Tertiary (Worm)

Tertiary

Taylor gets a handle on her powers a little earlier and the story starts a week before canon.
Rated "M" for language and implied situations in later chapters.

Amakudari 1.1

January 3rd, 2011: Glass doors to the emergency room swept open to let an admitting nurse meet a team of paramedics unloading a gurney from their ambulance.

"Teenage female found shoved into a locker filled with biohazardous materials, unresponsive at scene, BP 120 over..."

"Whoa, whoa, WHOA!" The admitting nurse interrupted the Paramedic, "Jesus Christ , couldn't you brush the bugs off of her?"

"We tried, but she's still covered in all that crap."

"The hospital was fumigated just last week," the nurse said, "I'm going to go get that bug fogger I bought this morning, she needs it more than my apartment does."

"Put an oxygen mask on her, we'll get started when she gets back."

April 1st, 2011: I woke up with the alarm, took my regular morning jog, showered and got ready as usual. The feeling of dread at going to school was still there, but no sensation of butterflies in the stomach was going to halt what I had prepared for this day. I ran down the extensive checklist in my head yet again as I gathered all the necessary bugs within my range.

January 4th: I struggled back to consciousness and looked around the blurry, unfamiliar room. Teal cabinets, white sheets, and chrome railings around her bed came more or less recognizable even without glasses.

"I'm in a hospital" I thought.

"...a sptimnhet of bnaanas fserh form Bizarl ctserouy of the cpae Sedritr..."

Memories of the ordeal in the locker rushed back, but I forced them aside and pushed the call button. I heard the chime sound down the hall at the nurse's station and the squeak of tennis shoes of tile walking towards my room.

...letcoad on Lrod Seret beweten the Lrarbiy and ftifh ..."

"Hi honey," the nurse said when she entered my room, "You're awake already, that's a very good sign. Do you know where you are?"

"...and now weehtar with our own ..."

"Um, in a hospital... but I don't know which one... " I said. "Have you called my Dad yet? He's Danny Hebert and he works at the Dockworkers Association..."

"... the lnog rgane fsoercat, caler and clod Wadensedy and Trudsahy,..."

"Oh sure, honey, " said the nurse, "He's in a conference room yelling at a school district representative right now. I'll be sure to let him know you're up."

"...Fardiy wtih one to tehre ihecns of amcuctuloain, and hviaeer sonw epxceted oevr the weneekd..."

"OK, um, sorry. That TV is a little distracting"

"Wow, you've got crazy good hearing. The only TV on in this wing is in the waiting room at the end of the hall."

"...form all of us hree at cnahenl two nwes, gongohidt Bortokn Bay...."

"Taylor! Thank goodness you're awake!" my father said as he crushed me in a big bear hug.

I focused my attention on my Dad and I hugged him back. The muffled sound of the TV faded into the background, a lone spider spinning its web in the opposite corner of the waiting room.

"Hi Dad" I said coming to breakfast with Danny. He was reading the paper. I was unsure if I should bring up the bullying now or... No, that die has been cast. Gotta go through with it. We finished breakfast, Danny said goodbye and drove to work.

I picked up my bags, locked the door and headed to the bus stop.

January 6th: Taylor went out for her second ever morning jog even though it had snowed, but taking that excuse now would just lead to more excuses later. She reached out and sensed bugs in crawlspaces under lots of homes, and all over inside the Smith's place, empty ever since they went on vacation last year and got caught in Behemoth's latest attack. The cold and fatigue wore at her, but she pushed to go just a little farther than yesterday, Satisfied, Taylor turned to go home and got a clump of snow down her back from a jostled tree branch.

"Just perfect." Taylor thought.

Her bus arrived at Winslow, but Taylor had got off the stop before to better avoid any of her regular bullies or their cohorts in the crowds. She saw some poor guy getting kicked in the butt over and over again, until he turned around and pulled off the 'Kick Me' sign taped to his back. At least it's enough of a distraction for her to toss the old duffel bag into the shrubs in front of the school. As the last students get to class hundreds of Black Widows emerge from the duffel bag into the crawlspace beneath the school trailing silk, braiding it as they go. The bag suddenly is yanked inside by the lines of silk to leave no evidence behind.

January 17th: It was hard to believe it had taken that long for the school to pay for her medical bills and settle, but the inevitability of her return to school had finally happened. Of course the bullying picked up again right away. Emma and Madison pretended she was invisible until Sophia knocked her into a garbage can. Taylor made it to her first class, Computers with Mrs. Knott, and found her school email folder completely filled with abuse. Taylor choked back a sob, not willing to let this beat her down, even though she felt alone and outnumbered.

Then she sensed all the bugs in the crawlspace beneath the entire building, in the walls, everywhere. A slow smile formed as Taylor realized she would never be outnumbered ever again.

Taylor felt calm as she created an entire new mail account and caught up on the class assignments she had missed during her absence.

Taylor had finished today's computer assignment in Mrs. Knott's class half an hour ago and focused on maneuvering all the pieces into place for later. The bell to signal the end of class was about to ring and on her way out of the classroom, her favorite and most sympathetic teacher stopped Taylor to talk.

"Honestly dear, no one would have blamed you if you decided to skip. Especially today."

"I know Mrs. Knott, but I'm not going to let a few pranks get the better of me."

Taylor raced through the halls to Mr. Gladly's class, she ducked and weaved around the slower students since it seemed every guy who thought he could get into Madison or Emma's pants tried to score points with a trip, shove or... Taylor ducked when whatshisface from Art class pulled out a can of what turned out to only be silly string. Although she wouldn't have put it past Emma to get someone to try and use actual spray paint to tag her, especially after that 'Your shirt looks like it could use some mustard' bit had put the cafeteria at the top of her no-go zones last May.

January 20th: Tripped down the stairs by Sophia after lunch, Taylor limped through the rest of the school day. She passed the Smith's vacant house on her way home. Hadn't their son played soccer? He surely wouldn't have taken his shin guards on vacation, would he? Taylor decided to try a little bug-assisted breaking and entering, happy at figuring out how to unlock the service door to the garage using the cockroaches inhabiting the kitchen. Maybe they had a first aid kit too...

Taylor tracked everyone in the school with a bug or three for over two months and it was second nature by now. Even if she couldn't always avoid the bullying, at least she led them into dust-ups between the ABB and E88 wanna-be kids every so often. Alone in the History classroom for a few more moments, Taylor tipped her backpack under Madison's desk and directed bugs on their way with their cargoes.

February 1st: Apparently the spiders had gone on autopilot spinning silk into her costume while she was gone at school. The leg continued to taper almost to a point, with only an inch round hole remaining. Maybe she could cut it off and turn the cone of spider silk into a sock or something. It was just too bad the most effective weaving only happened while she was there to guide the spiders. If only... Taylors train of thought came to a sudden halt as she saw the old duffel bag she had taken to camp under the stairs. She was already wearing shin guards and kneepads under her baggy clothing, why not have a few continue to weave while she wore her costume under her clothes, and bring along a few more to weave squares of silk underneath the school during the day. She could even bring back bugs to feed the spiders at home and leave some to feed on the bugs beneath Winslow.

Madison swanned into the room as if she owned the place, smirked at Taylor with a look of disgust and chatted with her friend Julia until Mr. Gladly began the lesson. Of course Madison would have covered the seat of her desk in glue had Taylor not arrived first. Mr. Gladly, purposefully oblivious as always to his favorites, hadn't even noticed any of the past weeks action against her. At least this time what goes around came around as the start of the lecture was interrupted when Mr. Gladly discovered the whoopie cushion beneath the pillow on his stool only when it was too late. When the class erupted in laughter Taylor took advantage of the opportunity to prepare for later. As predicted, Madison went to sharpen her pencil in order to knock her books to the floor yet again, giving Taylor the opening she needed .

February 10th: Even though the completed armored costume trousers kept most injuries from happening, especially that 'accidental' broom handle whacked across her shins yesterday, it was the emotional punishment which was so hard to bear. So she thought of her mother's flute as a talisman of... she wasn't even sure anymore. Not after it had been vandalized so thoroughly. Those bitches regularly took so much pleasure reminding her how they destroyed something she valued above everything else , so in return she would destroy something each of them valued.

Her wanderings home brought her near Emma's neighborhood. A derelict outbuilding nearby was infested with termites... No, too obvious. Especially when she came out as a bug-controlling Hero. So.... no direct bug attacks. No secondary effects which could only be caused by bugs, like termite damage either. She'd need to go a further level removed.

The bell rang and Mr. Gladly's class ended. Madison stood up with a twirl, lightly flaring her skirt which was a little too short for the cool of spring. Madison exited with Julia and other hangers on, and she could detect Emma, Sophia and others gathering. Taylor took a deep calming breath, steeled her resolve and strode out of the classroom.

February 18th: >WHOOF< Sophia sneered above her as Taylor struggled and failed to remain upright after being punched in the solar plexus the instant she stepped through the door into Art Class. She couldn't breathe...Taylor had detected the tick burrowed under the skin at the base of Sophia's neck, but she expected a regular shove, not to end up lying paralyzed, gasping for breath on the floor.

Holy pink fairy armadillo dicks, that was too much! Other students gasped, but remained cowed into silence, knowing any action to help her would condemn them as well.

Fuck it.

Taylor summoned a hornet from the nest underneath the boiler room. It took a few minutes for the formerly hibernating insect to find its way to her classroom, and it finally crawled though the grate and dive bombed Sophia. Mandibles bit just above Sophia's hairline which caused her tormentor to flinch, but when the hornet attempted to sting it... couldn't. Sophia reached up and crushed it before there was any second attempt. But how... Weird.

Emma and Sophia met Madison, Julia and the other hangers-on at the base of the stairs. To their surprise Taylor turned away from them and merged with the traffic flowing to the Cafeteria. "So the loser's not running away to one of her regular hidey-holes," Sophia noted snidely, "Big mistake."

February 21st: Good thing she'd started on Madison's stuff the previous week, because that sucker-punch last Friday moved Sophia to her top priority. She would have followed her tormentor home that day, but the out-of-town Track Meet had denied her that possibility. It was weird actually staying after school for a change instead of racing to leave this hellhole, especially noting the flow of individuals and groups by the bugs planted on them as they left for the day, met up with friends, or like Sophia participated in afterschool activities.

Now would be a perfect opportunity to put athlete's foot fungus in Sophia's street shoes, if only she knew how. Taylor directed bugs into Sophia's locker to burrow a small hole in the left shoe instep padding and plant a small chunk of gravel there as a consolation prize. A few students hung out in the bleachers as the coaches put the athletes through their paces. Eventually Taylor realized there were drug deals happening beneath the bleachers as one kid after another walked up to a Merchant gang member and left once their business completed. Eventually Track practice ended and ... Sophia just made a drug deal?!? While she was in the shower cockroaches investigated and felt something hard, smooth, curved. Little bottles? Also crinkly plastic packages, syringes maybe. Taylor tried to follow Sophia home, but instead of the bus she was sure Sophia should have taken, she instead got into a van which drove the other way.

'I'll just have to try again tomorrow' Taylor thought.

Taylor was among the first to find a seat since she wasn't waiting in line for food like almost everyone else. She picked a table with her back to the wall and near an exit so she could run if her plans went south. Taylor opened her backpack and placed her art project on the table to work on it a little more before class next period. Moments later Emma, Sophia, Madison and their clique entered the Cafeteria. Emma scanned the room and smirked when she spotted Taylor. With a nod to the others the mob of bullies bore down upon her. Spiders in the vents and on the ceiling and mixed swarms on top of fluorescent light fixtures made themselves ready.

March 1st: It took a solid week until she tracked down where Sophia lived. Taylor got on the bus a stop before Winslow, and hid while Sophia got on and stayed busy on her phone almost the whole time. Then she pulled out a second phone and put it away after a glance. Sophia exited the bus and ran home, going upstairs to her room as the bus moved beyond Taylor's range but still within sight of the next bus stop where Taylor walked back up the hill to Sophia's home. She'd explain to her Dad she just forgot the time while studying at the city Library. Taylor brought in more bugs to investigate the row house when Taylor realized Sophia wasn't there. She sent more bugs inside through vents and up through the walls from cracks in the basement. Sophia's backpack was in the entryway, her clothes were in her room with the tracking bugs still on them, but Sophia herself had vanished. What. The. Fuck?

When her tormentors approached her table in the cafeteria, Taylor sent her bugs into action.

"Time to go Carrie ..." Taylor whispered softly.
​

 

Remember that 'Rated M' warning? This chapter is the reason why.

Amakudari 1. 2

It seemed like the entire cafeteria turned to pay attention as Emma, Sophia, Madison and their clique approached.

"Oh Taylor, " Emma said condescendingly, "You look like you're g..."

“EEEP!”

Madison squeaked as her purse spilled its contents causing her phone, makeup and a running vibrator to rattle on the floor amid a large number of condoms, both packaged and some apparently used.

Taylor silently wondered, "Did I go overboard with the Alfredo sauce?"

Many students had already pulled phones out to get video of the scene. Sophia moved to punch Taylor, always a good 'Plan B' in her mind, when to her left a banner unrolled from an overhead light grabbed her attention.

It read: "Thanx fer teh butt-seks frum yo bitchez. Sophia, Yer pimp hand iz STRAWNGG!! Lurve, -The Track Team."

Sophia looked angrily to the right towards the Track Team's table where a red dowel on fishing line swung behind the athletes, a few shocked, most openly laughing until they saw Sophia's rage directed at them. Sophia's view of them was obscured as another banner rolled down.

It read: "P.S. Sophia: Eat Shit, Fuck off, and Die in a fire, Thundercunt. Kisses, - The Track Team."

Sophia's snarl of rage was all the incentive the athletes needed to take to their heels.

"Bull, meet red flag... Red flag, meet bull." Taylor thought.

In the teachers' lounge Mr. Gladly observed the Track Team as they burst from the cafeteria out into the rain with Sophia in hot pursuit and thought "Ah, such good-spirited hijinks," before returning to his lunch. "Mmmm, pastrami."

Madison clutched her now-bottomless purse to her chest and screamed "That's not mine!" at the vibrator rattling among the condoms and the rest of her belongings dumped on the floor in front of her. Madison attempted to kick it away, but only succeeded in scattering the contents of her purse while the vibrator bounced back from a table leg and buzzed at her feet.

Julia whispered, "Emma..."

Emma looked at the clique of girls nervously edging away from Madison as if the petite girls embarrassment was contagious. Laughter from everyone in the Cafeteria assaulted her ears.

Julia tried a little louder, "Emma."

Students took video of Madison frantically gathering the precipitated belongings of her ruined purse. Some wit nudged the buzzing vibrator back in front of Madison who shrieked, "I said that isn't mine!"

"Yeah, hers has Hello Kitty stickers on it," came a voice from the crowd, followed by laughter and a frustrated scream from Madison.

"Emma! Are you OK?!?" Julia shouted as she pointed to Emma's leg. "You're bleeding!"

Emma's eyes widened as she bent over and saw the rivulet of red rolling down the inside of her calf to stain her white sock.

"About time she noticed," Taylor thought, "I've had mosquitoes barfing blood and red food coloring under her skirt for ten minutes."

Emma slipped away as she gazed at her fingers gone red from where she brushed her thigh and abandoned Madison to be the center of attention for the assembled students. Emma beat a retreat through the double doors opposite the ones Sophia had chased the Track Team through and made her way through the deserted corridors to the nearest bathroom to clean up. The door swung shut behind Emma and teams of cockroaches maneuvered pennies into the gap around the door, including several coins which had been placed on train tracks and flattened into wedges.

Sophia body checked the first guy on the track team she caught into a wall while his compatriots fled. "Tell me which of you motherfuckers planned this, Tommy Shoemaker, so I can hand out your beatings properly!"

"I don't know, I didn't do it..."

Rain soaked into her tracksuit as Sophia twisted her fists in the boy's collar and slammed the him into the wall again. "If you didn't do this, then who did?"

"I... I don't..."

"Then round up the rest of those dipshits and find out!" screamed Sophia in the boys face before letting him run after his scapegoat teammates before she angrily strutted back to the cafeteria, her mood as foul as the weather.

Madison piled her belongings into the remains of her purse, the sundered seams showing small cut lengths of thread all along the bottom panel which had ripped way. The petite girl barely kept her emotions under control as she crawled next to a table in order to pull herself to her feet. A kind gentleman extended his hand toward her. "Some help at last" she thought.

Instead of reaching for her hand, her supposed white knight picked up an unopened condom, turned to his friends and said, "Hey... Magnums! I guess the little slut likes 'em big!"

Laughter erupted, and continued as the line got repeated to others. Madison was mortified. Someone dropped the still buzzing vibrator on top of her belongings, rattling against her phone.

"I said that's... Not... MINE!!!" screamed Madison as she flung the device as far across the cafeteria as she could.

Madison held her belongings close to her chest and attempted to leave with at least some dignity intact.

Her hopes were dashed when some guy raised the vibrator aloft like Excalibur and asked, "If it's not yours, why does it say 'To my Boo-Boo Buttsuck, Love Emma' on the dial?" triggering even more laughter.

Madison broke and ran, tears streaming down her face all the way out of the cafeteria.

Taylor surveyed the riotous cafeteria. No one noticed the bugs responsible for tipping the banners off the light fixtures retreat across the ceiling and into the ventilation system.

Teens were already comparing videos to see who had the best, most embarrassing footage to upload. She would have to watch some of the videos later, since she was sure someone would email a link back to the anonymous account Taylor had used to let everyone know about the “Awsum prank 2-morro at lunch in the cafeteria” she had sent out yesterday. She had even got the blanket invite to that anti-prom thing next Friday which her regular school account hadn't.

Through her bugs Taylor observed Emma still cleaning up in the restroom while the roaches finished their job which left the entire doorjamb wedged full of pennies behind her oblivious former friend.

Taylors bugs also noted how Madison ran down the hall until her phone rang.

Madison slowed to a walk and answered "Hello?"

"Um, is.. is this Madison?"

"Yes, Who is this?"

Madison turned the corner to her locker. Three guys were standing in front of it snickering and the voice came in stereo from her phone and in front of her: "Do you really suck for a buck?"

"WHAT?!?!" Madison screamed.

The three boys turned to look at Madison, the caller still held one of the many perforated strings of condoms threaded through the vent slits on Madison's locker door.

Madison tore them from the boys grasp. Her phone number, prices and a unique slogan were written on each one. One read: "Threesome Thursdays - Half price."

Her phone rang again. She answered automatically, "Hello?"

"Hi, Boo-Boo Buttsuck? We're inquiring about your discount for groups of ten or more..."

Madison's scream of anguish, punctuated by beeps form her call waiting, echoed through the halls.

"Phase One complete: Madison's reputation destroyed. Now for Phase Two," Taylor thought.

Cradling her Art project in her arms in front of her, Taylor strolled towards her next class.

Sophia burst through the double doors on the opposite side of the cafeteria with rainwater dripping off her, stormed over to the track team's table and ripped down one banner, which was actually a painted bedsheet. Scanning the crowd Sophia saw that wimp Taylor point and laugh at her then turn and walk of another set of doors.

"No goddamn way fucking Hebert just laughed at ME..." Sophia thought, "I'm gonna kill her."

Sophia shoved her way through the crowded cafeteria, kicking open the doors to see Hebert with her back to her at the end of the hall, talking to someone around the corner.

Not even looking her way, Taylor flipped off Sophia.

Wet shoes squeaked on the tile floor as Sophia charged towards the skinny girl and landed a punch right in her smug face.

Taylor tumbled from the impact into the connecting hallway, her art project disintegrated as it smashed into the far wall.

"SOPHIA HESS!!!"

Sophia turned at her shouted name. Standing around the corner were Mrs. Knott and Ms. Tilde, the Art teacher who had just exited the teacher's lounge and had apparently been talking with that wuss Hebert.

"She still has the 'Lurve' banner in her hand," thought Taylor as she got to her knees, "thanks for breaking the evidence chain, dummy."

"Principal's Office. NOW!" Said Mrs. Knott sternly, then turned to her colleague "Take that poor girl to the Nurse's Office and join me in the office. I'll get the paperwork started."

Sophia felt a sinking sensation in her gut as she patted her pockets . It was missing. Both of them. Her phones were missing.

"Oh crap."

 

Amakudari 1.3

Ms. Tilde the Art teacher helped Taylor to the Nurse's Office.

"Let me out!" Emma cried, pounding on the washroom door. Two girls from the outside pulled on the doorknob with all their might, which only forced the pennies to wedge even tighter in the gap around the door.

"Someone go get the Janitor," said Ms. Tilde as they walked past.

Taylor wanted to smile, but the pain and facial swelling from Sophia's punch prevented that. "It's not a locker, but it's a start." she thought.

At the Nurse’s office, Taylor was given an icepack saying, “Well, at least it didn’t break the skin,” and shooed on her way to the office.

Sophia sat, arms crossed and fuming while she waited outside Principal Blackwell's office. She bristled at Taylor's entrance, and angrily glared as the beanpole teenager thanked Ms. Tilde for her assistance.

"So you mentioned paperwork to fill out?" Taylor asked.

"Yes, I've got the fighting report form right here." Mrs. Knott said, "Just signed my part and now Ms. Tilde can sign too."

"Hand that here when you're done with it," said Principal Blackwell as she motioned Sophia and Taylor into her office.

The two teens sat while Principal Blackwell read the report while she walked around her desk.

"This says that you showed Ms. Tilde the work you'd done on your art project so far when Sophia ran up from behind and attacked you."

"Ye.."

"Hey, that skinny bitch flipped me off!" interrupted Sophia.

"I don't care," said Principal Blackwell after she signed the form, "Fighting on school grounds is against the rules."

"But she.."

"What part of 'Don't Care' didn't you hear? No one punches another student in front of two teachers and gets away with it, even if they are ticked off they just got pranked by the entire Track Team." said Principal Blackwell as she pointed at the bedsheet banner Sophia brought with her.

"I have to call my Social Worker." Sophia interjected.

"Obviously. I'm sure she'll agree you've earned in school suspension for all next week and the rest of today."

"But you..."

"No matter who you are you don't get to take out your frustrations on anyone who crosses your path while you're in the middle of a snit fit."

Principal Blackwell leaned in close to Sophia and said, "Grow up and stop throwing tantrums like a two year old."

Taylor had never seen this side of Principal Blackwell before and saw the barely constrained anger Sophia had at the teachers' words even as the aggravated teen answered, "Yes Ma'am."

What a difference rock solid evidence made compared to the typical alibis, plausible deniability, and cover stories the Trio provided each other.

The teachers had already left to go teach their classes when Principal Blackwell ushered Sophia and Taylor from her office.

"You better get to class," Principal Blackwell said to Taylor, "and you get to cool your heels over there for a while."

"I need to go look for my lost phones." said Sophia as she rose to her feet.

"No, you're going to wait here until your Social Worker shows up."

"But..."

"Stop arguing. Sit." commanded Principal Blackwell, pointing to an open chair.

Sophia glared daggers at Taylor. Principal Blackwell stood in the doorway to her office and waved the back of her hand at Taylor, shooing her off.

Taylor walked to class and briefly watched as the Janitor pull out a hammer and chisel to release Emma from her trapped condition. "Best three fifty I've ever spent." she thought.

Emma dialed her Father, “Daddy? ….I’m trapped in a bathroom at school and the Janitor can’t open the door…. …Yes’ I’m OK… …No, he tried that… ...No, they've got bars on them... Alright, I’ll see you when you get here.”

Emma settled in to wait for her rescue, texting.

Taylor felt one of Sophia's phones buzz to life within the walls of Winslow, transported on the backs of a swarm of bugs. Pity she couldn't see anything besides kaleidoscopic blurs through her swarms or she could have replied to Emma's texts with some epic gaslighting, but she didn't know the unlock codes anyway.

Another pity the metal walls of the lockers only had unused half inch round holes for fasteners her swarms had been unable to enlarge. At least they'd chewed through the drywall blocking the holes behind Emma and Madison's lockers to improve what little access there was for later.

Taylor directed the phone-carrying swarms on to their eventual destination just as she arrived late at class. She still held the icepack to her cheek where Sophia had punched her. She appeared understandably distracted as the lesson progressed.

"Two down, one to go," thought Taylor while she prepared for Emma's father to arrive.

Even though it pained her, she smiled a slow cruel smile beneath the icepack in anticipation.

 

Interlude: Alan Barnes

Alan Barnes pulled into the Winslow High parking lot. The teachers lot was behind a chainlink fence which left him to park among the student cars, half of which featured body panels held on with duct tape or poorly sanded Bondo somewhere. He felt no guilt at parking diagonally in two spaces in the partially empty lot given he didn’t plan to be here for long.

Iridescent streaks from leaking engine oil floated across the wet pavement in the downpour. Alan hustled indoors to get out of the inclement elements. A poster in the window appeared to be printed in reverse until his mind caught up to the paradigm shift required to read it correctly. 'morP'... pretty clever actually. A few familiar faces came into view as he opened the Office door. Emma’s friend Sophia and her Social Worker talked with Principal Blackwell.

“…is simply too much for such an offense. Three days is more reasonable.”

Principal Blackwell said, “Our school district guidelines are clear, I’ve already given as much leeway about her extracurricular activities as I can, but the minimum in-school suspension for something like this is one week.”

Alan turned to the secretary behind the counter and asked, “Pardon me, my name is Alan Barnes and my daughter Emma said she was trapped in a bathroom and to come get her.”

“Oh yeah, today has been insane. I think the janitor is still working on the door. Around the corner and to your left,” she said and pointed to the right.

Alan heard banging even before turning the corner. Pennies littered the floor around a man in blue coveralls and leather tool belt as he hammered a chisel in the gap above the restroom door.

“Ok, try it now.”

A tortured screech preceded a cascade of pennies to the floor as his darling daughter pushed while the janitor pulled the door.

Emma practically screamed “Daddy!” as she leapt into his arms for a hug.

“You OK now, kidlet?”

“Daaaaddyyy… you haven’t called me that in years.”

“I haven’t had to come get you from school in years either.” Alan released his daughter from the hug and asked, “So, ready to go?”

“Let me get my things from the locker and we can go. We could even go to lunch so today won’t be a total loss.”

“No can do, once I drop you at home I’ll have to take your mother to the dealership to pick up her car and then it’s back to the salt mines for me.”

Speakers in the hallway crackled to life “Attention, would all members of the Track team please come to the office, thank you.”

Bells signaled the end of class and Alan flashbacked to his own school years as hordes of teens erupted from classrooms into the hallway.

Teenagers parted around the man in a suit while they chatted, looked down at phones, called a phone number scrawled on the back of a condom, or even walked to their next class. Alan didn’t like the looks some of the students were giving his daughter, not angry but if as in disbelief or overly interested, some pointed and laughed.

They rounded the corner to Emma’s locker, or where it should have been but was now hidden under advertisements featuring his daughter defaced with crude graffiti and taped along the entire bank of lockers. Alan used his long reach to grab a page over the heads of the teens crowding between him and the lockers.

A glance at the rude drawings of anatomy and word balloons with content more appropriate for truck stop bathroom stall walls was all Alan needed to see.

“Hey Emma,” said an obnoxious bald boy, “Do you really...”

Alan clapped a heavy hand on the youth’s shoulder. “ My DAUGHTER,” Alan said in his best courtroom voice, “appreciates your help gathering this EVIDENCE of foul play against her.”

He grabbed another boy within arms reach and continued, “Your HELP will be remembered when we find out WHO is to BLAME for such a VILE act.”

Alan lightly shoved the skinhead and probable football player towards the lockers and they gathered pages under the lawyers’ glare.

After a minute, the boys he'd 'voluntold' to help brought him a stack of ripped out magazine pages and advertising flyers featuring his daughter. He knew it would do no good to ask if anyone saw who did it or waste the Brockton Bay Police Department's time dusting for fingerprints. He was glad to have managed to nip this in the bud.

Still, he salivated at the thought of the wondrous lawsuit he could press on the school district for what happened to his daughter today. Charges of negligence, reckless endangerment, harassment, stalking, assault; upgraded to aggravated assault, denial of freedom, denial of freedom of movement, premeditation, unlawful imprisonment, conspiracy to imprison, racketeering, failure of in loco parentis, and light treason. He smirked at the memory of that Earth Aleph series one of his interns and shown him.

A chittering of annoyed insects was lost amid the hubbub of students passing by in the halls.

Emma had gathered her things and he said, "Ok let's stop by the Office on our way out, I want to be sure this is handled correctly."

Alan skimmed the vandalized modeling ads featuring his daughter. Some of them had her phone number and a few also had his home number scrawled among the vulgar word balloons in thick marker. He actually looked forward to sitting at home tonight , perusing a reverse phone directory on the internet along with the classroom contact lists he'd kept in his den filing cabinet ever since his kids entered kindergarten a decade ago, and scaring the crap out of whichever pimply faced snot nosed brats called while enjoying a glass of wine. Alan wondered, "Does red or white wine pair with schadenfreude?"

Outside the office the assembled members of the Track team stood in a semi-circle around Sophia next to the Coach in the middle of a rant.

"... wants to fess up to this I will use this incident," the Coach roared, gesturing with one of the banners wadded up in his hand, "as a character building opportunity."

"Like an RPG?" whispered a boy as Alan and Emma passed by, to be shushed by his neighbor.

"Today's practice will be running laps, and you will keep running them until you all collapse, or one of you... the guilty party... cracks and confesses."

The Track team's collective moans and cries of protest faded as the door shut behind the two Barnes.

"Anyone who wants to see me privately, I'll be at my desk in the ball cage for the remainder of the day and the rest of us can put in a normal rainy-day practice in the gym," the muffled voice of the Coach carried through the door.

"Is Principal Blackwell in?" asked Alan as he strode towards her door and motioned Emma to sit next to a hangdog looking boy.

"She's on the phone," said the Secretary, "Have a seat and..."

"She'll see me now, thanks." said Alan when he opened the door, confidently not even breaking stride.

"...caught him bending a thick zip-tie around the axle of Mr. Quinlan's car. Now, while not..."

"Principal Blackwell," Alan interrupted and slammed the stack of papers in his hand on her desk, "This is completely unacceptable!"

Principal Blackwell turned in her chair, and said, "Pardon me. I apologize for the interruption, I will have to call you back."

Alan Barnes smugly smirked at how easily he seized the initiative from the petty bureaucrat.

"Tell me WHAT you are..." > CRACK!<

The Lawyer flinched as the experienced teaching professional shot to her feet synchronized with the loud noise.

Principal Blackwell thought, "The ol' steel-ruler-on-the-desk slap. Works even if they didn't go to Catholic School."

"MISTER Barnes, get out of my office."

Alan gestured with the stack of scribbled-on advertisements, "THESE were plastered all over my DAUGHTER's..."

An 18 inch steel ruler worked well as an improvised Main Gauche, and even though her days in the University Fencing club were over two decades in the past her point control never wavered a quarter inch away from his nose.

"Your daughter would have been polite enough to knock. Now make an appointment for next week and get out. I have an imbecile with cherry bombs on their way, and I'm not going to waste my come-to-Jesus voice on someone," she pointed at Alan, "who should obviously know better."

"You need to..."

"Mister Barnes, I understand. Your daughter is your unique, special snowflake. No one is exactly like her or could ever fill the place she has in your heart. " Principal Blackwell explained while she guided the man to the door. "On the other hand I must deal every day with the blizzard of hundreds of unique special snowflakes of which your daughter is but one."

"Good Day." >SLAM!< the Principal's door shut in his face with an air of finality.

"I'd hate to have her on the bench... She's even worse than Judge Ostermark." Alan thought.

On the other side of the door Principal Blackwell quietly said, "And like all unique special snowflakes, at room temperature she's just a drip."

As she returned to the thankless, never-ending task of administrating the worst school in the Brockton Bay area, she thought, "I wonder where I packed those old Rapiers or that Epee anyway..."

Emma drank a diet soda while she waited for her father. She never looked up to the ceiling to see several spiders tip a fluid-filled beetle carapace directly over the open mouth of her bottle, unerringly aimed at a gnat hiding on the bottom of the bottle. The teen model was also oblivious to the other bugs on her, and would only discover the effects of their sabotage later.

Alan made an appointment for early next week, signed his daughter out early and drove home.

"Does that sort of thing go on often?" Alan asked his daughter as he turned the windshield wipers up higher.

"No, not really," Emma said, "I guess everyone went crazy for April Fools Day this year."

"Oh really? Did you see anybody pull a real good one?"

"Well, Madison said Mr. Gladly sat on a whoopie cushion at the beginning of class, and..." gossiped the teenager and her father on the rest of the rainy drive home.

Large muddy puddles on each side of the driveway rippled as Alan pulled up.

"...of a pringles can. They were all wearing matching t-shirts until the teachers made them remove them."

Alan chortled, "They really set that all up? I'll have to see..."

The car lurched in the driveway.

No.

The driveway lurched under the car.

Concrete cracked.

Muddy water geysered up through cracks and out from the sides of the driveway.

The car nosed down.

Emma shrieked.

Car lurched forward.

Everything went white.

 

Amakudari 1.4

A bell rang which signaled the end of school. Sophia bolted from detention and ran down the stairs, heedless of the people she bumped or shoved out of her way. She had to see if anyone had turned in her phones yet.

She ignored the glares from the Track team members she passed. She probably spent more time with them than anyone else in the school, so they should have known better than to prank her.

"You suck, Sophia."

She angrily turned to face Jesse, a Senior on the Track team. "Up yours, Jesse."

"Shut it. I'm banned from Debate Regionals in Boston this weekend because of you."

"Hey, if you guys hadn't pulled..."

"Guess what? We didn't. Those 'Yuudai has a huge penis' t-shirts were our idea. I even gave out twenty of them to homeless guys in his neighborhood."

"If you didn't do it, then who did?"

"I don't give a shit. You just screwed my college application transcripts with your whining. Coach is stubborn enough to run us in the rain until we all catch a cold thanks to you and your thin skinned complaining."

Sophia angrily retorted, "Someone's gotta pay for..."

"For what? Getting your panties in a twist? You keep missing practices and track meets and Coach lets it slide like I've never seen. You were barely even on my radar until you crapped all over us outside the office. You're a only sophomore, do you think the next two years are going to be all sweetness and light after you threw your teammates under the bus?"

"Your threatening me isn't going to..."

Jesse leaned in close and whispered, "That's not a threat. THIS is a threat: All the guys on the Track team will only whiz into bottles and we'll pay some random freshman to dump it in your gym bag, in your locker, and on your head until your eyebrows grow ammonia crystals. Your new nickname will be MC Pissy Pants. The instant you wear anything yellow so the stains won't show we'll switch over to bleach."

"There's no way..."

'See the ends of the hallway?"

Sophia looked left and then looked right and watched as Varsity Track team members raised bottles of what probably wasn't apple juice.

"THAT'S a threat. See the difference?"

Sophia wanted to put a crossbow bolt in this douchebags brain so badly right now. But there was no way she could cover it up. He had no gang ties, was actually on the Honor Roll, and that report for fighting was making its' way to the PRT right now. She couldn't even kick him in the nuts and claim he grabbed a boob since he already had witnesses.

"What do you want from me?"

"Like I said, you weren't even on my radar until today. Track team varsity hazing doesn't start until the end of Junior Year. You just moved yourself up a little early. Every member of the Track team will get a chance to haze you, even the underclassmen after what you pulled. And if you go crying to Coach again then we'll double down."

"That's not fair!"

"Think about how fair it is for all the rest of us who didn’t do anything to have to run laps in the rain. You'll probably get off lightly, stolen lunches, ex-lax in your hot chocolate, the occasional hotfoot, a rough couple of weeks. Unless you've managed to piss off your teammates before this and now they're in it for payback of all past offences and decide to flush a cherry bomb while you’re sitting on the throne or something, you'll be fine."

Sophia thought, "Oh crap, crap, crap."

 

Interlude: PRT HQ

Upon return to her cubicle, the Ward’s Social Worker scanned Sophia's fighting report into the system, flagged it as a potential probationary period violation for Shadow Stalker and emailed it to Director Piggot.

She'd tried her best to get the in-school suspension reduced, but they had Shadow Stalker's civilian identity dead to rights with actionable information.

Punching another kid in front of two teachers?

Talk about failing the intelligence test.

Then she spent the next hour going over Wards paperwork, changing regulations, and new: which was usually synonymous with unnecessary, Youth Guard mandates. New costume compliance revision dated March 26, 2011: Specifications of improper swimwear. New costume compliance revision dated March 28, 2011: All female Wards skirt lengths to be worn no more than four inches above the knee due to increase in paparazzi activity. New costume compliance revision dated March 28, 2011: Revocation of previous Visor Tint Restrictions for all West Coast Protectorate capes and PRT Squads due to ineffectiveness of Blue-Green Laser scans. New costume compliance revision dated March 30, 2011: All female Wards skirt lengths to be worn a minimum of five inches above the knee due to Gully getting snagged on a fire hydrant.

The next item in her inbox was a new Youth Guard mandate regarding secret identities for Wards and scheduled social functions.

Apparently a Cape Mom in Atlanta threw a hissy-fit that her daughter had a patrol scheduled the same night as Cotillion.

"What the fuck is Cotillion?" she thought.

Turns out it was just a fancy name for a school dance.

She browsed through a dozen pages of informational obfuscation to mine the small nuggets of meaning the author couldn’t have hidden more completely if they tried.

Protectorate must show proof that all Wards have attended a school dance once per school trimester, or submit to on-premises Youth Guard oversight of the ‘authenticity of their collective academic social experience.’

Except Brockton Bay schools work on the Semester system, so in order to be in compliance they'd have to go to one in... three weeks. She pulled up the school calendar.

Too late to crash the mixer at Immaculata tonight, and it looks like they just missed 'Spring Fling' last week, and 'Tolo' is three weeks out...

“Wait, there's that event next Friday, and it's an all-district invite. Great! Shadow Stalker could attend as well.”

She scheduled all the Wards to have Friday, April 8th off and make them go, with ‘Tolo’ as a fallback to catch whoever blew off the first opportunity.

Up next, a twenty page 'summary' of two paragraphs from a daily activity report concerning an email titled Re: Young Buck snorting pixie sticks.

"What's that quote? 'Fantastic cosmic powers, tiny, tiny brains…' I guess teenage stupidity blossoms even under Eidolon's watchful gaze." she thought as she drafted a memo to Maintenance to remove all powdered sugar products from vending machines before Clockblocker heard about this.

On her desk, the phone rang.

No mystery who was calling, since her co-workers would either drop by or just send an email.

She answered the phone, "Yes, Director?"

__________

Clockblocker lounged in the break area with his laptop before his scheduled patrol, checked his official PHO account, and wondered why he'd been sent links to the same video file three or four times.

He put it through security scans before opening, no way he was gonna get yelled at for making that mistake again.

The attached note said, "My fave is the girl who goes aggro at 1:53, it gets really good after then."

Sophia stormed over to Kid Win on Console duty. She said "No questions, just track my PRT phone, OK?"

He complied since Sophia looked annoyed enough already. "Aren't you supposed to be at Track Practice right now?" Kid Win asked.

Sophia swatted the teenage Tinker in the back of the head, “You always ignore the ‘No’ part of ‘No Questions’? It's complicated. Just track it, 'kay?"

Kid Win pinged her phone and said, "It's inside Winslow High. You lost your PRT phone?!?"

"No shit, Sherlock. Can you tell me where inside?"

Kid Win pulled up Fire Department architectural records, and pointed to his best guess for the location of the triangulated signal.

"That's the hallway where my locker is..." she thought. “Oh crap, did I just put them there and forget?”

Sophia glanced at the time.

“Maybe I can run there and back before anyone…”

Overhead speakers blared, "Shadow Stalker, report to the Director's office immediately."

After Sophia left Dennis laughed like a hyena until he could no longer breathe. He stumbled over to the console still cackling.

"Chris, you have gotta see this one, it’s been put to music...." and pressed play.

__________

The Wards Social Worker stood off to one side of Director Piggot's desk.

Sophia knew she was in ‘damage control’ mode.

“What had that PR asshole told her to do if a reporter or something cornered her?” Sophia tried to remember, “Don’t volunteer info, say only short yes or no type answers, give ‘em nowhere to go.”

The next half hour blurred together as she tried to explain the fighting report in front of Piggot: So you got pranked by the track team. Yes. Then you chased them down as seen in this video to extract revenge. Yes. Then you returned to the scene of the crime and removed evidence. What? The banner. Yes. Then you left the cafeteria, ran down and punched a girl. Yes. Is she on the track team? No. Then why did you punch her? Um... You do realize this isn't reflecting well on you? ...yes...

Sophia left the office feeling chewed up and spit out from all of Piggot's lecturing.

Since all the activity had happened in her civilian identity, most of the punishment would fall on her there too.

Forcing her to patrol from now on with a Ward or Protectorate member who could keep up with her shadow assisted leaps technically wasn't a punishment, but it sure cramped her style.

The worst part was the last ten minutes breaking down all the ‘should-haves.’

Should have reported it to school administration, should have talked with the Track Team instead of chasing them, should have left the fucking banner calling her a ‘Thundercunt’ hanging there for everyone to see, and on and on and on with the should haves.

“Fat bitch even said I should have run in the rain with Track Team? Seriously, screw those assholes.”

Sophia’s train of thought was interrupted when she entered the Wards room by Dennis, as usual.

Dennis pressed play and fast paced guitar music started to blare from the laptop.

Cyclic chanting joined the guitar and Clockblocker joined in with the melody.

“Nuh na na Na~ na na Na~uh~…”


“THUNDER!”

Sophia watched video of Madison’s purse spill open, “Turn it off Dennis”, she said.

“THUNDER!”

A closeup of the first banner as it unrolled filled the screen.

“No way, I just started it.”

“THUNDER!”

Video of some old cartoon of a guy who could give Browbeat a run for his money in the beefcake department held a sword in the air and flashed back and forth with footage of motherfucking Kenny Eastman with that damn vibrator in practically the same pose.

“I said turn it off Dennis…”

“YOU’VE BEEN…”

“Wait, wait… here’s the best part….”

The second banner unrolled intercut with several angles of Sophia’s snarling face to end with a still image of her bordered by the final word on the banner underneath.

“…THUNDERSTRUCK!”

Sophia lunged at the redheaded jokester.

“That’s it, now you’re gonna…”

Clockblocker froze her and took a picture of Sophia’s snarling face identical to the paused video in the laptop held up beside her.

“Oh yeah, that one’s a keeper.”

Kid Win said, “You do realize when she unfreezes there’s a shallow grave in the woods with your name on it, right?’

“Yeah, but I’ll be out on patrol by then and she’ll have to take over Console duty from you.”

Clockblocker checked his email one last time before he closed his laptop.

"Hey, y’know if the vending machine has any pixie sticks?"
​

 

Gaiatsu 2.1

It was after midnight by the time she had the opportunity to sneak out of her house for the first time in costume.

Taylor decided to jog into a relatively familiar area near the Docks, graffiti proclaiming it ABB territory.

Over the next hour she scouted with swarms of bugs to help her remain unseen, avoiding groups of drunks wandering between bars and keeping to the shadows wherever possible.

Taylor detected a house full of drugs, judging by the reactions of her bugs, as people repackaged a shipment of drugs for distribution.

She climbed up a fire escape of a nearby building to get an overview of the area, bending almost in half as she crept up to the edge of the roof, careful to make as little noise as possible as her feet padded across the tarpaper.

Taylor crouched behind the brickwork and planned how to takedown a group with lots of guns

She wondered if maybe she had bit off more than she could chew as a second van drove up and three more ABB members got out.

Her bugs overheard radio chatter about incoming hostiles, a call for backup.

From out of nowhere a loud engine roared as what looked like two long nose semi trucks stuck back to back covered with welded on armor plates drove up over the lawn, the business end of a turret on the hood of the vehicle broke through a window of the ABB safe house and fired.

Windows all over the house exploded outwards.

A man holding a knife with bandoliers of grenades strapped across his chest suddenly appeared right next to Taylor, which caused her to flinch.

Taylor got kicked in the ribs where she crouched on the roof, slashed across her throat by Oni Lee’s knife.

She rolled with the momentum of his attacks and flopped down the fire escape, dazed and confused.

“I’m going to die,” Taylor thought as she scrambled for her pepper spray, her throat intact but bruised under the weave of her costume.

She sensed bugs move without her control gathering towards a central point.

Maggots on pizza boxes merged with rotting vegetables, broken electronics, plastic bags and bottles as Mush formed a hulking trash body around himself in the alley below.

Oni Lee advanced on her with his knife raised, she doused his mask with a long blast of pepper spray and he disintegrated in a rain of ash.

Taylor silently berated herself for being caught napping and sent out swarms from where she’d hidden them under bushes and in drains to be ready for her call to action.

She tracked everyone in the area with bugs, one soaked to the skin Merchant who carried a large wrench in one hand flicked his other wrist which caused a mud puddle to leap into the face of an ABB gang member carrying a rifle, blinded before he got cracked across the back of the head with the wrench.

Moist set to work opening a fire hydrant with his wrench as the battle raged around the drug house.

Another clone of Oni Lee advanced on the Merchants near the ABB safe house, Skidmark’s arm swung with a bowling motion and a blue stripe of force flared beneath the teleporting assassin which knocked him back into ABB members by a panel van.

The roar of engines filled the air as Squealer’s eight wheeled vehicle reversed away from the building, heavy chains threaded through blown out windows ripped open the entire wall and Merchants scrambled up and over the wreckage to get inside.

Oni Lee brawled with Mush. Taylor used the opportunity and transferred maggots from old pizza boxes comprising Mush’s trash body onto Oni Lee. “At least I’ll be able to track him now,” she thought.

The assassin’s knife sliced through the animated trash to little effect, until Oni Lee punched into the excavated scar garbage exoskeleton up to his elbow and left a grenade behind.

Mush pivoted and threw a mass of compacted detritus towards a group of ABB gangers taking cover behind a car which then exploded as the assassin’s grenade went off.

Taylor assessed the battlefield, gang color emblazoned ABB members exchanged fire with Merchants of all types as Oni Lee clones appeared and disappeared defending against the Merchants raid.

But even four or five Oni Lee clones could overcome just how much the ABB was outnumbered by the Merchants and pinned by suppressive fire from Squealers’ wheeled monstrosity.

Skidmark created a blueshifted zone which threw Oni Lee flat against wall, only to have another Oni Lee clone appear to the left of the Merchant leader, his knife pulled back ready to strike.

Taylor dive bombed Oni Lee’s face with a collection of flies, mosquitoes and moths, which forced him to step back into the blueshifted zone and get slammed into the wall on top of the first Oni Lee clone held off the ground.

A third Oni Clone teleported to Skidmarks right side, this time swarms clotheslined Oni Lee with spider silk rope attached to silk drogue chutes improvised from two spare pieces of silk fabric which pulled him in again to land on top of the previous two clones.

Moist finally opened the fire hydrant with a lunge against his large wrench and twisted his hands in the air which redirected the spray of water at yet another Oni Lee clone to get knocked back into blueshift zone and add to the barnacle of bodies in the center of the wall.

All four Oni Lee clones were thoroughly hosed by Moist, which incidentally knocked off most of the maggots to leave thin ashy mud behind as the ABB cape fled the scene.

Taylor sensed those remaining maggots appear and disappear as Oni Lee teleported away before they were beyond her range to detect.

Bugs returned her silk line and drogue chutes to her as she stabbed an epipen in a downed ABB ganger who struggled to breathe.

"Hey, thanks... WHOA, hey baby, remember that bad trip I had from the brown herbal ecstasy? You didn’t slip me any of that again, didja?”

Squealer said “Naw, I’m saving that for Easter.”

Skidmark turned to Taylor, “You saved us a buncha hassle. Telepor-tard’s a pain in the ass to deal with.”

Mush reformed his torso, a drug ravaged face peeking out. “You a rogue or what?”

“Naw, just look at that custom outfit, she’s goin' the merc route, obviously.” Squealer said while she pulled folded bills secured by a rubber band from her cleavage, “Call that a retainer to NOT work for the ABB, or whatever.”

Taylor caught the slightly sweaty bundle of money and tried to say something, but the impact of Oni Lee’s knife across her throat earlier made talking more difficult than she expected.

Skidmark said, “So, whadda we call you? Swarm girl? Oh, hey… how ’bout Fly Girl like them dancers on that old TV show? Or Bug girl… Bug Buggy Buggerson, Bugfuck….”

Skidmark’s face lit up with a lopsided smile.

Taylor thought, “Oh hell no.”

She directed the closest flying bugs directly down the Merchant leader’s throat.

“That’s it! Yer Bu…*kawff*”

…TERfly,” Taylor said forcefully, her painful throat disguising her voice, “Call me Butterfly.”

Mush asked confusedly, “Like the knife?” as Skidmark hacked up a lung.

Moist wrenched the fire hydrant closed and asked, “Ain’t butterflies got wings?”

Taylor gestured with the folded bills, “Hey, I’m saving up.”

Skidmark guffawed, as if that was the funniest thing he’d ever heard, before he turned and barked orders to the Merchants who had finished loading their plunder into Squealer’s vehicle. “See which o’ these assholes got keys to any of these cars. Waste not, fuckin’ want not.”

Squealer pulled out another stack of bills and a pen from a hip pocket of her denim cutoffs, “Tell you what, if you see any other Tinkers out and about call me and let me know where.”

“Um, why?”

“Y’see, Tinkers get inspired when they can paw over another Tinker’s stuff. How d’you think Armsmaster came up with that super-cycle of his? By copying one of my designs, that’s how.”

Taylor looked incredulously at the welded Frankenstein of a vehicle behind the Tinker and said, “I’m not going to fight any Heroes….”

“…and I’m not asking you to. Just call this number,” Squealer pointed to the phone number she’d scribbled on the top bill of the second stack of money she handed Taylor, “and I’ll handle the rest. Any Tinker, even Leet, just call and you’ll get double what we paid you tonight, or more.”

"That's all?"

"That's all."

Skidmark picked up something near a fallen ABB gang member and tossed it to the ground in front of her and said, “OK, Butterfly… here’s yer namesake, catch you around.”

Taylor picked up the folding blade and tucked it into her storage compartment beneath her armor along with the cash.

Merchants drove off in former ABB cars and vans or piled back into the ramshackle vehicle which roared off into the distance before the night abruptly dropped into silence which left Taylor alone amid the aftermath of her first cape fight.

The sound of approaching sirens broke her from her reverie.

Taylor jogged few blocks away until she sensed no people with her bugs and was sure no one had followed her so she felt it was safe to turn towards home.

She had made it almost halfway home before she stopped dead in her tracks with a shudder at a horrible thought.

“Holy shit, did I just join the Merchants?”

 

Gaiatsu 2.2

Taylor moved a load of laundry from the washer into the dryer before she walked downstairs dressed in a turtleneck and baggy jeans to greet her father Saturday morning.

Danny looked up from the paper and his cup of coffee and said, “You’re up late. No jog this morning?”

Taylor cleared her throat and said in a scratchy voice, "I must've caught something last night..." and continued the thought,"...like a knife to the neck."

Danny distractedly returned to reading the paper. "I've got a couple of job leads I need to follow up on down at the Union hall, could mean work for thirty guys, so you're on your own for today."

"OK, I'll be fine."

The regular morning route continued and with one last side-hug Danny went to work and she was left to her own devices.

Taylor flopped down on the couch with her ‘Hero’ notebook and began an after action forensic of her first night out.

The Good: Having spiders make lengths of silk rope turned out to be useful, she should prepare a lot more pre-made lengths inside the back of her shawl or under the skirt of her costume to join up on the fly. Once she’d maced Oni Lee she had placed bugs on all the guns to know where they pointed, the best armor is not getting hit in the first place, after all.

She ran her fingers through her hair and discovered a large scab, probably from when Oni Lee knocked her down the fire escape.

The Bad: Injured by Oni Lee, maybe add a drawstring hood to her shawl? Transportation was also a problem. Since she was too young for a car or even a scooter maybe a bicycle could fill that role. She should also use the leftover squares of silk to make covers for running shoes since jogging everywhere in just the stocking feet of her costume sucked. Also she was so damn thirsty when she got home, she’d have to modify her mask to at least be able to drink something or risk keeling over of heat exhaustion once summer arrived.

She went to the kitchen to get a glass of water and paused to look at her reflection in a mirror on her way back.

Taylor yanked the collar of her turtleneck down and grimaced at the purple bruise on her neck just starting to turn yellow at the edges, then returned to her notes.

The Ugly: Knife to the throat. Add something like corset stays for greater protection? Guns, again. Need to do more than passively avoid them, wrap the triggers in silk to prevent them from firing in the first place. Awareness, as she was completely caught off guard by the appearance of Oni Lee. If she kept curtains of gnats, mites, and no-see-ums at concentric circles around her, she'd get early warning about Oni Lee or others next time. Or, would that literally paint a bulls-eye on wherever she hid? It was something to consider at least, and might even be a good misdirection tactic. Maybe a 3D grid of small bugs instead? She should also look into some hand-to-hand training since getting whacked across the shins with a broom handle by Sophia didn’t count as combat experience at all. The shin, forearm, elbow and knee pads she’d added to the silk costume had been useful when she tumbled down the fire escape to get away from Oni Lee, though.

She wrote down all the details she could remember of the capes she had met and their powers while she sat on the couch. Just because she fell in with the Merchants in common cause against Oni Lee that was no guarantee they’d go easy on her in her Hero career, and she’d need to brainstorm how to deal with the four clones he’d had in one place at the same time, if that actually was his upper limit.

The dryer buzz from upstairs signaled the end of its cycle and she took the basket to her room, promptly folded her clothes and unzipped the mesh bag which normally would have held her delicates, but had just been used to literally launder money.

She looked at the washed and air-cycle dried stack of bills from the Merchants on her desk. Proof that crime does pay, but was she actually a criminal, or just a subcontractor? At least now she'd be able to afford those anti-shatter glare reducing prescription safety lenses for her mask so she wouldn't have to wear her glasses underneath.

Taylor flopped on her bed and stared at the ceiling while her thoughts raced. That one bill with Squealers phone number was still in her costumes’ storage compartment. Taylor felt conflicted and wondered if she would ever call that number and bring the Merchants down on the head of an unsuspecting Tinker. In either case she would have to buy a burner phone, or better yet, two of them later today anyway.

Damn, did she really name herself Butterfly? Well, it sure beat Skidmarks’ favorite suggestion. Maybe she could add orange to her costume and call herself Monarch? Or azure and venture out as the Blue Morpho? No… she’d constantly have to explain that one. It’s not like her cape name was set in stone just because she blurted out the first thing she could think of to keep Skidmark from calling her…

She shivered in disgust at the very thought.

Half the bills she hid inbetween her mattresses while the rest made it into her purse before she went back downstairs, checked the pantry, and wrote up a shopping list.
Taylor caught the bus and spent the rest of the day shopping for a better first aid kit, anti-bruise cream for her throat, and more epipens at a Pharmacy, and more turtlenecks at a discount clothing store. On impulse she also picked up mini binoculars at the sporting goods store which would have helped scout the house last night. A couple of cheap flashlights and a cigarette lighter or two she could throw for distraction purposes rounded out her purchases of ‘camping gear’. The hardware store offered up a few small items which should come in handy later, besides she had wanted a set of mini screwdrivers to tighten the screws on her glasses for a while now.

She talked the gun store owner into letting her get a collapsible police baton and a rugged bowie knife to add to her arsenal. If she’d had either one of those in her hand she might have been able to block Oni Lee’s knife from hitting her throat last night. Too bad she was underage to buy a taser or stun gun, but when she showed the guy behind the counter the bruise on her neck from ‘that asshole boyfriend’ she’d just made up he sold her two canisters the bear-strength mace and pointed out which self-defense classes on his bulletin board and suggested which were more suitable for someone of her body type. Judo, yes. Boxing, no.

Just as she was nearing the checkout in the grocery store an idea occurred to her, and with a predatory grin she emptied the entire display rack of disposable cameras into her basket.

She finished her shopping and was back home in plenty of time to make a lasagna with the ingredients she'd bought and she watched a movie with her father when he came home.

The pleasant Sunday afternoon she'd spent with her Dad after she fixed a late breakfast reminded her of some pleasant family memories. She wanted to hold on to moments like these, uneasy about what revealing her cape status to her father would do to their relationship. The concurrently running project to make jogging shoe spider silk slipcovers used up the last pieces of her spare silk cloth by the end of the day.

Monday arrived with the buzz of her alarm clock and her typical morning jog.

Unpleasant memories surfaced as she jogged near Emma's house. Her tormentor was still asleep, which gave her the perfect opportunity to send aphids to bite off a few more follicles of hair.

Taylor packed her shawl into the duffel bag and directed hundreds of Black Widows inside to add the drawstring hood during the day at school.

She dropped by the office, showed off her neck bruise and claimed Sophia assaulted her after school on Friday off school property. Then she explained her plan to the office staff who signed off on it since it required no effort on their part.

Her school day began as uneventfully as possible due to Sophia's banishment to in-school suspension in the third floor classroom with all the other malcontents, Madison’s focus on the battle to repair her reputation, and Emma's absence probably due to Doctor's appointments.

Taylor made sure her bugs dropped a condom on Madison’s chair in every class that day to keep the momentum going even though she was dressed chastely for a change. At this rate Taylor would need to have her swarms get more from the Pharmacy the next night she went out in costume.


Her spiders added to the hood on her shawl or worked in teams weaving two foot lengths of braided spider silk for her to combine later. Taylor noticed her range encompassed some of the houses in the neighborhood around Winslow depending where her classes were located.

Perhaps she could cultivate some swarms there as well, if only to help feed the Black Widows she brought with her almost every day to weave under her instruction. Follow the advice the Freshman History teacher was giving down the hall: Stalin had said quantity has a quality all its' own.

Just before lunch Taylor decided to target Sophia. Nothing too obvious today, just bugs biting through one in ten strands of elastic in her athletic gear and socks. Merely a minor annoyance now, but by then end of the week half her workout clothes would be worthless. If Sophia suited up for Track practice she could do the same to her street clothes before catching the bus home.

The last class of the day was Math with Mr. Quinlan. However, Taylor's real attention was focused on the meeting between Principal Blackwell and Alan Barnes.

Alan entered, opened his briefcase, and pulled out a sheaf of defaced modeling glossies and advertisements featuring his daughter.

Principal Blackwell held up a placating hand to interrupt him, "Have you ever heard of Occam's Razor?"

"Yes, the idea that the simplest answer is most often true."

Principal Blackwell nodded and continued, "Here at Winslow problems with students crop up so often I've used different management techniques to deal with them. Pass me one of those pages and I'll demonstrate."

"One of the simplest is 'W5+H', asking Who, What, Where, When, Why, and How."

Principal Blackwell held up the page with crude graffiti on it and said, "Your daughter is not the Who we're looking for, that would be the one who made this, which we can narrow down to anyone with a marker."

"The What is the ad itself, publically available in the Boardwalk's weekly magazine, defaced in the manner of uncounted Pee-Chee folders over the years."

"Where they were found was on the row of lockers adjacent to Emma's own locker, accessible by anyone in the school. When they were put there we know was during the class period after lunch. Why they were put up is anyone's guess , but it was April Fools Day, and as for the How, we have no hall pass system at Winslow so that narrows it down to anyone who left class for whatever reason."

"So this school is taking no responsibility for this outrage to my Daughter?" asked Alan Barnes.

"There is no responsibility to take, Mr. Barnes. We recovered a few flyers but you took the rest with you and as such you could have manufactured more on your own in the same style over the weekend. But simply put this… all of this,” Principal Blackwell said as she gestured to the defaced flyers the lawyer had placed on her desk, “is just not enough evidence for action on our part."

Principal Blackwell looked into Alan Barnes eyes and said, "But I know none of that matters to you since you would divert even more resources away from educating the students at Winslow by bringing a lawsuit anyway.”

The lawyer smiled, "Well, that is my job."

"Yes, which is why we're having this meeting at all. So what can we do to work this situation out without the time, trouble, and expense of a lawsuit?"

Taylor's attention came back to herself as she gathered the half-complete project her spiders worked on all day and board the bus home. When her spiders finished the hood tomorrow she'd be able to go out and try her hand at Hero-ing again. She couldn’t help but think about the meeting she'd just overheard.

The way Principal Blackwell had methodically taken apart the validity of the evidence against Emma could just as well be turned against her own diary of the bullying campaign since the beginning of sophomore year. If she'd brought in her best evidence of bullying for it to be dissected and brushed aside like that, Taylor wasn't sure what she would do. Kind of sucks to learn your knockout punch is in reality a powder puff.

Her mood turned dark as the bus roared away from Winslow, "There is no Justice," Taylor thought, "There's just this."