9. Daughter
The Nine's activities had not gone unnoticed.
The construction site at the edge of town, theater of the implosion of the Nine, was now crawling with capes and PRT agents. The police team investigating the tattoo parlor must have called for reinforcements earlier, and witnesses would have led them there.
Police barricades blocked the main road, redirecting traffic to another exit.
They hadn't meant to go back to the scene of the crime, but it was the main way out of town, which Riley hadn't realized until it was too late.
It left the lot of them in a rather problematic situation, with three cars in front of them and five behind, waiting at a police checkpoint.
Making a U-turn after seeing the police cars would have drawn suspicion, which could have led to a chase. One that would end in a crushing victory for Siberian, and a net loss for Riley.
Trying to avert that scenario, she'd suggested that they simply try their best to look innocent and pass the checkpoint. If it didn't work, Siberian could always grant invincibility to the truck and carry it away.
They hid all incriminating evidence, including Murder Rat, under the covers Siberian had brought to build a pillow fort. With some artful rearrangement, it looked like a perfectly innocent pile of stuff. Hatchet Face's bathtub was already covered with a tarp.
Riley had changed into clothes that were neither blood stained nor shredded and tied her hair in a severe bun that hid Bonesaw's signature ringlets. The cuts on her face were already closing and not visible enough to be suspicious.
Siberian vanished after pressing a reassuring hand to Riley's shoulder, leaving her and Manton as the sole (visible) occupants of the truck.
Just a father and a daughter taking a road trip with a tarp-covered bathtub, nothing to see here.
When their turn came, the officer didn't look under the tarp. He didn't even look at Riley, or the cunningly concealed pile of crimes against humanity.
"Sir, your windshield is gone." he said through the plastic sheeting duct taped to Manton's window. "We're supposed to issue a fine if it's cracked."
Manton looked at the lack of windshield, then back to the officer.
He leaned closer to the plastic between them and mumbled a few words about Shatterbird.
Hidden in a lunch box with some snacks and an ice pack, Riley's severed hand crossed its fingers in the hope that the officer wouldn't examine the sheeting closely enough to see that it had been there for a while.
"I guess that's fair. Make sure to get it replaced quickly," the officer replied. "And be careful. There are monsters around."
They nodded sagely at the truth of his words, and he let them through.
Riley relaxed.
If a piece of plastic could draw more attention than three members of the Nine next to a crime scene, they should be fine.
They kept up the pretense of normalcy for a while, with Siberian gone and Murder Rat covered, in case of another checkpoint at the next exit.
With no pressing matter to address, Riley could afford to dwell on the questions she had previously set aside.
How did she come back?
It was hard to pinpoint her last memory from before, so instead, she retraced every step of the previous day.
Waking up, passing a security checkpoint, then eating breakfast.
Another security checkpoint, then she'd gone to her lab to do maintenance on three members of Valkyrie's flock, with Amy supervising.
She'd finished her homework during lunch, then popped in for a quick visit to the Goblin King, with a checkpoint before and after.
The afternoon had been boring: checkpoint to her lab, then two hours workshopping some dietary supplements for the coming winter, checkpoint, two hours of class, checkpoint, dinner, then she was locked in her room for the night.
There, she began her homework while the class was still fresh in her mind, then got distracted and started sketching. She'd been so absorbed in her work that she barely registered what was happening until it was too late.
Alarms blaring. A flash of light. The room shattering like broken glass.
It was all hazy and distant, likely because it all happened so fast, and the memory would be anchored to her power since she was busy sketching.
The alarms meant that the part of the building where Riley lived would be put on lockdown, and the part where regular employees worked would be evacuated.
Had the Wardens' headquarters been attacked?
It didn't explain how she ended up here.
She wasn't dead, that much was certain. She knew death. But was she dying?
Her perception might be an amalgam of memories, regrets and wistful thinking cobbled together to provide an approximation of closure as her brain shut down and the passenger recorded the data, and things only made sense because her perception was patched over by the internal logic of a dream.
Unlikely, but she liked to be thorough.
A master effect or simulation?
Highly unlikely. She had enough countermeasures in place to discount the possibility with near certainty. On the off chance that someone managed to bypass them, she had no way to verify or do anything about it, and therefore no reason to act any differently than she would otherwise.
An accident in one of the labs?
Maybe.
If she accepted that this was real, and that her consciousness from September 29th, 2015 had been sent to her younger self's body, at an arbitrary and extremely unfortunate point in the past, then tinkertech gone wrong would be her best guess to explain the current situation.
How did the transfer work?
She wasn't as well-versed in the inner workings of the brain without her power, but surely dumping four years of added memories to a younger brain would cause issues.
Was there data corruption? Did she have brain damage?
Was she really herself?
It was the kind of questions her power would normally latch onto. She could feel it unfurling like a phantom limb, feel the outline of the questions and experiments she could do to verify it, without seeing any of the details or answers.
She made a mental note to investigate once her power came back.
They passed a second police checkpoint, and it went much like the first.
Siberian reappeared once the coast was clear.
With one hand, she delicately untied Riley's bun, releasing Bonesaw's ringlets and combing through them with her fingers until they were picture perfect.
Riley flashed her a smile.
Siberian ripped the cover away from Murder Rat to retrieve the blood reservoir, squeezed it between the two front seats for easy access, then poured a glass and handed it to Riley.
Siberian certainly took the whole blood drinking thing to heart.
Riley took a sip through the neon bendy straw.
Stale, room-temperature blood of unknown origin and with dubious additives tasted kind of gross, as it turned out.
She must have made a face, because Siberian wordlessly handed her the chocolate syrup. Riley squirted a generous amount in her glass, mixing it with the straw, then tasted it again.
Much better.
Siberian had had the wonderful forethought to pack covers and pillows, allowing them to build a cozy nest on the backseat, just Siberian and her.
And Murder Rat, who sat awkwardly next to them, fishbowl of brains carefully balanced on her lap. The passenger seat was packed with Bonesaw's bags, which were less likely to draw unwanted attention from other drivers than Murder Rat.
Siberian produced a portable DVD player, and started season two, episode twelve of Love Bug. One of Bonesaw's favorites.
"Love bug love hug! A, B, C, D!"
The theme song drew unwanted memories of Blasto from her time in the pocket dimension. Pushing them away was harder in present company.
"There they are, coming to say hi!
Love bugs are here, no need to cry!"
From the corner of her eye, she could see Murder Rat looking at the screen. Drool beaded on the plastic wrap covering the opening of the fishbowl on her lap. Not much better than Blasto.
"When you're feeling lonely, when you're alone,
Who can you count on, to be in the zone?"
Short of looking out the window and away from the cartoon, Riley couldn't get her out of her field of vision. There was no more stream of information and ideas to hide behind. All that remained was an ugly abomination that would need to be dealt with one way or another.
"Get a love bug love hug!"
Riley curled up against Siberian as the episode began, but her eyes kept wandering to Murder Rat.
She couldn't mentally unfold the blueprints of the creature, but maybe that was a good thing. That way, she could focus on the real issue.
If she tried to fix this, it would have to be perfect.
Making a cape was easy. Riley had done it a hundred times over.
Making a person was different. Not something she had ever managed.
Clones weren't the same as the original. More like the passenger's interpretation, as seen through the prism of a handful of simulated memories. Even with the Flock members who had consented to be brought back, the process made a cape more than a person.
Seventy-five to ninety percent of a person was the best she'd managed.
Would seventy-five to ninety percent of Ravager and Mouse Protector be enough for them?
Would it be enough for her?
The other route, that of putting the creature out of its misery, was one she was hesitant to take without someone else to confirm whether it was the right choice.
There was no one to do that now.
Siberian took the glass from her. Riley hadn't even realized she had emptied it. She accepted the refill with a smile.
Putting away the moral quandary, she watched as Luna and Chrysalis formed an unlikely alliance to rescue their captured friends and save Bugville from Queen Vespa.
It didn't take long for her mind to wander again.
What about Bonesaw's other works of art?
Locating them would be hard. Gaining access, even harder. Convincing Siberian to go along with it, the hardest.
She enjoyed Bonesaw's art, after all.
It would take time. A careful, gradual transition from Bonesaw to Riley, to avoid being labelled as an impostor and to keep Siberian from lashing out at her. With her power, she could dissect Manton's body language and use the cues to find the right pace.
She could say, truthfully, that she wanted to distance herself from Jack's influence. That she wanted to find herself outside of who he'd made her.
Riley sipped from her glass and drew the covers closer.
It could wait. She could take a break until her power came back. She'd earned it.
Riley woke up wrapped in the familiar safety blanket of Siberian's power. For years, it had lulled her to sleep, keeping her safe from monsters real and imaginary.
She hadn't slept that well in a long time.
Had she drifted off on her own following the drop in adrenaline or was that the work of painkillers and sedatives while her body healed itself?
It really didn't matter, she decided, stretching her limbs.
Something pulled in her midsection, interrupting the movement.
She carefully lifted her shirt to inspect her injuries. None of the stitches were pulled. Pink goo had oozed from the wounds, forming a nice protective shell. Everything looked normal.
Siberian delicately traced the injuries with a finger, and the contact gave Riley goosebumps. She straightened her shirt.
On the edges of her body, she could feel the distortion where she made contact with the seat, the door and the covers.
It was hard to tell whether Siberian had casually extended her power to her from the start or if Riley's earlier memories were colored by later events, but she couldn't ever remember making physical contact without it.
She'd felt so special, younger, when she'd noticed that she was the only one to receive the courtesy of Siberian's power outside of fights. It had become Siberian's way of expressing affection, of saying that she would always keep Ri– Bonesaw safe.
Her therapist had said that it was okay to have good memories. Even then, it had taken Riley a solid year to feel comfortable enough to bring it up. A lot of people regarded her with suspicion, always on the lookout for some sign of a return to form, and she had to be careful not to give them one. Even with Jamie and Valkyrie, they couldn't speak openly of the past without making the guards nervous.
The DVD player now showed the Love Bugs battling Scorpio. The season three finale, if she remembered correctly. A source of controversy amongst the fans.
She curled back up against Siberian, head resting on her shoulder. Siberian drew an arm around her, stroking her hair.
Riley closed her eyes, nuzzling Siberian's shoulder and allowing herself the indulgence of the present.
It felt so good to have someone take care of her. To be held and comforted and loved.
In her new life, she didn't have much physical contact outside of work, and almost none of it was affectionate. People were scared of her, and she could count on one hand the people who had touched her in the past two years.
There was the occasional pat on the head from Valkyrie, but she was always so busy these days.
Amy would regularly poke her with one finger to verify that she hadn't secretly altered her body, and would occasionally hang out for tea or shopping, but only if she was being paid for overtime.
Handling Ashley and the flock members during their maintenance appointments hardly counted.
Her meetings with the goblin king, with tea and games and delightful discussions, occurred for the most part from the other side of a reinforced glass pane.
Siberian was now drawing soothing circles on the back of Riley's neck, and she never wanted it to stop.
Her therapist had called it skin hunger, which was a seriously misleading term.
She snuggled closer to Siberian.
The makeshift fort had the advantage of blocking her view of Manton, making it much easier to pretend he wasn't there.
If she closed her eyes and focused on Siberian's touch, she could almost forget about the disheveled man in the driver's seat.
Almost.
When one of her favorite people in the whole world had turned out to be a lie, Bonesaw had been furious. Siberian held her back from lashing out while Jack welcomed the man like an old friend. Then Jack had told her to compose herself and welcome their new teammate, so she put the emotion away and did as he said.
Be a good girl.
She'd tried to see the bright side. William Manton, Ph.D. in parahuman research. One of the few people she could compare notes with about the passengers.
In another life, it would have been a great partnership.
In this one, while he did take interest in her experiments, he never gave her the reciprocation and insight she'd hoped for, much to her frustration.
She'd read most of his publications, damn it.
Then Manton died shortly after his introduction, and how she felt hadn't mattered anymore.
People died, and life went on. That was just the way family was.
Riley sipped more blood. Her glass was almost empty, her stomach full.
Siberian refilled it as soon as the bottom became visible, adding a liberal amount of syrup before giving it back and straightening the bow in Riley's hair. Bonesaw's hair.
Riley chugged down the glass and regretted it right away.
Siberian handed her a bag, then politely annihilated it once Riley was done.
They stopped at a gas station as the sun began to set.
Riley made sure that Murder Rat was covered in case someone wandered too close to the truck as it came to a stop at one of the pumps.
Only Manton stepped out, as he was the least likely to be shot on sight.
"Can you grab me some more chocolate syrup if they have it, please? I'm running low," she asked, giving him a handful of bills before retreating to the pillow fort with Siberian. "And don't forget that you need to eat something too!"
She wasn't quite sure where he usually got his gas money, but the image of Siberian moonlighting as a bank robber was much funnier than the more mundane option of looting corpses in the wake of the Nine, so she chose to believe it.
He came back with sandwiches and chocolate milk powder instead of syrup.
They stopped for the night on a back road not far from there.
Manton ate the sandwiches in silence under Riley's watchful eye while she nursed her glass of chocolate-flavored blood.
Manton reclined his seat for the night, and Murder Rat was relegated to the passenger seat so that Riley could stretch out in the back, head on Siberian's lap.
She hoped tomorrow would be less eventful than today.
Riley woke up to the prickling sensation of being watched.
The pillow fort had collapsed during the night, leaving her exposed to Manton's gaze.
Unlike the other times, he didn't avert his eyes.
Was he suspicious? Something nagged her about the way he looked at her.
The past day had admittedly been a bit of a roller-coaster. How much did he believe of her excuses?
She'd spent more time with her Manton clones than with the original, and it was hard to model his way of thinking. She'd never really dug further than her initial impression of a brilliant scientist whose mid-life crisis consisted of dissociating into a naked, cannibalistic woman while barely taking care of himself. She'd seen worse, after all.
There had to be more to him than that. He'd been brilliant, once, even if he wasn't very good with people.
She'd watched his conversations with Jack from afar, but would then retreat into his reserved, mute persona whenever she was around, barely even acknowledging her presence.
It was different this time.
She accepted the offered glass from Siberian, gulping it down as fast as she could. Somehow, it was worse with the chocolate powder, making it gritty.
Not suspicion, she realized.
He was looking at her the same way Siberian did.
Like he didn't need to pretend they were two fully separate entities.
Like he didn't need to hide.
Had he been so withdrawn last time because of her initial reaction? Maybe he regretted revealing himself and kept his distance as a way of trying to salvage their bond.
Riley gave him a smile, and this time the smile was hers alone, untainted by any pretense.
He smiled back.
It wasn't anything like Jack's smile. It was a bit strained by lack of practice, but earnest.
Maybe, if she played her cards right, they could make it work.
A father, a daughter, and a lie.
Maybe, some day, they could both be themselves.
Riley held her glass out for a refill.
This time, instead of filling the glass through the reservoir's faucet, Siberian removed the cap and lifted it above the glass. It was running low enough that she had to tilt it at a sharp angle to let the blood trickle out.
Riley watched as it came out drop by drop, realizing too late what this meant.
Siberian vanished.