1.12

-- Tanya von Degurechaff --

"You must use the wrong species of bean or something. Every cup I've had in this world has been awful."

We'd flown back to meet up with the Undersiders after our latest adventure. I hadn't wanted to, feeling the pressure of the time-sensitive opportunity, but Tattletale had convincingly argued that if we didn't want to bombard every parking lot in the area, we'd need help to narrow things down. From Skitter, specifically, whose sensory aspect was evidently quite strong. She hadn't been in any state to leave immediately, so I'd reluctantly acceded to a short break. The whole group was relaxing at Skitter's hideout, so it'd turned into something of a general get-together. Well, excepting Bitch, who sat off to the side with a few dogs and appeared to have no interest at all in the goings on.

"You take your coffee seriously? I can see why you and Lisa get along," Grue offered, tone polite.

Really, his attitude had cleared up remarkably since we'd killed Mannequin right in front of him, though I hardly felt I'd earned his newfound respect. He apparently disapproved of their attempts to help Shatterbird's victims and decided to express that disapproval via an absurdist horror movie shtick. He really should have realized that only works in the movies because the protagonists lack air support. It had been almost disappointingly easy. Three simultaneous artillery spells tuned for armor penetration fired from ambush while he stalked them had made short work of most of his 'parts,' and Granz, having held his in reserve, had spotted and eliminated the especially durable arm trying to crawl away. Frankly, he wasn't that tough. I think their team could have taken him, though I suppose I could see why they wouldn't bother when I'd offered to take care of it. Well, I can't be too upset about getting saddled with someone else's work when I'd be so generously compensated for it by the PRT.

Koenig responded to his remark, tone amused. "You ever heard someone say they'd kill for a good cup of coffee? The Colonel has."

I snorted. "Please. You all spent days whining to 'each other' about herbs and pasta sauce where you knew I could hear you, and now you want to pretend it was all about my coffee? At least Visha appreciated what I--"

I cut myself off at his stricken look, confused, and only then realized what I'd said. I looked down, putting every bit of will at my disposal into maintaining my composure. I was distracted by Regent's curiosity.

"What'd I miss?"

I bit out a harsh "Drop it."

He opened his mouth and my muscles tensed. It had been a while since I'd put my hand through someone's face. It was a bit of a party trick, something no one else in the battalion could quite manage, but one advantage of my diminutive stature was that I could concentrate the same reinforcement behind a fist with much smaller surface area. I could clearly imagine the distinct feel of it. Hard to believe it had disgusted me so much the first time I'd done it by accident. The mage shell blocks liquids by default, so only some of the solid bits had actually made it through. What was there to be so concerned about?

He closed his mouth with a distinct click, interrupting my reminiscence. I elected to ignore Lisa's frantically shaking head and pale face glanced out of the corner of my eye. Hard to ignore how everyone else was staring, though. Even Skitter had looked up from her own mug for the first time since I'd arrived. Surprisingly, she was the one to break the tense silence.

"Want a cup of tea instead, then?"

I hesitated, but what could it hurt?

"Please."

Her henchwoman hopped to it, needing no further instruction. After a couple deep breaths, I turned back to Regent.

"I ran into a suspected acquaintance of yours earlier. I don't suppose you might identify her?"

I projected an illusion of the Master without waiting for a reply. He didn't exactly pale at the sight, but I was still a little gratified by his sudden tensing.

"Cherie? Where is she now?"

Scared of her or for her? Well, the question only had one answer no matter what he wanted to hear.

"Her head's in my bag. I left the rest on the roof of a midrise downtown."

Looks like that actually was what he wanted to hear. I crushed a little burst of petty disappointment. Not the sort to inspire familial loyalty indeed.

"You're carrying her head around? Fuckin' Metal."

It was a little gruesome, I admit, but it had occurred to me I didn't have much proof to show the authorities of her status or demise. Hopefully, they'd be able to verify some of the details with physical evidence.

"What was her power, exactly? I don't think she was being entirely honest with us."

His explanation was more or less what I'd expected. I suppressed a shudder. Her I could kill, at least. Being X wasn't nearly so easy to eliminate.

"So, is no one else going to ask? Why'd you kill that girl?"

The sound of Imp's impatient voice surprised me yet again. I barely suppressed my automatic reaction, knife sliding back with a click. I noted Weiss releasing his rifle and slumping back onto the other couch. He spoke up, annoyed.

"You should really stop doing that. It is going to get you killed."

She snapped straight and rigid like someone tased her and gave Weiss the worst salute I'd ever seen.

"Apologies, Sir! I didn't realize what a little bitch you were, Sir! Never again, Sir!"

Regent and Koenig snickered, Granz joining in after a muttered translation. Grue dropped his head into his hands with a sigh. Weiss endured his martyrdom with good grace. Mostly.

"Ah, my mistake. No reason to worry about that when your mouth will clearly get you killed first."

She dropped the pose and shrugged, smirking. Grue broke in, sounding a little nervous.

"Let me apologize on her behalf. I think you remind her of our dad."

That just pissed them both off.

"Hey! I'm 24! I--"

"Let it go, old man!" Koenig bowled over him. "We all know you were born middle-aged."

Oh, of course, it was Weiss who was born middle-aged. They really had no clue, did they? I was struck by a moment of odd discontent, but I couldn't work out why. It'd passed by the time Weiss, visage perfectly aggrieved, turned to me and quickly assessed my mood before he spoke.

"Colonel, it's my sad duty to report a worrying failure of discipline in the unit."

I gave him a very serious nod.

"I can see that, Major," I coldly agreed, turning to stare down Granz and Koenig. "I'll have to consider what sort of training might correct this deficiency."

The laughter cut off immediately. I let them sweat for a couple moments under my grim regard before breaking a smile and rolling my eyes.

"But I think that's quite enough of that. Now, I killed her..."

I gave them a brief summary of events, taking my new mug with a quick thanks near the end. I took a sip. It was OK, I guess. I'd never been that fond of tea, but the coffee here was undrinkable. It'd do as a substitute, at least for now.

"Really, I should have realized something was going on," I concluded. "My feelings were pretty erratic through the whole meeting. Actually, I suspect she'd been messing with us even before then."

Tattletale gave me an odd look but declined to elaborate. I turned to Skitter with a mental shrug.

"Are you ready now? This opportunity isn't going to last forever."

She shrank in on herself.

"I... don't know."

I sighed. Dinah's death really had been unfortunate, but whatever the tragedy, passivity and self-doubt are never the right response.

"I understand you cared about her. That's why you have to act now so you can punish her killers before they get away. Shatterbird is already dead, nothing I can do about that, but Jack and Bonesaw and Siberian were why she lasted so long."

It had been a stroke of luck, finding Shatterbird with Burnscar. Less lucky to find Crawler there too, clinging to the side of a building and apparently able to see right through our camouflage illusions. Thermal vision? Sonar? They honestly weren't that great, he could have just noticed how things didn't quite line up from his angle. Fortunately, his attempt at a leaping ambush had proven decidedly amateurish. Oh, the jump itself was impressive (and physiologically impossible, I was certain), and he could be remarkably quiet for a creature of his size, but coordinating to maintain full visual coverage was second nature for my men. He didn't have any control in the air, so dodging him had been trivial once Weiss sounded the alarm. Even the acid spit hadn't gotten anywhere close. I hadn't sensed magic from him at any point, putting another line in my increasingly confusing log of magic/power interactions, but figuring that out could wait.

It alerted the others, of course, but they were still under the delusion they could fight us, so no real harm done. Shatterbird was quick for a non-mage, glass beginning to fill the air in a half second. Of course, 'quick for a non-mage' isn't nearly quick enough. That half second was plenty of time for me to line up my shot and fire the fully charged artillery spell I'd been holding since we left the meeting. The fool's glass helmet didn't even cover her whole head, not that that would have saved her. Burnscar was quick to throw fire at me when my shot disrupted my illusion, its path curving to follow my reflexive evasion. It wouldn't have been enough to overwhelm my mage shell, but it didn't even come to that. Granz took her from behind his illusion before Shatterbird's pieces had finished raining down. We'd confirmed the kills, contemptuously dodging Crawler again, then retreated to watch for any new signals. A satisfying bit of work, altogether, though I worried such easy fights would dull our edge.

My gentle chastisement jarred Skitter out of her little guilt spiral, at least, though she didn't sound wholly convinced.

"'Punish her killers?' How is murder your answer to every question? How do you even function?"

"Oh, don't be dramatic. I've only killed"--best not to mention the mercenaries--"six people since I've arrived on this world. And most of them had kill orders. And Coil was arguably Shatterbird, not me."

Regent and Imp burst out laughing, the latter startling me again. Tattletale looked exasperated. I glared at all three of them before turning back to Skitter. I got the sense she was giving me a deadpan stare from behind her mask.

"...Is six kills in two days supposed to be a low number?"

Oh. I guess it probably wasn't, here? No, not probably! Comic book set dressing aside, this is a modern, peaceful world. Most people should go their whole lives without killing anyone! How the hell did that slip my mind? But I could excoriate myself later, right now I have to try to brush over my embarrassing mistake.

"Ah, excuse me, I meant it's been quite a change of pace from the front. We'd had a busy few days there, following the breakthrough."

Tattletale's look had shifted to curiosity by the time I cut off my rambling. Well shit. I didn't want to talk about that either, though she was tactful enough not to hassle me about it here. But it wasn't her I should have been worrying about. Skitter started in slowly and carefully, hostility drained away.

"Is that what you did? For Vi... For your friend?"

I didn't voice my first response or my second. It wasn't the same. Not remotely. She'd barely known Dinah. She hadn't lived with her. Hadn't fought with her. Hadn't trusted her with her life, been trusted with her life. Hadn't practically raised her, gathering up a hapless puppy tossed into the meat grinder of the Rhine and shaping her into the finest soldier the Empire had ever had, not that fools ever realized it.

But Skitter didn't know that. How could she? She wasn't a soldier or even an adult, just some dumb kid acting out a comic book fantasy where no one ever died. How could she understand what we had had?

I hadn't.

I finally spoke, voice level.

"Not exactly. The battlefield is a chaotic place. There was no way to work out who got her, precisely. So I killed the whole division. And then I kept going, just in case."