Chapter 1.1

Friday, April 1 2011

My plan had seemed perfect at the time: use my bugs so Lung and his gang didn't kill kids.

Now that I was caught in a three way battle with an enraged Lung and a swarm of bloodthirsty Teeth, I could only wonder if I skipped a few steps in there.

The first part went off without a hitch. Normal gang members were just that — normal. With no supernatural defenses or reflexes, they fared about as well against my swarm as any number of our ancestors would have, which was to say not well at all.

I wasn't using the worst of the worst in my swarm, because I was a hero and killing normal gang members by anaphylactic overload or necrosis were decidedly non-heroic actions. That wasn't to say that they were spared; my swarm had plenty of biters and stingers that were just as nasty. And, I reasonsed, they were going to kill kids. I would hold back from killing them, but that's it.

The swarm let me know each time a gang member gave up trying to fight or even escape the swarm and fell down. Some were curled into balls, either on their butt or their side, while others were facedown or otherwise lying prone. A few managed to run. Lung had, inexplicably, tried to fight the swarm with fire, and the resulting panic had downed almost as many of them as I had. The downed ones were still covered in bugs, but that was mostly so I could feel where they were.

The second part of my plan was to attack Lung himself. He was a regenerator, able to heal from damn near any injury with enough time, and my only real shot was to overwhelm his regeneration. I didn't hold back on him, reasoning that if I pumped him full of the worst venom I had, he would drop before he became unmanageable. A fully scaled up Lung was supposed to be the stuff of nightmares for heroes, given that he had once fought the entire local Protectorate and won.

I didn't fully appreciate how dangerous the man could be until he decided that he was done being stung by bugs and exploded. The resulting fiery shockwave wiped the ignorant smile off of my face and sent a new wave of adrenaline coursing through my veins. I didn't dare peek back over the ledge to see just what the hell had happened on the ground, but neither did I have many bugs left. Those that survived were mostly on or around the gang members, but even their instincts were attempting to flee the heat.

I was halfway through pulling the reserves in when the whole plan went sideways.

Unlike the Empire and ABB, the Teeth were a relatively new fixture in Brockton Bay, having arrived last summer. Strictly speaking, they were founded here and just 'returning home' following an extended banishment to Boston. Though they had claimed a swath of territory in the northern part of the city, they also roamed around, picking fights with the other gangs and setting their stuff on fire. The internet seemed to think that they would eventually settle down somewhere in the Docks, given that the Downtown Coast was more lucrative and Lung couldn't be there and the Docks at the same time.

So, naturally, while I was in the process of attempting to overwhelm Lung's regeneration with bugs, the Teeth had to roll in and start blasting. I saw them coming from two blocks away and tried to get bugs on them preemptively, but they were riding in the backs of several vehicles and driving quite fast.

Case in point, one of the trucks charged right down the street we were fighting on and rammed directly into Lung's back. At least, I assumed it was Lung, given that there was an enormous crunch followed by a furious roar and gout of flame. It was too much to hope that the impact had killed or even seriously harmed him, but it certainly had enraged him.

And that brought me here, looking up at a woman with straight black hair and a costume made of skulls. She had suddenly appeared on the roof, accompanied by a blast of flame, and it startled me so much that I fell over. Any pain I felt from knocking against the sharp metal of an air conditioner was immediately forgotten when I saw what happened.

Oh shit. The Butcher.

Either a brilliant strategist, bloodthirsty monster, or consummate professional killer depending on the source, the Butcher was the amalgamation of fourteen powers and consciousnesses that had led the Teeth for the last twenty years. The Butcher was the ultimate cape bogeyman, since killing the Butcher simply transferred the minds and powers of past Butchers to their killer. Some had tried to outwit the power, to no avail, but mostly it changed hands when one of the Teeth wanted the power and prestige.

My eyes widened almost comically behind my mask as I struggled to sit up. The Butcher gave me the smallest hint of a smile before turning, drawing her bow and rapid-firing arrows down onto the street. Based on the pained cries, Lung's night had just gone from bad to worse. The Butcher responded with a wild, manic laugh.

And then she was gone, just as Lung fired a gigantic blast of flame where the Butcher had been standing. I could feel the heat from where I was sprawled on the roof, and I had no doubt in my mind that Lung would give me the same if he knew I was up here.

Thoughts of retreating ran through my mind. There was a good chance that the enraged Lung would be too busy dealing with the Teeth to kill those poor kids, that the Butcher could beat him up to the point that he would retreat. But then nothing would stop him from coming back the next day and just finishing the job. And if there was anything about Lung that the Bay knew, it was that Lung got what Lung wanted.

I couldn't run and live with myself afterwards.

I also couldn't just let the Teeth rampage around. Now that Lung's attention was on the Butcher, I had been able to sneak my swarm back onto the battlefield and start trying to figure out just what the hell was going on down there. Given that several of my bugs died in midair or ran into nothing, I assumed that Vex was doing her force field blender thing. The other was covered in what my mosquitos recognized as blood, so that was probably Hemorrhagia.

The reserves for my swarm started to collect on the edges of the battlefield as I crawled across the roof. The Butcher knew I was up here, and the last thing I wanted was to give her or Lung a clean shot. At the moment they were ignoring me, but once my plague of insects descended on them, I would be back on their target list.

Sounds from the battle echoed off of the other buildings nearby, but it wasn't until I was back on street level and in an alley that I got a good look at what was happening. Lung and the Butcher were fighting, the former with claws and the latter with a sword. Incredibly, it cut through Lung's limbs with ease, earning pained screams from the dragon. More importantly, despite being fifteen feet tall and regenerating from most of the wounds, those from the Butcher's sword seemed to blacken and ooze instead of heal.

This was my chance. I waited until Lung sent another column of flame at the Butcher, then sent in the swarm.

Lung's first explosion had killed most of my less harmful bugs, and so this wave was disproportionately bees, spiders with nasty venom, and biting ants. The swarm engulfed two capes, unloading their venomous payloads with wild abandon into Lung while the bees stung the Butcher. I couldn't use the more powerful stuff on the Butcher for fear of killing her, but she was a known regenerator and the bees were the least bad thing I had left.

What little I had of less deadly options swarmed the other two capes and their unpowered muscle. Both Vex and Hemorrhagia fought back with their abilities, but the bugs could sneak around the former's force fields while the latter tried to encase herself in some sort of hard carapace. Either she couldn't multitask like I could or had some other limitation because she couldn't keep all of my bugs out. Both of them turned and ran down a side alley, as did a few more prescient Teeth.

I stopped on Lung the instant I felt him start to shrink. The Butcher's foul-smelling cuts gave my bugs direct access to his bloodstream, and they clustered around the bloody stumps of his hands while pumping as much venom as they could. I would have sent the bugs after the other soft spots if he had any, but his armor was pretty comprehensive at this point. He managed to get one last good blast of fire out, almost reflexively it seemed, and to my surprise it hit the Butcher dead-on.

At that, the fighting was finally over, so I dispersed the swarm and walked out of the alley. As befitted a major cape fight, the street was an utter disaster. Lung's flames had burned gigantic gashes on both the road and nearby buildings. I tried not to look too carefully at the downed gang members, given the blood and scorch marks by several of the bodies. The Teeth had, it seemed, shot the ABB members when they were downed.

Well, they were going to kill children, so I didn't particularly care what happened to them. And if the Teeth hadn't interfered, they likely would have been fine.

I was pulled from my thoughts by a wheezing cackle. It took me a second to identify it as the Butcher, who I thought unconscious. I took a few cautious steps towards the madwoman, and once I was next to her I found out exactly how bad she was injured. "So, little bug, who gets the gift? You, or the dragon?"

"Gift?"

"Bee… allergy," the Butcher coughed out, and she managed one final wheezing chuckle. My eyes grew wide and I scrambled for one of my epipens, but my panicked flailing wasn't nearly fast enough. "Until… next time…"

And then I saw stars.

When I came to a minute later, there were people screaming in my head.

It didn't take me long to realize why.

This was going to complicate my career as a hero.

The other fourteen Butchers were shouting incoherently at each other and at me, and I reflexively pushed them away like the sensations from my bugs.

To my utter and complete surprise, it worked. I didn't hear any voices in my head. Oh, they were still there — when I focused, I could feel the fourteen distinct presences alongside the tens of thousands of bugs that remained after my assault. It took a minor amount of my concentration to keep them silent, and I had the distinct feeling that it would be second nature after not too long.

While I lay there on the ground, my brain started processing all of the sensations my new powers were feeding me. Simultaneously, memories of the past Butchers started bubbling to the top of my mind, giving me context and control over everything.

If I hadn't had spent a week in a psych ward while my brain rewired itself to process all of the sensations of my bugs, I probably would have been disoriented for far longer. As it was, I was able to push away the worst of the unpleasant memories, resolving not to think about them until I was in a better headspace and able to go slowly. The last thing I really needed right now was a crash course in Butcher's pain projection, with demonstrations.

Out of curiosity, I tried letting off the pressure on one of the voices. My brain automatically attached a name to the voice, associating it with one set of memories.

"Well this is certainly a fascinating turn of events," Damascian said, voice oddly formal. A quick search indicated that she always talked like that. "What I would have given for your ability to selectively mute the members of our collective."

"Er, yeah," I said, sitting up. "Maybe it means I won't go insane?"

Damascian laughed, the sound at odds with her tone. "Perhaps, though one might reasonably argue that rushing into a confrontation with Lung means that you should already be out in the bughouse."

"The what now?" Was she making fun of me?

"Ah, it's a euphemism for insanity." The grab-bag Tinker hummed to herself, but twelve other voices snickered in the dark recesses of my mind. "It will be impossible for you to keep the remainder of the collective silenced permanently, but I would recommend dealing with Alkaline or Ironsides first. They are, shall we say, less problematic."

"Oh? What about Reflex?" He had been the only hero Butcher.

I got the feeling that Damascian winced at my question. "He's… not usually available."

There was definitely something important there, but that could be considered later. I eased off of the pressure of the two Damascian suggested, and they were immediately not happy.

"What the fuck is this?" Ironsides bellowed, and I swore I could hear the echo. "You fuckin' control bugs!"

"Yeah well none of the rest of us was a Master,"

Alkaline said. "Figures that the first time things go wrong, we're stuck with a hero."

"She'll get offed in no time,"

Ironsides said dismissively.

"I don't share your confidence," Damascian replied. "She could have killed Lung, Vex, and Hemorrhagia in addition to Quarrel."

"Ambush tactics,"

Alkaline said. "Stratego would be proud. You should let him talk."

"Sure, why not. He's the Thinker, right?"

"Well, I was the Thinker," a deep voice rumbled. "And as much as I am not thrilled about being stuck in the head of a novice, I am looking forward to how our powers interact."

"Ooh I didn't even think about that,"

Alkaline said. "Real time battle map? This will be awesome!"

"Ah, but our intrepid young host is a hero,"

Damascian said.

"What's wrong with being a hero?" I asked. All of the Butchers — muted and not — just laughed at me in response. "What?"

However, before any of the Butchers got their laughs sufficiently under control to answer, I heard the distant rumbling of a motorcycle with my newly enhanced senses. "Armsmaster or Miss Militia," Stratego supplied instantly. I nodded, following the instinct to have my bugs spread out over the nearby blocks. I would know as soon as they arrived.

The heroes turned the last corner thirty seconds later, I did my best not to stare in wonder as they approached. Armsmaster didn't even stop before launching himself off of his bike, landing not ten feet from where I was sitting near the unconscious Lung and Quarrel's corpse. He held his halberd out in a defensive posture, providing cover for the rest of his team to get into position.

Huh, Stratego's power was pretty interesting.

The Butchers complained loudly in my head, and I almost missed Armsmaster's question in my haste to keep them clamped down. "Are we going to fight?"

Fight? I blinked a few times, looking down at how I was sitting on the ground. I didn't need Stratego's power or Knockout's memories to know that I was in a compromised tactical position, but luckily I could teleport if anything pinged on Reflex's danger sense or Damascian's minor line-of-sight precognition.

Miss Militia, Assault, and Battery arrived while I was thinking about my new capabilities, standing shoulder-to-shoulder in a poster-worthy formation and eyeing me warily. "Uh, no. I'm a hero." I pointed to Lung, ignoring the raucous laughing in my head. "I pumped Lung full of insect venom, so you might want to get him something before he dies."

"Who the fuck cares?" bellowed a particularly nasty voice. Butcher, the original — I pushed him back down into the abyss with as much force as I could muster.

The heroes traded glances before Armsmaster reached down and poked Lung with the end of his halberd. At the same time, Assault leaned down next to the dragon and put his fingers on Lung's neck. "Alive, but weak," he said. "You did a number on him…?"

"Assault!" Miss Militia barked, pushing the four heroes back. "That's Quarrel!"

My mind went numb, totally blank except for the jeers and laughs of my new mental roommates. Of course, none of my powers or suspicious new instincts stopped working, so while the emotional part of my brain locked up completely at seeing the fear on the heroes' faces, the rest of it was evaluating their fighting stances.

Defensive postures.

Hands on foam grenades.

Several paths to retreat, including possibly scuttling both motorcycles to slow me down.

Yep, they were afraid of me.

It was totally natural and the correct response when facing a cape as dangerous as the Butcher, but it hurt. These were my childhood idols. I had their posters on my bedroom walls and t-shirts with their logos. I had looked up to them for as long as I could remember, modeled my own career after theirs, and now I was looking down the barrels of their weapons.

Why me? Why couldn't I have just saved some kids and run away?

I hung my head and sighed. "Uh, yeah. Did you know she had a bee allergy?" I couldn't keep my newfound resentment out of my voice.

"You have no idea how much we made fun of her for dying in such a dumb way," Ironsides added unhelpfully.

"Wait, really?" I murmured. "Did she not know either?

"She thought the regeneration would fix it!" Alkaline replied. "But hey, we all died to some stupid oversight, so…"

I couldn't help but wonder: what stupid oversight would trap me in the head of Butcher XVI?

"Um, hello?" Assault said, pulling me back to the present. "What's your name? We don't really want to call you 'newbie hero' on the reports, you know." The red-clad hero's light tone was at odds with his tense posture.

"Um, I hadn't picked a name yet. I didn't think I would need it this soon."

"Christ," Battery muttered. "Was tonight your first night out?"

"Yeah," I said, chuckling bitterly to myself. "Some start to my hero career, huh?"

"Skitter."

"Swarm is way better."

"Hive?"

"Locust and Mantis are too specific."

"I'm telling you, Swarm. It's accurate."

"Those are all villain names," I muttered.

"You're Butcher XV, girl," Ironsides barked. "You can't exactly go as Ladybug or —"

Alkaline shouted. "My money's still on Skitter. Let's put it to a vote!"

"It's my name, so I'll pick," I retorted.

"If you pick something stupid we'll make fun of you," Ironsides said.

"Then back into the dark you go." To my surprise, they thought that was a credible threat.

"Uh, newbie hero?" Assault said.

I jerked my head up and found all of the heroes staring at me. They had a variety of confused or sad expressions on their faces. "Oh, sorry. Need a name, the others keep suggesting really edgy things."

"I'll admit," Armsmaster said. "Based on your costume alone, I would have guessed that you were a villain as well." The other three rounded on him with annoyed expressions.

"Oh," I said, unable to keep the sadness out of my tone. Here I was, on my first night out, and not only did I become Butcher XV, the heroes assumed I was a villain just based on my looks. "I made it myself. I know it looks less heroic than I wanted, but I really looked up to Alexandria as a kid. Once I saw how it looked, I just didn't want to start over again and delay things even more."

Miss Militia winced. "I can… see the resemblance. And it looks professionally made. How did you do it?"

"What about Widow?"

"Spider silk," I replied. In my head, I could tell that I suddenly had Damascian's total attention. "The armor plates are made from chitin and shells glued together. The silk is knife proof and possibly bullet proof." I chuckled sadly. "Not that it matters, now. I'm bulletproof without it."

"Oh, I like that."

"Skitter, you dipshits!"

The reminder sent the heroes back into their weird funk, and they shifted uneasily while looking to Armsmaster for direction. The Protectorate leader, on the other hand, was muttering subvocally into his communicator, though I doubted that his attention left my seated form for long.

Battery broke the silence, nodding once at an unheard command. "Well, we have a van coming to pick all of these guys up. Can you give us a statement, and maybe tell us about your powers?"

"I recommend against revealing your secrets," Damascian said, pushing some memories of her clustermates to the foreground of my consciousness. One of them was a Protectorate cape, and constantly made trouble for the Teeth during her tenure. If the muted, angry rumblings were any indication, the others agreed.

"I control insects," I said, looking down at a group of cockroaches scurrying past Quarrel's corpse. "Not a very heroic power."

"What's your range, and maximum number you can control?" Armsmaster prodded.

"A few blocks, and I haven't found a ceiling yet," I replied. The heroes glanced around uneasily at my explanation, yet another reminder of my current situation.

"It's a shame you can't see through their senses," Stratego mused.

"I've tried. It gives me a headache." As though to prove the point, I focused on the sounds that my swarm could detect with whatever auditory senses they had; to my surprise, it was somewhat less confusing than the last time I had tried it. Still unintelligible, but I felt that there was… something?

"Does the pain blocking work on Thinker headaches?" Alkaline asked, but Ironsides shrugged.

"I'm… not actually sure." They descended into quiet conversation.

"Well, we wish you the best of luck," Assault said, only Battery to hiss, "Assault!"

"What?" he said, sounding genuinely concerned. "Haven't had a hero Butcher in a while, and she seems to be doing pretty good so far."

I jerked my head up at his response, and all four heroes twitched at the sudden movement. "Wait… I can still be a hero?"

Once again, the Butchers were laughing at me — I had a feeling that I would need to get used to that behavior — but the heroes weren't much better. They looked guilty and awkward, only managing a response after a minute of tense silence. Armsmaster shifted the grip on his halberd and said, "I'm not sure you appreciate the difficulty with that, Butcher —"

"Don't call me that," I hissed, then immediately brought a hand to my mouth. Had I just interrupted a famous Protectorate hero?

"Well, if you don't like any of our suggestions, ask Chisel or Sanguine for ideas," Alkaline complained. A moment's thought pulled them out, and to my surprise they weren't particularly nasty. Not that they were saints, to be fair, but Chisel was levelheaded while Sanguine was kind of easy going.

For serial murderers, that was.

"This is wild," Sanguine said. "You're going to drive ol' Butcher nuts!"

"And we might get something productive done if we don't have to yell over each other,"

Chisel continued. "That being said, what about Weaver? It's suitably heroic while making people think 'spiders'. Plus it ties in nicely with how you constructed your badass armor."

Stratego rumbled in agreement. "It avoids describing your power, which gives away a huge tactical advantage."

"She's Butcher XV, dumbass!"

Ironsides barked. "Literally everyone is going to know how her power works tomorrow, because she told the damn heroes!"

I swatted at the irate disembodied voice and focused on Chisel's suggestion. Weaver was… definitely a less edgy name than anything else they had suggested, and it did actually sound vaguely heroic. I wasn't pleased that I was using a name picked by the Butcher, of all things, but it was the best I had heard yet.

"Call me Weaver, instead."

"That's a nice name," Battery said, giving me a pained smile.

Assault rubbed his chin in thought. "Which one came up with that name? It's pretty good, actually."

"Chisel," I replied. "Uh, Butcher VIII. I've got most of them muted, since they're mostly just screaming incoherently at me."

"Muted?" Armsmater asked, genuinely surprised. "That's not possible. If this is some elaborate prank…"

"April Fools Day ended twenty minutes ago, Armsy," Assault said. "I don't think any of us are laughing."

I flexed on the myriad metaphorical muscles in my head, activating Alkaline's power and filling my cupped palm with liquid from the hammerspace. "Oh for fuck's sake," I yelled, spilling the fucking blood on the ground and wiping my hand vigorously. "Blood? What the hell, Quarrel? Why couldn't the Butcher have pleasant powers? Although… I suppose I fit right in."

Chisel, who had been conversing quietly with Damascian, snorted at that. "Given that we don't have to listen to Butcher's screeching, Fester's bitching, or Knockout's boasting, I'd say your power is pretty nice, Taylor."

As though to prove that point, I stopped trying to scrub the fresh bloodstains from my costume and simply summoned a small swarm to eat the stuff right off of the fabric. Then I finally pushed myself to my feet, ignoring how the heroes took a coordinated step backwards from me. "So, um, what now? I guess you're not going to give me the Wards pitch…"

"No, we're not," Armsmaster replied. "But you seem to have things, ah, under control, so why don't you tell us what happened here?"

I described the fight from my point of view, which prompted another round of annoyed yelling in the back of my head, but that was already calming down to the point that I could tell that the past Butchers were really not pleased by the fact that I could ignore them. However, even the more level headed ones were quick to offer trigger-happy commentary, and I had to push both Damascian and Ironsides down after they tried to convince me to execute the remaining ABB forces while I had the heroes' attention.

"One thing that you're going to learn is that leaving your enemies alive just gives them another chance to fuck you up," Alkaline observed, and Stratego rumbled in agreement.

"I'm a hero," I retorted, cutting off my explanation of where Vex and other Teeth fled. "We're not killing everyone."

Chisel rolled her metaphorical eyes. "They were trying to kill kids. And you can communicate mentally with us, you know."

I can?

"Uh, Weaver?"

"You ruined it!" Sanguine laughed. "I wanted to see how long it would take her to figure it out."

Oh fuck you too!

"Weaver?"

"Huh?" I said, finally noticing Assault waving his hand at me.

"We're basically done here," Battery interjected, though I noticed that Armsmaster seemed to be rather agitated concerning the limp form of Lung strapped to the back of his motorcycle. "You can go, if you want."

I wasn't really in a rush to head home, all things considered, but I still hadn't unmuted more than half of the voices in my head and the last thing I wanted was for dad to start asking questions. "Uh, okay. I think I'm going to try out the teleport, which is kind of loud."

"Pyro is insufferable about how great her power is," Alkaline said. "Unfortunately, I agree."

"We know," Assault laughed. "You've got a good head on your shoulders, kid. Don't forget that, and good luck."

I nodded in thanks, then felt out the phantom sensation that allowed me to teleport, and my head spun for a second. Hey guys… can I really use my bugs to target the teleport? I didn't bother waiting for a reply, taking a not-step that twisted my normal senses around as it left me in a ring of expanding heat. It took me the better part of two blocks in an instant.

"The implications…" Stratego breathed. The others murmured in agreement.

I teleported a few more times just for my own amusement before walking the rest of the way home.