AN: The end of the last chapter had changed, to provide a bit of variety and to help the flow of this one. If you start reading this and get confused, go back and read the last few paragraphs of the previous chapter. Thanks.
Tyrant 3.2
The building shook again and with much more force this time, strong enough that I could feel it without my bugs.
An explosion. Which meant an attack.
Someone was attacking the PRT.
The absolute improbability of that sentence took a moment to register. Who could possibly be reckless enough to attack the PRT home base? I couldn't even imagine how bad my situation would need to be before I would consider it.
I'd have to be angry, probably.
Really, really angry. Angry enough that a kill-order meant nothing.
I guess the alternative was if I already had a kill order. Nothing to lose then.
That train of thought was disturbing, to say the least. I was locked in a building currently under attack by someone on the world's most wanted list, or at least someone who was willing to be put on that list. It was a short list, but the names on it were uniformly terrifying.
In an effort to stave off the feeling of claustrophobia as much as a desire to gather information, I expanded my awareness. The bugs all around the base responded to me, filling in the general shape of the structure. In the lower levels around me there was a large void, the filtered air systems to the cell block preventing access by even the smallest bugs. But around that, the rest of the base came into focus. A tall, tiered structure, surrounded on all sides by … the ocean.
I was on The Rig, the converted oil drilling platform out in the middle of Brockton Bay. Not the PRT tower, but the base of the Protectorate. The home of the heroes.
That made the attack even more unbelievable, if possible.
I realised with surprise that I could feel more minds beneath me, churning through the water. Things that felt like crabs, shrimp, krill. Apparently I could control more than just insects, although there were plenty of those around the water too. Seemed like something I should have tested a long time ago.
Not really relevant now though.
I refocussed on the situation at hand as my bugs found hot edges and fresh air. A gaping wound in the side of the building, forty feet across. Flames licked over the floor of the room, a huge multilevel atrium. Someone had blown the front door down.
There were people running around too, boots crunching across rubble. The flying insects I was pulling in from outside were buffeted by powerful vortices in the air that suggested gunfire. Live ammunition, if I had to guess. But who were they firing at?
My sparse swarm of flyers swept across the space, attaching themselves to anyone they connected with. Mainly flies, a few mosquitoes. Not much was hardy enough to survive in the salt-spray environment of the bay, although the understructure of the platform itself provided enough cover for quite an array of insect life.
Most of what I could feel was fabric and skin, normal humans, probably PRT soldiers. Considering the flames I was half expecting to find a giant figure covered in metal scales, but I couldn't feel anyone that seemed to match Lung in bodyshape or powers. In fact, I couldn't detect anything that felt like a power at all.
Suddenly a group of my bugs disappeared, reappearing a good distance away, behind the people with guns. A teleporter.
Instead of attacking the soldiers the cape blinked away several times in quick succession, always jumping to within a few feet of the grouped defenders, but then disappearing again without attacking.
My patrolling bugs flew into unexpected people, lots of them where there had been no-one moments before.
I felt my stomach sink. I knew who it was.
The rig lurched as the atrium erupted in a staccato drumbeat of violent explosions, tearing apart insects and people alike.
Oni Lee. The second in command of the ABB. Scarier than Lung, in many ways. Lung was predictable, a man controlled by rage. Oni Lee was ruthless, a cold-hearted assassin with a powerset to match. He could teleport, but when he did he left behind an apparently sentient clone which lasted a few seconds before dissolving into carbon dust. Long enough to stab someone, or pull the pin on one of his many grenades.
The grenades also duplicated, so he could do that indefinitely.
He was the perfect suicide bomber, setting up daisy chains of self-targeting destruction and then teleporting to safety.
The only reason he hadn't racked up a higher killcount was that it would bring the PRT down on his head, and while he was dangerous, he wasn't strong in the classical sense. If he got enough heroes after him, they would take him down.
He had survived a long time being perfectly balanced, just dangerous enough that no-one wanted to mess with him, not dangerous enough that they were forced to.
Which made this attack even more inexplicable. What had changed, the capture of Lung? This response seemed disproportionate and out of character.
The atrium was now devoid of opponents for him, and the ABB cape continued to teleport onwards, progressing further into the base. This clearly wasn't a hit and run attack.
I threw myself outwards again, into the swarm, looking for anything I could do. I didn't have enough bugs on him to stop him. Maybe I could fly a mosquito into his eye to distract him, but I doubted he would even flinch. He was a combat veteran.
A dozen levels above him I found a secure area with, several people moving around inside. Pulling on clothes of spandex and metal. The Protectorate.
I gathered all the bugs I could, which was disturbingly few in their closed environment, and sent them to the one that was about the right size to be Armsmaster. The beetles and spiders skittered across the floor to spell out the name of the attacker. I felt him look at it, and then say something.
If I strained, I could feel the vibrations his words made as they passed across the fine hairs on the legs of my bugs. It wasn't enough to listen in, but at least I knew he had reacted.
A soft chime drew me back to my room, and I realised I had been sitting on the bed like a zombie. I turned around to see Dragon appear on the screen.
"Armsmaster says thank you, Skitter. Don't worry, we have known it was Oni Lee since he arrived," she reassured.
Oh, right. Dragon had designed most of this place, of course they knew.
"Is there anything I can do?" I asked. "I can track him."
The avatar shook her head. "No, just stay put. The area you are in now is the heaviest defended in the base. Even he can't get in there. The Protectorate can take care of this."
I nodded. Even if I had been praised by the Chief-Director, I wasn't foolish enough to think I was on the level of an experienced hero. The Protectorate had faced Oni Lee before, they probably had a game plan already in action.
As I pulled my awareness back in, I felt … something.
My head spun on my neck so fast I felt it crack. It was close already, coming closer, there just weren't enough bugs nearby to warn me earlier. It had just crossed into the range where I could feel it directly, see the void in space. It seemed different though, the wrongness was weaker, unlike the mutants that had attacked us or the man on the roof.
"What is it?" Dragon asked behind me.
"Someone's coming. It feels like them."
"That's not ... no-one can be down there," she muttered. "There aren't even guards … wait, I see him. How did he avoid my sensors?"
The patch of darkness was coming directly towards me, and a strange fear bubbled and rose within me. I was trapped here and this thing knew where to find me.
Dragon's voice pitched higher. "My defense systems aren't responding, it's like on the roof. Skitter, I'm patching through the security camera feed from the corridor of your cell block. Do you recognise him?"
I turned to see a man striding down a featureless corridor towards a heavy door at the end. He was wearing a PRT uniform, body armour and combat boots, he looked like a SWAT team officer or something. I could tell just by how he moved that it wasn't the man I saw on the roof, or even anything like the mutants from the bank.
He moved like a normal human.
Now that he was closer, I could feel him better. He was different from them, the void in my senses was more washed out and narrowly focused. It wrapped around his head, worming in through his eyes.
He wasn't changed, just tainted.
"I don't know him," I said, "but I think he is being controlled."
I reached out, trying to gather any allies I could find. Nothing with a bite or sting was nearby, and even if there was, this section was sealed tight. Nothing bigger than a pinhead was getting in.
I doubted the dust mites would be much help. I was defenceless.
The feeling of fear rose higher, climbing up into my throat. My breath hitched, coming in short, ragged gasps and sweat broke out on my brow.
"I'm losing ... zzcck ... ackup ..." crackled Dragon's voice over the intercom, devolving into noisy static, and then absolute silence.
My stomach roiled, acid rising to my mouth.
As he reached my cell the screen flickered and died, along with all the lights. I turned towards him as the door creaked and the terror reached a crescendo, my body slow to respond. My limbs felt like lead, barely moving.
I saw him raise his hand, silhouetted by the light from the far end of the corridor, a crown of inky blackness swirling around his head. His eyes shone darkly, and in them I could see another mind watching me.
Some analytical part of me was reminded of the discussion with the Chief-Director, of the manipulation of my emotions. Somehow he was doing this. The thing inside me growled and pulsed, and I felt the terror begin to recede.
I heard a strange noise, like balloons bursting.
The first bullet hit me in the temple, where my new mask provided no resistance. The second hit me before I could fall.
The cameras had stopped working, the corridor and cell was a blind spot. She hadn't felt this powerless for a long time, barring her encounters with the Dragonslayers. Certainly never in her own territory, a base of her own design.
The problems upstairs were under control, the plan progressing. They could operate without her for now. She split her attention, diverting more of it to the quarantine zone, turning her other sensors to the task.
The cell block had been designed to be impregnable to all of the major powersets where possible, which meant the vast majority of her surveillance techniques were unable to penetrate the passive shielding. But she could still use the most low-tech of approaches. Outside the cell block, through the open door, she listened.
She heard the shots. She heard the noise of a body falling. A small body. She heard silence.
For a brief moment it seemed like her thoughts ground to a complete halt, and indeed in that moment she completely lost track of other events in the base.
In that moment she faced the reality. She was prepared for loss, she had experienced it many times before. It was why she tried, but usually failed, to maintain a distance from the younger ones.
In that moment she grieved, and hardened her heart. In that moment she moved on.
And then Dragon heard another noise.
Noise.
Soft tinkling sounds, like water. Heavy sounds. Something like … rocks falling?
And something else, even louder. Roaring, thrumming. Overwhelming.
It was dark? Was it always dark? Couldn't remember.
Something else. Sharper, different.
Taste. Bitter. Coppery.
The same sensation, but even more biting, almost painful. Smell, not taste.
It was too much. Too strong. I tried to force them away.
More noise. Creaking, groaning.
Now pain. Agony. So much. I cradled my head.
Hands. Those were my hands. They touched my head, which was wet and sticky. Why?
So much was missing, I had no frame of reference.
I needed information.
A new pain burnt through me, white and blinding. The hands shifted, from the sides of my head to the front, and the pain lessened. The white lessened.
The roaring noise was rhythmic. A pattern I knew. Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
The hands dropped lower again, and the white intensified, but less. Not just white. Greys and blacks.
I looked around.
A room. Small, spartan. A cell. I was in a cell.
There had been … a man? I wasn't sure.
There was no man now.
The door was gone, as was most of the cement it had been recessed in. The corridor was shattered down the length, jagged lightning bolts of cracked cement.
The nearest few feet was darker than the rest, in my monochrome world. I stumbled forward, slipping on the slick darkness. Footprints trailed behind me.
Something was caught on me, draped over the shoulders. A bedsheet I think, trapped in the jagged edges of the suit. The fingers on the hands were still too uncoordinated to untangle it.
I slid down the corridor, slumping against the wall to stay upright. There was a T-junction.
Left, or right.
There was something to the right. Somethings. Things I could feel. Insects, coming closer. Open doors.
I tilted to the right, the wall supporting me.
Pain. Insects dying. Noises, feet, coming closer.
I looked up. People. Familiar. All the same, uniforms and helmets.
Behind them was another person. Not the same. Saying something to them. Giving orders.
Darkness swirled around his head, through his eyes. Enemy.
They pointed their guns at me. Many guns.
The roaring in my ears rose higher, loud enough to drown out the noise of the guns, I felt myself swell.
The air shimmered in the corridor, metal skittered across the floor. Skittered. The word seemed important.
I stumbled forward. Enemy. He said something.
My face moved. The mouth screamed.
The corridor ruptured, tore apart. The enemy was gone, along with the rest.
I staggered on. The insects had found help.
Tattletale banged on the door in frustration. She had been trying to convince Dragon to release them when the power died.
She didn't need to be a Thinker to know the Tinker-built Rig losing power was Very Bad News. Entirely too familiar, although the explosions rocking the upper levels were unexpected.
The fact that she was a Thinker was only making it worse.
There was a loud noise, someone hitting the door from the outside, muffled only by the thick material. Probably about the right height for Skitter. Another bang, more forceful. A warning. She stepped to the side.
She heard a scream and the door shattered, the pieces disintegrating along with most of the far wall.
Skitter stumbled in.
Tattletale's overactive mind almost blue-screened as so many details tried to grab her attention.
Posture, animalistic. Not in control.
Fresh blood on feet. Killed recently. Threat?
No, warned me before destroying door, partial control. Not a threat?
Gunshot wounds to head. Lethal injury, not dead. Regeneration?
Damage to door. Blaster?
Bedsheet worn like cape. No insight available.
She clamped down on her power as fast as she could, a migraine building behind her eyes. She couldn't afford that here. They would definitely need her power before they were safe.
"You don't look so hot, Skitter," she said with a tentative grin.
The other cape's mask moved, like she was trying to speak, but no sound came out.
"Can't speak huh? Well, that is to be expected I guess, some pretty nasty wounds you have there."
The other girl was still as a statue, staring blankly. Tattletale clucked her tongue.
"I sure hope you can regenerate that," the villain offered. "Maybe we should find Panacea?"
Skitter shook her head, and lifted an arm shakily, fingers pointing at the blonde girl.
"Me? You want me to find Panacea?"
The bloodied cape nodded. A second hand rose, pointing alongside the first. Tattletale pursed her lips.
"More? You want me to find … all the others?"
Another nod. Another hand gesture, moving in an arc.
"And escape?"
She gave a final nod and spun, half staggering and half falling through the doorway. Tattletale chased after her.
"Wait, Skitter. Where are you going?"
The hand pointed upwards, towards the explosions.
It was getting easier, to think and move. I only fell twice in the last stairwell. I opened my mouth, shaped my tongue. It made a sound, almost a word. An improvement.
I had to hurry. I was still a few floors below Oni Lee, and something wasn't right. None of this fit.
He had cleared out the floor he was on, multiple rooms torn apart, a few bodies. Support staff, it seemed. Some part of me wanted to strike now, while he was isolated from any potential targets, but I had no method to reach him.
As if on cue blast doors slid into place around Oni Lee, sealing the level he was on. The lights flickered out, and air blasted in through the vents.
The man in question disappeared, to snap back into existence a full floor above. He staggered slightly, but righted himself.
Again the blast doors dropped, but I could see that this extended further. Several floors on either side were emptied, locked down in the same way, vents already pumping whatever chemical was being used into the atmosphere. I knew the bugs didn't like it, only a few species remained functional. Many had simply curled up into protective balls, metabolisms slowing.
He flickered up another floor, and then another, only to be confronted by the same darkness and environment. He changed directions, teleporting away towards the closest edge of the facility in multiple rapid jumps. He cleared the outer wall of the building, freefalling several stories before blinking back into the wide open atrium.
The floors above him rocked and buckled with numerous explosions, but nothing gave way as far as I could tell.
He fell to his knees as he reached the atrium floor, breathing hard.
And then he was outside again, exactly in the position of his falling duplicate. He passed through my newly gathered horde of flying bugs in an expanding cloud of dust before splashing into the water.
Why would he enter the atrium only to leave again? And why with such specific timing, to replace his disintegrating clone? Almost like he thought someone was watching ...
I swept my bugs inside, noticing his coughing duplicate on the floor. It looked up, and my swarm followed its gaze. Several other people were here, and the insects could feel masks, capes, armour.
My eyes widened, and I broke into a stumbling run up the last flight of stairs.
The clone reached underneath itself, hand touching a device the original Oni Lee had dropped before his jump.
I crested the top of the stairwell and shouted to the capes across the other side of the room. My voice slurred but the word was recognisable.
"TRAP."
The lead cape looked to be straight out of mythology. Spear, buckler, winged boots. He turned, his face showed understanding and then determinination. He braced himself, his shield springing to life, a coruscating forcefield spreading out in a dome in front of the other heroes.
I slumped against the wall, next to the torn metal and the gaping void. So tired, I hadn't realised how hard it had been to simply stay upright till now. My pounding heart slowed.
I could smell the ocean.
The clone was disintegrating, crumbling to soot. The thing beneath him sparked, and then detonated in an impossibly bright fireball. My eyes closed against the light, although it barely helped, piercing straight through my eyelids.
I heard someone call my name, and the patter of steps on the staircase I had come from. I opened my eyes but could only see a silhouette in the painful glare.
The dark shape collided with me, knocking me across in front of the gap in the wall, and the world dissolved into shadows.
The world tilted as the wave of force and fire hit us, warm rather than hot, and much less painful than I had expected. It tossed us into the night above the sea like leaves floating on the darkness.
AN: I had to rewrite a lot of this after a computer failure, and I am not super happy with it the second time. Certainly getting things moving for this arc, but I don't love the flow between the 3.1 and this chapter. It is such a big change between character building in 3.1 and drama/action in this one, just seems a bit jagged.
Let me know what you think in the reviews.