What I was doing wasn't, technically speaking, something I was supposed to be doing. There was no written law against it, but that was because these specific rules were unwritten.
Then again, this wasn't cape business, not exactly. Sure, everyone else at the office thought it was, but I knew better.
In the past, before the dawn of the parahuman age, there had been another code. A very old code, one of secrecy. Not out of any high-minded ideals, but simply out of self-preservation. You didn't involve the mortals in your business, because there were so many of them. A few unnatural occurrences here and there, homeless people eaten by vampires, the dead rising as ghouls, ghosts making a minor mess, those could be explained. Most mortals preferred to think there was nothing supernatural going on, and most supernatural things liked being ignored. To get mortals involved then, was simply something you didn't do because it led to chaos and panic. Sure, you could send an angry mob after your enemies, but everyone involved knew that that angry mob wouldn't go away after hitting its original target.
No, for many, many long years, it had been preferable to simply work around the mortals, to keep them from noticing the little things that didn't add up.
Everything had changed when the parahumans appeared. At first, the supernatural community had thought them rulebreakers of a sort, attention-seeking individuals looking for glory and fame through overt means. That all changed after the White Council send out one of its wardens to take a supervillain into custody, thinking him a warlock. The Warden and the villain met eyes, and a single soulgaze made it very obvious that no, these capes were not practitioners.
However, while the newly created parahumans were not magical in nature, they did have a profound effect on the magical world, in that it became far easier to hide your activities. In the past, mortals would claim that something was coincidence, a trick of their eyes. It had just been a rabid dog that attacked you, not a werewolf. These days, almost everything could be explained simply by saying the word cape. That wasn't a vampire you saw, just a blood-sucking supervillain, nothing wrong with that, leave it to the Protectorate.
The problem with this, was that people no longer asked their friendly neighbourhood wizard for advice. Instead, they simply brought their magical problems to the appropriate government agency, which made it very difficult to determine whether there were magical abilities in play, or parahuman ones. In my current case, that meant that everyone thought changer, instead of werewolf. Or a hexenwulf, or lycanthropes, or a goddamned loup-garou. It probably wasn't a loup-garou though, there had been four of them, and there weren't nearly enough corpses for that to be the case.
If only I could find the girl, I could figure out what she knew, and just what was happening here. If only Armsmaster hadn't been such a complete and total ass, this all would've been so much easier.
I looked on through the list, hoping that the computer would last long enough to allow me to complete my task. Triggering had given me a lot of new options, but it hadn't stopped me from making all technology in my vicinity slowly break down and act up.
Before long, I'd finished going through the pictures and descriptions of every teenage girl that had been brought to Chicago from the ruins of Brockton Bay, and found absolutely nothing. Whoever she was, Skitter wasn't in the system, and I'd have to do something else to find her, a tracking spell perhaps. The problem was that, using her powers, the girl hadn't even been at the crime scene. She'd been somewhere nearby, but given reports on her range, that didn't really narrow it down. Given that I had nothing that belonged to her, I had no way to actually track her down.
Could I do something with her power? Set up a link to the one thing that made her absolutely unique? I didn't know how she was controlling her insect army, but I knew there was a link between her and her minions, and I could use that, if I got my hands on an insect that she'd manipulated, or preferably, was manipulating.
Defeated for now, I looked at the clock and noticed the hour. It was time to get out of my wizard's robe, and into my wizard's duster. As I entered, I saw Tecton, getting out of his armor after having finished his patrol for the day.
"Evening Harry," the boy said, greeting me while removing the massive pile-drivers connected to his shoulders.
"Good evening Everett, how'd your patrol go?" I asked him. I was pretty sure that the boy, much like everyone else in the Protectorate, thought I was insane. The problem of working with parahumans. However powerful they may be, they were still mortal, and most of them didn't believe in the existence of magic. Sure, Tecton had seen me cast spells, but he'd also seen me use my parahuman abilities, and he was utterly convinced that the two of them were one and the same.
"Quiet, mostly. We found a few more twisted car wrecks though, you have any idea what's responsible?" the boy asked.
"I presume it's a new parahuman, someone testing out some rather destructive abilities. We'll probably get either a new recruit or a new supervillain in a week or two," I replied.
"Couldn't it be ghosts? Or spirits or something like that? They looked like they'd been moving around," Tecton said, only half-joking.
"No, I don't think so. A magical being powerful enough to do something like that would probably not use its power like that, and I didn't detect any leftover energies around it either," I replied honestly.
"Supervillain it is then," Tecton replied. "Or a vigilante with a really big collateral damage problem," he went on.
"So it's probably someone you'd like to hang out with. You know, seeing as you have so much in common?" I said,
"Seriously… you destroy one building, and suddenly you're collateral damage guy," Tecton replied, faking sadness for comedic effect.
"You can just do what I do and call yourself a wizard, you just need to give them something else to talk about," I replied. That was one of the major perks of joining the Protectorate; you could let someone else handle the mess when you created massive amounts of property damage.
"In this armor? I'm a Tinker Harry, I'm pretty sure technology and magic don't mix very well," he said, a sly smile on his face. Of course he'd noticed that technology tended to break down around me, he'd even, possibly subconsciously, redesigned his armor with countermeasures. Another point of data I'd been able to supply to the White Council, and from there to the magical community in general. Similar to my boss's newfound ability to absorb blasts of energy from the simpler spells, the soulless creature connected to Tecton must have found some patterns in the way its designs broke down. Or perhaps he had simply overengineered it to rule out any possible failures, Murphy's law be damned.
"What, you don't think Tecton the Technowizard is a good idea?" I asked, smiling. He just nodded.
The great thing about my costume, which consisted of a classical wizards robe, a staff and a hat, my mother's amulet, and a bandana just slightly obscuring my identity, was that it was really easy to take it off. Consequently, I was back in civilian clothes while Tecton was still working on the armor around his legs.
"Well, I'll see you tomorrow!" I called out as I left the boy behind me. He was a good kid, smart and heroic, too courageous for his own good.
After a short ride in the blue beetle, Protectorate pay was good, but not so good that I could afford to throw away money on a more expensive, less easy to repair model, I finally reached my home. I left the car, and walked for the door, only for Mister to brash into my knees again.
"Miss me, ya little bastard?" I asked him. He just purred. Together, we made our way through the hallway, into my apartment. I grabbed the old oil lamp, and lit the flame, illuminating the surroundings. Just how I'd left it, good. I crashed down on my chair, overthinking my problems.
Someone or something had been using magic to transform him or herself into wolves, and was hunting down supervillains. Or rather, that had been my working theory. More logical, given the few things the arrested gang members had been willing to say, was that they were acting as normal police officers, until the moment a supervillain was involved, at which point they transformed and killed all the witnesses, scratching the operation from the record.
That meant that at least one of them was high-up, or the gap in the records would have been noticed by someone.
"Bob, you awake yet?" I called out to the old skull. Slowly, two points of light appeared in the skulls eyes showing his presence.
"Almost, almost… just a few more minutes," the skull said, pretending to be sleepy.
"I need more information, I think we can narrow in on our lupine theriomorph," I said.
"Fine… fine… but first, did you meet any cute girls dressed in skintight spandex?" he asked.
"Every day Bob, every single day, now get to the point," I replied.
"Damn Harry, I should become a superhero too!" he exclaimed. "You have room for a floating skull on your team?"
I ignored his question, and started rattling of the events of the day, including an explanation about Skitter's recent activities.
"So you're thinking they're cops, who became theriomorphs to deal with their job better, or are they theriomorphs who became cops together?" Bob asked.
"Probably the first, why?" I asked him
"Because that means they got their abilities in the short term, meaning they didn't teach themselves, but are using a talisman. You're saying they took on the form of a wolf as well?" he replied.
"Yes, everyone said they were changers, which means physical transformation, I told you this before Bob, did you seriously forget? Because that doesn't sound like you."
"No, I didn't forget, I just like annoying you," Bob replied. "Anyway, they're probably hexenwolves, using an externally provided talisman for their transformation. It's darker magic, slowly wearing down on the mind of the wearer, making them more bestial over time. Have you noticed anything like that? Attacks slowly becoming more violent over time?"
"Not really, but that could also be explained by them being violent beforehand, if these are crooked cops going too far in the line of duty," I replied. "Although… this talisman, what is it?"
"Could be anything, usually a wolf-hide belt, sometimes a piece of jewellery or something like that," he replied.
That just increased my need to find the girl, Skitter… Not just to figure out where she stood, but to figure out what she knew about these hexenwolves. Was she involved? Just a bystander? Had she been hunting them? Best possible scenario, I would be able to convince the wards, for her own protection. Her actions during the Leviathan attack had bought her quite a bit of goodwill from the parahuman community, but she was technically still a wanted criminal. Better that I had a talk with her than that some vigilante or corporate team decided to take her down.
Someone knocked on the door, slowly and daintily. I made my way towards it. "Who's there?" I asked.
"It's me," Susan's voice replied
I opened the door, and told her she could come in, wondering what it was about this time. Her dark hair framed her rather attractive face, and her dark eyes looked at Bob, she was always interested in magical things, and the problem was that Bob was also interested in her.
"So what do you want this time?" I asked her.
"Just a theory I needed confirmation on," Susan replied. "I've talked to some people about this bug thing, back at the pub. Some of them seem to be worried it's a spell, something all old testamenty. Said they sensed magic energies surrounding it. Others are claiming ghost of dead exterminator. Do you have any word on that?" she asked.
"I'm pretty sure they're wrong. It's Skitter, former teenage villainess from Brockton Bay. In fact, I'm looking for her," I replied.
She seemed to be disappointed; the type of people that read her articles wasn't interested in parahumans. They were, however, interested in speculating about parahumans secretly being wizards or vampires. Aegis, another kid from Brockton Bay, had been pegged as an obvious flying ghoul, and Glaistig Uaine was quite obviously a real fairy.
She wasn't, I'd checked.
"Former villainess?" she asked.
"I heard what she did during the fight, and she's been active without committing crimes for a few days now, so I'm going with former now," I replied.
"And you've been looking for her? Recruiting or something?" she asked.
"The werewolf case, she, or at least her bugs, are witnesses, but I haven't been able to find her. She's not officially here, I checked the pictures of all the teenage refugees that have been brought in," I replied.
"Well, duhh," she said. "Think about it, she's probably orphaned, but wants to go out capering. Bet you fifty bucks she's pretending to be an adult," Susan said.
"And I'm a fucking idiot…" I replied. "Well, I'll check it out tomorrow morning. For now, you want anything to drink?" I asked, making a proposition that we both knew would be coming.
Susan's hand went to her bag, and she pulled out a bottle of wine. "Brought my own, want to share?" she said, bending forwards just a bit to pull my attention in the direction of her cleavage.
"Oooh, this is going to be fun!" Bob said, all worked up at the idea of not having to turn to romance novels for his filthy ideas.
"Shut up Bob," I said, all the while grabbing two wine glasses from the cupboard.
***
My fingers ticked on the desk, drumming an impatient tune. Again, my eyes went for the clock in the corner of the small office, I was pretty sure it still worked, that my magic hadn't had any effect on it yet. Half an hour… I guess young Taylor, if that was her real name, was just a tad too paranoid to show up here.
At least I knew where she's spend the last week or so, meaning I could find something of hers to track her down with.
I left the office, greeting the volunteer who had loaned it out it me. They thought I was just a consultant for the PRT, which seemed to be the most common excuse job they gave their heroes. Then, I took the Blue Beetle, my shitty little car, and made my way towards the shelter that Skitter has been staying at.
The guard at the front door took a look at my real fake credentials, and let me through into the building.
The shelter itself wasn't as cramped as I'd expected it to be, which, in retrospect, was perfectly logical. About a tenth of the inhabitants of Brockton Bay had survived, and they had been spread out throughout the eastern states. Chicago had only taken in one or two thousand people, and about half of them had already found a permanent home, the rest of them spread around in shelters throughout the city.
The 'living room' so to speak, was filled with chairs and a few tables. Some people were working on an absolutely massive jigsaw puzzle, while others were watching TV in a corner. The local news was on, with a segment about dangerous changer/trumps, and some speculation about exterminator ghosts.
From the conversation in the room, it didn't look like anyone was buying the whole 'ghost' angle, and neither was the news reader.
"Can we help you?" a balding man, accompanied by a young girl asked him.
"I'm looking for Taylor? Is she here?" I asked. "We were supposed to meet at the main office but she didn't show up."
"Taylor? She left a few hours ago. Does the same thing every day. She's not taking all of this very well," he replied.
"I see… Would you mind pointing me to her room? We're afraid she's gotten caught up in something dangerous," I said, showing him my PRT badge. The man looked at it sceptically, before motioning for me to follow him.
"She in trouble? She's a good girl you know, it's just… we're all frustrated," he said.
"She's not, at least not yet. We think she's had a run-in with some local supervillains, and are looking for information."
"I see… I hope she's alright. She's very closed off you know…" the man said.
Her room was, for lack of a better description, Spartan. There were almost no personal touches, which was logical for a temporary room at a shelter, but this was extreme. I reminded myself that most of her stuff had probably been lost in the flooding. That this was all she had.
This was what a loss looked like. This was the end-result of an endbringer victory. Children stuck in empty room, having lost everything and everyone they knew.
"Well, it's here…" the bald man said. I thanked him, and he left.
Had things been different, I wouldn't have been able to step in like this. Supernatural things had a hard time passing the threshold of a home, and that same thing counted for my abilities as a wizard. But this wasn't a home, this was just a place where someone slept.
I looked through the room, looking for something I could use to track her. A few books were placed on the nightstand, library stickers clearly visible on the sides. Turned out Skitter was an avid reader, as the stack was higher than I'd expected for a week of reading.
She also had a little sink with a mirror, in front of which I found what I needed. A hairbrush, covered in long dark curly hairs. Most definitely Skitter then. I grabbed a few of the hairs, and took my tuning fork from one of my pockets. "Duo et unum" I spoke, channelling my power, magical power, into the a tracking spell. The energy went into the hair, and from there, towards the rest of Skitters hair. Unless she recently shaved off all her hair, or had some other way of blocking the connection, the tuning fork would allow me to find her anywhere in the city, as long as I didn't run out of energy.
***
Half an hour later, I'd tracked her down to a new fast-food restaurant. Fugly Bob, the sign above the entrance said. A quick glance at the man behind the counter confirmed the name.
I glanced around, quickly spotting her sitting in the corner near the window on her own, reading what could only be a copy of the Midwestern Arcane, the tabloid Susan wrote for. The front page had an article that claimed Skitter was actually a ghost, so either Susan had send in that article anyway, or someone else had decided it would be more interesting. As the girl was trying to eat her absolutely humongous burger, I sat down on the opposite side of the table, and took a good look at her.
She had long and curly black hair that fell down past her shoulders. She was tall and thin, a girl in the middle of a growth spurt, even though she was already as tall as most adult women. A cheap pair of glasses sat on her face, probably mass-issued for the refugees. The eyes behind those glasses were large, and she had a thin mouth, both wide and expressive. The end-result was very much that of a teenager that was still growing into her body, which, given teenagers, was very likely to have given her some issues. Then again, just about everything could give teenagers issues.
As she noticed me, she started to look annoyed, thinking I was just some crazy person here to annoy her.
"Skitter, I presume? We need to have a talk about hexenwolves, and about lying to people about your age," I said.
Her eyes instantly went wide with fear, or perhaps panic. She looked at me again, identifying me as Chicago's resident crazy wizard.
"Relax, I'm not going to arrest you, I just want to talk," I replied.
She resettled in her seat, losing some of the tension in her body, but she was still glaring at me.
"What do you want…" she said, accusingly.
"Well, first of all, I wanted to talk to you about what happened yesterday," I replied.
The girl went silent for a few seconds before replying. "I didn't kill those people…" she said.
"I know that Taylor, that's your name right? I just wanted to know what you saw, or sensed, or whatever you do with your bugs. This isn't the first time those people attacked someone, and I need to know what they did in order to hunt them down," I said.
"I… they were…" she stuttered, looking away from me.
That was probably the biggest con to joining the Protectorate. People were sometimes afraid to tell me the truth, because they thought they might have been doing something illegal.
"You can tell me, okay? You're not in any trouble, I just want to catch these assholes."
"Who are they anyway?" Skitter asked.
"The hexenwolves? I suspect they're a group of rogue law enforcement officers using magical artefacts to transform themselves into wolves, binding a spirit of bestial rage to themselves at the same time. They're probably doing this in order to be able to take down parahumans without having to rely on the Protectorate," I told her.
"So what, they're led by some sort of Trump or Tinker or something?" she asked.
"No, it's probably a warlock, an evil wizard so to speak. They're using a magical talisman for their transformation, not a Trump ability," I replied.
She got a weird look on her face. She obviously wasn't someone who believed in the existence of magic.
"Okay… so, I'd spotted the lab, and I was thinking about what to do, when these guys arrived in the building. I remembered because they were walking around all nervous, moving with purpose. Anyway, three of them were guys, including the guy I think was in charge, and there was a woman too. I thought they were cops, but I wasn't really sure, so I just waited, keeping the swarm back in case things went crazy…
"So, they break their way into the apartment where all these gang members are, and they start shouting something, holding their weapons in front of them. All those people, most of them naked, do as they're told, and everything seems normal. Then, one of them does something weird. He was really fast, and it was like his hands moved through peoples bodies. One of the criminals I mean, not one of the cops who maybe weren't cops? Anyway, one of the cops got hurt and was almost immediately lying on the floor, and I was bringing in my swarm to help, but then they all grabbed something at their belt, which was when they, you know, transformed into wolves. So I'm thinking Tinker, but I don't really know, doesn't seem like something a Tinker would do? But maybe there's Tinkers like that. Or maybe they're like Dauntless, and they have this thing where someone gives powers to normal items?" she started explaining. Once she'd started, the words just kept coming, like she was bottling something up inside of her.
"Magical artefacts, not parahumans, but go on,' I said.
"So… well… they just started, you know, biting and slashing. Like, before they transformed, they were arresting people, but now it was like even the people that had already surrendered had to die…" she said, looking traumatized.
"And you saved those people," I replied, trying to give her some confidence. She looked like she needed it.
"Not all of them… If I spotted that cape earlier…" she replied, blaming herself for everything that had gone wrong.
"Anyway… my bugs chased them off, but it was weird, like, they weren't normal wolves. I think they healed or something, so definitely brutes," she continued. "And, well, you know what happened after that."
"I do…" I replied, letting the conversation rest for a while.
"Now, as to the other reason I'm here to talk to you," I said.
"I'm not joining the fucking Wards," she replied almost immediately.
It was, honestly, something I could completely understand. The Protectorate, while generally a force of good, had its problems. Brockton Bay had been a very good example of that. Not only because it had been obviously mismanaged, with Nazis and sex-trafficking being commonplace affairs if the news was to be believed, but the Endbringer fight itself… I could understand why Eidolon had decided to do what he'd done, but that didn't mean I agreed with it. Looking at it from her perspective, her reaction was perfectly normal.
"And I'm not asking you to. If you don't want to join the wards, you don't have to. I just want to make sure you're safe," I replied.
"Yeah, sure, and this isn't a trick…" she replied. She still wasn't entirely convinced.
"Taylor, I already told you, you're not in trouble…" I said.
"Yeah, right…" she replied.
"Look, I'll freely admit I don't know exactly what happened between you and Armsmaster, but I do know about what you did at that shelter. We all discussed it the moment we heard you were in town, and I promise you, there's no hard feeling towards you from any of us," I said.
She still wasn't convinced, and turned her attention back to her burger, slowly eating her way through the massive pile of bread, lettuce, tomato and meat.
Eventually, she looked like she was ready to start listening again, so I kept talking.
"Anyway, we both know you're not actually eighteen, so doing what you're doing right now isn't going to work out. And we both know that it was just a matter of time until that would happen, so no blaming me for blowing your cover okay?"
"Fine…" she replied, begrudgingly acknowledging my point.
"So, are you sure you don't want to join the Wards? It would make all of this much easier," I said.
"I'm not working for a fucking mass-murderer!" she said. People started looking at us, trying to figure out why the girl was yelling, but they quickly lost interest again.
"This is about what Eidolon did isn't it?" I asked her.
She nodded.
"Look, I know it's hard to accept, and I'm not going to make excuses for him, but that whole situation could have had some very nasty results," I said.
"Yeah, sure… whatever," Taylor replied.
"Look, do you remember the first shelter Leviathan visited? Well, it turned out it was empty, being used as a base by a supervillain," I said.
"Coil…" she interjected.
"Probably, I don't know, I wasn't there. Anyway, he had something locked up, something that had previously killed forty people in a different city. It escaped, and it started eating people, capes, and spitting out evil copies of them. Long story short, it made it to a real shelter, and started building an army there, leading to Eidolon doing what he did," I explained. At least, that had been the official story told to every cape that started asking questions. I had no idea whether or not it was true, but it made sense, and believing it was better than believing the alternative.
"Still doesn't mean I want to join," the teenager said.
"Well, alternatively, I can contact CPS directly. You can go into the system, with no-one knowing a thing about your abilities. I'll just tell them I wanted to talk to you because you witnessed a crime, and no-one will need to know any better."
"No…" she replied, a stubborn look on her face.
"Look Taylor, I'm trying to help you out here, but I'm a wizard, not a miracle worker. Legally speaking, all underage parahumans that are wards of the state are automatically inducted into the Wards program, and that includes those sixteen years and older. Now the only other option I can think of is to go through the courts and get you emancipated, meaning you count as an adult, but given your history, I don't think anyone would approve that."
"You said I wasn't in trouble," Taylor replied, shrinking back in her chair again. She'd obviously thought about this topic as well, and been unable to come to a proper conclusion.
"I told you none of us had any hard feeling towards you, and that's still true. But part of that is that you are still underage. You made a mistake, and your actions have made it clear that you don't want to be a villain anymore. But mistakes like that are easily forgiven because you are a child. You're allowed to make mistakes in a way that adults aren't," I replied. "Look, you're not the only person that has some more shady stuff in her past. Tecton, Revel, Director Heathrow, they'll understand. Okay?" I said, putting my hands on hers, trying to give her some moral support.
"I don't know…" she replied. "I don't want to… I don't know…" she replied.
I grabbed a notebook from my pocket, as well as a pencil, and jotted down my address, in the meantime asking her a question.
"Look, do you have any money? Enough to take care of yourself for a few days?" I asked.
"Some… from before… but Tattletale did the finances…" she replied, slightly ashamed of her previous career choice.
I handed her my note.
"Here's my address. If anything happens, or if you just want someone to talk to, you can come here instead of to the PRT," I said.
"Okay…" she replied.
"But you have to accept that you can't go on like this forever… You need to go back to school, start rebuilding your life…"
She just nodded, looking at the address. I wasn't really reaching her anymore.
"Hey, Taylor, look at me, it's going to be okay," I said.
She looked up again, and her eyes touched mine. For just a second, we looked straight into each other's soul. Me being a wizard, that was actually literal.
Taylor was someone that was being crushed under her own guilt, either real or imagined. Everything that wrong, she blamed herself for. She was the one that had to do better; it was her fault that Brockton Bay had been wiped off the map. At the same time, she was lonely, reaching out for friendship, and at the same time not thinking herself worthy of that friendship.
Hidden beyond those two emotions, guilt and loneliness, there was a woman of great resourcefulness and intelligence, willing to do whatever she needed to do to complete her goals. A pragmatist, someone who would gouge out your eyes almost without a second thought if she thought it would help her.
And behind that, in the background, I saw the great soulless creature that made her the parahuman she was. It engulfed her from all sides, tiny tendrils tearing at her personality, strengthening her pragmatism, her willingness to get into conflicts, and at the same time slowly gnawing away at her better qualities.
It had just recently arrived, hadn't had much time to get to work, but it already had its claws in her.
Much in the same way I had seen the core of her being, Taylor had seen mine. She stood up, panicky and fearful, and ran for the door.
I checked the table, and saw that she had taken my note with her. Her bag of books however, she'd left behind. I grabbed it, and walked towards the counter, and the near-round individual behind it. She'd probably be more willing to pick it up if I wasn't around. Soulgazing did strange things to people, especially when someone soulgazed me.