Weaver's Web

by codekinguu

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1. Chapter 1

When I got home, I went down to the basement. Dad wasn't back yet, and I could…

Well, I could clean the fruit juice out of my backpack. At least my school books were protected, since I'd put them in plastic bags, but the handouts were ruined. I glanced over at the little spot I'd made for my costume, my insects working away to make more silk.

It wasn't ready but…

I really couldn't endure another week of the Trio. I could go out this weekend.

And what, Taylor. You can't even stop Emma. What good are bugs going to do against the likes of Lung? I shook my head. I wouldn't be fighting Lung. I was just—

If you can't stop them, what good are you? The Protectorate and Cops keep fighting lower-level people, they keep talking about how they put some no name in prison, but it changes nothing, does it? Where were they when—

Lost in thought, I bumped into one of the haphazard piles of boxes. Mom's stuff. We'd never gotten around to sorting it. I dove for the top box, but it slipped through my fingers and hit the ground. The wood just exploded, spilling plastic bundles across the room.

I stared at them for a moment. Mom had loved her literature, she'd been a good teacher.

And here it was. Just lying around a dusty floor. We should at least…

I reached down and picked one up. A garish cover greeted me. A man in a hat, looming out of the darkness, holding a gun.

The Shadow.

"Taylor, these were classics. I know people tend to not see them that way, but they informed an entire generation…"

Mom, talking to me when the storm roared outside. I hadn't been able to sleep and she'd taken time out of her grading for me.

"They were stories of men and yes, some of them were a little… Well, the attitudes weren't always ones we need, but the core was often someone taking a stand, using their brains, brawn, and learning to beat the evil, and if they were simplistic… Well maybe simplistic isn't always bad."

She'd glanced outside.

"It was a time before there were men and women who could laugh at bullets. Before the later comic books became real—only with no editor mandating that the good guys always would win. Like this guy…"

With a flash, I remembered that she'd shown me this book, the one I was holding.

"I always liked him. Where half the heroes were these clean-cut blonds, the Shadow well, look at his nose. He wasn't afraid to use fear, but he used his brain, until most of his enemies didn't realize they had lost until it was too late."

He was ugly. Like me. Just an upright frog. But…

I shook my head. Those were just stories, and the dead didn't send messages to the living, they didn't—

I blinked and looked up to the light. I'd felt something there, and now I saw it. A big orb weaver spider, and enmeshed in its web was a centipede. The centipede was much larger than the spider and should have been able to beat it in an instant. But its mandibles were opening and closing helplessly, its long body bound with ever-increasing amounts of web. I watched it, doing nothing to control either one, as the orb weaver finished its task, leaving a feebly moving mass of web behind it.

"Maybe the dead do send messages…" I said. Strength didn't matter. Not if you were smart. I looked around at the cluttered room. Abandoned, dusty, hopeless.

Like us.

Like the city. Nobody cared if E88 and ABB gangers recruited on school and the janitor just cleaned up the drug leavings at the end of every day. What had happened to me had been third-page news, because the same day, some old man had made the mistake of trying to protect his daughter by standing up to Hookwolf. It wasn't fair. Not to me, not to them and…

Dad had always joked about the Hebert temper, back when he'd told jokes. And now I felt something boiling up within me. I stared at Mom's life and remembered the times she'd talked about how the town had been better. How there'd been a time when if you saw a crime you called the cops, instead of pretending you didn't notice anything because he was E88 or ABB.

The city had failed her. And now, going out with no plan, just to escape something I should solve, I was failing her.

No more. Maybe I was just an upright frog, but I'd been given powers that Emma couldn't even dream of. And I was going to fix this city, no matter what it took, and if I couldn't beat up Lung, I'd find other ways to beat him.

Lung needed thugs. Kaiser needed thugs. They survived because the city was rotten.

And I'd change that.

But I'd start with my school. That would be my first mission. I looked down at the image.

After all, how could I know where I was going until I knew what had made me?

I changed some of my orders to the bugs. I wouldn't be going out this weekend. At least not like that.

I had a lot of things to do.

I turned to start picking up the wrapped magazines.

"Thanks, Mom," I said to the empty air.

And then I got to work.

The prologue is going out to everyone immediately, but Chapters will be up for early access on my every Monday, and released generally every Friday.

I didn't go to bed until late that night. It was as if a switch had been thrown, and I wanted to hit myself. I wasn't strong—well, I was stronger than I had been, but I wasn't bulletproof either, and all the armor in the world wouldn't stop a big enough gun. And I had been planning to…what? Go out and do Emma's job for her?

But I didn't need to be near people to have an impact. I had a range of about a tenth of a mile. And I'd practiced speaking with my bugs, more as a way to get control than anything useful. It was hard to see and impossible to really hear using my bugs…

Or is it that I just didn't try hard enough?

There were insects with better vision, but they were mostly seasonal and not around during the colder months. Which for the Bay, was an issue. Still…

I reached out, and a swarm of flies appeared in my room, streaming through the vents. Dad was asleep, so I would be able to try… Again.

I closed my eyes and tried to see through their eyes but…

There was no unity, a thousand tiny images, all jittering around. Maybe I would get better—with practice, but it would take a lot of practice, and I didn't have the time.

Just like I couldn't hear with them…

But you can speak through your bugs.

And I didn't need bugs to hear. Just a walkie-talkie glued to the wall. There were some tinkertech models small enough for a bug to carry, but I wouldn't be able to afford those.

And if my bugs were talking, most people would assume they could also hear.

And why would you look for a walkie-talkie then?

I would need to equip myself, but that got back to money, and right now I had… twenty dollars.

Dad didn't have very much more. It had been years since his position had been anything but a part-time position with a fancy title.

And I needed money. If I was going to go with my new plan, I'd need ways to record voices, to get records…

As well as some new choices for my costume. I looked over to where my original suit was and shook my head. Now that I wasn't thinking of going out, it looked…

Both too villainous and not villainous enough. I needed something that made people decide they didn't have a chance to fight me, because the minute they did, they'd be fighting a fifteen-year-old girl, and that meant I had to keep them off balance.

But all that depended on money. And I had an idea…

Saturday morning dawned, bright and crisp. Dad had been working late, and was sleeping in. That avoided any awkward questions as I left on my mission.

I got off the bus far from my destination. I had work to do. I had picked out several businesses, and now I was going to…

Start making money. Hopefully. I had done my research and knew what buildings were safe, and what places wouldn't risk getting the PRT involved.

As I passed the first building, a hotel, my power went to work. Bedbugs swarmed out of the beds, and down into the basement where they were devoured by ants. Flies flew away as Roaches moved in, chewing and devouring the waste that might attract other insects. In the basement, rats thrashed and died as black widows, ants, wasps all attacked them, other insects waiting to strip the corpses to the bone.

Five minutes later and the hotel was clear of insects.

They would start coming back, of course, but now, presuming the owner spent some money on pesticides, the hotel would be clean.

Well, clean of insects, at least.

By the time I'd gotten to the library, I'd cleared fifteen buildings. No more. Most of my research on our little home computer had been about the NEPEA5 laws. I'd never really worried about them before, and on the day of the lecture on NPEA5 in economics I had gone home early because I'd been "clumsy" and gotten Emma's juice all over me.

It turned out that the law didn't forbid parahuman businesses, but did forbid parahuman businesses that would drive their competitors out of the market. A single person like Parian just had to note that she was using a parahuman power, but so long as she didn't drive every other weaver out of business, she wasn't covered under NPEA5.

Nor would I be. Fifteen buildings weren't about to destroy the fumigation sector in the Bay, and since it cost between 1,000 and 8,000 for just a residential building, I'd saved them a pretty penny.

Now to see if they were going to be grateful.

Oh, and get ready to accept payment.

I needed two things, and I wasn't going to do either one of them at home.

First a Numberman Card.

I'd never tried to get one, because I never had enough money to qualify. One hundred fifty dollars, and a card would be sent to you.

That was what Emma had said, before she'd turned on me. Nobody knew where the cards had appeared from, just that after Teacher's Pets had tried to crash the banking system in revenge for his birdcaging a new service had become available. According to my economics teacher, it had probably saved the banking system, story after story appearing of how they were invulnerable to any kind of powers or tinkertech. According to PHO, nobody had ever lost money they held in a Numberman Card, unless they violated the terms of service.

Nobody knew who Numberman was. Rumors ranged from a black market magnate to an Endbringer. Greg claimed it was part of a secret conspiracy's attempt to stabilize Earth Bet, but well, Greg.

I got on a computer in the library, far from the other patrons on this quiet Saturday morning. Logging in, I went to the page.

It was… drab. No animations, no graphics, just a prompt to create my identity, and a note that I didn't have to be clever. Nobody but myself would see it. Confidentiality was assured.

I bet police really hate this… then the TOS screen came up.

It was mostly what I'd heard. There were instructions on how to transfer money into the account, from bank accounts and even ATM's, although how that worked, nobody was really certain. Once more than 150 dollars was in the account, you would be issued a card, sent to an address of your choice. The cards were tinkertech, and losing one would result in a fifty-dollar replacement fee. The total size of any account was no more than four thousand dollars, but I could set up a bank account to receive any overflow, although the transfer might not be confidential.

Then the restrictions appeared, and they were in red, the words somehow pulling my eyes to them.

THIS ACCOUNT MAY NOT BE USED FOR THE FOLLOWING ACTIVITIES:

ORGANIZED DRUG TRAFFICKING. (PURCHASES FOR PERSONAL USAGE ARE NOT COVERED)

PURCHASE OF WMDS.

ORGANIZED CRIME ACTIVITIES.

ATTEMPTS TO UTILIZE THE CARD ON BEHALF OF A BANNED MEMBER.

ANY SUCH USAGE WILL RESULT IN THE ACCOUNT BEING REDUCED TO ZERO, ALTHOUGH SUBSEQUENT USAGE WILL NOT BE IMPACTED.

ATTEMPTS TO INTERFERE WITH THE NETWORK OR REVEAL ITS EMPLOYEES WILL RESULT IN A SUBSTANTIAL NON-MONETARY PENALTY.

There was more information and definitions, and after I read them, I leaned back. It didn't make sense—criminals were the ones who would get the most out of the card, so why keep organized crime from using it? And if they didn't want criminals using it, why were so few items listed? By the TOS I could use the card to pay for a murder! And if you did use it, all they did was pull the money you had in your account…

And then I paused. Anyone working for the ABB or E88 would never know if they were going to trip the organized crime rule. So they were either going to risk losing their money, or keep it in other sources, and those would be vulnerable to the law. And yet, ordinary people could keep at least a small nest egg in their cards and be safe.

I would have to think about this. But at least I knew that they weren't about to risk their reputation over a vigilante in Brockton Bay. I signed up for the card and then sighed as I stared at my balance.

Zero.

Time to get to work. I called up the word processor and started typing my message.

"I bet Protectorate Heroes never have to do this," I muttered.

"Hey Mike," Thomas called. "Notice anything?"

Mike sighed, looking down at his desk and the invoices on it. "No Tom, I don't notice anything except you're not working."

"No bugs."

"What?" Mike asked.

"No bugs," Thomas repeated. "No rats. Look around!"

Mike stared and noticed that Thomas was right. The spider webs were gone and he hadn't heard a single rat since he'd gotten in at ten. "Huh." He got up and wandered around. "That's… strange."

Bugs were a fact of life at his business, especially since the diner that he would never eat in, even if he was starving, was next to them. The guy paid his dues to the E88 and that made little things like health inspections go away.

But…

Now that he was looking, there wasn't a single damned bug. You wouldn't think people would notice, but you really did.

"Got a letter about it."

"What?"

"Here." Thomas handed him a plain sheet of paper. "Someone stuck it in the mail box with the mail."

Technically a felony, but then, who in the Bay would care? Mike took the letter and stared at the printed words.

Hello Sir,

I am the Exterminator, and as you may have noticed, your establishment is pest free. While the insects and rats will return, at this point you should be able to keep them out without much difficulty. While I cannot promise my regular assistance, I may drop by now and then.

There is no charge for this. I merely ask that you tell others about my services, and if you feel they are worth some remuneration, I can accept contributions at the following Numberman Account."

Thank you,

Exterminator.

There was the same long line of numbers and letters that Mike used for his account. The only reason he didn't use it for everything was that he couldn't keep all his money in it, and the bank paid interest.

So they ain't E88 or ABB. Which didn't mean they weren't crooks. You could do a lot without being organized, but…

"Tom."

"Yeah, Boss?"

"How much we got in the till right now?"

"'Bout fifty."

"Go down and send it to this account."

They didn't say how much and since a fumigator is about two grand, I'm coming out ahead…

Chapters are reposted four days after being on my nad can be read here or there, although has terrible formatting. Thanks to my subscribers and enjoy the beginning of Orb Weaver's Career.

I didn't have a lot of money. But the good news, I guess, about a city like Brockton Bay is that there were plenty of thrift stores, plenty of places that took the overflow from foreclosures, moving sales, or estate sales. And there were a lot of those. Once, the Bay had been host to a half-dozen synagogues. Now there was one, defiantly hanging on, the aging staff cleaning off the semi-regular graffiti. But most younger families had long since decided that their kids didn't need to run into an E88 member out to make his initiation exciting. The same went for other minorities, not just as directly. Shopkeepers in certain neighborhoods, even if they weren't affiliated or sympathetic to the E88 or ABB, were very careful who they employed.

After all, if you employed the wrong sort, you might suffer a run of bad luck.

I paused and shook my head as I walked down the street. It was strange how I'd never really thought about that before. I was just going to go out and beat up bad guys, but that wouldn't help things. Not unless I made certain there were no more bad guys.

The day passed, and I found myself rooting through the bins of one of the smaller thrift stores a few blocks away from the tourist district. My half-completed suit would serve as armor, but I needed something… A long coat would fit, with some changes, and I found some material I could use for a cloak.

Use velcro so nobody can grab me by it… And if I made it the right color, it would help conceal me, and I could weave spider silk into the material to make another layer of armor, for myself or any bystanders who got caught in the crossfire. I could wear my mask, but I'd add…

I held up the floppy hat and nodded. Another part of my disguise. With luck and the fact that I literally had no body, nobody would really notice I was a woman. On impulse, I picked up a dark scarf.

The entire bundle cost me ten dollars. That left me with a little bit for lunch and…

I stared at the items behind the glass. "How much is the recorder?" I asked, pointing to the little voice-activated audio recorder.

The woman looked at me, then at the goods I'd bought. "Five," she said.

"I'll take it." I'd have to have a light lunch, but this would help me.

Because I wanted to know why Blackwell let Sophia, Emma, and Madison get away with near murder.

The sun was going down as I headed home. Dad wouldn't be happy if I stayed out too late, and I didn't need to start making him suspicious.

Not that he'd ever notice, a quietly angry part of my mind said. I shook my head, it didn't—

"Get your limp-dick hands off of me!" the voice was young, angry, coming from an alley.

"Oh, the jungle-bunny has some spirit!" Coarse laughter joined them.

I should keep going. I didn't have my costume. If anyone outed me, I'd risk my career ending before it got started.

I should keep going, just like everyone kept going when I'd been in the locker. After all, if the Trio took offense, they might be targeted. Better to just leave me knowing that nobody cared.

I paused for a moment. Nobody was out on the street, and most of the stores closed. No cameras. I pulled out the long coat, hat, and scarf. I wrapped the scarf around my lower face. I could just send the bugs in, but I couldn't see through them—so I had no idea who was in danger.

Moments later, I turned the corner. There was a pretty black girl, pressed up against the wall. She looked a little younger than me, but the guy pushing her into the wall, one hand on her breast while he fumbled at his belt was in his twenties. Around him there were several others. Tattoos let me know who they were.

E88.

I sent for the bugs and they came at my command, but I paused.

Do I want to let them know what I can do?

In that moment, the girl looked up into the man's face. "So, you gonna rape me?"

"I—" Then her knee came up, fast, and slammed into his crotch. The man screamed, the sound high and shrill, as the girl pushed him away.

"Like I said, keep your limp-dick hands off of me!"

"Fucking bitch!" Another man said, and he pulled a knife. "Maybe you need an attitude adjustment. Just another black whore who—"

I moved.

The ear is a very delicate organ, it can let us hear things from miles away. So when I sent bees into each one of their ears, the sound was like a triphammer hitting the ground right next to them. I didn't have to sting them, and incidentally leave any evidence behind. Suddenly, the men were staggering around the alleyway, as the girl started kicking and punching them, taking advantage of their disorientation.

I blinked as she grabbed one, and started slamming his head into the ground, again and again. She was surprisingly strong, and a few moments later, there were four unconscious men in the alleyway.

"You probably shouldn't kill them," I told her.

"Yeah," she said. "You a cape? What'd you do, blast them with a ray?"

"Maybe," I told her. "We should call the cops."

"Tch," she said. "Where are you from? Cops in this part of town are all E88. I'd get arrested. I got a better idea." She picked up the knife, and I tensed…

And then I bit my lip to keep from laughing, as the girl used the knife to cut their belts and pants. If they couldn't get a ride, they'd be running home holding their pants up. For people like that, the humiliation was probably as bad as the beating. I took the opportunity to check a couple of their IDs. I had an idea.

But now they were moaning, and it was time to leave.

"Ain't gonna ask you who you are—" she gestured at my dress. "Bet you weren't planning on a fight."

"No."

"I could have fucked 'em up, but thanks. Name's Aisha! If you want any help in fucking up nazi pricks, just give me a call." With that, she winked and took off down the street, vanishing into an alleyway. She hadn't given me her address. I shrugged.

It was probably better that she did not see what was about to happen. I also left the alley. I didn't have to be here, after all.

I had been gathering bugs, but they were all in the buildings around the alleyway. I didn't want anyone to see what I was going to do.

When the men started to get up, cursing their fortune, I spoke. I had pulled the insects out of their ears, and tagged each one with some gnats.

"Gentlemen," my swarm said, the rumbling sound somehow more eerie for being muffled, coming from all around them. They jumped up, save for one man who lost his pants and landed In an untidy heap as he tried to move with them down around his ankles.

"Who the fuck are you! Do you know who we are?"

"Scum. Cowards. Unable to even handle a little girl, one on one…" Now they were looking around, trying to localize my voice. I gave it let a little chirring rhythm. "Wade Green, Mark Wright… I know your names. I know where you live. I know who you are…" I paused. "I have other matters to attend to, so you should feel happy. I will let you leave. This time. The next time I hear of you assaulting a child, you and I will meet. Just once. Good day, gentlemen…" They started shouting threats, but I didn't respond, sending my bugs back to their normal haunts and quickly walking away from the alley. I'd had to stay close enough to hear them, after all.

But now, I was moving to the edge of my range, and the last sense of the bugs on my quarry was that they were moving—quite rapidly—in the opposite direction. I smiled. Maybe it hadn't been taking down Kaiser, but one girl had benefitted, and I'd put the fear of… me, into some thugs.

Now, for the next stop at Winslow. The school was deserted, and I would just put the recorder into one of the exterior vents, and have a mob of spiders pull it until it was sitting just over Patricia Blackwell's desk. I had checked it, and it had enough of a charge to last for at least three days of use. Even if it was found, I'd wiped it down so there were no fingerprints. She might say much, she might say a little, but she'd always taken the Trio's side, and it was time to find out why.

When I got home, there was a message from Dad that he was working late. I shook my head. He wasn't. He was sitting in an office going over papers again and again. If they couldn't even keep him on for forty hours a week, he didn't need to do overtime.

He was staying away from home. I looked around and shook my head. We hadn't repainted anything since Mom had died. The desk where she graded was still there, some books on it, a little dust coating the wood. I closed my eyes and outside, some insects tore into each other. Dad hadn't been there when I needed him. He still… wasn't. Even when he was angry.

And Mr. Barnes had been the one to shake him up after Mom died, get him moving, and then he'd backed up Emma.

I wonder if he really didn't believe us. Or if he knew what Emma was doing and protected her anyway? I shook my head. Did it matter? He'd still backed her up and I think that was the biggest reason Dad had accepted the school's settlement, hadn't gone to any other lawyers. Alan had been his friend, had helped us after Mom died, and he'd…

Turned on Dad, just like Emma had turned on me.

I shook my head as I brewed some tea. The house was cold and silent, and all my excitement from the fight had fled. Tomorrow, I'd keep working on my costume, and prepare myself for another week at Winslow… and on Monday night, I'd retrieve my recorder, and hopefully, Blackwell would have said something incriminating. As bad as Winslow was, she had to be corrupt.

But now…

They weren't just brawlers, my mother's voice whispered in my memory. They were detectives… And she had some books on detective work downstairs. I knew, Mom had talked about using real cases to illustrate how the stories did and did not conform to real life.

I glanced at my homework. The Trio would just figure out a way to wreck it. It was time to do some real homework.

I worked late, going to bed with Dad still out.

When I woke up the next morning, there were two bits of news waiting for me when I logged on to our old computer.

Firstly, a small-time gang called the Undersiders had stolen from Lung, and as a result, several buildings had been burned down, before the Protectorate and, oddly enough, some mercenaries from a villain named Coil had run into each other. One of the Undersiders had been badly injured and was in custody.

The books had emphasized how you needed to know the situation. I had been planning on going out, and I barely knew the local villain scene. I'd have to do better.

Thank you, Mom.

And the next bit of news was even more interesting. A message to the email drop I'd set up. There were two hundred and fifty dollars in my account, so I was invited to pick my card up at a locker down on the Boardwalk.

I blinked for a moment. How the hell could they move so fast? I shook my head. Fast or not, it seemed that I was going to be doing some more buying today.

Emilie Piggot looked at the teen. Brian Laborn had been offered a wheelchair, but had chosen to walk to her office, with Armsmaster standing by.

"Grue, I'm Director Piggot," she said. "Multiple minor crimes. Civilian name, Brian Laborn…" Emily tilted her head. "Your social worker was quite surprised to find out your actual career."

"You outed—" Brian started to surge up, but Armsmaster tensed, and he sat back, his body trembling.

"Please don't undo Panacea's work. It was expensive."

"You pay her?" Brian raised his eyebrows.

"There are limits on how much time a minor can donate, and her mother feels that those who can pay should pay." And by now, Panacea's trust fund is probably bigger than my retirement, even accounting for the insurance she has to pay.

"So what do you want?"

"Mr. Laborn, you have committed crimes, but none that are unforgivable. Technically, the Ruby Dreams Casino would merit several felony charges, but as no law enforcement agent was on the scene and the owners appear reluctant to settle the matter legally, I doubt that will be a concern."

"Lung wants to kill us himself you mean. Ah…" he glanced over at Armsmaster. "Thanks."

"It was my duty," Armsmaster replied.

"As to what I want, none of your crimes make you inadmissible to be a ward."

"I don't do well with restrictions."

"You'll have them. Here or in the court system, but I can give you something else."

"What?"

Emily leaned back. "Trigger events often come with great trauma. Statistically, crimes, disasters, and major accidents are some of the most likely sources of trigger events, which means that the PRT has had to make policies to handle Wards who are themselves caring for younger siblings. Policies far more friendly than what the court system has."

"Aisha."

"Yes." Emily let a small smile touch her face. "You should be pleased. After she got over her shock, your social worker advised us that you would be a superior guardian to her birth parents, unless… what was it she said? Oh, right, "Unless you were moonlighting with the Slaughterhouse Nine.""

"And the charges?"

"I could offer an Adjournment in Contemplation of Dismissal," Emily said. "Again, you've committed no truly violent crimes, mostly cases of assault, mostly against other criminals. What it would mean, legally, is that the court would adjourn, take your case off the calender, and six months later, the charges would be dismissed, unless you gave us cause to revisit the matter. At that time, you'd have turned eighteen and well, would be part of the protectorate."

"Why?" Brian asked. "That seems like a lot."

"I can use parahumans, and Armsmaster spoke in your favor."

Brian looked surprised.

Armsmaster nodded. "Your decision to delay Lung to assist your companions to escape, even if it nearly led to your death, was well considered. You clearly were not foolish enough to think you could beat him, and planned an escape route for yourself."

"Yeah, that didn't work well."

"No, but it was clever. I believe you could be a credit to the Protectorate."

"Well?"

Brian didn't say anything for a few moments. It was clear—go with the Protectorate or lose any chance of getting Aisha away from Mom and Dad. But…

"What about my team?"

"You would be expected to arrest them if you saw them in the commission of a crime," Director Piggot said. "But if you think I'm going to turn you specifically on them, no. Youth Guard would throw a fit, and to be honest, with the exception of Hellhound—"

"Bitch," Brian said.

"Pardon me?"

Shit. "That's the name she took. If you want to piss her off, use the other." She doesn't need a rap for killing some mouthy PRT agent, Brian thought. And then there's Shadowstalker.

She'd tried to murder Brian, but he bet nobody would believe him. And right now, he didn't have an alternative. There was no way, even if he could somehow vanish from the office, that he could get Aisha's custody now. But he could with… Well, he bet that Shadow Stalker wouldn't try to kill him as a fellow ward.

"I have some demands," he said.

"You're not in a good position for demands, Mr. Laborn."

"Not for me, for Aisha. Half of her teachers think she's stupid. She's not. Mom just was high most of the time when she was pregnant. If you're gonna bribe me with custody, I want help for her. Teaching help."

"We can do that." Director Piggot paused. "Arcadia has a superior special needs program. Perhaps we could enroll her there."

Put her in Arcadia, in a uniform? Brian wondered if he should warn them. Nope. Let'em find out themselves.

"Okay, I'll do it. When do we start?"

"After you've gone over the contract with the Youth Guard representative." The woman paused. "You're still a minor, and given your relationship with your parents, Youth Guard feels you may need legal assistance in asserting your rights. Also, they have put in a request that neither one of your parents be allowed access to any of your funds. Is that acceptable?"

"Hell. Yes." Brian stared at the woman, and she didn't flinch. Fuck. I thought I was gonna die or end up in prison. And here I am with a job offer.

"Don't make me regret this, Mr. Laborn."

"No, Ma'am." Help out with Aisha and I'll be the best damned ward you ever saw. Brian was good at making the best of a bad situation. The Bay was full of them. This was just another.

Sunday passed all too quickly. I had some money, but not much.

I ruthlessly stomped on my sense of annoyance that so many businesses were cheapskates. For all they knew, I was setting them up for a swindle. But I had three hundred and fifty dollars—more money than I'd ever had, at least personally. Not enough to buy gadgets from Toybox, or more than a few items from the Boardwalk's tourist traps, but enough to buy what I needed.

A martial arts store provided me with a Taser and escrima sticks. I'd have to learn how to use them, other than flailing. For now, if I was dumb enough to get into a fight, I'd depend on my Taser, my pepper spray, and my bugs. But I wouldn't stop there.

Another store sold me a load of old walkie-talkies. I could take them apart and use them for both speakers and microphones, especially once I figured out which ones worked.

My last purchase, and my biggest, was a hundred-dollar parabolic microphone. Supposedly it could hear voices from over 300 yards away. If I didn't have a walkie-talkie set up, it would help me listen to anyone while talking to them, without revealing that I actually couldn't hear through my bugs. The store owner winked and told me that it'd be great to catch a cheating boyfriend.

Every one thinking I could hear through my bugs, or just hear by some mysterious method, was going to be a very important part of my work.

When I returned home, I put my homework aside. Why bother? At first, it was because Emma and her cronies would wreck it.

But now, I had more important work to do.

I only talked to Dad a little bit, telling him I had a project in mind. Most of the evening, I spent taking the walkie-talkies apart. Without their cases and speakers, my bugs could move them, though it looked a little weird.

Huh. If I'd just waited a day I could have bugged— I shook my head. A recording device was one thing. Something modified that just popped up was another thing, something less likely to be written off as a student's work.

By the time I finished, it was late, and I'd have to get up for my jogging tomorrow. Normally this was the time I dreaded, waiting for school.

I still didn't like it. But now was different.

Now I had a mission.

Walking up to Winslow, I kept my eyes out for Sophia, Emma, or Madison. Julia looked at me, smirked, and asked her friends if they smelled anything.

I didn't respond. Those insults had long since lost any ability to sting. But now, I started establishing my bodyguards. Insects started to dig burrows, especially near where the heating system took the chill off. One of my biggest vulnerabilities as the fact that most insects were vulnerable to the cold.

But there were ways around that. Termites and ants dug burrows and opened them up, while other insects funneled in. I'd found some wasps and they would start laying eggs, no longer needing to go out into the cold to get food. No, the ants and termites would bring food to them. In a few weeks, I would have several thousand wasps, waiting out of sight for my call if anyone got serious.

"Oh Taylor, I thought you'd be with your Merchant friends," Emma said. The girls around her giggled, while some seniors rolled their eyes as they headed to class. Seniors had little to do with us, after all. But I didn't respond. I just put a fly under her collar. Now I could track her, and a few moments later, when Sophia joined her, Sophia.

Madison was a non-entity. She'd just followed around with the other two, but Sophia was the important one. She'd been the one with Emma when everything changed.

The fact that I hadn't brought my homework wasn't commented on. Most of the teachers had long since decided that Emma was right and I was just destroying my own homework.

In the basement, a swarm tore apart a luckless rat.

My expression didn't change.

But after school, I didn't head for my bus. I was going to be walking. Emma and Sophia were stopped by the side of the school. I followed them, staying out of sight among the students.

For most students, bullying was purely a school activity. They had other problems once school ended.

So why Emma? Why did she get so… dedicated?

I paused in an alcove, just out of sight. Most everyone else was heading for the front of the school.

"So, are we gonna do it tonight?!"

"Keep your voice down!" Sophia hissed. "Yeah. I gotta work for Piggy, but I'll be out by eight, and we can meet at the normal place, and then we can have some fun."

"Cool, I—"

"Unless you fucking bring your phone. Remember, the PRT can track that shit."

Wait, what? PRT?

"I got a burner phone!" Emma replied. "It's…" her voice went low. But I withdrew. I didn't want to risk them suddenly coming around and seeing me.

Why would Sophia be worried about the PRT? Who the hell is Piggy?

Good news, I'd be ready tonight, and I knew where Sophia was going—she was going to meet Emma at the normal place, and Emma would be staying at home until then. More than enough time to get ready, and after that, I could collect my recorder from the closed school. I nodded to myself as I left, putting the body of the school between myself and my quarry. They were heading to the buses. Myself… I'd be taking another route. I needed some time to think, after all.

By the time I got home, I had made my plans. First of all, I was going to get a burner phone. I suppose I should thank Emma, especially since the idea of a cell phone made my skin crawl, after what had happened to Mom.

But I needed one. I couldn't depend on a pay phone, especially in the Bay. What Dad didn't know, wouldn't hurt him.

Bad news, I was broke again. Still, just because only four of my clients had donated now, didn't mean the others wouldn't, and there were hundreds of businesses in the Bay. Besides, getting too much money that way might attract attention.

I left a note for Dad, that I would be studying at the library and that if I was going to be past ten, I'd call from a friend's house. The fact that I had no friends was something he wouldn't know.

He'd probably be grateful that we weren't going to have some more awkward talks.

Come to think of it, so was I.

But it was time to get ready. I put my armor on. I had changed the design. Now it was an underlayer, invisible beneath the longcoat and I had some other ideas for improving that, but right now, especially in the cold weather, nobody would give me a second glance. The dark hat, a cross between a cowboy hat and a fedora, nicely disguised my hair. If I needed to "go public" which I didn't expect, the scarf would conceal my face. The best thing was, I could gear up, or go civilian in a few seconds. That would be important.

Emma's house was within walking distance, and I'd be there by seven. The backyard butted up against an overgrown slope where Emma and I had played, a few years and lifetimes ago. There was a treehouse there, not owned by anyone, just something someone had set up in the overgrown section of the slope. It had been Protectorate HQ once.

Now it was just a bunch of wood. But I could use it.

Probably the first time a parahuman had been there in truth, not just in childhood fantasies.

When I got there, I quickly used the bugs in the woods to ensure nobody else was there. I could detect three forms in their house. Emma, Zoe, and Alan, I bet.

I leaned back and pulled out the parabolic microphone. If the Barnes had any right of privacy, Emma had long since squandered it.

The microphone was hard to use, often picking up the wrong thing. I heard a dog barking beyond the home, then a rumble of a truck, as I fiddled with the controls.

Evidently, the instructions had been… optimistic in terms of how hard it was to use. Especially the part about its ability to hear through walls. I was just about to give up when the door opened, and Emma's voice nearly blasted my eardrums apart.

"Mom, I'm going to see Sophia! I'll be back!"

"Be back by curfew young lady, or you'll be grounded."

"But what if the movie goes over!"

"Then I expect you to call us first."

And then I saw Emma, walking down the street. It was at the edge of my bugs, but I could see her.

What is she wearing? Emma hated to wear drab, but she had boots on, a serviceable jacket, not at all like the pink fleece thing she wore to school, jeans, and that was it. Not what Emma would wear to the movies. But she was moving fast, and I quickly got out of the treehouse. I could beat her to the intersection and stay far enough behind her that she wouldn't notice me, especially once I put a bug on her. The big danger would be if she took a bus or a cab, but if that happened, I'd just have to try again another day.

But she didn't. Emma kept walking, and that was unusual. Emma didn't like to walk. She headed out of the neighborhood, and down to the local park.

The fuck? Neither one of our families had allowed us to go there after dark. Everyone knew Merchants hung out there.

But… As Emma turned and walked under the dark trees, with only a few lights working, another figure entered the range of my bugs.

I stayed back, moving to another sidewalk that was screened by the plants. I pulled out the mic, and this time, it gave much better results. The voices were distorted, but I could understand them both—and who they belonged to.

Sophia.

"Got it?" Emma sounded eager.

Fuck, is Sophia a Merchant? Piggy sounded like what a Merchant boss would call himself.

"Yeah. You got your gloves?"

"Uh-huh!"

"Good. C'mon, we're gonna get some Merchants."

"What did Piggy want?"

"My psychologist is concerned that I'm not 'properly dealing with my issues.' If I don't figure a way to sweet-talk her, I'll be on console, so I really want to fuck up some assholes tonight. Also, we have a fucking teammate that I can't get rid of, because Piggy decided she wants him."

"You're the best, though!"

"Yeah, Piggy doesn't think so."

So, not a Merchant. Then who was Piggy? And Sophia had a psychologist? I shook my head. The two were moving, and I couldn't use the microphone while I was moving. I kept paralleling them on another sidewalk as we moved deeper into the park. Broken benches, overflowing trashcans, and every other light being out lent it the feel of a graveyard. Kids had once played here, now only mothers who didn't care about their kids getting stuck by used needles came here.

They paused, and I couldn't see where they were going. The fly on Sophia was detecting movement, but I wouldn't figure out quite what it was. Ditto for Emma.

But then I felt a group of other individuals, notable by the head and pubic lice I was detecting. I wrapped the scarf around my face and took out the cloak, fastening it to the longcoat. If I had to get involved, I didn't want to risk anyone, especially Emma and Sophia realizing who I was. But they were heading straight for—

The fuck? Sophia did something, and my fly felt strange for a moment, but then she was in the trees. Sophia was athletic, but that had to be at least a ten-foot jump. There was no way…

She talked about the PRT, and the PRT handles parahumans. If Sophia's a parahuman would explain why she's worried about them…

Was she a villain? A vigilante?

"You ready?"

"Yeah!" Emma said nothing else, and I moved through the plant growth. Now I could see her, under the few working lights, walking towards the other group I had tagged. She had a scarf over her head, obscuring her red hair. That, and her bulky clothing, disguised her pretty effectively to the people approaching her.

Merchants. Now that I could see them, it was plain.

Emma, what the fuck? Bullying me wasn't like going after three men. Now that I had a direct view of her, I saw her swinging a baseball bat.

"Oh, look, little girl thinks she has a big tool!"

"I'll show her a tool…"

Emma didn't say anything, but in the light of the few working park lights, I could see a grin stretch on her face. There was something off about it. Fear. Anticipation. Excitement.

And then suddenly, a shadowy figure darted down, the light shining through it. Just as it got close to one of the men, it solidified, and suddenly Sophia was there, her face masked by a cheap hockey mask, bringing a bat around to smash into the first man's knee. The ugly cracking sound was followed by his shriek of agony, even as Emma darted forward, bringing her own bat up and into the face of the second Merchant, who was staring in disbelief.

Blood and teeth flew into the air, and the crack announced the fact that his jaw had been broken.

I didn't move, even as the third Merchant turned and ran. He vanished around the path, but I had a bug on him, and he didn't slow down even as he left my perception.

Damn…

Emma turned around and raised her bat to bring it down on one screaming form, but Sophia was there.

"Hey—hey! Survivor, remember that we don't want a dead body. Cops don't care about people getting busted up, but killed can get attention." She turned to the Merchant. "Give us your drugs."

"Fuck—AH!" The man shrieked as Sophia put her foot on his shattered knee.

"Want me to let my friend loose?" Soon, there was a little pile of drugs, while Emma and Sophia zip-tied the two.

Emma took out a little can of lighter fluid, and poured it all over the drugs, and then Sophia lit them on fire. I couldn't see her expression, not through her mask, but I could hear the satisfaction in her voice.

"Gonna have to get your high from somewhere else," she said. "C'mon. Survivor, let's go and call some cops." She looked down at the sobbing men. "Hope you didn't bust up the phone for change or maybe we'll just forget and let you stay here until morning…"

With that, she high-fived Emma and the two turned and walked away.

I didn't follow them. I had expected… not this.

And worse, I knew that power. I'd watched her introduction, after all. Shadow Stalker, of the Wards.

But now… She's worried about the PRT. That implied they didn't know what she was doing. But on the other hand, it made sense that the PRT might protect her at school…

And Survivor? I shook my head. I knew more, but there were even more questions. I couldn't go to the PRT, not yet. I didn't have any evidence other than my word, and that assumed the PRT didn't know what she was doing.

I slowly moved away. The men were hurt, but not dying. I'd wait for a while, and if there were no police, I'd call them myself.

The next step was to retrieve my recorder and find out if Blackwell had said anything incriminating. If not, I might have to have a more… personal interview with her.

By the time I was on the street, I'd put the scarf around my neck, and rearranged my clothes, so I was just another pedestrian hurrying for the bus, all my incriminating gear concealed.

I smiled. The night had been… profitable. Now to make use of what I had learned.

Sophia Hess… I think you're going to have a very bad month. Emma had worshipped capes. What little girl hadn't? And she'd started to turn the moment Sophia had met her. Now, all I needed to do was find out the whole story.

Edit: Chapter 4 is up on my and will be free for all by the end of the week.

Getting early because Easter is nearing and I don't know how much free time I'll have. Chapter 5 will go up on my tonightish, and probably be free for all Monday. Thanks for all the comments!

I got home just before curfew. Dad wasn't there. Probably he'd be in by 10:30. But I had the recorder I'd retrieved from Blackwell's office, and it was time to…

An hour later, Dad had come in, eaten dinner and gone to watch TV, and I was still working on my "homework" listening to the recording.

I had learned that Patricia Blackwell hated the coffeeshop on First, but it was on her way to school. She wanted to get rid of Gladly, in fact, half the morning conversation was about him, and the probability that he'd be on a sex offender list (ew!) soon, but she couldn't get rid of him.

I wonder why not? I noted that down on my pad of paper. There was a meeting with someone who had been playing with chemicals in the lab. A few phone calls, and… a lot of dead air. I guess she was doing paperwork. I fast-forwarded, listening for the chipmunk squeaks that indicated someone was talking, and just stopped long enough to verify it wasn't anything important. Then, at the end of school, there was a conversation between her and her secretary, and I resigned myself to putting the recorder back and seeing if—

"So, we got the money."

I paused.

"Yay." The secretary sounded even less happy than she was to see me. "The PRT delivered. What are we going to do with it?"

"The fire department's going to run their inspections starting next week. We can make certain the system is working, and recharge the fire extinguishers, and this time, we'll keep them locked up in the back room so none of the little shits play games with them before the inspection."

Wait. What? The school was getting money from the PRT, that confirmed the fact that they knew who Sophia was, but for fire extinguishers?

I pushed my chair back. I knew when I was out of my depth.

Walking into the living room, I saw Dad watching the news. Something about a man attempting to take over a town with robot combat units—and that had attracted Alexandria, especially when he claimed they could build more.

The camera was jittering, but it was showing car-sized machines exploding into fragments as a blur passed through them.

A few moments later, the newscaster was breathlessly informing us that while nobody had been killed, if it was proven that the bots had self-replication abilities, the now arrested villain might be on his way to the Birdcage.

Not my problem. "Dad?"

Dad started and looked at me as if he was trying to figure out what to say.

We'd never had that problem when Mom was alive.

"I-yes, Taylor?"

"I was wondering… why would a school need outside money to fix their fire extinguishers? I saw something on the news about that. Don't they get funding?" I shrugged. "Just curious." I wonder what it says that I can lie to Dad so easily.

Dad frowned then shook his head. "It depends. Usually, they'd have a budget for things like that, but if they had unexpected expenses, they might need extra funding. But outside?" He paused. "I… that's not how it works. Most organizations would have to send any requests up to the school district to get extra funding."

A thought struck me. "Would they get in trouble?"

"If you go over budget? Sure." He paused and looked at me. "If you're doing this, I guess school is going better?"

"It is."

"That's good. That's good."

I guess there wasn't anything else to say. I headed back to my room.

Closing the door behind me I frowned. Does the PRT know this? Why would they give them money? What for? To keep watch on Sophia? They weren't doing a good job of it. Or maybe they were, and they just didn't care.

Outside, a luckless rat that had been investigating some old food was swarmed by ants and wasps, thrashing as it died.

Inside, I closed my eyes.

Then I opened them. I'd make them care. But first… first I had to know more. And I had an idea of who I could ask.

I didn't go to school the next day. They'd call, the message would stay on the answering machine, and that would be the end of it. Missing a day, or even a few days, wasn't much of an issue.

And right now, I didn't trust myself, not entirely, to deal with Sophia. I couldn't risk losing my temper and bringing everything down and…

The bugs around the bus paused, a metaphorical deep breath, and then started moving again. Besides, there was always the danger that I might give something away. I would have to do research.

In addition to clearing another dozen or so businesses and drop my letters off. The total donations had amounted to five hundred dollars. Some people were getting very cheap work done. Which was fine. I didn't need a lot of money. Just enough to do what needed to be done.

I booted up the library computer and started work. I wasn't about to risk doing this at home.

A lot of the information about Wards was public—not individuals, but the programs, with cheery animated banners and video interviews telling everyone how working with the Protectorate could set a new parahuman on a course to change their life, learning their powers under controlled circumstances and using them for good. Rainmaker was shown dousing a brush fire, while Stonebinder stopped a building from collapsing. They all had interviews talking about how wonderful the Ward's experience was.

No Brockton Bay Wards, I noticed.

I went through the FAQ…and paused.

Q: But my child wants to keep going to her school. Can you help?

A: The Protectorate understands the importance of a nurturing environment for a ward. Your school will be provided with material and financial assistance, within reason, to allow the ward to remain.

I leaned back. That wasn't much information, but it'd make sense. Except would fire extinguishers be considered something the Protectorate would pay for? Was that what they were using the money for? I tried to remember what Blackwell's car looked like. It was a good model, but… old. In fact, I think Gladly had a newer car than she did.

While I was working, I was also practicing, slipping bugs onto the people walking around in and near the library. Making certain I could do it without anyone noticing. I still couldn't see, even with the insects that had good sight, like some of the spiders, but I had a feeling it was more due to the lack of… understanding. I resolved to keep practicing. Being able to see through my bugs, to hear through them, would be an immense advantage.

When I finished my research, which had little to say that I hadn't already found out, I headed back home after using the last bit of my money to buy several burner phones. I had a feeling, depending on the situation, I wouldn't want to use them more than once, so it'd be wise to have several of the cheap models. I had some ideas in mind for Sophia and it would involve using these phones.

There was no sense in just wandering around, and I had work to do. In the garage, I examined the dismantled walkie talkies I'd bought a few days ago, and started seeing what I could do. They were too heavy for my insects to carry, at least without being really obvious, but that didn't mean they couldn't help. Spiders, after all, could weave both sticky and non-sticky silk. At my order, the black widows and other spiders swarmed over the units, weaving sticky spidersilk and then covering it with a layer of nonsticky silk that I could pull off with a quick motion. I'd have to secure them in pouches, but now I had a powerful adhesive that would let me stick them to just about anything if I needed to hear—or talk. For now, I'd use that, but I had some other ideas. After all, if I put bugs on people, I could see them—even if they couldn't see me, and there were a number of recipes to make smoke bombs available on the Internet. But right now, I didn't need smoke. I needed information.

I glanced up at the clock. Four. It was time. I put my gear away, hiding it in case Dad saw it. I only brought a few things. One of the walkie talkies, and a recorder. After all, I wanted to have a record of this.

On the way to school, I kept my eyes out. I didn't want to run into any of the Trio or their hangers on. But fortunately, not many people stuck around school. Even the parking lot was mostly empty. Most of the teachers preferred to take their work home, I knew.

Winslow was not a safe place to be the last person heading out to get into your car, after all. Well, except for one person. The janitor. Stan. I slipped in through the door that Stan always left open so he could take the garbage out, and sent my bugs to find who was in the building. A few teachers in the staff meeting room, and…

That had to be Stan. I ran through the corridors, only a few lights on, making the place look like a mausoleum. I'd hated graveyards, even before Mom had died. A phrase from an old book ran through my mind.

But the fear of death grew ever darker upon them, and they delayed it by all means that they could; and they began to build great houses for their dead, while their wise men laboured unceasingly to discover if they might the secret of recalling life, or at least of the prolonging of Men's days.

When you were dead, you lost any chance of ever changing things. Even with powers, there was no way to bring someone back to life.

I got to the classroom—Gladly's classroom, and slapped a walkie talky to the back of the room, where it wouldn't be easy to see. Then I headed out, slipping into another room just as Stan came walking down the hallway, whistling.

He'd gotten me out of the Locker. As far as anyone had been nice, he had. But I needed information… and I didn't want to tip my hand. I started to summon gnats, too small to really see individually. I didn't want him to realize I was using bugs—so hopefully he'd just see a grayish figure, especially given his poor eyesight.

Other bugs filled the ventilation shafts. I'd be listening through the walkie-talkie. I'd be talking with my voice.

He turned and closed the door, picking up the trashcan and dumping it. Then I spoke.

"Hello, Stan…" the insects sounded like a hundred people talking at once, just a little bit out of synch.

Stan jumped, spun around, and stared at the form at the end of the room, gnats moving in tight formation, from his viewpoint looking more like a mist than any actual bugs.

"Who—who the hell are you?"

"That's not important Stan. I'm not going to hurt you, but I do have some questions for you."

"Questions?"

"We'll start with an easy one. Why can't Blackwell fire Gladly?"

After all, Stan knew all the gossip, according to some people. Maybe Gladly had something on her, maybe—

"He's the best she can get."

My brain just stopped for a moment, as the bugs rumbled. What? Gladly? The best?

"Really."

"Hey, you asked. He's got a good education, looked good on paper, but you know, he likes to be one of the kids. That's why he's here. Got caught in CA helping some seniors get some booze for a kicking party, you know, if you talk to Gladly, he'll tell you it's about getting down with the jive kids."

In the room, I winced. There were some words adults shouldn't say.

"That's it?"

"Hey, you may not have noticed, but Winslow isn't exactly gold on a resume. Half the teachers are here because they can't work anywhere else."

I'd keep that under advisement.

I shook my head. It wouldn't be long before the last of the teachers started to leave. I needed to hurry up.

"Sophia Hess. She's special."

Stan shook his head. "Sorry, I don't know who you are, but I'm not gonna say anything about Hess."

"You already have." He knows. But the penalties for an educational employee outing a Ward were pretty draconian. "The school gets money to watch her. That money went to the fire system. Why?"

"We're lowest on the totem pole. Everyone knows the kids here are majoring in Juvie, so why bother? When the money comes up short, the district just blames us."

"And so losing those funds would be bad."

"Yeah."

"That's all I needed to know." The meeting was breaking up, and I had to leave. "Tell nobody about this."

"Got that right."

I let the gnats disperse, for all the world looking like a ghost had just returned to the underworld, waiting until he left, before I darted into the room and grabbed my walkie-talkie. I walked out of the open door, right before the teachers in the meeting came around the corner. In some places, I'd have to worry about cameras… But this was Winslow.

As I walked to the bus stop, I couldn't stop replaying what Stan had said. Gladly was terrible but…

If he's the best you can get.

And without Sophia, the school wouldn't have fire extinguishers.

No. Without Sophia, Blackwell would have to stand up and do her job. Make noise. And that might get her in trouble, and it wasn't worth it.

Just like dealing with Sophia hadn't been worth it. And I bet that I wasn't the only one. There were plenty of bullies not affiliated with Sophia Hess, after all.

It wouldn't be enough to just get rid of bad guys, not until the supposed good guys did their jobs.

But I didn't know how high the corruption went. Did it stop at Winslow? Did the PRT know, or guess?

I—

A small group was behind me. I could sense them as the bugs swirled around. They'd come out of an alleyway and were now walking after me, a little faster than I was.

It looked like I was about to get mugged. I looked around. Most of the places were closed, but there was one convenience store still open. I turned and headed for it. The group behind me slowed for a moment, then gathered under a light.

I risked a glance back. Shaved heads, one sporting a shirt with 14-88 emblazoned on it.

E88. Why were they here? They certainly weren't friendly, not with the way they'd been following me.

I couldn't be obvious. E88 had a lot of capes, and rumors were at least one or two Thinkers. I would have to be sneaky.

I went and picked up some energy drinks, taking my time. Outside, in the sewers, where the warmer air was keeping my bugs more active, I sent moths fluttering through the passages, spiders and centipedes gripping their transport.

I wouldn't use them, though. Insects would be far too obvious for anyone with a brain.

Or rather, I wouldn't use them directly.

But there were rats in the sewers, and I used my bugs to drive them ahead of them in a panicked, squeaking, tide. At least fifty.

I went to the cash register, and then, dimly, we both heard the shouts of shock as the rats emerged from the gutter, frantically running for the group.

"Holy shit, man! Fuck!"

"Get away from 'em!"

"They're just rats!"

"They ain't acting normal, what if they're rabid?!"

The men started backing off, and a few moments later, they left my range.

I wasn't a target. Just someone they noticed and wanted to have fun with. I nodded. That was good.

Also, there was a two-for-one sale on the energy drinks.

That was also good. I could give them to Dad for work.

With that, I headed for the bus stop.

This was supposed to be realeased at 12:01AM tonight, but I won't be home, so have an Easter gift!

At home, I just sat for a few minutes. Thinking. My spiders were working, around me bugs were flying in complex patterns. But I wasn't moving. For a moment, I had a terrible thought. Wherever Sophia lived, there were black widows. If one just happened to… bite her while she slept, over a vein, it was just bad luck it as…

I shook my head. No. Beyond making me a murder, practically every other story of parahuman murder started with an "inexplicable" crime. Well, except for the ones that were really obvious. But it didn't change the fact that a ward dying in an odd way would almost certainly raise eyebrows.

And it was murder. I probably shouldn't forget that.

I couldn't go to the PRT. But for all I knew they might be willing to cover things up. Maybe not, but I wasn't going to risk it. At the very least, they'd probably want to force me into the Wards and I had no interest in that. Knowingly or not, they couldn't keep their own ward in line.

So I would have to deal with her. In a way that wouldn't expose me. That would force the Protectorate to either clean up their mess or show me their true colors, and that wouldn't risk anyone's life. Sophia had shown herself willing to be violent and dangerous. Now, more so, and Emma… Sophia had been the voice of reason when it came to potentially murdering a pair of Merchants.

And yet… Sophia had warned Emma about bringing her phone, and Emma had bought a burner. That meant this wasn't the first time.

And that meant that I would seem to know more than I knew. Or rather… Yes. That would work, because Sophia didn't want the PRT to know, so she wouldn't tell anyone else. Now, I just had to arrange the time.

And set up some party favors. I got to work, spiders weaving light cloaks and robes that wasps and flies could fill, something that would look like me, complete with a cloak. That was important. Nobody would know whether or not I was a Changer who wore it until I turned into insects or if I was a sentient swarm of insects or something else.

I wasn't Hookwolf or Lung. I couldn't let people know my tricks.

And that included my message. I'd need to ensure that there was nothing on it that might reveal my identity, no fingerprints or DNA.

And lastly, since this would be my first official job… I smiled. I needed to pick up a pack of cards.

Sophia opened her locker, wondering when Hebert would show up. Maybe the weakling had dropped out and they'd next see her as a Merchant whore. Emma would want pics—

A letter fell down as she pulled the door wide. Sophia blinked, reached down and looked at it.

"READ ME" it printed.

If this is some fucking game, I'm going to—

Her thoughts slithered to a halt as she saw the elegant handwriting, some kinda computer font.

Hello, Sophia.

Or should I say, Shadow Stalker. I must say, you and Survivor's excursions have been quite interesting. You've been a very bad girl. I wonder what the Protectorate would have to say, about a Ward going off on her own, even if she did burn the drugs. .

But don't worry, I think we can work this out. Meet me at the warehouse on 45th and Lincoln, the place that was partially burned down last year. We can chat there, at say, 10 PM. Oh, you should probably leave Survivor at home. She can be a little violent. Remember how you had to remind her murder wasn't good? As for Madison, well we both know who she is.

An Admirer.

Sophia ground her teeth so hard that they almost cracked.

Fuck! Someone had seen her. Had Emma fucked up? Sophia shook her head. No, they knew too much. They knew about Madison, that she was just a hanger on. They knew that Emma sometimes needed Sophia to control her, fuck—how much did they know?

If it had been a kid here… she looked around. Hebert was walking down the hallway, finally back at school, just as Julia "accidentally" bumped into her. Normally, Sophia would be up for the fun as Taylor went sprawling, but right now she had bigger problems.

I can't call the PRT. They'd want to see the letter and I'd be screwed.

"Fuck!" Sophia snarled, slamming the door closed.

"What is it?" Emma asked, walking up to the locker.

Sophia thought fast. "Got a call from Piggy. I need to be at the Rig tonight, some bullshit unannounced drill."

"Cool!" Emma said.

"Yeah."

It'll be cool. Because I'm going to kill some asshole who thought they could blackmail me. They're not one of the big names, because they'd know better.

She'd leave Emma behind for this. Emma liked to brag, and sometimes you needed to stay quiet. Viciously, Sophia put the letter in her pocket. She'd have to get her stuff from a cache that Emma didn't know about.

That was fine. When you could turn intangible, there were a lot of places you could stash things where nobody else could find them.

And before Sophia finished with whoever this asshole was, they were going to tell her about anyone else who knew what she'd been doing.

I left school before Sophia, skipping my last class. If I was right, Sophia couldn't skip class, not without risking someone asking where she was going—perhaps someone in the PRT. So I had some time. Several hours, actually.

I set my insects to work in the burned-out warehouse, flying insects coming from where I'd called them, hiding in corners, while spiders wove their webs, creating shrouds all over the building, that left it looking like some eerie haunted house.

I needed some props, after all. I put some of my walkie-talkies to use, gluing them to the walls before spiders covered them in webs that were themselves covered in dust. The digital recorder I'd used on Blackwell was ready. I was going to use it for another purpose, along with the other recorder I'd bought. It was strange having some money now, even if it wasn't much.

And then, it was time to wait. Once again, as far as Dad knew, I was out with some friends. I'd have to figure out a better cover story, but for now, it'd hold. I wrapped my cloak around me, as the clouds started covering the moon.

I wasn't super cold, but I'd have to work on better insulation because it wasn't nearly as cold as the Bay could get.

Would she come? Or is the entire Protectorate about to Descend on me?

If so, they'd be surprised. I wasn't in the building. I was under it, in a little drainage channel, my bugs able to cover nearly the entire structure. If I saw the Protectorate arrive, I'd just leave, because it would prove that they knew what Sophia had done…

And then I'd wait to see what they would do to her.

I—and then I felt it. A single person entering the building, disturbing the draglines my spiders had trailed all over the place. They were moving slowly and then—I lost them, only to feel them appear again on the second level. There were holes on the second story, they—well, she at this point, unless there was another cape who could do that in the Bay—could look down to watch their enemy show up at ten.

It was nine-thirty. I suppose it was time to get the game started.

Sophia moved carefully. She'd actually shown up almost thirty minutes ago, spending her time looking at the building, looking for anyone around it.

This would be one of the few times that Kid Win wouldn't be useless, since his armor had sensors in it, but no way was she gonna come clean to them. They were just useless weight, little kids who didn't know how things worked.

Not like Sophia. Whoever this asshole was had fucked up big time by trying to blackmail her. She turned intangible and jumped up into the second floor. She could see most of the ground floor here, especially since the second floor only took up part of the structure, the rear being a warehouse.

She flashed her light out, keeping it low, but no, the dust was undisturbed, save where she'd been. The asshole hadn't even bothered scouting the place.

Now time to get ready. Sophia pulled out her crossbow—her real one, not the toy the PRT had saddled her with. She'd spent money on it, and actually managed to get a quick re-wind spring system, something some guy out west had come up with. It had ten shots, and that meant she could fire ten bolts as fast as she could fit them and pull the trigger. If the Protectorate or Piggy knew she had it, she'd be fucked, since turning over all of her tools was part of her probation, but fuck them. She'd earned this crossbow.

But now, she'd set herself up with nice little nest. There was only one open door, the one she'd come in, and that meant that the idiot would come in that way.

And Sophia would find out who else knew about her, before she…

Huh. This'll be the first time I've deliberately killed someone. She shook her head. Not her fault. What else would you do if someone tried to blackmail you?

She'd—

"Hello, Shadow Stalker. Am I interrupting you?"

The voice seemed to come from all around her, as Sophia jumped away from her position, phasing into the wall and ending up on the first level. What the fuck! There was nobody here.

She looked around the chamber, rusted machines, shattered boxes, and the detritus from the fire making it impossible to really see. There were also a fuckton of cobwebs in the place, one draping over her as she moved forward.

"You think you're fucking smart! You know what they do to people who out wards?"

"Send their ward out by their lonesome? Oh, Shadow Stalker, we both know you didn't tell anyone. They might ask about Emma." There was a fluttering to her right and Sophia spun around and fired. The deadly metal bolt… Punched into and through a horde of moths that she'd disturbed. They flew around her, one getting in her face before they vanished into the darkness.

"Show yourself, or are you a coward?"

"But I just want to talk…"

I moved further down the tunnel, closer to Sophia. I needed a safety margin on my bugs. Also… I wanted to keep her there. I'd practiced, and the acoustics were very good for my cheap little recorders.

An insect couldn't see much, and I was nowhere near skilled enough to make much sense of their input—but a moth, its compound eyes pushed up close to the green "recording" light, was a different matter. I knew they were recording. I knew they could hear Sophia and my conversation.

So… It was time to have that conversation.

"Why did you team up with Emma? She doesn't seem your speed, even if she's good with a baseball bat. Taking her out to beat up Merchants…"

"She's a survivor!" Sophia said. She was triggering my draglines, but now I had her tagged, spiders and flies in her clothing. She was moving, keeping a wall to her side, both protecting her and giving her a quick route to safety.

"What did she survive? You?" I let a chirring laugh fill the building. "Breaking a fingernail?"

"Fuck you! The ABB was about to cut her up, and she fought back!"

"And then you helped her." I didn't say anything for a moment but sent another group of "accidentally" disturbed moths up in her face. This time she didn't shoot, just cursed softly. She was definitely braver than the E88 thugs I'd fought.

But it was time for something else. I pulled out one of my burner phones, hit a single button with my gloved hand.

"PRT, this is a recorded line."

I whispered through buzzing insects, helping to disguise my voice, "I can't talk man, but Shadow Stalker is in a building on 45th and Lincoln, some kind of warehouse. She's fighting someone, I think it's another cape." I didn't answer the requests for information, just opened my hand and had dozens of spiders attach draglines to it before a swarm lifted it away from me. One bug couldn't do that, a hundred couldn't—not unless someone could control them. And it only had to go a little way. Far enough that the PRT triangulation would put it in the middle of the building.

I wouldn't want them to get the wrong building, now, would I?

While I was doing that, I kept listening to Sophia.

"Of course I did. She's not like most people. She fights back."

"Is that the only reason you help people?"

"Yeah. If you're not going to fight, why the fuck should I help you? That's why this town is so fucked up, nobody fights."

She was being talketi—I shook my head. No, she was trying to get me to talk, so that she could locate me. It was a little disturbing that Sophia and I seemed to have arrived at the same conclusion, even if she was part of the problem.

"And you have Blackwell under your thumb."

"Blackwell doesn't give a shit. She sits in her office, and if the PRT pays money, she's happy. Two of her teachers are dealing, and she doesn't even know."

"Dealing. Why don't you do something?"

"If Piggy found out the school had dealers, I'd be in fucking Arcadia."

"I see…" I raised the volume a little bit to one side, and Sophia squatted down, moving towards it.

"So the PRT doesn't know about your little expeditions, especially the way you've maimed people and invited a civilian along. I take it this… Piggy would be angry?"

"Yeah. She's fucking useless. Keeps me on Console if I so much as get lost for a minute on patrol, or don't smile."

"And so you go out and attack criminals when they can't find you. That's why you left your PRT equipment at home."

"I'm not stupid."

Except now nobody is answering your phone at the same time someone called you in as fighting.

My draglines, those that I'd spun after Sophia had come in were disrupted. Someone moving fast.

Time to end this. And end it…

"Hello, Sophia," I said, and from the floor a cloaked form rose, bugs filling out a robe made of light spider silk, enough dust on it to make it look like a real human.

"Fuck you!" Sophia shouted, and fired, once, then twice. The decoy collapsed, as the bolts flew through them, sinking directly into the rotted wood.

"Shadow Stalker!" a flashlight shone in the chamber.

I knew that voice. Velocity.

"They're here!" Sophia shouted. "We can take 'em down!"

"Shadow Stalker, Armsmaster, and Miss Militia are inbound, we need to get you out of this area and why…" there was a pause, and my bugs detected the beam of his flashlight touching one particular part of the building. "…are those lethal bolts?"

I left the building, heading for the exit in the tunnel. Velocity was remaining still, probably waiting for back up and I heard the sound of two motorcycles.

By the time they would check the building, the walkie-talkies I'd put to the walls to hear with would be gone, bugs cutting them free and dropping them into the drainage channels in the warehouse floor where other bugs would cover them with dirt. In a few minutes, they'd look like they'd been down there for years.

The recorder… I paused, as a tide of insects came rolling down the tunnel, bearing my prizes. I'd give them one, of course, I wouldn't want them to think I was faking this, but it'd be best to have copies, which was why I had two.

Which meant it would be easy to provide the PRT with enough information to do the right thing.

Hannah stared in dismay at the two deadly bolts, then glanced at the crossbow Colin had confiscated.

"Oh, Sophia…" she murmured. A plain violation of her probation. Whatever happened, now, it was an open question if she'd be sent to juvenile hall or another department, but her time here was over.

"Why did you not inform the Protectorate?" Colin asked. "Someone knowing your civilian identity and laying what is obviously a trap for you?"

"Whoever it was didn't get me." The girl looked around. "Probably ran off."

"Place is clear." Velocity zipped back. "No sign of entry or anyone else being here." He paused. "But I found this, no footprints around it." Already in an evidence bag, the gleaming image of a spider was visible on the back of the playing card.

An orb weaver.

"They were! I fucking heard them!" Sophia snarled.

"A Stranger or Changer, then. Likely a new player." Colin said. He looked down at Sophia. "Why did they call you?"

"Dunno. They told me that if I didn't come here, there would be problems at the school. They said I couldn't talk to the PRT."

"We have protocols for that purpose, Shadow Stalker." Colin sounded grim. "This represented a severe threat, which you should not have confronted on your own. Not to mention the fact that you are not allowed to carry lethal weapons, no matter the circumstances. My tranquilizers are actually more effective than broadheads in quickly neutralizing an opponent without the danger of killing them."

"Yeah, well what if they were like Hookwolf."

"Your crossbow would have been incapable of harming him, as opposed to angering him."

"Let's hold this until we've had the site checked and get back to the Rig. Shadow Stalker, are you certain they were trying to blackmail you with threats to the school?"

"Y-yeah."

"Good, we'll get back on the van."

"Another point. When you are out, you are required to keep your PRT phone with you. You could have used the panic button and summoned us immediately," Colin said.

But they had another surprise when they left.

"Sir?" a trooper walked up to Colin. "We were deploying, but then something just appeared in one of our vans."

"Show me."

Another parahuman? Someone who can teleport, phase, or a Stranger? Hanna hoped not. Strangers could be a terror to deal with.

But there, in the seat, was a cheap recorder.

Sophia tensed. "It's probably a bunch of lies," she said, and Hanna met Robin's gaze. She didn't sound angry, she sounded… worried.

"I will investigate it," Colin said. "We will verify any claims against the evidence. If they are lies, you do not have to worry." As he called for an isolation bag, Sophia just stared at the recorder and clenched her fists.

Hannah could read posture, and Sophia didn't seem… her position screamed anger. But also helplessness.

As if she knew whatever was on that recorder wasn't something that could be easily dismissed.

Oh Sophia…

"And we found…" Emily Piggot wondered briefly if God would ever answer her prayers.

But no rampaging E88 cape had forced the meeting to be cancelled.

"Phone logs between the three, at least two caches on school grounds, and a confession from Madison Clements," the legal officer answered. He gestured to Armsmaster. "The caches…"

"Were emplaced in regions that could not be reached by merely physical methods." Armsmaster said. "However, they were easy enough to find, once I decided to search for them. Shadow Stalker did not consider that a deliberate search might be initiated."

"Of course not. If she'd been capable of that kind of forethought she might not have joined in on bullying a fellow student." It wasn't the worst thing she'd ever seen, not by a long shot. There was a reason why soldiers and law enforcement generally didn't tell their stories at the dinner table. But it was still unpleasant and the duration…

"And no signs of deliberate malfeasance." Emily said. "I find that surprising."

"Er…" The legal officer shook his head. "Nothing… actionable. I've been closeted with the DA over this, and the problem is that no student provided clear evidence that the three were involved and of course, Ms. Hebert was hysterical and had accused the other students of bullying before—accusations that we now know were true, but the school administration chose to use that to argue that she was taking out her misfortune on them…" Sarcasm entered his voice. "Leaving someone who could ram a girl into a locker full of tampons free to wander about with nobody noticing. I guess Nice Guy had a kid."

"And the police…"

"Were dealing with a bad week. Three racially motivated killings, that little festival of Skidmark's and the need to run security for the Cherry Festival in Little Japan." Armsmaster shook his head. "Given Lung's threats of what would happen if the E88 disrupted it, I can understand why the police and DA chose to drop what was in the greater scope of things, a relatively minor event."

Emily winced and reminded herself why Colin was never left unattended for interviews.

"Sophia is gone. We haven't yet decided where she's going, but the choice between a containment zone and Camp 12 is still up in the air. I'm pushing for Camp 12." She glanced down at the memo she'd typed up to that effect. Maybe Alexandria and her pet project could straighten her out, but Sophia Hess would hopefully no longer be an issue to trouble the Bay.

"Her powers could be useful in a containment zone…" Armsmaster murmured.

"Except for the minor fact that she lies. And no matter how closely she's supervised there's always the danger that she could cover her ass once again, and say, lie about something getting out." Emily shook her head. "Sophia seemed to think that she was only up for a year, at most, if she broke her probation and forgot that she's still a minor. Her mother has transferred custody to the PRT, so wherever she is, it'll be until she's 18, which solves the problem of turning this into a media circus. Better yet, the statute of limitations won't run out by the time she's 18, so if she knows what is good for her, she'll play ball so we don't decide to charge her."

"And the Heberts?"

The Attorney answered Colin. "We've put pressure on the school systems, and they're going to inform them that now that this terrible information has come to light, the old agreement is null and void, and they won't fight a new settlement, within reason. As for Shadow Stalker…"

"We will inform Mr. Hebert, not Taylor Hebert," Emily said. "He's an adult, so we can hit him with the NDA's and explain why we don't want to risk the Empire "Avenging" Taylor Hebert by murdering members of Sophia's family. I'm hoping he'll accept a transfer of Sophia's college fund to Ms. Hebert, along with further medical care, should she need it." Less than a lawsuit might give him, but hopefully they'll go for it. If the Empire gets a hold of this information… "Lastly, Armsmaster, what about our new parahuman?"

"I am not certain if they are a Parahuman. From Sophia's description, they displayed no powers, save for an ability to track her, but…" The hero shook his head. "Sophia has never been the most tactically inclined ward, and if someone had arrived there early, scouted the location out, they might very well have been able to track her by sound alone. However, the fact that we were unable to find them or any tracks does indicate the possibility of a stranger or changer-themed parahuman, but again, they could have simply been very careful covering their tracks."

"And the card?"

"A common playing card. Just over 4,000 decks with that particular design were sold in the state over the last month. I am having Kid Win check the sales records out with an analysis program."

"Really?"

Armsmaster paused. "His difficulty in concentration can sometimes be… partially alleviated if he is given a concrete goal and challenge. I am overseeing the work, especially since it's very unlikely to provide actionable information. But the fact that it is official Protectorate work may assist his concentration. Returning to this subject, had the individual wanted to kill Sophia, they could have."

"No, they just showed us they knew her identity, got her to issue a damming confession during what was pretty clearly a murder attempt, and then walked off after handing us a recording." Emily shook her head. "I don't like this. Most new parahumans, if this is what we have, tend to be loud. This wasn't. This was both sneaky and well planned."

"It could be a parahuman relative of one of the students." The lawyer said. "I could…"

"No. The last thing we need to do is convince a possible parahuman we're trying to seek them out via their family members. Especially since it'd be a pure fishing expedition." Emily shook her head. "No. For now, we'll stay wary, keep our eyes out, but whoever this is clearly wanted her arrested, not dead. I see no reason to risk an escalation."

Not that we have any choice, because it's all up to our unknown parahuman, if they are a parahuman, whether or not things escalate.

Mike Thomas didn't normally meet the mayor. But Roy had called the principal in of George Washington Junior High to ask for a favor. So far it wasn't going well.

"Do I look like an idiot, Roy?" Mike asked.

"No, but we could use your help." Roy Christiner massaged his forehead, staring at the phone, which was blessedly quiet.

"You could use Jesus Christ and all his angels' help. Blackwell wasn't providing proper supervision, we have at least three teachers implicated in either dealing drugs or ignoring said dealing, and the teachers who were doing their jobs have cabinets full of CYA memos about structural bullying issues, all of which were "going to be addressed" Well, they're sure as hell being addressed right now." Mike pointed at the paper, talking about the recent arrests. "I don't know who you murdered to keep the whole story quiet, but that's not going to last."

The Mayor sighed. "Fine. Blackwell's gone, and we need someone who can handle the school, and who doesn't care about pissing off the parents, gangs, or media. You know, so we can tell the news media that we are fixing it. And..."

"And?" Mike gestured. "And sounds like something worse. Did you find Jack Slash running an after school club?"

"Don't joke. We don't have to pay the Hebert kid's family any more money."

"How the hell did you manage that, and why do you look like someone shot your dog?"

"They were willing to..." Roy closed his eyes. "We have a consent decree. They're willing to forgo further legal action, presuming action is taken to clean up Winslow. It's a really tight consent decree."

"And I'm the sacrificial goat. Thanks."

"You ran with Marquis. You should be able to handle Winslow."

Mike shook his head, running a finger along the jagged scar that pulled his expression into a lopsided grin. "I liked running a junior high. Fine. But Roy?"

"Yes?"

"Throw the Hebert Kid's family twenty grand."

"What? They-"

"Yeah, they gave that up. But take it from someone who, as you said, ran with Marquis, putting some weregild in the pot, especially if you're not legally mandated to, can at least help you dig your way out of the pit you're in."

"Right, I'll run it by legal. Christ, how the hell did this happen?"

Mike didn't smile. "The school board didn't keep watch on Blackwell, and you didn't keep watch on them, and someone else paid for it. Time to do our jobs, Mayor."

Patricia Blackwell got into her car. The sun had gone down, and the last light of dusk was fading. The school district wasn't going to fire her. No, she was being put into the district office, to do makework, until she retired. The only reason she wasn't fired was that nobody wanted to draw attention to the fact that a school had been paying for repair and safety systems by using an off-books set of payments from the Wards program.

They wanted this to go away quietly, and Patricia Blackwell being shuffled off to a cubicle office where she'd be carefully ignored by everyone instead of just being fired, was the price. The district would pay it.

She—

Hello, Ms. Blackwell…

Suddenly the car was plunged into darkness as something just coated the windows, even as that voice, that… alien voice spoke to her.

"Who—Who are you?"

"That's not important, is it? The important thing is, how you failed this city. Didn't you know how much bullying was going on?"

"You mean the Hebert girl? Her stories were fanciful, every time she lost her homework, every time she tripped she was blaming everyone else. Someone pushed her in the locker, but she didn't have any evidence, just kept accusing the same three students…"

There was a pause.

"And yet, she proved to be right… You could have found that out, if you'd done some work. In fact, you might have stopped it before it escalated. You, Patricia Blackwell, are to blame for everything that happened, not just to that child, but everyone else."

Patricia swallowed. "That's not my job, any more."

"On the contrary, Ms. Blackwell, it very much is. You have harmed this city. All the dreams you had walking in the doors—yes, I remember that interview, from a decade ago, they curdled along with your courage. And because of that, you have contributed to the ills of this city. And you will make payment."

Oh, God, is he going to kill me? "Wha…what do you want?"

"You will be working in the District office. You will have access to records. I may need information from those records, now and then, to continue my work regarding this city. You will obtain them for me."

"But that's…that's illegal!"

"Are you declining my offer?"

"I… no. But when will I be done with you?"

"Ten years, Ms. Blackwell. How much damage have you done over that time? Answer that question, and you will know when our books will be even."

"I… how will I contact you?"

"I will contact you, Ms. Blackwell, when I have need of you. Good day. You work for me, now."

Moments later, the streetlights were once again shining through the glass. Blackwell swallowed…

And started to shiver.

Maybe being fired wasn't the worst thing that could happen.

And you get another chapter, and it has nothiung to do with me somehow forgetting to post the interlude until this chapter dropped. Nope, not at all.

I didn't go out the next night. The Protectorate would almost certainly be looking for whoever had brought Sophia to justice.

And I couldn't be certain I hadn't left something behind. I didn't think so, but the Protectorate had decades worth of experience.

The next day, however, Blackwell was gone. A new individual informed us that she had unexpectedly requested a transfer and that our new principal would tell us what was going on on Monday.

Also, Sophia, Emma, and Madison were all gone.

Interesting. Evidently someone had decided to take action, not just against Sophia but the others.

Over the course of the last day, the teachers were distracted. Men in suits, who didn't give names, called them into the office for "interviews" and I noticed some of them making copies of the computer files.

Two of our teachers, the shop teacher and remedial English teacher vanished—my bugs showed them walked out of the rear, accompanied by several men, and placed into a car. I managed to get back to the window in time to see, resolving to find some way to see via my bugs.

They were being driven off in police cars.

They hadn't been involved with my issues, so I wondered if they were the two "dealing" teachers Stan had mentioned.

But I had to go to computer class. Even Julia was quiet, looking to the empty seats where Emma and Sophia had been.

She was so concerned, her insults were more or less pro-forma, although Gladly didn't do anything. As usual.

When school ended I headed out the front. Today, I'd actually chosen to eat in the cafeteria, to observe everyone else.

It was a strange sensation. Nobody messed with my food.

When I got home, Dad was already there. For a moment, I stopped. There was nobody in the house with him, my bugs showed that. But why was he home early…

I walked in, and heard Dad's voice.

"Taylor? Could you come here, please?"

I walked in, and saw dad sitting in front of some papers. He glanced up at me. "Taylor, I can tell you something about your bullies, but it has to stay in complete confidence."

"Okay," I said.

"The… PRT called me in for a meeting this morning, while you were at school. I had to sign NDAs, but they left it up to me if you were to be told."

I don't say anything. Dad takes a deep breath.

"Sophia was Shadow Stalker. She's been… removed."

"Oh. That explains why she wasn't at school today."

"The other two…" Dad pauses. "As a result of what the PRT found, their cases were turned over to the District Attorney. Emma and Madison were arrested this morning."

For a moment, I wonder at why I don't feel… more.

Just a certain satisfaction that the school was finally doing its job, coupled with a dim anger that I had to do this.

"And because of that, the school is willing to renegotiate our settlement. So I wanted your input on that."

I knew exactly what I was going to say, what I wanted. I'd thought about this, after all, while researching things at the library. "No money."

"What?"

"If they pay us money, morally at least, the school, the city, will consider this over and done with." Now I feel a little anger, as the bugs under the eaves of the house start twisting. "That would be easy. I want something else. I want to be certain this won't happen again. I want…" I took a deep breath. "A consent decree. I read about it, it'll last even after I'm long gone from the school."

Dad blinked. Opened his mouth, shook his head. "Are you certain?"

My bugs start to get even more agitated, and I take a moment to make certain nobody can see them. "I don't know why Emma turned on me." I had suspicions, but not proof. "But if the school had done its job, the locker would never have happened. We'd just have stopped being friends. I don't want that to happen to anyone else."

"I'll… Okay. As part of their settlement, the PRT offered to let us use one of their lawyers to talk to the school, in addition to transferring Sophia's college fund to us. I… Taylor, we can't expose her identity. Not just because of the NDA, but because she has family here and…"

"If a black ward was outed, after doing this, there's every chance the E88 would decide to avenge me." I nodded.

"As for Emma…" Dad looked away. "The PRT really doesn't want this to go any further, so they let me read some of the information from Sophia's interview. It's… Taylor, Emma may not be convicted of a crime because she's mentally… very unwell."

And you are? I remembered how Dad just shut down, before Mr. Barnes came in and forced him to… Huh. Mr. Barnes may have saved Dad's life, and his daughter destroyed mine. Where does that leave us?

But then Dad told me the whole sordid story, and I found myself giving thanks for one thing.

I didn't want to start my career with killing or seriously injuring a ward.

If I'd known what I knew now, it is very unlikely Sophia would have walked out of that warehouse.

That weekend, I went out on patrol. I tell Dad he can handle the meetings, that I don't want to go there, and he accepts that I'll just want to spend some time in the safe parts of town.

The main reason, of course, is that I don't want to risk someone making connections between Taylor and Orb Weaver, and I have no idea what kind of surveillance the PRT would use during the meetings. As for the other, I'll be allowed to read the consent decree before it's signed off on, and I have better things to do than sit in a room where nobody will be listening to me.

When I had been first thinking of how I could help the city, I'd done some research.

It was odd, that the closest thing I found to the Bay wasn't from the age of parahumans, but before—Detroit, Michigan. A place known for "Devil's Night" where gangs would set the city on fire, as the wealthy and white fled for the suburbs, leaving the city center to die.

Very much like the Bay, in fact, since most of the good neighborhoods were actually outside of the Bay proper—and didn't pay taxes to the city.

And that was in a city without parahumans, without rage dragons. Not only that… I glanced down at my reading list. I'd considered myself literate, better in fact that the other kids in my class.

And I was. But now I was trying to read and understand books with titles like "Politics of Corruption: Organized Crime in an American City." No cop wanted to arrest Hookwolf, that was easy enough to understand, but Hookwolf didn't collect his dogs. He didn't buy them from shelters, even though shelters were supposed to do follow-up checks.

No Empire cape went with the city inspectors when they focused on non-E88 businesses.

I couldn't go after the capes, not at first. But… I could go after the people who let them do their business. I could make the politicians more afraid of Orb Weaver than they were greedy for bribes. I couldn't fight them head on…

But I didn't need to fight them head on. Not if I was smart. Not if I knew where I could hurt them.

But I needed practice. The Empire, the ABB, were both large, organized, and capable of quickly responding to a threat. Me going after them right now would be like a new student trying to take down a black belt.

Fortunately, there was another group in town, one that arguably did nearly as much damage as the other two.

The Merchants.

They would give me practice. Training.

Allow me to establish a persona, and spread fear through the underground.

Which was why I was walking into the kind of neighborhood that would have Dad ground me for eternity if I knew he was here.

I sent my bugs out, and they could pick up the people huddled around. There were shipping containers in empty plots of land, stacked several containers high, with narrow pathways between them. I could sense people in them. It was illegal, but for some people, a shipping container was the best they could do. I paused by one.

A mass of maggots, roughly human-sized. For someone, their home had become their tomb. I would call it in, from a payphone, later.

More people were starting to come out. I was in Skidmark's territory, as an M with two lines through it helpfully informed me. The street was full of abandoned businesses, a single bar holding on. I could smell urine and other scents from its door way, and as I passed, my insects let me know I'd never want to eat what it was serving. But it was the closest to a gathering place here, and there were a pair of pay phones by it.

Strange that payphones would be working here, almost as if someone was protecting them, someone who wanted a way for people without cell phones to contact them. I paused by the phone.

Someone whistled at me. I didn't respond. The air was cold, but I had enough bugs I'd brought, flying down the warmer sewers, to keep me safe if I needed more than my pepper spray. I put a single one of my walkie-talkies under the phone, my spiders webbing it to the metal before they disguised it with more webs. I'd tested these at home, and I could get 100 feet, easy with the reception, even after I'd dismantled them so they wouldn't be as obvious. After all, there was no need for a speaker if all I needed was to hear.

Then I went down an alley, empty, or so my bugs told me. I quickly put my uniform on, the coat, hat and scarf concealing me. I'd worn my armor under my street clothes. Scambling up a fire ladder, I made it to the roof or a nearby building, an abandoned hotel, most of its floors rotted out, the few inhabitants far back from me.

It was time to wait.

I didn't have long.

"Yeah, man, I need two bags!" My recorder was taking down all the information. Some of it useful, but not what I wanted. I needed to hear a location.

More talk followed as people walked up to the phone, called someone…

I mentally kicked myself. I needed to find a way to see what they were dialing. I—

"Yeah, Skids dropped off the goods at our place on 5th and River! Good stuff Tom! I'll get it, and you meet me back here, and I'll give you a discount if you bring Maria… yeah, she's a cutie! Just off the bus!"

I tagged him with a bug, and moved off the roof.

Come to think of it, why had I bothered with the roof? I shook my head. I was thinking too much like a hero. I could have just stayed in the alley and saved myself having to come down.

Fifth and River was just four blocks away in the heart of Merchant's territory.

I kept off the main road, heading down the alleyways. Not many people here, although a rat lunged out at me, only to be driven back by a swarm of bugs emerging from a drainage grate. As I moved, I also commanded bed bugs to leave their beds, and fleas and lice to abandon their human hosts.

It wouldn't last long, but I figured these people needed all the help they could get.

It didn't take me long to get to Fifth and River, and in fact, I was faster than the man I was following. When I got there, I stayed in the mouth of the alleyway, obscured by a pile of stinking garbage. The man I was following looked like…

Well, looked terrible. He had sores, and when he opened his mouth, I could see the missing teeth. But he walked up to the front of an abandoned diner, a faded sign reading PARADISE HAMBURGERS. There were nearly a dozen people on the first floor, and several on the second floor, all of them infested. I guessed the ones on the second floor were sleeping—or high.

I could short out the power by jamming the circuit breakers with my bugs, but if the place caught fire… No. I was here to watch, not take action. Not yet.

This was one of their clubhouses, and Skidmark evidently dropped by. No, I needed to use this place, not simply burn it down so they'd move to find another but…

My subject left the building, tucking bags into his pockets. He set off along the road, and I followed.

They don't even care to stay secret. They must expect no police will come down here.

And evidently, they were right. I hadn't seen a single police unit in the area.

But I followed the man pulling my scarf off of my face, the longcoat and hat looking non-descript in the area, sometimes in the alleyway, sometimes on the street, far enough behind that he didn't notice me.

One man moved to intercept me—I sent a pair of flies up his nose, and he stopped sneezing and cursing and not, at all linking me with his poor fortune.

Finally, after several blocks, my quarry was gasping and puffing, as he came to a small apartment building. Bars on the windows, doors locked, save for those that had been kicked open. It advertised daily and weekly rates. He walked to the back and knocked on the door. I was close enough to hear and see from the corner.

"So, here's the stuff! How's Maria?!"

I blinked at the girl who was in the doorway. Even from my distance, she looked younger than me, good clothes, already stained.

Fresh off the bus. She's probably a runaway. Why they would come to the Bay, I didn't know.

Something else to think about, and study. But now…

There were bugs and insects all through the hotel, benefitting from the warmth and…abundant food.

"Maria's great! Remember hun, if you wanna stay here, you gotta pay the rent, and Jim here's good practice."

The girl practically flinched back.

"C'mon, honey don't be like that. Besides, we give you a hit, and everything will be great!"

"No. I don't think so…" my 'voice' echoed from the walls.

The two men looked around.

"Who the fuck are you! This is Merchant—"

"This is my town. My territory. The Merchants are nothing. And by the end of this month, they will be gone from my town… you will be a warning." I sent bugs up to cover the lights, turning the room and hotel black. The three were looking around wildly, not noticing that the darkness came from bugs, not any other power. Some would be more observant, but… Merchants. "Tom, you have bartered something that was not yours to give. Jim, you have sought to commit an unspeakable crime…" Maria was pressing herself into the doorway. I didn't like this, but I couldn't reassure her. Not with the other two by her.

"Fuck you!" Jim pulled a knife from his jacket, and waved it around. "You think you're tough! I'll fucking cut you!"

"Very well…"

I couldn't reveal my power, not without risking someone dealing with it. But I didn't have to. First I sent gnats swirling around, my bugs pulling back from one light, the effect seeming to be something coalescing out of the darkness. Then larger bugs followed them, making it look like something was stepping out of the night. This wouldn't work, I expected, on an experienced cape, but well… those three weren't. Lastly, I left the "eyes" empty of bugs, so the dim street lights shining through seemed to be a pair of glowing orbs. Then I "crouched" down before sending the entire mass up and onto the roof, seeming to hang down, looking at them.

Jim whimpered and backed away.

"I thought you were going to cut me… But maybe… I'll just devour you…"

The two men were standing, and neither one noticed the spiders I'd sent swirling up from the sewers.

"Or give you a lesson…" With that, I sent them up through their pants, running around between the skin and fabric, everywhere. I didn't bite. A bite would leave too much evidence, but now, they felt like a million tiny claws and fingers were tearing at them.

"Oh God!" Jim screamed, dropping the knife. "What is happening!"

"Tasting you. After all, I don't like eating bad flesh…"

Outside most of the few people on the street had left. Evidently, this part of the Bay wasn't big on humanitarian impulses.

"Now be still…" They all fell silent. Maria had her hands covering her mouth, eyes wide as she stared at her 'friends'. "Take another child, and I will be back. I will devour your eyes, your teeth, your heart, and I will use your hollowed-out body to walk and protect my city… Do you understand?"

They nodded.

I let my bugs chuckle, a chirring sound. "But there is a penalty. The drugs you have. Take them out. Tear the bag and let them blow away…"

"But we haven't paid for it, Skid—Ah!"

My bugs started moving, earwigs pinching, and a few beetles biting. A reminder. "Who are you more afraid of?"

Moments later, a white powder was scattered into the air. Then Maria took off, running away.

"Our business is done… Don't worry about the girl. You won't see her again." I would let them draw their own conclusions about what I meant.

Then I sent my bugs running back down, and started jogging after Maria. Huh. Both men had crapped themselves. I hadn't expected that. But now I needed to follow their victim. I kept a bug on her as she ran. She wasn't in the best of condition, and I'd been jogging, so I kept up with her. I waited until she stopped in an alley.

"Oh God, Oh God…"

"No. I'm not."

She turned around, arms flailing, only to see another shadowy form rising between her and the exit to the street, the lights silhouetting it, and incidentally making it impossible for her to see what it really was made of.

"Please… " She fell on her ass and started scrabbling back. I could see that she wore what had once been a good blue jeans skirt, jacket, and dark shirt. Now they were stained. Her hair had been cut and dyed blue and brown, but the dyejob was starting to fade.

"Do you know what they were going to do to you?"

"I… Tom… When I ran out of money he—"

"He was going to turn you into his whore. This was your first time being used as a prostitute, wasn't it?"

She didn't say anything. Looking at her, I realized she was a little younger than I was.

"He'd ask you, and then when you refused, he'd badger you into taking just a few drugs to make you compliant, and you would have been his. People like Jim would be who you would service, and you would keep taking more and more so you could forget. Until you would be a Merchant. Until you weren't… fresh anymore."

"I can't go anywhere else!" She said.

"What about home?"

She shivered and looked frightened. "I can't. I can't."

"Why not?"

"I don't have a real home. My foster dad… I'm… I'm not a virgin. I had to go. Everyone said that Brockton Bay didn't care where you came from and…It was the furthest I could afford on the bus. Then I ran out of money."

"Do you have proof?"

"No. They'll just send me back. Nobody believes me. Nobody listens to me. I won't go! I won't go! I'll kill myself first!" She had tears on her face.

Evidently, there were some things more terrifying than parahumans. And I didn't think she was lying. But it made sense why she'd end up with the Merchants—someone with nowhere else to go.

And she might be right. And I could not risk that. I would never risk sending someone back to anything like what I had endured, trapped in hell and nobody believing you.

"Get up," I said. "I may have a place for you to stay." It'd be risky, not the least to my identity, but well… I didn't have much of a choice. "What is your full name?"

"Maria Gonzales."

"Why are you in foster care?"

"My parents died. It was a car wreck."

"I see."

I wanted to be more comforting, but I couldn't, not and keep my persona. Also, I had a feeling that comforting was not easily achieved talking through the bugs in the walls.

"I will give you an address to go to. If they will not let you stay, we will find out some other place. You will not abuse their hospitality. But I may… demand a service for this favor, Maria Gonzales, and I do not expect to see you on the street again." I told her the address and then withdrew. "There is a card at the end of the alleyway. Take it. I will keep watch over you. You will go to the bus stop and take the 15…"

I felt her get up, and move to the end of the alleyway where I'd had some bugs drop an orb weaver card. I would beat her to the bus and sit in the back. If she went somewhere else… I'd steer her back.

I just hoped the people at the end of her journey would understand. Fortunately, I had their number.

Kurt was tired after a day of work. Granted, it was because they didn't have money to hire enough people, but hey, it was work.

Then there was a knock on the door. He glanced over at Lacey and shrugged.

Who could it be? He looked through the peephole—second nature for most residents of the Bay and…

A Hispanic girl, looked like a runaway, standing on their front porch.

What the hell is she doing out at this time of night?

He opened the door, keeping an eye out to make certain she wasn't the stalking horse for a gang.

That wasn't unknown, after all.

"Hello?"

"I'm… Orb Weaver said you might be able to help?" She held out a playing card with an orb weaver spider on it.

Who?

Then the phone rang. Lacey got it.

"Hello?" Kurt heard her. "Who? I… okay."

She walked up to Kurt and handed him the phone. "It's about Maria?" she said.

Kurt took the phone and… The voice was a nightmare, a legion-like sound, with a deeper rumbling undertone.

"Hello, Kurt. I am Orb Weaver. I was investigating the Merchants when I encountered Ms. Gonzales. She is a runaway who the Merchants… took. She also claims that she faced abuse at her home and came to the Bay." There was an ominous-sounding chuckle. "Why she thought that was a good idea…"

"What do you want?"

"If you are willing, give her shelter for a few days, no more than a week while I make my investigations. After that, I will either have concluded my work, or I will have found other housing for her."

Kurt looked down at the kid. If she was a day over thirteen, he was a blind man, but she had a body that had matured early. Which made sense both for her story and why the Merchants would want her.

They like the ones that blush, he remembered talking to a cop about what happened to runaways.

She might take half your stuff and vanish into the night. But she doesn't have anywhere else to go. You could tell that by her look. And everyone felt very bad about it, and shook their heads and said if they could do something about it they would. And then found every reason why they couldn't do anything about it.

"I'll watch her, but what if CPS comes looking…"

"In the Bay?"

The scary-ass man with the demon voice had a point.

"Fine, I'll do it."

"Excellent. If any ask who did this… just give them the card."

The phone went dead. Kurt looked at the girl.

"When did you last eat?"

"Um… this morning?"

"We're about to have dinner and I think we need to talk. What happened to you?"

"Someone listened to me. Someone scary listened to me."

Kurt had to agree with her.

But he had one other thought. What the hell kind of Parahuman would know his name and be able to guess they'd take the girl in?

I walked home. I wasn't certain if I'd done the right thing. There was a risk. But… But I wouldn't let that stop me.

And the Merchants were going to go. There would be those with power, who would victimize others, but the Merchants seemed to fly under the radar. So I'd put them on my radar. I had one location. I'd find more. I'd destroy their resources, find their stashes, and…

I would destroy them.

I didn't smile much anymore. But that last did put a little smile on my face.

When I arrived at Winslow on Monday, I had no idea what was waiting for me. Just that there was a battered-looking VW Bug in the principal's space. Inside, we were called into a schoolwide assembly, and one of the…

He might have been handsome at one point, but his face was marred by deep scars, pulling his mouth into an unnerving smile, his brown hair already showing streaks of gray.

Everyone sat down and looked around.

"Right, everyone, I'm your new boss, Mike Thomas. You'll notice that some of your teachers are gone—as are some of the students. They are having a delightful time talking to our boys in blue, and some of you may be interviewed later today about our former teachers' side business.

"So, a couple of things. First of all, officially gang attire isn't allowed at Winslow. As I can see, that's been honored in the breach. No more. In fact, anyone wearing gang Attire, ABB, E88, or hell, Teeth, is going to get a free period to go home and change. If you don't, you can come to the office and I'll get you set up with the clothes that I got in the bargain bins. "

Someone said something. And a group of shaven-headed seniors laughed with him.

Thomas paused and glanced over at them. "What was that, Mr. Jakes? You can speak up."

"You think Kaiser is going to let you tell us what to wear?" Everyone else laughed.

Normally, a teacher would back off. Mr. Gladly would pretend not to hear it.

But Thomas got an unnerving smile on his face and walked down to the group. He clapped his arm around Jakes' shoulder.

"So, Kaiser eh? Wonder what he's like?"

"What?"

"Well, I mean, I knew All Father and Iron Rain, not socially, but we talked once or twice back in the day. I guess Kaiser's a lot nicer than they were."

"What?" Jakes repeated.

"Yeah. I mean, if All Father had caught someone namedropping him, well, he might take it that they thought he was theirs to command. Man, I would not want to be that person. But…"

The little group was suddenly getting very quiet.

"But, tell you what, if you got his number… You do have Kaiser's number, don't you? Why don't you give him a call and tell him that you want him to come down and fight this battle, after all, I'm certain he'll understand just how… important it is not to disappoint you. Or if he's busy, you could call Hookwolf and tell him you want him here and aren't taking any excuses."

His unwilling partner was slowly turning white. And then Thomas walked back to the podium. "That applies to anyone else. I mean, if you want to tell Lung or Oni Lee to get their tails down here for a talk on dress code, my door is always open."

Is he insane? I think about it. Everyone talked about what the gangs could do, but I'd never actually heard of a cape appearing at a school.

And certainly not at the call of a student.

Thomas must know this, but he'd, at one move, established himself as unafraid to say things that Blackwell would never dare say.

"Now, as to other things. This school seems to have a problem with people not treating each other with respect. Now, I'm not gonna waste your time with all the official punishments, or threatening you with expulsion, because that's boring. I will tell you that I will give you the respect you give other students, and when it comes to making people miserable, I am much older and have a far more twisted imagination than most of you do. You don't have to love each other. You don't even have to like each other. But you do have to learn how to get along with each other because none of you are rich enough to be able to choose who you work with once you graduate."

He didn't say much else. But when we left for class, I noticed that the teachers weren't in their classrooms—they were standing in the doorways, keeping watch on the hallways while students moved in. There were four security guards instead of one, and two of them were always wandering around.

I need to research this.

I was left alone in Mrs. Knott's class, and I had already finished the project she'd given me. I googled for any information regarding Mike Thomas… He'd been around since All Father, which gave me a time to check out.

It didn't take long to come up. Alleged member of Marquis' gang. Rumored to have been involved in fights with the Teeth and local gangs. After Marquis had been birdcaged there wasn't much about him, but the picture of him as a younger man, sans scars made it plain who our new principal was.

How the hell did a member of a criminal gang get to become a school administrator? Why did they send—

I almost smacked myself. I'd just seen why he'd been chosen for Winslow. I—

"Ms. Hebert? Principal Thomas would like to see you." I looked up, and there was the secretary, her expression sour. I wonder how she was getting along with the new order.

I couldn't bring myself to care, not very much.

Coming into the office, I wasn't made to wait, and I looked around at the changes.

The desk was the same, most of the pictures were gone, and the whiteboard was covered in a map of the school.

"Ms. Hebert," he said, gesturing for me to sit down.

I did. I kept my hands folded in my lap, while insects moved through the walls of the school. I had few good memories of this place.

"So, I've been going over your grades. Before you came here, high. Very high, enough to get into Arcadia, possibly enough to skip a grade. That was two years ago. Since then…" He looked through the papers. "Well, we both know, don't we."

"Yes."

"Well, I have a solution."

"What would that be?"

He tossed the bundle into the trash. "That. Those grades do not reflect your native abilities, especially if you're not having to watch your back all the time. So, I'm going to dump them, and your first two years of grades will be prorated based on your progress from here on out."

"Can you do that?"

"Ms. Hebert. Trust me, nobody is going to look overly close at this, and the dark secret of high school, especially one like Winslow, is that the diploma certifies that you were breathing in class, and not much more. Which is why, if you show progress, I think transferring to Arcadia for your Junior and Senior years, or if you can't swing that, night class at the community college, could get you better suited to move on."

"And it's out of your goodwill."

"My goodwill and the Mayor and City Council's desperate desire that this stain on our fair city be rectified so people can go back to wondering when there will be another parahuman brawl."

"You don't seem to talk like most of the school officials."

"I talk as the situation demands. You've been treated abominably, and you know just how messed up things can get. So I expect you deserve the truth. But there's another reason I'm here. I had a meeting with your father, over at his place of work earlier this morning, just a short talk since I had to be here, and he said you've been spending a lot of time studying at the library."

That's what I told Dad… "Yes?"

"Self-study is good, but the truth is, it's never as good as study with a good coach is. I'll be setting up weekly study sessions for those who need it, with some help from the higher placing Arcadia students. It'll also be a good way to learn about Arcadia, should you end up going there."

I stayed quiet, but I couldn't help but feel a bit run over. We talked a little more, but there were other students waiting. But before I left, Mr. Thomas looked at me. "Taylor. One thing. You don't have a damned reason to have any trust in this school, so I know you'll take this with a grain of salt. People start trying to mess with you, talk to me."

"Thank you," I said. "So, I was wondering. I checked some of your news stories."

"I expect most people did."

"You were with the Marquis. The stories I've heard said it was different than the other gangs."

He went still for a moment, then shook his head. "All that stuff about not targeting women and children?"

"Yes." That was an old, old story.

"Well, Ms. Hebert, have you ever heard about lipstick on a pig?"

"Ah… yes."

"Crime's like that. No matter how much lipstick you put on it, you're still a criminal. You'd best head back to class."

As I left, Greg Veder passing me as he entered, I was struck by a thought. I'd lied to Dad, but now one of my days really would be occupied with work… And I'd have to show up. Which would cut into my time to deal with crime. Because I had a feeling that this man wouldn't stop with easily ignored letters and phone messages if I didn't show up.

Sometimes I wondered if being open was such a bad thing. I strongly doubted Alexandria ever had to figure out a way to explain away strange absences.

I went back to class, but I kept watch on the school for the entire day. The students were subdued, and so were the teachers. Mr. Gladly gave us a reading assignment, and Emma's little posse kept glancing over to her empty chair.

One of the sophomores, an E88 ganger, supposedly, went home to dress "more appropriately" and I saw him smirking when he came back, wearing a t-shirt with 14-88 on it.

Less than ten minutes later, he was called to the office.

I didn't see him until lunch when an explosion of whispers and giggles sounded through the room. I was sitting in the corner, back to the wall, but even I could see him. He was in a garish purple and yellow shirt, with a pair of shorts that showed off his skinny, pale legs. Even his friends were laughing at him, but I saw some other students surreptitiously take off jewelry and other items that might attract attention.

Nobody is going to respect your stand if they're too busy laughing at you…

I could use that.

Still, it was easy to start out like this. Nobody knew this man. I'd reserve my opinion until he was just a normal fixture at Winslow, and then see if he could keep control.

Come to think of it, I wonder if Blackwell could shed some more light on this.

No. I couldn't just demand they do what I told them all the time. If I was going to use people, especially people like Blackwell who were unwilling, I'd have to only use them when it was important.

But tonight I had some other ideas. I was going to visit the Merchants again, although I didn't think they'd know about it…

After all, I had to set the stage.

I didn't bother to dress in my uniform although I kept my body suit on under my clothing.

After all, I wasn't knife-proof.

The sun was going down, but I wouldn't be here after dark. Not this time. No, I had to start work.

As I walked through the alleys and roads, bugs listened to my commands. If I gave a command, it was followed, even if it was fairly complex. Even if I later left the area.

Under the buildings, ants, normally hibernating during this time of year, moved up to where warmth kept them active, roaches and other bugs bringing them food—or coming to be food. Termites started working, devouring wood, opening up little passages. In other areas, mostly warm, flies and wasps started congregating.

It wasn't as elaborate as my work close to home, because I had to worry about someone investigating it. Right now, unless you were a trained entomologist, you wouldn't know anything unusual was happening. Right now, at least.

I didn't go to the center of Merchant territory. That might be dangerous. More importantly, I might be forced into revealing my hand and powers. By the time I was ready to take action, I'd have more than enough foot soldiers to get things done.

And destroying the merchants—not just destroying them, but destroying their influence, would prepare me for dealing with the vastly more dangerous ABB and E88.

But as I passed a group of men harassing a woman hurrying home, I paused for a moment, then set a group of insects around them to buzzing, rising and lowering, like some great beast, breathing. The men looked around, dropping their hands into their pockets, and the woman hurried past, temporarily forgotten.

One interesting thing about insects. Many of them were very sensitive to a wide range of chemicals. Soon, I would know what buildings had the most product in them. I would know what buildings I would most likely find the money the Merchants collected.

The money and drugs that they would soon be losing.

In our next exciting installment of Orb Weaver, Taylor goes on a mission that totally doesn't include an unexpected meeting with Hookwolf, Cricket, and Stormtiger!