I woke up on a bed in a PHQ Med Bay room. At first I thought something was very wrong with me. There was no feeling of drowsiness, no stiffness in my joints, no bleariness in my eyes, and the air flowed into my lungs more smoothly than I could ever remember. I felt incredible. I felt like I could run a marathon. No, sprint a marathon. Except I needed to eat first. I was starving.
I checked myself over. There were no wires or monitors plugged into me. No injuries that I could see or feel. Unfortunately I was naked except for a thin hospital gown.
The room's overhead light was dimmed, and Emma was sleeping on a foldout cot next to my hospital bed.
"Em… Emma… hey, wake up!" I clapped my hands.
Emma jerked awake and stumbled up off her cot. She hadn't slept well; her eyes were puffy with dark bags, and her hair was in bad shape.
"You're awake." Her voice was rough. "How are you feeling?"
"Where are my clothes?" I asked instead of answering her question.
"Oh, right," she picked up a folded stack of clothes from a surface across the room, "Someone brought these for you."
She handed the clothing to me, and I recognized that it had come from my wardrobe in my dorm room. Underwear, shorts, a tank top, and sneakers. No bra, no socks… irritating.
As I dressed, Emma brightened the lights and poked her head out of the door and spoke to someone in the hall, "Excuse me, she's awake."
I hadn't noticed earlier, but set on a tray that was attached to the bedside medical rig was a bag of powdered donuts and a couple protein bars. I sat cross-legged on the bed and dug in to my breakfast of champions.
Emma sat close to me on the bed. "How are you feeling?" she asked again.
"I feel great," I answered between donuts, "What happened?"
"You were badly hurt. Amy, err, Panacea had to heal you." She watched me stuff my face for a little bit and said, "Panacea triggered your body to make more blood and said that it would take time, so she made it so you would sleep through the whole night. Said you would probably wake up hungry."
"Super hungry," I amended.
The door opened, and a fully outfitted Clockblocker stepped into the room. He was in the process of pulling his helmet visor down over his face. He had a long thin bundle of fabric tucked under one arm.
"I know I'm probably not the second face you want to see after waking up," he started.
"You're not even the last face I want to see," I countered.
"Wow, you're definitely feeling better," then he muttered under his breath, "too bad Panacea couldn't fix your attitude."
I munched a protein bar and looked between Emma and Clockblocker a few times. Both of them seemed hesitant to talk. A flustering thought crossed my mind.
"Who undressed me?" I asked.
Clockblocker quickly shook his head, "Wasn't me!"
Emma said, "We had to get you out of your costume. It was soaked with blood."
"We?" I cringed.
"Panacea left to go try and save more people," Emma explained. "There was nobody else, no medical staff. Vista helped me with your costume. We had to cut your bodysuit off. Then she left to go clean herself up. Vista was barely holding herself together. That poor girl was traumatized."
Clockblocker interjected, "Traumatized by the blood or traumatized from seeing Shadow Stalker naked?"
It was an uncomfortable subject, and I could appreciate his attempt to lighten the mood. It was funny. I wanted to laugh, but I didn't like Clockblocker, so I bit the inside of my lip.
Emma grimaced, "Dude… really?" Then she turned back to me, "I saw more of you than I ever wanted to see. But it's already over and done with. I'm your best friend. So it's fine. Don't make it weird, please."
She was my best friend. We had sort of been naked around each other before, at least partially, but undressing one another was more intimate than that. My face got warm.
Emma continued saying, "I was way more concerned by all the blood than having to scrub your body. And there really was a lot of blood. I'm trying not to think about it."
"You had to wash her?" Clockblocker asked with disbelief.
"Just shut up." I told him. My face was on fire.
"Anyway," he changed subjects, "I'm the only one here right now. The only one of us capes, I mean. PHQ has been reinforced with extra PRT soldiers. We're supposed to be getting more reinforcements up from Boston soon. The ABB thing is still ongoing."
He then told me what had happened.
The ABB had a man on the inside. One of our most trusted PRT officers had been compromised, his wife and children abducted and held hostage by Bakuda. The bomb maker had surgically implanted remote controlled explosives into their heads, ensuring our man's cooperation. Bakuda had done the same thing to many ethnic Asians in Brockton Bay to forcibly expand the gang's ranks.
The PRT officer informed Bakuda of Lung's last minute transfer and helped Oni Lee infiltrate PHQ. While Oni Lee made his way down to the cell block, our officer went to the fourth floor to take care of Vista.
The VisCom's automatic analysis program had detected the officer stalking towards Vista's position with a drawn firearm and flagged the internal security feed to be displayed at high priority. Therefore Vista had seen her assassin coming just a few seconds before he fired at her. She had warped the space between them, but an unlucky ricochet hit her in the leg. In response to her injury, she created a protective cocoon around herself with the building's warped geometry. The turncoat officer spent some time trying to get at her but failed. He gave up when he heard several grenade detonations within the building. That was when he came down the stairs and shot me in the back.
The pain of the gunshot hadn't even registered to me at the time, likely due to adrenaline. Immediately after that was when I got slashed open. The blade that Oni Lee finally hit me with had been a kukri, one of the several backup weapons he had carried.
When the noise quieted down for a few minutes, Vista had come out of her shell and limped downstairs to where she found me bleeding out.
It was an observable yet unquantifiable phenomenon that in times of extreme stress a cape's power could exceed its normal limitations. Vista had experienced such a phenomenon when she found me dying on the floor.
Where Emma and Panacea were sheltering in the Med Bay on the floor below, they said half the room simply disappeared and was replaced with a room full of exercise equipment. Panacea alleged to have only needed to take a single step to reach my body and begin healing.
The VisCom had overheated and fried itself trying to make sense of the extremely warped space within PHQ and took down almost every internal sensor with it. A camera back at the hardlight bridge checkpoint had footage of the entire PHQ building folding and collapsing in on itself until it was only about one tenth of its original size.
The hardlight bridge was unbothered because it was connected to the oilrig platform. However the external force field was shorted out due to being constrained to fit the building's nominal dimensions.
Dragon, who had access to PHQ's sensors and suddenly started receiving nonsensical feedback, thought the building had been atomized by a nuclear explosion. Dragon had panicked and made emergency phone calls to the national Joint Chiefs of Staff to arrange an immediate military deployment.
I had been healed. Vista's leg had been healed, and the building returned to its normal size after she calmed down. Communications were reestablished, Dragon was set at ease, and Lung escaped.
Clockblocker said, "And our PRT guy that was coerced into working with ABB? They killed him. Oni Lee chopped his head open with a machete as they were making their exit. They never had any intention of letting him reunite with his family. Walt Evans was his name. He had some idea that they might kill him. He had a handwritten note in his pocket that explained everything and apologized."
"I'm not mad at Evans," I said. "Don't get me wrong, I'm pissed at the whole situation, but I don't blame the guy. He's dead now. His family's probably dead too."
We all shared a moment of silence. I had finished the whole bag of donuts and the snack bars and had the bag and wrappers balled in my hands. I mentally ran through my fight with Oni Lee, trying to find errors, trying to find things I could have done better.
I should have run for the containment foam switches from the very beginning. But would I have found them in time? Was it poor design that I couldn't locate them fast enough? Or was it my fault for being stupid and not noticing where they were? And Evans… the forced traitor… In hindsight, he was acting weird right before he shot me. I should have known something was up.
"Check this out," Clockblocker broke the somber silence.
He unwrapped the thick cloth from the object he carried and delicately placed a familiar sword in my hands. A samurai sword I realized now upon closer inspection.
I remarked, "It's shorter than I remember. For some reason it seemed longer when that psycho was swinging it at me."
The single edged blade was a little less than two feet long with a slight curve. It had a deep groove that ran along the spine. A faint wavy line in the steel ran along the cutting edge. It didn't have the round handguard like I had seen in movies, and the handle was a glossy wood finish instead of being wrapped.
"It's either a really short katana or a long handled wakizashi," Clockblocker explained. "The wakizashi is supposed to be a one-handed short sword, but this one has a long two-handed grip."
I raised my eyebrow at him. Nerd.
He responded to my look, "I read about stuff sometimes. Samurai are really cool. Armsmaster scanned it and said it was really high quality. Old too. So the sword is actually an antique, but because it was so well made, it's still battle ready. Weird that Oni Lee would leave it behind."
"I kicked him in the nuts and he dropped it. The sword was probably the last thing on his mind."
Clockblocker laughed and agreed.
I said, "You realize he killed a few our guys with this, right?"
His tone turned serious, "Yeah, I know that. I just thought you'd want it as a souvenir. Armsmaster said we can hang it up in the dorm, but that it has to stay there."
"But I didn't win." I returned my gaze to the sword and tilted the blade so that I could see the reflection of my eyes in the polished metal. The last vestiges of discolored skin from my black eye were entirely gone. "I don't deserve a trophy."
"Well if you don't want it, it'll be my souvenir."
"Psh, you weren't there."
He carefully took the sword back in his hands and admired it, "Whatever. I'm still putting it up in the dorm. This is gonna look sweet hanging over the TV."
Emma was leaning against my side, her eyelids drooping. I poked her.
"You should probably go home now, Em. And I need a proper shower."
She shook herself awake, "Yeah, I was told I could stay until you woke up, and then the PRT would give me a lift home. But wait! I really wanted to see your Ward room."
"I've shown you a picture of it."
"Not the same," she disagreed.
Clockblocker interjected and said to Emma, "Stalker has to be checked out by one of our medics before she can leave Med Bay. Before you leave, I could take you to see her room if you wear your blindfold on the way there. Of course," he directed at me, "that's if I have Shadow Stalker's express permission to go in her room."
Emma was nodding her head yes.
"Ugh, fine. But don't touch any of my shit," I warned him.
He smarted back, "I wouldn't touch your shit with a thirty-nine-and-a-half foot pole."
"I'll make sure he doesn't," Emma reassured me.
We shared a hug, initiated by her. Our friendship was very rarely physical, and we never really talked about feelings, so the contact was a little surprising. Then she put on the blindfold from the previous evening and left with my teammate.
I stepped out of the room after them, and a PRT medic made me turn around and return to the room. I was made to sit on the bed while my heartbeat, temperature, and whatever else was redundantly checked.
My phone buzzed. I found it on the tray where my snacks had been left. It was a text from Emma.
Cockblocker is hitting on me!
I laughed out loud and started typing a message back when another text popped up.
He farted on your pillow
Everybody spoke to me with a soft voice and placating gestures like they were attending my funeral reception. One by one they came to me and put a hand on my shoulder or else tried to hug me. They tried to console me, even though I didn't need consoling. They told me that I had done a good job, and that Lung's escape wasn't my fault. That I could not have prevented Oni Lee and the turncoat from killing seven of our guys.
Seven names I didn't even know. Most of their faces had been familiar when I looked over the reports. They were faces that I had seen day in and day out around PHQ. Faces that I had never even bothered speaking to beyond direct inquiries related to work.
"It wasn't your fault. You were the only one Panacea could save."
And they all asked the same question.
"How are you feeling?"
…
"Fuck off, twerp! I'm fine!"
I turned back to the monitors. I had been relegated to monitor duty at the repaired VisCom while my teammates were out in the city combating the ABB. Shadow Stalker was exempt from field duty. To recover from the stress, I had been told.
Vista mistook the dismissal as an invitation to come closer. Her voice was pitiful, "How can you feel fine after you died?"
"I didn't die, I'm alive. Didn't feel a thing, it was like taking a nap. Now drop it!"
Being sidelined, having so many people imply that I should be feeling a certain way… They had no right. It wasn't their business. I felt fine, but they told me they were concerned, that they were worried about me. It was driving me crazy.
Is there something wrong with me? Is there something I'm not feeling? I had checked over my body closely and combed over all my memories from the previous few weeks. I had even been talking to myself when no one else was around to be sure my speech was normal. I am fine. Why can nobody understand that?
I had no more patience. It was just bad luck that Vista was the latest person to rub me the wrong way. And damn it… she wouldn't let it go.
She choked and struggled to not cry, "But you weren't sleeping, you were dead! Actually dead! Your heart stopped, and you weren't breathing. Panacea said so. She said it was matter of seconds before she wouldn't be able to fix you."
I was grinding my teeth, "Everything worked out. Stop crying. Stop making a big deal out of nothing."
"How are you not upset, Sophia? Aren't you afraid of dying?"
I snarled, "You're gonna make me upset if you don't leave me alone!"
Vista went quiet but didn't leave. She just stood over my shoulder and sniffled. After a while she cleared her throat and took in a deep shaky breath. I clenched my fists so tightly that it hurt.
She spoke quietly like she was afraid of the words, "I almost didn't find you. My leg was shot, and they did something to the elevator to make it stop working. The phones didn't work either. I went downstairs to look for help. There was a light shining out of the gym, and I almost ignored it and kept going down. But Oni Lee's ash was scattered in the hallway. I didn't want to, but I had to check the light."
The light she referred to had been my cell phone flashlight. Apparently I had struggled to unlock my phone and swiped down from the screen top and activated the flashlight before losing consciousness. I had survived due to a simple mistake caused by the deliriousness of blood loss.
"Stop," I warned her. I was getting really mad. My back and neck were tensed, and I breathed hard.
But she kept going and blurted, "Your blood was everywhere, Sophia. So much of it!"
She tried to take my hand, but I yanked it away and stood up so quickly that my chair tipped over. Vista took a single step back, but I reached out and took her by the hair, wrapping my fingers in tight. She grasped my wrists but didn't fight me. The heels of her feet dragged along the ground as I hauled the girl out of the room by her hair and threw her into the hallway. She collapsed onto the floor hard and cried.
She managed to get out between sobs, "I'm sorry."
I slammed the door and returned to my seat.
What right did Vista, or anyone, have to feel sorry for me? To cry for me? I didn't feel bad for myself. Why would I? Pitying… crying… wishing things were different… it didn't solve anything.
There wasn't a single trace left of my wound. It was like it had never even happened. Panacea had at least been courteous enough to leave all of my other scars. Those scars were mementos. Reminders of mistakes and narrow victories.
Oni Lee had almost killed me, or Oni Lee had killed me, and I had nothing to show for our duel. I wanted to get him back, but the lack of a scar or injury made it feel like I had no claim for revenge. He had definitively won, and then I had cheated my way back into the game.
It had only been a day, and I couldn't take much more of this. Being withheld like I was a sickly invalid. Having everyone try to impress their softer emotions on me. Thinking about the fight over and over.
Thinking about dying.
I wasn't sure how I was supposed to consider it. From my perspective it hadn't happened. My perception was that I had never stopped living. Maybe that is death. Just a flick of a light switch. Even though I had experienced it firsthand, it was still impossible to imagine… nothingness, a forever dreamless sleep.
Being left to wallow in my thoughts wasn't doing any favors for my mood. When Armsmaster came to see me later that afternoon, I snapped at him.
"Shadow Stal-"
I shouted over him, "Do not ask me how I'm feeling."
He didn't startle, but he paused mid step, which was the closest thing to shock that I had ever seen from him. His armor was dirty and scratched, but he appeared uninjured. His helmet was still in place on his head, so I could only guess at his displeasure from the subtle line of his mouth.
In a calmer voice I said, "Please, don't ask me how I'm feeling."
After a moment, he nodded his head.
"Schools have been closed indefinitely until we get the ABB's rampage under control. Most businesses have shut down and travel throughout the city is heavily discouraged. I expect you plan on spending your nights here at PHQ?"
"Yeah," I confirmed.
"I want you to go home," he told me.
When I opened my mouth to protest, he held up a hand to stop me.
He continued when he was sure he had my attention, "When you leave PHQ each evening, I want you to take the long way home."
"The long way?" I parroted.
He specified, "Through the docks."
I took a moment to consider that travelling through the docks would take me close to the ABB. He was giving me roundabout permission to actually do something.
Armsmaster explained, "We're being forced to play a reactionary role. We can't get close to ABB's territory or Bakuda blows something up. We can't even combat their thugs or Bakuda starts detonating the bombs in their heads. Our hands are tied."
He pointed at me, "You can move through their territory unseen at night. Do not take any action against them. You will only gather information: how many gang members you see, where they are, whether they appear to be forcefully conscripted or not. This will help us locate and rescue the victims held hostage by Bakuda's surgically implanted bombs."
"Can they actually be saved?" I asked, "I thought Bakuda had countermeasures for that."
"Dragon and I are working on something to block signals to the explosives. Until then, we'll minimize casualties from the ongoing skirmishes, which will require a hands-off approach."
He handed me a familiar little device. It was the same audio recorder that I had used during my time with Pest.
"Record what you see with this," he instructed. "Try to be short and concise. It will automatically send me the audio files. Pay special attention to any mention of their capes. Lung, Bakuda, and Oni Lee have all been elusive since the initial attack."
His instructions given, he turned to leave. I called to him before he left, and he stopped.
I said, "I wanted to ask you about Pest."
"Skitter," he corrected. "You called her 'Pest' during your rendezvous."
"Oh, right." I was a little embarrassed at the slip. "What is our stance toward her? Is there a long term plan to maintain her cover?"
Armsmaster frowned, "She has no cover. She's a criminal, plain and simple."
It was my turn to frown, "You don't believe her about wanting to spy on the Undersiders for us?"
"It isn't a matter of belief. She was completely genuine from her point of view. The issue is that her judgment of the situation and what is at stake is unreliable. In your recap of her abilities and personality, you made the observation that she was naïve."
"But isn't it worth the chance?" I countered. "The Undersiders and whatever secret Skitter's trying to dig up? Maybe their group has an ulterior motive, some kind of grand scheme in the long run."
"How many banks will she rob before then? How many embarrassing defeats will the Undersiders hand to our forces with Skitter's willing cooperation? Our funding and the magnitude of our authority are dependent upon how much faith the public, and by extension the government, has in the Protectorate."
Armsmaster must have seen some disappointment on my face, for I was certainly feeling disappointed.
"Listen," he said, "Skitter had very little goodwill with me before the bank heist. She has none as of now. When it comes down to it, she's just a dumb kid. She can't be trusted to act properly without the Protectorate's supervision."
Like you, I imagined he wanted to say. Or maybe it was just my cynical mind.
He said, "If you encounter Skitter again, take her into custody. She probably trusts you enough to let her guard down. Use that to your advantage. Understood?"
Not understood. I didn't like that. I didn't like that at all. The bank heist was a mark on our reputation, sure, but giving up on Pest… giving up on Skitter…
What am I thinking? I don't owe her anything. Investment. I was feeling like I was invested in Skitter. That's all. We had gotten along pretty well. I hadn't needed to censor myself or my actions around her. It had been fun.
But I am a professional. Robbing a bank and whipping the Wards' asses was way in excess of what might have been acceptable. I didn't want to, but I had to stand by my team.
If Skitter actually managed to come through on her promise, then that would be great. But it was past the point of being appropriate to give her any sort of leeway for crimes committed.
It wouldn't be so bad when we caught her though. She would probably receive the same probation deal that I had: join the Wards or get tossed in the slammer.
I finally responded to Armsmaster, "Understood."
Around PHQ there had been talk that the three ABB capes would receive situational kill orders. It made sense. Bakuda was still somewhat new, but she had racked up plenty of kills and property destruction already. Not to mention that all the people she had inserted bombs into counted as attempted murders. Both Lung and Oni Lee had been around for a while and were each responsible for numerous confirmed and suspected murders.
The behind-the-scenes PRT bureaucratic circle jerk that went into declaring a kill order was beyond my comprehension. I only knew that it was very rare. If it was anything like the process of sending a parahuman to the Birdcage, then it would take a long time.
Much too long in my opinion. Justice should be swift and reciprocal.
In the arena of Protectorate parahuman versus criminal parahuman, the right to defend ourselves with lethal means was too infrequently granted. Even when it was obvious that an enemy was actively trying to end our life, we were supposed to exercise restraint.
It always pissed me off. The police weren't held to such a ridiculous standard.
That evening, when I silently stalked among the enemy's territory, I decided to carry my lethal broadhead ammunition and a pair of knives. If I saw any of the capes, I wouldn't hesitate to make a kill shot.
The ABB gang members roamed in small groups. Those that were forcefully conscripted were always accompanied by a few that were more dedicated to the cause.
It was easy to tell the difference. The unwilling were given cruder weapons and were subjected to hazing and even physical abuse by the seasoned members.
I watched two giggling thugs shove a grenade into a teenager's hands. They made him hold it tightly, and they emphasized that he should keep the safety lever held down. Then one of them pulled the pin. The boy cried and was made to walk around with the grenade, under threat of being shot if he threw it away.
I roamed the rooftops and spied many different groups. I made frequent stops to whisper reports into Armsmaster's recorder. Several times I dropped to the street and moved closer to my subjects to better hear their conversations.
Some of them spoke whatever foreign language. Some talked in English. Some dipped back and forth from English and another language. I strained my hearing to pick up anything important or interesting.
…
"Lung made Bakuda remove Tou's bomb. Maybe we can get ours taken out."
"Tou has been around forever, and Lung respects his loyalty. No way the boss gives a shit about me and you."
…
"I told Bakuda the old man wasn't doing his job like he was supposed to, and she didn't even let him speak. She just blew his fuckin' head off. It was awesome! I got a piece of his skull in my pocket, let me show you guys.
…
"I dunno, man. She's even putting bombs in the kids, man. That shit's fucked up."
"Our children are weak in America. They never suffer. They fight, or they die."
…
"Lung saved my family from the white racists. I swore to fight for him. My sons will fight for him too."
…
"Couldn't ask for a better leader than Lung, but he made a mistake recruiting Bakuda. She breaks too many rules. Mark my words, eventually the heroes will stop caring about collateral damage. Then they're gonna march in and waste all of us."
…
"Does this look like herpes to you?"
…
"I've seen Lung do some real bad shit to people. But that bug bitch? I can't imagine how bad she's gonna get it when we find her."
…
The Asian Bad Boys were hunting the Undersiders, Skitter in particular. With the Undersiders showing up in recent news, Lung knew who to target his vendetta against. He wanted revenge for being captured a week ago. And probably for his man junk rotting off too.
After a few hours of observation, I went home.
I hadn't told Mom of my near death experience, and I had no intention to. All my mother required was a simple text to tell her where I was staying on any given night. She and I didn't have a good relationship, and she mostly left me to my own devices, though there was always a meal set aside for me at home if I got in at a late hour. My sister was too young to know anything was unusual. My older brother didn't know anything. He stayed busy and out of the house with work and technical school.
I ate a reheated meal and spent much too long turning over in bed and thinking about dying. When I finally fell asleep, I dreamed of holding someone down on a hard tiled floor. It was oddly pleasant.
There was a tapping sound at my bedroom window.
My first thought was that it was Emma, but the roles were reversed. It was always me tapping on her window. I checked the time and was irritated to note that I could have slept for another hour at least.
I raised my window's blinds and saw my deadbeat team captain on the other side of the glass in the early morning light.
I jerked open the window and politely asked, "What the fuck do you want?"
Carlos was immediately taken aback. Had the moron expected I would be happy to see him? He was about to speak, but I cut him off.
"You're lucky I'm wearing pajama bottoms. Or were you hoping I'd be in my underwear?"
His eyes went wide and he shook his head. He opened his mouth, but I cut him off again.
"Go away."
I started to shut the window, but he stuck his hands in the sill. It wouldn't hurt him, not really, but I took pleasure in slamming the window down as hard as I could.
Carlos was unfazed by his smashed hands, and he said, "Please Sophia, I just want to talk for minute."
I lifted the window again, "I'm really not interested."
"I'll be direct," he said. "I'm sorry. Leaving you behind for the bank robbery was disrespectful and showed a lack of trust. I swear to you right now, that will never happen again."
I wasn't ready for this. He should have waited longer before coming to apologize. And he definitely should not have come to my house. And to my window, no less.
The click of my bedroom door opening made me whip around. My mom was standing there in the doorway and eyeing me hunched over a window and talking to a boy on the lawn.
"Mom! Could you knock!?"
My mom looked at us for a moment and said, "Lordy Sophia, please don't get pregnant."
She left while shaking her head.
Ugh.
Carlos had a dumb grin that he was trying to hide. He got it under control and said, "Need a lift to PHQ? I can fly you there. I'll wait for you to get ready."
So you can carry me in your arms bridal style like a worthless damsel.
"No," I told him flatly. Then I glanced over his jeans and jacket, "Did you fly here in those clothes?"
"It's fine. Nobody ever looks up," he said without concern.
"Still no. Don't ever come to my window again. Actually, you can stop coming to my house period."
He huffed a breath, "Sophia, I'm really trying. We need to clear the air to be able to work together, to function as a team."
"I can work with you just fine. If you let me, that is. You'll be graduating out of the Wards soon, and then I won't have to deal with you as much."
"You're gonna grow out of the Wards eventually too. What then? We need to have a good relationship."
"Carlos, you are an idiot if you think I'm staying in the Protectorate after my probation is over."
He looked disappointed. I slammed the window shut in his face and dropped the blinds.
Some time later I made my own way to PHQ.
A white hulled Coast Guard vessel was floating in the bay several hundred feet from the hardlight bridge and halfway between the oilrig platform and the shore. The ship had arrived from Portsmouth to babysit the bridge until the forcefield was operational again.
Miss Militia, Kid Win, and I got on a small boat with two PRT media managers and sailed out to the USCGC Reliance. It wasn't a massive vessel with giant cannons like the Navy's warships. It had a single big machine gun at the front and a small helipad at the back. Combat ready crewmen were posted throughout with armor and automatic rifles. Unarmored crewmen were performing routine duties.
We scaled a rope ladder and stepped on deck where a smartly organized reception was waiting for us. All the personnel stood at attention and the commanding officer stepped forward.
"Welcome aboard the Reliance," and the commander saluted Miss Militia.
Militia returned the salute and shook the man's hand.
Miss Militia was very popular among the armed forces. I had seen images of several aircraft and armored vehicles with paintings of Militia in a respectable action pose rather than the cliché scantily clad pinup girls. She frequently lent her image to military posters and recruitment drives. By popular demand, she had even made cameo appearances in a few big budget war films.
I wouldn't mind having that kind of popularity. Military stuff is cool.
The media guys took pictures of us while we toured the ship and posed at different spots and with some of the crew. Kid Win and I signed our fare share of autographs and stood for personal photos. Militia's time was completely occupied by nearly every crewman wanting a photo, which she graciously accommodated.
Kid Win was especially eager to pose with the machine gun.
The gun operator told us, "This is the twenty-five millimeter auto cannon. It has multiple firing modes and can be targeted and fired remotely." He kicked the raised platform that the gun was mounted on, "This is the stabilizing deck. It keeps the gun steady while the ship sways."
Kid Win was salivating.
The gunner pointed at the shore, "We have a direct line to the bridge checkpoint. They radio in to us before anyone gets permission to cross. If any of the local baddies try to get across your fancy bridge," he patted the gun, "this bad boy will turn them into swiss cheese."
I asked Militia, "Can your power replicate a gun like that?"
She answered, "In terms of firepower, yes I can create a large caliber gun emplacement if it can be operated by a single person. But I can't recreate the stabilizing mechanism beneath the gun or the remote targeting function."
A short interview was filmed with the Reliance's commander. Then we departed. I had a short conversation with Armsmaster. He gave me some tips for how to more accurately report my evening recon.
The days came and went. The National Guard was deployed throughout Brockton Bay. A defensive line was made around the ABB's extended territory when it was decided that we couldn't yield any more ground to them.
We waited. The counter to Bakuda's bombs was taking longer than expected, and our forces couldn't risk more lives and destruction by moving in.
I made sure to look over every deceased report for a description of Pest: teenager, tall, skinny, curly dark hair. She was probably white, but her costume had not revealed any part of her skin, so she could have been one of several different ethnicities or a combination, judging by her hair. She had a local accent. I did not discover any convincing matches, but if she was being targeted like the rumor suggested, then the ABB might go to great lengths to not leave any remains.
It was some consolation that I had not overheard any gang members bragging about capturing or killing any of the Undersiders yet.
During my searching I got a good look at what Brockton Bay was faced with. Victims weren't just getting blown apart by fiery concussive forces. Bodies were being liquefied. Bones were turning to dust inside of living people. Blood was being frozen mid circulation. 'Bomber' didn't do Bakuda justice; she was a connoisseur of grotesque death. Even in a world with limitless fantastical powers and monsters that could alter world geography, the reports were horrific.
The nights came and went. I prowled among the enemy whenever the sun went down. I spied their movements. I found their hideouts, drug dens, armories, slavery brothels. But no matter what, I couldn't find their leaders.
Reports claimed they popped up long enough to destroy something, to make their discontent known. Then they went back into hiding before an assault could be mounted against them.
I eavesdropped on more conversations. It was apparent that very few ABB had contact with their own capes, nevermind where they were holed up. I learned that the other gangs were being attacked and encroached upon as well.
There was discontentment among the ranks. They thought the ABB's actions were overzealous in harassing Empire Eighty-Eight and Coil in addition to local authorities.
Electricity had been cut from their territory and homes. Many were growing increasingly agitated with how long the standoff was taking. It was difficult to maintain morale without running water and lights.
Most of all, they lamented having bombs in their heads. Mandatory obedience did not equal loyalty.
It was exciting at first. Surveillance of the enemy right under their own noses. I imagined I was a panther slinking through the shadows and studying my prey. But the thrill quickly got old. There was only so much anticipation I could tolerate without receiving satisfaction. This panther needed to eat.
And so, as I watched and listened to thugs complain of frustration, I became frustrated along with them.
I considered disobeying Armsmaster's orders, of taking action and making some measure of progress where absolutely none had been made in the previous week.
I could probably rig one of their armories to explode. Or maybe liberate a brothel.
I remembered my showdown with Oni Lee and simulated different variations of the encounter over and over in my head. I thought of dying again just as often, and of all the self serving tears everyone would shed for me.
I thought of Pest, of having her for a teammate. Scenarios where we fought Oni Lee, Lung, Kaiser, even the whole roster of E88 capes. My sharp knives and bolts tearing through vulnerable flesh, moving under the cover of the biblical plague that my partner could bring to bear. We were a devastating combo.
The fantasy soured when I realistically considered the chances of Pest succeeding in her plan. Even her excepted lifespan was quite short in lieu of recent events.
Then I thought of Taylor Hebert, of having her pinned under my weight on the bathroom floor. The memory was still vivid. The sight of her weak form and the sound of her crying both came second to the overwhelming feeling of the warmth.
The heat.
It had spread through my hands and chest. It had blossomed in my head, behind my eyes. It was a fire that did not burn.
There was a different sort of fire in my chest now. One that actually burned and ached yet was absent warmth.
I wanted the heat again, but I didn't know why, and I hated it.
Nothing could distract me for long. I spent many hours in the gym, but I could only exercise so much before I hurt myself. Though I had never been much interested in it before, I tried masturbating, but it was less than satisfying and left me feeling embarrassed.
Everything added to my frustration until Saturday night.
There was girl. A young woman, really. I followed her and her male companion for nearly an hour after they stumbled across my path. It was cold at night, but neither of them wore anything over their t-shirts. They walked and teetered along the edge of gang territory in the dark and barely missed encountering National Guard patrols.
The girl wasn't ABB. I didn't bother to examine the male. They were marooned in what was currently the most dangerous part of Brockton Bay, but they weren't bothered. They were being stalked by the most dangerous predator that night, but they weren't aware.
The two of them found a bench to sit at next to a scorched crater that had previously been a garden. They sat and stared at the wall of the building across from them.
I walked over to them, not bothering to be silent, and stood next to the male. I looked over his head at the girl.
She was thin and pale, and she had long dark curly hair. My eyes took in the slope of her forehead and the small profile of her delicate nose over her thin lips and soft chin. I watched the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she breathed without a care in the world.
The male was in my way. I drew a trench knife from my waist and fit my fingers into slotted guard.
My movement drew the male's attention. He turned his head and looked up at me. There was no recognition in his vacant stare.
I smashed my steel covered knuckles into his temple. Not a peep escaped his lips as he crumpled and fell forward off the bench.
My prey watched her companion collapse onto the pavement with minimal interest. Then she stared at me, and I stared back. For a time we each stared at the other. Finally a small spark of emotion flitted over her face.
It was fear.
She shouted unintelligibly, then fell off the bench in a scramble to get away. Her running gait was awkward, and the line she ran swerved back and forth. She stumbled and fell and stood up then stumbled again. I maintained distance and followed.
Tire yourself out. Make it easy for me.
When she looked over her shoulder, I made sure she could see me pursuing. She shouted some more, but had a hard time managing her breath.
I temporarily went to the rooftops when her flight led her into a group of gang members. She stopped and waved her hands about. The thugs couldn't understand her frantic babbling, and they started laughing and mocking her.
One of them tried propositioning her and reached out, but she shied away from him and resumed running.
Eventually the prey was out of breath and coughing. She put her back to the corner of a wall and some brick stairs and allowed herself to slide down onto the ground. She drew her knees up to her chest and watched me frightfully, too exhausted to continue the chase.
I approached with slow steps. She ducked her head and covered it with her hands as I drew near. She was gasping, crying, I realized. My last few steps each elicited a flinch from the cornered prey. When at last I stood over her, she froze and tried to not move.
"Look at me."
She did not comply. I grabbed her by the arms and hoisted her to her feet, then I shoved her hard so that her back hit the unforgiving wall and held her there.
"Look at me!"
Her height was several inches shorter than my own. Through the dirty and ratty hair that had fallen across her face was a scabbed and blotchy complexion.
"I don't wa-want t-t-to die," was her plea.
Past the tears, her pupils were extremely dilated that it was impossible to tell their color. When she spoke, I could see that her teeth were a disaster.
"Please, I'll do-do whatever you want."
My knee moved between her legs to further limit her movement. I pressed a hand against her neck, but I couldn't feel anything with more than my fingertips through the fingerless glove.
I growled and tore my mask off and threw it to the side. She yelped at the fast movement, but didn't fight. Then I pressed my face against her neck in the space between the jaw and collarbone. The girl's sweat and body odor filled my nose.
It was warm there. But it was different. It was wrong. It was not the heat.
I recoiled away and let her have control of herself.
It isn't the same! Why won't it work?
There was suddenly a desperate expression of understanding on the girl's face.
"I-I'll make you feel good, just p-please don't hurt me."
Her ragged breath washed over my face. It was rancid. She tentatively put her hands on me, one at my hip, and the other beneath my breast on the opposite side.
"Get the fuck away from me!" I roared. My voice was bestial and raw.
I tore her hands away and threw her. She fell hard on the pavement and looked up at me in shock and confusion.
"Run!"
That broke her spell. She got to her feet and ran.
As she ran, my vision darkened at the edges, and the blood in my temples was like a drumbeat. I was filled with a thumping fury. Furious that she could run away from this and furious that I couldn't.
I pointed my crossbow and fired. The razor serrated projectile went wide of its target and missed because my hands were unsteady in my anger.
My anger. My revulsion. My confusion. My frustration.
I threw down my crossbow and screamed like an animal. Then I choked and gagged. For several minutes I coughed and retched, convinced there was something inside me that needed to come up.
It didn't. Whatever was inside of me couldn't be dislodged.
I hopped onto the roof and tapped at the second story window. There was visible movement in the light between the slats of the blinds. Then the blinds rose, and Emma frowned at me. She wore a silky pajama set.
She opened the window and I climbed through. I could have used my power to traverse the window glass, but we had an agreement. Entry only upon invitation. Not that I was ever declined entry.
"What's wrong, are you okay?"
"Fine," I answered tiredly, "Sorry for the late call."
Now that she knew there wasn't a problem, she teased me, "No boo-boos I need to stitch up?"
I joked, "Think you could thaw my frozen heart, doc?"
She hugged me, though I barely returned it. Then I brushed past her, taking off and tossing my cloak and mask, and let myself collapse onto her bed. Lucky bitch had a queen size all to herself.
"Can I crash here?"
"Yeah, of course." And then she sat next to me on the bed where I lay staring at the ceiling. She knew I was irritated and not just tired, but she also knew to wait until I was ready.
"Hm," she considered a subject, "You know, we totally need to get Amy to hang out with us."
"Amy? You're talking about Panacea?"
"Yeah, she invited me to her private Facebook."
I remarked, "That's a lot less committed than a phone number."
Emma smiled, "Yeah, a little. One step at a time though. I'm trying not to nerd out on her and scare her away. This is just the beginning of my plan to have a full harem of super friends!"
My eyebrows raised, "A harem. That's a word."
She elaborated, "A nonsexual harem. A platonic harem. Unless I get a couple hot guys in it. I remember you once said that Armsmaster is kinda hot."
"Yeah, but you're more likely to seduce an Endbringer than him."
She patted my leg, "But Shadow Stalker will always be my favorite. So… you gonna tell me what's up?"
I didn't say anything right away, just pondering the embarrassing idea that was occupying my attention. I looked her over. There wasn't anyone in the world I trusted more, no one who knew more of my secrets. She was my closest friend, my confidant, and the hottest girl I knew.
Band-Aids were best removed with a sharp yank. Before I could chicken out, I sat up next to Emma with a sudden movement.
"Emma, kiss me."
Her eyes got big, and then she pushed me away and held me at arm's length, "What the fuck, Soph?"
"C'mon, just do this for me."
She stood up and paced away, "The harem thing was a joke. I'm already letting you sleep in my bed with me. Make-outs are not included!"
"Don't make me have to ask Madison. I'm worried she might jump at the opportunity."
Emma scoffed at that. Madison was turning out to be a bit of a hussy this school year, and though she had never been with a girl as far we knew, she occasionally made off handed comments about being interested. Those comments usually had me and Emma shooting each other concerned looks.
Emma looked pensive with her arms crossed. Finally she broke out of it, "You know what, it's fine. My mom told me that she kissed her friend in college. Just to see what it was like. Mom said that Dad kissed one of his buddies too, but he always denies it."
She sat back down beside me, "Is that what this is about? Just checking to see?"
I nodded my head and tried not to think about Emma's dad making out with another dude.
"Okay then," and she scooted closer to me, her face already flushed like mine must have been. "Let's go for it."
"You're gung-ho about it now," I said with a slight edge. It was a panicked stall for time, I realized.
I hadn't expected it to be this easy. In fact, I had hoped my request would devolve into an argument, one where I would accuse her of being afraid of finding out. Then she would have gotten defensive and ultimately given in to the request.
Without reciprocating my edge, she said, "Just shut up and let's do it."
Emma leaned in slightly, closed her eyes, pushed out her lips, and waited there. I had hoped she would be the one to come to me, but I pushed down my embarrassment and did the deed. Our lips pressed together for about a full second, and then we mutually pulled apart.
I guess the kiss had been alright. Neither of us had dated much yet, unlike Madison, so there wasn't much experience behind it. Emma had recently expressed interest in starting her dating career, and she had told me that, being her best friend, it was my responsibility to compile a list of boys at school that were worthy.
Regardless, the kiss didn't do anything for me. The kind of stuff that came after a kiss in romance movie scenes… cradling the back of her head and mashing mouths together… shoving her down and straddling her waist…
I had no urge to do any of that.
Though I still didn't have an explanation for the strange feelings and impulses plaguing my consciousness, it was a relief to know that I wasn't lusting for my friend.
Emma exhaled and made a point to look me directly in the eye like it was something that she had to force herself to do. She said, "I don't think I'm gay. You?"
"No."
"Am I still your best friend?" she asked.
"You're still my best friend, Em."
She took my hand and gave it a squeeze. I squeezed back. Then she shooed me off of the bed. We had been sitting on the side where she always slept.
"If our episode of blossoming self-discovery is over, I'm going back to sleep." She slid herself under the covers and slipped on a frilly sleep mask. "Your toothbrush and clothes are where they always are," and with that she turned off her bedside lamp.
I maneuvered through the dark of her room and changed out of my costume, and then went to brush my teeth and wash my face. Lucky bitch even had her own private bathroom attached to her bedroom.
When I settled into bed next to Emma, I hugged the edge of the bed to maximize the distance between us. I didn't want her to feel weird. I didn't want her to feel anything like what I was feeling.
What is wrong with me?
NOTE
If you're curious about Oni Lee's abandoned sword, look up 'without tsuba wakizashi' on Google Images. Then imagine one with a slightly longer handle.
'Tsuba' is the round guard that is present on most samurai swords.
The USCGC Reliance is a real Coast Guard vessel that was homeported in Portsmouth, New Hampshire at the time of WORM (2011). Look up a picture of it.
END NOTE