Outsiders 1.5: Doppelgangers

⸻1⸻

Her life was a living nightmare, thought Carmen Anderson.

Boots pounded and crunched the crisp thin layer of snow that blanketed the Madison streets as she ran. Her two children struggled to keep up; she was practically yanking them behind her by their arms. A swarm of large, black rats nipped at their heels.

The vermin had dark, soulless eyes and long, yellow teeth that chattered excitedly. They poured out from under abandoned cars, dumpsters, and alleyways. The way they moved was very unnatural. It was too coordinated, like the rats were actively trying to corral them.

One of her children, John, slipped, his small rubber boot falling victim to a patch of ice beneath the snow. He glided out of the glove clenched in Carmen's hand and he crashed face first on the frosty ground. Carmen skidded to a stop and smacked away a rat that pounced on her little boy's back. Using her hidden mom strength reserved for emergencies only, she picked up both her children and raced inside a building—leaping over the jagged remains of a busted storefront window.

She navigated the dusty bookcases and shelves full of knick knacks to a set of stairs located in the far corner of the thrift shop. Bursting through, she slammed the door shut behind her and barred it with her body. She could feel the rats repeatedly crash into the wood, thumping against it in a desperate fervor. The door splintered and groaned.

She yelled at her twin children to head up the stairs towards the roof. A rat managed to squeeze past a gap in the door and Carmen stepped on its tail to keep it from following Jane and John. The rodent hissed and bit into her boot, nearly getting her toes. She shook it off with a sharp kick.

Realizing the door wouldn't hold for much longer, Carmen pushed off of it and sprinted up the stairs—taking them two at a time. Back in high school, she was a state champion sprinter and ran hurdles. She never expected to use those skills in a situation like this. The door to the stairway swung open and a mob of rats tumbled in. They must have been stacked against it.

She reached the rooftop by the time the first rat latched onto her pant leg. A second and third rodent landed on her back, knocking her off balanced. She stumbled and dropped onto the flat, gravel-laden roof. The rodents trampled over her; a thousand claws pawing at her body. Before she was swallowed up utterly by the horde, the last thing she saw was her children's terrified faces as they huddled together at the edge of the roof.

She was a failure of a mother.

Every choice she made in life always seemed to be the wrong one. She stayed behind to help her patients during the Endbringer fight and forced her family to be trapped in quarantine. Within a week after the battle, the hospital was overtaken by monsters and most of her patients died regardless. Her actions didn't save anyone. None of it mattered.

Bathed in the pile of rats, smothered by the smell of musk and sewage, Carmen heard music playing. It was a loud hip-hop instrumental. A wave of subaudible sound rippled down her skeleton and made her teeth rattle. The rats scattered and she could see daylight again.

Hovering over her on what looked like a gliding surfboard covered in hypnotic and flashing rainbow-colored lights was a costumed man. She hesitated to call him a hero—he just didn't fit the archetype.

He was shorter than her for one thing. And his skintight, black power armor made his midsection unflatteringly shaped like a pear. There was a neon pink cape draped over his shoulders and he wore a helmet which completely hid his face. The front of the mask was a smooth face plate with pink led lights that created plus-shaped eyes and a squiggly smile, like a weird emoji. On the sides of the helmet were two fin-like plates.

In the short hero's hand was an alien pistol. The barrel of the gun was the size of a grapefruit. He pulled the trigger and another wave of sound pushed the rats back further.

"No need to worry, my dear citizen. Why? Because I am here! Madison's number one hero; the name's EMPunk," the man announced, his voice modified to sound deep with a hint of autotune-esque distortion. "You probably don't recognize me. I used to be a ward that went by Noise Canceler. Remember? They used to make me wear that horrible white spacesuit costume that made me look like a baked potato wrapped in foil. Really? None of this is ringing a bell, huh? Wow. Okay."

"Sorry," Carmen said, laid out on the roof. "But I'm a little preoccupied by the fact that I was almost devoured alive by rats."

"That's valid." EMPunk stepped off his hoverboard and helped Carmen to her feet. She couldn't see his real eyes, but somehow she knew his gaze was lingering on her. She felt a chill travel up her spine. "I'm glad I caught you. It'd be a shame if someone as pretty as you became rat food."

"Um…yeah," she replied awkwardly and inched away from the hero. Twin torpedoes named John and Jane slammed into her stomach, nearly bowling her over. She wrapped them up in a hug.

"Man, very touching. This right here, this is what the job is all about. Keeping families together," EMPunk said, and reached into a nondescript pouch on the side of his costume, pulling out a wrinkled piece of paper that had been folded-up too many times. "Okay, quick question: You're Carmen Anderson, correct? A nurse down at St. Mary's Hospital?"

"Yes. Well, I used to be. Before… all this happened." Carmen replied deliberately. She eyed the hero nervously. There was something off about him, a bad vibe she was getting.

EMPunk nodded and absentmindedly clicked his tongue a few times. "Right, right. Makes sense. To get to the point: I've been asked to round up all the hospital staff and bring them to a secure location. Their families too, of course."

"Really?" she asked skeptically. "Is there anywhere safe in this city? I haven't heard anything of the sort." That wasn't exactly true. There were murmurings of a refugee camp setup at the university, but she wasn't one to put too much stock in rumors. Besides, it was on the other side of town.

"Yeah, I bet. See, the thing about that is—" EMPunk quickly pointed his tinkertech pistol at Carmen's head and pulled the trigger before she could even scream. A wave of subaudible sound rippled in her brain and rendered her unconscious in an instant. She never had a chance. The former hero stood over her body. "—I said it was a secure place. Not a safe place. Big difference."

John and Jane tried to shake her awake, but she wouldn't respond.

"Awe, I can't stand to watch children suffer. Don't you worry, little tykes, it'll all be over soon," EMPunk said, and raised his gun. His finger grazed the trigger when a large man burst out of the ground like an orca breaching in the ocean and walloped him in the head. EMPunk tumbled off the roof, although with a tap on his wrist, his hoverboard scooped him up before he could splatter on the pavement. "Ouch! What the hell hit me? You really don't pull your punches. I'm just a kid, you know?"

The man that struck him was burly. The costume he wore consisted of shorts with thick leather straps that criss-crossed his bare chest. On each hand was a glove with long metal claws. His mask was made from a badger, literally. Stitched so that his eyes looked through the eyes of the badger, the rest of the animal hide hung down his back like a taxidermy mullet. EMPunk recognized him from Protectorate briefings—Madison's strangest and most dangerous vigilante, the Big Bad Badger. Or simply 'Badger' for short.

"Kid or not. You're still a villain," Badger said. "I won't let you harm these children."

"So, I'm the bad guy? You really don't see the bigger picture here. If anyone is the villain in this city, it's the Protectorate! They are the ones behind everything! Open your eyes," EMPunk pleaded, lowering his hoverboard onto the rooftop. "The Protectorate have spent years hunting you down, and for what? Trying to save people; just in your own way. We don't have to be enemies. Come with me, and I'll explain everything—"

EMPunk whipped out his gun once more and shot at Badger, hoping to catch the large vigilante off guard. Badger grabbed the two children and sank into the rooftop as if he was diving under the surface of a lake rather than solid stone and rebar. The former ward stamped his foot in anger."Damn it! Damn it!"

Deciding to cut his losses, EMPunk snatched the unconscious Carmen and hopped back onto his hoverboard, unceremoniously dumping her on it. He took off just in time to dodge another swipe from Badger as the man shot up out of the ground.

He glanced over his shoulder, watching Badger slowly shrink into the distance. What a troublesome ability that vigilante had. There was a reason that he was never caught by the Protectorate. Besides, Carmen was who EMPunk was after anyway. "Target acquired."

Compared to her, the children weren't really important. What harm could come from letting them get away?

EMPunk pulled out a crumpled list of names from a compartment on his power armor, scratching out 'Carmen Anderson', and looked down at the next person. There were still so many doctors and nurses left to find. "Man oh man! A hero's work is never done."

He took out his phone and punched some numbers. "Talk to me, Rat King. Where to next?"

⸻2⸻

The University of Wisconsin—Madison was the largest college in the state and had a sprawling campus with many buildings and parks. Whitney had never been there before, but he guessed that the sheet metal fencing encompassing the entire area was a recent addition.

Riding on the back of a cyberwolf, apparently that's what they were called, Whitney was allowed in through the front with only minor scrutiny. It helped that he and Maddie were accompanied by the Madison Protectorate's alpha bitch, Wolfgang, and her sidekick, Miracle-Mirror, aka Mira-Mira.

What greeted them were long lines of downtrodden people that stretched from open storage containers. Men in faceless, dark military uniforms handed out food rations and water bottles, neatly packaged in plastic milk crates. Each soldier had the words 'PRT' embroidered on their shoulder. Whitney had no clue who they were.

They were armed with rifles that had bulky canisters affixed to the barrels. Probably more sci-fi techno mumbo jumbo like what Oppenheimer could cook up with a microwave and a rusty bike frame. Nobody just invented things anymore. It was all tinkertech everything.

Regardless, it seemed like Wolfgang was telling the truth about their being a refugee camp set up at the college campus. There were more people there, walking around and gossiping and doing whatever, than he had seen since the Endbringer fight. He hadn't realized there were this many people still alive in the city. The population must have been at least a thousand, and that was only counting the people he could see. More were probably holed up in the dorm rooms or moaning in the infirmary.

Wolfgang had caught him off guard when she offered to take them here. The Protectorate leader had been itching for a fight, but strangely mellowed out after hearing his name was Whitney Geist. And once she learned of the refugee camp, Maddie jumped at the chance to come here. She had been looking for someone for a while and figured that they might be here.

Oppenheimer had declined the offer, and decided instead to focus on bringing the containment pod that they had fished out of the lake back home. Ideas of nuclear powered energy suits were swimming in her brain. Whitney knew that look well. There'd be no talking to her until she was all tinkered out.

What a shame. She was missing out.

However, riding on the back of a wolf wasn't as fun as Whitney hoped. It was one of those secret male fantasies that would never be spoken out loud, but in reality, the mechanical spine was murder on his butt even through the faux fur and skin padding it. And his back felt like it was twisted and crushed like a stepped on soda can. Dropping down from the large mecha-canis, Whitney had figured out why cowboys in old Westerns waddled around all bow-legged and stiff.

Wolfgang led the way into an important looking building with marble columns. A giant red and white banner displaying the school's logo was hung above the entrance. Armed guards flanked both sides and saluted when the hero walked past.

There sure are a lot of armed soldiers around, Whitney thought, it was like they were expecting a riot to break out at any moment. Ironic considering how much of a mess the rest of Madison was that the most peaceful place had the largest police presence. Or whatever the PRT were, if not the police.

"If you want to know if your friend is here," Wolfgang said, swiftly marching down the main hall in long strides, "We'll have to talk with our HR specialist. Everyone that seeks asylum here must fill out a registry with basic information like their legal name and fingerprints. It helps us sort out the regulars from the crazies and the riff-raff with an arrest record. We try to keep them separated."

"What, like imprisoned?" Whitney asked.

"You'd be surprised how many thugs and petty criminals would prefer a jail cell over being left to fend for themselves in the wilds of Madison. Hilarious. They thought they were hardcore, but when the real monsters showed up, they pissed all over themselves and begged to be arrested."

"The villains that we capture," Mira-Mira added in her monotone droll, "the particularly nasty ones I mean, we keep them locked away within the Mirror World. It's a pocket dimension that only I can freely enter and leave from. It's literally the only reason they keep me around. And why they can't afford to get rid of me. Apart from my stellar attitude and tremendous work ethic."

Wolfgang snorted. "Yeah, for sure. That's why Alexandria shipped you to us, along with the rest of the Protectorate rejects. Everyone knows that only the best and brightest heroes work the Simurgh Containment Zones."

Whitney had a sneaking suspicion that she was being facetious.

She continued. "While we are on the subject, Mira, head to the infirmary. I want Urchin to be treated. There are some questions I'd like to ask him before he dies."

"Maybe you shouldn't have mauled him so thoroughly then," the ward replied.

"Just do it."

Mira gave a mocking salute and rolled her eyes. Sauntering down a side hall at a leisurely pace, she didn't seem all that concerned for the captured villain's wellbeing. The teen turned the corner and was gone.

"I don't care much for this pointless banter. Can we see this HR specialist now?" Maddie asked.

"Relax. We're almost there," Wolfgang said. "Though I feel like I should warn you, he is a little peculiar."

A little peculiar… Maddie and Whitney would quickly realize just how much of an understatement that really was.

⸻3⸻

"Yes! Yes! Yes!" cheered Cronenberg as he watched shaky cellphone footage of Alexandria punching the aquatic Endbringer, Leviathan, in the face. It was an old video, at least a year, and he had probably seen it a thousand times. But he still felt hyped everytime. He pushed off his desk and spiraled in his rolling chair away from his computer screen—the video still playing—and flailed his arms. "She's so awesome! Earth's mightiest hero!"

The poor office chair creaked under his immense weight and threatened to collapse. He stopped spinning and rolled himself over to another computer. In that dark room, there were probably twenty monitors going at once, each displaying different camera footage from all throughout Madison. It looked like Black Death was on the move. The plague doctor themed cape was riding a motorcycle with one of her henchmen down main street.

And she wasn't the only cape out and about. Very little went on in the city that Cronenberg didn't know about. For a normal human, monitoring all the video feeds would be a herculean task. Not for him, however.

Cronenberg was an eight foot tall mass of limbs and body parts. It was like someone spat a giant wad of flesh-colored chewing gum in a chair and then pasted a bunch of googly-eyes and tiny t-rex arms to it. His mouth was hidden behind a long beard and drifted aimlessly along his body, with no obvious rhyme or reason.

There was a scuttling sound at the door. Ah, one of his cronies had returned.

The tiny, malleable creature that Whitney often referred to as a 'gnome' squeezed its way under the door frame and ran up to Cronenberg, jumping into the flesh pile and assimilating. In an instant, Cronenberg experienced everything the little crony had. Although his grotesque, monstrous body had numerous downsides, the ability to cast off pseudo-immortal scouts to gather information was a definite positive.

He spoke quietly to himself, "So, Rat King found another vial? That's not good. Well, actually…" He thought about it a little more, a small shriveled arm jutted out from his stomach and stroked his long beard. "Yes… I might be able to work with this."

He fished a dinged up camcorder from a box of scraps that he kept on the floor. Unfortunately, he wasn't a tinker. Fixing these busted electronics would be so much easier. He had to devote hours to researching how to properly make them work utilizing dusty maintenance manuals and library books. This one he had up and running.

Soon he would be able to put their plan in motion.

There was a knock at the door. Cronenberg hastily stashed the camera into his own body and pressed a switch on a little black remote, which was then similarly stashed. The computer monitors all flipped from footage of the city to security cam footage from within the UW refugee camp. Mouth rotating to face the door, he called out, "What's the password?"

"Open this damn door!" came the muffled reply. That was close enough Cronenberg concluded, and he opened the door. He struggled a little to reach the knob with his short arms, but once he flicked the lock, Wolfgang barged into the room and sent his rolling chair skating backwards. Quite a feat of strength.

"Oh, it's you, Boss," Cronenberg said as his chair slowed to a stop. Following the Madison Protectorate leader was Maddie 'Matryoshka' and Whitney 'Ghost' Geist. "And you've brought company. I take it this isn't a personal visit?"

"As if I'd visit a gross thing like you for fun. Do I look like Diane Arbus? Of course this is about business," Wolfgang said, putting a hand on her hips. "We have much to discuss. Though, I suppose, I should start with introductions. Cronenberg, this is Whitney and… ("Matryoshka") Matryoshka. You two, this is Cronenberg—the head of the newly established Neighborhood Watch."

"Hello," Cronenberg greeted, wiggling several of his arms. They looked like the twitching legs of dying insects. Maddie gave him a nod and Whitney a peace sign. Whitney mused about how strange his life had gotten that he could meet someone like Cronenberg and not really bat an eye at the man's traditionally grotesque and outlandish visage.

"Sorry. But what is this Neighborhood Watch?" Maddie asked.

"Hmm, how should I put it?" Cronenberg hummed, and stroked his beard with an arm that plopped out of his gut. "We're an independent group of parahumans—I say group, but there's really just me and, like, one other person right now—that are affiliated with the Protectorate, but not beholden to them. Basically, we just keep a lookout for people in trouble and guide them here."

"After the Endbringer fight, the Madison Protectorate took a big hit. Not like we had many members to begin with. There was myself, Reflecto, and Warpzone. There were only two wards too, Noise Canceler and Shade. And that used to be enough back when there were a handful of villains," Wolfgang explained, "Unfortunately, both of our wards defected. One did so a year ago—becoming the villainess known as Black Death. The other left shortly after the Endbringer fight. EMPunk is his new name. So stupid. Both of them, really."

"To make matters worse, Reflecto was killed in battle and Warpzone has been missing since the quarantine began," Cronenberg added. "That dropped the number of Protectorate heroes all the way down to one: Wolfgang herself. The outside world has sent a few heroes to help, but with the number of monster capes like myself running a muck, not to mention the surplus of new parahumans, they could use all the help they could get. Hence, the Neighborhood Watch."

Wolfgang clapped her hands together, short and crisp. "That's enough. They didn't come here for a history lesson. Where's the almanac?"

"Straight to the point, eh?" Cronenberg rolled his chair back over to a cluttered desk. Brushing a few loose papers with a grotesque shriveled arm, he exposed a thick book. "We make everyone sign in when they first get here and compile the names into a town registry. We call it the almanac. Of course, unless they have an ID on them there is no sure fire way to confirm they are who they say they are. However, most people really don't have a reason to lie. If the person you are looking for is here, their name should be in this book."

Maddie snatched the book and spent a few minutes flipping through the pages. Meanwhile, Whitney chatted up Cronenberg and learned the truth behind the gnomes he had been seeing all around town. Wolfgang voiced her own displeasure of the naked minions, warning Cronenberg to keep them out of her office. She and Whitney were both in agreement, the cronies were creepy little buggers.

"Her name isn't here," Maddie said, lowering the book. "Another dead end."

"You know," Cronenberg said. "We might be able to help your search. My cronies are great at recon. It shouldn't be too hard to find her if they knew what she looked like." A few of the gnomes slipped out of his belly rolls and faceplanted on the carpet. They scraped themselves off the ground and waddled over to Maddie, looking up at her with their bulging eyes and absentmindedly putting their pudgy fingers in their mouths.

She wrinkled her nose and scooted a half-step away. "That's… generous."

"You're right, it is generous," Whitney agreed. "Too generous. What's your angle?"

Wolfgang scoffed. "We aren't offering out of the kindness of our hearts, if that's what you're asking. We could use your help as well. To put it simply, your shapeshifting friend isn't the only one looking for someone. There is a man that we must capture at all costs. If you help us do so, we'll help you find Carmen Anderson. She's a nurse, right? She'd be a welcome addition to the camp. Medical professionals are hard to come by these days."

Before Whitney or Maddie could reply, a walkie-talkie on the desk burst to life and filled the room with static. Amidst the haze, a gruff voice spoke. "Come in, Cronenberg. Do you read me? I spotted EMPunk."

Cronenberg scrambled for the walkie-talkie and slipped out of his chair. Wolfgang casually jumped over him and plucked it off the desk. "Go for Wolfgang."

"Hey, Boss Lady. It's Badger," the voice replied.

"I know that, idiot. Just get to the point. You saw EMPunk?"

"That's affirmative, captain. I briefly engaged him on a rooftop. He had taken a woman prisoner. I managed to chase him off and rescue two small children. We are currently on our way back."

"Perfect. We'll talk more when you get here. Wolfgang out," she said, and put the walkie-talkie back on the desk. She paced the room with a dark smile on her face. "This is our first lead in weeks."

"Um, I still don't get why you want us," Whitney questioned. "I mean, we just met. And Maddie and me, we aren't exactly the hero types."

Wolfgang stared at him for a moment. "I guess I was just feeling nostalgic."

⸻4⸻

Black Death poured herself a drink of premium liquor. Swishing the glass, she enjoyed the sounds of ice cubes clinking off the sides as she surveyed the warehouse apartment. It wasn't a bad place. In a way, it reminded her of a dragon's lair. There were all sorts of plundered treasures like the alcohol she was drinking to the pile of jewels and expensive clothes scattered everywhere.

Sasha's stolen bike was parked in the corner of the main room. The tracker he had installed in it made finding this place incredibly easy. She had been biding her time, waiting for a good opportunity to make her move. But with all the other entities in the city starting to mobilize, Black Death simply couldn't wait any longer.

Her companion and sole remaining member of the Horsemen, besides herself obviously, Sasha, ran over to his bike and thoroughly inspected it for damage. She could hear him grumbling about the motorcycle's condition from across the room. And that's not the only thing she heard.

"So… it's just you?" Black Death asked as Oppenheimer entered the apartment. "What a shame. And I came all this way too."

"Who are you, and what are you doing in my house?" Oppenheimer said, drawing her pistol.

"Relax. I didn't come here to start a fight," Black Death replied, and grabbed her plague doctor mask by the long beak. She pulled it off her head, revealing a youthful girl around seventeen. She looked strangely familiar to Oppenheimer, but she couldn't put her finger on it.

The unmasked cape continued. "My name is Whitney Geist. And we have much to discuss."

End of Chapter

⸻Author's Note⸻

I had this chapter completely written, then scrapped it. Rewrote it, taking the story in a new direction. Scrapped it. And then wrote it again. I think most of what I had written from the past drafts will find their way into the coming chapters in some form. I know where I want to go, but getting there has been proving challenging.

I originally was going to have Whitney and company fight against Wolfgang and Mira, but didn't like how it affected the plot. Who knows, maybe they'll fight later.

I'm, like, a big picture guy. All these nitty-gritty chapter details are rough on my ADD ravaged mind.

Disputatiously Yours,

A Horseshoe Crab

Chapter Word Count: 4,413

Arc Word Count: 30,114

Story Word Count: 30,114