-/ Chapter 5: Aggressive Response /-
Carlos had woke up the same way he always did getting nailed in the face with one of his pillows by his kid sister while being called something in Japanese. He rolled and groaned, pushing himself up to a sitting position. At a thought a short of adrenaline coursed through his body doing wonders to wake him up. Before he realized he could do that Carlos had never been much of a morning person, it would have taken about an hour for him to actually wake fully up normally. He had a hard time going to sleep after last night's revelation. He had been a jumble of conflicted thoughts. His hypothesis made too much sense and filled in too many holes. Eventually he settled on the asking Dennis or Chris if it made as much sense to them and he'd have to do it before tomorrow afternoon when he'd go to Peerless and see Taylor. Otherwise he wouldn't know how to deal with her and, if they were separate people, Skitter.
"Carlos are you getting ready?" a woman's voice called from down stairs among the clatter of plates and utensils.
"Yes ma'am" he shouted through his door to his foster mother. Rosemary probably had too many kids to take care of legally but none of them wanted to leave, she was too nice and too motherly. Foster kids like Carlos knew the system could stick you with someone that made your life a living hell or just plain miserable so when you found a good family you held on tight with both hands. When the caseworkers came around and saw that determination in the faces of kids that they usually had seen at some of the weakest moments of their lives…well it took a special kind of person to try to break a child's resolve like that.
Carlos knew he had been a handful before becoming a Ward. He had rap sheet; there were only two entries but he had a rap sheet. He'd been rebellious, inconsiderate, and a victim of bullying at his previous school. He had been in need of a good kick to in his seat to get him to grow up and shape up. That kick came in the form of learning he had triggered during the bullying he suffered at his last school. It had taken surprisingly long to surface; his strength was based on adrenaline highs, and it wasn't like he went around getting busted up for the hell of it, and his flight took a certain mind set to trigger so none of his powers really reared up on average days.
After that revelation he had marched himself right up to the PRT and asked to join. Over the following year and a half the Wards become a second family, complete with a parental figure in the form of a particular stern director. He'd be graduating soon, as silly as it was, into the Protectorate. He already knew he'd argue against the transition and then after inexorably losing that battle request for some sort of liaison position with the group. After all you don't let go of a good family.
He brought the discipline the Director had all but beaten into his hide home. He addressed Rosemary as ma'am, was as polite as he could be, stern when he helped herd the others through various tasks, and though he'd never admit it Rosemary's confusion on her finances were because he kept sneaking money into her account. On mornings like today that involved getting himself and his little brothers and sisters ready for school, slapping some heads and ordering them to finish breakfast.
"Peerless is after school to day right?" Rosemary asked as he walked down stairs now in his civilian 'uniform' a pair of jeans and a black nondescript shirt that was a size bigger than necessary to somewhat hide his physique. A leather collar and wrist bands harkened back to his days as a rebellious punk willing to steal because he could. While he didn't need it with the modifications that his power had done his biology, it was cold enough that he'd be wearing a rustic leather jacket which would further disguise how well defined he was.
"Yes, ma'am. Then work till late like usual," He said wondering if the other Wards used the term for their activities when talking in ear shot of family members not in on their double life. Rosemary was; it had been her idea to join the Wards. Her brother had apparently been one before she lost him to an Endbringer.
As every day he drove to school in the beat up rust colored Isuzu pickup with Carlie, Rosemary's only child by blood. Carlie was in on the secret, she had actually been the one to notice that he wasn't normal when they… well he had screwed up that relationship royally. Somehow neither of the women ever mentioned what had nearly happened. What he nearly did. Carlie was an attractive, intelligent young woman only a half year younger then him and he had been a hormone fueled rebel that was constantly pushing his boundaries. He had over stepped them to an absurd amount in that moment but because he stopped … and because he got the discipline he needed in the Wards no one ever made a remark on it.
They remained friends. Or rather they became friends in the aftermath. And these morning commutes were the only time they were really alone. Alone to talk about things they couldn't inside the house. She, while still looking out the cab's window, asked, "How was Winslow yesterday?"
"Educational," Carlos replied, "I'm glad none of us go there. The place…I feel bad for Taylor having to go to school there."
"Your girlfriend Taylor?" Carlie presumed slathering on ten times her Irish accent to make the world 'girlfriend' far, far more suggestive then it would otherwise have been.
"She's not my girlfriend," the Ward replied defensively, "She's not even my type."
"Carlos, you're a masochist and you described her as quote 'able to kick my ass across the room' that sounds like your definition of girlfriend material right there."
"I'm not a-"
"Or maybe she just doesn't have the assets you'd prefer in a partner. Her breasts too big, hips too wide? I know you prefer lithe women."
"Stop. Just drop it."
"Okay," she said and she did for about thirty seconds, "What was so bad about the school?"
"The faculty. I wanted to hurt half of them by the time we left."
"Geeze."
"Carlos!"
The teen turned as he pulled his bag out of the truck and shut the cab door. Chirs jogged up to him, the expression on his face told him enough, "You left you notes at home again and there's a pop quiz."
"No. Of course not… maybe…yes." The tinker said his shoulders slumping to indicate that he must have forgotten them because of his ADD. He was likely bouncing around his house the majority of the morning working on this and that. Chris was the only Ward that you could tell for what he was the second you entered his house. Everything electronic or mechanical had been taken apart, reengineered, and put back together usually with added functionality. For example, his toaster buttered the bread as they popped out. And he did it for no other reason than he could make it do that. Another would be the old game system that played CD, DVD, Blue-Ray, Playstation, Xbox, and Game Cube games…and let's not even get started on that the controllers looked like. In a way it was a good thing that He wasn't popular and was an only child. No one ever went over to see the mess of tinker tech besides the other Wards.
"Which class? Spanish?"
"Si Senior" Chris said with such a horribly bad fake accent that the Puerto Rican shook his head in disbelief. Still he dug out his notes, not that they were very comprehensive since he could actually speak the language better than his teacher.
"One condition," Carlos said as he held firmly onto the notebook when Chris tried to take it from him, "I need to run something pass you. About what we talked about last night."
Chris looked at the notebook, to Carlos, to Carlie, and then back to Carlos. He tried to cast a meaningful glance to the side that just utterly failed. Instead Carlie spoke up and said, "Well I can see this is about working at Taco Bell. So, I'm going. Gone. Bye."
It was only when the girl had disappeared into the rabble of teenagers did Chris speak, "She knows?"
"Of course she knows. She figured it out before I did."
"How does that even work?"
"It's complicated and I'm not sharing."
"Okay…" The tinker paged through the Spanish notebook. Carlos took the class an hour after Chris did. In a way Chris was glad the senior had taken the class as an easy elective to pad out his grades, he shared most classes with Dean or Dennis, but Spanish wasn't one of them. The empath had taken the course as a freshman and Dennis' electives had been filed since he flunked sophomore English.
Remembering the promise Chris asked, "What's this thing?"
"I figured out the Taylor/Skitter thing. How it can work."
"And?"
"She's a second lifer," Carlos said deadpan.
The reaction was delayed in a way one usually expected in cartoons. Chris had muttered in the affirmative and kept paging through the notes until he paused and the color drained from his face. For not the first time Carlos was glad he wasn't burdened by the memories of a previous life even if it mean he didn't have an additional power at his disposal. It took almost a minute more for the tinker to say anything and even then it was just a ghost of a whisper, "You're kidding me. That's the fucking scariest thing I've heard this life."
Normally I'd question the intelligence behind whoever decided that Brockton Bay needed an aquarium given how close the sea was. Right now however I was thankful. I wasn't however happy about the current situation. I had sneaked into the aquarium to collect one of the things I needed for some of the ideas I had. All I needed to do was touch one particular fish and I'd be on my way. I wasn't even going to take it, just pet it. I bet I could have just gone to management and they'd let the weird new cape do whatever it was she wanted but I didn't want others to know on the off chance that they might figure out where I was going with this.
So it's understandable that I was outright annoyed when some demented ecowarrior of a cape decided that the aquarium was a symbol of oppression of all aquatic life...or something. The rhetoric he was spouting off was fairly ridiculous. The outfit he was wearing was even more so. I don't know how to describe it; it reminded me of those of a Vegas cape with the amount of exposed skin and suggestive nature of his costume. The fact that the ecowarrior was some sort of changer or case fifty three made him fodder for rule thirty four. His appearance was that of a very well defined swimmer that would be counted as absolutely smoking hot if you ignored the sheen of fine silver blue scales that stood in for his skin, the webbed digits that ended in claws, or the fact that each time he opened his mouth you saw rows of shark teeth. Yep, total beefcake material right here.
He kept shouting at the group he had taken hostage, most were members of the Aquarium's staff, but the real reason I couldn't walk away from this confrontation was the kindergarteners and their two chaperones that had been caught up in this. The phone in my hand vibrated indicating a hit on the Parahuman Online wiki. I skimmed over the entry and nearly burst out laughing. 'Surge' as the ecowarrior was known was a hydrokinetic capable of great feats, the caveat? He didn't create water with his power and had to be in the body of water to affect it with his power. Outside of that all he had going for him was the natural weapons of his body and the ability to breath in both air and water. I slipped my phone into its place in at the small of my back; spared a moment to make sure the swarm was in place before I dropped down from my perch in the rafters.
"The creatures of the sea are far more noble then you humans. One day you'll see, we'll wipe the slate clean and the children of the ocean will be free of the oppression of you surface dwellers and-"
"- Bugs will inherit the earth," I interrupted my swarm voice breaking into his tirade.
"What?" Surge spun around and found me just five feet away.
"You heard me. Your sea creatures will rule the seven seas and everything but most of them aren't exactly amphibious. So the surface, as you so eloquently described it, will be the domain of the cockroaches."
"Ha. I do not know who you are but no number of bugs can ever hope to compete against our glory."
"I'm Skitter; my swarm says otherwise," I said pointing towards the ceiling. One of the chaperons screamed in surprise. A notable mass of bugs darkened the rafters only really visible when they moved their chitinous bodies. I had been calling bugs to the swarm for quite a while as I watched the idiot of a cape go on and on. I had stopped keeping count when the swarm reached a million individuals that had been almost two minutes ago. The fish-man's black eyes went saucer-like just before I gave the swarm the order to descend.
As more than twice his body weight in bugs feel towards him Surge yelped and pounced with surprising speed. I fell backward, dropping to the ground on my back and letting him sail into the side of one of the tanks in the area. The swarm obscured me as I leapt back to my feet. I moved in aiming to put him down fast and hard; the longer the battle when on the more likely he'd slip away and into any of the numerous tanks. Bugs and water didn't really mix all that well so not only would he be getting fuel for his power but also a type of refuge from the swarm. Of course it cut both ways; until he actually got in the water I had the upper hand. I just needed maintain it long enough to end this battle.
While I distracted him with my physical presence and the biting and stinging mass of my swarm I sent spiders and cockroaches forward. I had them organized in pairs; spiders spinning silk that the cockroaches would wind over one limb while the spider traversed another. I was hoping that the maneuver would be fast enough that I could bind the fish man while he was still active. I wasn't really counting on it though as I moved in.
"What are you waiting for?" a portion of my swarm asked the hostages, "Go. I'll keep gill-lips here busy, but it'll be easier if I don't have to worry about your safety."
The chorus of sounds seemed to have the desired effect as they began maneuvering according to the swarm's directions. An arrow of flies lead them out towards where the police were just arriving having been informed of the occurrence by one of the staff members that I saw get the hell out of dodge when the initial event occurred. Luckily the PRT wasn't far behind I could already hear their distinct sirens.
I sank my claw into the muscle of his bicep when he slashed at me and followed up with a quick series of palm strikes to the face dazing him. It was nice to see a cape actually be affected by my hand to hand techniques like a normal person. I stepped in and hip tossed him to the ground. The move caused my claws to rake thin channels of flesh out of his arm and I briefly hoped he had an unlisted healing factor. I slammed a foot down on his chest to brace myself before wrenching the arm. He screamed in pain as I dislocated the shoulder.
To my surprise when I released his arm expecting him subdued he lashed out knocking my foot off of him and out from under myself. I hit the ground on my rump and he rolled away before leaping up to the lip of the nearest tank of the Aquarium. In midair with no possibility of evading the attack my swarm struck. About a million and a half bugs, mostly cockroaches and other 'filler' smashed into Surge. While each individual weighed in only a few grams at max en mass and at full speed their combined exerted force was notable indeed. With nothing to brace against the swarm threw to the ground in an ungainly heap.
My bugs renewed their stinging and biting; the ones I knew were particularly painful or triggered a nervous response went for the joints. After all it was hard to get up if your limbs were spacing out on you. This in turn made it more difficult for my web weaving pairs to bind him as more than a few were jerked off their respective limbs by the sudden movements. Small sacrifices.
By the time I had regained my feet Surge had managed to get to his knees and the elbow of his functioning arm. He kept trying to get his arm more solidly under him but with all the twitching it was an exercise in futility. I didn't waste time being nice about it. I took a few quick steps to build momentum and threw a kick into the cape's gut. He grunted and managed to roll with the blow again surprising just how much punishment he was taking. Somehow he managed to end the roll in a kneeling position and got to his feet. The ecowarrior snarled as he charged reinforcing the inhuman image in my mind.
Like a linebacker the aquatic cape tackled me to the ground. I struggled as he straddled me, my elbow connected with his face. He pulled himself away and utilized the superior reach of his remaining arm to slash at me. The spider silk of my costume was more than up to task, making the clawing attack feel like little more than a particularly heavy-handed slap. When he went for a second swing I caught his wrist and with utilizing my swarm to aim the strike drove my claw into the inside of his elbow. He shrieked in pain before abruptly disengaging. I threw a departing swipe of my claw that drew blood as he leapt off and over me up to the lip of the nearest tank. Even as I ordered the swarm to try to dislodge him with another charge I knew it was too late I held no illusions about what'd happen next as he dived into the water.
As he gracefully dived into the drink I sent the majority of my swarm into the rafters to avoid the tidal wave I knew I'd be hammered by soon enough. The streamers of blood and the wounds they originated from disappeared almost instantly as he seemed to become rejuvenated upon contact with the water. The aquatic cape made a quick lap around the small tank before sending himself barreling in my direction. The tank never stood a chance it shattered well before Surge touched it. The water, far more kinetic then it should be, slammed bodily into me throwing my form directly into another tank that cracked with the impact of however many tons of water had issued forth.
My swarm descended as he lost control of the water as it flowed down drains in the floor. The cape crashed into me clutching my neck in one webbed hand and slamming me against the tank again. My vision swam as I fought to maintain control over my swarm. Said swarm bit and stung him, he growled and slammed me repeatedly into the reinforced glass. It was already spider webbed from the initial impact and we both had to know that it'd give away sooner rather than later. While I assumed his plan was to drown me or…something after the tank broke I couldn't help idly wondering if he knew what was in the tank.
"You will die here land-dweller," he intoned as he pulled me towards him in preparation for another slam my own attempts to claw my way out of his iron grasp being ineffectual. I smiled as he put his body into the slam. My claws when ineffective because I wanted them to be and when the glass cracked and shattered. One claw held his arm tightly as the other reached out and grasped the trapezius muscles next to neck. My thumb found its way into a pressure point and the fight fled out of his frame.
When he dropped to his knees he did so into a group of no less than four electric eels that had been disgorged from the freshly broken tank. He howled in pain as I let go of him and left him to thrash. At five hundred volts and amps each the electroshocks wasn't particularly dangerous, but they were painful. I coiled the various strands of silk cord that hung from his body and secured him. Not able to pass the chance I quipped, "Seems your sea friends don't like you either."
The PRT accompanied by Assault and Battery entered a few minutes later. The circuit patterns of the super heroine's costume was glowing vibrantly indicating her power was ready for release while the PRT troopers moved with weapons at the ready, Assault on the other hand was a study in contrasts as he casually stretched his arms as the group moved in. They found Surge hanging upside down from the rafters cocooned loosely in spider silk save for the head as well as the electric eels sharing a tank with a very annoyed looking octopus. The school of tiny fish from the first tank Surge had leapt in were however a lost cause. As for me, I was sitting on an over turned bucket nearby finishing the fifth bug that carried the new piece of biotechnology. While I could certainly recall the biological make up of anything I touched, it was handy to have a bug serving as future reference. Looking towards the two capes I said, "I'm not paying for repairs. He broke everything."
Assault chuckled in response.
It took about fifteen minutes to answer all the questions for the PRT and police reports. The owner of the aquarium thanked me for my assistance and assured me they wouldn't dream of taking any sort of legal action against me; especially when fish face was such an easier target. I was even able to snatch a copy of the security camera recordings of the event. The area all the fighting had taken place in had three different cameras that had at one time or another caught bits of the action. I intended to hang on to them for future review.
The passage of another forty five minutes saw me getting back to my lair. When I checked my cell it indicated that my art class was just beginning. I had skipped school at the beginning of lunch break with the plan of simply to racing to the aquarium, touching the fish, and getting back to school before Math. The problem was the more I thought about it the less I wanted to go back to school and deal with the terrible trio. It wasn't going to be long until they got their just rewards, but really why subject myself to their antics when I could be doing something productive like working in my lair?
With that in mind I had stopped off at a local super market and bought a few pounds of ground meat. Now that I had arrived I made my way to the garage where I was housing my soon to be Atlas 2.0. The beetle was about a tenth the size of what it would eventually be and I was already making some of the big sweeping changes I had designed for the final form. The biggest change so far was in the legs. I made them more reminiscent of a jumping spider's with eight total and larger thicker ones in the front with successive legs progressively smaller. The foremost legs ended in a lobster or scorpion-like claws. These forelegs were still primarily used as legs though; the integrated claws just gave my creation another option for manipulating the environment.
I tore open a few of the one pound logs of beef and dropped them in a tray on the floor for my future mount. As it started gorging on the feast I placed my hands on its shell. I tweaked the creature's biology reinforcing the fledging systems that I had installed the night before to make it capable of surviving at the size I intended. I had to make an entirely new respiratory and circulatory systems, reorganize the musculature to pack it more densely, and added a rudimentary skeleton to help support it all. Even the digestive system had needed an overhaul. The abdomen right now was chiefly just fat storage and secondary stomachs to help quickly convert meals into useable material for future alterations, that would change in the future.
My power thrummed as I started working on the bug's head. First I started with the eyes dissolving its original pair while generating the beginnings of not two new ones but ten. Again I referenced jumping spiders which possess fairly excellent vision; the majority of the eyes were positioned in a way to provide maximum coverage area while four larger primary eyes provided human-like sight that dived into the ultraviolet spectrum. Following that was the addition of two new pairs of mandibles one set more like tusks than anything while the other were a hard-shelled chelicerae outfitted with fangs that would eventually have venom to inject into its victims. The final modification for the day was to start growing a massive horn from the forehead.
It had taken little less than half an hour to make all those modifications but now I could feel the throbbing that signaled the onset of a power induced migraine. Definitely the worst part of my new power since no medicine seemed to be able to dull it. I headed back into the main chamber and went about dropping the remaining three pounds of the ground meat I bought into other trays. The meat would be feasted on by the various bugs as they continued my breeding programs to inflate the swarm's numbers. That done I retreated into one of the bedrooms to lie down and try to sleep through the worst of the migraine before heading home. Curling up on the comfortable bed I drifted off to the symphony of the swarm.
When I pulled myself out of bed it was just after four in the afternoon. The nap had been fantastic for my migraine, it was still there just the effect was much more subdued than it had been early on. I briefly wondered if Tattletale's migraines were similarly front loaded. I wasn't enough of a stickler for punishment to try any more bio-manipulation today but that didn't mean I was done working.
I focused on Atlas 2.0 through my power and after checking to see that the various mutations had taken, I went about encoding the creature's mind with the knowledge needed to utilize its new body parts. The minds I could control were so malleable to my powers that I didn't even need to touch them to permanently alter their though processes. For example, I had my widow weavers programed to continue weaving the new pieces of my costume even when I wasn't around. As long as I checked in with them every twelve hours or so to monitor their progress they'd perform their task just as well as if I had been instructing them in person.
One of Atlas 2.0's eyes hadn't formed properly; I promised myself I'd fix it tomorrow. I learned that while I could 'flash modify' a bug's physiology on the spot most of those changes wouldn't be hardcoded into the organism's genetics and tended to produce more acute headaches. On the other hand mutations encoded directly into the patient's genetics and allowed to develop overtime tended to be less stressful both on my own mind and the subject's physiology.
I did another check on the lair. The widow weavers that weren't actively spinning silk were breeding and feeding, the weaver wasp queen I had finished on Saturday had been adopted by the previously modified workers and was in the process of building a hive. Beyond those were the hives and colonies of more mundane bugs that were multiplying like wildfire. Overall the swarm was flourishing under my watchful eye.
Beyond the bugs I still had a lot of documentation to go through to figure out what even half of the tinker tech in my lair was. I wasn't going to move such artefacts without knowing what they were, as a result the workshop and armory had been left pretty much untouched. And that was not even half of the research I needed to do; I needed to learn more about electronic tracing and how to block it or if possible misdirect it and I had a ton of research to do on the local cape scene. That last one was the most important. During my debut I had been caught unawares by Feng Lao, the cape hadn't been particularly hard to deal with but going into battle against capes with no idea what their powers were was a quick way to end up in the morgue…or worse.
With that mind I grabbed the backpack that contained a change of sweats that I wore for my Krav Maga class at Sam's Self Defense and headed to the nearest library. When I was above ground I slipped out my phone and dialed home, Dad usually got home around about four thirty and I didn't want him to worry about where I was. On the fifth ring the phone picked up, "Hello?"
"Hey Dad, I'm just checking in," I told him glad I had informed him that I got a cellphone. Though admittedly I had lied about why I had saying I had bought it primarily so I could keep up with Sara. I did talk to Sara a lot, though she hadn't been the motiving factor behind the purchase. There was no way I was going to tell him the smart phone was primarily used to temporarily store the footage my mask's camera recorded while I was running around as Skitter.
"Where are you?" he asked.
"On my way to Magellan Library. I skipped after lunch again."
"Taylor-"
" I know. I know," I said cutting him off, "I should just soldier through it but it's harder now knowing that there's actually a case being made and all that but still dealing with the day to day humiliations."
"I…I don't like it Taylor but I do understand," Dad's tone echoed his words.
"Thanks. That means a lot to me Dad."
I had promised myself I'd be as honest as I possibly could with Dad this time around. That I'd work harder at maintaining our relationship than letting us become estranged like last time. Now I told myself that I'd weather my final days at Windslow for Dad. He wanted me to stay in school so I'd do it. That simple. Okay it probably wasn't going to be that simple, but I wasn't about to let the bullies win.
"So the Library?"
"Yeah I'm going to stay there until class. Well I'll leave with enough time to grab something to eat before class I think."
"Do you have enough money?"
"Yep," I said while thinking, "Of course, I've not even put a dent in the spoils from the Merchants, much less any of the other night's takes."
"Alright sweatheart."
"Talk to you when I get home."
"It's Tuesday, you always crash as soon as you get home on Tuesdays. We'll talk in the morning. Stay safe kiddo."
"I will," I assured him just before the line went dead.
When I logged into Parahuman Online a few minutes later I found a private message from 'NWPanacea' waiting for me. I paused trying to figure out when I might have gotten in contact with the healer especially as my Arthropod Lovers Anonymous screen name. When I opened the massage I got the answer.
'I know this is kind of out of the blue and all but I was recently roped into a double date by my sister Glory Girl with Gallant and Vigilant. You probably don't want to know or care about our social lives. It gets weird at times. Where was I? Right, well during the date Vigilant gave me this contact information because apparently you were looking to get in contact with me? Well here I am. What did you want?'
I blinked. Wow, I had been so wrapped up in everything I forgot to try to get in contact with Panacea. I checked her profile to make sure she was the real deal. It was obvious almost immediately that she hadn't been the one who made the profile it had all the same wording and tone as New Wave's website but it was also a verified account. Good enough.
I wrote a short reply indicating that I had a similar power set as her and Testament and wanted to meet so she could possibly tutor me. I offered to pay for said service and made it clear that I had no problem if she brought Victoria to the meeting for security. Of course I tried to word it so it wouldn't sound like I had any idea how to deal with Glory Girl should things come to blows. I did know how, just not how I could do it without a gun.
For the majority of the following hour I researched the Parahumans of Brockton Bay. Empire Eighty Eight still had a lion's share of parahuman power but the numbers each group had at their disposal was significantly higher. The ABB had more than double possibly even four times as many parahumans in the gang depending on if you counted 'possible parahumans' or not, and that was pretty much typical of Brockton Bay and even the world in general. The only group that didn't have significantly higher parahuman population ironically was the Protectorate and Wards. Instead most of the heroic additions had formed their own groups, went solo, or more commonly were so far into antihero that it was hard to define them as heroes. The numbers shouldn't come as that much of a surprise given that there were fourth and even fifth generation parahumans in play but it was still a bit of an eye opener. I downloaded PO's profiles for all of Brockton Bay's capes onto my flash drive for later study.
As it turned out because of the number of villains and heroes operating outside of the law Parahuman Online's forums included a very rich amount of information on how to spoof, redirect, or misdirect electronic tracing systems and other ways for capes to generally stay below the radar. There were even instructions that verified capes swore by and the occasional posts by thinkers who had found ways to counter the countermeasures to warn capes away from things that didn't work. I gobbled up the information like a starving man at a buffet downloading entire threads to read and review later.
Shortly thereafter I had to log out and beat a hasty exit in order to have enough time to get to class. Eating would have to wait until afterward. Sam's Self Defense as described by Sensei Nakamura was a 'hole in the wall studio that taught Krav Maga.' In this case, a hole in the wall meant that it was taught out of the instructor's basement which had been converted into a quasi-martial arts studio. I refrain from using the term dojo because the martial art being taught had none of the trappings of eastern martial arts, Sam's didn't even require uniforms beyond 'something you can sweat in.' And if by the end of a class you hadn't drenched your clothes in sweat it probably meant you weren't keeping up with your peers.
Sam's was run by the Anderson family; Mark was the Krav Maga master who taught the martial art while his youngest daughter, Julie, handled all of the administrative side of it. I suppose it was a good thing she was majoring in business over at AU. The 'Sam' in the joint's name was short for Samantha, his wife, and while not a master herself by her standards she acted as a second instructor most days.
About half way through the hour we took a real solid breather most of the eight student all but collapsing from exhaustion. I drank to try to replenish all the fluids I was sweating out. While the lesson today focused on weapon defense, after the initial show and tell from Mark and Sam had been finished duct-taped plastic knives, foam bats, and similar batons had been tossed to everyone and it basically became a free for all as Julie would call out a name at random for everyone to basically attack at random intervals until another name was called. Most of the time that meant we had enough time to neutralize a weapon and throw one or two hits in before we had to move to intercept the next attacker, every now and then Sam would make things more interesting by jumping the gun and throwing herself into the mix at the same time as someone else. The constant back and forth was extremely tiring especially given how Krav Maga dictated an 'all in' response.
"You're doing real good," Samantha told me.
"My side disagrees," I retorted.
"Taylor, Julie designated you almost twice as much as everyone else because you were consistently whipping our asses. You got hit what five or six times?"
"Six I think." I replied not admitting that I had taken two of those hits because I had realized I was doing too well. I was finding it increasingly hard not to use my powers to keep track of everyone here. Thanks to the Andersons' dog, Rex, there was a nice flea infestation in the house and studio. In fact on average I only had to tag half of the class because of how out of control said infestation was.
"And every other student, all of which are older than you, got hit at least twice that. Taylor you're a natural street fighter you even have that six sense about you."
I shrugged noncommittally. I hoped I looked more like the scrawny kid full of heart than the unbelievably good fighter. The former wouldn't draw much attention but the latter could cause people to wonder if I was a cape. If I caught wind of such thoughts I'd have to drop the class. I may need to anyway considering how time consuming my cape life was becoming. As odd as it was I don't think I dealt with living a double life for any appreciable amount of time, I ran away from home about a month after debuting as Skitter allowing me to focus almost exclusively on being Skitter even before I was outed.
"That's not to say there's no room for improvement. You don't use your elbows or knees enough. You could stand to be a bit more aggressive in your takedowns; while it's good that you react to new attackers quickly you often end up with two opponents because you're slow to neutralize the first."
I nodded. This was pretty common complaints. I often got called out on using too many palm strikes, a habit developed from eagle claw fighting, or not being as brutally aggressive as Krav Maga demanded. On the other hand I tended to be harder for others to counter because I was drawing from a larger library of techniques. When I practiced at Peerless I tended to merge Krav Maga's direct aggression with Eagle Claw techniques; here I tried to avoid using Eagle Claw to focus on the fighting style I was learning here.
"Alright break's over, let's get back to it," Mark ordered.
The rest of the hour saw us divide up into two groups of four with Sam or Mark overseeing us. In each group three would handle strike pads that the last would unload with everything they had. After a few seconds the one being attacked would step back and another would step forward, likely hitting the attacking student with the pad to draw their attention and the process would continue. When about a minute had passed we'd swap out who was in the circle and repeat.
While the chief principal of Krav Maga was aggressive action the training regime at Sam's focused on the primary thing that most people lacked: the stamina and will to keep fighting until you were the last man, or woman, standing. Something that I knew would be beneficial to me in the long run. Still it was little consolation when I left the Anderson's. My body was sore from raw exertion and begging for fuel. I made good on my earlier promise to get something to eat, stopping by the local McDonalds before making my way home with a stomach full of fast food and a drink in hand.
-/ Interlude 5: The Archer
He listened intently to the conversation being broadcasted into his ear piece. It seemed like Lung was not happy about his lieutenant leaving a battle without doing so much as throwing a punch. Jeremy Rivers wondered how the girl was able to suffer being around the gang leader when he was busying himself with a whore. He considered losing an arrow and ending the poor woman's life but that would only serve to draw attention to his presence.
Between his tips to the police and the activities of that new bug cape the pressure upon the gangs had ratcheted up significantly. He hoped the new cape was going to keep pushing on the gangs but Jeremy knew the sort of rapid strikes that she had performed during the weekend was likely the result of weeks, if not months of intelligence gathering. As such he wasn't actually expecting the swarm user to strike so soon after the initial barrage. That meant in the meantime keeping the pressure on the gangs was his job.
How had the emergence of the Protectorate and Wards change society? Jeremy ponded the question; it was the last one on his homework assignment for Mr. Michelson's class. The page only had enough room for a few hundred words in his small precise style. But he wanted to write more than that. The question deserved more than that. It might seem odd but he was actually passing history despite the fact that he was sleeping through the class. Part of that was Michelson rewarded points based on thoroughness. Most of his assignments ended up being pages long. It made up for his average test grades.
The wind picked up and he pulled his hood down further wishing he had considered to add a woolen cloak to his costume for winter months. The wind chill was atrocious and leather, Kevlar, and spandex only did so much to keep one warm. Then again Brockton Bay was actually known for its rather warm weather compared to the region. He wanted to scoff at that.
Almost a four blocks away Lung had finished his business with the whore. Oblivious to any disgust on his lieutenant's part he ordered Jīn to get the strung out girl out of his sight. Jeremy thought that it was probably a blessing that the whore, a girl his age, was likely too high to even tell where she was much less what was happening to her. Small mercies, if a god existed that's how he made his presence felt. Those little small mercies that helped everyone go about their day when the world around them rotted.
Sure the heroes, the real heroes, not just the guys who wore the title were probably what people would point to, but they were outnumbered and far too often out gunned. Legend and the real shining knights in tights and capes could only do so much. Which was where people like Quiver came into play. He and his kind, the antiheroes picked up the slack or did the jobs no one wanted to admit needed doing.
Quiver packed away his notes, sketches, and the thumb drive that housed the recordings from his remote listening device placing the lot into a small case. He was methodical in his evidence gathering and making sure nothing could be traced back to him. While he handwrote his notes he emulated a different type font than he did in his civilian life and a voice distorter prevent any recording of his voice from being used to identify him.
As he worked he wondered briefly how Shadow Stalker was doing as a Ward. She had never taken that step that made an antihero irredeemable, but she was far too close to the ideal to function as a member of the Wards. And if he guessed right she probably would rather be hunting criminals alone then in any sort of group. Even the times they crossed paths she seemed reluctant to work together. Still they had been partners in more than one way. Cape romances Jeremy concluded were odd. Where else would two people be found having sex, barely disrobed enough to perform the action, masked, and atop the roof of a gang controlled warehouse?
Probably in porn …or fetish clubs. He still had trouble believing there was porn of HIM. His Parahumans Online profile only had a picture because Shadow Stalker had snapped one of him with her phone and added it, they didn't even have his powers right. Besides Quiver was about as apathetic of a person as you could get while not being a machine. The things you learn when you set out to make a costume that includes parts made of black leather and spandex.
Where had this line of thought come from? Oh right, cloaks. He wished he had one and she did have one. A warm one, especially when she was wearing it or when they… Curse the primal elements of his being.
He closed his eyes and emptied his mind before turning to the west. When he opened them his mind was a clear a receptacle for his power. Everything in his sight was captured in perfect detail better than a picture no matter how many words it may be worth. The cape saw the paths that vehicles would take as they continued moving; those of people were generally shorter for due to their relative agility. A flying cape, Glory Girl, had the easiest path to predict since she was moving so fast. She was about a mile away but he was sure he could hit her with an arrow if he wanted. Predictable targets were easy.
There, another easy target. He focused on the target, an old model hatchback, a ford. The skinhead driving was someone he'd previously seen peddling drugs. The two others in the vehicle were also known to him. One he'd seen beating on a black man with some of his punk friends, the other had held up a liquor store. Still he waited watching as the vehicle stopped next to a corner dealer.
The mechanical quiver clinked and ticked in the barely audible range as Quiver dialed in the next few arrows he wanted. Incendiary first, time delayed trigger, six seconds post impact. That should be enough time for the gang members to recognize what was coming. Another to make sure the stash of drugs he could see in the rear most seat would be destroyed. A thermite arrow to the engine block would make sure the vehicle was never used again. Four standard arrows for the criminals themselves. He'd let them live, not worth increasing Quiver's rap sheet over, but the injuries were not going to something that could be taken care of by the average gang doctor. These idiots didn't look important enough to warrant higher health care from their bosses. Scratch that; the fourth arrow would be a transmitter so the police would come running.
In one smooth practiced motion he drew the first arrow from the quiver and fired. The other specialty arrows were loosed right behind the first. He closed his eyes and let the images fade from the fore front of his mind. The first arrow struck a package of drugs, ripping it out of the hands of the corner dealer and pinning it to the street post, the second shattered the rear window as the first erupted into flames. Since he had set the second and third on an impact trigger their fiery payloads detonated almost the same time the first was released. The thermite ate its way through the vehicle's engine block as the occupants scrambled out of the burning vehicle.
Quiver opened his eyes again, taking in the scene in a heartbeat. The first arrow and second flew in the span of another beat of his calm heart. A pause as he let the first two strike a shoulder and a knee. The uninjured ran. Third was fired and the holdup artist's ankle became bolted to the ground. The last man stumbled and tripped looking for the archer, he wasn't looking far enough. The last arrow was released It was the most shallow of the hits ripping into the panicking man's hip and striking, possibly penetrating the 'wings' of pelvis. The impact trigger no doubt would have been set off informing the police of the location of one of their missing GPS transmitters.
The police according to his cop sister was getting faster at figuring his firing position in part tanks to his precision. So he needed to leave before she and her team got on the scene. A gift for geometry ran in the family power wise. Every cape in the Rivers' family had possessed some sort of thinker rating that revolved around it. He and his sister as fourth generation capes were no exception. She preferred the rules and regulation of police work and generally hid her admittedly weak power. She had no idea he had also triggered though she knew of the brush with death that had been the event. It was hard to mask a hospital stay for ten different broken bones from your only family. Or the way his personality had been altered by his power.
Quiver dropped a story onto the next building's roof and ran. The bow in his hands collapsed down to half its length and he let the magnets on the quiver grasp it as he swung it behind his hip. The same motion saw him mantel over a bit of ventilation. Nearing the edge of the roof he pulled a carabiner free from his costume and hooked it on the zip line he had prepared beforehand.
As he rode the cable down and across the street his mind recalled seeing Shadow Stalker the previous night with Vista. He had been a dozen blocks away but for all it mattered he might as well have been lying next to her on his belly. He felt, just like he did now the stir of a primal emotion that wanted her again. It wasn't possible she was a Ward now, one that was constantly partnered with another or watched by someone.
The cloaked vigilante had been surprised; perhaps a little scared of, how easy it was for him to kill. She hadn't yet taken a life and in truth she never, to his knowledge, had. She used lethal ammunition like he did and had left more than one bottom feeder bleeding out in an alleyway but she never moved with an intent to kill. That didn't bother him, nor did her abrasive attitude, she could be as angry with him as she wanted and it wouldn't bother him. It had been both a blessing and a curse in their relationship on one hand had he been as he was before triggering he'd never have been able to deal with her long enough for any sort of partnership to form between them, on the other if he had shown more emotion she might have responded better to him. He wasn't sure.
Sophia, he knew her identity long before she likely thought to tell him, had been caught by the PRT the day before he intended to try to move forward in their relationship. He was going to give her his cellphone number so they could meet by more than just chance or e-mail arranged meetings. That may sound like a small thing considering they had already slept together but as he believed then and now, cape relationships aren't typical. He had been there when they came for her, perched on a water tower three blocks away. He had been ready to assist her in her escape, kill for her even; but she went without a fight. He respected her decision and didn't intervene. He wondered what would have happened if he had. Would she have thanked him or scorned him?
Again, he wasn't sure. He had problems relating to people. Since he trigged she had been the only person he connected with on any level. He wanted her.
He realized as he got home he knew how to answer the last question on his homework assignment. The Protectorate and the Ward Program had changed things by giving the people hope. In a time when villainy was victorious, the Triumvirate had united heroes and pushed back the dark. The Protectorate was the soldiers would fight threats like super villains and Endbringers without a second thought. Their selflessness and number indicated an end to the dark days that had preceded their arrival. The establishment of Wards extended that beacon of light into the future. That's what the sponsored heroes were; beacons of hope too numerous to be swept aside by the tide of antagonistic night. Sophia despite her name had become a light that shines in the darkest places of the city. And he as a shadow could not approach her despite his wants.
He stripped out of the raiment of Quiver, all black save for the red chevron upon the chest, and packed away his gear in the case he'd received from Foundry 7. The tinker, or rather the union of tinkers known as Foundry, were impartial in their view of villains and vigilantes and were responsible for a lot of the tinker tech that had trickled it was down to mass-marketable technology. They were also the people to go to when you needed gear for your gimmick to function. All you had to do was explain what you wanted, pay for materials and be prepared to fight Endbringers. Foundry was concerned with the big picture; they couldn't practice their craft if the Endbringers, well, ended humanity.
So over the last year he had fought three Endbringers. He wasn't very useful on the front lines with his bow and arrow but his thinker power had given him a place among the artillery batteries, where he shouted target corrections and predicted the path of the faster beasts. He had on one occasion been called in to aim a tinker weapon. It was the first time he saw a major Endbringer substantially injured to the point that it had to retreat.
When he had slid the trunk back into the closet and buried it under the perpetual pile of his dirty laundry he sat down at the desk in his room to finish his homework.
-/ Author Notes:
Before anyone says anything, we didn't really get much information about Aegis/Carlos in Worm itself. As such I'm fleshing him out a good bit because as the leader of the Wards he is a rather major character for this fic. I had him mention he triggered because he was bullied in the previous chapter, just to be clear that happened before he was transferred to Rosemary's foster home. He went about a year before someone (Carlie) noticed that he was a parahuman…It's hard not to notice when someone spontaneous starts floating. As for Carlos feeling guilty as if he had actually raped Carlie. He considers it such because he knows what he wanted to do, not because of how far he got before he spontaneous started floating off of her. As such he sees it as much worse than what actually happened while Carlie and Rosemary look at what did happen and what he's done in reaction to the event and are willing to forgive and forget.
Everything in Taylor's perspective in this chapter was written while I was working on Chapter 4. Well, the battle with Surge, and the majority of the scene at Sam's. The majority of her section in this chapter was meant to highlight her Krav Maga training and how it mixes into Skitter's fighting style since I felt I had been highlighting Peerless too much. Also…Atlas 2.0 comments?
I had at one point considered Quiver/Jeremy Rivers as a potential protagonist for a fic before I started this one. Then I realized his generally emotionless demeanor would have made it hard to write him as a relatable character. In case you're wondering I'd peg Quiver as a Master 4/Thinker 2. His master power didn't come into play here but it directly relates to his name. Brownie points for correct guesses.
So something to weigh in on, how should I offset message bodies like Panacea's message in this chapter? In Word I just indent the whole paragraph. ideas?