A Darker Path [Worm Fanfic]

[Henri55]

In short, instead of being an "I Win" button, it's a "You Lose" button.

Click to shrink...

Please use that in the future if you ever plan on having TT or Contessa explain Taylor's power compared to PtV (probably only Contessa, since TT won't know about Cauldron and PtV). For some reason I really like it

 

[Galdric]

Ack When she's running a path, does it take things like security cameras/etc into account? So for example if she snipes someone while theyre asleep *cough* lung, kaiser, skidmark *cough*, would her power have give her the information needed to avoid leaving hairs/camera footage/etc behind or would it just go "shoot sniper rifle in x direction at 1am"?

Actually, as she has no more fucks to give, would she even care about leaving evidence behind? Or would she just say "well they can't hurt my dad if they're all dead"?

 

[Ack]

A Darker Path

Part Two: Win Stupid Prizes

[A/N: This chapter beta-read by Lady Columbine of Mystal.]



Sophia

She heard the broken, jagged sobbing before she saw Emma. That should've prepared her, but it didn't. When she pushed open the bathroom stall and saw the redhead hunched over the toilet, she knew it was bad. But when Emma turned her head and Sophia saw her blotched features and swollen eyes, the snot and vomit hanging in unsightly strings from her nose and mouth, that was when she understood just how bad it was.

"Jesus fuck, Emma." She tugged her friend away from the toilet and helped her to her feet. "What the fuck happened? Did she beat you up?" Any other day, there would've been no question of even suspecting Hebert of being able to give Emma a proper tuning up. But there was something about Hebert's new attitude, not to mention the ease with which she'd evaded Sophia's punch earlier, that raised questions.

Had something happened to Hebert over the Christmas break? Did she trigger with powers and join the Wards when I wasn't looking? It might explain her new physical capabilities, and the knowledge of what to say about Piggot. The other Wards had unmasked to her … but she'd never given permission to pass that knowledge on to anyone else. Least of all fucking Hebert.

No, there were too many holes in the story. Hebert was too much of a wimp to get powers, and Sophia had been in to the PRT building over Christmas. There'd been no announcement of a new Ward, and nothing new on the bulletin board except Vista's cutesy little cut-out snowflakes.

"No," mumbled Emma. "She knows 'bout the alley. About the ABB." At Sophia's urging, she began to splash water on her face, washing away the worst of the muck. "She threw it in my face. Told me I was weak." Her face twisted, and it looked like she was going to cry again.

"You're not weak," Sophia snapped, grabbing her by the shoulders and literally shaking her. "You're strong, dammit. A survivor. Like me."

The bathroom door banged open and Sophia tensed, turning that way. If this was Hebert coming back to pull more voodoo bullshit on Emma—seriously, she looked like she'd been run over by an eighteen-wheeler—then there would be words spoken. By 'words' she meant 'punches', and by 'spoken' she meant 'thrown'.

But it was only Madison, though she looked almost as rattled as Emma. Leaning against the wall, she fought for breath, her face chalk-white under her makeup.

"What happened to you?" demanded Sophia. "Where were you when Hebert was getting into Emma's head?"

"I was … I was right there," Madison wheezed. "When Emma ran away, I con-confronted Taylor." She drew in a shaky breath and looked like she was going to cry. "Oh, god. I shouldn't have."

"The fuck?" Sophia shook her head and glared at them both. "Did she pull some woo-woo bullshit out of your past as well, to fuck with your head?"

"No. No. No, no, she didn't." Madison shook her head. "She just … gave me a warning. A warning to give to everyone. You, me, Emma, everyone. We're on our last chance. If we keep going the way we are, she'll kill us."

Sophia stared at her, then burst out laughing. "Oh, bullshit. You actually bought that, from her? The little queef is bluffing. You know it, I know it, Emma knows it. What'd she do, wave a plastic knife or something at you?"

Madison shook her head again. "No, but she hit me right about here so I could hardly breathe, then told me that she could've hit me just a bit harder so I'd suffocate, all while she was eating her lunch. Like it didn't matter to her if I lived or died. Then she hit me again so I could breathe properly, and said something about how we're on our second strike. Third strike, we're out."

It all came out at once, the words tumbling over themselves. By the time Madison squeaked the last word out, she was breathless. She stared at Sophia, as though silently asking for assistance.

"What the hell is wrong with you two?" Sophia shook her head. "You're better than this. Smarter. Tougher. Hebert couldn't push you around like this on her best day." Again, she had a moment of doubt. Something was wrong if Emma and Madison couldn't keep Hebert in her place.

Once more, she shook the feeling off. They'd been easing off on Hebert, prepping for the locker prank, and she'd managed to grow a semblance of a spine over Christmas. That's gotta be it.

Hebert didn't get to stand up for herself. She didn't deserve it. As far as Sophia was concerned, Hebert's correct place was at the bottom of the pecking order, far away from anyone who actually mattered.

Sophia didn't even consider the busted-open lockers to be a problem. Winslow lockers were shit, and everyone knew it. As for the Miss Piggy reference … I must have misheard her, that's all. She's not a Ward.

Which made it even more irritating. She'd had the perfect opportunity to smack that irritating expression across to the other side of Hebert's face, and she'd missed out. That was an oversight she was going to have to remedy, right the fuck now.

"Madison, take care of Emma," she said briskly. "I'm going to go find Hebert, and explain to her why she doesn't pull this shit."

"What? No!" Madison grabbed at Sophia's sleeve as she passed by. "I just told you! She said she'd kill us if we messed with her again!"

Brushing Madison's grasp away, Sophia pushed her back against the wall, an arm across her throat. "I wasn't asking," she growled. "And if she tries that three-strikes bullshit on me, she'll be dead for real. Now take care of Emma."

Feeling even more aggravated by the exchange—where did Madison get off, trying to tell her what to do?—she opened the bathroom door and headed out.

When she found Hebert, there was going to be hell to pay.

<><>​

Taylor

Following my lunch and the little chat I'd had with Madison, I went to the library and settled down for a restful time-out with a book about the life of Caesar that I'd been meaning to read. Life had been simpler back then, I decided. Of course, it had been usually shorter and more disease-ridden, so that was a distinct downside. But being able to stab someone who was getting on your nerves had to solve a lot of problems.

I'd read somewhere that the Romans had changed up the traditional handshake to a forearm clasp so as to be able to tell if their political rivals were carrying knives strapped to their wrists. Of course, the Romans had also been the ones to give the phrase 'political backstabbing' a whole new level of meaning.

I'd only spent five minutes out of the thirty I'd allotted myself when I became aware that Sophia was looking for me with the specific intent to do me harm. Mentally, I apologised to my power for the previous sarcasm; it seemed that aspect could be useful after all. She wasn't quite as unintelligent as I'd sometimes wondered, because the library was the third place she looked into on her search.

Of course, I knew she was coming and decided to kill her chances of finding me. So, as she walked in through the main doors, I climbed out of the beanbag I'd been lying in and took a meandering path through the library. This just happened to coincide with Sophia's, in that whenever she looked in my direction, I was just out of her line of sight. Looking more frustrated than ever, she left the library; I shrugged and went back to my beanbag.

Even after searching most of the school (including all of the girls' bathrooms, twice) and not finding me, she hadn't given up. My sense of her indicated that she was waiting in an empty classroom close to my next class, which was art. Her intent to do me harm was stronger than ever. It wasn't long until the bell to start classes again, which meant that I needed to make a choice.

If I wanted to avoid the conflict that was brewing, I could skip the class altogether or simply go a slightly different way to get to the same classroom. Alternatively, I could go straight to where she was, administer a non-lethal object lesson, then go to class anyway. Or … I could just kill her. I was pretty sure she'd been warned.

Unfortunately for her, I didn't feel like letting her dictate a single one of my actions. If she wanted to poke the bear, then what happened next was all on her.

So, I got up from the beanbag and took the book back to the returns slot. On my way out of the library, I took the calculator I'd liberated from Emma's locker out of my new backpack, and slid it up my sleeve. I wasn't sure exactly why I'd done that, but it seemed to be the right thing to do.

As I approached the classroom, I checked again. Only Sophia showed up as a hostile, which meant there weren't likely to be any other witnesses in the room. This smelt to me like Sophia intended to deliver an extremely thorough beating, possibly involving broken bones.

That was just fine with me.

It took a certain amount of self-control to allow myself to fall into the trap, but I hadn't yet decided what I wanted to do with Sophia, so I was on my own. Still, it didn't seem to matter; Sophia was the sort of person who never thought of examining the teeth of a gift horse. From the enthusiastic way she hauled me into the room and threw me to the floor (or tried to throw me to the floor) she'd clearly decided that her trap was a masterpiece of Napoleonic genius.

I hit the floor, rolled, and came to my feet again with relative ease. This was one of the things my power had boosted about me. "Hi to you, too," I said.

"Shut up!" she hissed. "What the fuck did you do to Emma and Madison?"

"Told them something they needed to know," I said, slipping my pack off and tossing it to one side. "Did Madison pass on the message to you? 'That's two'?"

She sneered at me. "Yeah, she said you'd grown a backbone. Well, too bad for you. You're going down. And don't even try to fake me out like the last time, or this is going to hurt even more."

"And when I inevitably point you out as the person who beat me up?" I asked mildly.

Her sneer intensified. "There's half a dozen girls who're willing to swear blind I was with them the whole time."

"Well, that's awkward." I didn't say who it was going to be awkward for. "One more time. Just to be sure. You know this is your third strike?"

She stared with astonishment. "Are you threatening me? Are you seriously fucking trying to threaten me right now?"

Fuck, she was dense. "No, I'm telling you that this, right here, is your third strike." There; it was explained.

"You can take your third strike and shove it—" Her form as she moved in to punch me wasn't bad. She'd clearly been in more than one brawl.

I didn't much care. As she swung her fist at me, I took her arm and snapped it at the elbow, then slammed my knee into her ribs so hard that three of them broke. A couple of the shards went through her left lung.

Her eyes opened wide as she expirated a fine mist of blood, then I put a stop to that nonsense with a single knife-hand strike to the throat that collapsed her larynx. A second later, she surprised the hell out of me by turning to a dark swirling fog and lunging for the far wall. Reflexively, I slid the calculator from my sleeve and tossed it through her; she convulsed and fell to the floor, solid again.

Unable to breathe, her lungs filling with blood, she lay on her back and stared up at me as I moved to stand over her. "Shadow Stalker, huh?" I asked rhetorically. "Guess I didn't see that coming. Still, doesn't matter. Strike three is strike three." I lifted my foot above her sternum and brought my heel down hard; at just the right place, with sufficient force, it was enough to stop her heart.

Stopping only to retrieve my backpack and calculator, I left the classroom and went to art class.

<><>​

Two Hours Later
Math Class

Emma

There was something seriously, seriously wrong. With Madison's help, Emma had repaired her makeup and gone on to class, but she hadn't gotten any answers back from her discreet texts to Sophia. Not that she was stupid enough to ask straight-out 'did you beat up Taylor yet' but usually it worked well enough to say something like, 'so how'd it go?'.

But there was nothing. She'd sent a test message to Madison to make sure her phone was working right and hadn't gotten water in it, but there was no problem there. It was just that … Sophia wasn't answering.

And then she came to Math class with Mr Quinlan, and there was Taylor, not a hair out of place. Admittedly, Emma didn't know what Sophia been planning on doing, but at the very least she would've repossessed her property. Yet, there sat Taylor, wearing Sophia's jeans and sneakers, and with the stolen backpack beside her desk.

As bizarre as it sounded, it seemed that Sophia had totally failed to catch up with Taylor, even knowing what her class schedule was. So Emma did what any good friend would do. Pulling out her phone, she sent a text. 'hey if youre still looking 4 T shes in math'.

No novice at classroom texting, Emma had given no outward sign of sending the message. Her phone keyboard was silent, and she could thumb-type with the best of them. But still, just after the message was sent, Taylor turned in her seat and gave Emma a raised eyebrow. Deliberately, she put a strand of hair in her mouth and pretended to chew on it.

Abruptly, Emma recalled the alley, remembered lying on stained asphalt, at the mercy of the girl wearing her jacket. The handful of hair that had been brutally cut off with the knife was shoved into her mouth. Eat it, then pick.

Taylor's face loomed large in her memory. You'll never really escape the alley. You were weak then and you're even weaker now.

It had taken her months to get over having hysterics at home when she found a hair in her food. And now, Taylor was bringing it all back again.

Jumping up from her seat, she clamped her hand across her mouth to hold in the upcoming eruption, and bolted from the room. Quinlan may have called her name as the door was swinging shut behind her, but she didn't care.

<><>​

Taylor

I still wasn't sure what that was about, but it was certainly effective. Innocently, I looked around as Mr Quinlan called Emma's name. She didn't come back.

"Does anyone know what's going on with Miss Barnes?" he asked. From his tone, he wasn't expecting an answer.

"I'm not entirely sure, sir," I answered on a whim. "Maybe she's allergic to logarithms?"

He snorted heavily. "Very funny, Ms Hebert. Now, turn to page fifty-two …"

I was just doing so when I heard the sirens. Police and ambulance both, and coming toward Winslow. Yeah, someone found her. The paramedics wouldn't be able to do anything except give her a speedy ride to the hospital, where an actual doctor would be able to use his vast expertise to pronounce her dead on arrival.

I'd know in the next hour or so whether I'd need to start a new path: kill the investigation. For the moment, I was reasonably sure I was in the clear. And in fact, Sophia's status as a Ward was likely to work for me as opposed to against me. I wouldn't be surprised if the PRT went all-in on this being a murder by a villain who snuck into the school to get to Shadow Stalker, as opposed to a grudge match gone fatally wrong.

And then there were the other people inside Winslow who might have wanted to fuck her shit up even more than I did; the teenagers who held views supportive of the Empire Eighty-Eight. Nobody wore gang colours in the school itself, and the only recruiting was by the ABB (for a very enthusiastic definition of 'recruiting'), but they were around. Sophia hadn't spread the word that she was looking to relocate my teeth in several different directions, so theoretically they could've done it.

They hadn't, of course. I did say 'theoretically'.

When the end of the math period came (Mr Quinlan stayed with us the whole time, by a miracle) an announcement came across the decrepit PA system, to the effect that those of us who had been in the following classrooms at the approximate time of death had to stay behind to talk to the police. One of the classrooms listed was the art classroom; I had been there, of course.

As can be imagined, this caused a roar and a ruckus. About half of us in the classroom had been in the art class or another nearby room. Even though none of them had done this, nobody wanted to be kept back late to talk to the boys in blue.

"Class, class!" Mr Quinlan called out patting the air with his hands. "The police will not be questioning you here and now! They are here to make appointments to take your statements. As soon as you've made that appointment, you can leave."

Someone else put their hand up, saving me the trouble of doing it myself. "But why are they here? What were those sirens about?"

He knew, of course. I'd seen him taking a surreptitious phone call. "Someone has died on school property," he prevaricated. "There may be suspicious circumstances involved."

Damn right there were suspicious circumstances involved. She'd literally been beaten to death; that was about as suspicious as it came. But I said not a word. Meek and mild Taylor Hebert, that was me.

Ironically—I'd detoured between my classes to double-check this—the best evidence of my guilt had been erased without me having to raise a finger. Because of Emma's complaint to Principal Blackwell about her locker being damaged, all three lockers had been repaired, and the horrific mess in mine had been cleaned up, before the police ever arrived. It seemed there were unexpected benefits in attending a school where 'sweeping things under the rug' was raised to the level of an Olympic event.

The three wise monkeys had nothing on Winslow.

Leaning back in my seat, I prepared to wait. I hadn't thought to get that book about Caesar out of the library, but I was perfectly fine with killing time.

<><>​

PRT ENE
Director's Office

Director Piggot

"What the fuck."

It wasn't a question so much as a statement. Emily breathed it soft and low, as she read through the preliminary report. The death of a Protectorate member under her command would be bad enough to generate a metric ton of paperwork. However, the death of a Ward, out of costume, on the first day of school, was nothing less than a genuine catastrophe.

It wasn't that she'd liked the Hess girl. In fact, on the few times they'd interacted, they hadn't gotten along at all. Shadow Stalker was—had been—an arrogant, cocksure little shit, almost certainly suffering (or making her superiors suffer) from an undiagnosed case of oppositional defiant disorder, making life unpleasant for all around them. But the fact remained that Hess had been (whatever her flaws) a Ward. And part of Emily's unofficial training was the truism that nobody got left behind.

It didn't matter that no witnesses had come forward yet to provide a suspect for Stalker's premature death. There had to be at least one, or maybe two or three. This was the number of people currently suspected to have had a hand in it. She had been a seasoned combatant (albeit a bit raw in her style) and if there'd been any fewer than three up against her, she had to have left marks on one of them.

Armsmaster was already on the case, apparently. His analysis equipment was the best in the state, so she had faith that the man would be able to nail down exactly which villain in Brockton Bay could have infiltrated Winslow and beaten Stalker to death. Or maybe a bunch of the older boys had been bribed to corner her in that room, and kick her until she was down.

Whichever it was, Emily knew the truth would come out sooner or later. Someone would boast, or flash the cash, and the PRT would close in on them. Murder wasn't as easy as it seemed in the movies. Nobody could just kill a fellow human being and be the same afterward. Human nature didn't allow it.

<><>​

Later

Taylor

I climbed the front steps and unlocked the door with my key. Tossing my backpack onto the sofa, I detoured through the living room into the kitchen, where I snagged a soda from the fridge. "Hey, Dad."

"Taylor." Dad looked around from where he was chopping ingredients for dinner. "I got the phone call to say you'd be staying late at school. What happened?"

I shrugged. "Someone got on the wrong side of someone else, and it got fatal, or so they say. The police want to talk to everyone who was on that side of the school when it happened, to see if we saw anything." I rolled my eyes. "So now I've got an appointment at the police station. Yay me."

He picked up the cutting board and swept the contents into a bowl. "Still, it's your civic duty." He raised his head and gave me a serious look. "Are you okay?"

"Me?" I gave him a grin as I popped the soda and headed back into the living room. TV awaited, and I wanted to see if Sophia had made the news. "Never better."



End of Part Two

Relevant Side Story

 

[GasperVladi0]

Holy shit that was incredible! I absolutely loved that.

 

[edale]

I see rather than the Sophia it deserved, Brockton got the Sophia it needed... A dead one.
That sounded better in my head...

 

[Creed]

I see rather than the Sophia it deserved, Brockton got the Sophia it needed... A dead one.
That sounded better in my head...

Click to shrink...

I mean, I wouldn't go that far, but I can't help but remember all the people she literally crucified and killed with bolts, both before and after being inducted into the Wards(since this is canon compliant.). Not to mention her most recent case of attempted murder by biowaste and an extremely confined space-oh and the assault she was about to commit to the same person after they "refused to know their place".

Victim triggers and fights back after warning the aggressor multiple times(If vaguely.). That's Karma if I've ever heard it.

On a lighter note, if Taylor had the awareness to set the objective she could technically "Kill her fathers depression.". Which would be neat to see played out. Though, I imagine it would be a much longer "path" compared to the simple ones she's used so far.

 

[Nicohals J Westerberg]

I love the idea.

 

[magic9mushroom]

Nobody could just kill a fellow human being and be the same afterward. Human nature didn't allow it.

Click to shrink...

Emily Piggot should know better than this. Sociopaths are capable of that*. There's also the possibility of it being a pre-hardened killer. She's career law-enforcement and apparently competent; this should be something she knows.

*In some cases this can backfire because they don't think to, uh, leave the crime scene.

An offender who scored high on the Psychopathy Checklist killed an elderly man during the course of a burglary, and casually gave this account of the affair: "I was rummaging around when this old geezer comes down stairs and uh he starts yelling and having a fucking fit so I pop him one in the, uh, head and he still doesn't shut up. I give him a chop to the throat and he like staggers back and falls on the floor. He's gurgling and making sounds like a stuck pig [laughs] and he's really getting on my fucking nerves so I uh boot him a few times in the head. That shut him up. I'm pretty tired by now, so I grab a few beers from the fridge and turn on the TV and fall asleep. The cops woke me up [laughs]."

Click to shrink...

 

[Ack]

Emily Piggot should know better than this. Sociopaths are capable of that*. There's also the possibility of it being a pre-hardened killer. She's career law-enforcement and apparently competent; this should be something she knows.

*In some cases this can backfire because they don't think to, uh, leave the crime scene.

Click to shrink...

She's thinking more of potential gang members in the school.

Some may boast about it, or show other tells. Very few people of that age group will simply murder someone and never think of it again.

 

[O’Brien]

Emily Piggot should know better than this. Sociopaths are capable of that*. There's also the possibility of it being a pre-hardened killer. She's career law-enforcement and apparently competent; this should be something she knows.

*In some cases this can backfire because they don't think to, uh, leave the crime scene.

Click to shrink...

As Ack said, the presumption is that it was a motivated killing, and that might be very common for black people to wind up dead because of gang violence. And that Sophia, someone who can phase and has ample combat experience, can be taken down by a single person is just basicly nill if they don't have powers.

 

[Sto Odin]

It's certainly nice of Path to Ending to look out for its host, prepping her for the murder she hasn't even quite decided to do yet. But, yeah, the new, improved Taylor and her shard are just a great match.

She's thinking more of potential gang members in the school.

Some may boast about it, or show other tells. Very few people of that age group will simply murder someone and never think of it again.

Click to shrink...

And the odds of three such people, acting in a group? So tiny that it's not worth thinking about.

Doesn't really look like a known cape, either: someone specifically targeting Shadow Stalker (and didn't have deadly powers, which are mostly blatantly obvious) would have ambushed her and used a weapon. Beating her to death like that, without knocking her unconscious at the first blow? Way too good a chance she'd go to shadow and get away. PIggot's conclusion is perfectly logical.

 

[Ack]

A Darker Path

Part Three: The Challenge

[A/N: This chapter beta-read by Lady Columbine of Mystal.]



Winslow High School
The Scene of the Crime

Armsmaster

Colin ran his multiscanner (he had refused to call it a 'tricorder' despite Dragon making puppy-dog eyes at him over their video link) over the deceased teen before him. "Subject was not moved post-mortem. Stress patterns on cloth, left hand side of body, indicates that a large rounded object, possibly a human knee, was used for impact that shattered ribs. Microfibre deposits on the fabric indicate that the assailant may have been wearing blue jeans, design uncertain. Speed and power of blow suggest that the assailant was conversant with Muay Thai or a similar martial art. The assailant's grasp on subject's broken arm was used to improve accuracy and striking power."

He paused between sweeps and sat back with a sigh. It was important to be impersonal and objective at a time like this, so that all possible information could be utilised to nail the perpetrator to the wall. However, it was hard. For all that he wasn't great at social interaction, he'd worked with Shadow Stalker in the field and she'd shown skill and efficiency in her work. Her death would be a tremendous loss to the team.

"You okay?" asked Battery, who was sitting across the room, fiddling with Stalker's phone. The Wards-issued one, which had also been in Stalker's pocket, had been put aside as being less likely to hold any details pertaining to what had happened here. "Want to take a break?"

"No." He shook his head. "She was one of ours. I'll see this through." He ran the scanner over Shadow Stalker's body again. "No defensive wounds or offensive marks on her hands or arms. No bruising to suggest that she may have been restrained for the beating. No taser marks. A very faint scorch mark on her skin beside her collarbone, of unknown origin and age. Larynx crushed with a single blow, the profile matching a spear-hand strike, as used in several forms of karate and other martial arts styles."

"That can't be easy to do." Battery shook her head. "The finger bones and joints are designed to be flexible. Hit at anything but the perfect angle, and you'll never play the piano again. I've seen it more than once." She tapped the phone screen, and sat up straight. "I think I've got something. Saved texts, pointing to a pattern of bullying someone."

"Bullying?" Colin's head came up. "Is that conclusive or inferred?"

Battery frowned. "Let's see … what r u doing with her bag? … am in art class atm. was thinking i can fill it with paint when teach leaves room. put it in lost&found. her art midterm is inside so she might look for it and find it and be all yay i found it and then she looks inside and sees its fucked. There's more, but is that conclusive enough for you?"

"It certainly doesn't sound good." Colin's lips thinned. "Keep looking, and see if this establishes a pattern or was a one-off." He ran the scanner over Stalker's heart region. "Cloth stress patterns are distinct enough to get a print here. I originally thought she'd been punched in the chest, but it was a kick. Or a downward stamping motion, after she was on the floor."

"And that's what stopped her heart?" asked Battery, still scrolling through the phone. "I always thought that sort of thing was a martial arts myth, along with the nose bone going into the brain."

"I've looked it up," Colin replied. "It's possible, but you have to be either exceedingly good or lucky—or extremely unlucky, depending on your intentions—and deliver the strike just when the heart is at a vulnerable point in its beating cycle."

Battery lifted her eyes from the phone and stared at him. "You have to gauge their heartbeat? I'm going with 'lucky'."

"Or a cape," Colin reminded her. "All the evidence points the same way. This has to be a parahuman."

"Several things wrong with that scenario, boss-man." Battery leaned back in her seat, the phone temporarily forgotten. "There's no indication that any of the capes in the city, even the Empire Eighty-Eight ones, knew who Stalker was. And even if they did, killing her in the middle of the school just added needless difficulty for them. They could've literally just stabbed her in the street and pretended it was a mugging gone wrong. And then there's the other thing."

"Other thing?" Colin frowned. He didn't like missing details. "Such as?"

"This room." Battery gestured at the classroom. "Your scanner already picked up that she was alone in here for a little time before she was killed, right?"

"Yes." Colin wasn't sure where she was going with this. "So …?"

"So, nobody sits alone in an empty classroom unless they're reading a book or playing on their phone or doing something to pass the time. Unless she was waiting for someone. And that someone, when they came in, was the person she was waiting for, or she thought they were. Because otherwise, she would've ghosted out of there. Instead, she got close enough to have CQC initiated on her and get her ass beaten like a one-legged piñata."

Colin took a moment to wonder if Battery wasn't picking up some of Assault's more irritating turns of phrase. "Not initiated on her. She initiated it. The broken elbow, that came from a punch that was redirected and the joint over-extended. Whoever killed her, she thought she could beat them. She couldn't have been more wrong."

"Okay …" mused Battery. "So, how's this for a sequence of events. Someone passes word that a mutual friend wants to meet her here. She comes and waits. A cape with a Stranger ability, pretending to be that friend, comes in. They talk and either she twigs that it's not them, or they deliberately rile her up. Combat Thinker bullshit martial arts ensues, they somehow manage to prevent her from ghosting away and she dies of a punctured lung, a crushed larynx and a stopped heart."

Tilting his head, Colin considered the scenario as laid out by his subordinate. "It fits the facts at hand, certainly. Now all we need is a motive for this Thinker-Stranger martial artist to want to murder her at all, much less inside a school. Was there anything more on the phone?"

"Funny you should ask that," Battery said. "From what I can see, this has been going on for at least a year. No name for the victim or victims, just 'H'. Oh, and I've gotten several pings on the phone since we got here. Most of them are from her friends asking where she is, but this one here says that if Stalker's looking for 'T' she's in math class." She paused, looking pensive. "You know … bullying has always been a reliable motive for wanting to kill someone."

"So you're thinking this 'T' or this 'H' could have something to do with Stalker's death? Maybe hired an outside cape with a Stranger ability and sneaked them into Winslow?" Colin massaged his beard with thumb and forefinger. "I'm still blanking on why they'd choose to do it in the middle of a school."

Battery snapped her fingers. "Because this way you have several advantages that you don't elsewhere. One, you can reliably have her go of her own accord to a location of your choosing, where there are no witnesses. Two, she'll be off-guard. In school, she'll be thinking 'Sophia Hess', not 'Shadow Stalker'. Three, there's no cops, security guards or working CCTV. Four, if she and her little friends have been getting away with bullying people for so long, it's a sure bet that the staff just don't care. Nobody pays attention. And five … well, out there on the street, she wasn't the biggest fish, not by a long shot. In here, she was. This was her territory, or so she thought."

"Valid points, certainly," he agreed. "I just can't help wondering if there isn't something we're missing. The vital clue, as they say in detective stories."

She snorted indelicately. "You and I both know real life isn't as convenient as that. But I do think this bullying is a strong lead. Especially as it's her co-offenders who've been trying to text her. I'm thinking we can get a warrant for their names and addresses, and have a little chat with them."

"That is the next obvious step, yes," Colin agreed absently, leaning over to peer at the soles of Shadow Stalker's shoes. "Hmm. That's interesting."

"What's interesting?" asked Battery. "Did she tag the perp after all?"

"No." Colin tapped the controls of the scanner. "I just compared tread patterns, and Stalker is wearing an identical type of shoe to the perp. Same size, too."

"Really?" Battery sat up again. "Hey, just on a wild hunch. How tall's the perp?"

Colin allowed himself a smile. His scanner was already calibrated for measuring that sort of thing, from the angle of the blows. "I make it five ten, plus or minus half an inch. Why?"

By now, Battery was standing. "And Stalker's about the same height, yeah?"

"Almost exactly, yes. Why ..." Light dawned. "You think the Stranger became Stalker?"

"It's a possibility. Now, those microfibers you found, would they be a match for her jeans?" She pointed at the skinny jeans Stalker was wearing.

Colin barely had to check. "Almost identical. Down to the same brands of detergent and fabric conditioner." He shook his head. "That can't be a coincidence."

Battery nodded. "Okay, so the word was passed, Stalker came here to wait, and the Stranger showed up. Then they morphed into Stalker, which would almost certainly have goaded her to attack."

That made sense. Shadow Stalker had always had an intense prideful streak. "It's probably the only way they could guarantee she wouldn't cut and run if faced with a shapeshifting cape."

"Very true." She pinched her lower lip in thought. "The question is, who? The Empire Eighty-Eight's got a bunch of strong melee combatants plus one hell of a motive, and Uber could make himself skilled enough to do this, except that there's not a Stranger rating between them, and I strongly doubt Cricket could pass herself off as being school-age, even with all of Victor's makeup skills at her disposal."

"No, but Leet could probably build a device that let Uber become a teenage girl." Colin shook his head. "Still, we should rule out Uber and Leet for this. No video game link, and they've never murdered anyone before."

"The Empire, on the other hand, would totally do this, but how? Unless they made a deal with Leet for his hypothetical Changer device?" Battery's tone showed she wasn't being entirely serious.

And that was when Colin had the inspiration. "Not Leet. But Othala can grant powers."

He couldn't see her expression, but her voice gave the impression of a frown. "Not Changer or Stranger abilities."

"That. We. Know. Of." He emphasized every word. "Sure, they let us know about the invincibility, the flight, the superspeed, the regeneration and the pyrokinesis. That's all combat-useful, and it doesn't hurt to let us wonder what power Victor's got today. But if they kept a Changer or Stranger ability under wraps, that lets them do recon and espionage without ever being suspected of being able to do it …"

Battery nodded. "It all fits together. If anyone can kill that fast and efficiently, it would be Victor or Cricket. And once they were done, they changed to look like another student and walked out of the school."

"Cricket," Colin decided. "Her ultrasonic attack would be ideal for stunning Stalker long enough to get the lethal blows in, and I suspect she would be able to detect a heartbeat precisely enough to time her kick down to the instant."

Slowly, Battery sat down again. "So, it's just the Empire Eighty-Eight being douchebag Nazis again," she concluded. "And I was certain it was about the bullying. It was such an understandable motive."

"I'd keep checking into it, if I were you," Colin advised her. "It might still play a part."

"Just not as an important one as I thought." Battery wrinkled her nose. "But I know one thing for certain."

"What's that?" asked Colin, beginning to pack away his equipment.

"The Director's not going to be happy with this, no matter who turns out to be responsible."

He nodded thoughtfully. "Very true."

<><>​

Boardwalk

Madison

They sat together at one of the small tables that dotted the Boardwalk as the sun lowered toward the western hills. Emma clutched her chocolate shake so hard with both hands that if the surface had shown any more liquid, it would've been rippling from the shudders that passed through her from time to time. Madison had never seen her so thoroughly rattled, though she had an idea how Emma felt.

"Sophia's dead." Emma spoke the words quietly, her teeth chattering on the last word as she shuddered again.

Madison felt her throat close up over the words. She forced herself to swallow her mouthful of iced coffee shake; if she spat it out, she was afraid she'd puke. "Y-yeah," she whispered, knowing she had to face reality eventually. Nobody had said Sophia was the person who had died, but someone was dead, and she wasn't answering any of her texts. And of course, she'd been going to confront Taylor. "I told her not to go. I told her. You saw me."

"You told her," Emma agreed. She raised red-rimmed eyes to look at Madison. "You really think Taylor would kill her? That she could?"

"Taylor hates her." Madison had been doing a lot of very uncomfortable thinking on the bus from Winslow. "Hated. Like she hates us. If she could have, she would have. And I'm damn sure she could. You didn't see the look in her eyes when she was sitting there eating lunch. Not giving a damn that I was hardly able to breathe."

"So what do we do now?" whimpered Emma. "Sophia was tougher than any of us, and she was a cape. If Taylor could kill her, she could murder you or me in her sleep. In our sleep."

Looking at the frazzled mess that Emma had become, Madison suspected Taylor wouldn't have to raise a hand. Just shouting 'boo!' at the right moment would probably give Emma a heart attack.

"We do nothing," she said, trying to sound like she knew what she was talking about. "We're alive, right? That's because we didn't go with Sophia. Because we didn't go after Taylor again. She told me that's two, right? If we step over the line one more time, we're dead. All we have to do is never step over the line."

Emma looked over her shoulder convulsively, the movement a whole-body twitch. "Wh-what if she's just playing with us? Waiting 'til our guard's down? And then one day, we turn around—"

"No." Madison grabbed her friend's wrist. "Stop. Listen to me." She waited until Emma was looking at her. "Are you listening?"

Emma took a couple of ragged breaths, then two more. "Okay, I'm listening."

"Good." Madison leaned over the table slightly, so that she could slide her hand around the back of Emma's head, her fingers entwined in Emma's hair, then looked Emma straight in the eyes. "Taylor doesn't 'play'. She doesn't draw it out. If she wanted us dead, we'd be lying in the morgue alongside Sophia. So the only way we're going to survive this massive clusterfuck we've managed to turn our lives into is never be a threat to Taylor Hebert, ever again. Think you can manage that?"

There was a twitch as Emma tried to turn her head away. Madison didn't let her. Too much depended on this.

Finally, Emma nodded. "Y-yeah. I can do that. I can. Leave it with me."

"Excellent." Madison drew a deep breath and let it out again, feeling her heart rate decrease slightly. Letting go of Emma's head, she sat back into her chair.

"Um." Emma began to look agitated again. "Cops. They're gonna want statements. What do we say?"

Jesus, why ask me? "Uh, we tell the truth. Except if they ask if we think Taylor did it. Then we say no way, she wouldn't hurt a fly. Okay? Got it?"

It was the right answer. "Got it," Emma replied. "She wouldn't hurt a fly."

"Perfect." Madison tried to think about the next step. "And right now, we've got to pass the word, to everyone. Julia, Stacey, their friends, anyone who ever helped us with a prank. Taylor's off limits. Hopefully, we can get the message out in time to save their lives."

"Okay, right." Emma pulled her phone out, then stopped. "But … but what do we say? We can't just tell them 'Sophia's dead, don't be next'. They might decide to tell the cops. Worse, Taylor might think we said to call the cops."

"Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck." Madison bit the words off as she tried to think. "Okay, tell them … because the cops are all over the school right now, we're gonna back off on Taylor. Keep our heads down. Hopefully by the time the heat dies down, they'll have forgotten about her."

"Yeah-yeah. Good id-idea." Emma bit her lip as she started texting.

Madison got her own phone out and opened a text to Julia. 'Hey, just so u kno, with the shit goin on rite now, we're steppin back with T. No sense attractin attention. Let every1 kno, ok?'

She really, really hoped this would work.

<><>​

That Evening

Taylor

I didn't want a costume, not really, but I knew at some point I'd probably need one. Mainly because at some point I was going to be in public with the need to get some asshole to step out of my way, and I'd require a good costume to get their attention and a good name to keep it. A lot of the Paths I was considering were going to be a fuck-ton easier to complete if I had a costume and a name.

Okay, power, I get it. You want to show off. Fine, I'll do it.

I already knew what name I was going to go with. An education that included the classics had not gone wasted. All I needed was a matching costume. It would be edgy as fuck but then again, I had the power to murder anyone who pissed me off. The only way I could get any edgier would be to include the words 'blood' or 'stryke' in my name, and add a few dozen pouches and a stupidly-oversized gun.

Not that I had any particular issue with acquiring a stupidly-oversized gun. It would be the ultimate party accessory, for a given definition of 'ultimate', 'party' and 'accessory'.

However, I'd have to wait until later to get one. Right now, I needed to acquire the costume and set the scene for my grand entrance into the Brockton Bay crime scene. The trouble was, I couldn't just ask for a path to 'end my lack of a cool costume'. My power apparently didn't work that way. It wasn't there just for me to get stuff. I'd have to work for it.

Translation: someone would have to die.

Fortunately, I was just fine with that, especially since the suggested target was already someone who desperately needed it.

Following the directions of my power, I dressed carefully; gray hoodie, black jacket over the top. I kept Sophia's skinny jeans and sneakers on, though. She might be gone, but her stuff could still go out and do more good than she ever had. As a final touch, I tied a gray bandanna around my neck, that could be pulled up in a pinch to act as a mask.

Dad was snoring gently as I walked past his bedroom door, my feet somehow hitting every non-creaking floorboard. Downstairs I went, then through the entrance hall and kitchen to the basement. I didn't need to turn the light on, because I knew exactly what I wanted and where it was. Dad's big toolbox held roughly one metric ton of tools, but I just needed two of them; a flat-head screwdriver and a pipe wrench. Armed with these, I snuck out of the house.

I bypassed three separate cars parked on the side of the road until my power directed me to one in a side-street. The screwdriver popped the door open like a magic trick; when I got inside, I discovered why I'd been nudged toward that one. The spare keys were in the centre console, under a scrunched-up tissue, which made it possible to start the car without needing to hotwire it.

Not that I had any idea how to hotwire a car, but I was pretty sure my power did. However, hiding the fact that the car had been hotwired was a lot harder than just using the keys and putting the car back afterward. What do you know; my power was capable of subtlety.

I didn't know how to drive a car, but I studied my hand and foot movements as I cruised through the darkened streets of Brockton Bay. It was what I suspected actors went through when they watched themselves pulling stunts on the big screen. Kind of like an out of body experience, but not really.

When the car finally pulled up on a side street, I wasn't certain where my power had taken me, but I had an idea. The two guys wearing red and green gang colours, and the one in the brightly painted demon mask, kind of spelled it out to me. I was in ABB territory, and that was Oni Lee.

Well, I'd already known who I was here to kill. This just verified it.

It seemed to be a late-night shopping area, with venues open up and down the block. The one Oni Lee and his followers were loitering outside was a dressmaker, I guessed. Something to do with making clothes, anyway. Still, not my problem.

I got out of the car and strolled toward the trio, the handle of the pipe-wrench cold against my arm. I knew I could let it slide down and bring it into action in less than a second, but until then, I was a harmless teenager. Even my body language was all about 'ignore me, I don't matter'.

Invisibility: it's an art, not a super-power.

Even so, I only got within about three yards before they finally took notice of me. That was fine; three yards was plenty close enough. One of the enforcers took a step toward me. "Back off, bitch," he ordered.

End this interference.

The pipe wrench slid down into my hand, and I laid it across the side of his head. He was already unconscious when he hit the ground.

The other ABB mook was still gaping when I threw the pipe-wrench. It smacked him in the forehead and sent him over backward.

Interference: ended.

Oni Lee was fast, I'll give him that. He was halfway through pulling his pistol when I reached him and kicked him hard in the groin. Then I twitched the pistol from his grip, straight-armed it back behind me, and fired a shot. As the version in front of me crumbled to ash, along with the pistol I was holding, I turned to see the newer one fall over backward with a bullet-hole in the middle of that stupid demon mask.

Bending down, I retrieved the pipe wrench, then straightened and swung it hard enough to break the forearm of the third guy, who'd just come out of the shop. He howled and dropped the knife he'd been trying to stab me with, and I hit him with a backswing that dropped him unconscious on top of Oni Lee's ash.

Pulling the bandanna up over my face, I bent down again and pulled the wad of protection money out of the mook's pocket. Then I pushed the door open and stepped into the shop.

The shop owner was understandably worried. I held out the cash and said something fluently in a language I didn't understand. Or rather, it was the language I didn't understand, but I knew what I'd said. 'The reign of Lung is coming to an end. Here is your money back.'

She stared at me and didn't accept the money, but she did reply to me. My power helpfully provided a translation. 'Without Lung, who will protect us from the Empire Eighty-Eight and the other gangs?'

I smiled under the bandanna. 'They will also be going away.' I offered the money again.

She accepted it, but gave me a look of suspicion. 'And will we be paying you for protection?'

'No,' I said, 'I don't require payment. But I would like a costume, if you could help me out there?'

It was weird, standing there and discussing what I wanted in a language I didn't even speak. In the end, it seemed they had everything I needed; gloves, a broad-brimmed hat, a long-coat and knee-high boots, all in black. Under all this went dark clothing with a black tie over a charcoal-gray vest for that formal look. And, as a final touch, a black morph-suit style mask. It would cover my entire head, with a hole at the back to pull my hair out through. I'd be able to see and breathe through it, but my features would be obscured to anyone trying to make them out.

When I left the shop, the three mooks were still lying there groaning. Conscious now, it seemed, but in a lot of pain. That wasn't my problem. I paused to loot Oni Lee's corpse of his pistol and grenade bandolier—those things could come in so handy—and then went back to the car.

I hummed to myself as I drove back across the city toward home. I'd found myself in an interesting situation. My power wanted to end things and kill people, and I was somewhat inclined to do so myself. And if I wanted something for myself, I had to do it in such a way that I used lethal moves on someone.

On the other hand, I wasn't being forced to kill. As I'd proved with Madison and the mooks, I could pull my blows and not actually deal a killing strike.

Could I have done that with Oni Lee? Possibly, but that would've been a stupid move, mainly because he would've kept trying to kill me thereafter, and I didn't really see a need to keep him alive. So in that aspect, my power and I were in perfect harmony.

When I got back to where I'd stolen the car, no alarm seemed to have been raised. I parked it and locked it up, leaving the keys exactly where I'd found them, and wiping every exposed surface. I wasn't stupid; anyone who watched a crime show knew about fingerprints and stuff like that.

Sneaking back into the house was just as easy as sneaking out had been. Carefully, after re-locking the back door, I snuck upstairs. I was sweaty and tired and needed a shower, but there was one final thing I had to do.

My computer spent its own sweet time booting up while I removed my costume, one piece at a time, and stored it away carefully at the bottom of my closet. Then I sat down and flexed my fingers.

Kill any chance of this being traced.

The next few minutes was a blur of typing and selecting options from menus that I'd never known of before. When I finally got onto the PHO boards, as far as I knew, I was logging in from somewhere right across the city, using an IP address owned by the Medhall corporation. Which was pretty cool, I had to admit.

I'd thought about this on the car ride back home. I had the name picked out, and the costume, but I also needed an introduction. While I was setting up the new account, I went over in my mind exactly what I was going to say. A little bit of research capped it off, and I was ready to roll.

Good evening, Brockton Bay, I announced. I'm a new cape on the scene, but that doesn't mean I'm new to the city. And as anyone who knows the place will admit, it's a shithole.

Who's to blame for this, you ask? Well, that's easy. The gangs. It's literally in their best interests to keep the cops looking the other way and the heroes chasing the small fish so the big fish can keep shitting in the water all day long.

Well, I'm done with accepting that. So, here's what I've got to say. The gangs are no longer welcome in Brockton Bay. It's time for you to leave. The door's thataway.

I am specifically calling out the Empire Eighty-Eight, the Azn Bad Boys, Coil's crew and fuck it, the Merchants, because they sell drugs to schoolkids and that isn't cool either. The other gangs in the city, I do know who you are but you're not on my list yet. You'll keep.

So, the leaders of those gangs I just named: Kaiser, Lung, Coil, Skidmark. You have twenty-four hours to either a) leave town for good or b) surrender to the PRT. In twenty-four hours from midnight tonight, if you haven't all done this, I'm going to kill one of you that hasn't. Just one.

Then I'll start the clock again.

TL: DR – Kaiser, Lung, Coil, Skidmark. GTFO or die.

Oh, and Lung? Yeah, that was me.

Your move.

With a flourish, I typed my chosen cape name.

Atropos.



End of Part Three

Relevant Side Story

 

[Diraniola]

Atropos

Click to shrink...

Great chapter, perfect name. It sounds like her costume is a faceless gunslinger aesthetic?

Somehow I know Emma won't be able to help herself. I don't think I've ever seen Madison cast as the voice of reason in that trio, but it makes sense here.

It seems strange to me that Armsmaster and Battery didn't even consider a new trigger. They had all the steps with a long bullying campaign followed by the bully being killed with unaccounted for powers. New trigger is much more likely than hiring a cape. Instead they decide the Empire had access to a power they've never been suspected of.

 

[Ack]

Great chapter, perfect name. It sounds like her costume is a faceless gunslinger aesthetic?

Somehow I know Emma won't be able to help herself. I don't think I've ever seen Madison cast as the voice of reason in that trio, but it makes sense here.

It seems strange to me that Armsmaster and Battery didn't even consider a new trigger. They had all the steps with a long bullying campaign followed by the bully being killed with unaccounted for powers. New trigger is much more likely than hiring a cape. Instead they decide the Empire had access to a power they've never been suspected of.

Click to shrink...

They haven't dug deep enough into the bullying yet. Battery still thinks it's got something to do with it, but the pseudo-Empire angle looks too tasty.

 

[Henri55]

Nice name

 

[FictionPack]

Doing it from Medhall will continue to look like an Empire plot so long as Kaiser isn't the first to die.

 

[GasperVladi0]

This story is satisfying in ways I can't describe.

 

[Fernando]

Atropos.

Click to shrink...

The edge, the edge is real.

isn't that Lily's name in Amelia or is it just coincidence?

 

[Highlord]

Though I don't expect the fic to go the direction I'm thinking, I can totally see Taylor eventually becoming a hired assassin by certain three-letter agencies for hard targets, and becoming Worm's equivalent to Deathstroke.

No muss, no fuss. Just in, out, target dead. Collect payment, go home, spend a few hours shitposting on PHO, sleep.

Though, speaking of PHO. I expect her post to get deleted, since PHO is just SB with more pretentiousness.

 

[edale]

Shit just got real.

It seems strange to me that Armsmaster and Battery didn't even consider a new trigger. They had all the steps with a long bullying campaign followed by the bully being killed with unaccounted for powers. New trigger is much more likely than hiring a cape. Instead they decide the Empire had access to a power they've never been suspected of.

Click to shrink...

Armsmaster has a chronic case of confirmation bias, and is good at convincing others thanks to the confidence he speaks with.

 

[meloa789]

Those 4 fuckmarks won't listen and it will be bloody hilarious.

 

[Diraniola]

Those 4 fuckmarks won't listen and it will be bloody hilarious.

Click to shrink...

I predict going after Coil will lead to the two paths crossing, iykwim.

 

[space turtle]

I am awaiting Lung confronted by an ultimately competent woman in a suit and hat with baited breath.

His reaction is going to be glorious.

Years of anger erupting at once kick starting the transformation, plus a target of almost infinite threat to ramp up against = Ancalagon the Black cosplay in record time.

Or….

Immediate evacuation of both his bowels and himself out of the city.

Leading to even more people freaking out when a fully transformed dragon is see flying towards the horizon without a single look back.

 

[Sto Odin]

This looks like Taylor is finding out that PtE is sending her to kill Oni Lee twice:

Translation: someone would have to die.

Fortunately, I was just fine with that, especially since the suggested target was already someone who desperately needed it.

...

...I was in ABB territory, and that was Oni Lee.

Well, now I knew who I'd come to kill.

Click to shrink...

 

[Ack]

This looks like Taylor is finding out that PtE is sending her to kill Oni Lee twice:

Click to shrink...

Hmm.

Good point.

Will think about that.

EDIT: sorted.

Well, I'd already known who I was here to kill. This just verified it.

Click to shrink...

 

[magic9mushroom]

Doing it from Medhall will continue to look like an Empire plot so long as Kaiser isn't the first to die.

Click to shrink...

Only to anyone who knows Medhall's an Empire front, which probably doesn't include the BB authorities.

(Tattletale/Coil might be getting close, but this is quite early in the timeline.)

 

[Ack]

A Darker Path

Part Four: Spreading the Word

[A/N 1: this chapter beta-read by Lady Columbine of Mystal.]
[A/N 2: I made use of the PHO Interlude Wizard to make the PHO segment. I hope you enjoy.]
[A/N 3: Many of the names and comments in the PHO segment have been adapted from users and comments in the SB thread, while others are from canon PHO users.]
[A/N 4: I know, I know, a PHO segment without Void Cowboy making an insensitive comment and being banned for it? Has the universe gone crazy?]


Undersiders Base
January 4, 2011
6:03 AM

Tattletale

Lisa had chosen her ringtone, once upon a time, to be able to get her attention at any time or in any place. It had saved her bacon, metaphorically speaking, on more than one occasion. But now, after she'd been up until three in the morning doing a deep-dive into everything she could locate about the Ruby Dreams casino, it felt like broken glass scraping on the inside of her soul.

I swear, once I wake up, I'm going to murder someone. With their own phone.

But plans of mayhem aside, she had to answer the damn thing. So she fumbled across her nightstand until she located the musically buzzing demonic device. By way of sheer muscle memory, she flicked her thumb across the screen, then held it to her ear. "H'lo?"

"Tattletale." It was Coil, of course. Very few other people she knew would be calling her at this insane hour, and in any case she worked with three of them (and lived with two). "Wake up."

Wedging one eye open, she peered blearily toward the window. Only the slightest glimmer of gray light crept around the curtains she had hanging there; she estimated that sunrise was still an hour away. "'S not even daylight yet," she mumbled. "C'n it wait 'til noon?"

"No. It cannot. This is a priority tasking, Tattletale." His voice was crisp and commanding. "Get up, now. Make coffee. I need your head clear for this."

"Why?" she hated the whining tone in her voice, but she'd been asleep, damn it! Sometimes, a whine was earned. "'S it En'bringers?" She hoped it wasn't, and anyway, she couldn't hear sirens.

"This is important." She could hear him gritting his teeth. "I need a threat assessment performed immediately. Once it's done, you can go back to bed."

She still didn't see why he couldn't wait until midday, but if she pushed back too hard, he was likely to send a couple of mercenaries to yank her out of bed, shove her under an icy shower, and pour coffee down her throat until she was lucid. Or at least, that was what her power was telling her. Which would be a first; revealing to Brian and the others who their secret boss was would be a huge step.

All of a sudden, she decided that she wanted to see what had his tights in a twist. "'Kay, 'm gettin' up."

Half-falling out of bed, she stumbled from her bedroom to the kitchenette where she set the coffee machine going. Leaving her phone on the counter—Coil could listen to the machine gurgling, for all of her—she went back to the bathroom and shocked herself partially awake with a quick medium-chilly shower. By the time she was done and dressed, the coffee machine was ready to go, and she poured herself a fresh cup.

The first jolt of caffeine served to clear her head almost completely, and she took the cup and her phone over to the sofa where she kept her laptop. It wasn't much of a guess that she was going to need it, so she hit the power button as she leaned back and took another mouthful of chemical wakefulness. "Okay, I guess I'm awake now. Hit me."

"Good." He still didn't sound happy. "Go to the PHO boards, the new capes section. Look for Atropos. I need you to do a threat assessment. Call me back with your results." He ended the call without further ado.

"Okay, okay," she muttered, dropping the phone beside her and sipping her coffee as the laptop booted up. It seemed as reluctant to wake up as she had been, and she briefly sympathised.

Soon enough, it was up and running, and she clicked on the PHO tab she kept at the top of the screen. Navigating according to Coil's instructions, she found the thread he was referring to and began to read.

<><>

■​

Welcome to the Parahumans Online message boards.

You are currently logged in, SilentWhispers
You are viewing:

• Threads you have replied to
• AND Threads that have new replies
• OR private message conversations with new replies
• Thread OP is displayed.
• Ten posts per page
• Last ten messages in private message history.
• Threads and private messages are ordered chronologically.

■​

♦ Topic: Hi there!
In: Boards ► Brockton Bay ► New Capes

Atropos (Original Poster) (Banned) (You Wish) (UnVerified Cape) (Can Actually Kill Anything) (Yes, Really) (Watch Me)
Posted On Jan 3rd 2011:

Good evening, Brockton Bay.

I'm a new cape on the scene, but that doesn't mean I'm new to the city. And as anyone who knows the place will admit, it's a shithole.
Who's to blame for this, you ask? Well, that's easy. The gangs. It's literally in their best interests to keep the cops looking the other way and the heroes chasing the small fish so the big fish can keep shitting in the water all day long.
Well, I'm done with accepting that. So, here's what I've got to say. The gangs are no longer welcome in Brockton Bay. It's time for you to leave. The door's thataway.
I am specifically calling out the Empire Eighty-Eight, the Azn Bad Boys, Coil's crew and fuck it, the Merchants, because they sell drugs to schoolkids and that isn't cool either. The other gangs in the city, I do know who you are but you're not on my list yet. You'll keep.
So, the leaders of those gangs I just named: Kaiser, Lung, Coil, Skidmark. You have twenty-four hours to either a) leave town for good or b) surrender to the PRT. In twenty-four hours from midnight tonight, if you haven't all done this, I'm going to kill one of you that hasn't. Just one.
Then I'll start the clock again.

TL: DR – Kaiser, Lung, Coil, Skidmark. GTFO or die.

Oh, and Lung? Yeah, that was me.
Your move.

Atropos

​

(Showing page 1 of 10)

►Mr Unhappy
Replied On Jan 3rd 2011:
Well, that was unhinged.

►Gritty Morty
Replied On Jan 3rd 2011:
Fir--dammit!
Well, this looks interesting.

►LightFromTheShadows
Replied On Jan 3rd 2011:
Yeah. Interesting. Will watch from a distance.

►Ring Island
Replied On Jan 3rd 2011:
And after that, what? Teatime with Alexandria?​

►Atropos (Original Poster) (Banned) (You Wish) (UnVerified Cape) (Can Actually Kill Anything) (Yes, Really) (Watch Me)
Replied On Jan 3rd 2011:
If she asks politely.​

►BirdsEye
Replied On Jan 3rd 2011:
@Atropos ... if you can kill anything, how about killing all conflict on earth?​

►Atropos (Original Poster) (Banned) (You Wish) (UnVerified Cape) (Can Actually Kill Anything) (Yes, Really) (Watch Me)
Replied On Jan 3rd 2011:
I could try, but I'm pretty sure I'd die of old age first.​

►Hades82
Replied On Jan 3rd 2011:
Seconding (thirding?) interest.
We've got a live one here, folks.​

►TheSkinnyBlueGuy
Replied On Jan 3rd 2011:
Look upon the field where I grow my Fucks and behold for it is barren!
... what? That's the vibe I'm getting.
​

End of Page. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10


(Showing page 2 of 10)

►GleamingGlare
Replied On Jan 3rd 2011:
Oh, boy.
Because you know, villain capes NEVER escalate.

►UnconcernedFox
Replied On Jan 3rd 2011:
*gets out the comfy chair and the popcorn*​

►BirdsEye
Replied On Jan 3rd 2011:
Okay then, could you kill bigotry? Racism? The idea of theft?
Betrayal? Torture? Falsehood?

►SkyWalkerJA
Replied On Jan 3rd 2011:
I'm thinking the answer would be "would die of old age first".
because, you know, those things are pretty entrenched​

►JediMedic
Replied On Jan 3rd 2011:
@TheSkinnyBlueGuy
That's the exact thing I was thinking when I read OP post.​

►Atropos (Original Poster) (Banned) (You Wish) (UnVerified Cape) (Can Actually Kill Anything) (Yes, Really) (Watch Me)
Replied On Jan 3rd 2011
@TheSkinnyBlueGuy - that's kinda my jam now, yeah.
@SkyWalkerJA - Essentially, yes. I could kill that sort of thing in one person, right in front of me, but everyone everywhere? Way too tedious.
@GleamingGlare - and then I'll just have to cut a bitch.​

►BigRedSharpie (Moderator)
Replied On Jan 3rd 2011:
Okay, I'm done. This has gone on long enough. Thread is locked. Atropos, you just bought yourself a ticket to Ban-town.
Maybe next time don't be so Edgy McEdgelord, hmm?​

►Atropos (Original Poster) (Banned) (You Wish) (UnVerified Cape) (Can Actually Kill Anything) (Yes, Really) (Watch Me)
Replied On Jan 3rd 2011:
Meh, Ban-town was boring. I'm back.​

►UnconcernedFox
Replied On Jan 3rd 2011:
Hahahha
*munches popcorn*

►GleamingGlare
Replied On Jan 3rd 2011:
wut
​

End of Page. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10


(Showing page 3 of 10)

►BirdsEye
Replied On Jan 3rd 2011:
Did you just ... did you just kill a threadban AND a threadlock?​

►Atropos (Original Poster) (Banned) (You Wish) (UnVerified Cape) (Can Actually Kill Anything) (Yes, Really) (Watch Me)
Replied On Jan 3rd 2011:
Well, duh.
What part of 'can actually kill anything' did you not get the first time?​

►SkyWalkerJA
Replied On Jan 3rd 2011:
Okay, I've got to ask. How did you add all the extra tags?​

►Atropos (Original Poster) (Banned) (You Wish) (UnVerified Cape) (Can Actually Kill Anything) (Yes, Really) (Watch Me)
Replied On Jan 3rd 2011:
Killed the blocks preventing me from getting them. How else?​

►BigRedSharpie (Moderator)
Replied On Jan 3rd 2011:
I said, this thread is locked.​

►Atropos (Original Poster) (Banned) (You Wish) (UnVerified Cape) (Can Actually Kill Anything) (Yes, Really) (Watch Me)
Replied On Jan 3rd 2011:
And I said it's not.
Sorry, Sharpie. No hard feelings? I just wanna chat with my fans.​

►Bagrat (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)
Replied On Jan 3rd 2011:
Okay, if this is how it's going down ...
@Atropos - is it true you killed Oni Lee earlier tonight? Because there's a strong rumor that it was a new Death-themed cape, and your note for Lung above ...​

►LotusBlade
Replied On Jan 3rd 2011:
Lung's rage is mighty
Atropos will die to flame
So vows the dragon.​

►Atropos (Original Poster) (Banned) (You Wish) (UnVerified Cape) (Can Actually Kill Anything) (Yes, Really) (Watch Me)
Replied On Jan 3rd 2011:
@LotusBlade - Yeah, yeah, get him to come talk to me himself.
@Bagrat - Wow, the Guy in the Know asking ME about stuff? I am honored, and I mean that totally unironically. yeah, that was me. Had to establish my credentials, y'know?

►Reave (Verified PRT Agent)
Replied On Jan 3rd 2011:
Just to put all speculation to rest, yes, Oni Lee was approached by an unidentified person earlier tonight. That person disabled Lee's companion ABB members, then attacked Lee himself. In the ensuing melee, the suspect apparently took Lee's gun and shot him with it. The suspect was reportedly unharmed in the fight.
When last seen, the suspect was wearing a black long-coat, a broad-brimmed hat, a black morph mask, and otherwise dark clothing. They may have armed themselves with Oni Lee's personal weapons.
Personal description: tall, slender, long dark hair.
If you encounter anyone matching this description, do NOT approach. Treat as armed and dangerous, and notify the PRT immediately.
@Atropos - If you hand yourself over to the PRT now, we can avoid any more bloodshed, and I do include you in that. You have no idea of the amount of danger you're in right now, from handing out a reckless challenge like that. If you want to fight crime, that's not the way to do it. We prefer live heroes to dead vigilantes.​

End of Page. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10


(Showing page 4 of 10)

►Atropos (Original Poster) (Banned) (You Wish) (UnVerified Cape) (Can Actually Kill Anything) (Yes, Really) (Watch Me)
Replied On Jan 3rd 2011:
Aww, you almost sound like you actually care.
Hard pass, sorry. I've got a job to do, and Oni Lee was just the start.
Appreciate the offer, though.​

►PureBlood01011000 (Temp-Banned)
Replied On Jan 3rd 2011:
I don't care what you do with Lung or the other idiots, but if you come near Kaiser, I hope you like having metal spikes in your everywhere.​

►BigRedSharpie (Moderator)
Replied On Jan 3rd 2011:
Okay, I can't lock this thread and I can't ban Atropos, but I can definitely ban other people. Let's tone down the ITG stuff, okay? As soon as someone with more pull than me gets online, this thread WILL be locked down, and everyone's posts will be examined to see if further actions need to be taken.
Just calm your frontal lobes, people.​

►Wherewolf
Replied On Jan 3rd 2011:
So, uh ... I'm guessing the PRT is going to be going after Atropos now, and not the villains they're targeting? Because somehow Atropos is the bad guy now?​

►Reave (Verified PRT Agent)
Replied On Jan 3rd 2011:
There are no capes in Brockton Bay with a kill order on their heads. Everyone deserves due process and their day in court.​

►RaRaRa
Replied On Jan 3rd 2011:
Well, that escalated quickly.​

►SecretlyAJetFighter
Replied On Jan 3rd 2011:
Dayumn. That mic drop just went *subterranean*.​

►BeginningToEnd
Replied On Jan 3rd 2011:
Welp, naming yourself after the Greek personification of Fate and Death.
Nope, not pretentious at all.​

►dranasty
Replied On Jan 3rd 2011:
Okay, heroes and PRT going after Atropos, I get that. Murder is a crime.
But seriously wow, how many people have the gangs killed, and they're not anywhere near the priority that Atropos is going to end up on, and for what reason? Because status quo is king?​

►AuthorBug
Replied On Jan 3rd 2011:
@BeginningToEnd - Oni Lee might argue that point. Taking him and his flunkies out with no injuries? That takes more than luck. Just saying.
​

End of Page. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10


(Showing page 5 of 10)

►Atropos (Original Poster) (Banned) (You Wish) (UnVerified Cape) (Can Actually Kill Anything) (Yes, Really) (Watch Me)
Replied On Jan 3rd 2011:
@BeginningToEnd - oh yeah, I know it's edgy. But hey, I gotta go with what works.​

►Reave (Verified PRT Agent)
Replied On Jan 3rd 2011:
@dranasty - it's more to do with the fact that if some of the gangs decide that Atropos is a false-flag operation designed to bring the opposition down in secret, we'll have all-out war in this town. And there's nowhere near enough heroes in BB to contain something like that.

►dranasty
Replied On Jan 3rd 2011:
@Reave - so, status quo. Got it.​

►Atropos (Original Poster) (Banned) (You Wish) (UnVerified Cape) (Can Actually Kill Anything) (Yes, Really) (Watch Me)
Replied On Jan 3rd 2011:
Hahaha false flag? Is that what they're saying?
Nope. They're all going down or leaving town. One or the other. I don't care which.
Anyway, signing off. See you lovely people in the morning.
And remember: twenty-four hours.​

Mwahahaha.​

<><>​

Tattletale

By the time she finished, the coffee cup was empty, but that was okay. Lisa was awake. She was definitely awake. Almost gingerly, as though she expected the name on the screen to jump out and bite her, she scrolled upward and read through the thread again, up to the point where Atropos had left the chat.

"Jeeesus H. Christ on a Tinkertech pogo stick," she muttered, putting the cup down on the sofa arm without looking. Chills were chasing each other up and down her spine, each one sparked by one of Atropos' seemingly off-hand comments.

Some people could shout threats all day and not be intimidating. Others merely had to whisper. With Atropos, all she had to do was put words on a computer screen to scare the absolute shit out of Lisa.

'The other gangs in the city, I do know who you are but you're not on my list yet. You'll keep.'

That those words were aimed at her and the rest of the Undersiders, she had zero doubt whatsoever. Someone who had the sheer planetary-scale neutronium testicular fortitude to kill Oni Lee and call out Lung (as well as Kaiser, Coil and Skidmark) on the same night was absolutely not someone she wanted to cross. Especially since her personal assessment was that Atropos (signs pointed to her being a girl) was actually capable of carrying out the threat.

It wasn't much of a comfort that they weren't on Atropos' list. She knew for a fact that the word 'yet' had been included deliberately. Once Atropos had finished dealing with the current big names in the city, then the list would be updated. And if the terrifying intent embodied in the initial greeting stayed the same (she had no reason to think it would change) then the Undersiders would be facing a stark choice, made none the easier for Coil being dead or elsewhere. Leave the city, surrender, or die.

Drawing a deep breath, she picked up her phone. The call went through with just one ring sounding in her ear. "Yes?"

For a moment, she was tempted to tweak him by drawing it out, then she mentally shook her head. "My assessment is 'yes'. Atropos is totally capable of doing whatever she says she can do. She intends to kill Lung, Kaiser, you and Skidmark. Barring unusual interference, she'll succeed." By 'unusual interference', she meant 'power shenanigans', and they both knew it.

"Even inside my base, with my mercenaries on high alert?" He sounded more on edge than normal, which wasn't altogether surprising. "How is she even going to find me?"

"I don't know. Maybe she can't." Lisa rubbed her forehead. A tiny headache was starting to grow, expanding each time she attempted to analyse Atropos' actual capabilities and weaknesses. "But every time I ask myself, 'can she kill everyone on the list?', my best answer is 'Yes'."

"Can you tell me who she'll be going after first, at least?" She didn't have to even wonder why he was asking that. If her power's analysis was correct, Atropos' initial target had less than eighteen hours to live.

Leaning back against the sofa cushions, Lisa closed her eyes. "Nobody's going to be leaving town or surrendering to the PRT … unless you are?" Scornful silence greeted her sally. "Right, right. Silly of me. She won't be hitting Skidmark first. You aren't a hugely obvious target, so it's likely to be Kaiser or Lung. And she's already hit the ABB once."

"So you're saying she'll probably go after Kaiser first." He was clearly doing his best to sound calm and collected, but she could hear the tension behind his voice. "How much faith do you have in that assessment?"

"A lot less than I have in knowing that she's dangerous as fuck, and that I don't want to be in the same town as her if she's pissed at me," Lisa answered honestly. "Every time I try to venture a guess at her exact motivations or capabilities, I get back a vague answer plus a headache. As best I can tell, she's running a mild ongoing anti-Thinker effect. It's really irritating."

<><>​

Coil

Yes. Yes, it is.

"Understood. If anything changes, let me know." Thomas Calvert ended the call and dropped the phone on his desk. Resting his elbows on his desk, he laced his fingers together and pressed his thumbs to his temples. Then he inhaled deeply and closed his eyes.

What do I do? There existed the outside possibility that his Tattletale was trying to panic him and stampede him from the city. But therein lay a dilemma. If it was just her playing her irritating little mind games, he could devote his full power (and all his men) to tracking her down and bringing her to heel. However, that would leave zero resources free for staying under the radar from Atropos.

Atropos killed Oni Lee. Thomas could not afford to ignore that fact. As such, he considered it only prudent to keep himself safe and secure, leaving Tattletale until after Atropos had been dealt with. While there was a two-in-three chance that he was not the assassin's current target (he agreed with Tattletale's assessment that Skidmark was more of an afterthought than a serious contender) he still considered a thirty-three percent chance of death to be unacceptably high.

Opening his eyes again, he looked once more at the email displayed on his work laptop. Not only had they sent it out to all ranking PRT officers, but they'd also contacted each off-duty officer via phone to alert them to its presence and to inform them that they were now on duty. The phone calls had started going out at just before six in the morning, going by rank and alphabetical order; he supposed he should consider himself lucky that his surname began with C.

It could be worse. The post did say midnight. By midnight, I'll be tucked away in absolute security and absolute obscurity. His house in the suburbs had a state-of-the-art alarm system, and his bunker under the city held fifty well-armed mercenaries, each one as loyal as money could buy.

In the best case, Atropos would take out Lung or Kaiser before she was inevitably killed. Either way, he would benefit.

I always win.

<><>​

Kaiser

Max Anders rose a little after seven and enjoyed a moderate workout in his home gymnasium, followed by a stinging-hot shower and a healthy breakfast. He ate looking out toward the Bay from the patio of his three-storey house on the slopes of Captain's Hill; by half-past eight, he was finished and ready to go to work. With a nod to his butler—the less well-off could scoff, but having someone to anticipate one's needs could be invaluable at times—he dressed in the immaculate suit that had been laid out for him and descended in the elevator to the six-car garage.

As he settled into the genuine leather seat of his preferred town car, the driver pressed the button on the dash and the garage door motored open. He took up the morning copy of the Financial Times from the seat beside him and prepared to see how his stocks had performed overnight. But just as the car exited the garage, his phone vibrated in his pocket.

With a slight frown on his face—the caller ID indicated an Empire 88 call, rather than one for business—he pressed the button that raised the soundproof barrier between himself and his driver. While his personal employees were selected for their views, none of them knew of his connection to the Empire. What they didn't know, they couldn't talk about, even by accident.

"Yes?"

"There's a potential problem." Krieg was normally as unflappable as a man could get. Right now, however, he sounded a little stressed. "A cape showed up last night, killed Oni Lee in public, then announced on PHO that they're going after the gangs. Specifically; you, Lung, Coil and Skidmark."

"That can't be right. How did they kill Oni Lee?" God knew the Empire had tried enough times over the last few years.

"He was shot in the face with his own gun at a range of six feet. Our current theory is combat precog. The cape's name is Atropos."

"Well, damn." Whoever had pulled that little stunt off had done very well indeed. 'Atropos'—the member of the Fates who cut the thread and ended the life of mortals—was a good name for someone who could manage that. Then the rest of what Krieg had said caught up with him. "What do you mean, they're coming after me personally?" That was never good news; even the most inept of assassins could get lucky, eventually.

"I'm emailing you the link to the PHO thread. It's all the information we have, right there."

"Okay, thanks." Max ended the call. Pressing the intercom, he spoke to the driver. "I've just received word of a potential threat. Move our posture to high security."

Through the glass, he saw the driver nod. "Yes, sir."

With the high security protocols, the window glass darkened until it was impossible to see in, and three other town cars would be exiting garages within the next few minutes. Each one identical to the one he was currently riding in, they would all take different routes to the Medhall building, where the secure undercover parking lot would be waiting for them. It was so nice to have money to throw at problems like this.

The initial precautions taken care of, he opened the email that had just dropped into his phone. From there he went into the PHO thread and began reading.

A problem, he decided after he'd finished. But not an insurmountable one. Either Lung will get Atropos, or my security will. And if they don't, I will.

Everything was, as always, under control.

<><>​

Taylor

I was in the middle of eating breakfast when Kaiser popped into my awareness. He was aware of me and my challenge, just as Coil was. Lung had, of course, been aware since last night; his seething rage had barely abated since then. About the only one who hadn't heard about it was Skidmark. In fact, none of the Merchants had.

That didn't matter.

They had three days to learn about it.

In the meantime, Kaiser, Lung and Coil awaited my attention; not necessarily in that order.

Eeny, meeny, miney moe …



End of Part Four

 

[GasperVladi0]

Their immediate humbling is going to give me all the happy feelings.

 

[Radek]

Well, whoever goes first, the others are liable to panic. After all, both their personal power and any measures they took to protect themselves will prove utterly useless.

Not a pleasant discovery.

 

[magic9mushroom]

LCoM apparently didn't catch that there was nothing in the thread indicating Atropos could "kill anything" prior to BirdsEye's post.

EDIT: you're still in the habit of signposting when chapters are commissioned, right? i.e. if it doesn't have a "this was commissioned" note, it's not commissioned?