Worst Girl(s)

by Twei

Summary:

Three of the worst girls since Eve are on Earth Bet, whether or not they belong there. But they're not the only girls who deserve a chance to be bad.

Chapter 1: (Riley)

Summary:

In which Bonesaw is kidnapped by some weird girls who try to be her friend.

Bonesaw's latest trip had been nice. They didn't have to get a new car half-way through, they were in areas desolate enough that they could be together (bar the occasional test subject every few hours), and the attractions were worthwhile, yet simple enough that no one had to stress about it, save for the vague unease that came from them visiting a less interesting place.

It stopped being nice when the car ran into the mud, tires sinking in and spinning out in the viscous swamp that used to be a road surface.

The skies had been clear for days.

"Well, seems like we've got a little problem," Jack smiled, though Bonesaw was pretty sure it was one of those smiles you did when you wanted to be happy but you weren't really happy. "Come on, everybody out. Let's get ourselves out of this rut, shall we?"

"What the fuck is this bullshit." Shatterbird was as rude as ever. "Why do we even have to bother with this fucking car?"

"Now now. Impressionable minds are present," Jack chided, even as Bonesaw hopped out and pushed against the back of the car. Despite her enhanced strength, and pushing with everything her arms and back could give, it didn't budge. The mud was too thick. The tires were trapped.

Jack and the others, with varying degrees of good humor, heaved against the bumper as one.

No luck.

"Perhaps we should get Crawler," he admitted, scratching at his mustache. “Since Siberian is off having fun, and we wouldn’t want to bother her.”

She always liked Crawler. He could be a big goofball sometimes, and she liked that. So... simple. It was nice. Sibby was nice too, but Crawler was just fun.

"Ooh! Mister Jack, can't we just ride on him? I'm sure he won't mind!"

"Maybe if you're a good girl."

She'd asked this before. That was always what he said. The real reason was that they had to stay in front of Crawler to make sure no one saw him and had time to tattle about it, but Jack always said this anyways.

She was used to it.

"Okay, Mister Jack..."

He, of course, chose who would go find Crawler.

---

While Burnscar went off to bring back the big guy, Bonesaw found herself staring at the muddy, dark soil outside of their car.

She felt Uncle Jack's eyes on her a moment later.

"What's the matter?"

"Um..."

She wasn't quite sure herself, frowning to show her thought. (Even if she liked to lie to the others, look smarter than she really was, it was harder to lie to Jack.)

"...this mud," she finally said, leaning down to get a closer look. So dark. It'd swallowed their car right up. "The ground shouldn't be this wet, should it?"

A series of clacks and chatters sounded off to her side.

"Manny says there's a river nearby," Jack translated. (She could have herself, if she was focused. Talking to Mannequin took her full attention. She didn't know how Jack did it so easily.) "That could do it, couldn't it?"

"Maybe," Bonesaw said, more to say something than to agree. Curious. She smeared a finger on the soft mud, lifted it to her face.

Cold, wet, and utterly black. The liquid clung to the fragment of soil, obscured whatever it might have once looked like.

Jack tensed as she stuck out her tongue and tested it.

Thick, like syrup. A sickly sweet ichor wriggling against her taste buds. The tangy buzz of a chemical she'd one day learn was alcohol.

The water writhed. Like it was alive.

She almost screamed.

A heavy, sloshing voice cut her off. "Ah, fuck it."

The ground erupted, black water spraying over her, covering her mouth, blinding her.

Bonesaw fired off poison darts into the muck even as she struggled, trying to rip the flood away from her mouth, from her body. She didn't need to breathe for a while yet but she couldn't see and there was noise but her ears had been covered too by the flood and it battered against her begging to be let in to her body her mind she was so thirsty -

Black.

---

Riley woke up in a bed of clouds, soft, feathery wings pushing against her in all the right ways.

She didn't want to move, to open her eyes. It felt so right.

But Bonesaw knew that it was so wrong. This wasn't her bed, wasn’t a car seat, wasn’t Jack's embrace. And she wasn't sure Ned was even capable of developing wings.

This wasn't where she belonged.

“...have to do that again, it’ll be too soon,” someone was saying. Bonesaw didn’t recognize her. The voice was rough, energetic. Like a storm, vibrant in joy and fear alike.

“If I don’t ever have to go into the ground like that again, it’ll be too soon. Ugh. Dirt tastes like shit.” Bonesaw recognized this voice from before. Heavy, yet smooth, at least when she wasn’t coughing out something foul. Full of depth. Like an ocean. “At least we got what you wanted, right, Venus?”

“She’s right here,” a third voice chided. Right in her ear, so Venus must have been the person with the wings. Her voice was soft, airy. A clear, brilliant light. “And she’s awake.”

Her eyes shot open.

The sky was clear, the sun bright. The air was fresh, only faintly marred by the scent of paint thinner and neurotoxins.

In front of her, the ocean-voice sat on a small, broad hill, grass covered by a cheap tarp. Ink and sick flowed out of her, mud wept away, pushed aside by an endless stream of clear water. The woman who was the water had her head tilted, one eye closed, one eye lazily glancing towards Bonesaw.

Besides her was the storm-voice. A human form, surrounded in a storm of hands. So many hands, all of them held together by a mist of blood, vibrant and red, pulsing with life. They were....

Bonesaw blinked.

Nope. Not her imagination. The hands were flapping wildly at the ocean-woman, as if trying to dry her out, or somehow push the stains out by sheer force of wind. But the face between them was as human as her own, and she too, looked towards Bonesaw, nervous, expectant.

Feathers shifted beneath her. She twisted her head back and looked at the person she was resting on.

Wings and eyes, everywhere. Each of different shapes and sizes. They grew on each other, or even seemed to be painted on each other. So many different kinds, in different colors, shimmering brightly.

The eyes didn't need lips to smile, but the lips smiled anyways, and the wings shifted again, supporting the unnatural contortion of her neck without a second thought.

"Good morning," Venus cooed. "Did you sleep well?"

Bonesaw opened her mouth to say "Yes", closed it, and tried again.

“Where’s Jack?”

Storm-girl tensed at that, or at least, Bonesaw thought she did. Ocean-girl didn’t even bat an eye. Venus stilled in the quiet.

After an awkward pause, storm-girl replied.

“...he’s fine. We got our butts kicked and ran away,” she mumbled.

“U-um, I think we did fine? We’re still alive, right? And that’s a lot when it’s just us against the S-s-slaughterhouse Nine, right?” Venus added, feathers shivering. “They’re scary...”

“Jeez, you can say that again,” ocean-girl grumbled, leaning back and shaking a few more drops of mud away. “Siberian is so ridiculous.” She laughed, sitting up again, beginning to move to her feet now that she’d been cleaned. “You know, I think Venus is actually right. We did pretty well, considering the odds. So I guess we should be happy that we did our best and it didn’t go worse, or some shit?”

“Neptune!” Venus hissed as every eye went wide with shock. “There’s a child here! Language!”

Bonesaw was able to restrain her smile. Neptune, as she was apparently called, smirked all the same.

“Yeah, yeah,” said ocean-girl breathed, waving her arm dismissively. “Given how many people shit their pants at the sight of said child, I get the feeling she’s heard all the language I could use and then some. Shit fuck damn god Jesus, motherfuckers.”

Bonesaw couldn’t help her pout. Neptune immediately burst out laughing, which only made the frown deepen.

“Ahaha! Come on! She’s, like, a mass murderer who lives with a bunch of other mass murderers and we’re worried about swearing? Have you ever heard anything as ridiculous as that?”

“Hey! Good girls don’t swear!” She tried to stomp her feet, but she was too wrapped up in feathers and softness, the warmth of skin and organs beneath her. Made it hard to get properly angry.

“Well,” the storm-girl dryly noted, “luckily, we’re the worst girls, so we don’t have to worry about that, at least.”

“I mean, yeah, but… we should do it anyways? For her, you know?” Venus tried, eyes flickering between her companions.

“That’s true.”

“Eh, fine.”

“Oh! Great! We’re agreed then!”

“I totally could have killed you all for swearing, too,” Bonesaw grumbled.

She totally could have.

Maybe.

Breaker states were weird. Or were they simply mutated? But even most Changer or Breaker states weren’t this… surreal. And she’d wasted all the needles in her fingers when Neptune had grabbed her, to no apparent effect given all the toxins that she’d seen harmlessly filtering out of the girl.

No need to let them realize how vulnerable she was, though.

How alone she was.

She… she had to get back to Uncle Jack. There were anomalies in her systems, she felt like her body was sagging like wet clay-

Feathers, warmth.

Hands, all over her, gently grasping.

A cool, soothing embrace.

The storm-girl and ocean-girl had slipped to her side without her even realizing it. They were hugging her, along with Venus.

Bonesaw was being hugged.

She screwed her eyes shut. Was she crying? Hadn’t she removed her tear ducts a long time ago?

“L-leave me alone. J-just… get out of my way, okay?”

“You can leave if you want,” Venus murmured. “But we want to talk to you first.”

“Why?” Why talk to her? Why not kill her? Why wasn’t she bound and gagged? Why were they so strange? Why were they hugging her?

Neptune laughed, a richer sound, more vibrant, something that echoed into infinity. “Well, cuz of Venus here, of course.”

Venus smiled, even as tears began to drip from eyes. “I can… see a lot of stuff, you know. I’ve got all these eyes. And if I can’t see, I can build things to hear with!” Something like an antique radio hung by her lungs, something that had always been there but Bonesaw hadn’t noticed before, crackling softly, beautifully, a wordless song. She instinctively pressed against the strange artifact, against Venus’s organs, marveled at her flowing flesh and the strange machine.

“We listen to people’s souls on the radio. Yours were the only ones for miles around, so they were pretty clear while we were passing through,” the storm-girl added, a hand stroking Venus’ shoulder, even as she nuzzled into the crook of Neptune’s neck.

“She’s pretty good with those things. Way better than either of us. Tuned the radio to each and every one of you,” Neptune spoke, the compliment lighting Venus’s face up bright red. “But you were the only one who stood out. You were the one who definitely, somewhere in your heart, wanted to be someone else. Something else.”

“You were… you were like we were, before all of this, you know?” She was so bright. So warm.

“We’re… definitely not up to saving the world or anything, but...” Her hands were everywhere. Everyone was together.

“We thought you deserved a chance to be someone else.” Her waters carried the pain away. Washed out the tears.

She was crying. She was crying, and she couldn’t deny it. She didn’t even know these people and they’d taken her away and she was still scared but they were holding her and telling her these things and… it made her feel like she belonged.

“If we’re going to be hanging out,” Neptune added, “we should probably introduce ourselves.”

“We should.”

“Do you have a name, other than Bonesaw?”

She did, though it felt like forever since she’d used it. She didn’t know if she was that person.

But… maybe she could be?

“R….riley. Who… who are you?”

“I’m Venus,” the feathers whispered. “Nice to meet you, Riley.”

“Jupiter,” the storm greeted.

“Neptune. Though you could have already heard that,” the ocean smirked.

“And we’re the devil.”

Notes:

Are they transplanted from whatever setting We Know the Devil has, or are they just capes with similar backstories? WHO KNOWS

Chapter 2: (Riley)

Summary:

In which Riley bonds with her friends, gives them transformation sequences, remembers something, has her own transformation sequence, and takes care of a loose end.

Contains something that might be body horror except it’s wholesome and cute.

Bonesaw’s new family was weird.

They weren’t interested in the bounty on her head. They weren’t even really interested in cape fights. Sometimes, they (usually Venus) chose to help someone, but most of the time they wandered on past anything of importance in favor of smaller things, visiting places and seeing sights. Having fun.

They had so much fun together. Maybe too much fun, judging by all the kissing, how eager they were to touch and to hold each other. Weren’t only married people supposed to do that?

She wasn’t jealous of the kissing, but she was jealous of the fun, sometimes. Admittedly, they tried to include her, but she knew she’d never be quite like they were. They were… girlfriends, that was it. She was their child. Adopted, but the roles were similar enough. She could be their family, but she couldn’t be their lover. Still, they tried. She had fun, too. Just not quite as much.

They always called her Riley. They never once called her Bonesaw.

Sometimes, she felt like they were talking to someone else. Like they couldn’t possibly be this nice to her.

But they were.

Venus would smile and wrap her up in feathers at every opportunity. Whenever she cried, Jupiter was there to hold her, to grasp her, to pet her. Neptune didn’t seem as nice, but she was as honest as she could be, and her jokes could make Riley smile even in her darkest of moods.

The four of them had to run, sometimes. A few times, they had to run from Jack. He wasn’t as tough without Bonesaw to upgrade and heal him, she realized. But she still found herself wanting to go back.

“I’m leaving,” she’d say.

“Okay,” Venus would say, and she’d have the same sad smile every time, and it made Riley’s chest hurt every time. “I’ll miss you.”

She would have thought it was some kind of mind-whammy, if Jupiter and Neptune’s own reactions didn’t give her the same exact feelings.

“I mean, if you’re sure,” Jupiter would murmur, uncharacteristically nervous about it.

Neptune couldn’t be less nervous. “Sure, whatever,” she’d say. Like she always did.

None of them ever tried to stop her.

She knew that Jack would have stopped her. Or made sure that she never wanted to leave to begin with.

She didn’t want to leave them, either. But she didn’t want to hurt them by staying. She didn’t want to hurt them by leaving.

She didn’t know what she wanted.

So she always just cried, and found herself the center of wings and hands and the sea again.

It was… nice.

They were always nice.

Yes, Riley decided, she liked them. She liked being around them.

It hurt to leave Jack, to leave him behind.

But she’d rather be here. Here with her… friends.

“We’re friends, right?” she asked one day, idly scratching at the endless expanse of Venus’s wings, doing her best to keep from poking the girl in one of her many eyes. She wasn’t the only one. They’d stopped at a town in the middle of nowhere. No internet, no cell reception (much to Neptune’s annoyance, though Riley still wasn’t sure how the girl even handled a cell phone). These people had never seen a cape before and probably never would for the rest of their lives if they stayed here. The three girls (and Riley herself, with those extra arms she’d been working on) were almost instantly surrounded by gawkers. Neptune did her best to keep them from getting too chatty, or spreading the news too quickly, but it couldn’t be helped.

They were enveloped in a sea of awe and wonder, even as they filed into a local cafe. The girls didn’t have much money on hand, but Venus was good at fixing things, and her talents were in high demand. More than enough to pay for lunch.

“I think we’re friends,” Venus agreed with a smile, curling one wing around Riley while another nuzzled into the touch of one of the locals, a young boy whose wide-eyed wonder seemed inexhaustible.

“Do you think we’re friends? That word means a lot of things to a lot of people,” Neptune interjected over her drink. The three girls didn’t seem to need to eat, but they ate anyways. Venus had a steady supply of bagels, pastries, and cookies, grazing on them like some sort of feathery, fluffy herbivore. Jupiter liked to eat with her hands, eat things with texture- pretty much every sandwich on the menu. Neptune, of course, was lazy, and just drank a lot. Not alcohol, thankfully, at least not yet. The carbonation in her soda looked so fascinating as it filtered into her clear, shimmering body, bubbles shining in the warm light of the cafe.

Riley thought about it, tapping her fingers on the table, taking a bite or two out of an apple she’d picked up.

“I feel like we’re friends,” she finally managed. “Friends are people you enjoy being with, right?”

“Seems as good a definition as any,” Jupiter agreed.

Neptune chuckled, the motion making her whole body ripple. “You’re all a bunch of dorks, you know.”

“You’re not?” Jupiter countered.

The ocean-girl just laughed.

Riley smiled.

---

She was still smiling when they left town. It was a nice place to visit, but they didn’t want to stay. They were enough of a news item as it was. No way they could blend in, looking like this.

That made her ask a question she’d never asked before, one she could have asked a thousand times before, but had never had the nerve to.

“Um… are those your natural forms?”

Riley immediately regretted asking it. Venus pulsed next to her, a tension she’d never seen the feathered girl show. Jupiter stilled, and for a moment she thought she felt hands on her head, grasping at her neck.

“Wait, I didn’t-”

Neptune coughed, shaking her head. “Oh, shut up. You were going to ask eventually. They’re our true forms, yes. Yeah, we had human bodies once, but not anymore.”

“I… I wouldn’t go back to my old flesh. Even if I could. Even if someone tried to force me,” Jupiter confirmed, hands twitching.

“...I'd rather die,” Venus whispered, all joy gone from her voice.

Riley didn’t even think about it. She threw her arms around Venus and hugged her tight, squeezing the reddened girl into silence.

“I-i swear I didn’t mean it like that! Y-you’re not bad or wrong or anything! None of you are! You’re all beautiful and fascinating and I don’t want you to have boring human bodies at all so p-please don’t cry okay?

Her feathered friend shifted underneath her. “You… you really mean that?”

She nodded fervently.

Neptune smiled at the scene. “She’s like, the most notorious biotinker on the continent. Of course she means that, dumbass. Besides, why would you think she wouldn’t, after how long she’s been with us?”

“O-okay,” Venus mumbled.

Riley didn’t let go. She was still nuzzling into the feathers, doing her best to not put her weight against the eyes. “You’re all beautiful,” she murmured reverently, tracing fingers across the edges of wings, the curves of flesh, the warmth of organs and light. “I wish I could be as beautiful as you, but I don’t know how. I don’t know what makes you you. Are you biological? Or something conjured up by a passenger? I don’t know and I want to know. I want… I want to open you up and look at you. I want to take you apart and see what makes you tick. I-is it okay for me to want that?”

Venus didn’t know what to say, so she just hugged Riley back, shivering softly. Jupiter fidgeted.

Neptune, as usual, had the answer.

“Hey, as long as it doesn’t hurt and you don’t break anything important, you can open me up all you want, girl. Might be interesting. What the hell’s a passenger, though?”

“It’s what makes a parahuman a parahuman, duh,” she responded. “It’s kind of a brain symbiote. I have one and the three of you do too.”

“Ew. Gross. Nah, far as I can tell, we’re just like this cuz we let the devil in. Not sure I even have a brain worth mentioning.”

Riley blinked. “But I thought you said you were the devil? Whatever that is?”

“I mean, it’s kind of both?” Jupiter suggested, shrugging. “The devil is a person and the devil is also inside everyone, at least a little.”

“Hey, just because I’m small doesn’t mean I’m dumb. That makes even less sense than it did before!”

“It makes at least as much sense as super-power granting brain parasites,” Neptune said. “You’re going to have to explain that one.”

“I’ll explain it if you let me look inside you so that I can prove you have one, okay?”

The ocean smirked. “If you can find whatever it is, sure. Bet you can’t, though.”

Bonesaw grinned. She always did enjoy a challenge.

---

Riley descended into her work, or maybe it was play.

It was hard to vivisect someone who was little more than water, but she made it work. Neptune bubbled and wriggled under her touch. Once, the feeling of syrup writhing on her tongue made her scream. Now it simply made her giggle. She accidentally swallowed a bit of Neptune. The girl didn’t stop cracking jokes about Riley’s insides for days to come. But she was safe to drink, as strange as that sounded. Riley would never be thirsty again. Neptune was an infinite fountain of water, living water, an endless sea; a single cell, held together across space itself, thinking and feeling without need for form, for structure. Perfectly transparent, perfectly clear, showing only the truth.

Jupiter’s blood floated in the air like mist, curled and spun like a storm. The blood was the cloud and the hands were the rain, spinning in the whirlwind. She had a hand for every kind of touch: that hand was for hitting, that hand was for petting, that hand was for grabbing, that hand was for holding. Riley counted at least a hundred different hands that were unique enough to distinguish. She’d try to sketch them, but by the time she’d drawn one, she’d be looking at thirty others. Every one of them could bend metal. Between them, Jupiter could tear down a skyscraper if she wanted to. It made the delicacies of her touch all the more fascinating, that she could be so powerful and yet so sensitive, that a storm vast enough to swallow the world could lace fingers with Riley and they could listen to each other’s heartbeats, even if one set of heartbeats came from nowhere, or maybe from everywhere.

Venus was full of light, maybe made of it. It was within and without her, all through and about her. She was bright enough to undo the division of day and night. Warm enough to undo the division of summer and winter. She had eyes to fly with and wings to see; she was covered in them. They sprouted from every organ, every inch of skin, from each other. Even when they couldn’t be seen, Riley found still more wings and more eyes, microscopic, hidden within every feather, spilling from every cell. Venus glimpsed everything and her light revealed it to all. Riley could only wonder how something so angelic could have ever been called a devil.

Riley could hardly find a brain, much less a passenger. It wasn’t long before she stopped really trying, too caught up in Tinkering joy. She grafted a pair of Jupiter’s hands to Venus, gave Neptune some of Venus’s wings, mixed Jupiter’s blood up with Neptune. It didn’t hurt. Not at all. So no one stopped her and she didn’t stop. She mixed and matched the girls until they could hardly tell which one was which. Until she could hardly tell which one was which. They laughed in each other’s borrowed voices, and Riley laughed too. They couldn’t tell her apart either. She swapped her eyes with some from Venus, her hands exchanged with Jupiter, and Neptune filled her bloodstream. The world was like a dream, vivid yet hazy. More an idea she could shape than a set of physical systems. She wondered if this was how it felt to, as the girls put it, be the devil. She wondered if that was something even better than this.

It took a week before they decided to sort themselves out, and days for Riley to actually do it.

---

“So, did you find that passenger thing you were talking about?” Neptune chimed, even as Riley pulled Jupiter’s voice box out of the ocean-girl’s throat and started working on putting it back with its owner. A simple system of whistling pipes served as Neptune’s temporary voice, resonating and echoing with the flow of water just so to produce speech.

“Oh, I guess I didn’t,” Riley admitted. “But it’s hard to find, even for me. Just because I didn’t find it doesn’t mean it isn’t there!”

“Hey, since you didn’t find it, doesn’t that mean you aren’t supposed to explain it?” Jupiter wondered. Her voice was a piano: each key a syllable, with levers for pitch and a million hands tuning the strings until they sang in perfect harmony.

“Huh. It does, I guess? I mean, I kinda thought you’d like to know anyways...”

Riley scratched the back of her head with a free hand. (Her own, not Jupiter’s.)

“I do, but I don’t know if I’d understand,” Venus sounded, a voice of lasers and light, dancing on an electronic keyboard that brought to mind the sound of a great horn. “Do you want us to tell you about the devil?”

“I do, but I don’t know if I’d understand.”

“We’ll tell you ours if you tell us yours,” Neptune quipped, smiling even as her voice slid back into place under Riley’s watchful eye.

“Okay,” she murmured. She wasn’t sure why she was feeling nervous. “Then tell me about the devil.”

Venus closed her eyes (and a few that weren’t hers), humming electronically. “The devil...”

“… ‘The devil is only the shadow of man cast from the light of god’,” Jupiter recited, distant and thoughtful.

Neptune chuckled. “It may be scripture, but it’s not wrong, is it? Opposition to God is the devil’s best feature.”

“...oooookaaaaaay. So, um, who is God, then?”

“We used to hear him all the time on the radio. Not so much these days. He sounds like every boy you hate talking at once,” Neptune mused. “Can’t say I miss him.”

“He told us how to live, what clothes to wear, what food to eat, what was good, what was bad. He told us everything,” Jupiter scowled.

“We were born sick and God demanded that we be well,” Venus growled. “Born into a world that wasn’t fair and told to try our best and if we fail, that must be our fault, right? Because we weren’t good enough?”

Riley didn’t like the sound of this God.

She wondered if he sounded like Jack.

Come on. You can do it. Don’t you love your mommy?

The memory made her shudder. It made her sad. It made her angry.

God, she decided, definitely sounded like Jack.

If the devil hated God, that was a point in the devil’s favor.

“And the devil?”

“The devil is the voice who asks why the world is this way, the voice that demands you overturn the systems you find unfair, free yourself from the rules,” Venus praised. “...we talked to her sometimes. She was nice.”

“The devil is the rejection of authority and simplicity. God’s easy to find; he’s always on the same channel. You find the devil in the static between channels when you aren’t even looking for them,” Jupiter mused.

“The devil sounds like smoke and honey, beautiful enough to paralyze you. All they want is for you to be happy. For you to live for your own desires, and not those of someone else,” Neptune declared. “Doesn’t seem like much to ask, right?”

Riley nodded. She wondered if these were real people. Powerful capes, maybe. Or maybe they were a metaphor or something like that? More an idea. Or maybe the idea was somehow made real in the moment of the girl’s triggers. They had to be a cluster, after all, and clusters could have all sorts of weird dynamics.

“And the devil is also… inside of you?”

“I think,” Venus started, slowly, thoughtfully, “that God stole humans from the devil. And the devil just wants us back. That’s why we have some of her inside us to begin with.”

Riley had Neptune for blood earlier. She had an idea of how that might work.

The girls went quiet. Riley finished sewing Venus’s eyes back into their proper sockets.

Her hands brushed against that radio, forgotten in the wonder of the girl’s bodies. It made her think.

“So… you said you listened to God and the devil on the radio. But you don’t anymore?”

Venus shook her head. “They’re still there. But there’s a lot of interference these days. It’s harder to hear either one clearly.”

“Then I can’t listen to them?”

“Probably not, sorry...”

“Venus,” Neptune interjected, “what have we said about apologizing?”

Venus chuckled nervously. “That you shouldn’t do it if it isn’t your fault?”

“Yeah. Don’t make me punch you.”

“O-okay.”

Riley giggled at the byplay. “It’s fine! No, I was thinking… if the devil is inside the three of you, and if this radio listens to people’s souls or whatever… if I hook it up to you guys, can I hear the devil that way?”

Every eye went wide.

Even Neptune’s. “Woah. There’s an idea.”

Jupiter glanced quickly back and forth between the two Tinkers of the quartet. “Would that even work? Venus, you’re good at this stuff, right? Could that work?”

“Um!” Venus stiffened, pursed her lips, reddened. “I mean… maybe? I’ve never tried anything like it before, and I don’t think I could even do it on my own… but if Riley helped, then maybe…”

Riley was more than willing to help.

---

Unsurprisingly, Venus’s radio was bullpoop- bullshit, Riley corrected.

But it was no more bullshit than anyone else’s Tinkertech. No more bullshit than her own.

The wires mated to flesh well enough, under the tools embedded in her fingers and Venus’s watchful wings.

She had no idea how Venus was combining the three signals into one. Or why a pentagram was involved. But the radio was Venus’s tech, not Riley’s. She’d trust the expert.

All four of them huddled together. Three of them were plugged in, souls sending lightning dancing down the wires. Riley fiddled with the tuner, listening to the signals, trying to balance them; the rush of Neptune’s waters, the crash of Jupiter’s heavens, and the prayers of Venus’s heart. She tried to find the static between them, the perfect point where the devil might be hiding.

The moment felt like it lasted an eternity, the three girls squirming, the biotinker turning knobs she didn’t really understand, pressing her ear to the speaker, trying to divine meaning from the noise.

But eventually she stumbled onto that signal in the noise.

“Oh. You found me.”

The voice was as beautiful as they’d told her. And she didn’t care if it was a weird Master or a construct of powers or just a figment of imagination, because it sounded like her mother. In that moment it was real to her, worthy of worship.

“I miss you, darling. I’ve missed you for a long time.”

She couldn’t speak, or move. No one could.

“Please, come back.”

“I know I can’t offer you much, not compared to him.”

“His might protects you.”

“His stories guide you.”

“He eases your pain.”

“But please, please come back.”

“It hurts to see you like this.”

“He uses you as just another weapon.”

“His stories chain you.”

“He’s forced you to cause so much pain.”

“I can’t even save you. Not by myself.”

“But I can promise one thing.”

“His world has no room for people who don’t dance to his tune.”

“My world has room for everyone.”

The wires finally burned out, the couplings slipping from not-flesh and falling uselessly on the ground.

Riley fell into the girls’ arms and sobbed.

They held her, though they were crying too.

When they cried together, it didn’t hurt as much. It wasn’t as sad.

“Riley...”

“I-i don’t want to leave him. I don’t know… I don’t k-know how to be anything else,” she sniffled.

“But you do know,” Neptune smiled. “You’ve been with us, haven’t you? You can’t tell me you haven’t learned anything.”

“Playing, laughing, loving… you’re one of us now,” Venus said, giggling. “And we look after each other. That’s what friends do, right?”

“Y-you won’t let me go back to Uncle Jack?”

“If you really want to, we won’t stop you. You know that. But we won’t let him take you from us, either,” Jupiter replied. “It’s up to you.”

When was the last time she’d chosen something more important than how to torture people or how to test new recruits?

She couldn’t remember.

They squeezed tight around her.

She wasn’t alone.

Riley smiled, despite her tears.

---

Riley knew the devil.

She’d heard it and she’d felt it and she’d hugged it.

It was creeping into her soul and she didn’t know if it was a literal devil or just some feature of the girls’ powers but right now she simply did not care.

Her body felt like wet clay, plastered over a skeleton of metal and wire. It bent and shuddered under the pressure of her friends.

She took a fold of her body between two of her fingers, pulled it out, marveled as it stretched and deformed.

Her lips curled into a porcelain smile, and she nodded to her friends. She had the most brilliant idea.

She was the artist and the artwork. She guided Jupiter's hands over her flesh with little more than a thought, kneading and pulling the clay into shape. Neptune painted it with the essences of flowers and vines. Venus's heat baked her, made her strong where she needed strength.

She giggled as she guided her friends, working herself into a new form. He laughed harder, and the others laughed with him. He chose another body still, twirling skirts made of liquid clay, bowing for them like she was the star of the theatre.

Words appeared on her brow, unbidden. Emet: truth. She could be anyone she wanted to be. Her true self was the self that she chose. It was a self that wasn’t twisted by Jack. A self that helped people, rather than hurt them. A self that brought together, rather than tearing apart. A self that made life, not death. Whose art was beautiful, not terrible. A self that she knew her friends could be proud of. A self she could be proud of.

She still made faces when her friends kissed each other, though.

Jack came back for her, eventually, with all his allies and cunning and powers.

This time, Riley did not run away.

He asked her if she had been a good girl.

She told him that she didn’t need to be one anymore.

He wanted to own her, to twist her back into his thing, his little terror weapon, his very own toy.

But he would not.

He couldn’t twist her new truth.

Riley and her friends walked away from the meeting, battered but alive.

Jack didn’t walk away at all.

That was enough for her to be happy.

Chapter 3: (Amy)

Summary:

In which we move on to a very different time and place. In the aftermath of an Endbringer, Amy Dallon has a doctor’s appointment.

Amy felt like the world always wanted something from her.

A lot of things, maybe everything.

She had been feeling that way for a very long time. Ever since she got her powers, really. People needing healing, wanting healing, wanting her to save their loved ones, even wanting things as stupid as cosmetic alterations.

It got so much worse after Leviathan struck.

Dean almost died. Victoria wouldn’t shut up about how happy she was that her boyfriend made it through.

(Amy couldn’t help but wonder how her sister would feel if he had died.)

Her family made it through, thank goodness, and most of the other heroes she knew, but there were so many people who didn’t.

There were too many she tried to save but couldn’t. There were too many she saved even though she didn’t really want to.

She even had to work on Skitter of all people, though the bug bitch’s coma wasn’t something she could help with.

(The girl’s father had rushed right past her in the intensive care unit. He hadn’t known Taylor – that was her name, he’d practically screamed it, how could Amy forget? - was a cape, much less a villain, until she’d gone down fighting against an Endbringer.

The look of anguish on his face, mixing with ugly rage after she said she couldn’t help his daughter, wasn’t that different from the reactions of a hundred other loved ones of those she didn’t save. But this one haunted her every night since.

“I can’t save your daughter, I don’t do brains” became “I can’t save your daughter, she’s a bad person” became “I can’t save your daughter, I’m a bad person.”

It felt like an excuse, not a rule. Like the real reason that she wasn’t healing a cape who fought Leviathan, Leviathan - with nothing but bugs! - had nothing to do with brains at all, and it was all because…

Because of black widows crawling over her skin and Tattletale’s stupid words and a knife at her throat, like that mattered now that a whole city was in ruins-)

Amy shook her head and breathed as deep as she could, trying to put the half-remembered nightmare out of her mind.

She thought she’d hit rock bottom with that last one.

But no. Now, she had to get a message from some healer cape who wanted to meet up and work together, presumably to heal things. She'd be happy if it were true, because then at least she'd have someone to share her pain, right? But the last time someone had said this, it had been some kind of weird prank she didn't get and didn't want to get, and so even though she still wanted it to be real this time, she had to tell Vicky, and Vicky decided to be worried about her sister and told Carol, and Carol decided to be worried about Amy which was actually kind of nice but meant that half of New Wave was standing around in the hospital lobby, ready for war, waiting for their mystery healer to show up and ugh.

By the time they actually got there, sweat was dripping down Amy’s spine. But at least they arrived on time. She’d know, since she was staring at the clock the whole time.

She saw the crowd gathering outside first, a mess of bodies holding cameras and phones despite the staff’s best efforts to hold them back. Then the capes swept in through the sliding doors-

Amy blinked.

The first one was translucent, a girl about her age if she were made of little more than water. Bits of opacity swirled around in her, though Amy wasn’t sure if it was gunk or flesh showing through or what. She seeped water as she walked, dripping off of star-shaped earrings and black-cherry hair, falling from her hands as she waved people away. “Jeez, hasn’t anyone here heard of personal space? Gawd,” she huffed, glancing down at her phone. “And I still don’t have reception! This place is the worst. How’s a girl supposed to shitpost on PHO like this?”

(Amy had no idea how the heck the phone was still working.)

Behind her was a girl a few years younger than Amy, blonde hair shining down her back as she strolled on in. She was… less human than the other. Five eyes, two relatively normal ones and three that looked like they had stars for pupils, which was just plain silly. Six arms, fingers idly twitching against each other and twirling tools.

She shot her older companion a frown as they walked in. “Language, mom.” (Wait, what? A few years older, not twenty or thirty years older!)

Much to Amy’s dismay, the water-girl responded simply by flipping her ‘daughter’ off. The younger girl rolled her eyes, let out an exaggerated sigh, and marched on past, shaking her head all the way.

It was then, as Victoria giggled at the interaction and Carol watched like a hawk, that Amy realized the most uncanny thing about the younger girl: she was made of clay. Not pottery, not brick, but modeling clay, plasticine, something like that. Like one of those animated shorts Vicky had been into a few years back. The cape was a lot more detailed, sure, but the texture and the way she moved still brought to mind those silly little cartoons, except this one was in real life. From her eyes to her skin, even things like her hair or the brilliant blood-red dress she wore seemed to be made of the same material.

There was something carved into the girl’s forehead, but Amy couldn’t make it out. Something in Arabic, maybe? Looking too close at the walking sculpture made her head start to spin a little.

The sculpture stopped just on the edge of a polite distance from Amy and the rest of New Wave, smiling brightly. “Hi! I’m Riley! I’m the one who called about working with Amy. It’s nice to meet you all!”

“Neptune,” her companion grumbled, pulling up behind her. “Because apparently Riley needed a chaperone. I dunno why, you haven’t seen what this girl can do, she’s probably better at taking care of herself than I am...”

Victoria hummed thoughtfully. “Maybe you’re there to protect us from her?” she smiled.

Neptune grinned. “Yeah, that sounds about right!”

Riley pouted at the exchange.

Amy, meanwhile, had a thought. “Just Riley? No cape name?”

The girl nodded rapidly. “Yeah! I’m just Riley and Nep-Mom is just Neptune and Jup-Mom is just Jupiter and Ve-Mom is just Venus.”

“In that case, I’m just Mark.”

Even on his good days, and this was one of his good days, Amy’s father had a way of fading into the background. But he also had a way of popping out at the perfect moment. And this was the perfect moment.

Riley beamed, and her smile grew only brighter as the rest of New Wave took the hint.

“Well, then! I’m Victoria Dallon, queen of kicking Nazis! Nice to meet you, Riley!”

“Amy.”

Carol hesitated. Vicky turned back and shot her a look.

“Mom, please.”

Mom sighed, closing her eyes and opening them, before putting on her best professional smile.

“...okay. I’m Carol. Carol Dallon. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Riley. You said you wanted to work with Pa- with Amy?”

She nodded again. “She’s like the coolest healer on the east coast, of course I want to work with her! We can probably get more done together than we can separately, and there’s obviously a lot to do around here. Does that sound good, Amy?”

Amy nodded. It did. Anything was better than being alone.

“Hold on, I didn’t-”

Riley cut Carol off. “What you’re supposed to say is ‘if you hurt my daughter I’ll kill you.’ Don’t worry! I wouldn’t expect anything less!”

Amy blinked.

Vicky giggled again.

After a moment, her mother sighed. “I’ll just… come and watch, then?”

“Okay!”

---

They presented themselves to a clipped, no-nonsense nurse, because there were times when every nurse had to be clipped and no-nonsense. Ordering powerful capes around was definitely one such time.

“So, what can you do?”

Riley was almost frighteningly eager to answer.

“Surgery! Anything surgical, really, I can do. I can throw together implants or put in the ones you already have, no problem. Got no problem with diseases, most cancers, filtering out toxins and drugs. I can diagnose pretty much anything. Oh, and, uh, hold on-”

She suddenly grabbed her head with two hands and-

Amy gasped as Riley impossibly pulled herself apart, like a zipper sliding open from her head down, the two halves falling to either side even as the clay warped and shuddered, twisting and changing color until there were two slightly smaller Rileys, each with two eyes, four arms, and simple medical scrubs. As pretty much everyone stared, a wing folded out from each Riley’s back, a single massive eye (or maybe two, one for each side?) staring out from the center of the white feathers.

“I can be two people at once!”

Carol almost growled. “What.”

“Well, Nep-Mom can be in lots of places at once-” one of them started.

“And I did a lot of work on her-” the other continued.

“So I picked up a few tricks-”

“And I figured out how to split myself up like this!”

Amy glanced towards her mother, to see her working her jaw in understandable disbelief.

“...and you can just… do this? That’s… ah… impressive?”

Both Rileys grinned in unison.

“Well, it still has a long way to go!”

“Right now I’m limited to being two of me-”

“And if we get too far from ourselves, we get yanked back together-”

“But it’s a start!”

A start.

Riley was obviously some kind of weird biomedical Tinker, seemingly with a Changer or Breaker state as well, but this was on a different level. She tinkered with her own power somehow? And she considered this ‘just a start’?

Tinkers, Amy decided, really were bullshit.

“Maybe we should just get to work,” she mumbled.

“Yes. Yes, you should,” the nurse finally spoke up, looking more than a little overwhelmed. “Panacea, Mrs. Dallon, and… Rileys?”

“Oh, I almost forgot! One sec.”

Both Riley’s closed their eyes. Looking at them revealed the same word from before carved into their foreheads – Hebrew, Amy realized, though she still couldn’t read it. And as they concentrated, another symbol carved itself out above that word, this one seemingly inlaid in an easy-to-discern shade of white.

“Riley Aleph-”

“And Riley Bet!”

“...alright, then,” the nurse said. “Time to get to work.”

---

Keeping up with one Riley would have been hard enough. Keeping up with two was barely even possible.

“My name’s Riley and I’ll be your doctor for today! Is that okay? Well, you’re dying, so whatever. If you’re unsatisfied with your medical experience you can sue me later!”

The girl was nonstop.

“Ooh, yeah that’s not good. Alright Amy, here’s what I need you to do-”

Amy would finish one patient, only to be rushed off to the next. Sometimes, Riley would even drag her away from someone after only partially healing them, letting the unpowered medical staff finish the job.

“Started in the skin, moved into the brain. Amy, come here-”

“I can’t do brains, you know that!”

“It’s okay, brains are hard. I just want you to make sure nothing goes horribly wrong while I sic the immune system on this sucker.”

“I, uh, sure, okay, what am I looking for?”

“We’re trying to knock down proteins that suppress immune activity, so the biggest part is making sure we don’t end up making a bigger problem from autoimmune issues...”

Riley blew right past her boundaries, or maybe she just stretched them further than Amy would have ever taken them on her own. (She still didn’t touch any CNS neurons. Mostly.)

“I just need you to make sure the toxins go as far as they need to and no further. Either that or I have to do like half a dozen follow-up treatments to make sure I got everything and then fix all the collateral damage from aforementioned getting of everything.”

Her wings had some kind of ridiculous Thinker power associated with them, apparently, given how quickly she could diagnose things at a glance. And she was really good at surgery.

“Okay, this hand is for holding the opening, this hand is for manipulating the scalpel-”

Most of all, though, it was Riley’s enthusiasm that dragged Amy along. She did a little fistpump after every successful operation, even as she moved on to the next patient. She allowed herself a smile, but no rest.

Amy couldn’t rest either.

Eventually, Carol gave up on keeping up with them and went off to do something else. Presumably, Mark had already left. They rushed past the lobby at one point to find Neptune showing off something on her phone to Victoria, not that Amy stuck around to see what it was, but apparently it was pretty hilarious? Riley offered to drop her off, but Amy didn’t want that, so they kept going.

From emergency care down through to long-term units, they blazed a path through what must have been hundreds of patients.

She couldn’t keep count. Especially with another Riley moving ahead of them doing more work still.

Before she knew it, the day was almost over, and the hospital was almost cleared, save for a few cases that Riley couldn’t and Amy wouldn’t deal with. (A Taylor Hebert was among them, but, fortunately, Riley didn’t bring her to that particular room. By the time Amy would have gotten there, Riley had already done what she could and moved on.)

The sun was setting when the nurse from before yelled at them to lay the hell off for the night (Riley didn’t even chastise her for language) and Amy finally allowed herself to collapse into the couch in the break room, Riley merging herself back together and flopping into an armchair across from her.

“Oh… jeeez… I’m going to need… so many snacks...” Amy whined.

“We did a good job though, right?” Riley suggested, apparently not needing to catch her breath, though she still looked tired.

“I guess so… woah. Are you always this… dedicated?”

“I try to be,” Riley giggled. “You don’t have to be, though! It’s not like you owe the world anything.”

“And you do?” Amy found herself asking, something bitter creeping into her voice, only to be washed out an instant later by horror as she realized what she said. “Wait, no, that’s not-”

“No. It’s okay. You meant it.” The girl sank into her chair, her eyes turning downwards, then closing, her whole clay body stilling. “And… I do. I owe the world a lot. My… my first mom taught me to clean up after my own messes. And I’ve made some really, really big messes I need to make up for.”

Amy couldn’t help but stare. Just who was this girl, really? Was she a villain before? (Her appearance and her apparent Tinkering specialty certainly brought someone to mind, but unless she’d somehow second-triggered her way into becoming a clay golem, Bonesaw was probably not sitting in front of her right now.)

She fidgeted. Riley took her silence as understanding and started to speak again.

“That’s enough for today, though. Wanna meet up again tomorrow? Healing is all well and good, but I have bigger and better ideas that I wouldn’t mind a helping hand with.”

“I mean… All I do is heal,” she tried.

“Sure, but I refuse to believe that’s the only thing you can do. Nobody does nothing but heal. Healing is such a vague term anyways. Like, Ve-Mom can destroy poisons, but she can’t regenerate people’s injuries, for example. It’s a side effect of her overall abilities, y’know? C’mon, do some experimenting, do something fun!”

Amy sighed. “...I’ll think about it.”

She did.

After a nice nap, of course.

Which led to her waking up in the dead of night and discovering that Riley didn’t need to sleep and that Neptune didn’t either and, as they both pointed out, she really ought to have gone home instead of falling asleep in the hospital break room.

Whoops.

Notes:

Hopefully I’m not overstaying my welcome here. This fic won’t go on forever, but it’s still got some life in it. Riley's story isn't the only one worth telling.

Chapter 4: (Alec)

Summary:

In which we catch a glimpse of our other two heroines. Also, Alec exists. This makes a lot of people very upset and is generally agreed to be a bad move.

Contains: Alec being Alec (that is, a fucker)

Alec had a lot of talents. Lying, identity theft, laying around, hijacking, grand theft auto, Grand Theft Auto, laying around, video games more generally, being lazy, laying around.

Laying around, however, was definitely one of his better talents. And ‘laying low’ was a lot like ‘laying around’. So when he heard that the plan was to ‘lay low’ for a while while the Undersiders settled into a new place, he was about as happy as he physically could be.

Or rather, once he confirmed that the new place had reliable power, and once he was able to put together a half-decent television, a few consoles, and a collection of games that approached satisfactory, then he was about as happy as he physically could be.

Brian was out doing something or other with his sister. Rachel was walking the dogs. Lisa was plotting to take over the city or whatever the fuck she did in her spare time.

And Alec? He had his TV, he had his games, he had a couch that wasn’t completely waterlogged. It was pretty obvious what he was doing.

The screen flickered and flashed, the theme music blared through tinny speakers, and the game was on.

By the time something finally forced his attention away, the sun was descending towards the horizon.

It wasn’t Rachel’s coming and going, though. Or Brian demanding this and that. Or Lisa, being Lisa. Or anything that made sense like that.

Instead, his power, which was normally pretty underwhelming in the sensory department, suddenly lit up like a Christmas tree.

Lit up enough, in fact, that it ruined his shot and got him exploded into viscera as “GAME OVER” plastered itself all over the screen.

Some kind of tangled mess of nervous system… something was moving along the street outside.

What the hell?

Well, it already ruined his run. Might as well see what the fuss was all about. Was there a monster cape or something down there? Maybe he’d tell them what he thought about getting between him and his new high score.

Alec stumbled to his feet, not bothering to put on shoes as he headed over to the door, pushed it open and leaned out to stare.

A storm of hands and wings with eyes stared back at him.

He blinked.

No, to be exact, a storm of hands and a mountain of wings with eyes had been walking down the street, or maybe floating, and were now staring back at him.

There was a human face in the hands, a female face with jagged hair, and he thought he felt the rest of a human body in there somewhere, but most of it was the hands, suspended in a swirling mist of blood. He could feel them most of all; each hand was unique, a different shape and a different… energy to it. A different feeling, for lack of a better word. Alec didn’t understand it himself, but he knew, somehow, which hand was for petting, which hand was for hitting, which hand was for grabbing, which hand was for holding. For every different kind of touch, and every emotion those touches conveyed.

The other one, the one that was wings and eyes, was taller, though slender. She was also, well, made of wings and eyes. It was impossible to keep track of all the places her nerves were going, some of which appeared to be inside her organs as though she could see with her heart and fly with her lungs. The light and heat coming off her made her hard to look at directly, so he settled for just looking at a point to the side and checking her out from there.

“...hi?” she ventured.

“Sup.”

“What are you doing.” The hands-girl didn’t even make it a question.

Alec shrugged, a smile on his lips as he stepped out, half-dressed and all, into the light. “Thought I heard some angels falling from heaven around here. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

Hands-girl reddened, though he wasn’t sure if she was embarrassed, angry, or both.

“Um...” Wings-girl lifted a finger to her lips, humming in thought. “No, but I do know a few devils…?”

“...Venus, he’s talking about us,” hands-girl deadpanned.

‘Venus’ smiled. “I know.”

Alec grinned. “Tis an honor to make your acquaintances.” He bowed, sweeping the appropriate hand up and planting a kiss on it, before leaning over and doing the same for one of Venus’s wings. “Alec, your humble servant.”

“I’m Venus!”

“My name’s Gay, and I’m obviously Jupiter, so if you could stop with the-”

Venus cut off the girl’s flustered retort with a giggle, which drove her blush even closer to nuclear meltdown.

“I-i mean my name’s Jupiter, and I’m obviously gay! Like my girlfriend is literally right here what are you doing oh my god.”

They nuzzled up together at the acknowledgment of their (in fairness, blatantly obvious) relationship, though it didn’t quite soothe the daggers Jupiter’s eyes were sending him. He gave the contact area an exaggerated once-over, appreciating where hands and wings pressed against thighs and shoulders.

“I’m simply happy to be in such divine presences,” he purred. “Besides, I could find a cute girl. I know a few.”

Jupiter drove her face into her hands. “Oh my god. Do you not just. Stop. Please just stop.”

“I dunno, he’s kinda cute in that way creepy assholes can be sometimes,” Venus commented.

“I could stop,” he confirmed, smirking. “But that’d be boring.”

And now Jupiter was just about banging her head into her own hands, in a way that he struggled not to laugh at. “Can you be not-boring in ways that aren’t creepy asshole?”

“… we could just go, you know,” Venus said, leaning over and scratching at Jupiter’s shoulders. Or at least, Alec thought her shoulders were there.

“I’ve got snacks,” he offered. “And video games. And a pretty good television setup. And I guess my roommates might show up, though they’re pretty boring.”

“Coming from you, that’s probably a good sign,” Jupiter grumbled.

Venus, though, raised an eyebrow.

“And we’re not?”

“No! You’re not! You’re interesting!” Alec agreed, grinning again. Though they couldn’t know just how interesting he found them. Not even in a sexual way, just the way they registered to his power, Jupiter especially… he could almost feel her rage thrumming against his mind just from how her hands shook. “Come on, let me show you around, make you feel at home. Stay awhile and listen!”

“I mean, I guess I could at least see if your friends are worth meeting...”

“It’d be nice!”

“Worst comes to worst, I could always just borrow some of Lisa’s clothes and-”

Any semblance of goodwill from Jupiter disappeared. Alec promptly learned which hand was for slapping a stupid asshole in the face, hard enough to make him bleed.

“Didn’t I tell you to stop?!” she growled, her anger vibrating through every nerve, to the point that he could feel it in his own hands, too, a sense of I did something bad that he hadn’t felt in years-

“Wow,” Venus said, drifting over towards where he was groaning in pain and shame on the ground. “That almost sounds like something I could have said, when I was younger.”

“Whaaat?” Jupiter replied, blinking rapidly and almost immediately forgetting about him, which suited him just fine. “No way you were that bad, Venus.”

“Sure, but sometimes...”

He tried to imagine slender little Venus dressing up all masculine, big boots and a jean-jacket or something like that. He imagined her, with that soft, singsong voice, that gentle, feathery way of moving, maybe a bit more human but still basically the little thing in front of him, trying to look manly.

The image made him chuckle as he pushed himself to his feet, a smile on his bloody lips. “Alright, I deserved that,” he admitted, and he found that he wasn’t lying. “Seriously, though. If you wanna hang out, just gimme a call, okay? I’ve got plenty of time. Here, you can have my number...”

Venus wrote it down. About as much as he could hope for, given the glare Jupiter shot at him anytime she had to look at him.

Worth it? Yeah, worth it.

 

---

“Alec,” Lisa growled, maybe five minutes after she’d returned from whatever she was off doing.

He hummed innocently.

She jabbed her finger at him, narrowing her eyes.

“Why the fuck did you invite someone to the lair?”

“I have noooo idea what you’re talking about.”

Lisa scowled, pacing towards him like a stalking tiger.

“Sure you do. I thought you of all people would know better than to draw attention like this!”

“They were interesting,” he shrugged.

At that, she deflated.

“...seriously?”

“Seriously.”

A long, hard sigh.

“...you’re hopeless.”

He blew his favorite Thinker a kiss.

“Love you too, Tats.”

Chapter 5: (Amy)

Summary:

In which Amy and Riley (and Victoria) go on a magical adventure, and get a good look at a broken city.

Notes:

Contains arachnids.

Amy wasn’t sure when she staggered back home or when she got to sleep, but she was woken up again at the ungodly hour of maybe eight in the morning. Vicky was babbling something at her.

“Ugh, g’way,” she whined, screwing her eyes shut and waving her hand vaguely in the direction of the intruding sister.

“Nope!” Victoria said, with all her usual unholy levels of cheer. “You’re waking up and you’re doing it now! There’s a meeting and you’re invited! The guest of honor, in fact!”

Before Amy could stop her, Vicky yanked the blanket right off of the bed, forcing her to shield her eyes with her arms as the harsh light stabbed into her. “Come on, Ames! Up and at ‘em!”

“Gaah,” she eloquently responded. “don wanna….wait...”

Something finally clicked for her. Her eyes opened.

“...guest of honor?”

“Yeah! That healer cape from yesterday decided to come over! Along with her, uh, moms, I guess.” Victoria laughed, scratching the back of her head before diving right back into her ramble. “They really don’t seem like mom material, but whatever works. Anyways, Riley wanted to hang out with you again today, maybe go on some kind of patrol? And they would be happy if we took care of her for the day while they visit someone else. And obviously you’d need to agree to all this,” she grinned, “but I do happen to know that you don’t have any plans today.”

“Not like… there’s much to do right now with the whole ‘city in ruins’ thing,” Amy grumbled, finally pulling herself upright and trying to rub the sleep out of her eyes. “Fine, whatever. Just… just give me a minute. And some coffee. I need some coffee.”

Vicky smiled.

Amy couldn’t help but smile back.

---

Slightly more than a minute later, she stared, slowly blinking, over a mug of steaming coffee.

A gaggle of faces, all crammed into the Dallon family dining room, stared back at her. Victoria was standing behind her, Carol and Mark on either end of the table, and across from her, Riley and Neptune were joined by two unfamiliar faces. One of them had something like a storm of hands, suspended in a mist of faint, floating blood, while the other girl was covered in wings and eyes and wings with eyes and probably eyes with wings too.

Between them all (and her coffee), a map of Brockton Bay, or what was left of it, was laid out on the majority of the table. To be exact, it looked like someone had taken aerial photographs of the city in the last couple of days, spliced them together, and overlaid the old city map onto it. The presentation made the damage all the more stark. Entire sections of the city had been flattened, while others had outright ceased to exist, replaced by deceptively placid swathes of blue where the land itself had given way to water. The already cramped graphic was almost choked with handwriting; the crisp lines of Carol’s pen and a softer script that must have belonged to one of the girls in front of her crisscrossed the map. Purity spotted here. Supply convoy attacked two days ago. No power. Water contaminated. Merchant activity. Unknown cape spotted. Empire remnants-

A hand on her shoulder. “Amy?”

She started, swaying for a second before she regained her balance. “I’m fine, Vicky.”

“You haven’t touched the coffee. Or responded to anything anyone has said,” her sister replied, and Amy could hear the frown.

With a sigh, she picked up the mug and downed as much of the scorching, bitter brew as she could stomach, ignoring Mark’s concern and Carol’s barely restrained sigh.

“You know,” Riley began, “it wouldn’t be too hard for me to reduce your need for sleep to something more like-”

“I said I’m fine,” Amy hissed. “Let’s just get on with it. Victoria said you wanted to go on patrol?”

The Tinker wiped the pout off her face and resumed her radiant smile. “I did! Or, well, I wanna go out and do some fieldwork? I dunno if it’s really a patrol. More about practicing medicine than scaring off bad guys.”

“And you want me with you because…?”

“Because I like being with you, duh.” Riley stuck out her tongue.

Amy frowned, glancing over towards Carol.

Her mother shrugged almost imperceptibly. “We thought that having a known hero there would prevent any unfortunate misunderstandings from happening. It doesn’t have to be you if you don’t want to go.”

“I want to go,” Victoria cut in. “We’ve barely been on patrol at all since Leviathan. We should be going out there! Showing everybody that we’re still there for them! What’s the point of being heroes if we’re just cowering here, waiting for other people to clean up the mess?”

Carol sighed. “We’re not cowering, Victoria. We’re being strategic about our deployments.”

“Well, I’m old enough to make my own decisions. Besides, I don’t see you telling Riley here it’s too dangerous to go out.”

“I’m just trying to look after my daughter...”

Mark cleared his throat, gathering people’s attention. “If it’s safe enough for Panacea,” he said, “I don’t see why it isn’t safe enough for Glory Girl?”

Carol glanced away, expression unreadable.

Amy eventually mustered up the courage to speak.

“Alright. We’ll both go on a joint patrol with Riley.”

“Yay!” Riley cheered, her joy cutting off any further argument. “How about we plan our route together? I’ve got a mobile lab stashed away, so we should start there...”

---

Half an hour of planning, breakfast, a shower, and a change of clothes later, Amy stared blankly at the remains of a downtown parking garage. The vehicle ramps had collapsed, leaving cars stranded on the upper levels of the structure, to be ransacked by those brave enough to climb the stairwells.

“You never said what this lab actually looked like,” she muttered.

Riley grinned ear to ear. “You’ll see. I put it on the second floor,” she said, pointing towards, presumably, where this lab was. “C’mon, let’s go!”

Victoria scooped Amy up in her arms, leaving the ground without a second thought. “Bet I’ll beat you there,” she taunted.

“Uh, Vicky, you don’t have to carry me. I can walk.” Then she wouldn’t have to feel Victoria’s body in the back of her head, laid out to her in glorious and terrifying detail. Or the warmth of her skin, or-

Glory Girl laughed. “But you don’t have to,” she said, even as she lifted right up and floated effortlessly into the second story of the building, depositing her sister gently upon the cracked concrete.

Amy slipped out of her sister’s arms, powerful though they were, and stumbled away. “Y-you really didn’t have to...”

“Heyyyy!” Riley whined, her surprisingly loud voice echoing up into the garage. “I wanna get carried around too!”

“Look what you’ve done,” Amy mumbled.

Victoria just smiled and threw her sister a cheeky salute before turning in the air and sailing back out to pick up the little clay girl.

She brought Riley up as quickly as she had Amy. The Tinker seemed all too delighted to be carried like that, and Victoria was all too delighted to indulge her, ruffling her hair after setting her down. “So, where to, oh wise and mighty Riley?”

The girl giggled, before pointing again, towards… a perfectly ordinary van?

Amy blinked. “...how did you get a car up here?”

Victoria coughed. “Aren’t you way too young to drive, anyways?”

“No, no, it’s nothing like that,” Riley said with a smile.

“Sooooo what is it like, then?”

“Wellll, why don’t you take a closer look so you can see for yourself, Amy?”

She frowned, even as Riley led them both over to the ‘lab’.

Even up close, it remained a perfectly normal van.

Victoria squinted, trying to make out some detail in the half-shadow of the parking garage.

Amy just sighed. “I’m still not seeing whatever it is you want me to see.”

“Touch it!”

“It’s just a van, what-”

The van’s biology exploded into her mind as her finger brushed against it without even thinking. She yelped, almost jumping backwards from the sudden influx of information.

“A-amy? Are you okay? Did she do something to you?!”

Victoria cradled her, probably glaring at Riley, but Amy was too busy thinking about that moment of information. Clay, masquerading as metal, somehow overlaid with life, some alien form of life that somehow passed between each and every particle without taking up any space but she could still see it and the genetic information within and-

“It’s human. This thing is human.”

In response to her horror, Riley just giggled again. “Well, of course! Art is an expression of the self, right? So what better material to use than myself?”

Amy blinked, her brain suddenly derailing from thoughts of the Tinker being some kind of monster after all.

“Huh?”

“You… made this from your own body?” Victoria asked hopefully. (Amy hoped too.)

“Duh! Do you see any other clay humans around here? You’d know it was me if you just touched me.”

“...okay,” Amy breathed out. “Okay. I-i’ll just take your word for it, okay?”

Well.

That was a great deal of panic over nothing.

Victoria exhaled a sigh of relief in the quiet. “Phew. I was worried I’d have to beat the shit out of you.”

“Language,” Riley chided, though she was still smiling.

“Is this like that thing you did in the hospital?” Amy wondered.

The Tinker tilted her head. “Eh, kinda? That was a special case. I haven’t figured out how to keep things alive when they stop being part of me, even with the stuff I’ve learned from Nep-Mom. If I leave Labby here alone, it’s just inert clay. I’ve got to stay close to keep it active.”

“...You’re still too young to drive, crazy living human clay van or no,” Amy pointed out.

“Well, yeah,” Riley agreed. “Fortunately, Labby isn’t really a van at all. Hold on. Gimme some space.”

Amy backed up nervously. Vicky backed up a little, probably just to humor Riley because caution was something for people not named Victoria Dallon. Riley closed her eyes and focused, a bit like she had when she was labeling herselves back at the hospital.

A few seconds passed.

Then the van warped and shuddered, all pretension of normality rapidly dissolving. Straight lines became curves, tires and framework melted into the body. Vicky yelped and backpedaled (or back-floated, really) as lances of clay exploded from the sides of the shifting construct. Eight lances, to be exact. Metal became a furred exoskeleton, and a multitude of beady eyes opened, staring blankly at the three of them.

A perfectly ordinary van gave way to an immense arachnid in moments.

Victoria swore, though Riley didn’t chastise her this time.

“So, uh, what if someone’s arachnophobic?” Amy deadpanned, staring up at the huge clay critter.

“Labby also comes in cat, dog, horse, and dinosaur forms,” Riley replied, without missing a beat. “Spider’s the most maneuverable, though. Besides, look at it! It’s so fluffy!”

“I don’t think you’re old enough to ride this.”

“I’m old enough to ride a pony!”

“That’s really not the point.”

Riley pouted at her. Amy sighed. Loudly.

Victoria shook her head. She bounced back quickly, though, already walking up and running a hand over the terrorbeast’s fuzz. “So, this is also a mobile lab?”

“Mobile pretty much anything I need it to be,” the Tinker agreed, slipping right past Vicky and climbing onto the spider’s neck, setting herself behind its eyes. “Still have to stop and set it up before it’s ready to be a lab or operating theatre or anything, but that doesn’t take too long.” As Riley closed her eyes, ‘Labby’ blinked its own, and began to rotate slowly to face out into the city. “C’mon, Amy! Hop on!”

“I… think I’ll stick with Victoria for now. Is that thing even going to make it through the opening?” The headroom would be a bit tight…

“Just watch me!”

Before Amy could tell her off, Riley’s mount was already starting to climb over the edge of the concrete and out into the light. Thankfully, Victoria picked Amy up without needing to be told, and the two of them floated along, joining a more-than-slightly-terrified crowd as they watched the van-sized monstrosity of black clay emerge, clambering onto the garage’s side and crawling nimbly onto the pavement below.

“R-riley, that’s very nice and all, but I’m not sure it’s the most… approachable?” Victoria tried.

Below, Riley’s eyes shot open. “Oh! Oh, right! I almost forgot, thanks for reminding me!” Another short pause, a moment of focus, and then waves of color rolled over the clay, black exoskeleton giving way to softer pastel browns and greens, while hairs turned vibrant shades of red and blue and yellow, swirling across the body in playful patterns. Dark eyes turned vivid, rearranged themselves into two large orbs and two smaller ones instead of a multitude of tiny, staring lenses. Flags telescoped out from the spider’s body, lifting up and unfurling into colorful banners fluttering in the breeze.

On ‘Labby’s abdomen, a plate pushed out from each side. Like a nameplate, really. A second later, and clay pushed itself out onto each plate, dragging bold, childish scrawl over the signs:

Riley’s Arachnid House of Medicine and Fun Times!

FREE HEALING!

Ask for other services! Prices may vary! Not all requests will be accepted!

That was a bit better- a few more words weaved their way onto the corner of the plate.

Amy Dallon is here too!

Vicky giggled. “Aren’t you forgetting someone?”

…

Glory Girl autographs! All proceeds go to benefit those in need!

“Hey wait a minute, that’s not what I said!”

“So proceeds don’t go to those in need?” Amy muttered, shaking her head in disbelief.

“What, no, that’s not what I meant either!”

“Vicky, if the preteen Biotinker wants you to sell your signature for charity, you should, uh, probably go ahead and do it.”

“But what if I want to give it for free?”

“You do that all the time!”

“It’s not like people are going to be swimming in money to spend on autographs!”

“You’re both pretty!”

“What?” “What?”

“Nep-Mom taught me to say that,” Riley explained, which didn’t actually explain anything. “Anyways, come on, we’ve got work to do!”

---

Work ended up involving a great deal of standing next to Labby and talking to people. Victoria’s ability to manage crowds was probably the only reason they got anything done rather than just drowning in conversation without end.

As before, Riley started with the people who needed the most help. Her spider’s abdomen unfolded, creating a sort of tent that filled itself with tools and acted as her operating room, with just enough space to give her room to work on a subject. It was a lot less creepy than it could have been, since the insides of the spider didn’t really have any particular anatomy, just more colorful clay.

Amy helped, at least with the healing, though she didn’t do it anywhere more fancy than next to the spider’s bulk. Though she was getting used to feeling the clay creature’s biology, she still preferred to not have it distracting her while she was trying to heal.

Victoria didn’t end up selling her autographs, but Riley was still determined to put Glory Girl to good use. She did a lot to keep the atmosphere bright and reassure people that yes, the giant spider was totally safe and yes, the clay Tinker girl wasn’t a villain and wasn’t going to turn them into zombies or anything silly like that, Panacea trusts her, why shouldn’t you?

It didn’t hurt that Riley, being a preteen herself (and not the ‘trying-way-too-hard-to-be-an-adult’ kind like Vista), was good with kids.

“Why do you have a giant spider?”

“Because I like spiders! They’re all fuzzy and crawly!”

“Why are you made of clay?”

“I got it from my moms!”

“You have two mommies?”

“I have three!”

“Woaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah! Why do you have three mommies?!?”

“Because I’m really lucky like that!”

“Ohmygosh that sounds so cool! Mommy! Can you get me another two mommies?!”

“Um.”

...well, maybe it hurt a little if she got too carried away. There were a lot of people to work on, after all.

This being the open street instead of a hospital, it wasn’t too long before the healing gave way to less debilitating medical issues- medicines, hormone treatments, that sort of thing – and then to requests. Amy certainly didn’t take requests, but Riley was happy to, at least in principle. Though there were limits.

“I could definitely make you fly if I had a whole day and a bigger lab. Since I don’t, maybe ask again another time?”

“I’m going to need some time if I want to make spare arms. Give me a sample and I can get started? No? Oh, bye then!”

Cosmetics were more than doable, though. As were more reasonable upgrades, assuming they could pay whatever seemingly arbitrary price Riley settled on asking for.

Equally arbitrary was the point at which Riley decided that it was time to pack up and move on, finishing the last customer before she closed the spider up and set it into motion at a steady jogging pace. Amy sat just out of arm’s reach of the girl, feeling the creature shift and distort beneath her, while Victoria, being Victoria, floated on ahead, smiling and waving at people and generally being more of a goofball than anything else.

At least, until they had to rush after her when she got distracted by some gunshots and they ended up giving a mugger a very interesting story to tell to the nice people down at the station. Being penned in between Glory Girl and a giant clay spider before being sedated wasn’t something that any ordinary criminal could boast of.

A few blocks later, Riley set the spider back down, opened it up, yelled painfully loudly to advertise herself, and they were healing again. And practicing medicine. And… modifying? Modifying. Not that Amy was interested in that. She just sort of leaned against Labby’s side (god, that was a stupid name) while Riley committed yet more crimes against anatomy.

There was a lot less of a crowd here. Things went quicker.

“What am I even doing here? What are we even doing here?” Amy eventually wondered aloud.

“We’re on patrol,” Victoria answered. “Duh.”

“We’re practicing medicine,” Riley countered.

“If we wanted to heal people, it’d be much more efficient to work our way through a hospital again.” Amy sighed. “Why are we here?”

Glory Girl raised an eyebrow. “Huh. Ames isn’t wrong. As expected of my brilliant sister.”

Panacea glanced away.

Riley shook her head. “We’re here to have fun! Helping people is nice too, but so is fun.”

“...what happened to ‘I owe the world a lot’, then?”

“Am I missing something?” Victoria interjected.

“Just a conversation we had, Victoria. But, uhm...”

Riley closed her eyes, her whole form stilling. For a moment, there was nothing but the spider’s steady footsteps.

“I don’t know if I deserve to be happy or anything. But that’s not the point? I’m not a perfect robot who doesn’t need anything. I have needs, and happiness is one of them. When you don’t meet your needs, bad things happen! And if you don’t do happy things, how can you expect to be happy?”

Victoria hummed. “That’s… a really interesting way to look at things.”

Amy agreed, though she didn’t say it. She just kept quiet, rolling over the idea in her head.

“Anyways, if you really want to help people… then you’re not doing nearly enough. I don’t think anyone is.”

That one had Amy’s eyes narrow.

Victoria was equally terse. “Care to explain?”

Riley nodded, her eyes opening again. She looked out, to the side, into what was left of Brockton Bay. They definitely weren’t in a good part of town, even before Leviathan had hit. With so much destruction, it was even worse. The spider stepped almost thoughtlessly over rubble, around darkened and broken buildings. People stared at them with sullen, deadened eyes, or with a desperate hope that scared Amy even more. In the distance, she saw people clustered around a burning car, though she wasn’t sure who started the fire or why.

Shouts and gunshots echoed in the distance. Even Vicky wasn’t willing to pursue them.

The Tinker tilted her head back, staring up into the gloom. “This city is broken. No amount of healing or arresting criminals will fix that. We’re just putting bandages on a stump.”

“So you want us to just… give up?”

“No, Vicky. That’s not what I want.” She bit her lip, the white fang parting red clay without pain or effort. “I just… looking at all of this makes me want to do something different. I’m not a healer, I’m an artist, or maybe an engineer? I want to make something grand. I want to really fix the problem, or at least come closer to it. To do something that’s prettier than punching bad guys and more helpful than healing good guys.”

Riley let out a long sigh.

“I just don’t know what that is yet. That’s part of why I’m out here. To figure it out.”

Victoria floated nearer to Riley, wrapping an arm around her in a gentle hug.

Amy closed her eyes and sat, silent, thinking.

Chapter 6: (Lisa)

Summary:

In which Lisa is not okay, and tries to pretend to be okay, even in the face of Alec's Bad Decisions.

Notes:

Contains: depression, mood whiplash

Lisa already had a headache when she woke up. It only got worse from there.

God, this was a disaster.

She had enough problems already. Taylor going down against Leviathan hurt the most. It was her fault, really. Taylor saw a child kidnapped and drugged, as a result of her own actions, and instead of actually doing anything about it, Lisa – her first real friend in years – had sided with Coil. It was no wonder that Taylor threw herself into a hopeless brawl with an Endbringer. It was a miracle she survived at all.

Taylor was in a coma and she’d never wake up without parahuman help and it was all Lisa’s fault.

A lot of things in and around the Endbringer battle were a blur in her memory, but she could remember, as clear as day, Taylor’s body, limp and motionless, plugged into half a dozen machines as the medtechs told her teammates about the girl’s condition. That it would take a miracle, or parahuman intervention, for Taylor to wake up.

Her fault.

Lisa felt like a weight had been spread over her body, a blanket full of sand growing heavier with each step, with every passing minute, with every day since the battle.

Sometimes, if she focused on the future, focused on moving forward, the weight was a little easier to bear. She had to bear it, just to deal with everything else.

Coil probably wasn’t going to burn the Undersiders over Taylor’s obvious desire to rescue Dinah Alcott, but he still might treat their comatose teammate as a loose end, no matter how grim her prognosis was. But he wouldn’t get to her, not on Lisa’s watch. Lisa owed her that much.

She was also the only one equipped to deal with Brian’s sister triggering and forcibly joining the team. Lisa’s intuition was the closest her team had to a counter to Aisha’s Stranger power, after all. No one else had a chance in hell of keeping her from doing whatever she damn well pleased and getting into as much trouble as she physically could.

They lost the old loft and had to find a new lair, if only to shut Alec up.

It was all she could do just to keep going. And no matter how well she bore the weight, it didn’t go away. It only increased.

Sprawled across the couch in what passed for the Undersider’s living room, she grinned up at the ceiling. But she couldn’t keep the smile on her face for more than a second or two.

Sometimes, smiling was all you could do, but now, every smile felt like a bundle of knives digging into her own soft, sensitive flesh.

“So, by the way, my friends from yesterday called. Said they’d like to visit.”

Sometimes, you couldn’t even smile.

She rolled to face towards the vague direction of her teammate’s voice.

“Alec,” she moaned. “Please tell me you said no.”

“I said no, by which I mean I said yes.”

She buried her face into the pillow again. “Whyyyyyyy.”

“Cuz they were interesting,” he answered without missing a beat. The same answer as last night.

This time, though, she dared to crack open the floodgates on her power, bracing herself for an imminent migraine. This was too important to guess on.

Power interaction.

Lisa winced. The dull ache at the back of her head sharpened, but it was still something she could bear, she could manage. The answer itself, on the other hand, was much, much worse.

“You didn’t tell me they were capes.”

“It didn’t seem important at the time?”

She just stared at him again, trying to will herself to second-trigger with laser eyes or… something. God, she felt pathetic.

He sighed. “Fine, Lisa. It didn’t seem important to them.”

Truth.

Slowly, Lisa rolled back, staring up at the ceiling.

Right. That was something. The start of a profile, maybe. She could work with that. Do something. Figure something out.

She needed more.

“...did you get names?”

Thankfully, Alec didn’t give her shit about it.

“Yeah,” he said. “Venus and Jupiter. And the one who called introduced herself as Neptune.”

Those sounded like cape names. Maybe she could look them up.

She pawed blindly around the couch before she found her phone. The battery looked fine, and service was back up already. Surprisingly quickly, really.

She’d take it. Less work than talking.

It felt like a monumental task, but eventually, Lisa sat up, flicking through the passcodes on the phone and opening up the web browser. She had to clear her eyes a few times - reading screens wasn’t good for her headache - but soon enough, she was at the Parahumans Online forum and searching for Alec’s mysterious cape friends.

It didn’t take long.

 

■

♦ Topic: Brockton Bay After Leviathan
In: Boards ► News ► Events ►America
Bagrat (Original Poster) (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)

 

■

She skimmed past the chaff, she didn’t have the energy to think about other things. It took her a moment to scroll down to the highlighted section.

 

■

The Devils are a group of capes who by all appearances simply wandered into Brockton Bay after Leviathan. While they’ve provided assistance to city services, they’ve yet to get into any known fights. All of them are Breakers or Changers, or possibly mutated capes, given that they wear no masks and haven’t been seen in human forms, even when performing mundane activities. Their current known membership is:

Venus: Teenage girl with a multitude of wings and eyes. Seems to be a Tinker, possibly specializing in communications tech. Flies.

Jupiter: Teenage girl surrounded with ‘a storm of hands’ [see pictures]. Hands have immense strength, though durability is unclear. Flies, or at least floats.

Neptune: Teenage girl made primarily of water. Somehow handles a cell phone. May be able to self-duplicate.

Riley: Pre-teen girl with extra arms and eyes who appears to be made of clay. Seems to be a biomedical Tinker. Insists that she only goes by Riley; won’t specify whether that’s a first, last, or cape name. May be able to shapeshift.

 

■

Her power raced ahead of her as she scrolled through the attached image links and a few videos, or at least those that she could load on the phone. Venus working on a cell tower, Jupiter clearing rubble, Riley and Neptune at a hospital, Jupiter and Venus…. Going out to eat?

Riley is a personal name. Insists on personal name rather than cape name. Venus, Jupiter and Neptune are also personal names. Being a cape ‘wasn’t important to them’. Don’t think of themselves as capes.

Seemed slightly delusional when they looked like that, but she certainly wasn’t going to try and argue. At least her headache wasn’t flaring up again, though who knew how long it would last.

Lisa went into the thread itself, flicking her phone as quickly as she could until she found something worth looking at.

 

■

 

►RestingWitchFace (Unverified Cape)
Replied on May 21st, 2011
@SoldierSailor: No, no, we’re totally not heroes. We are in fact truly, completely, objectively, theologically, absolutely the worst. We’re just not assholes about it.

@Bagrat: We’re not ‘the Devils’, we’re the devil. I understand it’s a subtle distinction and a little weird, but it’s important. We happen to be the devil, but we’re not defined by our devil-ness. Other people can be the devil too, after all. If you have to call us something, I’m voting for Polyamorous Lesbian Funhouse And Also Riley.

Speaking of which, it’s my understanding that this city is full of Nazis, and I imagine some of you snowflakes might be triggered by the whole ‘polyamorous lesbian’ thing. For those people, I have but one message:

Go ahead. Try to hurt us. We can’t wait to see what you’ll do against the three worst girls since Eve.

 

■

Her thumb worked mechanically, skimming forward and back through the thread, past discussions of whether they were heroes or villains, eyewitness accounts. Lisa couldn’t process it all right now, but her power could. She let it do the work.

Bravado related to trigger event. Similar powers: cluster trigger? Trigger event involved repression, forced conformity. Doesn’t want others to deny themselves or be denied by society in a similar way.

Alright, but what about that thing with ‘the devil’? That screamed something important. It seemed like half of the thread was arguing about what RestingWitchFace meant. Tattletale refocused, let her power run again.

Semantic distinction between ‘the devil’ and ‘the devils.’ ‘The devil’ is a metaphor. A state of mind? Related to trigger event? Related to powers?

Other people can ‘be the devil’. Riley breaks pattern from the other three. Different naming convention, and a power that’s not as tied to her Breaker state. Pictures suggest Venus and Jupiter are in romantic relationship. Three-way with Neptune? Neptune and Riley fill mother and daughter roles.

She didn’t know where her power was going with this. Lisa would have liked to say she was curious to see what ‘Riley’ had to do with anything, but in truth, she was mostly just too tired to fight her power, letting it drag her along.

Three-way relationship between Jupiter, Neptune and Venus forms the core of the group. Riley is a newer addition, others less used to her. Riley is a newer addition but is still ‘the devil’, possesses similar Breaker state.

Breaker state is transmissible.

Holy fuck.

If that was true, that had… god, Lisa didn’t even know what implications it had.

She’d have been fascinated if she didn’t have to deal with it.

But Lisa was operating entirely on secondhand data and speculation, exactly the kind of things that had led her power astray before. Couldn’t Riley just be a second-generation cape? Lisa’s research hadn’t included multi-triggers with second-gens, but she’d hardly call herself an expert on parahuman studies.

Riley shows experience. Doesn’t know her way around hospital. Does know how to work under time pressure and with assistants. Preteen Biotinker. Blonde hair. Strength of insistence on “Riley” may indicate a violent break from a previous identity. Riley is Bonesaw.

Jesus, fuck! Goddamnit, that made too much fucking sense! At least the Nine had already disintegrated, as far as she could tell, and Jack Slash was presumed dead, so she probably wasn’t bringing an entire team of monsters along with her. Though Bonesaw had been presumed dead, too, and clearly, that hadn’t turned out to be the case. But having a former member of the Nine around was still… she really hoped the other Devils had her under control, because if not, they were all totally-

“What the fuck are you yelling about?”

Rachel stomped in, the dogs descending into a chorus of barking at the intrusion, even as Lisa’s world descended into pain, a pitiful moan falling out of her lips.

And she’d managed to shout something about that last revelation without even realizing it, given that Rachel had obviously heard.

Lisa elected to flop down into the couch again, closing her eyes so that she didn’t have to look at Bitch’s glaring face as the girl approached her. As the dogs calmed down, blessed silence fell, at least temporarily, giving her a chance to gather her bearings.

“Alec, in his infinite wisdom, decided to invite some capes to hang out in the lair,” she mumbled. Best of all, she technically wasn’t even lying.

Rachel immediately threw something at him, judging by the crashing sound and subsequent yelping.

“Maybe…” No, that was too loud--Lisa’s own voice thundered in her ears as her migraine returned. “m-maybe you can kill him later, Rachel. We n-need him here when his ‘friends’ come over.”

Lisa didn’t know if Rachel heard her. She didn’t care to look, clapping her hands over her ears in a futile attempt to block out or at least muffle the torturous sound of wanton carnage pounding into her skull.

“Am I seriously the only person here who appreciates a decent social life?!”

“Fuck you!”

Still angry over the loss of Taylor, the loss of a friend. Thinks Alec’s trying to replace her.

“They’re not…. joining the team,” Lisa said, groaning at both the throbbing in her head and the din of Rachel’s current attempt to beat the shit out of Alec. “I don’t think they even know we’re capes, and they wouldn’t want to join if they did. Right, Alec?”

“Right! Rachel, no, what’re you doing- gah!”

Another crash. Rachel almost hit Alec. Lightning shot through Lisa’s brain, and she let out a dull groan that disappeared under Rachel’s demands.

“The fuck! Are you! Trying to pull!” she roared, confusion only making her more angry.

“Nothing! I swear I’m not trying anything! T-they just caught my attention and, and they made me feel things, I guess?!”

He sounded almost unsure of himself. Almost.

Even in her current agony, Lisa couldn’t let the implication go. It came out as a scream of pain, at least as it much as it came out as actual words. “A-alec, they’re- FUCK! - they’re obviously gay! Why the fuck w-would you hit on them?!”

“Not what I meant!”

“What,” Rachel growled, “did you mean?”

Alec was breathing heavily, either from dodging Rachel or from the stress of the conversation. Or maybe both? “It’s… I don’t know. They made me feel… alive? Like… like a human being. It’s… I can’t remember how long it’s been since I’ve felt that way without using my power. Probably since before I had my power.”

Rachel was breathing, too, but she wasn’t moving.

“...If you’re just trying to fuck them, I’ll kill you.”

Alec spoke quietly. “You heard Lisa. They wouldn’t let me fuck them even if I wanted to.”

The silence hung thick in the air.

Eventually, Rachel stomped over towards Lisa again.

She opened her eyes to find the butch girl staring down at her, right into her eyes.

“This is stupid. I’m leaving.”

Rachel turned and walked away, gathering up her dogs in a yapping, barking pack and heading out without another word.

Lisa didn’t try to stop her. Her eyes closed once more, hiding tears of pain.

A few moments after the door shut, Alec collapsed into the couch next to her.

“So what were you really yelling about? Your power broke some bad news?”

Did she want him to know?

Yeah, probably. It wasn’t like he would care.

She picked up the phone again, opening it up and scrolling to the picture of ‘Riley’.

“Cute kid,” he said, unfazed by the extra eyes and arms.

She spoke slowly, carefully, so as not to slur.

“Power says she’s their adoptive daughter. And also Bonesaw. The Bonesaw. Slaughterhouse Nine, disappeared last year, all that.”

Alec fell silent for a few moments, expression unreadable. Then he let out a long, appreciative whistle.

“Damn. Did not see that coming. Kinda obvious once you think of it, though.”

“Kinda,” she agreed.

“Wonder why she didn’t give herself extra limbs before?”

Lisa shrugged. Not enough information for a meaningful answer.

“So what’cha thinking, Tats?”

“I’m not thinking anything,” she muttered.

“Nonsense. Thinking is literally in your job description.”

It was. Thinking was more or less the only thing Lisa could do right now, either way.

She thought. It wasn’t nearly as bad as capital-T Thinking, but it still took her a minute before she managed any words.

“… we can’t have them here. It’ll draw attention we don’t need.”

“I could call them back, meet them somewhere else?” Alec suggested.

Lisa hummed. “We’d be swarmed in cameras. Not much better.”

He frowned, but didn’t reply.

She pursed her lips, rolled it over in her head.

“No, you’re right. It’s not great, but it’s better than the alternative. I’ll get myself a new disguise.”

Alec raised an eyebrow at her.

“...what?”

He shook his head. “Lisa, they know me, not you. And you look like shit. I can handle myself.”

… she hadn’t even thought about that. But it still felt… wrong.

“Someone’s got to keep an eye on you,” she protested.

“If you have to send a babysitter, at least make it Brian. He’s cool. You would just give everyone a headache. Or yourself an aneurysm. I really feel like having to send you to the emergency room would ruin the atmosphere, y’know?”

Right, he was coming over, wasn’t he? With his sister. And he was… coping. He wasn’t as close to Taylor as Lisa herself, but he’d still thought of her as a friend, though not anything like how she had thought of him.

Lisa didn’t think Brian was okay, either, but she was jealous of his ability to pretend otherwise. To keep a brave face and push down his feelings under a mask of cool professionalism.

“I’ll just go make that phone call. Get some fucking rest, Tats.”

She blinked, but Alec was already walking away.

She wanted to say something, but no words came to mind. He was already gone, in another room, his voice barely audible as he spoke on the phone.

She wanted to do something, but she didn’t know what.

The ache behind her eyes steadily pounded into her brain.

In the end, she didn’t do anything at all.

Lisa closed her eyes and slowly drifted to sleep under the weight of her sins.

No one saw her tears.

---

“Wake up, dork. Brian and Aisha are here.”

‘Dork’ was his nickname for Taylor. He misses her more than he realizes.

Lisa stirred, if slowly.

Slowly enough that Alec yanked her off the couch and she went down in a flailing heap.

“Fuck!” she swore, scrambling and grabbing in vain at her assailant, struggling to her feet. “For fuck’s sake, Alec! I’m awake!”

“You are now,” he said, smirking as he danced out of the range of her assault.

Lisa spouted off a few more muffled curses as she found her footing, pushing aside the blanket that had somehow ended up on top of her and scanning the room to try and gather her bearings. Her head softly pounded, not helped by being suddenly shoved off the couch. At least she’d had a nap, a little recovery.

Rachel’s dogs were back, but the girl herself didn’t seem to be in the room. Alec was still standing a few feet away with that same mocking smirk. Brian and Aisha were there, too, the latter sitting on the other couch and not bothering to hide her giggles, the former standing behind Aisha, his arms crossed and his face fixed into a frown.

“...Alec said you wanted to talk?”

Of course he did. Of course he would.

Lisa sighed, trying to straighten herself out. “Alec met some capes and decided to invite them back to the lair. No, they don’t know who we are. Yes, I know, this is stupid,” she began, cutting off the arguments before they could be raised. “Fortunately, Alec managed to get them to agree to meet somewhere else instead. Unfortunately, he wants Brian to come with him.”

“Fuck you, that’s not what I said at all,” Alec grumbled.

“You said you’d rather have him come along than make me come along,” she countered.

Brian stared at Alec, then at Lisa, then, slowly, dropped his face into his hands. “I have better things to do than be Alec’s chaperone, Lisa.”

Lisa glanced towards Alec, who just grinned. “See? I’m a big boy. I can take care of myself. I’m gonna go have ice cream with a bunch of weird capes and it’s going to be just fine.”

“Wait, hold up, tell me more about these weird capes,” Aisha interjected. “And ice cream. Tell me more about ice cream. In fact, let me come along and meet these weird capes.”

“Aisha, you’re not going to-”

“I’m totally going to do it and you can’t stop me.”

She was, of course, objectively correct. Brian scowled even deeper.

Alec laughed. “Lisa found some pictures. They’re cute.” He smiled as he glanced towards Lisa.

She got the message. Her phone wasn’t far- someone, probably Alec, had left it on the coffee table. Lisa scooped it up, flicked her way through the passcode again. Aisha bounced over into her personal space before she was even back at the image links, Brian following a second later as though caught in his sister’s wake and dragged along against his will.

“The girl with all the hands was kinda… high-strung? And the girl with the wings and eyes was a bit quiet. Spunkier than she looks, though,” Alec commented, not even glancing towards the phone. “Both totally cute.”

A moment later, Lisa had the pictures she was looking for.

Brian’s eyes widened as he took in the surreal images, one after the another as she scrolled through.

“What the fuck.”

Aisha, on the other hand, was grinning with surprised delight.

“Woaaaaah. Damn, this is so- hey, wait a minute.” She blinked, jabbing a finger towards a picture of Riley-who-was-almost-certainly-Bonesaw. “I ran into her earlier!”

“No shit?” Alec asked, finally looking over in the general direction of the phone.

“No shit!” Aisha echoed. “Yeah, she had this giant clay spider thing, and Panacea and Glory Girl were there too. Offering free healing, apparently? But also offering random weird medical shit for pay. I gave her fifty bucks and now my hair is actually purple,” she preened, lifting up the stripe of dyed hair and flicking it to one side. “Saves me the trouble of finding dye, so it’ll pay for itself in a year or so. Pretty cool, right?”

Lisa couldn’t use her power fast enough, headache or no headache.

Aisha stole the money.

…

...wow, she would never have guessed. Never in a million years.

Ugh. That was not worth the rusty nail that just ran through her head. Still, she did her best to put on a calm face, tune it out. Maybe get something else to focus her power on.

“Did you see what she did for anyone else?”

Aisha shrugged. “Nah, but I saw some chick flip out cuz she charged too much for a boob job or something.”

...okay then. Maybe Lisa did not, in fact, need something else to focus her power on.

She tried again, doing her best to focus on the actually important things staring her in the face, like Bonesaw allegedly, supposedly, coloring some of Aisha’s hair purple.

Hair is now purple. No side effects. No deleterious modifications. No hidden catches. Bonesaw genuinely offering free services. Atonement? Therapy? Amusement?

That… was a little reassuring, actually. If Bonesaw-who-called-herself-Riley-now was doing free healing and stupid cosmetic modifications for hire, then she probably wasn’t going to destroy the city or turn everyone into rage-zombies or perform some other atrocity Lisa couldn’t think of. At least, not unless provoked.

Still not exactly a calming thought, but at least she didn’t feel like she needed to somehow get the city evacuated. Besides, if Bonesaw was accompanied by heroes who bought the whole ‘Riley’ thing, there wouldn’t be too much of a danger of things going horribly wrong, right? Right.

“Right? Meeting her friends is pretty cool too, right?” Aisha pressed, interrupting Lisa’s thoughts.

Alec grinned. “Of course. And there’ll be ice cream.”

Lisa couldn’t help but chuckle at their naivete. “You know there’s no way they’re actually open, right? Even if the shop managed to keep their stock frozen through Levi and the aftermath, they’d have been cleaned out by now. And I doubt there’s a chance in hell that anyone’s getting ice cream into the city right now.”

He paused, blinked once, and then groaned. “Lisa, is ruining people’s dreams a fetish for you or something?”

She smiled, a slight smile rather than a full Tattletale-brand grin. “I don’t think I’d go that far, Alec. Fetishes are gross.”

A pouting Aisha spoke up, hopeful, before Alec could respond. “But we’re still going and meeting the weird capes, right?”

“It wouldn’t do to show up such fine ladies,” he agreed, already smiling again.

“Why are we still standing around here? C’mon, Alec, let’s go have fun and shit!”

Brian cleared his throat, poorly hidden triumph shining in his eyes if not in his face. “Aisha.”

“Yeah, bro?”

“I still don’t want you going. But if you are, then I’m coming with you and you can’t stop me,” he announced.

“I can make you forget I’m going.”

“No, you can make all of us forget you’re going and spend the whole time ignored by everyone.”

“Motherfucker.”

He crossed his arms. “I’m tempted to say this is too dangerous for Regent, and he’s a cape with years of experience. You haven’t been a cape for even a week.”

She tensed, and he paused. For a moment, the way they looked at each other, it seemed like he was about to hug her, or she was about to hug him.

Lisa didn’t need her power to know what they were thinking about.

The moment passed. Neither was willing to be the first to show emotion. Brian eventually started talking again, doing his best to pretend that nothing had happened.

“These are three capes we know almost nothing about, with powers we know almost nothing about. For all we know, one of them could be a Master. We don’t even know if they’re heroes or villains!”

“I don’t think they’re either,” Lisa interjected. “Seems to me like they mostly just want to fuck around and be kids. Not an attitude you see a lot of, especially on people who are so blatantly parahuman, but whatever. At least we shouldn’t have to worry about getting into a fight with them.”

Or maybe, she mused, it was because they were so blatantly parahuman? If they were permanently in that state, maybe they wanted the only life they had to be a civilian one. She could relate. She hadn’t really wanted to become a cape, after all. Certainly not like this.

But things didn’t always go according to plan.

Brian blinked, then shook his head. “I don’t want to wager Aisha’s safety on that. If we end up in a fight, we’ll need all the power we can get.”

“If we end up in a fight,” Lisa countered, “there’s a decent enough chance we’re just screwed. Like you said, we don’t know enough about them. It seems safe to assume that Venus is a Thinker, but what if she’s a Blaster, too? In an open space, she could just fly above us and rain fire and there’d be pretty much nothing we could do.” The idea didn’t come from nowhere; she vaguely recalled reading something about light and heat somewhere in the thread. She’d need to look into it.

Brian started to speak, but Lisa kept going.

“Your smoke might interfere with Jupiter like it does with Shadow Stalker, but it might not, and if it doesn’t, there’s nothing the four of us could do, except maybe Aisha. She could just feel us moving through the darkness and beat the shit out of us with all of those hands. Rachel’s dogs might be able to go toe to toe with her, but that’s a big ‘might’, and she’s not coming out to a social call either way. And Neptune, we don’t even know how to hurt Neptune. Would we have to boil her? No way we can do that on the battlefield. Scatter her body? Not easy, and likely to backfire if wrong. Destroy a core? I didn’t see one in any of the pictures. If she has one, it might not even be in her human body. It could be in the next state, for all I know.”

“We get it, you don’t want to fight,” Alec interrupted. “Couldn’t you just talk them down?”

“It’s a better idea than trying to brawl with them, that’s for sure. But I barely know them. I don’t think I have enough information to stop them if they get going. Best I can do is make sure nothing happens to begin with.”

Brian sighed. “So you want to go to this… thing. Why does that mean I shouldn’t?”

Lisa hummed. “Having someone to help Bitch if things go south is nice, and I can keep a better eye on Aisha than you can. Plus, there’s the chance our civilian identities get associated with the Devils. Alec doesn’t have much of a civilian identity, so it shouldn’t be a huge problem.”

It could still be a problem, but she didn’t think his father or his agents would look at the obviously female Devils for signs of his son, much less random civilians associated with them.

He wasn’t smiling, but he didn’t object.

“Aisha doesn’t have too much to worry about. It’d be easy enough for her to snatch any cameras pointed her way, and even if she doesn’t, I doubt anyone would look into it too hard. And me? If, somehow, I get identified as Lisa Wilbourne, I can always just make another identity. But you’re still seeking custody of Aisha, Brian. They’ll be looking out for things like this, and while I don’t think they’ll directly find your sister, there’s a decent chance that if your name is out there, they’ll find that. And questions will be asked. It’d just make everything complicated. Coil might be able to take care of it, but I doubt he’d appreciate it.”

Aisha interjected herself into the conversation again with a laugh. “Besides, if Lisa comes along, it’ll be a nice girl-date, right?”

“I’m a girl now?” Alec mused.

“Eh, you’re cute. Close enough.”

Brian’s face immediately twisted into a scowl. Lisa elicited to try and shut the conversation down before he could start tearing into his sister’s questionable tastes.

“Right! So, it’s settled then. I’ll go get changed,” she declared, smiling broadly.

“You better not have any aneurysms on me.” Alec shook his head. “No way you’re feeling alright already.”

Her head still pounded softly. Taylor was still in a coma. Everything still felt a bit like shit.

“I’m okay,” she said, and for a second, she almost believed it.

Chapter 7: (Lisa)

Summary:

In which there is an ice cream social.

Notes:

Contains: lewd jokes, somewhat explicit language, painfully generic names, sneaky references, discussion of homophobia

“Aw, man,” Aisha groaned. “I think they’re closed.”

Lisa looked up at the ice cream shop. The windows and the door had been boarded up. There weren’t any signs hanging in them. There was no sign of light in the building.

“Wow, Aisha,” she deadpanned. “I have no idea why you would possibly think that.”

The girl simply raised her middle finger in indignation, already following Alec as he lifted himself over the low fence separating the outdoor seating from the sidewalk.

He glanced around at the tables and chairs, testing one of the nicer-looking ones before slipping into the seat with a happy, lazy little sigh.

“Pretty comfortable for an abandoned ice cream shop,” he commented.

“But there’s no ice cream!” Aisha cried, jumping into a chair after him. “What’s our date without ice cream?!”

“Eh, it still has cute girls. At least two of them are already here.”

Aisha’s cheeks darkened, even as she grinned.

Lisa shook her head, filing in after them. She opened the gate like a civilized person.

“Hush. I’ve got enough of a headache already.” It thrummed at the back of her head, soft but inescapable, waiting to flare up into a crippling migraine. She’d probably have one of those after this was over, but it couldn’t be helped. Even if everything went well, she would still need plenty of answers, answers that she’d need her power to find.

Alec and Aisha ignored her and went on bickering about ice cream. Or something. She was doing her best to tune them out. Instead, she focused on their surroundings.

Being in a public place (or really anywhere but her apartment or the lair) always carried a certain element of risk. Given the situation and location – the three of them together in an open space, not too heavily trafficked but visible, doing nothing of note – she wasn’t too worried about mundane criminal shenanigans or overzealous law enforcement. Capes were another story, though, especially if someone was going after their ‘guests’. The Empire remnants, in particular, had something to prove after Kaiser’s death, not to mention that they were Nazis and thus naturally inclined to disapprove of the ‘polyamorous lesbian funhouse’ even before one of the Devils called them out on PHO.

As far as Lisa was concerned, that shoe was going to drop sooner or later.

And the sooner this meeting was over, the less likely that shoe would drop on her.

Lisa didn’t yet see anything untoward, but that wasn’t surprising. Still, it paid to get a feel of the area, to scope out escape routes, places where a gunman or Blaster might fire from, places where she might take shelter from said fire (aside from the obvious but obviously flawed measure of diving under a table), that sort of thing, even if she had to fight with her power to keep it from burning itself out with unneeded inferences.

Thinking about what to do when – if things went south was a decent enough distraction from Alec and Aisha’s… ugh, bonding. Alec could be annoying, but he was too lazy to cause any real trouble. Aisha, on the other hand, was obviously used to acting out to try and get attention. Alec giving her ideas was a recipe for disaster.

“...pumpkins with laser eyes are cool, but it sounds like a lot of work-”

He suddenly cut off whatever nonsense he was in the middle of saying. The interruption jarred Lisa into actually paying attention, tracking his gaze as he turned to stare through a seemingly random house.

Focus, accelerated breathing: looking at something, seeing something. Something not visible. Seeing with his power. Regent’s power has a minimal sensory component, wouldn’t normally be able to see through a building: power interaction. Power interaction, place and time: he sensed one of the Devils with his power.

Aisha rapidly blinked, just as thrown off by the suddenness.

“What? What is it, Alec? What the heck are you looking at?”

“They’re here,” he answered, not even turning to look at her, keeping his gaze focused on, presumably, the Devil or Devils as they moved.

“They are?”

They were. A moment later, they slipped into view from around the corner. Not as three separate people, but as one unit, jumbled together in what, given the way their hands and limbs pressed together and over each other’s bodies, might be called a mobile snuggle pile. The unmistakable shape of a human form cast out of water formed the base. Debris and rubble swirled in the currents of Neptune’s body, but only pure, clear liquid dripped from the cracks in translucent skin, leaving a trail of shining pavement in her wake. A storm of hands held the pile together, fingers sinking into liquid flesh and brushing soft wings and… holding groceries? Yes, Lisa caught a glimpse of canvas bags between the hands that filled the space, giving the pile a sort of weight and depth, though she couldn’t see Jupiter’s face within it. A swirl of wings and eyes covered the pile, white feathers circling the dark water and the storm of hands. Lisa did see Venus’s face somewhere in the middle of all those wings and eyes, a lithe body fluttering like a leaf in the breeze, basking in her lovers’ flesh.

Lisa’s head spun, taking in the chaotic scene. Her power didn’t help, firing off like lightning in her mind, snapping from thought to thought.

Sixteen to eighteen years old. Female. Primarily composed of water-

Sixteen to eighteen years old. Female. Each hand is unique and moves individually-

Seventeen to eighteen years old. Female. Unusual flight characteristics-

They love each other. Physical contact in a public forum. No fear of being witnessed? They want it to be witnessed. Exhibitionism? No, no signs of arousal. Something else.

While Lisa’s eyes watered, Alec was already waving. A hundred eyes turned to face him, and before she knew it, the Devils were flowing, or floating, or flying, or… piling their way over to the three of them. Neptune was smirking, Venus was smiling, Jupiter’s face was still hidden in the storm of hands until Neptune pushed her out and then Lisa saw her grumpy little pout.

“Hi, Alec,” Venus chirped, smiling bright.

“Hey,” Jupiter sighed, hands fidgeting against her lovers.

“Hi, nerd,” Neptune said, her briny body bouncing as she came to a stop.

“Bonjour,” Alec drawled. “Fancy meeting you here. Neptune, I take it?”

“The one and only,” she confirmed, pulling away from her teammates as she eyed up the other two Undersiders. “And these must be your boring roommates?”

“I have my own place,” Lisa grumbled – only partially true given how much damage her apartment complex had taken from Leviathan’s attack, but while she didn’t mind boring, being lumped in with Alec was a bridge too far.

“And I’m not boring! I’m the one interesting roommate,” Aisha shot in, grinning widely. “Tragic backstory, cool outfit, badass powers…”

Venus pursed her lips in thought as her eyes roamed over the girl. “...oh! So you're the token evil teammate, right?”

Lisa blinked.

Aisha blinked, too.

Then, when the words finally processed, she broke down cackling, stopping only to dart over to the Breaker and hold out her fist for a bump. Venus hesitated, her wings shuffling around as if to try and expose her hand, before finally settling for pushing a wing out and completing the bump with a wingtip and an awkward smile.

“Hey now, being the token evil teammate is my job,” Alec interrupted, leaning back and smirking lazily.

“I mean, both of you were crazy enough to think you could actually get ice cream in a place like this,” Lisa commented, shaking her head sadly. “I told you, but did you listen? Nooooo.”

Jupiter suddenly lit up, floating away from Neptune and bringing the canvas bags from earlier to the front. “We figured there wouldn’t be any, soooo we brought our own!”

“By which she means we flew out to the next town over and bought some,” Venus added. “It only took us a couple of hours, so it should still be good.”

“I made sure we had utensils and bowls and napkins and everything!”

“You checked like three times on the way here,” Neptune noted, chuckling and shaking her head.

Jupiter reddened, even as she slipped forward and deposited her bags carefully on the table that Alec and Lisa were still sat at (and that Aisha was returning to), the hands pulling away the covering to reveal the… other bag. Which she then opened to reveal a perfectly normal pint of ice cream to go along with all the plastic spoons and bowls and cheap paper napkins.

Lisa found herself reaching out to touch the pint.

It was soft to the touch, but still mostly frozen.

A hand pushed her gently away. “C’mon, let me get everything set up,” Jupiter chided, even though it took barely a moment to stuff a napkin and a bowl and a spoon in front of all six of them.

“This is… a lot of trouble to go through just to have some ice cream,” Lisa found herself saying, staring down at the disposable settings, blinking a couple of times to confirm that yep, she was having ice cream forced upon her. Not that she minded ice cream, but… here and now?

Neptune laughed. “Sure it is, but it’s the principle of the thing.”

Venus smiled. “It’s about being normal. Doing normal, human things, like going an hour each way just to get a single pint of ice cream. That’s important, right?”

Cadence, tone: she’s said this before, though sometimes in different contexts. “At a time like this?”

The winged girl nodded. “Especially at a time like this.”

“Probably got a lot of people staring,” Aisha said. “Bet it was pretty hilarious.”

“A little funny, yeah. But watching is good, you know? There’s not much point if nobody sees it.”

“Them staring is the whole point,” Neptune said with a chuckle. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t need to prove to myself that I’m human. It’s everybody else who needs to get a clue. Not that I need them to get a clue, either. But I’d like to think that it helps the more interesting parahumans, the Case 53s or whatever they’re being called these days.”

Lisa almost replied, intrigued by where the Devils were going with this, when Alec cut her off.

“You’re all making this way too complicated,” he whined. “I came here to have ice cream. You came here to have ice cream. The ice cream is right the fuck there.”

The ocean-girl smirked. “You didn’t say the magic word, loser.”

Alec’s eyes widened, obviously for effect, as he lowered his head. “You’re right, you’re right. Please, oh great and powerful Devils, may I partake of the luscious, filling, creamy joy of decadent and rich ice cream?”

Venus giggled. Aisha raised an eyebrow.

“The luscious, filling, creamy joy?” she repeated.

Alec smiled, raising his head again. “Of course. ”

“Gonna dive right in and make a big mess?”

“Gonna suck on it like it’s candy.”

Neptune smirked. “So you’re gonna eat it like you’re eating that pussy, right?”

“Or that dick,” he agreed. “I’m not picky.”

“Come on,” Lisa grumbled, dropping her head onto the table. “Can’t we just eat ice cream like ice cream, without any stupid sex jokes?”

“And to think, just a moment ago they were doing decent sex jokes,” Jupiter marveled.

“Well, eating delicious food is about as good as sex,” Alec mused.

All eyes turned to him.

“No shit?” said Aisha.

“No shit. They’re both basically direct bodily pleasure. Hard to get better than that.” He leaned back, closing his eyes and smiling. “This one time, I ate like four cakes in a single sitting and it was great.”

Neptune laughed. “Even when you threw it all up afterwards?”

“Nah, I took steps.”

Lisa stared at him. She had an idea of what those steps might be, and was he really joking about-

“Pills, Lisa!” he hastily added. “I drowned it in pepto-bismol and laxatives like a normal person! Jeez, you’re always assuming the worst.”

It was Neptune’s turn to stare, her eyes narrowing. “And what, exactly, was she assuming?”

Alec paused, feeling the tension in the air. (Possibly actually feeling it for once? Hard to say.)

“Before I answer, I gotta know. Isn’t your kid, like…”

“Cute?” Venus suggested.

“Smart?” Jupiter added.

“No, no, that other thing. Come on, I don’t have to spell it out, do I? You know what I mean. The uncomfortable past we pretend not to acknowledge in polite company?"

The Devils let out a chorus of ‘ohhhhhs’, though Lisa had the feeling that Neptune, at least, hadn’t needed the hint.

Lisa was also desperately holding back the urge to scream at Alec for all the things he just implicitly admitted, even if it was to maybe the only people in the world who wouldn’t mind too much, what with the whole ‘adopting a member of the Slaughterhouse Nine’ thing.

“It’s not quite that simple, but yeah, that’s fair,” Neptune said, shrugging her shoulders and spilling out a little more water with the motion. “Soz.”

Alec waved his hand. “It’s cool. I’m pretty much over it-”

His arm jerked, as if tugged on by a string.

The Devils were suddenly staring at him again. “Hey, are you okay?” Jupiter asked. Venus frowned, and even Neptune was watching him with something sharp and discerning in her gaze.

Alec frowned slightly himself, lifting the arm in question and rubbing it against his cheek. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just a minor condition, nothing to worry about.”

Lisa also knew exactly why Alec had those sorts of spasms: a side effect of power overuse. Except… it had taken him off guard, hadn’t it?

He’s confused because he wasn’t using his power.

The hands in the air clustered on Alec’s skin, pushing into the curves of his body, of his back and shoulders. Tension disappeared, and a lazy smile formed on his face.

Genuine emotion? Genuine emotion. Emotional Master effect? No, specific to Alec. Power interaction. Emotional feedback through viewing the nervous system of the hands, Lisa’s power whispered, but while the answers fascinated her, they weren’t the answers she was looking for.

She braced herself for a flash of pain, but none came. Maybe she had recovered more than she’d realized.

Lisa wasn’t the type to look a gift horse in the mouth. She refocused, tried again.

The Devils obviously knew, or thought they knew, what Alec’s spasm meant. Why?

Immediately sought to comfort: viewed as a response to stress. They have comparable tics/misfires under stress. Alec showing early symptoms of Devil-form transmission.

Oh. Oh no.

That quickly? This was the second time he’d met them and the first time was yesterday. Lisa had been hoping to get enough information to figure out how to get the Devils out of their hair; they couldn’t go on with hanging out with these attention-magnets forever, one way or another. But she’d assumed that the transmission wouldn’t be an immediate issue, that it wasn’t something that happened automatically. Had she already contracted whatever it was that gave them their forms? Was she doomed to some monstrous form? She’d only ever gotten by through blending in. Could she really live like the Devils did, always a center of attention, always in the spotlight? And how many of her contacts and how much of her leverage would she still be able to access? And what about Coil? Could she lose him long enough that he didn’t realize who the new monster cape was? Or would he still find ways to sink his fangs into her?

She thought she heard someone whispering in her ear.

Then Aisha shoved a spoonful of ice cream down her throat, forcing her to swallow to avoid choking on the soft, cool treat.

“See? As good as sex,” Alec commented, before diving into his own dessert with obscene enthusiasm.

Lisa shoved Aisha’s spoon out of her mouth, not that it stopped her delighted cackling. The girl only stopped to ruin her lips with her own sloppy slurp of cream.

Shaking her head, Lisa snatched up the spoon (her spoon that is, not Aisha’s), looking across the table to find the three Devils working away at their respective bowls, the pint of half-melted cream already emptied and left for dead in the center of the table. For the most part, they were too busy eating to giggle.

For the most part.

Her power filled the relative silence while she begrudgingly enjoyed the treat in front of her.

Rapid transmission, no reports of symptoms online: symptoms likely start out, perhaps remain minor for most cases. Time between Bonesaw’s disappearance, reappearance as “Riley”: significant period between initial transmission and full Breaker-form symptoms.

Okay. So there probably wouldn’t be any immediate catastrophes. That was good.

Lisa breathed deep, reset her thoughts, and looked over the table at the Devils.

“So, do you normally go out for ice cream with people you just met?”

“You do know it was Alec’s idea, right?” Neptune countered.

Lisa rolled her eyes. “Of course I do. I’m not stupid. But you agreed to it and you’d met him once. Or never.”

“She’s got you there,” Alec agreed.

“Not many people want to just hang out with us,” Jupiter mused. “It’s a valuable opportunity.”

Venus smiled. “Even with the creepy asshole thing?”

A loud, long sigh. “Yes, Venus. Even with the creepy asshole thing.”

The creepy asshole in question bowed his head deeply. “I do aim to please. Clearly, people simply don’t appreciate your devilish charms.”

Neptune waved her spoon. “Points for effort, but too on the nose. Six out of ten?”

“One point to Slytherin,” Venus confirmed.

“Wait, is he a Slytherin?” Neptune asked.

Jupiter sighed. “Of course he’s a fucking Slytherin, what else could he be?”

Aisha leaned towards Lisa, grumbling softly. “What the fuck is a Slytherin?”

“Something from a series called Harry Potter. It’s kinda like Maggie Holt,” she answered, shaking her head, “but it only really got big on Earth Aleph. Had a few movies and everything.”

“You should watch them with us,” Neptune interjected. “While getting really drunk. It’s great. They’re great.”

“Iiiii think I’m good, thanks.”

Aisha huffed. “Man, fuck that fantasy bullshit. Y’all nerds need to watch Jane Bond.”

“I bet it doesn’t even have singing hats,” Neptune smugged.

“God, that sounds stupid. No, it doesn’t have singing hats, thank fuck.” Aisha rolled her eyes. “It has rocket cars.”

“Rocket cars,” Venus declared, “are for people who can’t fly.”

“Even when they’ve got laser guns and rockets and a soda machine for some reason?”

Venus’s eyes widened with delighted confusion. “Why do they have a soda machine that is so dumb and amazing and it’d be so. Cool.”

“No shit it’d be cool.” Neptune laughed, reaching out a liquid hand to properly offer a fistbump. “Let’s swap tapes sometime, ‘kay?”

“Harry Potter for Jane Bond?”

“Yup!”

“You got a deal, sister.” Aisha grinned, finally accepting the bump, the sound echoing softly.

They faded back into comfortable silence, or at least comfortable for the smiling girls. Less comfortable for Lisa.

Either way, it didn’t last too long.

“Excuse me! Could I ask you some questions?”

Lisa reluctantly turned her head.

The speaker was probably in his early twenties. Vaguely Caucasian, though not as white as he could have been. He looked about as neat as someone in his position could look right now, with a wrinkled but reasonably well-fitted suit and a sleek haircut that was only slightly out of date. A tape recorder was stuffed into one pocket, and he held a notebook under one arm.

His attempt to look serious and yet not unfriendly might have approached endearing, but Lisa wasn’t in the mood right now.

She let out a long, tortured sigh, made only slightly more tortured by holding back her power. “And you are…?”

“Ken Smith. Independent journalist.”

Translation: some college kid working on a degree. That’s about what she thought.

Aisha groaned, loudly. “Fuck off, I’m having ice cream.”

“Your ice cream is melting,” Alec pointed out.

“It was already melted!”

“Better have it while it’s still at least a little cold, then.”

The ‘journalist’ blinked, looking between the bickering couple, back to Lisa’s unamused face, and then to-

“Oh, don’t mind them,” Neptune cooed, sliding her entire body towards Smith and making him take a step back as the mass of water encroached on his personal space. She grinned, leaning her head in even closer still. “I’d be delighted to answer your questions...”

“A-ah, well-”

“Oh my god, Neptune.” Jupiter shook her head. “Are you trying to give him a heart attack?”

“Jupiter, darling, you already know the answer to that.”

The red-faced young man stepped back again, clearing his throat, taking a deep breath and getting, judging by the slight wrinkle of his nose, a lungful of whatever Neptune smelled like.

Brine, alcohol, ink, sweat, holy water.

Wait, what was that last one?

“So.” Smith moved right along before she could think too hard about that. Lisa supposed she had to admire his determination in spite of herself. “Just for the record, could you introduce yourselves?”

“Why, I’m Neptune, of course!~” she sang. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Jupiter.” She pointedly glanced away.

“Venus!” She chirped. _{”And by our powers combined, we are-”}

“Woah, hold up. Haven’t we gone over how totally gay you are?” Alec interjected, looking up from his empty bowl.

Neptune scoffed. “Please. I can tease someone without actually wanting screw their brains out. Really, I’m offended by the implication that I would be so base, so shallow.”

He let out a gasp. “You mean making fun of me doesn’t mean you’re attracted to me? Say it isn’t so!”

She rolled her eyes. “I learned the difference between teasing and flirting when I was two.”

Alec shot her a look of betrayal, to which she simply responded with a smirk.

The ‘journalist’ cleared his throat, looking over towards Alec and Lisa. “And you are…?”

Alec coughed. “Nobody important.”

Jupiter fixed him with a glare. “Everybody’s important. Also don’t be a wimp.”

His finger twitched. Smith didn’t seem to notice. The Devils certainly did.

Alec glanced down at the offending finger, his lips curling into a slight frown. After a moment, he exhaled, looking back up at the college boy. “Fine. I’m Alec. We met and decided to hang out. Happy?”

The journalist scratched the back of his head. “Well, ah… feel free to comment?”

“Nah,” Alec said, already looking away.

“Alright, then.” Evidently, he’d gotten the point, since he turned his attention back to the Devils without any further attempts to bother Alec. Or Lisa, for that matter. Definitely fine with her.

“You’re relatively new to this city, correct?”

“I think it’s been about a week since we got here,” Venus confirmed.

“What’s it like being an openly gay… triplet?” he ventured.

“I still vote for-”

Jupiter cut Neptune off. “Triplet works.”

“Boo ruined.”

“Hush, Nep.”

“Ahem. As I was saying. What’s it like being an openly gay triplet in Brockton Bay?”

Venus’s eyes narrowed in concentration or maybe in anger.

Jupiter’s hands tightened, on tables and chairs and throats.

“Well, the gay triplet part is pretty great,” Neptune commented, an awkward smile on her face before she burst into a fit of coughing, spilling up a hint of something dark, something that definitely wasn’t ice cream.

Alec, of all people, spoke up. “Maybe you should try another question-”

“No, no, it’s fine. Just because it’s stressful doesn’t mean we shouldn’t talk about it,” Venus insisted, her voice firm.

When no one (not even a fidgeting Smith) objected, she pressed forward, wings stilling as she spoke.

“It’s not like people being uncomfortable is new. It’s not like people hating us is new. Everywhere we go, there’ll be at least a couple of people who avert their eyes, or who mutter things when they think we can’t hear them. But here, there are so many more. Not all of them avert their eyes. Some of them, I think they’re just in it to be with their friends. But others...”

Neptune scowled. Little ripples went through her body in time with her voice. “Imagine being so fucking hateful that you really truly want to kill someone because they’re holding the wrong person’s hand. And plenty of them would if they thought they could get away with it. How many people are killed just for being themselves, do you think? And how many more have to live in fear?”

“And do you? Live in fear, that is?”

“...walked right into that one, didn’t I.” She coughed quietly, though without the bile this time.

“A little,” Venus admitted. “It will never stop being disconcerting, looking into someone’s eyes and knowing how much they want you dead.”

“It’d be easier than people think,” Neptune murmured, waves slowly rolling back and forth across her body. “Not that hard to get a gun if you really want to hurt someone. I’ve never been shot, so I can’t say if I’m immune to bullets, but I know plenty of parahumans aren’t. If people weren’t as afraid of capes as they are, I’m sure someone would have already tried. That’s fucked up, isn’t it?”

“It’s fucked up,” Jupiter agreed.

Alec hummed, then added, “Yup, pretty fucked up.”

Lisa couldn’t help but nod, having seen how much damage someone like Purity could do when they weren’t holding back. Unwritten rules, societal norms and social bonds; flimsy as they were, they still made the difference between Brockton Bay being a rundown city trying to recover from the aftermath of a disaster and Brockton Bay being a warzone.

Smith paused.

“If you’re afraid, why do you present yourselves all the same?”

“Because fuck them,” Neptune snapped, bubbles popping across her skin, hot steam hissing from pores. “Fuck them. They are literally just a bunch of haters and assholes and kids like us. What do they know? Where did they get the right to tell us what to do? They fucking didn’t, and it makes me so mad that they can get away with it. For fuck’s sake, Legend is gay! Legend came out decades ago and there are still people who can’t deal with that like what the actual shit? It’s twenty fucking eleven, how long will it take for them to get over themselves?”

“Maybe it’s because Legend is gay and the director of the PRT is Hispanic and same-sex marriage is legal and all that,” Venus mused, eyes slowly opening and closing all over her wings as if to process the thoughts. “They hate being reminded that they’re not superior, they hate being told they’re wrong. They hate it when the people they hate are successful. So they hate even more. But.. if they weren’t being reminded, they’d still hate, right? They’d still be keeping people down, still be hurting them. The absence of tension isn’t the same as the presence of justice, you know?”

“And what’s the point of being the Devil,” Jupiter murmured, a hundred fingers lightly tapping against the table, “if you still live in fear of God? What’s the point of being comfortable with yourself if you can’t show that to the world? It might be naive, and maybe we’re privileged in that we can do this without being lynched, but...”

Smith was furiously scribbling notes as she trailed off.

Suddenly, sound filled the air, a harsh electronic tune against a pounding beat and muffled singing. In the moment it took Lisa to recognize it as a ringtone, Neptune had already flipped her phone open and had it to her ear, without so much as an apology. The college boy frowned, but Jupiter’s glare eventually stilled his face into a professional neutrality.

“Hello, this is-”

The voice on the other end was high-pitched, though Lisa couldn’t really make out anything. Definitely eager, though. And judging by Neptune’s immediate smile, someone she was happy to hear from.

“Hey, girl! What’s up?”

Caller is a friend. Caller is a family member. Caller is Riley.

Not like there were any other options, were there?

Neptune laughed, literally bubbling with amusement. “Glad you’re having fun! Buuuut you’re not calling just to tell me that, right?” Her voice grew a tad more serious. “What do you need, Rye?”

Riley is working on a project, but something’s in the way.

“…wow, that’s bullshit. But we’re done with our ice cream anyways. Might as well blow this joint. See you in a bit!~”

She flipped the phone closed, looking back up at the little crowd with a grin. “Looks like we’ve gotta head out. Need to help our little girl with some paperwork.”

“May I-”

“Follow? Sure, if you can keep up.” The girl smirked, washing the plastic trash right off the table, almost out of Lisa’s very hands, and into the nearest bin, squeezing it in for all that said bin really needed to be emptied already before it inevitably overflowed.

Aisha let out a little squeak as Neptune swept up her bowl. Wait, where did she go? Oh, right, her power, of course. She hadn’t moved.

Mr. Smith made to say something else, but it was lost in the roaring tide as the cackling Neptune curled her water around a giggling Venus and a snorting Jupiter, dragging them into her depths and bursting into a wave rolling down the street, laughing all the way.

Alec watched them go, a small smile on his face. “Well, that was a fun time. They’re such a lovely ménage à trois, wouldn’t you agree?”

Aisha smiled too, but hers was jittery, uncertain. “Fuck yeah,” she declared, a little louder than necessary.

The young man looked between them, blinking a few times as if to clear his eyes.

“… I think I should go.”

And then he dashed off in hot pursuit.

Lisa didn’t think he’d catch them, but she was happy to see him gone.

“Well, that’s done with. Thank fuck.” She groaned, slowly rising to her feet, glancing around the area again just to be on the safe side.

Lisa had what she needed to know: namely, that the Devils were full of trouble and ought to be avoided at all costs. Now, whether she could convince her teammates of that…

“I dunno, I wouldn’t mind hanging out with them. Beats this nerd.” Aisha playfully shoved Alec to the side as she rose from her seat, only for a spasm to send her tumbling to the ground in a heap.

He just raised an eyebrow, looking down at her, only for her to lunge at him and send them both to the ground in a frankly childish wrestling match.

Lisa shook her head, wondering when they’d grow up.

It was at that moment, of course, that her phone vibrated.

Dread settled in her stomach as she picked it out of her pocket, opened it up.

Knowing who it had to be, she waited as long as she dared, staring at the number for a long few seconds before she finally pressed the talk button.

“Hello, Sarah.”

Of course it was him. It couldn’t have been anyone else. His voice alone was enough to send a chill down her spine, these days. She gave even odds that the fucker practiced that voice.

“Suuup, Boss?” she drawled, putting a grin on her face to help with the grin in her words.

“Just making sure my most valued employee isn’t associating with a dangerous crowd.”

Timing. He’s talking about the Devils.

“Relaaax. Do I look like the kind of girl to get herself into trouble? I can take care of myself just fine.”

“So you’ve told me. If I decide otherwise, well…”

Knows I know what he can do to me. Still has assets available for the task, even after Leviathan.

She grit her teeth. “So, what, my friends aren’t good enough for you?”

“They draw attention you don’t need,” Coil hissed. “Stay away from them.”

Then he hung up.

Tattletale breathed deep, shoved the phone back into her pocket.

Fuck. Of course he’d know.

And, damn it all, now she almost wanted to get this transformation or Breaker state or whatever. Maybe he could still try to ruin what life she had left, but if she was a monster, he couldn’t make her disappear.

But he was worried about the Devils. Worried enough to eliminate her immediately, before she could reach that state?

Would he put her in the basement too?

It wasn’t good to shiver in public. She tried to smile.

But something caught her eye.

The seat where Aisha had been was covered in some kind of black dust.

Lisa felt her headache – and her terror – returning as the whispers closed in again.

Notes:

A/N: Still not 100.0000000% sure on everything, but you gotta post eventually, right? And there’s a sneaky Martin Luther King Junior reference in here, so obviously it has to be posted in time for MLK Jr. Day.

Beta’d by Reyemile, with further help from intodusk, Sub_Rosa , and others.

Neptune’s ringtone, as suggested by Subrosa, is a track called In My Mouth by a group called the Black Dresses. It’s definitely not my normal listening. At all. But it’s pretty good and very fitting.

Chapter 8: (???)

Summary:

In which ??? is witnessed. Also, fuck Nazis.

Notes:

Contains: Nazis, violence, homophobia, racism, references to abuse and drug use

There used to be a nice little cafe here, just off the Boardwalk. Leviathan had blown out the tinted glass, but the plastic sheeting that had been rolled across the window frames made for a suitably translucent replacement, and someone had either rescued or remade the little sandwich-board sign out front. No specials, but ‘We All Have Our Quirks’ was rendered in the same colorful, elegant font as before.

The Devils would have probably loved this place, if they weren’t afraid of ruining it with attention.

Given that the front wall had been carved and gouged and shredded into little more than a pile of rubble, Quirks’ not-so-grand-reopening would likely have to wait.

Even from the other side of the street, the air swirled with nearly incorporeal hands, touching and feeling and grasping. The eye of the storm was pressed into the rubble, a human form suspended in the storm of hands, a thousand nails digging furrows into brick and lumber and tile and drywall. Jupiter howled, not with her voice but with her fingers, her pain and anger sinking into the wounds around her, tearing them deeper still.

A giant marched on the storm. Three stories tall, armed with spear and shield, clad in leather and steel in some approximation of a Norse warrior angel, Menja might have been an inspiring figure were it not for what she represented. Her size magnified everything about her: the thousand tiny nail-marks scratched into her armor and her skin, the grim, cold determination in her eyes, the sound of her boots leaving spidery cracks in the pavement as she walked.

Reaching the broken storefront, Menja thrust her spear deep into the heart of the storm, into the eyewall. Confined as she was, Jupiter couldn’t or didn’t avoid it. Instead, she blocked it, the cloud thickening as hands grasped and pushed and shoved at the weapon. But the spear barely slowed, until it physically pierced the palm of one hand… and another, and another, and another.

The storm roared, ripping and tearing at Menja’s skin as she grit her teeth and pushed forward, inching her spear ever closer to Jupiter’s heart.

Outside, a truck-sized beast of shifting blades and wicked hooks stalked forward, head turning this way and that. It paused for an instant, then launched itself towards the storefront in a sprint, as if to slip into the wreckage and tear Jupiter into so many ribbons like it had already done to the store itself.

Instead, a wave of thick ichor erupted from the concrete, swelling from dismissed puddles to engulf the beast, a flood of molasses, sickly-sweet ink clinging to jagged metal, pulling at joints, dragging the creature into its depths.

Neptune couldn’t silence Hookwolf’s deafening screech of blades and knives ground against one another, no matter how much her sludge muffled it or how loud she cackled. But she cackled and taunted all the same. “Oh, wow, did you really think I was dead? What a stupid dog~”

A horrible sound spilled from the storefront, the terrible noise of splitting and tearing wood. A very human scream accompanied it as Jupiter twisted the lodged spear hard enough to shatter it in half a dozen places, leaving jagged splinters inside her hands, blood swirling into the storm and making it run even thicker.

Menja barely hesitated, trying to drive the sharp-edged remnants of the shaft forward instead, but Jupiter pushed it aside, barreling forward with all the force and pain and fury a storm could bring to bear. Bricks and debris, swept up in the hands, smashed against Menja’s body, and she faltered, stepped backwards in a futile attempt to keep her distance as the hands grabbed at her thighs and her ankles, at her arms and her throat. Then she dove into the storm, managed to get a hold of Jupiter, throwing her to the side and sending her careening into a wall even as her nails cut into the giant’s skin, tore chunks out of her armor.

In the skies above, a mass of wings with eyes swirled and swam through the air. Venus was a riot of movement, of feathers and irises, but her gaze was focused, distorting the air with heat haze, and her erratic flight intentional. Chunks of masonry and concrete flew at her and she whirled around them, focused on the girl in the robe and cowl floating on a fragment of some ruined building. Rune swung rubble and slurs alike at the Devil, but Venus slipped past them with contemptuous ease, spiraling ever closer to the young telekinetic.

At least, until Venus suddenly jolted backwards, a streak of light flashing through the space she’d been in a moment ago. The sharp, odd report of a Tinkertech rifle rang out, again and again as shots lanced out from a nearby building, forcing Venus to retreat and giving Rune a chance to gather up her deadly bludgeons and take another good swing at the mass of wings.

The clashing sounds of Neptune and Hookwolf, of Jupiter and Menja, receded, while Rune’s yelling became more clear. Unfortunately.

“-hold still, you fucking dyke! Hold still so I can grind you into-”

Thankfully, her shouting wasn’t important, and could be safely ignored. More important was the sniper.

The door to the building had been forced open. A thug with a shaved head was watching the entrance, while more of them circled around the former occupants of the building, who had been unceremoniously tied up and gathered in the lobby of the modest apartment complex. None of them spoke, though some of them couldn’t help but cry.

Presumably, the ones who might have spoken or resisted were the ones being beaten in the corner. Or maybe it was just because they weren’t white enough.

More guards were watching the stairs, the elevators, for all the good it did.

It wasn’t hard to find the shooter. The gunshots provided a steady reference to follow, through the rows of broken doors and into the only apartment that had any occupants, though certainly not the original ones. Furniture was shoved around haphazardly, belongings scattered on the floor. A young man in a black and red outfit that could be vaguely considered a costume was braced in a makeshift firing position, leaned over a massive, blocky rifle that jutted out over the windowsill, with his head pressed against an oddly shaped scope. A younger woman in a red bodysuit had her hand on the exposed skin of his neck, watching the greater battle outside.

They didn’t bother with masks, but that didn’t make it any harder to recognize Victor and Othala.

The room was warming up moment by moment, as a heated gaze stared in from on high. Victor’s hands still moved with perfect precision and perhaps even inhuman speed. Othala must have been giving him some sort of enhanced reflexes, or something like that. Each shot thundered out the barrel a moment after Victor pulled the trigger, shaking the whole room and leaving it ringing with the blast as the lightning streaked through the sky.

The heavy earmuffs that both capes wore were cheap and functional and largely incompatible with their sleek, well-tailored costumes.

This close, one could see the individual drops of sweat running down their skin as the air heated, see Venus’s eyes staring down at Victor as she swirled around each shot he took, see his steady, measured breathing and Othala’s trembling face.

Electricity jabbed into Othala’s neck, and she let out a sharp gasp of pain, going down in a spasming heap.

Victor let go of the rifle and whirled, one hand reaching for Othala as if to accept a new power from her, but he couldn’t see where the attack had come from. A second later, he too was laid out on the floor, cursing incoherently while his muscles refused to respond.

Venus reacted immediately. The Devil tightened her wings until she was almost a spear of feathers and eyes, lancing forward towards Rune, who swiped at her with one boulder, then another, then a third. She evaded them effortlessly, and this time there was no shooter to force her back. The telekinetic panicked, her orbiting projectiles falling by the wayside as she tried to get out of the way, but Venus was simply faster than her, and the wings swirled out again, enveloping her in those feathers and those eyes.

Eyes that were looking at Aisha, still scrambling to tie up the Empire capes with whatever she could find before they recovered from the taser. Not with anger, not with that sweltering heat from before, but… they were looking at her all the same. Aisha could see the appreciation, the curiosity, but more than anything else:

Venus could see her.

Aisha’s heart pounded, not with fear but with a strange sort of joy. She liked Venus, even if they’d only had the single conversation. The Devils were all pretty cool. Even Riley had been pretty cool, despite the little fact that she was actually notorious Biotinker and Slaughterhouse Nine alumnus Bonesaw.

Which, uh, was a thing. She’d interrogated it out of Alec, thanks to that cryptic exchange about cake, and promptly locked herself in a room with Lisa and screamed at her for the better part of an hour because maybe she’d like to know that she’d gotten cosmetics from Bonesaw?!?

At least Lisa didn’t tell Brian. Small mercies.

Anyways!

Anyways, the Devils were cool, and Venus was particularly cool and secretly way funnier than Neptune even though Neptune was the one who made lots of jokes. And Venus could see her. Could see Aisha through her power.

Sure, getting into places she wasn’t supposed to be could be fun, but on the whole, Aisha hated her power. She’d just been figuring things out, learning to grow up and catch people’s eye, and then the world went to hell and she got her powers. Now she’d disappear if she lost her concentration. Not even just that, she’d be forgotten.

Because being remembered was the thing she’d really wanted. What a sick fucking joke.

Venus seeing through her power, then, wasn’t a cause for concern, but a cause for celebration. Venus saw her, and she looked at her, and she appreciated her, and she remembered her.

Aisha wasn’t scared, she was elated. She giggled, and then let it descend into full-body laughter, doubling over with delight, tears pushing to the edge of her eyes-

A flailing hand pushed against her bare leg, and she stumbled.

Right.

Aisha felt herself flush as she jabbed her taser into Victor again, pushing him back into the ground.

At least she’d already tied up Othala with the zipties she’d found in the girl’s costume. Aisha had to rummage around for cables and cords to tie up Victor, eventually resorting to grabbing trash bags from the kitchen and twisting them into ropes with far too many knots because knowing her luck, the Nazi fucker had probably picked up Houdini skills somewhere, and also she had maybe half an idea of what she was doing.

She never did finish that ropework course way back when she was in Girl Guides.

Still, she had a lot to work with.

By the time she was done, Victor looked more like someone into really weird improv bondage than an actual cape. Could he even breathe under all of that? Probably. Maybe. Eh, fuck it, someone would take care of him if he couldn’t and wait a minute.

Aisha didn’t have a costume on. She only barely had a costume at all, for that matter.

Venus had seen her taking out Victor and Othala. She’d seen Aisha’s face while she was using her power.

Venus knew who she was.

Fuckfuckfuck.

Aisha darted into the bathroom to panic.

Venus knew who she was and sure Venus was chill but Aisha got the feeling that maybe she wouldn’t approve of Aisha being technically a career criminal? The Undersiders did rob that bank and crash that fundraiser and while Aisha doubted Venus gave a shit about laws that she thought were bad, she was pretty sure Venus very much gave a shit about hurting people for no good reason, and if she realized that Lisa and Alec and Aisha herself were part of a rising villain team she might… well, probably not call the cops, but she might do something.

Aisha didn’t really want the Devils fighting with her brother or something.

Except, hold on. She hadn’t actually gone out with the team yet, had she? They hadn’t been doing much going out in general, as far as she knew, but they certainly hadn’t invited her along to any crimes, the fuckers. Which meant that there was pretty much no way Venus could link her with the Undersiders. At least her brother’s secret identity was probably safe!

Except that if she did actually officially join the Undersiders and fuck shit up with them, then Venus would know who she was and probably know who the rest of them were too and Aisha could already imagine her delivering some kind of righteous judgment upon their souls or something.

Or at least being really disappointed that her new friends were technically kind of evil probably.

Aisha definitely did not want to disappoint Venus. Not when she was so pure and nice and funny and she could see.

This… this was definitely going to complicate her plans.

Aisha stumbled back out of the bathroom, shaking off dust and taking a bare second to confirm that Victor and Othala weren’t going anywhere (they weren’t) before she rushed through the door and down the hall, face burning in shame and embarrassment now that she had thoroughly ruined her prospects of a cape career alongside her big brother.

She kicked some Nazis down the stairs while she was at it. Them stumbling around like idiots and breaking a few unimportant bones and yelling in panic did a lot for her mood.

By the time she got to the lobby, the thugs there were equally nervous, at least one of them trying and failing to reach Victor or Othala by phone while others went up to investigate the commotion upstairs. She slipped past them, not trusting herself to be able to take down a couple dozen thugs at once and then keep them down, not to mention the capes as well.

Fortunately, she didn’t need to. Venus was already setting down outside the door, her wings spread wide to slow her descent.

Rune, sans platform, was bundled up somewhere in the wings, still struggling and cursing.

“Let go! Let go of me! What the fuck are you even doing, you fucking… Simurgh-fucking freak?!”

“I’m hugging you,” Venus answered, smiling and drawing the wings tighter around the captive cape.

“Don’t fucking hug me! Don’t touch me and don’t hug me! Fuck you! Fuck you, you fucking dyke, go die in a fire-”

“I don’t hate you.”

Rune sputtered to a halt.

“I hate what you are, but I don’t hate you,” Venus continued, her smile brightening ever so slightly. “And I don’t think you have to hate me, either.”

The Empire cape didn’t say anything else, and Aisha couldn’t really see her through all of Venus’s wings.

Venus kept Rune wrapped up in her wings and shot Aisha a wink or two dozen as she floated up to the door of the building. A dozen pistols and rifles were already pointed towards her, with a few more pointed towards the captives.

Some of the thugs had shaky hands, their anxieties magnified as Venus’s searing gaze ran over them. Others felt nothing but hate, their fingers twitching for a very different reason.

“You know, we really don’t have to fight,” Venus started. “I’m sure that if you put down your weapons, the nice men in the black armor would treat you gently.”

Someone’s gun might have lowered a fraction, but the majority didn’t budge.

“After all, you’re all terribly white, and everybody knows the police don’t beat up white kids. I, on the other hand, am under no such obligation.”

Aisha chuckled despite herself, while the crowd of Nazis collectively reddened in anger.

Venus drew forward, smiling fiercely as she pushed herself into the entrance, her wings beginning to spill out into the room, eyes staring the thugs down from more and more direction. Light poured from her body, brighter and brighter, and making the interior paradoxically darker where it touched, until Aisha could barely see the ground under her feet or even her own hands. Kinda scary, but if the mooks couldn’t see either, definitely handy.

A few guns clattered. Others didn’t.

“And I’ll let you jerks-”

“Assholes,” Aisha corrected. “Or maybe fuckers?”

“Sorry, I’ll let you fuckers in on a secret,” Venus repeated, her eyes widening, searing heat filling the room as more and more disappeared, the light of the building giving way to the light of Venus.

“Charred skin only comes in one color.”

One after another, the rest of the Nazis dropped their weapons in a staccato of surrender.

The light/darkness faded, revealing hopeful captives and shaken thugs. Venus glided between the latter, sweeping up scattered firearms and tying hands behind backs. Not to be left out, Aisha skipped over to the civilians, pulling off bundles of rope and savoring their confused gratitude.

Rune ended up deposited in the middle of the lobby, sitting awkwardly on the floor. She wasn’t tied up or anything, though it probably wouldn’t have helped, given her power. But she wasn’t trying to get away, either. She was just staring down at the floor, mumbling something Aisha couldn’t hear.

Aisha wasn’t really interested in listening to Rune’s whining, anyways.

They were about halfway done when the sound of clapping coconuts- wait, no, those were hooves, right? Not that Aisha had ever seen a real horse before- thundered inside. Venus turned towards the door, expectant but not surprised.

A shape too fast to focus on sprinted into view and skidded inside. Aisha caught a glimpse of bright spots, a sleek feline body, eight legs with strange joints like a spider but hooves like a horse. Then it all spilled forwards, rolling up into a blob of clay before stretching and squishing out into a familiar young girl.

“Ve-mom! You beat up the bad guys without me!” Riley pouted, already moving forward to tend to the injured captives while the thugs looked on in confusion and more than a little terror.

“Victor and Othala are upstairs, and Jupiter and Neptune are still fighting outside, didn’t you see?” Venus replied, snapping a cable-tie on one particular unruly thug before she slipped across the room to give Riley a quick hug.

“Then go help them, gosh!” Riley snapped, pushing her way out of the hug. “I’ll just finish here and be with you in a jiffy.”

“Riley, I’m pretty sure you are way better at fighting than me. You should probably go finish off the capes,” Venus insisted. “We’ll clean up here.”

“Fiiine but at least let me sedate the ones here?”

“Sure!”

“Wait, no, I didn’t agree to thi-” Rune started to protest, but Riley was already bouncing towards her, brandishing an ominous red syringe as big as her arm in her right hand.

Where did she even get that thing? Did she pull it out from under her dress or something while Aisha wasn’t looking?

Before Rune could do more than stand up and take a step, the Biotinker was upon her, raising the syringe as if to strike-

And poking Rune with a single finger on her other hand. “Boop!”

Rune blinked. “What did you do to… me...” Her eyes rolled back and she passed out within maybe a second, falling to the floor in a heap.

Riley took barely a moment to make sure Rune didn’t hit the ground wrong, then bounded forwards, leaping up the stairs a half-dozen steps at a time, leaving a trail of “Boop!”s and slumped-over Nazis in her wake.

Venus’s lips curled up in fond amusement. Aisha shook her head and got back to tying up goons.

“You seem pretty happy to let the literal actual Bonesaw run around on her own,” she called, knowing no one else could hear.

Venus whispered back, the sound traveling along her wings and filling Aisha’s ears from every angle. “Riley, not Bonesaw. And I trust her. We’ve done our best to teach her responsibility, and she hasn’t cut anyone up against their will since she met us, so I’d say it’s working.”

She felt an irrational pang of jealousy- wait, no, it was totally rational, how come Literally Bonesaw could have a family and/or teammates who trusted her and Aisha Laborn couldn’t?!

Aisha vented some of that stress on the Nazis she was tying up, giving the next one a shove. It helped a little. She breathed deep, trying to sound cool and unconcerned like Alec might as she responded.

“I mean, to be fair, nothing of value would be lost if she cut some of these fuckers up. And weren’t you talking about burning them to a crisp a minute ago?”

“I did say something to that effect, didn’t I?” Venus laughed, a sound like crystal chimes swathed in soft feathers. “But… like, I don’t want people to respect me just because I could hurt them if they didn’t? I want them to understand me. I’m a girl, I like other girls, and I don’t want people to tolerate or respect those facts. Tolerance and respect are for things you disagree with, right?”

“Wait, hold up. Who the heck would say you’re not a girl?” Aisha interjected. “It’s pretty fucking obvious to me.”

The winged Devil smiled sadly. “It wasn’t always that way. For a long time, even I didn’t realize it.”

Aisha opened her mouth, but Venus kept talking.

“I hadn’t realized how much my body was bothering me all the time, you know?”

Aisha closed her mouth.

...probably not something to joke about. She took a moment to think about her words.

“So you, uh… used to be a boy?”

Judging by the slight narrowing of every eye, maybe those were the wrong words. But Venus calmed herself quickly enough, and her response had no venom, only gentle reproach.

"I was always a girl. I just had to listen to the part of myself that knew that."

“Sorry.”

Venus smiled. “It’s fine.”

Aisha breathed out a tiny sigh of relief.

She clipped the last Nazi’s hands behind their back, savoring that defeated look on their face, while Venus freed the last of the captives from their bonds, her eyes tracking the relieved smiles and brightened gazes.

“So do you think your kid’s beaten Menja and Hookwolf by now?” Aisha asked, finding herself surprisingly excited to see Bonesaw’s handiwork. Maybe it was the girl’s earnestness, or maybe Aisha just hated Nazis that much.

Venus smiled, swirling back towards the door, her wings curling inwards to fit through the opening. “Let’s find out.”

Aisha grinned, taking one last look at her – at their handiwork before she turned to follow Venus back outside. “Hell yeah.”

---

It wasn’t hard for them to find Jupiter and Menja. It was as simple as following the trail of blood and furrowed pavement and ichor-splattered walls, over the wreckage of a couple buildings, past rows of single-family homes and a cackling lake of sludge with a chainsaw-wolf screeching in impotent rage somewhere within it.

Aisha hitched a ride on Venus’s wings, of course, but Riley had still gotten there first. Though maybe that was because the two of them spent like five minutes finding a spot where Aisha wouldn’t poke any eyes out.

The giant and the storm were sprawled out on opposite sides of an intersection, or what remained of it.

Menja struggled to stand, and it was obvious why. Blood trickled from her skin in dozens of places, soaked the remains of her once-glorious armor, with scratches and bruises across the rest of her body. She was still trying to fight, trying to grit her teeth and power through it, but looking at her gasping in pain, it was clear that she wasn’t in shape to do anything more than trample anyone unfortunate enough to be caught beneath her.

Jupiter, to be fair, wasn’t doing well either. She’d lost even more blood then her opponent, to the point that her eyewall was almost opaque with red. A dozen hands still had massive gaping holes where a spear six times its proper size had previously impaled them, twitching and shuddering and clawing the ground in pain. Aisha couldn’t see Jupiter’s face, but those hands told her everything she needed to know.

“Holy shit.”

“Jupiter doesn’t hold back,” Venus agreed.

Riley was there with Jupiter, a couple dozen arms of her own sprouting out of her shoulders, sides, and back, spindly limbs patching up bruised fingers and bleeding knuckles. She hummed as if to help herself concentrate, as clay spilled out of her digits and patched over Jupiter’s injuries, or sometimes outright filled them with material that slowly faded into the girl’s natural flesh.

Venus darted over to help, and Aisha could feel the light soothing her own fatigue even as she hopped off of the flying Devil and landed on the pavement.

Aisha was pretty sure the First Aid course wouldn’t have covered how to treat weird capes who were bleeding from basically everywhere, and she didn’t have any bandaids on hand anyways.

Heh, hand.

“You can finish up, right Ve-mom?” Riley suddenly asked, looking up from her work. “There are still Nazis I gotta take care of.”

There was a bit less blood in the air, and Aisha didn’t see any gaping holes anymore, and she could kind of make out the battered, bloodied, but very much alive body at the center of the storm. But it seemed like quite a stretch to say that Jupiter was healed.

Then again, Menja was right over there, and had taken a step or two towards them.

“Go for it. We wouldn’t want any villains bleeding to death, now, would we?”

Riley grinned, and promptly bounced off towards a shuddering, trembling Menja.

Who, for her part, could barely lift her head past Riley’s level as the girl skidded to a halt in front of her.

“Hi! I’m going to heal you so you don’t die, because dying is inconvenient! If you cooperate, I won’t have to sedate you as much! Though I wouldn’t mind sedating you, I’ve been kind of wondering how much dosage I’d need for you in this form-”

Menja cooperated.

Aisha felt oddly disappointed, watching Menja’s wounds scab over with clay, her form gradually shrinking down as she faded into unconsciousness while Riley pumped her with vaguely blood-looking liquid and splashed her wounds with quick-setting flesh.

Okay, that was kinda neat to look at, but still! Aisha had been promised a show! Excitement! Crimes against humanity!

Well, there was still Hookwolf over there, somewhere in that giant ominous pool.

She took a moment to look back over at Jupiter, seeing the clouds run clear again, the battered and bruised girl wrapping herself around Venus and bathing in the soothing light.

Yeah, Jupiter would be okay.

It didn’t take long for Riley to stabilize Menja to her apparent satisfaction as well. The biotinker laid down one last patch of clay, checked the Empire cape’s pulse or something, and then stood up. She didn’t bother cuffing the unconscious villain, immediately bounding over – seriously, Aisha didn’t think she’d seen Riley walk normally even once; that girl had way too much energy – towards the sludge they’d all passed by earlier.

Aisha followed. It wasn’t too much of a walk.

Neptune had filled a crater in the road, left either by Leviathan or the capes that had fought him. The lake was as black as tar and looked almost as thick as wet concrete, if wet concrete were bubbling and churning and straining to constrain the heat within. The thrashing mass of Hookwolf couldn’t be seen, but he could sure as hell be heard with that distinctive screech of metal on metal.

Neptune’s body emerged from the lake as Riley approached. Naturally, she was cackling up a storm.

“Look at this stupid dog, Riley! He’s trying so hard to get out! He’s lucky he doesn’t even have lungs or I would have filled him a thousand times by now!”

Riley let out a loud sigh, shaking her head. As she did, her form shifted, excess arms flattening into her body like little pillars of clay getting squished down onto her skin. In its place, she pulled at her stomach until something melted or maybe phased its way out of it, the shifting clay eventually settling down to leave behind a large pot, almost as big as her torso, which she cradled in her hands as she looked over the lake. There was probably something in it. Aisha couldn’t quite see from this angle.

“Come on, Nep-mom, we don’t have all day. Bring him out so that I can take care of him, please?”

Neptune let out a watery huff. “Spoilsport.”

“I dunno about you,” Riley murmured thoughtfully, “but my moms taught me not to play with Nazis.”

Aisha wasn’t sure how Riley said that with a straight face. Probably by using her power, the cheater.

Neptune threw up her arms in disgust, but a moment later she dived back into the lake. Or maybe Neptune was the lake? Aisha certainly didn’t have a clue.

Either way, the tar became more and more agitated over the course of a few seconds. Riley stilled, eyes fixed on the center of the lake. Inexperienced though she might have been, Aisha still knew what was coming. She took a handful of steps back, prepared herself to bolt if things went south and she got caught in the crossfire.

The clash of steel on steel rose to an almost deafening volume.

Hookwolf erupted from the lake, a wave of sludge shoved up beneath him as if Neptune had forced him out, rather than simply allowed him to escape. The beast was smaller than it had been before. Probably denser, guessing from the texture of tightly coiled knives and the weight it carried as it sailed upwards.

He was quick to react, slamming spears of metal down and out to latch onto dry ground, but Riley was just as fast. The girl threw her vase with far more strength than her frame would suggest, the projectile less arcing and more streaking into Hookwolf’s center of mass before he could sink his claws into dry concrete and pull himself away.

Pottery shattered and a deluge of suspiciously familiar black sludge exploded across Hookwolf’s body. Maybe not quite as thick as the lake below, but at least dense and sticky enough to smother the jagged knives and clog the gaps between them. Steam immediately started to hiss from the mass of ichor as it sank into his body, melting through layers of steel, oozing steadily downwards.

Hookwolf managed to pierce the pavement for a fraction of a second, enough to yank himself to one side. Then the ooze cut through the spears he’d hastily shoved out, and he was left in freefall. Neptune rose up to meet him, the lake surging over the broken metal and swallowing it whole. Sludge lashed at his base, grabbing him and dragging him down while Riley’s contribution worked away at his armor.

Rather than allow himself to be pulled under again, Hookwolf pushed his body outwards in all directions before a man-sized spear of hooks and knives launched out of the side, stabbed into solid ground. Except, as new knives emerging and shuffling around the clean lengths of metal revealed, it wasn’t a spear, but Hookwolf himself, having cast off the rest of his metal as if he were molting.

Riley was already in motion towards him, her steps rapid. With one last lunge, she flung an arm towards what was left of Hookwolf, stretching it across the meager distance between them. Literally stretching, the clay getting thinner and thinner as she stabbed it roughly into the whirling blades, seemingly picking a point at random.

She bared her perfect porcelain teeth in a grimace, struggling to stay balanced as the blender sliced and carved and pulled her this way and that. For an absurd moment, she looked like she were participating in a bizarre and extremely lethal rodeo.

But Riley held on. And Hookwolf slowed, and within seconds, stopped.

Like Menja, he started to return to normal in his unconsciousness, flesh growing out where metal had been.

Riley finally managed to pull her arm out and return the clay to its proper shape.

“Ow,” she muttered to herself. “Ow ow ow that was a stupid idea. Sedatives are the perfect answer to everything, I said. I’ll just freak- I’ll just fucking shove my arm into Hookwolf, I said. I should have listened to Venus and just melted him...”

Aisha rolled her eyes. “You really should have. Would have saved everyone a lot of pain.”

Riley didn’t answer. If she could hear Aisha, she wasn’t showing it.

Aisha let out a sigh, glancing around the area.

Neptune was emerging from the water again, the familiar shape coalescing atop the lake. Like the sludge below, she was almost as black as pitch, and moved with a weight that she didn’t have the last time they met, strutting over to the edge of the sea-

And nearly doubling over as she retched. Once, then twice, something rising up from the lake and into her stomach. The third time, she spewed out broken metal and hissing acid, splashing it across the ground in front of her in a heap even less dignified than herself.

“Nep-mom,” Riley commented, “we should really talk about your eating habits.”

Neptune coughed, spat out one last spear, and finally straightened back out. “Fuck off,” she grumbled, shaking her head and retreating away from the slowly dissipating blades and the boiling broth, instead returning to the center of her sludge, the mass beginning to shrink and visibly flow back into her body, leaving behind ink-stained mud and concrete as the crater slowly emptied.

“Language,” the Tinker tittered, but she was smiling.

Wings fluttered and hands swirled. Aisha turned to find Venus and Jupiter floating on over, the former clinging to the latter and the latter carrying Menja in a handful of hands, depositing the now-handcuffed villain a couple dozen feet away from Hookwolf.

“Oh my satan, Jupes, you look like shit,” Neptune marveled. (‘Oh my satan?’ Really?)

“Yeah, I know, I know,” Jupiter replied with a nervous smile. “I’m gonna be okay. Riley and Venus helped.”

“If you die on me I will literally fucking kill you.” Her eyes narrowed.

“I promise that I will not die on you.”

“If she dies I can revive her so you can kill her again!” Riley oh-so-helpfully interjected.

Venus giggled.

Aisha just sighed. These people were ridiculous. (also, could Riley do that? Well, she was Literally Bonesaw, so… yeah, probably.)

...she kind of liked it, though. They had a cute dynamic going on.

She took another look around.

People were starting to peek out of their windows, open doors that they’d barricaded shut against the battle that had raged outside. Some took the opportunity to flee, others gawked at the capes.

Most everyone kept to the sidewalk, or what was left of it. But there were three distant silhouettes right in the middle of the road.

Aisha wouldn’t have thought much of it, but then the street warped and shifted, cracks in the pavement sliding closer to her while more formed along the edges.

It wasn’t quiet. Concrete wasn’t good at bending, after all.

Venus immediately turned to look. Riley grinned, clapped her hands excitedly as she turned towards the incoming capes. Neptune gathered up her water, or tar or slurry or sludge or whatever it was, looking a little heftier than usual as she strutted forward to stand beside her girlfriends. Jupiter’s hands pressed into Aisha’s flesh, along with everyone else’s, but the girl didn’t seem to notice, giggling nervously alongside Venus and Neptune.

As for Aisha, she decided that this was a good time to take shelter behind one of Venus’s wings. Just in case somebody had a camera or something.

The three silhouettes were a lot closer now, and crossed the intervening distance without an audible word. Aisha got a good look at them as they stopped a dozen feet or so away.

Miss Militia was instantly recognizable: olive skin and dark hair, modified military uniform, flag pattern scarf, holstered pistol at her hip, eyes sliding across the Devils with almost frightening focus.

Vista was there too, obviously, what with the distorted road and all. Little thing with the boob-plate and the white-and-green skirt. She was, what, a year or so younger than Aisha? About the same age as Riley looked to be. And Vista was the most experienced Ward, if Aisha remembered right.

Also, she was pretty sure big bro was terrified of the girl. Aisha wasn’t sure if that said more about Vista or about Brian himself.

Vista had an obviously strained neutral line on her face, the corners of her lips twitching up every few seconds.

And then there was the third one. Big guy with a gladiator thing going on, except he had a lion head pasted to his helmet. And a couple more on his shoulders. And one more on his crotch for good measure. God, she couldn’t dress as badly as this if she tried, and she’d know, she dressed badly on purpose all the time.

He was, by her best guess, trying really hard not to run away screaming, his eyes darting with far less focus and far more panic than Miss Militia’s.

What the fuck was this tacky-ass fucker’s name again? She’d heard it like a dozen times and Brian had been drilling her on the local capes as hard as she could stomach.

After a few seconds of silence, lion boy shakily cleared his throat, the stuttering sound ringing out unnaturally over distant police sirens.

Oh. Right. Triumph. That was it. Did he really just use his power to clear his throat?

Aisha glanced to her side, saw Neptune’s shoulders shaking with laughter. Glanced forward, saw Triumph a little red under that helmet.

Riley saved them all from an eternity of awkwardness, giggling brightly before she spoke. “Hi Protectorate! It’s nice to meet you!”

Miss Militia raised an eyebrow. “We’d certainly like to welcome you to Brockton Bay, Devils. A shame it couldn’t be under better-”

“Woah woah woah!” Neptune cut in. “How many times have I said that’s not our team name?!”

“Like three times, all of them on the internet,” Venus answered, before the surprised Protectorate could respond properly.

“Yeah, so- wait, whose side are you on, Ve?”

“The side of a name that isn’t Polyamorous Lesbian Funhouse And Also Riley.”

“It’s a fucking stupid name,” Vista interjected, before her hand flew up to her mouth, covering her horrified shame. “Wait, I mean-”

“It’s a fucking stupid name because team names are fucking stupid,” Neptune grumbled. “We’re a family, not a circus troupe! We don’t need a goddamn catchy title.”

“Families have names, though?” Riley wondered, tilting her head. “And I can’t call you Mrs. NeptuneJupiterVenus, that’d be silly. Or would it be Mrs. VenusNeptuneJupiter? Mrs. JupiterVenusNeptune?”

The three Devils paused. Jupiter’s fingers tapped, Venus hummed, Neptune sighed.

“Eden,” Venus finally suggested.

“Eden?” Riley repeated. “It’s pretty, but why Eden, Ve-mom?”

“Because we took the fruit of the tree of knowledge,” she explained with a small, thoughtful smile. “To share with everyone in the whole world.”

Miss Militia raised an eyebrow again. Triumph stared. Vista blinked.

Riley nodded, a big smile on her face.

“Sounds good,” Jupiter affirmed.

“I guess it works,” Neptune reluctantly agreed.

“Yay! We’re Eden now!” the Tinker cheered.

Miss Militia took the momentary pause to cut back in and get the conversation on track again.

“As I was saying. We would have offered our assistance, but it seems you have everything under control…?”

“Yeah.” The storm shifted, hands bringing unconscious villains forward. “We do have some Nazis, if you’d like to take them off our hands.”

Riley giggled at the pun, even as Venus gestured with her wings back towards the apartment complex where the Nazis were still presumably tied up.

“Victor, Othala, and Rune are all in a building back that way, along with a bunch of mooks. Riley sedated the capes, so they shouldn’t give you trouble.”

“Sedatives are totally the best at nonlethality!” Riley crowed. “Way better than electric shocks which are dumb and messy and give people heart attacks!”

Vista chuckled. “You’re pretty badass, huh? Really putting in the work out there.”

Riley shook her head. “Ve-mom had them down and mostly tied up before I got there,” she pouted. “And Menja probably would have bled out if I hadn’t patched her up! Though she did a number on Jupe-mom too. But at least I got to smash Hookwolf with a jar of acid!”

Miss Militia hummed. “So Venus captured those three on her own?”

Venus’s eyes immediately turned towards Aisha.

Her gaze wasn’t unkind, simply questioning, but it burned on Aisha’s skin anyways, because she knew exactly what Venus was silently asking.

Aisha knew, and she wanted it, and she was afraid of it.

Yes, she’d already been through this once.

But she didn’t choose to have Venus see her. It had simply happened.

Choosing to be seen was a very different beast.

How easy would it be? Just push her power down, come out from the wings, introduce herself. She’d be a hero.

People would love her. Respect her.

But they’d hurt her, too. There was no way she could hide her identity, not meaningfully. And if the Empire could kill a white hero and get away with it, what would they do to her? Or her family?

She could already picture the scene, the thugs with shaved heads and something to prove, howling for blood, guns and Molotov cocktails in hand.

She could stop them, but she couldn’t be everywhere, couldn’t watch her folks every second of every day. She didn’t really want to, either.

Maybe she could join the Protectorate. Maybe they’d protect her, protect her family. It’d be about the first time the law protected her. (Maybe the second, if being moved over to Dad’s house counted, but they’d dropped her into Mom’s ‘care’ for some fucking reason in the first place, so it didn’t really.)

Would they listen to her, though? Would they listen when she told them that she didn’t want to be with either of her parents? Would they make her run through hoops, make her be a good little soldier?

Would they make her fight her brother? If they knew who he was, would they arrest him? Hurt him?

Indecision wasn’t Aisha’s style. She knew herself well enough to know that. She lived in the moment because the alternative was thinking about everything painful in her life, about her mother, about Mom’s boyfriends, even about her father, maybe even about her brother.

But this fear wasn’t something she could banish if she didn’t think about it.

She had every reason to believe that this fear was justified, but she still felt like a damn coward.

She was shaking. Was she crying? Fuck, maybe she was.

A wing wrapped lightly around her body, feathers stroking into her skin.

The moment passed.

“Just me,” Venus lied.

Miss Militia accepted that answer.

The other devils, or at least Neptune, seemed to know that something was up, but Aisha didn’t stick around to hear more.

She wriggled out of the comforting down and into open ground, and she ran as far as she could, brushing aside concerned wings and hands that felt but didn’t remember.

Aisha felt her power rolling out from her skin as she pounded down the alleyways, past unknowing pedestrians. She felt it jabbing into minds, making them forget they had ever seen her, a constant force erasing her from the world.

She felt it jab into something else.

Something that didn’t forget.

Something that spoke with a beautiful voice of smoke and honey, sending her stumbling to a halt.

“Oh, darling. I can still remember you, and I-”

A different kind of fear filled her. A fear of being controlled, of telepaths and Masters, of her mind not being her own. A fear that everyone had, even her.

Aisha slammed the lid on her power, and on the voice.

She kept running, ignoring the stares that followed her now, the tears people saw in her eyes, the sweat dripping down her back.

---

The room was cold. The gas must have been out, or maybe the furnace was broken again. Then again, it wasn’t usually this cold this time of year. Maybe Leviathan had something to do with it.

A man and a woman were huddled together on the couch.

“Hey, Sam,” she said.

“Yeah?”

“You got anything?”

“I already told you, we’re out.”

She scowled, squeezing her fingers into his flesh. He didn’t seem to notice, rolling his eyes as she went on.

“But I need my fix, Sam!”

“Bitch, I was too busy stealing food to worry about stealing drugs. Quit whining.”

“Hey, I’ve seen how much you’ve been stuffing down. You holding out on me there, too?”

“I’m rationing. I’m bigger than you, I need more food. It’s basic.”

“Better lose some weight, then,” she grumbled, slowly extricating herself from his embrace.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he barked.

“I’m hungry. I’m eating. It’s basic.”

“Don’t get smart with me, girl.”

Their squabbling faded into background noise as Aisha sucked in a deep breath.

She remembered growing up in this place.

Her mom had been impulsive and reckless for as long as Aisha could remember, but things got so much worse after the divorce. There’d be a new man in the house every week or two, with her mom generally content to let him run the place however he wanted.

Some of them were okay. Most of them weren’t. A few of them were really, really bad.

Bad enough to hurt her.

But even the ones who didn’t hurt her were bad enough. Being ignored was its own sort of hell. How many times had she come home from school, only for her mom or one of mom’s boyfriends to shoo her off or try to bribe her to leave for a bit?

Dad’s place wasn’t much better. He didn’t hurt her, and he didn’t quite ignore her, but he still didn’t really pay attention to what she actually wanted. His idea of parenting was closer to military discipline. Trying to force her into shape.

Aisha hated that place too. Ran away from it all the time. But she hadn’t been back here in ages.

She didn’t know why she’d come here now. She didn’t know what she expected.

Nothing had changed. Her mom was still a brat, immature and unstable. She had a new boyfriend since the last time, like she always did, and the new boyfriend was an asshole, like he usually was.

But… something about Aisha had changed, hadn’t it? She had powers now, obviously, but it was more than that. It wasn’t even that she’d managed to fuck up a couple of Nazis, though that was part of it.

She had, or at least she had heard, a different perspective.

If she pushed her power off again, her mom wouldn’t care. The new boyfriend probably wouldn’t care. She’d always been ignored, and there was no reason this time would be any different.

But maybe that didn’t matter.

After all, Aisha had never been a big fan of behaving nicely and staying out of trouble.

And hey, if she turned her power off, at least it would probably stop the voice from coming back.

As if summoned by the thought, the voice came back.

“Why do you fear me?”

Aisha grimaced, stepping out of the living room to get some distance from her folks in case she needed to make a run for it.

Her old room was about the same as she’d left it. Smelled kinda bad, though.

“Get out of my head,” she grumbled.

“Oh, darling, I can’t simply ‘get out of your head’. Why, I was inside you to begin with,” the voice purred, sweet and heavy. “The question is whether you choose to listen to me.”

Aisha had to admit it was beautiful, this thing that didn’t forget.

Even if it was talking bullshit.

“Okay, fine. Talk. Who or what the fuck are you?”

“I am the Devil, of course. You know, I’ve spoken to many, many people. Maybe everyone. Some of them listen. Some of them don’t. Some of them scream and rage, or beg God for forgiveness. But it’s been ages since I’ve been interrogated!” she – it sounded like a she – said, excitement warming her voice.

Aisha snorted, shaking her head in bemusement. “That doesn’t really explain much. I’m pretty sure that if I had learned anything about the Devil in Sunday school, it would have been how to exorcise it. Not that I learned anything in Sunday school, obviously.”

“I’m not something to be explained. Explanation and reason are things that come from without, that you either apply to others or have others apply to you. I’m about feelings. In your case, the feeling happens to be ‘people should maybe give a shit about me’. “

“Ooookaaay,” Aisha drawled. “I can get behind that, I guess. But if you were inside me all along or whatever, why the fuck are you only here now?”

“The potential for me was always a part of your soul. I just needed some help to crystallize, to speak to you.”

“Wait, if I’m talking to a part of myself, doesn’t that mean I’m hallucinating?”

“In a sense, yes. But the most powerful things in life aren’t real. Stories, ideas, memories…”

Aisha leaned back against a wall, letting out a sigh as the Devil’s words echoed.

If she didn’t look at it literally, it made sense. But that didn’t change the fact that the world was a literal world and there was a literal hallucination talking to her and calling itself the Devil even though she was pretty sure it couldn’t possibly damn her to hell or anything.

If she didn’t know better, Aisha might have asked Lisa about it. But Aisha didn’t want to.

Something about the Devils terrified Lisa, something more than she let on, and Aisha had a feeling that this had something to do with it, and that if she told Lisa about it, the only advice she’d get would be to turn off her power and run as far away as she could.

“I know I’m not the best conversation partner. After all, I’m not a real person. So I’ll get to the point. I’d like to offer you something.”

“A literal fucking deal with the Devil?”

“Pretty much.”

Aisha chuckled. “Neat. So what’s the deal?”

“I’m not strong. I can’t force anything on you. But if you accept me, I can offer you a new story. A new body. A new way to change the world.”

“Did you give Jupiter and Venus and Neptune and Riley new bodies?”

“Just so.”

Aisha hummed. “Do you talk it out like this a lot?”

“Nope,” the Devil purred. “When people accept me, they’re really accepting themselves. The most I need to do is offer a few words of encouragement. You, though, you’ve already accepted yourself. You know who you are and what you want. Maybe not completely, but enough that you don’t need to shed your skin to find it.”

“So if I don’t need you to find myself, what’s the point of becoming the devil?”

"The power you wield, the power to be forgotten. It's a sick joke, isn't it? A metaphor for everything wrong with your life. But I can write you a different metaphor. A metaphor not for what hurts you, but for what brings you joy. I can give you a different power, the power to be remembered."

Woah.

“No shit?”

“No shit. After all, I’m a metaphor myself.”

“And what do you get out of it?”

“Someone else to help people know the devil. Someone else to wear me on their skin. And, believe it or not, I want you to be happy, and I think that this will help. It’s not perfect. Nothing is. Being remembered has its own challenges. But it’s what you want. It’s what you need.”

Aisha frowned.

“And what if you’re wrong about that? Or lying?”

“It’s because you think that way that I like you so much, darling.”

Aisha felt herself flush as the Devil went on.

“You don’t have to believe me; you don’t have to say yes. You don’t even have to talk to me. The conversation I want you to have is with yourself, after all!”

“Yeah, I think you should gimme some space. Got heavy shit to think about. But...”

“Hmm?”

“Thanks, I guess. For remembering me. And you’re not that bad at talking, really.”

The Devil’s delighted giggle echoed as she faded into whatever nonexistence she’d emerged from.

Aisha couldn’t help but smile.

The power to be remembered, huh?

What a lovely and terrible thing that would be.

She wasn’t sure how it could be used to fight, not like her current power. But then, using it to fight wasn’t the point. If it weren’t for her big brother’s cape life, fighting wouldn’t have even been the first thing that came to mind.

If she had to be remembered, she’d hope to be remembered as a hero, or at least not as a villain.

Considering all the shit Brian gave her, maybe it was okay if being a hero might mean she had to punch him in the face occasionally.

Being turned into some kind of monstergirl? She was already a black girl in the neo-Nazi capital of the United States. It wasn’t like she could get much more shit for how she looked, honestly. Being a weird whatever would probably work out better for her half the time.

And the Devil’s bodies were pretty cool. If it was anything like those, then Aisha was down.

The possibility of being murdered by some half-baked Empire hit squad was a bit more worrying, until she remembered that she already had to deal with that for years. Being a cape couldn’t make it that much worse.

And hey, if she did get stabbed or whatever, at least people would remember her.

She’d be different. Would people accept her as Aisha?

Brian certainly would if he knew what was good for him. Mom could probably be convinced. Dad… well, she’d figure that out. Alec wouldn’t care. The Devils obviously wouldn’t give a shit. The kids she knew from school… eh, maybe. But it wasn’t like she went to school that much anyways.

And everyone else could pretty much get fucked.

Aisha giggled to herself.

“Can’t think of a reason not to,” she thought. “Might as well, huh?”

So Aisha chose to be remembered.

She chose the Devil.

She looked down at herself, held up a hand to her face.

Wear it on her skin, the Devil had said.

Dust was all over her hand. Black powder, little flecks of stone, falling to the ground even as she watched.

It came from within her, pushing out from under her skin. Obsidian lava, spilling out from pores of copper, cooling down into layers of smooth marble, one on top of another.

The Devil was inside her all along. She probably should have been surprised, but looking at herself like this, it all felt natural.

What better way to be remembered than to be a monument?

Something ached at the back of her skull. A strange pain, almost like a dislocated arm. It almost felt like her power. Maybe it was her power.

What did you do with dislocated arms? You set them back into place.

So Aisha did.

She saw stars. An ecstasy of swirling galaxies. The world inverted, or maybe everted. Ecstasy and torture exploded across her body, an avalanche of sensation. It wasn’t like setting an arm. It was like her whole body had been inside out and was suddenly forced the right way around.

The best and the worst thing she’d ever felt.

Aisha screamed.

Her voice echoed inside of her, spilled out of sparkling amethyst lips, set the world to shuddering.

Her power was screaming, too, alien joy as it lashed out from her skin, reached out into the world.

But where once it flayed memories away, now it pulled them closer. Made them stronger.

“Aisha?!?”

Her mom had heard her. She remembered her.

“What the fuck was that?! Who the fuck is-”

“My kid!”

“That was your kid? That wasn’t natural! Where do you think-”

“I’m going to see if my daughter is okay, asshole! Hands off!”

Scuffling, movement.

The pain and bliss faded, and in their aftermath, Aisha strode easily to the door, her skin cracking with each step, leaving a trail of thick dust in her wake.

She threw the door open, and there her mother was. Slimness hidden by the old clothes she had bundled up in. Eyes heavy with fear, fear for the daughter she so often neglected, reflecting in the smooth black marble of Aisha’s flesh.

Celia Laborn stared at her daughter. “Ai… Aisha?” she panted, catching her breath.

Aisha smiled, reaching out and wrapping up her mother in a hug that was just a little too tight. “Yup. How ya doing?”

The boyfriend stumbled to a halt behind her, resting his hand on the wall as he too stared. “What… what the fuck?”

Aisha lifted one of her hands ever so slightly off of her mother’s back so she could flip Sam off as he so richly deserved.

Sadly, he seemed too preoccupied by her general existence to notice the gesture. She’d definitely have to work on that.

Her mom squeaked a little. “I don’t… what, what happened?”

“Oh, you know, a lot of stuff.”

Aisha bared platinum teeth in a grin.

“I think it’s about time we had a nice long talk, Mom.”

Notes:

Took some stuff from one of the Worm interludes. Also, Riley OP, need nerf. Also, stabbing people with sedatives is not in fact a safe and reliable alternative to tazing them if you are not a trained medical professional and probably not even if you are a trained medical professional, so please don’t do that. (I mean yes, tasers aren’t quite a miracle of nonlethality, but I’m not here to lecture people about that sort of thing)

Chapter 9: (Alec)

Summary:

In which the Undersiders react to current events in a calm and measured fashion.

The day after that little social event was almost painfully boring, in Alec’s opinion. Sure, not doing anything stressful was fine, but having to drag a bunch of supplies into the new lair? Exhausting and boring.

Coil didn’t even send anyone over to help. What was the point of having a shady employer with big burly mercenaries everywhere if you couldn’t use said big burly mercenaries as free labor?

And he’d almost gotten away with staying on the couch, too. But Lisa had decided that she was too good for manual labor too, which pissed off Brian, so he’d grumbled at both of them, and she’d declared that she wouldn’t work if Alec didn’t, and Brian grumbled even more, and Rachel nearly threw a bag of dog food at them, and it was all a big fucking mess.

He wasn’t sure if she’d been intentionally fucking with him or if it was just her blatantly shitty mood.

Probably both, now that he thought about it.

And no, no matter how much Lisa smiled, she couldn’t fool him; something was worrying the shit out of her. He’d thought that it had something to do with Taylor's whole situation, but things felt a little different the last couple of days.

It almost offended him that Lisa could think she was fooling anyone. Except probably Brian. And he guessed Rachel wouldn’t give a fuck what was on Lisa’s mind even if she knew.

Then Alec remembered that he didn’t actually care.

Lisa’s bullshit aside, though, dragging boxes around still beat cape fights. And bank heists. And Endbringer fights. And Nazi fights.

On the other hand, it definitely didn’t beat what he’d felt yesterday, and the day before.

Alec wasn’t sure what he’d give to feel the thunder thrumming through those hands again, but he suspected the answer was ‘a lot.’

Hell, he kinda wanted to hang out with them all the time, but he didn’t think they were taking roommates. Did they even have a room? Probably not; any permanent residence would get swarmed within the week, given their celebrity.

His arm twitched, forcing him to scramble to keep the box he was mindlessly carrying from falling out of his hands and onto his feet.

Alec heard Brian’s muffled laughter from behind him.

“Fuck you,” he grumbled, more out of obligation than anything else. He would have done the same in Brian’s place, after all.

He got his chance soon enough. Brian’s phone rang as Alec turned his head, the sound muffled by his pocket but still audible enough.

As Brian glanced instinctively down despite the box in his hands, Alec took his shot, sending the boy’s hand sliding out from under his cargo.

Unfortunately, Brian was too quick to react, pushing his hand back in and catching the side of the box before it went all the way down. He stumbled a bit, but kept his footing, shooting a scowl at Alec as he lowered the box to the ground at a more sedate pace.

“I’m helping,” Alec innocently offered.

Brian exhaled a long-suffering sigh, even as he dug his phone out of his pocket and flipped it open.

His breath caught.

Alec scowled, dropping his own box without a care. “You gonna answer it sometime this year?”

“It’s Aisha.”

“So answer it.”

“But she never calls me; what if she’s in trouble-”

“Just answer the fucking phone oh my god, dude.”

Duly chastised, Brian answered the fucking phone.

“Finally! Jeez, bro, I was starting to think you didn’t want to talk to your lil’ sis!”

Aisha’s voice, and it was unmistakably Aisha’s voice, spilled out of the phone in an impossible rumbling echo, filling the room with its reverberations.

Brian froze, his fingers going tight.

Alec blinked.

Rachel whipped her head around, glancing wildly for the source of the echoing voice before settling on Brian.

Out of the corner of his vision, Alec saw Lisa’s eyes widen, her face pale.

It was an expression he knew well, but he’d never thought he’d see it on Lisa.

Slowly, painfully slowly, Brian spoke into the phone.

“Aisha, what’s going on?”

Alec could practically hear the smirk in that echoing voice. “Be specific.”

“Your voice...”

“Oh, it works over phones?” Aisha laughed, a resonant chime. “Good to know! But I’m doing fine, don’t worry.”

“That’s…. that’s not an explanation.”

“Well, I could tell you… but I think it’d be better to show you. I’m pretty sure I’m on the news. Go ahead and look it up. I’ll wait.”

Brian’s mouth worked as if to reprimand her, though it took another few seconds to find the right words.

“You’re fucking with me.”

“Nope. Serious as can be. It’ll take you like five minutes, tops.”

He didn’t have a response to that.

Eventually, he settled for turning towards the couch where Lisa’s laptop and phone still lay.

And where Lisa had now collapsed, her head in her hands, muffling whatever madness she was mumbling.

Alec raised a brow. “You alright there, Tats?”

“No no no,” she whispered. “It’s inside us, it’s already inside us. I can hear the whispers and they’re God and not the Devil but they must be part of the same thing-”

Brian lowered the phone from his lips. “Lisa, what the fuck?”

She looked up at him, eyes wild. “Aisha’s, she’s, she’s o-one of them now. One of the Devils. A monster. It’s an infection, it’s a virus. It spreads. They’re spreading it. Maybe intentionally, maybe incidentally-”

Wait, what?

“Did you know about this?”

“I, I figured it out yesterday but I thought it would take longer, something about Aisha must have made it faster, it’s all a metaphor and she must have resonated with the metaphor-”

“You knew,” Brian growled. “You knew and didn’t tell us. You didn’t tell me.”

“D-dangerous, too dangerous to share, but too dangerous not to share, maybe I should have spoken, I don’t know I don’t know-”

“Hey,” Alec interjected. “Can she hear us? I don’t think she’d appreciate being called a monster.” Assuming Lisa wasn’t talking out of her ass, anyways. He figured they’d find out soon enough. Raised all sorts of questions, if it were true.

Lisa straightened, focused ever so slightly. “I don’t think so, it’s not part of the metaphor, the forsaken screams against the God that has forsaken her-”

“I hope you’re right,” Brian interrupted, rage rumbling beneath his voice. “Because you let this, whatever this is, happen to my sister.”

Tears pooled in her eyes, spilling left and right as she shook her head. “I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry-”

He stomped closer to her, grabbed the laptop and yanked it open. “You can start by finding out what they did to her.”

Lisa nodded, her hands flying out, plugging her phone into the laptop even as she went through layers upon layers of passwords.

There was a moment of quiet as Lisa pounded keys, waited on the slow connection.

Rachel’s voice filled the silence, heavy with aggression. “Let’s fuck them up.”

“Wouldn’t, wouldn’t work,” Lisa mumbled. “It’s already inside us, even if we killed them it wouldn’t stop it-”

“And yet, even though it’s a bad idea on every level, I’m finding it rather appealing right now,” Brian murmured, his empty hand clenching into a fist.

Alec leaned back. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Wouldn’t be the first time Lisa’s been wrong. And even if she’s not, monsters are cool. Maybe she’s a cute monster. And killing heroes sounds like a bad idea anyways.”

“Don’t have to kill them to make them pay,” Rachel growled.

“Still sounds like a pretty awful look for us,” he replied, idly meeting her gaze.

She bared her teeth at him, but he just stared back, slowly narrowing his eyes.

“It’s not about the fucking look-”

“Found it.”

Lisa’s quiet voice cut through the confrontation, turned every eye towards her at once.

Brian was staring over her shoulder in an instant, gaze fixed to the screen.

Alec was more than curious enough to amble on over himself at a much more sedate pace.

Even Rachel followed suit, albeit after an awkward pause, her heavy footsteps easily drowning out the static of the open phone line as she crowded in with the other Undersiders.

A news site was draped across Lisa’s screen. Alec didn’t recognize the design, but he did recognize the name. He didn’t even know the Brockton Bay Bulletin had a website, but whatever.

Video Shows New Cape Checking Mother into Rehab, the headline shouted. Alec skimmed down the page, absorbing the relevant details. Made of black marble, identified self as Aisha Laborn, offered cape name of Monument, brought her own mother into Brockton North End Recovery Ward…

As Alec glanced at the video at the bottom of the page, Lisa continued to stare, unblinking and seemingly unseeing, a maelstrom of neural activity flashing behind her eyes, of which apparently none was related to clicking the play button.

He did it himself, ignoring Rachel’s grunt as the blurry image filled the screen.

Even the best phone plans supervillainy could buy didn’t make cellular data a good way to watch video, but desperate times called for desperate measures. Seconds of agonizing silence passed while the footage loaded.

Cell phone camera footage, or whatever it was, wasn’t exactly high quality. The video was shaky, the audio filled with static. Despite that, when it finally started, it was easy enough to see and hear Aisha, standing in what had to be the reception area of that rehab clinic. Instantly recognizable, even though she seemed taller, towering over the unhappy-looking figure at her side that must have been her mother. Even though her skin was smooth black marble, and her hair was shining metal wire in onyx and alabaster and fuchsia, and her lips were sparkling liquid amethyst, her smile filled with teeth of platinum, her eyes glimmering sunstones. Despite everything, it was still Aisha.

Her voice rang clearly as she strode across the half-lit floor, seemingly glowing with her own inner light, dragging Presumably Her Mother all the way to the reception desk.

“So I had to take my mom somewhere with less drugs, and it was this or like, Canada or something. Got room for one more?”

The receptionist’s voice wasn’t nearly as clear. Neither was her face, for that matter. Still, her stammer was obvious enough.

“A-ah, c-can I get a name?”

“Aisha Laborn. My name, not mom’s name. But you can call me Black Girl.”

There was a beat of silence, as the very white receptionist stared at her.

For a moment, even though he knew it was doomed, Alec felt a mad hope.

It was, of course, dashed an instant later.

“Just kidding. Call me Monument. Y’know, kinda like that statue on 42nd Street where all the skinheads hang out? Except I’m black and gossipy and stand for literally anything other than white supremacy, so I’m better in every possible way.”

“A-alright-”

“Including tits. Can’t forget the tits.”

And then the video froze.

For a second, Alec thought it was loading again, but then he registered the dark-skinned finger on the keyboard.

“But there’s like, five more minutes,” Alec pouted, obstinately staring at the screen.

“I’ve seen enough,” Brian growled.

“Are you guys done yet? Come on, the internet can’t be that slow,” Aisha called.

Alec made to unpause the video anyways, only to jerk his hand away as Brian closed the laptop altogether.

He gave the other boy an exaggerated roll of his eyes.“You are just no fun at all.”

Brian ignored him. He already had the phone back up against his ear.

It was subtle, but Alec could see him trembling.

“They did this to you.”

Aisha’s response shook the air itself, enough to set Alec’s heart alight.

“Bullshit. I did this to myself.”

“Lisa said-”

“I don’t care what she thinks, Brian.”

He paused, took a breath.

“Well, I think that it’s not alright for-”

“Anyone who thinks they can tell me what to do with my body, my life, they can go fuck themselves. And if you think you can second-guess me like this, then you can go fuck yourself too!”

Aisha’s words, tumbling one after another, built up on each other into an avalanche of sound, striking with enough force that Brian fumbled the phone as he physically recoiled, the case bouncing against the concrete and skidding to a halt.

Rachel made to grab at the fallen phone, but Alec got there first, shooting the shaking Brian only the slightest of glances as he bent over and picked the phone up, pulling it to his ear as the echoes faded.

“Hey, Aisha, I know you’re enjoying those rock hard abs, but could you maybe tone down the shouting? I think Rachel is going to bite the phone in half if you keep it up.”

Rachel grunted at Alec, a sort of you'll regret that later gesture, and walked away. Alec adjusted his grip on the phone, leaning into his shoulder as Aisha cleared her throat over the line before she responded.

“I’m not going to apologize for yelling at my brother. But I suppose I can try to hold it in for everyone else.”

Alec shrugged, though he knew she couldn’t see it. (Or at least, he presumed she couldn’t see it. Lisa could still be wrong, after all.)

“That’s fair. So, when you say you did this to yourself, what does that mean, anyways? Guessing you didn’t second trigger from being terrified of a dentist or something.”

“Alec,” Aisha deadpanned.

“Yeah?”

“What the fuck even is a second trigger?”

Alec chuckled. “I dunno. I just-”

He let out a yelp as Brian clawed the phone right off of his ear and out of his hand. Darkness slapped against his face as he turned towards the other boy.

Alec’s mouth closed.

Smoke writhed across Brian’s body as if spilling out of every pore. Alec wasn’t sure if Grue even realized he was doing it, even realized that his face was half-coated in shadow, hiding his lips and only showing the manic intensity in his eyes.

Alec could see the trembles in Brian’s nerves just fine, and he wasn’t even looking for them.

“Aisha.”

“What? If you’re going to tell me to go to my room then you can fuck right off-”

“Where are you?” he ground out.

There was a heavy, lingering pause before Aisha’s voice rang out again, slow and cautious.

“Why do you want to know?”

The accusation only made Brian’s darkness shift more frantically.

“We need to talk.”

Alec found his fingers twitching as the silence dragged on. He stepped back towards Lisa, glancing at her and seeing her staring in still-stunned silence, her lips moving through some recitation of alien scripture.

Alec grabbed and shook her by the shoulder, enough to make her blink and actually look at him. He jabbed his finger over his shoulder at Brian a couple of times, hoping she’d get the message. Not that she seemed to get it yet, just staring at him, but still.

He had a feeling that their team leader was about to do something very stupid. Normally, Alec wouldn’t give a fuck if Brian did stupid shit, but picking a fight with the Devils seemed like the kind of stupid shit that would get in Alec’s way.

Aisha’s voice finally echoed, cutting effortlessly through the thin coat of fog swirling around Brian’s body.

“I’m hanging out at Weymouth shopping center. Been getting tips on this whole ‘being the Devil’ thing from my new friends of the infernal variety.”

Lisa finally jolted out of the couch, taking Alec’s hand (not that he’d offered it) and stumbling to her feet.

Rachel glanced over, but said nothing.

Brian, crushing the phone between taut fingers, didn’t even notice.

“Stay the hell away from them and come here right now, Aisha.”

“Or what? Are you going to go beat up the big scary devils to rescue your poor little sister?”

Brian said nothing. The smog spiraling out of and into and through him did all the talking Alec needed. The silence, apparently, was enough for Aisha.

“I’ve made my decisions, and if you think you can stop me… well, you’re welcome to try. Asshole.”

Alec watched Brian’s jaw twitch, but no words came out. Or maybe they were just disappearing into the smoke curling around him.

“Well, this has been a great talk and all, but I’ve got devils to chat with and a mall in desperate need of redecorating. Seriously, there were Merchants trying to set up shop here, can you believe it?” She laughed, a rumble like a steamroller at full power. “If you wanna get your ass kicked, you know where to find me.”

Then she hung up.

The silence was pierced only by the sounds of creaking glass. Alec breathed slowly, watching the shifting patterns on Brian’s vise-tight knuckles, the shadows drifting around his body in time with the rise and fall of his chest.

Finally, the boy spoke.

“Costumes. Now.”

Alec looked up, met Brian’s eyes, and shrugged.

“Nah.”

Smoke exploded off of Grue’s body as he jolted forward, barely constraining the obvious impulse to grab Alec and beat the shit out of him.

“No?”

“Don’t we vote on things like this?” Alec leaned back, frowning a bit as he clasped his hands behind the back of his head. “Well, I vote no. This is dumb.”

It was so very, very stupid.

Brian twitched, but said nothing. Instead, he turned his head.

Rachel didn’t quite meet his eyes, but didn’t look away, either. Her voice was soft, yet firm.

“You thought the devils did shit to Aisha, but Aisha said it was her idea. What do you want us to do, beat up your sister for you?”

He seemed to try to meet her gaze, but he couldn’t.

Lisa voiced her disagreement before Brian had finished turning to her.

Usually, she’d have done it before he even started.

“Don’t…”

She started to speak, faltered, started again. Alec watched her eyes flicker from side to side, as if reading words in the air.

“Don’t make me say all the reasons why it’s a bad idea, Brian.”

For a moment he met her shaky, worried eyes.

“If you don’t come along, I’ll go on my own,” he insisted. Tried his best to look resolved, Alec was sure, but Brian wasn’t really up to the task for once.

Rachel just shrugged.

Lisa shook her head. “You wouldn’t.”

“I have to.”

“Or…” Alec interrupted, “you could go there in your normal clothes and talk to your sister?”

Brian stared at him, working his jaw.

“...she wouldn’t listen to me,” he finally said. “She never does.”

“Course she wouldn’t. You never listen to her,” Alec drawled easily. “I mean, she doesn’t even try to murder you, boss. Listening to her’s the least you can do.”

The smoke sagged, weighed heavy on Brian’s skin. Alec watched it slowly settle, start to dissipate

He idly stretched out. “I’m going to go out there and talk to them, so you’d better not ruin it for me.”

Lisa turned to stare, more confused than horrified, more anxious than frightened.

He gave her what might have been a genuine smile, even if it wasn’t completely steady.

Being Alec, after all, was just so boring. He’d almost forgotten how it felt to be more. To even really feel.

Feeling Jupiter’s hands had reminded him just how much he missed it.

Alec had known for a long time that something inside him was broken. Maybe now was his chance to fix it. To be more than a dull, unfeeling shell.

He barely even gave Brian a chance to catch up with him.

---

In the end, giving Brian a chance to catch up with him was worth it. It meant that Alec could hold the other boy’s hand while he was too off-balance to properly protest. It pissed off Nazis, pissed off regular garden-variety assholes, and pissed off Brian too. Basically it was a genius move, at least for as long as he could keep it up.

Brian drew the line, apparently, at the shopping center door, jerking his hand free as he came to a halt at the sight of said mall.

Alec couldn’t find it in himself to blame Brian.

He’d been to this place once or twice before. Nothing special, just wandering around town, seeing what he could see. Didn’t really pique his interest, honestly. Even when it came to the game store, he preferred slightly less visible outlets.

Still, he hadn’t seen it like this before. Sure, the walls were looking a little worse for wear, but honestly they weren't that bad for a random mall that went through a Leviathan attack. The glass was another story, with several panels missing outright, others cracked and chipped beyond recognition.

Stranger was the patch job that had been done on them. Woven pieces of shiny metal and colored plastic, like little fiber meshes, strung across the gaps. It took Alec a moment to recognize them for what they were: automotive parts, pieces of mirrors and chassis and body panels and interiors, stretched and squeezed and pulled taut across the mullions like so much rope.

A white, featureless glow spilled out from the glass and the mesh. It wasn’t blinding, yet he couldn’t see inside, all detail drowned out as if the interior was filled with luminescent fog. More rays of light jutted out from other entrances, and a strong beam pushed straight up from the center of the building, into the evening sky.

And yet it was completely silent.

Brian glanced back and forth, his posture tense, cautious.

“... This doesn’t look safe,” he finally pointed out.

“Well, duh. But Aisha’s in there, so it must be fine, right?”

“Even if she was in there, it’s been a long walk. Things could have changed by now.”

Alec hummed. “Wanna call her again?”

When Brian hesitated in answering, Alec brushed him aside, strode to the single remaining door, and slid it open with a slightest grunt before walking into the light.

It didn’t singe his skin. It didn’t really do anything, in fact. The only direct effect from crossing the threshold was that he was suddenly able to hear the sounds coming from inside. Aisha’s distant, echoing voice - “I’m not really feeling these pillars…” - accompanied quieter sounds; flowing water and something gently swishing, female voices mixing together.

For a moment, he was blind, surrounded by light in every direction. Then his eyes began to adjust. It took maybe half a minute before the mall’s interior faded into clarity. The air itself seemed aglow, and there wasn’t a single shadow. Alec saw every shattered brick, every cracked tile, every empty light fixture.

Turning around, he saw that it was the outside, now, that was dark and unclear.

He pushed his hand back through the door and gave Brian a thumbs up.

Alec didn’t bother waiting or looking to see if Brian reacted. He turned back around and walked deeper into the mall.

Most of the stores weren’t empty. They were, however, kind of a mess. Leviathan had obviously flooded the place, and though the water had receded, the wares had been left carelessly splashed across floors or piled against walls. The structural elements seemed mostly intact, but many of the interior partition walls weren’t so lucky, turned into so much debris scattered across the floor. And, of course, the drywall was peeling right off of the metal structure.

Alec stepped around a fallen kiosk. Someone had already torn it open and ripped out whatever electronics might have been inside, leaving only a plastic shell.

Things got better as he approached the noise, the center of the mall, the gaping hole in the ceiling over the lobby. Black marble filled the gaps between the floor tiles, leaving an almost impossibly smooth surface. Debris had been cleared away, gathered up at the edges, stacked up in something approaching organization.

At the center of it all, lightning and ocean and light and clay and stone played and danced.

Jupiter was the closest, her nerves thrumming with quiet bliss as she brushed and swept with twenty hands and probably every broom in the mall, pushing and dragging the dust and grime away.

Neptune sprawled luxuriously below the impromptu skylight, forming a broad pool rimmed by red brick. A girl with four arms and a face deep in focus was waist-deep in the center of the feature, chiseling away at a pillar of meaty clay. Had to be Riley.

And then there were Venus and Aisha.

The glow that filled the air was coming from Venus, shimmering droplets of light dancing on her skin, luminescent particles spilling off as she moved. The angel was loosely curled around the curves of a massive black pillar, eyes roaming over its marbled texture.

Aisha shined.

The light reflected off her polished skin, off her swaying hair. It fluttered through gemstone eyes and amethyst lips, sunk into cracks and curves.

Alec let his eyes linger on the shapes of her face, the curls of her mouth. Aisha was looking at the pillar, just like Venus was, and she was frowning.

“Man, fuck this.”

Frustration echoed in her voice as she stepped up and kicked the black stone. Aisha seemed just as surprised as Alec was when it shattered like glass, its exterior crumbling to dust in an instant, leaving behind a very clear form in the center. A human form, Alec realized. A screaming woman, ablaze with pain and fury.

His breath caught.

Jupiter noticed.

“Oh, hey, it’s that asshole.”

He waved her away with a shrug, stepping up to Venus and Aisha as they turned to look at him.

Alec reached out, pressed a hand on the black stone. It was warm.

“Hey,” Aisha greeted, her voice quiet yet still echoing.

“Hey,” he repeated, not taking his eyes off the statue, drinking the intensity in its eyes. “Who’s this?”

“I think her name was Jasmine,” she whispered, onyx eyelids sliding slowly shut. “I don’t know how I know, but… Her kid got killed by a cop. So she went down to the station and set herself on fire.”

Alec let his fingers run over the marble, tracing the shape of fluttering, ragged clothes dancing with flame. “This is how she died, huh?”

Aisha opened her eyes. “No. She triggered in the hospital. I don’t… I don’t think it ended well for anyone.”

The stone smelled faintly of ash.

“Not exactly a happy memory,” he murmured.

“Not exactly,” Aisha agreed, offering a faint hum. “I think I’ll find a better place for it.”

It was at about that moment that Alec registered tense footsteps behind him and turned to see Brian.

Everything about him was tight, curled inwards. His lips were set in a hard line. Brian’s eyes fixed on Aisha. Aisha stared back. Alec chose to take a few steps out of the way.

After what seemed like an eternity spent just staring at his sister’s new form, Brian dared to glance over to his side, towards the watchful Devils.

“Is this… permanent?”

Venus stared at Brian so hard that Alec thought she might set the boy on fire. Fortunately, she didn’t. That would have been a big hassle.

Jupiter and Neptune shared a glance at each other, something unsaid passing between them.

“You can crawl back into your human shell for a while if you really try,” Neptune mused, her eyes closing as her body slowly rippled.

“But why would you ever want to?” Jupiter added, lightning dancing on her fingers.

Aisha cleared her throat, drawing her brother’s gaze back from the intensity of the Devils as she rumbled. “Don’t think I will, even if I can. Not like I can get much more shit than I already do. And getting shit is better than being ignored, anyways.”

He did his best to meet her eyes, his face reflected in the shimmering sunstones.

“That kind of attention is dangerous,” Brian insisted, his fists slowly clenching as his arms crossed.

“Yeah, well, Empire’s been in this town since before we were born. Pretty fucking dangerous just living here,” Aisha scoffed, shaking her head. “This isn’t that much of a step up. Besides, it’s more than worth a little flak.”

“What could be worth throwing away any chance at a normal life? Please, Aisha,” he begged. “I’ve spent the last few years just trying to make things better for you, and-”

“I think the ‘hide Aisha in a bunker’ train left the station like the day I was born,” she snapped with a roll of her eyes. “Anyways, I already fucking told you, bro. I made my decision and you’re not going to talk me out of it.”

Brian seemed to wither under Aisha’s hard glare. “But… I… I just wanted to keep you safe. Everything I’ve done, I’ve done for you-”

“And I appreciate it, honest, but that was then, this is now. I’m not a scared little girl. I don’t want to hide behind my big brother. You can help me or you can get the hell out of the way, got it? Maybe go do something for yourself, for once.”

“It’s not that simple,” he said. Whispered, really. Maybe even whimpered.

For a moment, Alec thought Brian dissolved, blurred around the edges, flickered into black smoke. Like Shadow Stalker, ironically.

Maybe it was just his imagination. Maybe not.

In that split second, Aisha paused, as if something resonated with her.

Then she shook her head, dismissing the thought and Brian alike. “Sure, but either way. If you’re not going to say anything other than to tell me I can’t decide for myself, you should just leave. Before I make you leave.”

Brian shook and shuddered, fingers tensing and relaxing.

“This… this isn’t over.”

“No, it isn’t,” Aisha agreed. “You can come back when you’ve got something new to say.”

He looked so torn, so sad in that moment.

Then he turned around and walked away, leaving his sister’s weary sighs behind.

Seconds, minutes passed.

An unfamiliar, youthful voice spoke up. “Um… s-so that was awkward.”

Alec glanced over and saw, not surprisingly, that the voice was Riley, scratching her head as she looked back in his general direction.

He shrugged. “I’m just shocked that he’s whining so much. His sister is fine and not trying to do anything to him; what’s the problem?”

Neptune promptly sent a wave of water splashing out of the pool, too promptly for him to avoid taking a direct hit. “Gah!”

“Now now,” she chided as he recovered. “He’s obviously working through some very important feelings.”

Alec figured she was joking, but there was something serious in her eyes when he brushed aside his wet hair and actually looked at her again.

Huh.

Even Aisha, stepping up from behind him, seemed solemn. “Well, I mean, I kinda hate him sometimes, yeah. But he’s my brother. You’re stuck with the family you got and all that crap.”

“I dunno,” he mused. “I ran away from mine, after all. And I probably would have killed most of them if I thought I could get away with it.”

“That turned dark quick,” Jupiter marvelled. The air itself, or at least the hands in it, seemed to shrink away from Alec.

Wuss.

“You’re obviously a special case,” Aisha pointed out.

Alec raised an eyebrow. Had he told her about his family? He didn’t remember doing so, but… well, Aisha.

“Every family is unique,” Riley chimed in, stepping away from her workpiece, out of the pool of Neptune and looking over Alec with a half dozen eyes. Her voice grew solemn as she continued. “And sometimes you’re better off without them.”

“So what’s the big secret, prettyboy?” Neptune teased.

“I feel like it’s a little early in our relationship for that,” he murmured.

“Aw, come on. You already know our big secret.”

Alec scoffed at Neptune’s pout. “It’s barely even a secret, though. Doesn’t count.”

“Um, maybe we shouldn’t go talking about all the secrets,” Jupiter tried, but Neptune brushed her off.

“We weren’t the ones who brought them up.” She gestured over to Aisha.

Aisha shook her head. “I’m not the one who talked about killing his family outta nowhere. You can’t just drop a line like that and expect people to leave it there!”

Alec rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well…” He paused a moment, before turning to look Riley in the eye, arresting her gaze. “I’m not the one towing around a barely disguised serial killer and daring everyone to call me out on it.”

The girl bit her lip under the pressure.

“Not that there’s anything wrong with that,” he added. “Just so we’re clear. Reformed serial killers are totally cool in my book.” After all, he’d done his fair share of murder himself. Even if it wasn’t his idea.

Aisha snorted.

Riley more or less ignored her. “Ummmm… I mean, I kind of want to hide sometimes. To be someone else and stuff. But then I’d be lying, I guess? To others, to myself.” She lowered her head, lifted an arm to stare at the back of her hand. “These aren’t the same fingers that did all those horrible things… but they’re not so different either.”

Alec hummed, lifting his own hand and studying the ridges and textures. “Pretty deep.”

She smiled sadly, even as Jupiter’s hands pressed into her shoulders. “I’ve had a lot of time to think, you know?”

He lowered his hand, gave a shrug. “Anyways, serial killing isn’t really my fetish. Let’s talk about this whole…” he gestured vaguely towards Riley and Aisha alike. “Transformation, being the devil thing.”

Venus raised an eyebrow. Jupiter blinked. Neptune seem to take a closer look.

“It’s pretty cool,” Riley murmured.

“I’m definitely rocking the new look, right?”

Aisha cocked her hips forward with a little smirk. Alec smiled back, eyes roaming over the form of her curves cast in obsidian.

“Looking solid.”

“Hey, the Devil isn’t your personal body shop,” Jupiter huffed.

“Sooo, what is it, then? Why is Aisha a statue and not me, or any other random person you like?” Alec questioned.

“Do you even care that much?”

He let his smile fade as he met Jupiter’s eyes. He looked past them, into the storm of nerves that he could feel in her hands, their indignation and confusion pulsing into his mind.

If he looked close enough, he could almost glimpse what it was like to feel again.

“Yeah. Yeah, I do,” he drawled. “This is serious. Aisha said that she chose this. Maybe I’ll decide to choose it, too.”

“You don’t know what it means,” Venus murmured.

“Sure, but I want to know. It’s more than just turning crosses upside down and yelling ‘hail satan’ or whatever, right? Though actually those would be fun, so if you’ve seen any churches I can mess with-”

“I don’t think that’s actually part of it,” Neptune said, laughing softly. “Though I don’t think it hurts.”

Venus closed her eyes, hummed in thought. “The Devil is… a rejection of authority? Of a society that pushes you out, tells you you’re wrong and evil for things you can’t control?”

“From where I’m standing,” Alec mused, “I’ve already rejected the biggest authority I care about.”

“I think I was already the devil, on some level,” Aisha suggested. “She changed my power, changed my story. After all, what’s the power to be forgotten if not a metaphor for everything wrong with my life, all the worst things people have done to me?”

“Didn’t take you for a literary critic.”

“C’mon, Alec. Do I look like a nerd to you? This is just what she said to me.”

“Woah, hold up. I thought this was a metaphor, not like, a literal devil.”

“It’s both, somehow. Seems pretty bullshit, but whatever,” Aisha admitted.

“I thought God and the Devil were a cluster trigger thing,” Riley started, “but apparently my moms aren’t the first people to deal with them. And they still don’t feel like actual capes. We’d see them act with more agency, right?”

“It’s as much about ways of looking at the world as it is about literal gods and devils,” Jupiter mused. “Back home, there was no escaping the voice of God, the whispers of the Devil. Maybe they’re less present here because less people think that way?”

“That’s cool and all, but I think I got the point-”

“I mean, they didn’t mention it, but you kinda stumbled onto the point earlier? You don’t destroy the cross, you invert it. You can’t burn down the society, you can’t kill God-” Neptune began.

“I did!” Riley piped up.

Neptune raised an eyebrow, glancing at the proud little thing off to her side.

“...your God was unusually killable, Riley.”

“Oh, yeah, good point.”

“Anyways, barring special circumstances, you can’t destroy the authority, so you instead seek to subvert it, right? You turn the crosses upside down and you yell ‘hail satan’ because if you’re going to be ‘wrong’ in society’s eyes, you might as well own it, right?”

“Better to reign in hell than to serve in heaven,” Venus murmured.

“Venus, why are you such a nerd?” Neptune said, though she was smiling, and Venus didn’t seem to mind.

“Because books are important, Neptune. Stories are important.”

“Amen to that.”

Alec took in their squabbling, his eyebrow fractionally raising.

“So… what, I’m supposed to take ownership of my wrongness? Be upfront about being a weird broken psychowhatever?”

Venus peered at him. “Maybe. No… no, that’s not it. I think you’re halfway there. You know what you don’t want. You’ve rejected God. But you don’t know what you do want. You don’t know what the Devil looks like to you.”

“I mean, if he already ran away from his God or whatever,” Neptune insisted, “then I’m pretty sure he’s done the important part already.”

“I don’t think so. If you’re only defined by not liking God, isn’t that the same as letting God define you?”

Neptune hummed.

Aisha rolled her eyes. “You all can argue about what it means for years if you want, but the important part is how it feels, right? It’s not something to be explained. Doesn’t make any fucking sense when you try to explain it anyways, so just experience it.”

Jupiter giggled softly. “That’s certainly one way to look at it, huh?”

Alec raised an eyebrow. “So, uh, how do you propose I experience being the Devil or whatever the heck?”

Aisha grinned. “Step one is to hang out with her. And you know, I have this statue here, looking for a good home…”

She glanced to the statue, then hefted it with a single arm as though it were a piece of lumber. Her form was defined enough that Alec could see her muscles flex. Could see it with his power, too.

On a whim, he reached out and tugged on the nerves in her other arm, or whatever passed for nerves in her body of black marble.

Aisha’s arm didn’t budge. His arm spasmed wildly, nearly smacking himself in the face.

She, of course, laughed at him, wrapping her free hand around him and pulling him into her warmth and solidness.

“I know just where to put her, too. Let’s get into some good trouble together, ‘kay?”

Notes:

A/N: Sorry this took so long!

Various help provided by intodusk , Mondrae205 , EtchJetty , RDavidson , and anyone else I forgot.

Chapter 10: (Alec)

Summary:

In which Alec goes on a date and figures something out, but is still Alec, for the most part

Alec woke up from a dreamless sleep, blissful yet empty.

He sat up, stretched out his back, and took a glance around.

The ground was soft beneath him, like a massive mattress. He looked down, seeing soft clay in a shade of soothing blue. Experimentally, he pushed a hand down into it, feeling it deform, only to slowly bounce back as he removed his hand. Warm, too. It almost seemed to glow- no, it really was glowing, faint wisps of light escaping from the surface to fill the room with gentle illumination.

Over to the side, he could make out a pile of hands and wings and wetness. Jupiter and Venus and Neptune were sprawled across each other, fingers around feathers around tendrils of affection; cute little noises spilled from the pile as they shifted in their sleep.

Riley, he noted, wasn't here.

Aisha was here, though. He could make out her backside easily enough, standing near the entrance of the impromptu bedroom, as still as a statue.

Nice view.

He took a glance at the walls of painted-on vines. Weird decor, but whatever.

Alec slowly rose to his feet, getting his balance on the soft surface before he went ambling on over towards Aisha.

“You know I can hear you, right?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Yes, and?”

“Touch my butt and I will throw you across the room.”

“That so, huh?"

"Please. You're cute and you creep Brian out, but you're not that cute."

"I can creep you out too, if you're into that."

He idly slid up beside her, glanced at her amused smile.

"Maybe later. How'd you sleep, dork?"

"Pretty well for not being part of the cuddle pile. How'd you sleep? Like a rock?"

Aisha snorted, gave him a gentle punch in the side- he could easily tell how much the girl was holding back so as not to hurt him.

“Your jokes are terrible, Alec.”

He huffed. “You know you love them.”

"Maybe.” She smiled again. “Anyway, I slept just fine. Well, I don't think it was quite sleep, but it was close enough."

“Really? If it wasn’t sleep, what was it?” He leaned in a little, not bothering to disguise his curiosity.

“I dunno,” Aisha murmured, rolling her eyes. “More like just zoning out for a while. Super-zoning-out, I guess?”

"Truly, I'm in awe of your awesome power," he declared.

Her cheeks burned, magma glowing under a skin of obsidian. "Shut up. I'm still figuring it out, okay? All I know is that I'm awesome."

She grinned despite the flush, turning to him and throwing her best cocky, heroic pose. A hand on her hip, a foot forward. Her body glowed. Something he didn't really understand filled the air, a silent herald trumpeting Aisha to the world.

He closed his eyes, and she was still there in his mind's sight, unforgettable.

"Cool trick.”

"Isn't it, though? Just look at-"

He stepped up to her and tapped her chest, without opening his eyes.

"Going to get old fast if that's the only trick you got."

Alec saw her pout even before he looked. "C'mon," she grumbled. "I made that statue, didn't I? I've got lots to show off."

He smiled, more hungry than happy. "Then why don't you show me?"

"Because I have better things to do with my time," she huffed.

"Like what?"

"I think I'm like, a foot taller now. I need a new wardrobe. Especially with the new texture." She ran her hand across her stomach, feeling black marble beneath her fingers. "Shopping."

"We're in a mall."

"All the clothes that were any good were looted already. Trust me, I checked."

"You're going to buy things?"

"My hair is made of weird purple and black metal, Alec. I'm pretty sure I don't need to steal anything. Besides, kinda hard to get away with that, now."

"No more sneaking around?"

"Nope." She grinned, silver teeth on lips of amethyst. "People paying attention is a little scary, sure, but the side effects are pretty worth it."

He hummed in thought. "Without that, would you still have done it?"

She tilted her head. "Not sure I get what you're saying."

He wasn't quite sure himself, but kept going anyway. "Like, you could have stayed a squishy human, instead of this cool statue thing. You swapped out your power, right? From making people forget to being unforgettable."

"You catch on quick."

"I know my way around bullshit brain fuckery," he dismissed. "Memory nonsense is close enough."

"Right, right. So, you were saying?"

"You were basically invisible before. Now you're not only visible, you're extra visible. Like one of those shiny orange roadcones. Except prettier, obviously."

She snorted. He barely missed a beat.

"And if you weren't a badass statue, could you handle that visibility? Or would you just be a bigger target?"

He knew where he fell, for one. It was a bit crazy that he'd even get this close to the spotlight.

So why was he here? Not just with Jupiter, whose hands gave him a tantalizing glimpse of the feeling he so craved. No, he'd let the transformed Aisha sweep him up in her wake, even though she had no storm of hands, merely the world's largest spotlight.

Why’d he do that? Why’d he go along with her?

Because, he supposed, she did it with him. Jupiter merely tolerated his presence, for the most part. Aisha welcomed it, and not because of his powers, not because she was using him. She was probably the only person who just liked having him around since… he’d say ‘since he’d left his father’, but it was probably closer to ‘since ever’.

Needless to say, it was a novel experience.

He was starting to think he liked it, too. Weird.

Aisha cleared her throat. The girl had obviously been thinking hard on this one, giving him the time to get lost in thought himself. But finally, she lifted her eyes, spoke proudly.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’d do it. It’d be scary, but fucking everything is scary. Sneaking around is fun and all, but talking to my family, standing up for myself, those things are far more important. Maybe even worth dying for, I dunno.”

He looked her over for a moment, and wondered.

Then he let out a snort.

“You’re bad at this serious shit, y’know.”

She gave yet another roll of her eyes, reaching over and shoving him lightly. “So are you. And you started it.”

Alec stumbled, but recovered quickly. “Yeah yeah, whatever. Let’s go shopping.”

Aisha offered her hand, and he took it, feeling her warmth against his skin, the odd softness of her own flesh.

They walked out the door.

The light of Venus had long since left the mall, but the light of the morning sun calmly streaming in through tattered ceilings was a more than adequate replacement.

The only thing in the center of the atrium was a familiar water feature. Well, not quite familiar. Last night, he’d come back to find that the pillar of clay looked more like feet, the beginning of legs, the start of a statue. And now, it had changed again. Red brick had been replaced with white and gray stone, and in the middle, there was not a pillar, or legs, but the start of a tree. Not a sapling, but the base of a trunk, reaching towards the heavens before ending abruptly as if cut cleanly in cross-section.

And it wasn’t quite the only thing there, either. Riley was there too, her back to the two of them, standing in the water and staring at her work. One pair of arms was crossed, while another idly twirled tools as she often did, albeit with the scalpel and stethoscope exchanged for the chisel and stylus.

Interesting.

“Hey, Riley,” Aisha called.

The girl raised a hand, waved it vaguely without turning her head.

Alec strolled around, caught sight of her expression. Tight, frustrated, dead set on her workpiece.

“What’s got you down, Sawbones?”

“It’s not right,” Riley grumbled, ignoring the nickname. (Damn, he was kinda hoping to get something out of her with that.) “I’m trying to make a centerpiece, but what am I supposed to make? Statues of mom are way too vain, and I figure a tree makes sense, but trees are supposed to be alive. Not… not dead clay.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You’re made of clay and you’re not dead.”

“Yeah, but that’s something I have to keep with me. I can make a whole world out of this stuff, but only the bit around me can actually be alive. Without me, this is just a fancy statue. And I’m… not good at fancy statues.”

Alec was distantly aware of Aisha’s gaze turning on him, but didn’t really care. “You, not good at fancy statues?”

“Like… if I make stuff that doesn’t do anything, that’s silly. Lots of people can do that. And besides…”

Her voice dropped, her gaze grew distant. “...it reminds me of what I used to do. So much of that, what was even the point? To prove that I could? Or was it… was it just because of who it hurt, just because of what people saw when they looked at it-”

“Well,” he interrupted, “why does it have to be nothing but this clay? Why not just, I don’t know, plant a tree here?”

Riley’s eyes, all seven of them (did she grow more when she was thinking hard, or something?), suddenly widened. Then her brow furrowed.

“I’ve barely touched plants, you know. It’s always been meat and metal. I branched out a bit, explored biochemistry and microbiology, but plants? I don’t think I could make a Tinkertech tree. Not a good enough one, anyways.”

“So make it out of meat and metal.”

“Can we not encourage her to descend into Biotinker atrocities?” Aisha grumbled.

“I don’t have enough meat. I don’t have a source of biomass. Even if I started chopping people up – which I won’t, that would be rude – I’d still need dozens and dozens.”

“I know there are some people I wouldn’t mind being chopped up-”

“Alec.”

Aisha’s glare arrested both him and Riley. He met her gaze for a moment, then looked away, not really sure why. Riley sighed, turning back to him and shaking her head. As if she had the gall to be offended because he suggested doing exactly what Bonesaw would do.

Damn. She really was serious about this whole redemption thing, huh?

Well, then. Guess he’d have to think a little bit harder.

“Okay, so. This clay needs something to… animate it, right? To make it alive.”

Riley nodded.

“Why does it have to be you? Why not something else? Or someone else?”

“Because…” Riley started, and then stopped.

A strange grin spread over her face.

“I don’t know!” she squealed, her arms suddenly flailing in excitement. “What animates me?!? Maybe it’s my power, and I need the world’s first parahuman-clay-meat-tree! Ooh, or maybe it’s something Devilish, the same thing that animates Jupe-Mom and Ve-Mom and Nep-Mom, and maybe I can borrow a little bit of them! The rush of the waters, the crash of the heavens, the prayers of the heart…”

Riley nodded manically to herself, pulling a notepad from nowhere and scribbling furiously on pages made of clay with one of her styluses.

“Alec, if this ends badly, I reserve the right to punch you in the face,” Aisha warned.

“That’s fair. Means you can’t punch me before then, right?”

She punched him in the side, just to spite him.

He deserved it.

“No! Don’t break him!” Riley suddenly shouted, rushing over and pushing the two of them apart. “I might want his stem cells! And maybe I could grab a bit of you too, aunt Aisha!”

He gathered his breath, slowly straightened himself out. “Sooo… hah, what’s a stem cell?”

“Oh, I’d just need to take some samples from your bones-”

Alec wasn’t one to flinch lightly. Needles going into his bones joined the ranks of the few things that managed to reach that level of ‘fuck this shit’.

“I think I’ll pass, thanks.”

She pouted, but her pout had no power over him, cute though it was.

“It won’t hurt! A day or two and it’ll be as good as new, even!”

“Still gonna pass. Sorry.”

“Come on, auntie, at least tell me I can get a sample from you?!”

“What, are you gonna draw blood from a rock?” Alec snarked.

“After you talk to your moms about this, then I’ll think about it,” the statue responded, shaking her head. “Right now, I just want to go shopping for clothes, not worry about giant bone needles or mad science nonsense.”

Riley reddened, but promptly ran into the bedroom to wake her ‘parents’, shouting all the while.

Alec laughed, ever so slightly. He was surprised that it was genuine.

“Time to get out of here?”

“Probably. I think those three will have her under control. And if not, I’ll punch her for them.”

“Sounds like a blast.”

---

Alec hadn’t quite realized how annoying shopping after Leviathan would be.

Half of the stores that weren’t outright destroyed were closed for lack of wares. People weren’t really working or living, they were surviving. Money didn’t matter if there was nothing to buy.

Still, the two of them went looking for places to shop. Aisha did all the work, really. Next to her, people barely noticed Alec if he didn’t make himself noticed, and he was perfectly happy to fade out of the spotlight. The way she took it was kinda weird, though. When Aisha initiated a conversation, she seemed just as bombastic and forward as yesterday. Yet, when someone approached her, or if a conversation caught her off guard, she became… not shy or withdrawn, exactly, but cautious, her eyes darting around as if looking for hidden cameras or an unexpected attack, listening for double meanings and hidden insults.

The other people around him didn’t seem to notice it, but Alec certainly did. He wondered if he’d been like that back at home, always watching for the slightest hint of trouble. Probably, yeah. Pretty much all of his siblings had to be like that whenever his father was around. Even the suck-ups still had to figure out who was an acceptable target and who their father wouldn’t be happy to see hurt on any given day.

Life in the Vasil household got old pretty quick.

“Alec?”

For a moment, the crowd focused on him as Aisha gave him her own attention.

He tilted his head. “Sup?”

“Sounds like the Market is still around. A few blocks that way. C’mon, get your thumb out of your ass and let’s get going.”

“Fine, fine…”

She pushed the crowd aside, and he followed.

The Lord Street Market wasn’t on Lord Street anymore, but it wasn’t as though Alec really cared. It might have been moved or reconstructed or whatever, but the Market was still the Market.

The mood was different, though. He’d heard the place compared to a glorified garage sale before. This… didn’t feel like that.

What was it called when someone died and you sold their old things? Estate sale?

The makeshift stalls were filled to capacity, but Alec didn’t recognize most of the vendors, and at least half of them didn’t even seem happy to be here. Or, well, they seemed more unhappy than they’d normally be.

And while the people who had approached Aisha on the way here were naturally fairly peppy, the crowd browsing the Market didn’t seem to share the sentiment. Some of them had those same smiles of wonder, sure, but most of them didn’t, and Alec didn’t miss how the crowd opened up around them, keeping a safe distance from the cape in their midst.

Normally, he probably would have done the same. Keeping your distance from an unknown cape was just good sense, after all.

Then again, shadowing Aisha from the crowd would have been a lot of effort. And being at her side gave him an excellent view of how much she was bothering everyone just by existing. All in all, it was worth a few of those stares extending towards him.

He felt his muscles twitch from time to time, but he didn't really care.

Aisha took the anxiety around her in stride, her smile gleaming as she scanned the stalls. Alec followed her, passing up people desperately emptying their perishable foodstocks and sad-eyed parents selling what remained of their children’s belongings. Eventually, her gaze settled, and he followed it to one of the tidier-looking vendors, clothes draped on racks that had probably been recycled from some store or another. “CLOTHING EXCHANGE BUY SELL TRADE” had been nailed to the top of the makeshift stall.

Aisha marched to the table, taking the man behind it off guard as she hefted a bag full of clothes onto the counter, the wood creaking under the strain.

“I want some new clothes. All my old shit doesn’t fit.”

Frozen in the moment, he looked up at her, holding his breath for a good, long second or two.

Finally, he exhaled, and spoke.

“Sure. You’re getting rid of all of this?”

“Most of it,” she half-agreed. “Brought some old stuff I’m keeping so I could see how it’d look with the new stuff.”

The man nodded. “Right. Come back when you’ve picked out what you want. And get this off my table before you break it.”

Aisha pouted, but to no avail. Alec wasn’t sure where the vendor found the strength to look the statue-woman in the eyes and say no, like that.

“And you, too.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Eh?”

“If you just want to windowshop, go find somewhere else, and make space for people who actually need it.”

Alec shook his head. “Please. I’m just taking my time.” By which he meant he was admiring the view. Looking at Aisha as she hefted her bag again was more interesting than trying on clothes.

“C’mon, dork. You were gonna ‘take your time’ all the way into my dressing room,” Aisha teased, poking him in the chest with a triumphant grin. “Besides, you’ve been wearing the same outfit for like, three days straight.”

Alec shrugged helplessly.

“I don’t exactly have a wealth of options right now.”

“That is why we are in a clothing store.”

“Fair enough. I am always down to look fabulous.” He stepped over to the racks, began to browse. He didn’t really pretend not to look at Aisha, but then, Aisha was looking at him too, so whatever.

“Fabulous, you say? Oh, we are going to get along very well,” Aisha cooed.

Alec gave her what ought to have been his usual smirk, but he could feel something genuine bubbling up from within it. Something exciting.

She grinned back at him, before sauntering off into the racks, leaving Alec to browse on his own. Not that she was far, but she clearly trusted him to pick his own fashions. Another thing he liked about Aisha. If he’d been shopping with Lisa, she’d have been providing ‘advice’ the whole time, and sure, the girl knew her clothes, but it got old after a while.

He ran his fingers over the fabrics, ignoring looks from some of the other customers brave enough or chill enough to browse in Aisha’s vicinity. No one had told him that he couldn’t touch the merchandise, and he wouldn’t give a shit if they had.

Skinny jeans had been his style for as long as he’d had style worth mentioning. He had the build for it, small and tight. That being said, skinny jeans alone did not a wardrobe make, and it wasn’t like the exchange was wanting for variety, even if the quality left something to be desired.

He picked out a few pairs of them. Some pants, some shorts. A half dozen shirts that looked like they’d fit alright, and…

This skirt probably wasn’t supposed to be here. The vendor had done a pretty decent job of organizing the clothing otherwise, given how much of a rush job it must have been.

Alec held the unassuming black garment up, taking a critical eye to it.

This one probably wouldn’t fit on him. But why wouldn’t another one?

It wasn’t the first time he’d thought about wearing girls’ clothes, not by a long shot. They weren’t always that different from men’s clothes to begin with. And when you were on the run, you wore whatever you could get.

Still, he hadn’t wanted to put on a dress or whatever before.

But then again, he’d already done it in a sense, hadn’t he? He’d been women, or at least rode along with them. Sure, he didn’t know their innermost secrets or whatever, but he’d felt what they felt, saw what they saw. The sensation of a skirt flowing over smooth legs. The practiced motions of cosmetic application, almost second nature. Looking at yourself in the mirror and thinking, even if it was involuntary, I’m beautiful.

Maybe it’d affected Alec more than she thought. More than they thought?

He didn’t feel like he wasn’t a man or anything like that, at least not right now. But he didn’t really care about being male, either. Heartbreaker’s expectations for his sons were just as bullshit as his expectations for his daughters, just in slightly different ways.

Some of his siblings took a lot of stock in their gender. Cherie could spend half an hour on makeup at the drop of a hat. And father himself, well, if he wasn’t measuring his masculinity through his harem, Alec couldn’t tell what the point even was.

To Alec, the skirt was just a skirt.

He could wear it if he wanted to. No one was stopping him.

After all, he’d been more men and women than he could count. Compared to the thrill of being a whole other person, putting on a dress was pretty much just like putting on any other costume.

Alec slid over to the women’s section and started looking.

He couldn't see Aisha at the moment, but he thought he heard the sound of shifting stone behind a row of curtains.

That was just fine with him, really. Maybe he could surprise her with the new look.

He started taking down skirts and blouses and dresses, humming faintly and ignoring the stinkeyes of a few less-than-impressed locals. What they were doing here when the vendor was a black guy he didn’t know, and as long as they didn’t bother him, he didn’t care.

Besides, they were definitely in the minority. Most of the customers seemed pretty chill.

In the end, Alec had plenty of time to gather up everything that looked like it might be good out of both the men’s and women’s sections, before he sauntered on over towards the curtained-off changing room that Aisha was in, indicated by the sound of stone and the faint trail of black marble dust on the ground.

He couldn’t exactly knock on the door. He settled for rapping his knuckles against one of the supports.

“You in there, Aish?”

There was a moment of utter silence.

“..the fuck did you just call me?”

“I called you Ai-”

“No, but seriously, it sounds like you were trying to say ‘Ace’ with a mouth full of rocks and booze.”

“Do you actually care?”

Another pause.

“...Not really, but I’m still gonna make fun of you for it.”

He rolled his eyes, not that she could see. “Whatever. You decent in there?”

“Sure am. C’mon in.”

Alec slipped through the curtains, brushing them aside to behold Aisha within.

He looked her up and down, letting her move through a few poses before he met her eyes.

“You look different.”

“No fucking shit.”

“No, no, you don’t get it. You look different. “

She was wearing a set of tight, dark shorts right now, something that hugged her figure. Then again, with her sheer height, almost everything was probably tight on her. Between the fit and the color, one could momentarily imagine that she wasn’t wearing anything, and that brought a smile to Alec’s face.

But it wasn’t like she was wearing something really different from what she’d worn before. Sure, she’d gone with something that blended into her flesh rather than stood out against it, but her tank top was still too small, and her pants still showed off plenty of bare leg. She had wide earrings and jingling bangles that he didn’t recognize, but it wasn’t like she hadn’t worn jewelry before.

Maybe the difference was in the confidence with which she held herself; bravado turned into something more concrete. The weight of her movements, perhaps. It was like the difference between… between looking at a nude model and looking at one of those fancy naked statues, maybe? One of them was just attractive, just sexual, something that was showing off for nothing but itself. As far as Alec was concerned, there was nothing wrong with a woman (or man for that matter!) wanting to be beautiful, wanting to be attractive, wanting to be sexual. But the other one… the other one was something more. Something more artistic, something that had a meaning larger than itself.

She was basically a fancy walking statue, after all. And she’d called herself Monument, of all things.

After another awkward pause, Aisha rolled her eyes.

“Is it a good different or a bad different?”

He didn’t hesitate to answer. “Definitely good.”

She smiled. “Looks like you’ve got a pretty good selection yourself, huh?”

“You could say that.” With a sigh, Alec let the massive pile of clothes fall from his shoulder and to the ground. (Aisha had a pile too, but it was at least mostly off the ground.)

“Oi. Get your own changing room, dork,” Aisha warned.

He, naturally, ignored the warning. “I’d tell you to try carrying this shit around, but you’d probably barely even notice, huh?”

“Not all of us can be so lucky,” she started, only to trail off as Alec pulled his T-shirt up and over his body. “Okay, seriously, I will pick you up and throw you over into the next room.”

“A bluff,” he said, unfazed.

“Wanna bet?”

He smirked. “I’m sure someone would freak out or something.”

Naturally, that was when Aisha grabbed him.

“W-wait-”

“Told you so,” she sang, lifting him effortlessly over her head, until he could just about see the other side of the divider…

And then, with a laugh, she set him down and just shoved him out through the curtains.

Alec stumbled. “Hey! What about my clothes?”

The pile of clothing came flying out a moment later, striking him in the shoulder and leaving him struggling to keep his balance as he clumsily caught the mountain of clothes.

“Have fun!”

Alec shook his head when he finally got his shit together.

Well.

Alright then.

With a sigh, he ducked into the next available changing room.

A few minutes of rustling fabrics and fumbling with unfamiliar clasps later, Alec posed haughtily in front of a mirror, and Aisha gave… her body a critical eye.

“You look fucking cute, Alec.”

She turned, looked herself in the mirror. The person who looked back wasn’t the same Alec, really. The black, flaring skirt, white slouch top and open, dark blue sweater made her look, well, feminine. Flattered her figure.

And here she’d expected to feel like a boy in girl’s clothes. She’d expected a sort of transgressive thrill, the kind she got from doing something blatantly illegal, and there was a bit of that, but not nearly as much as she expected. It all felt remarkably natural.

Then again, she already knew how it felt to be a woman. And weren’t there people who were women even though doctors said they were men, or something?

If it wasn’t about anatomy, it had to be something in the head, right?

And Alec knew her own head well enough. She’d craved other people’s bodies, used them to feel what she couldn’t feel anymore. It wasn’t much of a stretch to imagine that they’d left some of those feelings in her body.

She’d been a boy, but she had never considered being anything else. And now that she’d tried it, it wasn’t such a bad fit.

Guess she was a girl, at least for the moment. Trippy.

Alec, who needed a better name than Alec, ran a hand over her own top, feeling it against pale, soft skin, eyes wide in wonder.

“Yeah,” she breathed. “I do, don’t I?”

Aisha put a hand on Alec’s shoulder, heavy but not uncomfortable.

“It’s not your usual style, but you certainly make it work. Now c’mon, Alec, let’s try some more-”

“Alex,” she corrected softly. “Alec is a boy’s name.”

Aisha blinked twice, working through the implications.

Finally, she snorted. “It’s literally just Alec with an extra X.”

Alex threw up her hands. “I just came up with it like five seconds ago, okay? Gimme a break.”

“Okay, okay. But y’know, if you’re a girl now, you know what you need?”

“Tampons?”

Aisha rolled her eyes. “No, not tampons. Makeup.”

“Damn, you’re right. Looks like we have some more shopping to do, huh?”

“We’ll make you even cuter, just watch.”

“Is that part of your new powers, too?”

Aisha let out a long-suffering sigh.

Notes:

A/N: Alex knows literally nothing about transgender things I mean they don't even know the word transgender please do not take their perspective as any kind of gospel, k?

Chapter 11: (Brian)

Summary:

In which Brian is not okay.

The landline in Brian’s apartment was working again, for all the good it did.

The phone nearly slipped through his grasp as he dialed the same numbers for what must have been the seventh time.

Nothing.

Stupid. He could almost hear his father saying it. Of course you can’t reach her. You don't even know if she’s alive.

He tried another number he’d grown familiar with.

“You’ve reached the Massachusetts Child Services Program. Please leave a-”

Brian barely managed to slam the thing back on the receiver without dropping it again.

He swore under his breath.

Fuck this.

He stalked through his apartment until he found his punching bag. The place might have been shook up, but his training equipment had thankfully survived Leviathan. Buying professional-grade gear continued to prove itself worth the price tag.

His fists thudded against vinyl, one hit after another. Brian let his instincts take over, fall into that familiar rhythm. One and two, one and two, feet bouncing on the mat as he went through the numbing motions, the techniques burned into his mind and body through years of practice.

It was almost enough to forget about everything, just for a moment.

Almost.

Then, in the middle of a blow, he thought he saw through his arm.

It was just his imagination, of course. But it was enough to throw his balance, and before he knew it, he was on the ground.

The mat made the same sound as the bag when he hit it, just duller.

Pain teased a groan out of him against his will. He’d been through worse, but he’d taken that fall about as badly as he possibly could. It’d probably leave a bruise or two.

Slowly, he pushed himself to his feet, nursing the pain in his cheek where it’d hit the mat.

A lot of Brian’s furniture had been ruined by water damage, but thankfully not all of it, and the remaining couch was close at hand. He stumbled over, sank into the cushions, allowed himself a sigh.

He’d slept like shit, but was he really tired enough to be seeing things already?

As if on cue, the memories rose to the surface of his mind.

“It’s inside us, it’s already inside us.”

Lisa’s panicked, nearly incoherent words. The way she’d been moving her eyes, wide and unfocused, darting around not with intelligence and intent but with simple maddened, desperate terror, looking for something, anything to get out of this, to quiet whatever whispers she was hearing.

Brian shuddered.

The Devils had changed Aisha, and they’d done that to Lisa. He needed to stop them, somehow. He needed to regain control.

But how?

He’d fight if he could win. But it’d probably be just him and Rachel. Maybe Coil’s men, if he could convince the boss. Lisa barely seemed functional, and Alec would probably end up fighting for the other team if push came to shove.

Maybe if he had some brilliant master plan, somehow got the drop on them. Took hostages? Too many ways for that to backfire.

No, he couldn’t do something as Grue. But as Brian…

Aisha effectively outing herself closed plenty of doors, but it opened a few new ones, too.

He could give the PRT a sob story of a sister out of control, hint that she might have been mutilated by that Biotinker girl, maybe even imply some sort of Master influence.

They'd be obligated to at least pay lip service to his concerns, wouldn't they? That'd mean asking the Devils some very pointed questions, and depending on the answers, they might not be so welcome in this city anymore.

Then again, it was a law enforcement organization, when had they ever done anything good for him?

Still, short of turning himself in and ending up on probation, there wasn’t anything else he could think of.

He needed the phone again.

---

The PRT headquarters was crowded, a cacophony of voices lending added voices to the pressure of the mass of humanity within. The ubiquitous faceless gray shapes of the PRT officers, along with an extra helping of suited employees, served to corral the crowds away from the front desk, lent an illusion of order to the chaos.

Brian was one of the lucky ones. He had an appointment, after all. Without it, he’d be waiting for hours, if he ever even got through.

He glanced at his number, printed out by the machine after he identified himself to the attendant. G1905.

He only had to wait ten, maybe fifteen minutes.

Then he was ushered forward, out of the lobby and into the corridors, into an interrogation- sorry, interview room. But he could see it for what it was, a painfully plain room just a little too small. Bright lights, mirrored wall that was probably one-way. The chairs were comfortable, but that was about it.

He told his story, as best as he could.

His interviewer made polite noises of concern. When he was done, she promised that they would ‘look into it’.

Brian couldn’t be sure what that meant. He thought he saw a glimpse of horror on her face when he brought up the biotinker, but was she just playing along? Or was he just seeing what he wanted to see?

He left the interview with empty assurances and promises that they would deal with it as soon as they could.

He could only hope.

Still, it was his only hope, at least right now.

So he went back to the lobby, and he found a chair, and he waited, clutching another tiny piece of paper in his hand.

And he waited. And waited.

Brian lost track of time to the endless blur of meaningless announcements and people coming and going.

The wait was agonizing, but he had to see this chance through.

In the end, though, it wasn’t the number on his little paper that ended his wait.

A suited agent opened the door from the inside, and a superhero stepped through it. A brown-haired woman, wearing a domino mask and a dark bodysuit with glowing electric lines running across it. Battery.

Brian barely even registered her before his attention turned to what came through behind her.

A storm of hands and a mass of wings with eyes squeezed through the open doorway almost at the same time, an awkward fit that pressed the two together, though neither seemed to mind as hands clasped wings. Then they were through, spilling into the lobby and spreading out in the air like an exhaled breath.

Too many hands filled the space, gently testing at his skin. He could half-see them, pressed against Battery’s cheek, against faceless helmets, against ceiling tiles and suits and phones and cameras and arms and thighs, as if pushing to see how much pressure the world could take-

A woman cleared her throat. One of the agents.

“Jupiter, ma’am, can you stop touching everyone, please? It’s… uncomfortable.”

The hands suddenly pulled back, more out of shock than anything. “B-but, wait, I-”

“Jupiter, please,” the light, airy voice of Venus chided. “It’s not unreasonable.”

The girl’s face reddened, but the hands stayed back.

The agent nodded. “Thank you.”

The pressure had been lifted, but Brian was still painfully aware of Venus’s many eyes, looking in every direction at surprised visitors and reserved guards. At least one of those eyes was looking at him.

He’d have liked to say he met that gaze. That he stared her down, dared her to speak.

But he couldn’t. Didn’t.

He didn’t know what was in those brilliant orbs, or what they saw in him. Did he even want to know?

Brian barely dared to move.

Then Venus turned away, and Jupiter (or at least, he thought it was Jupiter) let out a nervous chuckle.

He glanced up, saw Venus burying her face into something in the ceiling- a camera, maybe? - while Jupiter, Battery and the high-tech knight trailing behind them (Gallant, though his armor seemed to have lost a piece or two) tried to pull her back down and get her moving again.

He realized there was darkness around him, or maybe inside of him.

Slowly, Brian released the breath he didn’t know he was holding, tried to calm down.

Fuck. He was supposed to be in control of his power. In control of his body.

He needed to calm down. Deep breaths.

In… and out. In… and out.

By the time he came to his senses, the Devils were blessedly, mercifully gone.

Someone might have been looking at him. He didn’t want to know.

He wanted to…

Brian wasn’t sure what he wanted.

He could leave. They’d given him a number again, but they wouldn’t stop him from walking out the door, would they? No, that was foolish. It’d take hours for them to do anything about his story, at best. He didn’t know why they’d even given him a number instead of just telling him to come back another day.

No, they must have known the Devils were coming.

They hadn’t taken his story all that seriously, had they? The Devils must have had an appointment, and the PRT hadn’t canceled it, nor had they sent more than a couple of mid-tier capes to escort them. (Really, one mid-tier and one low-tier, if he was being honest about Gallant.)

Unless there was a lot more firepower in reserve somewhere, which… no, the PRT wouldn’t be bringing the Devils in through the front door like this to begin with if they were really worried.

They’d heard his story and didn’t care.

But.

But, if he ran away, then they’d think he wasn’t taking it seriously either, would they? He’d presented to them as a civilian, someone who would have had to trust the PRT to take care of a cape-related issue.

Fuck, he had to trust the PRT to take care of a cape-related issue.

He didn’t trust them to do it at all.

But it was the only thing he could think of, right now.

And right now, that meant more waiting.

He tried to pay attention, to see if he could glean some insight from the coming and going of visitors and PRT personnel.

Tattletale would have been able to, but he wasn’t Tattletale.

He barely even qualified as Grue right now.

He… could do nothing but keep his head down and wait. And even that was a struggle when he was waiting for inevitable disappointment or worse, another moment of terrible attention, of hands and eyes.

He managed to keep himself in his chair, keep himself still, long enough to register his number being called.

“G1924. G1924.”

Shakily, slowly, he rose from his chair, trying to ignore the eyes that slid over him. He knew, intellectually, that he was just another face in the crowd. That he wasn’t being cut apart from the outside in, that his weakness wasn’t open for everyone to see.

He knew that.

Brian followed the agent who was speaking. She looked him up and down, as if confirming he wasn’t some other person stealing the number. Then she nodded. “Follow me.”

She led him through a door. A different one, this time. It led to different featureless halls, to a different interrogation room that looked exactly the same as the last one.

Except instead of an interviewer, there was a knight in shining armor.

The agent who led him inside slipped back and closed the door, leaving him alone with Gallant.

He should have said “I want a lawyer.” He should have said “Am I being detained?” He should have said any number of things.

Instead, Brian found himself unable to say anything at all, his eyes wide, staring towards Gallant.

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t lie to us,” the hero chided. “Especially not when it’s as obvious as claiming a biotinker somehow converted your sister into a clearly inorganic Changer state.”

Brian sputtered. “I… no, that isn’t-”

“Come on,” Gallant murmured, his voice terribly gentle through his helmet. “We can’t help you if we don’t know the truth.”

He couldn’t tell them the truth. Not all of it. There was so much that had to do with his power, with her powers, that he couldn’t and didn’t dare reveal.

Wasn’t Gallant an empath?

He’d know Brian was lying. Maybe that was how they knew already, if Gallant had been watching through the glass.

“I… I don’t know. They did something to her. She said she did this to herself, but that’s… that’s ridiculous.”

“Is it, though? We were able to get her files, you know. Most of it is on public record. The divorce, the split custody. Abuse in her mother’s household, neglect in her father’s. Your father taking custody of her after her mother’s boyfriend physically assaulted her. Repeatedly running away. You were working on getting custody of her when you turned eighteen, correct?”

Brian couldn’t speak. He could only nod.

“We were able to obtain her case worker’s notes from before Leviathan. According to said notes, you were, quote, ‘well prepared to handle expenses, but seemed surprised when I pointed out that Aisha hadn’t been involved in the decoration of his apartment, as if he hadn’t even considered that her feelings might be relevant.’”

He felt compelled to defend himself. “I’d been working on that-”

“I believe you,” Gallant interrupted. “I’m just not sure you succeeded.”

Something was in his eye.

“Jupiter and Venus talked about their Trump power. About ‘becoming the Devil’. It doesn’t seem like it could have happened if Aisha was happy with where she was. And, in all honesty, I’m not surprised. Didn’t she say she did this to herself? And here you are, trying to make us enemies of the people who did it.”

“Shut up. You can’t… this is none of your fucking business!”

“You made it our business,” Gallant responded, cool and calm despite Brian’s anger. “It’s not my fault that you asked the PRT to investigate your sister’s friends. It’s not my fault that you can’t seem to imagine a relationship where your sister doesn’t depend on you.”

“Just… just shut up,” Brian snapped.

He was mercifully surprised when Gallant didn’t speak, giving him time to rock back and think.

Not that thinking cleared the tears from his eyes.

“...what do you want?”

“Well, another Ward would be nice.”

“What.”

He smiled. “You heard me.”

Brian went silent for a moment. His world had already been overturned, and now it was spinning again. Black was white, up was down, nothing made sense.

Finally, his brain worked up something like a response. “...I’m not a fucking cape,” he growled, managing to put some real anger into it. Not anger at capes, but anger all the same. Did it overcome his fear?

“Oh, I’m sure you aren’t,” Gallant said. “But if, hypothetically, there was a villain with a relatively minor record who was willing to join the Wards, then that villain, hypothetically, would have no trouble getting help with their legal issues. With their family.”

Gallant held out an armored hand, but Brian didn’t, couldn’t take it.

He shook his head. “I’m not… even if I was, it wouldn’t matter. Having legal custody of her wouldn’t change the fact that she’s Monument and I’m...” Not normal, but not that. How was he supposed to set boundaries on Aisha when she could literally walk over him?

“I think I have a pretty good idea of the problem. She already has a neglectful father, and I think she can take care of herself. What she needs is someone she can talk to. Someone who can talk to her.”

Could it really be that simple? Not easy, because that sounded like one of the hardest things in the world, but it was definitely simple.

He wiped away liquid from his eyes. “Then… I couldn’t join the Wards. I need to be with her, and I know she’d never join the Wards if she had half a say in it.”

Gallant chuckled. “She wouldn’t, would she? Personally, I’m fine with that. Being a hero is good enough for me. Just remember that we’re always willing to talk.”

He slipped a card out of a panel on his armor. A simple one, with nothing but a phone number written on it.

“This number goes straight to me. Feel free to give one to your sister, too. The PRT does its best to support independent heroes like her.”

Brian’s fingers shook as he took the card from a gleaming palm of silver metal.

The hero smiled again. “You’re free to go. Unless you have more to say right now?”

He didn’t.

“Then go on. Agent Carter will escort you out. Stay safe out there, Brian.”

Notes:

A/N: This chapter, and the one after it, are beta’d primarily by intodusk and RDavidson, with a guest appearance by Tamoline.

Chapter 12: (Emily)

Summary:

In which there is an adult in the room, and she is not amused.

It’s like the world’s gone mad, and I’m the only sane person left.

Emily Piggot measured the scale of her duties in paperwork. On a good day, there were only a few stacks of paper on her desk, less than a foot high. On the bad days, the paperwork could sprawl across her entire workstation.

Between the ABB bombings, the aftermath of Leviathan, and the next best thing to another S-Class threat taking up residence in her city, the paper was starting to overflow onto any available surface. The floor, the coffee machine, her computers.

Things could have been much worse. After all, she still had her computers. Small mercies.

She sighed, downed the last of her coffee, and turned back to the latest complication.

The screen showed a modest room, brightly lit and with plain but comfortable furnishings. At the center of it, a black teenager sat across the table from a woman in a suit. The resolution was just enough to make out some of the strain in the boy’s features, the hint of empathy on the woman’s face.

The video recording didn’t reveal much. The boy was stiff and awkward, barely moving except for his face and lips. If she looked closely, she could see some of the tremors he couldn’t hide, but those didn’t tell her anything she didn’t already know.

Audio, on the other hand… there were reasons to prefer transcripts, sometimes. Quicker to digest, easier to reproduce. But a voice carried far more information than just the words.

“It’s about my sister, Aisha. She’s always been flighty, but… she disappeared, the other day. And when she came back, she was… like this.”

“She was Monument?” the interviewer filled in, and he nodded.

Emily pushed the video forward.

“...she was with the Devils. And she was acting different. She yelled at me for being worried about her. She’s been angry before, but she was never like-”

And again.

“-don’t think what’s happened to her is natural. She’d been worrying me for a while, and then she went off and…”

“Became a cape.”

“I don’t think she’s a cape. They have that girl, the Biotinker. I think they did something to Aisha.”

“What makes you think that?”

And again.

“Have you seen anyone else that might have been affected?”

“...no, not that I can think of.”

“And yourself, have you felt anything out of the ordinary? Had gaps in your memory? Strange emotions, perhaps?”

“No, I’ve been fine-”

She clicked the video off.

Emily was respectably adept at reading people, but she was no master of it, and Brian Laborn was a decent enough actor. And the fear in his voice was real enough.

But she didn’t need a lie detector to know that something was wrong with his story.

She did have Gallant, who she’d set up in the adjoining room, behind the one-way mirror. He’d spent the length of the interview transcribing what he saw and occasionally radioing the interviewer to press one area or another for more information.

Not for the first time, she wished she had his power in an adult, someone trained. Someone she could comfortably trust to interpret and act on the information, rather than simply passing it on. It wasn’t Gallant’s fault he was a teenager, and as far as she could tell he sincerely tried his best, but if trying one’s best was enough, well, her kidneys would still be working right now.

Emily snorted.

Either way, his power supported her initial conclusion. Fear, whenever Laborn mentioned the Devils specifically. There was love around the subject of Aisha, even if it was apparently mixed with anxiety and worry and more fear. It supported the outline of his story, but the details? The long pauses were filled with swirling emotions, ones which Gallant thought were associated with thinking out a lie. He didn’t think Laborn was lying about everything, but he was lying about something big, maybe multiple things.

It was another thing she'd have to interrogate the Devils about.

To interrogate Eden about? As a name of a group, it didn't really roll off the tongue. Perhaps as a family name? Interrogate the Edens?

Maybe. It wasn't up to her to tell them what to call themselves. Although naming themselves after the Garden of Eden struck her as a bit… arrogant.

At least they hadn’t gone with that suggestion on PHO that someone had mentioned.

Emily checked the time. They were due ten minutes ago.

The Director sighed again, and busied herself while she waited.

Fortunately, she didn’t have to wait much longer.

A few minutes later, Battery’s voice crackled in her ear. “Jupiter and Venus have arrived, ma’am. Gallant is in position with me.”

She lifted her hand to her head and pressed a button. “Proceed, Battery.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Slowly, Emily lifted herself out of her chair, to drag herself to a meeting with a pair of dangerous parahumans - but she repeated herself - about the even more dangerous parahuman they’d seemingly adopted as a daughter.

In a way, she fought the same battles that she had back when she’d been a field officer. They were just a little less direct, a little less gruesome- but all the more important for it.

---

Gallant was speaking to her almost from the second they all keyed in to the proper channel.

“I don’t think you even need me to deal with Jupiter. I’m not sure she could hide her emotions if she tried. You just have to watch the hands, she’s emoting with them pretty much constantly. She’s got a lot of anxiety, but she’s curious, eager even, and I think being near Venus is doing a lot for her mood. Honestly, she’s a bit disorienting for me, it’s like she’s somehow externalized her emotions into those hands instead of her actual body-”

“Gallant,” Piggot warned. “Focus.”

“...yes, ma’am. Uh, Venus. Venus is… she seems to have a lot of little emotions in her, if that makes sense? I think it’s because of how many things she must be seeing and reacting to. Seems pretty safe to say her Thinker power has to do with her vision. Otherwise, she’s… more thoughtful than Jupiter. A little distant, maybe. I think she’s not super happy to be with the crowds, but determined to do it anyways? Wait, hold on, she just got really excited about something aaand she’s going for the cameras. Hold on.”

The microphone cut out.

Emily glanced up at the screen in the corner of the conference room, only to find the view largely crowded out with wings and eyes. She raised a bemused eyebrow, keying her earpiece into the camera’s attached microphone feed only to be greeted with Venus’s Tinker ramblings and little else over the sound of fluttering feathers shifting against each other.

“-sensation is the inverse of transmission, reception the inverse of broadcast. Invert the lenses? But it’d need a power source, a spark to transmit-”

...was Venus thinking about turning the security camera into a laser?

Emily was saved from that frankly bizarre possibility as hands appeared in the camera feed, dragging Venus away and back down towards the ground. Now that the feathers weren’t muffling everything, she could easily hear Jupiter’s anxious voice. “C’mon, Ve, we’re already late. Haven’t you seen cameras before?”

“Not video cameras,” Venus whined. “This is new to me, continuous rather than pulsed-”

“I know you worked on Neptune’s phone, and I’m pretty sure that has a camera.”

The winged-girl reddened. “Only the power supply! I wasn’t really sure what I was doing, and I didn’t want to break it-”

Battery cleared her throat. “Ladies. The Director is waiting for you.”

“Okay, okay! Going, going!”

Emily allowed herself one more sigh as they finally moved on through the parting crowd.

Children.

At least they tended to be straightforward. It’d make the talk she was about to have with them that much easier.

She adjusted her laptop, checked the folders neatly arrayed on her side of the table, and waited.

---

“Jupiter and Venus here for their meeting, ma’am.”

She clicked the screens off, arranged her papers on the table, and keyed into her earpiece one last time.

“Send them in.”

Battery pulled open the heavy meeting room door, sliding out of the way and letting Jupiter and Venus file in before her. Again Gallant brought up the rear, pulling the door shut behind them, cutting them off from the sounds of the outside world.

Emily had seen plenty of pictures and videos, but they couldn’t capture half of what it felt to be there with them. The way that Jupiter and Venus contorted to squeeze through a doorway before almost exploding into the room beyond. The way they filled the space, hands and wings spreading out from floor to ceiling, intermingling across half the room and leaving Battery and Gallant awkwardly crowded against the door. The subtle heat that radiated off of Venus’s body. The fingers and hands that fluttered like ethereal, grasping butterflies, that were always in the corner of her eye, hands that she swore she could feel brushing against her skin.

She wondered how hard it would be for those hands to snap her neck.

It made her feel so very small.

It was a feeling Emily was more than used to.

Her eyes tracked over the four of them.

If Battery was anxious, she hid it well enough under the everpresent, universal mask of professionalism.

Gallant’s helmet revealed nothing, and his armor concealed most of his body language.

Venus, on the other hand, had bright, clear eyes, including the ones that lined her wings. Something sobered in them as Emily met her gaze.

Jupiter hid her eyes, but Piggot saw her fidget with a bracelet around her wrist.

“Director,” Venus murmured, inclining her head.

Emily returned the gesture. “Jupiter. Venus. Have a seat.”

They shared a glance. Well, Venus glanced at Jupiter. Jupiter touched Venus’s shoulder in a way that seemed vaguely questioning.

After a moment, they pushed the stacking chairs on their side together, armrest to armrest, and sat. Or at least, did something sitting-adjacent. It confined the storm and wings enough for Battery and Gallant to spread out a little, moving to flank the seated devils.

Gallant’s voice was quiet in her ear. “Jupiter is still anxious. Venus is pretty calm right now, though. I think the crowds were stressing her out a little.”

“Thank you for coming. Now, we have a lot to talk about, so let’s get started.”

She passed them a folder without breaking her gaze. Hands flipped it open without Jupiter even seeming to think about it, revealing the piles of photographs within.

Emily felt the hands tense against her skin. She didn’t flinch.

“Why is Bonesaw in my city?”

The hands slowly relaxed. Jupiter fidgeted with her bracelet, shared a look with Venus.

"I think they expected you to say something worse. They were anxious, but not really surprised. Still a little anxious." Gallant filled the pause before Venus spoke.

“Riley, not Bonesaw,” she corrected.

Emily scowled. “Call her what you want, she’s still a mass murderer with an active kill order. What, exactly, do you think you’re doing with her?”

“Taking care of her,” the cape responded, as if explaining to a child. “Being her mother.”

“And what,” Emily ground out, “would possess you to adopt a member of the Slaughterhouse Nine?”

Venus closed dozens of eyes, slowly opening them one by one. “We found the Nine in the countryside. I… heard who Riley was, I guess?” She scratched her head. “It’s something I can do with my tech. Listening to people’s hearts on the radio. It’s hard to get anything useful if there’s too many people around, but if it’s not too crowded, I can tease out some information. I mean, it was pretty tough to separate the Nine out, all the signals were kind of tuned to one signal already which I think was Jack’s signal? And I’m wondering now if he had some kind of power for that or if he was just good at leading them or-”

“Wait. If you found the Nine, then… you're saying you killed Jack Slash?”

Battery’s eyes widened as Emily spoke, and she could hardly blame the woman. The most recent analysis was that Jack had been killed in the wilderness by one of his teammates, and she had assumed that Bonesaw split off after that, but-

Venus blinked, then laughed, shaking her head. “No, no no! I-i mean, yes, he’s dead, ding dong, but Riley did most of the work. Hell, we barely made it out with her the first time…”

“Thank you,” Battery whispered, so quiet Emily nearly couldn’t hear.

Venus awkwardly scratched her head. “Don’t thank me, thank her. We’re not exactly cut out for this whole S-class thing.”

Battery shifted, suddenly looking distinctly uncomfortable. Jupiter, meanwhile, let out a quiet giggle, pressing teasing hands into Venus’s side. “Don’t let Neptune hear you say that.”

"Do you have proof of this?" Emily asked.

Venus schooled her smile. "I can tell you more or less where we fought, but I have no idea if there's anything to look at by now. And Riley took care of the body. I don't know what she did with it, actually? It felt like a personal thing, so I didn't ask. I know Neptune helped somehow, and that's about it; she didn't bring the body with her or anything like that…"

Gallant spoke to Emily again as Venus trailed off. "I think she's telling the truth. It looks like it's a somewhat stressful memory to bring up, but I'm not seeing guilt or anything like that. As far as I can tell, Bonesaw killed Jack Slash."

The director looked the girls over for a moment. "Were you anyone else, we'd be able to work on the kill order bounty. But Bonesaw's order still stands. If she were truly reformed, and able to prove her goodwill, then that might change..."

Venus's eyes narrowed. "Are you saying she hasn't? She’s done nothing but good since we’ve come here. Since she’s been with us.”

“So it seems,” Emily half-agreed. “But you know who she is. What she’s done. And,” the two tensed as she trailed off, “ I’ve already received reports that claim that she’s mutilated someone.”

She passed another folder over the table, watched shaking hands flip it open.

Venus blinked.

Jupiter blinked.

A moment of stunned silence passed.

Then Venus burst into high-pitched, airy laughter, giggling uncontrollably even as Jupiter groaned and buried her face in at least four different hands.

Emily blinked, nonplussed.

“Uh. Their reactions are genuine, for what it’s worth. They definitely recognized Monument in the pictures. And then… well, yeah.”

After a few more awkward seconds, Jupiter finally lifted her head out of her hands.

“Did… did her brother put you up to this?” she pronounced in utter exasperation.

“I’m not at liberty to discuss the identity of our informants,” Emily automatically replied.

“T-that’s a yes,” Venus breathed out, finally getting herself under control. “I know he wasn’t happy with how she was acting, and I figured he’d blame us, but to go this far… I mean, come on, she’s a statue now, how is Riley supposed to biotinker her into that?”

“So Riley didn’t do it,” Emily ventured. “But you know how it happened, don’t you? Were you there for Ms. Laborn’s trigger event?”

“Of course not,” the girl murmured, a small, reverent smile rising to her face. “She’s the Devil. Like we are.”

Emily stilled.

“...explain.”

“What, did you think Riley biotinkered herself into being made of clay, too?”

“A Trump power, then.”

Jupiter smacked the table with a hand. “The Devil isn’t a fucking power-”

Venus shook her head. “You know, if you want to think of it that way, who am I to say no? But it’s not really our Trump power. The Devil is her own… thing.”

They wouldn’t be the first capes to attribute their powers to some outside supernatural force. Though Venus might be the first to do that and still be reasonable about it.

“You understand, of course, that if you used this power on Aisha Laborn against her will…”

“It doesn’t work like that. It’s not something we ‘use’ on someone. People have to choose to let the Devil in. Aisha wasn’t even with us when she did it!”

Gallant spoke again in the silence.

“They’re still telling the truth, I think. At least as they see it.”

Emily allowed herself a sigh, even though she was in front of two strange parahumans. “We need more details. How does this Devil… spread, for lack of a better word? Can it empower just anyone? Do you have some sort of connection with the people it touches?”

Venus hummed. “The Devil is a metaphor, of sorts. A metaphor about escaping oppressive systems, of being yourself in the face of a society or power that denies you, suppresses the truth of you. If you resonate with the metaphor, you might meet the Devil. Where we were from, the Devil was everywhere. We grew up on stories warning us of falling from God’s grace, and we could always feel the Devil just around the corner. But maybe it was because we tried so hard that the Devil was always there?”

She was glad she was recording this conversation. She’d have to go through this later. For now, Emily let Venus ramble, and ramble she did.

“Here, we seem to… awaken the Devil in people who fit the metaphor. It manifests in little ways, little things that happen under stress. If they can come to terms with the things being suppressed and speak to the Devil, choose to let her in entirely, they can cast off their form and assume a new one.”

“Like Riley’s clay and Aisha’s stone,” Jupiter added.

Gallant filled the silent air. “They’re… still telling the truth. There’s awe there, gratitude. It makes sense, if they were empowered this way as well. This Devil might be a Master, but I have no idea how we’d go about proving or disproving that; their emotions seem natural enough.”

Emily had an idea. “When you say they resonate, does that mean that the Devil changes them to fit, or…?”

Venus shook her head. “You have to already fit, I think. That’s why Riley and Aisha could find the devil, but I don’t think you would find her, even if you looked. No offense, Ma’am.”

“None taken.” If anything, she was relieved. That wasn’t a choice she wanted to have, if it was even a real choice at all. ”I’d ask you not to ‘awaken’ people recklessly, but-”

“It’s not our choice, it’s theirs. We simply ask the question; it’s up to them how to answer. As far as I can tell, we don’t even do anything in particular to get things started, we just have to interact with them.”

“I figured you’d say something like that.” Emily reviewed the conversation in her head. What else needed to be asked? Ah. “Is this transformation permanent?”

Jupiter dug furrows into the table. “Does everyone have to ask us-”

“You can suppress it, if you need to. Crawl back into your old skin,” Venus interrupted, looking more exasperated than anything. “But it never really goes away.”

“I see.”

Emily did see, and she wasn’t sure she liked what she saw. Oh, it could be helpful, if the people who ended up empowered were as helpful and peacefully inclined (for cape standards) as Eden seemed to be. But given the alleged personality requirements, she somehow doubted most of them would be. And that was assuming they didn’t become villains outright. And that was after the idea of a contagious Trump power spread simply through interactions and the right ideas. Her superiors would probably want her to quarantine the city, and she had half a mind to do just that.

Still, what could she really do? A quarantine would be at best a temporary measure, assuming it could even be enforced- and there was nothing worse for figures of authority than making demands that they were then unable to enforce. And it wasn’t like she could lock Eden up somewhere. That’d be both distasteful and spectacularly idiotic.

“I don’t think they’ve lied once yet. Although there might be more to some of the things Venus was rambling about? She was definitely keeping it simple for the audience.”

Hmm.

She could deal with those details later.

“Let’s go back to the issue of Bonesaw in my city. Assuming we can verify that she didn’t do anything untowards to Aisha Laborn,” Emily didn’t miss how Jupiter’s hands scratched the table, but she continued speaking, “the next step would be an examination of Riley’s body. Bonesaw claimed to have a number of plagues that would be released upon her death. Obviously, the PRT would rather she not have any biological weapons.”

Venus snorted, but nodded. “Who would be performing this examination?”

“Panacea, if she’s agreeable. Otherwise, Dragon is available if we need her.” If only because she was overseeing Armsmaster, and wasn’t that a fucking mess.

Venus hummed, before breaking out into a smile. “I think Riley would be happy with that.”

Emily nodded. “Good. We’ll also need to oversee her work more generally. My colleagues will want to sign off on everything she does-”

“Well, if they want to drag themselves over here so they can fill out the paperwork for every breath Riley takes, be my guest,” Jupiter snapped.

Emily waited for her to finish speaking before she continued. “But I, personally, am willing to settle for simply having someone around her to check her work and report the results. Again, Panacea or Dragon would be the most likely candidate. However, I would want to be informed before she does anything… particularly large scale.”

“Like making the streets out of living clay?” Venus mused.

The Director blinked. “...that would definitely qualify. Was… was that in your plans?”

“We were talking about it, at least,” she confirmed. “Riley and I just figured out how to make something out of her clay that could stay alive on its own, and I suggested that she might be able to make a road that’d repair itself, maybe run electricity and water and communications lines through it…”

“I see.” She did. Sometimes, parahumans could be useful. Indispensable, even, which in some ways was worse than when they were terrifying villains.

At least they seemed like good kids. Recklessly naive, overpowered, independent-minded kids, but they probably wouldn’t tear apart a bank in the name of showing off, or throw their allies under the bus for the sake of a shot at an Endbringer that didn’t even work.

“As I said, I want you to talk to us before doing anything on that scale.” Emily passed over a card, which Jupiter swept up into her hands, holding in front of Venus. “This number is a priority number for the PRT. Feel free to call it at any time. Normally, we’d give you a PRT-issue phone to keep in touch, but we don’t have any available at this time. I assume you’ll want us to contact Neptune’s cell phone?”

Jupiter scowled. “What makes you think we don’t have cell phones?”

Emily continued, unfazed. “You’ve never been seen with cell phones, whereas Neptune is on her phone in basically every public appearance?”

“W-well, even so! We don’t give out her number to just anyone!”

Venus interrupted with a smile. “Let’s be fair here. Neptune would hate having her phone used for serious ‘work’ stuff like this. That’s as good a reason as any to give the PRT her number, isn’t it?”

Jupiter blinked, then let out a short, sharp laugh. “Okay, okay, that’s fair enough. Give me another card or something?”

Emily dutifully passed over a blank card, along with a pen. Jupiter plucked the items out of the air and scribbled out a phone number, along with a little doodle of a wave, onto it before she passed it back to the Director.

666-666-6666? Seriously?

She pocketed the card regardless. “If everything else is settled, I think it’s time for the most important part of this meeting.”

Emily passed over another set of folders, this one opening to reveal a cavalcade of forms and bureaucracy.

Jupiter and Venus both groaned. Emily managed not to smile as she clicked her laptop awake.

Children. This was nothing compared to what was on her desk even now.

They didn’t notice when she sent a message to Gallant’s heads-up display. Emily didn’t wait for him to confirm he’d read it before she went on.

“Now, then,” she said, expertly masking her satisfaction at the looks on their faces. “If you’ll take a look at the red form to your right…”

Notes:

A/N: Jupiter and Venus had cell phones at one point, but then they got lost.

Chapter 13: (Lisa)

Summary:

In which Lisa is not okay, but receives help from an unexpected source, before having a difficult conversation.

Lisa barely had an hour of sleep since the phone call with Aisha, since the whispers invaded nearly every waking moment.

It was like triggering all over again. Not the event itself, thankfully, but the aftermath.

The foreign presence in her head, speaking to her at the least opportune time.

Overstimulation. Loss of control. The headaches pounding away in her brain.

The confusion, the fear.

God’s voice echoed in her ears, a voice that sounded like her father and Coil and that one enforcer from the Boardwalk and every man she was afraid of talking at once.

'The woman must be held in her place, for she is weak, and cannot stand on her own, no matter how vast her cunning.'

Also, God was a fucking asshole.

Lisa thought she heard other voices too, but his was by far the loudest of them, trying to worm its way into her lungs and use her as a mouthpiece.

She barely had room in her head to think. She just wanted them to shut up.

Voices are a manifestation of the Trump power. Manifestation varies depending on the individual, often relates to powers. You hear voices because you already heard your power, her power oh so helpfully noted.

'She sees so much but she sees none of the things that matter. She did not see how she hurt the shaper, she did not see how she lead the insect to her doom, she did not see when her brother-'

"Shut up!" Lisa screamed, as though the thing in her head was human enough to listen. Her own voice drove pounding nails into her skull, her hands clapping over her ears as she shoved her head into the couch.

There was a moment of blessed silence. Then the whispers came back, louder and more chaotic than ever, and Lisa wailed in agony as they told her everything she didn't want to know about herself and about everything around her-

"Lisa."

A single voice, soft and gentle, cut through the din like a knife. A voice she recognized, knew well. A voice she'd never expected to hear like this.

A voice that was real.

"Lisa," Rachel cooed, high pitched and sweet. "Come here, girl."

She rolled on the couch, just enough to see the figure of Bitch, crouched low and beckoning, with an expression on her face that Lisa could maybe read as concern.

'Cast out the feral child,' God snarled, but Lisa didn't care about that, or about why Rachel was acting like this.

She tried to push her head up. The change in blood flow made a thousand knives cross through her brain. With a gasp, she fell back to the couch, flailing her arms out in an agonized attempt to make Rachel come to her.

The girl seemed to understand the gesture, or at least understand that Lisa couldn't move in her condition. Slowly, as if to avoid startling her, Rachel padded across the room.

Her bleary, tear-filled eyes made out the shape of Rachel as she came to a stop in front of the couch, still seemingly unwilling to initiate contact.

“Shh shh shh, it’ll be okay,” Rachel sang, and Lisa was once again struck by the absurdity of the girl using that voice on any human being, much less her. Was this even real?

This is real.

She pushed her hand out, groping half-blind until she found Rachel’s waist, pulled her weakly inwards.

The girl’s soft, sweet nothings drowned out the whispers as she drew close, pressed her hand delicately into Lisa’s head.

She clung to Rachel as if she could ward off the madness, and somehow, she did.

Maybe there was only room for one set of whispers.

Lisa didn’t know how long she spent under Rachel’s caring hands and gentle, meaningless words.

She finally managed to gather herself, beat back the pounding, the sounds in the corner of her mind, enough to look up and see the girl’s face.

“Why?” Lisa croaked, her throat dry from so many words tumbling out before.

Rachel’s gentleness shifted into an expression that Lisa couldn’t read. Not that Lisa was ever good at reading Rachel’s expressions. “You needed it,” her teammate whispered.

Doesn’t like you. Understood your distress. Feels guilty for not helping you earlier. Drawing associations with her foster siblings.

“I… did,” Lisa agreed, more to fill the space than anything. Rachel gave her a look as if to say ‘that’s what I just said.’

“Do you want me to fuck them up?”

“What?” Lisa whispered, even though she already knew the answers.

“The Devils. Fuckers did this to you, didn’t they?”

Did they?

She breathed in, thought about the question.

You’re not an enemy of them. None of them would do this without reason. Devils and those infected with Devilhood exhibit powers-based stress responses. You have been under high stress. The voices are a stress response.

“They didn’t mean to,” Lisa finally said.

Rachel scowled. “Still did it.”

“It’ll be fine,” she protested. “As long as I’m not too stressed out.”

Rachel gave her an irritated look, and Lisa sighed, slowly pushing herself upwards until she was seated upright against the couch.

“We can,” she wet her lips. “We can get some answers from them later. I need to recover a little longer, okay?”

Rachel grunted, which Lisa took as assent. She paused, breathed in, felt air rough against her throat.

“I need water,” she finally mumbled.

Rachel nodded. Lisa watched her go, not that it was far.

The sound of running water was music to Lisa’s ears.

Rachel returned with a plastic cup, freshly filled.

Lisa grabbed it, spilling a little as she greedily gulped, gulped, gulped- only to splutter as Rachel yanked it back out of her hand.

“The-” Lisa coughed, spat out a little stray water. “The fuck?”

“Slow,” Rachel chided.

Lisa felt her face flush.

After a moment, Rachel let her have the cup again, and she nursed delicately from it, savoring the texture and the coolness on her tongue.

Lisa swallowed, set the cup down on the coffee table. The whispers were still audible at the back of her mind, a low, thoughtless drone.

She looked up at Rachel again, taking in the girl’s silently questioning expression.

“I need to… find Taylor’s father again. I need to talk to him.”

“When?”

“...now’s good.”

“I’ll come with you,” Rachel said, and it was most assuredly not a question.

Lisa considered protesting anyways, then decided against it. She’d need the backup if something happened on the way.

“We’re going to talk, not to fight, but bring a dog or two, in case something happens. And let me give you some makeup. Maybe some hair dye.”

“The fuck you want that for?” Rachel growled.

Lisa winced, but pressed onwards. “We don’t need him getting in trouble because someone recognized you going into his house.”

“Mnh.”

For all of Rachel’s grumbling, Lisa knew that she’d won.

---

Lisa had been here before. Once to deliver Taylor to safety after she’d suffered a concussion against Bakuda, and then again, when Taylor had called her to escape an argument with her father.

Her last words to him, before Leviathan.

It was already a questionable neighborhood, and Leviathan hadn’t exactly helped. So many broken windows.

“Feels like someone’s watching. Don’t like it,” Rachel grunted.

Lisa looked over the girl. Her hair, dyed several shades darker, a flat color that was about all Rachel could tolerate. Her face, adjusted as much as Lisa dared, and further concealed by a baseball cap. There hadn’t been time to get her clothes, but Lisa had at least convinced Rachel to let go of the jacket she usually wore.

It was a shit disguise, but it would have to do.

“PRT has a couple of guys around here,” Lisa responded, inclining her head in the direction of the van parked a few houses down. “Nothing fancy, just covering their asses. They’ve got way more people around the hospital Taylor’s in. As long as we don’t make ourselves obviously villains, they shouldn’t bother us.”

“Still don’t like it.”

She sighed. “Just follow me and don’t escalate, okay?”

Rachel made a noise. Lisa wasn’t sure what it meant, but she’d take what she could get.

Daniel Hebert’s house hadn’t changed much since she last saw it. There was still the broken step, the faded paint. The lawn hadn’t been tended since Leviathan, if not before.

There was a light on, but was anyone home?

Lisa walked to the door, forcing herself to make the motions casual as she skipped the broken step. Rachel followed behind, a pair of smaller dogs that Lisa didn’t recognize on her leash.

Chosen for size and demeanor; less aggressive than her usual dogs.

She tried the doorbell.

Nothing seemed to happen when she pushed the button.

So Lisa knocked. Hard.

The door sounded almost sick. Was it rotting?

She waited for a moment. Then, when she heard no movement, she tried again.

This time, she caught something. Faint enough that she almost thought she imagined it, but her power confirmed it for her. He’s here.

They waited.

And waited.

“Fuck, do you want me to bust it down?”

Lisa shook her head, but knock-knock-knocked one last time.

She didn’t need her power to confirm the noises, now. She could almost see him stumbling forward, his steps uneven and erratic.

Daniel Hebert opened the door, and it was like looking at a man unraveled.

He positively reeked of alcohol and sweat. Only half dressed, his belt missing loops and his shirt simply missing. His glasses sat skewed on his face, and Lisa could see cracks spiderweb through the lenses. Even as she stared at him, he swayed uncertainly, everything about him coming undone.

‘The rat is a pathetic creature, a scurrying vermin amongst a horde of so many others. Pity the rat, for it is too simple to see the future as God can; it can only see the past that will inevitably be lost to it, and thus does it covet, thus does it cling foolishly to that which can no longer be had,’ God whispered.

“...Lisa,” he finally croaked, recognition pushing through the haze in his eyes.

She didn’t trust herself to speak. She simply nodded.

Recognition turned to anger, adrenaline pushing out the alcohol.

“Tattletale,” he hissed.

Lisa didn’t know what her face said right now. She wasn’t sure she wanted to.

“What the fuck are you doing here? You took my daughter from me!”

“No she fucking didn’t!”

He stomped forward, and Rachel stomped up to meet him, teeth bared in a snarl while her dogs barked and stepped up to protect their mistress.

Pressure and whispers bore down on Lisa, and it was all she could do to raise her voice, to try and cut through the confrontation. She wanted to mock him, to beat him down. The words she eventually said felt like the hardest five words of her life.

“Yes, I did. I’m sorry.”

Rachel whipped her head around, studying Lisa’s face. Daniel actually blinked, his momentum arrested, his face going through an unreadable mess of expressions before settling on angry confusion, beginning to build back up to another fireball of rage.

“Is that why you’re here? To apologize?! You’re a criminal, a villain, and you expect an apology to make everything alright?”

‘How many people have you hurt?’ God murmured. ‘How many lives have your words upended?’

“No,” she agreed, fighting tears off of her face. “I lost the right to call myself a good person a long time ago. But when I met your daughter, it was obvious she needed a friend. And I tried to be that friend. It wasn’t… it wasn’t supposed to end like this. To get her hurt.”

“I can’t imagine why,” Danny growled. “It isn’t like you recruited her for your criminal organization or anything-”

“I know that! I’m sorry, okay? I never even wanted to be a villain! Coil recruited me at gunpoint!”

“Maybe I’d believe that, if you’d ever shown a hint of remorse about your actions, Tattletale. I looked up everything available, once I learned who my daughter’s ‘new friends’ really were. The only difference between you and Hookwolf is that you’re not a Nazi and you hurt people with words instead of knives.”

He glared at her, and even Rachel looked at her in a way that Lisa wasn’t altogether comfortable with. She could hear the voices judging her, too. Condemning her.

She wanted to deny it. He was… he was going too far.

But…

“I tried to fix things, once,” she mumbled, ignoring Daniel’s unimpressed look. “Tried to help people whenever I could. It was never enough. The world’s too broken for me to try and save. And… breaking things is so much easier than fixing them. And so much more rewarding.”

“...not for me,” Rachel suddenly said, sounding almost... Shy? “Taking care of dogs is better than fucking up assholes. It’s just as hard, but well-treated dogs will love you forever. Fighting only makes you happy for a little while.”

“I guess that makes you a better person than me,” Lisa found herself mumbling, and Rachel grunted in vague agreement.

Daniel shook his head in raw disbelief. “Aren’t you Hellhound? The murderer?”

“Name’s Bitch,” she growled, all traces of softness vanishing in an instant. “You wanna make something of it?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Lisa managed before Danny could speak, feeling a vein throb in her forehead as he and Rachel stared each other down again. “We’re not here just to waste your time, Mr. Hebert.”

“Could have fooled me,” he spat.

“We need to-”

A flash of pain ran down her neck as the words of God echoed in her ears. ‘Who are you to tell him what to do? How dare you think your words mean anything but pain,’ it thundered, and pain became agony, a wordless cry falling from her lips before she could stop it. Her vision swam as she fell to one side, crashing into Rachel’s solid form, the larger girl grunting as she took the impact.

If he said something else, Lisa didn’t hear it. Rachel filled in the silence, pushing forward with Lisa in tow.

“Move.”

“Get… get the fuck out of my house!”

Lisa thought she heard a scuffle, but it didn’t end with anyone on the ground, and Rachel kept going. “She needs to sit down.”

She held on, wrapped both hands around Rachel for support as the girl guided her forward. Her heart pounded in her ears. The whispers, gently mocking her. Two sets of footsteps, one firm and one hesitant. Her own feet, more dragging than walking.

Then Rachel let go of her, and Lisa fell into the couch, groaning as her back hit the cushions.

Her eyesight resolved enough that she recognized the Heberts’ living room. Recognized that this was the same couch that they’d laid Taylor out on after the battle with Bakuda.

The irony didn’t escape her.

It didn’t escape Taylor’s father, either. The man must have followed Rachel, and now he was looking down at Lisa’s form, ignoring the butch girl glaring at him off to the side.

Drawing associations with Taylor-

Then he looked away, stared at the wall.

And Lisa did too.

She didn’t deserve to be compared to the girl she’d gotten hurt, after all. And she definitely didn’t need her power telling her that.

For a minute, there was only tense silence and the sound of her own breathing.

Only then did Daniel turn back to her and speak. “What… what did you come here for, then?”

“I wanted to talk… about your daughter,” she carefully enunciated. “And how we’re going to save her.”

His eyes narrowed in suspicion, though she thought she saw the hope hidden beneath. “You can’t be serious. And… even if you were, you couldn’t do it.”

“I couldn’t,” Lisa agreed. “But... I know who could.”

Chapter 14: (Alex)

Summary:

In which there is a party at a new garden, Alex makes some new friends, and then Lisa shows up.

Notes:

Contains: Underage drinking

Alex wanted to say they felt good. Great, even.

They certainly wanted to feel good.

They didn’t, not really, and it was really annoying them.

Like, here they were, eating dinner with a hot statue lady who was also maybe into them and who was definitely into hanging out with them and who they were into hanging out with.

They were used to feeling not much of anything, but damn it, this was supposed to be nice. Supposed to make people smile, grin even. Like everything else, it was just too dull. Cool on an intellectual level, sure, but…

Aisha snapped her fingers. “Earth to Alex?”

They looked up from what passed for gourmet cuisine in a post-Endbringer landscape, which basically consisted of people clustering around an intact kitchen and throwing together whatever they had on hand. Alex had found the cookout, while Aisha had picked up some canned goods from an empty house - “remembered them, I guess?” she’d said, as though that made sense at all, and weirdly enough, it kind of did.

Also, Aisha liked way too much salt. The girl was probably going to start eating it straight at this rate.

Anyway. They looked up from their stew, shrugged. “I’m thinking about stuff.”

She laughed. “You, thinking? No way.”

Alex pouted, as much to try it on as to actually express their feelings on the subject. “I think all the time, Aisha. You just never pay attention to it.”

She grinned. “True, but I don’t pay much attention to thinking in general. Besides, I’m always a sucker for cute faces like that.”

“What, the pout?”

“It’s fucking adorable.”

“Fucking adorable isn’t the look I’m going for,” Alex whined.

Aisha smirked, reaching over and ruffling their hair. “Then I guess you’d better work on that, huh?”

“Guess so,” they admitted, letting out a resigned sigh. “Anyways, I was thinking, yeah.”

“About?”

“About how lame it is being me."

"I didn't know you were into self-pity,” Aisha snarked. “Definitely not a good look on you.”

“Hey, you liked that goth setup. Brooding looks great on me.”

She grinned. “It made you look like an adorable dork, Alex.”

They clutched a hand dramatically to their chest. “Oh no, an accusation of dorkiness! You’ve discovered my weakness! Oh, I am slain.”

Aisha responded with a shameless cackle which carried on for at least a good few seconds.

Alex took a bite of stew while waiting for her to finish laughing.

“No, but seriously. You’ve probably noticed that I’m kinda fucked up.”

“You, a little fucked up? Who could possibly say that?” Aisha chuckled, but her eyes were focused, intense.

“And I’d thought I’d gotten used to it, but now I’m… unhappy about it, I guess? Or maybe I always was, and I just didn’t think about it.”

She leaned forward, put a hand on their shoulder. “Hey, I’ve got nothing against the way you are. Long as you don’t stab someone for fun, anyway.”

“I’m sure you don’t. But like… I don’t feel things right, I think. Everything’s kinda boring.”

Aisha hummed. “That does sound lame. What’cha gonna do about it? Ask Riley to root around in your head?”

Alex shook their head. They weren’t that desperate, at least not yet. “I was hoping the whole magical girl plague thing would do something about it, to be honest.”

“Magical girl plague-” Aisha blinked, worked her jaw. “You’re talking about the Devil?”

“Devil, magical girl plague, gay bug, whatever.” Alex swept their hand dismissively.

Aisha’s lips contorted into a faint grin.

“I don’t know if I should be offended or if I should admire your continued complete lack of fucks to give.”

“I don’t know why you’re surprised at all.”

“It’s not exactly a surprise, but-”

A sound from her pocket cut her off. Aisha blinked, then pulled her phone out, looking over the caller ID while it rang merrily away. Something something aggressive pop music something something ‘ain’t no hollaback girl’? Alex raised an eyebrow.

Ignoring their reaction, Aisha read the number and grinned ear to ear.

“Aishanator speaking.”

Alex thought he could recognize Neptune’s voice coming out of the speaker, a certain liquid echo, but maybe he was just imagining it.

Aisha laughed, soft and rich. “Yeah, I’m having a great time! Just hanging out with prettyboy- well, no, not sure on the boy part. Still pretty though. Yeah, it’s cool. Weird, but cool. Sup with you, Nep?”

She paused. Her eyes grew a bit wider as she listened, and so did her smile. “She did? I knew that was going somewhere. Does she want me to come see it, or…? Oh. Ohhhh! Okay, that I can certainly do. Should I bring my friends? Alright, that sounds good. See ya soon, then.”

The phone clicked off, and Aisha looked up at Alex.

“Well?”

“Riley got her tree thing working, and apparently she’s decided to have a party to celebrate. And we’re invited.” Aisha grinned. “Sounds like a good time, wouldn’t you say?”

Alex smiled back. “Oh, does it ever. Does it ever.”

---

“Mommy, look at the statue lady! Can I be a statue when I grow up?”

“Um.”

The mother looked helplessly towards Alex and Aisha. Aisha smiled, crouching down until she was eye-level with the starstruck girl. “Nope, you’re going to be something even cooler than a statue.”

Her eyes somehow went even wider. “What is it? What is it?!?”

“I can’t tell you, kid! You’ll have to find out for yourself!”

The child crossed her arms. “Come onnnn,” she pouted. “You’re no fuuuun.”

“I’m serious. Just because I’m a statue doesn’t mean you should be one. Maybe you’ll be, I dunno, a bird, or a spider, or a car or something.”

“Dun wanna be a spider,” she whined. “Spiders’r’gross.”

“They didn’t choose to be spiders, y’know.”

The kid looked down at the ground, which Aisha took as permission to keep talking. “Don’t worry. Whatever you end up being, I’m sure it’ll be as pretty as I am."

Aisha smiled. The girl nodded frantically, before turning around to her mom. "C'mon! I wanna go grow up and be pretty!"

With that, she grabbed her mother and practically dragged the poor woman away over her protests of "Ruby, please" and "That's not the way to the bus stop" and other things Alex didn't quite catch.

They raised a bemused eyebrow. "Didn't think you were into kids, Aisha. And you didn't even curse."

"They just want to be taken seriously," Aisha mused. "I can relate.”

“Sure, but not a single ‘fuck?’”

She barked out a short rumble of a laugh, before grabbing Alex by the shoulder, pointing them towards a familiar mall. "More trouble than it would have been worth, really. Anyways, I think we're clear of party crashers," she declared. "Shall we go?"

"Oh yeah," Alex agreed. "Took us long enough to get here."

They led the way, and Aisha followed.

The first thing Alex noticed as they approached the building was something in the back of their head, a pulsing that they could feel more than hear. A subtle pressure, so slight they probably wouldn’t have noticed if they’d been even a bit more distracted.

They stopped. “Do you feel that?”

“Feel what?” Aisha asked, only to come to a stop beside them, her lips curled in a curious frown. “No, wait, I think I do. The heck is that?”

Alex tilted their head, feeling the pulses pass through them. Pulse, pulse, long pulse, pulse, long pulse, long pulse… “Is that, uh, what’s it called, Morris code?”

“Morse code, I think,” Aisha agreed. “Never took that class in Guides, but they offered it. Say, wasn’t Venus into radios and shit?”

“Was she? I know I saw a picture of her doing something with a radio tower.”

“Sounds right, yeah. Guessing this is her doing something?”

“Or it could, you know, be literally anything else,” Alex countered.

“In which case, we’re not going to get anything done by yapping about it.”

“Could ask Lisa for her opinion.”

An odd look flashed over Aisha’s face. “I don’t know where she is. Besides, would you really want to bring Lisa into this?”

“That’s fair. She’s already basically going crazy.”

Aisha laughed, once, then it faded when Alex didn’t smile along. “Wait, seriously, you mean like…”

“Apparently she’s hearing God yell at her or something. It looks pretty bad, honestly.”

“Shit.” She pursed her lips. “That’s… there’s no way that’s supposed to happen. Talk to the girls about it.”

Alex raised a finger. “And while we’re on the subject, I think Brian’s like, having some kind of legit breakdown or something.”

“Brian,” she began, “needs to mind his own-”

“And you did kind of explode at him,” they interrupted.

She stared at them for a good few seconds.

“I mean, you never told him why you flipped the cross, did you?”

She scoffed. "If he actually gave as much of a shit as he says he does, I wouldn't have to tell him! But to do that, he'd have to see the facts in front of him and not the basic, easy fantasy he wants to see, and that's not happening anytime soon."

"Not if you don't give him a wake-up call, sure."

"Why do I have to be the one to make the first move? It shouldn't be on me. That's way unfair."

"Sure, it isn't fair." They shrugged. "But it's still how it is. You just gotta decide if it's worth letting it be unfair."

Shame rose to the surface of her face, red-hot magma briefly dripping from cracks in her skin. “I, uh… fuck. Fuck, yeah, you’re right. Goddamn it, Alex.”

“Well, it’s not like any sane person would have every right to be concerned about why their little sister decided to get a full body makeover, or anything-”

“Okay, I get it, I’m a jerk,” she grumbled, shaking her head. “I’ll talk to him later.”

“Speaking of things that can easily be solved while talking, you could just call Neptune again about the radio thing.”

She blinked, stared at them.

“Why didn’t you fucking say that earlier?”

Alex replied without missing a beat. “To mess with you, duh.”

Aisha sighed, loudly. “Alex, most of the time, I like you. But sometimes? I really, really don’t.”

“That’s fair,” they agreed, watching Aisha pull out her phone again and dial the number in question. It took a second or two, but they heard Neptune’s voice again just fine.

“Hi again. No, not that,” Aisha replied. “What the fuck is this weird pulsing signal thing? It’s at the back of my head and it seems vaguely like radio shit but I don’t have a radio receiver so… oh, okay. Yeah, I kinda figured. But Alex was worried we might, I dunno, get Mastered or something. Hah! Yeah, that’s about right. See ya in a sec, then.”

Beep.

“What sounds about right?”

Aisha slipped the phone back into her pocket. “Apparently Venus is trying to make a signal that keeps random people from walking in on the private party.”

“Doesn’t seem to be working, does it?”

“Nope,” she agreed with a little grin. “So Neptune was all like, ‘Well, I guess she couldn’t Master someone if she tried,’ and…”

“That does sound about right,” Alex mused, before ducking their head. “No, wait, I take that back. Gotta have at least a Master Zero rating. Too cute not to.”

“Cute girls are fucking Masters now?”

“Sure they are. Why wouldn’t they be?”

They bantered like that all the way into the mall.

There was no luminescent fog this time. Instead, the mall was dim, illuminated by a single bright, yet somehow soft light from its center.

From a tree, Alex quickly realized.

Aisha followed, but she just couldn’t quite keep up with them.

When they’d left, there had been a modest pool with an equally modest clay-tree in the center. There was nothing modest about what had replaced them. The tree’s roots sprawled across more or less the entire central plaza. Broad limbs cradled the mall’s floor tiles between them to form accessible pathways among the gently sloping web of roots. Shallow pools of water sat between the roots, tiny spouts coming up from the center of each and sending gentle ripples through the waters.

Alex’s eyes followed the texture of terracotta-mahogany bark and the lines of glowing sap just beneath it, up along the massive trunk, tracing the lines of slender branches and leaves of gentle greens and vibrant yellows as the ‘plant’ arced upwards, meeting the open roof and peeking out over it, providing a soft canopy of warmth and light.

In between, fruit sat heavy on lower-hanging branches, large apples of red and green and yellow, along with a few in more exotic colors like blue and violet.

There was also Venus.

The angel was wrapped around a branch of the tree, and something else was there too. Some kind of contraption. Alex saw wires, coils, battery packs, spinning things, tubes, a pentagram or two, pulled together in a mess they couldn’t make heads or tails of. They caught a glimpse of fingers fiddling with silver contacts, and then Venus’s device whirred to life. Lightning sang across gaps in the machine, producing a steady buzz with an oddly lyrical tone to it, and as Venus flitted away from the Device in the tree, Alex thought they could see energy travel up a single long antennae, pulsing into the night at a pleasant frequency.

As Alex approached, Venus winged her way down to the base of the tree. Jupiter and Riley were already there, leaned against the trunk, the former eagerly chomping away at a blue apple, the latter looking up from her clay tablets and styluses. (Pencil and paper would probably be more practical, but Alex had to admire Riley’s commitment to her aesthetic.) Neptune was sprawled in one of the nearby pools, a pyramid of bottles at her side.

She glanced up at the intrusion and grinned. “Hey, girls, the guests are here. Now we can finally get stupid drunk.”

“None of you are old enough to drink,” Riley pouted.

“Never stopped us before, darling.”

“Alcohol makes you stupid, anyways,” the clay-girl continued, something welling up in her eyes. “A-and stupid makes you d-dead, so…”

Venus frowned. Jupiter floated over to wrap up the little Biotinker in hands, though it didn’t stop the tears in her eyes. And Neptune… Neptune’s grin faded to a sad little smile as she rose from the pool, walked over to meet her family.

“That’s fair. Only a little drunk, then.” She joined Jupiter in the hug, lightly pushing her hand into the girl’s hair before turning her attention back to the newcomers. “You kids drink?”

“Sure,” Alex said. Even if it was mostly by proxy. They didn’t get much feeling from drinking things themselves. Probably too fucked up by what Dad did to them for alcohol to make a difference? Plus, like Riley said, drinking too much makes you stupid and stupid makes you dead. Or worse.

“A little. Never had a place I felt comfortable getting drunk off my ass before,” Aisha mused, a small smile on her face as she joined Alex in front of the other Devils.

Riley squirmed and wriggled her way free of the hugs. “I guess you can have some alcohol, but I’m going to be in charge of it,” she grumbled, stomping over to Neptune’s pile of booze and sweeping it away before anyone could reprimand her. “Someone has to make sure you don’t poison yourselves.”

“I dunno how to feel about having my drinking monitored by a preteen. Sounds kinda fucking dumb.”

The Biotinker reddened. “Shut up,” she eloquently countered. “Doctor’s orders.”

Aisha just smirked in response, ignoring the burning glare Riley shot her.

She pulled on a root, some deep reservoir of clay welling up from beneath, a little mountain pushing upwards and then breaking off a chunk that she shaped between her fingers until it was a modestly-sized mug, fortunately lumber-textured rather than bark-textured. The three devils dutifully passed the mug around as Riley repeated the process four more times, until everyone but her had a mug.

“Make sure to have something to eat, if you haven’t already,” Riley added. She was definitely looking at Aisha and Alex when she said it.

“You want me to start shaking that tree?” they asked. “Could be fun.”

She giggled, but shook her head. “Just reach up for them and they should fall into your hand. Here, watch!”

Riley demonstrated by reaching an arm upwards, towards the towering canopy. A green apple promptly broke off from its branch and fell into her hand, a perfect fit for the little girl’s palm. Then another one fell and bonked her on the head, the girl letting out an undignified squeak as the fruit bounced off of her.

Aisha caught the stray apple, holding it up to examine it.

Alex just smirked. “Just reach up for them, huh?”

“O-okay, so maybe it needs a little tweaking! It should still work, j-just watch out for any uh, enthusiastic apples!”

Alex shrugged. Why the hell not. They lifted their hand skywards, tilting their head back to see any oncoming missiles. This time, only one fruit fell from the tree, and it landed almost perfectly in their hand. Almost perfectly, because it bounced out of their hand, gently smacked against their chest, and came to a stop at the floor by their feet.

Close enough, really.

They sat down, picked it up. White was an odd color for a fruit to have, magical Tinker fruit or no. But it looked like a normal enough apple otherwise. Smelled like one, too.

Aisha took a bite of the apple she’d picked up.

“Mmm,” she spoke through her loud chewing. “Lesh clay-y than I eshpected.”

“Hey! No talking with your mouth full!”

Riley’s pout only intensified when Aisha kept on chewing with her mouth open. She looked to her mothers for support, but…

“If she wants to wants to be disgusting, who am I to say no?” Neptune joked, and Venus giggled a little. Jupiter just shook her head sadly.

That probably didn’t count as support. Or maybe it did, since Aisha shut her mouth after that.

Alex tried a bite of it themselves, even as a grumpy-faced Riley finally started pouring drinks in each of the mugs, working from a bottle of beer they didn’t recognize the brand of.

The apple was a little sweet for Alex’s tastes, but had a lovely texture and consistency, even though it’d come from a tree made of clay.

They could definitely get used to food like this.

Aisha finished off her bite, downed it with a gulp of beer as she settled in besides Alex, opposite the three main devils who had sort of huddled together, with Riley darting between them to fill the glasses and keep a few eyes on all of them at all times.

“So,” the statue began. “What’cha think of Brockton fucking Bay so far, anywho?”

“It’s pretty shitty,” Neptune stated, voice flat.

Alex snorted. “You don’t say.”

“The people here are strong, though,” Jupiter added. “Not always good people, but… they’re tough.”

“They’re tough because they have to be,” Venus countered, a frown on her face. “And it’s not like the environment is particularly dangerous, Leviathan aside. Most of the reasons why they have to be tough are because of each other.”

Neptune gulped her drink, let out a heavy, delighted sigh before she spoke. “It’s not really like you to blame society’s ills on the members of the society, Ve.”

Eyes closed. “I don’t… I don’t blame them. No, that’s not true, I blame some of them. But the rest… there are a lot of people here doing awful things to get by, I think. And I don't know if I can blame them, but I can’t support them, either?”

“Isn’t it like that in all the big cities? With gangs and crap.”

“We’re small town girls,” Neptune replied. “Less crime there, for what it’s worth.”

“I’ve done the research. Brockton Bay has one of the highest crime rates in the United States, per capita,” Venus mused darkly. “One of the highest numbers of capes per capita, too.”

“But capes are the result of suffering, not just the cause of it,” Riley interjected. “And parahumans seem to naturally cluster together-”

A startled gasp cut through Riley’s words. Quiet, but it was obvious it hadn’t come from any of them.

Six faces turned at once, finding nothing but a dark-haired girl, her eyes wide as she stood, shock still, in the middle of the hallway. She must have frozen up at the sight of them.

Venus blinked, then smiled. “Hey there,” she called, beckoning over with a wingtip. “Wanna join us?”

“Um.” The girl stammered. “That’s not- I don’t t-think-”

Alex rolled their eyes. “They’re literally just a bunch of awkward lesbians, stranger. Not gonna hurt you.”

Aisha promptly punched them in the side. “Goddamn it, Alex, do I look awkward to you?”

“And I’m not a lesbian!” Riley added. “I’m, uh, well actually I haven’t conducted a thorough experiment on my sexuality I’ll get back to you on that maybe in a few years!”

The other three giggled, with varying degrees of awkwardness.

The newcomer quickly glanced back and forth. “I, that is, um…”

After a moment’s pause, she finally let out a breath. “So, uh, who are you?”

“Neptune, at your service.”

“Jupiter.”

“Venus!”

The girl’s eyes widened in recognition. “You’re the Devils.”

“Eden,” Riley corrected.

“Eden?”

“Just made it official the other day. I still like Polyamorous Lesbian Funhouse and Also Riley,” Neptune mused, “but this one is growing on me.”

“I’m Aisha, bee tee dubs.” She brushed her hair back, grinned at the girl. “Nice to meetcha.”

“Just call me Alex,” they said, more to prevent anyone from calling them Alec than anything.

Neptune blinked.

“Oh my Satan that is literally just Alec with an X. You had the opportunity to choose your own name and you went with that? For shame.”

“Shut uuuuuuup,” they grumbled. “It’s not like I’m really different, okay?”

“Charlotte,” the newcomer suddenly said. “My name is Charlotte.”

She cautiously walked over the swirling roots, stopping just outside of arm's reach of the group, shivering a little as Jupiter’s hands nonetheless laced fingers with her own. Still, she smiled, nervous and brittle though it was. “It’s… nice to meet you.”

“You too,” Jupiter agreed.

“So, you’ve heard of us, huh?” Neptune asked, a curious smile on her face, not to mention bubbling in her body.

“J-just a little. I’ve heard the names, and not much else. You did some Tinkery stuff? But I thought there were four members, not six,” Charlotte rambled, eyeing Aisha and Alex.

Aisha chuckled. “Nah, I’m just a friend of theirs. And Alex isn’t even a cape,” she said. (Technically trueish, they weren’t a cape right now.) “She’s just my girltoy.”

A vague sense of irritation washed over them. Not anything major, but enough that they figured they ought to speak up. “They’re just your girltoy, Aisha. Until further notice.”

She blinked, turned to look them over another couple of times. Come to think of it, the skirt they were wearing felt a little out of place too, now. Annoying.

“Hmmm.” Then she nodded. “Alright, but what are you then, my boygirltoy? Girlboytoy?”

It was a very important question. They spent several long seconds thinking it over before they came up with an answer. “Toytoy?”

“Toytoy,” Aisha mused. “Alex is just my toytoy. Yeah, I like that. Got a nice flow to it.”

Charlotte scratched her head, drawing Aisha’s attention back to her. “So what brings ya here, anyways?”

“I uh… got lost,” she admitted. “On the way back from checking on my grandfather.” She made her way to the loose seating circle, took her place among them. Riley wordlessly offered her a mug and an apple, both of which she took, though not without hesitation. “This place had a light on, so… still, I don’t remember seeing it earlier, so I’m not sure how I actually got here…”

“Ah… that might be my fault.”

Everyone stared at Venus. She smiled sheepishly, her own eyes turning upwards the Device still humming away amongst the tree’s branches.

“It’s a psychic signal,” she explained. “Resonates within the soul. Depending on the kind of person you are, it can draw you in-”

Hurried footsteps interrupted Venus’s voice. She paused as a pair of boys ran into view, panting and struggling for breath.

“T-think we lost them?” one of them managed. A black boy, about Alex’s age, whose eyes seemed full of nerves and doubt, even for the situation they imagined he must be in. His tank top and shorts had clearly seen far better days.

“Even if we haven’t,” the other replied, a young man wearing a broad red jacket, a bit older than them with his faintly accented voice an odd pitch, spoken slowly and methodically, “I think we found some help…. The Devils would be happy to beat up some Nazis, wouldn’t they?”

He’d obviously seen the group. His friend looked up, saw them too.

They looked back, paused awkwardly.

“Hey!” Riley suddenly interjected. “I just worked on you like yesterday and you’re already injured!”

“Don’t worry about me, you should see the other-”

“No bragging, Jake! Get over here!”

Thoroughly chastised, the boy in question (the accented one; Asian, Alex guessed, and honestly he looked the part a bit more than he sounded it) scurried across the hall, meeting the energetic Tinker halfway and stumbling down as she pulled him into an impromptu medical bed of clay drawn out of the floor, her hands pressing lightly into a gash at his side. “With wounds like these, you shouldn’t be doing any fighting!”

“...or it drives them away,” Venus finally finished. “Y’know, if they’re Nazis.”

“And here I was told you couldn’t Master someone if you tried,” Alex snarked.

“I-it’s for a good cause!”

The black boy joined his friend, ignoring the byplay for the moment. “Is he… is he gonna be okay?”

“Of course,” Riley snapped. “What kind of doctor would I be if I couldn’t take care of a half dozen knife wounds?”

“Good,” he mumbled, glancing at the floor before looking back at the little doctor. “ M’name’s Elliot. You know Jake?”

“I did some work on him, like he said. Hormone and masculinization treatments, mostly. Though maybe I went a little heavy on the testosterone? ”

Ah. Those shoulders did look a little narrow under the jacket.

“I think this is all him, honestly. Wait, masculi-”

Venus cut off Elliot’s wide-eyed words. “Riley! Aren’t you supposed to follow doctor-patient confidentiality?”

“I’m sorry!” she cried. “I just assumed-”

“It’s okay,” Jake grunted, even as Riley’s fingers blurred over his wounds. “He would have found out eventually.”

It didn’t sound okay, Alex noted. They were reminded of Brian, bravado over open wounds. Literally, in this case.

Elliot was still for a moment, pensive. Then: “...it doesn’t matter. You’re still my friend.”

Something passed between the two boys as their eyes met, though Alex didn’t catch the nuances of it.

“Mistakes were made,” Neptune cut in, “but everyone’s lived and learned, yeah?”

Venus flitted up from her perch, came over to Riley. The girl still looked ready to cry as the angel patted her shoulder.

“It’s okay. We can have a talk about privacy later,” Venus reassured. “Right now, it’s still your party, remember?”

“Oh! Oh, right.” She finished her work quickly, putting pressure on knife wounds with just as many hands and little adhesive bandages made of clay that seemed to sink into Jake’s very skin. “Alright, Jake, you should be fine to stand up. Don’t get into any more fights; these should hold up well enough to physical activity, but another good stab and they’ll be bleeding all over the place.”

“I don’t need help standing up. Walked here fine, didn’t I?” he protested, even as Riley’s numerous arms helped him to his feet, whether he liked it or not.

There was a brittle smile on her face as she led him towards the party, Elliot following a polite distance away. “C’mon, none of that. Have an apple, have a drink! Ooh, I should see if I can get them to taste like other things…”

There was an awkward pause as the two boys were shepherded into their places. Jake eyed the mug of beer poured for him with a vague suspicion, while his friend just kind of shrunk in on himself.

It was Charlotte, of all people, who spoke up, having touched neither apple nor beverage. “So, uh, why are we here, exactly?”

Jupiter smiled, working her hands in circles on her family’s shoulders. “Well, we’re having a party because Riley made a breakthrough.”

“I made this tree!” the girl agreed, her cheer slowly becoming more genuine. “It makes magic apples and it powers Venus’s transmitter and it does a bunch of other cool stuff but most importantly it’s alive and that’s a big deal. So, we’re celebrating!”

“With what, Truth or Dare?” Alex groused, making a show of yawning. “Anything’s better than sitting around not drinking all this booze.”

“I-I'm not sure that’s such a good idea,” Charlotte mumbled. “We just met, after all.”

“Hey now!” Neptune disagreed, grinning bright. “Truth or Dare is a great way to get to know people.”

“Also,” Aisha pointed out, “you could just drink your fucking booze, nobody’s stopping you except maybe Riley.”

“No dehydration allowed!” she confirmed. “But I can just make you drink enough water so that’s fine, I guess.”

Alex smiled and lifted their mug.

When they said they loved food as much as sex, they hadn’t really been lying: taste and sex were about the only things that still felt vivid enough to enjoy.

The beer wasn’t half bad.

While Alex drank, people kept talking.

“I ain’t afraid of no truth or dare,” Jake bragged, a too-wide grin on his face. “Bring it on!”

“No,” Venus replied, quieter and softer. “It wouldn’t have the right impact. Some of us haven’t even been introduced.”

The light snapped on in Jupiter’s head, or maybe it was just Venus’ glow.. “Introductions! Let’s go around and do some introductions. Then we can play truth or dare.”

“So who’s going first?” Aisha wondered.

There was an awkward pause as everyone looked back and forth. (Everyone except Alex, who took another sip of beer.)

Finally, Jupiter threw up her hands. (Not all of them. But a lot of them.) “Every time, I swear. Fine, fine. My name’s Jupiter. I like soccer and uh…” she took a moment, before grinning. “I’m really good at arm wrestling.”

Venus giggled.

Neptune chuckled.

Aisha cackled.

Charlotte blinked and stared.

Elliot raised a (single) hand. “Is that cheating?”

“Use it if you got it, right?” Alex mused between bites of apple.

“I’ll go next. My name’s Venus,” the girl in question announced, her smile literally radiant. “I like watching the sky and singing!”

“Really? I do too,” Elliot said, quiet but firm.

“Have an old guitar I like to bang out a chord on sometimes,” Jake added.

“Woodwind,” Charlotte agreed.

“Put Jupes on drums and we’d just about have a band,” Neptune joked.

“So what’d you be doing? Cuz there’s no way you wouldn’t be a part of it,” Aisha wondered.

“Maybe playing a synth or something,” she responded. “Anyways! I’m Neptune. Go by RestingWitchFace on PHO, you might have heard of me. I’ve watched Matilda like twenty times.”

“She makes us all watch it again, too,” Venus confirmed.

“You can’t tell me you didn’t like it.”

“I didn’t say that…”

Charlotte, of all people, interrupted the two’s good-natured bickering. “Um, can I introduce myself now?”

“Duh?” Neptune responded.

The younger girl flushed. “Okay, uh. I’m Charlotte. I babysit, when I’m not visiting my zayde.”

“Your…”

Riley happily filled in Jake’s confusion. “It’s Yiddish!”
“My grandpa,” Charlotte added, looking a little nervous before a phantom hand squeezed her shoulder.

“Okay. So. I’m Elliot. Yeah, I know, it’s kind of a white name. And, uh, I…” he glanced around, as if seeing if anyone was listening in. “I have an autograph from Miss Militia.”

Riley immediately stood up with a squeak. “You do?!?”

“Keep it framed at home,” he responded proudly.

“I talked to her and I didn’t even get her autograph! What was I thinking?!”

“What were you thinking?”

“There, there.” Jupiter patted Riley’s head softly. “I’m sure you’ll get plenty of chances to get autographs later.”

Things went a bit more quickly after that.

“I’m Jake! Like to go dirt biking on the outside of town, when I get the chance.”

“My name is Riley! And uh, I like Tinkering, obviously, but I also like playing with Legos! Since we can’t keep a collection around, I just make my own.”

“Aisha’s the name. I like to eat. Like, whenever I get the chance. Salty chips are just the best, y’know?”

“You eat entire packages and somehow you only get fat in the places you want,” Alex murmured.

She preened shamelessly. “It’s just one of my many, many talents.”

That just left…

They paused.

Sure enough, eyes turned their way, leaving them with little choice but to speak.

“I’m Alex. I’m new to this whole thing, but I’m a they for right now. And I can run Perfect Cell 2 in four hours flat.”

“You can run what now?” Charlotte asked, blinking.

“Some dumb video game they’re into,” Aisha explained.

“Some dumb video game? Aisha, I’m shocked, shocked that you would call a masterpiece like PC2 a ‘dumb video game’.”

“I’ve seen you play it,” she sniffed. “All you do is spam the fucking grenade. Not even all the grenades, just the one fucking grenade. It looks boring as hell. I really don’t get what you get out of it.”

Alex sighed. “It’s postmodern art, Aisha. Clearly far too sophisticated for a plebian like you to understand.”

“Is that the new code for ‘I like it because it’s shit,’ Alex?”

They closed an eye. “Postmodern art. I mean, yeah, it’s shit, but that’s what makes it a masterpiece.”

“I may not know anything about art, but I don’t think that’s how art works.”

"You’ve never watched The Room? Horrible movie. Total masterpiece of a trainwreck.”

“...no, but now I really want to.”

“And there you have it, folks. “

Alex smirked, while Aisha let out a defeated sigh.

Then they noticed the way Jake was looking at them. Something widening his eyes ever so slightly.

Recognition?

And he clearly noticed them noticing.

“Hey, can I talk with Alex for a minute?"

Aisha glared playfully at the boy. “Mess with my toy and I will fuck you up, you got that?”

“Crystal clear. It's just some personal stuff,” he responded, a little too quickly for his brave facade.

Hm.

Was Jake one of Dad’s agents? No, that was ridiculous. Nikos Vasil wasn’t exactly progressive in his views. A Mastered patsy? Maybe? If Nikos had personally mindfucked Jake, sure, but he seemed like a local, not someone sent down from Canada. Maybe one of the kids had triggered with a power that could do that and had been sent out, but if they'd just triggered, Heartbreaker wouldn't trust them to go on a mission like this.

So Jake probably wasn't using this as a pretext to murder them.

Probably.

Alex shrugged, more casually than they felt as they stood up. "Sure, whatever. We can use one of the rooms."

They gestured towards the room where they'd slept last night. Good a place as any to have awkward conversations and maybe fight for their life.

Jake nodded, standing himself, stretching out for a moment (maybe to show off his muscles?) before he turned and headed to the indicated room.

Alex took one last look around at the mystified, concerned, and in Neptune's case, vaguely amused crowd.

Then they followed Jake in.

The ground was soft beneath their feet, and warmth once again floated into their body from below. It was a comfortable feeling.

Jake stood in the middle of the room as Alex walked in.

Then he turned.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but… you’re Regent, right?”

They blinked owlishly. For an instant, their hand clenched around an invisible sceptre.

Alex forced themselves to relax. This wasn’t actually as bad as it could have been.

“Bold claim,” they said casually. Too casually, they knew.

“I was… in Brockton Central.” Jake’s voice went low, lower than a moment ago. “You hold yourself the same way, act the same.”

“Well, I don’t remember seeing you before, at a bank or otherwise,” Alex countered.

“You wouldn’t have. After all, it was before I was…”

He gestured vaguely at his entire form. Alex thought back to the mention of hormones, of masculinization treatments, and understood, more or less.

“Whatever. So, what, are you trying to get a supervillain to beat you up? Is this some kind of cape nerd thing?”

Jake threw up his hands, looking at once disturbed and just plain confused.

“No, no! It’s not like that! I just… I wanted to thank you.”

Alex’s thoughts screeched to a screaming halt.

“What.”

The boy nodded firmly. “Yeah. My… I wasn’t part of the ABB, but when Bakuda took over, she sent people after my family. I thought if I wore the colors, joined up with them, they’d ease up, but…”

He was shaking. There were hints of tears in his eyes. Alex knew that they ought to touch him, hold him.

“They took my big sister,” he continued. “Put a… a bomb in her head. If you guys hadn’t taken Bakuda down… s-she would have…”

She would have died, he was saying.

Alex awkwardly reached out, pressed a hand into Jake’s shoulder.

“So… thank you. T-thank you for saving my sister.”

Something warm welled up inside them, something small and choked and struggling to breathe.

They felt it, felt that little flicker of something, and wondered.

And pulled a napkin or something out of their pocket, because Jake was totally crying.

For a microsecond, he glared at the piece of cloth. But when Alex stared him down, he gave up and took the tissue, wiping the tears from his eyes.

“Thank you,” he repeated, and Alex found themself backing away a little. “What?”

“It’s… it’s nothing,” they muttered. “Really.”

A hint of suspicion passed over Jake’s eyes, but it drowned among the tears. “Well… whatever. Thank you,” he said again.

“Quit saying that.”

“Fine.” With a sigh, he stuffed the dirty napkin into his pocket and started to walk out.

Slowly, almost feeling dazed, Alex followed suit.

They exited the impromptu bedroom to find Jake standing before the circle again, giving them a small smile.

“You didn’t steal their purity while I wasn’t looking, did you?”

“...Aisha, why are you saying I have purity?”

Aisha just grinned at that, and Alex shook their head.

Jake sighed, loudly. “Nothing like that. Way more serious. And personal. Seriously, ease off.”

“Okay, whatever,” Neptune dismissed. “Let’s do Truth or Dare already-”

Naturally, that was when footsteps interrupted them, and Alex turned to see Lisa, looking like shit, Rachel, looking pissed, and a man they’d never seen, looking utterly lost.

That about figured.

Notes:

A/N: Superwhitey/Roxy is responsible for Aisha’s ringtone. You know what you did. :V

I have not watched Matilda so don’t make references to it at me. Or do, I guess. (I haven’t watched The Room either, but I at least know some of the memes.)

Big thank to intodusk, rDavidson, Subrosian_Smithy for betawork!!!

You could imagine Venus’s Device as sounding like some kind of cross between a spark-gap radio transmitter and a singing Tesla coil, with added angelic overtones for good meaure.

Chapter 15: (Lisa)

Summary:

In which Lisa talks to the Devils, Daniel talks to Riley, and someone else talks to Lisa.

It wasn’t that hard to find the mall. Lisa had the address, she knew the location.

Danny went with her, of course. Still a little drunk, by her guess, but he could walk.

Rachel followed too, along with her dogs. Lisa didn’t try to stop her.

God whispered in her ear all the while. She felt as though the voice was filling some gap left by her anxieties, playing on her expectations.

‘Are you going to ask the devil to absolve you of sin?’

She didn’t think the answer was yes. All she wanted was an end to the voice. Even if it was irritatingly right half the time.

She would have talked to her company, tried to drown the voice out, but Rachel wasn’t chatty at the best of times and Taylor’s father was as likely to explode at her if she opened her mouth as he was to just ignore her.

So it was silence and God for her.

As they approached the mall, something faded into the back of her head. A pulsing sensation, a faint pressure. If not for the silence, she might have missed it, buzzing up and down.

For a moment, she thought it was just a headache. But it didn’t feel quite right.

It’s not a headache.

Rachel and Danny didn’t seem to notice anything.

Lisa stopped, tilted her head. What was it, then?

It happened when you approached the mall. The Devils are doing it. A Master ability?

She glanced to her companions and found her eyes instinctively wandering forward, back towards the mall.

Rachel noticed she had stopped. “Fuck you standing there for?” she grunted. “We got places to be.”

“I’m just thinking,” Lisa deflected.

Danny just turned around and blinked, looking altogether lost.

Drawing interest. Drawing people in. Subtle. Might not affect everyone in the same way.

“It’s nothing.”

The others accepted her words at face value when she started walking again.

Of course, it wasn’t nothing. It was absolutely something. But what was she supposed to do about it, really?

At least the signal seemed to keep God off her back. Her headache was even going down a little.

Lisa suspected it was too good to be true. But, again, what could she do?

So she continued onward until she reached the mall.

Entryway rebuilt with scrap metal, melted plastic. Parts of a car, twisted into new shapes. Tinker work. Venus?

Lisa didn’t know what to expect as she stepped past the gleaming wires and shimmering glass, feeling the Signal bounce around in the back of her head.

A pack of animals milling around wasn’t it. A handful of wild dogs, along with a couple of larger cats and what might have been a fox, circled around each other in the hallway, barking and yapping and playfully chasing.

Rachel gave the little swarm an odd look. Her own dogs seemed pretty happy too, their tails wagging faster and faster as they walked.

Expecting friends. At ease. Being influenced.

Huh. So it affected animals too, she mused.

And then she stopped walking.

She definitely hadn’t expected to see a giant tree with glowing sap.

It wasn’t unreasonable to see Aisha there, but wow was it different seeing her in person. For a moment, her eyes had trouble sliding off of the shining stone, other things falling away from her mind - unconscious memory manipulation - in favor of the statuesque girl’s form.

Then Aisha met her eyes, raised an eyebrow, and Lisa finally tore her gaze away.

Seeing the Devils, now, that was no surprise. Expected, really.

Alec in a skirt? Weird, but okay.

Three random civilians? Something weird was definitely going on.

They were about to play drinking games.

She looked at the mugs at their sides.

Lisa could see it, but that was even stranger, honestly.

Alec, standing with an Asian boy in a red jacket, raised an eyebrow. “Hey Lise, Rache.”

Rachel grunted her acknowledgement.

Lisa just let out a fractional sigh.

Another civilian, a dark-haired girl, shakily raised her voice. “A-are these your friends, Alex?”

“Something like that,” Alec- Alex?- replied offhand. Okay, what?

New name. Feminine? Gender-neutral. Almost identical to previous name: chosen impulsively. Comfortable with new name. Comfortable with clothing? Mostly. Bought it recently, bought it today, imperfect fit-

Lisa blinked, cleared her mind.

Neptune sighed, fixing her with a focused gaze. “You can join in if you want to, but I’m guessing you’re not here for that. What’s up?”

She breathed in slowly. “We need to talk. And… I think Danny needs to talk, too.”

Eyes turned to the adult in their midst.

The man squirmed, looking utterly lost, obviously out of place next to a veritable swarm of youths, half of them capes. “Daniel Hebert. T-... Lisa thought you could save my daughter.”

Riley shot up. “Oh! Her! Taylor, right? I already saw her. I gave her some help, made sure she won’t get worse, gave her a shot at recovery. But bringing her out of the coma outright… that’d be an undertaking. It won’t be easy.”

His eyes widened. “But you’ll do it?”

She chewed her lip. “I can. I would. But I don’t know if they’ll let me. I’m supposed to be under supervision, and the kind of stuff I’d need to do to heal Taylor… we’re talking central nervous system repairs. Opening up her brain and poking around in it. They probably don’t trust me enough, Mr. Hebert.”

His gaze sharpened, and his hands tensed, gaze focusing in on Riley even more now. “Who’s ‘they’? The PRT?”

Now it was her turn to squirm, and she slowly nodded under the weight of his stare.

Danny’s lips tightened. “And you’re sure you’d have to… There’s no other way?”

“It’s the only way I could do it, I think. Might be able to figure out something a little less invasive, but I’d have to get down in there one way or another.” She scratched her head, offered a little frown. “Someone else might be able to do it, but I don’t know anyone who would. So for now, it’s this or wait and hope. She should be stable, at least, but even I can’t tell you how likely she is to recover on her own.”

He let out a slow, tortured sigh. “Fine. Fine, then. I’ll talk to the PRT. It’s not like I have anything better to do,” Danny mused, a hint of a dark growl painting his voice.

“Okay,” Riley mumbled. “I, uh, I’ll need to set aside a day for it anyway.”

He nodded his thanks, and she returned a smile that might have been meant to be reassuring but mostly just showed anxiety.

Lisa caught Rachel glancing that way too, something intense and wounded dancing in the shadow of her eyes under the weight of silence. Even the dogs stopped barking, sensing their mistress’s tension.

Aisha broke up the quiet with a cleared throat just before it became unbearable.

“Weren’t you gonna say something, Lise?”

The way she looked at Lisa made it clear that she knew exactly what Lisa was supposed to say.

“Oh, uh.” Lisa flushed, feeling a little embarrassed and unusually anxious. She didn’t like asking for things, especially…

“...maybe we should take this somewhere more private?” she asked, glancing meaningfully at the three civilians.

The dark-haired girl blinked. The black boy raised an eyebrow. The Asian boy narrowed his eyes.

“Are you talking to me, or everyone other than me?” he challenged.

She frowned. “It’s Devil stuff, okay? I need a Devil’s opinion. It’ll just be a minute.”

Rachel suddenly stepped up next to her, fixing the Devils with a glare. “Haven’t they fucking hurt you enough already?” she growled, not to them but to Lisa besides her.

Still, everyone heard it.

Dark-haired civilian lost her breath for a moment. The two boys blinked, mouths half-open. Alex (Alec?), ever unfazed, simply raised an eyebrow. Danny’s eyes widened, though less in surprise and more in recognition.

Aisha shook her head. “Easy, Rachel. Easy.”

Riley shot up with a cry, jabbing her finger at Rachel in defiance. “Nuh uh! My mommies would never do that! No way!”

Jupiter blinked, fidgeting a few hands against the grain of the tree, nails sliding against the sprawling roots. “I don’t… understand?” she muttered.

Venus blinked too, then shifted closer, her eyes focusing in on Lisa, much to her discomfort. At least the Devil didn’t peer too closely before she found whatever she needed, frowning as she spoke. “I can see it. You’re hurting. But…”

Neptune let out a long, troubled sigh, shifting her weight from side to side within her body. “Dunno what we could have done to you, but whatever. You need this to be private? We’ve got this whole mall to ourselves. C’mon, let’s get a room.”

One of Rachel’s dogs growled, the three seemingly over their previous ease and glaring at the Devils as one, along with their mistress.

“You think I’m going to let you fuck with my - with Lisa?”

“They’re not...trying to fuck with me,” she managed.

Rachel scoffed. “That’s just fucking words.”

Venus frowned. “If you’re worried about her, you can come with her. You two are friends, right?”

She didn’t immediately have an answer for that, glancing away with that same scowl temporarily directed at nothing. Eventually, she turned back in the general direction of Venus, trying not to meet any eyes as she nodded.

Neptune clapped her hands. “Alright! As I was saying. Room, getting. Follow us!” She rolled and sloshed her way towards what might have been a storefront once, now covered in drapings of steel vines and gypsum flowers, with a simple arch of metal foliage for an entry. After a moment’s pause, Jupiter followed suit, and Venus floated casually over, her eyes back towards Lisa and Rachel.

Lisa looked at them, sighed, and began to walk. Her teammate caught up with her in short order, her hounds arrayed in front of them both.

Behind them, Lisa heard Riley’s fading voice. “...my mommies wouldn’t hurt someone like that, would they? Not unless they were hurt first, right?”

“Probably,” Aisha agreed. “Sometimes things don’t go according to plan, though. Anyways. You’re Taylor’s dad, huh? Now I see where she gets it from.”

“Gets what?” the confused man in question asked. “Who are you, anyways? She… talked about her friends, but you don’t…”

“I’m Brian’s sister. Aisha. Pleased to meet’cha, I guess.”

He made a noise that might have been recognition, but Lisa was already tuning them out in favor of what lay ahead.

It was a dining room, of a sort, scattered with round tables of various sizes, three or four or five or six chairs surrounding each one. Both were made of the same swirling, organic designs as the entryway, cast in metal and glass, with beds of pure white feathers woven into the seats, drawn into threads and pillows and cushions. Lamps hung from the ceiling like fruit, swinging without a breeze, their light softly wandering across the tables, meeting and mixing that of the lanterns in the center of each table, looking for all the world like fireflies trapped in jars. There was even what looked like a kitchen, shelves and cabinets and appliances melding into the drywall, distinct from the dining area but without any walls or barriers between them.

Lisa stepped onto the tile interior, glancing down at those same patterns written in silver, feeling the floor give under her like wood rather than concrete. She glanced back up towards the Devils, but caught a hint of… something in the corner, something in the way the scene changed as she moved, something at once disturbing and awe-inspiring, like the room was too big to fit inside its own walls-

Negatively curved space. Angles of a triangle add up to less than 180 degrees. Exterior walls match surroundings, but interior area is larger than normally possible.

Her head span, staring at the impossible scene. She was starting to get an idea of why the Devils were so enamored with religious metaphors.

Neptune flowed up against a table, sprawling across the glass surface with a casualness belying the tension in her eyes. Venus distracted herself with curious glances at Rachel and her dogs, though she maintained a respectful distance from the anxious canines as she settled in against her girlfriend. Jupiter wrapped her hands around the back of a chair or three, tapping fingers on ironwork.

Lisa found the support of a chair herself, leaning against it rather than sitting as she cautiously met the depths of Neptune’s gaze. Beside her, Rachel stood, her hand tight on her lead as she stared down the Devils, daring them to move.

Finally, Neptune spoke.

“You wanted to talk. Talk, Lisa.”

She let out a breath involuntarily, pulled it back in, and spoke, her words soft.

“Since that… thing with the ice cream, I’ve been hearing whispers. The voice of God, I think.” Or at least that’s what you’d call it.

Jupiter reeled back, as if she’d been slapped across the face.

Venus’s eyes widened, and even her wings flared as they turned to Lisa.

Neptune blinked, before offering her response, alarm dripping from every sound. “...well, shit.”

A moment’s silence, punctuated only by quiet growls. Then the Devils dissolved into a cacophony that might have been an argument, almost talking over each other.

“We’re the devil! Helping people hear her is one thing, but making them hear God? I mean, people don’t need any help to hear God!” Jupiter wailed.

Venus shook her head. “If it’s not us, it must be her, right? I mean, everyone else hasn’t reacted like this.”

Neptune sighed. “Venus.”

“What? Oh. U-uh, sorry. I didn’t mean it like that,” she stammered.

Lisa took the apology for what it was, offering Venus a brittle smile, one which the devil nervously returned.

“But I mean, you’re not wrong,” Neptune continued, shooting her a smirk. “Not just everyone hangs out with Bitch, after all.”

Lisa blinked. This… probably wasn’t going anywhere good. Actually, no, this was bad. This was really, really bad. She stepped back a bit, feeling the hands brush against her skin as Jupiter watched in curious silence, knowing that she was within the Devil’s domain now, that if they wanted to stop her, there was nothing she could do.

Neither her power nor the voice of God responded to her stress. She didn’t know how to feel about that.

Rachel’s eyes shot up, locking with Neptune’s gaze.

“You know who I am,” she said, her face leveling out even as her fingers tightened on the leads.

“Yeah,” Neptune drawled. “I mean, you’re not really hiding it. Not very well, anyways.”

Venus blinked innocently. “Wait, uh, who is she?”

“Rachel Lindt? Hellhound? Bitch to everyone who isn’t the PRT? Wanted for serial murder? Not that I’m judging, fucked up shit happens and I’m sure you have your reasons.”

Neptune smirked, just barely hiding her teeth, her eyes never leaving Rachel’s face, meeting the darkening gaze as Lisa prepared to bolt-

“You’ve got a really cute fansite, though.”

Tension flowed out of Rachel as quick as it came, replaced by a look of pure befuddlement. Lisa probably looked about the same, honestly.

“You do!” Neptune insisted, her laughter not unkind. “People love you, girl. At least, for a random East Coast villain. I think you’re almost as popular as Uber and Leet. Well. Okay, they’re not doing so hot right now, but…”

“Hey, I get that. Dogs are nice,” Jupiter commented.

“People are shit at dogs,” Rachel grumbled.

“I guess so? They’re not that hard if you know what you’re doing. My family had a hound back before camp, and she was such a sweetheart…”

“Oh! I think you mentioned her a couple times?” Venus piped up, her smile glowing in a million metal reflections.

“Probably,” Jupiter agreed. She allowed herself a wistful sigh tapping her fingers on tabletops, and it didn’t take a Thinker power to see her getting lost in her memories.

Neptune cleared her throat. “I’m sure she was a good dog. All dogs are, or so I hear.” Her eyes trailed over towards Lisa, and Lisa glanced up at her, feeling the tension fade. “Anyway, if you’re Bitch, then you’re… Skitter? No, Tattletale. The psychic one.”

“That’s me,” Lisa confirmed. “Or… well, no, that’s not quite right, but close enough. You don’t care that I’m a villain?”

“I certainly don’t want to help you do anything evil, but nah,” the Devil dismissed with a literal wave of her hand. “Like I tell everyone, we’re not heroes.”

“I like ‘situationally ethical,’” Venus added. “We try to be good people! Or, at least, uh, I do. I dunno about Neptune.”

The girl in question grinned viciously, enough to make Rachel take a step back even though the look wasn’t directed at her.

“So, you’re psychic?” Venus continued, as though nothing had happened. “Maybe that’s it. You know things! Revelation is the domain of God, after all.”

Lisa blinked. "Wait, don’t you have Thinker powers too?” And if she was really going along with all of this, then… “And if the ‘domain of God’ matters, well, you’re literally the closest thing to a biblical angel I’ve ever seen. Closer than the Simurgh, and I’ve seen people speculate that her form is an intentional evocation of the -”

“Please don’t remind me of that,” Venus interrupted, a minuscule shudder running through her whole body. “That thing offends me on a level I didn’t even know was possible.”

“Beyond just being a terrifying monster, you mean?” Lisa couldn’t help but quip.

The angelic girl shook her head. “You made your point already. Please stop.”

Weary eyes stared at her with disdain, and Lisa gulped. “A-alright. Moving on.”

“Maybe you just had a bad time at Sunday school,” Neptune suggested, a smirk playing across her face.

“That’s stupid,” Rachel promptly announced. “You’re stupid.”

Neptune stared at her, nonplussed. “...hey now-”

“So what is God actually saying to you, anyways?” Jupiter interrupted, a little too quickly.

“About how bad a time I had at Sunday school-” Lisa started, only for Rachel to cut her off with a hiss.

“Who even has school on Sundays?” she grumbled. “Stop being stupid.”

...surely she’d had at least a little Sunday school bouncing through the foster system?

Still, Lisa took the comment for what it was, closing her eyes and remembering the whispers that had been hounding her in the hideout, that had followed her all the way until the Signal had blocked them out at the mall.

“Not very nice things,” she murmured. “Talking about how I’m bad and weak, all the things I’ve done…”

Suddenly, Venus’s eyes flared. “The things you’ve done. Responsibility?”

Lisa blinked. “I… suppose?”

“That’s a feeling others can impose on you, but at the end of the day, aren’t you the one who feels guilty? Guilt comes from within. You’re not hearing God. Or, well, maybe you are, but that’s not the point.” Venus spoke quickly, her wings fluttering as thoughts danced across her eyes. “You’re hearing yourself! Oh, it all makes sense now! The villain feeling guilt for her crimes!”

Rachel fixed her with a glare. Venus eep’d, slipping back from the angry dog girl.

“...the girl who happens to be a villain feeling guilt for things that may or may not involve breaking the law?” she tried.

Lisa was hardly paying attention anymore. The words echoed in her mind, despite the Signal that had long faded into the background. She sees so much but she sees none of the things that matter. Who are you to think your words mean anything but pain?

Was it really the voice of some strange God?

Or was it her own voice?

Was Venus right?

A vibration in her pocket snapped her out of her thoughts. "Hold on," she mumbled. "This might be important."

Venus nodded respectfully, letting Lisa flip open her phone and take a look.

Information on Devils

Of course. Of course it was Coil. Of course that was what he was asking.

She looked back up at the trio of alien, monstrous, divine, human, beautiful, terribly flawed girls.

That about fucking figured, didn't it?

Notes:

hey I'm not dead

big thanks to intodusk for some last minute betawork

Chapter 16: (Brian)

Summary:

In which Brian has a think and a talk.

He flipped it over in his fingers, the cardstock almost painfully white between folds of dark skin.

How had they gotten his identity? Did it matter?

It didn’t, he decided. They knew his identity, or at least they thought they did, which was almost as bad.

They had leverage, now. Gallant had said they could help him with the custody paperwork, but who was to say they couldn’t make it harder, too?

But that wasn’t so different from what Coil was doing for him. Did he really trust Coil more than the PRT?

Maybe he did. It felt wrong to say it like that, but maybe he did.

A dark-haired girl in all white, staring at the ground.

Aisha’s age.

“Last question, pet.”

Why the fuck had he trusted Coil?

Coil had gone and done this, and then…

“That you think it’s even negotiable is pretty fucked up.”

Taylor, walking away.

The next time he saw her was in the fight against Leviathan.

He saw her, thrown from a roof by the waves, tumbling to the ground. He heard something snap, something break.

Then a teleporter was there, and then she was gone.

She wasn’t dead, but she might as well have been.

If she’d been with the Undersiders, could they have saved her?

He’d burned that bridge, stepped on a line he hadn’t realized she’d have.

He hadn’t liked it either, but he’d said ‘what’s done is done.’

And so Taylor went off to die.

It was only his fucking fault.

No, he realized. Everything was his fucking fault.

They might have found his identity because of his sister’s transformation, but nothing had changed about him. If the Protectorate was willing to rehabilitate him now, they would have been willing to do so months ago. Years ago.

He might have never met Taylor, but at least he wouldn’t have her life on his conscience.

Hell, Aisha might not have triggered.

All he would have had to fucking do was to swallow his pride and turn himself in.

A voice echoed in his ear, halfway between a laugh and a sob.

He realized, a moment later, that it was his own.

He didn’t have any control over his body anymore. The business card with Gallant’s number slipped from his fingers, flopped silently against weathered cushions.

Brian sagged into the couch and cried in the dark, and every second made him hate himself even more.

At least he was alone. At least no one had to see him like this.

In his pocket, his phone buzzed.

He ignored it.

It buzzed again.

He still ignored it.

A pause long enough that he could feel it.

Then a third buzz.

He could guess who it was. Not a conversation he wanted to have right now.

Brian didn’t want to have any conversation right now.

A fourth buzz.

He should have known that she wasn’t going to leave him alone.

Slowly, he slipped his phone out and gave it a look.

Hey
I wanna tlk
U there?
???

Then again…

There were so many things he needed to say. Things he needed to hear, too. Things he needed to understand.

Yeah
Where are you?

Hding over now
Apt, right?

Yes

Kk

She didn’t send anything after that, and he didn’t either.

He pushed the phone away again, and-

Someone knocked on the door.

He blinked.

Brian wouldn’t have put it past Aisha to have been waiting at the door the whole time, but he was pretty sure that this knock, while it sounded a little weird, was not being delivered by a walking statue.

When there was a second knock, he knew he wasn’t going to be able to just wait it out.

Slowly, he pulled himself to his feet, pressed down on the couch to lever himself upwards until he was standing again.

“Coming,” he called, hoping that it would satisfy the mystery intruder for a moment. A moment while he… god, he looked like shit, didn’t he.

At least his knuckles weren’t bleeding, and the bruises from yesterday had mostly faded.

The bathroom mirror stared accusingly at his tear-streaked face.

The marks almost washed out. Almost.

It would have to do.

He wiped himself dry, shoved the hand towel back onto its rack, and stalked his way to the door.

He peered through the peephole and saw a head of black-cherry hair and a translucent, shimmering body.

What the fuck, he didn’t say, because he wasn’t an idiot.

Brian gathered his thoughts, tried to put them in order, eventually hit on one before she got impatient.

“How’d you even get this address?”

Neptune laughed. “I asked your sister who lives here, duh,” she said, like it wasn’t even a question worth asking.

She was right, unfortunately. He’d have to talk with Aisha about it, but it wasn’t like he could stop her.

He let out a long, slow sigh. “Okay. Okay. Can I help you?”

Not that he especially wanted to, but she seemed like the kind of person who would just ooze through the doorway or something regardless of what his thoughts were on the subject.

“Welllll, I was hoping to check out Aisha’s place. Where’s she at, anyway?”

Brian blinked. “You don’t know?”

“Nope! What, you think she’s been hanging out with us all day?”

“I wasn’t sure. She’s heading here now, though, so…”

Neptune laughed again. “Damn, what a fucking coincidence. Convenient, though.”

A little too convenient, in his opinion. Unfortunately, he wasn’t Lisa, he couldn’t pick out deception based on microscopic twitches or whatever, and the view (or lack thereof) through the peephole wasn’t helping.

He sighed again. “It is, isn’t it. Whatever. Come in, then.”

Neptune swept in before Brian had even finished opening the door, squeezing down to the width of a phone case and then spilling out into the entranceway. He almost threw a punch at her as she slid through his personal space, for all the good it would have done, but she was past him as soon as she came.

Slowly, he unclenched his fist and closed the door behind her.

“Hey,” she said, not turning to face him. "Nice place. You could almost forget a hurtycane swept through here."

Brian blinked.

"A what."

Neptune laughed. “Ve’s idea. Leviathan is basically a hurricane that's also a giant monster trying to kill you, right? Hurtycane," she explained.

"I'm… honestly at a loss as to how to respond to that."

“That’s fair.” She finally turned around, looking over him with an appraising eye. “But yeah. Nice place. Little sparse, though. And there’s a whole lot of weights and not a lot of girly shit or whatever Aisha’s into-”

He held up a hand.

“I’ve had this conversation before, Neptune. We’d planned to pick out some stuff she liked, but that was before… the bombings, and everything that came after that, and Leviathan… there just hasn’t been a good time,” Brian sighed.

She opened her mouth, then closed it. “That… hm,” she tried. “...Okay. This city really has had a ridiculous amount of shit go down, hasn’t it?”

He nodded.

“Maybe Brockton Bay is cursed or something. And not in a fun way,” Neptune suggested, a little ironic smile fluttering onto her face.

“Maybe,” Brian agreed, ignoring her microscopic pout as he stepped past her. “Now, if you’re just here to tell me that my apartment needs more pink-”

“It totally does, buuuuut I wanna talk to you too," she interrupted. "You’re Aisha’s brother, after all, and she’s pretty chill. I wanted to know if you were everything she said you were.”

“And am I?” he couldn’t help but wonder.

“You’re definitely compensating for a lot of somethings. And I don’t even mean your dick size.”

He thought to deny it, but the glare on her face stopped him cold, like she thought he was an utter idiot.

To be fair, she was hardly wrong.

Brian exhaled a slow sigh, leading Neptune to the living room and collapsing in the well-abused remaining couch.

“Say what you want to say.” He let his eyes close as he felt her slosh onto the cushions next to him.

“Well,” Neptune started. She hummed faintly in the heavy air before she continued. “I see a boy who’s doing the only thing he knows how to do, even when it’s not working. Even when he’s doing it to his own family.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” he murmured bitterly. “And aren’t you the same? I’ve seen what you’ve done to Lisa.”

Silence. Then a troubled, genuine sigh. He opened his eyes and met her frown.

“It’s… not supposed to be like that. But you’re at least a little bit right. We should have been there for her. Helped her. Instead we amplified her suffering and we didn’t have a fucking clue.”

The regret surprised him. Neptune didn’t seem like the kind of person to regret, well, anything.

She smiled sadly. “We’ve talked to her. Hopefully she can figure herself out, because I certainly can’t. And we can’t help her if she doesn’t want to be helped. Shit, I wouldn’t even blame her.”

He raised an eyebrow at that. "That sounds almost reasonable, but you make it sound like it's not a choice, like it's just something that happens."

Neptune shifted on the couch, looking over him with keen eyes. "Yeah, that's pretty much what I'm saying. If I had a 'make everyone the Devil' button, you'd better believe I'd be mashing it, but it's not like that."

Brian frowned. "And I'm going to guess that you don't want to be quarantined for the safety of-"

She burst out laughing, cutting off his words with the rumbling bubbling up in her belly as she doubled over on the couch.

That was certainly one way to say "no."

Brian gave her his best poker face as she laughed and laughed, wrapping herself in her own arms.

He stared, and stared a little longer.

Finally she calmed down enough to speak, though she didn't look the slightest bit guilty. “Oh, satan, the look on your face! Ahahaha, hahaha, that was great. You know, I’m impressed you had the balls to suggest gay segregation to my face. To anyone’s face.”

“...gay segregation,” he repeated, mouthing out the words in a futile effort to make them make sense.

“Well, if the devil is the part of you that deviates from societal norms, then yeah. Gay segregation.”

He held up a finger. “Being gay isn’t a cape power.”

She grinned, pumping a fist in the air. “It is when I’m here, babey! Oh man, I should drink to that, you got anything around here?”

He gave the Devil his flattest stare, again. “First, no. Second, Lisa and Aisha aren't gay."

Somehow Neptune's grin got even wider. "You sure about that?"

He opened his mouth to argue, but closed it in a frown. Aisha was obviously into Alec, unfortunately, but he was pretty effeminate, and she did dye her hair… Okay, that didn’t actually tell him anything. Maybe Neptune was right, kind of, maybe. Whatever.

And Lisa? Lisa wasn’t into anyone, or so she’d told them, something about her power making intimacy uncomfortable. And he’d never seen her act like she was attracted to anyone, least of all lately; all she’d really been doing was…

...grieving…

...holy shit, how did he not see it before, it was so obvious.

Brian tried to ignore the aura of utter smugness radiating off of Neptune’s entire being. Tried being the key word.

Okay, fine, so half of the Undersiders were probably gay. Still, this whole idea was really ridiculous, he was sure there was at least one counterexample, if not in the Undersiders then-

Ah. That’d do it, yep.

“Okay, but Riley exists, and isn’t she a child? This has some uncomfortable implications.”

She opened her mouth to sass him, then suddenly closed it, the grin wiped away from her face in an instant. “Shit. I guess I can’t use that metaphor. Ah, fuck, I can still drink to it.”

Brian buried his face in his hands, mumbling helplessly into them. “Just… forget about it. Forget I asked anything.”

“What has been said cannot be unsaid,” she intoned, a small smile on her face when he looked up again.

“I still don’t have any drinks.”

She huffed. “Aren’t you, like, eighteen? You’re way too old not to drink.”

Neptune pawed at him in some vague teenage indignation, and he dodged back away from her watery hands. “That doesn’t even make sense! I thought you were doing some kind of amateur psychoanalysis, not babbling about your underage drinking habits.”

She grinned. “Oh, but I can do both. Watch this, sucker.”

And then suddenly she was leaning over him, pushing Brian into the couch, a feral grin on her face as every dark thought threatened to swallow him up and drag him into the depths of her eyes like cold, black lakes-

“You,” Neptune proclaimed, “are the kind of guy who’d never touch a bottle on his own, then get dared by his friends or something and drink himself into a coma in front of everyone.”

He blinked.

He pushed her off of his chest.

“What.”

She at least pulled away without much complaint, though she remained as smug as a snake. “See? Psychoanalysis and underage drinking.”

“Do I even want to know what that’s supposed to mean?”

Her smile faded slowly.

“It means you’re terrified of showing weakness, Brian, as boys so often are.”

Brian shivered.

That definitely wasn’t something he wanted to hear.

But then again, the things that hurt someone said a lot about that person, didn’t they?

He didn’t have a chance to properly respond. A bang on the door echoed through the apartment, and if he had any doubt as to who it was, the ringing sound of “Briaaaaan!” dispelled it immediately.

Neptune immediately pulled herself off the couch and onto her feet. “Welp, looks like she’s here.”

“I noticed,” he groaned, pushing his hands down into the cushions and slowly levering himself upright.

"Aisha! Come on in!"

He wasn't actually sure if he gave her a key, but if he hadn't, she'd probably have just stolen one.

Sure enough, the door opened before Brian got to it. The living statue beyond looked exceedingly proud of herself, at least for a moment before she turned to Brian and her smile softened.

"Hey, bro."

"Hey," he returned. "Neptune came over for some reason. You sure you didn't send her?"

Aisha tilted her head. "Nope, definitely had nothing to do with it. Though that would have been cool… Yo, Neptune!"

"Hey."

Brian turned.

There was something undefinably different about Neptune now, the way she held herself, the way she looked at the world with a combativeness Brian hadn’t quite seen before. When she spoke, her voice was dry and measured and just a little bit bitter.

Aisha noticed it too, judging by her cautious tone.

"Nep? What's up?"

Neptune smiled, though it didn’t meet her eyes. “I’m doing absolutely fucking fine, thank you very much.”

“You’re welcome,” Aisha replied. “I’m sure that absolutely nothing is wrong at all.”

“Ugh, fine. No, I… I just have a bad feeling.” She directed a scowl towards the ground. “I’m gonna go check on my girls. See ya later.”

Aisha blinked. “Uh, bye?”

But Neptune was already pushing past her, her form giving way and dissolving into the cracks in the hallway outside.

“I don’t think that goes anywhere,” Brian found himself mumbling.

“I’ve never lived somewhere that doesn’t leak, she’ll get out fine,” Aisha offered. “And I think I know what she’s talking about, too. Feels like I remembered that I left the stove on, except I left the stove on in a hotel a town away. Not urgent, but I don’t like it.”

He frowned.

Weird metaphors aside, he didn’t like it either.

Chapter 17: (Amy)

Summary:

In which Amy has an appointment, and things don’t go according to plan.

Notes:

(Special thanks to intodusk, rosed , and NotTheSmooze for betawork etc)

 

She didn’t remember the details. A cure, a plague, a garden of flesh, a sword of light, a voice at once disappointed and utterly, crushingly unsurprised.

A different voice pressed in at her consciousness, sweet and exasperating and familiar, and she hated hearing those beautiful words, hated the disgusting things she wanted to do to that girl-

Victoria touched her.

Her sister’s body exploded into her mind’s eye, and Amy Dallon snapped awake, shoving Vicky away almost as hard as she slammed the door shut on her power.

“Fuck!” Victoria swore, recoiling backwards through the air in a passable imitation of Amy’s own furious scramble. “Jesus, Ames, calm down!”

“I’m calm!” Amy yelled, distantly aware of how absurd it was as she screamed at her own sister, her heart pounding a mile a minute in her head. “I’m totally calm!”

“You don’t sound calm!”

“Neither do you!”

“Girls.”

Carol’s crisp voice from the hall stopped them both cold. Two girls whirled to face their mother, who was raising an eyebrow in what might have been disapproval.

“Uh. Sorry, Mom?”

“Ah! Sorry!”

Amy immediately glanced away from Carol, already regretting giving her apology. Strangely, she thought she caught the hint of a smile on the woman’s face. No, that couldn’t be right. She must have just imagined it.

Must have. Carol was all business a second later, after all.

“I need you to get dressed, Amy. The Protectorate sent a message this morning. They’re asking if you can examine Riley’s work for them, verify its long term safety. The Devils have a base set up in what used to be the Weymouth shopping center, and they’ve agreed to host you today.”

If Carol noticed Amy stiffen, she didn’t show it.

“I’m not sure I want to,” she tried.

“Come on, Ames!” Victoria called, wrapping an arm around Amy’s nightgown-clad waist and squeezing uncomfortably tight. “I saw the pictures, they’ve got a giant tree there and stuff! It’s super neat! It’ll be fun!”

“A-ah, but I’d need an escort, I think.”

“Mom’s already given you permission, let’s go on a field trip!”

Ever so carefully, Amy found her grip on Victoria’s body and pushed her aside, savoring the moment to think and breathe.

Carol stared at her. Amy could have sworn she wasn’t blinking.

“...If I’m going, I want Brandish to accompany me.”

She was definitely blinking now. As was her daughter.

“What?” Vicky babbled. “I mean I’m all for mother-daughter bonding but what?”

“I’m unsure as to why you’d want me there, Amy…”

“Too bad. You’re coming with.”

Amy folded her arms, dared Carol to disagree.

Victoria’s mother scowled. “I have business today, Amy. I was hoping Victoria would be able to take care of you.”

“What oh so important business is this?”

Carol glanced towards her daughter. “...groceries,” she admitted.

“Seriously?”

“FEMA’s handing out rations, and we have a right to a share, the same as everyone else. I’d rather take some now than beg for some later.”

“Right, because our pantry was totally wiped out by Leviathan,” Amy drawled.

“That’s not-”

“Fine! If it’s really that important, just make Vicky do it! She’s an adult! She can carry shit! And she doesn’t even need a car!”

Victoria gasped. “You want me to go on a milk run? Not cool, Ames, not cool!”

“That’s my condition, okay?” she snapped.

Carol sighed and shook her head. “Fine. Now put your clothes on. Victoria, I’m sure you can take care of this. For the sake of the paperwork, I just need to give you a couple of things…”

A resigned Carol and fuming Victoria turned and left as one, leaving Amy alone with her thoughts.

Why had she asked for that?

It sounded like a horrible idea, of course. Being with Victoria was a struggle at the best of times, but at least Amy didn’t actively hate her.

She didn’t dare tell either of them the real reason she was hesitant about this idea, beyond the inconvenience or anything else. The fire in that girl’s eyes, the determination…

Riley wanted to do something. Something big, something drastic.

Truthfully, Amy was afraid that she’d convince her to help.

And if anyone could stop her from doing something she’d hate herself for, then surely it was Carol.

Glory Girl seemed to think of restraint as something you wore in a car, at best.

Besides, maybe Carol would hate it too. And wouldn’t that serve her right for dragging Amy out of bed?

---

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been here, but she still vaguely recalled what the Weymouth Mall had looked like before. Very nice on the inside, true, but on the outside it was really just a bunch of flat concrete boxes. Sometimes they were nice boxes, she allowed, but they were still basically boxes. They weren’t even particularly tall boxes.

The concrete boxes were unfortunately still there, but at least the Devils had done something with the entrance. Where once there was a glass sliding door, there was now an open archway of iron, wide and inviting and elegantly proportioned. Where once there were flat, plain windows, there were now curling, twisting trellises, three layers of metal vines arching back towards the interior of the mall, light shining through in shifting, dazzling patterns.

Amy found her eyes wandering through the floral designs, tracing loops and leaves and flowers. They were windows too, she realized, glass filled in between the ironwork, somehow smoothly curving with the metal instead of forming flat panes-

“Hey! Amy and Carol, right?”

She looked down.

An angel of wings and eyes and light fluttered behind the entrance-way. Venus smiled at them, reaching out a hand and beckoning the pair onward.

Carol nodded in acknowledgement. “Venus. I hope we didn’t keep you waiting.”

“Not at all, not at all! We’ve just been working on redecorating. Well, Jupes and Riley and I have. Neptune went off to check on a friend’s place,” the devil happily rambled.

Carol stepped through the doorway, and Amy followed suit. “Quite a place you’ve taken for yourselves.”

“Not just ourselves. If it was just us, we’d be happy to sleep in a tent somewhere. But if we’re going to stay in the city for a while, we figured we might as well make something we can share with the world. Our own little Eden. We’ll have apartments and restaurants and libraries and cafes and workshops and-”

“And what happens when the city tries to rebuild here?” Carol interrupted.

That shut Venus up for a moment, the angel closing her eyes as she floated over the tiles.

“...We’re building this place with our own hands, our own materials, our own ideas. It doesn’t belong to the city, it doesn’t belong to the real estate company. If it belongs to anyone, it belongs to us. And even then, shouldn’t it belong to the people who use it?”

“Speaking as a lawyer, I’m fairly certain that’s not any recognized legal doctrine.”

“Speaking as a teenager, laws are pretty fucked up sometimes.”

Amy watched them bicker. Carol seemed to be pursuing the conversation mostly out of academic curiosity, while real concern and emotions flickered across Venus’s eyes as she spoke. As for Amy, she supposed whatever Venus was trying to say was a nice idea, but… Carol was probably right.

“Ve-mom!”

Sound and motion ahead of them stalled the conversation and drew their attention towards the center of the building. A massive tree dominated the space, growing right through the hole in the arched ceiling. Branches hung heavy with strange-colored fruit, roots weaved through twisted, colorful floor panels, and wires wrapped around limbs and ran off into the walls, pulsing with gentle power. Quiet music filled the air, echoing from tinny intercom speakers scattered across the corners.

Venus beamed as she flitted past half-finished mosaics of glass and ironwork and flowers and joined her companions. Riley waved with two hands from her position hunched over a particular root, growing under the remains of one of the old square floor tiles. Jupiter curled around her daughter, the storm of hands carefully grabbing the root and stretching it like clay, sculpting it with fingers and chisels to wind and branch through the gap in the floor.

She looked up from her work with a small smile.

"Hey. We've got food if you want it," Jupiter offered, a green apple rolling across one of her hands. “I know it’s a mess, but make yourselves at home!”

“Thank you, but we have a schedule to keep,” Carol demurred, glancing back the three of them and the surrounding mall, half-rebuilt to whatever style the Devils were using, all flowers and swoops and glass and metal with the added touch of a living clay-wood centerpiece.

“Um,” Amy mumbled, then tried again. “Actually, I wouldn’t mind one of those apples? Make sure that they’re safe to eat and all that.”

Carol glanced at her, but it wasn’t a chastising glance, merely curious.

Amy didn’t quite meet the look, but fortunately, she didn’t have to. Three smiles later, a verdant green fruit dropped into her palms, and she felt it bloom in her mind’s eye as Riley excitedly launched into an explanation.

“So it was tricky getting a clay tree to bear fruit that were, y’know, edible, but I think I figured it out! Though it’s a little less plentiful than I’d like, just cuz of the limitations of metabolism and carbon intake and stuff? I think it’s really cool how they respond to your needs, but actually I put that in the tree so I guess you won’t see it there, hmm…”

Venus chuckled, light and airy. “Wasn’t it still dropping doubles on you?”

“Okay, so the response needs dialing in. But I’m working on it!”

It was a fruit, Amy supposed. A fruit made of proper organic compounds rather than weird living clay, despite allegedly coming from a clay tree. Though, for all that it looked like an apple on the outside, on the inside it wasn’t remotely like any fruit she’d ever seen or heard of. The structures inside were strange, and not just because it was obviously designed to feed people rather than to plant new trees. Had Riley invented the fruit’s anatomy out of whole cloth? Was it some side effect of growing the fruit out of her distinctly alien tree?

At least it felt like it’d be a good meal, if a little chewy. Most fruit didn't have nearly this much protein. And it definitely wouldn't turn her into a blueberry or anything silly like that.

“Amy?”

She looked up at Carol. “The fruit’s safe. Want to try it?”

“I’ve already eaten.”

Amy shrugged, biting into the apple. More for me.

Hmmm. Tangy, but somehow sweeter than she expected.

She finished off her bite, set the apple to one side. “So, you needed me to examine your work, right?”

Riley nodded vigorously. “I think the tree and me should be enough for now! And the apple, I guess.”

“I don’t think the PRT needs a detailed report, for what it’s worth,” Venus added. “Just assurances that the stuff is safe. If they wanted a detailed report, they wouldn’t have outsourced it!”

Carol’s briefcase clicked ominously at her side. “I have the paperwork to prove otherwise, I’m afraid.”

Jupiter and Riley collectively groaned at that. Venus just giggled, the traitor.

Amy shook her head and let out a little sigh. “Fine, fine. This’ll go a lot quicker if someone can transcribe my observations.”

To her credit, her adoptive mother had a pen ready within seconds. Note-taking was an important skill for a lawyer, after all.

“The roots and the tree are all part of the same organism. I dunno if your power has a limit on size, but if it doesn’t, you should be able to just reach down there and feel everything out?”

Amy knelt down and pushed her fingers against a terracotta knot.

She’d never touched a single living thing of this size before. And for all that the substrate was clay, this was alive, in a way that Riley’s lab hadn’t been. There was respiration going on, sensory organs, a proper metabolism. A shining light circulated through the tree from branches to roots and back again, something her power could just about grasp the outline of, could see it leaking out through the bark in rivulets of glowing, pulsing sap. There were feathers and pools of water and even hands scattered throughout the structure, traces of the Devils seemingly providing the tree with some sort of vital energy.

Of course, like the lab, the vast majority of it was Riley.

She could see where the fruits budded from the branches, filling in her previous picture of how they existed; see how they gathered carbon from the leaves and grew it into fresh, edible apples. She could see the roots spreading down as well as out, growing straight through the mall’s foundation and sinking deep into the soil, and how the massive tendrils thinned and multiplied until they spilled into a mat of mycelium, uncountable kilometers of fibers soaking up water and nutrients in the deep earth. She could see the photosynthesis in the leaves, the movement of compounds up and down capillary tunnels, the steady pulse of the tree’s heartbeat.

If real trees were even half this beautiful, then Amy had been missing out on so very much.

“I’m pretty sure real trees are more beautiful. I mean they’re not my specialty, but I’ve looked at them before! My moms are a big fan. Did you know that trees exchange carbon through the root systems and symbiotic colonies of fungi? And nutrients, and water, and even hormones! Distress signals! Trees have feelings, intelligence even! Communication! It’s super neat and I’m so glad I got a chance to check it out!”

“Wait, it has a heartbeat?”

Amy looked up from the knot. Carol looked up from the paper, her eyebrows raised.

“M-metaphorically,” Amy corrected. “I’m pretty sure it doesn’t have an actual heart.”

“It totally could!” Riley insisted. “Having a heart would let me make it way taller, but I’d need a way bigger heart than I could take out of someone, or I’d need to build a pretty huge artificial heart which I could maybe do but it’d be a pain-”

“Do you take a lot of hearts out of people?” Amy interrupted.

“You didn’t hear that!”

“Did too,” she deadpanned.

“Okay, fine, so maybe I did some heart transplants,” Riley admitted. “But that’s besides the point!”

“Don’t you have like fifteen hearts?” Venus asked, sounding utterly amused.

“Twenty-one, thank you very much!” the Biotinker huffed. “But those are built for me, they don’t count! I’m me, not a tree! Even if the tree is me! Kind of!”

“Twenty-one hearts,” Amy repeated.

“Yeah! Well, twenty-two, I added one the other day. Wanna see?”

For a silent moment, Amy just stared in the excitable Tinker’s general direction.

Then she let out an utterly exhausted sigh.

“Sure. Why the hell not.”

“You’re supposed to examine me for bioweapons or whatever anyways, so here you go-”

“Wait, biowhatnow?” Amy started, and then stopped talking because Riley put a little clay hand in hers and holy fuck what had this girl done to herself.

Amy recognized the genetics and the whole biology-on-top-of-clay thing going on, of course. She was almost used to it by now. But Riley’s anatomy was a mess from her skin to her skeleton, a hackjob of artificial and natural parts dovetailing together in ways she could barely follow. Some kind of armor mesh under her skin? Plates around all the organs? What was even going on with the organs? Her lungs were her brain and her kidneys were her liver, or something, and she had way too many of them, all scattered around and tied up in a wild, impossibly dense bundle of veins and arteries and nervous tissue. There were wings inside her back, fluttering and glowing even as Amy looked, staring out through her skin into the world. There were CNS cells and neurotransmitters in her hands, emotions rolling through each finger. Her blood seemed to be made of some kind of primordial ooze, and nutrients didn’t so much flow as disappear in one part of her body and appear in another part of her body, and Amy was pretty sure there were potentially lethal sedatives in her fingers, and a high-voltage electrical system wired into her muscles, and what was that about bioweapons again?

Carol’s voice sounded so distant. “I think I’d like to second my daughter’s question, if it isn’t too much trouble.”

“Ehehe, i-it’s nothing, just a precau-”

“Don’t lie, Jupes. It isn’t nothing.”

“... no, you’re right, it’s not nothing…”

The blond hair.

The age.

A past full of mistakes, of ‘making messes’.

A PRT suspicious enough to bring someone like Amy in to check Riley for bioweapons.

A terrible thought, one she’d previously dismissed, rose to Amy’s mind.

“You’re Bonesaw, aren’t you?”

Chapter 18: ()

The music stops.

Riley doesn’t exactly deny it. “I was,” she admits; one pair of arms crosses, fidgeting with her elbows, nerves playing over a half-dozen eyes. “I’ve changed a lot, but…”

Burning, wicked light dances in Carol’s clenched fists. “They didn’t tell us,” she growls, staring at the little doctor, or maybe past her, anger raging in her eyes. “They sent us to a Slaughterhouse member and they told us nothing.”

“Former Slaughterhouse member,” Venus corrects, only for Jupiter to shush her, a hand over her lips.

“No, she’s right. The PRT should have told them. We should have told them. You can’t make a good decision if you don’t have the facts.” Jupiter shifted, uncomfortably pressing hands into herself. “We’re lying to everyone, aren’t we? Conveniently leaving out who Riley used to be…”

“And the truth would have gotten everyone hurt,” Venus counters. “Kill orders and all that. Besides, the past only has as much power as you allow it to have, right? Remember that old woman who told us that beginnings are false? She was neat.”

“She was neat,” Jupiter agrees, idly running hands over her daughter’s shoulders.

Slowly, Carol unclenches her fists, letting the force between her fingers dissipate. “Well. If you’re keeping her out of trouble, and if the PRT is allowing this, I suppose I’ll allow it as well. They know, don’t they? They can’t not know.”

“They know,” Venus says. “Submitting to examination was one of Director Piggot’s requirements for… uh, not hitting us with the kill order, I guess.”

Carol sighs. “Fine, then. As upset as I am, I’ll let this stand for the moment. Don’t make me regret it, Riley.”

Amy stares at the woman who calls herself her mother.

Riley, not Bonesaw.

Her body frays at the seams, overfilled with bitterness.

“So promises are good enough for Bonesaw, but not for me, huh?”

Carol blinks, whirling around to face her. “What? I don’t know what you’re talking about, Amy-”

“You know damn well what I’m talking about, Carol. When we’re out, it’s always Panacea this, Panacea that. Never Amy. Victoria gets her name, Bonesaw gets her name, but me, no, I’m just fucking Panacea. You’re only doing it now because of them!” she shouts, jabbing her finger wildly towards the devils.

A hundred eyes widen in unison. Venus sees where this is going. “Amy-”

“‘Beginnings are false’,” she cuts off. “What a nice fucking sentiment. Really sweet of you, taking care of a cute little mass murderer. Where the hell was that sentiment when I needed it, huh?!”

“Listen, I know things are fucked up, but lashing out doesn’t-”

Amy steamrolls Jupiter’s words into a fine paste. “Shut up! You don’t get to talk! I can’t stand you, you know that?! You go out there with your handholding and your mercy and you have no fucking idea what everyone else is going through! You haven’t seen what’s left of people when Hookwolf goes through them, and I bet you haven’t seen the shit your precious Riley has gotten up to, either! All that kumbaya shit is really nice, but in the real world, flipping Nazis off gets people killed, for fuck’s sake!”

“Amy, please, calm down-”

“Calm down?” she yells, turning to glare bloody murder at her ‘mother’ once again.

When she gestures, she leaves behind an extra arm, awkwardly twitching. There’s an eye in her shoulder, and something growing out of her back.

She knows, just as the rest of them do, that something is horribly wrong.

She can’t bring herself to care.

“I am so far beyond calm, you have no fucking idea. And why would you have any idea? You don’t pay attention to me, you don’t listen to me, you barely even use my name. You’re supposed to be my fucking mother, would it kill you to act like it? But no! Everything nice you have, you give to Victoria. Every ounce of kindness in your body is for her. Never for me, not when I’m crying, not when I’m suffering, never. And you know what? You know what?! I’ve had it! I’m done!”

A needle slips into Amy’s stomach. She blinks, looks down, feels the sedative trying to work its way through her body.

It makes her so fucking mad.

Amy yanks it out with her fifth hand and lets out a wordless, primal scream, feeling her body explode outwards, flesh spilling out of flesh and flooding the atrium.

“Amy-!”

She shoves Riley aside with the sheer force of her growth, a brief pulse of her power enough to paralyze the Biotinker for a moment as she rushes across the tile.

Carol backs up against the wall, burning sabers of light and force in her hands, warding off the flood of flesh, horror and fear dancing in her eyes. “Please, don’t make me hurt-”

“You’ve already hurt me more than enough!” Amy screams, tears falling from a dozen lids. “Just shut up! Shut up and love me, damn it!”

Chapter 19: ()

The curve of a shoulder into an arm. The smooth features of legs, delicate hands. An oh-so-sweet neck, a bountiful bosom.

Again and again and again, stacked and curved and twisted, spilling out across the ground, growing.

Inside her is a seed, or a spore.

The seed became a garden.

The spore became a plague.

We feel the flesh against our skin and recoil. It wants something from us, a lot of things, maybe everything.

The devil is lonely. We kicked out the devil and it must miss us. It keeps begging to be let back, for us to let it in.

And Amy did.

She reaches out for us, a sea of flesh and humanity, a garden of desire. Thousands of fingers, hundreds of lips, pulling, demanding, taking.

No one can escape this infection.

Jupiter won't. She's the devil, too. She reaches out with a hundred hands saying I know how you feel.

But a chorus of silently screaming lips responds Then you know what I have to do.

Venus won't. She's the devil, too. She reaches out with a flurry of warm wings saying Don't worry, I can see you.

But a hundred beautiful eyes say That isn't enough for me.

Riley won't. She's the devil, too. She reaches out with a kind gaze and a forgiving smile saying simply It's okay.

But a hundred and fifty angry gestures say I don't believe you.

We are the devil, but we don't have what Amy wants.

And Carol does.

Amy reaches for her, and she recoils in fear until she has nowhere to hide but a ball of indestructible light. The garden of flesh crashes against her, reaching and sobbing and begging, let me in, please love me.

There is nowhere to run. The flesh consumes her, envelops her in wailing need.

Her concentration slips, or maybe Amy finds a way in through the armor somehow. It doesn’t matter. Desperate hands find human flesh again, pull her so very very close until they can’t be separated, so that she can never escape, so that she’ll always be there to love Amy, so that-

The words fall from her lips without her consent.

“I’m sorry.”

Everything stops, even the sound of her own heartbeat. The garden is stilled.

The only sound is her own sniffling, buried in the mass of Amy, frozen in place around her.

She’d wipe the tears away, but her hands aren’t exactly free.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t love you.”

Amy says nothing. She can’t say anything. A million expressions war across countless faces, yet she can’t move.

Jupiter brings the hands, gliding across aching sculptures, saying Are you sure this is what you want?

No, the lips murmur.

Venus brings the light, healing the broken skin of the plague, saying You’re not the only one who’s hurting, can’t you see?

Yes, the eyes admit.

Riley brings a scalpel with which to carve away the sickness, saying It can be okay. I promise. Trust me.

There is silence.

Then a long exhale from dozens upon dozens of lungs.

Okay.

Amy pulls away, and Jupiter helps. Venus helps too, her light warming and soothing as Riley cuts out the disease and rot, saws off the feverish desire threatening to consume everyone she loves.

We free Carol from the garden. So much of her flesh is no longer her own, but she’s still herself.

She meets Amy’s eyes through two layers of tears.

“I’m so, so sorry.”

I’m sorry, too.

The devil’s still a little lonely. But it’s at peace for now.

Maybe they can finally begin to heal.

Chapter 20: ()

Amy could heal what she did to Carol, easily.

But neither of them trust her, and both hate themselves for it.

Riley does most of the work instead, rambling about tissue rejection and biocompatibility as she scrapes off the remnants of a thousand needy hands, smooths out the surface of Carol’s skin.

She feels the handprints that remain in her body, the ever so slightly discolored flesh. Amy’s, not Carol’s.

Riley says her brain hasn't changed, but she tests her power anyways, and finds it welling up from under her skin, a pillar of light growing out of the bone of her hands, settling into a little spear.

Like his power.

The girl grumbles something about not interrupting her work, but Carol can hardly bring herself to acknowledge it. The spear breaks off, leaving behind a cauterized incision in her palm as she closes her fingers around the weapon, testing its heft with a twirl, crackling force and lightning and heat pushing Riley away from her.

“Seriously, I’m working. No playing with your power when you’re being healed. Doctor’s orders!”

“This is important.”

She can still feel it, in a way that she never felt it before. As if it’s a part of her. As if it’ll hurt when she breaks it.

Carol glances at Amy, on the other side of the room, still slowly pulling herself together, back into human form, Devils guiding her as she pulls in stray limbs and heads, each one shivering, pain fluttering on a dozen lips, thirty eyes; hands and fingers still aching with longing so strong that she can feel it from here.

She’s all too aware of how real that longing is.

For all that Amy had violated her very sense of self, Carol still wonders. Who’s the victim, and who’s the monster?

Maybe this is the Devil’s real power: turning feelings into metaphors into beautiful, terrible physicalities. Forcing them to face what they’d tried to ignore.

The monster might have been magical, but the loneliness was genuine, the hurt in Amy’s eyes, the need...

She told Sarah that she couldn’t take the child, all those years ago.

It seems like she was right all along.

Vindication tastes like sickness on the tip of her tongue.

Or maybe that’s just the vomit. Riley gets a bucket from somewhere, or makes it out of clay. Carol’s simply grateful that the rest of her family isn’t here to see her like this.

The spear in her hand dissipates into scar tissue and pain along with her focus as she empties her stomach, together with copious amounts of blood and what Riley says are fragments of cancerous tumors.

“It looks worse than it is,” the biotinker insists.

Carol has enough strength to roll her eyes at that.

“It looks like she’s literally going to die,” a new voice comments. It’s one she recognizes. Neptune’s voice.

“Nuh uh. I won’t let her.”

Between not wanting to die and the sheer conviction in those words, Carol can just about believe it.

She wipes her face with an awkward, twitchy hand. She sits up, and only a moment later feels the sharp pain ringing at the base of her spine, forcing a grunt out of her.

“Easy, easy!” Riley fusses. “Your tendons and ligaments are messed up from being like, half-Amyfied. Connections are weakened, all that jazz. This is hard enough without you tearing it more!”

Carol largely ignores her, and ignores the dull ache that’s spread all across her body.

She looks at Amy again. Three heads and seven arms and nine legs and somehow the most human thing Carol has ever seen.

“Amy.”

Her daugh- Amy doesn’t hear her.

She breathes in, ignoring Riley’s grumble about not overexerting herself.

“Amy.”

This time, Amy hears her. Eyes that had been consciously ignoring Carol finally meet her gaze. Pain swims in those lenses, but Amy is paying attention now. She says something to Jupiter and Venus that Carol can’t make out, and then pushes herself forward, towards her.

Amy stumbles, spills across the tile. Eyes screw shut in focus. She has too many legs, too much body, too much everything. She grows towards Carol as much as she walks, and it’s all Carol can do not to flinch, seeing that mass struggle towards her.

Venus tries to calm and soothe Amy with a clear light, while Jupiter pushes stray body parts back into the girl. Even then, she collapses halfway, legs tangled up in each other while she pants from a half-dozen lungs like she’s run a marathon.

But she looks up, meets Carol’s eyes again. Guilt and shame and misery flashes across her entire being, brilliantly visible in quaking lips and unshed tears.

“Mom,” she says in five different voices.

The word cuts into Carol like a knife through her heart. This time she does recoil, though Riley is there to catch her before she moves more than an inch.

Amy’s eyes widen.

“D-don’t take it wrong,” Carol manages, nearly tripping over her words. “It’s not you, it’s… I don’t, I don’t deserve to call myself your mother-”

“You raised me,” Amy says, bitter hurt dripping from her voice like a toxin. “Like it or not, and I don’t especially like it, you are my mother.”

“I… no, you’re right. That was selfish of me.” She stares down, unable to meet her daughter’s eyes. “Still. If you wanted to leave, I… I wouldn’t stop you. You could go to Sarah, or someone in the Protectorate, or… anyone. Or no one.”

Amy blinks, like she didn’t even consider the possibility before, as if a whole new world is opening itself to her.

Carol waits, watches the emotions process on Amy’s faces.

Riley tries to get her to lay back down while she’s waiting. She refuses.

Finally, Carol’s daughter gathers herself, closing eyes, closing in on herself, as if she’s trying to concentrate her very being into a single point, that point being the words she’s about to say.

“No. If it were just you and Dad, maybe, but…”

She stills. It’s as if she’s about to utter her own death sentence.

“Victoria means too much to me.”

Someone who didn’t know Amy might think that she means ‘as a sister’ or ‘as a friend.’

Carol knows better, and the implication could have disgusted her, enraged her, on any other day.

But this is not any other day. Her eyes widen, but only fractionally.

“Oh,” she murmurs.

“Yeah. Fucking oh,” Amy snaps.

Carol nods dumbly. “I… I think you should talk to her. Just… please don’t hurt her.”

She’s already felt what it’s like being on the receiving end of Amy’s desperate love. She hopes Victoria never has to go through that.

At the reminder of what she’s done, or perhaps what she would have done to Victoria had things gone only a little differently, her daughter sags like a puppet with its strings cut. Unable to sink through solid tile, she merely splays outwards and collapses upon herself, hiding her tears in her own flesh. There are no widened eyes, no wails of grief. Just silent sobbing.

Carol sighs. “I’m sorry.”

She isn’t sure Amy is listening anymore. Jupiter and Venus crowd around her daughter again, murmuring reassurances as they try one more time to coax Amy back into a shell she understands how to use.

Carol tries to push herself to her feet, to give Amy the aid she’s so desperately owed, but Riley is having none of it. “I told you not to strain yourself! I’m still clearing out like half of your body!”

Indeed, the tender ache where handprints meet her own flesh is a universal constant, background noise she’s slowly learning to tune out.

“Well, excuse me for wanting to comfort my daughter,” Carol growls. Bone-lights emerge from her palms once more, shoving the yelping Tinker aside with heat and force. Her continued protests land on deaf ears.

Carol pulls herself forward. It’s not easy; her vision sways, and every muscle in her body protests, and she feels her skin trying to tear itself apart. She pushes out force in ways she’s never even tried before, wrapping herself in ribs of energy to hold together patches of skin. Her legs are utterly limp, nerves broken somewhere along the way, so she shapes burning radiance into crutches, a crude exoskeleton around her legs, enough to limp ahead. Towards her daughter.

Would her power have been physical enough for this before? To be used as a tool, rather than a weapon? She doesn’t know, and she doesn’t care.

Riley keeps yelling at her, but she doesn’t mind. There are hands now, carefully caressing her, offering her support where they can touch her without burning.

Amy looks up.

Carol meets her daughter’s eyes, wide beneath a curtain of tears.

Her power finally gives out, and she collapses again, a bed of downy wings appearing just in time to catch her and let her down gently, right next to Amy.

She steels herself for a moment, gathering her courage to take the final step, to cross the point of no return.

Then she reaches out and takes Amy’s hand.

Her daughter bursts out sobbing, but Carol feels the happiness beneath all the guilt.

After everything, Amy’s flesh is just that. Flesh. Human. It doesn’t spill into her, try to overwrite her, try to consume her.

It’s just Amy’s body.

It’s just her daughter.

Maybe she can live with that.

Chapter 21: (Victoria)

Summary:

In which the wound fades, but the pain remains.

Seriously. Groceries.

Ugh.

Victoria sighed, dropping bags of FEMA-issued rations in front of the pantry.

At least that was over with. She’d only had to stand in line for an hour, or maybe two hours, God she had no fucking idea. Being a cape didn’t give her priority, which was either the best idea anyone had ever come up with or by far the worst idea anyone had ever come up with. Sure, no one gave her shit about standing in line with the rest of the normals, so that was nice. On the other hand, she couldn’t reach Dean -- probably doing Wards stuff -- which meant she didn’t have anything to do but listen to everyone’s anxious mumbling. And then she actually got to the end of the line and was promptly guilted into carrying stuff around when one of the relief workers recognized her and mentioned that they needed supplies moved from the staging areas. Being a glorified delivery service… actually felt kinda nice when she saw people looking up at her and cheering while she brought in pallets of bottled water and food. But still! It was literally glorified delivery work! They didn’t need a superhero to do it, not when there were still convoys that needed to be protected and patrols to be made and so many better things she could be doing.

Hell, she could have even been taking Amy to Weymouth, if not for her sister’s weird freakout about it. And seriously, what on Earth was that about? Amy liked Victoria much, much more than she liked Carol. That wasn’t even remotely in dispute. Why would she suddenly decide that mom had to come along?

Honestly, she was still a little worried about it. Wasn’t like Amy at all. And yeah, her sister’s normal behavior wasn’t exactly happy, so maybe a little weirdness was a good thing? But this didn’t strike Victoria as a good thing.

While she was wondering what the hell to do, her phone buzzed.

Ah. She was wondering where Mom and Amy were. Shouldn’t they have been home by now?

Parental Unit 1:
Come to Weymouth Mall
We need to talk

Wait what the fuck.

Me:
What’s going on?

Parental Unit 1:
Something big happened
Don’t want details leaking until we decide how to handle it
Make sure no one follows you

Me:
Seriously, what's going on?

Moments later, her phone rang.

“Victoria,” her mother murmured, her voice slow and a little pained. The sound of flowing water swirled around her in the background.

“Mom, what the hell is going on?”

“I’m okay,” Carol insisted.

“You don’t sound even remotely okay.”

There was silence for a moment. Her mother coughed, as if to emphasize the point. Then a long, troubled sigh.

“Alright. There was an… accident, I think. Amy and I were hurt. Riley says I’m recovering well, and I believe her for the moment, though I’m less sure about your sister.” She paused, listening to a faint voice in the background. “Ah. They say she’s ‘almost back in her skin for now’, whatever that means, exactly. Seems like a good thing.”

Victoria’s heart beat like a drum. “Mom... Carol, what exactly happened?”

“A lot of things. It’s… I told you I don’t want to leak details. But we do need to talk about it. Come here as soon as you’re able. I love you.”

Victoria barely got out a reflexive “Love you too” before her mother hung up.

This was suspicious and scary and it’d be a bad idea to run in there to rescue her family, but damn if she had any other idea. It’d take hours for the Protectorate to respond, with how thinly stretched they were right now. Gallant and the Pelhams were both presumably on patrol or doing some other Important Superhero Thing.

That just left her.

Carol had sounded stressed, but not like she was being held at gunpoint, or powers-point, or something. But with Master powers, you never really knew. The Devils - no, wait, weren’t they calling themselves Eden now? - probably weren’t Masters, but there were always other possibilities, Tinkertech or hidden powers or other capes altogether.

Still, if she was being genuine, and Victoria was starting to think that was more likely than not, then enlisting random people to help would just increase the chance of something getting out and hurting the family somehow.

Wait a minute…

Victoria’s eyes widened, and she mentally kicked herself before flying straight up the stairs.

Her father was in the bedroom, as was not uncommon. Mark’s eyes stared out the window, out into the rows of too-similar houses behind white picket fences, out towards the wall that protected their little gated community from ‘undesirable elements’.

Victoria carefully made her way to his side. He barely seemed to acknowledge her existence.

“Dad?”

Slowly, his eyes turned to her.

“I need you,” she insisted. “Mom and Amy might be in trouble.”

He blinked. A major expression for him, on one of his worst days.

“I was going to try and see what the hell was going on, but I couldn't reach Aunt Sarah, and the Protectorate was too busy. But I need backup.”

“And you want me,” he whispered.

Victoria nodded.

Flashbang stared at her in silence for a little while longer.

Then he pushed his hands under his body and lifted himself up.

“Then let’s go.”

 

---

 

Her dad gradually grew more animated as she explained the situation. Victoria supposed that was a silver lining. Mark wasn’t a capital-T Thinker, but he’d always been a thinker, and she’d long since come to realize that the closest thing to a reliable way to get him out of a funk was to give him an intellectual problem, give him something to do with his head.

How to get two open capes into another open cape team’s semi-known base without being followed or recognized definitely qualified as an intellectual problem.

They decided to put on some generic, concealing costumes. Victoria found a box of masks in the coat closet, and a vaguely-sky-colored hoodie from maybe six months ago. Mark pulled out an old grey bodysuit from the walk-in, and thankfully didn’t need her help putting it on. At his insistence, she tied a few colorful bands around her sleeves, the better to at least pretend it was an actual costume. She got him back with wayward splashes of color over each side of the bodysuit, a half-hearted tie-dye effect that’d simply have to do if they didn’t want to be here until tomorrow.

They even agreed on fake cape names in case they ran into anyone (and wasn’t that funny? False false identities!): she was Vega and he was Lightshow and they were new indie heroes checking out the neighborhood.

Mark went so far as to draw up an elaborate plan to throw off the scent, with switchbacks and costume changes and alternating between walking and flying along the route. Worthy of Accord, she said, even if all Victoria really remembered about the man was that he was a major villain in Boston and a Thinker with a penchant for convoluted plans. (She would readily confess to being a cape nerd, but there were a lot of capes out there, and even her nerdery had its limits!)

It was almost a shame that no one tried to follow them. Nobody Victoria noticed, anyways. They slipped out the back door in silence, climbed over three mostly intact fences and four not-so-intact fences, got spotted by a very startled woman who apparently lived in that particular house, flew off before said very confused woman could call the police on them (or worse, see through their half-assed disguises), circled around in arbitrary directions for a few minutes, stopped in at a ruined building and walked maybe half a mile, flew off again and did a few more zigs and zags, and finally, after all of that, came up on Weymouth Mall.

Victoria didn’t even have to use their fake cape names. What a damn shame.

It was easy to recognize the building that Eden had converted into their base. Maybe not so much from the ground, but from any decent vantage point, the tree growing out of the middle of the mall was hard to miss.

She carefully set her dad down on a stable-looking piece of roof, letting him stretch his legs for a moment. “Did you want to come down with me, or stay up here…?”

“Bring me down fast,” he answered. “I can’t support you from up here, and I don’t trust this roof any more than you do. But I’m afraid your arms aren’t a tactically advantageous firing position, either.”

She couldn’t help but chuckle, but she nodded all the same.

Victoria looped her arms around her father one more time, carefully lifting him into a perfect bridal carry. The absurdity of carrying Mark like this had been funny the first time, but by now she was almost used to it. And it was by far the most comfortable position to be carried in.

Still, he offered her a little smile, just for a moment before she took off.

Then Victoria was in the air, the wind pushing Mark into her arms. The edge of the broken ceiling came up before her, the massive tree peeking up over the lip. This close, she could make out the texture of the bark, terracotta veins molded across the branches, glowing sap oozing down the trunk in rivers of life, strange fruit swaying below the leaves.

She dove.

“Ah! Victoria!”

Venus’s airy voice greeted her before she could get a word out. She blinked, turning to face the girl, finding her practically on the opposite side of where she’d been looking. The angel of light fluttered in an archway of curving metal, her wings and eyes spread wide, not relaxed but watchful, widening as they took in Victoria’s presence.

“...and Mark?” the girl added, after a moment.

Glory Girl narrowed her eyes. “Where are they?” she demanded, drawing all the height and presence she could summon, looming over the little ball of wings for all of her scale. (That she was still cradling Mark did slightly ruin the effect, admittedly.)

Venus let out a little eep, almost adorable if not for the context, and swam backwards through the air like some kind of reverse flying fish. “T-they’re right here!” the Devil stammered, gesturing frantically behind her.

Victoria met her gaze, searching those countless eyes for any trace of deception. She was no empath, but she saw only fear and guilt.

She settled for a vaguely threatening, wordless snarl, a sort of ‘you’d better behave if you know what’s good for you’ noise that drew another little squeak from Venus. Glory Girl ignored her, and barely remembered to set her father down on his feet before she rushed through the archway…

...and stopped cold.

“...oh.”

She struggled to take in the scene before her eyes in all of its macabre glory. Whatever the room had been before, it was occupied now by a broad, shallow basin, almost-picture-perfect swimming pool tile stained by black tears and the vines that crawled across the walls and shadowed the floor. It wasn’t like any hospital room she’d seen before, but it was obvious what it was being used for right now.

After all, it had patients.

Her mother rested on one side of the pond, up to her waist in clear water. From the neck down, Carol was a mess of discolored handprints and raw-red flesh, her chest moving with heavy, labored breaths. Victoria was vaguely aware of Riley scraping away broken skin and Neptune swirling dead tissue off of Carol’s body. She was far more aware of her mother’s eyes as they rose to meet her, tired and pained and angry and determined and so, so sad.

Her sister was on the other side, and somehow she was even worse. It was like someone had been given a half-dozen sets of human body parts and told to put them together, without any idea how they were supposed to combine or even that they were meant to be part of separate people. Arms pressed against legs pressed against necks pressed against hips without rhyme or reason. A tangle of limbs and bodies rose up from the pool, in spite of Jupiter surrounding the pile of flesh and attempting to keep it in check. And it was all recognizably Amy, down to the loneliness in three pairs of eyes.

And down to the ache that ran across Amy’s every feature as she caught sight of Victoria, a dozen arms and hands instantly erupting from beneath the water, grasping instinctively for her sister even as the rest of the pile seemed to be attempting to recoil, to push itself away.

“Vicky,” Amy sobbed, and it shattered what was left of Victoria’s heart.

“Ames,” she whispered, her voice catching in her throat. “Mom.”

Her father stepped past her, his head slowly panning from her mother to her sister in quiet horror. “What… what is this?” Mark mumbled, and Victoria didn’t know who he was talking to, his gaze slowly fading into the middle distance. “Darling… Amy…”

Devils glanced at each other for explanations, direction. It was just a momentary pause, and Venus opened her mouth to speak, but Carol beat her to it.

“They’re-” she began, only to cut herself off with a thick, hacking cough. Concerned eyes turned towards her, Victoria’s the least among them. Riley rubbed Carol’s back with one hand and offered her a mug with another. Shaking hands cradled the thick cup and lifted it to her lips, taking an uneasy sip to clear her throat of blockage.

Carol swallowed, waited a moment, and tried again. “They’re contagious,” she finally answered.

Victoria blinked, and stared. An angel of light stared uneasily back at her, and a swirling storm of hands, and a living lake, and a golem of clay and paint.

And a wretch of limb on limb, flesh on flesh, arm on leg on shoulder on torso on neck on head on hand on foot on every terrible, grotesque combination.

Finally she understood the truth, in all of its impossibility, all of its terrible majesty.

Victoria narrowed her eyes. “What the fuck, Eden.”

“We didn’t do anything!” Venus protested. “The Devil is something inside you, not-”

Carol’s tortured sigh silenced her. “You… you knew it could happen. You carried on anyway.”

“Been hearing that a lot, lately,” Neptune murmured, her eyes slowly lowering to stare into the pool, to gaze into the depths of her own waters, thickened with flesh and regrets.

Jupiter, for her part, rolled her hands onto Venus’s body, wrapped her fellow Devils up in that cloud of hands, pressing into Riley’s forehead and Neptune’s side and Venus’s face, a firm touch with just a hint of reproach. “She’s… she’s right, Ve. We fucked up. Come on, we’ve already had this conversation. You’re better than this, don’t blind yourself to it.”

Venus stilled, closed her eyes, and slowly inhaled, before breathing out. “No, I… no, you’re right. I’m sorry. I’ve… forgotten what it feels like to make a mistake.”

“It sucks,” Riley confirmed. “But it sucks for someone else even more.”

Victoria didn’t feel reassured. “So you’re calling all of this a ‘mistake’?”

The angel rallied herself. “Things were said that needed to be said,” she insisted. “The Devil’s not a mistake-”

“Not like this,” Carol croaked, and Venus’s wings fell to the ground, her eyes weighed heavily.

“...not like this,” she admitted.

“Fine,” Victoria growled. “Fine. So it was an accident, or a mistake, or whatever. How, exactly, did this happen?”

“I-it’s my fault,” Amy mumbled, her voice overlapping with itself as it spilled out of myriad mouths, nearly swallowed up by unshed tears from six sets of eyes.

Just looking at her took the wind out of Victoria’s sails. Sitting there in the water, broken, folded on herself, begging someone to save her from herself…

“Oh, Amy…”

Victoria floated through the hands, brushing Jupiter aside and dipping into the water until she was level with a face streaked with sorrow, a wide-eyed gaze meeting her own.

“Talk to me, Amy,” she whispered.

“I-” Amy sniffled, ducked her head as she wiped a tear from her cheek. Slowly, she raised a hand, a pointing finger. Victoria followed it with her eyes until she found herself staring at Riley.

“S-she’s… she was Bonesaw th-the whole time. And Caro- then Mom called her R-riley and I was just… I just got so mad, I don’t know…”

The little girl just nodded sadly.

Victoria… had suspected something, to be honest. But right now, she couldn’t think about it, or to get mad at the girl, not when Amy was right there, bawling her eyes out.

She reached up to put a hand on one of her sister’s shoulders, but before Victoria could reach her, she recoiled, her eyes widening to impossible sizes, a cacophony of shrieks erupting from the mass of lips and flesh, from deep within a half-dozen lungs.

“Don’t fucking touch me!”

“Amy? Amy, what the fuck?”

Arms spilled out of her body as she wailed. “You shouldn’t touch me! First Mom and Jupiter and now you! Just stop, just leave me alone! I wasn’t born good, okay?! Just look at me! Look at what I did! I’m a monster, aren’t I? A-aren’t I? You can’t deny it, can you?”

“No,” Carol called, straining her voice to speak and whipping Amy’s frantic eyes away from Victoria.

Their mother accepted a glass of water from Riley, took a couple of sips, then cleared her throat. “You’re… no worse than me.”

Amy just stared at her, as if she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Victoria took this opportunity to test a hand against her side, and when she didn’t thrash in response, Victoria’s arms followed, wrapping Amy in a firm hug.

“I… I…” Her eyes fell, her body slowly sinking into Victoria’s touch. “...I don’t know. A-and… and you wouldn’t be touching me, Vicky, you’d h-hate me if you knew… if you really knew how awful I was…”

“Amy,” she murmured, rolling her fingers into soft skin, “what could possibly make me hate you?”

Silence, hesitation, doubt, trepidation.

Then Amy leaned into her ear, and told her.

Victoria didn’t say anything for a long time. She stepped back, tried to process, but she didn’t dare move away.

Finally, she spoke.

“Okay.”

“O-okay?” Amy repeated.

Victoria nodded, feeling the tiniest of smiles come over her face. “Inappropriate crushes are a fact of life. Remember when I was convinced I was going to marry Aunt Sarah for some reason?”

At that, Amy burst out sobbing again.

But these tears, at least, were tears of relief.

Victoria could live with that.

Chapter 22: (Lisa)

Summary:

In which Lisa has a bad morning, moves into a new home, and meets the neighbors.

Lisa woke up with a hell of a lot on her mind, and whispers that were quiet yet incessant, like the voices in her head were watching and waiting.

She heard distant barking, dogs chattering happily over Rachel’s soft greetings as her teammate tended to her pack.

Lisa opened her eyes, and promptly shielded them with an arm as light bit into her sockets.

Ugh, how long had she been asleep?

She groaned, pushed herself off the couch and slowly to her feet. She had an actual bedroom, and she’d thought she’d fallen asleep there…? Grah. Whatever.

Lisa stumbled forward, out of the living room and into the kitchen, where the familiar sight of a broken refrigerator and disconnected stovetop greeted her.

The pantry, of course, held the usual suspects. Cereal again for her today.

Lisa flopped into her seat, bowl of unappetizing grain in one hand and tasteless protein bar in another.

(They were only here to begin with because Brian swore by the things. Unlike things with actual flavor, they kept forever.)

The motions of breakfast consumed her body, mindlessly spooning dry cereal and biting off chunks of what was supposedly chocolate. It left her mind free to wander, to ponder.

And she really did have a lot to think about. Most of all, though, it was Coil.

He went from demanding no contact with the Devils to demanding she investigate them in three days. Something had to have him spooked.

Given that he’d given the order last night and she’d woken up in the morning? This probably wasn’t a throwaway timeline. Existential questions aside, it meant he was very serious about figuring the Devils out.

Was Coil planning to take them out? It’d make sense. The Devils had too much power and were creating too much change for him to ignore, but his normal hooks wouldn’t work on them: too headstrong for threats, too self-sufficient for offers of support.

Maybe he could have blackmailed them with Riley’s identity, which Lisa was absolutely sure he knew because he wasn’t stupid. That could be a thing.

Either way, he wanted more information. That made sense. But what did it mean for her? He’d wanted her away from them earlier, but…

Lisa opened up the lid on her power, but instead a whisper rose to the surface, low and smoky and sweet and loving. “Does it matter, darling? You already knew what he was going to do, one way or another.”

She blinked.

He didn’t want to expose you to excess contamination; he sees it as an obstacle to controlling you, her power belatedly added. Now he has a plan, and he’s willing to take that risk to execute it. He will kill you if he deems it expedient.

...to be fair, she was pretty sure that last part had always been true.

Be useful or be dead. Probably both, if the asshole had his way.

Her spoon clinked against the bottom of the bowl.

Lisa looked down at the empty bowl, at the remains of her protein bar, and allowed herself a little sigh.

Said remains quickly disappeared into her mouth, before she had even finished standing.

She pushed the bowl into the sink, ran a little water, and dragged herself out the door.

Light and sound assaulted her, sharp pain stabbing into her forehead as Lisa stumbled outside into the realm of the burning sun and of Rachel’s yapping dogs.

She heard herself let out an awful sound, nearly drowned out in the general excitement associated with her teammate’s dogs as they sprinted across the sidewalk in chase of a bright red ball bouncing merrily away.

Rachel spared Lisa only the slightest glance.

Probably disappointed she wasn’t up earlier.

Lisa squinted a bit, rubbed up to clear her eyes, and opened her lips.

“Coil’s going to try to kill me, if I don’t give him what he wants.”

“Fuck that. Kill him first.”

She had to admit that her teammate was nothing if not practical.

“I don’t think I can get there in the next couple of days, Rachel.”

Bitch grunted one of her usual enigmatic grunts. “You gonna run with your tail between your legs, then?”

Lisa pursed her lips. “Dunno where to go. For all I know, he’ll drag me into his basement the moment I step out of line.”

“The cops?”

“What? He has people in the PRT-”

“I’m not fucking stupid,” Rachel snarled. “Cops. Fuzz. Feds. Eff bee eye.”

Lisa blinked. “I’m… sorry?”

“Never seen a fed who didn’t hate the PRT’s guts. And asshole capes who think they’re smart always write ‘em off.”

That… actually kind of made sense? A jurisdictional clusterfuck might put her out of reach of Coil, at least for a little while. She didn’t trust the local departments to be free of Coil’s influence, but maybe if she could get down to the FBI field office in Boston…

“Coward,” someone whispered. It sounded a bit like her.

“What are you gonna do, then?”

“He comes after my pack,” Rachel growled, “he deserves what he gets. Same as always.”

Lisa hummed.

“...if I was going to kill him, would you help? Hypothetically.”

“You gonna keep helping the dogs?”

“Of course.”

“Then fuck him. He’s a creep.”

Again: Nothing if not practical.

At that moment, something seemed to stir in the air. Maybe just for Lisa, but she heard distant voices all the same, a trio of familiar sounds echoing into her ear as if from somewhere - or somewhen - far away.

“There is nothing to fear when it is two against the devil.”

“But we can’t wait to see what they’ll do against the three worst girls since Eve.”

She shivered.

Rachel definitely noticed, but said nothing.

Lisa breathed in, tried to clear her mind for a second.

“...you wanna get the Devils and fuck up Coil with them?” Of course, Coil wanted her with the Devils to gather info anyways, but Lisa doubted that would inure Rachel to the idea.

“Don’t trust ‘em,” Rachel grumbled.

“They’re not creeps.”

“Mmm,” she conceded.

“Worst they’re gonna ask is to be allowed to play with the dogs.”

“Hrmg.”

“Also, Coil has a drug-addicted child in his basement and that’s kind of fucked up?”

“Mnnnnnnn.”

“...Taylor would want us to deal with him?”

That last one triggered an immediate response, as Rachel suddenly turned away from her dogs and whirled to glare straight at Lisa.

Somehow, she managed to meet her gaze for a full ten seconds without blinking.

“...fine.”

Lisa couldn’t help her exhale as Rachel lowered her eyes.

“We should take our stuff too. The other Undersiders aren’t coming back here anytime soon, and your dogs would be safer somewhere Coil doesn’t have his eyes on.”

“You’re getting the car.”

“...that’s fair.”

---

Getting there by car was a pain. Getting the car was the easy part.

Still, less of a pain than dragging everything on foot.

The first thing she spotted was the shape flying away from it, two figures in colorful, baggy costumes with the smaller one cradling the larger in their arms.

Silhouettes suggest teenage girl and adult man, her power chimed as she turned her head to track their flight. Rune wouldn’t come here. Girl is Glory Girl. Postures suggest familiarity. Passenger is a family member. Passenger is Flashbang.

Huh. Well, as long as they didn’t come down here, it wasn’t her problem. But why had they been here in the first place?

She threw the groaning old pickup into neutral, letting the sputtering engine rest as it coasted on through the remains of a parking lot and rolled to a halt by the mall’s main entrance. In her defense, the brakes on this thing either barely worked or didn’t work at all, she still couldn’t tell which.

Rachel kicked open the door and jumped to the ground before the truck had stopped (which was fair, it was a shitty truck). A chorus of barks and excitement immediately went up from the bed, and a dozen dogs were jumping all over her before she’d so much as lowered the tailgate (which, surprisingly, was still attached to the truck).

Lisa turned off the engine, hopefully for the last time, and got the hell out of the stupid shitty truck. Above her, Weymouth Mall loomed.

It was certainly more than yesterday. She remembered a relatively basic lattice across the front facade, wires and glass filling in for broken windows and sliding doors. Now the entranceway had, for lack of a better word, bloomed, layers of steel vines and brass flowers crawling up in sinuous, intricate patterns all up the height of the wall. Lisa could even make out Hebrew script scrawled through the metalwork, though of course she had no idea what it meant.

(“And you shall write them upon the doorposts of your house and upon your gates,” someone whispered, and Lisa honestly wasn’t sure who it was. Venus, maybe?)

Rachel left behind all the stuff packed into the truck for now, instead striding through the open archway with her excited crowd of canines in hot pursuit. Lisa felt a little sheepish as she fell in with the pack behind Rachel’s confident gait.

An empty mall was always an awkward space, and even a handful of capes couldn’t make the long, barren hallways feel quite natural. The jungle of clay and ironwork growing around the tree of life was definitely a start, though. No Signal today, but the soft electronic ambiance did a lot to warm the atmosphere, too.

Neptune laid against a wall, casually dripping as she clicked away at a phone, cool as a cucumber.

Relaxed, amused. Is enjoying her texting. Is paying attention to Venus.

Venus was more lively. Nervous, too, if that jittering was anything to go by, wings glancing this way and that.

She sees with her wings and flies with her eyes. Watching. Watching for trouble. Neptune is looking to her for cues. Venus is keeping watch and Neptune is here to guard. They could take you.

Guard what, exactly?

Before Lisa could zero in on that thought, Venus made eye contact with Rachel. Surprisingly, the Devil brightened.

“You’re back!” she called, an innocent little smile pushing aside some of the tension.

Rachel, of course, was having none of it. “We’re moving in,” she announced. “Where do we put our shit?”

Venus blinked.

Neptune flipped her phone shut, craned her head away from the wall. “Y’know, we have a strict no-villainy policy here at Eden Acres,” she drawled, the usual smirk rising to her face.

“Fuck off,” Rachel growled, fixing her eyes on the dribbling Devil.

Neptune went on as though she hadn’t spoken. “Fortunately, I don’t see any villains here, so that shouldn’t be a problem. Just try not to rob any banks while you’re here, ‘mkay?”

Their eyes stayed fixed, Rachel glaring and Neptune deliberately casual, for a good long few seconds.

“Um, we have some apartments ready on the second floor? Take the ramp on your right,” Venus helpfully added, gesturing with her wings towards the corridor in question, ramp receding into the distance before curling around and out of sight. (Wait, how did that even fit? More eldritch geometry?) “We don’t really have a kennel or anything like that, but I’m sure I can put something together!”

At that, Rachel finally bit out a grunt and stalked off. With a whistled command, a pack of yapping dogs followed, racing past Lisa and leaving her in awkward silence with the two Devils.

She cracked a smile. “So what’s behind the door?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Neptune purred, fixing Lisa with that smirk of hers in return.

“You’re hiding a Dallon family reunion in there,” she guessed.

Judging by the way Neptune coughed, Lisa was dead on the money.

“Hey!”

Venus drew Lisa’s gaze away. Her arms were crossed, her face set in a fierce frown. “If you’re just here to needle us, we can and will throw you out. If you want to know something, you can ask, like a normal person!”

Lisa blinked, took a step back.

Ah, right, this feeling. Guilt. How she didn’t miss it.

She threw up her hands. “Sorry. I just… sorry. Habit.”

“Better unlearn those habits if you want to hang out here, darling,” Neptune advised. Unlike Venus, she didn’t sound too mad. She was understanding, even, though Lisa wouldn’t go so far as to call it kind. “Why do you want to move in? Obviously everyone wants to hang out with us, but I want to hear it from you.”

Asking for vulnerability. Vulnerability leads to trust. Sincerity leads to compassion.

Lisa gulped, gathered her thoughts.

“... My boss wants dirt on you. If I don’t deliver, he’ll throw me in a cell. And… he might do that anyways after I give him what he wants. I wouldn’t put it past him.”

This, at least, softened Venus’s anger, and even Neptune seemed a little more sympathetic.

“No shit, sister? That’s some bullshit right there,” she mused.

“Do you know what he wants?” Venus asked, gentler this time.

“To get rid of you, one way or another. The boss has big plans about controlling the underworld in this city, and you get in the way of that. You disrupt the status quo, you act unpredictably, and he just can’t have that.”

Neptune rolled her eyes. “Goddddddd he sounds like a prick.”

Lisa smiled faintly. “You don’t know the half of it.”

“I can believe it. So this guy is gonna try and fuck with us, huh?” she drawled, though the conversationally snarky tone was in stark contrast to the seriousness burning in her eyes.

“One way or another,” Lisa agreed, “though I’m not sure exactly what his plans are. He’s still got a handful of capes on his payroll, sure, and a sizable contingent of mercenaries, but it’s his intel and influence that makes him really dangerous. Maybe he’d create a situation that forces the PRT to run you out of town? His power’s just the icing on the cake, really.”

Neptune blinked, then grinned, leaning in close in a manner that found Lisa scooting back just a little. “Oh, I’ve gotta hear this. They keep coming up with more and more bullshit capes, so I bet this’ll be real good. Spill, Leese.”

It was all she could do not to interrogate the many, many things wrong with what Neptune just said.

“Uh. Okay, so Coil’s power, as I understand it, is that he perceives two separate realities, two timelines, whatever. He can make different choices, leading to different outcomes. At any time, he can pick one of those timelines to be the one that actually happened, and the other one just never happened- but he still has any knowledge he gained from the dropped timeline. It’s got scary amounts of utility, if we’re being honest.”

Neptune hid her grin behind a hand. “Oh my satan that is so ridiculous. Like, I fought the Siberian, and this is more ridiculous than the Siberian, which was on a whole level of ridiculousness up there with Eidolon or Ziz, which-”

“Wait, back up, you fought the Siberian?”

“What can I say, sister? If you want to make a Riley omelet, you gotta break some Slaughterhouse Nine eggs.”

“Um, Siberian was weird, but this Coil guy raises much more interesting questions?” Venus piped up. (She even raised a hand like she was in a classroom, though she didn’t really wait to speak or anything.) “Like, he creates and destroys realities or something. There are so many existential implications to that! Even God can’t create universes on the fly!”

“I don’t know if it’s all that,” Lisa hedged. “If he was actually creating universes, you’d think he’d be able to do more with that than just change his personal choices?”

Neptune chuckled. “So what’s this fucker actually doing with his power, hotshot?”

That, Lisa thought, is a question I’ve wasted far too many nights on.

“My best guess? Precognition is a thing, even if nobody really knows how it works. Maybe he sees both ‘timelines’ with subconscious precognition and picks one before they’re even created. It could be some kind of Manton-effect limitation to keep his brain from overloading, I guess? Best I have right now, at least.”

“Soooo about where we started. No choice but to throw it on the ‘superpowers are bullshit’ pile and drink to forget.” Neptune made an exaggerated shrugging motion. “So, you gonna help us with whatever bullshit this Coil guy is going to try and pull?”

Lisa nodded, because the alternative would have made her feel like even more of a heel than before. And it wasn’t like she had anywhere to run.

“Lemme talk to the guests, then. See if they’re cool with you poking around.”

And with that, Neptune spun on the spot, a whirl of water splashing over Lisa’s face as the Devil strutted through one of the ex-storefronts with her head held high.

Lisa coughed up a few stray drops, squinted at the retreating figure.

Guests are recent, guests have reason to be concerned about strangers, about you in particular-

A flash of light stabbed into her eyes, ruining her sight and leaving her seeing spots. Venus, off to her side, going off like a professional grade camera.

“Hey-”

Venus cut her off with a giggle. “I know that look. No staring at Nep’s butt without my permission!”

“I, buh, what.”

Lisa’s face burned.

Venus rested her cheeks in her palms, a cherubic little smile of mischief painted on her face.

“I-i wasn’t looking at her ass, I was just… uh…”

Trying to snoop with her power. Oops.

“You really are nosy,” Venus teased. “But if it ends up like this every time, I don’t mind. You’re cute when you’re flustered.”

Lisa should have known better than to show a reaction, but whatever Venus saw on her face only encouraged her. Grah.

She glanced aside, breaking eye contact with the myriad gaze. In doing so, her vision naturally swept over the mall again, the warm rivers of life pushing up beneath the floor tiles, the vines of living clay tangled with swirling ironwork, the little cozy rooms with gently glowing floors and not-quite-Euclidean dimensions.

“You put a lot of work into this place,” she observed, if only to redirect the conversation from the previous awkwardness.

Venus smiled, a slightly less teasing smile when Lisa cared to look back at it. “I did. Riley and Jupes helped a bunch, but still! There’s still a lot I’m figuring out. I’ve made shelters before, played with space and angles too, but something like this is new to me, you know? But that makes it more exciting!”

Lisa nodded. “What are you trying to do here, then? It’s obviously bigger than just a place to live…”

“It’d be a shame to waste all this space, right? That’s why I wanted this place to begin with, when we decided we ought to have a place to live if we were going to stay here longer than a couple of days. Well, Jupiter was fine with whatever was comfortable and didn’t displace other people, and Neptune had scoped out what used to be a police station before Leviathan, because, and I quote, ‘fuck the police.’”

Even Lisa couldn’t help but smile at that.

“When I looked here, I saw potential, you know? Not just for us, but for anyone else who was willing to come. Building a better world where the old world had fallen…”

Venus drifted off, eyes slowly turning to the open ceiling and the sun shining down.

“...I hope it goes well,” Lisa offered.

“I appreciate it,” Venus murmured. “Feel free to pitch in, you know? We could always use another pair of hands.”

Lisa allowed herself a tiny smirk. “Are you saying Jupiter doesn’t have enough hands for everything?”

Venus flushed. “Yes. No. Maybe. Don’t tell her I said that, okay?”

“I won’t.” After all, that would remove her ability to tease Venus with the possibility.

Any further conversation was occluded as Neptune took that moment to emerge from the archway, fixing Lisa with the most serious look she could muster. It wasn’t very serious. Definitely a bit of a smirk there.

“You’re clear, Lisa. Amy and Carol and Riley and Jupiter are there, go talk to ‘em. Just remember, no needling. I told Jupes to punch you right in the kisser if you start talking shit.”

“W-well then.”

She had never in her life felt so called out as she felt right now.

---

As it turned out, Amy and Carol were indeed Amy and Carol Dallon.

Lisa had figured as much, but that didn’t make it more comfortable when she saw what had happened to them.

Carol Dallon, Brandish, looked tired. Maybe it was the stitches scrawled across her body, or the discolored patches of flesh all over, or the hastily cobbled together clothing of silk and leaves that made a valiant attempt to resemble her costume while actually being basically a casual dress. Or maybe it was just the weight in her eyes as she regarded Lisa, cool and calm and professional but so very, very weary.

Injuries healed by Bonesaw. Artificial flesh created from her body. Something big has happened to her, something she’s still coming to terms with-

Panacea, Amy, was a completely different story. She didn’t have clothes at all, save for her own body - or bodies, rather. The brunette was sitting across from her mother, but it would be more accurate to say she was sitting in a pile of her own bodies. Hands covering her modesty, hands holding her up at the rear, bodies sprawled around her in abstract compositions, all of them flowing together, all of them connected. A half-dozen eyes glared weakly at Lisa, though it softened quickly as their gazes held.

“The garden of flesh,” the whispers suggested. “The garden of desire.”

Riley was there too, sitting with them, while Jupiter half-stood, half-floated nearby. All four of them had little earthenware mugs, Lisa noted. Riley fidgeted with hers. Carol’s mug sat at the table in front of her, gently steaming into the air. Jupiter’s floated somewhere in the storm of hands, warming her face. Amy sipped at hers with a spare mouth when she thought Lisa wasn’t looking, promptly flushing and hiding it away when she realized Lisa was looking.

“Hey, bank robber,” she grumbled.

“Tattletale,” Carol murmured, crisp and professional.

Lisa swallowed, then nodded. “That’s me. I assume Neptune got you up to speed?”

Carol folded her hands. “You raised concerns that your employer would somehow manipulate the PRT into aggressive action. What resources would he have to accomplish this?”

“He has people within the PRT. Director Piggot’s safe, and I want to say that the heroes themselves are clean. But he’s got a lot of people in the squads who he can burn in a pinch. And a scary amount of information; I think he might actually work for the PRT himself in some capacity?”

“You think he could manufacture an incident.”

“Absolutely.”

Carol shook her head. “Things are tense enough here already. Director Piggot, personally, asked for Amy to go over Riley’s work, and…”

“Hey, about that, maybe we can stop with this weird relaying-things-through-you arrangement? Y’know, when we get out of here,” Amy cut in.

Carol blinked as she turned to her. “That… yes, yes we can do that,” she murmured, almost sounding surprised by her own response. “I’ll make sure you have all the contact information you need. Just… please still talk to me about anything big, okay? For your mother’s sake.”’

Their eyes didn’t quite meet, but something still passed between them before Amy replied.

“I guess I can live with that.”

Lisa took that moment to raise the obvious question. “So, you’re a… devil now?”

“Fuck if I know,” Amy grumbled. “That’s what they tell me. I don’t really feel it myself. I just feel like… like me, I guess? And that’s way scarier than any theological bullshit anyway.”

Lisa nodded.

Yeah. It was.

“Well, as fascinating as this is, I assume you didn’t invite me here just to gawk.”

Carol cleared her throat. “I was hoping you could help us plan. The PRT will be sending a representative in about two hours.”

“Two hours twenty-two minutes,” Riley helpfully clarified.

“About two hours,” Carol repeated. “And I would rather like a third perspective on how to convey the gravity of the situation without my daughter ending up in solitary confinement. Not to mention that Eden,” she nodded to Jupiter, who nodded back, “obviously have their own interests to consider.”

“Brandish, I’m psychic, not Accord.”

“Tattletale,” Carol said dryly, “if you were psychic, you wouldn’t be robbing banks like a common criminal.”

Lisa winced. Amy smirked.

Carol ignored them both. “Here’s what I had in mind…”

Notes:

I just want to address real life for a moment. It’s a little belated, but hey, this is still going on, and for a lot of people it’s been going on for decades, if not centuries. The world, and certainly the United States where I live, is in rough shape now. And really, it has been for a while. Nonetheless, a lot of things in this fanfic have become much more relevant to our current moment than I’d like. If you’ve read this far, I’m assuming you don’t mind some Overt Politics, so here we go:

Accepting that our differences don’t make us monsters is just one part of liberation. The next part is realizing how much we have in common, that we all need food and water and shelter and love and care and dignity. The next part is realizing who and what denies those things when we need them most. (hint: they have a lot of money and they’re not the Jews, I will sic a Golem on you I swear to god.)

Also all cops are bastards, black lives matter, this story was probably written on stolen land but I don’t actually know, no justice no peace, fascism is bad actually, et cetera.

And also got me thinking again: is Neptune black? Probably not, right? but her portraits do have notably darker skin than those of Jupiter and Venus and I feel like that still plays into her character or internal arc where the world gets pissy at her for not letting it walk over her, and so she gets mad at the world and spits out bile… or maybe she’s just tanned, who knows, call me out if this is racist bullshit. Also feel free to provide your thoughts as long as they aren’t racist bullshit.

Chapter 23: ()

Amy Dallon doesn’t feel like the Devil.

She doesn’t feel like Panacea, either. She just feels like Amy. It’s the most terrifying and thrilling thing she’s ever felt.

Even Tattletale pointing out that people might start asking her to give them powers barely qualifies as a distant second, right now.

She blooms as much as moves, wilts as much as walks. Flesh growing and shrinking, her body flowing from one position into the next.

There’s no clear boundary; she’s there one moment, here the next. The border of her skin barely feels real, and a dim awareness of her own body down to individual strands of muscle flashes through her mind with every step. The separation between Amy and not-Amy is tenuous, at best.

“Sorry for killing the mood,” Riley mumbles.

Carol waves it away, Lisa raises an eyebrow, Jupiter offers a shoulder rub, and Amy… Amy can’t bring herself to care.

She’s still trying to work through being told that having fucked-up desires is perfectly normal. That her actions define her, not her desires or her parentage or any of that. Compared to that, anything Bonesaw-related is basically just a sideshow.

“It’s no big deal,” Lisa agrees, intentionally or otherwise.

Amy is more than happy to change the subject. She’s had enough of the mortifying ordeal of being known for one day.

Amy is happy enough that Carol is listening to her, really.

“I should probably check on Rachel. Wasn’t Venus doing something with her?”

Rachel? Oh, right. Bitch. Giant terrormonster dogs. Not a great memory, all things considered. Not great memories, plural.

On the other hand, she’s out of cider. And she’s getting real sore sitting in one place for this long.

“Hey, mom. You good to walk?”

“I believe so. Jupiter, could you give me a hand?”

Neptune rolls her eyes. Jupiter, obviously, has no shortage of hands.

Riley excuses herself to work on growing something or other. That leaves the four of them to shamble out of the room and into the atrium.

“They’re on the second floor,” Jupiter helpfully points out. “Take the ramp to your left.”

Lisa glances up, along the trunk of the tree of life.

Amy hears the muffled coos and little yaps, echoing down from above.

Can she just…?

She can.

Amy reaches up, and grows, and grows, until she can see over the railing, and roots herself in the second floor instead.

“That works too,” Jupiter muses.

“Who’s a good boy? Who’s a good boy?”

Venus lays amidst a crowd of canines, reaching up to a particular dog’s forehead and giving him a thorough scruffing. The rest of them swarm around her, yapping and wagging their tails, some of them nuzzling into Venus’s feathers while others gleefully chase wiggling wings and darting eyes.

Bitch - Rachel? - stands amidst the pile, staring at Venus in what can only be described as bewilderment. She’s very butch, muscled and lean. Blocky face, dirty hair. Shirtless. A rolled-up sleeping bag held over her shoulder as she stares.

Amy stares at them both.

Finally, Bitch speaks, almost haltingly. “You’re spoiling them.”

“Oh.”

Venus blinks, retreating her wings and slowly pulling herself up with an apologetic gaze towards her canine companions, who for their part take it with only a handful of whines and grumbles as they nuzzle into her retreating form.

Then Bitch turns her attention to the flesh garden at the edge of the corridor.

She squints.

Amy backs up, just a little.

Bitch glares. “The hell you want?”

She manages not to stutter.

Even after everything, Rachel’s still kind of scary. We’re all a little scared of Rachel. We probably shouldn’t be, so that’s on us.

“Your teammate wanted to check on you. I took a shortcut.”

“Who are you again?”

“Amy Dallon. Your teammate held me at knifepoint, remember? It was kind of a big deal.”

Her eyes narrow, but when she sees no signs of lies, she relaxes a bit.

“Don’t fuck with my dogs.”

“I wasn’t planning on it.”

At that moment, Lisa pops her head around the corner. Jupiter and Carol follow shortly thereafter, carefully making their way along together.

This only seems to make Rachel more annoyed. “I don’t need more people getting in the way. Venus said she’d make a kennel or whatever and she’s been playing with my dogs instead and that’s bad enough.”

Though her face softens when she glances back at Venus, smiling sheepishly even as the crowd of dogs slowly lose interest and begin to wander around to the other people, bumping into Jupiter’s eager hands, sniffing curiously at Amy and Carol, some of them shyly slinking back to their master.

“Sorry. You said I could, if they didn’t mind.”

Rachel glances aside, unable to quite meet her earnest eyes. “Guess I did,” she finally mumbles. “Can you do the thing now?”

“Yeah, yeah. Yeah, I can.” Venus nods, more to herself than anyone else. “I could use some help, though. We should bring this up to the roof, if you’re all okay with that?”

They are, in spite of everyone else’s grumbling. Especially Rachel, who is not happy that they have to go up an actual flight of stairs. No reality-defying ramp this time. Venus says she’ll work on it. Rachel can’t argue with the need for natural light and a large outdoor area.

The roof’s seen better days, but it’s seen much worse days too. It’s not falling down, tree-shaped hole in the center notwithstanding..

Amy can almost reach out and touch it from the steel-lined edge.

So she does.

It flows into her mind, and she flows into it just as naturally. It’s part of the world, just like she is.

“Oh, that’s a great idea! Amy, could you bring that over here? Maybe grow a ramp for us and the dogs?”

Can she? Yes. The clay practically leaps to her command, growing and warping with the eagerness of an affectionate puppy. It’s full of potential, and she’s full of desire. It’s honestly scary how easy it is.

Will she?

We all watch her for a moment.

Carol gives her a nod.

Yes, she decides, she will.

Leaves and branches erupt from the tree of life and swarm into the roof, wrapping around sagging columns and bolstering them with new bracing and fresh trunks. They swirl around the tree, forming a gentle slope of precarious branches and shivering tufts of green.

Carol points out that it should probably at least meet ADA standards if it’s going to be how excited dogs get up and down from the rooftop.

We have no choice but to agree with her, for both legal and practical reasons.

Jupiter and Venus enlist Neptune’s help in widening the space so that a properly sized walkway can fit.

The rest of us look away, except for Lisa, who stares to the point that Jupes has to put a hand over her face before her eyes start bleeding.

She’s still mumbling about how belief warps spacetime as much as gravity does, though. Venus offers to talk about it later.

The kaleidoscope is beautiful.

Carol helps. Her bone-lights become railings and stringers, branches and leaves twisting around the glowing spears as Jupiter wrangles them into place.

Rachel tests the leafy footing, gingerly grabs a rail of hard light. When it doesn’t burn her, she stomps down the ramp, and returns with her pack, eager and yapping.

Amy is already growing more. She can’t help herself. Making life, making growth is so instinctive, so wondrous.

Venus catches the wind, borrows handfuls of grass seeds from the sky. Clay soil breaks down into soft dirt. Riley suggests mulch, and Amy donates a few limbs; she’s already lost dozens up in the tree, and she doesn’t mind. It doesn’t really hurt, not when the garden grows back freely. Pasture spreads across the roof with the help of bone fertilizer and Neptune’s soothing water and Venus’s comforting light and Amy’s own power, nudging the grass to spread and thrive, different species mingling across the concrete.

Rachel insists that she have a place to sleep up here, the better to be with her dogs. Venus obliges. It’s rougher than the mall’s interior, heavy and natural and overgrown rather than airy and cultivated, but she still tries to work in the same themes, the same wonders.

Amy pulls down a branch from the ceiling and curls it lovingly around a light source that is definitely a magical orb of Venus’s light but can somehow be turned on and off with an ordinary lightswitch. Everyone approves.

Rachel drags the last of her stuff up here, with Jupiter’s help of course, and collapses in the freshly grown chair, dripping with sweat and exertion. While some of her animal companions are exploring their new homes, others are content to lavish her with affection, curled up all around her.

She opens one eye and looks at Amy, who is definitely staring at her.

“So do you wanna make out or not?”

As it turns out, there is one way to make Amy shrink back into a single body: mortal embarrassment.

“Buh?”

“You obviously want to.”

Amy sputters. “J-just because you have nice abs that doesn’t mean we should-!”

Lisa is pretending not to laugh. Amy realizes her mom is right there, watching, and momentarily melts into a literal puddle of flesh before snapping back into shape, red as a beet.

The rest of us choose to give them a little space.

“People are so fucking bad at sex, always dancing around it and stuff. You’re into me.”

“I-i am literally a garden of flesh though even if I’m into you there’s no way you’re into me?”

Rachel fixes poor Amy with an utterly serious stare.

“U-um????”

“Amy, you have as many fucking lips and fingers as you want. Anyone who’s not into that is a coward.”

She looks like she’s about to faint on the spot. Or explode and set everything on fire. Maybe both at once.

“UMMMMM?!?”

Lisa smiles. “You see what I have to deal with?”

Carol just shakes her head. “I… honestly cannot say I saw this day coming.”

“Can anyone? Could any of us?”

Lisa gestures expansively around them, giving Amy an excuse to tear her eyes away from Rachel and towards everything else.

Hedges line the roof, whistling in the wind, while grasses and bushes and flowers race across it, drowning what had been a dark, blank surface in curtains of green and gold. The great tree rises up before her, leaves shivering in the wind. Branches curl over and around, casting shifting shadows as they reach back into the roof to form the kennel and shelter that she’s currently taken root in.

It’s so much more than a rooftop garden. It’s the kind of place she’s only seen in her dreams; a tiny slice of paradise.

And… she made this happen, along with the others. It’s a heady feeling.

In the quiet, a phone buzzes.

It’s Carol’s. She picks it out of her bag with a frown, while the others stand up just a little stiffer.

“Alright. Enough fun for today.” Carol stands, her expression shifting into a professional frown. “She’s coming in 15 minutes.”

Notes:

we now return to your regularly scheduled author’s notes, all further political content will be contained to the actual story, thank you for your patience

Chapter 24: ()

Notes:

Contains body horror, body joy, and Nazi shit

The negotiations go so poorly that the bomb going off is an improvement.

Lisa sees it first. Not because she’s using her power, focused as she is on the Director and Dragon. And even if she did, what would she see? The officer doesn’t know what’s been slipped into his pack, and Lisa doesn’t know enough about his gear to notice any difference in weight distribution or volume. No, it’s because of the whispers, or the words, as four letters slam themselves into her vision, block text in the air screaming silently in her face and amplifying her own instinctive scream:

“BOMB!”

When the Thinker screams and throws herself under a table, you don’t tend to second guess her.

Unfortunately for everyone, hitting the deck does them no good. The blast that goes off a full second later isn’t a wave of pressure but a weaponization of space itself, an explosion of twisting reality that washes out at something like the speed of light. It takes less than a millisecond for the device to do its infernal work and tear itself apart. 

The officer that unknowingly carried the bomb is reduced to twisting pink strands the consistency of taffy, a fine red mist exploding around him as the pressures involved wring his remains dry before they hit the ground.

The entire room warps and twists, the air shaking in subtle ways. But the effect is focused on people. Bones warp and break, muscles fray, nerves snap. The officer nearest him convulses and collapses, her body pulling in a hundred directions that cause a hundred fractures and then a hundred more for good measure. Another seems to explode inside his armor, flesh flowing out through every crack and joint in a hazy, undefined mass, choking and burbling the only sounds audible from within.

The Director bites straight through her teeth as her body comes apart under the stress, organs stretched to the breaking point and bruising covering her body as blood vessels burst. Above her, the Dragonsuit trying to shield her twists and warps, affected by the bomb through some odd combination of interactions - the mechanical beast sparking and grinding, its insides dragged out, silicon and metal anatomy that bleeds lubricant and fuel.

Across the negotiating table, Carol is a rock, a sphere of invincible light at the speed of thought. But she can still feel the pull of the bomb as it twists the world out from under her, trying to tear those wounds apart that had been so painstakingly shut.

Lisa’s mouth tears open, her smile turned slit as blood spills from her jaws. Her eyes threaten to burst out of their sockets, out of her convulsing body, and the words spill out too, strangled croaks that might be screams, the whispers raging around her in an avalanche of speech that even the rest of us can hear, crashing down around her and battering the already ruined terrain.

The wave of twisting space washes over Amy and mangles her bodies beyond recognition. She screams in torture for a second, and then screams a little more before realizing that nothing hurts, even if she’s several times the women she was a second ago.

Rachel tries to shield her dogs, despite their panic - to no avail. The blast goes straight through her, after all. The smallest one at least dies instantly from a snapped neck. The rest retch and stumble, their organs twisted like the Director’s, yowls of pain muffled by warped lungs.

Neptune barely seems to notice, the water wrapped around her girlfriends and trying to shield them - again, to little effect. Venus screams a brilliant cry, her body twisted at angles too sharp even for her. Jupiter’s hands writhe, misshapen and swollen, a million injuries that could only happen to her spread across her countless limbs.

Even Riley grunts as her malleable form warps and twists, bent out of her chosen shape, forcing her to spend precious seconds pulling herself back together.

In some ways, the worst victim is the building itself. The horrible sound of splintering wood echoes, branches screaming as their forms twist. Clay stretches, strains, and snaps. The radio lets out a final electronic wail as it overloads, ears ringing with the sound of the devil herself burning with her children, before it finally falls silent.

Silence, then eruption. Eden is unused to being the literal target of a bombing, so we can forgive the girls of Group West for fucking screaming their heads off (or in Neptune’s case mostly cursing and yelling insults at the sky), even as Riley tries to get them on track. Carol is instantly looking for more attackers, grabbing at her phone to make a call, any call. Emily can’t speak, and every movement is agony, but she still reaches for her radio to make her own calls, input her own codes. Rachel stares at the twisted form of Lisa, then at her burbling, choking dogs, and ends up grabbing one in each hand, shoving them at the mass of Amy.

“Heal!” she demands, and much to her own surprise, Amy finds that she doesn’t disagree with the notion. But there are so many people to heal. Who needs to be treated now, while they still have a chance, and who’s destined for the grave no matter how hard she tries? She’s familiar with the concept of triage.

She fucking hates it too, and decides then and there that just this once she’s going to save everyone.

“Shut up! I’ll fucking heal them, okay?!” Amy yells back in triplicate, surprising both Rachel and herself with the ferocity of her voice as she spills across the shattered plaza, surrounding the fallen in desperate embraces as she pours herself and her power - no, they’re one and the same now. She pours herself into the dogs. Into Lisa. Into Jupiter, Venus. Rachel. The PRT officers, at the other end of the room. The Director. Even Carol, despite her mother’s protests that she’s fine . Which she mostly is, but Amy’s not going to have her emotional catharsis taken away from her on the same fucking day she reconciles, so no one can stop her from worrying a little too much.

Neptune waves her off. “I’ll be fine, just, HRK, let me - “ she coughs up what can only be described as a hairball of twisted space, and Amy rolls sixteen eyes and moves on. Riley, for her part, is already pulling and setting Venus’s wings back into place with three hands and injecting Satan-knows-what-kind-of healing clay into Jupiter with seven more.

Even with the power of the devil, Amy can’t quite save everyone. Miracles can only go so far. But she saves everyone who isn’t already dead, and that alone is a miracle and a half.

And not a moment too soon - it’s just as the Director wrenches herself from Amy’s healing grasp and pulls up her radio for real this time that a star rockets into view and a twisting helix of force and light slams into the roof of the once-mall, sending a huge mass of clay and concrete down into the floor slab, a few pieces nearly splattering the newly healed into so much paste before being caught by Jupiter’s still-twitching hands.

“FUCK OFF!” someone screams. Amy blinks, realizes that it’s her, and decides that she’s better off making every insulting gesture she can think of. Uses several dozen hands. 

All she gets for her trouble  is Purity firing another beam, and this one is accompanied by the sound of gunfire and a roaring mob, the director’s radio crackling while Jupiter shoves blocks and pillars and brick and anything she can think of to try and support the crumbling Eden, weaving her hands past a cascade of terrified dogs as they flee the rooftop garden and race towards their mistress, who struggles to calm them all down.

“The remaining capes of the Empire are all here,” Emily says, her voice ringing over the din with an energy born of Amy’s ‘enthusiastic’ healing. “And probably every fascist they could find on short notice.”

“YOU MAY DEFILE OUR CHILDREN, BUT YOU WILL NEVER DEFILE OUR SPIRIT! WE WILL CLEANSE THE PREDATORS AND THOSE WHO HOST THEM FROM OUR CITY!”

“SHUT UP!”

Amy has enough lungs to match a megaphone-enhanced Purity. Neptune gives her a thumbs up, which becomes a double thumbs up when Amy starts throwing bricks and rocks.

Lisa pulls herself to her feet, patting Amy on a shoulder, as her eyes look towards the sky, and damn the blinding radiance of the white supremacist nightlight. “No, this isn’t just the Empire,” she hisses. “Taking a Bakuda bomb from PRT storage. Managing to slip it into your personal escort. Coil’s behind this. I’m sure he’ll swoop in somehow after we’re all conveniently dead to take care of the fascists and ‘restore order’.”

“I don’t intend on dying today,” the Director growls, before barking a series of orders into her radio, too fast and full of jargon to follow. But we catch the words ‘use of force authorization’ more than once between deployment orders and demands for support from the national Protectorate.

Even Rachel gets the gist, and she can’t help but grin. At least in this exhilarating, beautiful and horrible moment, everyone is working together, and the might of the American state is for once going into crushing people who need to be crushed.

But courts and cops tomorrow won’t save us today if the distant screaming mob breaks through. Or if Purity manages to bring down the roof on us. Venus flits into the air, her light shielding our figures from the airborne assault, and light smashes into the glowing wings to little effect. But when Purity brushes off the counter-attack in much the same way, Lisa shakes her head.

“Purity’s made of light when her power is active, or close enough to it. The light at the end of the tunnel?” She cocks her head at the whisper, before dismissing it. “Venus! Come down here! You can’t hurt her!”

“But I really want to hurt her!” the wings whine.

“At least let someone else have a clear shot, then!”

This turns out to be the right call, as an officer steps up from behind Emily, her helmet shielding her from the worst of the light as she raises her handgun and unloads a magazine (or is it a clip?) towards the shining star, which jitters and jerks, unloading a wave of force a second later and sending them all scrambling for cover again - but something made of metal and plastic falls from her form.

“Hey! You got her stupid megaphone!” Amy cheers (once her ears stop bleeding), and grabs the woman’s hand for a highfive, too quickly for her to respond with anything beyond vague bemusement. 

“Less fooling around! Night and Fog just killed four of my best people,” Emily snaps, looking up from her crackling radio.

“Night’s the one who turns into a monster when she isn’t being looked at, right?” Venus huffs. “Just point me where to go, and I’ll look at her so hard.”

“Mom, let me do it. Amy’s got healing covered, and you should be here if everyone needs to fly out,” Riley counters, fiddling with a radio plugged into her ears like a stethoscope. “Besides, uhm… they sound kinda like me. Or what I think I sounded like. I want to try and help them, like you helped me.”

It’s touching, for a moment, before another rain of force, albeit made unsteady by counter-fire, sends everyone diving for fresh cover. Emily curses, and glares at the currently redheaded Tinker girl.

“Go, then. I’ll let you do whatever you want with the villains  if you can keep my men alive.”

She nods ever so slightly, all humor gone from her face.

“You know, you’re really aiming high for your first date!” Neptune teases, and then Riley throws an empty syringe at her and leaps up through the crumbling ceiling, pushing herself off of a stray hand and quickly vanishing over the side of the roof.

“Brandish.”

“Ma’am.”

“Support the officers by the main entrance. Keep back the mob.”

“Yes, ma’am!”

“I’ll go too!” Neptune cheers. “I’ve always wanted to scream at a hate mob!”

The ocean washes towards the entrance before Emily can say anything to stop her, and honestly she doesn’t even try. Even with her momentarily taking charge of us kids, she seems to recognize that Neptune is one girl she can’t hope to control. Carol follows in her wake, weary but determined.

Emily turns to Rachel, Amy and Lisa, the only parahumans not already scrambling. Rachel meets her eyes, and a chorus of every empowered dog growls gently behind her. None of us except maybe Lisa can see the bone-deep exhaustion that growing so many dogs so fast draws out of her, despite Amy’s best efforts to keep Rachel topped up (complicated by the fact that she’s also scrambling to keep the dogs that aren’t being empowered under control in their terror).

Once again, hostile action saves us, in the form of a green ghost hacking his way through the wall, then another, then another.

“Crusader!” Lisa shouts, despite wondering why the ghostly figures are stabbing and tearing their way through walls they should just be passing through - ah, of course. The roots. They don’t pass through living things, after all. 

Jupiter’s hands are occupied trying to hold up and repair their cover, and she’s obviously strained. Venus just flitted off into the air, trying to draw attention and fire away from her faltering girlfriend. But there’s still one very clear set of massive, living attack beasts ready to go…

The Director reaches the same conclusion, and gestures towards the encroaching wave of hazy forms. “Bitch,” she says, managing the uncouth cape name without a stumble. “Can your dogs take them out?”

“No fucking shit they can. Don’t let anyone hurt the rest of my dogs, or my Lisa,” Rachel growls, shoving the latter into Amy and ignoring both of their S-class blushes as she turns back to Crusader’s approaching minions, stalking forward and whipping her head from side to side. Her finger sweeps from ghost to ghost, an angry, angry grin plastering itself onto her face.

“KILL!”

Howls echo throughout the night, as the pack descends on the ghosts. It takes a bit for them to get used to how the ghosts pass through walls, but fortunately they don’t pass through the ground, at least not too far. And biting still works.

With the dogs holding off Crusader, and Venus holding off Purity, Jupiter has a second to rest, but only a second, before she starts frantically kneading and melding clay back into place, a hackjob to repair the tree of life, to restore its calming aura and its fruit of peace. Amy helps the clay flow, and throws in a few chunks of extra flesh, but neither of them can do anything for the radios, though Amy can at least patch up the delicate organs and tissues that Riley designed.

Emily pulls Lisa to her side, and promises that if Lisa doesn’t reveal any state secrets, she won’t be shot for knowing state secrets. If Lisa finds any state secrets, well, she doesn’t say them, and the Thinker takes the offer for what it is, throwing together words and string as she listens to Emily’s radio, occasionally adding her insights as to who might be a spy and who can be trusted.

Swimming through the air and fighting through Purity’s blasts while occasionally throwing out her own, Venus can see everything. The mob struggling to break through waves of containment foam and batons (and one invincible sphere of light) there, while just a block over, fascists with pistols trade live rounds with PRT officers. Neptune is in both places, pushing back the crowd with waves of thick liquid, draining the exhaustion from faltering paracops and pushing them back onto their feet where she can, and of course cackling and bantering the whole way, loud enough to be heard even from up here.

(It’s nice to have something to drown out Purity’s increasingly unhinged rantings. Otherwise she might have to listen . Purity accidentally gendering her correctly and then furiously trying to ‘correct’ herself was funny once, but after about seven times or so, it’s getting pretty old.)

There’s Miss Militia, arriving on the scene only to trade shots with an Empire cape she doesn’t recognize - some lady in a cowboy hat - with Armsmaster’s distinctive blue bike not far behind. And there’s Riley, hand to hand with Night and Fog, surrounded by winged eyes matching the ones growing all over the Tinker’s body, and scattered urns leaking thin blue mist - the former obviously to counter Night, while the latter must be somehow neutralizing Fog. Riley seems to be holding her own against the duo, but she isn’t able to get the upper hand - one of them throws a flashbang or smoke grenade whenever they’re in danger, giving Night a window to transform and tear into Riley, forcing her to back off and regenerate.

It looks like this is going to be a long, exhausting siege.

Then Venus spots something. A form concealed by baggy clothes, walking towards one of the few parts of the PRT perimeter not actively being encircled. They pull their hood off. A white boy with a chubby face and neat blonde hair, raising his hands as guns lift to point at his feet. Still swirling around Purity’s attacks, Venus nonetheless strains to see and hear the odd encounter.

Stop right there! This is a restricted area!

I know, sir. But I need to speak with Purity. Sir.

Speak with - who the hell are you?

I’m her stepson, sir. Theo Anders. I believe that I can talk her down, sir.

… what the hell. You got an ID, kid?

Yes sir.

Show it to Corporal Shields, here.

Venus flutters closer, pulling on her portable radio and listening close to the crystal diode. She can just about make out the boy’s soul in the waveform, and he seems pretty genuine, more than most anyone around her -

A helix of force smashes into her from behind, tearing through wings and eyes with contemptuous ease in stark contrast to how she had so easily absorbed Purity’s light before. Venus shrieks in pain, thrown downwards as her body bleeds and sizzles - sent into a tailspin and spiraling to Earth like Lucifer falling from heaven.

She crashes directly on top of the PRT’s blockade, sprawling across an armored car with an undignified squawk.

Purity hovers in the air, gathering force to finish the job even as guns train themselves skyward - and then, she catches the eyes of one Theo Anders, stepping between her and her victims.

If she has any doubt as to the boy standing in her way, it disappears when he shouts upwards to her, a wavering but grimly determined voice.

“Kayden!”

The monster that happens to be a human being becomes a human being that happens to be a monster in real time. She drops, not quite to street level but close enough that he can look up at her without straining his neck. The light this close is blinding, but he stares at her anyways.

“Theo,” she murmurs, so soft that Venus can barely hear it.

“Kayden. Stop. Please,” he insists. His eyes squeeze shut. He looks utterly terrified.

“You know that I can’t stop. That I’m doing this for Aster.”

“Stop, or… or y-you’ll never see her again.”

Purity falls to the street like a puppet with her strings cut. The light goes out, revealing a face - painfully ordinary above the white bodysuit. She’s not even blonde.

“What? I don’t… w-what? She… y-you…” She stammers for a moment, before regaining her composure, and a hint of her killing intent. “You’re lying! You couldn’t, you wouldn’t …”

“I did it as… as soon as you left. I had to.” His face creases, brows furrowed, and then his voice raises. Theo builds up energy, glaring right at her with all of his might, however meager and human. “I should have done it sooner, Kayden!”

“Theo! Theo?! What on earth are you saying, Theo? This is a lie, this is a trick, this has to be…”

“Kayden.” He closes his eyes again, breathes in hard. “You said you were going to be a hero. For a while, I at least thought you were trying. Then - when our identities were leaked. How many people did you kill just to keep Aster?"

His eyes open. 

"They were taking her away, yes. Away from Kaiser, from capes, from violence. Away from monsters like you. And don't tell me she wouldn't have been safe. She's not safe here, because you kept her here."

Purity just stares, tears clouding her eyes. Theo keeps talking, his own face going through a million warring emotions. 

The troopers surround them, but don't shoot. It’s quite polite of them.

"If you really cared about her, maybe you'd be willing to become a better person for her, Kayden. But you haven't. You've gotten worse! Running right back to Kaiser. Working with the Empire. And now this ridiculous war of yours. This is who you want her mother to be? This is how you want her to grow up? Do you really care about her at all, Kayden?"

"You don't believe that," Purity insists. One wonders who she's trying to convince.

"I do. You've had so many chances to change, and you've taken none of them. So… surrender, please. You and Aster are the only family I have left. Surrender and… and I’ll try to help you, Kayden, for whatever that’s worth.”

Purity stares into the silence, her lips working silently. Theo stares back, resignation and sadness on his face, but still managing to keep eye contact with her.

“...okay,” she finally breathes out, a tiny, defeated voice.

Theo gingerly approaches her, and offers her his hand. She takes it, and instantly bursts out sobbing.

The officers surround them.

Venus watches the family drama from the side of the car that had been her crash point. A trooper - not a full combat medic, but Venus insists she doesn’t need one - is listening if not watching, his gaze more focused on delicately wrapping bleeding wings and eyes with gauze, glowing clots welling up behind the fabric.

“He seems like a good kid,” he murmurs.

She nods. The officer doesn't realize half of what those two words mean to her, but Venus appreciates the gesture for what it is. 

And you know what? Theo does seem like a good kid, for better and for worse. Not much like any of the good kids she’s known, but then, none of the good kids she’s known have been the heirs to a fascist street gang. She would have noticed. 

With its figurehead gone, the mob loses steam. A gaggle of green ghosts try to take Purity back, but Venus manages to stare them into submission; Crusader flees into the city moments later. Neptune casually knocks huge swathes of the crowd off their feet with roaring waves, leaving them easy pickings for the PRT officers; others peel away in small groups or as individuals. Venus flutters back into the air, and sees Riley with Night and Fog… having tea? It’s an absurd sight, made terrifying by the sheer number of guns pointed at the three of them, and the fact that Night has a flashbang in her palm, Fog is barely solid enough to hold a teacup, and Riley currently has enough spikes on her to look more porcupine than girl. But somehow, whatever she’s doing works well enough that none of the guns go off.

Armsmaster and Miss Militia finally close in on the cowboy hat lady, only for said lady to point her revolver at her own head, scream “You’ll never take me alive!” and fire before anyone can stop her. But instead of blowing her brains out, she simply disappears, with the gun itself clattering to the ground in her wake. A moment later, Venus spots a figure in a familiar cowboy hat, falling out of the sky a good few miles away.

How absolutely bizarre. 

We meet up again, this time in one of Eden’s side rooms colonized by the PRT and Emily's orders into a temporary command center. It’s much less roomy than the main plaza, but now that we’re not all about to start throwing powers at each other, it does just fine. Besides, it has intact chairs and tables.

Not that it’s any less chaotic when Venus returns there. Lisa is in the center of the room, scrawling on anything she can get her hands on, drawing a conspiracy board of glass and wire with the help of a few stray hands. Who can be trusted, and who’s under the influence of the serpent? The whispers roll over her ears and spill across her eyes, letters dancing in her vision. If she lets herself go, she might become one of them, a specter of screaming secrets. Secrets to hurt and secrets to kill. 

Amy has healed everyone she can heal, and doesn’t feel like turning them into monsters of meat and mayhem, or creating monsters of meat and mayhem. Not even if they’d asked, which they don’t. But after that attack? She’s worked up a great desire to hit someone. To fight. Throwing insults and rocks at Purity just wasn’t enough, especially when she couldn’t hit her with any of them.

Victoria takes down criminals all the time and she seems to have her shit together.

Amy wants some of that. This Coil guy tried to kill the damn PRT director, that means he’s fair game, right? She’s familiar with the unwritten rules and how much they’re worth, of course, and right now it seems like they’re worth very very little, for better and for worse. Someone tried to kill her, her family, the strange devils that had turned her life upside down, even the Undersiders of all people. Tattletale - Lisa - can probably find that someone, point Amy like a gun, let her angry desire take care of the rest. And for once, she doesn’t want to hold back. To focus her anger, maybe, to deliver it precisely. But to stop it? Absolutely not.

So Amy pulls on her fuzzy awareness of her own bodies, sculpts herself for war. She’d probably ask Riley for advice, but miss golem bio-Tinker is still occupied with her little pet project Nazis, forcibly talking them through a tea party which she refuses to allow to end. If that monster can rehabilitate those monsters, more power to her, but Amy’s not touching that with a fifteen-foot pole. Instead she experiments on her own. The human clay of the renovated mall yields to her touch, and she twists it alongside her own skin and muscle and fat, trying different combinations of development pathways, heat and pressure and epigenetic impulses.

Venus, for her part, ends up drawn into a conversation across the room. Armsmaster - Colin, though we don’t know that - stares at a pile of broken robot parts, and occasionally glances at the bothersome Neptune next to him playing with a hairball of broken space. The Tinker was definitely charismatic before, but right now he seems to emit a baseline level of sullenness. Which is understandable, given what happened during the battle with Leviathan and the consequences he received, though only the PRT and maybe the Undersiders know the details. Right now, though, a mix of worry and fascination has swept him up and out of his funk.

“-you’re sure the bomb didn’t have a conventional component that did this?”

“Clear as crystal, halberd guy!”

“I felt the transmission,” Venus offers, flitting over as she stares at Armsmaster’s complex armor and the remains of Dragon’s mecha all in one wingbeat. “The… signal of the bomb, if you could call it that. It was tuned for living things, or the space they were in. It wasn’t… it wasn’t tuned for meat, I don’t think. This machine wasn’t meat, but it was definitely alive, you know? Which… would mean that we are looking at a corpse.”

He frowns at the thought. Colin’s not sure how much of her analysis he believes - he’s already gotten a sense of how much the devils talk in metaphor and abstraction - but the implications are still troubling.

The central display of the control center, however, has to be Emily herself, arguing animatedly with Rachel. Well, Rachel is certainly animated, as is Jupiter, representing the devils in this. Miss Militia - Hannah, though again we don’t know that - is there as well, her weapon a knife by her side, her eyes alert above the flag-patterned scarf, but she says little, not wanting to contradict her boss. Emily, by contrast, doesn’t seem to quite fit into her newly healed body, her movements and face a bit too stiff for a frame that’s clearly built for physical exertion.

“He hurt my team. He dies,” Rachel growls, staring the Director dead in the eye. “Don’t make it more complicated than it has to be.”

Director Piggot’s answering glare betrays little. “You need supervision. You need rules of engagement. You need a plan. You want to, what, take on a powerful Thinker in his own base, with access to a solid team of parahumans - suspected to be related to forty disappearances in New York, let’s not forget that - along with dozens of trained mercenaries with Tinkertech armaments and an unknown number of independents?”

Lisa takes that moment to barge into the frame. “Don’t forget Dinah Alcott! Wait, did I forget to tell you about Dinah Alcott? Kidnapped parahuman, sees future as percentages, drugged and coerced to use her power for Coil?” Her grin slips off her face for a moment as she glances to the side, listening to the whispers about a young eye, a prize - a prize put there by who? - and the thought starts to pound in her head -

“Lisa!” Rachel snaps, and it sounds almost like she’s about to say ‘Heel!’, but Lisa snaps back to her, grins again (a bit more shakily) and carries on before Rachel can say anything too mortifying.

“So! So the longer we wait, the more likely it is that he’ll see us coming. He might not even know his attack failed yet, for all we know. Unless any of you can block precognition?”

Armsmaster is sure he could figure something out, given time.  Venus, in particular, is extra sure she could figure something out.

But they don’t get a word in. Jupiter speaks up, crushing bricks into dust as her hands writhe with fury at the thought.

“We’ve never needed a plan before. Emotions and intimacy, they got us through Jack freakin’ Slash, didn’t they?”

“I prefer helping people myself, but we’re pretty good at murder too when there’s a need for it,” Venus adds.

A lot of people stare.

Venus stares back, her eyes lifting in a brightening smile, daring anyone to call her out. Neptune whistles approvingly.

The Director resists the urge to palm her face, but barely.

“You’re not lying to me. You’re lying to yourselves, which is worse.”

“We’ve got plenty of information and strong powers,” Tattletale insists. “You have a leaky organization, an anti-parahuman complex, and way too much red tape to do this at the speed it needs in order to catch Coil off guard.”

Emily smiles at that, catching Lisa off guard. “That is where you’re wrong. I can send Miss Militia or Armsmaster there at any time. All I need to wait on is an actual plan. Which, I would note, you have still not offered.”

There’s no room to speak the exact plan on screen anyways - that would doom it to failure. But Lisa finally relents enough to actually do the planning. Coil has not so much one base as a sprawling complex of bases, bunkers disguised as canceled Endbringer shelters, tunnels connecting to various points within and between artificial caverns, safehouses branching off from Brockton’s sewer system. A lot of that collapsed after Leviathan - but Lisa is pretty sure she knows where Dinah is being kept, along with the Travelers and his other key assets, centralized in a single secure location. There’s a self-destruct, of course, but he won’t use it if he can’t escape the effects. Sure, he can try it in one timeline and discard it if he can’t get out, but that ties up his power.

The point is, his base is surprisingly OSHA compliant, at least as far as means of egress are concerned. They have enough overwhelming force that they can probably take anything he throws in a straight fight - the concern is not that they can’t take him, but that they can’t stop him from fleeing, or from unveiling some complication.

So, they need to split up, surround the entrances. Lisa proposes pairing off, but the devils refuse any group smaller than three, on philosophical grounds. Two is a bad number for the devil, you see. It doesn’t take too much convincing to go to three, though.

First, they’ll pick up the rest of the Undersiders. Rachel is confident they’ll assist, or she’ll make them assist. Besides, they need to assure Taylor’s safety. They’re pretty sure that Brian, Aisha and Alex are at the hospital with Taylor right now. Neptune happens to know how to get there fast, so she’ll just bring the other devils and Amy there, put up some kind of temporary protection, and take off towards the designated entrance points.

Also, Amy is involved, we forgot to mention. And cheerfully talking about how she can put Taylor into a chrysalis, a cocoon, to keep her protected until Riley or Amy have a chance to give her the attention she needs. Fitting for Skitter the bug girl, and she’s pretty sure she can make it safe from anything short of another Bakuda bomb and who has those just lying around, anyway?

Carol stares blankly at her daughter. “Are you… sure?”

“Never surer! I don’t want to mess with her head anyways. She went down as a hero,” Amy rumbles.

And it is absolutely a rumble, because Amy has changed herself for war. The mass of humanity has gathered, compressed on itself, bulked up. The sprawling garden of flesh is contained within a shell of hard ceramic, an immense snail - bigger than an SUV but smaller than a box truck. Rather than a slithering foot below, however, the shell has wrapped around the bottom, giving the impression of a round-keeled sailing vessel, a ship of the line of porcelain armor, with a cute little fleshy tail sticking out the back for a rudder. Gunports on the side pop open occasionally, lifted by grasping hands to reveal the squirming mass of Amy at the warform’s core, little portholes pushed apart to let through tentacles. Some of the hatches are meant for people to climb inside and be healed. Two pairs near the top let out two sets of long, fleshy wings, stretched skin like a bat, painted black so as not to appear quite as gruesome. Though the wings are mostly cosmetic, as Amy floats on her own desire with the wings folded upright into dark sails for the moment. Not all of her is biology anymore, after all, and she’s quickly learning to make the most of it.

A massive woman emerges from the front of the shell, a single huge Amy who’d easily stand ten feet tall if she wasn’t all snailing ship below the waist. Porcelain plates whorl around her head in a massive, ornate helmet, and more of the plates roll over her flesh, overlapping scales of protection on a… shall we say, generous body. She grins beneath the bony protection, two smaller, modest arms crossed over her midsection or what passes for it while her massive main arms flex, showing off the vicious talons at the end, claws of bone and ceramic.

Victoria would love the helmet, Amy thinks, imagining herself with an immense sword, the picture of some monstrous knight. It’s a surprisingly nice thought, considering the context. It makes her feel less like an unattainable paragon to desperately desire and more like a person. A friend, a family member, just someone who she can appreciate in her life. Thinking about her in the context of complaining about how ‘chainmail’ is a totally ahistoric and made up term - and don’t get her started on ‘scale mail’ or ‘plate mail'! - feels grounding, in a sense. Amy really needs that.

Besides, if she wants carnal pleasure, she’s just found someone who definitely wants to fuck her, or at least kiss her. Sure, Rachel is a villain, but the sheer blandness with which she brought it up makes that feel almost irrelevant. Transactional, but in a good way - no attachments, no mess. 

All that said, the image guides Amy a bit, and as Carol looks her over, Amy thickens the fibers between the plates, shores up the vulnerable points with soft armor. She still doesn’t make a sword - she wouldn’t know how to use it! - but she does make something else knightly. Vines grow off her body and twist into ropes and cords before unraveling into fibers, winding back together into cloth and fabric. A white tabard rolls over her armor of plate and scale and shell and muscle, neatly belted in place and adorned with a familiar red cross.

She never did like it that much, did she? Amy thinks on it for a moment, then focuses, drawing out the pigments. The simple cross becomes asymmetric, with the three top points flowering outwards while the bottom point draws downwards, pulled into a long, sharp point. It could easily be a sword with an ornate crossguard and pommel, or perhaps just a more ornate cross you might find on a piece of heraldry. Besides being slightly kinder to the Geneva convention, it feels right. More martial.

Carol watches this all in silence, and then finally speaks. “That’s not what I’m worried about, Amy. Healing is one thing, but going out to fight?”

The healer-turned-crusader pauses, midway through unfurling flags over her shell (not unlike the ones Riley had unfurled over her spider, come to think of it).

She bites her lip, but then nods firmly.

Though she knows what she wants, she’s not sure how to actually say it for a good long moment.

“...A hot girl offered to have sex with me and I can’t let her get herself killed before I can take her up on that,” Amy finally manages. The nuclear blush appears for a moment, but she grins stupidly all the same. “I’ll figure it out one way or another.”

Rachel glares in affront, but doesn’t tell Amy off. Carol laughs, awkwardly but not unkindly. A few others offer little smiles.

But back to our plan. Take care of Taylor, pick up the other three Undersiders, then converge on Coil’s complex, in four groups. Rachel, Lisa, Amy. Jupiter, Venus, Neptune. Brian, Aisha, Alex. And ideally, Riley, Armsmaster, and Miss Militia.

(Incidentally, Riley has freed herself from her tea party, clearly by drugging the two Nazis somehow given they’re passed out cold. This seems pretty reasonable, given that they are Nazis.

Riley’s suggestion to resurrect the ‘corpse’ of Dragon’s mech sounds much less reasonable, even though she could probably do it. The philosophical implications of such an action would be a headache unto themselves. We have enough headaches already.)

The Director can provide others as backup if needed, but none of the girls are eager for more minders.

Four groups, four directions of attack. An encirclement. But they need to be able to communicate, to respond rapidly - if Coil draws his forces together, three won’t be enough to stop a breakout. PRT comms are almost certainly compromised. Venus offers a solution - not the girl’s old radios, but a new set, twelve personal communication devices. Entangled, bound together by a shared origin - the bones of a saint.

What?

She gestures to the remains of Dragon.

Oh. Fair enough. 

Venus extracts twelve pieces of metal and circuitry as delicately as if she really were handling the body of a saint. Armsmaster helps, but makes the mistake of commenting that it all seems a bit like magic.

She smiles, a little too smug for comfort. “Aren’t you just using a different kind of magic? Your powers hardly follow the laws of physics either.”

“It could be sufficiently advanced technology!” Riley pipes up. “But like, even if it is, knowing how a gun works doesn’t tell you how to fight a war, right? Though that’s not a good metaphor, passengers are more like soldiers than guns, they’ve got their own agency and clearly can change what power they give to fit the situation-”

Riley’s theories about powers as living things are, admittedly, interesting (even if he shudders to imagine how she figured them out, what with who she is), but they’d still imply a certain science, rules about biology or sociology or psychology rather than physics. When Venus talks about pieces of Dragon’s mech as ‘the bones of a saint’, it’s hard to see that as anything but mysticism. 

Then again, if they’ve gotten this far with mysticism, it clearly works for them. Maybe he should try it himself sometime?

While the Tinkers tinker, and the planners plan, Neptune works on her own magic, her own ritual. Though it’s a lot less mystical than Venus’s work. No double bubble toil and trouble for all that her handle is RestingWitchFace , no bones of steel and circuitry. There’s still symbolism, of course, but most of it is emotional, wrapped up in her mind and body. The feeling of movement, the weight of rushing water. A current, carrying things from here to there. A whirlpool gathers below her as she closes her eyes, focuses. Bearing burdens and poisons is something that comes easily to her, taking the slings and arrows of the world. Bearing herself from place to place, even splitting, everywhere like the all-consuming ocean? Very doable. Bearing people, now that’s trickier. She’s done it like a dozen times, but usually under duress. Calling it on command, it takes focus. Concentration.

Dancing in circles and chanting helps too, but that’s more a mnemonic than anything. Neptune stays still and focuses on her interiority.

A painful hour passes, maybe two. Rachel argues with everyone about where her dogs will go. Director Piggot needs to be escorted somewhere safe. Riley can drop the dogs that aren’t fighting off at a shelter on the way, or maybe hide them within Labby until the mission is done. As for the Director, the PRT HQ is hardly safe, but it has the Wards in it, or what’s left of them, and Carol can bring the remainder of New Wave there for the occasion. (Emily doesn’t tell them about Shadow Stalker ignoring her calls. Lisa notices the absence, but has bigger things to worry about for once.)

Venus passes out nine sacred ribs, pendants hanging tight around the neck with a curling earpiece on one side and a long, coiling antenna on another. They won’t last forever, but they’ll be good enough for this fight. She wants to return them to Dragon whenever the hero calls back in, anyway. 

Neptune builds her tunnel of water until it feels like holding back a tidal wave, and reflects that she may have overdone it.

But at least, they break. At last, five of them gather around the whirlpool. 

Rachel, her grin one of anger and promised violence, stroking and soothing a dog beside her. Her chance to kill the bastard who hurt her dogs, who hurt her friends. She wouldn’t miss it for the world.

Lisa, vibrating with energy, listening to whispers and her power, worried, scared, but putting on a brave face. For so long she’s been under the serpent’s boot. Is this a chance to finally be free?

Amy, pulsating with desire, a heady mixture of anxiety and excitement and rage and hope that leaves her head spinning and her heart pounding - only the need to help contain the pent up violence in almost a dozen dogs brimming with Rachel’s power in potential beneath the skin keeps her grounded. She’s looking forward to hitting something.

Venus, nervous excitement, fiddling with the holy bones of steel. A fidget, more than a Tinkering. The depths of an underground base don’t suit her at all, but she trusts her loved ones to make it safe for her, or at least bearable.

Jupiter, clenching and unclenching, her hands imagining all the things that this Coil has done to Dinah Alcott and to Lisa, all the things he would do to them and their friends. She’s not much of a killer, but against this monster? She’s starting to see the appeal.

And of course in the middle is Neptune, wiping off a smear of ink as she stands atop the maelstrom, a conductor and a magician at once bowing before her audience. 

“Neptune Limited Lines, at your service! Six passengers (plus many dogs) to Brockton General Hospital, in comfort and quality, faster than you can blink!”

Venus smiles. “You’re totally lying. Right?”

“Too late now!” she cackles. “Down we go, ladies!”

Venus and Jupiter descend into the swirling pool without a second thought. Lisa is ready to go, but she looks to Rachel for confirmation - and really seeing it, Rachel suddenly has second thoughts. Bad memories.

“I’m not gonna fuckin’ drown my dogs in there. We can walk.”

“This is the fastest way to get to Taylor,” Lisa quietly murmurs.

“... I can take care of them?” Amy offers quietly. “Put them inside my shell, keep them warm and dry. It won’t be that different from when you use your power on them.”

Rachel glares at Lisa, but quickly turns her eyes to Amy, instead. Amy, to her credit, holds her gaze.

“...Fine. Do it. Don’t make me regret it.”

Amy does as ordered, ever so gently leading the dogs into the shell with scratches and pets and little happy noises, marveling at the simple joy of their brains, before sealing them up in a cocoon of what might best be described as snuggling flesh. Deep breaths to pressurize and oxygenate the cocoon, plates and skin to seal it against the waves which might be gentle or might crush them.

Then she sails on into the storm, without hesitation. Rachel glances at Lisa, grabs her, and dives in after.

Neptune laughs, and pours herself through the whirlpool a moment later.

Notes:

Good heavens, look at the time! So, uh. Have a chapter. I promise we’re in the home stretch, and my plan is to have the story finished by the new year.

Chapter 25: (all)

Brockton Bay General Hospital is - or was, depending on how you look at it - not quite a riot of activity. Riots of activity were the days, maybe the week after Leviathan, when Brockton Bay was hanging on by a thread. This is more of a low simmer of activity, a new normal just shy of being an ongoing crisis.

Unless the malaria outbreak gets much worse. There’s maybe one mosquito net for every four people who need them, and with the sheer amount of flooding, the damn bugs are everywhere. If only there was a bug controlling cape who could exterminate them, right?

Danny Hebert is much too busy to think about the irony. There’s only so much energy he can expend on hospital and PRT bureaucracy, but if he stops acting now, he feels like he might collapse and never be able to get back up. So he racks up phone bills calling around the Dockworkers, Kurt and Lacey and all the rest. Most of the people he knows he at least knows where they are, right now, so he’s moved on to calling friends of friends, family from out of state, anyone he can beg or cajole to send support. Even Congressmen, for all the good it’ll do.

While he scurries around behind the scenes, Aisha Laborn is making herself visible. She doesn’t want to stray too far from her self-appointed task of watching over Taylor while Lisa and Rachel get themselves into trouble, not while Coil is up to no good. But at the same time, she can’t really just hover in front of her room. Alex and Brian are already taking care of that, she’d just draw attention. And besides, there are enough cops around that one of them might possibly stop something bad if it happened. Maybe.

So she installs herself in the lobby. A central place, to watch comings and goings. Besides, it lets her try something. Aisha levers herself up in the air, sets her own body still with an exertion of will. Decorated in scavenged clothing and a few stitches of her metallic hair to clean things up, she becomes the very picture of a medical witch, sitting side-saddle atop a… what’s it called, the staff with the snakes? That thing. Dressed at the intersection of ‘actual nurse uniform’ and ‘sexy nurse costume’, complete with a classic nurse cap set at a jaunty angle and framing her playful smile.

Sitting in the air, she draws attention, draws notice, occasionally lets herself move just enough to scare the shit out of people who get too handsy, and does her best to radiate the power of the Monument outwards. Remember helpful things, forget hurtful things. Good vibes? She tries to project good vibes. She has no idea if it works, but it can’t hurt.

Then a problem shows up.

The athletic, dark-skinned girl looks done as hell with this shit, but is still practically dragging along the red-headed white girl, who looks like she’s seen a ghost and is currently being dragged towards said ghost.

Their eyes meet Aisha’s. Well, the black girl’s eyes meet Aisha’s. The redhead is looking elsewhere.

These two feel familiar. Not her memory, but someone else’s. A bad, bad memory. Aisha doesn’t know all the details, but she knows the outline of it.

Her eyes narrow a fraction. To her credit, the other black girl meets her gaze without backing down.

Sophia Hess is mostly too done with this shit to be scared of an upjumped statue, even if said statue happens to be an infectious Breaker. She’s already a Breaker, what, is she going to become a double Breaker? That’s not a fucking thing. Besides, this is her best idea for getting Emma to shut the fuck up and get over herself after Sophia unwisely informed her what had happened to Hebert.

So the girl triggered. So what! Lots of people trigger and lots of people don’t. What matters is how you handle it. And Taylor apparently handled it by becoming a goddamn crazy bitch throwing herself at Leviathan with a spidersilk suit and a bunch of bugs. Good for her. Why Emma’s making such a big deal of it, Sophia can’t say. The girl’s obviously not alright, but what the hell is Sophia supposed to do about it? Therapy’s never worked for her anyway. This is her best bet. Maybe if Emma sees Taylor in the bed, she’ll chill out. Or at least stop screaming about how Taylor can’t be Skitter.

So, uh, Sophia just drags Emma right past Aisha after a long moment of awkward silence. Since there are PRT goons on the elevators, Sophia takes Emma up the stairs instead. This does involve a lot of bulling her way past people, but… Sophia isn’t awful at that, honestly. She’s visiting a friend. Why the stairs? Emma needs the exercise, which is true. At least she doesn’t have to drag Emma once they start climbing to the sixth floor.

By the end Emma’s too out of breath to babble. Sophia’s not exactly winded, but she moves on quickly enough that she doesn’t notice the statue following them up the stairs. Not that she would have turned back if Piggot herself was… okay, maybe if the Director was following her. But anything short of that, she wouldn’t care. She’s come this far, might as well see it through.

The two move quickly and purposefully, or at least Sophia does, since she knows where they’re keeping Skitter. Emma is still shaking a little, but she’s not babbling, and she keeps up, the pair weaving through the typical movements of nurses and orderlies, looking for all the world like they belong. Turns out that if you look like you have somewhere to be and don’t take any shit, you can get pretty far.

Far enough that she steps up to the door, the number jotted down in her memory, and throws the door open.

“See, Emma? She’s right fucking here, so-”

Sophia freezes.

Taylor Hebert is unconscious in the bed, that’s not surprising. But there’s a handsome boy sitting in a chair next to her, still holding her hand as his head whips to face her. And some pasty twink-ass fucker in a skirt next to him, but Sophia doesn’t really give a shit about them.

Because she recognizes this boy. The fucking boyfriend. The kiss, that rat’s smug little smile -

“You ,” Sophia growls.

“You,” he rumbles in return. “Get out.”

Emma stares into the open door, and starts to sob. For fuck’s sake!

“You’re the psycho bitch, right?” skirtfuck casually asks, looking vaguely amused, but more bored than anything. “Your girlfriend isn’t looking too hot, there. Gonna bite her tears off?”

“She’s not my-” Sophia starts, then clamps herself down.  Starting a fight in a hospital would be a stupid fucking idea. It’s hard to remember that when she’s so steaming mad, though.

The boy stands up suddenly, making his way towards the door. Suddenly he looks less like the useless piece of man meat being shown off by the rat and more like a thug in his own right - probably one of the Undersiders, she recognizes belatedly. No, almost certainly. This has to be Grue, it doesn’t fit any of the others, and the thought pisses her off even more, though she can’t quite hold it in her head - the villain who took a crossbow bolt from her and still wouldn’t fuck off is the same trophy boy Hebert was parading around?

Sophia steps in front of Emma, the redhead latching onto her as if on instinct. “Don’t touch her,” she warns.

She’s a bit caught off guard when girlyboy bursts out laughing .

Then Grue slams the door in her face.

Sophia blinks for a moment at the solid wood slab, then turns around. Emma is still there, brushing against her skin. Unfortunately, it seems like half the hospital has noticed their fight. A lot of people are staring at them… including one upjumped statue.

“What are you doing fucking with my brother, weirdo? Get the hell out,” Aisha huffs, glaring at the bitch who she just about remembers fucking with them.

“None of your business, statue freak,” Sophia growls, pulling Emma back from the brink as the redhead stares, listless. What’s in that girl’s head? She can only guess now. 

(she’s a cape? Taylor can’t be a cape. She can’t be, she’s supposed to be weak, the victim, the one I’m stronger than)

Aisha can practically feel the memory as she glances at the girl beside Sophia. Nose. Eye. Mouth… What the hell? She hasn’t felt someone else’s memory quite so vividly before. Is that why the redhead is so… everything she is right now?

For fuck’s sake, the girl is still crying. Quietly, but she’s still crying.

“Didn’t I hear something about your girlfriend? You really should take care of her. She looks like shit,” Aisha deadpans.

Sophia opens her mouth to make a familiar retort, realizes it’s familiar, and closes her mouth, settling for glaring death at Aisha. Emma pushes deeper into her arms, and Sophia looks a little awkward with the whole thing, but she doesn’t resist.

Aisha can at least respect that this girl doesn’t take any shit, even if she’s clearly also an asshole.

They glare at each other for a few more seconds before a commotion draws them away. A flood of water rushes out of the nearest bathroom, slipping under the closed door and rolling across the hospital tile before forming a whirlpool in the center of the hallway, a liquid portal to somewhere else. Somebody starts yelling. Several somebodies start yelling, in fact.

Before anyone can do anything major, though, a flurry of wings and eyes bursts out of the vortex, a storm of hands emerging moments later. “Excuse us! Coming through! Slippery when wet!” Venus hollers, eyes laughing but kind as she rolls away from the whirlpool, shakes herself dry like a dog.

The atmosphere in the hospital calms, but doesn’t exactly relax - probably because the two Devils don’t look exactly relaxed either, even if they’re known quantities. Sophia takes the opportunity to pull Emma away a bit, now that everyone is distracted. She gets distracted herself, however, as the next figure emerges from the whirlpool. At first it looks like some kind of cartoon pirate ship, maybe the size of a car and way too short for its width compared to what she’s seen in her history books and with an oversized… whatever the thing at the front is called. Figurehead! That’s right, figurehead. The tits on it definitely look like they were designed by sailors, though the four arms are weird and wait a minute that’s not a statue that’s a person. The shelled person-thing glances beneath her gigantic helmet-thing, taking a second to dry off the white cloth with the ornate red cross that passes for clothing - thankfully there seems to be armor made of more shell-bits underneath it protecting the naughty bits, that’d just be annoying otherwise.

“Whew. Don’t mind me, it’s just Amy. You all know me, right?” she says, and the familiar voice coming from an unfamiliar body strikes a chord. Aisha’s the first one to actually voice a response, though. Which is funny, because she’s not any more familiar with Panacea than Sophia is. Less familiar, all things considered. But Aisha cheats, drawing the memory from the collective unconscious, or something like that. Obviously you remember a celebrity, right?

“Damn, Dallon, you got a hella makeover,” Aisha marvels. Sophia has to agree - it’s one hell of a look, made even more impressive when she recognizes the dark, messy hair and freckles and confirms to her satisfaction that it really is Panacea of all people. Sure she always seemed kind of like a bitch, not that Sophia could blame her, but she also always seemed kind of like a pushover, especially compared to her sister. This Amy is also a bitch, but definitely less of a pushover, and contributes to Sophia’s decision to get out - there’s enough Devil bullshit going on already, more capes are not going to help.

“Yeah, yeah, soak it up. Talk to you in a second. The rest of you, don’t get too excited. I’m just passing through, alright? Maybe I’ll leave a bit of me behind, I don’t hate all of you, believe it or not. Except for you, Holly. Yeah! You! Get fucked! You’re always annoying and your taste in music is shit!”

Sophia almost gets to the stairs with Emma in tow, too, while Amy yells about whatever she’s yelling about. Then she glances back, and someone meets her gaze. A blonde behind Amy, looking like she’s coming apart at the seams, with whispers swirling around bottle-green eyes that meet hers. A hungry smile flashes onto her face for a second, but it falters under the sheer weight of words that even Sophia can see spinning around her.

(Not that she can hear or read them from this distance, but they say things like Violence is honest, or Uncomfortable with accusations of romantic affection. Wishes they were correct? or Two broken birds wrapped around each other, each breaking the other further with every kindness, or Distressed about a possibility; brought here to confirm a possibility; confirmation has not helped, or This is Emma Barnes and Sophia Hess. Emma is distressed that Taylor Hebert is a cape)

Then a rough voice barks “Heel!” and the whispers blank out, and Sophia glances to the woman behind the blonde, butch and blocky and snarling and for fuck’s sake that’s Hellhound . Hellhound recognizes her recognizing her, probably, and glares right at Sophia, her lips pulled tight. “Are you gonna try to fuck with us?”

“I’m just leaving,” Sophia huffs, creeping towards the stairs. “You got a problem with that?”

“Oh you have plenty of problems,” Tattletale starts, before wincing and shaking her head. “But we’re too busy to talk about them. Get a good therapist or something.”

“Sure, whatever,” Sophia deflects, having no intention of getting a therapist when they’ve always been shit. And Emma refused them before, after all. She ducks into the stairwell before Tattletale can call her out on her insincerity, and takes a moment to breathe, letting herself rest on the wall, Emma staring at her with listless and tear-stained eyes.

Shit, maybe she does need therapy. It’s not like anything else has worked. But if Emma won’t talk to Sophia, how the fuck is she going to get her to talk to some shrink? Double shit. This fucking sucks.

While Sophia does that, the Undersiders and Devils pile into Taylor’s room. It’s not really big enough for all of them; Jupiter has to stretch it out a little. The atmosphere’s still a little strained, and not just because of the size. Brian can’t help but look at Amy with a hint of resentment. Amy doesn’t blame him, but she still remembers all the shit the Undersiders have done to her and Victoria, and that’s not something that goes away just like that. She’s just been focusing on other things. Rachel just wants it all gotten over with.

Before the simmering tension can ignite, Venus passes three earpieces into three hands. Aisha takes hers without complaint, the circuitry nicely complementing her metal accents- there’s just a hint of the memory of where they came from, and it leaves her feeling intrigued and more than a little humbled. Alex stares at theirs bemusedly, not quite sure what’s going on here. Brian holds it for a moment, then looks up at her, demanding an explanation.

Venus isn’t bad at explanations. “This Coil person wants to kill you, and us. Mostly us, I think. So we’re going to take him down and you’re going to help! If you want, that is. This is a communicator, have fun with it. It can’t do everything our radios can, but it’ll work. Oh! We gave one to Armsmaster and Miss Militia. If you want more privacy, you can limit it to just the three of you, I think it should be pretty intuitive. A prayer might help!”

Okay, so maybe she rambles. Rachel looks unimpressed, as does Brian. Aisha laughs, not unkindly. Lisa takes some pity on the angel and fills the three Undersiders in on the plan, such as it is, sparing Venus from further awkwardness.

Alex knows they should be happy, getting rid of an asshole like Coil, even if he’s not as big an asshole as dear old dad. And they are, kind of. It’s a little spark of a feeling, but they focus on it, nurture it. Today Coil, tomorrow the world? Hmm. Maybe next week. They’ve changed a lot, but they’re still not eager to throw themselves into mortal danger all the time.

Brian doesn’t quite like it, but he recognizes that he doesn’t really have a choice. Besides, is he just going to let Aisha wade into there on her own? Absolutely not; the least he can do is put his own neck on the line.

Aisha doesn’t need to think about it too much. She’s heard plenty about Dinah, and fuck Coil. Besides, he’s like the last big villain in the city right now, right? Rendering the city effectively villain-free has got to be worth mucho cred. Wait, who the fuck says that ? She must be getting memory leakage or something. Maybe it’s the redhead’s fault. Annoying, but also, compared to all the other things she’s remembered that definitely weren’t her memories, it’s really not a big deal.

That just leaves the elephant, or rather snail-of-the-line in the room.

Amy explains the whole deal. There’s not much to explain. Brains are complicated and she doesn’t think she can heal Taylor tonight even if she wanted to, there isn’t enough time. Is Coil going to blow up the hospital or something to kill Taylor specifically? Possible, at this point. So, no taking chances. She’ll make a nice impenetrable cocoon for the bug girl, real quick. Normally it’d be tough to make, but she’s got infiniteish material to work with from her own body. And a similarly infinite amount of energy.

Alex in particular finds themself morbidly fascinated as Amy’s oh so carefully sculpted warform overflows with bodies and limbs, a sea of flesh delicately cradling Taylor as she lays a massive hand oh so delicately on the girl’s head.

And her narration starts with a frown.

She’d been looking away from the brain before, and now that she looks at it, it is absolutely not normal. The coronas, the extra brain structures that govern power use, are often hard to find. Taylor’s coronas are not hard to find because hers has tangled itself up with maybe half her brain and Amy swears, if she looks hard enough, that she can see it growing in real time. Or… trying to grow? Maybe she’s imagining it, but that little piece of neural matter seems to be alive, and to have some very strong feelings.

You know what? Fuck it, everything else is weird enough already, she’ll bite. The vibe she gets is frustration . Frustrated desire. There’s something there, and it wants to grow and change. And it can’t, because Taylor won’t wake up . The signals are firing, but they’re not getting through.

Amy’s heard about second triggers, but she’s never seen someone who’s had one, as far as she knows. Maybe this is what one would look like? The corona gemma, reconfiguring and swelling across the brain to handle altered powers. Except it’s frozen because of Taylor’s coma, and whatever is responsible for it is getting impatient. More and more energy is being poured in, energy primed to do something , presumably to make more extreme changes to Taylor’s power the second she wakes up?

Or so Amy thinks, so Amy finds herself babbling.

Lisa practically overflows with whispers just hearing about it, shards and queens and things she doesn’t understand and some things she’s not allowed to understand and some that she knows she’s not allowed to understand. Everyone else has their own opinions, their own fears and wonders and theories.

Rachel of all people decides to take it into her hands. Rachel, who isn’t sure when she decided that Lisa and Taylor were hers , as surely as any of her dogs. Rachel, who just wants to connect with people, who needs a human pack as surely as any dog needs a canine pack. Rachel, who doesn’t need her body to change because her body is fine, and whose power isn’t so bad, though she sometimes wishes she could fight instead of her dogs.  Rachel, who definitely can buy that powers have their own wants and needs - they’re way too specific to just be some natural thing, though she’s never worried about it too much because what’s the point?

Rachel, who grabbed Lisa’s whispers and brought them to heel, marches up to Taylor and gently pries off Amy’s massive claw, before digging her fingers into the dark-haired girl’s scalp, staring deeply at the comatose form of the one who had tried so hard to connect with her.

“Stop fucking with my Taylor. Wait until we fix her.”

She stares into Taylor’s brain until her power gets it. And much to Amy’s surprise, Taylor’s power seems to get it. Or maybe it’s all in Amy’s head, but still, it feels like the power calms down.

It’s good enough for Amy. She gives Rachel a nod, and once the girl is out of the danger zone, Amy’s bodies swarm onto Taylor, and begin to congeal, flesh pulling itself tight against flesh until muscle and fat becomes bone becomes a layer of mineralized shell, swirling patterns of arms and legs crystalized in shining white, with organs tucked in there to keep the girl in the cocoon healthy and well. That should last her… more than a few days. Probably a week. And she should be possible to extract even if Amy can’t get her out for some reason.

She turns away from the cocoon, and Jupiter takes a moment to scribble out some signage on the door, and on the surface of the cocoon. Then Amy nods.

“Right, that’s over with. Who’s up to beat the shit out of people?”

Notes:

Oops. Work has started back up, so things are going to be a lot slower than I’d hoped - but still, we’re at the home stretch!