Chapter 6
Painful silence festered between my dad and I on the drive from the PRT HQ to our home. It didn't help that we had to make detours to avoid sections of Lord Street and the adjacent streets that had been destroyed by Leviathan, doubling the time it would normally take.
At least, sitting next to my dad gave me an excuse to avoid looking at him, but I could still feel his stare burning holes in the side of my face.
Was he ashamed? Disappointed? Disgusted?
I couldn't bear to think about it.
When I had the chance to explain my actions to him, the words had failed me, and now, my cheeks burned with shame under his eyes. It was too late to justify myself.
What could I even say?
I was just infiltrating a group of supervillains to get the dirt on them, and wound up robbing a bank and attacking heroes to make them trust me, but then I changed my mind and decided to become a villain for real because it allowed me to have friends?
It sounded so stupid now.
For the umpteenth time, my dad opened his mouth to inhale, giving me the impression that he was about to say something, only to close it instead.
Neither Miss Militia nor the four PRT uniforms saw fit to burst the abscess of silence, letting it throb painfully between my dad and I.
Their presence felt excessive, but then again, I had the suspicion that they weren't there just to keep us safe, but also to keep me from escaping in case I had a change of mind.
I nearly did. Every instinct demanded that I flee rather than endure the silence.
Dinah, I reminded myself. I'm doing this for Dinah.
When we arrived home, Miss Militia and two of the uniforms exited the van to check the house and make sure that there was no intruder. After giving the all clear, they gave us fifteen minutes to pack.
I hurried to my room, glad for the reprieve from my dad's presence. I felt guilty for it, given that he would leave the city once we were done packing, but between our last meeting and today's revelations, I just wanted this to be over.
My room was untouched from when I had last been here, but it felt less like my room than the one at the loft. I wasn't the same person anymore.
Under the watchful eye of two of the uniforms, I stuffed clothes in a duffel bag until it was full, then went to the bathroom to grab my toothbrush and toiletries.
Once I was done, I hovered on the edge of the stairs as voices sounded from the kitchen, and I stopped to listen.
"…say when people ask where we are?"
"The cover story we came up with is that Taylor was injured during the Endbringer event, and that you are staying with relatives in another state while she receives care."
My dad sighed.
"You have an answer for everything, don't you?"
Miss Militia didn't answer that.
"Can I keep in touch with her? By phone?"
"Of course."
"Can…" he hesitated. "I… She hasn't been home lately. I didn't have a way to contact her, and she… I don't suppose you can make sure that…"
I walked down, deliberately stepping where I knew the stairs would crack, to interrupt him more than anything else. I didn't want my dad to beg my new boss to make sure that I kept in contact with him.
Guilt ate at me, knowing that I hadn't really been planning to talk to him while he was away.
When I arrived downstairs with the PRT uniforms trailing behind, my dad was ready with his bag, Miss Militia in tow, and we exited the house together.
The silence on the way back to the PRT HQ wasn't as uncomfortable as before, even though I couldn't find anything to fill it. Something about knowing that my dad still wanted to stay in touch with me after everything cast a different light on his silence.
At one point, he grabbed my hand and held it between his, and I decided that maybe words weren't needed.
By the time we arrived, I felt lighter.
We said our goodbyes in the lobby.
"Taylor…"
My hug interrupted him.
"I love you, dad."
"I love you too."
He pressed a kiss to my forehead before letting go, and I turned to follow Miss Militia.
She led me to a different elevator than the one we had taken to get to the conference room. Interlocking pieces of metal slid apart to let us in, then closed behind us. The ride was so smooth, I could only tell we were moving by the growing distance to the bugs outside the building.
When the doors opened again, they revealed a long corridor of chrome steel, with a security terminal at the far end.
As we walked, I felt the bugs I had planted on my dad move upwards, to the roof, where was stationed a metal structure I recognized because of the rotors. A helicopter.
When we reached the security terminal, Miss Militia handed me an card.
"It will give you access until your biometrics are taken and put in the system."
I swiped the access card. After thirty seconds, the metal door clicked and slid open, revealing a vast room with a high domed ceiling. To our right, there was a computer console with a dozen monitors, and three junior heroes sitting next to it.
Kid Win, Clockblocker and Vista were all there in full costume, heads turned toward the door as it opened. One head turned away immediately upon seeing me.
Vista took two steps to cross the room and disappeared at the turn of a corridor, space unfolding like an accordion behind her.
A door slammed in the distance.
Awkward silence lingered until I wondered if I should be the one to break it, but I couldn't think of a single thing to say that wouldn't make things worse.
A blanket apology would look insincere, but going the opposite way was worse. "Sorry about those humiliating defeats we've handed you guys in the past. I hope we can put this behind us and become friends." Just… no.
"I'm excited to join the team" was a straight-up lie.
"I hope none of you are scared of bugs" probably didn't have the levity necessary to break the tension. Not with my intimate knowledge of Clockblocker's respiratory system.
Too long had passed for me to just say "Hi" or introduce myself, but every awkward reflex begged me to say something, anything.
Miss Militia mercifully put me out of my misery.
"I'll show you to your quarters."
We went past what looked like a break room, with sofas, a television and a few gaming consoles, then a small kitchenette, and turned in the opposite direction Vista had taken, to a corridor with a series of doorways on each side. We stopped at the last.
It wasn't really a room, more like a small alcove formed by sections of portable walls, very Spartan in style. There was a twin bed in the corner, a dresser that doubled as a bedside table, and a desk. A laptop was set up on the desk, as well as a brand new phone and earpiece, a pile of folders, and a spiral bound book entitled "The Ward's Handbook."
"You can sleep here for now. It's meant more as a place to take a nap than a proper bedroom, but that's only until the threats have been dealt with. We'll reorganize the space to give you more room as soon as we're done moving the Protectorate headquarters to this building. I'm sorry, but it takes priority."
"It's fine, I don't mind," I answered, dropping my bag next to the dresser. That wasn't entirely true, with the lack of ceiling, thin walls and proximity of the other rooms, but I didn't want to be a nuisance from the start, more than I already was. As far as I knew, the other Wards were all staying off base, so I should be alone at night anyways.
"For the laptop, your username is your codename, and the default password is your birthday, month-day-year, followed by your middle name. For the phone and earpiece, the identification is the same."
"Alright."
"You'll have some reading to do, to bring you up to speed on procedures, rules and our opposition," she said, gesturing to the pile of folders on the desk, "and a battery of power and fitness testing over the next few days. Your meeting with PR and Image is scheduled on Friday, to define your new identity. Normally, we would ease you into the crux of things over several weeks, but with our losses and the current crisis, I expect that you will officially begin to work as soon as the formalities are over. You will be patrolling with a member of the Protectorate for now."
I nodded, both relieved that I wouldn't be paired with one of the Wards and anxious at the prospect of being stuck with one of the adults I'd fought at the fundraiser. I just hoped it wouldn't be Armsmaster.
"Unofficially, I'm bringing the rest of the Wards to assist with search and rescue this afternoon. You're welcome to come along if you want to."
"I will."
"Great. There's a team meeting with the Director in five," she said before leaving in the direction Vista had gone.
The bathroom, I realized, reaching for the bugs that were already there. Silverfish and drain flies.
I began putting my clothes away in the dresser. I was nearly done when an alarm sounded, and I left the room to see what it was.
Every monitor at the console was flashing yellow as the door opened, letting Director Piggot in.
Clockblocker and Kid Win rose from their seats at the console and followed her to a room on the other side of the alcoves. Miss Militia and Vista came out of the bathroom and walked in the same direction, which I took as my cue to follow.
It was a meeting room, made from arranged sections of portable walls, like the alcoves and break room. A table with an optimistic number of chairs stood in the middle of the room, with several white boards on wheels placed against the walls. Piggot sat at one end, next to Miss Militia, and the three Wards sat next to each other on the left side, leaving me to sit alone on the right.
"I'm not one for ceremony," Piggot began, "but Aegis, Browbeat and Gallant will be mourned and remembered."
A high-pitched sound escaped Vista, the muscles of her neck visibly straining as she struggled to swallow a sob. What I could see of her face beneath the visor was blotchy and red. I averted my eyes.
Piggot continued as if she hadn't noticed.
"Let's begin. As you have probably heard by now, Skitter, new name pending, is joining the Wards."
"Isn't it usually… huh, smoother, if people who switch sides move to a different city?" Asked Kid Win, very intently not looking at me.
Which was a nicer way of saying that I wasn't welcome here. I'd expected it, but it still stung.
Piggot offered him a wry smile.
"I'll be blunt. Your personal opinions don't matter. My personal opinions don't matter. To quote Director Costa-Brown, make it work. Unmasking remains your choice, although any effort on your part not to send her running back to the Undersiders would be much appreciated. I expect everyone to be on their best behavior, and that includes you."
She pointed at me.
"I expect to see no unusual insect activity in this building outside of testing and training."
"What about the bugs who were already in the building before I got here?" I asked.
Piggot raised an eyebrow.
"There's spiders in pretty much every room, gnats, several types of flies, mosquitoes, carpet beetles, larder beetles, centipedes, pillbugs, a booklice infestation in what I think is the archives, silverfish and drain flies in the bathrooms, cockroaches in the kitchens…"
"There's cockroaches in the kitchens." It came out more as a flat, disbelieving statement than a question. I looked at Clockblocker.
"Ignorance is bliss, I guess. I don't really have that privilege anymore." Three floors up, someone's pubic lice problem was quietly sorting itself out.
"Get them out, if you please," said Piggot
I nodded, and gave the order, but only to the noticeable bugs. The rest could still be useful to tag people and things.
She turned her attention to the other side of the table.
"Kid Win. We're clearing out the storage room to turn it into a workshop. Most of the furniture and equipment in there will be needed for the Protectorate's new quarters anyways.
"Workshop?" Kid Win's voice was filled with dread.
"For spidersilk production."
"Let me recap," said Clockblocker. "You're giving her a room. In this building. That she's going to fill entirely with spiders. And you don't see why that's a terrible idea?"
"Armsmaster has graciously volunteered his time and expertise to ensure that the spiders would remain in their intended quarters even when she is not personally present to control them."
He was being punished, in other words.
"For the second matter of the day," the Director continued, "Shadow Stalker has defected and is now a wanted fugitive. Until she is captured, we will assume that every secret identity she knows is compromised."
"You really think she would betray us like that?" Asked Vista in a thin voice.
"In the current situation, we cannot afford to be caught off guard. We know that Coil was trying to find the identities of the local heroes, much like he did with Empire Eighty-Eight, and we cannot discount the possibility that he'll find her before we do. As a preventative measure, all of your families will be placed in protective custody, possibly out of the city depending on the state of our safehouses."
I raised my hand. It felt silly to do so, but I didn't want to incur Piggot's wrath by speaking out of term.
"Yes?" She asked, looking at me.
"Tattletale knows where your safehouses are. That means Coil can easily find that information too."
"Out of town it is, then."
"What if—" Clockblocker began, but didn't finish his sentence. "Nevermind."
Piggot's gaze remained on him even after he had dismissed what he wanted to say. Was it my imagination or had it softened a bit?
"I've called in a favor from New Wave. The issue should be dealt with promptly."
Clockblocker inhaled to say something, then changed his mind and nodded instead.
"Unfortunately, we cannot afford to place you all in protective custody as well. We need all hands on deck, now more than ever. You will all stay at the base while your families are in custody."
Across the table, the reactions ranged from resigned silence to not-so-subtle glances in my direction, punctuated by a few words of protest.
I gritted my teeth. That was a wholly different situation than the one I had pictured, of being alone at night. I wasn't sure how to feel about it.
Piggot continued without pause.
"We are in the process of negotiating transfers to fill in our ranks, but this will take a few weeks to arrange. Clockblocker will assume temporary leadership in the meantime. Weld from the Boston team will then take over for what would have been the remainder of Aegis's tenure. On the Protectorate's side of things, Armsmaster will be transitioning leadership to Miss Militia before heading to Chicago."
She rose from her seat and straightened her notes.
"The next few weeks are going to be a nightmare, and we all need to do our best. You are dismissed."