by Louis IX
Check first chapter for disclaimer and global warnings.
BonsoirChapter's summary: Bong-sewer. From one to the other.
Warning: Disgusting shit ahead. You've been warned. And some crossovers.
''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''
Shit HappensLike many stories nowadays, this story starts with people being bullied. And as those stories target young people, it happens in school.
As is often the case, the bullies don't show their true colours too much when in front of people with actual authority, such as the straight cops or the strict teachers.
But, to the others, they are known for their aggressive tendencies. Not only that, but they also fly into a rage upon any and all perceived wrong against them. Such as ignoring them. The fact that some people wanted peace and to "live and let live" doesn't figure into their equation.
Even the adults feared them, sometimes. Because their authority had limits, while the bullies' lawlessness had none: they could find the address of their targets, and harass them at any time. Night like day.
Some of those adults even fell in step with some of the vitriol spouted publicly, trying to appease the bullies by showing them compassion and understanding. Fully cognizant people were aghast at the demonstration of weakness, but thought it would blow over. It would not. Soon, even speaking out against the bullies would incite the wrath of those self-serving administrators. And the strict teachers were given leave, compounding the situation.
Now, the bullied couldn't even defend themselves, because such an act against the protected bully was tagged with the worst epithets that they could find. If the complaint came from someone with a different gender, they got accused of sexism. Not to say what happens should they have a different skin colour.
With no other recourse, those bullied (who had understanding parents with a bit of money) tried to leave, opting for one of the private schools. Since those had the luxury of choosing their students, they took those who had the best scores. And it meant that the poor and uneducated increased in proportions, in the public school. Knee-jerk reactions were more and more the norm rather than in-depth debates and sciences and such.
The most scientific thing the bullies did, these days, was lighting the bong. Sometimes in the open, even, although not in plain view of the cops stationed outside. And being on the school's outskirts, the group ended up discovering something. By the smell.
The school was a dump, almost literally, and also a shithole: located in an area lower than its surroundings, it was already bad before the low-rent slums started to creep around it, and even worse after, given the amount of faeces transiting in the sewers below. And, in fact, a river of shit was accessible through a manhole, right there.
That gave the bullies ideas. The spirit cloaked in drugs, their inhibitions lowered, and they brought their plan to fruition: knocking their target out, bringing them here, removing everything and hiding the stuff in their own bags, hogtying them with tape, slicing at the exposed skin to wake them… and lowering them in the brown sludge. Slowly, so that they could be pulled slightly up, the eyes full of hope. And discover that the slightest bit of sliced skin hurt like hell in that septic environment. And being held by the hair with the eyes going crazy as they practically drowned in shit and their own vomit. Being pulled back a little. Insulted a last time. And dropped.
That's how, instead of "merely" shoving her target in a locker, Sophia Hess killed Taylor Hebert.
''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''
Crocodile TearsI'm going to die. I'M GOING TO DIE! And, to make matters worse… I'M GOING TO DROWN IN SHIT! I'm sure nothing compares to this.
My lungs burn with the need to breathe, but I don't want to open my mouth. My nose is already filled with the worse of the stuff, and I struggle with the need to heave as well. My whole body burns, what with the cuts she gave me, and the fact that I'm pushed this way and that, and there are needles and glass shards. With my luck, I'm sure I'm going to be stuck in a smaller pipe at one point, or against a grate, with no hope of finding the sewers' end (or, worse, having the end in a waste treatment plant).
When I'm slammed against a dead end, the panic intensifies as the need to breathe tears at my nervous system, battling with the need to keep my mouth shut against the sludge, and the need to throw up. It peaks when my reptilian brain's reaction to my first need counteracts the second, only for the third to assert itself. And my eyes, closed as they may be, suddenly see the light… of another universe. Where gigantic worm-like creatures err in space, diffuse powers upon unsuspecting populations, and harvest them after a time. That's too bad I'll forget this as a bad dream, a nugget of cosmic truth in a shitty situation like this.
I struggle weakly against the rusted bars, breathing and vomiting at the same time, and wishing I could survive this. Wouldn't you know? Sometimes, wishes come true. But not in a way we like. The bars broke, under both the acidic spray from my mouth and the desperate strength in my short arms, and the pressure of refuse behind me propelled me into the bay, and it was only my thick skin that prevented more damage by the residue at the end of the chute, as well as my tail that allowed me to fall on all fours… and stay that way.
Wait a second. Thick skin? Tail? Shortened arms? What kind of beast am I, now? Focus, Taylor! What kind of beast can survive being stuck in the sewers? I remember reading something about that… about a crocodile. I don't have a mirror to see myself, and it's too dark anyways. But what I can feel from my whole body suggests something like that. I'm starting to panic again.
But something I read online comes to my mind, interrupting my pity party. Something about panic attacks upon shitty situation, in fact, something that can apply here. Some say that these events are able to trigger a transformation from a regular human into a cape – a superhero. Or a villain.
I seriously hope I'm not the new "Killer Croc". As a girl, it would hamper my style. Although… as a bully target, I didn't have any style. So it evens out. And if I even get in front of Sophia Hess again, I'll bite her head off. For real. Especially if I can't transform back into a regular girl.
Can I transform back? I don't know. And my concentration is shot anyways, because of the whole situation. So forgive me if I lay down for a while.
''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''
Winds of PanicEmma Barnes had her own moments of panic, but not everyone was hosting a shard of a metaphysical worm in these moments, and she didn't transform into anything.
She had a slight moment of panic when Taylor's father came to her home to speak to her father – as her erstwhile friend, she knew the man.
She had another moment of panic when Sophia texted her about leaving town, because once adult, she didn't have to stay, and she didn't want the new precognitive Ward recruit (a little preteen named Dinah Alcott) to babble about her. The text's tone made Emma fear that Sophia would be found, interrogated, and would reveal Emma's involvement in her crimes.
But the third and most impacting bowel-loosening moment was when, coincidently, she was taking a piss. Apparently, it startled the occupant of the toilet's flushing pipes, and it reached out to her, its maw snapping her left buttock off.
With difficulties, due to the wound but also her uncomfortable position, she stood and exited the toilets. Shuffling while trying to pull her pants over her damaged backside (or, at least, up to it so she could start to hobble faster), she looked behind and saw a small crocodile walk off the toilet stall. Then another from the next one over. Then yet another from the one on the other side.
People whistled when she rushed past them half-naked, but her bloodied backside and the following beasts had every student of Winslow flee in fear.
It was only when she was at the hospital, lying face down while waiting for her reconstructive surgery to heal, that she wondered if there was a link between Taylor's fate and the crocodiles' appearance.
There was.
''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''
WhiplashAnother place with a crocodile infestation was the little motel where Sophia Hess was staying, trying to lay low. And failing. So far, she had insulted the owner a dozen times, always about a perceived slight upon her. Even when she had her butt bitten, she was sure the man had arranged it especially for her. Just because.
Just because everything gravitated around her.
Sophia didn't regret her actions one bit. Never did. Her school victim having been a nobody, she was now just another fading face… among other faeces. Except when she made puns like that, or when she wondered if it would have been better to have her raped before dumping her, or when she remembered that it had been the cornerstone of two years of increasing abuse.
She didn't have to find excuses, because she didn't feel she needed them. If she had, she would mention that the place was too dreary, for instance. Even if it had been her choice to go there, using the argument that she could keep an eye on the worst sort, while her true motivation was knowing that "cape" oversight would be minimal there.
Next year, she would have been able to enter university (with an athlete's grant), and that would also have ended her probationary period among the local group of teen-aged heroes, something that had grated her greatly. Thankfully, they had had no mind-reader, because she was no hero. In fact, when she was doing her rounds of the city, by night, she often stole, and even killed, sometimes just for the thrill.
Now that they had Dinah, though, she had known fear and left.
Having her logic skewed, Sophia couldn't make the link between the crime of shoving the girl in the sewer and having animals coming out of the same to bite her. Although, to be fair, the logic was tenuous at best. But as a superhero (even a fake one), she had been educated in the lore and should have known of Triggers.
Using her powers to kill the beast, she then decided to "sleep it off", as she often did. She didn't bleed to death just yet, because two other crocodiles exited the toilet bowl during her sleep, latched on her arms, and executed the manoeuver their species was known for: the death grip roll. Their mandible not letting go, they turned their whole body over and over, ripping muscle and bones alike.
Not yet dead but in a great deal of pain, Sophia could only stare incredulously as they then did the same to her legs. And she passed out from the pain. And then she bled out.
''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''
French Connection"Bong-sewer." a voice said, startling Madison. She was in her French course, in the private school. Her parents had taken out her college money, at her urging, and made a donation to help her to enter the local private school. Everything seemed better, but Madison knew what had happened to Emma (she had been told) and Sophia (she had seen the news) and she waited for the other shoe to drop.
The voice belonged to their French teacher, arriving late for their last class of the day. And, apparently, the French word for "good evening" resembled a mix of the drug she had taken before Taylor died… and the place where she was drowned.
Madison's mind snapped, right there. The look the teacher gave the class, she interpreted it as "I know your naughty secrets", and she fled the class, screaming all the way home.
Louis, her current boyfriend and himself having a close history with reptiles (given that he comes from a family of dragons, like Lung), threw at her fleeing back what happened to look like a wad of crumpled paper… except that wings unfolded elegantly as soon as the bit of origami entered the corridor, to fly after Madison and enter her pocket.
Maybe he could save her from herself.
''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''
ParisianLouis' stay in the States was shortened when his older brother Giorgio died in Paris, where he had been for… business. Since the two of them had lost their parents, a long time ago, the young man had taken his younger brother under his wing. Being eighteen, now, Louis wasn't completely blind to the fact that his brother's work wasn't completely legal. In fact, with everything he had gathered, he suspected that it had to do with buying superpowers.
He had some, himself, because his grandfather was one of the last true dragons to walk the Earth – a distant cousin of Lung, actually. It hadn't prevented his trigger, giving him the ability to give life to any piece of origami he was folding (he had been doing exactly that when his parents had died in front of him).
Despite having been enrolled in a prestigious high school, the news allowed him to skip school and travel to France to settle his brother's… things. With the man's notes (written in a code that he was the only one able to read, since they had invented it themselves), he deciphered the reason for his killing.
As he had suspected, it was all about the business around powers. Only one actor could create them, but some people (like Accord, or the Merchants) bought them in bulk, and some vials inevitably ended up in the wrong hands at some time. Despite Cauldron's rigorous vetting during recruitment, there were also some employees who ended up blinded by the massive profit they could make themselves, when absconding with a few vials themselves.
Generally, the original thief or leak was easily found by Clairvoyant and dispatched. It was more complicated when the vials had already been sold.
Giorgio had been a "repo man" for Cauldron, following leads to power vial thieves, which led him there. Apparently, his last lead was to an old Asian man who held half a dozen vials. All of them included the same experimental "physical representation" ingredient, making the alien shard visible as little flying and talking creatures.
Due to some legal shenanigans, Giorgio's will was to be read in Paris… which brought the man's girlfriend as well, and Louis was introduced to a lithe woman wearing a porcelain mask. Parian, the relatively famous super-powered seamstress from Brockton Bay.
The two of them took rooms in the same hotel, so that they would be able to discuss, there or in one of the many restaurants nearby, about Giorgio and his various quirks. And so that they could wait for the police to release the body.
But not 24 hours after the will reading, their discussion (in a pizzeria nearby) was interrupted by massive footsteps… from a ten-foot tall stone creature stomping down the street. And two costumed teens jumping around trying to catch it: a blond boy in a black cat costume, and a brunette in a ladybug bodysuit.
While people panicked "normally", one of the maids was clearly out of her mind for a while, and Louis (and Parian) experienced the usual vision people got when Triggering (the two space-faring whales)… meaning that she got powers as well. Carrying her out of the crumbling eatery, he and Parian (and Marion, the maid) arrived just as the two teens ended the threat.
Given how the "monster" was restored into a normal teenager, implying that there was another reason for the mishap, Louis decided that, perhaps, he could stay in the French capital for a while, helping the teen heroes. Parian agreed – and she had an easy outlet for her creativity, being in the self-appointed "city of fashion". Marion agreed, too.
''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''
Queen AdministratorAll the previous events would be told to me much later, when I'd be able to reconnect with Madison (in a plea from her therapist for help in healing her mind), who had also kept in touch with Louis, thanks to his phone number having been found in her pocket.
While they happened, I was still struggling to get in better shape.
Despite the fact that my skin was now tougher than boiled leather, I still remembered the cuts and scraps and bumps and glass shards and needles, leading to me scratching myself constantly. And shedding whole skins in days (because, reptile).
During the months that followed, I discovered that I could sense others of my kind around, and direct them.
During the year that followed, I discovered that I could change not only my skin, but also my shape. I could change into other animals… and my "sensing and directing" of other creatures of my shape followed along. I changed into a rat, and directed a swarm of them (towards Winslow). I changed into a pigeon, and a whole cloud of them stormed my old school, leaving no place untouched. I changed into an insect, and a swarm of termites destroyed most of the school.
And I could change into humans, too, which allowed me to emerge as myself for the first time in 365 days… and to Master other humans.
It took a long time, but I ended up facing Scion himself, using all the human capes around me in an unified front. But you know that already.
''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''
To be continued… peut-êtreAuthor's Notes: Oh, this one? Dates in part when I read Hagrid's mangling of "Bonsoir" (good evening, in French) in "Goblet of Fire" – that's Harry Potter, by the way, which I don't own, etc. I also don't own Miraculous Ladybug, nor the "Scales" novel by G. E. Ranne (where Louis and Marion come from, actually).