, when you're comfortable in what you're wearing and it's decent enough to wear in public?"

Dennis opened his mouth and Gwen held up a hand. "Yeah, I know. Not the same, but it's close enough. I don't have a human form any more. I can make one, I could even make my own human body now, but it's different. Firstly, I need things the human body produces—hormones and other chemicals. I could make my own body, but it wouldn't react the same as someone else's body. It's the difference between eating steak and eating steak-shaped tofu. Or between sex and masturbation. One works for a while, but eventually just stops cutting the mustard. The other always works.

"Secondly, Missy and I are both fine with the state of things as they are. Thirdly, between the two of us, she's more weirded out in a male body than I am in a female one. I've got enough identity issues for the both of us, so I don't see a need to force her to go through that for the sake of my own mental comfort. Just wearing a human face is enough for me when, if I didn't have a host, I'd just be a mass of tentacles. Finally, and bringing us full circle back to my original point: while I could do it… what purpose would it serve? It'd be wasted effort."

The younger boy hummed quietly as he looked away, studying the view below them for a few moments. "I think I get it. Next question. If Missy wanted you to leave, would you?"

Gwen stared at him. Long enough that the boy grew uncomfortable. Finally, she answered. "We've separated before. We do not enjoy it. At all. But yes, if she really wanted to, I would. She doesn't want to and neither do I."

"So why not do it no—"

"You're this," Gwen held up a hand, two fingers a hair apart, "close to getting a Sparta kick into looped space. The only reason I'm not is because you're Missy's friend."

Dennis crossed his arms over his chest. "And Amy says it's not an addiction or something?"

"Yes," Gwen confirmed. "Look, it's hard to understand for someone who hasn't done it, but I'll try to simplify it. Ever have a girlfriend?"

"No," Dennis looked away.

Gwen paused, blinking. "Oh. Shit." Dennis made a quiet noise of displeasure. Gwen's head tilted and in Missy's tone of voice, asked, "Wait. What? I'm lost." The platinum blonde shook her head. "Don't worry about it." She opened her mouth again, before it closed with force. "Don't worry about it." Then she sighed. "Fine."

Dennis had by now turned to stare. "That is… really weird."

"No shit," Gwen answered, and for once, Dennis couldn't tell who was speaking. Then, she tilted her head to the side and held up a hand. "Going to let me finish?" Her shoulders shrugged and Gwen rolled her eyes before turning her attention back to Dennis. "Yeah, neither of us really forces the other into the passenger seat. Usually, we keep our arguments to ourself, but since you know there's no real need to hide it. Anyway. So, imagine you've got a girlfriend."

"Okay," Dennis nodded.

"Except it's way more intimate. You know each other because you've spent years together. That's kind of what it's like living in someone's head and sharing thoughts. It's also, uh, Amy described it as a full time, full body hug." Gwen's head tilted the other way. "Can confirm."

"…'kay."

Gwen sighed, palming her face and mouthing 'sorry'. "You're essentially asking us to cut off both a limb and something more intimate. It's not something we like doing. It's slightly less painful for me these days because I'm also in Amy, but it's still not fun."

The redhead nodded again, a look of disappointment crossing his face before he hid it. Poorly, but it was something. "How long is this for?"

"Permanent as far as we're concerned, unless one of us changes our minds," Gwen shrugged.

"Okay, why not join—or rejoin—the Wards or Protectorate once this whole 'end of the world' thing is taken care of?"

The blonde sent him an amused look. "We're not a dancing monkey anymore. Most of the PRT are incompetent, and what they don't shit on they fuck up. Intentionally. That's the directive from the top down. They're setting up the country—the world, really—for a 'rule by parahumans' situation and the PRT are the enforcement arm on the government side. It's why they're letting the parahuman gangs have as much slack as they are. To get people used to the idea of parahuman rule, so when they come along and suggest, 'hey, how about we take care of the gangs and you put us in charge,' people will be inclined to agree. Except they're a government organization, so they can't really find their asshole with both hands and a map most days. Brockton Bay is a test case for parahuman fiefdoms. Coil was supposed to come out on top and rule the place, but…"

"Noh Face kind of shot that down," Dennis commented. "That makes three villains she's gotten in the Bay alone."

Gwen's lips twitched. "Yeah, she really did shit in their Cheerios on that one. And four—you're forgetting Tattletale, if her showing up in Noh Face's footage is anything to go by."

"What can I do to help?"

Gwen's head turned to the side and this time, their conversation was silent. Finally, she said, "Be our mole in the PRT. Keep an ear to the ground. Let us know of anything big coming down the pipe."

"Alright," Dennis agreed. He hesitated, before asking, "What's it like?"

"What part?" Gwen raised an eyebrow. The redhead sent the platinum blonde a skeptical look and Gwen laughed. "Different. And I don't believe our experience is entirely accurate. Mostly because I don't have a human brain anymore, so I don't get that half of the equation. For me, it's like deciding what to wear, and about as inconvenient as changing clothes. For a normal human? I'd imagine it would be… traumatizing."

Frowning, the redhead asked, "Why?"

"Because that's how I felt, when I went from man to tentacle monster," Gwen shrugged. "Like I said, it's why I don't mind wearing this face, or just letting Missy and Amy do their own thing—because at least then I'm human. Face, hair, opposable thumbs—it beats the alternative."

With a sigh, Gwen's featured shifted back to Missy's. "He's done. It was nice catching up, but I want to get home. It's late and we've had a busy night. Fought like half the Empire, then Lung, then Noh Face showed up and everyone kind of peed themselves a little in fear."

"Would you think it's weird if I said she gave me a scaredy boner?" Dennis asked, chuckling awkwardly.

"The fuck is a 'scaredy boner?'" Missy asked, only for her head to tilt slightly, her demeanor changing as Miles answered. "It's when something scares but also arouses a guy. Scarousal. Kind of like… that chick from the Ring—the Japanese version—is scary, but hot, so you kinda want to wait for her to get halfway out of the TV before you walk up behind her, grab her hips, and just hammer away at it."

"Exactly," Dennis nodded.

Missy blinked. "A little bit weird, yeah. Did not need to know that. But… you're probably not the only one. Rule 34, so there's most likely porn of her out there by now."

"Probably," Dennis agreed. "Can I at least get your number?"

Missy chuckled and nodded. "Sure. This is for our 'Gwen' phone," she said, and Miles dropped the phone into her hand and she pulled up the contacts list. "Don't send anything to this number that would give away who we are, okay? We're Gwen when you send anything to us. The PRT are listening and screening all your texts and I don't to deal with their bullshit."

"Gotcha."

They exchanged numbers and Missy stood up. Cracking her back, she offered a hand down to Dennis and helped the boy up. Dennis surprised her by pulling Missy into a hug. "Don't run away on us again."

"I won't." Sighing, Missy returned the hug before letting go and gently disentangling herself. "Personal space, Dennis. One of us is a dude."

"Guys can hug."

Missy's head tilted and her tone changed to deadpan. "Not like that. Jesus Christ, just grab our ass next time, it'd be a lot simpler if you wanted to cop a feel. I'll only smack you for it instead of kicking you in the dick. But I fucking swear, if you're rocking a semi…" Dennis flinched, pulling a disgusted face, and the pair laughed. "Pretty sure he's… well, at least half just fucking with you. Anyway, we should go. Night Dennis. We'll… track you down and hang out later."

"You'd better," the boy chuckled. "Night."

Widow waved over her shoulder before hopping off the ledge and swinging away.

"You realize he has a crush on you, right?"

Missy flinched so hard she missed their next swing and started to fall, and Miles had to recover for them. 'What? No. I call bullshit!'

Miles sighed and Missy got the mental impression of a facepalm. "Fucking teenagers."

'You're fucking five of us, yes. What's that say about you?' Missy retorted. 'Speaking of…'

"Post-fight sexy time? Sounds like a plan to me. Should we call Amy, or…?"

Missy shook their head. 'Nah. Just you and me. I feel all alive and tingly and I kind of want to enjoy this with just the two of us.'

"Fair enough."