Chapter 6-2

As a hero, there were things you could and couldn't do. Things you should and shouldn't think. You had a certain set of standards to live up to.

"The focus groups agree on this, Taylor. You need a signature weapon."

I'm pretty sure that the thoughts that are going to my head right now violated every single one of them. Fuck you, Glenn Chambers. Fuck you so very much.

"So you gave me a bow and arrow?!" I replied incredulously, looking at the weapon in front of me. So this is why he and Armsmaster needed me to come down to the firing range in costume. Bastards.

"Yes! It's perfect! It fits the kind of image we're trying to cultivate here like a glove. Besides, I heard you wanted a ranged weapon at some point. This solves that problem and works wonders for your image." I idly wondered what would break Glenn's face first: his grin or my fist.

I shook my head. Just like him to completely misinterpret my requests. He's probably doing it on purpose too. Glenn wouldn't be this enthusiastic about it if he wasn't. Maybe I shouldn't have come wearing my armor. It would have been a lot easier to convey my displease if I hadn't. "I was thinking about a foam-gun, or one of those bean-bag launchers cops sometimes use. Not…this."

"No, no, guns send the wrong message. A bow, however… The public will love you! You'll be Brockton Bay's Robin Hood or Odysseus. Trust me, I focus tested this. It'll all be perfect."

This was revenge, wasn't it? He couldn't have his way with my costume, so he decided to put me up with this. For what, exactly? There's a reason people stopped using bows around five hundred years ago.

Armsmaster grunted. "On a more practical note, the biggest drawback to a bow and arrow is the amount of time it takes to master using it. That's not a problem for you. It has a decent rate of fire, good range and accuracy in the hands of a good archer, and…well, Mr. Chambers' ideas do tend to have some merit." I was stunned. E tu, Armsmaster?

"Of course they do! Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got work to do."

Sure he did. Glenn probably wanted a head start before I figured out how this thing works and shot him with it.

"Did Odysseus really have a bow?" I asked. Armsmaster shrugged in response.

"Probably. Classical mythology was never my strong suit." He cleared his throat before continuing. "Anyway, the bow. I assume you already know how it works, so I won't explain that. The bow itself is made out of a metal alloy, which is lighter and less brittle than real wood. You can use this as a melee weapon, though I wouldn't recommend it unless you really have to. It's strong, but not indestructible."

"It's Tinkertech." I noticed. There were some sort of mechanisms inside.

"Technically, yes. It's a standardized design based on Dragon's work. Bows and crossbows are reasonably popular weapons among superheroes if they have the powers to compensate for its drawbacks. Besides, this version is much more practical than the old-fashioned kind. As for regulations, I've personally vouched for you on this. Don't make me regret it."

I gulped a little. "What about ammunition?"

Armsmaster showed me an arrow. Unlike those I'd seen in books or movies, it was made out of fiberglass and had a flattened head, rather than a traditional arrowhead. "Ordinary arrows are obviously too dangerous to the target. These are specifically designed to disperse their momentum on impact while delivering a powerful sedative to the target. They hit hard, but they won't penetrate human skin." He pushed the flattened head of the arrow and a small needle came out. "This type of arrow has been used by dozens of heroes all over the country and I can assure you that it's next to impossible to kill someone with it. That said, you will need to be careful with them. They still hit hard and you can seriously injure someone if you shoot them in a sensitive part of the body, like the eyes."

"I'll aim for the chest, then." Not as if I wanted to take out someone's eye out by accident.

He smiled. "Good girl. Kid Win has volunteered to maintain your weapon for you." Whether Chris had volunteered or been volunteered was left unsaid. "The arrows are imported in bulk, so there should always be enough for when you go on patrol. That said, the state of your weapon will ultimately be your own responsibility. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir. What should I do if I run into someone with a Brute rating?"

"Use your other powers. I'm not at liberty to give you lethal ammunition and I think you can handle Brutes just fine. Is there anything else?"

I picked up the bow, trying to get a feel for it. The mechanisms inside whirred as I pulled the string. If anything, it looked more like a railgun disguised as a bow than an actual bow, but then again, what do I know? It's Tinkertech. At least they painted it in my color scheme.

An arrow found its way into my hand and onto the bow. Without even thinking about it, I breathed in, pulled the string, and let go. The arrow landed in the target's shoulder. Not bad, for a first timer. Sure, I'll need more practice before I'm comfortable taking this on patrol, but I think I can get the job done. "I don't suppose we could convince Glenn to stand on the other side of the room, right?"

"No, we can't." Armsmaster actually looked a little sad. Guess some sentiments are universal.

"A pity. Guess I'll just have to see the look on his face when he gets to work with Red…"

"Red probably won't be joining us as a member." He said, bluntly. "At least, not for the foreseeable future. Unfortunately, she's far too unstable at the moment."

I wondered if that was his injured pride speaking. Then I remembered that this was Armsmaster and he probably didn't care about getting the crap kicked out of him, so long as it's not on camera. Besides, I couldn't really say he was wrong. Yes, Red seemed all right so long as you didn't attack her. She's a bit rough around the edges, but she hasn't been overly aggressive, aside from that one incident when we first met. On the other hand, if she'd run into a criminal wearing a shoebox on his head…

Yeah, let's keep Red inside for now, just in case.

"But that wasn't what I needed to talk about." Armsmaster continued, biting his lip. "I want you to know that what I'm about to ask is extremely important and that I wouldn't pry if it weren't. I hope that you won't think any less of me for asking something this personal."

If Armsmaster wanted to know something personal, shouldn't he get Miss Militia to ask instead? It's obvious that she's better at that sort of thing than he was. Then again, there were some things you just can't delegate to others. Or maybe he already tried and she told him to ask me himself.

"Okay…"

"I have to ask you about your trigger event. Specifically, the circumstances surrounding it."

My grip on the bow tightened. Memories boiled back to the surface and I…I pushed them back down. "You already know everything." I said vehemently. "I was pushed in a locker by one of your people and left there to rot until I had a psychotic break. End of story." Okay, maybe I shouldn't be this angry with my boss. Still, there're some things you just didn't bring up in a conversation.

"I know that you should never ask about someone's trigger event, but please, it's important." It's important, he said. That's as close as he could get to outright ordering me to talk.

I couldn't really say no, could I? Fine. It hurt just to think about it, but he said it was important. "First thing that hit me when I opened my locker was the smell. I turned around, and…they were there. Smirking. Then Sophia pushed me in and Emma closed the door…or maybe Madison did, I don't know. I screamed, I banged on the door, but no one came. Then the walls closed in on me, I started choking on my own vomit and… I don't remember much after that. Just…just noise…and things…and the bugs…" Damn you, Armsmaster. Damn you for asking this. If I wasn't in costume, I'd probably be in tears right now.

"Bugs?"

"Bugs. At least, I think that's it was. The lockers at Winslow aren't exactly clean." I sighed. "Thousands of tiny, little legs and bodies, chittering around without a care in the world. My brain couldn't make sense of everything and I just…broke." It took physical effort to keep my hands where they were. I willed myself to continue. It was important, he said. "It took weeks before I could enter a building and not hear insects everywhere. I still get this itch at the back of my skull when I'm in a bug-infested building and have nothing else to focus on. It's a stupid phobia, I know, but…"

There was a moment of silence between the two of us. Part of me wanted to rip him apart for bringing this up, for making me remember the second worst day of my life again. The rest of me kept that part in check with cool, rational thought. Armsmaster is a parahuman himself. He knows what going through a trigger event is like and that asking about it would get me to hate his guts. He wouldn't do this unless he was absolutely certain it was necessary and there was no other way to get the information he needed.

This had to be part of my power. I was sure of it now. I wasn't this rational. No one was.

"And the armor?"

Of course, he needed to know that too. "I woke up a week after the locker. When my father took me home, he told me what happened. About the settlement." How the trio basically got away with attempted murder. "I ran away until I collapsed in some warehouse in the docks. Next thing I remember, my body's tearing itself apart and… I ended up looking like this." I forced my fingers to let go of the bow. It was all I could do to stop myself from doing something I'd regret later.

Armsmaster simply nodded. He looked almost…disappointed? Wait, what? What does that even mean? How was he being so calm about this? Doesn't he realize I'm two steps from hurting him?

"Why?" I asked, as calmly as I could manage.

He looked pensive, but answered anyway. "Dragon and I developed a decryption program for the Boxheads' computers. What we found was…disturbing. The Boxheads…they referred to Red as 'Subject 7'."

That had very troubling implications. "So there're at least six others."

"Six others with similar powers. The details weren't the same and we haven't decoded everything yet, but according to them, all the subjects have some sort of physical enhancement along with the ability to generate a suit of armor using nanites, just like you and Red. If it were just the two of you, I might have chalked it up to a coincidence, but eight?" He sighed, probably trying to find the words that were least likely to offend me. "There's something going on here and I can't put my finger on what it is. My first assumption was some sort of mass trigger event. It's not uncommon for people that trigger at the same place and the same time to develop similar powers. However, it usually takes some disaster, like an Endbringer attack, to make that happen, which clearly isn't the case here."

"And your second assumption…"

He bit his lip. I really wasn't going to like this. "My second assumption was that your powers are artificial."

"Artificial?"

He cleared his throat. "There has been a rather persistent rumor about an organization that can give people powers from a bottle. Normally, I wouldn't have given it the time of day, but that was before I found out about eight capes with suspiciously similar powers."

I couldn't help but feel skeptical. If there was a way to generate capes on demand, surely more people would have heard about it. Hell, the PRT alone would do anything to get an organization like that on board. Maybe they already had, and they were keeping it a secret? I wouldn't put it past them. On the other hand, if such an organization existed, wouldn't there be more heroes around? If you had a way to generate heroes, why not use it en masse?

"I see."

"However, if your powers did come from a bottle, I would have picked up something. My lie detector can tell half-truths pretty well."

I wondered why he needed to use his lie detector on me. Then it hit me. "You thought I was lying about my trigger event…"

Armsmaster immediately shook his head and started backpedalling. "I didn't say that. You don't need to be conscious to get an injection or have a liquid forced down your throat. There could be holes in your memory. You probably used the crap in your life to make sense of what happened to you. Taylor, what I'm trying to say is that eight people don't get the same power by accident. When you eliminate the impossible, whatever's left, however improbable, must be the truth."

I held up my hands. I've heard enough. I might be too messed up to feel anger, but my patience had its limits. "Thank you, Armsmaster, for the bow. I'll put it to good use. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to beat the shit out of something."

"Taylor…"

"I know you're the boss, and all that, but I think it's for the best if we don't run into each other for the rest of the day."

He quietly nodded and didn't stop me as I stormed off.