1.2
We had hardly taken three steps before the blond girl abruptly stopped walking. Spinning on one heel, she turned to stare down at where her small hand managed to completely encircle my uncomfortably skinny wrist. With a focused expression, she began to pull and push at my arm, attempting to prod it in various directions without much success.
While she was in the process of performing her impromptu study on my limb, I noticed two more large monsters join the first in the street ahead of me. They each bore riders: a solid looking man wearing black leathers and a motorcycle helmet with a stylized skull visor on the first, and a pair comprised of a tall androgynous sort of individual wearing what appeared to be a Renaissance faire style costume and a butch looking girl in plain street clothes and a cheap looking plastic dog mask concealing her face on the second. They were all watching me cautiously, like I was some sort of wild animal that had stumbled into someone's backyard and couldn't get out.
"Tattletale," the big guy wearing the black leathers called out. His deep voice, muffled as it was by his helmet, managed to convey a tone of cautious worry. He was afraid of me. Afraid of this girl, Tattletale, being close to me. Afraid of what I might do to her. It hurt, but the worst part was I couldn't even think that he was wrong for being afraid. After what I had almost done to Lung, I deserved to be treated like a monster. "Is everything alright?" With an aggravated huff, the girl now identified as Tattletale whirled on him.
"I'm fine Grue." She snapped. "I'm not the one having the worst day of my life, so if you could just shut up for a second..." She trailed off, turning back to my arm and taking it in two hands before apparently trying to shake it with all of her strength. I swayed a bit, very slowly back and forth, but not more than half an inch in each direction. Eventually, she let go, putting both hands on her hips and turning to look contemplatively at the large four legged monsters.
"This isn't going to work." It was an absent declaration, not directed at anyone in particular. Turning back to me, she grabbed my wrist again and began to march off in the opposite direction. "Your body resists the application of outside force so riding on the dogs at the moment is a no-go. We'll head out on foot." When I hesitated, she stopped walking again and turned to wave the cloth still in her hand at her companions.
"You guys go on ahead without me. Lung got spooked pretty good so he won't be trying anything, at least for the rest of the night." The man in the modified biker outfit reached a hand out like he was going to say something to stop her, but Tattletale interrupted him. "I'll be fine. We'll keep to the alleys and I'll message you when I get home, safe and sound." She tugged gently on my arm again, turning to face me directly as her expression smoothed out into what seemed like a genuinely warm smile. "Let's go." Her voice, a tender mixture of caring and sad, caused my feeble resistance to bleed out of me. With a wordless nod, my head bowed forwards and I followed along, letting her steer me into the shadows of a nearby alley.
For awhile, we walked in silence: Tattletale dabbing at her face with the cloth like I'd seen other girls at school do when they were trying not to smear their makeup, as I steadfastly studied the filthy pavement of Brockton Bay's alleys. She led us on a twisting route through the grimy thoroughfares of the Dock's underbelly. Whenever we reached a fork or an intersection, she would look both ways before seeming to arbitrarily pick a direction and continuing on.
I was expecting to see a shady individual or two as we crossed from one alleyway to the next, but our journey passed completely uninterrupted. I could hear the occasional car pass by a street over, and once or twice a raucous group of night-goers could be heard laughing just a bit too loudly to be polite in the distance, but no one came even remotely close to us. I found myself wondering if it was happenstance or if just maybe Tattletale was trying to take me somewhere secluded to do who knows what to me.
Not that my safety was really that much of a concern to me at this point. Even if I did have my own personal well being in mind, I was coming to believe that there wasn't anything in the entire city that could hurt me: physically at least. I didn't think my brutish durability extended to my emotional resilience, but I had already pretty much hit rock bottom so who knew. With how cruel the world was turning out to be, it wouldn't surprise me if new and somehow progressively worse torments continued to be thrown my way.
"You really saved us back there, you know?" Tattletale's question was such a sudden break in the silence of our quiet shuffle through the alleyways, that I flinched sideways stumbling into a trashcan, crumpling in the side and knocking it over. It bounced off the brickwork of the adjacent building and fell to the ground with a loud metallic clatter. Stooping low, I hurried in an effort to set it back upright, but Tattletale seemed to ignore it entirely and simply continued on ahead. Not wanting to pull her off balance by stopping, I continued walking in my bowed posture and fumbled the bin a few times. I had almost gotten it standing, when I ran out of slack in our arms and was pulled out of reach, the bin wobbled a few times before it tipped over to rest at an angle against the building.
"Ah, um..." Sparing the bin one final look, I turned back ahead to glance at Tattletale, finding her still resolutely watching the alleys ahead of us, before turning my attention back to the space between our feet. "Sorry. I uh-"
"Why are you apologizing?" She rounded on me, turning to face me even as she continued to walk backwards through the dark alley littered with debris. Adjusting her hold on my wrist, she brought up her other hand as well, circling my own with both of hers before giving me a few gentle pats. "I'm thanking you, not accusing you of anything. Lung was actually going out to look for my group and me tonight, looking for some payback. We would have had a lot of trouble dealing with him, so I'm really grateful that you showed up when you did."
I pointedly avoided her gaze, focusing instead on the alleyway behind her and the numerous upcoming obstacles. We were approaching a haphazard pile of what looked like leftover plywood from some construction project. I motioned with my free hand, pointing behind her.
"Ah hey, watch-" It seemed Tattletale was more than capable of walking backwards without my warnings, as she effortlessly stepped to the side and over any stray boards that were sticking into the middle of the alley. I blinked in surprise, looking up to meet her gaze to find her fixing me with a knowing look and a patient sort of smile. "Um, you're welcome. I guess." I lowered my head again, focusing on where her hands wrapped around my own. Her nails seemed clean and cared for, which was odd for someone who frequented the Docks.
As we lapsed back into silence, her vigilant study of my face began to make me a bit uncomfortable. Mentally scrabbling for something to say, I blurted out the first thing that came to mind.
"Was it alright to leave them like that?" Even as I began to fret over how vague that question had sounded, Tattletale caught my meaning without delay and answered.
"Yeah, it's no problem. The only thing we had planned for tonight was figuring out a way not to get burnt to a crisp by Lung. Thanks to your timely interference, the rest of my night has been cleared up to focus on you." I felt an odd sense of foreboding fill me with that statement, but I soldiered on ahead anyway, grasping at conversational straws.
"Er, why was Lung looking for you and your," I paused, glancing up as I searched for the right word. "Friends?" Her grin turned a bit mischievous.
"My 'friends' and I robbed his casino here in the Bay. We made off with quite a bit too, making his people look pretty bad in the process. He wanted to pay us back for that as well as to send a message to anyone else who might get some big ideas." Her head titled to the side in a playfully expectant gesture as she waited for the obvious follow up question.
"You're a villain?" Her grin grew and I had a moment where I felt like I was a mouse under the watchful eye of a playful cat before it relaxed into something closer to bemusement.
"Sure, but not the kind you're used to here in Brockton. We're more the friendly neighborhood bandit type, than the murderous drug-pushing bigots. Most of our escapades have involved hitting the other gangs' storehouses for loot and mucking up their shadier operations. I won't say we're completely innocent, but the Undersiders are closer to a greedy take on Robin Hood than a racially oriented mob organization."
"Huh." I offered lamely, trying to process that idea with what I knew of the Bay's seedier groups. The ABB, Lung's pan-Asian exclusive gang was one of two major powers fighting for control over territory in Brockton Bay. The other was the Empire 88: a white supremacist group that talked about "fixing" the problems in the city by "cleansing it at the source," a mission statement that culminated in harassing and assaulting minorities in an attempt to scare them off. Both groups had a few points in common: they each took and then fought over chunks of territory in the city, constantly fighting to expand and control more, they each set up criminal rackets and subsequently extorted the people unfortunate enough to live in their territory for "protection" money, and they each made and sold all manner of drugs and other illegal substances that they could get their hands on. When you looked at it that way, a group of self-proclaimed bandits that stole primarily from groups that profited at the expense of others, seemed pretty tame in comparison.
"Why?" I asked, my bafflement coloring my tone. Surely there were easier ways to make money than picking at criminal empires that relied on dangerous and often murderously violent parahumans to make up the brunt of their muscle. Lung and the ABB notwithstanding, the Empire 88 boasted the largest number of parahumans in one group in the entire city, beating out even the Protectorate's government organized hero team in this area. It seemed like making enemies of them was just looking for trouble.
"Why antagonize dangerous individuals, or why be a villain period?" Tattletale asked to clarify, still walking backwards as we stepped out of an alley and into the street. When I shrugged, she continued, addressing both questions at once. "For a number of different reasons. People, heroes and villains included, aren't so black and white. Being a hero doesn't automatically make you a good person, and you don't have to be an amoral psychopath to be a villain. Most of us are just ordinary people who suddenly got powers they didn't ask for.."
As we stepped off the street and into the shadows of the next alley, Tattletale took a moment to glance around us before quickly guiding me to the doorway of a building and slipping inside, pulling me with her. The interior gave the impression of a remodeling project that had been long abandoned. There was no drywall or sheetrock on most of the walls, so the framework, pipes and wiring were all visible. The power was still on, as evidenced by a single hanging light shining on a pile of wooden beams, but most of the fixtures lacked working bulbs. The whole place smelled like dust but somewhat surprisingly I saw none on the floor or any of the piles of building supplies that were haphazardly strewn around.
Tattletale slid the door shut behind me and then finally released my hand. As she made her way over to the pile of wood, I stared down at my open palm in the dim light. Before, if anyone held my hand for any length of time, my palm would have become a sweaty uncomfortable mess. Now though, with my sudden distinct lack of concern with temperature, there was no discernible difference. I suppose saving me from awkward encounters was at least one good point in favor of my power.
Tattletale continued her explanation as she climbed onto the stack of wood, using it as a stepstool to let her reach up into the rafters. "Think of it this way. The whole heroes versus villains situation, is like a high stakes game of cops and robbers. Now, it's closer to a full contact sports competition than schoolyard fun, but the analogy still stands." Fishing around in a hidden cove created by several beams in the ceiling, Tattletale pulled out a discreet blue duffle bag. Dropping it down on the pile of wood, she hopped off and zipped it open before shuffling around inside.
"Villains like me go out, do a little corporate espionage, maybe the clichéd thing and rob a bank, and in return the protectorate sends out some heroes to stop us." Tattletale fished out a few bundles from the bag: clothes, I belatedly realized as she unfolded them to lay out on top of it. Reaching behind herself, she unzipped a portion of her purple and black bodysuit and began to strip out of it. She didn't seem to be particularly phased by stripping in front of me, but I certainly felt myself getting embarrassed for her. I flushed, (or at least I think I flushed: it was hard to tell with the changes to my body) and turned away to stare at the door frame we had entered through.
"They end up finding us, we squabble and butt heads for a bit, and then in the end we run away, cutting our losses and hoarding our spoils. The protectorate gets to make an announcement about the battle, say they ran us off before too much was lost, and the people at home watching the news all cheer.
"You see, the heroes need villains like the Undersiders or even the incompetent duo, Uber and Leet, around. People watch and follow news about sports for the competition. 'My team did better than your team.' 'A new player just got added to that team.' 'This team is quickly rising up the leader boards.' Without the competition, things get boring, and the Protectorate wants to keep people interested in what they're doing: following the news they release, buying the hero merchandise, believing in how much good is being done. They're sponsored by the government, so without the support of the voters, their budgets will start to dry up. Without us family friendly, PG-13 rated villains, the amount of material they can share with the public shrinks dramatically.
"People aren't going to be inspired by news of the heroes fighting the Empire and not really getting anything out of it. Hearing about Lung being allowed to do whatever he likes thanks to how scary he gets doesn't make the public feel safe. Fortunately, there's no shortage of us more or less ordinary people suddenly getting powers that go looking for a few quick thrills. It's as easy as making yourself a fake persona, putting together a silly costume to run around in, adopting a pseudonym, and then bam: nights full of adventure are just around the corner."
A loud zip interrupted Tattletale's explanation and I glanced over my shoulder to find her fully clothed in close fitting jeans, a blouse, and a trendy looking knitted sweater. Her hair was tied up in a ponytail and her small mask was nowhere to be seen as she rubbed at her face with the same cloth as before.
"Then, at the end of the night, each side takes their bruises and heads home. The instant the masks and costumes come off, suddenly everyone has become no more than normal people again. We don't go fishing for other people's identities, we don't make use of the identities we may know, and as the sun rises we judiciously ignore each other to go about our normal lives. We've had our fun, maybe made a little bit of money, and the next time the itch comes around we're free to go back out and do it all again. The protectorate gets to brag about their little victories, drum up public support, and then later on they're better equipped to fight the real bad guys like the Slaughterhouse 9 or the Endbringers."
Pulling a compact out of a pouch on the front of the duffle bag, Tattletale opened it and used the mirror inside to inspect her face. Finding her appearance satisfactory, she nodded to herself and returned the compact to the bag along with the cloth. Turning to face me, she smiled and for the first time I saw the girl beneath the mask.
She was pretty, in an average sort of way. She wasn't the type that would have every guy on the street swooning in her wake, nor was she the sort that other girls would scoff at. She was simply pretty, in an understated and underappreciated sort of way. I felt myself wilt at the unconscious mental comparisons I made between us.
I had never truly been satisfied with the way I looked. The one feature that I'd had any amount of pride for was my hair. Long and curly as it was, it was my defining feminine feature for a face with a too wide mouth accented by dorky glasses and a body that was too tall for my proportions, making me feel like I looked similar to a standing frog.
My spiral into self-deprecation was cut short as Lisa stepped up to wrap her arms around me. I felt one hand slowly rub up and down my back as she leaned forwards to rest her forehead on my shoulder.
"You don't give yourself enough credit." Her voice was soft and warm and resonated with so much sincerity that my contradicting response died in my throat. Instead, I settled for awkwardly looking away to study the light hanging from the ceiling behind her. She held the hug for what felt like minutes, content to just slowly rub my back while I fidgeted. In spite of how awkward it was for me at first, gradually, I started to relax into it, almost hypnotized by the soothing motions. Eventually, she pulled away and smiled up at me, taking both of my hands in hers in the process.
"Well, I think a proper introduction is now in order. My name's Lisa." She paused, tilting her head to the side expectantly.
"Uh, Taylor." I replied lamely. Her smile brightened anyway, as though learning my name had been the highlight of her night.
"Taylor, huh? I'm so glad I was able to meet you tonight Taylor." One corner of her mouth pulled higher and her warm smile morphed into a cheeky grin. "It must've been fate that led us together." I suddenly felt the embarrassment creeping back into my cheeks. Apparently satisfied with my reaction, Lisa nodded to herself again before dropping one of my hands and turning, using her grip on the other to pull me along again. I obliged and shuffled along behind her.
"Let's be on our way then. I'd like to at least be home before the sun comes up." We crossed the interior of the building to another door on a wall perpendicular to the one we had entered through. Lisa grabbed the blue duffle bag as we passed the pile of wood and slung it over her shoulder.
The door let out onto what seemed to be a small gravel driveway on the side of the building. To our right it cut straight through the lot to connect with the alleyway that bisected the block, and to our left it led to the street. After shutting the door behind us, Lisa glanced around once more before leading us towards the street. We set off down the sidewalk, and in the distance ahead of us I could see the sparkling silhouettes of the skyscrapers that stood vigil over Brockton Bay's downtown area.
Downtown was one of the few areas of the Bay still thriving since the shipping industry had dried up. Apparently, a few corporations called the Bay home, including the pharmaceutical company named Medhall, and they along with the tourism brought in by the PRT building were enough to keep the area living. It was a good thing too, because without them I suspect the entire city would have wound up like the Docks: broken down, abandoned, and reclaimed by the homeless, drug addicted, and gangs.
"Where are we going?" I asked quietly, curiosity overcoming my intense desire to crawl into a hole and hide, as I watched the tall structures looming in the distance.
"Back to my apartment. Well, one of them anyway." Lisa replied offhandedly, as though having multiple apartments in a struggling city like Brockton Bay was an ordinary occurrence. She glanced back at me. "Unless you have somewhere else you'd rather go. I don't mean to imply anything, but you don't look like you have anywhere you particularly care to go back to at the moment."
No, I suppose I don't. I thought to myself as I considered her subtle probe. The child services representative had made it clear that I couldn't just go back to my old home, not without an adult when I was still fifteen. I was supposed to be staying with Kurt and Lacey, but after I fled following a blatant suicide attempt, returning was out of the question for the foreseeable future. I'd much rather put my life in the hands of a seemingly well meaning girl I'd just met, than be forced to return there and face the uncomfortable questions and judging stares.
Oh god, I wonder if they called the police. They could be looking for me right now. What should I do?
"Is there anyone you'd like to call?" Lisa asked, interrupting my mounting panic. She had turned back to face ahead, granting me at least a small illusion of privacy. I considered her proposal, considered calling Kurt and Lacey to let them know I was alright. They had been kind enough to reach out to me and accept me into their home. The least I could do is let them know I was alright, that they could stop looking for me for now. Unfortunately, I didn't know their telephone number, and dad had gotten rid of all cell phones from our household after one contributed to mom's accident, so it wasn't like I had it saved in an address book or something.
"I don't know their number." I mumbled in response. Humming in thought, Lisa pulled out her cell phone.
"Names?"
"Um, Kurt and Lacey Dawkins." Lisa dialed something into her phone and held it up to her ear. As she waited for an answer, I began to fidget, feeling a nagging desire to clarify my situation, but unsure how to go about it. Eventually I settled on the simple route. "I- I was supposed to be staying with them, but I kinda ran off, after..." She turned to give me a sympathetic smile before her eyes flicked to the side as her call seemed to connect.
"Kurt Dawkins, please." Lisa annunciated clearly, followed by a short pause. "Yes, that's correct. Thank you." She turned back to halfway face me, pulling the phone a bit away from her ear in the process. "Do you want to talk to them?" A seed of dread blossomed in my stomach. I should be the one to talk to them, it wasn't fair of me not to, but I didn't think I could face them right now: not in person and not over the phone either. Thankfully, Lisa uprooted that seed before it had spread too far. "It's alright if you're not up for it, I don't mind taking care of things." I nodded, feeling both relieved and ashamed for taking the easy way out. For her part, Lisa flashed me the sympathetic smile that I was starting to grow accustomed to, and brought the phone back to her ear. There was another one to two minute long pause before she spoke again.
"Is this Mrs. Dawkins? Yes hi, my name is Lisa Willbourn. I'm a friend of Taylors. Yes, she's with me now. She's fine physically, but she's been under a lot of stress lately and then all of a sudden this. I think she just needs some time to decompress and sort out her thoughts. We met up about an hour ago. I plan on taking her back to my house for awhile, if that's alright. I think with everything that's happened, she needs to be someplace familiar to her with friends staying close by incase she needs anything. Yes, she's here with me now. I don't know how much she would feel like talking, but if you'd like I can give her the phone for a bit. Sure, no problem."
Lisa turned, shooting me an apologetic look before holding out the phone for me to take. I reached out slowly, like it might bite me if I wasn't careful, and felt my throat tighten with a sudden wave of anxiety. Gingerly, I took the phone and brought it to my ear.
"Hello?" I choked out.
"Taylor?! Oh thank God, we were so worried! You just took off without saying anything and we didn't know what to do. Are you alright? Is there anything you need to talk about? If there's anything at all we can do, just name it and we'll-"
"Ah," I interrupted. Lacey cut off her tirade so quickly I could hear her teeth audibly click together over the phone. "I- I'm- I'm s-so sorry for..." Voice starting to crack, I stopped my attempt at an apology and stopped walking. I pulled my other hand away from Lisa and brought it up to cover my eyes. Lightly trembling, I simply stood there, struggling to maintain my composure over the phone. As the silence began to stretch, Lacey hurried to fill in the gap.
"It's alright Taylor, you don't have to apologize. Kurt and I aren't mad, just worried about you. Are you- no, of course you're not okay, but you're safe right? Do you want to stay with your friend Lisa for a little while?" I hummed a shaky affirmative. When Lacey spoke again, I could hear the traces of tears slipping into her tone. "Alright. Okay, that's perfectly fine, so don't worry about a thing. Our door will be open and waiting for you whenever you feel up to coming back. For now, just focus on you. I'll talk to your case worker and sort out all the details so it won't be a problem. Just leave everything to me kiddo, and I'll-"
I choked out a strangled sob as Lacey accidentally slipped and used my dad's pet nickname for me. The floodgates burst and tears started to stream freely down my face as I let myself collapse to my knees on the sidewalk. For her part, Lisa immediately knelt down in front of me and pulled my head forward to rest on her shoulder.
"Oh shit, Taylor?! Taylor I- I'm so sorry, it just slipped and I- oh god..." Lacey's voice became muffled as she must have pulled the phone away from her mouth. There was a brief pause before she came back, audibly sniffing now. It just made me cry harder. "Just take as much time as you need Taylor. We'll keep in contact with Lisa to check up on you, and if you need anything at all, please don't hesitate to let us know. We promised to look after you and us Dawkinses don't go back on our promises, so just, hang in there."
Sobbing on the sidewalk in the middle of the night, I held Lisa's cell phone out for her to take back. She obliged and cradled it in the nook of her neck between her shoulder and ear. She continued to talk on it for a short while, but the words were lost on me. My arms unconsciously slid around to Lisa's back, clutching at her sweater in my body's need to seek comfort. As I knelt there crying, my mind flashed back to the life I had lived and the precious people I'd lived it with: my dad, doing his best to stay strong for me and failing after mom died. Emma, my best friend turning on me to become a horrendous bully without prompting. Mom, dying in an accident, leaving dad and I reeling and alone.
As I sobbed into Tattletales shoulder, I poured out everything in my heart: all of the anguish, all of the frustration, all of the longing. For the first time since directly after my mother's death, I just let all of my inner walls fall down and cried my despair for the world to hear.
In books and television shows, after a moment like this the characters usually come out on the other side feeling refreshed and gaining a new wellspring of energy; but for me, I felt nothing of the sort. The only things I felt, were profound exhaustion, and consuming emptiness.