Chapter 33
When I woke up, my first thought was that I must have slept with my contacts in, given how dry and itchy my eyes were.
I was otherwise comfortable, so warm and cozy that part of me wanted to go back to sleep, but my eyes bothered me too much for that.
Then, the memories of what had happened began to unravel, and I reflexively looked down at my left arm.
A bandaged stump, ending a little before the wrist.
My costume was off, and I was dressed in a blue hospital gown, but I didn't have time to dwell on the fact that someone had undressed me.
A middle-aged woman in pink, flowery scrubs entered the room, her brown hair streaked with grey.
"You're awake," she said, coming to my bedside. "That's good. Are you in any pain?"
I swallowed to soothe the dryness of my throat before speaking.
"Just my eyes," I said. "I think my contacts are still there."
"Yes, I imagine they are. Sorry, but it wasn't our priority. And your arm?"
"I can't feel anything."
"That's normal. You were complaining about pain before, so we gave you some pretty strong painkillers."
"I woke up before?"
"Several times, though I guess you were still out of it from the anesthesia, and then the painkillers. You've been out of the operating room for nearly a day."
"Operating room?"
"They had to shave off some of the bones, tendons and nerves, to close off the wound."
The memory of the sickening sound of the cleaver against my bones and the impact shaking me to my core drew an involuntary shiver out of me.
I glanced at my right arm, where an IV drip was set up in the crook of my elbow, then followed the line to a clear bag hung above my head.
"Can I go?" I asked.
"First, we need to talk about taking care of your wound, and what to look for in term of complications."
She sat down in a chair next to my bed.
"Your arm will stay wrapped in a tight bandage for a little while. The dressing serves to absorb moisture, protect your healing wound, and control swelling. You will have to come by to get it changed daily, and we will check at the same time how the wound is healing. You will also need to keep it dry while you wash yourself, ideally with a plastic bag maintained by tape or an elastic."
I nodded.
"The main complications are oedema, infection and pain. The first one means that fluid accumulates in the stump, possibly leading to wound breakdown. The surgery techniques we use generally avert oedema, and the compression bandages help. But it's important to warn us if you notice any unusual pain, inflammation or reduced mobility. We gave you a tetanus shot and IV antibiotics in case of infection, and you will have pills to take for two weeks. Then there is pain. Some residual pain is normal after an amputation, and we will prescribe you some painkillers to take as needed, but do tell us about anything out of the ordinary. You will also have exercises to do every day, to avoid contractures and muscle weakness."
She showed me the exercises, gave me two pill boxes of one week each, a plastic bag and a roll of tape to protect the wound as I showered, and made me promise to report to them every morning. Then, she insisted on calling someone to escort me to the Wards headquarters.
"I can still walk," I told her, annoyed.
"I'm not going to be responsible if you faint in the stairs and crack your head open. I'm not discharging you without an escort."
In the end, I relented. I didn't feel like arguing, and she didn't look like she would budge.
She removed my IV, the clip on my finger and the electrode on my collarbone, then brought me my costume. Putting it on with only one hand was a bit of a struggle, especially with the zippers and straps. I had to ask the nurse for help, and decided to forgo the spidersilk bodysuit and armored pieces, since I was planning to shower as soon as I went back to headquarters. The nurse brought me a bag to carry them.
When I left the room, Armsmaster was sitting next to the nurses' station, looking too big for the chair in his armor. He rose to his feet when he saw me.
"Apiary. It's good to see you on your feet."
I nodded at him, unsure of why they had called him of all people. As we walked down the corridor and out of the hospital wing, he explained.
"I figured you would want a rundown of what happened after you lost consciousness."
I nodded.
"Dragon gave chase to Jack and Bonesaw, but they managed to escape and went into hiding, so she went after the other members of the Nine, and took out Crawler."
"Crawler? How?"
"By inviting him to the mountains West of the city to test some of Bakuda's creations that we recovered from her workshop."
"What about the vial Bonesaw dropped?" I asked. "The white smoke killed my bugs on contact, but I wasn't sure it would do the same there."
"I analyzed the air, and it appeared to have been neutralized."
I relaxed a fraction at that. He continued.
"PRT uniforms arrived shortly after I did to free the hostages and have them sign NDAs, since they saw your face. A few tried to make a ruckus about suing you for assault with a parahuman ability, but I kindly reminded them of the circumstances and that you were buying time for others to intervene."
"What about Shadow Stalker?"
"She's in custody, with live current restraints to make sure she can't escape. Given her crimes and violation of the Endbringer truce, we will most likely push for a sentence to the Birdcage, though any competent lawyer would demand a softer sentence because she's a minor, and might play up the mental health card. We'll see how the court case goes. One way or another, her trial won't be for a while, but you may be asked to testify, if she doesn't plead guilty."
Was I happy that Sophia might go to the Birdcage? Relieved that the psychopath with a vendetta against me was behind bars? Satisfied that one of my bullies finally had her comeuppance? I wasn't quite sure. I mostly felt numb.
We arrived to the elevator.
"If you don't mind, I'd like you to come to my office for a few minutes," he said.
I shrugged, and he pressed the button to the sixth floor. When we arrived, I followed him to his workshop.
"Take a seat," he told me while going around the workbench.
He settled in his chair, typing on the keyboard. He must have retrieved his stuff from the soundproof room, then.
After opening the computer, he went to the back to grab what looked like an a small pair of dumbbells with a lens on the side of each end.
"This is a 3D scanner," he explained. "To take measurements for your prosthetic."
"My prosthetic?"
I hadn't thought that far ahead.
"With my own recent brush with dismemberment, I found that a regular prosthetic was a wasted opportunity," he continued. "Since I already have all the calculations and programs to make a functional arm, I figured it would be easy enough to make you a hand."
I was surprised with the thoughtfulness, and wondered whether someone had told him to or if it was his own initiative. Either way, I wasn't about to say no.
"Place your right hand at shoulder height, palm down and fingers splayed," he told me. "Try not to move."
I did as he asked, and he moved the 3D scanner all around it.
Once he was done, I asked: "Does it still hurt? Your arm?"
"No. Panacea healed the nerve damage so it wouldn't, but I'm afraid this isn't an option here. We still don't know where she is, and whether she left with the Nine or not."
I nodded, and he took a scan of my left arm, then put away the scanner once he was done.
"That's all for now," he said. "I may call you over for some testing and adjusting in a few days, once I'm far enough into it."
He rose from his seat.
"I'll escort you back to the Wards headquarters."
We rode the elevator in silence.
Once we arrived at the door, I presented my eye to the scanner, and as he was about to leave, I spoke. "Armsmaster?"
He stopped and turned around.
"Yes?"
"Thank you."
He nodded, then went on his way.
The door to headquarters opened, revealing Vista on the console. The lights had been replaced, I noted.
She offered me a nod as I entered, and I made my way to my room, to finally remove my contacts and exchange them for the pair of glasses that had survived Shatterbird's attack in the soundproof room.
I placed the pill boxes on the dresser, then grabbed some grey sweatpants, a blue hoodie, some clean socks and underwear, slippers, toiletries, as well as the plastic bag and tape I'd been given by the nurse, and stuffed everything in my shower bag before heading out.
In the bathroom, I kicked off my boots, then struggled to unzip my dress and bodysuit with one hand, and hung them in my locker after finally taking them off.
Standing in a tank top and some bicycle shorts, I carefully taped the plastic bag around my bandaged stump, then grabbed a towel and my shower bag and locked myself in a cabin. There, I removed the rest of my clothes before cranking the water on.
The hot water stung at first, but I didn't mind the pain. It passed after a minute anyways.
The spray of hot water washed away the dirt and sweat of the last day, but not what had happened.
I'd attacked civilians. I'd attacked my bullies, and the school staff, and Emma's dad. I'd gotten hostages hurt and tortured.
I'd cut off my own hand.
I still felt numb, like it hadn't really hit yet, and I kept having the reflex of wanting to use my left hand as I shampooed my hair, massaged my scalp, and soaped myself up.
As I stood under the water to rinse off, I heard the alarm announcing that someone was about to enter our headquarters, and felt out with my bugs. It was Clockblocker and Glory Girl, coming back from patrol.
I stopped the water, then dried myself as the two made their way to their rooms — Gallant's room, in Glory Girl's case. I untaped the plastic bag, then put on the comfortable clothes I'd selected and pulled my slippers on.
I waited until they had closed their doors before heading out. I didn't particularly feel like seeing anyone, so I hurried to my room before they could come out of theirs, dropping my shower bag and dirty clothes before heading out to my workshop.
I called a swarm through the trap leading outside, and fed the black widows while I checked their work. The first four bodysuits were finished.
The swarm had brought leaves for the grasshoppers, and I placed them in the appropriate terrarium. To the fireflies, I gave a sugar syrup, since they generally ate nectar.
Then, I fed the horseshoe crabs pieces of mackerel and shrimp, observing them manipulate the pieces with their chelicerae — a small pair of leg-like appendages — to chew by moving the food into their mouth, located in the center of the legs, beneath their hard shell.
There was a knock on the door, and I recognized the bugs I had planted on Vista.
When I opened the door, I was surprised to find her unmasked, wearing pajama pants and a green sweatshirt.
"We're having a team meeting in five," she said.
I nodded, and closed the door as she went to knock on Kid Win's neighboring workshop.
I bent down to gather the printed sheets about the Slaughterhouse Nine, which I'd spread out on the floor for my bugs to read, and shoved them in a folder before sitting down at my desk to observe the black widows and horseshoe crabs eating.
After four minutes had passed, I rose from my seat, turned off the lights and exited my workshop, heading to the elevator.
When I arrived to the Wards headquarters, I found everyone in the break room rather than the meeting room.
They were all out of costume and unmasked.
Weld had brought his special chair from the meeting room, and was installing the sound system he'd put in the soundproof room to survive Shatterbird. Clockblocker was emptying bags of chips and cheese puffs into bowls, while Flechette brought plates, a handful of forks, and a large knife from the kitchen. Vista followed with a pile of glasses and a large bottle of fizzy drink, and Glory Girl was moving the couches to accommodate Weld's chair.
On the coffee table between the couches, I recognized the cake that had been in the freezer since I got here. The one that spelled out "Happy Birthday Vista!" in loopy green lines.
Evidently, this wasn't a team meeting.
Vista cut the cake, and Kid Win handed me a plate and fork, motioning for to sit on one of the couches.
Weld started some music, something upbeat with lots of percussions, just loud enough to create ambiance without drowning out conversations.
Vista sat down next to me on the couch with her own plate of cake, and Glory Girl took the remaining seat next to her.
"I want the full story about taking down Lung with Newter's blood," she said.
Clockblocker and Kid Win — Dennis and Chris, as they introduced themselves — took place beside Lily on the other couch.
They listened attentively while I recounted the meeting at Somer's Rock, the gangs agreeing to band together against a common enemy, then the mixed-group coordinated attacks on the ABB. I described sweeping the warehouse with my bugs for traps and going in, then Bitch and I having to fight Oni Lee. Then, I told them about Lung recognizing me from our previous fight on my first night out in costume, and Kaiser's attempt to kill Lung, only for him to grow even bigger and develop wings. That he had grabbed Bitch, then me, and that I directed a cockroach to his eye, carrying a caterpillar coated in Newter's blood. That he then collapsed under the effect of the drug. It might have been the painkillers, but I admitted to carving out his eyes, with the reasoning that it would at least ensure he stayed down long enough to be brought into custody, and Glory Girl — Victoria — admonished me about using excessive force, which appeared to be an inside joke with the other pre-Leviathan Wards as they all booed her.
I didn't stop to ponder which details I should or shouldn't share. It felt very much like they were handing me an olive branch, with the unmasking and all, and I didn't want to hold back the way I had with the Undersiders at first.
They followed with their own war stories.
Dennis and Vista — Missy — recounted how they'd neutralized Bakuda's superbomb by breaking just about every law of physics at once.
Victoria told tales of fighting the Empire's both powered and unpowered forces.
Lily described her encounters with a villain named March who kept showing up in New York and joining minor villain groups to fight the Wards, always going after the team Lily was on at the moment.
Weld talked about Blasto and Rotten Apple, drug dealers and crime lords with an on-again, off-again relationship, who could respectively create uncontrolled life forms, and create spheres of poison gas. He mentioned that roughly a third of the Boston Wards' fights were against Blasto's creations.
Chris remained quiet, until Dennis prompted him to talk about how he realized that Chariot was a mole, with the dissonance in his attitude, and then sending the hovering camera to spy on him on a hunch, and hacking the wireless connection to see what he was doing.
"Pretty astute, Chris," said Missy.
Once the cake was finished and that the conversation came to a lull, Weld suggested a movie night, and everyone was in favor. The TV had been busted by Shatterbird, so he brought the spare laptop from the console. The others argued about which movie to pick, then decided on some action flick from Earth Aleph that Weld had in his collection. Something intense and fast-paced, but still somewhat funny, that took our mind off the previous day.
By the time I went to bed, I felt a little less numb.