!IMPORTANT!
Before reading this chapter, please go back and re-read Chapters 1 and 2. They have been rewritten and revised from the ground up and therefore different from the original versions!
"I'm dying…"
The dark-skinned girl looming over her snickered. "Wow. You're a fucking wimp."
Taylor flipped her off in response.
This was hardly the first time she found herself in this position or feeling like her body was on fire. The workout the Laborn Gym put her through far exceeded the runs forced upon her by Sophia when she sent the football team after her, though she sorely wished they would ease up on her. While she was no athlete, her routine runs and "exercise" with the football team gave her some semblance of a physical workout. Good physical condition was necessary if she wanted to be a cape, more so if she had to get up close and personal with a thug.
The Laborn Gym had three classes. Beginners, Intermediate, and Expert. Taylor, who found the gym not long ago, was still pushing through the Beginner class, which well and truly put her through her paces. Her "instructor" was a girl around her age and somehow had seniority, if only by a year as well as being the daughter of the gym's owner.
Aisha Laborn was very hard to get a read on. One moment she seemed like a slightly younger Sophia with how vicious she could get, and in another moment, she acted so laidback and carefree. There were a few times when she acted freaking wired, and Taylor hadn't missed the ways she fidgeted or how her fingers twitched and moved absent-mindedly. Sparky acted somewhat the same way.
What did Sparky have again? ADHD? Taylor shrugged and forced herself to roll onto her stomach despite her body's aching protests, pushing off the mat and back on her feet.
"One more time," Taylor hoarsely requested.
Aisha waved a hand in dismissal. "Nah, take a break. No offense, but you look like you're gonna keel over. Take some water, rest for five minutes, then we'll get back into it, yeah?"
She would have protested were it not for her traitorous knees threatening to give out from under her. Taylor sighed and left the ring, collapsing onto the bench and retrieving her water bottle from her backback. It was still ice cold.
A loud cry of pain caught her attention. She and several others looked at the source, finding a man with the shredded physique of mister universe knocked down and laid out flat on the mat, groaning and whimpering. Above him stood Jason, clad in shorts and a tank top, eyes focused and steely. Her eyes roamed the rippling, smooth sculpture—
"Fuck, I never get tired of watching him move." Taylor blinked and looked at Aisha, who watched Jason with disguised lust. The girl grinned at her. "You think so too, right?"
"Er…"
"Come on. I know you've been looking at my bro's ass."
Heat filled her cheeks. "Wha—I'm not…!"
"Relax, it's fine. You're hardly the only girl who thinks Brian's got a nice butt," Aisha told me, never once losing her grin. "Real talk, though, you're pretty good. How long have you been here now?"
"A few weeks, I think?"
"Exercised before?"
"Some light jogging, but nothing like this…" Taylor looked back at Jason. His opponent was back on his feet, this time being the one to throw punches while Jason blocked and parried. "It's good exercise, though."
"You say that now, but just wait until Brian gets his hands on you. Sure, he might be cute to look at, but once he puts you through the wringer, you'll be singing a different tune." Aisha's smile was full of teeth.
Taylor gulped, both the water filling her mouth as well as her own saliva out of dread. The way she said it with such menace, as well as her smile, told her she was not joking in the least. She looked back at Jason, who moved on from his opponent (the poor guy was on all fours and dry-heaving) and went to beating the ever-loving hell out of the sandbag. His strikes were practiced and maneuvered, not to mention brutal. She saw the way the leather skin of the sandbag rippled with each blow.
"What do you know about Jason?" Taylor said.
Aisha grinned a bit wider. "Ooh, do you like older men?"
"As if he'd give me the time of day." She would be surprised if any boy would. She had a frog-like figure, and her mouth was a little too wide for her liking. The only feminine part about her was the dark locks she inherited from her mother, and these days it was mostly a disheveled mess from all the stress. "He said he hasn't been here long, and he sure as hell doesn't look like a novice."
"I know, right? Brian and my dad took a liking to him once he showed off his chops. Laid my bro out flat in under a minute. Not many people can do that. We think he's got military training or something." Aisha glanced at the round clock hanging on the far side of the gym. "If you wanna hear more juicy gossip, wait until after I'm done with you. Break time's over, stringbean! Up and at 'em!"
"Go easy on her, Aisha!" Brian called out.
If the way her eyes stared at her like a hungry wolf were any indication, she was definitely not going to go easy on her. With trepidation and reluctance, Taylor put her water bottle away and returned to the grind.
It was in the afternoon when Taylor returned home. Her feet dragged across the floor, her backpack left forgotten near the entrance. No sooner had she reached the couch did she fall into it, burying her face in the pillow atop the armrest.
"I fucking hate Aisha…"
The demented imp took great pleasure in putting her through hell. They rotated between normal routine workout sessions and standard practices like curl-ups, sit-ups and went through at least two different workout machines before taking her to town on the mat. Taylor thought she would be used to going through this kind of cycle by now, but she was wrong. So very wrong. She hadn't noticed much improvement on her end, either.
She knew physical training took time. She could not afford to rush things. She felt antsy all the same. Taylor thought she could be doing so many things by now if she only had a more worthwhile power, something strong like Alexandria's near-invincible status, maybe shoot energy beams, or hell, even invisibility. Controlling bugs was underwhelming.
Still, beggers could not be choosers. Taylor made the most of what she had, and so far, she found more than a few uses for her powers. Unfortunately, plans for a "bug-fleet" ultimately did not pan out. Crafting a flying pad to cruise around on bugs was unfeasible due to A) her own body weight and B) said bugs unable to withstand said weight. She tried to solve the problem with ants of varying kinds, but even their ability to lift more than their own weight proved impossible.
Taylor wondered what it would be like to fly. Maybe if she got the chance, she could ask Glory Girl about it.
Thinking back on the cape scene, her thoughts turned to the vigilante she met last night. On her way home, she found newspapers screaming about Red Hood's arrival in Brockton Bay and the rumor of a new ABB cape. She bought a paper out of mild curiosity, and much to her disappointment, there was no mention of her at all. She understood why, being an untested new cape who did absolutely nothing other than report what happened to the police, but it still stung.
Taylor was half-tempted to go on PHO and see what the general reaction was, but with the way her body ached in pain, going to the computer was the last thing on her mind.
…where's Dad, Taylor suddenly thought.
She had a few bugs sweep the place, looking for her father. She found no one other than her. Against her better judgment, she pulled herself up from the couch and glanced about the living room and kitchen. She found a note hanging from the fridge. She had her bugs pry it off the magnet keeping it on the fridge and have them fly it over to her. Danny's handwriting was sloppy as ever.
Hey, kiddo.
Sorry to spring this on you last minute, but I'm working late again tonight. Things are getting hectic here by the office, and one of our guys got sick so I'm filling in for him. There should still be some leftovers for you in the fridge, but if you want take-out, you can order the usual from the house phone. Just remember not to pig out too much, okay?
Again, I'm really sorry to bail out on you tonight. I know you were excited about our movie night. I promise I'll make it up to you. The theater's going to have a free monthly screening next week, so if you're schedule is open, we can go see what they have.
Sincerely, your father
Taylor scrunched her face in thought. Movie night? When had they…oh, right. They were going to watch The Princess' Bride tonight. It was her favorite movie growing up. She brought it up to him a few days ago after a bout of nostalgia hit her out of the blue. Shame quickly filled her chest, having forgotten all about it until she read the note.
…maybe this was a good thing. If he was going to be home late, she could sneak out earlier and hit the streets again. Even if she was hurting all over, she refused to be idle. There could be crime happening as they speak!
…I sound like such a freaking nerd, Taylor groaned into the pillow.
The street lamps lit up by the time she left the house. Taylor donned another set of casual clothes to hide her costume underneath while keeping her hands in her pockets and her mask stashed away in her hoodie. Like before, she kept the buzzing sounds of her bugs to the barest minimum. She chose to stick close to home this time partly out of fear of her father coming home sooner than expected. Around this time of night, activity in the Boardwalk was at a snail's pace. There were hardly any people around, and most shops closed for the day.
Much as she had the other night, Taylor spread out her bugs to create a "net", connecting to their senses to search for unusual sounds or sights. It was a little disorienting at first, but by this point it was almost second nature to her. She likened it to being a security guard, watching hundreds of thousands of different monitors all at the same time. Her only gripe was how "fuzzy" her senses were while connected to her bugs.
Still not at the point where I can eavesdrop, Taylor grimaced. It's so damn hard to make out stuff.
That wasn't to say she couldn't hear out of her bugs fully. It was like listening to a static-laced radio station as you were going out of range, with the voices getting harder and harder to hear.
Fortunately, it seemed as if luck was on Taylor's side tonight. Her bugs caught some noise nearby not far from her location. She focused her bugs around that area and saw what looked like a group of people in an alley behind a dumpster. She couldn't make out the finer details, but she could at least tell it was three women, two standing menacing over the third.
As she moved to intercept, Taylor's heart pounded. What was waiting for her up ahead? Was it a hold-up? Kidnapping? A murder? Extortion maybe? So many possibilities flied through her head. Sweat pooled under her gloves as she approached the mouth of the alley, hearing voices further in. She found the trio of women, one of them holding up a knife while the other smiled viciously. The victim clutched her purse with teary eyes.
"P-please, I swear, I don't have anything!"
Mugging. Easy, I think.
She took a deep breathe, closed her eyes… When she opened them, the swarm surrounding her buzzed in a wild frenzy. The insects hiding under her clothes poured out in black and brown waterfalls, swirling around her like a cloud. The swarming mass of insects created a wall for her to hide behind as she slipped on her mask.
"W-what the hell?" she heard one of the muggers cry out. "Where'd these bugs come from?!"
"Oh, shit! Cape!"
A small part of Taylor took great delight in the fear in the muggers' faces as she approached. The one with the knife staggered back, holding the weapon with both hands and holding it up in front of her as if trying to ward her away. The victim stared in a mix of horror and awe. She imagined the sight of her surrounded by a black cloud of insects must look very terrifying. Perhaps there was some use to this 'terror hero' trope after all if it could make a pair of muggers shit themselves.
The bug-clad heroine in the making strode forward, giving the mugging victim a sideways glance of appraisal. She did not appear to be harmed. Good. She could focus on the matter at hand, then.
"Please surrender," she kindly asked, transmitting her voice through her bugs. "Don't make this any harder than it needs to be."
The muggers looked all the more terrified. The one with the knife screamed and charged recklessly, only to be caught in a snare of webs. Hundreds of spiders, carried by fireflies and mosquitoes and wasps, made for an excellent on-the-fly net shooter so long as she didn't push them too far. Many spiders were unable to produce anymore silk for weeks during the time spent making her costume. Even if she did push them, she had thousands more on hand.
It was fascinating to watch how the mugger flailed, suddenly trapped in thick strands of spider silk and ensnared to the brick wall next to her. Her cohort attempted to flee, even managing to dodge the swarm Taylor sent her way. The girl was still faster, and the alley's narrow path made it easy for her to block her off. She recalled her lessons and put them to good use, ramming her heel down as hard as she could on the fleeing mugger's foot and driving her fist into her chin. The blow disoriented her long enough for Taylor to create another thick web-net, binding her to the dumpster.
Two seconds passed as Taylor assessed the situations. She heard no other sounds beyond the cries and whimpers of the muggers. There was no sign of backup anywhere.
…huh. Okay, that was… That was easy.
She knew better to think that it would always be this easy, but Taylor still felt disappointed. Comic books and books usually depicted first encounters with villains as epic, grand and full of pizzazz and wow, not quick-and-done fights that ended as soon as it started.
At least she managed to save someone.
Taylor looked at the victim, still rooted in place and squirming in the presence of her bugs. She opened her mouth to speak, then paused as she took in the woman's expression. She was terrified out of her mind, both from nearly getting mugged and getting up-close with a bug-wielding cape.
She recalled her swarm and kept the buzzing down to a minimum, speaking normally and softly. "Are you okay, ma'am?"
"H-huh?" The woman seemed dazed. "Oh, yes, I-I'm… I'm fine."
Taylor smiled under her mask. "That's good." She looked at the squirming thugs and examined them. They didn't look like gang members from what she saw, merely run-of-the-mill street thugs found anywhere else in the world. That was something of a rare breed, given how thorough the gangs hold on their respective territories were. "Can you call the police and let them know what's happened? I don't have a phone."
"I-I can do that, yeah…"
"…will you be okay on your own?" Taylor suddenly asked. While confidant the bindings would hold, she really didn't want to leave the poor woman all by herself. On the other hand, she helped contribute to her fear with her powers.
The victim shook her head. "Yes, I'll be fine. C-Can I know your name?"
"I don't have one yet," she admitted.
First act of heroism, accomplished.
She had a good feeling about tonight.
Spoke too soon…
Barely even an hour after Taylor stopped a mugging in progress, she found another happenstance of trouble. More precisely, a band of criminals huddled around an empty garage near the denser parts of the boardwalk, where the centralized parts of the city met the shores. Her father warned her how seedy those places were, not helped by the gang presences. The Merchants often showed up, proudly wearing their colors and dragging unsuspecting, malleable folks to their dens and offering them something to take their minds off.
They were no Merchants. They were worse; all of them wore green-and-red armbands and had Asian features.
They were ABB. Worse, they had guns.
This is bad, Taylor thought grimly. She had no idea how well her costume could hold up to gunfire, and she really wasn't looking to test it, either. What are they doing here, anyhow? Some kind of drug deal?
The scouts she sent into the building performed a search. She counted at least seven gangbangers and tagged each one with an insect. It would be better to clog the guns, fill the muzzles with bugs, but she couldn't think of a way to do so without alerting them. One bug was hardly noticeable, but dozens? Impossible to do. Stealth was also far from her forte, more so when she looked at some of the wannabe yakuza down below. At least two had bulging muscles!
The correct option would be to inform the PRT or BBPD about these guys, but looking at it now, they really weren't doing anything illegal from what she saw. Her bugs found nothing in the garage that warranted investigation. They had guns, yes, but nothing else warranting police intervention. Worse, there was a chance of a shootout between them and the cops. If that happened…
Taylor dumped her anxieties and fears onto her bugs, calming herself in an instant. She couldn't lose her nerve. For now, she could observe and see what they were up to. They weren't hanging around a garage willy-nilly for no reason, especially when she found nothing indicating a party.
Fortunately, the young girl did not have to wait very long. A black sedan pulled up near the garage. The ABB thugs tensed up, looking on warily. Two looked about the place, looking for onlookers or people walking along the streets. Taylor hunkered down to avoid beings spotted on the roof, but poked her head up when she heard people speaking. Someone disembarked from the sedan. They were of African-American descent by the look of it, wearing a black suit and glasses.
I can't hear what they're saying, Taylor thought in annoyance. She sent several bugs out and placed them where the gangbangers hopefully wouldn't notice them. This should be enough to eavesdrop.
While not totally perfect, hearing bits and pieces of the conversation was better than nothing. Through the "static" noise heard through her bugs, Taylor could make more or less what was going on. The sedan's owner was a representative of the Jikkou-Sha. The name was unfamiliar to her, but she could tell by the name alone they were Japanese. To Taylor's relief, they also spoke in rough English. They said they would honor their deal with Lung and would assist in their latest endeavor. Something involving the Empire. They would convene at…
…oh.
Oh no.
In hindsight, going to Red Hood for help wasn't what Taylor wanted to do initially. She was going to find a phone, inform the PRT or the cops, give them a lead and let them follow up on their own when she heard chaos out in the streets and a truck speeding through the city with the vigilante on its roof. Before she realized it, she chased after the vigilante and found him interrogating the driver, who turned out to be an Empire goon in bed with the ABB.
The cape dismissed her as he had in their first meeting, but he listened when she told him about the cape on loan from the Jikkou-sha. Once she caught his interest, Red Hood put her through an interrogation about her powers.
To Taylor's surprise, he didn't demean or call her powers lame or weak as she expected. Instead, he sounded impressed by her experimentation into her limits, particularly her ability to listen and see through them. It was…nice to hear. The validation, the acceptance, even if he was a gun-toting maniac.
They moved to Mickson's, hitching a ride on his tinkertech motorcycle. It was the first time being on one, and it felt as exhilarating and terrifying as it looked in movies and TV shows. Red Hood was also surprisingly well-built under that costume of his.
…was she developing a thing for muscles? Was-was she turning into a pervert?
When she felt something weird, she dumped all those feelings into her bugs. By the time her mind was without distractions, they arrived at Mickson's. The factory saw better days; the paint and plaster of the walls peeled off, cracks in the foundation and windows shattered into tiny pieces. Purple graffiti decorated the walls, all crude and better left unsaid.
"Merchants hang around here?" Red Hood asked.
Taylor shook her head. "They skirt around here occasionally, if only to harass the Dockworker's Association," she told him. She knew this from the times her father vented his anger whenever the drugged-up scumbags came around.
They disembarked the bike. Not a second later, it sped off in the opposite direction, disappearing before Taylor's eyes as it rounded the street corner.
"You have an invisibility cloak on your bike?" she asked in awe.
"Don't want somebody following it back to where I eat and sleep," Red Hood told her. "Come on. We're heading topside. Can you take your bugs and see what's inside?"
Taylor nodded and sent out the scouting party bugs as she followed Red Hood up to the roof of the storage warehouse next to the factory. Once her bugs got inside, she saw the ABB gangbangers all over the place. They had been here for a while, finding numerous crates and supply caches strewn about the bottom floor. Compared to the men she saw near the Boardwalk, the ABB mooks had shotguns and rifles. She tagged every thug she saw, quickly reaching twenty or so. The number was still rising.
"There's a lot…" she grimaced. "More than two dozen so far. I can see crates full of guns, supply caches… Fuck, what is this? Are they preparing for war or something?"
"Considering Lung got his hands on a tinker who specializes in making bombs?" Red Hood grunted. "He must think it's high time to take the fight to the Empire. Bloody their nose, if not chop off a limb. Notice anything else?"
"Security cameras on the first and second floors. I see guys in suits, too. Some are Asian, but they aren't wearing armbands."
"Jikkou-sha, probably."
"Who are they? I've never heard of them. Some new gang?"
Red Hood shook his head. "Group in Chicago, rarely ever leaves the city," he explained. "They're mostly Asian, but they have other ethnicities too. Best guess is that Lung reached out and wanted some extra firepower for his next pissing match."
They reached the rooftop. Taylor followed Red Hood to the edge, where they had a good view through the stained, broken windows. It was then she caught sight of a woman who could only be a cape.
After all, how else could a person have eight arms?
It was a "monster cape". Case-53. There was little else she could be, with six extra arms and ash-white skin. She was bald, a balaclava wrapped around the bottom half of her face. Her shirt, if it could be called that, was a tattered blue tank-top with a leather vest like the ones bikers wore. Her jeans were no better than her shirt, albeit looking more intact despite the numerous tears. She was barefoot, likely because she had thorny feet digging into the concrete floor under her.
"So, that's Lung's loaner…" Red Hood whistled. "Looks like your info checked out, kid."
"I'm not…" Taylor sighed. It was pointless to argue with him. "So… What now?"
She did not like the way he chuckled. "Now? Now we wait and watch. Let's see what can find out. Your time to shine, kid."
"W-wait, me?"
"You're the one with the bugs," he shrugged.
Oh, so that's what he meant. She could have sworn… No, no matter. This was good. She could prove herself now. She could prove to him and everyone she wasn't useless.
Maybe things are looking up for me after all.
Freaking finally! Between rewriting the first two chapters and actually working out how the first arc is going to go instead of just half-assing it and winging the whole thing, this took entirely far too much time. I spent a lot of time thinking about what I actually want for this story, since I recently came to the conclusion that writing without a plan or vision can and will kick you in the ass.
Having said that… I'll be honest with you guys. I'm not a fan of killing off characters, at least those who don't deserve it. I'm also not a fan of putting Taylor through more hell than she needs.
It's nothing too bad, I promise. God knows Wom thrives on enough angst as it is.
Anyway, let me know what you guys think. This along with my updates for Invincible Girl and my Worm quest will probs be my last updates of this year. Going back into college and finish writing the second half of Chase Ryder. I have no idea when I'll be back into writing, but please be patient, okay?
Cheers everyone.
P.S.
"Jikkou-Sha" means "executors" in Japanese. Make of that what you will.