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by Kahlil Johnson

Don’t own crap

11. M

Monday, April 11th 2011

I glared down at the clothes Chrissie had suggested I wear for my first day back at school: a scarlet hoodie and gray sweatpants. When I told her I wanted to make a statement, she had immediately suggested that I go all in and flaunt it, and the chorus was in full agreement. Neither article of clothing was new, though I had avoided wearing the hoodie since the Teeth had made their presence known at Winslow.

"Couldn't you have picked nicer clothes in our colors?" Alkaline asked.

"Not yet," Stratego said. "Taylor needs to establish herself first, and showing too much, too quickly carries many risks."

I'll spend the money on a better wardrobe this weekend. Besides, I doubt the important players will keep away for the entire week.

"Your little Trio of bitches," Fester said in a sing-song voice.

"And any Wards that may be attending," Chisel finished. I really didn't want to think about the fact that there were very likely Wards at Winslow who had stood by and let me be bullied to the point of triggering. It seemed absurd, but I knew now that heroes were not all the PRT's propaganda made them out to be.

Still, Wards or no, I didn't want to cause immediate panic by announcing that I was the Butcher and that I was attending the school. Chrissie had pointed out that the Teeth weren't exactly secret with their identities, which I knew was true given that we took our masks off around the lair. People in the gang would figure out who we were sooner or later, so she thought it was better to take refuge in audacity and own it.

So, I would do just that.

Now dressed in my own official Teeth colors, I grabbed the earrings I'd shaped with Chisel's power the night before and slotted them in, the tips Tinkered to actually be able to pierce my unnaturally durable skin. My fingers moved with surety beyond my own out-of-practice skills, which was bugging me less and less as time went on.

"You should continue the act you put on last Monday," Stratego said. "Don't show too drastic of a change right away — you're still a shy girl who went to the Teeth for protection. We don't want the Empire to get any ideas."

Memories of news headlines of New Wave's debut followed by Fleur's death played back for me, a stark reminder of how much they valued the so-called Unwritten Rules. Now that I was taking up the mantle of the Butcher, I needed those rules to be enforced ruthlessly and held to an ironclad standard, no matter who violated them.

I grabbed my new backpack — gray, to go with my hoodie — and went to catch my bus. Dad, of course, didn't even look up as I hurried past him. A short jog later, and I was slinking into one of the back seats with only a few sidelong glances from the other passengers. Some wore gang colors of their own, but nobody made any aggressive moves.

"I'm surprised the bus and hospital truce have lasted this long," Sanguine said.

Butcher himself chuckled. "That was probably the best thing Marquis did for this city. He might have been a pretentious prick but he stuck to his word in all things."

I hummed in agreement as I watched the world pass me by, knowing that there was no going back. I was a villain, the leader of one of the biggest gangs in the city and the scariest fucker on the East Coast outside of a quarantine zone. This was my life now.

"Oh don't get all melancholic!" Fester said cheerfully. "Chrissie will be there, and she promised to have your back if shit goes down. You're not alone anymore."

Thanks, but this is still going to take some getting used to.

I got the impression of a smile as she went back to conversing with a few of the others, their conversation fading into the background. It was strange — none of the other Butchers had experienced a dynamic like this where they were free to just talk to one another. All their efforts prior to my inheritance had been wasted on trying to get their way, arguing and yelling over each other in an unholy cacophony.

It made me wonder just how much things would continue to change from their old dynamic, especially if I held the title for a significant amount of time. Pondering that would have to wait, however, as the moment I was dreading arrived. With a deep breath, I steeled my nerves and stood up.

Just like last week, the first thing I noticed as I disembarked the bus and walked onto the Winslow grounds was the walking itself. Even though I had made the conscious decision to declare my affiliation with the Teeth — my Teeth — I still had to throttle my gait. Walking like I was the Butcher, with all of their super strength and myriad of killer instincts, would do no favors for my secret identity. I wasn't completely successful in suppressing those instincts, but it would have to work for the moment.

"They're looking at you kind of funny again," Alkaline said with a chuckle.

Stratego snorted, his bass rumble obviously amused. "They see the colors, and Taylor's stride, and know that something has changed."

I felt a tiny half-smile quirk on my lips at that, because where people had either ignored me or actively shunned me, they were now confused and staring. It was particularly noticeable from the girls who usually gave me trouble — I could practically see their brains weighing the consequences of continuing their little campaign.

The second thing I noticed was the new distribution of gang colors. With the ABB practically defunct, it was unsurprising that Asian kids in red and green were scarce. On the flip side, the Empire kids were doing their best to wave their disgusting flag, transparently feeling threatened by the shit-eating grins and bold confidence of the Teeth.

"Admit it, Taylor. It feels good, knowing this is all because of you," Butcher said, and while I still pushed him away, I was distracted by inspecting the various insignias of the Teeth.

I had never really noticed, but even when the Teeth weren't wearing the colors, they often had Butcher-related iconography among their accessories. For Quarrel, that had been stylized arrows worked into jewelry, key chains, patches, and so on; for me it was insects. Most of the students had made the swap, with only a few holdovers, though a handful carried both as a sign of having been a member under both Butchers. I had made a pair of vaguely wasp-like insect earrings for the occasion, though they were hard to see with my ears buried in my hair.

"You should wear your hair back," Pyro suggested.

"Not a bad suggestion, as you are about to attract a fuckload of attention either way," Sabertooth said.

"Maybe," I murmured. Chisel showed me a few memories of how she had worn her long hair, both in civvies and in costume, only to have Damascian respond with instructions on how to weave an elaborate braid that could then be curled up, say, under a helmet.

"Your hair is very pretty, Taylor," Alkaline said. "But wearing it up today would make quite a statement."

Make a statement.

Well, I was certainly going to be doing that today. In fact, as I walked up to the clump of my nominal minions clustered off to the side of the courtyard, I intentionally channeled a bit of the Butcher's confidence, as I had during my reveal to the Teeth. I had to project an air of calm surety, because I was the fuckmothering Butcher and this was my gang.

The others didn't quite laugh at me, but I could feel their quiet amusement.

As I walked up to the Teeth, several of them turned their heads and gave me incredulous looks. "What the hell is this?" one of the bigger boys said. "Are we just letting in anyone now?"

"Dunno, Fred," another boy said, cracking his knuckles. "Maybe she's confused."

Chrissie snorted dramatically and waved a blunt at me. "Heya, boss. Want a hit?"

On the second word, the entire group went completely silent. We had planned this encounter, with Chrissie having gathered those she felt would be the least likely to spill their guts bragging to their buddies about knowing the Butcher's identity. I wasn't exactly hiding — the Teeth partied without masks — but only a few kids at Winslow would have been in a position to see me. I wanted the rest to know I was here, just not who I was… yet.

I seized the spot next to Chrissie in the cluster of stunned teenagers and considered my options while the Butchers argued in my head.

"You had a hit at the party, why are you hesitating now?" Marauder asked immediately.

I could feel Chisel's disapproval. "The stuff they smoke around here is terrible."

"You'll have to learn how to smoke no matter what," Butcher growled. "Just take it."

"Sure," I said aloud, though based on the way Chrissie's eyes narrowed she had caught my hesitation. Everyone else was still silent, staring at us.

Following the memories of a dozen people, I took the offered blunt and took a small hit. While I did, Chrissie gave me an up-and-down appraisal. "You, of all people, should have some insects somewhere."

"Earrings," I said.

Chrissie rolled her eyes. "And you're not showing them off?"

"Fine," I said, dragging out the word. "Hold this." She took the blunt from me and with deft fingers (guided by Damascian), I started working my hair into a braid. While I did so, the other Teeth either went back to murmuring to each other or inspecting me surreptitiously.

"Oooh!" Chrissie said, leaning in on my exposed earrings. "You make these yourself?"

"Obviously," I said. "Gimme a hand with the end of this?"

I waved the end of my braid at her, and she worked the last few weaves in before pulling a hair band out of her own pocket to secure it. "Damn, boss, that looks great!"

"So," the first boy said, wringing his hands. "You're, uh…"

"I still think you should have gone by Skitter," Alkaline groused.

"Arachne!" Ironsides half-yelled.

I pushed the other Butchers away and gave the group a smug smile that I didn't totally feel. "Something like that. Listen up, because I'm going to lay down some new ground rules…"

I had been brief with my instructions. First was to spread the word among our members that the Butcher was attending, but not who I was. I had plans for my reveal and didn't want them spoiled.

Second, no more bullying anyone not wearing other gang's colors or symbols; picking on the weak was beneath us, and they were to defend anyone seen being harassed in a similar manner.

Third was for Chrissie and her direct subordinates only: Emma and her groupies were off limits. They could respond with equal force if provoked but never instigate nor escalate. Those back-stabbing bitches were mine. I also didn't trust Chrissie to not do something… drastic.

Finally, stop tagging the number fifteen or the roman numerals 'XV' in random places. I wasn't a huge fan of graffiti, and I saw no reason to encourage more of it around Winslow, but they could cover up any Empire tags they saw.

As I walked through the halls, I tried again to force my old gait but all it did was make the Butchers laugh. After a few frustrating moments on my way to Mrs. Knott's class, I finally snapped. Alright, will someone let me in on the damn joke already?

Alkaline was the first to recover enough to speak. "You're walking like some scared bitch trying to act tough. You're having the opposite effect and its fucking gold."

"It's true," Stratego confirmed. "People will see you and think you're trying to act like having the Teeth at your back will keep you safe, and are trying and failing to be confident."

"Even when you fuck up it somehow works…" Butcher grumbled.

Well, that was a thing. I noticed several of the Teeth members giving me odd looks, but none were apparently willing to openly confront me in the halls on the off chance I was actually a member. That was fine, since Chrissie and her goons would be spreading that fact alongside the confirmation that the Butcher was here. Those with more than two brain cells would be able to figure it out from there.

"You are vastly overestimating the intellectual capabilities of most of our members," Damascian said, though her snark was mostly aimed at the other Butchers.

I know, but short of ordering sports hoodies that have WEAVER embroidered on them with a giant XV on the back, I don't know how I could be more obvious without calling everyone to the gym and pulling my announcement stunt from Friday all over again.

There were a few blissful moments of true silence.

"Okay, we know you're bullshitting us on the grand display, but those hoodies would be awesome," Pyro said, to general agreement from the others.

I'll look into ordering some.

I took my usual seat in Mrs. Knott's class and pointedly ignored the looks she was giving me. Of all my teachers, she was the only one I would feel guilty about when dealing with her in my new capacity. The rest could all go to hell. Today's assignment was simple as could be, but rather than browse PHO as I usually did, I made a show of breaking the rules a bit. I pulled my phone out and browsed from there instead. In fact, anyone who actually got a good look at my screen would see I was logged in on my verified Weaver account.

"Ballsy," Fester said approvingly.

"Okay, I take it back. Maybe school won't suck all that much if we get to do shit like this all day," Marauder said.

"What about making some jewelry with my power, to hand out to the grunts?" Chisel asked. "Might be a subtle trick you could do for the members once you're ready to take another step into the open."

Not a bad idea, I'll think about it.

It took Mrs. Knott a full five minutes to work up the courage to actually come talk to me. When she did, I gently nudged the chorus to keep to themselves while I played this out.

"Taylor?" I looked up at her, making no effort to hide the device. "You know phones aren't allowed in class."

I really hated this part, but I needed to do it. I glanced at each and every student with their phones out, all of whom were looking right at us, waiting to see if I would fold or not. Most were in Teeth or Empire colors. She had given up on correcting any of them long ago, but she must have still held out hope for me… which made my heart ache to do this.

I let the facade of weak little Taylor fall away for the briefest of moments as I smirked at her. The way her pupils dilated told me she had felt a shiver of fear. Then the facade was back in full effect as I took on my weakest sounding voice I could muster.

"I'm sorry Mrs. Knott, but I assumed you wouldn't mind since you've never said anything to my friends about it." She looked stricken as I glanced at the nearest person in Teeth colors. He seemed amused by my antics more than anything. "Did you change your mind?"

I saw tears form in her eyes and had to push my own emotions into the swarm to avoid cracking. "Oh Taylor, I'm so sorry we failed you."

"It's alright," I said softly. "I have people that will make sure nothing like January ever happens again." My voice turned cheerful and I smiled wide. "Weaver promised."

An actual tear trailed down her cheek, and I wanted nothing more than to pull her into a hug — all because she actually gave a damn. She just lacked the power to actually do anything of worth and we both knew it.

Class ended shortly after that, and I saw how the Teeth members who had been in the room were giving me appraising looks. I'd name dropped the Butcher; that wasn't something one did casually and they all knew it. I looked the boy I'd used as an example in the eye and flicked my earring before winking, then I fell right back into the wounded girl act. I knew from the bugs I had on him that he stopped cold at my little display.

I had English Literature next, a class I shared with Sophia; I couldn't wait to see her reaction to my new wardrobe. However, when I took a habitual detour through a relatively unused hallway, I saw something that ignited a fury within me: two members of MY Teeth were harassing some girl who looked as weak as I used to be. She might be wearing our colors, but I thought that I had made my expectations clear.

Maybe they had not received the message.

"Oh this will be good," Knockout said and I could have sworn he pulled out a bag of popcorn to munch on.

They slammed the girl into the lockers and I heard the big guy yell out, "Got it? No more scarlet and gray!" He then shoved the hapless girl down the hall, only for her to nearly run me over when I caught her.

"Please don't hurt me," she cried, obviously placing me in the gang myself. The bell rang as she struggled to disentangle herself from me, but I had more important things to deal with than being late for my class. I (carefully) set her back upright and gave her an appraising look.

"It's alright, I'm a friend," I said kindly. "Don't worry about those assholes, I'll make sure they get the memo to leave you alone, alright?"

She looked at me and recognition seemed to dawn, and judging by how her face fell she knew who Taylor Hebert was.

"Gonna take some work to shake that reputation," Fester mused.

Well, now was a good time to start. "Something to remember about Winslow going forward." She looked up to me as I wiped the spit off her brow with my sleeve then held a finger to my lips. A single ladybug then landed on it. "Weaver is always watching." I winked, then sent the ladybug to land on her own finger. She stared at it in wonder as I walked past her, patting her shoulder before I sauntered right up to the two offending jackasses.

"Well, if it isn't Winslow's own locker girl," one of them said, but I didn't let the insult phase me. "What's up with all the trash flocking—"

He was cut off when I hooked my arm under his chin and slammed him into the lockers. His buddy, to his credit, was only stunned for an instant before he thought to throw a punch, which I lazily caught with my free hand. The chorus was cheering, shouting out ideas for what I should do but I already had a plan.

"Maybe I didn't make myself clear enough Friday night." The wasps hidden in my hair buzzed as I spoke, and I gave them a smile full of power-sharpened teeth. "What part of 'stop being assholes' did you fail to grasp?"

The guy actually whimpered, then an acrid smell hit me.

"Holy shit! He pissed himself!" Sabertooth howled in approval. "See if you can make the other one do it too!"

I'd rather not, this one is bad enough with your enhanced senses.

I glanced at the fist I was holding, releasing pissy jeans to fall to the floor. I twisted my grin into an unpleasant smirk as I ever so carefully squeezed down, watching as his face contorted in pain. To my surprise, the punch-throwing guy found a spark of defiance.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?"

Pissy jeans answered for him. "Shut up Paul, she's…"

"Rather upset with you," I said in a whisper, augmented by a barely-audible buzzing. I tried not to enjoy myself too much as his eyes went wide with realization and his mouth snapped shut with an audible click. "Fortunately for you both, I am more merciful than my predecessors. That means you get one warning instead of zero. Do I make myself clear?"

They both nodded so quickly that I wondered about whiplash. I held their eyes for another long second before flashing them a cheerful grin. I pretended not to hear their pair of pained whimpers as I left, humming the Imperial March as I shuffled back down the silent halls.

English Literature turned out to be uneventful. I'd expected Sophia to try something, but all she did was give me the weirdest of looks before I took my usual seat in the back. As the class droned on, she would occasionally glance back, but my only acknowledgement that she existed was a slight smirk. When the bell rang, Sophia was the first one out the door.

My trek to Mr. Gladly's class was accompanied by a wake of whispers; it seemed that word was spreading. Madison saw me before I entered the classroom, freezing in place with wide eyes, so I gave her my brightest smile as I waved. Then I heard Chrissie's laugh and had to swallow the sudden lump in my throat as my mind replayed the tickle fight we had enjoyed Sunday morning and the way she had looked at me after.

"I'm sure if you asked nicely she'd do more than kiss you," Fester teased. I felt my cheeks begin to heat up.

"I doubt you'd even need to ask, she basically gave you a blank check," Alkaline added.

I shoved them both away even as they snickered to each other.

Chrissie threw her arm over my shoulder and led me into the classroom. "Damn girl, you've got half the school jumping at shadows and it isn't even lunch yet."

If my nominal minion saw the blush that rolled over my face, she didn't say anything. But neither did she stop smiling when she practically glared Greg out of the room to take the seat next to me. He looked at me, clearly confused, as if he expected me to say something. I shrugged and pointed towards Chrissie's old seat,

"Taylor, what happened to you?" He looked over my outfit. "Is it laundry day?"

"Nerdy kid crushing on the Butcher is oblivious as shit. The story of his tragic death at eleven," Sabertooth said in his best impression of a newscaster.

I couldn't help but snort. "Yes Greg, it is laundry day," I deadpanned. "Of course, I had to finish it last night to make sure things matched. You'll notice there's no glue or juice on this hoodie… something to think about next time you decide to sit back and do nothing."

He was staring at me with a stricken expression until he seemed to deflate and took Chrissie's old seat. He kept glancing back and giving me a look that made me feel like I'd kicked a… well, not a puppy, he didn't have that look at all to himself, so maybe a possum? I was finding it difficult to care.

Madison came in with the final bell, looking rather brackish as she took her seat. With Sabertooth's enhanced senses, I could see the phone in her hand on a texting screen.

"Aww, she's waiting for instructions. How cute," Alkaline laughed.

Well, she was always a follower at best.

Gladly came in about a minute late, but I spent most of the class browsing PHO or texting Chrissie cute cat pictures while he droned on. He seemed content to ignore me just as he always did, so I would be grateful for that, as it was one less show I needed to put on. When the lunch bell rang I gathered my things and made for the door.

"Taylor, a word with you before you leave."

I stopped at his desk and raised an eyebrow. The bugs I had on Chrissie and Madison told me both stayed back to watch. So much for avoiding another show — a few others had stayed behind as well, including Greg, no doubt hoping for something interesting to talk about at lunch besides Winslow's resident Locker Girl joining a gang.

"Please do something interesting to this one," Damascian said. "Human refuse would be so lucky to be compared to him, after his cowardly display last week."

Memories of her trigger came to the forefront unbidden, of course she would hate the man after what he had done. Hell, even without her memories, I couldn't find a single fuck to give about the bastard. He had his chance and proved himself useless.

All in good time.

I gave him the most unimpressed look I could muster without letting my anger show. "Can you make this fast? I have plans for lunch."

He gave me an appraising look before sighing. "You skipped your detention."

I couldn't help but laugh at that. "I skipped more than just detention if you hadn't noticed. I had a bit of a busy week." I made a show of dusting off my hoodie.

"Extremely busy," Stratego said with considerable approval.

"Could have been busier," Alkaline teased, nudging my attention towards Chrissie.

"So it would appear." Gladly began to wipe his glasses but I had a fly near Chrissie's ear buzz its wings.

She hurried over and hooked her arm through mine. "Come on Tay, we don't want to miss out on the grilled cheese!"

Chrissie pulled me out of the classroom even as Gladly sputtered, and both of us descended into laughter as we made our way through the halls and towards the lunch room. Most of the students we came across gave us our space; even the Empire goons were casting a wary eye upon me. We gathered our trays, paying for the shitty grilled cheese and watery tomato soup before Chrissie led me over to what I knew to be the important table for the Winslow Teeth. More than a few people took note of my placement next to the other cape, as well as how clingy she was being with me.

Maybe I'm not being as subtle as I thought…

"You keep using that word. I don't think it means what you think it means," Alkaline said in a mocking tone.

Oh fuck off!

The chorus laughed at me and I didn't bother to hide the resulting pout, which made those sitting at the table look at me with the most curious of expressions. Most of them were out front with Chrissie earlier, but a few were newcomers and I wondered if they knew.

"You should totally fuck with them if they don't," Alkaline said with a giggle.

"Pretty sure she's already fucking with most of the school at this point," Fester chuckled. "Look at all the idiots staring!"

Thank you for reminding me.

Of course they all continued to laugh at me, the damn traitors. I would have thought that my predecessors would be more supportive now that my heroic aspirations had crashed and burned. God, it still hurt, knowing that those heroes I had always looked up to were willing to ship a fifteen year old girl into hell just to make things easier on themselves…

"They didn't deserve you," Chisel said with odd finality.

What did it say about me that I actually found their reassurances comforting? I was about to continue the conversation when an arm snaked around my waist and pulled me close. Chrissie's warm breath was suddenly on my ear and I could just feel the heat rising in my cheeks.

"You're drifting off. I take it they're being rather chatty?" she whispered.

I nodded. "They were pointing out how I've basically confused the fuck out of the entire school."

Chrissie blinked for a moment then let out a roiling belly laugh, slapping my back as she did. I just glared at my… friend? Was she my friend? Chrissie could have done any number of things at that party, but instead, she helped me. She didn't have to do that, but she did. Even now, she was helping me with my plan to make sure that nobody would be bullied like I had been at this school. Sure, that involved me actively leading our gang, but it was still a drastic shift from how things used to be for the Teeth at Winslow.

Yeah, she was a friend. I think I could say that with some confidence now.

Naturally, that was when Emma and I noticed one another from across the cafeteria. Several conflicting emotions went to war on her face, eventually settling on some sort of enraged incredulity, but I sincerely doubted that there was anything Emma could do to me at this point.

Chrissie twisted in her seat, eyes flicking between the two of us before she pulled me close and gave me a playful kiss on the cheek.

Emma's reaction to that was priceless — her jaw dropped in surprise just as she tried to make a disgusted face, and the combination made her look like a deformed fish.

"I think Red just broke," Alkaline snickered.

"Serves the traitorous bitch right!" Fester cheered.

I gently separated Chrissie from my cheek, focusing on Emma's expression to fuel my subdued laughs. I knew full well that I was twisting the knife just a bit deeper, and as Emma's expression turned to outrage, I went in for the kill. I grabbed hold of Chrissie and returned the kiss in full, eliciting wolf whistles of half the Teeth in the cafeteria and scowls from most of the Empire members. I'd probably pay for this later, but for the moment? Yeah, I could get used to this. Mel Brooks was right. It's good to be the boss.

Chemistry was my next class, and I had barely needed to open my mouth before Chrissie agreed to be my lab partner — which also let me avoid Greg. Sophia and Emma shared this class as well, which was providing all the entertainment I could have ever wanted.

"You seem to be occupying Red's full attention," Damascian noted.

"Chrissie might have some competition," Fester teased.

I almost spilled the chemical solution in my hand at that comment. Oh sweet Christ no. I was thankful I wasn't drinking water at the time, because I would have been choking now, and that would be a horribly embarrassing way to go.

"Almost as embarrassing as a bee allergy," Sabertooth said sagely.

"Fuck you and your useless ass regeneration," Quarrel snapped.

"So, you and Chrissie gonna become a thing?" Alkaline asked as I felt a blush form. "That kiss was hardly chaste compared to the one she gave you."

I'm just keeping up appearances!

The snickering and laughter just made the blush worse.

Alright, so she's kinda hot and we've already established I like girls, so is it really that big of a deal? More laughter. Come on!

Alkaline was greatly amused. "Less than an hour ago you had barely decided she was a friend, then you kissed her minutes later."

"Even Lustrum's crew worked slower than that. Annette would be so proud," Fester said like a doting parent.

"Huh, we might actually get laid this decade. Seeing her go the hero route had me worried for a bit," Knockout said with relief, so I gave him a mental shove into the corner.

"So, what has you doing a tomato impression?" Chrissie whispered.

Right, I needed to pay more attention to the real world and not the voices in my head… Which made me sound even crazier than I likely was.

Maybe.

"Internal debate about what happened at lunch," I replied.

"You mean where you left me wanting more?" Chrissie said. "Wanting to whisk me away to some empty corner of the school and have your way with me?"

My eye was twitching because she had said it loud enough for Emma to have heard it two rows over. Dammit Chrissie!

"She's not stupid, she knows you did it to mess with Red," Alkaline said. "Remember that we're villains, Taylor, and that audacity is part of being in the Teeth."

"So fucking own it!" Pyro yelled.

Everyone that heard her little question had turned to look at us, including Emma and Sophia… exactly as Chrissie had planned. Just like the rest of the day so far, I was on the spot, and the Butcher was known for their arrogant displays. For now, that meant doubling down in my audacity refuge.

I grabbed the collar of Chrissie's shirt and pulled her close, then I drew a bit on Sabertooth's power and gave a low and throaty growl. I was looking her right in the eyes when I murmured, "Later."

I could tell she wanted to pout at being denied, but at the same time her eyes sparkled with what I knew from the collective's memories to be lust. I supposed something like that would be a bit of a turn on for some people.

"Some people?" Fester asked incredulously. "Hell, that turned ME on."

I will mute you.

I was still holding the other cape close and hadn't broken eye contact. She swallowed dryly and licked her lips before giving me a single nod. With that I released my grip and went back to working on our assignment as if nothing had happened.

Under her breath I heard Chrissie mutter, "I'll hold you to that Tay."

I was so screwed.

"Hopefully literally," several voices said at once.

I wanted so desperately to slam my head into the desk and have it do something other than break the damn thing.

My last few classes of the day were not just uneventful, they were almost painfully normal. Emma and her entourage never built up the courage to do anything more than glare at me or type furiously on their phones, which left me to my own devices for the first time in weeks. Part of me wanted to rage, scream, and break things in response, knowing that it took me finally joining the fucking Teeth to let me attend school in peace.

Of course, it wouldn't actually be that simple. The bugs I had put on Madison and Sophia let me know that they were waiting around the corner when Emma and I left Mr. Quinlan's math class, so I was hardly surprised when the three of them confronted me almost as soon as I set foot into the hallway.

However, where I would normally have faced their malice alone, now I had the Teeth. Sure, one of them was a girl who had occasionally joined in on the taunting — she had been rather apologetic after seeing me and Chrissie at lunch — but I was grateful for their support nonetheless.

I also had my predecessors, but their 'help' was anything but.

"You could peel their skin off and toss them in the Bay," Knockout suggested.

That's disgusting!

"See, the Bay is salty —"

I know!

He got put into the dark, only for Ironsides to offer, "What about tripping them and breaking their ankles? If you position your foot just right, it doesn't take that much force."

"Why, Ironsides, I didn't know you had such tactical thoughts!" Stratego laughed.

Chisel made an irritated noise. "Just get this over with. It's not like they can hurt you any more than they already have."

"You idiot," Fester spat, but luckily they both shut up when Emma started talking.

"Well look at you, Taylor," my ex-friend said with far too much fake excitement. "Just when I thought you couldn't get more pathetic, you went crawling to the only group who would give trash like you the time of day."

Madison followed up before I could even formulate a response. "Those are nice earrings, though. Are you practicing having the Teeth put things into your body?"

The Butchers burst into laughter in my head, and as much as I hated to admit it, that was kind of clever. I snickered along with them; my minions started laughing a second or so after me.

"Perhaps this explains their silence," Damascian crowed. "They've been waiting on her overtaxed brain to develop that disparagement all day!" The comment triggered another round of laughs, but I forced myself back to the real-world conversation. Sophia was scowling, as usual, but looks of pure confusion flashed over Emma and Madison's faces before returning to their usual scorn.

"Fuck, that was kind of funny," I said, getting my chuckles under control.

"I don't think she realizes that we're making fun of her," Madison tried, but her comment lacked her usual cutesy zeal.

"Maybe the Teeth managed to fuck her brains out," Emma agreed. "It's all she's really good for, anymore."

"Is that all she's got?" Alkaline wondered, and I found myself agreeing with her. Between the heroes' betrayal and the Butchers' commentary, none of these petty insults really seemed to matter anymore.

Still, being reminded of cuddling with Chrissie during the party sent a blush through my cheeks, and Emma's face twisted into her usual sneer of victory. "What are you so embarrassed about, Taylor? Actually, does your dad know that you're whoring yourself out? What would your Mom say?"

"She'd fucking applaud you for nailing Stormtiger to the ground!" Fester yelled. "Can we please kill these fuckers already?"

"You could just tear them apart like the animals they are!" Sabertooth roared.

"Taylor's not going to kill them, but she didn't say anything about maiming," Sanguine added unhelpfully. "If you just —"

No.

While I was dealing with the collective's complaints, Emma was staring at me with unerring malice. When I refused to show any emotion other than bored disinterest — my bugs were skittering around like crazy to compensate — she took a deep breath and prepared another verbal salvo. "Taylor —"

"There you are, Tay!" Chrissie appeared around the corner and darted over to us, deftly avoiding the jab to her ribs that Sophia tried to get in as she passed. "Hey Britney, Zach. Whatcha up to?" Zach flicked his chin at Emma and shrugged. Chrissie gave the trio a once-over and nodded. "You know, we talked about recruiting you three. That locker thing you did to Taylor was horrific, and it sure as hell impressed our more cutthroat members."

"Impressed?" I hissed, turning my gaze onto the other cape.

Chrissie blinked several times before realization washed over her face. "Aw fuck, sorry Taylor. Well, um, point is that they've got the makings of great Teeth, and, uh…"

"Taylor, don't do something you'll regret here," Chisel said immediately.

She… the… I, fuck.

"She's just playing into the role, trying to find a nerve to prod. Don't let yourself be the one bothered."

The Butchers were blessedly silent while I took a moment to get my temper under control. My trigger event had been horrific, yes, but I wasn't going to let Emma get any more enjoyment out of my suffering than she already had. Or, was — she and Madison were laughing and saying things about how even the Teeth thought I was disgusting.

"She's right, you know," I bit out, cutting off their tirade. "Even the Teeth haven't done something as awful as the locker recently. Between that and all of the other bullshit you've put me through, you would fit right in. We could even be friends again, Emma."

I was surprised by the wide range of emotional responses to my offer. Emma locked up, freezing an expression of anger onto her face that sharply contrasted the horror in her eyes. Chrissie huffed out a relieved sigh, while Madison looked… queasy? She definitely seemed only moments from throwing up.

Sophia punched me.

With all of my Thinker powers, I saw the blow coming from a mile away. Her form was uncommonly good, and the punch would have hurt quite a bit if I didn't have all of the rest of my powers. The residual anger from Chrissie's comment — really, the resulting laughter — tempted me to catch the punch and hit her back ten fold, or just stand there and let her break her hand on my face, but I wasn't going to out myself as a cape in the middle of the hallway. Not with so many rubberneckers watching us.

So, I turned my head ever so slightly, and let Sophia's fist impact my cheekbone instead of my nose. I cried out in feigned pain while allowing her momentum to spin me around and send me sprawling to the ground. I took a moment to recover while gently cupping my cheek where she had struck me.

"Ow fuck, you crazy bitch!"

It wasn't until Chrissie, Zach, and Britney were advancing on the trio that I remembered to wave my hand, calling them off from the attack and prompting them to help me up. Sophia had backed off, dropping her fighting stance at the same time that Emma pulled her lips back in a victorious smirk. I could feel Mr. Quinlan approaching via my bugs, along with the handful of students who had stopped to watch the budding fight, but any hope that I might have had about witnesses sputtered and died in the whirlwind of memories Chissie had kicked up.

"It might work," Sanguine mused. "Wait, nevermind, the teachers here are morons."

Fester rolled her metaphorical eyes. "You're also in Teeth colors, surrounded by our people, you seriously think he might side with us?"

"Never too late to just kill everyone and leave no witnesses," Buchter said with a hearty laugh.

"At least make them work for it," Sabertooth growled. "Force them to show their hand." I nodded slightly in agreement, my eyes never leaving Emma's smirking face. Even if their support would very likely amount to nothing, it felt good to know that the Teeth had my back.

"Ladies, we have a no-tolerance policy about fighting in this school," Mr. Quinlan said.

I locked eyes with the teacher, noting the grimace that passed over his face when I did. "Mr. Quinlan, Sophia punched me in the face for no justifiable reason."

"It's true," Chrissie said, echoed by Zach and Britney.

"She punched me first," Sophia said, shrugging.

"Naturally," Alkaline spat.

"Don't bullshit," Chrissie snapped, taking a half step forward before my hand stopped her.

"Miss Dawson, language," Mr. Quinlan replied. His eyes flicked over my face and towards Sophia's and he sagged infinitesimally. "And Miss Hebert, no matter what the provocation, escalation is not the answer."

"Wrong again, dipshit!" Knockout bellowed.

This sort of bullshit was the reason I didn't try to get justice for the locker, and I could feel the Butchers feeding on my own anger. Some I pushed out into the swarm, sending the bugs scurrying and buzzing, but the rest leaked into my voice. "Are you really going to join in on this nonsense? You saw Sophia hit me!"

"Miss Barnes, Clements?" he asked, eyes tightening.

Madison shook herself, some of her cutesy poise returning. "Taylor just punched her out of the blue, Mr. Quinlan." Emma nodded enthusiastically.

"Would anyone else like to offer what they witnessed?" he asked the crowd of onlookers. When three people in Teeth colors stepped forward, he waved them off. "Preferably someone not affiliated with one of the aggressors?"

I saw the girl I'd helped earlier in the day deflate a bit, she'd been one of the three to step forward, as had one of the assholes I'd threatened earlier today. He looked like he expected blood, which made sense given that he knew my identity.

Mr. Quinlan deliberated for a moment before sighing. "So be it. I'm letting you both off with a warning —"

"She doesn't have a mark on her!" Britney yelled.

"Neither does Taylor," Emma bit back.

"Flay them alive!" "Break their spines!" "Eat their hearts!"

My fist clenched as I began to pull my anger back from my swarm. "Trust me, if I had punched Sophia…" I looked the offender dead in the eyes, feeling several of my powers itching to be used. "She would still be on the floor."

Sophia and Emma both rolled their eyes dramatically at my declaration, though it did cause Madison to flinch… small victories.

"A warning," Mr. Quinlan repeated, more firmly, then turned and walked back into his classroom.

I could practically feel Damascian cracking her knuckles. "Is this faculty composed entirely of cowards?"

Stratego hummed in thought. "What did he truly do, though? Nothing changed with his intervention aside from pulling everyone back from a potential brawl, which is now free to resume."

Emma's smile turned predatory as soon as the door shut. "Now that you've shown your true colors, it looks like I made the right choice to stop being friends with you, Taylor."

While part of my mind noted that Emma's parting remark was lacking in viciousness, the rest of me was fuming in silent rage as the three of them walked away. It was taking all of my self control to not go along with one of the many suggestions the Butchers kept offering me. Still, I couldn't let her get the last word.

"Just remember, Emma. Whatever I become, you made me into this." The three girls paused, but I was already turning to leave. I was sure that they would confront me again eventually, so I really needed to come up with a plan. That would have to be later, though — I was too pissed with Chrissie, Emma, Quinlan, and damn near everything else to think straight at the moment.

"Hey, Tay," Chrissie started, trailing off as I brushed past her towards the steps up to the third floor. Retreating to the bathroom felt like defeat after an otherwise good day, but I needed to vent in a place where nobody would care if I broke some shit.

Author's Notes:

First: I had the ideas for the hoodies very early, so I was doubly excited when the idea appeared in Spindal's omake 'Return to Class.' Bits and pieces of this chapter were also among the earliest snips I wrote. Many thanks to manicMagician and Atlasofremembrance for their help, as always.

Pen: More of the scenes I adored originated in the snips. The bit where Tay pinned the guy to the locker? A greatly expanded snip. The bit at the front of the school? Another snip. The cafeteria scene was inspired by a VERY different scene that involved a lot more showboating and maimed Nazis, still a bit too early for that. ;)

That final scene with the Trio… Let's just say this is going to be a busy week, expect more Trio run ins as the week progresses. This isn't over yet!

Last edited: Feb 12, 2022

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Pendragoon

Feb 4, 2022

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Pendragoon

Pendragoon

She/Her

Feb 11, 2022

#3,001

Monday, April 11th 2011

"The paint still isn't quite right."

"Who the fuck will notice?"

"She's trying to fix it."

"She's trying not to contemplate what a shitshow this place is. The paint is a distraction."

"I've never ascribed particular intelligence to any of you, but drawing attention to a mental diversion tends to reduce it in efficacy."

"I'm fine," I muttered, deciding that there wasn't much point in trying to restore the stall divider to pristine condition. The surprisingly thick metal was already in much better condition than the divider next to it, despite having my fist punched through it repeatedly several minutes prior.

"What was that, boss?" Chrissie called from outside the bathroom.

"She didn't mean to hurt you," Alkaline said quietly, noticing the tension. "Trigger events are hot-button topics for every cape."

"Just suck it up," Butcher complained, but it was half-hearted.

"Besides, their reaction was pretty funny, huh?" Marauder tried. "The violent one snapped almost instantly!"

Chisel made a contemplative sound. "I almost wonder if they had… an encounter, shall we say, with our gang."

That thought froze me on the spot, stopping my now-habitual pacing when dealing with the Butchers. Taking the high road and refusing to stoop to Emma's level was much harder when I could imagine her trembling in fear at being visited by the Teeth. Hell, I could do it myself, assuming that I could rein in my urge to smack the traitorous bitch across the face. I could even have the Teeth set fire to her house afterwards, and everyone would assume her dad ran afoul of —

I took a deep breath. As much as I wanted to see Emma get her comeuppance, I couldn't trust myself to do it without going overboard. I would need an actual plan that didn't involve just turning the other cheek constantly, no matter how little threat they actually posed to me.

"Boss?"

"What?" I snapped.

The door to the bathroom creaked open, revealing Chrissie's face. My bugs reported that she wasn't the only lookout, but the other Teeth were apparently happy to play guard while the cape dealt with their boss. She eased herself into the room after giving me the once-over and deciding that I was unlikely to punish her right now. "So, uh, Tay…"

I gave the other girl a flat stare. To her credit, she didn't wilt under the force of my displeasure. We had made plans over the weekend to go shopping this afternoon, partially because Chrissie was trying to endear herself to me, but mostly because even I could admit that my wardrobe was in dire need of renewal. "We are still going shopping," I ground out. "Get your shit together and let's go."

As I swept past her and down the hall, Fester tried and failed to help. "Taylor, you can't get upset every time the Teeth are assholes. Chrissie said something stupid, sure, but —"

She said the Teeth were 'impressed' with how those bitches caused my trigger event! That was beyond 'stupid!'

"I'm with XV here," Stratego rumbled. "Any of the rest of us would have pain blasted her, at minimum."

Chrissie scrambled to catch up to me after some comments to the other Teeth that had been hanging around, and the thought of doing something more violent to her crossed my mind. However, she was the only person to show me anything like compassion — in the Teeth or otherwise — and I was definitely not stooping to Butcher's level for dealing with my subordinates.

I had endured all of the trio's awful comments up until this point.

So why did Chrissie's comment hurt so much?

The girl in question followed me out of Winslow and most of the way down the block before finally attempting to apologize. "Uh, I just want to say sorry —"

"Sorry?" I hissed, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk to loom over the other cape. "Do you know what it was like, being stuck in there while everyone laughed? Did you laugh, Chrissie? Were you there, listening to me beg to be let out?"

"No," Chrissie said, meeting my eyes. "No, I was passed-out drunk at the lair and got a really confusing call from one of the boys. I didn't even find out what had happened until afterwards, but…"

"But what?"

"I, uh, did tell everyone not to cooperate with the cops —"

"What the fuck!?"

Chrissie quickly waved her hands in a vaguely placating gesture. "Boss, hold up, wait — cops wouldn't give a shit about gang kids pointing fingers at the popular girls, and it doesn't help us to have the cops nosing around. Those bitches already had the 'respectable' students keeping quiet, remember?"

"Taylor, she has a point," Alkaline said, cutting through my rising fury. "We're criminals, here."

"They're the criminals!" Chrissie, to her credit, barely winced at my non-sequitur outburst. I dumped some of my anger and frustration into my swarm, which immediately began skittering in aggravation nearby. "Ok, fine. That makes sense, I guess. But what if you had been there? Would you have let me out?"

Her answer came immediately. "Honestly, Taylor? Probably not. I don't want to bullshit you, Butcher or no, but I'm not a good person like that." The bottom dropped out of my stomach at her admission, but continued before I could get out a response. "But I'll say this, boss — when I said that what they did was Teeth-worthy, I meant shit that Spree or Quarrel would do."

"Hell yes we would!" Quarrel cheered. I muted her immediately.

"No high school student deserves that level of shit, and definitely not someone as harmless as you… well, were, I guess. That's not really my style, and what they did was seriously awful. I wouldn't pull that sort of stunt at a school."

From the moment I hoisted her over my shoulder, I had known that Chrissie was a member of the Teeth. One that was… significantly invested in me, to be sure, but she was an actual supervillain who had intentionally chosen that path. She was directly contributing to the gang issue that had turned Winslow into a cesspit, and indirectly to the faculty ignoring my cries for help.

"She's being honest with you, Taylor," Fester said, continuing that line of thought for me. "An underling looking to just get in your pants or not get pain blasted would just lie and say something about recruiting you afterwards."

"Remember, kid — we're supervillains. Ignoring the plight of others comes with the job," Ironsides said. "And if there really are Wards at Winslow, it's not like they helped any more than the Teeth."

That doesn't excuse what she did!

"No it doesn't," Fester agreed. "But Chrissie could have chosen to leave you adrift at your first party, so clearly she's trying."

She needed to try harder. "What about now?" I asked quietly, honestly curious about her response.

Chrissie took a long moment to consider her reply. "Taylor, I'm sorry that I brought up your trigger event. It never really occurred to me that things could be so bad that a quiet girl like you would get powers, and, well… yeah, I wouldn't want someone else to go through that."

I didn't bother to hide my disbelief. "Something tells me you're not about to go sign up for the Wards."

"Fuck no," Chrissie snorted. "I'm more than happy to beat up Nazis and other trash. But kids just trying to get through the school day? I'm kind of glad you put your foot down."

She sounded sincere. Hell, just a few days ago Chrissie was lamenting contributing to my trigger event in the first place, so it was hard to believe that she was bullshitting me right now. But her comment continued to echo in my head — not literally, the Butchers were mostly keeping to themselves — and despite myself, it had been immensely satisfying to see Emma freeze like that.

We walked the rest of the way to the lair in silence.

"So, uh, boss," Chrissie asked as we finally reached her room in the lair, "I need to take care of something before we go shopping. You still want to go shopping, right?"

"You had better not turn her down," Pyro warned.

"Yes," I said. My temper had mostly cooled back down, and while I wasn't particularly happy with Chrissie, I also could admit that I needed to update my wardrobe. "Let's just change and get going."

She nodded, pushing the door open and waving a hand towards her bed. "Here, that should work so we don't get tossed by the Enforcers." It didn't escape my notice that she had laid out an outfit for me ahead of time (a bland purple shirt and jeans), nor that she herself changed quickly into a tank-top and jeans of her own without taking the opportunity to give me a bit of a show. "Meet me on the corner of Lord's and Market whenever you're ready!"

"Damn, someone's in a hurry," Alkaline said as the other girl dashed out of the room.

Fester huffed in displeasure. "She didn't even wiggle her butt at Taylor!"

I tried to distract myself from the way that comment made me feel, both by changing into my own clothes and using my bugs to bring me some loose cash for later. Neither really worked, however, and it only took a glance around the room to really understand what had gone so wrong. After all, Emma and her cronies had made references to the locker afterwards, and even her comment about Mom was objectively worse than what Chrissie had said.

So why was I so upset?

The answer was simple: Chrissie was, without a doubt, my only actual friend. The Butchers didn't count.

She had helped me with the Teeth, and let me sob on her shoulder away from everyone else.

She was actually quite cute, scars and all.

She was my first kiss.

Having my possible, maybe crush approve of my trigger event was… not pleasant, if I was putting it lightly. Another part of the typical Butcher experience that I was hell-bent on avoiding was the crippling loneliness, as the others had struggled to maintain even the most basic human interactions with their team. Thus, I was desperate to hang onto any connection with someone who was willing to look past my powers and title.

I did wonder about the wisdom of latching onto someone I had only known for a few days — Quarrel's memories barely counted — especially when she had such a habit of putting her foot in her mouth. But the thing about Chrissie was that she was so genuinely excited to be around me that I couldn't help but get swept up in her enthusiasm, and I really did appreciate how she had immediately jumped to my defense against Emma.

"She's a good kid," Marauder said approvingly.

She's a murderer.

"So are you!" Quarrel shot back, and the chorus burst into laughter.

I distracted myself from that thought by cramming the cash I had retrieved into my pockets and teleporting to a nearby alley, as I really didn't want to deal with the rest of the Teeth right now. Of course, I didn't want to deal with the Butchers, either, but I wasn't escaping them so easily. Just… shut up for a moment. I'm not going to just abandon her.

"You had better not, or you'll never get laid," Fester said, triggering a blush that took me three blocks of brisk walking to dispel. That was an aspect of my situation that I really didn't like to think about.

I ended up teleporting twice more, with the last one bringing me close enough to the Boardwalk that I wondered if the noise would attract Wards on a PR patrol. Luckily, nothing interesting happened until I made my way to the intersection that Chrissie had indicated, which let me stop and stare in obvious confusion when I followed the bugs I had nestled in her clothes.

"Oh, she's good," Chisel murmured.

"I'm surprised this place is still around," Fester said, and Sabertooth growled in agreement.

I caught Chrissie's eyes through the window of MacMillan's Frozen Treats, and she gestured wildly at the collection of tables out on the porch. As I picked a table and sat down, memories started flowing — Dad and Mom brought me here as a kid, but I had not worked up the energy to go myself in years. I quashed any further reminiscing before it strayed into unwanted territory, focusing instead on the movement of people on the Boardwalk that I could feel with my bugs.

There were a lot of people.

People in shops, people walking around, people on benches —

"Um, hey… Taylor."

Chrissie's voice jerked me back to the ice cream shop.

She held a paper bowl full of deliciousness towards me, a small blush blooming on her cheeks. "I, um. Sorry, again. You liked the lemony drink at the party, so I got you lemon meringue ice cream. I hope you like it."

"You know, I don't think I've ever seen her this nervous," Quarrel added unhelpfully, earning a roar of "Shut the fuck up!" from several of the others.

I took the bowl from her hand and spooned some of the ice cream into my mouth — and nearly moaned in pleasure. It was damn good, and Sabertooth's enhanced senses made it all that much better. "Wow," I breathed, echoing several of the voices.

"Is it good?" Chrissie asked, eyes lighting up.

"Amazing," I confirmed, then gestured at the seat. She plopped down, sitting close and leaning against me in a very distracting way as I handed her the bowl back. "You try it."

We ended up going back for a second, larger round of the lemon meringue ice cream, grabbing another spoon as we did. Neither of us had much to say beyond appreciating the dessert, but I wasn't stupid — this was a peace offering, and she had clearly worked hard to find something that I might like. Truth be told, lemon wasn't my favorite flavor, but it had been my favorite among the wine coolers.

It was surreal, having someone go out of their way to make up for a mistake, and with the ice cream to cool the last dregs of my temper, I was finding it hard to remain angry at the other girl. The other cute girl, the Butchers were happy to point out, not that they needed to. Chrissie was doing that well enough on her own, with the constant puppy dog eyes and the clearly intentional ways she would lean over as she took a bite, or look up at me as we ate during the silent moments. The Butchers also refused to let me deny that we basically had been on a date at MacMillan's.

Of course, now that I was in a changing room at a clothes store, trying on outfits that my aforementioned maybe-crush thought would help my image, I was suddenly unsure about the whole process. How much of Chrissie's effort was to keep her boss happy, and how much was her attempt to apologize for her awful remarks? Did she really like me, Taylor, or did she just like how I led the Teeth?

Was I too sensitive to be a supervillain? Was being angry about some meaningless taunt a sign that I didn't have the mental fortitude to be the Butcher? Did she see me freak out and decide —

"Hey, less moping and more focusing on your date," Pyro prodded.

It's not a date! I tried to protest, but the snickering of the chorus told me they saw it differently. She just wants me to not make an embarrassment out of the Teeth!

"We don't want you to do that either!" Butcher growled, but the others rounded on him immediately.

"Shut the hell up!" Alkaline yelled. "We're not going to let your bad attitude ruin this!"

"Taylor does need to improve her wardrobe," Chisel admitted. "But we could have helped her just as much as Chrissie."

"Fat chance," Marauder grumbled.

"But regardless, she jumped at the chance to go with a cute girl. This is a date," Chisel concluded.

"She already had a change of clothes picked out," Sabertooth pointed out.

I paused my deliberations of the clothes I was trying on as I considered their words, but I couldn't fault Chisel's logic. I was already planning to do this anyway.

"Yes, this weekend, after your tormentors found their balls and you proceeded to break said balls," Knockout said. "You seem to be skipping a step or two there just because a girl batted her eyelashes at you."

Alright, fine! Maybe I am. I just… What if she sees more of the real me and doesn't like me? The chorus laughed. I'm being serious here!

"It's healthy for you to admit that you like her," Alkaline said, voice kind. "Chrissie likes you even after your heart to heart, and you like her. There's nothing wrong with seeing where things go."

"She knew you as Locker Girl, yet she's still interested," Pyro said bluntly. "So listen to my damn advice and take your minion out on a date already!"

Do NOT call me that! The Butchers had become vastly more helpful since I took over the Teeth, and I rarely had to force any of them down into the dark. But Pyromaniac should have known better, especially after today. Next asshole who does that gets a nickname based on their own trigger event!

Unsurprisingly, they all shut up.

I finished tying my shoe and smoothed out the red tank top Chrissie had given me to try on. The sleeveless top did a lot to show off my now well defined muscles, so there was little doubt Chrissie had chosen it on purpose. If I was going to represent the Teeth at Winslow, I did need to project a certain aura; after today, I knew I wouldn't be able to keep up the illusion of helpless little Taylor for long. My numerous encounters demonstrated that I couldn't just stand back and do nothing, not anymore. People were going to figure out that I had powers, people would see that the Teeth followed me without question… people would know I was Weaver.

I had to own that with all the confidence my station demanded and my wardrobe needed to reflect that. So, I would go shopping with Chrissie, and if I enjoyed it? Was that really so wrong? I wasn't sure why this part was bothering me so much when earlier I had been agonizing over…

You fuckers were trying to get my mind off my fight with Chrissie!

The collective groaned as I heard multiple thumps in my head.

"Duh, so keep doing that and go have fun with your girlfriend already," Pyro said.

She's not my girlfriend!

"Then ask her to be!" Alkaline said with some exasperation. "Just stop dwelling on shit and go live a bit."

"Tay, are you alright in there?" Chrissie asked from outside the stall.

"Just having a heated discussion with the assholes in my head, don't mind me," I muttered.

"Anything interesting?" she asked as I opened the changing room door, then she froze. I watched her eyes track me up and down as her pupils dilated, only to lick her lips in a very distracting way. "Holy hell girl, you're hot."

I felt my cheeks flush with heat as Chrissie stared at me with unrestrained wanting. Her own outfit was just as revealing as mine, showing off well-defined arms covered in scars and tattoos that were obviously Teeth inspired. It was a look I was suddenly finding very appealing. I tried not to think about what she might be imagining at the moment, nor about how much I wanted her to… Deflect! Fucking deflect!

"Thanks, turns out killing the previous Butcher was great for my figure."

"Oh you bitch!" Quarrel snarled while the rest of the chorus cackled.

Chrissie blinked for a moment — I heard a snort escape — and then she was bent over absolutely roiling with unrestrained glee. I lasted all of a second before I was laughing right there with her. We were laughing loud enough that I was sure we would attract attention, even though I had everyone in the store tagged. Thankfully, there weren't many people around to hear us cackling like madwomen.

We weren't likely to be disturbed.

… and the thoughts were back.

Chrissie was just so damn genuine about everything she did, sort of like how I was before Emma stabbed me in the back with every secret I had ever shared with her. Could I learn to be like that again? Just living life to the fullest and enjoying every minute of it? Well, Chrissie was probably one of the best people to help me with that. Even if she was an unrepentant villain.

"Who gives a shit? She's your unrepentant villain," Fester said.

I just feel like things are happening so quickly…

"And?"

Fuck it.

"Chrissie."

She looked up, her cheeks flushed and eyes watering from laughing so hard. She was breathless. She was breathtaking. I leaned in ever so slightly, trying to find that same courage I had felt in the cafeteria. She was watching me, as if she was asking for permission. I nervously licked my lips (not my habit) and began to move in.

Then, Chrissie left me breathless as she closed the remaining distance by darting in and kissing me so passionately that my toes curled. Distantly, I knew the Butchers were howling and wolf whistling, but I didn't care.

When we finally separated, Chrissie had a playful smirk on her lips even as she breathed heavily. "Sorry to steal your thunder there Tay, but you were taking just a bit too long for my liking."

"Don't you dare stop now!" Pyro demanded.

She's just moving so fast, I feel like I'm being dragged along behind a runaway horse.

"Are you actually complaining?" Alkaline's impression of an arched eyebrow was clear in my mind. "Or are you just looking for an excuse to stop?"

That brought me up short. I gave Chrissie the most deadpan stare I could manage; she gave a coy smile in return. Then I returned the favor with every trick I could pull from the frankly impressive set of memories that the collective possessed on how to properly kiss someone.

"Hell yeah!" Fester cheered. "Get you some!"

I shoved her and all the others into the dark as I broke the kiss, feeling Chrissie almost going limp in my arms. I grinned as her half lidded eyes struggled to focus on my own. "That more to your liking?"

"Fuck me…" she breathed.

"Down girl," I teased, channeling all the confidence I could from the Butcher's memories. "At least let me buy you dinner first."

Chrissie's eyes snapped into focus as she eyed me carefully. "Don't make me a promise like that if you don't intend to follow through."

"Well, we've still got plenty of shopping to get through first."

"Can we rot your old wardrobe after this?" Fester asked.

"Nah, just burn it," Pyro added to no one's surprise.

"That's your answer to everything," Alkaline said.

"Respect the classics!" Pyro yelled.

Shopping with Chrissie was honestly proving to be a delight; the Butchers, decidedly less so. I had most of the men muted on principle because I didn't need them being lecherous about Chrissie or myself, and I'd even ended up muting most of the girls at this point for similar reasons.

Just because you're a girl doesn't make it less creepy.

"Spoilsport," Alkaline pouted. "Chrissie has a good eye for style though, you really should listen to her."

I reserve veto rights on all items.

Chrissie was taking great pleasure in finding the racks of pro-Teeth clothing that ranged from in-your-face blatant to the more subtle, and she refused to move on from the novelty shirts until I selected one for her. I picked out a shirt that had a tooth with fairy wings set in front of a rainbow, to which she giggled and pecked me on the cheek. The resulting blush was red enough to match the unsubtle shirts.

At her insistence, I picked out a shirt for myself as well — a gray background with 'Brockton Bay Fletchers' in an old school font in red, with seven arrows in a bundle on each side. Quarrel complained, of course, but the tactless morons who sold this stuff hadn't made a version for me yet.

I didn't want to think about that fact.

"You killed the Butcher and all you got was this lousy t-shirt!" Pyro blurted, and I fumbled the shirt in my hands and had to scramble to catch it while fighting down my own sudden laughter.

"And all of us in your head!" Butcher added in.

"Shit, how hard would it be to get that embroidered on the back of the shirt?" Chisel asked.

"I'm surrounded by assholes," Quarrel muttered.

"We could trivially make the modifications ourselves, what with Taylor's army of spiders," Damascian suggested.

Chrissie patted my back as she watched on in silent amusement until I got myself under control enough to share the joke, which prompted even more laughter.

Once we got our laughter under control we managed to finish the rest of our shopping without anything going too wrong. I grabbed several new hoodies as well as better-fitting pants and a few blouses, only some of which were in the Teeth's colors. Chrissie picked out a few outfits for herself, including a set of spider-print pajamas that were almost certainly too long for her.

As I tried to steer Chrissie towards the checkout, a confused look flashed over her face. "Wait, boss, are we going to pay for all of this?"

I couldn't help but facepalm while the Butchers laughed in my head. "Yes, Chrissie. What did you think?"

"Well, we could just steal it," she tried. "Just do the matter reshape-y thing on the back door locks."

"Chrissie, I literally have a million dollars in cash hidden at my old base… which I should probably move to Teeth HQ soon. Paying for it with illegitimate cash is far less obvious than theft."

"But stealing is so fun!" she whined.

"She's not wrong," Chisel said while holding up her hands.

How the disembodied voices in my head managed such vivid expressions… I just blamed it on power bullshit and tried not to dwell on it. "Look, just think of it as the Empire is paying for all of this, alright?"

"Well in that case…" She flashed another of those bright smiles and darted back to the novelty shirt rack, eventually returning with a shirt bearing a giant fly and the text 'I'm so Fly' that had the chorus giggling in the dark. She also retrieved several outfits that she had previously discarded now that she knew we didn't need to dodge security.

Sometimes I wondered how much effort it would take to get the Teeth to behave, even in public. Chrissie was tame compared to some of the other capes.

I was still processing those thoughts while handing over a thousand dollars in cash for all of our purchases, which earned me another kiss from Chrissie and a lot of grumbling from the cashier. "Did she have to check each and every twenty to see if they were counterfeit?" Chrissie whined as we left the store.

"We spent a ton of money in there," I replied, guiding us down the Boardwalk. "I'm an obvious teenager paying with cash. She could have refused or even called for an Enforcer given the situation. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if the only reason she didn't was because of the obvious color selections we made."

"I suppose that's fair," Chrissie muttered, only for a devious grin to spread across her face. "So, when's dinner?"

"Treat her to the classy shit!" Fester demanded.

"You are not limited for funds," Damascian pointed out.

I'm open to suggestions for a place that isn't likely to be an Empire front.

"An Empire front would be an entertaining date spot, you must admit," Alkaline mused.

"Dinner and a show? I heard dinner and a show!" Knockout said loudly.

I'll save that for the second date. I just want a pleasant evening for now.

Suggestions began to get tossed out and I pushed them back just enough to let their chatter fade into the background as I turned to Chrissie. "The peanut gallery is currently debating the options. Want a snack while we wait?"

She leaned in and kissed me. "You're all the snack I need."

"Damn. That was smooth," Chisel murmured. The chorus hummed their agreement before going back to the food debate.

I did my best to conceal my furious blush, along with just how flustered this girl was leaving me. Based on her concerned looks, I wasn't particularly successful. She bit her lip, then asked, "I'm moving too fast, aren't I?"

The Butcher's debate ceased immediately, which thankfully gave me the space to think. "Um, kinda? This is all new for me and I'm trying to avoid being… swept away in all of it. The others, um… they wanted us in bed with you that first night."

"Mission accomplished there," Chrissie snarked. "Though, not in the way they or I wanted."

"Well…" I started, only to trail off under Chrissie's concerned gaze. "For some of this stuff, it's hard for me to keep everything straight in my head. It's so easy to lose myself to their memories, or habits, if I don't stay on top of things. I can feel things about me shifting; responses and perspectives and influences…"

"That's part of being a villain, you know," Chrissie said softly. "I told you what things are like with my family now. Before my trigger, I was what you would consider fairly normal. My family was happy and supportive, we were well off enough to live in a downtown highrise. Life was great."

I didn't want to hear what was coming next, though I could see the general shape of it.

"Then I came out of the closet. They didn't kick me out, but they made my life miserable enough that I triggered. To them, capes are of the devil, so no Wards for me. Throwing me out would have looked even worse to their little community of blind sheep, so they just kinda ignored that I existed. I still attend school to keep the government flunkies off their back and in return they don't report that I moved out or that I'm a villain."

When the Butchers howled for blood in my head, I couldn't tell where my own anger ended and theirs began. A grim smile curled on my lips at the timely reminder of my curse, and I pulled Chrissie into a hug. "Let me know if I ever need to pay them a visit; I hear a surprise visit from the Butcher can be quite the life changing experience." Chrissie chuckled mirthlessly and I pulled her tighter against me. "I'm just afraid of where I will be in a month."

"Hopefully still by my side." Chrissie said, hugging me fiercely.

I looked down at the villain embracing me, knowing full well how merciless she could be in a fight, but now I'd seen how supportive and passionate she could be towards those she cared for. My smile was as genuine as the tears pooling in the corner of my eyes.

"I'd really like that."

"Are you sure you want to meet dad?" I asked as Chrissie and I departed the bus with our shopping haul in hand. Thank God for Brute strength. "He's going to ask a lot of questions."

"Let him ask," Chrissie said cheerfully. "Hey there, name's Chrissie, I'm also Vex and dating the Butcher who happens to be your daughter. A pleasure to meet you."

I snorted and decided to run with the joke. "Remember that girl mom always hung out with when you met her? She's in my head now and I now know exactly why you married her."

"Wait, seriously?" Chrissie stopped, mouth slightly agape. "Which one?"

"Fester, Bucher IV. She's been surprisingly helpful among the collective."

"What can I say? I always had a soft spot for Annette. May as well have a soft spot for her brat too," Fester said.

Wow, that was almost affectionate. Love ya too mother fucker.

"Damn right I am!"

I rolled my eyes and gave her a playful shove. Fester was growing on me, despite the fact that many of the memories she had of Mom were things I never wanted to see. She also knew a side of her I never got to see before she died, and for that I was grateful…

Fester, stop prodding memories of Mom in the shower or I will shove you into the dark for a fucking month!

An echoing laugh answered as I let out a sigh. "Back to Dad, I can't see him not freaking out when he meets you."

Chrissie ran a hand down her torso and it took an effort of will to not shiver at how seductive she was being about it. "Think he'll be so impressed that you bagged such a hottie?"

"That, and that said hottie has Teeth tattoos all over her arms," I said, eyeing her muscular biceps. "Impressive as those guns are, they don't distract from the obvious."

"I knew I was right to go sleeveless," Chrissie said, ignoring my point. "We should totally get you some tattoos soon, though Quarrel had issues with the needles, and the regen messed up the healing process… Eh, we'll figure out something."

"You're not even listening to my concerns." Her smirk was all the answer I needed.

"Getting XV tattooed on your arm would be badass," Ironsides said.

"What about a spider's web with fifteen spiders?" Sanguine suggested.

Did any of you manage to successfully get a tattoo after inheriting?

Silence greeted me. Well, if a solution ever presents itself, I'll get right on that. Letting out an exaggerated sigh, I checked with the bugs in my house.

Dad was home, so unfortunately my hope that he had to stay late tonight was crushed before it truly began. He was also on his second bottle of beer while watching something on TV. Well, no sense trying to delay things.

I skipped over the broken step and offered my hand to Chrissie to help her over it, which she happily took. I considered knocking, just to drag things out for another moment or two, but that would just draw more attention to us.

"Quick question," Chrissie asked just as I pulled my key out.

"Go for it."

"How open do you want to be about… Us?"

"Are you talking about Teeth stuff or…"

"Us. Like, can I be your girlfriend around him or do you want to keep that quiet?"

Did I want him to know I was dating a girl? More importantly, that I was dating a girl who was obviously in a gang?

Wait a second — was I dating a girl?

"Don't be an idiot, Taylor," Chisel said immediately. "For all intents and purposes, you and Chrissie are dating."

We are?

"YES!" roared back most of the collective.

I was tempted to argue, but in less than a minute I would have to face Dad, and the easiest way to explain whatever I had with Chrissie was that she was my girlfriend. Like everything in my life, it seemed like things were moving too fast, but at the same time… I liked it.

It was so much better than what I had before.

"Keep it tame," I murmured, "but don't feel like you need to hide who you are around him, or who we are. Just… don't mention anything about cape stuff, alright?"

"Sounds fair to me," Chrissie said, then tiptoed to gently kiss my cheek.

With a bit of hesitation I unlocked the door and stepped inside.

"Dad, I'm home."

"You're late," he called back.

"That was my fault Mister H!" Chrissie yelled. "I took Taylor out for some new clothes after some asshole spilled juice on her hoodie."

"Better than blood." Knockout pushed a set of memories forward of scrubbing blood out of his clothes after a particularly enthusiastic bar brawl.

"I suppose blood is a type of juice in the right circles," Sanguine mused.

"I know using my power to store blood is useful when combined with your own power, but I miss having booze on demand," Alkaline added.

Random thought, what type is the blood stored in there?

"Fresh," Quarrel said while trying to sound menacing.

"Is she still being bullied?" Dad asked, as the bug I had on him confirmed that he was getting up.

I rolled my eyes. Obviously it's fresh, I was more thinking how viable it would be for blood donations.

"That…" Stratego trailed off, muttering to himself about logistics and drew Damascian and a few others into the conversation about how we could use it to turn a profit as I returned my focus in full back to Chrissie and Dad.

"Nah, nobody would dare bully Taytay, not with me around." I groaned at Chrissie's banter, but just as I heard the floorboard creak just around the corner, Chrissie pulled me into a chaste kiss, at least by her standards. She timed it so Dad saw us as she pulled away.

"Chrissie!" I hissed. She giggled and swatted my shoulder as I turned to face Dad, who suddenly looked so out of his element that I was struggling to tell if he was even breathing.

"Dad, meet Chrissie… My, uh, girlfriend."

The cheerful mischievousness on Chrissie's face faded as she turned to Dad as well, replaced with an anxiety that I hadn't really seen on her; not even when I was mad at her earlier. Dad blinked, looking at me like I'd grown a second head for an instant, and honestly, it hurt to see him with such suspicion writ across his face. Then he gave Chrissie a much more appraising look; I could tell that his eyes lingered on her tattoos as well as her hair. There was no way he hadn't figured out she was a member of the Teeth.

"Let him figure it out," Knockout said. "Look at the man, he's already beaten down. There's no fire in his eyes anymore."

He… wasn't wrong. Dad looked so conflicted right now, so rather than give him more to worry over I wrapped an arm around Chrissie's waist and pulled her close, pecking a kiss of my own on her cheek. Seeing me return the affection, he seemed to relax just a little bit. Maybe he was worried she was pressuring me?

"It's, um… nice to meet you, Chrissie," he said, warily.

To my utter shock, Chrissie actually seemed to shrink back a bit as he stared at her.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, his eyebrows drawing together in worry as he looked from my girlfriend to me, questioningly. After a moment of us all just staring awkwardly, Chrissie slowly relaxed and a small smile returned to her face as she looked between Dad and I. She smiled a lot, but this was the most genuine, non-playful smile I had ever really seen from her.

"Yeah, sorry," she mumbled a bit and quickly wiped at her eye before smiling more. "Everything's fine." She squeezed me to her side more, beaming.

"You should probably get home before dark," I pointed out. I wasn't too sure what was going on, but things had gotten a little awkward and this seemed like enough for one day, at least for me. "You don't want some Empire asshole to jump you on the way home." Come on Chrissie, play ball…

"Let 'em try." Her grin was feral. "Been a while since one of them was stupid enough, I could use the workout."

"Dammit Chrissie," I muttered but I was thankful she was rolling with my plan. "Just be safe out there, for me?"

She huffed. "Yeah yeah, I'll play nice. No promises if they start something."

"I suppose that's all I can ask." I gave her another chaste kiss. "Run along home, we have school tomorrow."

There was that grin that melted my heart every time. "Sure thing boss, see ya tomorrow. It was nice meeting you Mister H; hopefully next time we can have a proper introduction."

I wanted to slap my forehead as she damn near skipped out the door, taking her own bag with her before closing the door behind her. Her abrupt exit left me alone with a very confused father.

"Is she always so…" Dad waved his hand in an encompassing manner.

"In all fairness, she has all the subtlety of well… I can't think of anyone less subtle than she can be."

"Your eloquence outshines us all and belies your true brilliance," Marauder mocked.

Fuck you too, and you totally stole that from Stratego. Besides, it's not like any of you assholes had a better one ready that didn't reference someone I either killed or currently am.

"A Butcher joke would have been the peak of humor and you know it," Pyro countered. "And don't you dare try and claim that you're subtle. That's a damn lie and we all know it."

The entire collective was laughing now. I did not pout, nor was I petty about it. The echoes from the darkness of my mind had nothing to do with thirteen voices being mercilessly slammed back into the void.

"Are you being safe about things?"

"Dad!" And my cheeks were no doubt crimson again.

He blinked for a moment, then slapped his forehead. "I was referring to the Empire, but if that subject is relevant…"

"It isn't!" I squealed while shaking my head. "We only started dating recently, trust me, we aren't there yet."

Endless amusement was radiating from the void, and I sent the sternest glare I could down into that abyss.

"That's good to know," he said, then his expression turned serious. "How safe are you from the Empire? I know Winslow is bad about gang membership, and if they learn you're dating a girl…"

"Would it really change anything?" I asked, my voice now hard. "The Empire stood back and watched while a black girl shoved me into that locker. I doubt who I date will change much about how they regard me."

Dad was silent long enough for me to consider dragging a few of the Butchers back out of the dark. Just as I was reaching for Alkaline and Fester, Dad broke the silence.

"Does she make you happy?" Dad asked, cutting through my thoughts.

Did Chrissie make me happy? Even though I'd only known her for a few short days, she'd been the only person I could say without a doubt was in my corner. Sure, maybe at first she just wanted me to be the Butcher, but she didn't have to support my Winslow plans. She didn't have to sit and listen as I cried over my darkest moments, yet she did.

Then there was that radiant smile; I loved to see her smile because of something I said or did. I wanted to see more of that, even if she did occasionally stick her foot halfway down her throat at times. I definitely couldn't say that I was in love with her, that would be far too soon of an admission, but she was someone I had quickly come to care for.

"Yeah, she does," I answered with all honesty. "She makes me the happiest I've been in years."

"Good," Dad said, surprising the hell out of me. "Just be careful, I don't want to see you have your heart broken again."

"Again?" I found myself asking, though the snickering in the void told me I already knew what he was going to say.

"I'm depressed, Taylor, not blind. I know Emma either turned you down, or broke up with you. I'm sorry I wasn't there for you when you needed me. Just know, if you need to talk about something, no matter what it is, I'll be there for you. I promise."

My breath caught at such a candid admission, but at the same time, I knew I couldn't accept his offer. I refused to get him caught up in the chaos that was my life right now. He didn't need the pain of knowing his daughter was not only a villain, but a killer.

He didn't need to know I was the Butcher.

Still, that didn't mean I couldn't hug him all the same. Perhaps in time that would change, and I could let him into my life again, slowly. For now? I'd take this as a first step for getting my Dad back.

Author's Notes:

First: Now I want lemon meringue ice cream…

Pen: Same here…

Manic: It sounds so good.

1115

Pendragoon

Feb 11, 2022

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Pendragoon

Pendragoon

She/Her

Feb 18, 2022

#3,367

Monday, April 11th 2011

I didn't even need to sneak out of the house, not really. All I had to do was target a bug a couple of blocks away and I was gone. Thankfully, the Butcher's teleport only exploded on arrival, and the exit itself was barely a pop by comparison. Dad didn't even stir.

Barely five minutes later I was walking into the Teeth's arena lair formerly used for basketball, boxing, and a handful of other events back in the eighties and nineties. The Teeth claimed it as their own when they rolled back into the Bay last year and nobody had made the attempt to remove them.

I was getting a curious mix of looks from the unpowered members that I passed. Tonight I was wearing one of the outfits Chrissie had picked out for me, a red blouse with gray dress pants; I looked like a business woman on her way to a meeting, just in gang colors. I had no intentions of ever wearing this to Winslow, but it was great for making a statement to the lesser fools that worked for me.

The confidence that the Butchers carried themselves with was on full display as I made my way towards the old VIP box seats where our rooms were located. Most of my minions were smart enough to step out of the way, but that didn't mean some of them weren't already drunk and demonstrating horrendously poor judgment and a complete lack of survival instincts.

It was almost amusing to watch as this group of barely adults moved to block my path, because the others recognized how hopelessly stupid it was of them and were already lining up for the show. It would have been a simple manner to diffuse the situation, a few stray bees, a subtle pain blast, or hell, just shove them aside. I had options, many of which would have left them untraumatized, but that wasn't my goal.

"While another example is prudent, remember that these are your minions and not Empire filth" Stratego reminded me.

I promise to be gentle with my toys.

"We haven't seen you around here before," one of the men spoke. He was wearing a Brockton U shirt. "How about the boys and I show you what the Teeth are all about?"

"Sorry to disappoint, but my girlfriend is expecting me, so piss off before I get pissed."

"She's welcome to join us," another said. This one was wearing a band tee. "The more the merrier."

"Goddess I hate pushy men. This is why I started castrating the fuckers," Fester grumbled, and I was having a hard time disagreeing with the sentiment.

"I am curious," I mused aloud. "How do you think the Butcher would react to a group of pushy men trying to accost her?"

My question seemed to have caught them off-guard as I pushed the chorus back a bit so their snickering didn't show on my face, because I was having a hard enough time not laughing myself. My bugs began to pick up whispers in the crowd, my enhanced senses picked up Weaver more than once.

"Uh… I'm not sure," Brockton U answered.

"Well damn, and here I was hoping you could have given me a few ideas." As I spoke, the drone of my swarm intensified as the fliers began to gather around me. I waited till the exact moment it sunk in before my arm snapped out and closed around his throat and lifted him like a ragdoll. "I guess I'll just have to use my imagination."

"Ask us verbally," Damascian suggested.

Pyro nodded her head. "Yeah! You're the Butcher on her home turf, play it up!"

"It seems my predecessors have a few ideas of their own," I said, tapping the side of my head. "Damascian seems to think I should peel you like onions. Fester wants me to rot your balls off, while Marauder is suggesting that I eat you. I'm leaning towards the former, given how stringy humans are…"

With each suggestion I threw out the men paled further and the man in my grip thrashed harder. The onlookers had closed ranks and cut off any hope they had for retreat and seemed content to just enjoy the free show. It was then that my bugs picked up someone moving through the crowd.

"Weaver! I heard you got me a present!" Chrissie's voice called out over the din of the crowd as they parted to allow her passage.

I had a few of my wasps move to her, many landing on her while the rest provided a vanguard. Once she was close enough I tilted my head so I could see her with my own eyes. She was in full costume, radiating a pure violence and danger from the skeletal remains of several men attached as trophies. I made a mental note to address that little practice if I was going to attempt to reform the Teeth into something a bit more palatable to the masses.

"Vex, perfect timing. Perhaps you could provide me with some inspiration on how to handle a couple of pushy men."

"They were hitting on you and you didn't hit them back? Glad to know I have nothing to worry about."

The crowd gave a polite chuckle at her joke and I grinned wide. "Of course not."

I hit the three with a mild pain blast and dropped the one still in my grip. They shrieked in agony and I left them where they fell.

"Grab a minion you trust and a moving truck, we're clearing out my old base. When we get back I want all our capes gathered for a meeting. We have much to prepare for in the coming days."

"You got it boss!" Vex said cheerfully.

As she sauntered off my bugs caught someone with a phone either taking pictures or recording what had just transpired. A mini swarm descended upon them and stung at his hand until he dropped the phone with a scream. A tide of roaches, beetles and spiders secured the device, only for my fliers to pick it up and drop it into my waiting hand. Even as that was going on I repurposed my swarm into binding his limbs.

The phone was still unlocked with the camera app opened. I opened his gallery and found a dozen pictures of my actions as well as a short video of my little speech to the little shit still sobbing at my feet. Holy hell, I looked terrifying from the outside. I quickly deleted the offending media from the phone itself and did a quick check to ensure he hadn't uploaded anything, then I crushed the phone in my hand. A single wasp grabbed the memory card and flew off with it just to be safe.

"I'm fine with pictures taken of me while I'm in costume and masked, but if I catch anyone else trying to record or photograph my activities while I'm in civvies… Well, not even Panacea will be able to help you after I'm through. If my identity is ever outed, those responsible will be killed, no exceptions. Are we clear?"

The crowd gave murmurs of assent at my pronouncement, so I strode for Chrissie's room as the crowd gave me plenty of space. I needed to recover my costume before we set off for my old hideout, which triggered a blush when I realized why it was in Chrissie's room to begin with. I had a few bugs slip inside and unlock her door on my approach, however, when I stepped inside I didn't find my costume. I did however find a note.

Hey TayTay, your costume is in your room.

Here's the key for what that's worth compared with your mastery of the break-in.

You are reading this after all. Feel free to break in anytime. ;)

At the bottom, rather than a signature was a set of deep red lip prints.

"Aww, you're smiling! Don't even try to deny it!" Alkaline teased.

I was smiling. In fact, a glance at Chrissie's mirror showed I was actually grinning like a loon. I shook my head and carefully packed the note away before locking the door behind me and making my way to Quarrel's room.

"Oh, here we go!" Pyro said while rubbing her metaphorical hands together.

"Place your bets on how long it takes Taylor to squick out!" Sabertooth said gleefully.

Various numbers began to be shouted, causing me to roll my eyes. At least bet something you idiots can use, like food votes.

There was a precious beat of silence before the betting resumed with their new currency. With a weary sigh, I used the provided key and unlocked the door. Chrissie was lucky that Quarrel had forgotten to use Chisel's power to reshape the secondary lock before she rushed off to fight Lung.

I'd known what to expect from Quarrel's memories, but that still wasn't enough to prepare me for the smell. How Chrissie hadn't puked was a mystery for the ages. Like most of the Teeth, Quarrel took trophies. Unlike most of the Teeth, she prepared those trophies in her bedroom. She had been in the middle of such preparations when she departed and now I had two half desiccated human corpses that needed immediate disposal. Even beyond that, the room was appallingly filthy, what with the haphazardly discarded knives, arrows and… sex toys…

Stay classy Quarrel.

"Fuck you!" Quarrel spat.

Not with these nasty things.

I sent my swarm in and set them to consume all the decayed flesh as well as any other waste and refuse they could find throughout the room. I did my best to ignore the bleached skulls and human spines adorning the walls, then turned my attention to her bed.

I'm burning it.

"No one would blame you, that thing was uncomfortable," Marauder complained.

"I blame the concertina wire," Stratego said.

"It did keep the others out of our coke stash," Knockout said with a sagely nod.

"At least sell the coke before you burn the damn thing," Pyro whined.

Duh, I'm a villain now, that means selling drugs… unfortunately. I may find it distasteful, but I do plan to curb the sale of the more dangerous drugs on the streets. It's not like we can actually stop people from selling, but we can regulate it.

"I'm gonna miss meth," Sabertooth said mournfully.

Cry me a river, at least I'm keeping coke. Weed too, along with a few others. You'll live.

"Not that you'll use any of them," Sanguine grumbled.

Hey, I smoke weed!

Chisel snorted derisively. "Shitty weed."

Through that conversation I'd been pulling my costume on while my swarm continued to clean house. In fact, there was enough disgusting refuse for the bugs to eat that I actually had to call in more from the basement. However, that meant that I had a big enough swarm to carry the trash out, depositing the sizable pile of bones, soggy porn mags and dildos for some hapless idiot to stumble across.

"Please set up a camera, the reactions will be priceless," Pyro nearly begged.

"That would be poor security in the event an infiltrator finds the memory card," Stratego retorted.

"Just kill all the fun, why don't you?" Alkaline snapped.

"Yeah, who made you the fun Nazi?" Knockout bellowed.

I made my way to the arena's VIP parking area, following my bugs to where Chrissie had the truck waiting for the mission at hand. I considered just teleporting there but I didn't want to risk startling someone who might have poor trigger discipline. I'd rather not lose someone important to a jumpy idiot.

"Pyro had the excuse of her explosions being bigger and louder, what was your excuse Knocky dearest?" Alkaline asked sweetly.

"Fuck off, at least I didn't mustard gas our boys!" Knockout retorted.

"That was their own damn fault for rushing in dick first!"

"Well, there should be one thing we can all agree on," Butcher said, then grinned. "Only one of us had the misfortune to kill a Butcher by complete accident."

Damascian and Stratego. I immediately countered.

"Sold to the Teeth, so she should have known better and intentionally killed Pyro while crossing his fingers, hoping that he didn't inherit," Butcher stated, then his voice turned sadistic. "You got stuck with us because you killed someone with a fucking allergy and couldn't get the epipen to work."

And now you're all stuck with me, so sucks to be you! I slammed him into the dark before he could snipe back.

"Hey Weaver!" Vex called out with a wave. "Where's this mysterious base of yours that we'll be cleaning out?"

"Right outside the DWA offices." I hoped that something as simple as picking up cash and some Tinker experiments wouldn't attract any undue notice.

"Damn, that was ballsy of you. Ever since the Teeth showed up, they've started shooting on sight."

"Militia hit me with a .50 cal to the shoulder Friday and didn't even leave a bruise, I don't think I need to worry about 12 gauge."

Vex paused and fixed me with a look that I hadn't seen in years. Genuine concern without a hint of suspicion — she was actually worried about me. The Butchers laughed as I blushed under my mask, because even though I wasn't totally sure if we were dating or not, it felt good to have someone… special. I just wish the whole thing didn't leave me so flustered, and if I was being honest, that my maybe-girlfriend wasn't a supervillain.

"You expect the world to be good and just; for there to be clear lines of black and white, but there is anything but," Alkaline said.

I get that, I don't need the reminder. I just need time to accept it as the truth.

"Fair enough."

We piled in the truck and settled in for the drive. After a few moments, I saw that the minion was very pointedly not staring at me as I did my best dark and brooding impression, an image that was marred by Chrissie practically sitting in my lap. There were snickers and quiet murmurs in the back of my mind the entire ride over, all because of the girl clad in red and bone who was cuddled up against me.

She was lucky that she was gorgeous…

Vex whistled appreciatively as she helped me load the duffels of cash into the truck. "Boss, when you said you had a million dollars, I wasn't expecting that to be literal."

I turned back to her, my incredulous look blocked by my mask. "What did you think I was doing with all the things in the storehouses I kept hitting all of last week?"

"Burning them like you did with the drugs?" She said with a shrug, easily hefting a bag that one of the minions struggled with; I was fairly certain that one was full of assault rifles I'd taken from the Empire.

"Kinda regretting that now that I lead the Teeth," I said with a weary sigh.

"We told you!" Sanguine yelled. "Next time just listen to us!"

"Millions wasted… So much coke and weed, up in smoke," Sabertooth lamented.

I get it alright! I fucked up. The collective hadn't let me live this one down since I took over the Teeth.

"No more wasting profitable merchandise, agreed?" Damascian asked.

"Agreed," I muttered.

"What was that, Weaver?" Vex asked, now loading a piece of equipment I'd adapted for tinkering. Pity I no longer needed it with the Workshop available, but like hell was I leaving it for anyone else to find.

"Just getting lectured by the chorus about wasting profitable merchandise, don't mind me."

She patted my shoulder in a reassuring manner before she looked across the warehouse. "That everything, boss?"

"I think so," My bugs were doing a final sweep when something caught my attention. "Shit, DWA security."

Stratego and I were proud that the minion snapped to attention with his weapon ready at my words; even Vex had summoned an array of force fields in response. In contrast, I was perfectly calm. The association had been reeling ever since the Merchants killed the old president, and since being effectively forced into the role Dad had decided that they weren't going to lose anyone else.

It was hard to fault Dad or the DWA for being prepared with such fervor, given that the union had folded in many (if not all) of the remaining organized labor groups in the city over the past two decades. Dad no doubt felt responsible for their safety, and the unfortunate reality of the Teeth was that we really did merit that sort of response. Still, I wasn't going to hurt some innocent guy.

"Relax, we won't be fighting them. Get the truck ready and head back to base, I'll keep them busy." My minion listened well enough, but Vex hesitated at my side. "I'm not going to hurt them. Hell, I probably know them… Just let me handle this, alright?"

Vex moved part of her mask aside and gently kissed my own mask. "Be safe, Weaver."

"D'awwwww!" I could imagine Pyro holding her cheeks in mock-fawning for the cuteness.

I was blushing under my mask as she hurried off to the truck and they drove off. No sooner had they vanished than a Dockworker ran around the corner, shotgun with tac light at the ready.

"Who's there!" the man shouted as his light passed over me; I had to force down the reflex to shield my eyes. "Shit, a cape!"

"I'm not going to hurt you," I said, keeping my swarm voice out of it for now.

"Oh fuck… You're Weaver…" And now his voice and gun were trembling, perfect.

"Oh for fuck's sake, save us from the incompetence," Ironsides muttered.

"So I am," I said, wishing that the bug I had on the roof of the van would get outside the fence line faster. "Look, I didn't steal anything, and haven't caused property damage. All I did was reclaim a few things, so —"

My precog senses pinged the instant before the man pulled the trigger, but I wasn't really worried about one guy with a twitchy trigger finger, shotgun or no.

I felt like I had been punched in the chest when the double-aught buckshot slammed into me, ringing my ears with the blast. Thank Scion for the lack of pain, because even with the Brute packages I would have felt that in the morning. And thank fuck for Sabertooth's regen: I wouldn't even have a bruise. It did shred my front armor panel, unfortunately, but I was more concerned with keeping my own reflexive near-panic under control and displaying confidence.

"Failure to anticipate your enemies will see you dead," Stratego rumbled. "And I rather like your usual style. What if he had used a more damaging ordinance?"

Teleporting, putting up shields, even just turning my head away — all of those options made much more sense than just fucking standing there, and I had known he was coming.

"He fucking shot you! Why aren't you killing him?" Butcher demanded.

I shoved Butcher back into the void. He's just doing his job.

"Are you done?" I asked as the swarm swept in around me and echoed my words. "You do know what happens if you kill me, right? Learn some goddamn trigger discipline."

He racked the slide and I sighed — the escaping Teeth were close enough to the exit, so rather than get shot again I instead teleported to the roof of our truck just as it pulled onto the main road. Reaching down, I tapped the passenger side glass, and I swung myself in as soon as the window opened.

I landed right in Vex's lap. "Miss me?"

"I sure did… but apparently the other guy didn't!" She reached up with one hand and poked at my chestplate forcefully. "You let him shoot you? What the hell were you thinking, boss?"

"I didn't let him do anything," I said as I touched my damaged armor and let Chisel's power filter into it, popping the buckshot out and reforming the plate back into its original shape. "It wasn't like he could actually hurt me."

An awkward silence settled in the car. Most of that was due to Vex just staring at me, as our driver was extremely focused on where we were going. Absently, I gathered the pellets into my hand, formed them into a basic throwing knife, and began to roll it between my fingers.

Vex rolled her eyes. "Oh goodie, you got that habit too. Fuck, Weaver, that sort of crazy attitude is how we get new Butchers! That's the stupidest way to die, and you're too cool to leave so soon…" She trailed off, the heat in her voice cooling as fast as it had appeared. "So please don't let yourself get sucked into it… for me?"

That brought me up short. As usual, Stratego was right, but cold calculations about powers and potential laser rifles didn't seem to hit nearly as hard as the pain and worry in Chrissie's voice. I didn't want to force the consequences of my arrogance on her, too.

"Never underestimate the unpowered," Ironsides grumbled bitterly.

"Don't encourage her, you idiot!" Butcher snarled.

"For you?" I asked, letting my head rest against her shoulder as her arms tightened around my waist. "Yeah, I can do that."

"All of this mushy shit is ruining her brain," Marauder complained.

Shut the hell up.

"I'm with Taylor on this one. Chrissie is cute and you're just bitter," Alkaline agreed. I put the ensuing argument out of my head, and focused on the girl whose lap I was sitting in. She looked honestly worried, though I suspected it wasn't because of a thin knife that I couldn't even use to trim my own nails.

"I'm not going anywhere, anytime soon," I said, doing my best to sound comforting.

"Good," Vex replied, snuggling up to me and rasping our armor together.

Our minion demonstrated his well honed survival instincts by not saying a damn thing as we cuddled in the front seat. Nor did he risk a glance at what had to be some of the best damn gossip to offer at the minion gatherings. That wouldn't stop him from telling the story, but it did earn him points with me. He was a good minion, I decided. Hopefully the promotion I was going to offer him didn't get him killed.

"Good help is so hard to come by in this economy," Stratego mused.

With the flick of a switch, fluorescent lights came to life, illuminating what was once Damascian's then Quarrel's workshop. Now it was mine. I had never been in a Tinker's workshop before, much less owned one, and for a long moment I couldn't help but stare at the huge assortment of weapons, tools, and other equipment.

It made me feel somehow inadequate despite having a small armory of my own attached to my costume.

Adorning the walls were dozens of Tinkered blades of various kinds, from the run of the mill to the exotic. Many swords, an army's worth of knives, some axes, an oddly appropriate butcher's cleaver, a futuristic-looking spear… each and every one sharp enough to cut down all but the mightiest of Brutes. Damascian knew for certain that people had tried her blades on both Alexandria and the Siberian.

That both were still around and unblemished spoke volumes.

"Not that we ever got the chance to knife the flying brick," Alkaline muttered.

Knockout chuckled. "No but we did have that one barfight tha—"

"One barfight, that you haven't shut up about for half a fucking decade." Butcher growled. "You have one goddamn claim to fame, and you're sure as hell milking it like my alcoholic father milked his high school football accomplishments!"

Damn, that actually silenced everyone. I elected to avoid that powder keg and instead moved on with my inspection, eyeing a repurposed bookshelf laden with jars, vials, and flasks. Paralytics, poisons, the anti-regenerator poison Quarrel had bought on the black market and used on Lung sat alongside specialty polishes, enamels, and oils that Damascian needed for her tech.

My eyes lingered on the large jar of fire suppressant solution. Lung might be dead, but there were other pyrokinetics in the Bay and I rather liked my costume.

From there, I moved onto the bows that Quarrel had created. She still had a backup bow in addition to the two prototypes, and it was already far nicer than my crude attempt at repurposing a store-bought bow. I still hung my creation alongside hers, but I was already getting ideas about how to finish and improve Quarrel's bow.

"You had better make it worthy of my name," she hissed, but I didn't bother replying.

Bows needed ammunition, of course, and there was a whole table of arrowheads waiting to be affixed to shafts the size of a small spear. The resulting arrows were completely ridiculous, more befitting a medieval siege engine than man-portable weapon, but for the Butcher? They were part of my standard loadout.

Finally, in the back — past the forges, lathes, and other equipment that I know Damascian had procured at no small expense — I encountered the grand finale. Ten feet long, resting on its own workbench, and glittering despite the harsh fluorescent light, I beheld the late Tinker's own notion of the Butcher's over-the-top absurdity.

Merely calling it a 'sword' didn't do the creation justice.

It was a Sword that belonged on the cover of a video game magazine.

I needed all of my strength (and especially Knockout's force field) to even lift the comically large blade, my mind boggling that the handle could actually support the weight without bending or breaking. The repurposed basement was large enough that I could give the Sword a few experimental swings, though I had to be careful — I had no doubt it would shear right through the reinforced concrete supports in the middle of the room.

Physics demanded I should have been pulled off my feet by the force of the swing, yet I remained firmly on the ground. I let the memories of prior Butchers wash over me, and fell into a Kendo kata that Stratego had learned. The actual muscle memory wasn't quite there, but I remembered the steps all the same. When I finished, I wasn't even winded.

That thing is such bullshit.

"I would tend to agree." I could practically feel Damascian's crazed grin. "While it might be too impractical to wield in a fight, it certainly does not lack presence or style!"

"And Quarrel said it was stupid," Knockout said, shaking his metaphorical head.

I will need to find an opportunity to fight with this sometime. I set the blade back down on its bench and turned my attention back to the reason I had come down here. The Butcher mythos — my mythos — was built on the back of extreme and unnecessary violence, propped up by attaching a small armory of weapons to my costume. My machete and knives were a good start, but if I wanted to intimidate the other Teeth today, then I needed a bit more oomph.

Applying Chisel's power to unlock the final display case, I eyed the prize that I had been seeking. Inside were twenty six heavily modified OTs-62: a Russian made, 12 gauge shotgun revolving fucking pistol. Those crazy bastards hadn't intended for this thing to be used for anything beyond rubber rounds, so naturally Quarrel had modified them to accept full on explosive slugs. She bought fifty of the things, and as of the Friday before last, was down to twenty six.

"You know what they say, bitches love cannons," Pyro quipped.

"Fuck you, it was a great investment to buy them in bulk," Quarrel grumbled.

You threw four of them at an enraged Lung! He melted them! You knew they wouldn't do shit and you still wasted them!

I pushed her into the dark just for making me think of how much money each cost, even with the so-called bulk discount, then took four out then resealed the case. Next I moved to the weapon harnesses that were completed, only two, and set about modifying one to fit my frame. If I was attending this meeting, I wanted to look the fucking part.

"What the shit are we having a meeting for?" Reaver bellowed as he took his seat at the steel table I'd crafted with Chisel's power in the common area of the Teeth's Arena HQ.

Wait, Michael — Reaver's name was Michael. The Butchers barely bothered to remember the names of the other Teeth capes, to the point that I'd had to ask Chrissie whether Damien was Animos or not; my guess had been wrong. Animos was Elliot, Damien was Spree. It helped that while we were all in costume, none of us were masked.

At least they remembered that Hemorrhagia's name was Alice… If only because Ironsides had been sleeping with her since before he inherited, and the following Butchers had continued the trend. Even Damascian, who was incredibly reserved for a Butcher, had fucked her a few times over her tenure. I planned to break that damned trend.

"She'd be down for it," Ironsides said. "She didn't complain with any of my successors."

She's twice my age.

"You're also jailbait, but villains have cared about the law since when?" Fester said with a chuckle.

Muting you all on principle.

"Wai—"

Seriously, they might not have cared but I sure as hell did. Chrissie was barely a year older than me, I could accept that. Alice was closer to Mom's age than my own and Fester I swear to fuck, stop prodding those damn memories!

Then another memory was prodded and I felt my cheeks and neck burn. Quarrel, I get it, Damien is packing heat, I don't fucking care!

"He's also only twenty. That still too much for your precious sensibilities?"

YES! I huffed. If my dad would lose his shit over them, they're off the table.

"She's arguing with her predecessors, isn't she?" Alice asked Chrissie.

"Oh yeah, you can tell by the lip twitches," she answered, then nudged me.

"Sorry, they're being bitchy about something inconsequential to this meeting," I said as I pushed all but Stratego and Damascian down for the moment. I'd need Ironsides as well, but he was on time out with the rest of the shippers that would be banned from PHO for any of their suggestions. "The reason I called this meeting is simple; I plan for us to take over Brockton Bay completely, but to do so I need people that will follow orders and not go off on wild tears that risk calling the Triumvirate —"

"Words words words," Elliot mocked. "Lotta hot ai—"

A burst of flame was all the warning he got as I slammed him face first into the steel table we were gathered around.

"Holy shit!" Knockout yelled in surprise. "We didn't even have to —"

I pushed the chorus down as Animos' skin rippled and began to bulge as his transformation began, but I couldn't afford the distraction. He screamed out as I hit him with a pain blast, but the transformation hadn't taken hold so it was just a normal scream, not his nullification one.

"You done being a little bitch?" I demanded of him with the full swarm voice in effect as I lifted him by his hair to look him in the eyes. "If you don't like how I'm running things, feel free to challenge me for the mantle at any time. I'll fight you to the death in the pits as is our tradition."

"Well-handled," Stratego stated.

"No shit, that was the most Butcher worthy thing I've seen out of you," Butcher said with what sounded like a hint of… Pride?

Aw, fuck. I pushed him away and he cackled the whole way down.

Blood was dripping from Elliot's nose as I gripped his face tightly enough that he couldn't turn away nor nod in my grip. I was the Butcher, everyone knew that by reputation alone, but I had to earn it by deed. Putting mouthy subordinates in their place was part of that. It said a lot about how normal something like this was that none of the others had even reacted aside from a few muted chuckles. This was just how things were done in the Teeth.

"G—got it boss," he muttered. I dropped him.

"So, I have grand plans and want to make sure you fuckers are up to snuff." I glanced back down at Elliot as he began to pick himself back up. "Was that dumbed down enough for you or do I need to write it out in crayon?"

He coughed up a glob of blood, then nodded. Good. I sent a small swarm of bugs to clean up the mess he made of my floor as I turned my attention back to my little roundtable and sculpted the center into a rough representation of Brockton Bay. I'd do the detail work later, but this was a good start.

I very pointedly ignored how Chrissie was wiping drool from her chin.

"The Teeth were born in the Bay. This city is our home. And in the time since we left, not only has the Protectorate failed to remove the literal neo-Nazi infestation, they let Lung and his sex slavers move in alongside drug pushers and laser-slinging mercenaries."

"Well, two of those are dead," Chrissie said helpfully, giving me one of her radiant grins. I did my best not to blush as I turned my attention back to the map.

"The Empire will die in blood soaked agony." I pointed at their territory, then moved my finger a bit to another section of downtown. "Whatever Coil truly represents, we will end it. The PRT will learn to accept us as the rulers of the Bay, or we will cast them out as well. Those are my goals, I trust everyone has no issues with them?"

Nobody voiced an objection.

I clapped my hands once. "Magnificent. To achieve this, I need everyone working for me to be able to handle themselves appropriately. Kaiser trains his SS wannabees to be good cosplay soldiers, the PRT has actual military backing, we have… drugged up idiots with AKs. Aside from our capes having powers that are actually worth a damn, we have nothing of worth for actually holding territory."

"We have you, boss," Chrissie said proudly.

"That you do," I answered with a smile. Her cheeks darkened as she glanced away; my heart fluttered as well but I had a job to do. Flirting could come later. "I am, however, just one cape. I need pawns, knights and rooks that will be in place when I need them and act as I instruct them to. If I intend to checkmate an entire city, even one unruly pawn could spell the end of my designs."

"So what?" All eyes turned to Alice, "You want us to practice military shit?"

"I am not doing push ups," Damien declared, slamming his hands on the table.

"Stratego put you up to this, didn't he?" Michael asked, tapping a finger. "That bastard always had a screw loose, though you couldn't deny the results he got."

"Don't tell me you're actually considering this," Damien said with fear in his eyes.

"Yes, I consulted Stratego as well as Chisel, Alkaline, Ironsides and Damascian seeing as they were the most effective leaders of the Teeth to date. What they did worked. What didn't work was being arrogant hotheads throwing ourselves into reckless battles and getting each other killed. That won't gain us the territory or funds we seek."

Chrissie leaned forward, searching my face, then she fell back into her chair, softly laughing. "Damn boss, you actually think we can do this… You aren't just blustering?"

"The Bay could be ours, we just need the means to seize it."

"An entire city to call our own…" she said wistfully, looking up at the ceiling. "Well fuck me sideways and count me in."

Damien groaned. "She already fucks you sideways, what about the rest of us?"

"What? You want a go?" I asked, turning to face him. "Hate to break it to you, but aside from Chrissie the rest of you are a bit old for me."

Damien's head banged against the table in frustration. "I meant, how are you going to get us to agree to this plan, bitch?"

Rather than verbally respond, I made a show of turning to look at Elliot, who had shoved a few bits of tissue up his broken nose. When I turned back, Damien's expression had shifted to understanding.

"Any other idiotic questions?"

"No, boss," he muttered.

From there I began to outline what I expected; the improved training and how we could make it something our violent horde would actively enjoy. Chrissie's suggestion of airsoft and paintball went over well and I decided to adopt them with a focus on small unit tactics. Any members with prior military or police experience would be encouraged to start forming teams. Michael had suggested restoring some of the training rooms and I greenlit the idea immediately if it got our minions into better shape.

I was pleased at the ideas being tossed about, even if some of them weren't really feasible, like restoring the pool. Too much money and no reputable company would dare send their people into a known gang headquarters. The addition of a proper bar and lounge for the higher ranked members wasn't tossed out of hand. I tasked Alice with looking in on that if it allowed us to curb excessive drinking before missions.

I groaned when the subject of adopting tabletop gaming came up, since apparently many within the Teeth actually enjoyed Warhammer 40k. That little revelation had been horrifying in itself, and I vowed that Greg would never learn of this because there was no way in hell I was going to have him trying to join just so he could have a consistent group to game with. I told them I wouldn't interfere with the attempt but wouldn't endorse it unless they could prove that the players learned proper strategy and tactics from it, which immediately doomed me into participating at least once.

The subject shifted to what equipment could be made for the rest of the Teeth and I set Damascian to brainstorming what I could Tinker up easily in large numbers. Pocket sharpeners and enhancing various blades would be a late night project for when I wasn't able to spend the night in Chrissie's bed. I might even be able to run that project from home if I could make the equipment small enough.

While Damascian pondered that idea, I remembered my assembly line of spiders working on my costume. It would be easy enough with my insects to just make shirts and pants rather than silk body gloves for the masses, and generic chitin plate armor could be molded with Chisel's power into various shapes so if I just have them craft blocks of the material for me to work with… Shit, this would actually work. I would prioritize my capes, but eventually I'd have enough for all my minions, which should reduce casualties greatly.

As the meeting continued, our agenda became the main topic. We decided that recovering my minigun was a priority; it was a status symbol for the Teeth and the PRT couldn't be allowed to keep it. That didn't mean I wouldn't be smart about the recovery effort, though. I'd work on that plan in the coming days and wait for the right opportunity.

Taking over what remained of the ABB along the edges of our territory would be handled by our lieutenants, as we had luckily recruited a few guys who knew how to manage such things from the bad old days of Brockton. That was good — the Teeth weren't exactly known for their territorial prowess in Boston or New York. I actually laughed when I saw that both Winslow as well as my home now technically fell within my territory.

After hearing a rather vehement argument in favor of a gaming room full of the latest consoles from Damien as the meeting wound down, something occurred to me. You guys have been awfully quiet, what gives?

"We're just admiring your work, kid." Ironsides said fondly.

That can't be all there is to it?

"Actually stop and think about the last two hours," Fester said. "You walked into that meeting, took them by the balls and made all of them your bitch, without any of us having to prod you into action or offer advice. You got exactly what you wanted in a way that any of us would be proud of."

Running back through the events, had that really been all me? When Animos had acted up, I vaguely remembered someone saying something before I muted them and then… Nothing but the usual background whispers I barely paid attention to… "Holy shit."

Chrissie spared me a glance while Damien and Elliot were arguing over which TVs were the best choice for the room I was barely interested in furnishing with the communal funds. Alice seemed to have caught on to that as she suggested they either steal the shit or buy it themselves.

Sure, Damascian had planned the Teeth's grand return to the Bay, but neither she nor Quarrel had been able to capitalize on the chaos they had caused. They lacked the coordination, the cooperation of all of the relevant pieces to actually turn the Teeth from a (very deadly) annoyance into a successful criminal empire. Managing territory, outfitting grunts, planning a vision — far too much for the Butcher's usual short attention span.

I had done all of that myself. Taylor Hebert had just laid the foundation for turning the Teeth into something that would shake the foundations of Brockton Bay…

"Even I'm proud of you, kid," Butcher said. "Shit was beautiful."

I felt like I was going to throw up.

Author's Notes:

Pen: That moment where she uses Animos as an example for stupid questions? That's what happens when you lose yourself in writing a character. So fucking proud of that moment.

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Pendragoon

Feb 18, 2022

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Pendragoon

Pendragoon

She/Her

Feb 25, 2022

#3,634

Tuesday, April 12th 2011

Had my brain been more functional following my horrific, nausea-inducing realization, I might have rolled my eyes at how the other Teeth flinched when I lurched to my feet with no warning. In one corner of my mind, Stratego's power reported that they were braced for violence; in the other, I barely noted that Chrissie had gone down into the arena for a spar.

In the rest, the Butchers complimented and commented, jeered and complained on top of each other in a cacophonous mess that couldn't quite penetrate the fog filling my brain.

Somehow I managed to stalk to Chrissie's room, ditching my costume before changing into a nondescript pair of jeans and hoodie that were not in the Teeth's… my Teeth's… my colors. Why Chrissie had extra clothes in my size would have to be considered later.

Then I teleported randomly into the Docks, picked a random street, and headed downtown.

Some part of me knew that my new default gait — the one I never practiced, but inherited — shouted 'murderous confidence' to anyone with a brain. My brain, on the other hand, was full of fog and the image of my little battle map of the Bay, where real lives and livelihoods were just little colored squares being moved around by bugs… being squashed like bugs.

The Empire needed to fall, that much was certain.

But did the Teeth need to rise in its place?

In my addled state, I didn't get much further than those two thoughts despite wandering more than a dozen blocks, leaving me solidly on the inside edge of downtown when I finally stopped to look around.

Oh, a twenty-four hour cafe.

Tea sounded nice.

Somehow, I had remembered to bring my wallet and phone with me from the lair. After a few muttered false starts, I managed to order a cup of tea, then ignored the stares of the late-night patrons to seize the maximally-defensible corner table. As I stared at the steeping tea bag and savored its aroma, thoughts started to crystalize out of the fog of my brain.

I was Butcher XV.

It must have been some cosmic joke that I was only fifteen years old, too. I hadn't wanted the horrible power or even more horrible responsibility that came with the title, but the heroes didn't want me either and I couldn't exactly quit. I had known exactly what I was getting into by going back to the Teeth, thanks to my predecessors' memories, but I had not totally understood what it meant to lead them until tonight.

Sure, the Empire raid had been… distressingly fun, but there was a huge gap between planning a raid and orchestrating a war. Not to mention that I had no doubt that people had died in that raid. On my orders. It was a gap that no fifteen year old girl should ever have to consider or even be aware of. I should be sleeping right now, more worried about writing English papers than battle orders.

"Tell that to Chrissie," a voice said, managing to break through the fog before I forced them all down into the dark. They complained, of course, but I needed to have some time today where I wasn't listening to their 'advice.' For all that they were (mostly) friendly, I needed to remember that the chorus was out for blood.

Which included mine, when I didn't listen to them.

My mind wandered back to my maybe-girlfriend, easily imagining her infectious smile and warm hugs. If not for the fact that she was a supervillain too, our relationship might be the most interesting normal thing to happen to me in a long time. But even that was associated with the Teeth, another link in the chain that trapped me to my inheritance.

I tried to banish all of those thoughts and focus on my tea, only to remember when Mom used to let me chase the steeping tea bag around with a little spoon while she —

A crack, and my hand was wet.

Oh, I had shattered the mug.

Despite my emotional exhaustion, the combination of wet clothes and no tea sparked a flame of anger and despair in my chest that I didn't want to unleash here. I teleported as far as my bugs could take me three times before that flame turned into a bonfire, and I only gave the unlucky building that was my destination a cursory glance before wrenching the fire escape off the wall and throwing it down the… alley…

This was the building I had used to hide from Lung. I could still smell the scorch marks.

I spent the next thirty minutes in a frothing rage, using bits and pieces of the half-demolished buildings to cause as much damage as I could to the rest. I disintegrated sections of walls, raised hammers out of the asphalt and used them to smash holes, and gouged huge claw marks in the sidewalk in a futile attempt to punish the godforsaken pit of hell where I had tried to save some kids and got cursed instead.

"I know I'm supposed to be scary!" I yelled, kicking over piles of masonry I had reshaped to resemble Lung, Armsmaster, Quarrel, and a few of the more annoying Butchers. "I know I'm supposed to be sane!" I caught Marauder's head before the football-sized chunk of masonry could hit me in the face, and threw it with all of my strength at the far wall. "But don't fucking congratulate me for starting a goddamn gang war!"

In the dark recesses of my mind, the muted complaints of the other Butchers blurred together in an annoyed din.

After my little venting episode, I teleported most of the way home and snuck back into my room. I wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed and fall asleep, but the stupid Noctis power meant that I only got a few hours of respite. I managed to calm down and get some reading done after stomping on the voices a few times, but the mental exercise of keeping the annoying ones muted meant that I struggled to focus on my book.

I really did not want their praise right now.

I did not want to hear about how well I controlled the Teeth, or how scared the others were of me, or how great I was at being a supervillain. I very much did not want to think that less than two weeks ago, I was just like any other parahuman teenager, planning my first night and training with my powers to be the best hero I could manage. Caping was supposed to have just been a worthwhile diversion in my utterly shitty life.

And now I was plotting the violent takeover of my home city.

The worst part? It was still the best course of action I could see going forward.

The Teeth were never going to be heroes, not even close. The best that I could do was direct them to more deserving targets and do my best to keep the collateral damage to a minimum. To do that, I needed Weaver to be the most badass and terrifying villain on the coast, and not because Butcher XV was mostly insane and distractible like her predecessors. No, she needed to be ruthless and calculating, forging the Teeth into a weapon to smite her enemies.

I had done that.

It had been distressingly easy.

"I think you are focusing on the wrong aspect, Taylor," Chisel said carefully. "You're a clever girl with a shitload of powers, and you figured out how to deal with the other Teeth immediately. This sort of organization may come naturally to you, but none of the rest of us could have managed it."

That's because you couldn't shut up long enough to come up with a plan!

Chisel sent a very clear idea of a shrug. "Sure, but if you're stuck in this job, you might as well do it right. There's nothing wrong with enjoying —"

I growled at her, which shut her up instantly. There's everything wrong with enjoying planning a war! Pushing around those little markers, designing weapons… fuck, this isn't some big game or just another heist! We're planning to kill people, and for everyone it was just another Monday night — including me!

"Well, you are the Butcher," Alkaline tried. "Yeah you hurt Animos, but —"

That comment saw all of the voices shoved down into the dark. I could not — would not — let myself turn into a giggling madwoman who played the fiddle while Brockton burned, or worse, lit the fuse myself because I liked the pretty flames. Butcher XV could be the PRT's worst nightmare without me engaging in my predecessor's mindless hedonism.

Of course, that was largely because Weaver was sane, which reminded me that I needed to go to school in a few hours, where I would have to deal with Emma and her flunkies again. That was another thing I needed to deal with in a way befitting of the Butcher, before she trashed my reputation and eventually encouraged someone to off me for the mantle. It was all just so much to deal with, but I didn't have a choice in the matter. I was the Butcher, and yet…

I can't allow this to consume my life.

"Taylor, when have you ever just rolled over and given in?" Fester asked in a passable imitation of Mom's voice. "You've already done more for the Bay than anyone since Marquis was arrested —"

Sanguine cut in with a snort. "Honestly, I preferred him to the Empire, even before joining the Teeth. I wish the Bitchy Brigade had gone after Allfather instead."

"That's not the point," Fester snapped. "All I'm saying is that Butcher XV is whoever you make her. You want to go crazy? Do it. You want to keep up your civilian life and rub it in the PRT's face? Do it."

"Just don't —" I muted Butcher before I could even hear his complaint.

"Never thought I'd see the day where the Butcher cares about the Unwritten Rules," Ironsides grumbled. "Funny as hell, but weird."

Pyro jumped on that with a blatant attempt to change the subject (for which I was grateful). "Hey, that rogue who makes the puppets and clothes and shit. Think she could make those hoodies you came up with?"

"Oh hell yes," Knockout said, sending a mental image of me brawling in some bar while wearing such a hoodie. "Free advertising!"

"As a rogue, she likely advertises through PHO," Damascian suggested, nudging my attention to the phone sitting next to me on the bed. I felt my stomach drop a bit when I logged into PHO and found my account had been suspended due to… my new status as the Butcher. Did they really need to do that? What were they afraid of me posting if I was insane? Hell, they let Chrissie have an account…

Immediately I sent off a complaint to one of the online admins and got a reply in less than a minute.

Weaver (Verified Cape)

Replied On April 12th 2011:

Why was my account suspended? I've barely posted anything!

Tin_Mother (Admin)

Replied On April 12th 2011:

I find it hard to believe that the Butcher is able to coherently type a complaint. Which of the Teeth capes am I speaking with?

Weaver (Verified Cape)

Replied On April 12th 2011:

Oh, like you don't know that half the Teeth capes have accounts on here with a fucking villain tag. Razorpunk is Vex, if it wasn't blindingly obvious. Hell, Hookwolf has the same tag and his screenname is MURDERBLENDER for fuck's sake!

If it's that big of a deal just tag my damn account with Butcher XV or some shit and hold me to the same standards as any other poster.

Tin_Mother (Admin)

Replied On April 12th 2011:

You're asking me to trust the Butcher to remain level headed. I'm sure you understand why that is difficult.

Weaver (Verified Cape)

Replied On April 12th 2011:

Oh for fuck's sake. At least this way you will know exactly which account I'm posting from rather than going out there and creating a dozen new accounts and spreading whatever I want across your precious PHO. Scion knows the PRT are the only ones who have that honor after the shit that was pulled last Friday.

Tin_Mother (Admin)

Replied On April 12th 2011:

I'm going to regret this. Your account is unlocked provisionally, you'll have a daily posting cap until you prove you won't abuse your privileges. One mistake, and you will be perma-banned. Understood?

Weaver (Verified Cape)(Butcher XV)

Replied On April 12th 2011:

Loud and clear. Thanks, Mommy. I'll be good!

Tin_Mother (Admin)

Replied On April 12th 2011:

I regret this already…

After unlocking my account, I sent Parian a message before noodling around on the site for a while. It was interesting being able to read the local boards from Philly to Boston thanks to the Butchers' memories, though I refrained from posting the various taunts and insults they suggested. I was engrossed enough that my alarm actually served its stated purpose.

Most of my routine in my morning was the same, though I did wear some of the nicer clothes that Chrissie helped pick out. A red tank top with gray trim and some faded bluejeans that almost passed as gray. A more subdued outfit to be sure, but I'd already made my statement. Flaunting the colors so openly didn't matter as much anymore.

However, without the need to run to stay in shape, I had an extra hour to kill that I could spend doing something productive — like surprising dad with breakfast! The Butchers had considerable memories about cooking from before their inheritance that were now at my mental fingertips. Unfortunately, the same couldn't be said about our current pantry and fridge situation.

We need to go grocery shopping.

"There is sufficient time, provided you utilize the teleport," Damascian said, prodding a memory of how to prepare a proper English breakfast. It was a heavy meal with a lot of prep time needed, but like she had said, I had a bit of time to spare.

"Any objections?"

"I need to introduce you to a Japanese breakfast sometime," Quarrel said, poking one of her own memories as a child when her Mother had prepared such a meal for her.

Yeah, that's going on the list. Maybe when I'm cooking for Chrissie since explaining that to Dad might be a bit difficult.

"Times a wastin!"

"We're fucking starving!"

"Feed us!"

FINE! I'm going!

I took that not-step to teleport and set off for the nearest grocery store.

Perhaps the strangest component of my original powers was my seemingly unending capacity for multitasking. When I was conducting the raid over the weekend, I had been certain that something would get lost in the chaos, but I never once lost my focus on numerous threads of the battle. Right now, my black widows down in the basement were hard at work on the first of the silk shirts and pants for my capes. Alongside them, I had a cluster of various bugs listening to an audiobook. It was taking some trial and error, but I had mostly figured out a combination of bugs that I could hear through fairly clearly.

Bug vision however, was proving much more difficult. The novel propped open under the workbench light was proving to be nothing but a blur. The best results I'd had so far were dragonflies for details, but they had their own limitations. I was currently rotating various bugs to see if I could find a workable combination.

Other bugs were working on yet another project: folding papers into a basic origami pattern while using silk strands to string them into necklaces. The little cubes were a key component of my new plan for Winslow, and there were a lot of Teeth at the school.

All around my range I'd set up clusters of bugs to maintain a vigil on my neighborhood. I wasn't about to be surprised if the Police, or worse, the PRT decided to pay me a visit.

Then there was my Chisel-created mini Brockton Bay I was using to run simulated raids and offensives with the aid of Stratego's power. Bugs were serving as stand-ins for the forces on both sides, navigating the tiny wooden buildings on my closet shelf. I was testing potential strikes against the Empire as well as a raid on the PRT to reclaim my minigun, and unfortunately the latter looked far less feasible given how the PRT HQ was essentially a permanently-staffed fortress.

While I was doing all of this simultaneously, I was also cooking a full course English breakfast for two, and prepping lunch for myself, Dad and Chrissie.

"Okay, I agree. She's bullshit," Sanguine said with a chuckle.

"Spare some attention for the bacon," Damascian said. "Burning it would complicate both breakfast and your lunch."

I've got a few flies keeping an eye on it, don't worry.

"Phrases I never expected to hear, let alone consider just another part of our day…" Knockout said with a shake of his head.

Dad's awake. The flies I have in his room can smell the food.

"Then it's a good thing you're mostly finished."

I hummed in agreement with Chisel as I plated everything up. Making breakfast wasn't much in the grand scale of things, but it was something I could do for my dad to show him that I care about him. Cooking the food myself rather than bringing in takeout would hopefully raise fewer questions about my source of funds.

Pyro snapped her metaphorical fingers. "Have you considered just buying him lunch to be delivered to work sometimes?"

Too suspicious if it's just him…

"Maybe if food were to be procured for the entirety of the dockworkers…" Stratego suggested.

That's a lot of money just to buy dad food.

Alkaline snorted. "Taylor, you have millions stashed under your mattress at the base, you can afford it."

Fair point, I'll look into it.

"You know, it might just be easier to tell him than come up with convoluted plans to sneak things by him," Butcher snickered.

I'm not rehashing this argument again.

"Taylor… What is all this?"

I spun around with plates in hand and a wide grin plastered on my face. "Breakfast! I hope you're hungry!"

"How did you make all this? I didn't even know we had tomatoes in the fridge…"

I shook my head as I set the plates at our places at the table. "We didn't, I made a grocery run so I could surprise you."

"Just don't tell him you made that run two hours ago," Sabertooth faux whispered.

"This is all just…" He paused as his eyes narrowed. "Are you doing that teenager thing where you try to butter me up before asking to go to a party or something?"

"What!?"

"Busted!" Fester chuckled.

I shook my head fast enough my hair whipped. "No, I just… I don't want us to keep growing apart is all, and I thought making you breakfast might help."

At that, his face fell right back into the expression that had haunted him ever since Mom died. I hated seeing Dad like that, aging a decade just by slumping forward and cupping his face in his hands. Losing Mom had almost destroyed him, and I shuddered to think what would happen if I suddenly told him I couldn't come home anymore. The photos on the walls were already too much of a reminder with only one of us gone.

Well, if I had learned anything from Chrissie, it was the restorative power of hugs. I pulled my chair around before leaning over and giving Dad the tightest hug I could that wouldn't snap his bones.

I felt the tension bleed out of me as he returned the hug. "I feel like I'm failing you…"

"Because you are!" Fester yelled, but I punted her into the dark.

Everyone, stay out of this. Please.

Most of the Butchers muttered in the back of my mind, but none tried to interrupt further. "The last few years haven't been easy, but I'd hardly call you a failure. You've had a lot on your plate, and you've handled it as best you could. I haven't been much better, but I'm trying, and I don't want to look back in six months to a year and wonder what I could have done differently that might have prevented us from drifting apart for good."

"You make it sound like you're going away soon…" he said softly.

"I already lost mom, Emma is…" My voice hitched. "You're all I have left now."

"I thought you had Chrissie?"

"I do, but she's… she's a new part of my life. You're all I have left from my childhood." I pulled away and wiped some stray wetness from my eyes. "You better eat up before it gets cold."

"Sure thing, kiddo," We both began to eat our feast, but after just a few bites dad was staring intently at his plate. "Where did you learn to cook like this?"

Shit.

"Still want us to stay out of it?" Butcher sneered.

Not helping, asshole.

"One of Chrissie's friends is showing me a few things. I wanted to surprise you… Also wanted to practice a bit before I cooked for her…"

"Not bad, kid. Solid 6/10 on the recovery," Knockout said.

"Well, you're doing a damn fine job," Dad answered. "You've impressed me, so you're sure to impress her as well."

"Thanks Dad," I said with a weak smile. "Did you sleep well?"

"Not as well as I would have liked. Had to go into the office to deal with the PRT just before midnight."

"Hey, that was when we—"

No shit Sherlock, of course he got called in for a Weaver sighting…

"What happened? I thought things had calmed down since the Merchants were taken out."

"Oh, they have, at least until now. Jeff had a run in with the new Butcher."

"Shit, when's the funeral?" I blurted without thinking.

Dad sighed, setting his fork down. "Surprisingly, Jeff is fine, even after he shot Butcher in the chest."

"Again, how is he not dead?" I asked, trying to think like old Taylor would. Ask the questions she would ask.

"Even the PRT is stumped. Apparently they had a big fight with the Nazis a few days ago and it was as brutal as any of their fights ever were. That reminds me…"

I watched him get up and go over to his work stuff and pull out what looked like a postcard. "I got you the autographs of the heroes that showed up."

He handed me a pair of postcards with Miss Militia and Velocity's autographs clearly written across their pictures.

The chorus burst into laughter.

It wasn't that damn funny.

The bus was almost back to Winslow and the chorus hadn't once shut up about that damn postcard.

"You should totally post that to PHO in a few days, or maybe start up an autograph collection!" Pyro said with considerable excitement.

Alkaline began to cackle. "Could you imagine their faces if you just walked up to them wearing that Weaver XV jacket and just asked?"

"Shit would be gold," Knockout agreed.

I'll admit, that would be fucking hilarious.

"Does that mean you'll do it?" Pyro practically begged.

If I'm not risking the loss of my civilian identity? Hell yes I would.

The chorus cheered and fell into discussing various scenarios they wanted to see me enact, sort of like a group of cape fic writers. Several of their ideas were actually funny as hell, too. They continued until the bus finally arrived at Winslow, but luckily shut up when we pulled into the parking lot. We all knew that it was time to put my best foot forward and fix my mistakes from Monday.

When I stepped off the bus, there was no play at being weak. I had shed my glasses for good, I was wearing high quality clothes that showed off my toned figure, and I carried myself like I was the baddest bitch on the east coast… because I fucking was. The news that I had arrived spread like wildfire among the Teeth, as reported back to me through my bugs. I couldn't make out what they were whispering without clustering my bugs a bit more, but one word kept being repeated enough that I figured it out all the same: Weaver.

It was evident that my identity had spread among the Teeth, based on their looks of awe, respect, and a touch of fear. What had gone down yesterday with Emma probably made me look weak in the eyes of her backers, but to my Teeth? I'd shown something no other Butcher had ever possessed.

Self control.

Each and every one of them knew I could have ended everyone in that hallway within moments. I was the Butcher, yet I chose to not butcher them. Now, I needed to follow up on that before Emma got it in her head that she could walk all over me again. Once I could justify, but if she managed to keep playing this game at this level, I would lose face. Thus, it was time for me to flip the board a bit.

As I walked I noticed a few sour looks from the idiots still wearing Empire colors. Oh well, they could fuck off and die for all I cared.

As I approached Chrissie's group in the courtyard, I was surprised to see the girl I'd bailed out the prior day standing with them, though she wasn't doing a good job of hiding how out of her element she appeared.

"Bet she'd scream if you buzzed a fly in her ear," Sabertooth suggested.

"Hey Chrissie!" I said cheerfully as I waved. I watched her smile blossom as I took the spot beside her and drew her into a kiss. Once I'd left her with a dopey grin I turned to greet my other minions. "Britney, Zach, Jason, Fred. Anything of note to report?"

"Nothing beyond what you expected," Chrissie said with a shrug. "Charlotte here did want to thank you for yesterday, though."

I turned towards the girl, who shrunk back at my sudden attention; her voice came out at barely a whisper. "Thank you… er, Taylor. Usually those of us wearing red and gray aren't bothered by the other members, but they've been a bit excited since Weaver took over."

I snorted. "I suppose I did make a bit of an impression."

"You sure you want to admit that to someone not committed to the Teeth?" Chrissie asked.

"She saw what I did to Paul and his pissy jeaned buddy, no point in trying to deny who I am, not among our own."

Chrissie didn't bat an eye at my statement, but I could tell the others weren't as thrilled at my acceptance of Charlotte. Oh well, perks of the job — they could fall in line or get Spree'd.

I immediately bit my tongue, wishing I could feel pain. It was getting harder each and every day to spot when I was thinking more like the Butcher than Taylor, and that red flag may as well have been painted the crimson of the Teeth.

One of the other Teeth produced a blunt and skipped everyone in the rotation to offer me a hit. This time I took it without hesitation, as this was probably going to become a morning ritual for me and I needed to de-compress. Chrissie took the blunt after me, offering a sly wink that brought warmth to my cheeks.

"Any plans for those bitches from yesterday?" Britney asked.

I grimaced at the reminder. "Thanks for not jumping the gun yesterday. Things… didn't quite go according to plan, but it did give me valuable information on how to proceed."

"How so?" Chrissie asked enthusiastically.

"Now that we know the teachers will do whatever they can to avoid doing anything to piss either side off, it gives us a lot more room to play. I intend to capitalize on that."

"We're all ears," Jason said. "Just tell us what to do and it'll get done."

"Fantastic!" I beamed, pulling a couple of boxes from my bag and handing them out. "Because I need you guys to pass some stuff out to anyone in our colors."

The rest of the Teeth at Winslow were enthusiastic about my plan, though there were still some grumblings along the lines of 'just go Carrie already' that I elected not to hear. The Butchers also grumbled at that, displeased as they were about my unwillingness to just beat the shit out of Emma and her flunkies, but their cheers at Damien's broken nose continued to echo softly in the back of my head.

"It's not a bad plan," Chisel said. "There's a high likelihood that you will attract the PRT, but…"

But?

"Then you have to fight them!" Knockout yelled, and the others cheered.

I shoved them all away and focused on my swarm. No longer could I let my attention wander from my surroundings, and it was only by leveraging my multitasking ability that I had any chance of keeping up a semblance of normality while putting my idea into action.

That also meant that I recognized Emma's voice before I walked around the corner and found her lingering by the door to Mrs. Knott's classroom. She stood next to Sophia as their hanger-ons quickly fanned out to block my path through the hall. They couldn't actually stop me if they wanted to, of course, so they were lucky that I wanted to deal with Emma anyways.

"Where's the short one?" Marauder wondered. "Miss cutesy little bitch?"

"That's not specific, coming from you," Sanguine pointed out.

Alkaline made an annoyed sound. "Madison, the girl from —"

"The roach!" several cheered, and I let that amusement creep onto my own face.

I found it interesting that, once again, Emma had a surprisingly adverse reaction to seeing me in Teeth colors. Horror and disgust flitted over her face before she gave my posture another once-over, only to be replaced by quickly hidden shock.

"The colors, yes, but also the way you hold yourself," Damascian said. "Your bearing and gait no longer match those of a girl with your history."

I channeled some of that newfound arrogance as I crossed my arms and raised an eyebrow. "What the fuck do you want this time, Emma?"

"Why Taylor," she replied, clearly unnerved by my tone, "I would have thought you learned your lesson yesterday. Just because you joined a gang of idiots doesn't mean they can protect you."

I couldn't help it, I laughed. It was loud, arrogant, and — if I was being honest — a bit unhinged. It was a laugh better suited to mowing down Spree clones than chatting in an early morning school hallway; it crashed on Emma and her flunkies in a wave of trepidation. Even Sophia couldn't quite maintain her bored air of faux-superiority in the face of my laugh.

"Damn girl, that's a good supervillain laugh," Knockout said approvingly.

"You must not have heard the news," I said, doing my best to flash them a desperately hopeful smile. "See, unlike the teachers and staff and Wards or whatever here, Weaver actually gives a damn about her minions. She gave us these necklaces to use if we have troubles with bullies and no one will help."

I held out the simple necklace and its bug trapped in a paper cube, knowing full well what would happen next. Sophia snatched it out of my hand almost instantly, holding it up to her own face and sneering at it. "Yeah, right. Weaver has better things to do than play babysitter to trash like you." I ignored the grumblings in the back of my head at that comment.

She crushed the little cube.

Emma screeched in pain and surprise, having been stung on the back of her neck by a convenient wasp. "OW! What the —" Her brain caught up with reality a moment later, eyes going wide with horror as she stared at the crumpled paper in Sophia's hand… who was coughing on the fly that she had 'accidentally swallowed.'

"Well, you figured out how it works," I said lightly, dumping my amusement into the swarm so that I didn't fall over with laughter. With Emma still in shock and Sophia too concerned with her to stop me, I was able to brush past the two of them and into Mrs. Knott's room. The bell rang not long after, and my bugs let me follow the girls as they scrambled to get to their classes on time.

Mrs. Knott herself seemed to age a decade when I walked past her desk, and I once again wondered if there was some way I could reassure her that things weren't… Well, they were actually far worse than she feared, but I wasn't being used by the gang in some horrible fashion. She pointedly looked away when I fished another paper cube necklace out of my pocket and put it on, which unfortunately matched up with the way that every teacher treated the gang members here.

Two of the Teeth members in the class lacked necklaces of their own, so once Mrs. Knott got us started on the assignment, I pulled another pair of the entrapped bugs out of my bookbag and passed them over. I felt a surprising pang of pride, seeing them wearing not only my symbols but a way for me to (hopefully) surreptitiously help them here at Winslow.

It wasn't like anyone else was helping us.

Then I settled in to wait for the inevitable PRT response.

It didn't happen.

I know that the whole point of this plan is plausible deniability, but I was sure that Emma, at least, would go crying to the authorities as soon as she was able.

"I think you dangerously underestimate how highly they think of themselves," Stratego rumbled in response.

As though to punctuate that point, I felt Sophia rip another of the necklaces off of a Teeth member in whatever her first class was. She was clearly marked by the insects on her clothing and limbs, but I didn't immediately punish her when she crushed the poor alarm bug. No, I waited until she threw the necklace back to its owner before stinging her right on the nose with another wasp.

We all giggled — me out loud, the chorus in my head, and if I understood my bugs' senses, the Teeth in the classroom. Sophia, on the other hand, was obviously displeased, having yelled something unpleasant while trying to rub at her nose. But she didn't get up and go to the principal, or immediately start yelling about villains, so I assumed that she had already come to understand that Weaver wasn't leaving any evidence.

The irony was delicious, but I was still worried that the PRT would find out somehow. However, no matter how obsessively I searched approaching cars with my bugs or refreshed PHO, there was no sign that any heroes had the slightest idea of what was happening here. By the time the bell rang and freed us from Mrs. Knott's classroom, the only thing I had to show for my efforts was the normal disorientation from trying to process bug senses.

"Would you just chill the fuck out already?" Pyro complained. "Seriously, you're more tense than Marauder on PCP."

I didn't need the laughs that comment prompted to know that I didn't need to look at those memories. I know that I'm not exactly hiding, but I would still rather not have to teleport away from the heroes, you know?

"What I would have given for that damn teleport when running from heroes," Fester said wistfully. She then pushed a memory forward of her and Mom running from the police after a crack-down on a demonstration at their college. "She would have loved those necklaces. Give 'em out to the girls, swarm the fuckers —"

"Like right now!" Chisel cut in, pushing my attention to a stairwell where two smaller Teeth were in a scuffle with three goons that I couldn't immediately identify. One had called for help, and I responded by guiding a trio of cockroaches from the ceiling down onto their enemy's faces. The goons' reflexes were much worse than Sophia's, so I was able to run the cockroaches up their noses and get them stuck.

Being Teeth, of course, my minions used the distraction to kick the guys in the nuts before running away while laughing. In my head, Fester was cackling her ass off. "Taylor, I just want to say that I'm glad we never had to face you on the field."

"Excuse me?" Quarrel spat.

"Well, more than once," Fester amended.

I knew, deep down, that I wasn't supposed to be proud of the fact that the Butchers approved of my methods, but I couldn't quite keep the smile off my face as I flopped down into my seat in English Lit. That smile turned into an outright grin when Sophia walked in, the tip of her nose adorned by an angry, red welt.

Then I remembered the night before, and my grin turned brittle. Ordinarily I would have been worried about the murderous displeasure in Sophia's gaze as she stalked past me to her seat, but my life was almost unimaginably more complicated than some stupid schoolyard bullying that I started to wonder if the cubes really had been a good idea.

When I had first decided to come back to Winslow in Teeth colors, I knew that I was mixing my personal and cape lives in a way that I couldn't really undo. Not having friends made the first part much easier, but as for the second, I had explicitly not allowed myself to use my powers on my bullies in any way. Now, it felt alarmingly good to give them back a tiny piece of the suffering they gave me, and that was even before taking into account the Butcher's influence.

"Hey, just because we know what is fun —" Pyro said before I gave her a shove.

Damascian made an appreciative noise. "I applaud your self-control, Taylor, especially after experiencing your bullies firsthand. But there is a vast gulf between a few bug bites and a trigger event."

That's not the fucking point.

Interestingly, upon thinking about it, I found that I didn't feel bad protecting my minions from the other aggressors at Winslow. Emma and Sophia definitely counted among that number, as I was not the only girl who attracted their venomous attention. Still, I felt bad about sinking to their level, so I popped off a quick message to Chrissie.

Sophia rarely made trouble for me directly in class, but today I would not have been surprised had she simply abandoned pretense and lunged at me from across the room. It was bad enough that Stratego's power actually pinged off of her behavior, and during the lecture the chorus amused themselves by describing increasingly absurd ways Sophia could attack me in the room.

"And she tears off the teacher's arm… " "… stabs his eye out with the chalkboard pointer…" "Turns the projector into a rail gun —"

What?

Damascian shrugged, metaphorically. "It's theoretically possible. Such a device would be largely ineffective, but with a bit of work…"

As soon as class let out, I pushed the absurd conversation to the back of my mind and walked as quickly as I dared to the bathroom on this floor. I found two Teeth girls standing menacingly outside, but they waved me in with a smile as soon as I approached. "Hey boss," Chrissie said, pushing herself off the wall she had been lounging on. "What did you —"

I cut her off with a tight hug.

"D'aww," Fester said in a sickeningly sweet voice.

My girlfriend reciprocated immediately, hugging me back with surprising strength. "Everything okay, Tay?"

"I stung Sophia and Emma," I murmured into Chrissie's hair. "I knew that they wouldn't be able to resist messing with us, but…"

"You didn't want to use your powers for revenge, I know," Chrissie replied just as quietly. She shifted around in our hug, resting her head along my collarbone and neck. "Then again, it's not like the faculty here give a shit. Besides, if Weaver is watching and they didn't get stung…"

"I shouldn't enjoy it," I whispered.

"Oh, fuck that," Chrissie said, standing upright and swatting at my shoulder. "Stop being a Saint, and for god's sake, don't be a fucking martyr. You didn't kill them, right? Barely even hurt, in fact? Quarrel would have stuck arrows in their eyes. They deserve payback and you deserve to smile a little after watching them deal with some karma for once. You're only human. Now, come on — we'll be late."

The smile that crept onto my face as Chrissie pulled me out of the bathroom felt much more deserved than my earlier sadistic glee. Weaver was going to be famous for this sort of sneaky maneuvering, and while I really shouldn't be using my powers at school, it did feel nice to protect my people. And while 'not killing teenagers' wasn't a particularly high bar, it was one that prior Butchers likely would not have been able to pass. Maybe Chrissie and the chorus were right: there wasn't anything wrong with taking just a bit of pleasure out of this overwatch.

Madison finally reappeared when I arrived in Gladly's class, but she seemed hell-bent on refusing to admit that I even existed. It said much that Gladly seemed to take the same stance, though I certainly wasn't complaining — they left me alone with Chrissie and Fred from our morning pot-smoking circle.

"So, uh, boss, you sure —" he tried.

"Yeah, I got this," I said, scribbling a page of notes for our 'presentation' about the Elite while Ironsides and Chisel passed on some insights. "Oh, for fuck's sake!"

"Huh?" Chrissie asked, noting that I had stopped writing. She dropped her voice and leaned in. "Bug?"

I didn't really want to know any more about the situation one of the Teeth girls had found herself in, so I just stung the guy in places that wasps wouldn't have reached so easily and tried to put the sensation out of my mind. "Yeah. Fuck, this school is such a shithole."

Chrissie snorted in amusement. "Don't we know it. Hey, maybe if the PRT shows up they'll just burn it to the ground while trying to get rid of all of the bugs."

"We could only hope," I muttered, turning my mind back to the assignment.

Fred ended up presenting the work, which earned us an 'A' for the day, and we all scampered out of the classroom before Gladly could complain about missed detentions again. I was a bit surprised when both Fred and Chrissie wanted to know more about the Elite, and we chatted the whole way down to the lunch room.

"So," Chrissie declared loudly once we were settled in, "have you guys heard that those Empire dipshits brought in bags of bugs to make us look bad? I mean, Weaver is busy, so who would seriously believe that she would send her swarm to beat up kids?"

Then she shot me a seductive wink.

I dropped my sandwich.

"That's what I heard too," Paul said loudly, though his boasting tone was belied by his fearful glance in my direction… that was totally derailed by my full-face blush.

In my head, the Butchers were roaring with laughter. "This is fucking hilarious!" Knockout yelled above the rest, and his cheer was echoed by the others. Outwardly, I picked my sandwich back up and attacked it with gusto, refusing to meet anyone's eyes. Chrissie draped an arm around my shoulders, complaining loudly about 'the good name of the Teeth' while I did my best to finish my lunch and ignore the rapidly-spreading rumors.

Of course, food couldn't keep my focus for long, and my eyes wandered while I ate. A few tables over, Emma alternated stabbing at her food with unnecessary violence and shooting me glares that should have set me on fire. On the opposite side of the room, the Empire kids were doing much the same, although they seemed to be mostly directing their hateful glares towards Chrissie.

And at my own table, we were joined by a very uncomfortable Charlotte who sat down by herself at the end. The other Teeth were not pleased by this turn of events, so I took special pride in their looks of horror when I stood up and moved to sit next to her. I knew that expecting politeness was like asking Gladly to behave like an adult, so I flashed them all a warning glare and leaned in to talk to my newest minion.

"Girl looks like a stiff breeze would blow her over," Ironsides grumbled.

Then I guess I'll be there to catch her.

Marauder didn't like that. "You're not going soft on us, right? There's no way she'd kill a guy to join the Teeth."

I'm pretty sure the literal teenagers aren't doing that. And if they are…

I silenced the chorus when they offered more complaints and turned my attention to Charlotte. "Hey. So are you joining up?"

"Well, it's better than getting shanked for being Jewish," Charlotte muttered. "I mean, you guys are nuts, don't get me wrong, but…" She cast a glance up the table to the two guys who had harassed her yesterday, who adopted appropriately chagrined expressions when I followed her gaze. "You did stand up for me."

"The little shit didn't stand up for you," Ironsides grumbled.

Well, someone has to be the better person here. And if it's the Teeth…

Chisel hummed in thought. "To be fair, we haven't really had a high school presence in a long time. Every person we recruit now is someone who potentially looks the other way when you kick a Nazi in the nuts."

"The Teeth do what we want," I said, loudly enough for the rest of the table to hear. "And right now, I want to make it so that people don't fear bullies." I could tell that some of the Teeth kids were less than enthused with my proclamation, but they cheered and smiled all the same. I supposed I could throw them a small bone at least. "Of course, that includes the biggest bullies of all: the fucking Nazis." That got a few more genuine cheers out of my minions and had Chrissie giving me a feral grin that was somehow also adorable.

When I turned and gave Emma a wicked smirk of my own, I could have sworn that steam came out of her ears with how red she became.

I was heading towards gym class when I felt another cube break — it was Charlotte's this time. She had been cornered by a bunch of girls after class, lead by none other than Emma fucking Barnes. My bugs listened in as Emma berated the other girl for stooping low enough as to join the Teeth, accompanied by the occasional comment from the others.

"Can we kill her NOW?" Butcher demanded, and the others agreed loudly.

Fester was the most enthusiastic, naturally. "She doesn't really need both arms, right?"

Luckily, my cowardly ex-friend had ambushed Charlotte in an empty classroom, which gave me a lot of options for getting my swarm in place. Bugs pooled under desks and in ceiling tiles, more than enough to strip the flesh off —

I took a deep breath and pushed the collective away, to their displeasure. I really didn't need their thumbs on the metaphorical scales when choosing how to deal with Emma again. Extreme violence was definitely not the answer; rather, I needed to send a message. When the swarm emerged from the shadows, I made sure to put the humanoid-shaped cloud far from any of the offending girls.

"Don't you girls have anything better to do than bullying kids who aren't doing anything wrong?" the swarm said in the least immediately awful voice I could manage. Three of the girls turned and ran before I even finished the first sentence. "Since we're all stuck in this hellhole every day, you should just let kids go to class in peace. I don't know if you get off on hurting other people, or what —"

"Shut the hell up," Emma snapped, surprising me with her spine. "This must be some kind of trick, because there's no way Butcher cares about Winslow."

"Oh, but I do… because it wasn't so long ago that I lived that same awful reality. I am quite well aware how terrible some of you are to your classmates for no reason. That stops now." The swarm 'yelled' the last word, which scared off the remaining girls and left Emma alone with Charlotte.

"The PRT —" Emma tried, and I had the swarm laugh at her, a noise even I could agree was horrible.

"It is my understanding that Wards attend this school, for all the good it has done. If they were capable of doing their damn jobs, I wouldn't need to step in. Now leave her alone."

I had the swarm advance on Emma slowly but steadily; interestingly, she seemed to slump at the condemnation before turning and escaping herself. "Thanks," Charlotte said, and I had the humanoid cloud wave at her before dispersing.

Message delivered, I continued on towards my next class, giving the stink eye to a few Empire bastards on the way.

I arrived in the gymnasium and made my way to the lockers so I could change and listen in on locker room gossip with both bugs and ears. Most of the talk seemed to be about sightings of Weaver's bugs, and it was being debated against the rumors that the E88 was attempting to frame the Teeth for Winslow's ongoing pest problems

Which was actually fair — the insect population of this shithole didn't really need my help to be at apocalyptic levels. The roaches alone should have been enough to condemn the school.

"Hell, if this place wasn't stone and steel it would have likely collapsed years ago with all the termites in your range," Pyro said.

That's no joke. Though, I'm concerned with just how prevalent crabs are —

"And why aren't your bullies among the infected?" Knockout demanded.

"If you can't beat em, give em crabs!" Sanguine cheered.

I did my damndest to not laugh at the mental image of that on a t-shirt that he shoved forward, but I wasn't a fan of the idea. For the same reason I didn't swarm the school.

"Yeah but those whores —" he tried again, only for Fester to explode.

"Get the fuck out of here with that patriarchal bullshit, Knockout! Taylor, don't listen to this dumbfuck — if you want to punish them, just be honest and sting them —"

"Or set them on fire," Pyromaniac added.

"… or that. But don't punish them with the equivalent of a fucking STD."

Fester didn't even need to ask the obvious question, though I had to mute Knockout and a few others for continuing to suggest variations on the idea.

It took me only moments to change into my gray sweats and a different scarlet tank top, and soon enough I was out on the floor doing the warm up routine that I no longer required. On the opposite side of the room, Emma and Sophia were already halfway through their own warmups.

Chrissie didn't share this class with me, but there were a few flunkies in my colors that gave me a respectful nod when I noticed them. The support was nice, but I didn't really need their aid to put two thirds of the Trio in their place. Hopefully today's activity would be one that let me show off a bit.

That was when our PE teacher entered the room, along with a rack of hard foam balls. I quashed my instinctive fear and a smile slowly curled on my lips — dodge ball.

"Oh, we are gonna wreck ALL the shit," Quarrel said with unrestrained glee.

"Sophia even has a nice, irritated target right there to aim for," Sabertooth added.

Indeed, Sophia's nose was still swollen from the wasp sting I'd delivered earlier. My gut reaction was to just play normally and ignore my numerous relevant powers, but… Chrissie was right. As long as I didn't do anything drastic or really hurt anyone (unlike the crabs), maybe it was time that Emma and Sophia finally started to reap the consequences of their actions.

I might actually enjoy gym class for once.

When the whistle blew I had a ball in hand within a second, lazily dodged three hastily thrown balls, and retaliated with a Quarrel assisted throw that nailed Emma's ass as she tried to jump out of the way. Really, she had moved enough to dodge, but I was cheating.

I avoided Sophia's nose the first round, hitting her thigh instead while my limited precog was giving me just enough warning to dodge every attempt to hit me. Stratego's power helped me make it look accidental as best I could, but the Teeth's smiles told me that I wasn't totally succeeding. Only once the Trio were eliminated for the round did I allow myself to be hit immediately, hopefully dispelling most of the suspicion.

We were in round three when the opportunity presented itself — the briefest of windows pinged on Stratego's power and Quarrel's mapped it all out on the literal fly I was tracking.

"Trick shot the fucker!" Quarrel yelled as I let the ball fly.

The ball struck one hapless idiot on the shoulder, bounced off at an impossible angle and nailed Sophia right in the nose hard enough to knock her off her feet.

"KAY OH!" Knockout shouted as Sophia went down hard, and didn't bounce back up immediately. Emma had been so surprised by the hit that she lost awareness of the ball, which was still under Quarrel's power as it fell in an arc and bounced off the side of her head.

I was laughing hard enough at my absurd 'luck' that I got nailed in the face myself, taking me out of the round. From my seat in the bleachers, I got to watch as the teacher helped a still-dazed Sophia into a seat herself and checked her for obvious injuries… beyond the gusher of a bloody nose.

"Oh how amusing it would be to turn her into a literal blood fountain," Sanguine said wistfully.

"With my power you could really add some flair to it!" Alkaline cheered.

Amusing imagery, but it would be too obvious. Plausible deniability is a must if I'm going to fuck with the PRT properly.

"But blood fountains…"

My junior Teeth were almost laughing too hard to pick off the rest of the hangers-on, but none of us seemed to care. My full attention was on Emma and Sophia as they fussed over what shouldn't be a broken nose, but you could never be sure when it came to regular people.

I made sure to sneak a picture of Sophia's bloodied face on my way out and send it to Chrissie. The bugs I had on her felt the phone vibrate in her pocket, and they could vaguely see her pull it out and check the message… but there was no mistaking the unrepentant villainous laugh.

Two more girls ended up crushing their pendants throughout the day, summoning Weaver's aid. A handful of former ABB got swarmed in the changing room, and an Empire asshole learned exactly what it felt like to be stung directly in the eye.

"I can confirm it hurts like hell," Knockout said.

I didn't need my bug carriers to monitor my people, but it did help me parse which situations they had in hand, and which needed my brand of escalation. Most of my Teeth were wearing the paper pendants as a necklace, including Chrissie, which was how I was currently tracking her through the school.

Once class finally let out I met up with Chrissie just as she waltzed down the back steps out of the main building. "Hey," I called, prompting the other girl to spin around and flash me one of her radiant smiles. I nearly stumbled in surprise, much to the amusement of my predecessors.

"Talk about a blatant crush, just fuck her already!" Sabertooth demanded.

"Nah, little Taylor's what you call a romantic. She wants to do this right," Fester said sweetly.

"Like you know anything about romance you uncultured Philistine," Damascian countered.

"I knew enough to fuck XV's Mo—"

I slammed the whole conversation into the void. You know the rule about bringing up my Mom — this discussion is over!

"Hey, Tay!" Chrissie said, giving me a wave. "Ready to meet your minions?"

It said much about Winslow that none of the other kids in the vicinity did more than glance at the two of us. Two people wearing gang colors and having a conversation was automatically assumed to be gang business, and we were the only Teeth hanging out near the door. My bugs, of course, reported that my minions were ambling towards the meeting point, along with a few Empire thugs smoking in a group nearby.

"I guess so. Why out here?" I asked.

"Figured you didn't want everyone breathing down your neck, in case you needed to do a demonstration or two." She gestured vaguely across the scraggly lawn used for PE classes and track meets. "Shall we?"

I spared a last glance at the building. "Have everything you need?"

"Yeah, yeah, come on all already," Chrissie said, trying ineffectually to drag me down the cracked sidewalk and towards the meeting. "I can just break in later if I forgot something."

I just shook my head at the candid admission. "Do they even lock the doors at night?"

Chrissie stopped pulling me for a second as she considered that. "I'm not actually sure. Doesn't really matter anyway. Now, let's go!"

This time I let her pull me along, allowing myself to feel a bit of her excitement in the process. For all that I had lived and breathed the constant miasma of gangs while at Winslow, I couldn't deny that joining up had substantially increased my quality of life here. Blatant shows of force aside — along with kissing Chrissie, repeatedly — it was what I had always wanted.

Of course, the Empire had to ruin it.

"You see their plan, right?" Stratego asked, reading the input from my bugs before I had the chance to say it aloud.

"We've got company," I murmured to Chrissie. "Four Empire thugs."

"Eh, we're not the only ones who do illegal stuff back here," she replied. "But…"

Knowing full well that I was giving up the game, I turned and eyed the thugs. Two bigger guys were following two more normal-sized teenagers, and I hardly needed the Butchers to see that they were looking for a fight.

"Nervous one has a knife, likely for initiation," Pyro said, uncommonly serious. "Putting a minority in the hospital or morgue is still part of that, last we checked."

"Just fill them with bees or something," Quarrel complained.

They might not be here to hurt someone, but if they are, I can stop them.

The chorus laughed.

"Ever the hero," Marauder mocked.

"No, a hero would do nothing until someone had been shanked and left for dead," Alkaline said.

"Then they'd arrest the bastard and he'd make bail that night," Chisel finished.

Butcher himself chuckled darkly. "Now a Butcher… A Butcher would ensure he never had a chance to hurt another. Ever again."

"He's a Nazi, he should be expecting a more final solution," Knockout said with a grin.

That joke was terrible.

"Nobody appreciates my humor," he whined.

"Should we? Even Damascian can tell a better joke," Sanguine said, getting agreement from the majority of the chorus.

"Ouch."

And now he was pouting. The disembodied voices in my head having such clear emotional expressions was still a surprise to me at times. While pondering that, the four goons had closed the distance, walking up next to us as though they were just passing us on the sidewalk. It wasn't until the blade-wielding one struck with the knife that I realized two things:

One, Chrissie was openly gay.

Two, my danger sense only worked on myself.

I barely caught the attack out of the corner of my eye, yanking Chrissie towards me as the knife cut her arm rather than her gut. A spray of crimson trailed through the air as I pulled her in close, though she barely let out even a hiss in pain. Her reaction was a strange counterpoint to the Butchers, who roared with rage at the attack on us and our people.

The other, smaller Empire goon produced his own knife at that point, lunging forward to impale Chrissie in the back. I projected one of Knockout's shields between her and the knife, and the blade snapped on impact with a squeal of protesting metal. The sound was music to my ears.

"Our turn," Chrissie growled and kicked the first attacker in the nuts while he was gaping at his buddy's now-broken knife. While that thug cried out in pain, she took aim at the other thug, but he rolled out of her path with barely an inch to spare.

"Nice goddamn kick!" Alkaline cheered. "Now, Taylor —"

She was cut off when my danger sense flared, and I ducked under a meaty fist that… I probably could have tanked without issue. The bigger Empire goons were finally coming to aid the failed attack, and while they were big guys they didn't fit any cape profile I knew of the Empire. Not that it was going to help them — they were going to regret every remaining minute of their miserable fucking lives!

My furious, chittering swarm descended onto the remaining thug just as he went to hit Chrissie from the back. I wasn't quite sure what it was like to have wasps pry their way into every opening on a human head, but if the pained screams from the homophobic fuck were anything to go by, it certainly wasn't pleasant. Good.

His companion took another swing at me, which I chose not to dodge. Instead, I popped one of Knockout's fields in place at an angle and let him shatter his fist on it. Then I splashed him in the eyes with whatever blood was in the hammerspace.

"Blood on your face, you big disgrace!" Marauder sang.

I screamed as I kicked him hard enough to shatter ribs, sending him tumbling to the ground and leaving him a groaning heap in the mud. The Butchers were now cheering out the rest of the song as I turned my focus back to Chrissie's fight, watching as her remaining dipshit tripped over a strategically-placed force field before falling onto another pile of translucent razor sharpness. There wasn't enough force to chop him into pieces, but he still screamed in agony before the force fields vanished and dropped him to the ground.

Chrissie spat down on the first goon, who was still clutching his crotch and crying. "Fucking cunts. Try to shank me? I'll show you a fucking shank!"

The Butchers snickered at that, which I ignored as I frantically stuck my finger into Chrissie's wound. It was a surprisingly deep cut, which meant that the asshole had a halfway decent knife. A quick twist of my power scabbed it over before she lost any more blood, and my girlfriend looked up at me with wide eyes as I tended to her.

"You're healing me?" she asked, her voice soft and full of disbelief.

"Yeah, why wouldn't I?" She blinked, but I just smiled, my anger quickly fading now that I knew she was safe. "Do you want it to leave a scar? I know how much you prize them…"

Rather than answer, Chrissie pulled me into a tight hug. "Thank you, Tay. You're amazing, you know that?"

I made sure not to break anything when I hugged her back, and I buried my face in her hair before murmuring, "You have no idea how much I needed to hear that."

While the screams had drawn some eyes, I still had to form some bug arrows to direct the other members of the Teeth to come give us a hand with the incapacitated Empire goons. I could practically feel their excitement upon seeing the bugs, only for many of them to stop and stare when they saw me. Of course, all it took was an unamused scowl to get them moving, and soon we were around the corner with our would-be murderers.

"I hope you aren't afraid of bugs." Chrissie said, flashing a manic grin at our minions.

To my surprise, I barely felt the urge to wilt under the wide-eyed stares that the rest of the group were giving me. Part of that was definitely the Butchers' influence, but it helped that they were genuinely afraid of me. Gone were any of the mocking leers I usually got when surrounded by other teenagers, replaced by obvious curiosity if I was going to kill everyone who had ever tormented me.

Should I break the ice?

"And what, ask what their favorite book is?" Butcher sneered. "Just —"

That gave me a horrible idea, but I needed to make a statement and the reference was just too good to pass up on. "Have you ever read Harry Potter?"

"The, um, Aleph series?" one guy asked. Several of the kids nodded at that.

"Want to know what my favorite spell was?" I snarled at the Nazis, who were still cowering at my feet. "Crucio!"

I unleashed Butcher's pain blast, full force, on the four of them. Their screams were feral and primal, pure pain in every nerve ending feeding back into their warped, murderous minds. I left them as a blubbering mess on the ground.

"Aww, big bad Empire bitches crying for their mommies." Fester was still barely holding in her laughter.

"Music. Sweet fucking music," Butcher said happily.

"Did they seriously think that was going to work?" Chisel mused, rubbing her metaphorical chin.

If Chrissie and I hadn't been capes, it might have.

"This school is brutal," Alkaline said. "Way worse than any in Boston."

"Worse? The Butcher goes here!" Pyro cheered.

I rolled my eyes at the banter only I could hear as I turned back towards my minions. Unsurprisingly, they were watching with a mix of trepidation and awe at my display. If there was any doubt left in their minds that I was Butcher XV, it was gone now. Chrissie nudged one of the now-trembling morons, right in the mouth with her shoe. "So, boss, what are we doing with these asshats? Want to have them fight?"

The Butchers roared in approval, but it took me a second to understand what Chrissie was really asking. I had spent all night making decisions just like this one, followed by an extended venting session because I hadn't stopped to really think about what I was doing. With regards to the gang war, I wasn't totally convinced that I would have done anything different, but I didn't want to spend all of my time I wasn't being the Butcher agonizing over the decisions I had made when I was. Yet, I needed to be firm, even when the old me would have shown mercy.

"Don't you fucking dare —" Marauder swore as my plan solidified.

I waved a hand at the four would-be murderers, a cold fury creeping into my voice. "Here's what we're going to do. Figure out their names and where their families live." At that the boys started whimpering, even the bigger enforcers. "I don't particularly want to kill teenagers, but they did break the Unwritten Rules. So, make them fight in the pits. Make them wish they were dead."

They were all going to survive their injuries, but they wouldn't survive the Teeth's fighting pits with any sort of extended duration. And while my stomach roiled at the thought of sentencing four teenagers to… that, they had done their damnedest to kill Chrissie. These assholes had just tried to kill my girlfriend but, despite my building rage, I wasn't going to let myself snap and brutalize them myself. Maybe we could drop them off outside the PRT HQ with a note after a few days… or weeks. "If the heroes aren't going to protect us, we'll do it ourselves."

Chrissie flashed the boys a savage smile. "And if they somehow manage to talk?"

"Well, we would have to make examples of them and everyone they know," I said lightly, hiding my anger and nervousness in the swarm. Inside, I wasn't nearly as calm, but my minions really didn't know how it felt to add more weight on top of my already strained conscience.

"Oh right, you still have one of those," Pyro teased, and I pushed her away.

"It does get easier, but that probably isn't what you want to hear right now," Alkaline said in an attempt at reassurance.

"Who cares? They're Nazis," Fester said.

I care, because someone in this madhouse has to.

"I'll, um, make a call," one of the Teeth guys said, slipping away to open his cell phone. His eagerness was disconcerting, until I remembered that many people here had joined the Teeth for protection — including me — and it was now ultimately my job to give it to them.

"So, if I haven't made it painfully obvious at this point, I'm Weaver," I said with a faint echo from my swarm, snapping all of their attention back to me instantly. "Any questions?"

Author's Notes:

First: Many thanks to Atlasofremembrance and Slider214 for tips on this chapter. I was also inspired in part by Stronger Together this chapter. If you are not familiar with it, go read it right now!

Pen: "So. Many. Edits. *Collapses*

Major kudos to manicMagician , Atlas, Slider, and MorDrakka for their feedback on the chapter.

Fun Fact: The Empire beatdown at the end was originally the end for 2.2, but it felt like too much too fast from both sides. Now the Empire had an extra day to fume over their PDAs and arrogance, and Taylor has shed a few additional inhibitions about inflicting harm on the deserving. That doesn't mean she isn't going to dwell on just what she sentenced the Nazi pricks to, but eh, they're Nazis.

Manic: Thank you MorDrakka for being more assertive than I am.

Last edited: Jun 21, 2022

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Pendragoon

Feb 25, 2022

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Pendragoon

Pendragoon

She/Her

Mar 4, 2022

#4,054

Wednesday, April 13th 2011

If I ever needed further confirmation that my life was exceedingly strange, I only needed to look back on what I thought was a 'calm, productive night.' Before I killed Quarrel, that would have been working on my costume and reading a book, possibly followed by homework. Now, the reading part was considerably more difficult, but the real victory was not turning into an emotional wreck over all of my new responsibilities.

Oh, and Tinkering. That had been fun, and my new longbow was coming along rather nicely. Even Quarrel was looking forward to putting the bow through its paces. I also had several updates to my costume in the works to bring my image more in line with the Teeth instead of the hero I had originally conceived. A bittersweet reminder of what I had lost, but my new costume would look amazing once completed. Hopefully I had the time to wrap it up tonight.

The responsibilities, however, were not so easily dealt with. Even as the old, rattling bus pulled into the Winslow parking lot, I was still pondering just what sort of Butcher I was becoming. It had been less than two weeks since I'd inherited and already I'd allowed myself to slip on things that had once been a firm line in the sand.

Four school age boys sent to fight in the Teeth's pits on my orders, against our best brawlers. They were still alive — I'd checked before I left last night — but that meant little when you considered how several of the Teeth loved to collect Nazi scalps.

"Why can't you just move into the Teeth HQ already?" Knockout asked.

Then I have to give up Winslow as well as any hope of a normal life. I'm not leaving Chrissie there, alone, not after those Nazis tried to kill her.

"She can handle herself," he grumbled.

Chrissie will have a new scar because of me. If I hadn't made a show of things to poke at Emma, they wouldn't have attacked her!

"Taylor, the girl screams lesbian at a glance and gives zero fucks if people know she's Vex. They would have found an excuse," Fester tried to reassure me.

"If you're that worried about her, why didn't you stay the night?" Chisel asked.

I didn't want to be in bug range of those Nazi shits, alright?

"They're fucking Nazis!" Sabertooth roared. "You've done worse to their like in the past week!"

My stomach turned at the memory, but it had needed to be done. Menja was a vile person at the best of times and a proud Nazi on top of that. There weren't many others I could have used as an example of why Weaver wasn't to be fucked with. Still, it didn't mean I had to take pleasure in what I had done.

Butcher chuckled. "You should try it sometimes, you might find you enjoy it. And —"

"Eyes up," Stratego interjected, drawing all of our attention immediately.

"Well, that's different," Alkaline mused as I eyed the fumigation crew and PRT trucks that had parked along the front of Winslow.

"I think they are aware of your proclamation," Ironsides said with some amusement.

They could have at least announced that school was closed.

"And miss out on questioning all the students?" Pyro snickered. "Perish the thought."

As I walked up towards the gathering masses of students, I reached out to all the bugs within Winslow. The useful ones I sent outside, but those that were easy to replace, or were more for padding out a swarm? I moved them into easy to locate areas for the pest crews to find and declare their success.

Chisel liked that plan. "Smart. That will help sell the impression that people released the bugs."

"It won't stop the PRT's suspicions," Sabertooth said.

But it will muddy the water. Reorganizing the swarm helped soothe my mind, because while there was relatively little the Protectorate could do to me, they could make my minions' lives hell under very little pretense. Ignoring the fact that Weaver would look like a moron if I abandoned the Teeth here at Winslow, I was not particularly pleased that my murder attempt had been ignored but some plausibly deniable insect bites attracted heroes and other law enforcement.

Hm, how to keep the situation from spiraling out of control? The last thing I wanted was for them to go around and —

"Get their autographs!" Alkaline cheered.

"Why?" Butcher sneered. "They're heroes!"

Alkaline rolled her eyes. "Well, duh. But a photo on PHO of Weaver posing with a complete set…"

"More importantly," Chisel said loudly, overriding Butcher's complaints, "this is a good opportunity to communicate how highly you value your civilian identity. A calm and collected Butcher looking after her fellow students because the administration will not —"

"Why are you encouraging her?" Ironsides spat.

"Because we will need the grassroots support to hold the city," Sanguine replied easily. "Now come on, go give them a hard time!"

I had to fight down a grin as I walked towards the small gaggle of students surrounding Assault and Battery. Almost none of them were Teeth, though Chrissie and Charlotte were standing nearby, talking to their own little group. I didn't miss how the heroes' eyes occasionally flicked in their direction. More importantly, none of my trio of bullies were here.

"No, thank you," Battery was saying to a random boy as I walked up with a notebook in my hand. "We can't stop villains if we don't know where they are or what they're doing."

Then it was my turn, and I put on my best excited expression. "Oh my god, actual heroes! Heroes never come to Winslow!"

Assault and Battery both froze for an instant as they processed my outfit, much to the amusement of the chorus. "Well, we're making up for lost time, then!" he declared, though his eyes lingered on the design of my shirt: a gray background with 'The Real Tooth Fairy' in scarlet letters, along with a set of brass knuckles dripping red.

"Our eyes are up here, jackass!" Fester yelled.

"He's got eye candy right there," Marauder complained. That was true — Battery really rocked her nearly skintight costume, though I was amused to realize that she was shorter than me.

"While we're happy to sign autographs," Battery herself said in a voice that suggested otherwise, "we would like to ask some questions about the parahuman attack on this school yesterday."

I tilted my head in confusion, noting two important things: the crowd was giving me more space than they had each other… and Chrissie's poorly-concealed laughter. "Parahuman attack?"

"We had reports of Butcher —"

"Weaver," I corrected automatically, then had to fight down an annoyed blush. "We, uh, were told to call her that." In my head, the chorus was laughing.

"Apparently your boss was stinging people with her bugs," Assault said, raising an eyebrow at me under his red, mostly opaque visor.

I nodded in understanding. "Oh, right. The Empire released a bunch of insects to make the Teeth look bad." Behind me, Chrissie was nearly falling over due to her cackling. "I mean, seriously. Isn't Weaver supposed to be some unhinged maniac who feeds people to her bugs? Why would she give a shit about Winslow, of all places?"

"Ooh, ooh, I can answer that!" Chrissie said, dashing over to us through a rapidly-parting crowd and dragging Charlotte behind her. "It's because the faculty here look the other way when the Empire tries to shank you for being a lesbian!" She took my hand for emphasis, threading our fingers together.

"What?" Battery asked, aghast.

"Is she serious right now?" Fester spat.

Chrissie held up her arm, showing off the scabbed over injury, which of course pulled my own arm as she did so. "Yeah, it was a close call, but Weaver came to the rescue." She then turned to me and gave me a soft smile.

I blushed at the praise, knowing it was something good that had come from that shitshow. Chrissie was healing, and the human garbage that attacked her was… Taken out.

"Focus Taylor, you can teach her French later," Chisel said with a hint of a grin.

Oh, I had been staring at her lips.

While Battery seemed to be blue screening at that revelation, Chrissie nudged Charlotte a few times. The much quieter girl's gaze lingered on me for a long moment before she said, "They also, um, go after you if you're Jewish. The Empire, I mean…"

The heroes shared a horrified glance, but I jumped in before they could rally. "Hell, even the popular students can get away with attempted murder." The few remaining normal kids made themselves scarce at that comment, but I paid them no mind, they no longer mattered. "So even if Weaver did hypothetically sting some kids with her bugs who were harassing the Teeth, it's hardly worth mentioning compared to life as usual around here. I was harassed every single day before I joined."

The Butchers roared with laughter at the gobsmacked look on the heroes' faces, but pointing out just how badly they had failed here was only the first part of what I needed to achieve. While I was considering just how to phrase the question, Assault seemed to finally gather his wits. "Wow. Well, this is pretty awful, not going to lie, but even hypothetically attacking a school is a pretty serious escalation for any gang."

"I fail to see how a few bug bites for neo-nazis and bullies counts as 'attacking," I replied. "Hell, some of them probably went after Weaver herself, anyways. Seems like a bug bite is probably better than being fed to bugs." Chrissie coughed. "Hypothetically."

"Weaver goes to school?" Battery asked, incredulous. "Here? Why?"

"That's what I want to know!" Butcher complained.

"Shut the hell up, this is hilarious!" Knockout shot back.

Now I just needed to remind the heroes why coming after me was a bad idea. "How are we supposed to know?" I asked brightly. "Apparently it's really bad news to use a cape's secret identity against them, and I'm certainly not going to try to unmask the Butcher."

"I think they call that 'suicide by cape,'" Chrissie added.

"If you know who the Butcher is, then you should tell us," Battery tried. "We can protect you from retribution, and it would help us stop another attack like this one from occurring."

Charlotte shook her head slowly. "Why would we do that? Weaver protects us, hypothetically, and I'm pretty sure she just wants to go to school without being harassed."

"I'd say it's auspicious that someone cares about us," I said, putting a slight emphasis on the word. "Maybe if the poor and unpopular had some pull with the administration…"

Assault's poker face was good, but even he couldn't stop himself from reading my shirt one more time before a look of horror flashed over his face. "Madcap was a smart cookie," Marauder said. "Shame he went to the white hats."

The ex-villain in question clapped his hands, forcing an amazingly fake smile onto his face. "Welllll, it's been good talking to you girls, but there's a supervillain on the loose and we, uh…"

Stratego's power kicked in a moment later, and I knew instantly that I had miscalculated. Assault was watching me critically as he shifted his stance ever so slightly, going from tense to battle-ready in an instant. Since I really didn't want this turning into a fight, I blurted the first thing that came to my mind that might have a chance of defusing the situation. "Is she, though?"

"Is that seriously the best line you could come up with?" Ironsides complained.

Chrissie, bless her villainous heart, must have picked up on the same cues. "Uh, yeah, I'm pretty sure she's a supervillain."

"That's not what I meant," I said, rounding on her and intentionally showing Assault my back. "How is she 'on the loose?' There's a pretty good chance that Weaver is standing around here somewhere wondering why we didn't get a message about school being closed, because it's not like she would intentionally pick a fight with heroes over nothing."

Battery didn't seem to like that idea. "I still find it very hard to believe that Weaver is sane enough to come to school, or would even choose to do so."

Charlotte, of all people, had the retort for that one. "Honestly, it's Winslow. I wonder why any of us choose to come here."

"Ok, that was pretty great," Knockout said. "I take back what I said about her."

"Probably because we all just want to live our lives with minimum disruptions," I replied, cautiously turning to face the red-clad hero. His face slowly morphed to something like understanding, and his stance relaxed slightly.

His partner, on the other hand, charged ahead. "You shouldn't feel so unsafe at school that you would prefer not to go. I will personally assure you that the Protectorate will investigate the reasons behind this sad state of affairs."

While the Butchers laughed at Battery's apparent earnest desire to help, I couldn't help but fume that it took literally the Butcher attacking Winslow for the heroes to care about the shithole of a school. I didn't believe for a moment that the Protectorate would find anything — Emma and Sophia were too clever for that — but we might get a few weeks of respite.

"I'm sure the boss will appreciate that," Chrissie said suddenly. "This school… hasn't been good to her." The pressure of her hand around mine would have been worrying without all of my Brute powers.

Assault's expression turned genuinely sad before lighting back up in his usual carefree smile. "Well, having met your boss, I can say that her life is hard enough that I'm impressed she's still coming to school."

"Assault!" Battery tried, but he steamrolled right over her.

"And while this conversation has been enlightening, we do have a job here." A flourish of his hand produced three postcards from nowhere and a pen to sign them. "Let's get you nice girls your autographs, yeah?"

I couldn't hide the massive grin now on my face. "I knew there was a reason you were my favorite."

Turns out, dropping veiled threats to professional heroes was anxiety-provoking — even when they responded with laughs. Sure, my predecessors were used to being the most threatening person in the room, but they were far from subtle. In their mind, the best threats were delivered by grenade and accompanied by a hail of bullets or arrows. Subtlety was not something we were known for… until now.

"That was beautiful," Fester said with approval. "The look on his face…"

"I find it likely that they will think twice before coming after you," Damascian agreed.

"Tay, you doing okay?"

Chrissie had led the two of us over to one of the several small clusters of trees that dotted the Winslow grounds. The rest of the Teeth, including Charlotte, had gone home once it was clear that school was canceled for today, and the only reason I hadn't followed them to the nearest bus stop was because Chrissie called someone to come pick us up.

That left me alone with my thoughts and girlfriend, only one of which was pleasant. It had not really been surprising to learn that the heroes were completely ignorant of what happened here at Winslow, which suggested that the rumored Wards presence was yet another of the PRT's lies. To their credit, both Assault and Battery had seemed properly horrified at the revelations, and I was honestly curious if anything would come of it.

"An accusation of attempted murder and they didn't even ask you to elaborate," Ironsides grumbled with a shake of his head.

"Are you really surprised?" Alkaline asked. "The only reason they are at Winslow is because some popular girls got stung by some bugs. Not that I think it was a bad idea, but they don't give a shit about the kids here."

"Hell, maybe their Wards are racist assholes like Bastion, anyways," Fester said. "I wish we had killed that fucker."

We're not killing heroes. The reflexive thought earned a few boos and complaints, but as I was slowly figuring out just how to be the Butcher, the chorus was likewise figuring out what issues were non-negotiable. The list was… distressingly small.

Then I realized that Chrissie had been talking the whole time, trying to cheer me up. "No see, before you pay, you just bonk the guy on the top of head and run out."

"Chrissie?" I asked, being a bit out of the loop.

"It's an improvement on the old dine-and-dash, see —"

"It's a dine and bash!" Knockout cheered.

I groaned, though my lips refused to obey my orders and quirked into a tiny grin. Ever since our argument on Monday, Chrissie had made an effort to try and make me laugh or smile; it felt good that she could pull it off so easily. I certainly didn't seem to have anyone else in my life who actually cared enough to make up for their mistakes. "Please tell me you don't actually do that."

Chrissie's faux-innocence was ruined by her own disobedient smile. "Well, I — wait, boss, have you robbed a Dunkin' Donuts yet?"

I raised a single eyebrow at the other girl. "What?"

"Tay, every New England supervillain robs a Dunkin' Donuts at some point in their career. It's practically a tradition around here!"

"It's true!" "She's right." "A rite of passage." "Alkaline blew hers up." "I was already the Butcher, dumbass!"

I had heard a lot of dumb shit from the voices stuck in my head, but this was a new level of absurdity. You blew up a Dunkin' Donuts?

"Only a little bit," Alkaline pouted. "When Grinder and Meat Hook found out about that stupid tradition, they demanded that we go. But we were all high as shit on something, and it seemed like a good idea at the time…"

Just what the fuck had I done by joining these idiots?

"Anyway, we can't let people find out that Butcher XV is spurning tradition," Chrissie said with mock seriousness. "What do you say we make it a date?"

I honestly didn't know if she was being serious about the robbery, but her voice twinged ever so slightly on the last word. Her usual shit-eating grin had morphed into something more genuine, an expression that even I could decipher: she was still worried. However, as I opened my mouth to ask about a more normal date, one of the root causes of the situation still worrying Chrissie appeared in the field of my vision.

Madison Clements, alone for once. She had been walking along the edge of the now-thinning cordon, probably fresh out of spinning some lie-filled tale about how Weaver fed her to the swarm despite all of her flesh being present. As I idly wondered just how much of her bullshit she could feed the heroes before they died of overdose, Madison caught sight of Chrissie and I sitting at the base of the tree.

"Swarm her with bees!" Pyro yelled, only for Marauder to counter, "No, spiders instead!"

"Boss?" Chrissie murmured, and in response I flicked my chin in the direction of the cutesy bitch. While Madison stared at us and deliberated, I entertained myself by listening to the Butchers' various suggestions about how to get my vengeance for the other day. Given that most of them ended in Madison's death, I certainly wasn't going to follow through; if anything, I simply became more annoyed by the reminders about how constraining 'stay sane at school' could be. Chrissie's comment from Monday percolated to the top of my brain out of that mess, but I smashed it back down along with the desire to do something Teeth-worthy to Madison.

I was unpleasantly surprised when the result of Madison's deliberation was to approach me, especially when I was tempted to beat the shit out of her.

Chrissie let out an undignified squawk when I de-snuggled her to stand up. I channeled every bit of my menace and the Butcher's arrogance from the weekend as I rose to my feet, and to Madison's credit she barely missed a step when I caught her eyes. It struck me how much shorter the other girl was when she finally stopped in front of us, as I loomed over her and Chrissie both when I was standing up straight.

"Something's not quite right," Chisel murmured, to the agreements of the others.

"Just kill her and be done with it!' Butcher demanded.

"Come on kid, get your fucking vengeance already," Ironsides complained. "That whole 'conscience' thing is the reason you suffered so much."

I put their commentary out of my mind and focused on the girl in front of me. "Can we help you, Madison?"

Madison seemed to consider that for a moment before shaking her head. "I want to apologize. For, well, everything, I guess. The juice, the glue, spitting on you that one time… I've been really shitty to you for really no good reason —"

"You got that right," Chrissie cut in. "I would ask just what the fuck was going on in your head, but I know enough people who get off on hurting others that I don't really need to hear about you getting all hot and bothered over spitballs."

"Damn, girl!" Alkaline cheered, and I allowed myself a smile.

"That's not — I mean, fuck," Madison said. "Ok, Sophia might actually be a sadist, but I'm not. I don't like just randomly hurting people."

"Really?" I sneered, raising a single disbelieving eyebrow. "Then why the hell did you decide to just randomly ruin my life? Or any of the other unpopular girls unfortunate enough to catch your eye? You certainly seemed to be enjoying it at the time."

Madison winced, looking away from me and Chrissie. "I said I'm sorry, alright? I don't know why I did it. Emma was the one who hated you, and Sophia just likes hurting people. I thought that they were just pranks, and that everyone did shit like that. Or maybe I just wanted to keep up with my hot model friend and the track star, I don't know. I… never really stopped to think — about what we were doing, or about who we were hurting… or why."

"What the fuck?" Fester spat. "Does she really think that cuts it?"

"I'm sorry!" Marauder said in a high-pitched voice. "Please don't eat me, Miss Weaver!" As much as I wanted to giggle with him, I was too angry with Madison's half-assed 'apology' for levity.

"Sorry doesn't cut it, Madison," I growled. I barely noticed when Chrissie grabbed my hand with hers, threading our fingers together — my attention was split between Madison and not killing Madison. "Do you seriously think that you can just come over here and say 'oh, whoops, sorry Taylor, didn't notice you when I spilled those drinks everywhere?' You destroyed my stuff. You ruined my clothes. You spat in my face. I think that this is the first time you've actually talked to me like a fucking human being since I had the misfortune to meet you."

"This doesn't make any sense," Sanguine muttered, mostly to himself. "No one is this dumb." I couldn't really agree with the sentiment, given that Madison was standing here in front of me.

"Hey boss, maybe you should, I don't know, set her on fire or something? If you just say 'sorry' afterwards, it's apparently okay," Chrissie added.

Madison did pale slightly at that. "Wait, Taylor, I'm actually sorry. I'm not going to harass you any more, I promise. I just, well… Until you joined the Teeth, I didn't realize just how awful I was being to you, and…" She started fidgeting, refusing to meet my eyes.

"She's lying," Ironsides said immediately.

"Perfidious little shit," Damascian agreed.

I trusted my predecessors' instincts here — Ironsides had played a lot of poker, but they were all older than me by a fair bit. "You're lying. I'm not sure about what, but I knew that I couldn't trust you further than I could throw you."

"That's a hell of a lot further now," Quarrel added unhelpfully.

"You could probably get her right into that dumpster from here with a shot-put maneuver," Stratego mused. "Put her back where she belongs."

"Goddamn it Taylor," Madison said, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Why couldn't you be like this before…"

"Before what?" Chrissie asked immediately.

Madison winced.

"Oh, she didn't," Fester spat. "Just kill the bitch now!"

"Madison…" I said dangerously. "Before what?"

"Um, okay, fine," Madison said after a minute of internal deliberation. She took a steadying breath, then said, "I want to say first that I'm not going to tell anyone, because I'm not stupid and the Teeth are terrifying. But I did realize something — you're a cape. I can tell based on the way you walk, and the way you hold yourself. And when Sophia hit you…"

I just barely restrained myself from grabbing her by the neck and snapping it under my grip. The chorus was screeching for blood, of course, so I forced them down before I did something stupid — I needed to actually attempt to defuse this bomb before it went off. The rest of my shock and anger went into my swarm, leaving my voice eerily flat.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean, but that seems like a very dangerous accusation to make." I took a step back and crossed my arms to give myself some warning time if she stepped on another verbal landmine. I didn't want to hurt her, but neither did I want to tempt fate with the girl who just unmasked the Butcher.

The shadow of an annoyed expression passed over Madison's face, but her voice still held a worried tremor. "Look, I'm a cape groupie, alright? I know about the Unwritten Rules, and I'm definitely not going to tell anyone. Butcher XV is fucking scary, and I don't want to have wasps in my lungs."

"Unmasking one of our capes seems like a pretty good way to have that happen," Chrissie said lightly, playing with her own paper cube, then a grin split her lips as she pulled her phone out instead. "I mean, I've got Weaver's number right here, let's give her a quick ring!"

Madison waved her hands around frantically. "Fuck wait, no! I'm not going to say anything! Jesus fuck, you guys are crazy, calling the Butcher herself? What the hell is wrong with you?"

If I had been any other cape — or even just myself, prior to inheriting — I would never have been so cavalier with my identity to go to a party unmasked, nevermind telling a bunch of gang thugs at a school who I was. But, paradoxically, I needed my secret identity to be less than secret if I wanted to prove to everyone that I was really in control. As the Unwritten Rules that protected Dad and let me go outside were only as good as they were enforced, I would just have to continue to take a strong stance.

"Holy shit, please do it!" Pyro cheered.

"Yessss!" Knockout hissed. "About fucking time!"

Luckily, convincing Madison should be easy.

"You know, Chrissie, maybe you should give her a call. I hear that Weaver has very particular feelings about those Unwritten Rules."

"Oh fuck, wait —" Madison tried, but Chrissie already had pressed the call button.

Madison's eyes went wide in panic when the song 'I Kissed a Girl' began to play in my pocket.

I never broke eye contact with her as I pulled out my ringing phone, letting Sabertooth's power sharpen and extend my teeth and deepen my voice. As I slid the answer icon, my swarm gathered — nothing obvious from a distance, but enough that there was no mistaking just what she was seeing.

"Weaver speaking, what can I do for you?" I asked with a toothy grin.

Madison, cutesy bitch that she was, fainted dead away.

Of course, even with school canceled, I couldn't be at Winslow without the authorities bending over backwards for my bullies. Madison had barely hit the ground before Assault was at her side, checking her pulse and obviously looking for any signs of injury. When he didn't find any, he bounced back to his feet and put himself between me and the unconscious girl. "What the hell happened here?" he asked, voice perfectly level.

"Hey, don't look at me," I said, spreading my hands and stepping back. "She's the one who came over to cause problems. I just wanted to relax before my ride gets here."

Assault gave me a flat stare. "Did you… do anything?"

"Just answered the phone." I did my best to keep the anger out of my voice, but despite knowing that the hero had been watching me specifically, it still stung to see how quickly he rushed to Madison's aid while I had banged on the doors of my locker until I passed out.

"Have you tried being more rich or popular? Then it might be more convenient for the heroes to save you," Fester spat. I knew, deep down, that I wasn't supposed to agree with her, but with the evidence right in front of me…

"She's quite rich and popular now, though it clearly hasn't helped matters." Damascian added.

"You had to have done more than that," Battery cut in, appearing in a flash between Chrissie, Madison and I.

Chrissie didn't take too kindly to that. "It's not Tay's fault the bitch —"

Madison groaned, stirring back into consciousness, which prompted Battery to come to her aid this time while Assault maintained his position between us. When the cutesy bitch opened her eyes, they were filled with raw panic as she sought out the heroes. That panic turned to fear when Madison noticed that I was still here.

"See, she's fine," I bit out. "Maybe you should make sure you have all the facts before you jump to conclusions next time."

"Like why she chose to confront Taylor," Chrissie added with a sharp grin aimed directly at Madison. "I'm sure she would love to explain that one."

"It's, um, okay," Madison said quickly. "It's my fault I fainted. I shouldn't have skipped breakfast."

"I see," Assault said. When he turned back to me there was a complicated expression on his face. "You should… go."

I was happy to leave.

With school canceled, I had the opportunity to spend the rest of my morning and afternoon doing two things of sudden importance: scouting Empire territory and making out with my girlfriend. The latter was a sudden addition to my plans, though I certainly wasn't complaining — we found a way to make both work by kissing in the back seat while the Teeth driver from Monday navigated us through Empire territory on our way back to HQ.

Chrissie and I were out of sight of any Nazis in the back seat where most of my attention was thoroughly occupied by my girlfriend. I still had my swarm scouting while bugs in the trunk marked locations on a map as I found them though.

I did have one other thing after school hours today — meeting a potential dealer that had approached some of my Winslow flunkies at lunch on Monday. They, in turn, had approached Big Robbie about it while I was in earshot, so naturally I stepped in. What really grabbed my attention was the guy's request to be allowed to walk away from the gang when he went off to college in the fall. This confused the hell out of me.

"Not everyone who is forced into crime wants to stick with it," Alkaline said.

Damascian hummed in agreement. "As profitable as it can be, crime carries many risks that only compound as you commit more and find yourself descending ever deeper into that life."

So, he needs enough money to get out?

"Essentially yes."

"Which you won't just be handing him," Sanguine insisted.

I wasn't—

"You would," Ironsides cut in.

Not everyone has a choice.

"True, but it doesn't mean you should take charity cases," Fester said.

Ironsides nodded. "Besides, blind charity may scare the boy off."

He would think the true cost to him is being hidden… Fuck.

If I wanted to help him, I needed to do it in a way that made him feel like the exchange was fair. The Teeth — really, me — needed to compensate him for whatever he was bringing to the gang. That, and the cash involved couldn't feel like a handout. It needed to feel earned.

Chrissie jabbed me between the ribs. "Tay, you're getting distracted." Her face was red, and she was pouting… Absently I noticed the car arriving back at base as she stared me down.

"You're the one who was getting frisky while I was trying to work," I grumbled.

"And you're the one who started to mumble out loud your conversation with those assholes in your head rather than keep it to yourself," she countered with crossed arms.

I groaned, palming my face as the collective snickered to themselves. Laugh it up, jackasses. So of course they all broke out into bellowing guffaws. Pricks, one and all.

With a sigh of weary frustration, I disembarked from the car and made my way through the halls of the repurposed arena and back to my room to suit up, while Chrissie did the same. I decided to go full shock and awe for this meeting, and grabbed all my gear.

That included Damascian's currently-unnamed colossal sword which I had set up to be within easy reach. The thing just wasn't practical for any engagement outside of a handful of Changers, and while a part of me wondered how it would do if pitted against Crawler, the last thing I wanted was to be anywhere near the Nine.

"Even we don't want that," Butcher admitted.

"Caught by the Nine? No thank you," Quarrel said.

"Part of why we give Sabertooth so much shit — thanks to him, it almost happened," Pyro added.

Sabertooth made a displeased growl. "Did you really need to kill me for it?"

"Fuck yes!" Pyro, Fester, Sanguine and Butcher answered in unison.

I chuckled to myself as I made the last few adjustments to the concrete throne I had raised out of the floor of the arena. Hardly my finest work, given the short notice, but I wanted to make it very clear to our prospective entrepreneur about who was in charge here.

"Admit it: you're just pissed you couldn't whip up a skull throne in time," Chisel deadpanned.

"Not like we have a shortage of Nazis yet," Knockout mused.

Damascian chuckled. "You could even record building it, and upload it online."

We would get banned so damn fast.

"Use Halloween surplus," Reflex said softly.

I blinked as the entire chorus erupted in surprise.

"Holy shit! He spoke!"

It marked the first words he'd said since before the heroes betrayed me…

"It was a good idea too," Chisel said.

"We could totally make it look real. Taylor, you have to do this!" Alkaline said enthusiastically.

"Blood for the Blood God!" Sanguine yelled, followed by Butcher's cheer of "Skulls for the skull throne!"

I facepalmed at yet another reference to that stupidly expensive game… Those two had been playing since damn near when the game first came out, once bitter rivals in and out of costume until the day that Sanguine finally killed Butcher and became the first of us to inherit.

In general, I wasn't completely opposed to exploring my predecessor's hobbies. Chisel was a very talented guitarist, for example, and I really wanted to try that myself. But reading the associated novels for the Warhammer game had been an exercise in depression, and not just because the authors were less consistent than PHO conspiracy theories. At least I could play the bug faction if I ever failed to be busy on game night.

Pyro was getting giddy. "You should totally start a Butcher arts and crafts series! It could be the latest sensation to sweep the nation!"

I groaned out loud at that, a sound echoed in my own head. It would be funny, but I have a gang of crazy murderers to make slightly less crazy.

That reminder was like a bucket of cold water on my mood. I wasn't just a bored teenager looking for hobbies — I was the Butcher, sitting on a literal throne in a gladiatorial pit. The mood whiplash didn't hit me quite as badly as the last time, but I did sit back heavily and take a few long breaths while I did my best to remember just what I was doing here.

Drugs were an unfortunate fact of life in run-down American cities.

The Teeth were an unfortunate fact of life in the Bay.

I could use the latter to at least regulate the former, even if I personally thought that drugs were horrible… though, given my morning pot habit, did I even really think that anymore?

The Butchers chuckled in my head, but I pushed both them and the disturbing thoughts away. I had a job to do right now; mental breakdown could come later.

"Weaver? Everything alright?" Chrissie asked carefully as she peeked into the arena.

"It's fine," I said, forcing myself to sit upright. "Just… thinking."

Chrissie nodded sagely, though I could see the concern on her face despite her mask. "Careful with that, boss. We all know what happens when you put your mind to something. Speaking of, where's your bugs?"

From every shadow and corner of the arena, a biblical swarm erupted forth clustered around my throne. Some I used to make a living, writhing carpet, while others went onto my costume for the scare factor.

Overkill for a single drug dealer? Absolutely, but it was a good test run for when I would inevitably need to impress with deadly force.

Chrissie whistled. "That's more like it, now let's make the puny mortal shit his pants."

My nose scrunched up beneath my mask. "Hopefully not, you don't have enhanced senses like I do. You have no idea how unpleasant that can be."

"I'll add that to my ever growing list of reasons I hope I never inherit," Chrissie stated, then glanced down. "Right behind your frankly amazing one."

"Glad to hear that you value my ass so highly." I deadpanned.

"I would topple empires for that ass." She said with an enthusiastic nod.

"And topple them we shall," I said firmly. "Bring him in."

"The kid wore a suit to a job interview!" Sabertooth howled, slapping a knee.

Shush. At least it shows he's serious about this.

Some men could put on a brave front — the Butcher's memories held many examples and subsequent failures. Thus, I was rather impressed by Todd's impassive and stoic expression in the face of my swirling masses of biblical 'oh fuck no.' In fact, if not for my powers, I might not have seen through his façade as he approached my throne.

Bloodsight revealed his thundering heart rate and sky high blood pressure, while the battle analysis Thinker power picked up on all his subtle tells. Hell, my bugs could practically taste the stress hormones on him. He was afraid.

I refused to take pride in scaring the shit out of a kid not much older than me, but at least I was nailing the presentation side of being a supervillain.

"Welcome to my humble abode," I said with the full swarm echoing my words. "I'm told you have something of an offer that I might find interesting."

"Gotta be tough to be black in this city," Alkaline mused.

Todd stood a bit straighter, looking up at my mask for the first time. "You already know why I'm here. I'm a drug dealer, but I'm running out of product and need a new supplier. You happen to have a large surplus of drugs, but lack the means to move it and profit. I see a way we can help each other."

"A well worded opening line at least. He put some thought into it," Ironsides said.

"You would be correct. Now, pray tell, why should it be you when I hear that you plan to skip town come fall?"

"I was accepted into UNC's pharmacology program, but the tuition is beyond my ability to pay, even with what I've been bringing in. I don't want this life to be my future, but it's all I have to offer at the moment."

Alkaline whistled. "They don't accept just anyone. Charge out the ass too."

"I see." I sent my bugs into a bit of a frenzy as I thought it over… I needed to sell this if I wanted him to accept it. "You intend to use us to further your own life and leave us high and dry when you leave. That is the offer you brought to us? Pathetic."

"Butcher, if you —"

"Weaver. My name is Weaver," I said, jumping to my feet. "As for your proposal, I'm afraid I must reject it as presented." I watched his shoulders sag even as his legs grew tense and ready to flee. It was time to make the offer. "Instead, I have an alternative proposal."

"And what would that be?" he asked, hesitantly.

"It's quite simple. You have the knowledge, the contacts; teach my men what you know, because I'll be blunt, they're shit at this game. You worked for Skidmark and stayed clean, that says something about you."

"Would have been funny if Vex offered him some salsa," Knockout said, and I had to fight very hard to not snort at the mental image.

"I don't know if staying clean says anything about me, or not. Either way, you're asking me to give up everything I have to bargain with. Once your dealers are up and running, I'll be cast aside. No longer worth the investment, right?" There was a moment of silence, before a defeated sigh left him. "Fuck, how much are the contacts and training worth?"

"Well, he's not an idiot at least," Ironsides said.

"He's desperate though, if he's still willing to consider such a one sided agreement," Chisel added.

"You're exiting the game in a matter of months regardless. Pass your knowledge along to my people during that time, and I'll see to it that your schooling expenses are covered." I could see the surprise writ across his face. "As an added bonus to avoid doing the bare minimum, I'll even give you two percent of the profits that you bring in as a bonus when you leave. How does that sound?"

A silence hung in the air as he just stared up at me. I could see the surprise, the confusion, and his mind racing as he considered everything I had just offered. It was more than he expected, that much was clear.

"Five percent?" he asked hesitantly.

"Look at the pair on this fucker!" Sabertooth howled.

I couldn't help but laugh. "Three percent for having the nerve to ask. Now if you don't mind, I have an Empire stash house to raid later tonight. If you're going to help us sell drugs, then we should probably have some to sell, yes?"

Todd bowed stiffly and started backing away. "As long as it's not out of the stash house on the corner of McKesson and Richmond," he muttered under his breath so softly I almost missed it.

"What's so special about that address?" I'd recognized it as one of the smaller distribution sites, but wasn't planning to hit it quite yet. There wasn't anything special to the place that I'd noted, but Todd was a man who spent his time on the streets. If he had heard something I hadn't…

Todd stopped when I spoke. He was shocked that I'd caught what he said, but quickly recovered. "They distribute to the poorer sections of the docks and downtown, where more minorities tend to live. Usually the cheaper types of weed, and nothing that seems dangerous, yet people are still dying to the stuff. I had a friend pick some up and confirmed they're lacing it with shit. People are ODing left and right in that area, mostly those of color."

"Oh…" Stratego said and I found my mind swirling with the plans I'd been working on for dismantling the Empire.

"You're saying the Empire is doing it to intentionally kill people?"

"I am," He said firmly.

He couldn't see the grim smile that came to my face. "Well now, that changes things. I think this is the start of a very fruitful friendship, Todd."

My newest minion was completely correct — the warehouse was much more nefarious than my cursory examination had revealed, and it was well guarded for such a seemingly-small time affair. Worse, my bugs confirmed the Empire was indeed lacing the weed with something, because my bugs died within seconds of contact with it.

"This is the place," I told the rest of the Teeth hiding in a nearby alley.

Vex and Reaver had joined me for this operation, along with Big Robbie and what I hoped would be his new team. I was mildly upset that so few had come out with us, but Damien had been too high to answer, Elliot was out on the town and not answering, and Alice was working on a pot of chili. I knew better than to disturb her.

Still, we would make do. This wasn't a smash and grab, nor was it even about the money. This was me sending a message. I'd declared war on these white supremacist fucks less than a week ago, and while the Empire was reeling from the initial attack, I needed to show Kaiser and the Bay that the Teeth were deadly serious about exterminating their threat.

My people were in place, my swarms were ready, and the Empire didn't have a clue what was about to hit them.

"This is gonna be fucking awesome!" Pyro cheered.

Stratego, however, had to burst her bubble. "If Taylor's plan survives contact with the enemy, there will be a distinct lack of surprises."

"Good thing most plans don't survive that long," Knockout added.

Which is why I brought backup. This place is smaller than half the ABB places we hit solo, and I'm not expecting much of a showing here. Honestly, I could handle this easily by myself, but this isn't about the drugs or the money…

"It's about sending a message."

My swarm moved as one, assaulting the Empire goons I had located and launching the warehouse into a frenzy of motion as the Nazis began to scream. On that signal, my Teeth swept in. Their orders were simple: beat, maim, injure. The guns stayed away unless the Empire managed to mount a defense, which wasn't likely in the face of my swarm. It wasn't easy to aim a gun when you had a dozen wasps stinging your hands, after all.

I watched and felt through my swarm as my people continued through the building in a bastardization of tactical movement, which was still an improvement over the old 'dick first into a cheese grater' strategy that led to such a high fatality rate under the previous Butchers… not that my predecessors had really cared.

"Ah, music to my ears," Marauder said as the unprepared Empire goons ran around screaming in a panic, often due to a face full of Vex's force fields. Reaver was just as busy; between our capes and unpowered members, the few neo-nazis that tried to fight back were put down viciously. The attack was brutal, over in a minute, and I couldn't bring myself to feel any sympathy for this particular group of shitstains.

"It's harder to feel bad when you see the damage they are causing firsthand," Fester said. "Remember that ABB brothel? If you had just killed the guards, no one would have bothered to raise a fuss."

I would have bothered.

It was a weak rebuttal, and based on the Butchers' snickering, they knew it. However, they were more disappointed that the action was already over here and now, to the point that Pyro complained, "That was anticlimactic."

"It was supposed to be," I murmured, then teleported from my perch to the front door.

Vex disengaged from the others and ran over to me. "Well, we got good news and good news. Which do you want first?"

I gave her my best deadpan stare, despite my mask.

She laughed and clapped me on the shoulder. "We found a good bit of cash, and it turns out that those paintball drills actually amounted to something."

"Good news indeed." The more senior Teeth had only managed a few hours of paintball since I had used Stratego's power to lay out some practice drills, but it was already making a difference in how they were sweeping the rest of the building. I knew where everything was, of course, but they needed to be able to function without me.

When they were done, the beaten and bloodied Nazis were left tied up in a stack outside while the cash was collected into bags. The drugs all needed to be burned, as it wasn't worth sorting out what had been laced with what. I sincerely hoped that none of the drugs we had seized so far had been similarly corrupted, and made a mental note to ask Todd. The least I could do was ensure what he would be selling for us was safe.

That was a beneficial arrangement if there ever was one. By the time the enterprising kid left for college, my own people would be ready to fully step into his shoes and take over, and with the promise of a percentage bonus of all the profits he brought in during his time selling for us, he would be encouraged to work hard regardless of the agreement to cover his college costs in full at completion of his term of service.

One of our unpowered members brought around our escape truck, and Vex started helping load up the loot while I teleported up to the roof to play sentry. Inside, the Teeth were pouring gasoline in the building and looting electronics… including Reaver appearing with the large TV from the break room. "Hell yeah!" Vex cheered.

"Everything that's not nailed down —" Knockout started.

"And then we pull up the nails and take that stuff too!" Sabertooth finished.

I shook my head at the antics, but Reaver had a more pressing question. "Boss, do you know where their car keys are? There's a Mustang parked out back." One of the Empire goons started cursing at that, which I took as a good reason to help. My bugs found the keys in short order, and Reaver let out an excited whoop before following my bug arrows back into the building.

My practice with bug senses was paying off in the field, but I wanted to get out of here soon. Hopefully we would be long gone by the time the E88 or Protectorate got off their asses and managed a response. At least the Teeth weren't taking trophies tonight, given the Empire's 'pathetic resistance,' as Robbie put it.

I very specifically did not wonder if I would ever be claiming trophies myself.

"Why didn't the Empire send anyone?" Alkaline asked.

Don't jinx us!

"You have everything within four blocks under surveillance," Stratego replied. "It's not like —"

Just as Vex was lighting the road flare, I felt something enter my range. A motorcycle had pierced through the veil of gnats and mosquitoes I kept along the perimeter, and was breaking every traffic law I could think of as they made their way towards the warehouse. My attempts to land bugs on the motorcycle only resulted in crispy critters, which likely meant I was dealing with a Tinker.

I had swarms assemble by each of my people. "Time to withdraw, the Protectorate is coming. I'll delay them."

Most of my people gave affirmatives, but Vex hesitated before climbing into the truck. "Boss, be careful. Make sure you get home safely."

"Always," my swarm answered her. "I'll see you there."

I was tempted to mess with Armsmaster in some way when his bike rolled up to the now-burning building, but he opted to investigate the pile of disabled Empire goons instead of chasing the truck full of Teeth. He then secured the area, obviously using his Tinkertech to check for nearby threats before coming to a halt at the base of the building I was hiding upon.

"While I don't agree with her methods, it's a shame that Weaver couldn't become a hero," Armsmaster said, doing a poor job of musing to himself. "I wish that the PRT had listened when I asked for more time to let her prove herself. Maybe if she —"

I stopped listening at that point, frantically casting my bugs around to see if this was yet another trap. An unlikely plan, given that Armsmaster had just arrived and I didn't feel anyone else nearby, but I couldn't fathom another reason why he would stand there and ignore me while I was in costume.

Nevertheless, I didn't want to be a sitting target, although Armsmaster had probably lost the tail of both the truck and Reaver's new car due to… whatever he was trying right now. I waited a few minutes longer to ensure that the tainted drugs had caught fire before teleporting to a bug on the end of my range.

It wasn't until I was two blocks from the lair that the voices realized that I had made a critical error, and Alkaline whined, "You didn't get his autograph!"

Thursday, April 14th 2011

After our successful mini-raid against the Empire, we had come back to the lair and thrown a small after-party. I had retreated to my lab to get some Tinkering done once Chrissie dozed off, only to reemerge a few hours later to get in some early-morning reading. To my surprise, Damien and Alice stayed up with me.

The capes in question were seated across from me on the sofa while I lounged in one of the recliners with my book. They were clearly displeased about something, but weren't saying anything, so here I was trying to make them talk like they were misbehaving children.

This was going to be my whole morning…

Chrissie was sleeping peacefully in her room right now, and I wasn't about to disturb her since we had school in a few hours and she needed every minute she could get. Maintaining my civilian life was difficult, but it would be worth it in the long run, and I had a feeling that was at least part of the problem the two across from me had at the moment.

"Alright, enough of this bullshit," I said, tossing one of my wine coolers into the trash. "You have a problem with how I'm leading the Teeth?"

The two exchanged a glance, then Damien sighed. "Honestly? Shit's great. We're making bank, kicking ass, I have all the coke I can snort, but you're clearly different from any Butcher I've served under."

"The issue is, we could be doing so much more," Alice cut in. "If you dropped school, moved in here full time —"

"Alice, I can't do that."

"Why?" she countered. "We could take the Empire down in weeks if we went on the offensive in full!"

"She's not wrong," Ironsides pointed out.

I shook my head. "We could, but we have to be tactical about this. Right now, if there's two gangs, then the PRT tries to keep the status quo. But if it were just us, just me? The Butcher is too scary to be allowed to control an entire city. The last thing I want is Legend to come blast all of you guys to smithereens and Eidolon to pull some power out of his ass that, I don't know, banishes me to another Earth. But if I keep my civilian identity intact, and we take the Empire apart piece by piece…"

"All this waiting sucks," Pyro whined.

"True, but I for one am enjoying the down time. How long has it been since we could just relax?" Alkaline asked.

"Since before we inherited," Quarrel said.

"Who the hell cares? It's the Empire; no one cares if you kill neo-nazis. They didn't care when we took out Lung or the Merchants!" Damien said. "Everyone's getting stir crazy, and it's not like we need a reason to fight them."

"We don't need a reason to fight anyone," Alice muttered.

I sighed and set my book aside. "No, we don't, but just running around and setting random buildings on fire doesn't actually accomplish anything. Instead, I'll put together a list of targets and start planning more raids so everyone gets a piece of the action. There's a lot of Nazi ass out there for us to kick."

Damien pumped his fist, and even Alice smiled a bit.

"But, we're still doing it my way, even if I'm at school. The Teeth have a reputation as a roving band of murderhobos not unlike the fucking Slaughterhouse. I want to shift us to something closer to how Marquis ran things." They didn't seem to like that, but it was a good way to segue. "I suppose that brings up my next point: who the fuck thought it was a good idea to try and burn down a gas station in our territory?"

Damien shrugged. "Bastards wouldn't cough up enough money, so we showed them why that was a mistake."

Oh for the love of…

"We warned you that our people weren't all that intelligent," Stratego said.

So you did. Talk about a pain in the ass.

Butcher laughed. "You're trying to reform a gang that I intentionally styled after Mad Max, you expected this to be easy?"

I groaned and massaged my nose for all the good it did me. "Why were you pressuring people in our territory at all? The Empire is out there, hit their shit instead!"

"They were ABB," Alice countered.

"Which, if you remember, we demolished! What's the point of kicking out the other gangs and taking over if we're just going to destroy our own stuff? I don't care who they were affiliated with before, now they're our responsibility."

"Do you really want Lung's sloppy seconds?"

White hot fury ignited within me as I brought my fist down on the table beside me, shattering it. "I want the whole goddamn Bay, or were you not paying attention in our last meeting?"

"Oh come on, that was some funny shit!" Marauder said.

I don't care, I need to get this lesson through their thick skulls.

"So what? We can't have fun unless you approve of it?" Damien demanded. Fuck, I was going to have to beat the bastard down again, wasn't I? They seemed all too quick to forget just who the fuck I was. I was still going to try to talk, because I wasn't my predecessors, but I had to fight down the urge to punch him instead.

"First of all, the people in our territory are to be treated as if they're Teeth. If someone's being uppity about paying protection fees, you have it brought to my attention and I'll make sure it's dealt with. But don't hesitate to kick the ass of anyone harassing the people in our territory, especially other gangs. It's not like the PRT is going to protect them."

Damien's scowl lessened significantly at that. "Giving them carte blanche to beat up invaders is a smart idea," Chisel murmured.

"If there aren't enough other gang members to beat up in our territory, then either ask me or wait until I get a list of targets written up. I'll include general risk assessments and plans of action for each one; there's more than enough targets to sate our bloodlust and turn a tidy profit."

"See, that's more like it!" he said with a manic grin.

Damascian nodded. "You should always lead with the carrot. For the Teeth, that just happens to be violence and loot."

Alkaline shook her head. "Yet they respond better to the stick."

Alice hummed in agreement. "Normally we would just be left to do whatever we want until the Butcher decided to do shit. Your methods are… not what any of us expected, since even Stratego had to contend with the voices that you appear able to ignore."

"She shoves us into an inky void where all we can do is watch!" Butcher screamed.

"Which has become a far rarer occurrence since she returned to the Teeth," Ironsides pointed out.

"What the Teeth have always lacked is coordination. It's the reason we've never been able to really hold territory long-term." I gestured at myself. "With how much power the Butcher wields, it's ridiculous that the Teeth have been here for a year and the other gangs are still standing. Sure, we're not running around like crazy people any more, but that's because we actually stand to profit enormously if you all just follow my instructions. The Teeth will seize the Bay, and when it is ours we can rule the criminal underworld however we want. No one will tell us what to do!"

"Hell yeah!" "You tell them, Taylor!" "Let's fucking do this!"

At some point during my rant, I had jumped to my feet, leaving me looking down on the two rather wide-eyed capes sitting on the couch. "Well, shit," Damien said slowly. "Never thought I would see the Butcher give a pep talk before."

"I can see why little Vexy took such a liking to you, miss firebrand," Alice said. "What's next, a big recruitment drive? She mentioned that kids at your school are signing up like crazy."

"Well, it's not like anyone else is going to protect them from the Empire."

Alice leaned back against the couch and gave me a strange look. "The Teeth don't protect anyone, except maybe ourselves. But I guess that's the point, right Butcher?" I didn't bristle at the name, but it was a close thing. "You want us to help you rule a kingdom of your own."

"That sounds like a lot of work," Damien said.

"A lot of work for me," I retorted, flopping back down into my seat. "The rest of you just get to keep doing business as usual… mostly. I don't want to discard what makes the Teeth, well, Teeth… but I do intend to make us at least palatable to the masses. Fewer trophies and wanton murder and more keeping the city safe from anyone that would try to disrupt it. If we intend to rule without the city becoming a quarantine zone, we need to be something the PRT doesn't feel pressured to remove at all costs, similar to the Elite on the west coast."

"A lofty ambition," Statego stated.

Perhaps, but imagine what happens when we succeed. The Teeth, in charge of a whole city? That's unprecedented on this coast.

For a long moment, there was perfect silence in my head while my predecessors finally seemed to understand the scope of what I was planning.

"And to think, some of us thought that XV wasn't going to bolster the Butcher's reputation," Chisel said with vicious satisfaction.

"This isn't what the Teeth are about," Damien grumbled.

"Last I checked, the Teeth are whatever the Butcher says they are," I said, letting the swarm creep into my voice. "All I'm doing is finishing what Damascian and Quarrel started — taking back our hometown and finally crushing the goddamn Empire. I'm not going to close the arena or stop selling drugs; hell, I'm giving you a license to beat up assholes wherever you find them in our territory. But there's no profit in just killing civilians for no reason, especially when they're the ones paying us. You want to do business as usual? Fine. But do it on the right targets: our fucking enemies. No one important cares about bad guys versus bad guys."

For the first time all night/morning, a look of understanding passed over the faces of the two capes. I had always known that my attempts to direct the Teeth would be unpopular among the capes, but if I wanted to be able to live with myself I had to change what I could. Since the Teeth were the only group that were willing to accept the Butcher, I was somewhat limited in my choice of minions, but…

I was going to make it work. Anything less was unacceptable.

A sleepy voice from the doorway drew all of our attention. "How are you two idiots complaining when you didn't even come with us yesterday?" Chrissie asked, yawning.

"G'morning Chrissie. I hope you slept well."

"Hard not to after all we got up to last night." She winked at me as my blush turned red hot. We hadn't done much more than usual, but it kept up appearances for her to imply we had. I had bug arrows form, pointing towards the coffee pot. "Thanks Tay."

Don't even start.

The chorus just snickered.

I watched my groggy girlfriend shuffle off to obtain her caffeine fix as I turned back to the two capes that had essentially run the Teeth before I came along. "Times are changing, but I don't want this to be completely one sided. If people have issues, bring them to my attention in private, because if you challenge me in public?"

"You get Spree'd!"

"Yeah, we get it," Alice said, rubbing the spot where I had hit her with the glass.

I clapped my hands as I stood. "If that's all settled, I have classes to get to, and targets to enumerate while pretending to pay attention to said classes."

Damien groaned.

"I've always wondered — are the Butchers' memories helpful?" Chrissie asked as she came over to my side.

Fester immediately brought forth one of those memories in response, cackling like a madwoman as I pushed her and the offending thoughts away with a grimace. "Yes and no. They're great for current affairs, but not so much for anything else. Only Stratego, Damascian and Ironsides actually graduated."

"Better than none," Damien said. "Fuck it, if we're done I'm gonna go see if anyone wants to fight, and then pass the fuck out."

"There's fresh Nazis for the picking," Chrissie said cheerfully.

Damien grinned and I felt my stomach turn — I'd almost forgotten about them. "Fucking sweet! That should make for a good warm up, thanks Vexy!"

"No problem, Cannon Fodder!" she called back as he flipped her off.

The return to school was uneventful. Everyone not in our colors gave me a wide berth and I hadn't felt a single necklace crushed all morning. Even Emma and her flunkies were behaving, which had my old instincts on edge for a greater plan to come.

I met up with Chrissie as we were making our way to Gladly's class, and she gave me a nudge. "Hey Tay, check this shit out." She waved her phone in my face, showing me a PHO thread. It showed pictures of Armsmaster, Dauntless, Velocity, Miss Megabitch…

"Is their entire roster at this PR circlejerk out of town or am I missing someone?"

"Assault and Battery skipped out, but otherwise?" Chrissie said with a shrug. "Seems kinda stupid if you ask me, leaving only the Wards to defend the city."

"Yes… Quite foolish of them." I said with a grin.

"What are you plotting?" Stratego asked impatiently.

Minigun.

The chorus erupted into a cacophony of cheers and discussion at my little proclamation. Yes, it was time to reclaim one of the symbols of the Teeth. The opportunity was so perfect that the paranoid part of my brain wondered if this was yet another trap by the PRT. I would have to play this safe, and be prepared to spring the trap if it existed.

"Chrissie, I'm going to miss lunch and maybe gym if this takes too long. I have an errand to run," I said, reaching out to a bug near the edge of my range on the path back to our HQ. There was an abandoned classroom up ahead that I could use to stage my disappearance.

"Aww, you're gonna leave me out of this one?" Chrissie said with an adorable pout on her lips.

"I need someone to keep an eye out if they call in any of the Wards, since I'm about to cause no small amount of panic for the shitheads at the PRT building."

Chrissie broke out into a fit of cackles. "Take a selfie when you're in there; they'll shit themselves when you post it to PHO."

"Will do. I'll call you in if you're needed." I said with a wink, followed by a not-step that carried me to my waiting bug.

From there it took me another five jumps before I reappeared in the VIP lounge of our base.

"Fuck!" Michael exclaimed as he fell off the couch at my sudden and obvious arrival. Thankfully he was on his feet within a second and had a weapon in hand. Damascian and Chisel approved of the improvement, though Ironsides and Stratego weren't as impressed. Michael's expression quickly shifted from surprise and anger into one of confusion. "I thought you and the brat had school today?"

"Change of plans. I'm suiting up and I want our best fighters on standby if shit gets ugly."

"You gonna fuck some shit up?" Damien asked as he arrived in our lounge.

"You know it!" I said with a grin.

Making my way to my room, I donned my upgraded costume. Gone were the familiar Alexandria themed grays and blacks, and in their place? Teeth gray and red. I'd integrated dark scarlet lines across all my armored panels; they would still blend in with my swarm if needed, but provided a contrast that left little doubt to my affiliation. The scarlet XV on each shoulder wasn't needed, but it was my title as the Butcher and I would own it.

The mandibles of my mask were shaped to be a bit more serrated, and the scarlet had been applied to make them look bloodied. Around the lenses of my mask were subtle red highlights to add to the sinister look that had once led Armsmaster to mistake me for a villain…

There would be no doubts now.

It was with a heavy sigh that I secured the weapon harnesses to my thighs and torso. In a word, I was terrifying: a nightmare on two legs even without my swarm to back me up. Secured to each thigh were an OTs-62 along with three throwing knives. At my hip was the tinkered machete I had grown to like, though some of the swords downstairs looked awesome. A dozen knives were spread along my harness along with additional shotgun ammo to reload my quick loaders. Finally, I had the expanding fuck-off huge Tinker bow that Quarrel had favored, along with a modified quiver of shortened arrows that I could extend with Chisel's power.

"Add in the swarm for effect and only the insane wouldn't shit their pants in fear," Knockout said approvingly.

"I can't wait to see the reactions to this on PHO!" Fester added.

Pyro nearly squealed. "It's gonna be amazing!"

I was a one woman battalion, ready to ride to war. Not that I planned to do any fighting today, but it didn't hurt to be prepared in the event this was another trap. I needed to make an impression, especially with how I was about to humiliate the hell out of them all.

Once I was sure all my weapons were secure, I began to teleport my way across the city in the general direction of the PRT building.

"I am going to laugh way too hard at their reactions to this one!" Sabertooth said, already failing to contain his mirth.

"It is going to be a fun little diversion," Stratego said.

"Certainly better than school," Butcher added.

I had to agree with them, and while I had no intention of abandoning my education, this was going to be a lot of fun; hopefully I would only miss gym. I was glad to have a free period on Thursdays after lunch as it gave me a bit of wiggle room, especially now that I could travel and grab some takeout.

I was still near downtown when my bugs picked up something unusual. I didn't have enough of a swarm to get a good picture of what it was, but something about it was making my instincts tingle. Instead of continuing on my way towards the PRT building, I angled my way towards the disturbance.

Not wanting to risk spooking my potential quarry, I landed about a block away and put my Brute and more mundane Mover abilities to work. Roof running was an enjoyable experience; one I didn't get to indulge in very often since the teleport was so damn useful. Thankfully the rain from earlier in the day had let up.

I was already directing more bugs into the area, but now I had my actual eyes on two vans parked behind Brockton Central Bank, along with four costumed people and three mutant creatures currently gathered near the back door. A girl in a purple catsuit was working on a security panel. I couldn't help but grin under my mask.

Slight change in plans, how about we introduce ourselves to the Undersiders?

"We're still grabbing the minigun, right?" Quarrel asked.

Duh. Besides, this won't take very long at all.

Author's Note:

Pen: This chapter had one paragraph that got close enough to the line that I decided to tone it down for SB. You aren't missing anything plot relevant here, just an amusing situation during their car ride through Nazi turf.

Last edited: Mar 4, 2022

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Pendragoon

Mar 4, 2022

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Pendragoon

Pendragoon

She/Her

Mar 11, 2022

#4,439

Thursday, April 14th 2011

"The fire exit here in the back is protected by a digital passkey," Tattletale explained while she crouched at the keypad ineffectually guarding the bank. "Every employee has the number to get in if they need to, but that rarely happens because opening the door sets off a bunch of alarms. That password is easy. The interesting thing that the employees don't even know is that the capes and SWAT teams have a special code they can put in if they need to make a quiet entrance with no alarms going off. To do that, you punch in the regular code, 3-7-1, but you hold the one down, then press the number sign and the asterisk keys down at the same time… Voila! Go on, try it." She stood, brushing off her pant leg and smirking at Grue. Couldn't get in in fifteen seconds. Ha!

Just as the lock disengaged, a gnat flitted past Lisa's face. She absently swatted it aside.

Looping flight pattern, tracking by scent, seeking —

"Stay focused," she muttered, refusing to elaborate on useless information; Lisa needed to conserve her power for the actual robbery. Grue hesitated for an instant before yanking the door open, its squeak punctuating the total lack of blaring alarms. Lisa bowed and gestured towards the building. "What'd I tell you?"

Grue shook his head, signaling Bitch to take point with her trio of still-growing dogs turned hellhounds. They were barely up to Lisa's hip in height, a fraction of what they could be, but it was perfect for the narrow halls that made up the office section of Brockton Central. Twice the dogs paused at doors, signaling that people were inside, and twice office workers were pulled out to serve as hostages.

Lisa was not particularly proud of robbing a bank as a very obvious distraction, but this job was a necessary step towards getting herself out from under Coil's thumb. Sure, their success here would bolster the Undersiders' reputation, but her true goal was to isolate some of Coil's legitimate finances and figure out what she could subvert or subsume for her own use.

Dyed hair, stains indicate single mother, afraid husband is cheating. Retiree, well off, is verifying finances. Depressed, insufficient sleep, worried about someone —

Lisa forced herself to look away from the lobby until Grue had successfully flooded it in darkness. His power buried the hapless customers in his frankly terrifying smog before they even knew the Undersiders were there. Grue could handle the civilians and Bitch — hopefully — which meant that Lisa was off to crack the vault. Once Alec was looting the place, she would be in the clear to work over the manager's computer until the Wards arrived.

Lisa's power made even the best of vaults worthless, though she was struggling to keep her powers focused on her chosen task. She had to force down a grunt of annoyance when Grue appeared with a massive Angelica, the footsteps of the huge empowered dog shaking the floor of the bank.

Hollow thump in vault, floor vibrating, likely a large object fell over.

Some days, she swore it was like herding cats, and it was just her luck that today was one such day. No, she didn't care about a stupid bug, or the crowd of hostages, or whatever the hell might have fallen in the vault. Lisa did fight down a smile, wondering if Coil might have wanted whatever it was that just crashed to the ground.

Details irrelevant on their own, but taken together indicate —

"Problem Tats?" Regent asked.

"None at all," she declared, clicking the last bit into place and disengaging the lock with a final spin of the stainless steel wheel jutting out from the front of the vault door. Something loud and heavy sounding shifted within the door as it popped open ever so slightly. Tattletale adopted her smuggest grin as she spun around, pulled the well oiled door open with her, and took a bow. "And that, gentlemen, is how you crack a vault."

There was a beat of stunned silence as she basked in her own accomplishment. Things were as they were meant to be, for she was no mere mortal but the goddess Athena, bringing her wisdom and snark down to the unwashed masses from Mount Olympus itself. All would marvel at the majesty that is Tattletale!

Silence, shock, fear of teammates all genuine, not related to deductive prowess.

… what?

Unexpected entity within vault. Prior ignored observations correlated.

Aw, hell.

"Tats, who's tall, broody and bug fuck terrifying?" Regent asked with what would pass as terror in his voice.

Voice tremor and tone indicated fear, equal to fear Jean-Paul would experience if his Father were present in the vault.

The fuck?

Slowly, Tattletale turned, her eyes squeezed shut. Once she was properly oriented she opened a single eye. The vault was as she expected, aside from loose cash scattered across the floor of the vault.

Radial spread, decreasing density follow pattern of cash moved by blast wave.

Lisa then turned her attention to the figure leaning up against the back wall of safety deposit boxes. She recognized the menacing dark gray body suit, of course, but the crimson accents on the armor panels and mask were almost brand new. The small armory of weapons strapped onto various parts of her armor seemed to have picked up a few things since the last time Lisa saw her.

"Weaver," Lisa whimpered.

She was proud of her self control in that moment, as a lesser person might have pissed themselves or even fainted. Lisa's power unhelpfully informed her that the tiny changes in what she could see of Weaver's muscles indicated that the ex-hero was smirking something fierce. Right, she had the voices of fourteen crazed psychopaths giving her feedback on what she could be doing to Lisa's teammates right now.

"Tattletale," Weaver said firmly, the slightest hum of the flies around them resonating in time with her words. "Not how I planned to meet the Undersiders, but I'll take what I can get."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

Weaver is looking to assess the Undersiders as potential assets. Or to remove them from the board.

"You're a Thinker, and from what I've gathered, a damn good one. Good enough to claim to read minds, so… be my guest."

"Well, you've clearly —" she started, but Butcher cut her off.

"Not a mind reader. If you were, you would have recoiled in disgust and likely need years of therapy to get over what the chorus just ran through my head."

Extremely lewd comments made. Graphic memories of past atrocities. Weaver unflinching in the face of such things. Weaver is still affected by them. Offloading reactions with a Thinker ability. Bug movements are erratic. Offloading emotional responses into her swarm.

Lisa felt the first twinge of a Thinker headache emerge with that revelation, so she pointedly ignored Grue and Regent's muttering. This might be the most important conversation of her life, and nothing as minor as a raging Thinker headache was going to dissuade her.

"Nope," she said quickly, "the mind reading thing is just a schtick to throw people off, I'm just good at reading most people." Weaver seemed as though she had raised an expectant eyebrow under her mask, Lisa huffed. "You want us to either work for you, or leave the city."

"Very astute of you," Weaver said, and Lisa didn't need her power to imagine the other supervillain's smirk. "Your reputation as thieves precedes you, and I have no interest in killing teenagers."

No interest in killing in general, despite voices' insistence.

Lisa nodded slowly. That was… good to have confirmation of some of the conclusions she had reached herself, given how much garbage data there was. Lisa had seen the footage from last weekend and had compiled quite a lot of research on previous Butchers, so she considered herself much better informed about Butcher XV's motivations and methods of operation than damn near anyone else. Certainly the PRT didn't grasp the magnitude of Weaver's break from normal Butcher behavior, and Lisa had started a dozen contingency plans in the event that she crossed paths with the first sane Butcher again.

It galled her to admit that 'meeting at the bank she was robbing' was not included in those plans.

"Right, well, that's good," Lisa said, injecting some false cheer into her voice. "Um, if you don't mind, we're kind of robbing the bank, here…"

"She can have it," Regent said immediately. "No offense, but I'm not a huge fan of bugs, and especially not bugs in places bugs should not go."

Amazingly, Weaver huffed out a laugh at the comment. "I knew we would get along. For the moment, I would appreciate it if you just continued robbing this bank and distracting the heroes, but in the future… Do the Undersiders work on commission? You don't need to join the Teeth proper, but we want to hire you permanently to steal from our enemies instead of us."

"Not that I'm opposed to the idea," Lisa said carefully, "but…" If Weaver was scouting talent, there was potential there. An idea was starting to form in her mind, and despite the fact that Brian was going to hate it (Alec and Rachel probably less so), it resolved a number of issues in Lisa's own plans to take down Coil.

Primarily, her inability to storm Coil's base with the axe-craziest group of murderhobos on the east coast.

Weaver just tilted her head, which Lisa took as permission to continue (sorry, not sorry, Grue). "See, we're already on retainer for a different boss. I mean, come on, why else would we rob a bank in this day and age?"

"Tattletale!" She ignored Grue's pained hiss of a warning.

"I asked myself the same question," Weaver admitted. "So…?"

Weaver asked the voices in her head.

Lisa did genuinely feel bad for Weaver, as the girl's reward for saving the Undersiders from Lung was to be publicly branded a villain and practically thrown back to the Teeth. It was obvious to anyone with a brain that the girl was a hero at heart, and while Lisa did feel bad for tugging on those same heartstrings, it wasn't like Weaver had much to fear from anyone.

"Ah, we're robbing the place as a distraction for our boss, Coil. I'm pretty sure he's looking to recruit a cape… forcefully. I doubt they will be able to turn down his pitch." Grue geared up to say something about that, so Lisa kicked his shin. Hopefully that would be enough for him to keep his mouth shut. She did not need him stepping on any potential landmines and setting off a bug apocalypse.

Weaver turned her full attention on Lisa, and she wasn't above admitting that it shut her up instantly. When Weaver spoke, it was with hideous finality and a buzzing echo. "Coil?"

"Yep! Grade-A asshole. Thinks he's the smartest person in the room. Spoiler: he's not. But his power is slippery to work around and I have limited options."

"I'm listening." The echoing from the bugs was indeed creepy as hell, but Lisa took it as a good sign in this case.

"I'm an excellent Thinker. A superb asset. That's why I was… ah, let's go with 'recruited'. That's why you want me too. But I'm not as good in combat. Now Coil on the other hand," Lisa had to fight to keep her cheer from seeming too genuine to her teammates — the bugs in the area had shifted and started scrambling around. Butcher XV hadn't missed her implication of Coil's 'sales pitch' and had just cast damning judgement on the creepy fuck that was controlling Lisa's life. This Butcher was nowhere near as insane as everyone was trying to pretend she was; if that hadn't been abundantly clear before, it certainly was now. And now all Lisa had to do was be around to pick up the pieces of Coil's organization once she set its downfall all into motion. "You see, he has the power to experience two timelines at once. He can make two decisions —"

"And keep the one he finds more advantageous," Weaver finished. "Well, my plans have changed. Originally I was going to come here, make someone piss their pants or something, make the heroes panic, maybe cause a bit of chaos at your expense, but now…"

Discussing with voices on how to best take advantage of your team. Is furious, but refusing to let it show.

Well, that wasn't ominous at all.

"Right," Weaver said, pushing herself off the wall and rubbing her armored hands together. "Well, Undersiders, welcome to the Teeth. Your first mission is to finish robbing this bank. You can bring all of the cash and whatever back to the arena when you're done, and then we're going to work on a plan to hit Coil. You know where his base is, right?"

Lisa nodded rapidly as Weaver's mask turned in her direction again. "Yes ma'am, I already have plans to take him out. There's stuff on the computers here that would help, but we're out of time."

"Yes, the Wards," Weaver agreed. "They're setting up across the street. Grue, with me — I can sense my bugs through your darkness. Tattletale, get that information. I'll send Bitch back to help load things up."

She strode out of the vault with the confidence of someone who knew she was too scary to be fucked with, but Grue hesitated before following their new boss. "Tats, what the fuck is going on here! I'm not okay with just —"

"Grue, she will literally feed you to her bugs. Do as she says." Regent tried for his usual bored drawl, but there was an edge in his voice mirrored by the urgency in his step as he made his way to the first box of cash.

"I'm… no, this is not how this works," he tried again, clenching his fists while smoke began to pool at his feet. "We're not joining the Teeth."

"Can we please have an existential crisis when the heroes are not here to arrest us?" Lisa asked, yanking on Grue's hand. "Come on."

Grue folded after a minute of anguished consideration, which forced him to jog to catch up with the living biblical plague. Weaver began issuing instructions to the Undersiders' former nominal leader, and Lisa hardly needed her power to catch the tension in his shoulders from being ordered around. Luckily for everyone involved, he seemed to finally see the writing on the wall.

Lisa ducked into the manager's office before Grue could offer more unheeded complaints, working her magic on the computer with as much speed as she could muster. While files downloaded and queries ran, Lisa's curiosity got the better of her and she opened the feed from the security system. It was probably the safest way to watch Weaver in action, and she hoped that Grue didn't do something totally stupid.

The sound wasn't good enough for Lisa to hear his whispered conversation with Bitch while Weaver waited in the hallway, but there was surprisingly little complaint out of the aggressive girl before she led her dogs back towards the vault. Weaver then teleported into the lobby with a thunderous crash, her bugs swarming in behind her a moment later.

Naturally, the civilians panicked, only to freeze in horror when Weaver raised her voice, accompanied by her bugs. "Thank you all for your cooperation, but it seems that the Undersiders have made a critical error in planning their latest heist." Lisa snorted. That was a mild understatement. "As such, their team is now under new management, and I have no interest in keeping Panacea hostage for any length of time."

Lisa jerked upright in her chair, eyes combing the screen for the hero… only to discover that it was the same girl her power had tried to warn her about. Panacea herself was no less surprised, a conflicted expression rolling over her face.

Is confused by Weaver. Is confused by Weaver's actions, and behavior. Wonders how sane Weaver is. Appreciates Weaver setting her free. Does not want to appreciate Weaver's help. Sees something of herself in Weaver's situation. Fears what happened to Weaver.

Lisa's head twanged in pain, but she was totally incapable of tearing her attention away from the impending train wreck. Is worried something similar will happen to her. Power is not healing. Power reads biology. Power modifies biology. Is a biokinetic, not a healer. Fears being sent to Birdcage for her powers. Fears being turned into a villain because of her powers.

Oh fuck!

Lisa could not deal with that can of worms right now.

Slamming the metaphorical doors shut on her power, Lisa focused back on her work with the manager's computer. The outside camera was high enough that she could watch as Grue's darkness rolled out into the street, a solid black mass of smoke that stopped just short of the assembled Wards. Thankfully, the rain had ceased. Weaver then shepherded the hostages out, only to disappear herself — no boom indicates teleporting into Grue's darkness.

An amused and mildly pained chuckle escaped Lisa's mouth as the Wards were suddenly bombarded by panicking civilians. The former hostages stumbled out of the darkness disoriented and confused as they ran through the still wet street, causing the junior heroes to rush back and forth like idiots. Perhaps unsurprisingly, it was Panacea who kept her cool and indicated that Butcher XV had arrived on the scene and was complicating everything.

Lisa couldn't wait until Butcher complicated her machete straight down Coil's throat.

She absently started the download on the next set of files, morbidly curious if the PRT was going to let their kiddie division throw down with the Butcher. The actual heroes were almost certainly rushing back from their wine-and-dine at full speed, which meant that unless the government really wanted the Undersiders (or… Underteeth, now?) just walking away with the money —

Oh, the rest of the Wards showed up, as did Glory Girl.

Meteor, Shadow Stalker, and Browbeat arrived later than the other Wards. Separate transportation. Separate origin points. They likely do not attend Arcadia.

Lisa had barely managed to put that (mostly) useless tidbit out of her head before Grue's smoke pulled back, revealing Weaver in all of her terrifying glory. The new paint job on her costume probably went unnoticed by the Wards in favor of the roiling carpet of bugs at Weaver's feet and the cloud of their brethren flying in formation around her head. Weaver stood with her arms crossed, holding a confident pose that Lisa could see was only slightly faked.

The Wards, on the other hand…

Well, Vista was terrified, which made sense given her involvement last weekend. Most of the others were similarly scared, although to the Wards' credit, they were hiding it well. The real outliers were Shadow Stalker and Meteor, who were clearly about to do something stupid. At least Glory Girl seemed to be more concerned about her sister than fighting.

When Weaver spoke, it was loud enough and clear enough to hear despite the bugs. "So, I'm supposed to distract you while the Undersiders wrap up, then escape. How do we want this to play out?"

Holy shit, the audacity of that girl! Lisa was laughing so hard she almost fell out of her seat, only to be stabilized by a strong, gloved hand. Grue, unfortunately, was less than pleased. "Are you almost done here?"

"Yeah," Lisa confirmed. "But I want to watch the end of this."

"End of what?" Regent asked, following his voice into the room. "New boss lady is bugfuck terrifying, by the way. That talks-through-bugs thing? Amazingly creepy."

"I'm aware," Grue bit out.

Aegis started to talk, so Lisa quickly turned up the volume. "Um, what do you mean, Butcher?"

"Please, call me Weaver — I've been abundantly clear about that — and obviously I'm not going to start a fight with the Wards, that's just bad PR. Don't worry, the weapons are just for show — I'm not Lung, I don't shoot kids. Also, I promised Panacea not to give her too much work."

The absurdity of that statement seemed to hang over the soon-to-be battlefield, and Lisa swore that she could hear herself and Regent cackling from the outside camera. Grue made a displeased noise, though whatever his objection was, he didn't get to make it before the Wards decided that they hadn't been yelled at enough by their superiors recently.

Specifically, Shadow Stalker fired both of her crossbows at Weaver.

Butcher twisted out of the way with almost contemptuous ease, snatching the two bolts out of the air before spinning around and whipping them right back at the Wards. To the junior heroes' credit, they were quick on the uptake — unfortunately, no matter how they dodged, Quarrel's power wouldn't be denied. Clockblocker took a bolt directly into his ass, and he flopped cartoonishly onto the sidewalk.

Vista was somewhat more successful, attempting to stretch space, but the projectile simply sped across the lengthened distance like it wasn't there and rammed into her criminally unarmored thigh. Lisa was thankful, not for the first time, that the PRT didn't give the little terror a weapon and free rein on the battlefield.

"Boom, headshot!" Regent called, miming a sniper rifle for emphasis. Grue made a vaguely annoyed noise that sounded like 'ass shot', but Lisa's whole attention was on the unfolding battle outside. Weaver didn't have much to fear from the Wards, so instead she had eliminated the two capes that most posed a threat to the Undersiders' ability to escape.

"Grue, Aegis and Glory Girl inbound. Fill as much of the building as you can with smoke, and I will warn Bitch." Lisa wasn't afraid to admit that she recoiled in horror at the almost person-shaped blob of bugs floating in the corner. Regent just laughed again, and Grue nodded once before pumping the hallway full of his power.

On the screen, Weaver's message had not caused so much as a hiccup while she was making a mockery of the Wards' training and message. Gallant was the unlucky winner of the 'safe to swarm' award, and his armor was already coated in a layer of disgusting, sticky bug guts. He was taking occasional pot shots with his power, to little effect.

Shadow Stalker was similarly useless, and the crazed ex-vigilante was taking her inability to hit Butcher with a crossbow bolt as some sort of personal offense. She flitted around the battlefield, taking aim from atop lampposts or around cars, but Weaver always managed to dodge the shots.

Browbeat, to Lisa's great amusement, was the real loser of those interactions. While the Ward was far from inexperienced, having clearly been tutored on how to throw their telekinetically assisted punches for maximum effect, Weaver simply tanked the hits or caught them with her translucent force fields. If Weaver's almost relaxed movements did not make it clear that she was toying with the Brute, then continually grabbing Stalker's tranq arrows and shoving them into Browbeat's arms certainly did.

Does not want to fight Weaver. Is afraid of Weaver. Is specifically afraid of Weaver.

Regent burst into laughter as the Ward collapsed, and Lisa pried her eyes away from Meteor taking over on melee duty to see —

WEAVER: 3 WARDS: 0

A scoreboard, made out of bugs, on a nearby wall.

Goddamn was their new boss a savage bitch.

Lisa was caught between that and watching Kid Win run away from dive-bombing bugs when Grue reappeared in the doorway. "Aegis and Glory Girl are trapped in the lobby, but I don't know how long until they figure out a way to find the door. I hope Butcher has a plan."

"She does," Lisa said sagely. "And call her Weaver. She doesn't like the title."

"Whatever," Grue muttered. "Come on, Regent, let's get ready to move. How much of your download is left?"

"Oh, I'm done. It's just too much fun watching this shitshow unfold." As if to make the point, Meteor collapsed to her knees with a pained shriek. The girl had pushed her Breaker state to the max, the flames of her power almost obscuring the Ward inside. She had been attempting the simple plan of 'grapple the Butcher and set her on fire,' as Weaver clearly avoided having her attacks reflected as burns.

However, Meteor's power didn't work on other powers, and even a short zap of Butcher's pain projection was too much for the Ward to bear. Weaver then vanished an instant before a huge ball of blue energy landed right where she had been standing; everyone turned to find Kid Win with a menacing energy cannon floating next to his hoverboard.

That meant everyone was watching when one of Weaver's knives blossomed from the bottom, near the back. Kid Win scrambled away so fast that he fell off his hoverboard onto a PRT van, which probably saved his life when the cannon exploded a moment later. Weaver didn't give the Wards any respite, however. Instead, she raised her her hands and sprayed a red liquid —

Consistency inconsistent with blood used by predecessors. Consistency more consistent with pulped fruit derived mixtures, sudden lack of horror from Wards still conscious indicates familiarity with the liquid. Mixture likely tomato derived. Is thinner than tomato paste or ketchup. Lack of reaction excludes hot sauce. Possible options include tomato soup, juice or piz—

Pizza sauce. Lisa burned that much of her power on fucking pizza sauce.

(Also, she really should just read that damn thesaurus for her power already…)

Butcher XV, possibly the scariest motherfucker on the coast, had replaced the blood from one of her signature moves with pizza sauce. Lisa's power was happy to inform her that Weaver was experimenting with her powers and likely forgot, but that didn't change the fact that the junior heroes were covered in tomato paste.

Lisa was still laughing when a second explosion followed right after that, much closer, and Weaver appeared in the hallway. "Let's go," she intoned, smelling faintly of tomatoes.

"Sure boss," Lisa agreed, retrieving her flash drive. "Can't say I've ever seen a cape use pizza sauce as an attack before, so nice job."

"Thanks." Butcher twitched in amusement and embarrassment, which Lisa filed away for later. She had seen the girl under the mask, after all, and it was somehow reassuring that even Weaver was not immune to being an awkward teenager.

The moment passed, and it was a once-again indomitable Weaver that led her new minions to their original entry point where Bitch was waiting with loaded up dogs. Lisa gestured at the bags full of cash. "So, uh, what now?"

"Lose the tail, figure out your costumes, and meet me near the Teeth's arena in about an hour. I have an errand to run, first."

"What's to stop us from just leaving?" Grue blurted out. Lisa had to stifle the urge to facepalm at his complete lack of survival instinct. Did he really not understand who he was talking to? She may be the sanest of her line, but she was still a Butcher dammit!

Weaver became inhumanly still, around them the drone of millions of chittering insects soon grew deafening as they seemed to flow out of every dark recess within the hall.

Has made examples of minions in the past. Willing to make examples in the future. Considering making an example right now.

Before Lisa could warn him, Weaver struck out with a single hand in a swift motion Lisa couldn't follow. Weaver had Grue lifted off the ground with one arm and pinned him to the wall in a blink. The chittering now drowned out all other noise. Weaver's mask seemed to be boring into his as she somehow gave the impression of staring down the now silent Grue.

Not silent, unable to speak due to pressure on throat. Blood and airflow otherwise unrestricted.

"I do believe my reputation speaks for itself. Pray you do not give me a reason to reinforce it." The swarm seemed to pulse in time with Weaver's words even as the insects echoed each syllable. Lisa could admit to herself, it was one of the creepiest things she had ever witnessed.

Weaver then tossed Grue aside and vanished with a distant crack of thunder.

Not even a second later, the biblical swarm vanished back into the shadows as if it had never been there, but Lisa knew better. Weaver was still close enough to keep an eye on them.

There was a moment of silence between them, so of course it was Regent that would break it.

"Damn big guy, you got beat up by a girl!"

His laughter echoed in the empty hall, until only the echo remained and we all realized what it was.

Weaver is still listening with her swarm. Sharing in the joke through her insects. Sending a message that she is still watching.

Lisa had to force herself to swallow at that realization. Right, they still had a job to finish and their new boss was the definition of big brother, or in this case, sister.

"Alright, you heard the boss lady, we have a job to complete!" She tried to say cheerfully. Based on Grue's sullen reaction and Regent's silence, she failed miserably.

Lisa had to admit that the former Brockton Arena was a pretty great place for a lair. The arena closed in 2006 after the NBA became completely defunct thanks to an Endbringer attack hitting the finals and killing both teams in full; the sport never recovered and boxing just wasn't lucrative enough in the age of capes to sustain a multimillion dollar facility.

It had been called a marvel of engineering when first built, as the main part of the arena and most of the seats were below ground with basements below that. Thus, the building was low and squat, rising only two stories to match the other dilapidated buildings here on the edge of the Docks.

Currently, Lisa was sitting in a defunct sports bar across the street, watching as some unpowered Teeth members struggled to carry a suspicious box from a waiting pickup truck through the front doors. Lisa didn't even need to know what was in the box — it was being carried by Teeth, it was automatically suspicious. Their attempts to manipulate both door and box amused Lisa long enough that her teammates finally arrived, all in civilian clothes as expected.

Interestingly, Brian was the only one of the three whose apprehension was showing on his face. That made sense — Lisa and Butcher had pulled the rug right out from under his entire life. Alec was playing up the nonchalance but Lisa could tell he was nervous, and Rachel was preoccupied with Angelica. The terrier herself was on edge, but seemed content to just stare menacingly at the still-struggling Teeth.

They had barely sat down with Lisa at the mostly-intact booth before Brian let his displeasure be known. "Alright, talk. I want to know just what the hell you were thinking earlier today."

Angry with Lisa Wilbourn. Willing to hear things out. Patience is limited.

Okay, that was something she could work with. "Let me tell you a little bit about the history of the Undersiders. Last year, Coil recruited me at gunpoint, in civvies, right off the Boardwalk. He offered me a choice: work for him willingly or he would turn me into a drugged up, on-demand Thinker. I chose the option that allowed me to at least pretend I had some freedom.

"He wanted me to assemble a team that could grow into something useful for him. He thinks himself a mastermind, plotting and scheming from the shadows, and having a team of cat's paws is part of that. Preferably more than one, though the Teeth's presence here complicated his attempts to bring in another group."

"So you sold our team to the Butcher?" Brian snapped.

"Well, I didn't get paid," Alec complained, earning a death glare from Brian.

Lisa shrugged. "We were going to end up working for her no matter what. Coil was a dead man walking ever since Weaver became Butcher XV, so it was either join up now or be bought out later. This way it's on our terms and we look a lot better. I'm also fairly certain she would let us walk away if we wanted to. Hell, we're not exactly Teeth material ourselves, so…"

Turning her power onto the Undersiders' nominal leader revealed a rather important bit of information. Afraid for his sister in the face of a sudden betrayal. Considering his options. Options include selling out plans to Coil.

Oh, for fuck's sake.

"Brian, think about it for a second. Coil only keeps us around because we are valuable, and because he has leverage on us. He's helping you with your sister now, but that's the carrot. The stick is kidnapping her and doing who knows what. Coil isn't above having someone kidna—"

"Stop!" Brian interjected. "Fine, fuck, I get it! Coil is a monster, but… damn it, Aisha…"

Lisa pressed her advantage, noting that neither Alec nor Rachel seemed to care very much about the particulars of why their teammates turned to supervillainy. "He was never going to give you custody of her, because it meant that he would lose that all-important leverage."

"Hm, I wonder what leverage the Butcher would want?" Alec asked innocently.

"Ask her yourself."

The four possibly-former Undersiders froze at the calm voice, then turned as one to find a tall girl standing in the ruined doorway. Her red sports jacket and gray jeans proclaimed her allegiance, though Lisa suspected that the intricate braid decorating her black hair might soon become a Teeth-like fashion statement in and of itself.

The newcomer approached the table with no hesitation or weakness in her gait, which let Lisa see the graphic on the t-shirt: a picture of a tooth with fairy wings, with the text 'I'm the tooth fairy' written in bold letters underneath. Lisa hardly needed the hint, even had she not accidentally recognized the girl on the Boardwalk last week.

If Lisa was being honest, calm assurance fit the girl much better than meekness.

The girl's flagrant disregard for her civilian identity did not assure Brian, who tensed noticeably at the sudden intrusion. Alec was predictably nonplussed, but the interesting reaction was from Rachel. Her posture had turned submissive in the face of the Butcher.

Accepts Weaver's position as Alpha.

Oh hell, that would go over like a lead balloon once Brian figured it out. Lisa knew she needed to take the reins of the conversation.

"Wea—" Lisa was cut short as a single wasp landed on her nose.

"You're that girl from the Boardwalk, right? I was hoping to meet you again. My name is Taylor." She extended a hand, which Lisa reluctantly shook.

Knows you are Tattletale. Knows you know she is Weaver. Respecting the Unwritten Rules. Will violently enforce those rules if her people are targeted. Considers you to be her people.

"Lisa, a pleasure," Lisa said with her best smile. "Want to get burgers later?"

Wea— no, Taylor paused, then arched her eyebrows in clear invitation to elaborate. Brian could not have looked more betrayed if Lisa had pistol whipped him. Tough. Her new boss needed at least one friend whose favorite pastime wasn't fighting in gladiatorial death matches. Well, two: Rachel was going to default to being friendly as well, which made this so much better.

"I feel bad about running last time. You caught me on both a bad hair day, and about five minutes before an interview so I had zero time to stop and be polite. Let me make it up to you?"

Taylor snorted. "Bad hair day? Really?"

Lisa just laughed. "It's been a long day and I have a headache. Yeah, I had a bad hair day. So, burgers? Do you like Fugly Bob's?"

To Lisa's amazement, horror, and amusement — none of which she let show on her face — Taylor's calm, evil villainess façade shattered and revealed a very confused teenager. "Oh, you're serious. I, uh…" Taylor blinked several times, face twitching slightly.

Was not expecting a genuine offer of social interaction. Did not know how to react, voices in head mocking her for inability to socialize properly.

Lisa's power had reported a lot of distressing or unfortunate things since she triggered, but rarely had she felt it necessary to rush forward and give someone a hug like she did for Taylor right now. The Butchers' curse was an awful reward for the hero who had risked life and limb to save the Undersiders.

However, before Lisa could do or say anything to help the floundering Butcher (and wasn't that a crazy idea), Taylor's mask was back. "Yeah, sure. Why not? I skipped lunch anyway." Taylor's lips were pulled back into a lazy grin, but Lisa hardly needed her power to see that it was forced.

"This is adorable. Also disturbing. I wish I knew why. Neither of you two should be so blasé," Alec drawled.

"These jokers," Lisa said, sweeping her hand across the table, "are my friends Brian, Alec, and Rachel."

"Nice to meet you! You guys can come for that meal too if you want," Taylor said cheerfully, then she knelt down. "And who is this cutie?" Lisa's brain short circuited at the sight of the Butcher, of all people, fawning over an unfamiliar animal.

"Her name's Angelica," Rachel answered.

"She has been well cared for," Taylor said with certainty.

Tone shift intentional. Following directions given by her predecessors.

"As fun as all of this is," Alec said, ignoring Lisa's glare, "you obviously know that we're the Undersiders, but need us to admit it first to keep up pretenses. I'm quite curious what our new, glorious overlord wants with our humble band of misfit scoundrels, but I haven't got all day."

"I'm glad you asked," Taylor said, her smile growing sharp as a swarm manifested around her. "Coil is going to see the error of his ways."

Lisa couldn't help herself, she indulged in a bit of an evil, supervillain chuckle at that statement. "Yes. Finally."

"You know, Lisa, if you really hated the boss — well, old boss — so much, you could have just ran away," Alec pointed at her, shaking his head in mock disappointment.

"I'd rather not test my luck against the man with the ear of the PRT, thank you very much, Jean-Paul." His expression darkened for a brief moment, but her point had been made.

Taylor, on the other hand, stiffened noticeably. "All joking aside, all bantering on hold: I'm going to need you to explain that, Lisa."

"Okay," Lisa said, wincing. This wasn't going to be fun, but the band-aid had to come off. "For the record, I was going to bring this up anyway, but I was hoping to do so after we had properly thanked you for saving our lives."

Taylor's face twitched — more commentary from the Butchers, no doubt. "We'll come back to that, because I'm curious and have no idea what you're talking about. However, PRT first."

"I'm not certain exactly who Coil is. But, I know he's high ranking in the PRT. I know he has a prior relationship with Emily Piggot, but I haven't figured out exactly what it is either — they could be exes, old coworkers, or just mentor/mentee. I don't know, but what is important is he's still in the system."

Rachel's eyes narrowed. "That's why we never get caught? He plays both sides?"

Lisa pointedly ignored Brian's abject mixture of confusion and betrayal. "Partly yes, partly it was his power helping us. There were too many patrols that he knew about to just be using moles. He's an operative."

Taylor had gone completely still, however Lisa could hear droning and buzzing from outside the small building. She tried not to think about what that implied. "How important of an operative? One of my Thinker powers tells me that he's not the minor player everyone assumes."

Wants to know if he was aware of their attempt to send her to the Birdcage. Wants to know if he was responsible.

No shit, power. "Coil knew. I'm about 90% sure it wasn't his idea, but I'm also just as sure that he improved the tactics they used. He's the reason they brought Vista, I'm almost absolutely certain. I believe he also tried to recruit you before and the attempt went bad, which told him how to hurt you most effectively."

"Oh? Did he now?" Lisa was not afraid to admit that she was rather disturbed by the way that Taylor's voice went completely inflectionless, nevermind her motionless posture. Normal humans emoted. Whether this was something related to how she dealt with the Butchers, or her own power with the bugs, Lisa would have to ask later.

Much later. After the girl had calmed down.

"Coil never once asked me about you. Meaning he did ask, just he asked the other me. In the timeline he erased after things went down the drain."

Brian shook his head. "Wait, I'm lost. How does that prove anything?"

Taylor tapped one finger onto the table. "Coil has a leashed Thinker, he's had her look up every cape in Brockton Bay — hasn't he?"

"Yeah. Everyone but you. So, either he never got around to you. Or —"

Taylor made a fist that could have crushed stone. "He already thought he had everything he needed, though he got it when things went shockingly bad for him."

"Yup."

"And then when the PRT tried to get rid of me too, he gleefully helped them, because he couldn't do it himself."

"Pretty much."

Taylor breathed out heavily, her mouth twitching once again. "Okay."

Alec looked between Lisa and Taylor, frowning. "That's it? Just 'okay?' What, no Rip, Tear, Kill?"

"I am not my predecessors. I plan my attacks," Taylor stated. "Coil is a dead man walking, he just doesn't know it yet." As a terrifying accompaniment, a veritable cloud of bugs surged into the room to hover in the air for several moments before immediately dispersing again.

"Anything else of immediate concern? I want to introduce you to the rest of the Teeth so that we can start getting things together."

Rachel nodded. "Yeah. Thanks. For Lung."

Taylor looked at Rachel, opened her mouth, started to speak, then closed it. She leaned back against the booth and blinked several times. "Kids. You were the kids that Lung was going to kill."

"Yup," Lisa said. She laid a hand on Taylor's arm, squeezing as hard as she dared. The other girl probably didn't even feel it thanks to her Brute powers. "You ended up as the next Butcher because you saved our lives. I'm not really sure how we can thank you for that."

Taylor's head turned to her. She winced and her eyes unfocused.

Previous Butchers suggested several —

Yup, Lisa didn't need to know that. "I'm glad you're sane. We can start trying to fix your rep after we finish taking out the trash in the Bay."

Taylor snorted, the grin spreading back on her face. "See, Lisa, now you're talking like a member of the Teeth."

Author's Notes:

Pen: Lisa is such a fun character to work with. Up next? The Wards debrief.

First: Many, many thanks to Slider214 , Atlasofremembrance , manicMagician , and the rest for their help with this chapter!

Last edited: May 19, 2023

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Pendragoon

Mar 11, 2022

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Threadmarks Interlude 2.a

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Pendragoon

Pendragoon

She/Her

Mar 18, 2022

#5,030

Thursday, April 14th 2011

Amy hated the tiny shiver that crawled down her spine as she entered PRT HQ. Like so many other parts of her life, she knew that specific fear was a totally irrational and nonsensical emotion; but like her forbidden feelings for Vicky and her smoldering contempt for her patients, Amy was no more able to dispel the unwanted feelings than she was able to fly.

She was a hero.

She hadn't done anything wrong.

Yet, the little voice in the back of her mind whispered.

"So Ames, you actually talked to the Butcher?" Vicky asked as soon as they were away from the receptionist with their visitor lanyards. "What did she say? Did she want your bones for her costume?"

"Hardly," Amy replied sarcastically. "She apologized for making work for me, and promised not to harm the Wards too badly."

Vicky snorted in derision. "Sure, right. Are you sure she wasn't pulling your leg?"

"We both know what Butcher does to legs," Amy muttered, then nearly bit her tongue.

That got an amused huff from her sister. "Someone's feeling particularly dark and morbid today."

Now she was tempted to threaten Vicky with an actual pig nose, but if the pig in charge ever learned she could do that… Yeah, Amy was keeping that comment to herself for the moment.

Truth be told, Amy wanted Weaver to have some nefarious scheme to… do something. Villainous, probably. The idea that the crazy, reincarnating serial killer had just stumbled upon the Undersiders robbing a bank, taken control of their team, and set Amy free was just too absurd to take seriously. She must have had some sort of unhinged plan that involved reassuring Amy while she used her bugs to direct the other hostages out and into Grue's fog.

Amy really didn't want to consider a world in which Weaver set her free because it was the right thing to do. She didn't like the idea that the Wards had shot first when Weaver offered to avoid the fight, and she certainly didn't want to think about the fact that Weaver had barely even hurt the Wards in their mockery of a 'battle.'

No, the Butcher was a villain, and believing otherwise was just basically flinging herself into the arms of villainy. Amy had worked far too long for far too little to throw everything away now, and it didn't matter how much she felt a deeply-buried sympathy for the girl with the scary power who had wanted to be a hero.

There were definitely days that Amy wished that she had not asked Vicky about the PRT's attempt to send the Butcher to the Birdcage. It would have been so easy to just buy the party line: Butcher was always crazy, and her 'heroism' had merely been her efforts to cripple one of the Teeth's primary competitors, or the last throes of a girl falling to madness. But Amy had been morbidly curious, and Carol's refusal to even consider that the Butcher could be a hero had sounded uncomfortably similar to the stigma surrounding wet Tinkers.

Had Weaver been doomed from the beginning?

"Ames?"

They were standing in front of the elevator down to the Wards quarters; Amy hadn't realized that they were stopped until Vicky's voice dragged her out of her increasingly cluttered headspace. She ignored the lump in her throat at the thought of the elevator — she knew it could go the other direction, unlike some — and followed her sister down to the Wards area. The doors opened to reveal the assembled (and red-stained) Wards sitting around a whiteboard, with Assault and Battery standing nearby. The former was trying to balance a marker upright on his finger.

Amy noted, with some amusement, that the room smelled like tomato sauce.

"I hope you guys didn't start without us!" Vicky's enthusiasm was to be expected, if Amy was being honest. The Wards' sound defeat at the hands of the Butcher or no, the insane villain was a fascinating case study in parahuman studies. Ever since the Teeth had arrived in the Bay, Vicky had obsessed over learning more about how the Butchers' powers changed and interacted, and a meeting like this was like catnip to her.

"No, we've been waiting," Amy's least favorite Ward said acidly. "You didn't even fight the bitch —"

"Language," Battery admonished at exactly the same time Dennis said, "Wasn't she robbing the vault?"

The red-headed annoyance in question turned her stare on Dennis, who flashed her an amused smirk that didn't quite reach his eyes. Amy knew Emma Barnes tangentially through Carol's law firm, so she was understandably displeased upon meeting Meteor with her mask off for the first time. It had also not helped Amy's first impression of Sophia Hess, and it said much that the latter was willing to associate with the Barnes girl out-of-costume.

Amy knew that she herself wasn't the nicest, warmest, or most bubbly person around, but she took some solace in knowing that she wasn't as awful as the three newest Wards. Oh sure, Madison Clements wasn't quite as bad as the other two — she mostly made excuses for them, and Amy had heard her laugh at their 'jokes' — but her black-and-blue checkered costume could often be found not far from wherever Emma and Sophia were wasting perfectly good air talking together.

Now, though, Madison seemed… deflated. Not just literally, of course (her 'combat form' was both impressive and intimidating); she was slumped in a chair by herself and staring listlessly at the wall behind the whiteboard. Admittedly, the rest of the team wasn't in much better condition, but Emma kept shooting the Changer a series of confused and angry glances that Amy couldn't bring herself to care about.

Amy wasn't a Ward… thank god. The culture and drama would have driven her mad.

"Well, now that we're all here," Assault said, clapping his hands and cutting off an argument that Amy had been studiously ignoring. "Let's talk about the Undersiders."

Emma scoffed. "Why not Butcher? She's obviously the real threat here."

A look of disappointment passed over Assault's face so fast that Amy thought she might have hallucinated it. "Perhaps, but Weaver is a mostly known quantity. The Undersiders, on the other hand, changed their modus operandi from 'espionage' to 'high stakes heist,' which makes them interesting to start with."

Amy didn't fail to notice that Assault used Butcher's old name, which made her wonder what they would call Amy after she herself snapped. It probably wouldn't be pretty, probably something horrible like Nilbog or Bonesaw or —

"Ames?"

"Sorry, repeat the question?" Amy asked, ignoring Vicky's concerned expression.

Assault tapped on the board, where the four Undersiders each had their own column alongside Weaver. "You're the one who saw the Undersiders arrive. Do you have anything to add?"

"Not really. Hellhound had her dogs. Grue filled the room with smoke, and I couldn't see or hear anything until it dissipated. They didn't take any hostages or even seem to care that we were there apart from making sure we all sat quietly." Amy ran the moment back through her head, but nothing stood out. "I saw Regent and Tattletale, but they ran into the back immediately."

"Thank you, Amy," Assault said, voice oddly serious. "Some of the civilians reported the same, but it's nice to know that they were all present. Did you get anything about their powers?"

Amy shook her head once, ignoring the Wards' questioning looks. "Nope, just Grue's. I don't even think they realized I was there until Weaver showed up."

"Wait, really?" Carlos asked. "I thought Tattletale was supposed to be psychic?"

"That's not supposed to be possible," Vicky replied. "I don't think that's right, but she is supposed to be a Thinker. Maybe she's just not very powerful? Or maybe she's just kinda dumb?"

"Taking Panacea hostage is a hell of an oversight," Madison mumbled. There were definitely days that Amy wished that the girl was less of a stupid bitch, because she was kinda cute when she wasn't being Browbeat (and certainly wasn't Victoria).

Assault shook his head. "Smart supervillains downplay their powers." Still, he wrote 'possibly dumb?' under Tattletale's column. "Ok, what else do you have for me?" When the Wards just traded defeated glances without offering up further comments, Assault sighed and gestured with one hand. "Alright, fine. What did we learn about Weaver?"

"She's afraid of getting burnt by my power," Emma said immediately, looking inordinately smug at the declaration. "When we were fighting, Butcher managed to deflect or parry all of my attacks and made sure I wasn't hurt physically. I think she also fireproofed her costume, because even at full blast I barely singed the fabric."

Amy noted that Emma didn't mention how she folded like a flaming origami when Butcher hit her with the pain blast.

"Weaver is scary good at CQC," Madison said next. "No matter how I tried to hit or grapple her, she turned every attack. But she didn't actually hurt me, or even attack much herself. Honestly, I think we got played."

"You think?" Missy spat. "I didn't even get to do anything!"

"Hey, me neither," Dennis interjected. "But honestly, that's better than having to deal with her bugs."

Dean groaned at that. "Tell me about it…"

"So, Quarrel's power still works around corners?" Vicky asked suddenly. At everyone's incredulous looks, she continued. "Butcher's power always weakens on transfer, so it would be nice to know her limits there."

"The dagger she threw at my cannon swerved upwards at the last moment," Chris said miserably. Amy would have felt bad about the loss of his tech, but it had exploded rather violently and knocked her onto her butt, hard.

"Good to know," Assault said. "And the bolts she threw back at you guys?"

"Why did you idiots even try to shoot her?"

Amy was surprised as the rest to discover that she had been the one to ask the question. Emma and Sophia were angry, of course, with the latter spitting, "What?" The rest of the Wards, on the other hand, seemed mildly curious. Dean, the empathic fuck, was staring at her, too.

Amy's mouth continued to run without checking in with the rest of her brain. "I mean, she didn't hurt you guys… apart from fucking over your pride, maybe. But what if she really didn't want to start that fight? She talked to me in the bank, and made it sound like she just wanted to deal with the Undersiders."

Emma wasn't having it. "Oh, come on! Do you really think that Butcher was going to let us go? She was always going to fight us, and at least Sophia tried to get the drop on her!"

"She's a combat precog, you —" Vicky started, only to be cut off by Battery.

"Your instructions were not to engage," the heroine said seriously. "While it is true that we certainly can't trust villains to keep their word about fighting, deliberately provoking…"

Amy tuned out the rest as Battery admonished the Wards for escalating unnecessarily in a potential hostage situation. From the sounds of it, Emma and Sophia were in for a lot of paperwork and console duty, neither of which Amy cared about beyond the displeased frowns on the other girls' faces. Then there was Kid Win, who was in even deeper shit for using potentially lethal weaponry on the Butcher of all people.

No, what filled Amy's mind was the implication of her earlier words. Did she really want to admit to trusting Butcher, even a little bit? It was a wrong feeling; bad, villainous… even if the villain in question had seemed genuinely upset that Amy had been among the hostages. Maybe if Amy had met Butcher before the latter's descent into criminal madness, she wouldn't have felt so… wrong.

Who knows? Maybe if they had both kept their terrifying powers secret, they could have been friends.

Of course, that was the issue that Amy was so desperate to avoid thinking about. It was so much easier to just believe that the Butcher had always been a villain; that all of her plans were for her own gain, and that she was just as insane as everyone believed. Because if Weaver really had been pushed off the cliff instead of jumping herself, if she really had been a hero that was too scary to be allowed to exist…

"… and you just expected us to stand there?" Oh look, Emma was trying to yell at Battery.

"We expect you to —"

The heroine's retort was cut off by the sudden klaxon of an alarm, which jolted all of the Protectorate heroes out of their seats and into combat stances. Vicky practically launched herself at Amy, positioning herself in front of the healer in a protective stance. The Wards, unsurprisingly, were all masked up within seconds.

"Weaver just crashed through a window and broke into the evidence storage," Assault announced, striding for the elevator. "Goddamn it…"

"Stay here, and do not engage if Butcher appears." Battery ordered, following the other hero. "We don't think she would come this way, but we're not sure —"

"She's after the minigun, and the foam sprayers in the room are jammed," Assault said as the door shut. "I told them —"

"Don't worry Ames, I'll protect you," Vicky declared. Amy didn't want to admit that for all that the hopefully-crazy villain was raiding the PRT, she felt strangely unafraid. Butcher had let her go once already today, and had even apologized to her about making more work.

Right, yeah — hurting the Wards would definitely mean more work for Amy. Hell, hurting anyone in the building would likely mean she would be asked to heal them. So while the Wards and Vicky were becoming more and more agitated as the klaxons blared and their communicators squawked, Amy simply did her best to relax. There was little doubt in her mind that Butcher was going to retrieve her minigun, and Amy amused herself by imagining the look on Carol's face when the news broke.

The tense silence was broken by Butcher herself, appearing with a loud crack and a flash of flames. As usual, Butcher was decked out with far more weapons than any one cape could possibly need, except now she also had her signature minigun slung over her shoulder. Amy couldn't see the madwoman's face, but there was little doubt in her mind that Weaver was grinning… well, like a crazy person.

Which she was, of course.

"Hello again!" Weaver said cheerfully, bugs buzzing along with her as they crawled out of every shadow. "Thanks for holding onto this for me," she wiggled the minigun, "and my apologies Panpan, for inconveniencing you yet again. I'd offer to go another round or two with the Wards, but unfortunately I'm on a bit of a schedule today so I must hurry along. First, however…"

Amy spared a glance for Meteor and Stalker, who seemed poised to repeat their earlier idiocy and provoke yet another fight with the Butcher. However, before anyone could do something stupid, Butcher pulled a square device out of her pocket that was covered in some fine mesh. She handed it to the swarm of bugs, revealing a… cell phone?

As soon as Butcher turned her back, Amy understood, and barely managed to get her middle finger up in time for the snap of a photo being taken. At least her clothes weren't covered in red stains from the pizza sauce attack at the bank, like the entirety of the Wards save Aegis.

Weaver took a quick look at the screen, nodded, then the madwoman vanished with a muffled pop of displaced air.

For several moments the only sounds in the room were the klaxon of the alarms; Amy was thankful that the containment foam sprayers hadn't triggered due to their guest.

"Did... Did that just happen?" Dennis muttered after an uncomfortably long pause.

"Never mind that," Vicky said as she faced Amy, crossing her arms with a clearly evil smirk on her face. "Did the big bad Butcher just call you Panpan?"

Fuck.

There went her whole evening.

Vicky was never going to let her live this one down…

Yup.

Amy was in hell.

The arrival and subsequent departure of the Butcher had thrown everything for a loop, causing what Amy considered to be an unnecessary amount of panic. Thankfully, as they were not members of the Wards and nobody was hurt, Director Piggot had requested that Amy and Vicky leave while she managed the current crisis. That was fine by Amy, since she didn't want to listen to the annoying Wards any longer than necessary — holy hell were Emma and Sophia bitching up a storm when Amy left, though missing out on what was sure to be a legendary ass chewing was a minor letdown.

Not having to deal with that shitshow should have put Amy in a better mood, as should being carried by her sister, being held as closely as she was, pressed up against her and — No, Amy refused to give into the temptation; she wasn't going to be the monster Carol knew her to be.

She was not going to become a villain.

Even if a villain appeared to be doing better against the Empire than the heroes, at least for the moment…

The Butcher had even kept her word about not making more work for Amy, with no injuries of note between either of her engagements today. A villain had kept their word. Amy was having difficulty remembering the last time a hero had done even that much for her. It wasn't like Weaver woke her up at ass A.M. demanding she heal the very same people that condoned her Aunt Jess' murder!

"Whacha thinkin about?" Vicky asked, startling Amy from her introspection.

Well, an honest answer was out, but maybe something truth adjacent would work. "Just how weird today has been."

Vicky nodded. "Yeah, first you're taken hostage, then rescued by the Butcher of all people, then she takes a selfie of all of us while you flip her the bird!"

Amy had to grab hold as Vicky became more animated. "Please don't drop me!"

"Sorry," Vicky said with a blush that Amy could only see through her power. "Why do you suppose she took that picture anyway? It's not like she could really do anything with it besides show it to the Teeth."

Amy suddenly had a sneaking suspicion deep in her gut. "Does she have a PHO account?" Vicky's eyes widened in panic as they worked together to get Amy's phone out, opening up the Brockton Bay subforum. Sure enough, there was a post near the top by Weaver, proving that she not only had an active account, but had indeed posted the picture for all to see.

Which she now had to explain to Carol.

Joy.

Worst of all, there were multiple staff posts attached to the thread, and Amy's heart sank as she quickly investigated. Since everyone with a secret identity was masked, the moderators allowed it to remain up. Thus, a picture of Panacea flipping the bird to the motherfucking Butcher had now gone viral.

Ninety pages of comments, over one hundred thousand hits, in barely an hour. Amy took some solace in avoiding having pizza sauce all over her own clothes by distancing herself from the battle, as the PRT had needed to comment several times that the red stains were not, in fact, blood… not that anyone bought that.

Apparently, Amy was now a 'certified badass,' according to PHO. A small consolation prize for the ass chewing to come. Vicky's flight had slowed to a crawl as the pair browsed the thread, reading the comments and the ongoing debate. Amy had to suppress a chuckle when she saw Meteor earn herself a threadban — it served that Barnes bitch right.

The fact that the Butcher was remaining civil, and respecting all of the forum rules, and had even had the foresight to get the thread preapproved by the moderation team… Was the Butcher actually insane? Amy was beginning to have doubts that she didn't want to have.

Even with the slow flight, they arrived back home far sooner than she would have liked, and it was time to face the music. Vicky was still riding high on the amusement of the thread itself, and had already saved the picture to her phone and set it as her lock screen. 'To commemorate her badass sister,' she had said.

Carol, on the other hand, was much less pleased. Her adoptive mother was waiting at the door when Vicky landed, and there were cracks in her mask of perpetual stoic disappointment. "Victoria, Amelia. Come inside immediately."

The sisters shared an eye roll after Carol turned her back, but dutifully followed her into the house. Mark was in his customary armchair in the living room, so Amy and Vicky sat down next to each other on the couch to receive whatever lecture Carol had prepared this time.

She took a seat in her own chair and took a deep breath as if gearing up for another stern lecture about how disappointed she was at something Amy had, or hadn't done, or to fawn over her favored daughter for protecting Amy against the villain of the hour. She was just so tired of it that she could—

"I'm glad you're both unharmed."

Amy blinked.

"That isn't to say that I'm not upset with you, but…" Carol took another deep breath. "But first and foremost, you're both safe. That's the most important thing. Unfortunately, Victoria, while I commend your eagerness to protect your sister, you should have called me before joining such a dangerous and ill-advised operation against the Butcher."

"Oh come on, Weaver didn't even hurt anyone!"

Carol's eyes flashed dangerously. "You have no idea the depths of the Butcher's viciousness. As someone who has fought her several times in the past —"

"She's different now, Mom," Vicky said. "I've been keeping notes, and —"

"We are not having this conversation again, Victoria. And in any case, you're grounded for a week for not following protocol." Carol turned her attention to Amy, who had to fight an urge to curl inwards. "Amy, as the Butcher has taken an unhealthy interest in you, I want you to be accompanied by someone at all times when not in the house."

What the fuck!?

Carol couldn't be serious!

"Why would the Butcher care about me, of all people?" Amy asked acidly.

An unreadable expression passed over Carol's face. "I have reason to believe that the Butcher might target you due to your birth parents," she said slowly. "We took steps to protect you, but…"

Amy knew precious little about her biological parents, except that her father was a supervillain. So much had made sense when she discovered that fact, and every day she strove to not follow in his footsteps. Carol had never volunteered any information — indeed, Amy had overheard what little she knew — and so Amy couldn't help herself but ask, "Why?"

Carol shared a single glance with Mark. "It's not important right now."

"I think it is, if Butcher is going to come after me."

"Amelia," Carol retorted sharply. "Now is not the time. I will tell you if it becomes relevant. Now, for the moment your sister can accompany you to the hospital in lieu of being grounded, but I will make other arrangements next week."

"Fine," Amy grumbled at the same time Vicky said, "Yeah, alright."

Carol gave them one more glance that softened considerably. "Your safety is my primary concern, girls. Butcher XV is far more dangerous than she appears, so please stay safe."

Amy and Vicky took the offered dismissal and escaped to their own bedrooms, with Vicky agreeing to head to the hospital later.

Amy almost asked her to go immediately, but she wanted to get her head in order first. She flopped onto her bed as the conversations over the day replayed in her mind, starting with Butcher's oddly considerate bank robbery and finishing with Carol's tidbit about Amy's parents.

Why would the Butcher target Amy? Why was Carol so unwilling to discuss how Butcher XV was different? Why was Butcher so… nonchalant? Why did Amy find it impossible to believe, deep down, that Weaver was as bad as everyone so desperately wanted to assume? Why did she feel drawn to the latest incarnation of the terror that kept the Triumvirate up at night?

She doubted she would find answers to these questions at the hospital, but it might help clear her head. Idly, she pulled out her phone and flipped to the video she had recorded and pressed play, watching as Weaver once again made a complete joke out of the Wards. Her video even showed Weaver's speech about not wanting to start anything, and Stalker shooting first.

She was so calm, so self assured and there was little doubt that Weaver was in control. She watched Browbeat fall and caught something she had missed in the chaos; a scoreboard made of bugs at least a dozen feet wide as the bugs shifted from a two, into a three.

Amy frantically searched through the PHO threads and frowned. There wasn't a single mention of the scoreboard on the site, and the few videos featured missed the run up to the fight, as well as the scoreboard. Hers was the best by far, but she couldn't risk uploading it on her Panacea account. Carol would ground her until menopause. She checked her civilian account, but it was still banned after her last argument on the creative writing subforums.

Fuck it, Amy couldn't deal with this right now. She stood up and marched over to Vicky's room and, after a moment of hesitation, she knocked. "Vicky, I changed my mind. Let's head in early, I don't feel like being cooped up in the house right now."

"You sure Ames? You know you spend too much time there as it is."

"Yeah, yeah, but at least it isn't here."

"True enough, wanna drive or take the Glory Girl express?"

Amy shrugged, fighting the urge to blurt what she really wanted. "Let's take your car this time. It's less obvious and we should probably keep a low profile at the moment."

"Afraid your newest admirer might come knocking?" Vicky asked with waggling eyebrows.

Fuck, deflect. Deflect!

"Please, like Weaver would come looking for me at the hospital."

Vicky affixed her with a flat glare. "Amy, that is literally the first place I go to check if I'm searching for you."

Amy's shoulders slumped. "Point made… Let's just go."

She needed the monotony of healing the never ending tide of ungrateful pricks right now, and who knew, maybe she would get to refuse services to a Nazi or three in the process. If there was anything Weaver and her Teeth had been good for, it was that.

Author's Notes:

Pen: Amy is a broken mess, but she's a snarky mess! Next time? Someone has a REALLY bad day.

FS: Turns out, Butcher XV knows a thing or two about presentation.

Manic: Amy!

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Mar 18, 2022

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Threadmarks Interlude 2.c

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Pendragoon

Pendragoon

She/Her

Mar 25, 2022

#5,520

Thursday, April 14th 2011

Plans rarely went so well in Coil's experience. There had been a minor hiccup here and an outright failure there over the past several weeks, but he'd finally done it: he had acquired his pet. Dinah Alcott was currently being attended to by Mr. Pitter, who was probably his most loyal hired hand if only due to his pastimes and how much information he had on the man that he could use to bury him if the time ever came.

Not that a bullet wouldn't be simpler, but where was the fun in that?

His safe timeline was still running, where he had called the Undersiders off of the robbery, giving them his base offer of five thousand dollars each for their troubles. The Butcher then hit the PRT building minutes later and caused the distraction for him by stealing back her minigun. Unfortunately, Dinah had escaped his clutches in that reality thanks to Vista.

He had honestly expected something terrible to happen when the girl's parents had been killed during her successful capture, like Butcher just stumbling upon the attempt like had happened the week prior. Her parents weren't supposed to be at Truman Intermediate when his men went to acquire her, nor were they expected to be outside to take her home. Earlier, he had forced her to overuse her power with false starts and such, so perhaps he shouldn't have been so surprised she asked to be taken home. It hadn't done her any good in the end but he had to applaud her tenacity in his many failed attempts.

The death of two minor players in the city was an acceptable loss in his mind since he had no intention of ever releasing such a useful tool, and the knowledge that they were dead would be a potent reminder when she tried to rebel. He just wished his new pet was in a state to answer his questions. Even a single one would help matters greatly in choosing a reality to settle upon.

His Undersiders had hit Brockton Central exactly as planned, the Wards had responded in force, including Vista, preventing the Shaker from being there to help her little friend like she had in his failed attempt. Knowing they were friends however? He would use that knowledge to great effect.

Circus proved their worth by making contact with Uber and Leet and bringing the bungling pair onboard; they had served as an adequate distraction for Assault and Battery. With everything going off as planned, he just knew that something was coming.

What he had never expected was for the Butcher to interfere at the Bank itself. The girl had returned to the Teeth the same night as Emily's failed attempt at removing her from the board. An unfortunate outcome, but better in the long run, especially since this new Butcher was crippling his problems for him.

It would be a simple matter to prolong that conflict and weaken both sides further. Already he had arranged a leak of when the most recent captures would be transported away to make it back to Kaiser. Having moles in the right places was always worth the expense.

He just needed to ensure the Butcher remained pointed at the Empire for the time being, once his pet was ready, taking over the city would be child's play for him. A pre-cog and one of the strongest Thinkers on the coast, both at his full disposal along with his own power? He would be untouchable.

If only getting information on Butcher XV wasn't so damn difficult. He had extensive files on both Damascian and Quarrel, from before and after their taking of the title, but Weaver had been a new cape when she killed XIV, so there was no baseline to compare it to.

His moles and connections with the PRT weren't faring any better. Ever since the failed capture attempt Emily had locked down everything she could involving the girl; everything was off the books and 'need to know' until things settled. She cited op-sec as the reason for not informing him of the details of Butcher XV's recent activities which suggested there was a lot more to it than she was letting on.

Not that he could ask his informants with the Teeth anything, because he had none. His last attempt had ended in blood, with Big Robbie claiming the head of his attempted plant. In retrospect, using a man who was former Empire might not have been the most effective of tactics given the man's history. Robbie then made a point of informing the entire gang that Coil was without honor and that anyone seen associating with his 'gang' would become his next arena bitch. There was nothing more he could do as that man was practically a religious figure within the Teeth; none would defy him, not even the capes.

He had been extremely surprised when the Butcher of all people confronted the Wards, with a revised costume that fit her persona as the Butcher in full. He hadn't seen any missing persons reports about someone matching XV's description, which meant her civilian identity might still be intact. It wasn't much, but it led further credibility to the theory that some aspect of her power kept the madness at a more manageable level.

Coil had found himself caught completely off-guard by Butcher's public declaration that she was claiming the Undersiders as her own. That had barely sunk in when Butcher helped the Undersiders escape… by covering the Wards with pizza sauce.

The media, however, ran with it being blood and thought the PRT's excuse that it was pizza sauce to be a horrifically poor attempt at a cover up. Coil had allowed himself a belly laugh of amusement over that, as Emily could hardly have come out of that interaction looking worse. He had also noted that there were Wards who still had twitchy trigger fingers when it came to Butcher XV, a fact that he could very easily make use of later.

Then, less than thirty minutes after thoroughly embarrassing the PRT in public, Butcher provided even more ammunition for Coil's war against Emily. She had stolen her signature minigun back with relatively little effort (apart from some jammed foam sprayers), then teleported down into the Wards' common room for a victory photo. Between Panacea's raised middle finger and the red stains decorating the Wards' costumes, Coil had wished that he had access to that security footage.

Butcher XV was proving to be quite a PR disaster for Emily, working better than many of Coils' own planned schemes. He had managed to keep his name out of the push to have the girl relocated to the Birdcage, thanks to words judiciously whispered in the right ears, which positioned him perfectly once Butcher inevitably stepped too far out of line.

Now, though, Coil was annoyed. He glanced at his computer and frowned under his costume — his Tattletale was late for her check in. When Butcher claimed the Undersiders, she made no attempt to pursue them when they fled the bank, and so he had assumed they escaped safely. That may not have been the case after all. Had the Butcher managed to capture the Undersiders on top of securing her minigun?

As a precaution, he scheduled a message to be sent in twenty-four hours to some of his contacts within the E88 to arrange an unfortunate accident for one Aisha Laborn, in the event the Undersiders flipped on him and it escaped his mind later on.

Losing the Undersiders would be a blow, but one he could recover from if he could convince Accord to give up the Travelers. No, it was losing his Tattletale that would be painful; she may have been annoying, but her power was too useful to just discard. That was why he had brought the safe version of her in to help locate her missing counterpart, but the safe timeline Tattletale was currently failing miserably. She had rapidly developed a headache, an issue not helped by the constant attempts to follow branching thoughts with her power.

Having his pet fully leashed would have made this trivial, and no doubt the Tattletale across from him knew what his decision would be, but she held her tongue as the minutes ticked by. He was just about to call it a wash and collapse the reality with a spent Tattletale when his phone rang in the reality where he had secured his pet. Coil smiled under his mask, his Tattletale was finally contacting him.

"Tattletale, you're late."

"Boss! Oh thank god!" That was not a reaction he ever expected to hear from the girl. "Butcher grabbed us in civvies after we got away, she's got us back at the Teeth's lair and is conscripting us!"

"Calm down and explain."

"No time. One of their members tried to…" She choked up. "I stole his phone, I need to tell you what I can so you can drop this fucked up bullshit and make preparations! They're doing military drills, serious training shit. Regent's missing, Grue's in the pits and Bitch is apparently getting chummy with Animos."

"What about you?"

"Weaver has taken a… personal interest in me."

"I see." Now that he knew where she was, mounting an eventual retrieval would be easy enough with a few attempts and his pet.

"You want to keep this side of the coin… Christ… Can you at least give me a flip to try and escape?"

She wanted him to risk a split on her, was there much of a risk to it? In his soon to be discarded reality he brought his attention back towards his Tattletale.

"You heard from her?" Tattletale asked with a wince of pain. "She's not safe is—"

"The Butcher and the Teeth have captured the Undersiders. Regent is likely dead with Grue soon to join. They seem to have recruited Bitch."

He very pointedly didn't mention her own fate, forcing her to stretch her power further, watching intently as she suffered to glean those scraps of detail he hadn't stated.

"You're going to sacrifice them, because you got what you were after… Who you were after, and reclaiming me is all you care about."

"Brilliant as always my dear little pet," Coil said smugly as he stood and leveled a pistol at her. "I'll enjoy breaking you once again."

His gun fired once, striking Tattletale in the heart. He would have taken his time killing her, but he always loved watching the life fade from her eyes. With a sigh, he collapsed that reality.

"Very well, Tattletale." He split reality again. "You have your net, stay where you are."

In his new split: "You have your net, good luck with your escape."

In both he heard her say in stereo. "Thanks boss."

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, alarms started blaring in and around his underground base. It took Coil a moment to process that he was hearing the sounds in both realities; he pressed the intercom and screamed, "Status report!" When no reply came, he returned to his call. "Tattletale, what did you do!?"

"Returned the favor, nothing more." The line went dead as he realized that Tattletale had replied in exactly the same way in the reality he hadn't asked her. Had the entire conversation been a recording?

Wondering just what the hell was happening in his base — and putting Tattletale's treachery out of his mind, she would pay — Coil forced himself to calm down and examine the security feeds from around his lair.

Almost immediately, he wished he had not.

The Teeth were known up and down the east coast for their brutality and berserker madness. Coil had tested his forces against the group in several timelines when they first moved in, tweaking his contingency plans to ensure that the Teeth couldn't take him unaware. They were easy to distract, often on mind-altering substances, and the capes' tactics were entirely focused on backing up their crazed leader.

Now, Coil watched as heavily armed Teeth screamed into his base with something approaching coordination, following bugs as guides. As best he could tell, they had used breaching charges on the outer door, and his men were unable to return fire due to XV's bugs swarming them. The automatic defenses fared no better, and Coil thought he saw an arrow sticking out of one of the turrets.

A field of translucent razor spikes started to appear on the lower level just as the Teeth approached the main part of the base, and soon after the catwalks were overwhelmed with Spree clones. Where they couldn't just push or throw Coil's men to their pointy death, the clones tore the catwalks apart and sent everyone tumbling down.

Coil's blood ran cold when he realized that the Teeth were laughing while they killed. Trained mercenaries his men might be, they still broke when the Teeth used their fallen comrades as impromptu shields and their limbs as clubs. Some were even lobbing severed heads as projectiles.

All the while, Butcher used her bugs to direct the battle from afar, never appearing on the battlefield herself. Coil's men shot lasers into bug clones while Animos charged out from behind the swarm with a mouth full of mercenary; Hemorrhagia fell upon a group of snipers after being led around the back by bugs. Men screamed as their eyes were devoured and their friends were torn apart.

In the face of the sheer brutality of the Teeth's attack, Coil had briefly forgotten that he had two timelines with which to salvage this disaster.

In one, he attempted to place a call, only to find his cell phone lacked signal of any kind — even the wifi was dead. A signal jammer then. His landline proved to be no better, greeting him with silence when he picked up the handset. In the other reality, he frantically tried his radio, hearing only static and the occasional distorted scream.

While one instance started adjusting the radio, trying to find a workable frequency, the other abandoned the phones and sat down at the computer. Coil was unsurprised to find his internet access disabled, but he still was able to operate the base's internal control systems. That proved just as futile when all of the base's turrets were inoperable due to 'mechanical errors.'

An explosion on one monitor drew his attention — Butcher had arrived in the armory and was fighting the men that were there to resupply. The men barely had time to realize that the Butcher had arrived before they flew into a frenzy, many resorting to using their loaded guns as clubs instead. She disabled the whole group with laughable ease. Coil could only grit his teeth in frustration as yet another critical point was lost to the band of madmen.

Coil had to stop himself from throwing the radio in frustration. What good was his power if he was trapped in his office while his men died and his organization crumbled? He didn't want to abandon the base until —

A sudden, loud crack outside his office drew his attention, rattling his nerves and door both. Given that she had just vanished, it was obviously Butcher. Coil found some slight comfort in knowing that even Glory Girl couldn't just rip his door down, but like the rest of the base's defenses, tests against the rest of the Bay's sane denizens meant little in the face of the insanity he now faced.

His only solace was that the Tinkertech bug zappers in the vents around his office seemed to be doing their job. He'd bought Toybox's entire supply when he first learned of Weaver and commissioned as many units as they could make as a rush order. The few units they had on hand were barely enough to shield his office, but it was keeping him alive for the moment. Unfortunately, that just let Coil watch the security feeds.

The main part of the base was a complete loss — Vex had turned the whole room into a deathtrap to the point that the Teeth themselves pulled out. Unfortunately, his panicked men would still try to retreat there.

Coil muted that camera.

Once it was clear that they couldn't beat the Butcher with strategy, whoever was left of his command structure ordered what men they could contact to fall back to the command post. His mercenaries proved their worth, as they were quick to establish defensive lines behind solid cover — not that it would do much good against the Teeth capes.

That ended up being a mistake as well, as Butcher herself reentered the battle with an explosion of flame and fury and set about cutting down his men like some sort of goddess of battle. His mercenaries may as well have been cheap ragdolls in the face of Butcher's onslaught as she picked them all apart with insulting ease. Even the Tinkertech lasers failed to pierce the shields that one of her many powers granted. Thirty seconds later his men were all on the ground and XV vanished with a puff of smoke.

Stalling Butcher turned out to be pointless, and Coil learned another interesting tidbit — Butcher was more than capable of fighting while directing the battle elsewhere. He could see the symbols form on the walls or in the air, directing the Teeth to their next slaughter, or to wait until some other piece was in place, all while the Butcher lived up to her name. Coil started to truly worry there, because it meant that any effort to distract her would be a waste of what little time remained before he was out of men and options.

All the while, Butcher's bugs were clustering on the camera lenses of the Teeth's conquered rooms, slowly strangling Coil's ability to witness the battle. He was almost relieved when several of those went dark, because the Teeth were apparently not in the mood to take prisoners.

Coil felt a bit of relief when he spotted Trainwreck on one of his screens as he smashed a random Teeth psycho into the concrete. At least that asset was finally earning his worth. The rest of the Teeth gave the hulking Tinker some space, their guns proving ineffective against the armor. To his surprise they didn't waste much ammo trying anyway.

Then a muscular man stepped forward, the Teeth deferring to his instructions. He had more trophies adorning his 'costume' than any other person he had seen within the Teeth so far. In his hand was a massive meat cleaver, dripping with blood. He stepped forward, undaunted by the Cape before him.

Trainwreck took offense to that and attempted to repeat the previous showing, but Coil's stomach sank just as quickly as Trainwreck's arm hit the ground, no longer attached. The man didn't even slow down as he brought the cleaver around for another swing before the screaming cape could react. Coil could do nothing as he watched Trainwreck get carved up until the only thing left was the severed head of the Case 53 that was now being held aloft.

Coil was definitely going to have nightmares about Big Robbie and his Tinkertech meat cleaver for a long time. What good was spending so much to hire a Cape if they were just going to die like the common mercenary? He couldn't even contact Circus to recall them back to base to help in the defense.

Damn that treacherous Tattletale. When he found her again, he was going to make her wish that the Teeth hadn't gotten their claws into her.

Recognizing the situation for what it was, he knew what he needed to do. In one reality, he took a moment to arm the self destruct, then moved towards his emergency escape hatch while his other self kept an eye on the darkening security feeds. The hatch's motors strained against an obstruction before Coil heard a loud pop within the wall and smoke began to emanate from the wall panel.

In both timelines, he twitched. The combat in the base had finally reached the hallway outside of his door, and on his monitor he could see the last of his men die to a particularly enthusiastic Reaver. That monitor went dark, and on the last functioning camera, he saw Butcher XV approach the door to his office.

Coil had interacted with her multiple times, in various throwaway realities just to see how open to recruitment she might be. At the first meeting, she hit his body double with a pain blast then dragged him to the PRT. Every meeting he attempted after that went the same way, and any attack on her for capture failed spectacularly; but his efforts had helped plot Emily's own failed capture attempt. It was a pity Butcher hadn't killed Vista like he hoped. That would have made capturing his pet all the simpler…

As he continued to watch the video feed in one timeline, he triggered the final failsafe on his computer, wiping the drives and erasing everything pertaining to his financial empire. He could always reclaim everything for a fee from the Number Man. It galled Coil that his only option was to contact Cauldron for an extraction, but he certainly wasn't going to risk running towards the madmen storming his base.

It was then that he noticed a singular fly emerge from the vent above his office, one that was there in both realities, flying in an identical path shouldn't have been —

The fly exploded.

Coil was temporarily blinded and deafened by the blast of flame, falling out of his chair in surprise and ending up in an undignified heap on the ground in both timelines. Possible need for parahuman healing for his ears and the important fact that Butcher could teleport to her bugs were about the last things on Coil's mind as he pulled himself up and beheld an armored figure that had haunted his nightmares in one form or another for the past year.

That she was there in both realities posed a major problem, but afforded an equal opportunity all the same. Coil just needed to keep things going until an opportunity presented itself and he could make his escape. Rather than address him, or resort to violence, Butcher instead placed a single hand upon the door.

In the first timeline, he pulled himself to his feet quickly, only to freeze in horror when the metal began to shimmer and reform under Butcher's touch… transforming in exactly the same way in both timelines. The synchronicity of the action despite Coil's own different states suggested Thinker support, and Coil wished he had a third timeline to curse Tattletale's name for giving the Teeth a script for the attack. In retrospect, neither timeline had been vastly in his favor during the entire attack, not that he had retained any control over the situation. Coil was tempted to keep the reality with the self-destruct (only a few minutes away), just to spite the Teeth, but there was still a chance that he could salvage this mess.

However, before he could stand up in the second timeline, he was forced back to the ground by the worst pain he had ever experienced. Lightning and needles made of liquid fire coursed through his veins, sending him into a twitching, screaming mess, and dimly he wondered why things hadn't hurt this bad during his previous tests.

Then again, he had never pissed off the Butcher in both timelines.

Distantly, through his own screams of agony, he heard metal crash to the ground. Coil tried to lift his head to look, but he was in too much pain to even spasm. It was at this point that he realized that there was no salvaging this — Coil was at the mercy of the Teeth and their Butcher. Mercy did not exist in their vocabulary.

Coil was a spiteful man at heart, and if he was going to die, he would take all of them with him in a blaze of ignoble indignation. The Teeth would not lay claim to his kingdom.

Tattletale would not be allowed to look down upon him in defeat.

"This one," a familiar voice said, which meant his hearing wasn't as damaged as he thought. Also, the pain had ceased, a small mercy. Then something SCREAMED.

Like the popping of a soap bubble, he lost the reality where he had been counting down the minutes to the self-destruct. Coil pried his eyes open and saw a monstrous form sticking its head through the enlarged door: Animos, the one cape within the Bay that worried him more than the Butcher. It was a power interaction he had never wanted to test, and now he knew the results.

Somehow, Coil managed to keep himself from simply passing out in fear. He had survived Ellisburg; he could talk his way out of this situation… even if the thought of doing so without his powers nearly made his knees too weak to stand.

However, as soon as he managed to climb to his feet, Butcher reappeared in a flash of fire and pain and a claw wrapped around his throat. "Hello, Coil," Butcher XV growled.

The yellow, reflective lenses of her mask gave a clear reflection of his current state, which was quite thoroughly screwed. A chill crept up his spine as dozens of black widows emerged from the recesses of the Butcher's armor and moved up her arm and onto his costume; he regretted ensuring that his costume was lightweight and breathable.

"B-Butcher," Coil rasped. "What do —"

She squeezed, choking off the words in his constricted throat. There wasn't much hope for the situation if he couldn't speak, and his power was still out of commission. She hadn't killed him yet, which was his only boon; she wanted him alive for something, he just had to hope he could work around it before she had no more use for him.

Behind her, his Tattletale stepped into his office, with another cape following close behind. Vex, one of the few Teeth capes that bothered to maintain anything resembling a civilian identity. He'd tried applying pressure to her a few times, but the girl was a fanatic to her 'family' and refused to break. He had given up on her after two weeks of attempts, content that if it came to it, he could ruin her with a phone call. What concerned him most, was the unconscious girl currently being held in her arms.

His pet.

Tattletale seemed none too pleased by the state of the girl; no doubt she knew that her fate would have been similar if she ever crossed him, which made it all the more puzzling that he was still breathing. Was she already so subservient to the Butcher that she would resist taking revenge on him?

That was a problem for later, right now he had something far more pressing cutting off the circulation to his brain. Right, the Butcher had wanted to be a hero, what remained of her might take offense to his treatment of his pet.

"Dinah Alcott," Tattletale spoke clearly. "She's the Mayor's niece and this bastard used our little robbery as a distraction to liberate her from school."

"We found her hooked up to all kinds of fun drugs," Vex added. "Spree recognized some of it, and there was some really expensive Tinker stuff in there too. That girl would have been open to just about any suggestion he gave within the day, no matter how much it hurt her to do it just to get another hit."

He could see the insects covering the Butcher tremble even as the girl herself remained impossibly still. It was an unnerving sight.

"Death would be a mercy," Butcher XV said without inflection. "No, I'm not." It took Coil a moment to process that she wasn't speaking to anyone present. "Hmm, that could work. Thoughts?" A moment of silence. "It would be too much work, simple is better in this regard."

Coil was confused due to only hearing one of fifteen sides of the conversation, which was hardly conducive to understa—

His world became agony once again as the Butcher's pain projection engulfed his senses far harsher than it had before. It did not waver, it did not relent, and release did not come. The world itself fell away as the agony became his everything. It wasn't until he felt a creeping cold that he realized he had been moved elsewhere.

Blinking his eyes open, he saw Tattletale smiling grimly down at him. The creeping cold was spreading with each beat of his heart, sapping his strength to the point that he could barely track things with his eyes. Attached to his now bare arm was an IV, which he could see was connected to a familiar cocktail of designer drugs he had paid a small fortune for… all for making his pet more agreeable.

Moments later his eyes began to grow heavy as even his heart itself grew cold and seemed to slow from its jackhammer pace. It was ironic that he would suffer the fate he had intended for his pet.

How very much like his Tattletale.

It would be her undoing…

Someday.

Author's Notes:

Pen: Put down the pitchforks for not killing Coil, his role in the story is effectively done and no he won't be coming back in the future for vengeance, just gonna state that here and now to avoid that.

First: Google tried to correct 'lobbing' to 'lobbying,' and I'm honestly not sure which is worse.

1164

Pendragoon

Mar 25, 2022

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Threadmarks Coalescence 2.7

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Pendragoon

Pendragoon

She/Her

Apr 1, 2022

#6,122

Due to the absolutely annoying April Fools joke currently ongoing here on SB, please check out this chapter over on AO3 where it will lack any and all Fox induced shenanigans of any kind.

Show Chapter Archive of Our Own

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative

Thursday, April 14th 2011

I stood alongside Tattletale as we watched Coil slip into the same medically induced coma that he had been saving for Dinah. That these drugs were highly addictive was of little concern to us, given he had intended them for a fucking twelve year old. The Butchers had wanted me to carve him to pieces, leave him a stump of a man, and then prolong his suffering; that I had come so close to doing just that really said something about how much I had changed. Staying my hand after seeing Dinah was harder than I wanted to admit, not that my own hands were clean anymore.

My lines in the sand were growing fainter with each passing day.

"Lines or not, that bastard is the worst kind of human filth," Alkaline sneered.

Fester snarled. "He was keeping a drugged up twelve year old girl! You can't tell me that with his power he wouldn't have —"

You don't have to fucking spell it out, I get it. I have no pity for the monster or those who worked for him, just let me deal with this in my own way, all right?

"Alright kid, just know we're here for you if you need us." For tips, Ironsides didn't say.

Like I could ever forget you're all in here. For now though, I've got shit to do, I can have an existential crisis later.

"It doesn't feel quite real," Tattletale said softly. "This man has controlled my life for the last year. I know he's killed me dozens of times over, tortured me and… worse…"

"And now he'll never be able to hurt you again," I said firmly.

Tattletale shot me an annoyed look. "Are you sure about that? As long as he lives there's a risk that he will escape."

"Precautions will be taken."

"They won't be enough, he'll just keep trying until one of them sticks."

I pulled one of my guns from the holster and offered it to her. "Explosive slug. You could shoot him just about anywhere and it would be lethal."

She blinked for a moment as she looked at the gun. "You do realize I'm not a Brute? This thing would fuck me up as much as it does him."

"Then use your own gun, I don't care," I shrugged. "Way I see it, if anyone has a right to end his life it would be you or Dinah, but she's a bit young for that."

"No tricks?" she asked hesitantly.

"He's a dead man for what he did, I don't care how he gets there. Come up with your own rules for how you want to end him and keep to them. If you need help, just ask and you'll get it."

"You're making it very hard for me to be angry with you."

"I do have a power that could change that," I joked.

Tattletale didn't seem to find my joke as amusing as the chorus.

That reminded me — I hadn't made much use of Marauder's power, though it did have its uses earlier. Unfortunately, the rage aura affected my allies just as fiercely as my enemies, which made the power difficult to use safely. My predecessors often used it to turn a battle into a massive clusterfuck that killed as many of our men as it did the enemy. In many ways, it was a nuclear option that I couldn't afford to abuse.

"Spoilsport," Marauder muttered.

Tattletale gave me a calculating glance. "Of course you're joking… I have no idea how I'm supposed to handle you, Weaver. It's so easy to forget that you're the Butcher when you're like this. You could easily have used fear to control us, at the bank, but that never even crossed your mind… but it did cross the minds of the assholes inside your head, which is honestly disconcerting."

I couldn't help but chuckle. "Circumstances may have made a villain of me, but that doesn't give me the right to use my powers to be an asshole for no reason."

A snort caused Tattletale to jump. I'd known Vex was sneaking up behind us, but didn't want to spoil her fun. "That was literally the first new rule Weaver laid down: 'stop being assholes.' She wasn't fucking kidding that things were changing in the Teeth."

I watched Tattletale's face scrunch up in pain as she turned her power on my girlfriend, and had to fight down the sudden urge to show what happens when me and mine were targeted. It was a near thing, and it didn't help that the chorus was in full agreement.

Just a week ago you wanted me to pursue her, so why are you baying for her blood now?

"Chrissie is one of ours, Tattletale is not," Chisel stated.

Oh, NOW she's Chrissie.

"You're sharing a bed more nights than not, even if you haven't —"

Drop it.

"We're just saying, Lisa has a long way to go before she earns our respect," Alkaline said.

Vex gave Tattletale an affectionate pat on the head. "Let me guess, your little chorus of assholes want you to add this little cutie to the snuggle pile of debauchery."

I gave Vex the most unimpressed deadpan glare I could muster. "You sure that isn't your own desire being projected there?"

"Like they aren't in full agreement."

"Chrissie knows us well!" Pyro cheered.

I found myself pinching my nose, having removed my mask to do so. "Doesn't change what I said."

Vex grinned and stuck her tongue out in a way that I found very distracting. I could feel the heat of a forming blush on my cheeks. "So, we getting a new base out of this?"

"That depends on Tattletale," I said, eyeing the foxy blonde.

"You can call me Lisa when the masks are off," she said, removing her own mask. Her left eye twitched when she glanced back at me. "Huh, the Rules are that important to you?"

"I refuse to out people even when it's just a polite fiction. That I even have a civilian life is an outlier that I need people to respect. My secret identity is paper thin just because it flaunts that I even have one. It also lets me rub the PRT's nose into the fact that they can't touch me."

"Which is why you haven't named Vex even though the two of you are dating."

Vex pulled me into a half-hug. "Yeah, Weaver's a real sweetheart like that. I'm Chrissie, by the way."

"Is this a bad time, or are you three having a moment?" Regent asked, his mask was already off, and he was twirling his scepter lazily.

"Oh right, this one. He gives me the creeps." Fester said.

"High functioning sociopath, I'd put money on it." Chisel added.

"Oh shove it Alec." Lisa answered with a roll of her eyes. "You're just jealous."

"Didn't Tattles call him Jean Paul before?" Ironsides reminded us.

"You should probably look into that, if he has more than one identity," Stratego suggested.

"Jean Paul," I said aloud and Regent froze mid laugh. "Interesting reaction, care to explain?"

"Not really." He said flippantly, though bloodsight told me there was genuine panic there. "I'd just rather stay off the radar and keep daddy dearest from coming to collect me."

Ironsides made an unpleasant sound. "His name and accent are French."

"His power is nerve control of some sort, making him a human Master," Chisel continued.

"Shit fuck!" "Taylor, you need to —" "Oh sweet Christ on a cracker, he's —"

My gun was out of its holster and leveled at his head in a blink and though the boy didn't flinch, I did see his heart rate and blood pressure spike all the same. "Explain, because I swear to fuck if 'daddy dearest' comes to my city looking for you…"

"I don't suppose I could deflect from the subject by pointing out that your selfie had a note visible that called Tats 'possibly dumb'? Could we talk about how hilarious that wa—"

I cocked the hammer.

He swallowed. "Was worth a shot."

My finger twitched. "Get to the fucking point!"

"I ran away from home to get away from that shit," he said, the words almost tripping over themselves. "Coil was keeping me safe from him. That was the carrot and stick that he used to keep me on board with the Undies."

The chorus chimed in and I repeated the question. "Explain your full powers, leave nothing out."

"What, afraid of another Master inheriting and booting you like you boot us?" Quarrel said.

Lisa flailed her arms in panic beside me. "His power gets more precise the more time he spends messing with their nerves. Given a few hours to a few days of experimentation, he can Hijack their bodies and pilot them from miles away."

"Give me one reason to not blow his skull open," I said coldly.

"He can't control any of us, and he's been on the team for almost a year. You would know if he was feeling you out."

"It's true. I'm very good at feeling people up," he said with a grin.

My head was filled with fourteen groans as I lowered my gun.

"You should kill him on principle for that one," Pyro muttered.

"I'm half tempted to ship you to the Wards for that." Alec recoiled in mock horror, clutching his chest as if I had actually shot him. I glanced back towards my girlfriend and saw her silently dismissing her forcefields. "You know what, work Coil over and see if you can control his powers too. Consider it an extra contingency."

"Can do, boss lady," Alec said with a mock salute as the tension drained from his body.

I had never been so thankful for the immunity to headaches than I was at that moment. "Back to Chrissie's earlier question; Lisa's the one with access to all of Coil's files and finances, so really, it's up to her if we get a new base or not."

"I thought the Teeth had requirements to join?" Lisa asked hesitantly, as she regained her breath.

"We used to, but a recent change in management has resulted in a handful of significant changes. Grievous physical harm inflicted upon a rival gang is no longer necessary."

"Just like that?" Lisa asked.

I grinned. "It's still heavily encouraged, because fuck Nazis, but just in case I didn't make it clear, the Butcher leads the Teeth. They do what I say or I beat them up."

"You should teach a leadership seminar," Alec deadpanned.

Chrissie and I both broke down laughing; Lisa joined in with a worried chuckle after a few seconds. After all of the horrors of Coil's base, it felt good to laugh… until I remembered that there was a drugged up preteen Thinker who needed my urgent attention.

What, exactly, was I going to do with her?

Usually, when the Butcher kicked down the door and stormed into a building it was practically guaranteed to end in a bloodbath of some sort. However, as the door in question was attached to a hospital and I was both out of costume and carrying a semi-conscious Dinah, I would have to settle for a waiting room's worth of annoyed glances.

"These people have no survival instincts," Sabertooth growled, shaking his head.

Butcher laughed, a sound that I still didn't like. "Well, maybe we should do some natural selection."

"Fantastic idea, start a slaughter in a hospital while the girl still needs help," Chisel said with no small amount of anger.

My civilian clothes had been delivered by motorcycle from the lair, but the front desk staff were much more concerned for the girl in my arms than the Teeth colors of my clothes. The attendant had likely seen much worse than me, and merely frowned as I came up to the desk. "Give me one reason to not call the cops immediately."

"Girl's certainly got a pair on her," Pyro remarked.

Sabertooth somehow sent a mental image of a lewd grin. "Hell yeah she does!"

"Pig," Fester hissed, to which Sabertooth responded by oinking.

Quiet, I thought at them, and aloud said, "The Teeth just carried out an attack on a known villain, and discovered this girl being drugged with a cocktail from hell that even Spree wouldn't touch."

The woman behind the desk gave Dinah a once-over, frowning at the girl's pale complexion and cold sweat. "We can admit her, but there is a bit of a —"

"Stop stalling for the cops or the PRT and just tell me where Panacea is. I was told to bring the girl directly to her, and trust me — you don't want to know what Weaver does to people who don't follow orders."

"Just give us the kid, and we'll make sure Panacea gets to her."

"Not good enough," I said, noting the security guards moving towards me with my bugs. "Where's the healer?"

"We won't —" the woman said, but I had given up on this avenue. I wasn't totally sure what was going to happen if I gave Dinah over, but it was pretty clear that they were not going to tell me where Panacea was. Luckily, my bugs had already located her and Glory Girl, so I summoned a bug arrow pointing down the appropriate hallway.

"Thanks, boss!" I called, ignoring the snickering of the Butchers and shocked expressions of the staff both as I dashed down the hallway. Panacea was on the third floor, which meant I needed the stairwell at the end. I took the stairs three at a time, being careful not to jostle Dinah too much in my arms.

Another bug arrow formed at the top of the stairs, which then dissolved to harass the security sent to intercept me. I felt a bit bad about the cockroaches invading their noses, but Dinah was more important than their temporary discomfort.

"And permanent entomophobia," Alkaline giggled.

I nearly took Glory Girl's fist to the face when I rounded the last corner into the break room, but the flying brick caught herself midair. "Hey, who the hell are you, and what are you doing with that girl!?"

Next to her, Panacea was holding a coffee cup and directing a particularly withering glare at me. With her hood and scarf down, I noted that she was more freckle than skin and had dark bags under her green eyes. The Butchers knew that she was adopted, but rarely was the distinction so obvious.

"Dunno, she's got Brandish's stare down pat," Fester laughed.

Sabertooth snorted. "The frigid cunt would be so proud."

"Look, can we argue about this after Dinah is safe?" I said, holding up the girl for emphasis. "The Teeth found her in an honest-to-god underground supervillain lair, drugged to the gills and unresponsive."

"Set her down here," Panacea said with a scowl, indicating a couch more likely used for sleeping rather than lounging. I made sure to keep a good distance from both of them as I did, as Lisa had warned me about Panacea's absurd power before dropping me off. She may have been one of the few heroes I still respected, but I wasn't going to take any unnecessary risks. Glory Girl was not shy about maneuvering me away from both her sister and Dinah while the former leaned over and finally started to heal the girl.

"Oh, what the fuck?" Panacea choked out as soon as she touched Dinah's skin. "What the hell kind of sicko does this to a kid? Why? This is… fuck, worse than some of the Merchants I saw!"

"Ames? Is she telling —"

Panacea waved an impatient hand at her sister. "Yes she was, fuck. Okay. Tell me again just what the hell happened?"

"So, I'm with the Teeth."

"Obviously," Panacea muttered.

"Someone needs improvements for their bedside manner," Stratego rumbled.

I focused on keeping my expression as neutral as possible. "Anyway, Weaver and the crew raided Coil's base earlier today. He wasn't some tiny player. Huge underground lair, tons of mercs, lasers… he was also backing the Undersiders, apparently, and they sold him out to the Teeth. So they hit the place, wrecked everything, found the girl, and sent me to bring her to Panacea."

Glory Girl tapped at her phone a few times, then gave me a profoundly suspicious expression. "Uh huh. Well, your boss is apparently sending her bugs after security here, so excuse me if I don't believe that you're here just to get the girl healed. You do know that hurting Amy will get your gang taken apart by the heroes, right?" Her statement was punctuated with a pulse of her aura, and I quickly shunted most of the fear responses into my bugs.

"They can certainly try," Marauder sneered.

"Weaver just wanted to make sure that the girl was safe, okay? She also asked me to apologize on her behalf for giving you more work, but this was an emergency." I said, keeping some of that fear in my voice. "I don't want trouble, and it wasn't like I can tell Weaver 'no,' you know?"

"And what are you planning on doing with the girl?" Panacea asked acidly. "Is your asshole boss going to teleport up here and steal her away?"

"And here I thought I was an asshole." Butcher interjected. "She could give us all lessons."

"Hell no," I snapped before remembering my façade. "I mean, Weaver wants her back with her family. She doesn't keep slaves in the Teeth."

"Right," Glory Girl said, still suspicious. "Well, your job is done. Thanks for bringing the girl to Ames, though next time you can just leave her at the front desk, alright?"

I thought back to the room we found Dinah in and shuddered. "Fuck, I hope there isn't a next time. I'm, um, going to go." Neither of the sisters followed me out into the hallway, but they really didn't need to — the PRT and BBPD were setting up around the ground floor of the hospital. The heroes weren't rushing in, but there was no way I would escape without teleporting. Thus, I made my way towards the stairwell, but went up instead of down; bloodsight didn't reveal anyone on the roof or flying nearby. Still, I pulled my hoodie off and turned it inside out before wrapping the bundle around my waist. Then I let down my hair and used Chisel's power to open the door.

As I navigated to a small covered area on the roof with some plastic chairs, Glory Girl and Panacea had a heated but whispered conversation that I strained to hear with bug senses; it seemed like the latter wanted to keep working while the former was concerned for her safety. To my surprise, Glory Girl let herself out of a window and went down to the PRT van waiting in the parking lot, abandoning her sister to be questioned by the PRT.

Meanwhile, I found a few blunts in the pocket of the hoodie, which would have caused problems had I been dumb enough to talk to the cops. Unfortunately, as I lacked a lighter, I was forced to sit in the uncomfortable chair and listen to the chorus prattle on about nothing while making sure that nothing bad happened to Dinah.

"You could always teleport to light something on fire," Pyro suggested gleefully.

"Yes, and alert everyone gathering below that we are still on the premises," Damascian countered.

Sabertooth sighed wistfully. "Why couldn't we have gotten Lung before Taylor? Proper pyrokinesis would be so fun."

"Not to mention his regeneration would actually be useful," Quarrel barbed.

"As always, Quarrel never misses a shot," Damascian muttered.

The heroes eventually sent Triumph up to watch Dinah, and they were making noise about calling her legal guardians. He complained into his communicator until Panacea appeared, only for her to yell at him for wasting her time when she had already healed Dinah. She was evidently displeased — I could hear her yelling clearly via my bugs — and when she was done with Triumph, she stalked to the stairwell and out onto the roof.

Panacea froze when she saw me, casting a long shadow in the late afternoon sun. A complicated expression rolled over her face before she sighed heavily. "You know, maybe Carol was right and the Butcher really does have an unhealthy obsession with me."

"Carol?" "Obsession?" "Well, she is kind of cute." "What the hell is this Brigade Bullshit?"

"I doubt it," I said, trying for levity. "Weaver's a busy girl. The Teeth are nuts, but even they're not dumb enough to mess with a noncombatant healer."

Panacea huffed in amusement or derision — it was hard to tell. "Well, I'm glad they're not completely braindead. They fight the Empire too, I guess." To my surprise, she didn't run away, but instead shuffled out to the chair across from me and flopped down into it. "What the hell is wrong with this city that the Teeth have inflicted the most damage on the Empire of anyone recently, nevermind the ABB, the Merchants, Coil apparently…"

The chorus cheered in my head at the heroine's words, and to my surprise I had to work to keep down my smile. Despite whatever hangups I might still have over how violent the raid was, it was still a good thing in the end that Coil was dealt with. All it had taken was one look at Dinah and my reservations for what I had unleashed on them was gone like dust in the wind. One less gang in the Bay which now left me free to take the fight to the Empire in full.

Whoever just started humming the damn song, knock it off!

"I chalked it up to them being ten gallons of murderous insanity in a one gallon jug."

Panacea actually laughed at that, reaching into her robes and pulling out a cigarette and lighter. The Butchers tripped over themselves to point that out, of course, so I produced a blunt from my own pocket and held it out. The healer got the wrong idea. "For me? You know that's illegal."

"If you want it, I have more," I said. "But I was going to ask for a light."

"I shouldn't be doing this," Panacea muttered, swiping the blunt from my fingers, "but I've had to deal with your asshole boss all day. This isn't going to poison me, right? Vicky will cave in your skull if you do."

"Please let her, I want to fly dammit!" Quarrel demanded.

"We need to find some way to recruit Demolition Dallon for the Teeth," Ironsides grumbled. "It would be beautiful."

"Should be safe," I said, pulling out another blunt and taking Panacea's offered light. "Not going to lie, I never would have guessed that you smoked at all."

Panacea snorted, then coughed out a mouthful of pot smoke. "Go fuck yourself."

"In public?" I retorted, reducing Panacea to a blushing, coughing mess. "Are you alright, Pan—"

"Amy," the girl bit out once she got herself under control. "You can call me Amy, but only if you answer a question. Why did you join the Teeth?"

"Yes, Taylor — why did you join the Teeth?" Quarrel hissed. The others chuckled, and I gave the whole group a shove. Luckily, I already had an answer for this that would work under most normal circumstances.

"Well, I guess I'm Taylor, then. I joined mostly so that I didn't get stabbed at school for having a girlfriend. Winslow is a shithole and the Empire isn't afraid to just stab people randomly for being gay. In fact, they tried to do just that a few days ago." I didn't bother to hide my grimace at the memory. "Weaver actually saved me."

Amy's eyes went distant at that. "Fuck, don't tell me those things," she murmured. "I don't suppose that she gave those Empire kids to the authorities?"

"She did not!" Butcher hooted, a sentiment echoed by several others. I pushed them all away, but unfortunately in the resulting silence I was just left with my own guilt. Amy had a damn good condemning glare, despite not knowing that the target of her ire was actually sitting in front of her. For some reason, her displeasure felt… more weighty, perhaps, than the Protectorate's complaints before —

"Before they tried to shove you back in a box and ship you to hell!" Knockout bellowed. "Don't go soft on us because of the cute hero!"

The fact that I find her attractive at all is your fault to begin with!

"Keep telling yourself that sweetie," Fester added unhelpfully.

Just… shut the fuck up.

"Taylor?"

I blinked, realizing that Amy's glare had softened to something like concern. "Sorry, just… remembering. It's not every day that you and your girlfriend are almost murdered at school."

Nor was it every day that I sentenced four teenagers to a painful and humiliating death. Though, after today… I'd ordered the deaths of dozens when I gave the command to storm Coil's base. I told them to show them the terror that the Teeth were known for, and they did not disappoint.

Were the two situations really any different? I hadn't killed anyone on purpose with my own hands, that line yet remained, but that was a hollow argument given how many were dying at my orders. The worst part of it though?

Did I even care anymore?

Amy's scowl returned in full force, but it wasn't directed at me. "Why am I not fucking surprised… I swear, those idiot Wards at that school are an embarrassment."

Huh, so there were Wards at Winslow, and more than one.

Before I could process that extremely interesting tidbit, however, I noticed a pair of people in suits approaching Dinah's room. Reading body language via bugs was sketchy at best, but Triumph's jerk of surprise was followed by an annoyed sigh when the man and woman produced some identification.

Then they started helping Dinah to her feet, and everything went wrong.

"Her parents, perhaps?" Alkaline mused, though her uncertain tone made it clear how much she believed her own guess.

"Worst parents ever if they didn't even give her a hug," Ironsides grumbled, then seemed to jerk at his own unexpected sentiment. "The girl isn't exactly rushing into their arms, either."

"Tattletale did indicate that Coil had tendrils in the municipal government," Damascian reminded us. "A revenge plot, perhaps?"

Maybe, but I can't just teleport down there and rescue her until they do something obviously wrong. I really don't want to start a fight in a hospital.

The Butchers grumbled at that, but Stratego's power outlined a very simple plan for watching and following Dinah's second round of possibly-kidnappers. It would be very easy for me to keep an eye on them, and I knew that Panacea was nearby.

On the conversational front, Amy seemed perfectly happy to sit and smoke my weed instead of actually talking. As 'scowl' seemed to be her default mode, I couldn't tell if she was upset specifically at me, the Winslow situation, or everything on Bet. When she noticed that I was more present on the roof, she grabbed the blunt with her two fingers and waved it at me. "You should tell the school and cops about those kids, at least. You don't seem like a bad kid, so they'd probably help you despite your… affiliation."

I snorted in amusement. "Sure, right. I'm not rich or pretty enough to be important to the authorities at Winslow. Did I mention that Weaver is my boss? And besides, they'd just post bail and be back to stabbing lesbians the next day."

Amy opened her mouth to reply, but when she couldn't manage a response, she put the blunt back in and smoked furiously at me. The Butchers giggled at the reaction, but most of my attention was on following the suited would-be kidnappers as they worked through the necessary paperwork needed to see Dinah discharged.

"So you joined the Teeth to stay safe at school," Amy said in a displeased tone. "Fine. Did you join before Weaver inherited? Have you actually met her, and is she as crazy as everyone seems to believe?"

"What the hell?" Chisel murmured. "Why does she care?"

I don't know, but… I made a show of thinking about it before shaking my head. "Weaver is perfectly sane, at least as much as one can be after being stabbed in the back so thoroughly by the heroes." Talking about myself in third person was strange, especially with the chorus's echoing laughter. "I mean, she still has a civilian identity for crying out loud. Even with the voices, she probably could have been a great hero, if the PRT hadn't been so scared of her power."

"Yes, such a great hero." Marauder said with a roll of his eyes.

"She did manage a very heroic body count among our enemies." Butcher agreed.

I shoved them both away.

For the first time since the conversation started, Amy's eyes seemed to finally come alive, boring into mine with frightening intensity. "Oh? You don't think she'll crack, proving the PRT correct? How do you know she would have been able to keep being a hero?"

My mind flashed back to the meeting in the parking lot. "If that's your attitude, then why do we trust anyone to be a hero? Powers are fucking dangerous, and Legend could probably level most of New York before we could stop him. Sure, Weaver is scary, but there's definitely more powerful capes out there who are heroes instead of being sent to the Birdcage."

"Well, for one, heroes know the definition of 'acceptable force,'" Amy retorted acidly. "I'll give you a hint: that means you don't eat out eyeballs."

"Did she just suggest that the bastard didn't deserve that?" Pyro asked with wide eyes.

"Are you seriously defending a sex-slaving mass murderer?" I spat, though some of my anger was directed at the heroes who let the suited people through the cordon with Dinah. "And besides, his teleport ability was line-of-sight. That's the reason no one was able to reliably keep him contained. Weaver could have just killed him, instead."

Amy fumed at me, huffing out the last cloud from her blunt. "Line-of-sight, huh? That's awfully convenient. If that were true, the heroes would have…" She trailed off, eyes widening slowly. "Wait… how do you know that?"

"Busted!" Half the chorus cheered.

Down below, Dinah was shephereded into a waiting SUV. "I, um, give me a second," I said distractedly, making sure to mark Dinah and the car both with insects so that they could —

The SUV rocketed away from the police with no regard for the speed limit.

None of the cops followed.

"Shit." "Aww hell. "After them!"

"Sorry, I need to go," I said. "Nice to meet you, drop by sometime. Bye!"

I teleported almost before the words were out of my mouth, exploding into a back alley two blocks in the direction of the SUV's travel. When they changed course a moment later, I cursed — I would have to follow them mostly on foot. Echoing laughter in my head confused me until Alkaline pointed a mental finger back up to the roof of the hospital.

Amy had fallen out of her chair in surprise.

I heaved an annoyed sigh as soon as I stepped off the bus at my usual stop. Chasing after the SUV had been an exercise in futility, as the vehicle had safely delivered her to the fucking mayor's house. Chrissie kept sending me cackling animated gifs when I finally messaged her and I was doing my damndest to not pout over a near literal wild goose chase.

I stayed within range of their house for a bit less than two hours, just to be safe, but Dinah had simply gone into a bedroom and promptly fallen asleep. The one time she stirred awake and seemed to panic, I sent a butterfly to land on her finger. I almost expected the girl to freak out, but my bug apparently helped soothe her nerves… a little, anyways, given that her parents had died hours earlier. I felt terribly sorry for the girl, but there wasn't much I could do for her except send more butterflies and fireflies into her room to let her know I was watching over her.

When she finally fell back asleep I decided I'd best get ready for dinner with Dad and Chrissie and set off for home after texting my girlfriend some amended plans.

Getting Coil's little empire situated would take days, if not weeks even with Lisa's help. However, it would still prove a major boon for the Teeth's finances in both the short and long terms given how much of his financial empire was actually legitimate. Hell, he even owned enough shares of Medhall to have a seat on the board if he'd wanted it.

Luckily for me, Lisa was committed to joining the Teeth, even after I offered her the option to walk away. I was hesitant to trust her, but I was willing to give her a chance after she threw her fate in my hands by selling out that bastard. The rest of the Undersiders… I'd scheduled a meeting for tomorrow evening with them; hopefully that gave them enough time to think things over and come to a decision.

"Letting them walk away would be a mistake," Butcher said for the sixth time.

I want them working with me out of respect and loyalty, not fear.

"You saw what happened with Coil. The stick gets you shanked," Alkaline pointed out.

"This isn't how the Teeth do things," Sabertooth muttered.

"My Teeth, my rules," I said aloud as I walked home.

I'd planned to cook a nice dinner for Dad's official introduction to Chrissie, but I'd run out of time with the whole 'taking down an enemy gang.' Thankfully Chrissie would be coming to the rescue with some quality takeout from a place that had not made a mysterious contribution to dockworkers' lunches this week.

I was putting my faith in her tastes. Which considering she liked me…

"No self deprecating bullshit!" Fester snapped.

I winced at the volume of her scream, but she was right and I was almost glad to have the chorus around to keep me from spiraling. My bugs had already reported that Dad was home early once again and that the TV was on. There were no beers this time at least, and the note I'd left for him had been moved, so he knew I was running late. I needed to avoid this being too regular of an occurrence if I wanted to avoid uncomfortable questions.

"Or you could just rip the bandaid off," Alkaline suggested.

Stratego hummed. "He is sharper than he initially let on, based on his observations about Emma. It would be better to reveal the truth on your own terms than those of another."

I agree… Just give me some time to settle into my role as the Butcher before we make those plans. I'll feel better if I can point at the dessicated remains of the Empire when I do come out fully to him. That way I can say definitively that I've done more good than harm.

"You're playing with fire, kid," Knockout warned.

"Too bad Lung didn't join us in here; more fire would have been fun!" Pyro added with a cackle.

I just rolled my eyes as they fell into their usual banter and power fantasies, pushing open my front door and stepping inside. "Hey Dad! Sorry I'm late!"

"Anything I should be concerned with?" Dad asked, joining me in the hall.

"Nothing much. There was a bit of commotion downtown that had the buses running late all afternoon." I tossed my backpack aside and gave him a hug. "Something about a cape fight I think? I didn't overhear much from the other passengers."

"Clever bit of misdirection," Chisel noted.

"The news was just covering it actually. Some group of teen villains called The Undersiders tried to rob Brockton Central."

"That's such a weird name," I said with a snort.

He chuckled. "I thought the same thing. The Wards and New Wave were there, but before things could heat up, the Butcher arrived. I was actually worried you might have been caught up in that mess."

I didn't miss how his eyes tracked down to my clothes, which were so obviously Teeth inspired that I couldn't even deny it.

Shit.

"He's aware you skipped school, then. Be careful to avoid giving him free information," Sanguine said.

I flooded the distant edges of my swarm with my anxiety. "How could I have gotten involved? School didn't even let out until the robbery was underway. It actually kicked off a rumor that there's multiple Wards attending Winslow."

"I suppose you're right," he said after a moment. "I guess I let my worry get the better of me."

"It's alright. Anyone would be on edge right now given how the Empire is sweating bullets over Weaver taking them to task."

"I wish we could just cut loose against those fuckers." Knockout whined.

Soon.

"Is Chrissie still having dinner with us?"

"Yeah, she's just picking up dinner since I didn't have the time to cook."

"You just told him you have a cell phone." Ironsides chimed in.

I could see the pain on his face as he caught it too. Fuck.

"Did Chrissie manage to stay out of trouble as well?"

Marauder laughed outright. "Oh, this is fun! He knows she's Teeth, and that you are, too!"

"I wonder if he figured out Chrissie is Vex?" Alkaline wondered.

Stratego nodded. "It wouldn't be difficult. A single picture of her in costume would do it."

"She wears her hair and tattoos with pride in both identities after all." Pyro agreed.

"How long shall his denial outweigh his concern?" Damascian wondered.

Enough.

"Just the usual that she gets into for being gay at Winslow," I answered.

Dad sighed. "Taylor, if I ask you a question, can you give me an honest answer to it without any wordplay to hide the truth?"

"Here we go!" Butcher cheered.

"I…" I took a breath — he deserved that much. "Of course, Dad."

"Is Chrissie a member of the Teeth?"

"Shiiit, there's that spine I remember Danny having back in the day," Fester said with an appreciative whistle, while the others laughed at my misfortune.

I considered lying to him for all of a second, but then he would never trust me again. He already knew the truth, he just wanted me to say it. There was the ghost of an impression of a hand on my shoulder and a smile that reassured me this was the right choice. I sent reassurances to Reflex and squared my shoulders.

"She is."

Those two words brought Dad's expression tumbling and I could see how his temper was at war with a desire to respect my honesty. His face was blood red and his breathing was controlled, I recognized the exercise from one of the times the DWU lost a major contract. When he reopened his eyes, I saw them shimmer with unshed tears.

"Have you joined them as well?"

"Yes Taylor, tell your daddy all about how you joined the Teeth!" Quarrel snarked.

I felt my heart shatter at the raw concern in his voice, and I shoved all the laughter down into the dark. I couldn't tell him everything, but he deserved an answer that was at least truth-adjacent.

"The school wasn't doing anything about the bullying, even going so far as to back them on obvious lies. Nothing had changed, then something did. Weaver took over the Teeth and the rules at Winslow changed. No more bullying the weak. Anyone can wear the colors, initiation or no and be safe. Weaver… knew about the locker. I'm not being bothered anymore, and all I have to do is wear red and gray."

"You aren't going out and hurting people for them?" he asked softly.

"The Teeth haven't given me a single order." It was the truth, but it was the kind of wordplay he had specifically asked me to avoid. The words were like ash in my mouth. "If that ever changes, I'll let you know."

I'd never seen dad look so defeated before, not even after the investigation had been dropped. A part of me felt horrible for inflicting that pain upon him, but a much larger part felt anger that it took everything it had to get the trio to finally back down. That it took me becoming the Butcher for dad to finally give a damn.

Deciding that it was better to air a few more things, I pulled out my phone. He stared at it as I flipped through the PHO threads, but only after opening an incognito tab where I wasn't logged in on my Weaver account. I then spent the next few minutes showing Dad the selfie thread, as well as all the footage that had been taken from the bank.

"Oh, this is a new one," I muttered as I clicked on a video uploaded about an hour ago.

What followed was a surprisingly detailed video taken from so close that it could only have been someone inside the PRT cordon. The image was clear enough that I was almost worried Dad might be able to figure out that it was me under the costume. Stratego's power slipped over my memories and I had to fight down a grin when it clicked who would have been behind the camera.

"Taking bets on if we manage to recruit the white mage?" Alkaline asked.

Sanguine scoffed. "No bet, the girl's got the same stick up her ass as Brandish."

"Hell, I'd bet Brandish shoved it up there herself," Sabertooth added.

"That's gross even by our standards," Fester retorted.

"This is the new Butcher?" Dad asked softly, the concern clear as day.

I nodded. "That's Weaver, she doesn't like the title. She actually goes to school with us."

His head jerked up at that and I could see he had to stop from blurting his first thoughts on the matter. "You've met her?"

Everytime I look in the mirror.

The chorus chuckled at my joke. "Yeah…"

Knocking at the door saved me from further awkwardness.

"Taytay, can you give me a hand?" Chrissie yelled, hopefully signaling the end of my current interrogation.

She had half a dozen bags of Chinese takeout in hand. I'd known she was close thanks to my bugs, hell, I'd almost asked her to hurry just to cut Dad off sooner, but it wouldn't have been fair to either of them.

"Coming!" I yelled back. Dad looked resigned as he averted his gaze. I sighed and hurried to help my girlfriend. She wasn't struggling with the bags of food, but it didn't look comfortable either. "You didn't have to get so much!"

"What if I wanted leftovers?" she asked as I took a couple of the bags. "Tomorrow is chicken I'm afraid of, no way in hell I'm eating the school lunch."

"The alfredo is pretty bad…" I quietly agreed.

She laughed at that, the sound of it was like a balm to my soul after the talk I'd just had. A talk I had managed to warn her about at least thanks to my swarm. The last thing I needed was for her to assume he knew something he didn't and make things worse. The less said around Dad, the better.

"Were the buses hell for you too?" Chrissie asked, affirming our cover story as we took the bags to the kitchen table.

"Yeah." There was no use delaying, it was time to rip the bandaid off. "Dad finally asked if you were in a gang."

"Oh." Damn, Chrissie could really nail that kicked puppy tone. "I suppose I'm not welcome here anymore?"

"Were that the case…" Dad said, joining us in the kitchen, "I would have answered the door with my shotgun. Given I dated Annette while she was still running with Lustrum, I'd be a hypocrite to deny you outright just because you're in a gang.

"That being said, you have zero rope here. This is the only concession I'll make. You're allowed to date Taylor, but if you step out of line even once? If you drag my daughter into any of your gang shit beyond wearing the colors? I will give you a firm reminder of what the bad ol' days were like in the Bay that would make even your boss shiver in fear."

I felt a chill run down my spine as he stared down my girlfriend.

"Am I clear?"

Chrissie swallowed hard, her pupils dilated and a cold sweat was forming on her brow. Here we were, two of the most dangerous capes in the Bay and my Dad had just put the fear of god into both of us with words alone.

"Still wonder what Annette saw in the man?" Fester asked.

"Crystal, sir." Chrissie answered.

Dad clapped, startling the both of us as he smiled wide. "Excellent! Now, we should get to eating because it smells amazing and it would be a crime to let it go cold."

Chrissie was curled up against my side, gently snoring as Robin of Loxley loosed a Patriot Arrow and I couldn't help but be reminded of Quarrel's power as it shot through the stands before nailing the target from behind.

"That arrow wishes it had been shot by me," Quarrel said.

I chuckled softly as the chorus settled into their usual banter in the back of my mind; the relative peace was nice compared to the insanity from the rest of the day. I couldn't help but find the entire situation bank hilarious, as I had humiliated the heroes while gaining at least one new minion. The rest of the Undersiders had a day to think it over, but Lisa was on board.

Then there was taking down Coil, who proved that he was every bit as big of a player as the Empire or ABB had been — potentially bigger now that we knew his civilian identity and how deep the corruption ran. That was a reckoning that would come in due time.

Taking down his base… I'd killed people, maybe not deliberately or by my own hand, but I'd killed them all the same with my orders. We'd left that base painted scarlet, oddly fitting given the gray concrete.

Forty seven mercenaries lay dead. Two of my own men died as well, all because they failed to heed my instructions. Each one of those lives were on my shoulders.

Still, an innocent girl was safe, spared the fate of being a tool for a madman. The Undersiders were free, and Lisa was hard at work sifting through the mountains of data and failsafes the man kept. I wasn't sure what to think about her — the Butchers giggled; I ignored them — but the Thinker seemed eager and willing to help out. A not-insignificant part of me was suspicious, but Lisa was well aware of the consequences of betrayal.

Sometimes it helped to have the Butcher's reputation.

"Hell yeah it does!" Pyro had been more than happy to leverage her reputation as Butcher VI, given her general destructive tendencies, which was one of the reasons Stratego arranged to have her killed.

"It is an unfortunate fact that fear is more easily spread than respect," Damascian noted. "But by shaping that fear, you may yet achieve your dreams as a cape."

I rolled my eyes at her flowery words. Pretty sure I never dreamed of becoming Butcher XV.

"No, but you did dream of making a difference," Marauder said. "You certainly did for all of those mercan—"

He got a shove out of my mind, to the chuckles of the others.

"I hate to agree with that idiot, but he is right, Taylor," Chisel said, hooking a metaphorical thumb down into the darkness. "The rest of us spent too much time arguing to accomplish much of anything, ruling by fear alone. But you've shown the world just how dangerous the Butcher can be, even just by staying your hand."

Several Butchers laughed at the mental image of the Wards covered in pizza sauce, and I smiled despite the fact that I was a supervillain who fought heroes. A tiny part of me still wished I had joined, but having the freedom to chart my own course meant that I was able to take down threats like Coil.

Despite the death and mayhem, I'd done genuine good today. I may not have been a hero, but would the heroes have stormed Coil's base and taken the bastard out? No, they would have gone in with full non-lethal measures prepared, played softball for a bit, then Coil would have gotten away and been back at it the next day. That he wouldn't was all because of me, because I chose to act. Because I turned the Teeth loose on a deserving target.

I could live with myself if this was the kind of impact my actions were going to have on the city as a whole. This is what I wanted Weaver to be, what Butcher XV would represent. She would do what was needed, what was necessary, for this city. She would help the people that the government turned a blind eye towards because of bullshit truces that they only honored because they couldn't afford the risks. Bloody cowards, one and all.

The Empire was all that stood in my way now, and I was done playing games. The Coil operation showed me that my men were ready and eager for the fight to come, if a bit lacking in training and discipline, but I couldn't afford to sit around while we waited for them to be ready. I had the momentum, and I couldn't cede initiative now.

We would rest tonight, celebrate tomorrow, induct the Undersiders on Saturday, then we would be right back at it, and soon, an Empire would fall. Screaming in agony if necessary, like the Empires of old. Eighty eight knives, all stuck into Kaiser's cooling corpse. I wasn't sure which of the Butchers had pushed that image forward, but I found it oddly enticing.

"I still think we should just ask Tattletale," Knockout grumbled.

"Absolutely not," Stratego retorted. "Taylor's plan requires strict adherence to the Rules."

"Then it's a dumb plan!"

"Shut the fuck up!" Quarrel yelled, and they all descended into an argument.

Knockout's idea was… tempting. Coil had known the civilian identities of most of the capes in the city — along with notes on how to get leverage on them, apparently. I had yet to actually ask Lisa for any of the information, because I wasn't totally sure I could trust myself to stick completely to the Unwritten Rules. Messing around at school was one thing; cape teams with Thinker support were quite another.

I certainly wasn't afraid to enforce the Rules. In fact, my plan hinged on me doing a demonstration or two, provided anyone was dumb enough to try.

"If you cared so much, why did you out yourself to Panacea?" Ironsides grumbled.

That… had probably been a mistake, but I had been too preoccupied with saving Dinah to realize that I should have teleported away as soon as she was safe. I really had no idea what Panacea was going to do with my secret, though in the end it really didn't matter much. Assault already knew, as did many kids at Winslow, so stressing about the healer wouldn't do me much good.

"Plus, you don't want to fuck with the white mage," Alkaline said sagely, dredging up a saying from some Dungeons and Dragons-like game she had played.

King Richard had just arrived back from the crusades when my bugs picked up Dad coming down the stairs with something in his arms. He took a moment to step into view as he unfolded a fluffy blanket and spread it over us; I made sure to smile, because it was appreciated.

"I'm heading out for a bit, think you can hold down the fort?" he asked softly.

I ran my hand through Chrissie's short hair as she snuggled just a bit closer and feathered a soft kiss on her forehead before looking back up. "I think I can manage."

"Don't stay up too late, you do have school tomorrow."

"I'll get plenty of sleep, don't worry."

He began to lean in, but hesitated a moment later. I didn't miss how his eyes flicked ever so briefly towards Chrissie before he pulled back and made for the front door. My bugs followed him until the old truck left my range, but my mind was already wandering.

On the screen, the credits were rolling. The movie may have been over, but I was just getting started. There were plans to make, battles to wage, and a war to win.

We would be ready.

Author's Notes:

Pen: This marks the final Taylor PoV for Arc 2. There will be one more Interlude (*Evil Laughter*) and a PHO bonus chapter (Midweek upload!) before we kick off Arc 3.

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Pendragoon

Apr 1, 2022

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Pendragoon

Pendragoon

She/Her

Apr 8, 2022

#6,539

Friday, April 15th 2011

The Teeth.

Why did it have to be the Teeth?

Of all of the groups that Taylor could have gone crying to so that they would fight her battles for her, why had she picked the group of murderous psychopaths who try to burn young girls ali—

Breathe.

If Emma was being completely honest, the weakling's choice did make a twisted sort of sense. Taylor wasn't Asian (not that the ABB was still around, and good riddance), she wasn't a druggie (not that the Merchants were still around either…), and for all that Emma made fun of her, she wasn't stupid enough to be a white supremacist. That left the Teeth as the only group who would offer protection to someone who had as little to offer in return as Taylor.

Seriously, what would a group of murderers and vandals want with an ambulatory doormat? It wasn't like the girl could fight; hell, she wouldn't even stand up for herself, nevermind fighting an actual, real opponent. Emma almost laughed at the idea of scrawny Taylor in one of the Teeth's fighting pits, frantically trying to run away from one of their crazed murderers.

As for the other reason they might want her, well… Emma knew what one member saw in her, at least. That the member in question was pretty much the head bitch of Winslow's Teeth, and almost certainly Vex out of costume? Well, it explained why the regular members were deferring to her.

Chrissie Dawson was a cunt, there was no other way about it. The bitch thrived on making trouble, picking fights with the Empire and ABB at every turn. That didn't bother Emma so much; no, what bothered her was how the villain kept Emma, Sophia, and Madison from doing anything to the Winslow Teeth. The irritating girl barely had a secret identity to speak of, and she leaned on that heavily. She wouldn't be afraid to use her powers if push came to shove. The problem was acting on that information — until the crazy bitch used her powers at school, there wasn't much Emma could do about it.

Somewhere along the line Dawson had gotten to Taylor, taking a perverse interest in the useless weakling. Taylor was absent for almost a week before she showed back up in Teeth colors, so that had to be when the cunt got her claws into her former best friend.

What infuriated Emma was that the Teeth were able to stop most of her fun with Taylor. Sure, they could still start rumors and throw insults, but the Teeth protected her in the lunchroom and between classes. Worse, it was only because of the Teeth that Taylor felt bold enough to throw insults of her own — and… recruitment pitches…

Breathe.

Emma hated it, and so she had finally come up with a plan. Truth be told, even Emma felt a little bad using this secret, one that she had kept from Taylor all of these years. Emma might not even have remembered if not for wondering (privately) what had finally caused Taylor to give up.

The other girl had certainly taken her sweet time about it. Despite knowing Taylor for many years, Emma could simply not fathom how or why Taylor had let everyone walk all over her since the beginning of high school. Oh, there had been the occasional flare-up, but whatever force of personality the other girl had once possessed had been completely abandoned in favor of her now miserable existence.

Seriously, Taylor sat there and let everyone make a victim out of her! She never fought back, never projected any emotion other than resigned acceptance, never seemed to care about how worthless she had become… all from a girl who had survived her mother's death and bounced back. Taylor should have known better, and it infuriated Emma that the other girl simply let everyone use her as a punching bag.

However, even the most sturdy punching bags eventually ruptured. Taylor hadn't fought back after the flute. She hadn't fought back after the locker. Both of those were trigger worthy events; one of them should have worked, had Taylor been able to get powers. Madison had even raised that concern after the locker, only for Sophia to mock her for a week for thinking someone like Taylor would trigger.

Well, if Taylor had powers, she wouldn't have needed to join the Teeth. She'd have real power, not the false strength of weaklings banding together for protection. Worse, Taylor had even convinced uncle Danny that she was fine! How Taylor fooled him, Emma would never know… though aunt Annette would have been ashamed of them both.

Thus, it was Emma to the rescue, saving yet another pathetic waste of space from the Teeth. She would show Taylor how terrible her decision to join really was, and when she was at her lowest…

She would say the words that would break Taylor.

Taylor had killed her mom.

On that horrible night that her dad had picked up uncle Danny and Taylor when he was too drunk to even feed her once and maybe future sister, Emma had overheard his ramblings when she went back for some of Taylor's clothes. She had heard him asking Dad if it was wrong for him to blame the phone call for Annette's death — the call that Taylor had made.

Emma wasn't sure how much of it was true, and how much was the alcohol, but there was no way that Taylor could just brush that accusation off lightly. For all that she had bounced back, Taylor loved her mother intensely. Knowing that even uncle Danny might blame her, plus some choice comments about how Emma missed her too… followed up with insinuating that at least Annette didn't need to see Taylor sell herself to the Teeth…

Oh, maybe Taylor killed her mom intentionally to become a gang whore! They wouldn't even need to cut her up —

Breathe.

The real problem was that if she finally broke Taylor, Emma would potentially hand the Teeth another cape. Emma knew better than anyone about how amazing it was to finally get powers, but even still, imagining Taylor in a bone-clad costume as she gleefully murdered people sent a chill down Emma's spine. She didn't want that, but if she did make Taylor trigger, she could inform the PRT afterwards and make sure Taylor was arrested as soon as she did something illegal.

It wouldn't be hard to have her Dad help Taylor get a probationary Ward membership, after Emma took down the Teeth's newest supervillain. Emma almost smiled at that, thinking that — after all this time — she might finally get to be a superhero with Taylor! Of course, she doubted that Taylor would get a good power, but Emma had been a Ward for almost a year now and could teach her how everything worked. They could crush the Teeth together, Emma could show her what real strength was, and they could deal with that annoying cunt at school.

And if Taylor didn't trigger, well… it wasn't like the PRT were going to cut a teenage gang whore any slack for attacking a Ward out of costume. In fact, given that Emma had been trying to help Taylor not fall in with the Teeth and she was reporting it as bullying of all things…

All she needed was five minutes alone with the girl, without the fucking Butcher keeping an eye on everything. Surely the insane madwoman had better things to do after robbing a bank, fighting the Wards, subjugating the Undersiders, breaking into PRT HQ, and apparently taking down Coil. How and why Butcher cared enough about protecting her stupid cannon fodder at Winslow, Emma couldn't fathom.

Luckily, Butcher seemed to be recovering after her antics yesterday, so Emma was not going to let this opportunity slip through her fingers.

The only wrinkle in the plan was that Madison was absent. It had been a pleasant surprise to discover that the other girl was also a cape, and even more so to learn that she was happy to keep the Winslow rabble in line. However, in the last week, Madison had been avoiding everyone and everything, deflecting all of Emma's attempts to dig for information.

At least Madison had not hesitated against the Butcher at the bank. As absurd as the thought was, Emma suspected that Madison might feel bad about Taylor joining the Teeth.

"Hey Emma!" Julia called as Emma rounded the last hallway corner. "I think you were right, Dawson ain't here and I've broken two of those shitty necklaces and not a single fly landed on me. Weaver's gone too."

"Perfect!" Emma chirped. "Where's Taylor now?"

Julia grinned, pulling up a photo on her phone of Taylor, timid as ever. "Sarah saw her slip into her old haunt." Right, the bathroom from the juice prank.

"Good work Jules. We'll take it from here."

She laughed. "Just be sure to send us pictures after she breaks down sobbing, that'll teach her to not act so high and fucking mighty around here."

Yes, yes it would. Emma pulled her own phone out and called Sophia. "We've got her, are you ready to break the wimp?"

Sophia's voice was practically salivating as she spoke. "Always, survivor."

Arriving at the nearly abandoned bathroom, one of Emma's followers confirmed that nobody was in there except Taylor, and that she hadn't left. This was it, the opportunity she needed. It was time to make Taylor into a hero whether she wanted it or not. A glance to Sophia showed that she was ready too.

Sophia pushed the door open first and strode inside, Emma stayed close on her heel. The Teeth liked to give their normals Tinkered knives, and with Taylor being the girlfriend of a cape, there was a good chance that she might have one. Sophia was the safe choice to go first, even if it meant outing herself. That was when Emma noticed that something was wrong.

Taylor wasn't in a stall, she was leaning against the far wall, scrolling through her phone in one hand while eating a pita wrap in the other. She hadn't even looked up at them when they walked in, just quietly chewing away at her lunch.

"Took you two long enough." Taylor said after swallowing. "I thought you might be getting cold feet."

"How the —" Emma started, but she stopped herself.

Nothing about the situation was as she expected, and all of the instincts she had honed in battle were screaming at her that she had just walked into a trap. Were there other Teeth in the stalls? Had she messaged someone and reinforcements were incoming? This wasn't Taylor's usual stoic defiance, this was something else, something… deeper.

Taylor was too confident. It was the calm assuredness of someone who wasn't afraid. Emma had seen it before, she just couldn't place it. Unfortunately, it didn't appear that Sophia had noticed, or maybe she had and just didn't care.

"You," Sophia spat. "See, if you had just learned your place, Hebert, we might have finally just ignored you like the worm you are. But now you're the Teeth's newest whore, so we don't even need a reason to beat you up."

"Before you do," Emma cut in. She needed to regain some control and she knew the perfect way to do that. "Tell me Taylor, how can you even hold a cell phone knowing that was the weapon you used to kill your mom?"

That seemed to have struck a nerve as Taylor actually went still for a moment, her disinterested expression faltering, her lip quivering… Then it was back again, as if she hadn't been shaken at all by the revelation.

"Huh, maybe I did, now that I think about it the timing does match up," Taylor said with a shrug.

Emma fought to not show her frustration. "Uncle Danny certainly believed it. I overheard him blathering on and on about how he blamed you for killing your mom when Dad picked him up while he was too drunk to remember you even existed."

"Wish I could get that drunk," Sophia quipped.

Emma gave that the appropriate chuckle and to their surprise, so did Taylor.

"Just what happened to you Taylor? What happened to that sweet girl who actually cared about her parents?"

Taylor lost all levity in that moment and actually stood up straight. It had been long enough that Emma almost did a double take, and had to force down the instinct to cringe back.

"That's simple, Emma. You bitches killed her." Emma found herself growing angry, because now Taylor was showing a spine, now she was fighting back. If she had only done it before she joined a fucking gang, before the goddamn Teeth got their fangs in her. "Are you two done? If you are then get the fuck out of my way, I've got shit to do."

That was absolutely the wrong thing to say to Sophia.

Sophia didn't bother to try and hide what she was doing, she telegraphed the punch as much as a person could, baiting Taylor to react, to give Sophia a reason to escalate. Taylor didn't react even as Sophia hit her as hard as she could square in the stomach. Not even a flinch. Shit, everything was wrong with this, she just needed to—

Sophia lashed out again, as fast as she could and connected squarely with Taylor's jaw. Once again, the girl didn't even move from the impact, as though she were a statue. Then Taylor let out a weary sigh.

That was when Sophia pulled back and drew the knife she kept hidden.

Sophia was fast. Emma knew this firsthand from numerous sparring sessions, both before and after Sophia had joined the Wards. Sure, Madison could move quickly and Carlos could fly, but Sophia had survived on the streets alone with just her wits and speed; she was probably the most dangerous Ward out of costume.

Taylor was faster.

In the blink of an eye, Taylor caught Sophia's knife in her bare hand before twisting viciously; the sound of delicate wrist bones snapping was immediately followed by a much louder crack when Taylor lashed out with a kick and broke Sophia's shin. The other Ward buckled under her own weight, only for Taylor to twist her extended leg into another kick and send Sophia flopping across the floor like a thrown fish.

Emma's brain was still processing this series of events when Taylor hoisted her by the front of her coat, single-handedly, and slammed her against the near wall. She refused to go quietly, though, and threw a Brute rated punch right at Taylor's face. She didn't even flinch.

Taylor then pulled Emma back, which she took the opportunity to knee Taylor's stomach before the girl slammed her back into the wall. "Well, you're stronger than Sophia, I'll give you that."

Despite the pain, and the temptation to use her power to be rid of it, Emma couldn't keep a grin from curling on her face. She gave the recently-revealed parahuman — Taylor was a parahuman! — a few more perfunctory smacks, but someone had already done the hard work for her, apparently. And Taylor had even beat up Sophia already, so all Emma needed to do was get out of here and the Teeth would lose their newest cape.

It was a flawless plan, because despite the warning sirens blaring her head, Emma was completely sure that Taylor wouldn't actually hurt her. "Fucking finally, Taylor. What the hell took you so long? I mean, you're in a shitload of trouble but glerk —"

"Shut up, Emma." Taylor's voice carried a deadly finality, and Emma felt her surety of her immediate safety crack slightly with the pressure on her neck. "Do you want to hear something sad?"

"Like how you had to join a gang before you finally decided to be a person instead of a victim? Or that you got powers that just let people beat you up better?"

Taylor barked out a laugh at that, but her grip didn't slacken in the least. "No. The sad thing is that the Teeth treat me with more respect than anyone has in the past two years. Now, I wonder why that is?"

Emma managed a passable sneer. "Because you're fucking them?"

"See, I'm not good with people anymore," Taylor continued, voice eerily level. "Until last weekend, I didn't have friends. I barely even had family, because my mother died and my dad still hasn't recovered."

Thankfully, Taylor's sob story was interrupted by a sudden noise: against the far wall, Sophia tried to struggle to her feet. Emma bit her tongue before she could say 'about damn time,' because as relieved as Emma was to finally have leverage and opportunity with Taylor, she didn't appreciate —

Taylor's eyes flicked to Sophia, and the other Ward let out an aborted scream before collapsing on the ground, twitching and hissing.

The sirens in Emma's mind blared all the louder for the display, and for the first time since entering the bathroom, Emma was afraid. Taylor clearly had more than one power — being some sort of shitty grab-bag fit her, actually — and Emma needed to figure out if her own powers were needed. Fighting a cape with unknown powers, in a school, out of costume… even if it was Taylor, it would be better just to get the PRT to come after her.

Emma definitely didn't pick that option because she didn't want to fight Taylor, a Brute with some other… power…

Her mind blanked. Part of her knew, in that moment, what had happened, but she refused to believe it.

Meanwhile, Sophia tried to reach for her phone with her good arm. She managed to get it out of her pocket, only for insects to stream out of the gaps under the sinks and from cracks in the baseboards to swarm the device. Those insects then carried the device next to Taylor's foot, and the taller cape crushed it with a stomp.

Oh god.

No.

No no no no nonononono…

For an instant, she was back in the alley and there was a hand on her throat and a lighter held up to—

Emma would have worried about activating her power, had the rest of her brain not gone completely numb. Taylor — no, Weaver, Butcher XV — how? There was no way that Taylor, of all people, had conquered the Butchers. She was weak, useless! They would have broken her within minutes, forcing her to dance to their murderous tune while laughing at how stupid she was for killing Quarrel.

Then Emma remembered that Taylor killed Lung, too, and started to hyperventilate.

If Taylor was aware of Emma's internal panic, she didn't show it. "Here's the thing, Emma," she said, voice echoed by her horrifying chorus of bugs. She opened her palm, revealing a crushed blade that began to reshape itself into a flower; a single butterfly landed on the flower and fluttered its wings. "I'm not the Teeth's new whore. I'm their boss."

"No," Emma whispered, which was about as loud as she could be with Taylor holding her. "No, no no no. You can't be, that doesn't make any sense."

"You know what doesn't make sense, Emma?" Taylor roared, and Emma was only vaguely aware that this was the first time she had heard Taylor raise her voice in years. "Throwing away ten years of —"

Taylor's shout cut off like a knife, and she released her hold on Emma's neck before taking two steps backwards. Emma, stunned as she was, wasn't able to get her feet underneath herself in time, so she just joined her compatriot on the ground. She tilted her sore neck upwards to see Taylor mumbling to herself — right, she was Butcher XV, and had fourteen supervillains in her head.

Despite herself, despite this being Taylor… Emma whimpered. The entire Wards roster had been briefed on Weaver the night she killed Lung and Quarrel, and they had explained her power to them. Taylor had triggered with bug control months ago and hadn't once hurt them with it until she had become the Butcher, and even then…

Even then, she hadn't killed them. She'd seen the video of how quickly Menja's leg was stripped to the bone, she'd seen the pictures of what Weaver did to Oni Lee… All this time, that had been Taylor. She could have done that to Emma with ease.

"You know, I've fantasized about this ever since I triggered," Taylor said softly. "Using my powers to finally fight back, to take down the bitches that ruined my life… but now that I'm here? It feels hollow. You're both pathetic."

Taylor took a measured breath. "I never gave in, even after I inherited, even after you used my mom's death as a weapon against me. Even as I had thirteen voices in my head screaming at me to end you, I held my ground. I stayed strong in the face of every temptation I had to just be done with it, and let me tell you, my predecessors can be creative and vindictive little fuckers."

Emma had to say something, anything. "The PRT will…" Will what? Taylor was the goddamn Butcher!

Taylor ignored her, walking over to where she'd left her backpack and slinging it over her shoulder. Emma had long stopped letting herself care about Taylor's mopey and pathetic expressions, but the look of profound exhaustion on her face almost made Emma want to reach out.

"I'm done playing this game. Winslow is mine now. If you try to bring the PRT down on me, I'll make sure you receive a personal visit at home. Hell, the PRT might not even listen to you, since a Butcher spending eight hours a day in school isn't using that time to wreck the city."

Taylor paused, then chuckled at something — right, the voices. "There's this funny gentlemen's agreement among capes to avoid searching out or acting on secret identities, which is really important to me because I happen to be enjoying my civilian life for the first time in years. And while the Unwritten Rules are just that and really only apply to capes, I would be more than happy to make an exception if you so much as think about telling anyone about me.

"Tell the authorities you slipped and fell or something, I don't really care. Just do us all a favor and fade into obscurity where you belong. I have actual problems to deal with, like an Empire that is long overdue its fall."

Taylor stepped past Emma and gave Sophia a pointed glance. The other Ward made some noise that Taylor evidently didn't like, because she leaned down and grabbed Sophia's face, forcing her to look Taylor in the eyes. "Did you get all of that?"

To Sophia's credit, she managed a stilted nod even if it was accompanied by a groan.

It looked like Taylor wanted to say something else, or do something else, but had resisted the impulse as she let go. It was with a final deep breath that Taylor stood and exited the bathroom, and as she did so, the veritable plague of bugs vanished in seconds, back into the shadows and crevices they had come from.

Emma felt a thousand miles away when Julia finally came to check on them, and she ignored both the girl's stupid babbling into her phone while calling 911 as well as her screams when a cluster of bees attacked her hands and face. A lot of stuff happened in the immediate aftermath, but Emma was barely paying attention to any of it.

All she could think of was Taylor.

Emma sat slumped in the chair beside Sophia's bed in the PRT hospital, waiting for the Protectorate to arrive. Moments after she instructed her friends to place that call to emergency services, Emma had been called by the PRT and asked for a sitrep. She had told them that Sophia had an accident in the bathroom and would likely need either extended recovery time, or Panacea's touch.

Given how bitchy the New Wave golden goose could be, Emma wasn't going to hold her breath. Amy fucking Dallon had bothered to defend Weaver at the debriefing… to defend Taylor…

Fuck.

Taylor.

Emma squeezed an unconscious Sophia's hand, ignoring the tears that were leaking from the corners of her eyes. When they had first arrived at the hospital and it was clear that Sophia was going to survive, Emma had nearly lost control of her own power and burned the place down in an apocalyptic rage.

How could Taylor have been so stupid?

If she had just punched Sophia's lights out when they had first met, none of this would have been a problem! Emma's former best friend was, apparently, a badass of the highest caliber — Taylor beat the Butcher, holy shit — but had not wanted to let Emma in on the secret until now. How? Why? Emma had been enraged at the thought that the person who killed Lung wasn't just another villain, they were the goddamn Butcher, and now she learned that it was Taylor!?

Although Emma disliked interacting with the rest of the Protectorate and PRT, she had been paying close attention at all of those meetings about the Teeth. Endless meetings, especially in the aftermath of trying to send Taylor to the Birdcage, holy shit, and Emma could read between the lines. Weaver scared the ever living fuck out of the adults (and the Wards too, but their opinions were ignored) and now Emma knew why.

Taylor was Weaver the whole time.

Taylor, who had almost certainly triggered in the locker and then did nothing with her power. She sat there, every single day, listening to their insults and weathering their abuse. Emma had not been able to break the other girl, not with her deepest secrets or fears, nor was she able to elicit a response more than angry glares.

Until today.

Strictly speaking, Taylor had begun her revenge on Tuesday. In retrospect, even Emma could admire the combination of subtle plausible deniability and brazen audacity that painfully reminded her of Taylor when they were growing up. Of course, that just angered Emma further, because there was no way that Quarrel would ever have been able to conceive of such a plan.

And in the end, that was the horrifying realization that had extinguished Emma's bonfire of anger: she had created Weaver. Emma put all of the Butcher's powers into the hands of a girl who was more than clever enough to use them. For Scion's sake, Taylor had been smart enough to make her badass armor before going out her first time. What sort of cape did that?

Now, Emma's brain was too busy imagining the various horrors that Taylor was going to unleash on the Bay in her war on the Empire. A whisper-quiet part of mind wanted to cheer Taylor on, but the rest of Emma was trying and failing to be angry at Taylor for not joining the heroes. She was not thinking about the horrible look of defeat that would have graced Taylor's face when the Wards unmasked.

Emma was also not thinking about how every other crime that would happen under Butcher XV's tenure was directly her fault.

A knock at the door startled Emma out of her thoughts as three people entered the room. One was the nurse that had been attending to Sophia, while the other two were Colin and Carly — Armsmaster and Battery — disguised as suit-clad PRT agents. Colin held up a finger at Emma's immediate questioning expression, waiting for the nurse to check Sophia's vitals and make a few notes on her chart.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind her, Emma blurted out, "What are you guys doing here?"

Colin distracted himself by looking at Sophia's chart, while Carly gave Emma a worried smile. "Checking up on two kids who got into some trouble at school, obviously. It was the Teeth, right? I knew their behavior was too good to be true. If you are this unsafe, we clearly need to look into transfers."

Emma hated how good that idea sounded. She refused to run away from Taylor and despised the idea of running from the Teeth, but the Butcher…

"What caused these injuries?" Colin asked, not glancing up from the chart.

"Officially or unofficially?" Emma asked slowly. "Officially, we were in the bathroom when Sophia slipped on a puddle and fell."

Colin nodded once. "As you reported to the police, yes."

Carly did a double take, eyes latching onto Sophia's unconscious form. "A puddle?"

"Yes," Emma repeated, swallowing heavily.

"Sophia has three broken ribs, a broken leg, and a shattered wrist," Colin said with a hint of dryness as he clipped the chart onto the end of the bed. "While I commend you for coming up with a simple and effective cover story, you need to tell us what really happened."

Emma hesitated, despite the fact that this was exactly the outcome she had been hoping for when first planning to corner Taylor. She knew where Taylor lived and that she was a cape, so all she had to do now was —

Except Taylor was the Butcher, and Emma's plans were meaningless now.

"Emma, this is serious," Carly said in a much more compassionate tone. "Two Wards attacked out of costume is beyond unacceptable, and we can't bring the perpetrators to justice without your help."

While Emma was deliberating about what to say, the door opened and admitted about the worst possible person. Amy Dallon was an unpleasant, unrepentant bitch who was more than happy to take her issues out on everyone around her. They had never gotten along in the years since they had met, and Amy had only become more disagreeable since Emma had joined the Wards.

Amy herself seemed to be just as displeased about being here, barely sparing a frown for Emma before striding over to Sophia's bedside. "Let's get this over with," the healer muttered as she poked Sophia's arm. A surprised look flashed over Amy's face as she used her power. "Huh, I wouldn't have thought that Hess was dumb enough to pick a fight with Weaver, but the bank thing kinda proved that wrong, I suppose."

"I knew it," Carly cursed. "Really, the Butcher?"

"Yeah, the pain blasting power leaves your nerves a bit raw. Fades after a few hours, but I guess that explains the destroyed fist and ribs… and how she didn't bleed out?" Amy blinked a few times. "Unless there's another hemokinetic running around, Weaver stopped her internal bleeding, too. How nice of her."

Emma kept her gaze fixed on the ground, but she could feel both of the heroes' eyes burning into the top of her skull.

"We would appreciate it if you kept all of those details quiet, Panacea," Colin said.

"No shit," Amy said, turning to face the group. "So, how did Stalker manage to piss off Weaver during school hours?"

"A very good question," Colin said, more serious than Emma had ever seen him. "Is she going to wake up soon? I'd like to hear some of this from her own mouth."

Panacea shrugged. "I purged her system as best I could, but she'll still be loopy for an hour or two, don't expect much."

As if on cue, Sophia began to stir. "Did anyone get the number of that bitch?"

"Fifteen," Panacea snarked.

"Thank… you…" And Sophia was now snoring.

Emma wanted nothing more than to curse and spit at Taylor for sticking her in this obviously soon-to-be interrogation, and she was kind of jealous of Sophia for sleeping it off.

"Well, if that's all," Amy tried, but Colin stuck out a hand.

"Miss Dallon, given that you have had interactions with Weaver recently, your insight might be useful once Miss Barnes informs us of the sequence of events to land Sophia in that bed." The Protectorate leader turned to Emma, leveling an implacable stare at her that made his willingness to wait for the truth perfectly clear.

Emma sighed heavily, sparing a last glance for Sophia. "We unknowingly confronted the Butcher, out of costume. We… have a history."

"Explain," Colin commanded.

Emma licked her lips, trying to get her thoughts into something resembling order. She wished that Sophia was awake, or that Madison had been there with her, because there was no way this could be said without it being a disaster. "She goes to school with us," Emma began.

"Yes, it's painfully obvious that the Butcher attends Winslow," Carly said, gesturing at the unconscious Sophia. "Her injuries only drive the point home. How did the situation escalate from bee stings to this?"

"We caused her trigger event," a familiar voice said from the door. Madison slipped into the room, followed by a furious Ethan in the same PRT agent uniform as the others. The door clicked shut behind them, and Madison took the furthest seat from Emma. "Me, Emma, Sophia. They had been bullying her since the start of high school, and I joined when I met them in the Wards. We locked her in her own locker filled with used tampons and other rotten hygiene products back in January. I assume that was her trigger event."

Carly gasped, looking from the Wards to Ethan and back with wide eyes. "What… what? How? Why? Is that why you fainted?"

Ethan shook his head, some of his anger bleeding into disappointment. "Not important right now, but yes — Madison also had a run-in with our friendly neighborhood biblical swarm. Obviously she made it out better than you two."

"You knew," Carly said slowly, pointing at her partner. "You knew, this whole time, who she was. The black-haired girl, that's her, right? She just walked up to us and —"

"I wasn't going to start a fight at a school," Ethan retorted. "And I wanted to see if she was as sane as she appeared. It was more important than —

"You let her walk away?" Emma hissed.

Carly gestured at her. "Even the Wards —"

"Don't be ridiculous —"

"Stop," Colin said quietly, cutting off the argument. "Miss Clements, when did you meet Weaver out of costume? And how did you know it was her?"

Wait, what? Madison had confronted Taylor already and kept quiet about it? Was that why she had been avoiding them all week? Emma could admit that it was obvious in retrospect that Taylor was a cape, but the idea had been laughable… which meant Madison had figured it out and tried to save her own ass.

Madison shivered, curling in on herself. "She just fucking told me." The lack of rebuke about language from the heroes was deafening. "I… figured out she was a cape, at school. Her gait was wrong, she wasn't looking around enough, and a few more things. I tried to, fuck… apologize, I guess, and then she just… threw it in my face."

"And you fainted," Carly breathed.

"Why was I not informed?" Colin demanded.

"January… rotting blood… septic shock," Amy said, surprising everyone that she was still in the room. "Fuck, I healed that girl." She giggled, slightly unhinged. "I healed Weaver. She was dying and I happened to be at the hospital when she went into shock… You cunts almost killed that girl! What the fuck is wrong with you!?"

The last words were yelled at such a volume that half the floor probably heard them. Amy was trembling with barely repressed rage, flexing her hands like she wanted to throttle the lot of them.

"You're aware of Weaver's civilian ID then?" Ethan asked, oddly calm.

Amy growled. "Obviously. Hell, I shared a fucking blunt with her Thursday afternoon after she delivered the mayor's missing niece to the hospital. We talked for a bit, she seemed normal enough… I didn't even suspect she was a cape until she teleported away."

Colin made a displeased noise. "Am I the only one here who has not had an unreported interaction with the Butcher —"

"Weaver," Amy and Assault corrected in unison. They shared an unreadable look.

"With Weaver," he finished.

Ethan made a conciliatory gesture. "Look, I was trying to dig into just what the hell our Wards have been doing. In fact, I have all of the AARs filled out and sitting on my desk with the rest of the paperwork for this disaster, but the last thing I wanted was Piggot or anyone else to just charge ahead and alienate Weaver further. She is willing to talk to me, for the obvious reason."

Colin ran a hand through his beard. "I see. In that case, please finish your investigation and then file everything. If you need help, I am happy to assist."

"Sure," Ethan replied, turning his attention back to Emma and Madison. "Now that the secret is out, I suppose I should ask the obvious question: why? Why bully a girl to the point she triggers? All three of you know what a trigger event is like. Why would you want someone else to go through something so horrific?"

"She was weak, worthless," Sophia grumbled, barely stirring. "Kept reminding Emma of her past… tried to get rid of her."

"… I'm going to side-step that landmine for the moment because, holy fuck I am not equipped to dig into that." Turning a pointed glare on Emma instead, Ethan said, "Your past?"

Emma ignored how those words made her heart clench. "We knew each other growing up." She considered saying more, but that seemed to satisfy Ethan, based on his slow nod.

"Bullshit," Madison snapped. "I asked around a few days ago and found some people who knew… her in middle school. You two were best friends. I don't know why you did… this, but I don't think I've ever regretted being your friend more than I did when I heard that. I know that I'm far from blameless, but I still agree with Amy — what the fuck is wrong with you?"

Emma bristled at the comment. "You don't get to tell me —"

"Tell you what? If you wanted her gone, why didn't you just say so?"

"I tried! And she kept coming back!"

"Girls," Carly interjected, looking faintly ill. "This is not the time. We can talk about how and why later, but there's a much more important question — does Weaver know that you three are Wards?"

Emma's face lit up in sadistic glee for an instant before she remembered that Taylor was the goddamn Butcher and that the PRT couldn't do anything if the villain tried to unmask her. Then a fragment of their confrontation floated back into Emma's mind, and she swallowed heavily. "I… I don't think so."

"Why else would Weaver spare their lives?" Amy scoffed. "I sure as hell wouldn't if I were in her place."

"She referenced the Unwritten Rules like we had never heard of them," Emma said slowly. "Not to mention she threatened to come to our homes, right before she brought up the Rules. I don't think Taylor —"

Ethan groaned loudly and rubbed his face with his hand.

"— would do that," Emma finished lamely.

It wasn't like they wouldn't be able to figure it out anyway after all this.

Madison nodded once. "She told me about how she views the Rules too, and despite everything Emma has said, she's far from stupid. I don't think she would threaten another cape like that, not when she cares so much about it herself."

"Well, I guess you'll find out when your house collapses due to termites or whatever," Amy said acidly. When the other three conscious heroes stared at her, the healer just shrugged. "What? Vicky loves talking about the Butcher, and she thinks Weaver has the scariest power of the whole bunch."

An uncomfortable silence settled on the room, only to be broken by Ethan. "With how cavalier Weaver seems to be about her civilian identity, it's only a matter of time until this hits the media, or worse, the streets. If the connection is made that the three of you are Wards… a bloodbath would be a good day. Worse, we can't let Piggot hear of this, not even a hint."

"Why not?" Panacea snapped. "Afraid of how bad it will look to your boss?"

Colin turned to the obstinate and pissed-off healer. "Piggot would either transfer them for their own safety or send them to disciplinary postings, and use this attack as pretense to call in external support to eliminate the Teeth."

"That's fine," Emma spat. "I'll take the fall if —"

"No," Colin said firmly. "The Butcher is bad enough when they have a team, but if they are both sane and forced into a corner, who knows how much damage they could cause? No, this situation is still salvageable. The last thing I want is for Weaver to see the PRT as a valid target for letting three Wards torment her until she triggered."

"Yeah, some heroes you are," Amy said dismissively. "Maybe if you were friends once, you should just go hang out with Weaver, because what you did to that poor girl was some Teeth-level disgusting shit."

Emma couldn't help but wilt under the healer's furious glare. Her mind went back to Monday, where Taylor —

Breathe.

"That's what I thought, you raging bitch. If I'd known all of this, I would have let Stalker recover the hard way." Amy then turned to Colin, walked right up to him and stuck a finger to his nose, her words coming out in a snarl. "Never call me over these three again, is that understood?"

"Panacea —" Carly tried, but Amy just stormed out of the room and slammed the door behind her. Sophia jumped at the suddenness of the noise, not that Emma had really noticed, doubled over in nausea as she was.

Madison wasn't much better, but at least she could use her power to keep her lunch down. As much as she hated to admit it, Chrissie's comment on Monday had come closer to breaking Emma than anything the Teeth had done since —

Breathe.

Breathe, breathe, breathe, breathe —

Emma slid off of her chair and onto the floor. Mocking words swirled through her mind as darkness and flame crept in from the edges of her vision. She was only vaguely aware of the heroes attempting to reach her before she passed out and her consciousness filled with stars.

[DESTINATION]

[AGREEMENT]

Author's Note:

First: The bathroom scene was one of the first things I wrote in this universe, and it was popular enough with a few people that I shared my notes with others, including Pen.

Pen: Yep, that scene in the bathroom was the 'holy shit, we need to write this fic' moment for me. The things that followed just made it all the sweeter. We just need to get past arc 3 for all of that fun stuff to happen, because Arc 3 was a noodle incident in the snips that we are now having to write. XD

Even though the PHO interlude has blossomed into a full length chapter at this point, we'll stick to our word and upload it Tuesday and kick off arc 3 next Friday as planned.

1099

Pendragoon

Apr 8, 2022

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