A/N:
So this is a little late, but where I'm at it's still Thursday, so I'm still on schedule!
I want to say thanks once more for all of your support! It means so much to me, especially to those who've thought it was worth mentioning on Reddit!
Drako90451: It's so nice to hear from you again! Don't worry, it'll happen. I had the reveals in mind before I had the rest of the plot figured out, actually.
Prosthetic Forehead: Great thoughts! I'm glad you like it so far. And thanks for sticking with the story despite the scars; I promise, they're important! *cries and shakes fist* I can't think of anything to say to the rest of your thoughts without hinting at or giving away the plot, but again, thank you!
Guest: I'm not sure if you'll read this or not, but thank you for reviewing! I welcome and accept all reviews, and I won't delete yours for its less-than-stellar review because I'm a Journalism student and value the freedom of speech. That being said, if you start spam-flaming me without solid critique, I will delete your reviews. Thank you for spending the time to let me know your thoughts, and I hope you find another fic that suits your taste.
For future chapters, I will be responding to all reviews via PM and will only reply here if a review has a specific question that I find interesting/relevant to the all readers. Thank you!
Something in my face must have alarmed Weld, for he placed a hand on Clockblocker's shoulder and said, "That's enough. Any more and I'll tell Miss Militia."
"No, it's fine," I spoke evenly. A hundred yards away, a centipede teetered off the edge of a rock and into the swirling waters of the river below. "What do you want to know about her?"
He shrugged, "Just enough to see if my theory is right. You went to the same school, Winslow. You were bullied by three girls. Your 'peers'," he supplied air quotes appropriately, "if I'm to use the exact term. That places them in the same grade as you if the news wasn't using the word generally. Am I right so far?"
I nodded, not trusting my voice. Weld sat by silently.
"Sophia never said much about her civilian life, and we didn't ask. But every once in a while, when she'd come to HQ in a real mood, she'd mention this one girl in her class."
A chill ran through my veins.
Clockblocker continued, "She wouldn't say much, just that this 'ugly glasses bitch' was annoying or lame or depressing, and none of us ever paid any mind to it because we figured she said the same about us.
"Except Sophia was one of your bullies," he said. "When you kidnapped Shadow Stalker, you weren't just kidnapping the cape. You were kidnapping Sophia. You acted with the full knowledge of who she was and whatever she'd done to you in the past. Yes?"
"Yes."
"You ruined her life for revenge."
"No," I said.
He threw up his hands. "So you targeted her, turned her against her team and family for nothing?"
A spark of annoyance bit me on the ankle; we've had this conversation before. "For a little girl," I emphasized. "A little girl who had been kidnapped and drugged out of her mind. If I had to choose again, I would do it in a heartbeat. A kid over a murdering psycho? Easy choice."
"I could say the same about you," he replied.
Did Miss Militia tell someone about Coil after all? I spared a glance towards Weld and he tilted his head a fraction, a movement so slight I would've missed if it weren't for the fly on his neck. He might not have been on my side, but we both knew there were some things better left unsaid.
Clockblocker didn't seem to notice our little exchange. "I still find it hard to believe that you didn't pick her out of some vendetta, but fine. What about Arcadia?"
"What about it?" I asked. The mask at my side dug into my arm.
"You had two other bullies, students that would've transferred to Arcadia if they stuck around the Bay and survived. You showed up on the first day back, and I doubt it was to attend school."
"If you're implying that I showed up to attack them, that's stupid. Ridiculously so. I could've gone Carrie on Winslow long ago, yet I'd choose to attack two girls that weren't even a speck on my radar? In a place known for hero-presence? Yeah, no."
Clockblocker regarded me. "Why'd you come, then?"
I grit my teeth, knowing that he'd appreciate the cruel irony. "I got word that my identity was compromised."
There was a clang as Kid Win dropped his mini screwdriver. It bounced off his gauntlet and landed with a muffled thud against the forest floor, and he picked it up with a grimace.
"I can't help but find that hilarious," Clockblocker said. "Sorry."
He didn't sound an ounce apologetic, and I didn't fault him for that. I picked up Miss Militia and Vista finishing up at the river, and I stood. "They're returning."
"So that's it?"
"What's it?" I asked, brow furrowing.
"You're just… done with how you've screwed with those girls' lives?"
I stopped. "What?"
Weld placed a hand on his shoulder. A warning.
Clockblocker didn't mind it. "Sophia's a cape. She's been in combat; she knew the risks putting on a mask. But those girls? They're citizens. Mean ones, sure, but unpowered. Defenseless. And now they have to live with the knowledge that the very girl they'd been victimizing has the power to devour them with roaches while they sleep. They have to live with the fact that their actions affected thousands of others, maybe hundreds of thousands if we're counting the waves you've made across the country." He wiggled his fingers. "Do you get off on that?"
I didn't know where to begin to respond. "No. Emma and Madison? Their existences are inconsequential. Their fears, worries? A waste of thought."
He regarded me for a moment. Weld opened his mouth to speak-
"Just what did they do to you to make you this way?" Clockblocker burst before I could blink.
I opened my mouth to reply, but all that escaped was a shuddered breath. I slammed my jaw shut with horror and immediately spun around.
I had to leave, I had to get out. Except where could I go? I was already outside, and there weren't any doors to hide behind. I took off anyway, and no one protested as I sped my way down the slope, hopping over the twisted roots and gnarled twigs that grabbed at me as I ran.
I was covered in scrapes by the time I reached the end of the trees, and I was panting from more than exertion. I was still on an adrenaline high, fight-or-flight mentality, and my power buzzed at the edges of my mind. My chest heaved as I fought to gain back some semblance of control over my body. I had mostly succeeded when Miss Militia and Vista reached me.
They were both wet, having washed themselves and their costumes in the river. Vista looked immensely better, though her soaked hair and uniform made her look younger and smaller than before. Her skin was a bit pale, and from the way she held her shoulders I gathered her migraine hadn't left, but she didn't look a step away from collapsing.
Miss Militia rose an eyebrow at my shaking hands. I answered before she could ask, stepping around them as I said, "I'm going to wash off. The others are straight ahead."
I wasn't sure if they said anything in response, but I wasn't sticking around. I was crawling over the sharp rocks that sidled the river bed by the time they made their way into the forest. My swarm erupted then, surrounding me in a cloud that mapped out a path over the loose stones as I reached the pebbled ground.
I walked straight into the river and didn't stop until I was wading up to my waist, and then I stuffed my body under the current and the water closed over me like a wound. Though the current wasn't strong, there was still some force pressing against my body. It felt refreshingly real so I lingered, allowing my emotions to pour out of me.
What was that all about?
Clockblocker's words struck a nerve. Worse, they made me pissed, and that wasn't going to help anyone.
That was the problem with the past. It didn't matter how strong or capable I was now; the bullying was a part of my history. I wasn't going to be able to change any of that, but I could accept it and move on.
But I thought I had, I thought fruitlessly. The bullying was so insignificant now, and somewhere down the road I had stopped thinking about Emma and Madison, Sophia as well. Until Clockblocker brought it up before Echidna and Arcadia happened. Then I thought about the girls. But it wasn't to ponder revenge or lament my poor fortune in life, just to reflect on how things had changed.
I damn sure hadn't cried about it. But was that what had almost happened?
No, I decided. At least, not about the bullying. The thought of school and the girls brought to mind Brockton Bay, and with that followed one word.
Home.
I missed the smell of brine on the summer wind and the cool tones of the bay at dawn. I missed the clang of metal and wood as my people rebuilt their homes. I missed my people.
Lisa, Brian, Rachel, Aisha, Alec. Dad. Those who I'd been fighting and justifying my actions for, whether they'd agree with them or not. They were all I had left, and now I had nothing.
The feeling was reminiscent of another time, and I stilled as the memory poured forth.
May 14th, 2011
We were the reason Dinah Alcott was kidnapped.
As we slowly walked back to base, she was down there, shackled in pajamas and the syrupy tongue of whatever drug she was fucked up on. I thought of the moment her dead eyes bore into mine, familiar from the look I'd seen in my own many times before, and I had to clasp my hands together to keep them from rising to my chest.
"Are you dense?" I asked Regent. Any control I'd been holding onto since leaving Coil's base slipped into a bite. It was aimed at him, but I took the words as if I said them to myself.
He didn't know that, though, and his tone was laced in an uncharacteristic show of emotion. "Fuck off, Dork." His mask stared back, cool white against the red rushing to my eyes.
"No, you-"
"Taylor, let me explain," Tattletale broke in, looking pale. I let her; she had figured it out as well. But with her power, how could she have not known before?
"I didn't think it would be this bad," she said. She sounded tired, and by the pained expression on her face I gathered she knew where my thoughts had gone. "I sort of knew, but not that it was like this. I swear, Taylor, I didn't know." I ignored the lapse of my real name. I wasn't sure I could speak without hurling expletives in her general direction, so I clenched my jaw and looked away.
As she told the rest of the group what I had already gleamed, I pondered my next move. There was no way I could work for Coil, not with what I had just learned. If kidnapping little kids and drugging them up was how he operated, I wanted no part of that.
But who was I against everyone else? I didn't have the power to pull one over Coil and his army of villains. I only knew of the Travelers, Trainwreck and Circus, but there had to be more other than them. And us, I added, but I wasn't sure how I factored into the Undersiders now.
"Are you guys seriously okay with this?" I interrupted Tattletale, who broke off mid-explanation without complaint.
Bitch met me with a stony glare. Okay, I wasn't expecting an ally there.
"Compared to what I left behind? It's not that bad," Regent shrugged.
"But you left Heartbreaker behind for this type of stuff."
"I left my dad because it stopped being fun. Once I get bored with Coil, I'll leave as well."
I swallowed my disgust. To think that I'd been associating myself with these people, friends with them. And yet I still couldn't help but think of them as my friends, and that disgusted me almost more than anything else about this.
It was a feeling I was well-acquainted with, disgust. Except how was I going to deal with it this time? In the past I had other distractions or more important things on my plate, but this wasn't something that could just go away. As long as that girl was down there, there wasn't going to be any reprieve.
I chewed my lip, breathed deep and amended that thought.
As long as I let her stay down there.
It was true that I didn't have the power to fight off Coil and his forces, but if it wasn't about power, I had a chance. If I played along just as I had been doing, I could get in Coil's good graces and bail Dinah out. A trade or something. That, or gain enough clearance to whisk her away…
No, that idea was almost as implausible as the first. But I had to try. If I didn't, I'd never know if I'd done all that I could to help the kid. And knowing that she was halfway out of her mind, possibly going through the days without any memory or hope-
It hit close to home, in a way.
Brian met my stare with folded arms, and his tone was confident, self-assured despite the wrongness of the situation. "The world is a cruel place, Skitter. All over, things happen like this and we can't do a damn thing to stop it. Not without paying the cost. And if that cost is at my family and my team, and screwing Coil over is definitely in that category, I won't pay it. Aisha and you guys are my priority."
An hour ago I would've found his natural confidence attractive. Now, I was absolutely repelled.
Should I just turn myself in and get the PRT involved?
That thought froze all others, and I mulled over it slowly, contemplating the different ways it could turn out. I'd be sent to juvie if not jail, and they'd ask me to give up every drop of information I knew. That included info on my teammates.
I'd have no friends, I thought bitterly, and couldn't help the short laugh that bubbled out of my lips. Did I ever? I laughed again, harsher, in a bark that could rival Brutus's.
Brian drew back as if alarmed, and Tattletale suddenly shot her attention to me from where it had been glued to the street.
"Taylor, you don't want to do this," she said, and suddenly it felt like a bucket of ice poured down my back. Wherever that laugh had bubbled up from, that well was dry.
Could she have finally discovered my plans of betrayal, despite the fact that I'd given them up a few days prior?
"Do what?" I asked. Surprisingly, my voice was smooth. Unfortunately, my voice was nowhere near smooth before and it had no place to be right now, so it might as well have been a waving banner that read Beware: Incoming Bugs.
Tattletale stepped forward, and despite myself I took a step back. This caught the eye of Regent and Bitch, who had relegated themselves to the sideline of the conversation. The dogs noticed the change in mood and their hackles rose, their white teeth gleaming from the shadows.
"You…" she began, then trailed off, confusion plastered all over her body. She tilted her head, appraising me in that way of hers, and I folded my arms as if they could wall her off.
Her eyes narrowed at my movement. "What are you hiding, Taylor?" she asked slowly. Quietly. Inexplicably, I heard her over the rush in my ears.
"What do you mean?" Grue asked.
She jerked, shifting her gaze from where it had been falling to my chest. I got the impression she hadn't meant to be overheard.
I didn't wait for her answer. I turned and fled.
"Taylor, wait!" Tattletale called after me, but I ignored her. Darkness formed around me but I directed bugs into the gaps of Grue's armor and it dissipated just as fast. "Shit! Let her go," he said.
My legs pumping the whole way, lungs straining and skin pulling, I made it back to base and collected my meager belongings. It was strange, the moment I realized that all I had left fit in one bag.
I collapsed in the loft, resting against the wall in some semblance of strength. The others weren't back yet, and I had no intention of staying around till they did. But the stance kept me grounded, for all the façade it was.
I had no idea what I was going to do now.
In one way, things had never been clearer. I was free for the first time in my life. My dad was gone; I hadn't been in contact with him since I left a note on the front door and disappeared, and though the time wasn't that long ago, it felt like it had been years. I loved him, he was my dad, but I couldn't stay there. Absence had a way of feeling heavier when the person was still present, and that was what my dad had become. And that was what I had left behind.
But for what? This? A shabby loft, a one-eyed dog that watched me warily from her nest of pillows and a group of friends that was more comfortable with a kidnapped girl than owning up to their actions?
I didn't realize it before, but everything I'd done up to this point was about discovering who I was. For so long my identity had been in my friendship with Emma, and after she betrayed me it had become what she had made me into. Shy, hiding in oversized clothes with an eye always looking over my shoulder.
I closed my eyes and sighed into the empty apartment. So who was I now?
"They're going to be back soon." Tattletale's voice came from the doorway. I opened my eyes and watched the expression on her face change as she took my appearance in. I wondered what emotion I was conveying.
I started to get to my feet but she settled down across from me. I debated ignoring her, but something in her body language convinced me to stay, and I grudgingly sat back down.
"Where are you going to go, Taylor?"
"A motel, maybe. Why should you care? Or is this some round-about way of telling me you're going to hunt me down?"
"No. I don't even know what's going on. You're scaring me," she said. I looked away, swallowing. "Tell me what's going on," she pleaded.
"Don't tell me you don't already know," I said. "I saw the moment you figured it out."
She grew quiet and I couldn't help but look up, then immediately wished I hadn't. There was pity in her eyes, a deeper look that I knew all too well.
She knows, I thought, a new type of horror filling me. I'd thought she discovered my betrayal, but it was my scars. Somehow, that was worse.
"I… It's only a hunch," she whispered, staring at my chest. I hadn't removed my costume yet, but despite the armor I felt as if I were naked.
I didn't answer, leaving her to flounder in the silence. I didn't know what I could possibly say. Did it even matter now, any of it? I couldn't stay on the team. If not already because of Dinah, because I couldn't stand being around another person who would treat me like I was made of porcelain. Or slime.
But against all of my expectation, Lisa crossed the space between us and pulled me into a hug. I was stiff, too shocked to pull away or return it, so my body was reduced to a plank of wood playing at being human. But it was still nice, and some of the ice within me thawed at the touch.
"I can help, you know," Lisa whispered. Her warm breath tickled my hair against my ears.
"You- I can't," I bit out, took a deep breath and tried again. "I can't let you see."
Because take that armor away, and I'll have nothing left. I'll be bare to the world and I'm not strong enough to deal with that. Not now.
She didn't respond, but only held me tighter. I craved the contact, but I'd already taken too long and I didn't want to wait around for the others or for this hug to become awkward. Thankfully, she pulled away first.
"You don't have to leave just because you ran out. The others are pissed that you left, but if we just talk over the situation…" she trailed off.
"You mean talk over the fact that we helped kidnap a child? Lisa," I stressed, "the fact you even want to negotiate is pretty fucked up. We need to do something."
"I agree, but we can't," Lisa said. She bit her lip, an expression of hesitance that didn't belong on her.
She wasn't going to say anything else? I expected an excuse or offer of truce, something that would give her argument sustenance. But she continued to watch me, regarding me with one lip tucked lightly between her teeth, and I decided it was time to go.
I rose, stepping around her form to leave.
"I'm not going to say goodbye," she said to my back. "That's not my thing, and I don't think this will be the last time we'll see each other. I'm going to fix this thing with Coil if I have to do it myself, and I'm going to find a way to help you because you're my friend. Just… promise me that you'll let me help you when that time comes, okay?"
I turned and made to respond when the blare of sirens interrupted me. Lisa's face hardened into its own kind of mask. She went to the living room and I followed her a step behind, and the television zapped to life.
The news was running through standard emergency protocol: head to the nearest bomb shelter, take only what you can carry, follow the directions of the local authorities…
"Endbringer," I said in dawning realization. Bakuda hadn't warranted this, very little had. So what else could it be?
Lisa went very still. She was still in her costume, both of us were, and for the first time since speaking with her I realized she had put her hair up. I didn't know what to call her then, for it was the first time I'd ever seen her like this. Like a stranger with no name, this girl stood before me in silence while the world around us screamed.
Her hand reached for her pony tail seemingly with a mind of its own, hers obviously preoccupied with calculations and impossible hunches. "The others and I, we talked about this possibility in the past. Before you joined up. You know the usual response."
I did.
Her hair slipped free of its band and fell in waves across her face. "We promised we'd go. You left, but we could play it off as just a small fight, nothing serious. The others wouldn't keep you out if you just apologize and went as a teammate, but really, you don't have to fight-"
"No, I'll fight. But I'll go alone," I said. I didn't even have to think about it.
July 17th, 2011
In the end, Lisa had escorted me to where the defending line met up, but she respected my wishes and left without a word.
It was my choice, but it didn't make it any easier. In fact, it was one of the worst, most frightening moments of my life; not because of Leviathan, but because I was truly untethered from everyone I loved. There was a good chance I wouldn't have anyone left to mourn me if I died. They would either be dead themselves couldn't find the heart to care.
And after the ordeal, waking up to only think Armsmaster destroyed any chance for me to rejoin my team made me realize I didn't have the willpower to stay alone. So I shed my pride and dignity and crawled back, and that time, I didn't turn around.
Funny, that that might have been the bravest thing I'll ever do in my life. There weren't many things left that could scare me now, except the possibility of losing my team again.
None of us had brought it up, but there was a good chance that we were in another world. Earth Aleph or some other. We could be stranded where there was no civilization, people having never existed, and doomed to wander in the wilderness until something killed us.
Or we killed each other.
We might be on the West Coast if our best guesses were actually correct and not just blind stabs in the dark, but that didn't mean we were anywhere close to America. This country might as well hold a name far different from our own, like Canadia, or Britain: Phase Two.
Or Dickland, my mind betrayed me. My pulse flared in numb panic; I could die in a country called Dickland.
I rose for air, breathing deep as water droplets mapped out veins across my skin. It wouldn't do to think that way. As far as I was concerned, I still had my reasons for fighting. They weren't beside me, but they were still out there waiting for me to come home.
And I'd do just that. I'd shown what I could do when I gave my all in the past. I'd taught my enemies and allies alike how capable I was when I put my mind to it, and this was the sort of battle I was used to. Odds out of my favor and the bat clear across the field.
I'll show them all. Watch out, world, I thought. Cheesy and optimistic, would undoubtedly bite me in the ass later, but it was what I needed.
I brushed my hair out of my eyes and leaned into the current. Facing an Endbringer with a good hundred capes beside me had made me appreciate the value of numbers. Every fight only solidified that appreciation, whether it be with my team at my back or the other alliances we'd made against our shared enemies. If I were to be serious about returning home, which I unmeasurably was, I needed to take stock.
I could think of a few enemies all of us shared right now.
Determination swelling within me, I stepped to a bar of rocks in the middle of the river to untie my various armor pieces from my body. I wasn't going to add 'swept away supplies' to my list of problems if I could help it.
I left my spider silk shoe-wraps on as protection against the rocky river floor, tightening them as much as I could without cutting off my circulation. Only then did I lower myself into the water, slowly this time.
Stripping was a no-go. I'd seen too many movies to know it was a dumb way to get myself killed out in the woods, and while I could handle myself against a killer lumberjack, I wasn't going to risk it in case of an emergency. And if I were to fully appreciate the method of practicality, my clothes needed a wash and the sun was already scorching. This would keep me cool.
I set to rubbing away the grime that caked my skin, using my fingernails to rake away the more stubborn clumps of blood and dirt. I had just finished scrubbing my undergarments when Miss Militia stepped into my range.
She was alone, walking at a calm but steady pace in my direction and looking to be in no hurry. I didn't bother her, but I kept her movements in mind as I reattached my armor, rearranging several components so I had a passable defense.
My chest had mostly scabbed over and its sting had all but left, pushed out of mind by more pressing matters.
But as they tended to in quiet moments, my scars itched with a phantom lick. I ran tentative fingers down the tips of the two lines that marred my chest. In the sunlight, the residual water glittered and gave my skin a faint shimmer. I frowned as the image of a slot machine came to mind before casting it away.
I donned the final piece on my chest, hiding the lines from mind and world, and was halfway through wrapping my spider silk lanyard around my waist when Miss Militia exited the forest.
I saved her the trouble of having to make the trip over the rocks and met her halfway, and we stood with a slight distance between us, not too much to be considered an impasse but enough to qualify for a western standoff. Without the overlying sense of death thankfully, but if she decided to whip out a pistol I was good as dead.
"Would you care to sit?" Miss Militia asked, and I hid my surprise with a nod. She eased herself to the ground and, taking a leap of faith, I approached and sat so we were only a few feet away.
I examined her like an artist would a painting. Her dark hair hung free and damp, curling at the ends with beads of water sliding lazily down her front. The wound across her forehead was healing up nicely, though if her rigid movements were any indication I suspected it didn't feel as well as it looked.
"I spoke with Clockblocker and gathered the gist of what happened," she said. "He shouldn't have harassed you, and he won't be given another chance. He'll be facing more than a few marks against his record when we get back."
When. Optimism either forced or real, I could get behind it.
"I didn't expect any different," I told her. "I'm actually a bit surprised it hadn't happened sooner.
She paused. "I apologize for that."
I must have conveyed the dull shock I felt, for she elaborated. "This situation isn't easy for any of us, you perhaps least of all. The Wards have each other." And you have no one, went unsaid.
A cricket hopped into my lap, and I had it chitter to fill the silence while I thought over her words. "I was going to turn myself in the day the Simurgh attacked," I said abruptly.
Miss Militia's eyes widened. Whether it was in surprise or doubt, I didn't dwell on it.
"No catch, only a few compromises like we had talked about. But they would've put us in a better position for the next Endbringer attack."
That attack had come earlier than we thought. If I had turned myself in sooner, would we be here right now?
"You honestly believed that would've worked?"
I shrugged. "Enough that it was worth a try. In any case, the plan's changed. I think it'll take more than me in custody for the heroes and villains to rally together from something like this. We need something better."
Her brows furrowed.
"Trust me," I said. "You were willing to give me the benefit of the doubt several days ago, and I was in a better position to fight against you then I am now. If anyone has the upper hand, it's you guys."
Miss Militia regarded me for a moment, then said, "You've proven to be quite the underdog in the past, Skitter."
I nodded, "Yes, but that's what we need right now. People willing to fight the impossible fight and win. If we're going to try to be those people-"
"-we need to be willing to work together," Miss Militia cut in. "I agree. But you need to understand that not everyone is as ready to move on as you. There's going to be tension whether we like it or not, and a few pretty words aren't going to change that." She rose her brows meaningfully.
I caught the implications. "Actions will," I said aloud for the benefit of our conversation. I made to stand and she rose with me, the single cricket moving to my palm. "I understand."
I extended a hand and she took it.
"As do I," she replied.
We shook on it, and I had the cricket between us chitter to solidify the agreement. In place of pen and paper, it would have to do.
The travel back to 'camp' was in relative silence, and I preferred it that way. It gave me time to think through what I would say when we reached the others.
It didn't prepare me for seeing their faces, though. Clockblocker's especially, despite his being hidden by his mask. They were in the same spot that I left them, with the added addition of Vista filling in the hole by Kid Win, connecting him to the rest of the group. They looked up as we joined them.
Overhead, I could feel the heat of the afternoon sun on thousands of different insects above the trees. I singled out a moth and had it nestle itself on the tip of a branch.
There was a time I'd cast away my pride and arrogance, two features Armsmaster and Sophia had possessed that I wanted no part of.
This was another one of those times.
I spoke first, "I'm sorry."
Whatever their expressions were, I was pretty sure it was along the lines of Weld's. One fine-wired eyebrow raised above the other, silver eyes narrowing in what I gathered to be a mesh of confusion and suspicion.
"I know it's hard having me here, and you guys have a right to be angry with me about certain aspects of the past. Even though I was pissed, I shouldn't have run off without letting you know where I was going." I locked eyes with Clockblocker, "But I can't answer that last question."
He nodded his head. "That's fine. It was a reaction test, more or less."
Bastard.
I kept my tone calm and replied, "I understand." And I did. I thought it was a little odd how he'd confronted me; not the fact that he'd done it, but the way he'd gone about it. Why the hell should I feel bad if my bullies were a little scared or felt some remorse, however misplaced it may have been?
But if his questions were a way to test my danger towards the group, I could see where he was coming from.
I continued, "I might've done the same thing." Maybe, it was a ballsy move. Sure, he was surrounded by team mates, but I'd made him eat bugs in the past. "It actually gave me a chance to get my thoughts in order. I have something I want to say to the group."
I looked at Miss Militia for confirmation and she nodded once, short. I sat with my legs crossed on the forest floor, both to ground myself and to lower me to their level. Appearances were everything here.
"I won't deny that there are similarities between me and some other pretty ruthless villains. Take Kaiser and Lung, for example. But unlike them, I don't prey on the innocent. I don't enjoy senseless violence. I don't go out of my way to hurt people. In fact, I hurt the people that hurt people."
I locked eyes with Weld. "Do you really think you guys could've handled the city in wake of Leviathan without the Undersiders? The Slaughter House Nine? It's easy to say that without us there, you wouldn't have needed reinforcements, but there still would've been Coil and the Travelers, the Chosen and Pure. Hell, probably even the E88 and ABB. Bakuda, too. Our home needed us, so we did what we had to to save it."
"You're serious right now?" Kid Win broke in incredulously, offense underlying his tone.
I nodded. "We've played our parts as villains- not trying to belittle our crimes, they're as bad in retrospect as they were at the time- but we also saved countless lives and housed, clothed and fed hundreds. We fought everyday with our territories in mind, knowing how much was at stake if we lost."
"You're making excuses," Clockblocker said.
"Not… quite, but sure. I'm pointing out my side of things," I said slowly. "Just as you pointed out yours."
I paused, waiting for someone to take advantage of the silence. When they didn't, I said, "We're a team. I'm not saying let's have a group therapy session, take off our masks and cry about the past, just… trust me. Honest. You don't have to like me; I don't expect it."
He didn't have anything to say to that, though his silence might've been in response to Miss Militia's pointed look.
I continued, "The world was given a few decades, give or take till 2050 when the Endbringers finally complete their destruction of humanity. That projected number was before the PRT reveal, with the expectation that independent and heroic, villainous and the odd rogue would be fighting alongside each other. Now? That number has to be damn low. I mean, look at us. The Simurgh played fast and loose with about every cape we were able to throw her way, then threw us away. People have to be losing hope back home. If they weren't already."
I was met with a mix of frowns and straight faces.
I tilted my head away towards the dirt, roots and tiny saplings stretching grabby little hands from the earth. I traced the edge of one, and my mind flashed back to a fire, a bundle of sticks and a spark flitting off metal palms.
"The world… it needs a spark of hope. Something to get us back to that 2050, and maybe to 2070 and beyond that.
"And if we- the Brockton Bay Wards, a Case 53, a villain warlord and one core Protectorate member return as a functioning team, can you imagine the effect that would have on the rest of the cape community? The world?"
I leaned forward, earnest. "We can be that spark."
A silence rested in the wake of my speech. They were rocks on a river bed, fish and grasses spilling over them while they remained anchored in the sand. Unmoving. A bead of sweat slid down the curve of my ear.
Miss Militia's weapon switched to a kunai knife that she began to swivel around her finger, and I watched mesmerized as she let it rotate with dizzying speed. It cut through the stillness that had settled over us in curtains of wine and she spoke, drawing our already-undivided attention.
"I'm with Skitter on this," she said, and something akin to triumph bled through my chest.
She continued, "The cape world needs some hope right now, a boost in morale in the wake of the PRT exposure, and this is a good way to do it. It won't be long before we'll be hurting beyond repair against the Endbringers. We're going to need all hands on deck, whether they're dirty or clean."
The kunai morphed into an Uzi that she clasped tightly in one hand. "Skitter's agreed full cooperation with my orders in the meantime, in addition to a Simurgh evaluation at the Department. We in turn will provide a group willing to work with her. No personal barbs, no attempts at revenge. I'm looking specifically at you, Clockblocker," her voice lowered at the end. "And for the sake of putting everything out in the open, I'm placing Weld on Skitter duty."
Clockblocker made a sound suspiciously close to a snort. I chanced a glance at Weld, and had to fight the frown that threatened to show on full display. Skitter duty?
As if she were reading my mind, she added, "To keep us at ease. Regardless of this chat and whatever comes from it, some of us would still keep our attention focused on you when it's desperately needed elsewhere. And, if I'm to be completely honest here, it was already sort of happening." She shrugged. "Skitter, you'll be in charge of scouting ahead. Are you alright with also taking charge of our meals?"
"Yeah," I said, masking my bitter tone. If the term 'Skitter duty' was going to stick around, I wasn't going to be responsible for any maggot-infested rabbits.
"Are we all getting duties?" Vista piped up. Though her voice was thin, she held her head high.
Miss Militia nodded. "You can help with making tools while you're recuperating." Vista clenched her jaw.
Miss Militia continued as if she hadn't noticed, "We need bowls for water and food, light shelters that we can carry along as we travel. That's work that all of us will do. Kid Win-" he jerked, "-your main focus is on our tech, but if you need a break or some help, let us know." He nodded, staying silent in favor of returning to his work.
"And me?" Clockblocker asked.
"The same as the rest of us, on top of the jobs no one wants," Miss Militia answered. He didn't fight her on it. By the lack of anger, he was probably expecting it.
He stood up and brushed off his legs. "Fine by me. If that's it, I'm going to wash off. Kid?"
Kid Win shook his head, "No, there's too much work to be done." He didn't look up from his work.
"No, go," Vista said. She laid back against the ground and shut her eyes, and part of her wet blonde hair stuck to her face. She wiped it back. "I don't want to sleep next to your smelly self."
He made to argue, then stopped. By the look on his face, the physical realm had just registered with him, and a mixture of dehydration, disgust and indigestion blended his expression into an amusing mural. Clockblocker clapped him on the back and swept him away without a word, and the two disappeared down the slope. The rest of us remained seated, silent in the wake of our impromptu meeting.
Above me, the moth opened and closed its wings from its perch. I smiled, and it unfurled to the sultry summer air.
A drop of sweat trickled down the length of my spine and joined the gathering pool at my lower back. I sat achingly hunched over, fingers numb, palms cramped and a dull sting throbbing around my scraped knuckles. The prize?
My lips upturned in a barely-detectable grin, almost creaking from removing the frown that had lingered for hours of crafting the bowl nestled in my lap. Though the more accurate term for it was 'basket', considering its size and style of weaving, I couldn't find it in myself to care.
Once Clockblocker and Kid Win had returned from the river, Miss Militia had given us a crash course in basket weaving. Where she learned it, no one asked, but now we had a gradually forming arrangement of tools.
Vista and Clockblocker worked together, mostly the latter once Vista couldn't concentrate past the tighter knots and turns of the pattern. They were working on a water filter, a long tube of tied-together twigs that resembled more of a bundle of sticks than something that would clean our water. Still, they hadn't given up, and it was starting to make a comeback from the haystack it had devolved into.
While Kid Win didn't partake in our weaving circle, he sat close enough that his mutters could be easily heard. It might as well have been another language for the technical terms he was spouting between curses and other nonsensical sounds, but none of the group reacted. It had to be par for the norm for tinkers.
My swarm was gathered in full-force, and my spiders moved between fingers with threads of silk, reinforcing sections just as the makers moved on to the next. At first they were a little hesitant, twitchy-handed as if fighting the urge to pull back, but now they were taking it in good stride, only tensing minutely if a spider got too close.
Weld was currently grating away the rough edges of where he had stripped away the outer layer of a fallen log. The slab of bark was about as long as his arm, the width across being the length of his fingertip to his forearm. There was any amount of things we could use it for, but the main idea was to provide cover if a storm decided to interrupt our nice weather.
Three small, round cups and bowls made up Miss Militia's collection, perfect enough that I doubted my spider silk was necessary. It was a little pathetic how dismal my attempt looked beside them.
My own bowlsket was admittedly an ugly duckling, the mismatched grasses and twigs, roots and pliable branches overlapping each other with more than a few spaces in-between, but I was already knotting strands of grass in the holes and my spiders had covered almost half of it in a thin layer of silk. By evening the entire thing would be covered, as water-proof as we could hope for with our resources.
Plus, I thought with an amount of glee that would've been sad if I wasn't so desperate for some reprieve from the sun, it doubles as a hat. Uglier than fuck, but I'd take it.
I moved it to the side, out of the way of the pile of materials I had scrounged up. There were plenty of supplies to choose from, nature being a gift that never stopped giving, but it had still taken some time to find what I had. It was borderline ridiculous how easy Miss Militia made it look.
I rotated my wrists and tested my fingers, biting back a wince at the crackle they made. In the relative silence of my company, it was embarrassingly loud.
Despite having 'cleared the air', so to speak, conversation was lacking. Beyond the odd instruction from Miss Militia and Kid Win's mumbling, we remained in our own bubbles. I had to wonder how much of that was due to my presence. From my bugs I knew that even when I was out of normal hearing range, they didn't speak much.
If this was how our travel was going to be, lathered in absolute silence, I was going to lose my mind by the end of the week.
"Skitter, Weld?" Or now.
I straightened and turned smoothly towards Miss Militia, though the effect was slightly ruined by the painfully loud creak of my body.
"Yes, Miss Militia?" Weld asked, pausing in his formation of the bark slab.
"While there's still some light, I'd like you two to look for something to eat."
I pursed my lips in thought. We had three cooked rabbits currently wrapped in leaves and spider silk attached to Miss Militia's belt. Without salt to preserve them they would go bad soon, but I didn't see the point in adding to our collection now. Besides, I'd already proven I could hunt without moving a finger.
But what do we really need?
"I don't know anything about edible plants," I said. "Aside from a few berries, I'm out of my depth here." It was almost physically painful to admit it, but it was the truth.
Miss Militia nodded, "I figured."
She produced several greens from the folds of her clothes. I recognized dandelion leaves and strips of tree bark, as well as a handful of pine needles. Did she just goad me into admission?
Yes. I narrowed my eyes but ignored it. If this was how she wanted to teach, I'd play along.
"These," she picked up the dandelion leaves, "are bitter if the flower's already bloomed, but they're packed with vitamins. I only grabbed a few of the leaves, but the entire plant is edible."
She picked up the tree bark, paused and asked, "Do you know your trees?"
And that was how I learned more about Douglass firs and Sitka spruces, nettles and huckleberries than I ever planned on in my lifetime. I thought I had read somewhere that she wasn't a born US citizen, but I was beginning to think Miss Militia had been a girl scout. She embodied her costume in every form.
The sky was a faded blue by the time we left the group. No one bid us farewell. I designated lady bugs to the odd tree in our path, leaving bread crumbs to pick up later. Spiders dropped from the ends of my hair to join the ones already on the bowlsket clutched in my arms.
Beside me, Weld carried himself with a smooth gait that could only be accomplished by a machine. The metal factor had to be the majority if not all of the reason, but a part of it was the confidence he carried; it was the same type as the times I'd seen him on the battlefield. There wasn't any question that he knew his mission, and his mission was me.
Suddenly hyper-aware, my nerves flared at the metal boy beside me.
It was hard to say who was leading. We were equidistant, neither of us in front of the other and a distance between us that was telling. I had a feeling if I were to veer off course he'd follow, but for now we were in stasis.
In a way, I was glad it was him. Out of all of the Wards, Weld had to be the kindest, most respectable one. He saluted me when I fought both Leviathan and Slaughterhouse Nine, and he was willing to put aside our differences when it came to the greater good. He was the sort of hero I would've liked to have been, had I gone that route.
Curious, that Miss Militia would assign him to me. Not because he wasn't the obvious choice; he was, considering the rest of the Wards. But there was a second possible factor involved, one that could explain the Ward's behavior: his occupation as a Case 53. Did she put us together because we were the outcasts of the group?
I wasn't part of the PRT, so I didn't feel the full backlash from its fallout. As a villain I had my own problems to deal with because of it, but they were of a different nature than the heroes. I didn't have to wonder if the same teammates I fought alongside were the same people who got their powers from the mysterious, menacing Cauldron.
Weld was one of the few who were feeling the full, unadulterated trauma. He'd had a promising career, status and future that were all stolen from him in one day. And it might have been with the help of one of his former teammates.
I, on the other hand, had just been screwed over- again- by the same organization a week ago. There were enough of us now that we could start a support group.
As a side objective, Miss Militia could have placed us together because she knew we were in the same boat. She might have done it in hopes of assuaging the urge to do anything rash, given the right- or wrong, depending on how you looked at it- circumstance.
I didn't know if that said worse about Weld or myself.
I cast a fraction of my attention back to the group. Everyone was in the same place as before, silent.
My bugs found a patch of dandelions and I tested the waters, leaning casually to the right. He followed. The patch was in a glade, and bundles of the weeds soon made their way into my bowlsket. Weld watched me with unwavering intensity as I worked, and unnerved, I straightened.
"If I'm not mistaken, there's a fair amount of pine needles just over there," I pointed over his shoulder. I wasn't mistaken; my ants were already working together to pile them up. "Would you mind gathering them?"
As an answer he knelt beside me, ripping out the last of the dandelions and placing them in my bowlsket for me. "After we're done over here, sure," he said.
Dedicated to his job as babysitter. Admirable, but definitely annoying.
I nodded absently, scanning the area while my swarm delivered the pine needles of their own accord. He was silent as they dropped from above, and I wondered how this would all play out. I had hoped that the group would start to be a little less tense around me, but logically I knew that was horribly unrealistic. I'd be offended if they let down their guards around me that easily, if I were being honest.
But the sooner I could erase the strangling energy that resided in our ranks, the better. And that included some action on my part.
"Do you see anything else around here?" I asked, rising.
His brow twitched the slightest bit, a quirk of his I was beginning to notice, and made a show of glancing around the area. Maybe it wasn't a show; I had to remind myself that few had the ability to map their surroundings like I did.
"Over there, yes," Weld said, pointing over my shoulder. While I had been hinting at the other patch of dandelions just behind the trees or the Douglass fir bark ripe for peeling, he was pointing at the new growths of a fern still within the glade.
They were thin shoots of green, their tips ending in spirals with baby leaves burgeoning out like hands. I was at a complete loss.
"What are they?" I asked, taking a closer look at the plant. They looked like tentacles, and I frowned.
"Ostrich fern fiddleheads. I know a guy who swears by them. He's a nature enthusiast and would probably love it out here."
I eyed the ferns with a new appraisal. "Miss Militia didn't mention them," I said slowly, hoping I didn't come across as accusatory.
He didn't look bothered by my words. "Miss Militia couldn't possibly know all of the edible plants out here." A look of faint amusement crossed his face. "The guy I know- I'd doubt he doesn't know them all off the top of his head."
I shrugged, not caring or knowing enough to argue. "Alright." I tried to wrestle them from the dirt, having to readjust my grip once they wouldn't budge. I gave them a few more fruitless yanks until Weld stepped in and uprooted the entire system.
He shook them free of excess dirt and laid them in my bowlsket while I took another scan of our surroundings. We already had more than enough greens for dinner tonight and enough for tomorrow. Miss Militia hadn't gone into depth about the medicinal herbs as she had with the edible, but she went over a few descriptions before sending us on our way. There were a few that I thought fit them, and I directed us to them.
Our path lead further into the trees, leaving the glade and easy trail behind to where the ground became increasingly covered with plant life. Movies never portrayed forests like this. They were usually unbelievably flat, or at least paved with smoother ground than the one we'd been trekking over for the past three days.
It was only made worse by my lack of shoes. My feet felt as if someone were bending them with a taffy-puller.
After a considerable walk wherein neither of us talked and the silence was thicker than words, we came upon a treasure hoard of resources. The leaves were round ovals, a plush green that accentuated the vibrant purple flowers that hung in pillowy bulbs. Sausage-like pods hung below those. The vines covered every available surface- trees, ground, rocks and what looked like the buds of a separate plant slowly crushing under its weight.
"Alkanets," Weld said in realization. The word didn't roll out of his mouth the way it did for Miss Militia's. He plucked a flower and held it between his fingertips.
I nodded. "If my memory's right, Miss Militia said that the roots were where the medicine was at, but we should try and collect a whole unit." Plus, looking at the monster of a system before us, I wasn't sure we'd be able to only extract the root.
Weld's finger elongated into a fine point that he used to swipe under the leaves, digging deep to find where the roots had latched shallowly under the dirt. I left him to one side, fixing my own attentions on a mantled tree. I had to dig my fingernails underneath the sides as some of my more applicable insects- earwigs, some beetles and cockroaches- chewed from below. They came away after a few persistent tugs.
The skin on the back of my neck prickled, and I paused to maneuver my hair into a messy bun with the beginnings of my silk sleeve. A few tendrils, slightly damp from my dip in the river, escaped and settled on my forehead. After a few attempts I gave up on fixing it, puffing them out of my eyes with lackadaisical effort.
"Want to talk?" Weld spoke, shattering the silence.
I paused in the middle of detaching some roots from the divots of the bark before consciously relaxing my muscles. The memory of our last true talk came to mind, but I put it aside. I had to take steps to build the team's trust in me, even if that trust was only that I wouldn't flee at every hard question.
"About what?" I asked casually, stacking the roots in their own section of my bowlsket.
"About ourselves. We each get to ask the other one question per turn and the other has to answer it truthfully or pass, in which case they'd be asked another question until they answer." He paused, then added, "If it helps, think of it as a game."
I couldn't help but snort. Team-building tactics, or a poorly-veiled attempt at interrogating me. Either way, it had a sort of summer camp-y feel to it that wasn't helped by the fact that we were in a forest.
"Is that what you've told all your teams?" I asked, and turned to find him already watching me. There was an odd look on his face, as if he wasn't quite sure of what he was looking at.
"First question, and yes. It's actually worked pretty well in the past, but I had a member who once deflected every question till he finally answered what his favorite color was." He pressed his lips together in deliberation, clearly weighing his next few words. "It was lilac, by the way."
Huh.
I mulled over his words, a little pissed that I'd walked into such a blatant maneuver, but a little pleased that there was someone else besides Miss Militia who was willing to work with me. There was no doubt he had an agenda, but so did I. Maybe they were the same this time.
"Interesting," I replied. "Your turn?"
He nodded and approached, dropping his collected alkanets into my bowlsket. They spilled over the rim, and I ruefully noted his findings doubled mine. He wasn't the bragging type however, and he pointedly ignored it aside from reclaiming a few vines when it was clear they wouldn't stay put.
"Are you going to backstab us?" he asked.
So it was going to be this type of conversation.
"No," I said. "There's no point." Silver eyes drilled into my own, and I tried to convey every ounce of my honesty in our stare-off. "You've probably heard about my history with betrayal. I don't want to mess with that sort of thing ever again."
Unlike normal humans, he didn't need to breathe. His heart didn't have to beat. So as I neared the end of my explanation he simply froze, all minute movements that came with a breathing, bleeding body ceasing. For one insane moment that I blamed on the heat, I thought I had wandered into a park statue. Then the look in his eyes thawed, and I took a breath I hadn't realized I'd lost.
"Alright, I'll trust you," he said, and his chest rose with a slight, useless inhale.
It shouldn't have been that easy, by all accounts. Even I was only seventy percent sure I wouldn't wake up to find I'd been handcuffed in the middle of the night, and I was the one who initiated the truce- barring Miss Militia's silent threat at our initial meeting.
Then I realized what he was playing at.
It came down to honor. Every villain had some sort of code they lived by. It didn't have to be morally good, just good by their definition. Don't kill children, protect your teammates, avoid robbing from allied gangs. The most basic of ideals, and even those were optional to a number of capes I could list off the top of my head.
I'd shown I held strong morals in the past, and he was playing on them. If it turned out I was planning on betraying them, I'd have this conversation to look back on in shame and guilt. Or something of the type. He was banking an awful lot on my character and how high I held honor on my list; it wasn't as if I was meticulous about my rules like others were.
Marquis had a strict code not to kill children or women, and he never broke it despite that same code leading to his eventual imprisonment in the Birdcage. I have killed, and never in my wildest dreams could I have predicted that. My tactics have also developed, and I'd shown how ruthless I was willing to be in the past. So any faith Weld had in my character was a little surprising, despite the many goods I've done.
It spoke about his sense of character that he was right.
I had been silent for too long, and he said, "They may be ex-teammates, but they're still allies. And since we're a team out here, that gives me more of a reason to smooth out any concerns I have. You understand, being a team leader yourself?"
I lifted the bowlsket and placed it under one arm. "That's more than one question," I said, but answered before he could take it back. "And I do. That's part of the reason why I'm doing this," I gestured broadly with one hand. "My team is my responsibility, and that includes their lives. If there's a way I can make them safer in this world, I'll take it. And I think this is the first step."
The sky above was bruising purple, and we had more than enough plants for at least a couple of meals. I turned and walked. A ladybug marked the first tree of our path and I headed towards it, Weld on his part hesitating just slightly before following after me. I waited until he was at my side before asking, "Can I trust that you'll have my back if there's a fight?"
He frowned and I elaborated, realizing how that sounded. "A physical one. If there's other capes out here, or any of the dangers lurking around. Another landslide, for instance," I added as an afterthought. Having some time to myself was actually nice, but I'd rather not take another tumble like that again. "If you're in a position to help me, will you?"
Weld nodded, no hesitation. "If I'm in the position to, I will."
"Good, that's all I ask."
We fell silent, and despite our talk it quickly filled with the same uncomfortable air as before. Thankfully Weld broke it before it settled too deep.
"You have one more question, you know."
I rose an eyebrow. "I do?"
"Yeah. I asked two in one row, so it's only fair."
I could think of more than a few questions, but none of the answers were my business. Instead, there was one in particular that I was surprised hadn't been brought up before. I blew another strand of hair from my face, and spoke.
Dandelion stew wasn't what I expected.
If someone asked me what I had expected, I couldn't have told them. Only that it wasn't what I was currently slurping up, chewing around the leaves and chunks of rabbit. I had to bend forward to avoid spilling onto my lap again, a fact that I was only mildly disappointed with.
The spider silk had done a fine job of filling in most of the holes, but it wasn't thick enough to stop all of the water. I'd fix it as soon as I'd be able, but for now I was reduced to balancing the stew and myself on the rocky river bank.
Closer to the river sat Weld, his arm loosely sculpted into a cooking pot over our small fire. It was a crude rendering, slightly misshapen and awkward in relation to the rest of his body, but it worked. He'd looked surprised that I'd asked, but as soon as I gave him the idea he began to morph his body. Once we reached camp his arm had resembled a molten spoon. Needless to say, its current form was an improvement.
I was a little surprised myself. I would've thought the Wards would know more about their powers than capes such as myself, who had no resources except for one thinker. Granted, a very powerful thinker, lest Lisa get the idea that I was slighting her, but only one. The PRT should've held international connections that would allow their own capes to have a full grasp of their capabilities.
Clockblocker hadn't known that powers increased when put under situations similar to the initial trigger event. I could maybe understand that, given that most information about powers was up in the air in terms of facts and sources. But Weld not knowing his own power's capabilities, despite them being so ingrained in his everyday life? It spoke of neglect.
I swallowed the last dregs from my bowl. The sun had set not minutes ago, and the soft light of the waxing moon illuminated our camp along with the glow from the fire. It wasn't much of a camp, if only called so because of the warm bodies and not the camp itself, but it was more than we had that morning.
Our collection of herbs was set out on the slab of bark Weld had carved out in the afternoon. Vista and Miss Militia sat across from it, their backs turned to me as they ate. The older Protectorate member was currently regaling Vista with a colorful account of her Ward days, and I listened curiously with the bugs blanketing the area.
They weren't a literal blanket; that would've been a waste of resources, for one, and I doubted the team would take kind to it. Rather they were placed in odd intervals, a fly slipped in between folds of fabric or a gnat in someone's hair.
Outside of camp, insects perched in every tree and bush. I had eyes and ears within six hundred yards, and I was currently weaving sleeves with close to a thousand spiders. Starting the process had proved difficult at first, but with the beginning of one sleeve as a marker I'd found a rhythm soon enough.
"Mouse Protector had wrapped Chevalier's armor in aluminum foil…" Miss Militia was saying.
Behind the two heroes, the 'alkanets' were being plucked from the slab of bark by Clockblocker. Upon returning to camp, Miss Militia informed us that they were in fact not alkanets, but akebia. An herb that, while it couldn't be used for cough expectorants, was useful in soothing the liver and treating skin inflammation among other uses.
Like stimulating lactation or menstruation.
The boys- barring Weld- wanted nothing to do with the herbs. While Miss Militia assured them that they were entirely consumable and no lasting effects would remain, they seemed keen on avoiding the stuff like the plague. Which I assumed was the reason she assigned Clockblocker the task of washing them.
I bit back the smirk that fought to consume my face, though a look at my reflection off the soup proved my efforts futile. I retaliated by downing the rest in one tilt, and stood to rinse off my bowlsket.
I crossed paths with Clockblocker as I made my way down to the river, but he didn't acknowledge me. I was fine with that; disregard was something I'd take any day over verbal onslaught.
The pebbles crunched under foot as I leaned over the river, and goosebumps prickled my skin from the frozen water. While I had survived the nights twice already, temperatures seemed to be lowering and our proximity with the water amplified it.
"…forget to eat, man," Clockblocker said about thirty feet away. He shoved a bowl of soup into Kid Win's hands, clapped him on the back and left.
I checked up on my spiders' weaving patterns and bounced a few ideas back and forth, though I already knew there was nothing to make them weave faster. I could add more to the thousand, but I had others saving their silk for emergencies. My comfort, unfortunately, didn't fall under that category.
My bug blankets could only do so much before nature won out. I didn't think we'd get a freak snow storm or anything, but hypothermia didn't need something so extreme. It only needed a body to set in, slip under the skin as if it were tucking itself in for bed.
I wasn't going to fool myself into thinking I could manage on my own for much longer. Maybe if I had a few more resources, or at least more time, but the quickest and most apparent solution was extra body heat.
I shivered, and decided to hell with it.
I shook my bowlsket free of water and left as Miss Militia and Vista replaced their masks and began to head down the bank. Our resident tinker sat furthest from the group, valiantly trying his best at tinkering by the moonlight.
I didn't look to see him sigh in frustration. Instead, I made a beeline for the fire.
Weld's face was hard to make out underneath the flickering light. I sat across from him, flames breaching our distance in an un-crossable bridge. I drew my knees to my chest and rested my chin on my arms, soaking up the warmth with a euphoric sigh.
It had been one hell of a day, and I was glad it was almost over. As much progress as I'd made today, I needed some reprieve.
Clockblocker drew near the fire, remaining silent as he parked himself to the side of Weld. The metal boy probably radiated as much heat as the fire, and Clockblocker left noticeable space between them. But he was next to him all the same.
I closed my eyes. For now, it was time to rest.
Finding solace in the thought, I stretched myself out on the pebbles. And it was to the soft crackle of burning wood that I drifted off, hovering between the stages of consciousness and the electrifying remains of a dream.
I was jolted wide awake in what felt like only seconds later, though I absently noted the dying embers of where the fire used to be. Confused as to what could have woken me, I steadied my breathing and turned to my swarm.
My spiders had made considerable headway on my sleeves from where they were stationed in one of the nearby trees. A family of raccoons prowled in the dark, hardly any cause for concern.
There only cause for concern was one missing Miss Militia, but Weld was present, patrolling our small camp by the river and within talking distance, and I seriously doubted he would miss her absence. She had to have been patrolling further out. How she managed that without dozing off during the day, I had no idea. Some secondary power? Enhanced stamina, perhaps?
Upon reaching the conclusion that sleep was beyond reach despite my exhaustion and a walk would be better than nothing, I sat up and rubbed the sleep out of my eyes.
"Is everything alright?" Weld asked. He was a few yards away, his body half-facing the tree line.
"Yeah, I'm just going to stroll for a bit," I told him, voice lowered in consideration for the others. They weren't particularly close, but it was the thought that counted.
Without my prescription or the benefit of daylight I couldn't make out his expression, but I imagined it was heroically stern. "We need to stick together," he said.
What if I had to go to the bathroom? Would he be so keen on 'sticking together' then?
"Where's Miss Militia?" I asked in way of answer, but to his credit he didn't pause before responding.
"On patrol further out," he said. "How about you walk with me? We don't need to talk."
The way he was blatantly trying to reign me in felt vaguely condescending, and I almost turned him down if only for the sake of argument. But olive branch, I reminded myself for what had to be the umpteenth time. You wanted this.
I rose, joints creaking like old wood, then stopped. One of my spiders at the edge of my range had felt something further down, a vibration linked to its web that I had strung up while Weld and I were collecting herbs. Whatever had snapped the string wasn't in my range.
It could have been anything. This was a forest with all sorts of creepy crawlies and things that went bump in the night. For all I knew, it could have been Miss Militia.
"I'm fine with that," I said to Weld, then registered another vibration through the webs. This time it was felt by nearly a dozen spiders spaced out along separate strands. The backlash was so strong that it was akin to a pistol whip against my spiders, and they were flung into the wind by the demolished strings.
"Skitter?" Weld asked, and there was a slight edge to his voice that hadn't been there before. He'd noticed my change in demeanor.
"I-" I began.
Then I felt it.
As Miss Militia came crashing into my range at a dead sprint, one hand firing a gun over her shoulder and the other clamped over her side, the words were already leaving my mouth.
"Wake up! Enemy approaching!"
A/N:
I've seen some concerns others have raised on different websites (the thought has blown my mind) that I will address.
1. This is not a cross-over.
2. More has changed than you think.
I was hoping with that quick flash back that you can see how Taylor's scars have adjusted and fixed canon- the walker maneuver from the path, but the path widens to fit the walker's shoes. Things have changed, but the stations of canon have caused the outcomes to more or less be the same. More, and greater examples to come.
A quick clarification of dates:
July 14th: Simurgh arrives that morning- Ch. 1, 2
July 15th: Taylor and Heroes wake up in forest (unconscious all of the 14th) Ch. 3
July 16th: Taylor removes mask, landslide occurs- Ch. 4
July 17th: Follow second stream, awk questions are awk- Ch. 5 & 6
This chapter is by far the largest thing I've ever published as a "chapter" at+12,700 words. I thought about cutting it off somewhere at the midway-point, but it didn't seem right. So, Drako90451, I guess you got your wish. The downside is that I only have 2,500 words written of the next chapter, I'm starting a new job, I've been promoted to editor of a newspaper and I'm a full-time student. My life is busy. I don't know how good I'll be at sticking to my two-week schedule, but I'm going to keep on trying.
Some of you have been asking for an interlude, and I have a few ideas about who the first one will be. But I'm curious: Who would you want?