Capítulo 34: Wake-up Call – Chapter 33
"Tattletale," Brian says, voice dramatically echoing through the whorls of his power trailing below his helmet. Then he dramatically crosses his arms and nods, the citrine beam of the streetlamp shimmering across the uncovered parts of his costume.
…
"Is he being serious?" I ask Regent, who leans on the bare brick of the building to my right and rolls his eyes with such practice it's actually noticeable through his mask.
"Aren't you the Thinker? Why are you asking me? As far as I know, that's his idea of being casual. Tell me you can't picture him hitting on girls like that."
Brian freezes.
"Oh, God, you [did—"] I start.
"Just the once! And it worked!"
"Of course it worked, you goddamn moron, you are a centerpiece poster wrapped in a bad boy leather jacket! You could recite the back of a cereal box and that would still work!"
"That's not true, I am just… charismatic."
I look at him.
He uncrosses his arms and suppresses the urge to fidget.
"Rachel," I say, making the laconic girl look up from where she's patiently petting a very mellow Brutus, the stumped tail of the Rottweiler lazily trying to thump from side to side, "is there any way Brian could try to hit on you that would make you say no to a romp in the sack?"
She looks from me to the boy who's now actually fidgeting.
"It would be better if he didn't speak," she finally says in a way she doesn't realize is far more brutal than anything Alec has said in the past… let's say three hours.
"I [have] been rejected, you know?" he says, as if it's something to be proud of.
"Sure. By literal lesbians." Gaydar, Thinker sub-rating. Look it up.
"You don't know—"
"Are you seriously talking about this right now?" Taylor says as she steps into the alley in full regalia.
Which means she must've changed near here, because she told me she would take the bus and nobody is stupid enough, even in this city of lemmings, to stop a public transportation vehicle to allow Skitter to get in. Which means I just missed her changing in public.
…
My brain is a filthy, [filthy] place…
[Unsanitary living conditions—]
I am not going to let you finish that sentence just because of the very likely outcome that it would make me scream until my throat bled.
[Lisa Wilbourn's overly dramatic—]
Yeah. No. That doesn't fly. 'Adequately dramatic' is more like it.
Also, maybe I should focus on why everybody is so silent right now.
I mean, aside from the fact everyone knows I left the team because of Taylor, that she was an undercover hero lying to them from the start, and that this is the first time they meet after such revelations.
I am sure there must be some other reason for the tense standoff. Something easily solved.
…
Maybe Regent is pissed we kept that cherry Chapstick?
"So! Skitter! Insert appropriately dramatic welcoming nod here!" I say, not quite breaking the ice, but just because it was actually pykrete.
[Frozen mix of water and sawdust displaying mechanical properties akin to concrete—]
One day, I'll discover why you get so excited with materials science. I suspect I'll weep at the revelation.
Just a hunch.
"Hey, Taylor," Regent gives her a lazy wave that is his equivalent to a friendly display of camaraderie, "how's the lesbian life treating you? Getting sick of fish tacos already?"
I look at him. He smirks.
An ominous buzzing fills the alley.
"Hold that thought for a sec, sweetie," I say.
And then walk up to Alec and knee his groin.
I mean, he isn't short, nor bearing a ring, but just in case, you know?
"You…" he huffs, "are far too physical for… Oh God, I'm going to throw up… too.. physical… for Thinker…"
Then he drops down the wall and clasps his knees as he takes deep, loud breaths.
The buzzing stops, Rachel looks at me with heartwarming approval, and Brian tries not to shy away.
[Male solidarity—]
Is yet another weakness.
Also, Colin stabbed Lung in the groin. Repeatedly. So it's likely also a myth.
[Brian Laborn's reaction genuinely—]
Fine. [Mostly] a myth.
"'Sweetie?' 'Lesbian life?'" the one who partakes of the essence of myths asks.
Taylor's body language stops.
The buzzing returns after a short reprieve. There's a note to it that, after long, [long] experience with her anti-Thinker tactics, I can infer not to be threatening.
Not that a gigantic swarm being [panicky] is much better.
I glare at Alec. He, still in full gopnik squat and wheezing, smirks up at me. Then goes back to wheezing.
… Note to self: watch a few more Muay Thai training videos. There's room for improvement.
[Physical training—]
I didn't raise you to have such a potty mouth.
[Lisa Wilbourn's parental—]
Nope. Nope, nope, nope. [Noooooooooope!]
[Lisa Wilbourn's shirking—]
Distraction. I need an immediate, pressing distraction—oh, Brian! You could be useful for once in your life, aren't you happy?
"Ah, didn't we tell you?" I ask him, not even having to fake the barely in check panic, though for very different reasons to Taylor blue-screening.
"'We?' As in, you two?" he asks, a lost note on his voice.
[Brian Laborn's attraction to Taylor Hebert—]
Stop gleefully enjoying the teenage drama. It's beneath you.
[Lisa Wilbourn's anthropomorphizing of parahuman abilities interfaces—]
You've gotta be shitting me.
"Uh, I mean, we both ran away at the same time, and… I [told you] we've been living together. You aren't much for reading between the lines, are you?"
"What between the lines?! Last thing I knew, Taylor was very aggressively heterosexual—uh. I mean. Not that there's anything wrong with… So, you're bi, uh? Good for you! Great, even! Do you want us all to celebrate at Fugly Bob's? Is that something people do? Are all of you bastards going to let me keep on talking?"
"Yup," Alec says, timing his breathing just so he can spit the single syllable.
"Pretty much," I elaborate on his genius commentary.
"Buzzzzzzz," Tayor adds her own corollary. Indirectly.
Rachel, as usual, acts as a silent observer of human nature. Wise beyond her years, that one.
Brutus keeps enjoying her expert fingers though, so I guess that's his excuse not to participate in Brian's lynching.
And I thought dogs were supposed to be social animals.
"… You all are the worst team I could ever be saddled with."
"Took you long enough to realize that, o fearless leader," Alec says, finally having recovered his breath, yet still maintaining his gopnik squat. Likely because of self-identifying reasons.
"It's adorable you still think he led anything," I can't keep myself from stating.
Brian's body language goes rigid and he turns to me.
"Care to elaborate?"
Fuck.
[De-escalation—]
Do you even realize who my fiancée is?
"Brian, no offense, but whose plan was it when we attacked the bank?"
"I can accept a good idea and implement—"
"Who was it who made the hard calls? That saved me from Glory Girl?"
He stares at me. His eyes aren't visible, but they don't need to be for a glare like this.
"What are you saying, Lisa?"
Good question. What am I even saying?
[Scapegoat—]
Oh, good idea. Thanks.
"I am saying that I wasn't Coil's only victim. Having me as his mouthpiece, the only contact with the mysterious boss you all depended on? That was calculated. You were a tactical leader, don't misunderstand, but he set things up so you could never be more than that—and having a Thinker seven looking over your shoulder at every step was only one way to ensure that. When Taylor came along and she started giving ideas? He was really pleased."
Swallow that, come on! It's perfectly tailored to both your vanity and persecution complex—
[Empire 88—]
I am [not] saying it's an unjustified persecution complex.
He crosses his arms once again, pondering what I just said. The swarm goes silent as Taylor turns to look at me.
"We'll talk about this. Later," he finally sentences.
"Good, because Squealer's tank just entered my range," Taylor sentences.
Oh, goodie. The druggies have dramatic timing.
***
I am, once again, on a rooftop overlooking a band of villains.
I would gush about how romantic it all is if it wasn't for all the unwanted extras.
"Legolas, what do your elf eyes see?" Alec asks me, pulling an acceptable Aragorn.
"If you start singing 'They're Taking the Hobbits to Isengard,' I [will] shoot you."
"Have I told you how disappointed I am in your ever-increasing violent streak?"
"Have I told you who has cultivated it through long, [long], exhausting coexistence."
"No need to, though it's always nice to have my work recognized."
"I don't know if you two are flirting or trying to be infuriatingly sibling-like," Brian intrudes.
"Can't it be both?" Alec asks.
"I [will] push you off this roof," I clarify.
"Oh, I see escalation is rubbing off you. And on you. And likely in you—"
"Alec, Lisa may be all talk. Do you think I am?" Taylor finally says, apparently having worked up the nerve to speak in front of her quasi-ex.
No, I am not bitter, insecure, jealous, or clingy. Those are ridiculous notions that have no place in the mind of a brilliant, detached tactician such as I.
[Brian Laborn's appreciation of Taylor Hebert's backside—]
I'll murder him. Then I'll recruit Panacea so she can bring him up as a zombie and kill him a second time, but without any moral repercussions, because zombies are fair game.
"Honestly? I know you to be quite vocal—[fuck!"] Alec starts waving his hands, trying to hit the wasps currently surrounding him.
"Right," my beautiful, gorgeous, and not at all terrifying girlfriend says. "Lisa's talked down the dockworkers, so the ground is ours—which is not, at all, what the Merchants were gearing up for. There's a small detachment of grunts coming in from the South making a lot of noise to draw aggression, and an invisible tank with at least Squealer on board coming in from the North to cut off the dockworkers' escape after they engage. Simple, but effective."
"Which means we can attack the tank and—" Brian starts.
"No. The grunts are going to do damage to the neighborhood for as long as they are unchecked, so they are the priority. A single strike with Brutus will dissuade most of them."
Brian glares.
"Are you telling me how to lead—"
"Brian, back off. She's telling you the priorities, you know, what [I] pay you for. You are here to defend the Docks, not to defeat Squealer." I try to be conciliatory, I really do, but… Teenagers. Traumatized, superpowered, teenagers on an ego trip.
[Lisa Wilbourn's age—]
I may not be as self-aware as I would like, but I get [that] much.
"Fine," Brian concedes, once more crossing his arms and making his leather jacket creak, "Rachel and I will hit the mooks. Alec will stay here and provide ranged support to whichever group he feels needs it most."
"Aye, aye, my captain," the jerk with a heart of jerk says.
"I have Squealer's tank covered with as many insects as I think she won't notice, but it looks like the camouflage system seals it off. As soon as she drops it to attack or deploy occupants, I'm swarming them all."
Right. A two-pronged attack dealt with two defensive groups. That fits both my projections for the whole thing and my best-case scenario. Now I just…
Now I just need to have the Undersiders do their first heroes for hire jig.
This kinda feels momentous. Should I give a speech? A Saint Crispin's Day thing, maybe?
I mean, on the one hand, no need to delay, on the other, that's an excuse to run my mouth…
[Lisa Wilbourn's priorities—]
Are perfectly aligned with both my values and goals. Shut up.
"What's that?" Regent says, in the tone of someone who just heard someone say something as utterly stupid as 'what's the worst that could happen' or 'that fits both my projections for the whole thing and my best-case scenario.'
For fuck's sake! I didn't say it [out loud!]
Taking out my night vision binoculars (they aren't even a Colin gift, I just like toys—[not like that!)], I quickly look toward where he's pointing.
That is, toward the group of Merchant grunts.
Who are getting decimated.
By a tall woman in costume hitting them left and right, straw blonde hair streaming after far too quick movements—
[Enhanced reflexes—]
She does a sweeping kick that starts as a feint to the front and ends up as a mule kick to the opponent behind her—
[Enhanced situational awareness—]
The kick hits the grunt right in the gut, and he drops. Not clutching his abdomen in pain, just… immobile.
[Enhanced strength—]
His partner tries to grab the extended leg, only for her to retract it in a sweeping arc that ends up with both her legs aligned and perpendicular to the ground for a beautifully choreographed moment that he doesn't get the chance to appreciate as it's quickly followed by a dropping axe-kick right on top of his head that drives him down to the pavement.
[Enhanced flexibility—]
The Merchants around her stand back, making a circle around the newest cape to hit my city.
She stands, provocatively cocks her hip with a hand leaning on it, and extends her other arm before making a beckoning gesture with her four extended fingers.
"Change of plans. We hit Squealer's tank [now!"]
Brutus is already changed, his hulking shape at my side as reassuring as a big dog who's on your side yet also a Jurassic era horror can be.
Rachel mounts him, Brian right behind her.
Taylor moves to do the same, and I stop her.
"We three stay here. We need to hold something back in case the newbie turns out to be something complicated."
"Complicated? What do you mean?"
[Costume likely to be modified PRT assault troop armor. Display of skill not consistent with new trigger. Tactical approach methodical, if reckless—consistent with new trigger. Targeting Merchants consistent with heroic inclinations. No attempt at de-escalation consistent with villainous inclinations—]
I hold back a wince at the barrage of Power trying and failing to come up with an answer to my current dilemma.
That. I mean that.
I should've called Colin.
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This work is a repost of my most popular fic on QQ (https://forum.questionablequesting.com/threads/wake-up-call-worm.15638/), where it can be found up to date except for the latest two chapters that are currently only available on Patreon (https://www.patreon.com/Agrippa?fan_landing=true)—as an added perk, both those sites have italicized and bolded text. I'll be posting the chapters here twice weekly, on Wednesday and Friday, until we're caught up. Unless something drastic happens, it will be updated at a daily rate until it catches up to the currently written 85 chapters (or my brain is consumed by the overwhelming amounts of snark, whichever happens first).
Speaking of Italics, this story's original format relied on conveying Power's intrusions into Lisa's inner monologue through the use of italics. I'm using square brackets ([]) to portray that same effect, but the work is more than 300k words at the moment, so I have to resort to the use of macros to make that light edit and the process may not be perfect. My apologies in advance
Also, I'd like to thank my credited supporters on Patreon: Niklarus, Tinkerware, Varosch, Xalgeon, and aj0413. If you feel like maybe giving me a hand and helping me keep writing snarky, useless lesbians, consider joining them or buying one of my books on https://www.amazon.com/stores/Terry-Lavere/author/B0BL7LSX2S. Thank you for reading!
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