Chapter 2.5
Tuesday, April 12th 2011
Had my brain been more functional following my horrific, nausea-inducing realization, I might have rolled my eyes at how the other Teeth flinched when I lurched to my feet with no warning. In one corner of my mind, Stratego's power reported that they were braced for violence; in the other, I barely noted that Chrissie had gone down into the arena for a spar.
In the rest, the Butchers complimented and commented, jeered and complained on top of each other in a cacophonous mess that couldn't quite penetrate the fog filling my brain.
Somehow I managed to stalk to Chrissie's room, ditching my costume before changing into a nondescript pair of jeans and hoodie that were not in the Teeth's… my Teeth's… my colors. Why Chrissie had extra clothes in my size would have to be considered later.
Then I teleported randomly into the Docks, picked a random street, and headed downtown.
Some part of me knew that my new default gait — the one I never practiced, but inherited — shouted 'murderous confidence' to anyone with a brain. My brain, on the other hand, was full of fog and the image of my little battle map of the Bay, where real lives and livelihoods were just little colored squares being moved around by bugs… being squashed like bugs.
The Empire needed to fall, that much was certain.
But did the Teeth need to rise in its place?
In my addled state, I didn't get much further than those two thoughts despite wandering more than a dozen blocks, leaving me solidly on the inside edge of downtown when I finally stopped to look around.
Oh, a twenty-four hour cafe.
Tea sounded nice.
Somehow, I had remembered to bring my wallet and phone with me from the lair. After a few muttered false starts, I managed to order a cup of tea, then ignored the stares of the late-night patrons to seize the maximally-defensible corner table. As I stared at the steeping tea bag and savored its aroma, thoughts started to crystalize out of the fog of my brain.
I was Butcher XV.
It must have been some cosmic joke that I was only fifteen years old, too. I hadn't wanted the horrible power or even more horrible responsibility that came with the title, but the heroes didn't want me either and I couldn't exactly quit. I had known exactly what I was getting into by going back to the Teeth, thanks to my predecessors' memories, but I had not totally understood what it meant to lead them until tonight.
Sure, the Empire raid had been… distressingly fun, but there was a huge gap between planning a raid and orchestrating a war. Not to mention that I had no doubt that people had died in that raid. On my orders. It was a gap that no fifteen year old girl should ever have to consider or even be aware of. I should be sleeping right now, more worried about writing English papers than battle orders.
"Tell that to Chrissie," a voice said, managing to break through the fog before I forced them all down into the dark. They complained, of course, but I needed to have some time today where I wasn't listening to their 'advice.' For all that they were (mostly) friendly, I needed to remember that the chorus was out for blood.
Which included mine, when I didn't listen to them.
My mind wandered back to my maybe-girlfriend, easily imagining her infectious smile and warm hugs. If not for the fact that she was a supervillain too, our relationship might be the most interesting normal thing to happen to me in a long time. But even that was associated with the Teeth, another link in the chain that trapped me to my inheritance.
I tried to banish all of those thoughts and focus on my tea, only to remember when Mom used to let me chase the steeping tea bag around with a little spoon while she —
A crack, and my hand was wet.
Oh, I had shattered the mug.
Despite my emotional exhaustion, the combination of wet clothes and no tea sparked a flame of anger and despair in my chest that I didn't want to unleash here. I teleported as far as my bugs could take me three times before that flame turned into a bonfire, and I only gave the unlucky building that was my destination a cursory glance before wrenching the fire escape off the wall and throwing it down the… alley…
This was the building I had used to hide from Lung. I could still smell the scorch marks.
I spent the next thirty minutes in a frothing rage, using bits and pieces of the half-demolished buildings to cause as much damage as I could to the rest. I disintegrated sections of walls, raised hammers out of the asphalt and used them to smash holes, and gouged huge claw marks in the sidewalk in a futile attempt to punish the godforsaken pit of hell where I had tried to save some kids and got cursed instead.
"I know I'm supposed to be scary!" I yelled, kicking over piles of masonry I had reshaped to resemble Lung, Armsmaster, Quarrel, and a few of the more annoying Butchers. "I know I'm supposed to be sane!" I caught Marauder's head before the football-sized chunk of masonry could hit me in the face, and threw it with all of my strength at the far wall. "But don't fucking congratulate me for starting a goddamn gang war!"
In the dark recesses of my mind, the muted complaints of the other Butchers blurred together in an annoyed din.
After my little venting episode, I teleported most of the way home and snuck back into my room. I wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed and fall asleep, but the stupid Noctis power meant that I only got a few hours of respite. I managed to calm down and get some reading done after stomping on the voices a few times, but the mental exercise of keeping the annoying ones muted meant that I struggled to focus on my book.
I really did not want their praise right now.
I did not want to hear about how well I controlled the Teeth, or how scared the others were of me, or how great I was at being a supervillain. I very much did not want to think that less than two weeks ago, I was just like any other parahuman teenager, planning my first night and training with my powers to be the best hero I could manage. Caping was supposed to have just been a worthwhile diversion in my utterly shitty life.
And now I was plotting the violent takeover of my home city.
The worst part? It was still the best course of action I could see going forward.
The Teeth were never going to be heroes, not even close. The best that I could do was direct them to more deserving targets and do my best to keep the collateral damage to a minimum. To do that, I needed Weaver to be the most badass and terrifying villain on the coast, and not because Butcher XV was mostly insane and distractible like her predecessors. No, she needed to be ruthless and calculating, forging the Teeth into a weapon to smite her enemies.
I had done that.
It had been distressingly easy.
"I think you are focusing on the wrong aspect, Taylor," Chisel said carefully. "You're a clever girl with a shitload of powers, and you figured out how to deal with the other Teeth immediately. This sort of organization may come naturally to you, but none of the rest of us could have managed it."
That's because you couldn't shut up long enough to come up with a plan!
Chisel sent a very clear idea of a shrug. "Sure, but if you're stuck in this job, you might as well do it right. There's nothing wrong with enjoying —"
I growled at her, which shut her up instantly. There's everything wrong with enjoying planning a war! Pushing around those little markers, designing weapons… fuck, this isn't some big game or just another heist! We're planning to kill people, and for everyone it was just another Monday night — including me!
"Well, you are the Butcher," Alkaline tried. "Yeah you hurt Animos, but —"
That comment saw all of the voices shoved down into the dark. I could not — would not — let myself turn into a giggling madwoman who played the fiddle while Brockton burned, or worse, lit the fuse myself because I liked the pretty flames. Butcher XV could be the PRT's worst nightmare without me engaging in my predecessor's mindless hedonism.
Of course, that was largely because Weaver was sane, which reminded me that I needed to go to school in a few hours, where I would have to deal with Emma and her flunkies again. That was another thing I needed to deal with in a way befitting of the Butcher, before she trashed my reputation and eventually encouraged someone to off me for the mantle. It was all just so much to deal with, but I didn't have a choice in the matter. I was the Butcher, and yet…
I can't allow this to consume my life.
"Taylor, when have you ever just rolled over and given in?" Fester asked in a passable imitation of Mom's voice. "You've already done more for the Bay than anyone since Marquis was arrested —"
Sanguine cut in with a snort. "Honestly, I preferred him to the Empire, even before joining the Teeth. I wish the Bitchy Brigade had gone after Allfather instead."
"That's not the point," Fester snapped. "All I'm saying is that Butcher XV is whoever you make her. You want to go crazy? Do it. You want to keep up your civilian life and rub it in the PRT's face? Do it."
"Just don't —" I muted Butcher before I could even hear his complaint.
"Never thought I'd see the day where the Butcher cares about the Unwritten Rules," Ironsides grumbled. "Funny as hell, but weird."
Pyro jumped on that with a blatant attempt to change the subject (for which I was grateful). "Hey, that rogue who makes the puppets and clothes and shit. Think she could make those hoodies you came up with?"
"Oh hell yes," Knockout said, sending a mental image of me brawling in some bar while wearing such a hoodie. "Free advertising!"
"As a rogue, she likely advertises through PHO," Damascian suggested, nudging my attention to the phone sitting next to me on the bed. I felt my stomach drop a bit when I logged into PHO and found my account had been suspended due to… my new status as the Butcher. Did they really need to do that? What were they afraid of me posting if I was insane? Hell, they let Chrissie have an account…
Immediately I sent off a complaint to one of the online admins and got a reply in less than a minute.
►Weaver (Verified Cape)
Replied On April 12th 2011:
Why was my account suspended? I've barely posted anything!
►Tin_Mother (Admin)
Replied On April 12th 2011:
I find it hard to believe that the Butcher is able to coherently type a complaint. Which of the Teeth capes am I speaking with?
►Weaver (Verified Cape)
Replied On April 12th 2011:
Oh, like you don't know that half the Teeth capes have accounts on here with a fucking villain tag. Razorpunk is Vex, if it wasn't blindingly obvious. Hell, Hookwolf has the same tag and his screenname is MURDERBLENDER for fuck's sake!
If it's that big of a deal just tag my damn account with Butcher XV or some shit and hold me to the same standards as any other poster.
►Tin_Mother (Admin)
Replied On April 12th 2011:
You're asking me to trust the Butcher to remain level headed. I'm sure you understand why that is difficult.
►Weaver (Verified Cape)
Replied On April 12th 2011:
Oh for fuck's sake. At least this way you will know exactly which account I'm posting from rather than going out there and creating a dozen new accounts and spreading whatever I want across your precious PHO. Scion knows the PRT are the only ones who have that honor after the shit that was pulled last Friday.
►Tin_Mother (Admin)
Replied On April 12th 2011:
I'm going to regret this. Your account is unlocked provisionally, you'll have a daily posting cap until you prove you won't abuse your privileges. One mistake, and you will be perma-banned. Understood?
►Weaver (Verified Cape)(Butcher XV)
Replied On April 12th 2011:
Loud and clear. Thanks, Mommy. I'll be good!
►Tin_Mother (Admin)
Replied On April 12th 2011:
I regret this already…
After unlocking my account, I sent Parian a message before noodling around on the site for a while. It was interesting being able to read the local boards from Philly to Boston thanks to the Butchers' memories, though I refrained from posting the various taunts and insults they suggested. I was engrossed enough that my alarm actually served its stated purpose.
Most of my routine in my morning was the same, though I did wear some of the nicer clothes that Chrissie helped pick out. A red tank top with gray trim and some faded bluejeans that almost passed as gray. A more subdued outfit to be sure, but I'd already made my statement. Flaunting the colors so openly didn't matter as much anymore.
However, without the need to run to stay in shape, I had an extra hour to kill that I could spend doing something productive — like surprising dad with breakfast! The Butchers had considerable memories about cooking from before their inheritance that were now at my mental fingertips. Unfortunately, the same couldn't be said about our current pantry and fridge situation.
We need to go grocery shopping.
"There is sufficient time, provided you utilize the teleport," Damascian said, prodding a memory of how to prepare a proper English breakfast. It was a heavy meal with a lot of prep time needed, but like she had said, I had a bit of time to spare.
"Any objections?"
"I need to introduce you to a Japanese breakfast sometime," Quarrel said, poking one of her own memories as a child when her Mother had prepared such a meal for her.
Yeah, that's going on the list. Maybe when I'm cooking for Chrissie since explaining that to Dad might be a bit difficult.
"Times a wastin!"
"We're fucking starving!"
"Feed us!"
FINE! I'm going!
I took that not-step to teleport and set off for the nearest grocery store.
Perhaps the strangest component of my original powers was my seemingly unending capacity for multitasking. When I was conducting the raid over the weekend, I had been certain that something would get lost in the chaos, but I never once lost my focus on numerous threads of the battle. Right now, my black widows down in the basement were hard at work on the first of the silk shirts and pants for my capes. Alongside them, I had a cluster of various bugs listening to an audiobook. It was taking some trial and error, but I had mostly figured out a combination of bugs that I could hear through fairly clearly.
Bug vision however, was proving much more difficult. The novel propped open under the workbench light was proving to be nothing but a blur. The best results I'd had so far were dragonflies for details, but they had their own limitations. I was currently rotating various bugs to see if I could find a workable combination.
Other bugs were working on yet another project: folding papers into a basic origami pattern while using silk strands to string them into necklaces. The little cubes were a key component of my new plan for Winslow, and there were a lot of Teeth at the school.
All around my range I'd set up clusters of bugs to maintain a vigil on my neighborhood. I wasn't about to be surprised if the Police, or worse, the PRT decided to pay me a visit.
Then there was my Chisel-created mini Brockton Bay I was using to run simulated raids and offensives with the aid of Stratego's power. Bugs were serving as stand-ins for the forces on both sides, navigating the tiny wooden buildings on my closet shelf. I was testing potential strikes against the Empire as well as a raid on the PRT to reclaim my minigun, and unfortunately the latter looked far less feasible given how the PRT HQ was essentially a permanently-staffed fortress.
While I was doing all of this simultaneously, I was also cooking a full course English breakfast for two, and prepping lunch for myself, Dad and Chrissie.
"Okay, I agree. She's bullshit," Sanguine said with a chuckle.
"Spare some attention for the bacon," Damascian said. "Burning it would complicate both breakfast and your lunch."
I've got a few flies keeping an eye on it, don't worry.
"Phrases I never expected to hear, let alone consider just another part of our day…" Knockout said with a shake of his head.
Dad's awake. The flies I have in his room can smell the food.
"Then it's a good thing you're mostly finished."
I hummed in agreement with Chisel as I plated everything up. Making breakfast wasn't much in the grand scale of things, but it was something I could do for my dad to show him that I care about him. Cooking the food myself rather than bringing in takeout would hopefully raise fewer questions about my source of funds.
Pyro snapped her metaphorical fingers. "Have you considered just buying him lunch to be delivered to work sometimes?"
Too suspicious if it's just him…
"Maybe if food were to be procured for the entirety of the dockworkers…" Stratego suggested.
That's a lot of money just to buy dad food.
Alkaline snorted. "Taylor, you have millions stashed under your mattress at the base, you can afford it."
Fair point, I'll look into it.
"You know, it might just be easier to tell him than come up with convoluted plans to sneak things by him," Butcher snickered.
I'm not rehashing this argument again.
"Taylor… What is all this?"
I spun around with plates in hand and a wide grin plastered on my face. "Breakfast! I hope you're hungry!"
"How did you make all this? I didn't even know we had tomatoes in the fridge…"
I shook my head as I set the plates at our places at the table. "We didn't, I made a grocery run so I could surprise you."
"Just don't tell him you made that run two hours ago," Sabertooth faux whispered.
"This is all just…" He paused as his eyes narrowed. "Are you doing that teenager thing where you try to butter me up before asking to go to a party or something?"
"What!?"
"Busted!" Fester chuckled.
I shook my head fast enough my hair whipped. "No, I just… I don't want us to keep growing apart is all, and I thought making you breakfast might help."
At that, his face fell right back into the expression that had haunted him ever since Mom died. I hated seeing Dad like that, aging a decade just by slumping forward and cupping his face in his hands. Losing Mom had almost destroyed him, and I shuddered to think what would happen if I suddenly told him I couldn't come home anymore. The photos on the walls were already too much of a reminder with only one of us gone.
Well, if I had learned anything from Chrissie, it was the restorative power of hugs. I pulled my chair around before leaning over and giving Dad the tightest hug I could that wouldn't snap his bones.
I felt the tension bleed out of me as he returned the hug. "I feel like I'm failing you…"
"Because you are!" Fester yelled, but I punted her into the dark.
Everyone, stay out of this. Please.
Most of the Butchers muttered in the back of my mind, but none tried to interrupt further. "The last few years haven't been easy, but I'd hardly call you a failure. You've had a lot on your plate, and you've handled it as best you could. I haven't been much better, but I'm trying, and I don't want to look back in six months to a year and wonder what I could have done differently that might have prevented us from drifting apart for good."
"You make it sound like you're going away soon…" he said softly.
"I already lost mom, Emma is…" My voice hitched. "You're all I have left now."
"I thought you had Chrissie?"
"I do, but she's… she's a new part of my life. You're all I have left from my childhood." I pulled away and wiped some stray wetness from my eyes. "You better eat up before it gets cold."
"Sure thing, kiddo," We both began to eat our feast, but after just a few bites dad was staring intently at his plate. "Where did you learn to cook like this?"
Shit.
"Still want us to stay out of it?" Butcher sneered.
Not helping, asshole.
"One of Chrissie's friends is showing me a few things. I wanted to surprise you… Also wanted to practice a bit before I cooked for her…"
"Not bad, kid. Solid 6/10 on the recovery," Knockout said.
"Well, you're doing a damn fine job," Dad answered. "You've impressed me, so you're sure to impress her as well."
"Thanks Dad," I said with a weak smile. "Did you sleep well?"
"Not as well as I would have liked. Had to go into the office to deal with the PRT just before midnight."
"Hey, that was when we—"
No shit Sherlock, of course he got called in for a Weaver sighting…
"What happened? I thought things had calmed down since the Merchants were taken out."
"Oh, they have, at least until now. Jeff had a run in with the new Butcher."
"Shit, when's the funeral?" I blurted without thinking.
Dad sighed, setting his fork down. "Surprisingly, Jeff is fine, even after he shot Butcher in the chest."
"Again, how is he not dead?" I asked, trying to think like old Taylor would. Ask the questions she would ask.
"Even the PRT is stumped. Apparently they had a big fight with the Nazis a few days ago and it was as brutal as any of their fights ever were. That reminds me…"
I watched him get up and go over to his work stuff and pull out what looked like a postcard. "I got you the autographs of the heroes that showed up."
He handed me a pair of postcards with Miss Militia and Velocity's autographs clearly written across their pictures.
The chorus burst into laughter.
It wasn't that damn funny.
The bus was almost back to Winslow and the chorus hadn't once shut up about that damn postcard.
"You should totally post that to PHO in a few days, or maybe start up an autograph collection!" Pyro said with considerable excitement.
Alkaline began to cackle. "Could you imagine their faces if you just walked up to them wearing that Weaver XV jacket and just asked?"
"Shit would be gold," Knockout agreed.
I'll admit, that would be fucking hilarious.
"Does that mean you'll do it?" Pyro practically begged.
If I'm not risking the loss of my civilian identity? Hell yes I would.
The chorus cheered and fell into discussing various scenarios they wanted to see me enact, sort of like a group of cape fic writers. Several of their ideas were actually funny as hell, too. They continued until the bus finally arrived at Winslow, but luckily shut up when we pulled into the parking lot. We all knew that it was time to put my best foot forward and fix my mistakes from Monday.
When I stepped off the bus, there was no play at being weak. I had shed my glasses for good, I was wearing high quality clothes that showed off my toned figure, and I carried myself like I was the baddest bitch on the east coast… because I fucking was. The news that I had arrived spread like wildfire among the Teeth, as reported back to me through my bugs. I couldn't make out what they were whispering without clustering my bugs a bit more, but one word kept being repeated enough that I figured it out all the same: Weaver.
It was evident that my identity had spread among the Teeth, based on their looks of awe, respect, and a touch of fear. What had gone down yesterday with Emma probably made me look weak in the eyes of her backers, but to my Teeth? I'd shown something no other Butcher had ever possessed.
Self control.
Each and every one of them knew I could have ended everyone in that hallway within moments. I was the Butcher, yet I chose to not butcher them. Now, I needed to follow up on that before Emma got it in her head that she could walk all over me again. Once I could justify, but if she managed to keep playing this game at this level, I would lose face. Thus, it was time for me to flip the board a bit.
As I walked I noticed a few sour looks from the idiots still wearing Empire colors. Oh well, they could fuck off and die for all I cared.
As I approached Chrissie's group in the courtyard, I was surprised to see the girl I'd bailed out the prior day standing with them, though she wasn't doing a good job of hiding how out of her element she appeared.
"Bet she'd scream if you buzzed a fly in her ear," Sabertooth suggested.
"Hey Chrissie!" I said cheerfully as I waved. I watched her smile blossom as I took the spot beside her and drew her into a kiss. Once I'd left her with a dopey grin I turned to greet my other minions. "Britney, Zach, Jason, Fred. Anything of note to report?"
"Nothing beyond what you expected," Chrissie said with a shrug. "Charlotte here did want to thank you for yesterday, though."
I turned towards the girl, who shrunk back at my sudden attention; her voice came out at barely a whisper. "Thank you… er, Taylor. Usually those of us wearing red and gray aren't bothered by the other members, but they've been a bit excited since Weaver took over."
I snorted. "I suppose I did make a bit of an impression."
"You sure you want to admit that to someone not committed to the Teeth?" Chrissie asked.
"She saw what I did to Paul and his pissy jeaned buddy, no point in trying to deny who I am, not among our own."
Chrissie didn't bat an eye at my statement, but I could tell the others weren't as thrilled at my acceptance of Charlotte. Oh well, perks of the job — they could fall in line or get Spree'd.
I immediately bit my tongue, wishing I could feel pain. It was getting harder each and every day to spot when I was thinking more like the Butcher than Taylor, and that red flag may as well have been painted the crimson of the Teeth.
One of the other Teeth produced a blunt and skipped everyone in the rotation to offer me a hit. This time I took it without hesitation, as this was probably going to become a morning ritual for me and I needed to de-compress. Chrissie took the blunt after me, offering a sly wink that brought warmth to my cheeks.
"Any plans for those bitches from yesterday?" Britney asked.
I grimaced at the reminder. "Thanks for not jumping the gun yesterday. Things… didn't quite go according to plan, but it did give me valuable information on how to proceed."
"How so?" Chrissie asked enthusiastically.
"Now that we know the teachers will do whatever they can to avoid doing anything to piss either side off, it gives us a lot more room to play. I intend to capitalize on that."
"We're all ears," Jason said. "Just tell us what to do and it'll get done."
"Fantastic!" I beamed, pulling a couple of boxes from my bag and handing them out. "Because I need you guys to pass some stuff out to anyone in our colors."
The rest of the Teeth at Winslow were enthusiastic about my plan, though there were still some grumblings along the lines of 'just go Carrie already' that I elected not to hear. The Butchers also grumbled at that, displeased as they were about my unwillingness to just beat the shit out of Emma and her flunkies, but their cheers at Damien's broken nose continued to echo softly in the back of my head.
"It's not a bad plan," Chisel said. "There's a high likelihood that you will attract the PRT, but…"
But?
"Then you have to fight them!" Knockout yelled, and the others cheered.
I shoved them all away and focused on my swarm. No longer could I let my attention wander from my surroundings, and it was only by leveraging my multitasking ability that I had any chance of keeping up a semblance of normality while putting my idea into action.
That also meant that I recognized Emma's voice before I walked around the corner and found her lingering by the door to Mrs. Knott's classroom. She stood next to Sophia as their hanger-ons quickly fanned out to block my path through the hall. They couldn't actually stop me if they wanted to, of course, so they were lucky that I wanted to deal with Emma anyways.
"Where's the short one?" Marauder wondered. "Miss cutesy little bitch?"
"That's not specific, coming from you," Sanguine pointed out.
Alkaline made an annoyed sound. "Madison, the girl from —"
"The roach!" several cheered, and I let that amusement creep onto my own face.
I found it interesting that, once again, Emma had a surprisingly adverse reaction to seeing me in Teeth colors. Horror and disgust flitted over her face before she gave my posture another once-over, only to be replaced by quickly hidden shock.
"The colors, yes, but also the way you hold yourself," Damascian said. "Your bearing and gait no longer match those of a girl with your history."
I channeled some of that newfound arrogance as I crossed my arms and raised an eyebrow. "What the fuck do you want this time, Emma?"
"Why Taylor," she replied, clearly unnerved by my tone, "I would have thought you learned your lesson yesterday. Just because you joined a gang of idiots doesn't mean they can protect you."
I couldn't help it, I laughed. It was loud, arrogant, and — if I was being honest — a bit unhinged. It was a laugh better suited to mowing down Spree clones than chatting in an early morning school hallway; it crashed on Emma and her flunkies in a wave of trepidation. Even Sophia couldn't quite maintain her bored air of faux-superiority in the face of my laugh.
"Damn girl, that's a good supervillain laugh," Knockout said approvingly.
"You must not have heard the news," I said, doing my best to flash them a desperately hopeful smile. "See, unlike the teachers and staff and Wards or whatever here, Weaver actually gives a damn about her minions. She gave us these necklaces to use if we have troubles with bullies and no one will help."
I held out the simple necklace and its bug trapped in a paper cube, knowing full well what would happen next. Sophia snatched it out of my hand almost instantly, holding it up to her own face and sneering at it. "Yeah, right. Weaver has better things to do than play babysitter to trash like you." I ignored the grumblings in the back of my head at that comment.
She crushed the little cube.
Emma screeched in pain and surprise, having been stung on the back of her neck by a convenient wasp. "OW! What the —" Her brain caught up with reality a moment later, eyes going wide with horror as she stared at the crumpled paper in Sophia's hand… who was coughing on the fly that she had 'accidentally swallowed.'
"Well, you figured out how it works," I said lightly, dumping my amusement into the swarm so that I didn't fall over with laughter. With Emma still in shock and Sophia too concerned with her to stop me, I was able to brush past the two of them and into Mrs. Knott's room. The bell rang not long after, and my bugs let me follow the girls as they scrambled to get to their classes on time.
Mrs. Knott herself seemed to age a decade when I walked past her desk, and I once again wondered if there was some way I could reassure her that things weren't… Well, they were actually far worse than she feared, but I wasn't being used by the gang in some horrible fashion. She pointedly looked away when I fished another paper cube necklace out of my pocket and put it on, which unfortunately matched up with the way that every teacher treated the gang members here.
Two of the Teeth members in the class lacked necklaces of their own, so once Mrs. Knott got us started on the assignment, I pulled another pair of the entrapped bugs out of my bookbag and passed them over. I felt a surprising pang of pride, seeing them wearing not only my symbols but a way for me to (hopefully) surreptitiously help them here at Winslow.
It wasn't like anyone else was helping us.
Then I settled in to wait for the inevitable PRT response.
It didn't happen.
I know that the whole point of this plan is plausible deniability, but I was sure that Emma, at least, would go crying to the authorities as soon as she was able.
"I think you dangerously underestimate how highly they think of themselves," Stratego rumbled in response.
As though to punctuate that point, I felt Sophia rip another of the necklaces off of a Teeth member in whatever her first class was. She was clearly marked by the insects on her clothing and limbs, but I didn't immediately punish her when she crushed the poor alarm bug. No, I waited until she threw the necklace back to its owner before stinging her right on the nose with another wasp.
We all giggled — me out loud, the chorus in my head, and if I understood my bugs' senses, the Teeth in the classroom. Sophia, on the other hand, was obviously displeased, having yelled something unpleasant while trying to rub at her nose. But she didn't get up and go to the principal, or immediately start yelling about villains, so I assumed that she had already come to understand that Weaver wasn't leaving any evidence.
The irony was delicious, but I was still worried that the PRT would find out somehow. However, no matter how obsessively I searched approaching cars with my bugs or refreshed PHO, there was no sign that any heroes had the slightest idea of what was happening here. By the time the bell rang and freed us from Mrs. Knott's classroom, the only thing I had to show for my efforts was the normal disorientation from trying to process bug senses.
"Would you just chill the fuck out already?" Pyro complained. "Seriously, you're more tense than Marauder on PCP."
I didn't need the laughs that comment prompted to know that I didn't need to look at those memories. I know that I'm not exactly hiding, but I would still rather not have to teleport away from the heroes, you know?
"What I would have given for that damn teleport when running from heroes," Fester said wistfully. She then pushed a memory forward of her and Mom running from the police after a crack-down on a demonstration at their college. "She would have loved those necklaces. Give 'em out to the girls, swarm the fuckers —"
"Like right now!" Chisel cut in, pushing my attention to a stairwell where two smaller Teeth were in a scuffle with three goons that I couldn't immediately identify. One had called for help, and I responded by guiding a trio of cockroaches from the ceiling down onto their enemy's faces. The goons' reflexes were much worse than Sophia's, so I was able to run the cockroaches up their noses and get them stuck.
Being Teeth, of course, my minions used the distraction to kick the guys in the nuts before running away while laughing. In my head, Fester was cackling her ass off. "Taylor, I just want to say that I'm glad we never had to face you on the field."
"Excuse me?" Quarrel spat.
"Well, more than once," Fester amended.
I knew, deep down, that I wasn't supposed to be proud of the fact that the Butchers approved of my methods, but I couldn't quite keep the smile off my face as I flopped down into my seat in English Lit. That smile turned into an outright grin when Sophia walked in, the tip of her nose adorned by an angry, red welt.
Then I remembered the night before, and my grin turned brittle. Ordinarily I would have been worried about the murderous displeasure in Sophia's gaze as she stalked past me to her seat, but my life was almost unimaginably more complicated than some stupid schoolyard bullying that I started to wonder if the cubes really had been a good idea.
When I had first decided to come back to Winslow in Teeth colors, I knew that I was mixing my personal and cape lives in a way that I couldn't really undo. Not having friends made the first part much easier, but as for the second, I had explicitly not allowed myself to use my powers on my bullies in any way. Now, it felt alarmingly good to give them back a tiny piece of the suffering they gave me, and that was even before taking into account the Butcher's influence.
"Hey, just because we know what is fun —" Pyro said before I gave her a shove.
Damascian made an appreciative noise. "I applaud your self-control, Taylor, especially after experiencing your bullies firsthand. But there is a vast gulf between a few bug bites and a trigger event."
That's not the fucking point.
Interestingly, upon thinking about it, I found that I didn't feel bad protecting my minions from the other aggressors at Winslow. Emma and Sophia definitely counted among that number, as I was not the only girl who attracted their venomous attention. Still, I felt bad about sinking to their level, so I popped off a quick message to Chrissie.
Sophia rarely made trouble for me directly in class, but today I would not have been surprised had she simply abandoned pretense and lunged at me from across the room. It was bad enough that Stratego's power actually pinged off of her behavior, and during the lecture the chorus amused themselves by describing increasingly absurd ways Sophia could attack me in the room.
"And she tears off the teacher's arm… " "… stabs his eye out with the chalkboard pointer…" "Turns the projector into a rail gun —"
What?
Damascian shrugged, metaphorically. "It's theoretically possible. Such a device would be largely ineffective, but with a bit of work…"
As soon as class let out, I pushed the absurd conversation to the back of my mind and walked as quickly as I dared to the bathroom on this floor. I found two Teeth girls standing menacingly outside, but they waved me in with a smile as soon as I approached. "Hey boss," Chrissie said, pushing herself off the wall she had been lounging on. "What did you —"
I cut her off with a tight hug.
"D'aww," Fester said in a sickeningly sweet voice.
My girlfriend reciprocated immediately, hugging me back with surprising strength. "Everything okay, Tay?"
"I stung Sophia and Emma," I murmured into Chrissie's hair. "I knew that they wouldn't be able to resist messing with us, but…"
"You didn't want to use your powers for revenge, I know," Chrissie replied just as quietly. She shifted around in our hug, resting her head along my collarbone and neck. "Then again, it's not like the faculty here give a shit. Besides, if Weaver is watching and they didn't get stung…"
"I shouldn't enjoy it," I whispered.
"Oh, fuck that," Chrissie said, standing upright and swatting at my shoulder. "Stop being a Saint, and for god's sake, don't be a fucking martyr. You didn't kill them, right? Barely even hurt, in fact? Quarrel would have stuck arrows in their eyes. They deserve payback and you deserve to smile a little after watching them deal with some karma for once. You're only human. Now, come on — we'll be late."
The smile that crept onto my face as Chrissie pulled me out of the bathroom felt much more deserved than my earlier sadistic glee. Weaver was going to be famous for this sort of sneaky maneuvering, and while I really shouldn't be using my powers at school, it did feel nice to protect my people. And while 'not killing teenagers' wasn't a particularly high bar, it was one that prior Butchers likely would not have been able to pass. Maybe Chrissie and the chorus were right: there wasn't anything wrong with taking just a bit of pleasure out of this overwatch.
Madison finally reappeared when I arrived in Gladly's class, but she seemed hell-bent on refusing to admit that I even existed. It said much that Gladly seemed to take the same stance, though I certainly wasn't complaining — they left me alone with Chrissie and Fred from our morning pot-smoking circle.
"So, uh, boss, you sure —" he tried.
"Yeah, I got this," I said, scribbling a page of notes for our 'presentation' about the Elite while Ironsides and Chisel passed on some insights. "Oh, for fuck's sake!"
"Huh?" Chrissie asked, noting that I had stopped writing. She dropped her voice and leaned in. "Bug?"
I didn't really want to know any more about the situation one of the Teeth girls had found herself in, so I just stung the guy in places that wasps wouldn't have reached so easily and tried to put the sensation out of my mind. "Yeah. Fuck, this school is such a shithole."
Chrissie snorted in amusement. "Don't we know it. Hey, maybe if the PRT shows up they'll just burn it to the ground while trying to get rid of all of the bugs."
"We could only hope," I muttered, turning my mind back to the assignment.
Fred ended up presenting the work, which earned us an 'A' for the day, and we all scampered out of the classroom before Gladly could complain about missed detentions again. I was a bit surprised when both Fred and Chrissie wanted to know more about the Elite, and we chatted the whole way down to the lunch room.
"So," Chrissie declared loudly once we were settled in, "have you guys heard that those Empire dipshits brought in bags of bugs to make us look bad? I mean, Weaver is busy, so who would seriously believe that she would send her swarm to beat up kids?"
Then she shot me a seductive wink.
I dropped my sandwich.
"That's what I heard too," Paul said loudly, though his boasting tone was belied by his fearful glance in my direction… that was totally derailed by my full-face blush.
In my head, the Butchers were roaring with laughter. "This is fucking hilarious!" Knockout yelled above the rest, and his cheer was echoed by the others. Outwardly, I picked my sandwich back up and attacked it with gusto, refusing to meet anyone's eyes. Chrissie draped an arm around my shoulders, complaining loudly about 'the good name of the Teeth' while I did my best to finish my lunch and ignore the rapidly-spreading rumors.
Of course, food couldn't keep my focus for long, and my eyes wandered while I ate. A few tables over, Emma alternated stabbing at her food with unnecessary violence and shooting me glares that should have set me on fire. On the opposite side of the room, the Empire kids were doing much the same, although they seemed to be mostly directing their hateful glares towards Chrissie.
And at my own table, we were joined by a very uncomfortable Charlotte who sat down by herself at the end. The other Teeth were not pleased by this turn of events, so I took special pride in their looks of horror when I stood up and moved to sit next to her. I knew that expecting politeness was like asking Gladly to behave like an adult, so I flashed them all a warning glare and leaned in to talk to my newest minion.
"Girl looks like a stiff breeze would blow her over," Ironsides grumbled.
Then I guess I'll be there to catch her.
Marauder didn't like that. "You're not going soft on us, right? There's no way she'd kill a guy to join the Teeth."
I'm pretty sure the literal teenagers aren't doing that. And if they are…
I silenced the chorus when they offered more complaints and turned my attention to Charlotte. "Hey. So are you joining up?"
"Well, it's better than getting shanked for being Jewish," Charlotte muttered. "I mean, you guys are nuts, don't get me wrong, but…" She cast a glance up the table to the two guys who had harassed her yesterday, who adopted appropriately chagrined expressions when I followed her gaze. "You did stand up for me."
"The little shit didn't stand up for you," Ironsides grumbled.
Well, someone has to be the better person here. And if it's the Teeth…
Chisel hummed in thought. "To be fair, we haven't really had a high school presence in a long time. Every person we recruit now is someone who potentially looks the other way when you kick a Nazi in the nuts."
"The Teeth do what we want," I said, loudly enough for the rest of the table to hear. "And right now, I want to make it so that people don't fear bullies." I could tell that some of the Teeth kids were less than enthused with my proclamation, but they cheered and smiled all the same. I supposed I could throw them a small bone at least. "Of course, that includes the biggest bullies of all: the fucking Nazis." That got a few more genuine cheers out of my minions and had Chrissie giving me a feral grin that was somehow also adorable.
When I turned and gave Emma a wicked smirk of my own, I could have sworn that steam came out of her ears with how red she became.
I was heading towards gym class when I felt another cube break — it was Charlotte's this time. She had been cornered by a bunch of girls after class, lead by none other than Emma fucking Barnes. My bugs listened in as Emma berated the other girl for stooping low enough as to join the Teeth, accompanied by the occasional comment from the others.
"Can we kill her NOW?" Butcher demanded, and the others agreed loudly.
Fester was the most enthusiastic, naturally. "She doesn't really need both arms, right?"
Luckily, my cowardly ex-friend had ambushed Charlotte in an empty classroom, which gave me a lot of options for getting my swarm in place. Bugs pooled under desks and in ceiling tiles, more than enough to strip the flesh off —
I took a deep breath and pushed the collective away, to their displeasure. I really didn't need their thumbs on the metaphorical scales when choosing how to deal with Emma again. Extreme violence was definitely not the answer; rather, I needed to send a message. When the swarm emerged from the shadows, I made sure to put the humanoid-shaped cloud far from any of the offending girls.
"Don't you girls have anything better to do than bullying kids who aren't doing anything wrong?" the swarm said in the least immediately awful voice I could manage. Three of the girls turned and ran before I even finished the first sentence. "Since we're all stuck in this hellhole every day, you should just let kids go to class in peace. I don't know if you get off on hurting other people, or what —"
"Shut the hell up," Emma snapped, surprising me with her spine. "This must be some kind of trick, because there's no way Butcher cares about Winslow."
"Oh, but I do… because it wasn't so long ago that I lived that same awful reality. I am quite well aware how terrible some of you are to your classmates for no reason. That stops now." The swarm 'yelled' the last word, which scared off the remaining girls and left Emma alone with Charlotte.
"The PRT —" Emma tried, and I had the swarm laugh at her, a noise even I could agree was horrible.
"It is my understanding that Wards attend this school, for all the good it has done. If they were capable of doing their damn jobs, I wouldn't need to step in. Now leave her alone."
I had the swarm advance on Emma slowly but steadily; interestingly, she seemed to slump at the condemnation before turning and escaping herself. "Thanks," Charlotte said, and I had the humanoid cloud wave at her before dispersing.
Message delivered, I continued on towards my next class, giving the stink eye to a few Empire bastards on the way.
I arrived in the gymnasium and made my way to the lockers so I could change and listen in on locker room gossip with both bugs and ears. Most of the talk seemed to be about sightings of Weaver's bugs, and it was being debated against the rumors that the E88 was attempting to frame the Teeth for Winslow's ongoing pest problems
Which was actually fair — the insect population of this shithole didn't really need my help to be at apocalyptic levels. The roaches alone should have been enough to condemn the school.
"Hell, if this place wasn't stone and steel it would have likely collapsed years ago with all the termites in your range," Pyro said.
That's no joke. Though, I'm concerned with just how prevalent crabs are —
"And why aren't your bullies among the infected?" Knockout demanded.
"If you can't beat em, give em crabs!" Sanguine cheered.
I did my damndest to not laugh at the mental image of that on a t-shirt that he shoved forward, but I wasn't a fan of the idea. For the same reason I didn't swarm the school.
"Yeah but those whores —" he tried again, only for Fester to explode.
"Get the fuck out of here with that patriarchal bullshit, Knockout! Taylor, don't listen to this dumbfuck — if you want to punish them, just be honest and sting them —"
"Or set them on fire," Pyromaniac added.
"… or that. But don't punish them with the equivalent of a fucking STD."
Fester didn't even need to ask the obvious question, though I had to mute Knockout and a few others for continuing to suggest variations on the idea.
It took me only moments to change into my gray sweats and a different scarlet tank top, and soon enough I was out on the floor doing the warm up routine that I no longer required. On the opposite side of the room, Emma and Sophia were already halfway through their own warmups.
Chrissie didn't share this class with me, but there were a few flunkies in my colors that gave me a respectful nod when I noticed them. The support was nice, but I didn't really need their aid to put two thirds of the Trio in their place. Hopefully today's activity would be one that let me show off a bit.
That was when our PE teacher entered the room, along with a rack of hard foam balls. I quashed my instinctive fear and a smile slowly curled on my lips — dodge ball.
"Oh, we are gonna wreck ALL the shit," Quarrel said with unrestrained glee.
"Sophia even has a nice, irritated target right there to aim for," Sabertooth added.
Indeed, Sophia's nose was still swollen from the wasp sting I'd delivered earlier. My gut reaction was to just play normally and ignore my numerous relevant powers, but… Chrissie was right. As long as I didn't do anything drastic or really hurt anyone (unlike the crabs), maybe it was time that Emma and Sophia finally started to reap the consequences of their actions.
I might actually enjoy gym class for once.
When the whistle blew I had a ball in hand within a second, lazily dodged three hastily thrown balls, and retaliated with a Quarrel assisted throw that nailed Emma's ass as she tried to jump out of the way. Really, she had moved enough to dodge, but I was cheating.
I avoided Sophia's nose the first round, hitting her thigh instead while my limited precog was giving me just enough warning to dodge every attempt to hit me. Stratego's power helped me make it look accidental as best I could, but the Teeth's smiles told me that I wasn't totally succeeding. Only once the Trio were eliminated for the round did I allow myself to be hit immediately, hopefully dispelling most of the suspicion.
We were in round three when the opportunity presented itself — the briefest of windows pinged on Stratego's power and Quarrel's mapped it all out on the literal fly I was tracking.
"Trick shot the fucker!" Quarrel yelled as I let the ball fly.
The ball struck one hapless idiot on the shoulder, bounced off at an impossible angle and nailed Sophia right in the nose hard enough to knock her off her feet.
"KAY OH!" Knockout shouted as Sophia went down hard, and didn't bounce back up immediately. Emma had been so surprised by the hit that she lost awareness of the ball, which was still under Quarrel's power as it fell in an arc and bounced off the side of her head.
I was laughing hard enough at my absurd 'luck' that I got nailed in the face myself, taking me out of the round. From my seat in the bleachers, I got to watch as the teacher helped a still-dazed Sophia into a seat herself and checked her for obvious injuries… beyond the gusher of a bloody nose.
"Oh how amusing it would be to turn her into a literal blood fountain," Sanguine said wistfully.
"With my power you could really add some flair to it!" Alkaline cheered.
Amusing imagery, but it would be too obvious. Plausible deniability is a must if I'm going to fuck with the PRT properly.
"But blood fountains…"
My junior Teeth were almost laughing too hard to pick off the rest of the hangers-on, but none of us seemed to care. My full attention was on Emma and Sophia as they fussed over what shouldn't be a broken nose, but you could never be sure when it came to regular people.
I made sure to sneak a picture of Sophia's bloodied face on my way out and send it to Chrissie. The bugs I had on her felt the phone vibrate in her pocket, and they could vaguely see her pull it out and check the message… but there was no mistaking the unrepentant villainous laugh.
Two more girls ended up crushing their pendants throughout the day, summoning Weaver's aid. A handful of former ABB got swarmed in the changing room, and an Empire asshole learned exactly what it felt like to be stung directly in the eye.
"I can confirm it hurts like hell," Knockout said.
I didn't need my bug carriers to monitor my people, but it did help me parse which situations they had in hand, and which needed my brand of escalation. Most of my Teeth were wearing the paper pendants as a necklace, including Chrissie, which was how I was currently tracking her through the school.
Once class finally let out I met up with Chrissie just as she waltzed down the back steps out of the main building. "Hey," I called, prompting the other girl to spin around and flash me one of her radiant smiles. I nearly stumbled in surprise, much to the amusement of my predecessors.
"Talk about a blatant crush, just fuck her already!" Sabertooth demanded.
"Nah, little Taylor's what you call a romantic. She wants to do this right," Fester said sweetly.
"Like you know anything about romance you uncultured Philistine," Damascian countered.
"I knew enough to fuck XV's Mo—"
I slammed the whole conversation into the void. You know the rule about bringing up my Mom — this discussion is over!
"Hey, Tay!" Chrissie said, giving me a wave. "Ready to meet your minions?"
It said much about Winslow that none of the other kids in the vicinity did more than glance at the two of us. Two people wearing gang colors and having a conversation was automatically assumed to be gang business, and we were the only Teeth hanging out near the door. My bugs, of course, reported that my minions were ambling towards the meeting point, along with a few Empire thugs smoking in a group nearby.
"I guess so. Why out here?" I asked.
"Figured you didn't want everyone breathing down your neck, in case you needed to do a demonstration or two." She gestured vaguely across the scraggly lawn used for PE classes and track meets. "Shall we?"
I spared a last glance at the building. "Have everything you need?"
"Yeah, yeah, come on all already," Chrissie said, trying ineffectually to drag me down the cracked sidewalk and towards the meeting. "I can just break in later if I forgot something."
I just shook my head at the candid admission. "Do they even lock the doors at night?"
Chrissie stopped pulling me for a second as she considered that. "I'm not actually sure. Doesn't really matter anyway. Now, let's go!"
This time I let her pull me along, allowing myself to feel a bit of her excitement in the process. For all that I had lived and breathed the constant miasma of gangs while at Winslow, I couldn't deny that joining up had substantially increased my quality of life here. Blatant shows of force aside — along with kissing Chrissie, repeatedly — it was what I had always wanted.
Of course, the Empire had to ruin it.
"You see their plan, right?" Stratego asked, reading the input from my bugs before I had the chance to say it aloud.
"We've got company," I murmured to Chrissie. "Four Empire thugs."
"Eh, we're not the only ones who do illegal stuff back here," she replied. "But…"
Knowing full well that I was giving up the game, I turned and eyed the thugs. Two bigger guys were following two more normal-sized teenagers, and I hardly needed the Butchers to see that they were looking for a fight.
"Nervous one has a knife, likely for initiation," Pyro said, uncommonly serious. "Putting a minority in the hospital or morgue is still part of that, last we checked."
"Just fill them with bees or something," Quarrel complained.
They might not be here to hurt someone, but if they are, I can stop them.
The chorus laughed.
"Ever the hero," Marauder mocked.
"No, a hero would do nothing until someone had been shanked and left for dead," Alkaline said.
"Then they'd arrest the bastard and he'd make bail that night," Chisel finished.
Butcher himself chuckled darkly. "Now a Butcher… A Butcher would ensure he never had a chance to hurt another. Ever again."
"He's a Nazi, he should be expecting a more final solution," Knockout said with a grin.
That joke was terrible.
"Nobody appreciates my humor," he whined.
"Should we? Even Damascian can tell a better joke," Sanguine said, getting agreement from the majority of the chorus.
"Ouch."
And now he was pouting. The disembodied voices in my head having such clear emotional expressions was still a surprise to me at times. While pondering that, the four goons had closed the distance, walking up next to us as though they were just passing us on the sidewalk. It wasn't until the blade-wielding one struck with the knife that I realized two things:
One, Chrissie was openly gay.
Two, my danger sense only worked on myself.
I barely caught the attack out of the corner of my eye, yanking Chrissie towards me as the knife cut her arm rather than her gut. A spray of crimson trailed through the air as I pulled her in close, though she barely let out even a hiss in pain. Her reaction was a strange counterpoint to the Butchers, who roared with rage at the attack on us and our people.
The other, smaller Empire goon produced his own knife at that point, lunging forward to impale Chrissie in the back. I projected one of Knockout's shields between her and the knife, and the blade snapped on impact with a squeal of protesting metal. The sound was music to my ears.
"Our turn," Chrissie growled and kicked the first attacker in the nuts while he was gaping at his buddy's now-broken knife. While that thug cried out in pain, she took aim at the other thug, but he rolled out of her path with barely an inch to spare.
"Nice goddamn kick!" Alkaline cheered. "Now, Taylor —"
She was cut off when my danger sense flared, and I ducked under a meaty fist that… I probably could have tanked without issue. The bigger Empire goons were finally coming to aid the failed attack, and while they were big guys they didn't fit any cape profile I knew of the Empire. Not that it was going to help them — they were going to regret every remaining minute of their miserable fucking lives!
My furious, chittering swarm descended onto the remaining thug just as he went to hit Chrissie from the back. I wasn't quite sure what it was like to have wasps pry their way into every opening on a human head, but if the pained screams from the homophobic fuck were anything to go by, it certainly wasn't pleasant. Good.
His companion took another swing at me, which I chose not to dodge. Instead, I popped one of Knockout's fields in place at an angle and let him shatter his fist on it. Then I splashed him in the eyes with whatever blood was in the hammerspace.
"Blood on your face, you big disgrace!" Marauder sang.
I screamed as I kicked him hard enough to shatter ribs, sending him tumbling to the ground and leaving him a groaning heap in the mud. The Butchers were now cheering out the rest of the song as I turned my focus back to Chrissie's fight, watching as her remaining dipshit tripped over a strategically-placed force field before falling onto another pile of translucent razor sharpness. There wasn't enough force to chop him into pieces, but he still screamed in agony before the force fields vanished and dropped him to the ground.
Chrissie spat down on the first goon, who was still clutching his crotch and crying. "Fucking cunts. Try to shank me? I'll show you a fucking shank!"
The Butchers snickered at that, which I ignored as I frantically stuck my finger into Chrissie's wound. It was a surprisingly deep cut, which meant that the asshole had a halfway decent knife. A quick twist of my power scabbed it over before she lost any more blood, and my girlfriend looked up at me with wide eyes as I tended to her.
"You're healing me?" she asked, her voice soft and full of disbelief.
"Yeah, why wouldn't I?" She blinked, but I just smiled, my anger quickly fading now that I knew she was safe. "Do you want it to leave a scar? I know how much you prize them…"
Rather than answer, Chrissie pulled me into a tight hug. "Thank you, Tay. You're amazing, you know that?"
I made sure not to break anything when I hugged her back, and I buried my face in her hair before murmuring, "You have no idea how much I needed to hear that."
While the screams had drawn some eyes, I still had to form some bug arrows to direct the other members of the Teeth to come give us a hand with the incapacitated Empire goons. I could practically feel their excitement upon seeing the bugs, only for many of them to stop and stare when they saw me. Of course, all it took was an unamused scowl to get them moving, and soon we were around the corner with our would-be murderers.
"I hope you aren't afraid of bugs." Chrissie said, flashing a manic grin at our minions.
To my surprise, I barely felt the urge to wilt under the wide-eyed stares that the rest of the group were giving me. Part of that was definitely the Butchers' influence, but it helped that they were genuinely afraid of me. Gone were any of the mocking leers I usually got when surrounded by other teenagers, replaced by obvious curiosity if I was going to kill everyone who had ever tormented me.
Should I break the ice?
"And what, ask what their favorite book is?" Butcher sneered. "Just —"
That gave me a horrible idea, but I needed to make a statement and the reference was just too good to pass up on. "Have you ever read Harry Potter?"
"The, um, Aleph series?" one guy asked. Several of the kids nodded at that.
"Want to know what my favorite spell was?" I snarled at the Nazis, who were still cowering at my feet. "Crucio!"
I unleashed Butcher's pain blast, full force, on the four of them. Their screams were feral and primal, pure pain in every nerve ending feeding back into their warped, murderous minds. I left them as a blubbering mess on the ground.
"Aww, big bad Empire bitches crying for their mommies." Fester was still barely holding in her laughter.
"Music. Sweet fucking music," Butcher said happily.
"Did they seriously think that was going to work?" Chisel mused, rubbing her metaphorical chin.
If Chrissie and I hadn't been capes, it might have.
"This school is brutal," Alkaline said. "Way worse than any in Boston."
"Worse? The Butcher goes here!" Pyro cheered.
I rolled my eyes at the banter only I could hear as I turned back towards my minions. Unsurprisingly, they were watching with a mix of trepidation and awe at my display. If there was any doubt left in their minds that I was Butcher XV, it was gone now. Chrissie nudged one of the now-trembling morons, right in the mouth with her shoe. "So, boss, what are we doing with these asshats? Want to have them fight?"
The Butchers roared in approval, but it took me a second to understand what Chrissie was really asking. I had spent all night making decisions just like this one, followed by an extended venting session because I hadn't stopped to really think about what I was doing. With regards to the gang war, I wasn't totally convinced that I would have done anything different, but I didn't want to spend all of my time I wasn't being the Butcher agonizing over the decisions I had made when I was. Yet, I needed to be firm, even when the old me would have shown mercy.
"Don't you fucking dare —" Marauder swore as my plan solidified.
I waved a hand at the four would-be murderers, a cold fury creeping into my voice. "Here's what we're going to do. Figure out their names and where their families live." At that the boys started whimpering, even the bigger enforcers. "I don't particularly want to kill teenagers, but they did break the Unwritten Rules. So, make them fight in the pits. Make them wish they were dead."
They were all going to survive their injuries, but they wouldn't survive the Teeth's fighting pits with any sort of extended duration. And while my stomach roiled at the thought of sentencing four teenagers to… that, they had done their damnedest to kill Chrissie. These assholes had just tried to kill my girlfriend but, despite my building rage, I wasn't going to let myself snap and brutalize them myself. Maybe we could drop them off outside the PRT HQ with a note after a few days… or weeks. "If the heroes aren't going to protect us, we'll do it ourselves."
Chrissie flashed the boys a savage smile. "And if they somehow manage to talk?"
"Well, we would have to make examples of them and everyone they know," I said lightly, hiding my anger and nervousness in the swarm. Inside, I wasn't nearly as calm, but my minions really didn't know how it felt to add more weight on top of my already strained conscience.
"Oh right, you still have one of those," Pyro teased, and I pushed her away.
"It does get easier, but that probably isn't what you want to hear right now," Alkaline said in an attempt at reassurance.
"Who cares? They're Nazis," Fester said.
I care, because someone in this madhouse has to.
"I'll, um, make a call," one of the Teeth guys said, slipping away to open his cell phone. His eagerness was disconcerting, until I remembered that many people here had joined the Teeth for protection — including me — and it was now ultimately my job to give it to them.
"So, if I haven't made it painfully obvious at this point, I'm Weaver," I said with a faint echo from my swarm, snapping all of their attention back to me instantly. "Any questions?"