Read aloud to me alt Taylor

by Kahlil Johnson

Dnd

46. Ff4

Silkworm

Dad and I had made a bit of a scene in the front lobby of the hospital when he arrived. He was just shy of frantic with a desperate look in his eyes, disheveled clothes and car keys still in hand when he had hugged me. It had been the terrified kind of hug, where you feel like if you let them go, they'll sink into the ground right underneath your nose. I hugged back just as hard.

We had our problems. We weren't perfect. But even with all my screwups I knew he loved me and that was all that mattered in the end.

Things were going to get ugly soon, I felt. I was going to be prepared for it.

Dad cried, holding on to me.

I didn't.

We didn't say much to each other afterwards on the way home, but for once it wasn't because we were failing at talking to each other. Companionable silence was actually a thing and it wasn't bad having one with my father. No questions, no accusations. My scarf went uncommented on. It might have been because he didn't want to push me for details on nearly getting killed but it was nice.

I took the time to organize my thoughts. I needed more bugs, that was a given. Hiding them wouldn't be too difficult with the abandoned home close by, I just needed to be careful with moving them in large numbers. I could feel through them. Hear through them, see through them. And bugs were everywhere.

I said I was going to find Coil. I meant it.

Taking him down was probably something I couldn't do alone, not if he had access to more walking bombers and there were rumors on PHO about his private army. My costume could take a bit of punishment but stopping just one bullet had pretty much KO'd my hand. Bugs were the only thing I had. I wasn't particularly stealthy, or durable and was sorely lacking in information.

So I'd get help. And I'd get creative.

I cleaned up Bao's scarf best I could and put Peter's sweater in the wash after carefully checking the tags. The last thing I wanted to do was return it to him two sizes too small. I took a shower and put on some lounging around the house sweats. I tried to act normal, or as normal as I could get, pulling out a movie for us to watch. I then proceeded to burn the popcorn but at least it was still edible and giggled through Monty Python and the Holy Grail.

If it hadn't been for the 'check up' looks Dad sent me from time to time, it was almost like nothing had happened.

As the sun set, I retreated to my room and pulled out another set of clothes. I was aiming for a better impression this time or at least a more serious one. Green turtleneck shirt and khaki pants that hid how skinny my legs were and the pair of nice shoes that didn't give me blisters if I wore them for too long.

I fished out the black undersuit from my costume and put it on for 'just in case.' I didn't think I would need it, or hoped I wouldn't need it, but it was still night time in gang territory. I checked myself in the bathroom mirror to make sure none of the armored ridges were standing out under my clothes.

I wanted this to be given every ounce of attention it deserved. Sweat pants and a hoodie didn't do that. Maybe Snake got back from the hospital and was already giving a report, but maybe she wasn't. I wasn't going to be left out.

I hesitated over the question of 'mask or no mask' but in the end decided to leave it where it was. I didn't have any way to carry it on me unless I took my backpack and without the armor panels my black bodysuit wasn't particularly incriminating. The mask much less so.

Were anonymous capes even allowed to approach Lung in the heart of her territory? Snake would vouch for me if she was there. Oni Lee knew 'Hachi' was associated with Lung but relying on him to identify me as friendly I was less than enthused about.

I left the chitin scaled mask behind.

I slung my scarf on and went back downstairs. Dad was pouring himself juice in the kitchen.

"I'm going out," I said clearly.

He turned around and his eyebrows jumped. "For a job interview?"

That was one way of putting it, I thought. "I need to talk to some people about," I waved a hand in the air vaguely. "Today."

"That's the job for the police," Dad said like I knew he would.

"Or the Protectorate?" I accused. "They've been handling the city real well until now, right?"

Dad's shoulders slumped. He searched for words. "Taylor…"

"My friends are going to be targets, Dad," My own shoulders hunched in response. They already were targets. "I need to do this." I hesitated and swallowed around the lump building in my throat. "Please."

"I love you, you know that, kiddo?" He said with a quirky little sad smile. "I'll make dinner."

"I'll eat it," I promised. The kitchen door swinging shut behind me, I headed for the Docks.

I was doing that a lot lately.

At night, Lisa's aptly named 'Dragon City' felt different.

The barricade of cars were right where they had always been, but as I approached, one of the car's headlights snapped on, glaring. I froze. Intellectually, I knew that without sunlight recognizing people got a bit difficult but I instantly felt unwelcome until the lights turned back off.

"Duibuqi!" A man's voice called from in the car and I blinked spots from my eyes as I hurried past.

The streets were emptier to the point where I wondered if the 'unofficial' curfew for the outskirts was official here. Only a few people were out sweeping store fronts or smoking at street corners. Those I drew close to made a point of nodding at me for some reason, stopping everything. Lights were on within apartment homes making the sides of buildings look like they had bulbous symmetrical rows of eyes with faint sounds of conversation drifting from open windows.

It felt like I was walking through a whispering city, not yet asleep but shut in and cautious.

The dragon murals snaking up the side of buildings marking the end of the public center were dark shadows in the low light. I reached out to the insects around me. Moths, some cockroaches, chirping crickets and mosquitos and used them to feel my way around. With them I followed familiar turns, sidewalks that I tasted before, roads with this particular pattern of nigh microscopic cracks and wafting smells in the air.

Like before with Snake, the sudden gap of insects after walking through a block of abandoned buildings told me I'd arrived.

The back door Snake had taken me through didn't have guards this time and the door itself was locked. I felt a trickle of trepidation and circled around the building.

It had a parking lot in front with the closed doors of what had once been a warehouse's garage for trucks. Expensive cars were parked there, imports and luxury in blacks, silvers and reds and at some point in time on the far side, a basketball hoop had been installed. A large group of youths were playing or watching others play.

Seeing faces I recognized as I walked closer was one massive shot of relief straight into my veins. The 'other' Shinta, the one who went to my school with the dragon tattoo was there and dressed up in a nice sweater and jeans shouting from the sidelines with a bottle of water in his hands. Min was there too on the bench next to him with a knee drawn up under her chin and looking a bit uncomfortable. Her hair was done up in a bun that had waves of her hair spilling out of it.

Other kids that wore the dragon symbol were there.

There were a few unfamiliar youths with them, dress jackets off and sleeves rolled up as they fought over the basketball with the locals. There was one girl who was clearly someone's little princess in a very nice, form fitting pink dress and expensive looking purse on the sidelines, eyes darting from one boy to the other.

Bao stood out. Gone was the camo jacket and I couldn't say I missed it. He was wearing a red silk shirt with the golden button ties, much like I remember Lung wearing once, just in a masculine style with no sleeves and a white sash. His arms had sinuous tattoos on them, inked in such a way that made the muscles stand out. His face still had some bruising and the cut on his eyebrow was still scabbed over but the fact that he got those injuries defending me at school was one hell of an airbrush.

We had our matching scarves.

Stupid hormones.

He caught sight of me and called a frantic time out. I got a hold of myself as he jogged over with the ball, an uncertain smile already blooming on his face.

"Hey."

"Hey." I said awkwardly. I nodded my head at him. "What's the occasion?"

"Oh," he said and looked down at himself like he didn't realize he had gotten out of bed and put this stuff on. "Uh. Lung has guests? And their kids," he waved back at the group milling around. Some of them were flapping their shirts to cool off. "Entertaining them? We were going to head downtown after the game, got a reservation someplace."

He smiled brilliantly. "Want to come with?"

I was no where near dressed well enough for that. I didn't look like a shell shocked bum anymore but I was already going to stand out in the predominantly Asian crowd and had nothing to compensate for it. But more importantly I had something I really needed to do first.

"I'd like to, really I would, but I have to tell Lung something."

"I can tell her," Bao volunteered quickly.

I shook my head. "I'm sorry but this is really important."

He frowned. "How important?"

I looked him dead in the eye. "Did you hear about the explosion?" He nodded. "That was Snake's house."

At first his eyes widened, then his face just completely shut down. I don't mean shut down like the way my father shuts down, listless and lacking motivation. I mean shut down as in every trace of humanity briefly vanished. He was a statue and his eyes were cold.

It startled me.

"Attack on ABB," he said quietly. "Who?"

Amy, Peter, Snake and me," I said a bit shakily. My Bao came back as he looked over me with worry. "Amy got it," I put a hand on my upper arm where the healed over burn was.

Bao nodded once, sharply and turned his head. "Takeo!"

The Japanese member of Bao's group jogged over, blazer slung over his shoulder. He mock scowled at me. "Oh, you wear his scarf but not my handkerchief. I see how it is."

I grimaced in embarrassment.

"Hey, I need you to - " I heard Bao say before he dipped his voice below my range of hearing.

Takeo quickly sobered as he listened. "Ah." He drew out the 'a' sound like Lung had done once. He put on his blazer and straightened his collar and checked the tuck on his shirt. He eyed my clothes and nodded. "Okay. We go in. We wait." He stressed. "People there are important and we don't want to offend."

"What kind of guests does Lung have?"

"Some from other gangs out of town." Bao admitted. "The other side of ABB." His uncertain smile was back.

In the words of Yuka Kato, psychopaths, murderers, rapists and all of the above. I felt a lot of apprehension realizing just what kind of 'Dragon's Lair' I was about to walk into but at the same time there was also the cold practicality of it. Terrible people, yes.

People I wouldn't mind aiming at Coil.

"I'm going." I said. Bao stopped me, and carefully unhooked my scarf and tossed it over his shoulder. He took of his better looking one and replaced it.

"Perfect," he smiled.

My face heated up and I started walking so he wouldn't see it turn red.

I followed Takeo to a third side of the building, double doors that he pushed open and revealed a corridor with the guards I was expecting. A burly man with cornrows frowned at us as he stepped in our way but Takeo reached into his pocket and pulled out his handkerchief.

"We won't cause trouble," he said with his head bowed.

We were let pass.

"What does the dragon mean?" I asked out of the corner of my mouth as we walked.

"In our group, our rank is highest. We can say things and people listen. Lung picked us."

"And you can give that to someone else?"

Takeo glanced at me. "She didn't say no."

He opened the next set of doors and the bottom of my stomach dropped out.

I had watched those scenes in movies, spy movies were fond of it especially, about high class society and the gatherings they had with wine or champagne, tables of food and double edged words. That was what I was looking at with a little twist.

There were two tables with hors d'oeuvres, appetizers and fondue at the opposite sides of the room and round tables with seating by them leaving the center of the large room free for guests to mingle. Soft music was playing from somewhere in the back and there was the realization that it was very likely every single person here got their wealth through less than legal means.

There were a few insects in the room, moths up by the lights and sneaky mosquitos and I immediately grabbed them all. What I was going to do with them unmasked I wasn't sure and the closed doors and windows cut down my options for getting more inside. Still, I took a more confident step and slipped into the moths to help get my bearings.

Lung was relatively nearby which should make the 'getting in, getting out' plan feasible.

I didn't get very far into the room before trouble found me.

We passed a small group of men and I got the wrong kind of attention. A man barked something at me and I took a step away in spite of myself. Gold capped some of his teeth and his suit was worn sloppily without a tie and an open collar showing leathery skin marked with the ink-stained edges of tattoos. He had a dog-headed lapel pin along with his buddies. Shapes poked through their jackets that I was sure marked guns. My pulse jumped.

Which was silly. Everyone in this room was dangerous.

"I - "

Takeo stepped in front of me smoothly and bent very low at the waist. He spoke quickly with a tense note. Covering for me, I thought.

The man ignored him, looking me over in a way that made my blood chill and images of Emma come to mind. He told the man at his right something, laughing and stepped forward.

"Do you not see the dragon on that scarf Akashi?" A woman's voice slithered, playful. "This one is mine." It took me a few moments to pinpoint the woman's voice as actually belonging to Lung. It was softer but it made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up at the implicit threat laced within it.

Everyone else caught it, the man's face morphed to a fearful scowl and he retreated. Takeo bowed lower, if that was even possible. "Lung-dono! Moushi-!"

She cut him off flatly and I think I heard 'Bao' in there. She was wearing an elaborate red dress decorated with, what else? A curling gold dragon, almost ceremonial while still allowing for freedom of movement. In the low light, the dragon mask was dark and angry, lighting up piecemeal like a moon going through its cycles every time her flame circled.

Takeo bowed again and gave me an unreadable glance before being dismissed to a dark corner.

I really wanted him to stay.

Lung put a hand on my shoulder. It was uncomfortably warm and was a very firm grip. I wasn't going anywhere she didn't want me to.

"You are interrupting." She said it like she was commenting on an unpleasant downturn in the weather.

"I know and I'm sorry, but it's important," spilled out of my mouth like I was trying to avoid getting grounded. I cringed after, biting my lip and tried not to look directly at her and instead scanned the room.

I was 98% sure all the 'guests' were hardened criminals.

Concealed weapons, in some cases overt like brass knuckles or a sheathed knife, and just the general demeanor of them made me feel like we were wading through a pit of vipers. Some of the eyes on us were greedy in more than one way, taking note of the gold dragon on my scarf and Lung's hand on my shoulder. Some dismissed me in favor of Lung herself, breaking off their conversations to nod in acknowledgment. Then there were those that were calculating and cold. I could see them factoring me in to whatever plans they had and my stomach sank.

A man stopped us by the tables, slicked back brown hair and charming smile with a small partially-masked Asian woman on his arm. He was in the latter group. He held out his hand for me to shake and I took it mechanically. He wasn't shy about letting me know he had a firm grip. He didn't give a name, but he also didn't ask for mine, which was no small relief.

I positioned a moth above his table. I didn't have enough insects to 'tag' everyone but surveillance? That I could do.

"You really should visit us in New York," he addressed Lung. Casual and friendly. They knew each other.

New York City was under the purview of Legend, one of the strongest capes in the world. Even under the Triumvirate, a crime free city was a pipe dream.

"This city might implode without me," Lung responded dryly. "Give me a few months, hmm?"

He gave me another look. "Protege?"

Lung patted my shoulder. "Of a sort," she said noncommittally. "Excuse us for a few minutes?"

He let us go with a gentlemanly bow. I waited until I was sure we were out of earshot to repeat, "Of a sort?"

Lung gave an amused 'hn' sound. "Would you rather I said yes?" That led to an influx of panic and I was sure I was making a reasonable 'deer-in-headlights' impression given her little laugh. "Hachi, you would not want me to have said no."

Not comforting.

"For you to come to me like this," she thought out loud. "Coil."

"Yes." My stomach squirmed but I held my head high. I wasn't going to wait who knows how long for the official channels to deal with Coil. The number of villains with kill orders on their heads that were still walking around was depressing to think about, always has been and there was no doubt in my mind that Coil deserved one. I wasn't going to wait for it to be given the green light.

I wanted him gone.

"Tell me after," Lung ordered. "In the mean time, you will stand with my lieutenants and not interfere. Understand?"

I swallowed hard and nodded.

Oni Lee and Kali stood out in costume, surrounded by empty space that no one wanted to be in. I had a feeling that was the point.

Lee's body suit was pitch black this time much like the image of a Japanese ninja save for the belt stuffed with weapons. Grenades, pistols, knives. His mask was red and green, an angry warped face with tusk like teeth and thick, flame like eyebrows.

Kali was almost casually dressed without her iconic slivers of metal-studded costume piece, instead wearing a business suit like quite a few of the other women present. Just her mask and a floating, spinning circle of needles at least a foot long as a backdrop.

Oni Lee watched me walk up silently as Kali snorted.

"What the fuck do you do?"

I floundered. "I control bugs?" It was as much a question as it was a statement. She was asking about my power wasn't she? I didn't just give myself away for no reason at all, right?

"Really." She was unimpressed.

"Bees, Black Widows, Brown Recluses, Scorpions," I countered acidly.

"Shit, you had me at bees." She had a harsh, barking laugh and I felt it was much like her. Harsh and barking. "Hate the fuckers."

"Allergic?" What was I doing? Stop needling the murderer, Hebert.

She gave me a look that might have been patronizingly amused but with the mask all I could see was the half displaying anguished despair. "Don't bet on me choking before I skewer you."

At some point, Oni Lee had stopped watching me and went back to watching Lung move around the room. Unsure of what else to do, I did the same.

It was like watching the workings of a decadent court.

The room was separated into groups but they were fluid. As I watched, I thought I could pick out reliably who knew who and what kind of relationship they had. Maybe. A lot of people just seemed very polite in speaking with one another and I wasn't sure if that was a cultural thing or just not wanting to cause trouble. The signs were mostly small things, emotions overflowing a little. Just enough to singe.

I wished Lisa was here.

I put my own observational skills, honed from months of watching my back and other students, to use. The most overt were that woman with the peacock fan on the east side and the man sitting at a south table pouring tea studiously ignoring each other and making it obvious they were doing it, 'incidentally' meeting each other's eyes then looking away.

"Rivals in the drug trade," Kali said. I glanced at her and she nodded towards the people I'd been watching. "That's going to get messy." She pointed out another, subtly with a tilt of her head. "Special guests from Korea, yeah? Triad pushed out by the CUI."

I clasped my hands together briefly, squeezing my fingers and making sure I wasn't shaking or giving myself away at all before letting them fall back my sides. They were among the best dressed. Impeccable suits, neatly pressed and expensive looking, bodyguards in the wings. Triad, okay. Cool.

God.

More people of interest for surveillance moths.

A sudden commotion at the back of the room jumpstarted my heart. The room quieted, which made the scuffle's volume grow. Men came in dragging a couple I guesstimated to be in their thirties. The woman was gagged and held back, the man was deposited into the suddenly clear center of the room. He staggered to his feet.

"Ibuchi Kazuo," Lung said in a loud, clear voice, grandstanding. She gave a little mocking bow. "Nice of you to join us."

Grins and smirks broke out in the crowd. I bit my tongue.

Ibuchi squared his shoulders and seemed to shut the rest of the room out, focusing in on Lung. He spoke in what I assumed was Japanese, sounded familiar, quick and militant.

"You stand accused of treason, Kazuo." she hissed in turn. "You remember Go." She pointed out a slightly heavy set young man that shrunk at the sudden attention. A pinprick of light flared into existence diagonal from his head, then faded. I remembered that name. "You thought he wouldn't notice, hmm? That I wouldn't notice." Smoke literally curled from the mouth of the dragon mask. "No one steals from me."

It struck me then like a bolt of lightning. She was going to kill him.

Ibuchi blanched. His face turned a pasty, blotchy white and his eyes darted around the room. The woman started crying around the gag cloth, tears running down her ruddy cheeks but he didn't look at her.

Lung took a measured step forward. "Tell me why. Tell me you did it for a reason other than money?"

He tried. Even if I couldn't understand a single word he was saying, the stuttering, stopping and eventual defeated silence told me everything I needed to know.

Lung was quiet for a moment. "...I see."

In a burst of movement fueled by desperation, Ibuchi lunged at the nearest gang member, grappling him for the gun hooked in the man's belt. He pulled it free, the gang member let him with hands held up in grinning surrender. He aimed it at Lung who let out a disbelieving, "Shenme?"

She tilted her head and chuckled. "What do you think that will do," She spread her arms out wide. "To me?" Despite her words, I could see that she was a little taller than before, anticipating it.

He shifted the gun as he swallowed hard. He aimed it wildly, at anyone who looked like they were too close. I followed the pistol with more than my own eyes. Jam the barrel? I thought briefly. Moths were fragile, didn't have enough for that. I had a handful of biters and being peppered with mosquitos wasn't going to get a desperate man to lay down his weapon.

Think, think.

Moths over his eyes?

"Don't be stupid," Kali murmured, under her breath. "Don't fucking shoot."

He pointed the gun back at Lung and backed up a step. Then his aim slid to her right. Finding myself staring down the barrel of a pistol as he spat in Japanese, I felt a lot of my sympathy for him fade away. My face was unprotected. I didn't even tense, right at that point of tired, stunned terror that I just couldn't react to anything.

Kali's metal stopped moving, vibrating with tension to the point they sang. Oni Lee stared, silent.

"Ah," Lung said. "That was a mistake."

Ibuchi snarled, a trapped animal. The gun went off.

I flinched and felt warm, wet splatter on my face. There was a discordant clang, short and sharp. I pried my eyes open. Kali's metal needles floated around me like a cocoon, wary. The second gun shot was slightly muffled in Lung's chest cavity, close range but it was already too late. A flaming hand clamped onto Ibuchi's throat and he immediately began to scream. They stayed like that, locked in what could be a dance, Lung's other hand gripping the pistol on top of Ibuchi's fingers. The captive woman was crying hard, straining against the men holding her back, yelling what might have been 'Kazuo.'

I could tell when the flames got through the skin because Ibuchi's voice died. The sounds he made were rasping gurgles but he continued screaming.

Lung let him drop. He curled on the floor, hands going up to his throat, shaking and pulling back before touching anything. The burn was almost neat, a circle into the vocal chords. Ibuchi rattled and I realized he was suffocating.

No one moved to help him.

I took one step forward. The metal moved with me, guarding. Lung scoffed as she dismissed her victim, a wet 'hn' that told of the bullet she had lodged in her lungs somewhere. Her right shoulder was torn messily. There was warm blood on my face.

That was the only step I took.

I clutched at my scarf and its glinting gold dragon. I stood there in sick, terrified gratitude.

I watched Ibuchi die.

Last edited: Oct 7, 2014

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Shujin

Oct 7, 2014

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She/Her

Oct 9, 2014

#1,437

Silkworm

I would like to think that I didn't know what to think as I heard his rattling attempts to breathe strain, then slow and stop. I was still standing there with red fabric in my fingers and a step closer to Lung than I wanted to be. I had fled myself a bit and could vaguely see the rest of the room from differing viewpoints like I had security cameras stuffed in my head. Some people were grimacing, others were placid. The man with slicked-back hair and the masked woman had a curious little smile.

Takeo looked grim. In the entire room, there was very little sympathy.

It wasn't a conscious action, maybe my control had slipped, but one of the larger moths, gray with dark eye spots on its wings, fluttered down and settled on Ibuchi's forehead.

I knew he was gone when I shifted my attention to the moth. Blood vessels on the head were close to the surface and as light as their footprints were, insects could feel a pulse through them. No movement. It had landed on a dead thing.

I knew exactly what to think. This shouldn't have happened.

I didn't know him. I didn't like him. He had shot at me. Bile crept up the back of my throat when I realized I was on the path to rationalizing this away. I felt like I was warring between abject disgust, moral outrage and my own selfish relief that the bullet hadn't found its target. Everything positive about the ABB that I felt, everything I believed withered in shame.

This was what it was at its core, wasn't it? I was an idiot.

Lung shifted and a mosquito resting on a man's shirt collar picked out her bright colors and the dark contrast of her masked face. She noticed the moth. She took purposeful steps forward, away from me and towards the captive woman.

"Himiko," she purred. "Did you know of this?"

The woman shook her head frantically, hard enough to shake strands of hair loose and tears were still damp on her cheeks.

Lung let out a light, airy laugh and turned to me. "Believe her?"

"Yes," I said immediately. My voice came out hard. This was just like the first night I had met her, giving me the chance to decide someone else's fate. Then I had been mostly confused. Now there were connotations to it I dreaded.

Lung waited and I realized what she wanted with a sinking feeling. There were dozens of eyes on me. "He wasn't surprised," I continued and it was true. Himiko had been frantic, confused and had to be restrained, likely she resisted but Ibuchi didn't even look at her for comfort or reassurance or anything. "She was."

"She has her own crimes," Lung commented idly. "But betraying me on the orders of another, not like you, Himiko." Lung reached out and the woman flung herself as far back as she could. Not far enough. The men held her still. Lung traced parts of Himiko's face like her fingertips were kisses. "Eyes, ears, lips, nose, hands. Pick one."

Eyes, ears, lips, nose, hands. I had heard that before from my former best friend, tracing her face dully as she told me what had happened to her over a year ago. Recently, I realized. Was this why I didn't want to confront Lung with it? Because I was afraid that it was not only true, but that Lung herself was responsible?

Himiko shakily held out her hand, fingers splayed and Lung nodded. "Something small," she told the men holding the woman. And then just before they dragged her out, "And Himiko. Next time, I choose."

And just like that, the fun was over.

In the wake of it all, conversation started to pick up again. This was something these people had seen many times, maybe even did it themselves wherever they came from, and it was nothing special. There was too much noise for me to pick up any individual conversations. Everything was a mass of painful vibrations and it was too much to hope for that anyone would be condemning Lung for it.

The dragon masked woman herself glided over the hardwood floor back towards me, pausing slightly by Ibuchi's body. I let the dark eye spots on the moth's wings stare at her. I was struck by the morbid thought then that burn wounds didn't bleed and so wouldn't ruin her floor. "Akashi," she called. "Remove this."

The man with the dog headed lapel pin scowled nastily, but he moved to obey. The moth's natural instincts carried it up to the ceiling when its perch was moved. Lung snagged a napkin from one of the tables and spat into it. A bloody glob and a bullet. Her shoulder was healing over steadily, visibly knitting together underneath the gash in her dress.

She fingered the tear in the silk and sighed in disappointment. "Something is always happening to my clothes," she groused. She glanced around the room and crumpled the napkin in her hand. She picked up another. "Walk with me."

A familiar command. I did not want to. She slowed in her approach of the far doors, looking over her shoulder at me. My moths and bugs around the room had the unnerving effect of making me feel paranoid. I was looking at everyone as best I could through multifaceted eyes and in turn, there was always someone looking at 'me.' I felt trapped.

I took slow steps after her.

Guards opened the doors for us to reveal the straight back corridor I had been in before. I grabbed every bug I could sense in the building, not enough, and moved them through the ventilation, the pipes and gaps in the walls. I didn't have any plans for what to do with them yet but just having them lessened a tiny bit of my anxiety. If push came to shove, I had some ideas. Getting past the outer defense of fire would be an issue, but once there suffocation was an ironic possibility.

I didn't like thinking like that.

Lung still had the metal spike holding up her hair and in spite of everything else, still barefoot. "You handled yourself well," she said. It was not what I wanted to hear. She held out the extra napkin. "Your face?"

Shit.

I grabbed it refusing to feel thankful and wiped my face of her blood the best I could without a mirror. I carefully didn't think about what I must have looked like back there in the room with all of the other drug lords and gang leaders. I had honestly forgotten about the blood on my face, how fucked up was that?

"What was that about?" I asked harshly. Like her, I crumpled my napkin in my palm. "What the fuck was that?"

"Himiko is a weasel," Lung replied mildly as we walked. "Chafing under rules. And Kazuo," she gave me a short look. In the small openings in her mask, I could see her brown eyes and the whites around the irises were replaced with angry red. Her voice was even. "Fools and traitors. I tolerate neither."

"You didn't have to kill him," I replied, letting heat leak into my reply.

Lung patted me on the head. I was too angry to flinch away. "You are correct. I did not have to."

"Then why?"

She didn't answer immediately because we had reached our destination. She pushed open the dark wood door and inside was a personal room, like the office I had first met her in the last time I was in the Dragon's Lair.

The rice paper mats covered the wood flooring and a large pair of windows on the far wall. This part of the warehouse building expanded a little further than I thought it did as there was a narrow walkway passing in front of those windows but behind the sliding rice paper doors and walls in front of them. The right side of the room was dominated by an inked black and white painting of a large tree in bloom. The petals on the wind stood out, colored a light purple.

Like the office, this room had a low table with cushions but this time was only set for two. Candles lit in the corners had severely melted down wax. There were others rooms joining this one behind closed doors. Was this where Lung lived?

The door swung shut behind me and Lung finally answered the question.

"Fear."

I opened my mouth angrily but she disappeared behind a door and I wasn't about to follow her around the place. I gritted my teeth.

I wasn't trying to start a fight no matter how I felt because that would be the epitome of moronic but I was not feeling charitable right now. That and a little desperate. What was I going to do? There was still the option of going to the Protectorate. If I could find where Coil's base of operations was with my bugs or otherwise then maybe the heroes could just hit him hard where it hurt.

Then it was just a matter of whack-a-mole every time he popped up and flushing him out of any hiding spaces.

The PRT being compromised made up a large part of my reticence but I could get Miss Militia, and Dauntless seemed like he could be open to an independent op. The guy was rumored to be on the fast track to being considered one of the strongest capes in the world because of his ability to add power to objects like his spear. If we could cut the head off the snake, or at least severely inconvenience it…

I really hoped Lisa would be okay. It was a terrible thing to think, but I could really use information right now.

Lung resurfaced after several minutes in another outfit, a dress like robe with the sash around her waist. Black this time, silver flowers.

"Fear?" I accused.

"Sit," she invited me as she settled down on a cushion. When I didn't move, she repeated herself with a guttural undertone. "Sit."

I wasn't suicidal. I sat.

"What do you think of fear?" She asked and laid her palms on the table. "What use is it?"

"It turns people against you," I spat. "It only lasts until they aren't afraid anymore." It was strange saying this. I feared Emma once. "It can be fought against."

"Like the fear of a rabid dog," Lung said. "It barks and snarls but you don't know when it will bite. It breeds anger and resentment. If you have support, the fear breaks, yes. It's a common fear. Fear of the unknown leaves the possibility of what if?"

Suddenly, her flames roared to life and leapt for me. I choked, scrambling backwards and called upon every goddamn insect I had. Before they could even make headway, the flames winked out.

"The fear of fire is different," Lung said softly. "It's primal, instinctive. You know fire will burn you each and every time. That first night I saw you, did you fear me?"

We both knew the answer to that question. I didn't say it.

"There is no 'what if.' I have fought to ensure those here have that fear of me. Kazuo hid his actions with a desperate paranoia and you could see it, once before me he knew. There is only what will happen and once touched by that fear," her customary single flame turned blue. "It never leaves you."

"Then why bother?" I asked. "With the patrols and the other kids and the city, why bother doing anything positive at all?"

Lung leaned back. "Fear is only half of the equation. It's a disease that breeds and diseases erode. Loyalty is a merciless thing. For every person in ABB kept in line by fear, there are two or three that have ABB to thank. Fear can be fought against, you said." She spread her hands. "Why would they want to?"

"Was anything you told me about adding good true?" I said bitterly, betrayed. I felt like the most gullible idiot in the world.

"I bear a responsibility," Lung said. "To those I displaced. But if you are asking if I lied about my motives, then yes." She admitted baldly. "I did. Does it change what I accomplished?"

"Yes, damn it!"

I had the feeling she was smiling indulgently at me. "How?"

"It's all fake!" Like the Boardwalk with its pretty trappings and the sign on the ferry booth promising 'soon' when the mayor himself had no intention of ever letting it run again and the school saying they would keep an eye out for bullying. I hated lies. "It doesn't mean anything to you at all!"

"It's real to them," Lung said. That almost blew the wind out of my sails. I could try to turn to the more decent members of ABB, Min or Bao or Peter, but they each had their own reasons for being part of this gang, didn't they? Fear wasn't it. If I was going to strike out on my own, it was going to be on my own.

This was...this was fucked up.

"Speaking of loyalty," she mused. "Where is Snake?"

"Last I saw, with Amy," I responded sullenly. Lung didn't know it, but just like that my determination had come roaring back. Amy wasn't ABB for this very reason and if Snake didn't even check in then maybe there really was something to the 'adoption' I'd heard about. I didn't need ABB.

Lung hummed. "What happened?"

I briefly entertained the thought of not telling her, but that was petty. I'd been prepared to point terrible people at Coil before. This one just happened to turn into a dragon. "There was a girl we were helping. Coil was keeping her working for him under threat of death. Implanted bombs. Turns out, Coil wanted her to come to us. He detonated the girl while she was standing by Amy and Peter." I said it all quickly and in monotone, determined not to get caught up in my roiling feelings right now.

Lung was quiet for a long time. I waited, unsure. Eventually, she spoke.

"The actions of a dead man." She seethed and up close I could see her nails sharpening. "I have been too lenient, allowing slights like this. No more." She stood up and walked to the double windows past the walkway. I could hear her just breathe for a few moments. "I understand what Snake saw. I don't have your loyalty," she noted.

No, you don't.

"However, you told me that Coil is not someone you want in your city."

"That isn't my price," I said sharply.

Lung looked back at me impassively. "Of course not," she agreed. "You live on the docks."

My stomach threatened to reject its contents as I considered what that might mean. My thoughts drifted from my fledging friendships at school to the fact that ABB knew about Danny Hebert.

"Your point?"

"No point," Lung said casually. "Just an observation." I almost laughed at how insincere that was. I probably would have if I didn't feel like a trapped animal, the rabid dog Lung was taming. Barking and snarling but if, when, I was going to bite? I didn't know. "It is time for this city," she gestured expansively. "To become my city. It would be best if you cooperate as I am genuinely a little fond of you."

I eyed her warily. "What are you saying?"

"I will have Parian make you scarves of your own," she said lightly. Another reminder of how bad Lung's gang could be. "In the mean time, it's best we return to the others, hmm? I expect to see you at dinner." She walked past me as I sat there frozen, reeling. I was being drafted. "Welcome to the ABB, Hachi. Enjoy the party."

Last edited: Oct 9, 2014

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Oct 9, 2014

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Threadmarks Silkworm 7.4

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Shujin

Shujin

M. NightShujinlan

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She/Her

Oct 10, 2014

#1,556

Silkworm

"I already have dinner plans," I protested weakly to uncaring air. The door finished swinging shut and I was left alone. I was still feeling that hot anger but it was muted by confusion. I wasn't sure what I was supposed to be feeling right now. On one hand, I had gotten the support from Lung that I wanted in going after Coil. Mission accomplished.

On the other, this was very much not as planned.

I got up from my seat and felt the tingling in my legs of blood rushing back down. I hunted around for the bathroom while trying to avoid going into any room that wasn't a bathroom or knocking tiny bonsai trees over. One of them was a charred husk. I guess it was a safer anger target than the rice paper walls.

I found it after a while and it was at least twice the size of the one I had at home. I checked my face in the mirror and washed off errant smudges of dull red. I paused afterwards and just looked at myself.

The girl in the mirror looked hard and disapproving. I had my lips pressed together which didn't make them seem as wide. I was pale with stress, my eyes fierce and expression flat. My scarf was askew. I straightened it absently. That was what Hachi looked like, I thought. I kept the face as I turned to the door and made my way out of the room. The people out there were bullies, that's all they were. And I knew how to deal with bullies.

Don't let them get to you. Don't show weakness. Don't let them win.

I hesitated right outside of the room. There was no one around, most likely because this was Lung's personal space. I knew there was the door that led straight out of the building. I could make my way to it, see if it was locked from the inside as well. I could still escape. For now. I'd pay for it, most likely.

Dad would pay for it.

I backtracked through the back corridor, borrowing the senses of a confused and sleepy ant to make sure I was headed in the right direction of the main hall. The guards in front of the door to the main room straightened a little when I approached. There was curiosity there.

I brushed past them and flung the door open. A sudden flurry of moths rushing to escape being crushed by the door announced my arrival. The hell? That was when I remembered that I had called on everything in my range when Lung had pulled her fire trick. The moths had been stuck behind the doors. Oops.

I cringed inside and tried to subtly place them back where they had been surveying the room as I slunk into the room. Today was nothing but one bad thing after another.

I ducked under gazes and headed for the right side table with food piled on it. The last thing I wanted was for a drug lord to try to draw me into a conversation and if I had food in my mouth, I had a legitimate excuse to say nothing.

Manners.

The food on the table fell into three categories: foreign, expensive or both. The presentation was absolutely insane. Sauces in swirling patterns, seared food in artful scorched lines, flower cuts of vegetables, it was the kind of spectacle I felt like I should be taking pictures of, not eating. I grabbed a small plate and hesitantly began picking out the less extravagant looking food, like this transparent roll on a stick with shrimp and what smelled like mint leaves inside. I was not touching the fish eggs or what looked like squares of bloody fish on a toothpick.

I did snag a piece of melon though. I'd always liked melon.

"Yubari melon," Takeo said. I'd seen him hesitating on the approach with a moth and so didn't jump.

"Good?"

"Expensive," he said. He eyed some of the items on the table enviously. "Very."

I took a deliberate bite out of it. It was...really good. It was juicy with just the right amount of sweetness and a bit of what was almost spicy and just about turned me in a melon connoisseur on the spot. "So good." I took another bite, completely forgetting about the rolls on my plate.

Takeo grabbed a piece carefully and looked around like he expected someone to stop him. He bit into his greedily. "So you know Lung?" He had to snatch for a napkin when juice dribbled from his chin.

"Thought I did," I said. That was the most diplomatic answer I was capable of giving at this point. And going into a rant about her, here, didn't seem like the greatest idea. "Don't you?"

He tried to shrug casually while still holding on to his slice of melon like it was gold. "I see her sometimes. Bao knows her best though."

I hid my grimace behind finishing off my melon. My tongue ached for another piece but I held it back but raising a melon juice drenched shrimp roll to my mouth. Bao knows her best. I rolled that around in my head. I couldn't see it, not really, not when he was genuine with his heart on his sleeve and Lung was Lung. Maybe they bought the same lies that had been fed to me.

It was a sobering thought considering that it might just be my crush talking.

Or she had something on him and he was just doing the best he knew how.

Like what she had on me. I told my Dad I'd have dinner with him and instead I was here, eating food we could never afford in several lifetimes because someone Dad hated told me to stick around.

I hated this. She didn't say it outright. I was unharmed. And I still felt like I had been roughed up and blackmailed.

"You've seen Lung kill people." I said eventually. It was mint in the roll. The mixture of flavors, melon juice, mint, fresh shrimp and the light taste of the transparent wrapping burst on my tongue. It wasn't robbing a bank or threatening an unarmed person but for moronic reasons, I was feeling guilty enjoying the food. "Haven't you?"

Takeo glanced at me out the corner of his eye. "He deserved it," he brushed it off. "What did he think would happen?"

"Murdering people is wrong," I gritted out.

He gave me this patient look. "People like him who know what would happen, but did it anyway? Stupid. Don't waste effort, they won't learn and take away from everything else."

A lot of the people here had tattoos, I found myself thinking, almost idly as I finished off my roll. The Triad, a great many of the ABB members here, others. Takeo. Bao. These were the people I was associating with. "It's worth the effort," I said. I felt light-headed. "Excuse me."

"Bao asked me to watch over you," he said sternly, reaching out with his hand. I backed out of his reach.

"Don't."

I hurried down the table. He didn't follow.

An array of translucent slices of fish arranged in a blooming petal near the end of the table caught my attention. It was strangely pretty and also because the New York man was by it, eyeing the dish with a delighted smile. He caught sight of me and his smile widened like he wanted to share a good joke and had been dying for an audience.

"Mind doing me a favor?" He stage whispered and held up his plate. He pinched a slice of the fish between chopsticks and gestured with it. The slice of fish flopped around. "Have some tessa with me?"

I stared. "What? Why?"

"Because it's no fun without a partner and Maya," he looked around for his masked partner. "She's gone somewhere. No matter. I eat one, you eat one?"

I hesitated at the bizarre offer. "I don't even know who you are." I instantly regretted that sentence the moment it came out of my mouth. I'd just narrowly avoided having to introduce myself to this man earlier and now I was basically asking for it.

His eyebrows rose. I noticed he had a diamond stud in his left ear and his goatee was neatly trimmed. "Lung didn't mention me? I'm hurt."

I scrambled for something to say that didn't blow the thin disguise as Lung's 'sort of' student and made a wild guess. "How many minions do you share life stories with?"

"Minions?" He chuckled, the small smile on his face growing slightly as he repeated the word, as if tasting it, "Minions...nope, doesn't really fit."

The way he seemed to find it hilarious meant the groan that leaked out of my throat wasn't that big of a surprise.

"Minions are for villains, my dear. I am a criminal." He explained as if it was a major difference.

"There's a difference?" I almost regretted not trying to at least cover the lower part of my face with my scarf.

"Oh, a large one." His grin was firmly in place now, "Villains have powers. They smash open vaults and enthrall crowds because they have powers. Anyone who serves them is a minion, unwanted, except as a distraction."

He drew closer, "I am a criminal, that means that everyone who works for me is valuable in some small way and everything I gained is from my own skills and knowledge. Take a look at the room."

I cast a glance out at the room, and the man spoke up again, "How many have powers here? Criminals do not associate with Villains. We're snobs like that; what can a Villain do with their powers that connections, money and some well-timed violence can't do better?"

"What about Lung?" I asked the obvious question.

He chuckled. "Ask her how well the smash and grab, flashy hero baiting routine worked out for her once upon a time, eh? Criminal through and through, kid, I should know. Just happens to be able to set people on fire."

"How would you know?" I asked, curious in spite of myself.

"Let's just say I taught her a few things and leave it at that." The man replied with an easy shrug, "I like teaching people new things, and giving them new experiences." Before I had the time to fully formulate the thought 'drug pusher' he continued speaking. "Like this, for instance."

He plopped the slice of translucent fish on my plate, "Try this, it's an old Japanese delicacy, I think you'll like it."

I carefully hefted my plate and gingerly rolled up the slice of fish and speared it with the leftover stick from the shrimp roll before glancing uneasily at the man. He nodded encouragingly.

Inhaling briefly, I popped it into my mouth and chewed, feeling a peppery heat that mixed with the light, moist fish.

I didn't stop myself from making a pleased noise as I smiled, "This is good. Tessa?" I tried.

"Also known as fugu, or as people would know it here, poison blowfish." I felt the blood drain from my face as the man kept his smile, "It has to be prepared by expert chefs, but these days who knows if the ones on staff got it right, so it's probably all deadly."

My blood turned to ice even as my throat burned from the peppery heat of what had to be the poison. I'm dead. I should've run for it and taken my chances.

Dinner has killed me.

Just as I was about to consider doing something incredibly stupid and suicidal with what little time I had left, I heard laughter.

The man was cracking up, laughing uproariously as he shook his head, "Gets them every time." He pulled out a small shaker that I instantly recognised, "A little pepper, that's all."

I didn't even try to stop my arm from coming up in an uppercut aimed squarely at his gut. I wasn't a fighter, but I knew enough to know just what would happen. And despite being a lanky scarecrow, I felt a smirk flicker on my face as my punch drove the breath from his lungs and he sank to his knees for a moment, still laughing slightly as he tried to catch his breath.

"Asshole," I spat.

That got attention and through my moths I could see Lung palm her masked face for a moment and excuse herself from the group she had been talking to. "I can't leave you alone for a minute, can I?" she murmured when she reached us.

I wasn't entirely sure who she was addressing with that, because the man snickered and brushed off his suit jacket, "Good to see you haven't gotten boring, now."

"He deserved it," I defended myself. I had just hit a crime lord at Lung's party. Stupid? Very. But I couldn't bring myself to feel guilty about it after the fact and from the way Lung sighed, I had the feeling that I was going to get away with it. I had a brief moment of feeling vindicated and then a much longer time of realizing I was just digging myself a deeper hole.

"What did he do?"

"Made me think I was dying from bad blowfish," I spat.

She sighed. "Really, Cho?"

"What?" He grinned up at Lung irreverently. "I'm sure you remember pulling that shit on me, eh? Passing it on."

She snorted and took my plate from me, setting it on the table. "I think you'd be better served among more civilised company."

Like not here? I thought.

Perhaps it showed on my face, I hoped not, because Lung qualified her last statement. "At least, they can pretend at being civil."

I was there for another hour, shaking hands with 'civil' murderers, exchanging pleasantries with drug pushers and weapon traffickers. I learned how to say 'hello' in Chinese from one of the Triad members, the one with his head shaved, a gun in his belt and a triangle tattoo on the side of his neck. He praised me on my pronunciation.

Lung kept me at her side the entire time, with her hand on my shoulder.

Later that night, I trudged up the two steps to the kitchen door with my feet aching. I made the decision to try to sneak in. It was late and Dad liked to go to bed early when he could. I opened the door quietly but once I was inside I noticed the living room light was on. With a heavy heart, I walked in.

"Taylor," Dad breathed. He stood up from the couch. The phone tumbled off his lap onto the floor. His clothes were disheveled and he looked like he had aged a few years as he ran a hand through his thinning hair. "I...how did it go…?" His voice was thick and he blinked his eyes behind his glasses. "You're alright?"

"Yeah, Dad." I said, tired. "I'm alright. Dinner in the fridge?"

"Yeah," he said quickly. "Yeah."

Tears prickled at the corner of my eyes but I refused to let them fall, to let him see them. I smiled instead. "I'm starving," I lied.

Sunday morning, I came back from my jog to see an unfamiliar pickup truck on the curb in front of my house with a large covered rectangular box in the back. Noriko was leaning against the driver's side door flipping an envelope between her fingers, front to back. Back to front. I jogged up to her feeling my blood turn to ice.

"What are you doing here?"

The envelope made a papery thwip sound as she flipped it back the right way around and held it out to me. "Delivery."

I snatched it from her and tore into the cream colored envelope to the card within. There was a the inked rendition of a charcoal drawing on the front of a firefly, its lit up abdomen colored in fiery colors. I opened it. The letter inside was written in the same format as the little 'game' I played with Lung Friday night. I had a robbery to stop and fifteen butterflies.

'You have a city to protect,' the swirling letters wrote. 'And you have 53 Asian giant hornets.'

'Surprise me.'

It was signed with blocky Chinese characters but I knew what they spelled out. I rushed to the back of the truck and grabbed hold of a corner of the canvas covering the box. I tugged, hard, and it came off. I already knew what I would find. I could feel them.

It was just as the note said. Fifty-three giant hornets, among them a single queen.

"You like?" Noriko asked. She was watching me closely.

I looked up, first at her, then at my reflection in the truck's rear-view mirror.

My grin was feral and toothy.

"Yes," I said. "I like."

Last edited: Oct 10, 2014

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Oct 10, 2014

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M. NightShujinlan

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Oct 13, 2014

#1,624

Interlude, Browbeat

It wasn't the fact that he was drowning that got him.

Peter could remember looking up and seeing the murky white underside of the boat. He could remember seeing fish darting out of view with the sun glinting off scales and the shock of the cold water making him take a breath, and then the wet cold was inside, choking him. He had a moment of thinking, 'well, that was a stupid idea' before he saw his father jump into the water after him.

His father was one of those parents that tried too hard making sure his family had everything they ever wanted, and ended up giving them none of his time. He had his pressed suits and ties, ready made suitcases because every other week he was going somewhere and then he brought work home, locking himself in his office or on the phone day in and day out.

Peter almost thought the suit wore his father instead of the other way around. Custom-tailored. Stifling.

His father jumped in wearing a suit. Peter stared blankly at it as the man grabbed him with horrified shock on his face. The silk tie had swans on it. He could remember that vividly.

His father wasn't a good swimmer.

The man struggled as Peter hung there, slowly sinking. He thought maybe he smiled at his father, trying to be reassuring? Maybe he wanted to be saved.

There was another faint sploosh of water and his uncle joined in.

He was hauled up onto the shore, dim and choking. He could vaguely remember his mother frozen on the boat, still staring at the spot where he had walked over the side. His uncle was swearing under his breath as rough hands beat on his chest and his cousin was wide eyed, cellphone in hand and already dialing. His aunt was crying. His father's suit was dripping wet and the ironed white shirt wrinkled and stained with dirty lake water.

It'd been one of his father's favorite suits, dry clean only. The last time he wore it had been a month ago before leaving on a business trip to Boston. On a fast track, he had said, with a checkered tie. Things were looking up and within a year, they could be looking at moving there, bigger city, more money. Living the dream, pretty wife, handsome son, happy dog.

The dog died last year and Peter had walked off a boat.

It'd been a nice outing. Before he'd gone and ruined it. Like with everything. The months that passed after he saw his mother gain weight and gray hairs, treating him like fine china glass. On the phones to her friends and socialites, her excuses started with, "Well, Peter…"

May I hug you, Peter? She would ask. Please?

His father took an extended vacation from his job. He never said he quit but they never mentioned Clarendon again. His father stopped wearing his suits, moved around in casual clothing like he didn't know what to do without a tie on. He was home for two weeks straight, then a third week and before he knew it his father was home for two months without going anywhere. He didn't miss Peter's next birthday. Started asking how his day went, any girls he was interested in, how about those Braves?

Noise.

Peter knew something was wrong with him.

The day he walked off a boat was the first time he wished he could fix it.

He felt that familiar trickle of anticipation as he waited, crouched on the cover of a dumpster with a brick in his hand and a different face on. Punks of varying sizes and smell levels littered the ground, some with nasty looking puncture wounds. Merchants.

As a force in Brockton Bay, the Merchants were done. Rumor had it Skidmark, the leader, made a play for the fringes of Lung's claimed territory in some kind of bid not to be ignored or some kind of similar stupid shit you only thought of when baked with an inferiority complex. Peter didn't think the man got unbaked long enough to see that it was stupid and when Lung had enough, well. The angry dragon rampaging through his territory had been a complete surprise to absolutely no one but Skidmark.

He couldn't say he was invested in the whole hero business. Most of the time there was what he wanted to do, what he didn't want to do and conventional morality was an afterthought. 'Theft' was taking someone's things. Wrong? Yeah, sure. The once-owner wouldn't like it, and Peter himself didn't like having his things taken, so don't do it, mmkay?

They were all just a bunch of talking monkeys walking upright with roles to play.

He assumed taking out the remnants of drug addicted trash was why she was here. He could see the bumps shifting under the skin that showed through the woman's ripped costume. Seconds ago, they had been hardened spikes blocking off the alleyway like a hedgehog's meaner big sister, sharp enough to cut through brick like hot butter and where she got the extra mass from he had no idea. Her clothes budget must be nasty.

"Gun, huh?" He asked with sympathy.

She turned her face a little and he could see more of the hole growing back in, covering the exposed bone of her jaw one layer at a time.

"Ya." She gestured with a hand. "Got him?"

He hefted the brick in his hand and let it fly. Not too hard and it nailed the fleeing gang member in the leg. He fell with a cry and the gun skittered underneath a dumpster on the far side. Baseball paying off. "My good deed for the day."

Her lips finished growing in. She had an understated smile, younger than he thought. Pretty girl. That kind of made things a little bit awkward because he was sure he'd recognize the half of her face he could see on the street, meanwhile he was cheating. He could be like, 'Hey, you don't remember me because I was wearing someone else's face but we met in a dark alley with Merchants around and you got shot in the face…'

Probably wouldn't get him her number.

Brutes had it tough, he knew. Once people knew you could take it, they tended to go further than they normally would because they thought they wouldn't kill you. She didn't seem to be any tougher than the average human being, but he did just see her reattach a finger. The whole 'face growing back in' bit was just icing on the hard-to-kill cake.

Learning how to be bullet proof was his first goal as a superhero. He had it all parsed out into goals and steps, the only piece missing was the decision to go out and be one in the first place. He thought about it sometimes. What the fuck am I doing? Why?

Why, why, why.

He didn't know and that was the beauty of it. Chaos he could lose himself in, put on a role and a show and forget he was fucked up.

"Got a name?" He hopped off the dumpster and shored up his muscles. They could take an expensive steak knife shoved into his chest, he knew that from experience. Whether it could take her spikes, he wasn't eager to test.

She considered. "Durga."

"Hindi warrior goddess, nice." She gave him a look and he held up his hands, batting his eyelashes innocently. "What? I read."

Her smile grew as the hole in her cheek closed up to leave unblemished skin. "You?"

"Browbeat," he grinned. Not a very heroic name when you considered what it meant, to bully, to intimidate but more importantly?

"Dumb name," Durga said bluntly.

"It's my dumb name, thank you very much." Come on, who was going to take a kid hero named 'Browbeat' seriously? "Got a phone?"

Her lips pursed and she looked around. She walked up to one of the downed members and nonchalantly kicked him hard in the gut. The poor bastard curled around her foot, coughing. "Phone?" She asked.

The druggie dug it out of his stained pants and handed it over. Peter raised an eyebrow. He probably wasn't in a good place to start judging other people and she could have easily made it lethal if she wanted to. He wasn't sure he'd take being shot in the face so well. Bullets tended to sting like a motherfucker.

She dialed a number and dropped the phone back on the owner as a studiously even voice answered with, "PRT Emergency Services."

"Feel free to tell the nice lady where you are," Durga said. The beaten gang member nodded pitifully and spoke haltingly into the phone.

"You don't know?" Peter asked her in a stage whisper.

She shrugged. "Got lost."

He wasn't sure if that explained the budget costume or not. Still, a back alley filled with Merchants was a hell of a place to get lost in. "Maybe I could help?" He smiled winningly.

She huffed. "Maybe. Looking for a suburb."

He raised his other eyebrow. Again, inner-city back alley. "You took a wrong turn somewhere."

Her lips quirked. "Figured."

Peter didn't know the city half as well as he thought he did. They wandered around, lost, for the better part of two hours before he gave up and invaded a gas station for directions. As well as a snickers bar and he bought Durga a coke.

Telling the story to Amy several months later, he would claim that was the start of a beautiful friendship with him as the dashing hero saving the day and the damsel from the unwashed masses of Merchants. Tanking the errant bullet with his face (because that was badass, he had to steal the credit) and delivering her unharmed to her aunt's house. Bullshit would be called at least three times and in fact, the friendship didn't start until a week later at the cesspit of a school he went to.

He had seen her at lunch, on the developing 'ABB' side of the cafeteria with fang earrings, her boyfriend's arm around her and looking bored. He couldn't see all of her face, but what he could see was enough to spark the neurons. His first thought was, 'wow, she goes to my school.'

His second was, 'aww, come on, football jock, really?'

He tried to ignore her, because of course she would be hanging out with gang members, Brockton Bay was kind of fucked up like that, and work through his ham and cheese sandwich in peace. The little atrocities were going on in the lunchroom like normal. That boy getting pressured by E88 members, their 'chaperone' walking out with a female student, that girl getting bullied.

'Durga's' boyfriend had apparently noticed she wasn't paying attention and had grabbed her by the chin, forcefully making her look at him. She winced.

There were a lot of things Peter could stand to watch, maybe a lot of things he really shouldn't stand to watch but that hit a button he didn't know he had. He was up, sandwich abandoned as he stalked over to that table. He found himself sizing the douchebag up and clenching his fists.

"The fuck do you want?" Older, prime for graduation and wearing his football jersey. The big game was in two weeks. He wouldn't want to screw that up, would he? His estimated chances of getting beat up was dropping.

Peter grinned. "Just wanted to let you know, I'm being real considerate here, but I'm taking your girl." And then as an afterthought, he pointed at the jersey. 17. "And your number."

The table went quiet. On adjacent tables, a few students turned to look at him. Gang made up of different nationalities, don't share a lunch room table at school, but everyone turns to look at the white guy.

That's irony for you.

"The fuck?" 17 muttered. He turned to Durga. "Do you even know this guy?"

Her face was in that incredulous look of 'I don't know what's happening' as she slowly shook her head.

"Yeah, okay, maybe you should just," 17 made a shooing hand motion. "Wander off back where you came from and I forget about this. I'm being considerate here, got it?"

"I used that line first," Peter pouted.

17 moved to stand up and Durga intervened. "I have this, I have this." She rounded the table while giving him a look that said he was an interestingly colored specimen and she wanted to know whether or not he was poisonous sooner rather than later. "Follow me?"

Right, people were watching. She probably wanted to spare him any additional humiliation. "Sure."

Once they got past the double doors and leaving the excited whispering behind, she gave him a sidelong glance. "Was that just a really ballsy way of asking me out?"

"No pain, no gain," he quipped. "Why not aim high? Not like I was going to be shot in the face, so I handled it."

Her expression flickered. A little bit of recognition, a little nervousness and disbelief. Her mouth opened, then closed without a word.

He gave her his best rendition of the 'puppy dog eyes.' "Would you?"

"I have a boyfriend," she reminded him.

"Yeah, but he's a dick." Peter paused. "Please don't make me go into the 'you need someone that appreciates you' speech. It'll be long winded and I'm terrible with speeches. I mean I can and you're not dumb so if this is one of those girls want bad boys thing…"

She laughed. "Not that simple, but...it isn't that."

"Sure it is! Just say, 'Dick, don't want to see you again. Peter's awesome.' And you're done."

She had that subdued smile on again. "Peter," she repeated. "Kameswari." He thought about what he knew about Hindi gods and goddesses and barely hid his grin. "And I'll think about it."

That wasn't a no, he thought. "Got a phone?"

Her expression flickered again. This time around, she did and they swapped numbers. Peter reflected that finding a superpowered partner to run around beating heads together in the back alleys of Brockton Bay was exactly like asking a girl out and clearly his father had no idea what he was talking about.

"I'll call you," he promised.

The answer ended up being yes.

So he met a girl. That he ended up following that girl into a gang but then she met Tony and he got friend-zoned so fast his head spun but he couldn't hate the guy; life kicked the shit out of him already was a story he told no one. There was a life lesson in there somewhere and by the time he realized he was in, he also realized he didn't really want to leave.

He met Lung once. From the woman who singlehandedly destroyed the Merchants he expected posturing, a few threats or something a lot more domineering than what he got. She had asked a few simple questions and he stuck to his role.

She saw right through him. She couched it in terms he could understand. It was just another role. Turn a blind eye, hang out with people he genuinely liked. And when the time came, do whatever he felt comfortable with. He was being offered a spot on the winning team, so why not?

Before he knew it, his snake bracelet was the role he didn't know how to stop playing. Hook, line and sinker. Drowning again.

You wouldn't know it to look at her, but Amy Dallon had a few issues.

Just thinking that made him a walking billboard for hypocrisy but it was true. It had taken Peter a while to puzzle it out, to tease it out by offering his own ideas because how often do capes run across a person with a twin power? She was everything but her own cells, he was strictly his own cells, same power. She could see what he did to his body, he could see what she did to it, it was like a biofeedback loop of awesomeness.

So the first time he offered to be a test bed for a flesh eating fungus wasn't his brightest idea, and Amy had been traumatized, but she broke out of her shell. That counted for something, didn't it?

Amy was afraid of herself.

And it was a deep rooted fear, like everything she touched was bound to go bad somehow, a curse. At first he thought it stemmed from some kind of colossal fuck up somewhere down the line. Panacea didn't make mistakes. Miracle healer. Everything except brains.

He had his suspicions.

She stood in the doorway to his hospital room with her IV taped to the underside of her arm and the bag on a pulley-stand behind her. She looked like she was in dire need of coffee or sleep or both.

"You look like shit," he told her.

"Feel like it," she groaned. "I have to keep making new bacteria, brute forcing it past my immune system and it's taking a lot out of me."

"And the painkillers are wearing off," he deduced. Of course she wouldn't tell anyone about that.

She glared at him blearily. "And the painkillers are wearing off. Stupid power." She walked into the room and stopped by his newest guest. She hiked up the sleeve of her hospital gown with bandaged fingers and laid her forearm on Lisa's hand. She sank onto the bed after a few moments, chewing on her lip. "Stupid power," she repeated.

"They said she'd be okay." He was here until morning, tops but bomb girl had a long road of recovery ahead of her. At least it was recovery. The pride at having taken part in saving a life against all odds hadn't faded yet. If Peter had anything to say about it, it never would.

"You know what they don't see?" Amy asked him tersely. "The bacteria is supposed to clear out dead cells."

"How does it heal?" He asked warily.

"Technically it doesn't," Amy explained. "It turns into the missing cells. And it wasn't made for brains."

"So she's got fake neurons?" Part of him was squeeing like a demented fangirl 'that was so cool!' but most of him considered what neurons that weren't actually neurons were going to do for brain functions.

"Her brain's different," Amy said faintly. "The structure, the parts," her brows furrowed. "I can't say how different but it's...different."

"Could you fix it?"

"I don't even remember what her brain looked like in the first place," she snapped. "Do you really want me changing things on a best guess?"

Peter deliberately did not say anything.

On cue, Amy hunched. "Sorry. I just - "

"My fault," he interrupted her. "I shouldn't be pressuring you."

Amy shook her head quickly, sending her hair whipping back and forth. "You weren't." There were a couple of minutes of silence. Peter picked up one of his books that his mother had gotten for him off the side table by his bed. He only got a few pages in when Amy laughed bitterly.

"I was just thinking, the doctors here, they went to school for this, right?"

"Years and years," he confirmed. Sounded like an extended self-inflicted nightmare to him. Sure, medical school was unlikely to be like Winslow but a decade of mid terms and final exams seemed masochistic.

"What are the chances they remember everything they were ever taught perfectly?"

"Zilch."

"So they could get it wrong."

"Yup."

Amy ducked her head. "And they try anyway. The best they can."

Peter lowered the book. "What do you want me to say, Ames?"

"I don't, I don't want you to say anything. I just - I can't go back from here? So I have to move forward." She mumbled, "and I need to think." She checked on Lisa again with her wrist and got up. "Good night, Peter."

"Hey." He called at her. She stopped. "I got your back, okay?"

Her answering grin was wide. She knew that already.

Because it didn't matter what path she took, BFFs. Amy knew what was wrong with his head and what it meant for his future, and she didn't care. She accepted Peter, just as he was. This whole business with the bomb got his blood boiling. If anyone wanted to hurt Amy, they were going through him first.

Good friends kept an eye out for approaching enemies.

Best friends hid the bodies.

Lisa gasped, scaring the shit out of him.

"Jesus, you're awake?"

She didn't respond. Her eyes opened, pupils dilated, and lolled around in her head. Her mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping for breath out of water and he got out of his bed. He made about two steps before he saw her convulse and the tell tale red liquid drip from her nose.

He slammed the emergency button on the wall.

He dashed over to her bedside, panicking. "Are, are you having a seizure? Can you talk? Shit, are you supposed to be able to talk? I don't know what to do. I don't know what to do!"

The blonde girl looked up at him and there was no recognition on her face. "Danger," she whispered.

The door opened.

A doctor walked in, handsome with black hair with a clipboard and syringe. His nametag said 'Coleman.' He approached Lisa's bed and Peter felt his hackles rise. When the cap to the syringe came off, he found himself snatching the man's wrist and yanking the needle away.

"How abouts I take that?"

"I'm not," the man gave him that weird look like he couldn't believe what had just happened. "It's just a medication for any lingering issues with her kidneys."

Lisa was gone again, just laying there like a pale spectre on the hospital bed. "Amy was just here checking on her. Medication not needed."

"I'm doing my job," Coleman said angrily.

"Do it in the morning," Peter shot back. A suspicion sprung fully formed to his lips. "Besides, emergency button was hit. No questions, no urgency, what's so great about the needle, doc?"

Coleman's face went blank and then he lunged for the needle. Peter headbutted him feeling his muscles tear as he forcibly reshaped them, and his head rang. Bones next. Coleman fell back and the hand on his wrist kept him from flopping over Lisa. Peter pulled him close and headbutted him again, harder. He didn't feel anything that time.

Coleman dropped.

Dark figures entered the room and one of them raised a shape he knew all too well. He got in the way.

The silenced bullet was still loud in the confines of the room. It hit him in the chest and caught in the cords of muscle. He flooded his body with endorphins, clotted the wound and screamed as loud as he could. Someone had to be around, these people were shooting to kill.

The second bullet caught him in the mouth. White hot pain screamed across the side of his face and exploded out by his ear.

Time to stop playing nice.

The body already knew how to make acid. A different acid, half forgotten lessons in chemistry and distilling and the pain rocketed from the base of his mouth down to a newly forming cannibalistic organ. He grinned, wide, and spit like a cobra. The liquid splashed onto their armor and began to smoke, eating through it.

Panic.

He barreled into the nearest one in a textbook football tackle. A bone spur erupted from his shoulder blade as they crashed together. Enamel clashed with kevlar and won out. The acid burned his skin for a moment before he adapted. He jerked the bone out of the body it was lodged in as he pushed off the floor with a feeling like he was sliding through air. He whipped out his arm, catching the second by the throat and slamming him into the door frame.

Too hard.

He knew it by the throat under his hand collapsed a little and the way the man gurgled. Peter let him fall and kept moving.

The third had been protected from the acid by his friends and he emptied what felt like the whole clip into Peter. Didn't matter. Peter howled as he lunged at the assassin, talons made of bone fusing his hands into fists spiking from his knuckles as he punched wildly, again and again at any weak point he could find.

He didn't stop until none of them moved.

He rifled through their pockets until he came across a phone. It wasn't locked. Blood made his hand slick. He shook it off. He redialed. He figured it could be a contact, could be the man's girlfriend or sister and that would be hard to explain, but a calm male voice came over the speaker, "It's done?"

"You Coil?" Peter snarled.

--Timeline Collapsed--

The door opened and he looked up from his book.

"Is everything alright in here?" A young nurse with the start of bags under her eyes and carrying an armful of sheets asked softly.

"Expecting trouble?"

"We're keeping an eye out for post-traumatic amnesia, it happens with brain injuries, sometimes they wake up and don't act like themselves." She smiled. "There have been some pretty bizarre cases, but, just checking."

"All good here," Peter said.

Last edited: Oct 13, 2014

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Shujin

Oct 13, 2014

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Shujin

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M. NightShujinlan

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She/Her

Oct 16, 2014

#1,686

Caterpillar

I huffed and puffed as the thick container landed with a heavy thump. I could feel it sink into the soft soil of my small backyard. Originally, I wanted it closer to the house but with how the siding stuck out over the concrete of the foundation, getting it any closer would have meant squishing my hand. Not to mention, the temporary habitat for my asian giant hornets was really heavy.

"You okay?" Noriko asked, leaning on the see through panels. Her presence was agitating the hornets inside. I kept a tight hold on them so they didn't end up hurting themselves trying to get at her.

I honestly wasn't sure if I could let them free in any situation except when I needed them. When I was making my costume, the black widows I'd gathered kept weaving while I slept and thinking back, keeping a mass of territorial venomous spiders in the basement while sleeping wasn't a comfortable idea. It was still a different enough situation that I was even more hesitant to keep fifty three territorial three inch long hornets in the basement while I was sleeping.

I was drawing a blank on how to test the limits of my unconscious control on the hornets safely.

"Heavy," I gasped. I thought I might have pulled a muscle in my back. I tried to stretch it out but if anything that made the aching pinching hurt even worse.

A gently amused look spread over her face like she was watching a kitten struggle over a ball of yarn. I pouted and she laughed.

She was dressed much like she was the last time I saw her, with nice clothes that said she had a modest clothes budget but the style of it was down-to-earth. It was the exact opposite of Lung's flashy, or the formality of the guests at the party last night and it was like a very small splash of reality.

Most of the people involved were normal, everyday people muddling through life like the rest of us.

Noriko looked around. "Where's Danny?"

Just like that a lot of my goodwill was locked behind a wall. "Out," I said icily. "Why?"

"Just wondering?" She said quickly, taken aback. Her eyebrows raised and she glanced between the hornets and me, then to the house and back. "Touchy subject," she muttered.

I felt bad for snapping at her. "Do you know him?"

"I know of him more," she said easily. Her lips curled up into a secretive smile as she slipped her hands into her jacket pockets. "Helped me with my car once, actually."

"Really?" I was surprised although I shouldn't have been. Dad really tried giving people on the Docks an alternative and sometimes he even managed to pull it off with a lucky job offer or his ability to pull people together for projects. The problem was he couldn't keep that up indefinitely and as time went by, more and more opportunities dried up.

Of course, thinking about my father opened the way to thinking about how the hell I was going to hide my hornets. He wouldn't notice it at the back of house, not immediately but after that? I was going to have to get creative.

I wished I had a secret lair.

"Battery died," she said and rolled her eyes. "And what do I know about cars?"

"If you know how to drive one, automatically know more than me," I quipped lightly. The corner of Noriko's lip curled up teasingly.

"That right?"

"Sadly."

Noriko was less brusque today, I noted. It was possible that she was just in a good mood for one reason or another, but giving the benefit of a doubt had backfired on me once before.

I made a show of looking Noriko over and smiled thinly. "So what else did Lung want you to do?"

Caught, she rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet and smiled weakly. "There was something about scarves?"

I stopped and grimaced. I had honestly forgotten about that. Wishful thinking on my part that Lung would as well.

Much to my irritation, the gratitude was still there. I thought getting a good night's sleep would help put things into perspective and give me a clear direction but if anything it just seemed to get that much more complicated. Not even the run had helped. It was like I was dealing with Emma all over again, confused and betrayed and wishing things went back to the way they were. Except this time around, she went back to her normal, affable self and I just had the memory of something rotten underneath.

Getting rid of an ally in taking down Coil was stupid and even if I did manage to pull it off somehow, ABB would likely splinter and the E88 would remain intact. It was a sobering feeling realizing exactly how fragile the status quo in my city was.

"Scarf. Right." I said, trying to cover up for the time I spent in my head. "Think I should play along?"

"You're asking what I would do?" She asked with no small amount of surprise.

"Am I missing something?" I accused, looking her in the eye. "This is just another power play, isn't it. Sending you here," I swept my hand at my home. "And reminding me of what she's got over me. She wants me to bend."

Noriko looked to the side with her lips tightly pressed together. I could see her think it through. The expressions on her face shifted through exasperation, to thoughtfulness.

"Without Lung, I'd be dead," she said slowly. "I am not unbiased." She shrugged as I stood there and remembered Lung spitting up a bullet and her shredded shoulder. I tried to keep that recollection off my face. Gratitude. I could understand that. "I believe it is as you say, this is a test. But," she held up a finger. "Not many girls get a glass casket of imported hornets. She must like you."

It would have taken time, I knew. Money. Contacts. Lung would have had to set it in motion shortly after I met her the second time and bought a truck load of lies. What did she see in me then? It was a given the hornets were a bribe, but now I was starting to worry about the 'what for?'

Regardless, there was nothing to gain by fighting. Yet.

"Can you give me ten minutes?" I asked and gestured at myself and my running sweats. "Not dressed to go anywhere exactly."

It was a little power play of my own. I was self aware enough to know it was petty. Noriko accepted the delay humbly with a bob of her head. "Of course."

I went inside and fished around in the drawers in the kitchen for a pen and paper. Once I had it, I stood there bent over the counter and chewing on the back of the pen thinking about what to say. I considered writing something regarding the hornets but that would just draw his attention to it. The longer they went unnoticed, the better.

Out with friends? My ABB friends. He'd spend the next however long it took for me to come back worrying.

In the end, the note was depressingly short. 'Went out to the Boardwalk. Be back soon. Love, Taylor.'

I pinned it to the refrigerator and shuffled around all of the other notices and reminders stuck to the freezer door so that I was sure he would see it. After, I ran upstairs and ran through an accelerated morning routine. Clothes, standard casual over my spider-silk bodysuit and just in case, I slipped my burner phone out from under my bed and into the pocket of my jeans. Scarf.

I checked myself in the mirror as was my habit. Passable.

I headed back out into the sunlight where Noriko was leaning against the driver's side door. She made a show of looking at her watch.

"Thirteen minutes."

I rolled my eyes. "You'll live."

I climbed into the front passenger side, buckled in and waited until Noriko got the truck started with a loud revving sound and jolt. I reflected that I probably should be feeling a lot of apprehension or something but in reality, until I force the issue, nothing had changed. I had a dragon on my scarf and Lung liked me.

I wasn't feeling nervousness; it was more resignation.

"You said you and Lung are friends?" I asked Noriko. We were headed east along the main road, towards the Docks.

Noriko's lips twitched. "You can say that."

"So is she always a lying bitch or am I just special?" I spat.

Noriko actually laughed out loud at that, tickled pink. We turned at an intersection onto a road that ran parallel to the Boardwalk. I figured it was fair amount of evidence for Parian being within ABB territory. Did she live there before, or was she relocated? "She tells the truth when it suits her."

"And lies when it suits her," I finished.

"Doesn't everyone do the same?"

"No," I said stubbornly.

Noriko nodded her head to the side and sucked on the inside of her cheek. "You are going to tell the truth about your hornets?"

That was low. "That isn't fair and you know it."

"Maybe she wanted you to like her."

"I did," I admitted sourly.

"Ah," she said understandingly. "No one likes being lied to."

"It's more than that." I looked out of my window. "It's the fact that everything else was a lie too and she's got hundreds of people buying it." I struggled to put my feelings into words and stumbled upon what was at the heart of it. "The right things done for the right reasons, you are more likely to do it right. It didn't have to be a lie. It's, it's a waste."

"Of Lung?" Noriko questioned lightly.

I didn't answer. Yeah, I know, still wishing the dragon masked woman was something she wasn't.

Fool me once.

"Parian isn't on the Docks," Noriko moved on. "I've borrowed the truck, so I'm returning it. I apologize for the delay."

I kept quiet for the rest of the drive and watched the scenery zip by.

Roughly ten minutes later, I stood on the corner and peered up at the sky as Noriko thanked the man for his pickup. He laughed boisterously, waving her off as the smoke from his grill tickled my nose with the smell of hickory coal. It was promising to be a warm day with a clear sky, perfect for picnics. The neighborhood was idyllic. Clean and well kept with a dog with a collar wandered the road sniffing at garbage cans.

It said a lot about the turn my life had taken lately that I was honestly a little suspicious, as if the harmless picture was hiding a dark secret. It was part of ABB holdings so of course something had to be wrong with it.

Even in the privacy of my own head, that reasoning sounded so damn stupid.

"I live over there," Noriko said upon returning. She nodded her head at one of the complexes that had one of those caterpillar stretch of garages beside it. "Let me get my keys."

I followed her across the street and snagged a dragonfly. Among all of the insects, I had found dragonflies had mind-blowing sight capabilities. Almost literally, until I got used to being able to see the polarized light-plane and the entire light spectrum into UV in 360 degree. I wouldn't say that I could see through walls, but I felt like it was impressive. I made a mental note to collect dragonflies and every other insect of use. My range wasn't that big but free super senses were nothing to sneeze at.

The world took on ultraviolet's whitish-purple film and I practiced turning it 'off' and on, and sectioning off the dragonfly's sight.

"Hello?" I snapped back to attention to see Noriko looking at me with concern. "You were miles away."

"Just thinking," I excused. With my mask on, it wouldn't matter, but I didn't like that I had a visible 'tell' of when I was in my bugs.

She rang the doorbell by the name 'Liu.' In a minute there was the sound of a woman grumbling with footsteps slapping against a hard floor. The inner door opened and Jing Wen peered out at us with narrowed eyes. She recognized me, a large smile coming over her face.

"How your hand?" She chortled as she opened the storm door and came out the front step. "Noriko. Go get newspaper."

Noriko's left eyebrow rose as she looked back behind us to where a newspaper lay on the curb in a pale blue plastic bag. When she turned back it was with a clear 'are you serious' expression on her face.

Her mother shooed her. "You make me walk so far? You strong enough."

Noriko rolled her eyes with an irritated huff and strode off causing Jing Wen to smile wider. "Hand?" she asked me.

"Oh, um, better." I held it up and flexed it, feeling touched. "Amy healed it."

"Xiao She?" Jing Wen laughed quietly. "Very nice girl. Help me too."

I kept the fact that Amy had a brush with death yesterday to myself.

Noriko returned, blue bag prize in hand and handed it off to her mother.

I decided now was the perfect time to try out the Chinese word I knew. "Um, Nihao?" Jing Wen gasped with delight and then I found myself staring in abject horror as words I couldn't make heads or tails of ripped out of her mouth. I panicked. "I only know how to say hello!"

The elderly woman laughed and hugged me. Noriko smiled wistfully as Jing Wen patted me on the shoulder in an oddly familiar way. "You stay for tea, yes?"

Noriko interjected with her lips twisting into a small frown. "We actually have to - "

Jing Wen interrupted her in turn with something that sounded scathing. The old woman clung to me almost possessively, as if Noriko was going to rip me away at any moment. She was tiny compared to me, slightly hunched over with a bony hand on her cane and the other on my wrist. Her face was obstinate as she stared her daughter down.

Noriko's face cleared of emotion. She spoke softly and evenly, almost pleasantly. I wished I could understand what they were saying to each other.

Jing Wen's fingers tightened on my arm momentarily, then she smiled and tutted. "I make tea, come, come."

Her daughter stiffened and her dark eyes narrowed, but she relaxed soon after.

"Do you mind?" Noriko asked me as an aside, staring after her mother. Her mouth was caught between what could have been a sneer or a smile but by the time the expression finished forming it was solidly amused. "Mother has overruled me."

"A few minutes wouldn't hurt," I said. I supposed I was stalling but Jing Wen seemed earnest and I didn't want to disappoint the woman.

Jing Wen and Noriko's home was on the second floor and was marked with a large red fan with a black iconography of a long, undulating dragon over the door. Gold streamers hung off the two edges of the fan to frame the door. I wondered if it meant anything.

The inside was spacious and surprisingly western with four-legged chairs around a polished round table in the center room. The apartment split off in four directions with partial walls and open gaps instead of doors. I could see the marble counter top of the kitchen from where I was and Jing Wen made a beeline for it, depositing the newspaper on top of a pile of other newspapers still in their plastic bags.

"Where'd you learn to say hello?" Noriko asked as she sat down at the center table. Sprawled at it, actually, like she was just used to having the entire tabletop to herself.

I clammed up a little. "A man named Jin? He was," I choked on the word 'nice.' Jin, with the Triad tattoo and gun in his belt was nice, to me. However, he was not a good person.

I sat down across from her. The wooden chair creaked a little but the cushion was comfortable. "Just you and your mom here?"

Noriko nodded. "It's been me and mother for…" her brows furrowed and for a moment, she looked lost. "A long time now."

Her mother returned from the kitchen carrying a porcelain tray with gleaming small round tea cups, a small pot in the center and a larger, steaming pitcher. "Wulong," Jing Wen told me with an excited air as she handed me my tea cup. "Black dragon tea."

"Why is it called that?" I asked, genuinely curious. I was used to boringly descriptive names for tea, like 'raspberry' or 'ginger.'

"For the curled leaves," Noriko answered. "They uncurl in hot water, like its alive." She wrinkled her nose. "Doesn't taste right from a tea bag."

Jing Wen opened the top of the small pot to show me the leaves. They were shriveled like worms. She poured hot water from the pitcher into the pot and the leaves soaked it up, unfolding almost aggressively, squirming. She put the pot-cover back on and let the water stew for a little while, then poured the dark green-tinted tea into my cup with swirling tea leaf fragments sinking to the bottom. She did the same for Noriko and then herself.

I'd seen the bags of imported tea leaves and they always had a hefty price tag thanks to how poorly the international shipping lines were doing. Prices for everything were rising. "Must have cost a lot."

Noriko adopted a serious demeanor, on the cusp of imparting great wisdom. "Don't skimp on tea." She nodded at my cup. "Try it."

I swirled the tea around and lifted the cup to my lips for a sip. It was sweet, almost fruity with a honey aftertaste. It was lovely. I took a bigger gulp.

I now had an ideal breakfast. The banana pastry Bao gave me and this tea. Done.

Noriko smiled victoriously, vindicated for some reason. "My favorite too."

Jing Wen looked back and forth between us almost suspiciously. I wondered if she knew what kind of things her daughter got up to as part of ABB and if she didn't, how strongly she would disapprove. The woman waited patiently as Noriko lifted her tea cup and started to take a sip before attacking her with, "You date this girl father?"

The timing was perfect.

Noriko inhaled an entire mouthful of hot liquid and began choking, coughing and sputtering all over the table with tears in her eyes. She got out of her chair and staggered for the door. She almost didn't make it, coughing so hard she had to just lean against the door frame and fall through. She barely passed out of sight through the door when there was a thump and more coughing.

I was actually starting to worry that the woman had literally crawled off to die.

"That was mean," I said.

Jing Wen radiated smugness. "You see this gray hair!" She demanded in her accented tones. She pointed at the door her daughter had stumbled through. "Her fault!" That was followed by shouting in Chinese which I assumed was Jing Wen making good and sure Noriko heard the accusation.

The woman wheezed back weakly, ending with a plaintive, "Mama..." That just invited another tirade until Noriko gave up, almost whining. "Hao ba! Hao ba!"

Jing Wen stopped mid-word in gobsmacked surprise and then suspiciously demanded something else. There was another thump, this time of Noriko hitting the wall, that was her answer. The elderly woman huffed and sipped at her tea.

"I teach you Mandarin," she told me sternly.

My eyebrows shot to my hairline. "That's a generous offer?" I tried. "Why?"

"Aiyah," she moaned. "Noriko is away too much." Her eyes flickered over to the quiet patch of wall Noriko was on the other side of. "And you like tea!"

"I'll see if I can make the time," I tried to let her down gently. Her face fell and I felt like a heel for doing so. "I'm sorry."

"Noriko take too much of time, yes?"

"Not her," I corrected. "Things. Life in general," I muttered. "School and homework."

She nodded quickly. "I understand." She spared Noriko's half spilled tea cup a glance and then focused back on me. "Finish tea!"

I had no problem following that order.

Once I finished, Jing Wen gathered the fine china tray and pitcher. I picked up the tea cups and she smiled approvingly. I followed her to the kitchen and at her direction put the cups on the counter. She set down the tray and peered into my cup.

"Tea read," she said. "Dog," she pointed out an amorphous blob of tea leaf fragments that I guessed could be a dog if I tilted my head just so and took a few drugs. I didn't say that though. I suppose it was like cloud watching?

"Bird," I tapped the side of my cup by the V-shaped leftovers.

Jing Wen clapped her hands together once. "Good fortune." She ran the cups under water and a soapy sponge. "Dog is loyal. Bird is good news."

I didn't think anyone put much faith in horoscopes these days but I let myself smile. "I could use good news." And loyalty. "About what you asked…" I felt really uncomfortable but the fact remained that Noriko hadn't actually answered the question. "She's not dating my father."

Jing Wen muttered to herself.

I blinked. "Wait, were you hoping…"

"She be old woman soon!" Jing Wen hissed, sounding genuinely concerned about it. "When she listen?"

I felt the smirk on my face and tried to wipe it off without much success. "I'm sure she appreciates you worrying about her."

The woman seemed to shrink and age as her washing slowed. "She does not." She snorted then and regained energy, scrubbing at the teacups with all her strength. "I worry always. She my daughter. Always worry."

And that was how my Dad felt.

The smile fell off.

Last edited: Oct 16, 2014

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Threadmarks Caterpillar 8.2

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Shujin

Shujin

M. NightShujinlan

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She/Her

Oct 19, 2014

#1,773

Caterpillar 8.2

Jing Wen noticed the down turn in my mood and smiled. It was a wide smile that made the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes and laugh lines more prominent as she clucked her tongue. "You come back for tea, yes?"

"I'd love to," I said. I surprised myself by meaning it. I hadn't known my own grandmother very well. My only memories of her were of a tired but defiant woman with white hair and whispered conversations. It was an incredible amount of bias on my part, but Noriko's mother liked me so I was inclined to like her back. "The tea was delicious."

"Better when left in water longer," she replied and shook water droplets off of the cup she had been washing. She turned the tap off and grabbed a dish towel off it's hook on the wall. "Four and five," she muttered something, searching for the word and not finding it. "You come later, yes?"

I smiled at her. "I'll try."

We made quick work of the rest of the tea cups and the platter. I handed her the second cup and she handed back the washed and dried one she just finished and pointed out where to put it. I was given charge of the second cup, and then the platter as Jing Wen complained about Noriko 'wasting tea' and not growing out of breaking tea cups.

The woman in question popped her head in shortly, wearing a light scowl. "I'll be in the car," she said impatiently and ducked out of sight when her mother flung droplets of water at her. I didn't know if the rush was because we really did need to be at Parian's at a certain time, or if she just wanted to get going before her mother broke out the baby pictures. I couldn't say I blamed her.

Jing Wen insisted on escorting me outside. Coming down the stairs, I got the feeling that the cane she had was used out of habit than her actually needing it. She was rather sprightly for her apparent age and I tentatively attributed that to Amy's help. Had it been arthritis, maybe?

I opened the door for her anyway. By the entrance was rows upon rows of small mailboxes, about twenty four in all but only four of them had names. Liu was one of them, as was Watanabe, but I couldn't read the others. Either it was an empty apartment building or people just didn't feel like claiming a small metal box in the wall. I put it out of my mind and headed outside.

Rumbling idle on the street in front of the building was a black sedan with a thin silver grill and a familiar logo. I felt my eyebrows raise. Since Japan started declining with their ports, and an island, being sunk by the Endbringer Leviathan, their exported car industry no doubt took a big hit. But still…

"Really?" I asked.

Noriko looked at her car, then back at me. "What?"

"A Japanese car?" National pride was a thing, I guessed but she was also really fitting the cliche right now.

She visibly winced and hovered around her car protectively as if trying to ward off the mean words. "It's, uh, it's from Kyushu. Discontinued."

"Oh." Shit. Now I felt like a complete asshole. Great going, me.

She kept the somber expression on for about two more seconds before suddenly grinning. "Just kidding."

My mouth dropped open. "You -!"

She barked in laughter as she opened the driver's side door and slipped in. I laughed myself a little, more out of disbelief than anything else. She got me good.

I grabbed a ladybug that had been hiding in the grass and fed it to my dragonfly as a thank you before letting it go. Like the crab, it hovered in the air eating and largely unresponsive until I gave it instructions to 'act normal' at which point it sped away with its meal. It was an oddity about my power I was attributing to the changes it made to the insect. I could only hope it was a sustainable change and that hordes of formerly-controlled bugs wouldn't start dropping out of the sky, dead.

There was a slight tug on my sleeve and I turned. Jing Wen was there with a very solemn expression.

"Noriko say she get man." Jing Wen informed me seriously, with a wrinkled finger held up to my chin, punctuating her every word. "You see she get one - "

Somehow from within the car, Noriko could hear what was going on or at least had a very good guess. Behind Jing Wen's head, I could see her palm her face and the hand slowly slide off as her head dipped lower and lower, before just slamming her forehead into the steering wheel. The rest of Jing Wen's instructions were buried under the sound of a blaring car horn.

Jing Wen scowled in that direction before turning back to me with an exasperated sigh. "Come back," she said. Both of her hands were on her bamboo cane and she was slightly hunched over, looking like a good stiff breeze would knock her over. "Please."

It occurred to me then, that in between her comments about Noriko being away too often and so few people in her building, it was possible the elderly woman was lonely. I knew all too well how that felt.

"I will," I promised.

The car horn blared again. "Let's go!"

"Good-bye," I said.

"Zai jian," Jing Wen replied. I repeated those words best I could and she smiled, a small, sad smile. As I was getting into the black car I saw Noriko and her mother look at each other. Jing Wen's smile faded. Noriko tilted her head in a side nod and glanced at me before facing forward, shifting the car out of park mode.

We pulled away. In the rear-view mirror, I saw the old woman shake her head and slowly head back inside.

We headed south, maybe south-west, on our way towards Parian. The familiar surroundings of the Docks and the suburban outskirts faded out to be replaced by modern buildings, wider roads and the edge of Brockton Bay's gang neutral zone. We skirted the edge of downtown where there were small mom and pop shops and tiny restaurants in the shadow of office buildings. It was a Sunday so while all of the tourists were still crowding the Boardwalk, this looked like where you might find a fair portion of the locals. If you didn't want to bother with the strip mall dominating commerce at the center, or its prices, you came here.

Our destination was a small store with mannequins wearing elaborate dresses. The front store window had coverall-wearing men fitting new window panes and orange traffic cones with yellow tape stretched between them blocked off the front door. The sidewalk was in the later stages of repair with new, damp concrete slabs. A giant hole in the street opposite the direction we came from was similarly surrounded.

"What happened here?" I thought out loud. At first, getting out of the car felt very strange. I felt like the red scarf I was wearing marked me out for everyone to see. I shook off my misgivings.

"If I had to guess?" Noriko's face was grim. "Empire."

"Neutral zone," I said. I wondered if it was neutral because the gangs themselves enforced it, or were they just not willing to kill the goose that laid the golden eggs yet, and everyone else hoped it was enforced.

Noriko was quiet as she shut her door with a bit more force than was necessary.

I followed her to the storefront and we got instructions from one of the men overseeing the window replacement to use the side door instead.

The inside of the store looked like a tent blew up.

There were streamers of fabric arcing down from the ceiling, stretching from one corner to another and the walls were covered with hanging pieces of fabric like tapestries. Some were square, others an elongated diamond shape and others still could charitably be called "patches" with ripped edges and jagged designs. Pins of varying shape and size held it all together with a gigantic needle ball on the counter by Parian.

She was bent over a notebook with long golden curls spilling over her shoulders. What I could see of her costume was lacy and white complete with satin gloves. Noriko cleared her throat and she looked up. Her mask was that of a doll's face with black-out around blue eyes. I'd heard of her doing promotionals for fashion but to me, she looked a bit off-putting. The doll face was endlessly smiling even as her eyes behind the mask narrowed.

"Oh," she said. She looked back and forth between me and Noriko silently.

"What happened?" Noriko asked flatly.

"Vandals," Parian responded tersely. "Cosmetic damage, mostly." She glanced at me again and her question was tinged with bitterness, "What do you want?"

Noriko reached over and flapped my scarf.

Parian nodded shortly. "Of course. A moment."

She slipped off her chair and my estimation of her height plummeted to just around five feet. Noriko and I both towered over her by at least seven to eight inches making me feel like I was looming. She went into the back, the streams of cloth blocking the door moving out of her way without being touched. That was Parian's power, the ability to manipulate fabric which really asked the question of: how was there a power conflict between that and metal control?

A bullshit excuse for press-ganging a rogue into the ABB?

Parian came back carrying a few scarves, each with a different color scheme and iconography.

"You got that all done in a few hours?" I asked, surprised. Lung had only just mentioned it late last night.

Parian's gaze was flat. "I had an early morning."

She laid them out on the counter and motioned us over. Most had a dragon on it in one way or another. There was a dark blue one with with thin, subtle dragons snaking up the edges that Noriko vetoed by moving it away. A green one with a stylized eastern dragon face made out of negative space and outlined in red crescents. I reached for the only scarf that didn't have a dragon on it at all, but an artistic rendition of a bee.

Noriko chuckled. "Not yet, I think."

"I didn't think so either," Parian said quickly. "But Lung's instructions were a little vague."

Noriko inspected another scarf, one that had Chinese characters written with draconic images. "Her mistake." She held it up. In the other hand was the final scarf which was a dark yellow with black sinuous dragons twisting around each other running down the center and the ends of the scarf were striped like a bee. "Which one?"

I pointed at the yellow one for two reasons. The dragon motif was stretched out and not immediately obvious and the bee stripes were cute. "You did a wonderful job with these," I told Parian.

The former rogue paused in gathering up the discarded scarves. "...Thank you." She almost ran away.

"She'll make four," Noriko informed me. "Policy is, you can give two away to vouch for others."

"Any difference between those people and members?" I asked.

"It's probationary. If they aren't members in a month, the voucher is taken back." She gave me an assessing look. "But until then? No."

That was putting quite a bit of influence in the hands of a pressured member, I thought. There had to be more to it.

"Trust from Lung?" I scoffed. I didn't for a second believe that.

Noriko's hand tightened on the scarf and irritation flitted over her face. "No. Expectation of competence from Lung. Problem?"

I snatched the scarf from her. "None."

Her small smile reappeared. "Good."

When Parian returned, she faltered slightly at seeing us still there. "Something else," she didn't so much ask as state tiredly.

"Lung requires replacements," Noriko said with a 'what can you do' spread of her hands.

"Already?" Parian demanded. She stalked to the counter and flipped through the notebook there until she came upon a long list of words I couldn't quite read upside-down. "What did she do to them?"

Noriko swept a finger through half of the list. "Fire." Parian slumped and started rubbing at her temples as another fourth was x'ed. "Torn, ripped, shredded." The finger paused on one. "That one was turned to crystal and shattered."

I could feel my eyebrows hanging out with my hairline.

"Diamond?" Parian mentioned the name of one of the E88's new capes with resignation.

"Diamond," Noriko confirmed. "Acid got that dress, don't ask me how. Bullets."

Parian let out a sound of disgust and snapped the book shut. "Fine. Fine! Now please leave."

Noriko shifted and I got the feeling she had just stopped herself from looking at me. "You will be reimbursed, of course."

Parian blinked. "I will?"

"I just decided now," Noriko said with a sardonic smile. "If Lung doesn't like it, I'll take responsibility."

The costumed woman drooped. "Thank you," she breathed. "The store - "

"Including whatever it cost to repair the store," Noriko grimaced. "You should have told someone."

"Who?" Parian snapped. "Kali? I don't want to go anywhere near that bitch." Whatever goodwill Noriko had built with offering to pay was fast evaporating and I could tell she saw it.

"Has she - "

Parian shrunk into herself. "No, not since...just leave. Please leave. I have work to do."

Noriko bowed, low and silently turned on her heel.

"I'm sorry," I said and followed her out. Outside in the sunny weather and the distant roar of cars traveling through downtown, I said, "And an additional twenty percent."

Noriko looked at me. "Oh?"

"For hardship." I carefully folded up Bao's scarf and put mine on. I was estimating hundreds to thousands of dollars extra and that was the least Parian deserved. "Problem?"

She smiled faintly and looked thoughtful. "I have not met her face to face before," she admitted. She struggled to put her thoughts into words. "It was enlightening," she settled on. "No problem."

I bit my lip. "Is Lung going to complain?" I ventured.

Her smile strengthened. "Doubt it." She opened her car door. "I'll take you back home."

"Actually, if you could make that the hospital instead?" I asked as I got into the car and with a bit of annoyance, readjusted my seat. I was a bit taller than whoever it had been set for originally. I could get back from the hospital by bus easily. "I want to visit Amy and Peter."

"Am I your driver?"

"Aren't you?" I challenged. I wanted to know how far Lung's orders went. My stomach tensed.

She held my eyes for a few seconds and then shrugged. "Kato wanted to visit too, guess she's going early."

I let out a tiny sigh of relief. "Why do you call her Kato? Isn't her name Yuka?" I buckled in as the car started.

"Because it annoys her," was the smirking answer.

I snorted.

Last edited: Oct 19, 2014

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Oct 19, 2014

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Threadmarks Caterpillar 8.3

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Shujin

Shujin

M. NightShujinlan

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Oct 20, 2014

#1,795

This is a bit rough. Please bear with me!

Caterpillar 8.3

Yuka slapped Noriko's hand away from the radio's search knob and flipped through the channels back to the Top 20s. Our driver tried to sneak her fingers back but just before they grasped their prize were smacked away again. In the rear-view mirror, I could see the absolutely pathetic pout Noriko had on. "But it's my car…"

"Get over it," Yuka huffed. "Not listening to that garbage you listen to."

"What's wrong with oldies?"

"Aside from being old? Bury the seventies already, my god."

I sat in the backseat of the car behind the driver's side so that Yuka could recline and make the ride a little easier on her back and hips. Walking through Dragon City back to the flower shop in daylight was just as welcoming as it had been before but it almost seemed to reinforce the message: Don't fight and nothing would change.

It rankled, like an itch I wanted to scratch but knew I shouldn't. At the same time, there was the relief.

We had to wait for Yuka to get on her shoes and close up her store, with a 'get well' flower arrangement in hand complete with a beautifully decorated card. She'd pointed out the flowers and their meanings, like the pansy for 'caring' as we got underway but then I made the mistake of suggesting music.

I vaguely recalled hearing the tune currently playing before but then again, everything popular tended to sound to same to me.

We drove under an overpass. There was a brief period of shadow and then the music changed.

"Goddammit Nitta! Stop!" It was like they were playing footsie with their hands, warding each other away from the control panel with light slaps. Were they adults or kids?

I leaned forward and reached between them. My long limbs worked for me here, allowing me to slip underneath their fight and turn the dial. I defaulted to a station I knew best: classical music. It took a few notes, but I soon recognized the concerto playing. Beethoven, nice.

Both women stopped and looked at me accusingly.

I tapped Noriko's seat, unrepentant. I was not listening to Bieber, thank you. "Eyes forward!"

She did as she was told, facing front with a strange look on her face halfway between trying not to laugh and constipation. Yuka laughed quietly and shifted in her seat.

"Oh." She laid a hand on her stomach and winced. "He's kicking, I think."

The leather grip on the steering wheel squeaked in Noriko's grip. She was trying for nonchalant but there was a real wavering tone of worry to her voice, "Please don't have a baby in my car."

"Well, we are going to the hospital," Yuka retorted faintly.

More creaking but this time I think some of the sound was coming from grinding teeth. "Don't even joke."

"Your car will survive the ordeal, Nitta," Yuka said teasingly. She winced again, arcing her back and moving around in her seat as she rubbed her stomach. "He can stand to learn a little patience though!"

"If anything goes wrong…" Noriko didn't finish the sentence.

"Psshaw," she waved it off. "There's nothing to be worried about, I feel like a broken record. He's fine. I'm fine. We're fine - " Her seat crunched as she leaned forward. "That was the exit you just passed."

"What?" Noriko sat up in her seat, turning her head. "No, it wasn't."

"Uh huh," Yuka pursed her lips. "It totally was, take the next one, actually take it this time."

"It's the one after," came the immediate protest. "After Lincoln Avenue."

"We already passed Lincoln. The overpass was Lincoln. You missed it, take the next one."

In the mirror, Noriko's face scrunched up. I could almost see the mental map hazily forming and turning this way and that before being lit on fire and tossed out as she gave up. "Taylor?" She tried to reach for support.

I shot her down. "I just take the bus usually."

She slumped. "Next one it is."

"How do you not know where the hospital is?" Yuka demanded. "How long you been here, four years at least. Really?"

Noriko's smile was quietly amused. "Never went."

Yuka's eyes did Olympic grade cartwheels in her head. "I was about to say that wasn't an excuse, but knowing you? It is." She pulled at her seatbelt, readjusting it and turned in her seat. "You alright back there?"

I smiled. Not the first time today, I found myself thinking that Yuka was a really good friend, to everyone it seemed. On paper, their friendship seemed just shy of bizarre. Noriko worked for a gang, Yuka owned a flower shop. One was straight to the point with her wording, the other was a chatterbox. I wondered how their friendship even started.

"I'm fine," I said quickly. My legs were stretched out sideways behind the passenger seat because Noriko needed room as well. A bit uncomfortable, but I'd live. I don't think she believed me. Yuka turned fully in her seat and gave me a look I thought of as a 'mom' look, a silent command to spill the beans.

"Really," I said.

She let it go reluctantly. "If you say so."

Noriko took the next exit when it came up, sliding in behind a semi and under Yuka's direction made our way to Whitman Memorial Hospital. We pulled up at the main entrance and I got out first. When Yuka came out of the car, I could see one of the spotters by the door panic and start fumbling with the folded wheelchair beside him.

Yuka waved him off, "Not popping yet, thank you."

"I'll park and catch up," Noriko called after us. I caught myself waving after her and redirected the rebellious hand to my pant pocket.

The front side of the hospital was dominated by Hellenistic columns, sliding glass doors, brick wall and windows. A shining chrome awning above the doors held vertically standing red letters that lit up at night and the top was flat with a helicopter pad but no helicopters. The front desk was a perfect circle in the center of a large hallway with two receptionists at opposite ends with picture perfect smiles.

The front receptionist was wearing pale green scrubs and an unfortunate orange tan. "Can I help you?"

Yuka had a bright smile. "We're hoping to visit Amy Dallon?"

There was some stupidly fast typing and the woman frowned a little, clicking through on her computer. "Ah, I see. She's been moved, second floor, patient room 212."

Noriko came through the sliding glass door then, a bit out of breath and running a hand through her long hair. We waited for her to catch up and out the corner of my eye I saw the receptionist's smile morph into something slightly derisive, as if she caught a whiff of rotten meat.

"Just follow the signs, and you'll find the right area. Please make sure your friend here doesn't misread and wander off."

Yuka's smile lost its lustre as Noriko stiffened. "We'll do - " The Boston native began.

Noriko adopted an extremely vapid look, bounced on her toes and got right in the receptionist's face and starting talking fast in Japanese. The woman leaned back, alarmed.

"I - Please move along, you are holding up the line."

What line? I looked behind us to see one person with his face buried in a 'We'll help you quit smoking' brochure.

Yuka dragged Noriko away. "We'll do that, thank you."

No one spoke again until we reached the elevator and the doors closed with a faint chime. Noriko reached out to touch the door, gently, as if testing it. Her fingers curled into claws. She took deep breaths frozen like that, fingernails scraping against metal.

She spoke hard and quick. "I hate people like that."

"I know," Yuka responded sadly. "You can only prove them wrong."

"You don't prove people like that wrong," Noriko spat back. "You force feed it to them, until they choke."

Yuka sighed.

I silently pushed the button to take us up a floor.

If I remembered correctly, the second floor patient rooms was where Peter was the last time I was here. I didn't know if he had gone home yet or if he stuck around but I made a mental note to ask around about him either way. It turned out, I didn't have to. Room 212 was a corner room at the end of a short hallway with the door closed.

Yuka knocked and in a burst of deja vu, Peter answered it. He had on a tight blue T-shirt and jeans, but what caught my attention was the bandages around his forearms that weren't there before.

He gave me a lopsided grin. "And not pizza. We have to stop meeting like this."

"Are you always eating?" I asked him as he stepped aside.

"Growing boy."

My mouth opened but the retort didn't come. How many friends did Amy have? "Is this a hospital room or a reunion party?" I muttered to myself once my brain registered the number of visiting people. Yuka bumped me with her hip and I stumbled inside. "Hi?" I tried.

I got a few wary replies. Noriko wandered in past me and took up vigil against an empty corner of the room with her arms folded.

"Nice scarf!" Bao said with a smile. Just like that, the dam broke. Min lurched forward, hastily swallowing.

"Oh my god! That is pretty."

I looked around the room. Min was here munching on a powdered donut from the large opened box that was on the headstand beside her, as well as Kam leaning against the window. Pretty boy Shinta was sitting on Amy's left side and the girl of the hour herself looked exhausted, but happy. Bandages covered her hands completely in a stiff cast and her IV was imbedded into the underside of her forearm. There were a lot of unfamiliar faces as well, most of them in my age range so I assumed they attended school with her at Arcadia.

"David," a gangly teen with short cut hair and a shirt with 'I've kidnapped myself. Give me 100 or you'll never see me again.' on it introduced himself eagerly. He kept glancing at my scarf.

I smiled weakly. "Taylor."

Bao waved me over. I took out his folded scarf from my hoodie pocket and held it out. I figured he would want it back, now that he didn't have to vouch for me anymore.

He glanced at it. "Tch." He reached out and closed my fingers back over it. "Keep it, okay?"

Yeah, okay.

This crush was not going away anytime soon.

He scooted over to make room for me on the couch. I sat. If my face were a few degrees hotter, it would probably start melting off. There was only one thing I could do: ignore it the best I could.

"Thanks for coming, Taylor," Amy said softly. She was practically glowing as she lifted her hands when Yuka rushed forward with her flowers. "Yuka, I know it looks bad," she started. "But skin grafts."

"Skin grafts sound pretty bad as well," the woman choked. "Is everything going to be alright?"

"I volunteered to give up a pound of flesh," Peter said as he flopped down on the floor. "A noble sacrifice!" He flailed around as if he was in his death throes and then stopped. "And Amy owes me a burger."

"Little chance of rejection, I'm speeding up the healing as best I can, it was just overwhelming me a bit." Amy explained, shooting Peter a look as Yuka sat by her on the bed. "They did it a few hours ago." She hunched forward. "It sucked."

"How is Lisa doing? Do you know?" I asked cautiously, not sure I wanted to know. I was hoping for unrealistically good news, so I knew I was about to be disappointed.

"Still out of it," Peter sighed. "She's got my old room."

"We don't know when she'll wake up," Kam murmured. Tony was missing from the get-together. Maybe he stopped by earlier and had to go, or just wasn't as close to Amy as the others. Amy's side tables were filled with get well cards and flowers. Someone had even given her a small cactus in bloom. I wondered how many were from people who knew her and how many were from random well wishers who had heard that Panacea was injured.

"Lisa was the girl you were helping?" One of the unfamiliars asked. I had to strain to hear her, she was so quiet. The girl sat in a fold out chair with her legs crossed and hands in her lap, prim and proper, and tense. She had long dark hair like Noriko but with layered bangs.

"Yes," Amy said darkly. "It was."

"Do I want to know what happened?" Yuka looked at everyone in the room, pleading.

"Bomb," I said shortly.

Bao took over for me, motioning for someone to close the door and raising his voice, "Taylor told me yesterday. Coil, used to be an annoying rival, a gnat," he said strongly. "He had a girl implanted with a bomb and waited until Amy tried to help her."

"He detonated it," I finished. "If it wasn't for Snake, you all would be attending a funeral."

You could have heard a pin drop.

"He's an enemy now," Bao continued. "This is what we have to deal with."

"Lung is going to get rid of him," David stated like he was declaring the sky to be blue, but then he added, a lot less confidently, "Right?"

"That is what she's good at," Amy muttered.

"She doesn't have a target," I pointed out, the familiar anger starting to burn. "We don't know where he is, the details of his plans, who else he's got fucking rigged to blow, we don't know any of that."

"Not going to lie," Peter leaned back on his hands. "Kind of want to punch his face in. Sooner, than later."

"Me too," Shinta growled. He bit savagely into a donut.

"So we find out," I said. I'd been sitting on the idea since Snake had asked me, 'and then?' I had no doubt this was just the first of many attacks, but he had already made a critical mistake. He didn't kill us. I was going to make him regret that. "I'll need a van and someone to drive it around for a few hours to help me collect some things. And we can start with any lead we have, unaffiliated capes, disputed areas, abandoned parts of town, anything." I leaned back in my seat before getting the crux of the matter. "We just can't let him know we're looking."

Peter and Bao looked at each other.

"Tagging!" Peter crowed.

"Tagging," Bao repeated with a toothy grin.

"I - I can't believe I'm saying this," Yuka spoke up shakily. "But can't you let Lung handle it? I'd prefer her going up against a bomb using gang leader than any of you. God, what if he has parahumans on his payroll? How are you going to deal with that? What if you're discovered?"

It was odd. At one time, that would have been me, balking at facing down someone who had powers. "He does," I told her, thinking of the Undersiders. Then I thought of my hornets. I smiled. "Don't care."

"I'm with Taylor," Peter declared. "Bring it."

"I could help - " Amy started but Shinta interrupted her.

"I'll help. You should focus on getting better."

"I can get you the van," the girl with long hair said quietly. Her eyes darted around, resting on a face for a second before moving on and not meeting anyone's eyes.

Min flashed her a reassuring smile. "Thanks, Soo-young. I'm in too, just tell me what you need, huh?"

"What if this messes up Lung's plan?" David leaned forward. "I'll help too, but maybe we should get permission first?"

"Coil has had a day," I snapped. "I'm not going to give him any more time."

"I'll take responsibility," Bao soothed.

My gut clenched at the thought of someone else getting on Lung's bad side because of me. Eyes, ears, lips, nose, hands. There was a faint acidic taste at the back of my throat. I swallowed it down. "It's my idea," I said. "I'll handle Lung."

Standing still and quiet in the corner, brown eyes studying me, was Noriko. I met her gaze as I said that and raised my chin defiantly.

She smiled.

Last edited: Oct 20, 2014

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Oct 20, 2014

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Threadmarks Caterpillar 8.4

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Nov 6, 2014

#1,856

Caterpillar

The room broke into murmurs and side conversations after that. Some were pointing out other places that could be searched, others were trying to coordinate travel. The atmosphere was still tense, but it was the electric feeling of anticipation now. I didn't relax, I couldn't. The more cynical part of me pointed out that everyone getting involved now, probably did it because they were satisfied Lung's ire wasn't about to come down on their heads.

Noriko's eyes were sweeping the room languidly, resting on each and every face as if committing it to memory. If anything was going to ruin the fledgling operation, any retaliation or conflicting orders from Lung, it was probably going to originate from her corner.

I moved to get up and Bao looked at me quizzically. I jerked my head in Noriko's direction and his expression cleared.

"Yeah," he said grimly. "Probably a good idea."

I skirted around Kam sitting on the window-sill and a few kids talking animatedly among themselves. They glanced at me as I passed and like with David, glanced at my dragon scarf. Respect I hadn't earned, fear I didn't want to see on their faces. 'I'm not my scarf,' I wanted to tell them. 'Stop looking at it!'

Instead I plastered a small smile on my face. I was trying to make it reassuring but I was not sure if I succeeded. For all I knew, I made a pained grimace. I didn't stop to check.

When I reached Noriko's corner, the first thing I said was, "What are you going to tell her?"

We both knew who 'she' was.

"Handle Lung?" She shot back with a quirked eyebrow. I tried to strain through every ounce of inflection, but I just ended up getting the impression that she was amused and curious. That was more of a relief than I thought it would be. "Don't you like living dangerously."

"She did tell me to surprise her," I tried to say glibly. My 'surprise' came out with a bit of a waver. Relying on Lung's good will did not sit well with me at all. "I figure I get a bit of leeway."

She nodded out at the room. "What do you see when you look at them?"

I raised an eyebrow at the sudden question. "People," I drawled without turning my head.

She gave me an un-amused glance, a slight narrowing of her eyes that had me standing a little straighter for no reason I could put my finger on. "Look."

Against my better judgment, and more than a little curious now, I did.

At first, it was just as I said. People. People I knew, like Amy and Peter and Bao, and some I didn't know, students from Arcadia or people whose lives Amy touched in one way or another. It was looking at Peter that opened my eyes. He was frowning where he sat on the floor with deep furrows in his brow and his fingers were flexing against the off-white tiles. He looked intent, like nothing anyone said would sway him.

Bao had a similar look. He was bent over, elbows on his knees as he talked with one of the older boys and pointing at others. The anticipation I noticed before was thrumming in the air. Resolve was there too, those who were pitching in to help meant it.

I started this.

"That's it," Noriko murmured. "That moment when you look out and go 'This. I can make something of this.' That was it, right there."

"You don't use bombs if you're concerned about collateral damage," I hissed back, defensive and on edge. The way she put it sounded almost mercenary and I didn't like the implication. This wasn't a power play. "We're all targets."

"It's for a cause," she agreed easily. Her smile grew along a mischievous slant. "A good one even. I'm sure you can turn them towards more good causes in the future."

"I didn't set out to make myself a leader," I protested. "This?" I held up the bee striped end of my scarf. "I didn't want this." I wanted my Dad to be safe and I wanted my friends. Simple needs, I had thought. Strings were attached to them. I didn't know how or when, but I was going to cut those strings.

Noriko's lips parted slightly as she turned towards the door, about to say something but seemed to change her mind at the last second, "I think it suits you."

I blinked, taken aback. "Thank you?"

I wasn't sure how to take that. Being in a gang suited me? Or was she referring to my dubious ability to point people at a target? I shook my head and shoved the strange comment out of my mind.

"What are you going to tell Lung?" I repeated.

She hummed and slowly nodded, down and to the right and looking away before meeting my eyes again. "Tagging in disputed territory. Nothing to be concerned about, but a little caution isn't a bad idea."

I relaxed slightly. "No, it isn't a bad idea. Thank you." I paused. "Is it going to reflect on you?" It felt like I was passing the burden up the chain. I wouldn't wish what happened to Ibuchi on anyone.

"Ah," she said, her eyes widened a little but it was from pleasant surprise. "Worried about me?" She patted me on the head like I was a puppy, chuckling. I scowled and that got a laugh out of her. "Lung trusts my judgment."

"You mean she doesn't ask too many questions when you lie?" I ventured.

A little smile grew along a mischievous slant but she didn't confirm or deny it, just shrugged with one arm. "Will you need me to get home?"

"No, I -" I shook my head. I had planned on taking the bus home, but the reversal felt odd. The stark difference between her earlier 'Am I your driver?' snark and now, where she was just waiting patiently for an answer was almost surreal. "I'm fine," I said, cringing as the words came out of my mouth.

She noticed my discomfort. I wasn't sure what I was expecting from her but her nonchalant, "You'll get used to it," wasn't it.

"Not sure I want to," I replied dryly.

"But you will." She looked me over then, flicking her eyes up and down and frowned slightly, like she found something she wasn't sure of and then turned her head towards the group in the room, but didn't look at them. Instead her eyes found the floor. "Take care of them, will you?"

"What do you -"

Halfway through my sentence, she slipped out the door and was gone.

"Mean by that…" I trailed off and stared at the slowly swinging open door and the empty hospital hallway beyond. I puffed out my cheeks. "Never mind."

I got back to Bao with a nervous grip on my scarf.

"Do you think we're good?" He asked out the side of his mouth, nodding at the now empty corner.

"I think so."

I hoped so.

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Threadmarks Interlude, Le Cong Bao

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Nov 17, 2014

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Interlude, Le Cong Bao

"What the shit…" His name was Le Cong Bao, 16 years old, Winslow High student, blood type O negative and those were some motherfucking huge bees. "The fuck is...where'd you find those!?"

Those couldn't be local honey bees. They couldn't be. Shit, maybe they were local, where else would she get them? Killer bees would be icing on the fucking Brockton Bay cake. Fuck. That's it. He was moving.

Bao was also a gang member with a bit of an identity problem.

He wanted to be one of those upstanding citizens because sitting down and thinking about the fact that people were scared of you made his stomach sink.

But that was the exact reason why he didn't sit down and think about it.

In the heat of the moment, having the power to say something and have people listen was like, being on top of the world. He could ruin them if he felt like it, or worse. He usually didn't, because he wasn't a dick, but knowing that he could…

Usually didn't, didn't mean never. In his eyes, it was no less than they deserved.

The switchblade in his pocket was for opening mail. If he got into a knife fight, something had gone very, very wrong somewhere. He kept it on him, just in case. He had the muscle memory for drawing a snarling dragon with spray paint just as his fingers still remembered how to play scales on a piano (not that it mattered because his keyboard was busted). He'd do anything for his people, his people, if you weren't that: out of sight, out of mind.

Very few people had it good in this city. You had to pick your battles.

ABB was his people. The woman down the street escaping from an abusive home. The man struggling to find work with his two daughters. Even the crackhead on the corner who was lucid enough in the mornings to completely fleece him at Texas Hold'em, all of them, ABB.

He could work through every problem in his neighborhood one at a time with his own two hands, try to, or he could point a dragon at it. The woman was now a waitress at a Chinese restaurant downtown. The man came by Thursdays now, unsure, emptying the trash cans into the modified pickup with quiet relief. The crackhead...was still a crackhead and totally cheating at cards but at least Bao was positive he wouldn't keel over from a bad mix one day.

The drug pushers had standards.

He didn't know when Taylor Hebert had become one of his people. The dumpster, maybe? He could still remember the smell, the gunk he got on his hands trying to pry the top open and dawning realization that someone was trapped in there.

(He'd been trapped like that before. Didn't want to talk about it.)

It wasn't like he was going to turn her away when she started hanging around him either, it would be a dick move, like kicking a puppy for licking you. And what the fuck, man, nothing happened to whoever sick fucks locked her in there in the first place? What kind of fucked up school was he going to? He told himself he had to keep an eye on her. He put the word out, because he couldn't be everywhere (and might be sleeping in) and before he knew it, people were finding their own reasons to stick their necks out.

(He saw her first!)

Sometimes they got burned, the three bitches and their hanger ons but maybe...he didn't know. He blinked and it was a full blown Monday routine, and little shy almost-there-nope-it's-gone-now smiles in the hallway when he bothered to show up to class.

She had a dragon scarf of her own now, yellow and black with bee stripes at the ends.

He thought he'd been doing her a favor.

"Gift. From, uh, Lung." Taylor had on her adorable little lopsided smile, like she wasn't sure she even should be smiling and covering nearly the entire length of her index finger was a single monster bee. Two more were crawling out of the glass jar she had them in and took to the air when the van bumped. He leaned back in his seat when they buzzed angrily. "They're safe!"

Peter's mouth was hanging open, half eaten Twinkie forgotten in the wrapper. It was the three of them in the back of the van and the sun was just starting to set, the kind of lazy late afternoon with a crisp breeze that made you want to take a nap. "Spiders?" Peter asked suddenly.

"Dragonflies, crickets, butterflies," she nodded in the general direction of her 'shopping list,' the notebook with a page full of her scribbles next to her. "All of it."

"Lung got you giant bees?" Bao said aloud in disbelief. "Lung got you giant bees. H-How many?"

"Only fifty-three," Taylor answered a bit despondently.

If you squinted and tilted your head just right, it might look like Lung wasn't the only one who didn't believe in 'overkill.'

The van bumped over another pot hole, bouncing the three teens. The driver had his music on loud and energetic, spontaneously mumbling out lyrics and beating his thumbs on the steering wheel. It was a very obvious display. Two of his passengers had dragon scarves, so he wouldn't be asking any questions and he didn't want them to think he was eavesdropping.

Almost like being royalty. He wanted to say something, who was he fooling? But didn't. Maybe it was good the guy was trying not to pay attention. It meant he wasn't noticing the three inch bee on the back of his seat and driving off the road.

"And you control them?"

"More than that," her dark eyes seemed to light up. "I can see what they see, what they hear and smell and taste, and bugs are everywhere. How many people notice the bugs around them, exactly? It's…" She looked down, chewing on her lip as she hefted the bee on her finger in front of her eyes. "It's an idea, and it might work."

"What's your range?" Peter scarfed down his Twinkie and Bao felt his stomach twinge. Great. Now he was hungry.

"About a," she paused with an uncertain look on her face. "A block? More than a block now. Huh." Just as absently, she leaned out of her seat to crank the window down and it squeaked. A few dragonflies flew in and settled on her backpack.

"Wanna swap powers?" Peter grinned at her, sprawled out in his seat. Underneath his dark sweatshirt with an ouroboros on it, his body mass was shifting. "Dropping spiders on people sounds like the greatest thing ever."

For a moment, Taylor looked a bit jealous. "Tempting," she tried to shrug it off and smiled weakly. "Really tempting."

Bao looked down at his boots for a moment. Taylor had, very reluctantly, told him about her powers. Peter had outed her first, with the logic of 'no ones gives a shit.' Her counterpoint had been Coil. Peter had gotten very quiet after that.

Part of him thought that the reason Lung liked Taylor so much was because she was a parahuman, because that was what you'd expect. Parahuman gangs tended to elevate parahumans. But Lung seemed to get her kicks from not doing what people expected, a real cut off her nose to spite someone type, like the very thought of conforming was offensive. The best way to get her to do something was to say to her face that she wouldn't do it.

(He wouldn't say he abused that quirk of hers, but he pretty much abused that quirk of hers. Carefully, and not too often, or she might realize she had it.)

No, Taylor got a dragon scarf because of what she did or who she was, of that he was sure. He wished he could say that meant Taylor was safe. Once you were in ABB, really in it with the curtain pulled back and the higher ups knowing your name, you answered to Lung.

And the dragon gave only one warning.

"How much are we aiming for?" The trunk behind him was lined in cardboard with oil paper covered the windows from anyone who might catch a glimpse. Soo-young lived up to her word and got them a van, but how she'd done it worried him a little.

"At least one of everything," Taylor replied. A pair of horse flies buzzed in, followed by a single butterfly that nestled in her hair and spread glittering blue wings.

"How much you want?" He asked her with a smile. He did have a Sunday evening to kill. He could spend it worse ways than collecting bugs for a girl.

Taylor looked at him with fierce dark eyes and wicked smirk, "All of everything."

Alright, he could see why Lung liked her.

"We find his base," she continued. "And we smash it."

Bao stretched his arms back above his head. "Sounds like a plan."

He was thirteen when he first met Lung. He'd heard of her, a woman in red with scales. The Vietnamese immigrants called her 'Giao Long' like they were sharing a folk tale of mythic dragons, bringers of rain, with all the caution and wary respect you would give a crocodile that had stomped into your home. Things would be changing, everyone knew.

For worse, probably.

It was already bad enough. He would wake up in the middle of the night to gun shots, or someone screaming. You locked your door three ways and kept an eye on it, tense, waiting for the knock. Boards and bolts kept most of the trouble out, keep your head down and you could skate on by. Illusion of safety.

With Lung, you didn't even have that.

He'd heard voices downstairs late at night. He stopped on his way to the bathroom and turned back. Mother was at one side of the room, back to the stairs like she was blocking it with her head down and subtle quiver to her shoulders. Looming by the door was a tall woman in a flowing royal purple dress, negligently swinging a bladed fan with a gold dragon motif from her fingertips and the narrow eyed Chinese dragon mask concealing her face. She walked off a theatre stage, he thought, in the middle of a tale when there were still dynasties, emperors, figurines of jade and clay, myths come to life.

"Me…" he whispered, clutching the wall.

Giao Long heard him somehow, shifting her head in his direction. He froze.

His mother snapped around, breathing in sharply. "Bao!" She hissed. "Go back upstairs."

He almost obeyed, halfway through turning before he swore under his breath. He promised himself he wasn't going hide away again (and pretend he didn't feel like throwing up when she covered the bruise with make up and carefully smiled. Good fucking riddance to trash that called himself his father).

He turned back around and shoved his hands into his pajama pant pockets. "Nah."

The fan opened with a 'schnikt' sound that made him flinch. "You know who I am?" The woman hefted the fan delicately, as if it was made of fine paper and let him see that it had sharp edges. Her accent was thick and just made her seem that much more out of place."Boy?"

He almost said the Vietnamese name for her, but managed to choke off 'Giao' at the last moment. "Long."

Her gaze pierced him, calculating. "Aah," she drew out.

He balled his hands into fists in his pockets. He spoke clearly, with each word stressed through clenched teeth. "What do you want?"

His mother turned her face upwards and started to mutter under her breath in Vietnamese, he couldn't hear it all, but he heard enough to know she was probably cursing him out for being an idiot.

And he was being a complete and utter moron because he'd been there, huddled in a hastily opened Endbringer shelter as the alarms sounded and Lung violently claimed the city, and the deaths had yet to stop.

But he was keeping his promise to himself. That was what mattered.

"I made your mother an offer," Giao Long said idly. "I will hear the answer."

"Yes, alright," his mother blurted out, wringing her hands and carefully not looking at him. "Fine. Fine."

Giao Long snapped her fan shut, loud, "Good." She set the fan, golden dragon roaring up at the ceiling, on the center table. "Tomorrow."

She left without looking back.

The door swung shut on silence.

"What did you do?" Bao asked quietly.

His mother turned away from him, palm covering her face.

"What did you do?" He repeated, louder. "Why was Giao Long here? What did you do?"

She turned back, slightly and reached out for the fan in front of them with trembling fingers. Her hand didn't make it, stopping short and falling on one of their wooden coasters. She lifted her index finger and let it fall heavily. The coaster withered to dust.

His mouth opened but the words stuck to his tongue.

Oh.

He stumbled backwards against the stairs, aching pain starbursting in his ankles and his tailbone as he collided with a step, and sat there.

"You'll have everything you wanted," she said eventually, hopefully.

"You'll be working for Long," he said.

"It won't be much different," she continued, half to herself. "A few errands and not asking too many questions." Her words all but confirmed how they kept the bills paid and food on the table after his father had walked out, answers to a question he hadn't thought to ask because he was stupid and couldn't see what was in front of his face.

"What if you mess up and she gets mad and takes it out on you?"

"That won't happen," she said sharply. After a tense moment, her face softened. "I will be careful."

Not knowing what else to do, he nodded. "Okay."

It was more than just 'errands.' The dragon had a vested interest in taking care of her things and had decided she needed advisors. Delegates. Lieutenants. Le Thi Hien was one of five at a round table.

Was.

His mother was killed two years later, Empire. And there were four.

After the funeral, he had gotten an unmarked package left by a squat man under orders to pound on the door until he came out. He hadn't gone to school in two weeks, hadn't done much of anything but sleep. It took him three days after that to even open the package and out spilled a crimson scarf decorated on one end with the same gold dragon and the other Chinese characters. He had spread that end out on the table, squinting and running his fingers over the fabric shapes. He'd taken it to the old Chinese man a few streets over, the one that always had a frown on his face and called him 'Duck.' He'd practically begged for help.

Maybe it was the news that he was an orphan now, or he just looked pathetic but the man took the scarf and read the words out loud: Remembrance is the greatest treasure.

"Who gave you this?" The man frowned.

Bao took the scarf back and experimentally wrapped it around his neck. It hung comfortably. He held up the decorated end, glittering gold. "Lung."

The burning question was why?

Over a year later and he still didn't know the answer. Why the responsibility? Why the trust? Why? He hadn't had the courage to ask and after a few months, it slowly stopped mattering. He got pieces of the puzzle, hidden in what Lung did or what she said. Things like cherishing springtime.

Because come autumn, the leaves were stained red.

A dragon was entitled to its secrets, and a woman her regrets.

Bao still had that bladed fan, with the gold dragon roaring defiantly at the heavens.

"Hey." Bao knocked on the metal ladder of the fire escape. He had his gloves on, fingerless with the knuckles capped in metal which made the ladder ring. "You ready?"

Browbeat (on the clock it was Browbeat, like Kam was Durga and Masayuki was Go) tilted his head as a few more bone plates clicked together. His blonde hair was darkened to a blue-black with a borrowed face that could be anything from ambiguous Asian to Hispanic. He held out a fist, inspected the bone slivers jutting out and put it down.

"Yeah." Browbeat was armored with his own ribs, interlocking flat enamel scales on his chest and tearing through the shins of his jeans. His 'mask' was a gift he probably wheedled out of Amy, a bone spiked helmet that framed his face. Bao didn't think he needed it, being a tough son of a bitch anyway, but he thought it was a perception thing. An intimidation thing.

You don't fuck with someone wearing their own bones, capiche?

Browbeat idly swung the newest edition to his war form, a serrated tail. He looked up, the feral grin that was all Peter on his face. He put a hand on the brick wall next to him, and bounced on his toes.

"Nothing happens to Taylor, got it?" Bao said.

Browbeat looked at him. He wasn't one of Bao's, a snake instead of a dragon but Snake wasn't here. He was.

"Got it." He scaled the wall with just the palms of his hands, brick dust falling in trails in his wake.

Bao picked up his aluminium baseball bat and rested it on his shoulder.

The meeting place was at the edge of ABB territory, riding the line between buildings with dragon tags and the grey zone, south of the Boardwalk. There really were only three places for a shitbag like Coil to hide; where no one was, or where the Empire was. And if he was hiding within ABB, they had a really big problem.

He spotted Durga and Uber first, at the edge of the group, their experience making them stand out. Where the other kids were talking, nervously moving or excited, Uber was double checking his equipment (at least one would blow up on him, but he insisted) and Durga still and quiet.

'Hachi' was still too, matching the description Lung had gave him of a dark insectoid costume but mostly he recognized the long, curly hair and the introverted way she stood. A cloud of the bugs they'd collected hovered above them in a background drone. Bees, dragonflies, moths, mosquitoes. On the ground scuttled beetles, crickets and spiders, Brown Recluses and Black Widows crawled over Hachi's feet.

Hachi straightened and within seconds, each and every insect vanished into the shadows. Everyone stopped talking. They wore ABB colors and symbols, he smiled.

Bao tapped his bat on the curb. "Ready?" he asked her.

One of her giant hornets had stayed behind, perched on the top of her mask like the jewel on a crown. She didn't have her scarf to set her apart, she didn't need it. "Yes." Her voice came out a bit distorted from the plastic. "I'm ready."

Last edited: Nov 18, 2014

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Threadmarks Butterfly

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Nov 27, 2014

#1,915

Butterfly

I got a strange feeling as I stood there in my costume, looking over everyone through a pair of dragonfly eyes. The spider silk was soothing to be in, and even better was my mask, as if not showing the world my face was my comfort zone. Still, it didn't do much to alleviate the slight chill I felt working down my back. It wasn't fear, not exactly. It was more like some part of my hindbrain and unconscious mind had recognized that this was the point of no return. For better or worse, I was making my first move.

I didn't give the feeling much thought beyond that. There was work to do.

The plan was simple. We had a group of ABB teenagers wearing their colors and symbols and whatever was the normal garb for 'tagging.' Because that was exactly what they would be doing, tagging. At most, they were the cover, the distraction, and I really didn't want anyone without powers accidently knocking on Coil's front door. A few of the kids knew what we were looking for, the ones I saw at the hospital like David with his 'Stupidity is not a crime. So you're free to go' T-shirt.

Most of them were just there for tagging. That had been Bao's idea, the more people doing exactly what we were supposed to be looking like we were doing, the better chance we had of going unnoticed. I hadn't been comfortable with the thought of sending people out not knowing what kind of danger they could be in, but he had a point.

"Every time, there is always the chance of coming across an independent with a grudge or Empire," he had said.

"They don't go for the kill though," I'd countered.

He'd quirked an eyebrow, like I had said something strange. "Don't they?"

I had swallowed, coughing a little and glanced at him through the yellow tint covering my eyes. "I see."

"You saw for yourself, this isn't a game."

Yes. I saw.

ABB had a surprisingly organized way of going about vandalizing buildings with spray paint. They split into assigned groups, each with a map of Brockton Bay and their area circled in pink highlighter. Everyone had their cell phones with full contact lists and speed dial. My map, along with Shinta's and Kam's had red markered lines instead, depicting a patrol route that cut through all of our designated tagging areas.

Check out a spot and move on.

I saw Soo-young, with my dragonflies. My human eyes saw a brazen young woman with torn jeans and bare midriff chewing bubblegum where my insects saw the mousy, quiet girl who visited Amy and volunteered to get us the van. Illusion or perception altering, I thought, and deliberately didn't look at her with my own eyes.

Whatever it was, it didn't affect my bugs and the implications of that were staggering. Was the power targeted? Were my insects not affected because they weren't me, or because they never entered the equation at all?

Would it work the same way with other powers?

More, it could possibly work with other states. If I was paralyzed, I was reasonably certain I could still slip into my bugs. And if my Widows had been any indication, not even unconsciousness would completely strip me of them.

The confidence boost I was getting from having Giant Asian Hornets under my command reached a new high. My power was amazing.

"Where's Browbeat?" I asked. The crowd was starting to segregate into their groups; Kam and Uber had north first with his detecting tools, Shinta had west as just another tagger in a bold green long shirt but with the ability to blink in and out of buildings and I had south, towards the Empire's line in the sand.

And it was strange, using Peter's cape name out loud.

Bao's eyes shifted lazily as he swung his bat up over his shoulder. "Around."

"Uh huh," I drawled. I reached out to my bugs. A mosquito was hiding in the folds of everyone's clothes and about a third of my hornets were sedately scuttling across nearby walls. One of my moths found him, high up on the roof of a complex across the street, or what I hoped was him seeing as the outline I was getting looked nothing like the all American jock. There were dark areas, but most of the figure was dominated by a light contrast that looked like scales and spikes formed into armor, a dragon knight.

Was that, was he wearing armor? I didn't point him out, just placed a light colored moth on his back and walked it over the ridged plates with my eyes closed and senses focused. I found a gap, the armor protruding out of warmth, skin. That was bone. He was wearing his own bones.

There I was, getting jealous over his power again.

I could think of a half dozen reasons why he was up there and not down here with the rest of us, but there was only one reason I cared about.

"Is he going to cause trouble?" I cringed even as I said it. It came out too harsh. I was more on edge than I thought. "Beyond, you know, being P - him." I tried to smooth it over.

Bao had his bat across his broad shoulders behind his neck, both hands hanging off the ends casually. "Not start," he said as he cast his eyes around. "End. Form up!" He called to the group. "Let's head out, people."

He caught eyes with Kam, inclining his chin slightly. Her face was shadowed with a curtain of her black hair and a blood red mask. Her costume was a deep purple loose fabric like a grecian muse with how it left a shoulder bare and gathered at her waist with a gold threaded sash. She went barefoot, drawing comparisons to Lung's ability to heal from everything, and showing off gold anklets.

Her response was to reach out and lightly swat Uber upside the head, jerking him out of the tinkering he was doing to one of his gadgets.

Uber and Leet had been the dynamic duo of Brockton Bay. They ran their web show for years and it was always the two of them. Villains, but they had been B-list at best. I wouldn't say they had been harmless but it was still jarring to realize: Leet was gone.

Our group gathered around us, people I didn't know and some faces I did even if I couldn't recall their names, if I ever learned them. The excitement was still there; there was wariness too. Bao wasn't great at keeping that certain kind of intensity off his face and me in my costume got more than a few of hesitant looks. Or maybe that was caused by my bugs.

"Okay, we'll go down this way…" As I listened to Bao's voice fading away, I turned to one of the members of my group, who immediately focused on something more interesting on the ground.

"So, which way should we go?" I knew my way around Brockton Bay, but this was a first for me. The brief look that was shared told me enough; they were expecting me to know where to go. Was it always the capes who took the lead role in something like this when there wasn't someone with obvious authority like Bao?

I kept silent. If I had learned anything, it was that I had to keep a confident image. So I counted to ten as the others traded glances, before one boy raised a hand and I turned to him, "Yes?"

"What about-" A curse cut through the air and my bugs were the first to pick up Bao. I blinked behind my mask, wasn't he going with another group?

"Motherfucking, think I broke my toe…" I felt a small grin cross my lips as I turned to face Bao as he looked up, "Oh hey, good, you didn't head out yet. I'm going with you, make sure things go smoothly."

"Uh, if you're sure." I replied, and Bao nodded.

"Yeah, I'm sure. So, you decided where to go yet?" Bao looked over the group and I turned my head to nod at the teenage boy who was about to speak.

He started, but rallied quickly, "I was thinking...what about that big office wall over on Martins? The place practically faces E88 territory and it's pretty accessible, so you could throw up a pretty big tag there."

"Martins?" Bao mused, "Shit, you could put up a fucking mural on that wall. What do you think Hachi? Go for it? Or do you want to hit somewhere smaller?"

Huh? Oh, right, I was technically in charge, wasn't I? On one hand, that did seem like something I should be doing, but doing something smaller seemed safer and it would take less paint...I weighed the options carefully for a moment. I didn't want to do something rash like-

"Okay, sure." I blurted out just to fill the silence. Like that...dammit Taylor.

"Cool, let's get moving then." And just like that, the entire group was heading north-west. If I remembered correctly, Martins meant Martin's Road, so that meant one of the office-buildings. Mentally, I shrugged. Martins was visible but it was on the edge of territory that could officially be called 'Protectorate'. Nothing was going to happen if we didn't start anything.

As our group turned a corner, I realised just how depressing that thought was.

Reaching Martins itself wasn't hard. Brockton Bay wasn't large, and most of the time spent travelling anywhere was due to the city being...twisty for lack of a better turn. There were very few straight lines, but there were lots of turns and corners, especially in the back streets.

And there was a lot of turns in the back streets which was good because we didn't want to be visible. But after what felt like an hour, despite my watch telling me we only spent twenty-five minutes, we reached the building and the wall in question.

"I don't think we have enough paint." I muttered as I stared up at the blank stretch of pristine concrete. It didn't even look like it had been re-painted, and you couldn't go down a street without finding areas that had been visibly painted over to conceal dragons and swastikas. It never seemed to do much good as anything but an invitation to tag it again. Band-aid solutions.

"Eh, so long as we keep to a theme, we don't have to paint all the way up. Like a scroll, I guess." Bao suggested as bags were opened to reveal spray paint cans, "Keep us covered, yeah?"

"Yeah," I nodded, spreading my insects over as wide an area as I could. I didn't want to get jumped by some roaming Empire, or get caught by the cops. That last part scared me more than the Empire; I could fight the Empire, but I wasn't going to fight cops.

As the hiss and clacking of spray-cans filled the air, I kept watch, right up until my bugs detected something fast. My dragonflies and hornets were trackers and could see reasonably well, in the day time. At the speed it was going, I was at more of a disadvantage in the dark than I would like. Too fast to get images, just scents, but the displaced air alone was enough to tell me that something had flown in and landed nearby, down an alleyway.

"I just picked up something, I'm going to take a look." I called to Bao, who nodded and waved a hand. My insects picked up Peter...Browbeat, I should really remember to call him that when masked, following.

I saw her first through my mosquitos, an image of salt smell perched up on the wall overlooking the street and I oriented my dragonflies and moths for a better image. She was hunched over her knees, watching me approach behind her visor and rolling a dark colored marble in her hands while leaning against her hoverboard. The shadow I spotted overhead earlier.

"I know you are there," I called out. I could feel Peter creeping in closer and I fought the urge to wave him away.

"I was going to wait until you weren't...busy. How'd you- nevermind, got something for you," Hanabi smiled tightly. She shifted and a packet fell to the ground in front of me. I kept my 'eyes' on her as I picked it up. A map of Brockton Bay. I unfolded it and was greeted with dark x's crossed over sections of the city. There was feminine handwriting in the margins and notes hovering around some of the marks with descriptions such as 'vehicles' or 'personnel.'

"What's this?"

"We're not blind, you know," Hanabi said. "Sure, we - we may not get everything," she continued, a light quickness to her voice. "But the city's still standing, because of us, the heroes. Counts for something, right? Please tell me it counts for something."

I bit my lip.

"Those are the places we observed activity attributed to Coil," she continued, mechanically like she was rehearsing. She leaned back and hugged her hoverboard closer. "Thought it might help, you know?"

I folded the map back up. "If you knew this, why didn't you act on it?"

Hanabi gestured at her costume, with her red overcoat, green pants and yellow shirt. "Obvious. We could, yeah, invade multiple spots across the city with like, fifteen people, with just suspicions and no evidence. And not letting moles in the PRT know."

A smile tugged at my lips in spite of myself. "Touche."

"Not saying we're going to do nothing," she smiled back weakly. "It's just going to take a bit." She looked up at the night sky. "Lung still playing the good guy?"

There was the sound of crinkling paper and I eased my grip on the map. "Not anymore."

Hanabi sighed. "Yup." She held her breath for a few seconds on the next one before letting it all out in an explosive rush. "Yeah, for what it's worth? Not too late to back out, right? She likes looking civil."

"She's not interested in looking civil," I replied evenly. I said my next words slowly, almost trying to impress how important they were on the Ward. "After Coil, Lung is taking the city."

Hanabi went still for a moment. "Oh, that's all kinds of bad. Massive badness. I'm gonna go...report in." My stomach lurched as she swung her hoverboard down underneath her feet with a practised movement, firing it up with a press of her heels and slipping off the roof of the building on to it. I felt like a traitor, in spite of everything. I also felt lighter, as if I had just unloaded a burden off my chest. "Miss Militia says hi, by the way. And good luck."

I nodded tersely. "Thank you."

"Don't die."

She lifted off, rising quickly until my human eyes couldn't her anymore against the backdrop of a clear night sky. My insects followed the movement and slight contrast in the moonlight farther until her outline was lost to me entirely. 'Don't die' was pretty good advice, all things considered. Right up there with the 'don't get killed' I was admittedly a little fond of.

Map in hand, I walked back out of the alley. I re-positioned my insects as I went, stretching to the limits of my ability and mapping out every nook and cranny. Above us, below us. The people in my range that I'd marked with a bug stood out like pieces on a chessboard and pressed against my consciousness every time their position changed.

It was like I was listening to white noise. I tried to ignore it the best I could, or compartmentalize it so that everything wasn't taking up the same amount of my attention. It was turning out to be a bit of a mixed success.

Bao was putting the finishing touches on an angry red dragon outlined in black, a flashlight at his feet and baseball bat leaning up against the brick wall.

"Who was it?" He threw over his shoulder.

"Hanabi." I unfolded the map and called fireflies to me. I formed a circle of them and lit up, illuminating not only the crosses but the names of the places they were by. I looked over it, a small headache pulsing in between my eyes. They crosses weren't evenly spaced but there wasn't any reason why they would be either. Crime in this city sprung up organically, formed from a mixture of desperate people and little oversight.

Several of the crosses were in old Merchant territory, and the only reason why it had been Merchant territory in the first place was due to being prime real estate for drug dens: not too far from downtown but the connecting alleyways were beelines to some run-down parts of the city.

Bao's finger stabbed into my line of sight, circling a few crosses. "Empire territory."

So he was right in the middle, I thought, which made sense considering he wanted to turn the two gangs against each other. He was probably poking at the Empire, just like he had sent the Undersiders to poke Lung. Draw them both to the center and watch the fireworks. Simplicity itself.

"This what I think it is?"

"Leads," I confirmed. It was a pretty safe bet that none of the x's were marking the spot of his base, but it had to be close. I didn't want to actually stumble into one of Coil's criminal operations - or maybe I did. I memorized the marks closest to us.

Maybe I did.

Last edited: Nov 27, 2014

177

Shujin

Nov 27, 2014

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