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Mature

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Graphic Depictions Of ViolenceMajor Character Death

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Parahumans Series - WildbowPrototype (Video Games)

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CrossoverConsequencesVillainsMorally Ambiguous CharacterMoral DilemmasShapeshiftingSuperpowersLiesCorruptionEldritchCannibalistic ThoughtsDeveloping FriendshipsHeroesVigilanteGrimdarkStealth Fix-FicObliviousHiding in Plain SightSerial KillersScience ExperimentsHuntington's DiseaseCharacter DevelopmentCharacter StudyPunching NazisAngst and HumorActs of KindnessSchemingMonster - FreeformWorm Spoilers (Parahumans)Alex Mercer is a jerk (but not irredeemable)Minor Original Character(s)Being Taylor Hebert | Skitter | Weaver Is SufferingBut Glory Girl Won't Stand For ItCannibalismCanon-Typical ViolenceParahumans (Parahumans Series)Case 53s (Parahumans)The Protectorate (Parahumans)Alex Mercer is a JerkHorrorBody HorrorAction/AdventureCrossovers & Fandom FusionsManipulationSecrets

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Published:2020-06-02Updated:2024-05-24Words:179,353Chapters:34/?Comments:200Kudos:486Bookmarks:175Hits:27,349

Compulsion

Lead_Zeppelin

Chapter 5: Incubation 1.5

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Incubation 1.5

I ran through the night, no longer caring what kind of attention I drew to myself in costume.

I was terrified of Lung, more afraid than I'd ever been of anything in my life, yet despite that, some part of me wanted to turn back immediately to go help the Case 53. I knew there was nothing I could do, but I wanted to go back anyway. I pushed past that impulse, and pressed on, repeating a mantra of reassurances in my head.

Still alive. He'd still been alive. Fighting, dying, but he was still alive.

I just had to believe he'd make it out okay. I just had to believe I hadn't condemned him. I'd done everything I could, so why did I still feel like I was making a terrible mistake?

That girl, Tattletale, had said he was nearly at the limit of his regeneration, but surely he could eventually make a full recovery if he made it out alive?

After a few hundred more feet, I slowed my pace to a more efficient jog. I was gasping from the exertion, but it wasn't just that. The guilt I felt seemed to magnify with every step I took and each second that passed. It was starting to suffocate me, squeezing my chest in a vice.

Another block passed, and I finally put two and two together about the weird team that helped fight off Lung.

Those four capes must have been a villain team, probably rivals of the ABB. They must have thought I was one, too, because they treated me like an ally even though they mistook me for another villain. And why wouldn't they assume that? After all, I had inadvertently helped them escape from Lung. I might end up being the reason someone died in that fight.

In fact, the new cape could be dying right this instant, and it was all because of me. If I had just talked to the Case 53 to start with, we probably wouldn't have stumbled into this disaster.

I remembered the situation where I'd gotten my powers. I'd been trapped in decaying filth, beating on the door of my locker, screaming, sobbing, begging to be let out. The worst part of all was the crushing knowledge that no one, not one single person would do anything to help me, either too self-absorbed or too afraid of my bullies' retaliation. Was I just like them? Too afraid to do the right thing?

My steps faltered as the adrenaline rush left me, and I started to shake uncontrollably. Stopping completely, I took in slow, deep lungfuls of the biting night air to try to control the sudden wave of nausea that washed over me. I just barely kept myself from throwing up, and even that was mostly my fear of having to remove my mask out in the open to do so.

I hugged my trembling arms around my midsection, trying to regain control of myself. There was still something I was missing, and that was all that mattered. At last, it hit me.

I'd done everything I could to avoid the blame for what happened, but that wasn't at all the same as doing the right thing.

I knew the reason why I ran away, and it wasn't out of pragmatism. I was afraid. I knew I was too weak to stop Lung from killing the Case 53, and I knew I was too weak to stop Lung from killing me right after.

But staying or running away weren't the only options. That was my crucial mistake.

Maybe, if I'd tried taking control of the other cape like my powers seemed capable of, I might have prevented this. It might not have worked, but I had been too afraid to try at first, and after that, I'd been blocking him out of my power's perception and hadn't even thought of it.

It was too late now. I'd been gone from the fight for several minutes, and it had already been almost over for the Case 53.

I couldn't just give up, though. There was something else I was missing, I knew it.

I forced myself to breathe regularly, focusing on that and nothing else for a few seconds until my head stopped spinning. I had to do something before it was too late, but what?

The heroes. I could call the heroes. At least the police had probably been called by now, but I had to make sure. Even if the Protectorate already knew and they were too late to stop it, I should tell them about my role. They were going to find out I was involved anyway. Even if they didn't know or trust me, I had to get my side of events out as soon as possible, establish right from the start what had happened, that I wasn't one of the bad guys.

I resisted the idea, my mind searching in vain for something else I could do instead.

No. That was only my shame and fear talking. This was the right thing to do.

I thought of what I would say as I looked for a working pay phone, using my swarm to search alongside my own eyes. I quickly found one the next street over under the sickly yellow glow of a hardware store's signage, next to a cage full of rust-spotted tanks of propane. Mustering up the fortitude to punch in 9-1-1 was far more difficult than it had any right to be. Against all logic, I still felt like a little kid who'd get in trouble for typing in that number.

I raised the battered receiver up to my ear with the same weight and dread as I would hold a loaded revolver. Each ring was like playing Russian roulette. There was a long pause, then it rang once. Twice.

I had just started to wonder if the lines were being swamped by other calls when the call finally connected. The police dispatcher answered so quickly I almost missed what he said. "Brockton Bay 911, what is your emergency?"

"I was in a cape fight with Lung," I blurted out, completely forgetting the half-baked script I'd thought up.

"Are you in a safe place? Are you injured?" the dispatcher asked immediately.

"I'm—yes, I mean I'm safe, but another parahuman is badly injured. He was still fighting Lung when I left, you have to hurry," I said breathlessly.

"Would this be the disturbance and fire reported on Getter and Piedmont?" the dispatcher asked.

"I, uh, yes. I think that's it."

"The police, fire department, and Protectorate heroes have already been dispatched and are on their way. Do you need an ambulance?" the dispatcher asked.

"No—but I'm a cape, I can still go back and help," I said, growing frustrated. "Can I talk to the PRT or the heroes?"

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line. Then he asked, "Can I get your cape name?"

"I'm new, you wouldn't know me," I said, feeling like kicking myself for not deciding on a name beforehand. "Just... put me through? Please? The way the fight was going, someone might be seriously hurt or dead by now."

There was a slightly longer pause on the other end of the line.

"I'm transferring your call to the PRT," the dispatcher said, then the line went staticky for a second and a ringtone sounded.

The PRT picked up on the first ring, and this time a woman answered. "Parahuman Response Team, what is your emergency?"

"I'm a new cape, I was just fighting Lung with another cape, and he needs help right now," I said, sounding surprisingly authoritative, even to myself.

To her credit, the woman on the other end of the line didn't even hesitate. "Is he or anyone else in need of specialized assistance?"

I wracked my brain for details. "Um. He's a regenerator, and a Brute, if that helps. He's badly burned. There were also, uh, five gang members, at least. They've got spider bites and bee stings, so they might need antivenins. And there might be more people trapped in the burning building."

"Noted. Armsmaster is on the scene with firefighters and police now, and they're securing the area. No other parahumans have been reported there yet. Our system shows you're calling from a public phone nearby. Do you need someone to come get you?" the PRT operator asked.

"No," I said quickly, my heart sinking at the news. "No, I'm heading back there now."

"I will notify the police and Armsmaster that you are coming. Can you provide a description of your costume or appearance?" she asked.

"I'm wearing a black spider silk costume with armor panels and yellow lenses," I said automatically, and belatedly wondered if I shouldn't have mentioned the spider silk.

The operator, for her part, sounded completely unfazed. "They will be informed within thirty seconds."

I guessed that specific time limit was a warning in case I tried to teleport there right away or something. As it was, it would take me a few minutes to get there. I thanked the operator quickly and hung up the phone, then began a slow jog back.

It was a little weird that the PRT insisted I see Armsmaster right away, but for all I knew it could have just been the normal procedure to deal with new capes.

The knowledge that I was going to meet a big-name superhero like Armsmaster would have made me ecstatic under other circumstances, but now I was going to meet him having utterly failed as a superhero on my first night out.

Realistically, I only hoped he wouldn't arrest me—I couldn't even imagine how devastated Dad would be if I went to jail, despite how distant we'd grown lately.

I continued jogging back down the street, and it wasn't long before I saw the flashing lights and heard the sirens. A huge red fire engine was the first thing I saw, pumping water into the rapidly diminishing fires of the apartment building.

I felt my dread mounting as I got closer, and my power's range encompassed more and more of the street without encountering the Case 53. I knew long before I arrived that he was either gone, or he'd died. It was a tiny relief that the only flames I could detect with my swarm were the rapidly drowning, natural fires in the apartment building. My bugs' senses were difficult to parse, but even they couldn't miss a giant burning monster like Lung. He was nowhere to be found.

By the time I got close enough to see Armsmaster's futuristic motorcycle amidst the cop cars, I could feel with my swarm that the five incapacitated ABB gang members had all been shackled by their hands and feet, and were still covered in many of the bugs I'd left behind. They were festooned over the street like landed fish, all of them lying belly-down on the ground while police officers frisked them for weapons and evidence. It was a surreal scene, made all the stranger by the flashing red and blue lights of the cop cars and fire engine, and the green and white lights of a PRT van up the street. The cops caught sight of me first, and they were tense, but they made no move to stop me. Apparently, calling ahead was the right move.

I drifted around cop cars, firefighters, police officers, and incapacitated gang members like a ghost. None of this felt real.

Armsmaster was in front of the apartment building, kneeling down with his famous halberd in hand and inspecting the cracked, melted patches of asphalt where Lung had fought the Case 53 and the giant mutant dogs. The various little lights in his blue and silver power armor gave him a subtle bluish glow, making him seem even bigger than he already was, even while kneeling down.

I exhaled a breath I hadn't known I'd been holding when I saw no charred bodies lying out in the street. True, one or both might still be inside the building, or Lung might have scorched the other cape away into nothing, but I honestly doubted he had all that much fire left in him. He'd been shrinking and growing less coordinated when I'd seen him last.

Armsmaster saw me and turned my way. He motioned me to stop approaching about fifteen feet away, and I halted in my tracks. He stood, and towered over me.

"You're a new face. So I hear you had something to do with all of this?" Armsmaster said, his commanding voice carrying easily over the rushing roar of the fire hoses.

I hesitated. It was now or never to own up to it. I took a deep breath, and my words came out much calmer than I'd been expecting.

"Yeah. I saw a man getting stopped and held at gunpoint by those two," I said, pointing at the first two thugs lying up the street. "I used my bugs to help him escape, and he told me he didn't know who he was or how he got to this city."

Armsmaster's mouth, the only visible part of his face, hardened into a thin line. "Did you notice anything strange about his appearance?"

I hesitated, then nodded. I didn't want to say I had been following him and felt like my power could Master him, that would only make me sound like the next Bad Canary or Heartbreaker. Instead, I gave only a half-truth. "Yeah. He was a parahuman. I saw when Lung arrived, his body could turn into... it was like a bunch of snakes or tentacles, moving almost too fast to see. Tendrils."

Armsmaster nodded slowly. "He claimed to have no memories? This could be a possible Case 53. Have you heard of the phenomenon?"

"Like Newter and Gregor the Snail, right? That was my thought, too. I barely got the chance to talk to him before Lung arrived, though. Is he... did anyone see what happened? Is the Case 53 okay?" I asked.

Armsmaster shook his head. "We're still looking for witnesses, but neither of them were here when I arrived on the scene."

I peered into the hollowed-out front of the apartment building, trying to see past the billowing steam, smoke, and water spray. "They were fighting inside the building when I left. I couldn't do anything more to help, it was all on fire, so I called for help," I said lamely.

Armsmaster took a few steps closer to me, then turned to face into the ruined building. "My initial scans don't show any signs of bodies or living people inside."

"That's—that's good," I said, slumping in relief.

Armsmaster turned to me again. "There's evidence that other capes were fighting here. Did you see anything?" he asked.

"Y-yeah," I said, startled out of my thoughts. "About halfway through the fight, these four teenage capes arrived, ones I didn't know about before this. They said their names were Grue, Tattletale, Regent, and Bit—uh, Hellhound. These giant monster dogs attacked Lung for a while, then Grue asked if I was okay and Tattletale said the Case 53 was at the limit of his regeneration and about to lose control. She got Hellhound to call off the dogs, and they ran away while Lung and the Case 53 were still fighting. I left just after they did."

Armsmaster shifted his posture, leaning on his famous halberd. "I see. Those four teens are the Undersiders, a villain gang we've been having trouble tracking. And you...?"

It took me a moment to realize what he was asking. "I'm one of the good guys," I said warily. "But I think that the villains thought I was an ally, because I attacked Lung, and maybe because my costume looks kinda dark and villainous? I didn't really intend that when I was making it, it just came out that way. I'd been experimenting with different dyes and colors, but only black seemed..."

I snapped my mouth shut, realizing I'd been rambling.

For his part, Armsmaster didn't seem particularly bothered. He remained stoic in demeanor. "Why don't you start at the beginning," he said.

"Wait, you believe me?" I said, feeling like I missed a step.

"I do now," Armsmaster said, sounding both certain and a little annoyed. I felt a tiny twinge of resentment at that—after all, he'd been the one who'd seemed unsure just a moment ago.

I let it go, and briefly described my powers to Armsmaster. I told him how my first night out in costume had begun, and I decided not to tell him about my power's interactions with the inhuman cape—no need to go earning distrust when he already seemed skeptical that I was a hero. At least he was content with quietly listening to my explanation, though when I reached the part about sending my most venomous bugs after Lung, he nodded and hummed thoughtfully.

"If you can control the kinds of venom and how much are used, that would explain why none of these gang members are dead from anaphylactic shock despite how often you stung them," he said, sounding oddly blasé about my attempt to temporarily debilitate five people with deadly bugs.

"I brought EpiPens just in case," I said defensively.

Armsmaster waved a hand, as though dismissing the topic. "Prudent, but I'd rather hear about the Undersiders and this other parahuman that got involved. We know far too little about the local villains, so any witness testimony is invaluable. Any detail you can remember might help immensely."

I felt hope stirring in my chest at Armsmaster's words of encouragement, a bit of tension easing from me.

I described everything I could remember about the Undersiders, from what they said to the color of their costumes. In turn, Armsmaster filled in some of the gaps, noting what the Protectorate knew or didn't know about the team of villains. Grue and Hellhound were something of a known quantity, but Tattletale and Regent were a total mystery, it seemed.

The ABB, strangely enough, actually had fewer capes than the Undersiders, though Armsmaster's descriptions of the teleporting assassin Oni Lee and the new bomb-specialist Bakuda were so deeply terrifying that I wasted no time in agreeing to downplay my own involvement in the five gangsters' arrests, even though ceding the credit stung a little. Armsmaster praised me for that choice, which made me think I'd at least bought a little credit with him, but he was particularly frustrated by the lack of any concrete details about the Case 53.

"The last thing we need is another parahuman of unknown allegiance picking fights among the other villain groups," he said, starting to pace back and forth.

I shook my head. "I don't think he was looking for a fight. He was just walking down the other street, alone, when those two jumped him. They thought he was with the Empire Eighty-Eight, because he was wearing a black and red leather jacket, and he was white."

"Describe his powers and appearance for me," Armsmaster said, suddenly sounding keenly interested.

"He punched Lung into the building," I said, pointing to the crater, still somewhat dazed by the spectacular fight. "He was pretty fast, too. But Lung just got faster and stronger than him as they fought. He could... sort of heal, it was like regeneration. His power restored his body, even his clothes."

Armsmaster did not seem happy about that last part.

"Possible temporal reversion? God, I hope not," he muttered.

I cleared my dry throat and continued. "He's... well, he's maybe in his twenties or thirties, I think? No facial scars or tattoos or anything to really make him stand out, aside from his eyes. They were a really pale blue. He was average height, average weight. Clean shaven, and he was wearing a hood so I couldn't see much of his head or hair, but I guess from his eyebrows his hair was dark or black. Probably short."

Armsmaster inclined his head to me. "Thank you for your candor about this. It sounds like you've been through quite the ordeal, especially for your first night out."

I cast a glance at the ruined street. "I was so sure that someone was going to die because of me," I admitted in a small voice.

Armsmaster closed the remaining distance between us and put a steadying hand on my shoulder. "You should take this as a very valuable lesson," he said sternly. "It looks like no one got killed this time, but the next time might be different. The next time it might even be you."

I shrank back from his touch, the sick anxiety rising in my stomach again. "I know," I said hollowly.

Armsmaster's grip remained firm, but his tone softened somewhat. "You did a damn good job of taking out all those gang members and holding off Lung, I'd say. I can't fault you for deciding to attack those gang members for threatening the other parahuman, even if it was reckless with Lung so close by. Do you see what I'm getting at? Every mistake you made happened before you started fighting. That's how it usually goes."

I looked back at Armsmaster, up into the opaque visor covering his eyes. "What could I have done?" I asked.

Armsmaster smiled. It was a nice smile, one that showed no teeth. "You seem like a smart girl. I think you know the answer to that question."

I realized that I actually did know what he was getting at, or at least I knew the answer he wanted to hear. "I had no backup," I said slowly. "I didn't have any way of contacting help. I didn't know what was going on. I didn't know that Lung was nearby until it was already too late. I wasn't ready. I wasn't prepared."

"Exactly." Armsmaster said gravely. He stood back and pounded the haft of his halberd on the ground to emphasize the word, and in that moment he looked and sounded every bit like his role as the leader of heroes. "That's why the Protectorate exists. That's why we have the Wards program. Brockton Bay is dangerous, and in this city, you need all the advantages you can get. Wading in alone is a recipe for disaster. You can't rely on just yourself for protection. If you were to join the Wards, we'd provide you with training, legal and financial aid, the finest medical care anywhere, mentorships from the greatest heroes in the world, and most importantly, you'd become part of a team."

Maybe it was just my exhaustion, but Armsmaster's inspiring sales pitch made me want to laugh and cry at the same time. I did neither, of course, but the urge was there all the same.

What Armsmaster was saying made sense. An overwhelming amount of sense. If he'd made that kind of offer to just about anyone else, they'd have been deeply moved and inspired to join with him. It was logical. It was tempting.

But not to me.

Armsmaster had no way of knowing, but I wanted to become a hero to get away from my high school life. I wanted to believe that the Wards would be better than the bullying I faced at Winslow, but I just couldn't bring myself to take that risk. I didn't think my soul could bear the disappointment if I ended up just trading one prison for another, and I simply didn't have it in me to trust anything. Not yet, anyway.

"Thanks for the advice," I said, somehow managing to sound more sincere than fatigued. "But I need some time to think it over. It's been... a long day."

I was a bit surprised to see that Armsmaster wasn't visibly disappointed, nor did he judge me for essentially blowing him off. He simply held out a hand for me to shake. I took it, feeling my arm tingle from the contact.

"You can call me at the PHQ if you ever need any help," he said, and I took the words as a dismissal. Then it occurred to me that maybe I'd earned a little bit of favor by letting him take credit for the gangsters' arrests.

I thanked Armsmaster again, and made my way home. My head was practically spinning with the highs and lows of the night. I'd been so sure I'd done something unforgivable, something I couldn't take back, yet somehow, I'd managed to salvage the situation. And now, Lung had been thwarted and there were five ABB gang members that wouldn't be terrorizing the streets. All because of me.

When I finally made it back home and crept into my bed, the last thought I had before I fell asleep was that maybe this hero career wasn't doomed to failure after all.

Notes:

This is the chapter in which we begin our final station of canon for this story. Also, I'd like to offer a special thanks to those readers who have left reviews!

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