School was cancelled. Not entirely, of course, but they closed the building for two days to conduct "investigative procedures" regarding the Butcher incident and all that mess. That's actually good, because I don't feel like going anywhere. Lately, I've been realizing I'm becoming a homebody. Because underneath my house, there's already an entire underground city - not on human scale, mind you, but still. An established production line of new modifications: Japanese hornets, courier ants, and queen ants with neurotoxin. Size experiments. Nervous system experiments - I select those who respond at greater distances, concluding that nervous system structure matters in a binary sense, but not for signal decay over distance. Simply put, if an animal has ganglia instead of brains, it comes under my direct control within my power's range. But if it has something more complex than a nerve cluster, or conversely - more primitive, then - unfortunately. No dice.
What does this tell us? Two things, and the first is that my power's range limitation is clearly artificial. Like someone put a compass on my head and drew a circle - this far and no further, period.
Why do I think so? Because natural limitations don't work that way. Radio, for example - it doesn't have such range restrictions, it has signal strength limitations. Sitting in a Faraday cage, even two meters away - you won't catch a signal. But in open terrain - much farther. Signal cutoff at a specific distance indicates the artificial nature of this limitation. Or that, for example, this signal sees no obstacles in the natural world. One option - it passes through another dimension. Nonsense? Aren't powers themselves nonsense? But if my insect control ability's signal sees no limitations and obstacles, if there's no signal weakening at the "edges" of the radius (and there isn't), then this radius is artificially established. An external hardware limitation.
And the second, obviously surface-level idea - the artificial limitation of my ability's influence possibilities. The difference between a highly developed insect and the most primitive reptile isn't as great as between that same insect and, say, bacteria. Moreover, what are ganglia, which are decision-making centers in insects? They're essentially nerve clusters. Okay, but I can control millions of ganglia simultaneously, hundreds of millions, maybe even billions! And that's far more than nerve clusters in the brain of a lizard or pigeon. So theoretically, with such capabilities, I could control humans. Just imagine their brain not as a unified whole, but as a collection of nerve clusters, as if instead of one person I had a million cockroaches.
Let me check... my little roaches urgently open an internet article, and I read through their eyes. Number of neurons in a cockroach - one million, number of neurons in a frog - sixteen million. Yes, significant difference, but that's all. One frog equals sixteen cockroaches? Pfft... not even funny, I'd lead thousands of frogs. Frog Princess Taylor. What about the human brain? Eighty-six billion! Holy shit. That means... eighty-six million cockroaches equivalent to one human? Insane, but even so - I could control people! Because I'm absolutely certain I can control hundreds of millions of insects. But... it doesn't work. Wait, though. Have I tried? I should try. Experiment on Tattletale - she's pretty smart, let her earn her keep.
Human control... hmm. There's a cape here called Heartbreaker. In my opinion - a primitive thug, this Heartbreaker. If he can order humans to do anything, then settling in the wilderness with a harem of beauties is a particularly sophisticated way to bury talent. Ah, if I had such talent... I'd unite Earth's people! Lead them to a bright future! Eliminate all Endbringers and create world peace, universal love and progress, and of course secret police, propaganda, human settlement on distant planets, first contact with alien intelligence and conquering it in the name of Great Taylor, Empress of Earth and New Goddess of Humanity... no, I don't need such joy. They say power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. I'd really go wild...
So maybe it's good that such power appeared in someone without particular ambitions. Of course, from a civilian's perspective it's horrible - violence against people, especially young and beautiful girls, but for society and government as a whole, Heartbreaker is safe. He sits in the wilderness collecting women. If he posed a real threat, they'd have dropped a vacuum bomb on his estate long ago. Or arranged a gas leak. But as is - he sits and screws girls. For a specific girl and her parents - tragedy. For the PRT and government - acceptable payment for peace. Hmm. Where does he live? Canada? Could visit during vacation, not far...
"Hey! Four-eyes slut! Your charging cable's acting up on the tablet!" Original Butcher appears at my consciousness periphery. His real name is Nicholas. Nicholas Thornby. You'll laugh - his first profession was actually butcher. More precisely - meat trimmer. Someone who separated sinew and membranes from actual meat. He worked on a conveyor at a big plant in Monterey.
"The cable's fine," I reply automatically. "The contact's loose, adjust it."
"How do I adjust it? I can only control one cockroach at a time! And even then, I have to think about where to put each leg," Butcher grumbles. "I'm not a schizophrenic like you."
"That's really strange to hear from you." I send a couple ants to fix the tablet contact in the basement. "And you have two more hours online. Then it's turn order. Next is Alice, then-"
"Why the hell should I share?"
"Because I only have three tablets in the basement so far," I explain patiently. "I'll go buy new ones and-"
"So go!"
"Don't feel like going out." I admit. Home is cozy, home is warm, home has internet and my fortress right underneath, tens of thousands of my "Medicis" and "Stingers." At home I feel more confident. And lately, every time I leave the house, some shit starts. First Lung, then Butcher, then Bakuda. Now I'll go out and run into Slaughterhouse Nine around the corner. Or an Endbringer. Do I need that? The ladies and gentlemen Butchers can wait. I have a day off. And Taylor's day off means I lie in bed, covered head to toe with a blanket, curled in a ball. I should get a cat... or chat with a girlfriend. Too bad Taylor has no girlfriends. Had one...
"Send your minions."
"What minions?"
"That... blonde who likes being smart. Or the bomber. Any of your sluts. There's fourteen of us here and only two tablets," Butcher says. "Want us to stop bothering you - go shopping."
"Wouldn't it be suspicious if I suddenly buy ten tablets?" I really don't want to leave the house. And I don't want to obey Butcher either. Maybe this is Butcher's influence - first buy him tablets and internet access, then I'll start laughing uncontrollably and shooting machine guns in all directions. I'm tired. I want to curl up and cry. About world unfairness and people's cruelty - nobody understands the feelings of lonely Butcher Fifteen. But I have a soul. Had one. Probably.
"Taylor!" Butcher raises his voice. "I'm being serious! Don't bust my balls! We had a deal!"
"Oh, don't bullshit me. You only follow the letter of our agreement while spitting on the spirit. You don't call me 'four-eyed whore,' but you've remembered so many synonyms for 'whore,' like a professor of philology and linguistics. There's slut, and skank, and harlot..."
"Courtesan, prostitute, trollop, strumpet, hussy, tramp, broad, hooker..." Butcher continued the list with undisguised pleasure. "I'm a man of broad horizons."
"Exactly. So when I have the strength to go outside and talk to people - then I'll go. And I won't bother my minions because they're stressed too."
"What stress do they have..." Butcher mutters thoughtfully. "Two sluts."
"Well..." At that moment, a familiar beacon enters my attention field. What does she want here? Already recovered from the knee blow? Sophia, damn her, Hess, elusive avenger and part-time Shadow Stalker, terror of all juvenile criminals in Brockton Bay, what the hell do you need near my house?
She's sitting in the attic across from my house, watching through a small ventilation window. The attic inhabitants - several flies, a fat spider, and night moths - sense her presence but can't provide a full picture. I direct a couple dozen "Medicis" there - they fly slower than "Stingers" but don't create such noise. And can move "on foot" further and faster. They're ants, after all.
I wonder how I didn't sense her presence before - her beacon seemed to appear in my ability's field. She should have entered, but it's like she turned on the beacon and was suddenly here. Hmm. Probably she covered that distance in her shadow form. I click my tongue in frustration. Another vulnerability of my beacons - relying on them, I might miss something important. Like a crossbow bolt in the back. It wouldn't kill me - I'm no longer the weak girl from the back row, now I'm Butcher XV, dammit. But that doesn't mean I'm invulnerable. Danny is even more vulnerable - one crossbow bolt would definitely hurt him. Or rather - bolt. Yes, crossbows fire bolts, not arrows.
The "Medicis" reach the opposite house's attic and penetrate through ventilation and gaps between roof and wall. Finally, a full picture appears. Sophia Hess sits by the window, gripping a crossbow, wearing her old costume from before she became a Ward. Ah, so this is personal vendetta, not a coordinated PRT action. That's easier. And what should I do with her?
The simplest solution - bite her on exposed skin between mask and suit, then wait until she stops showing signs of life. Then direct many insects to the attic and order them to dispose of the body. Several hours of hard work and Sophia Hess, aka Shadow Stalker, would cease being a threat. While ceasing to exist. I'd just have to personally dispose of the crossbow and other equipment - dog-sized ants would be useful here... but overall, a solid plan. Just like that, no more Sophia. Know nothing, went for a walk and disappeared. You know how many people go missing annually in our country? About fifteen thousand - one more, one less...
I sigh. Yes, that would be the correct decision practically. However... Sophia Hess deserves a good beating, not an agonizing death. Honestly, Lung and Butcher didn't deserve it either, but there I acted from fear for my life. I'm not afraid of Sophia in any form - neither as a school athlete-bully nor as her alter ego, Shadow Stalker. Time to learn using my power with restraint - I already had experience with Glory Girl. And Glory Girl is head and shoulders above Shadow Stalker in combat qualities, abilities, and character.
I stand up and pull on my new hoodie. Actually, might as well take a walk, get some air, do some shopping. Need to visit Tattletale, check on her, kill two birds with one stone...
I go downstairs. Today's a weekend and Danny sits at the table reading newspaper over cold lasagna. He looks up.
"Where are you going, Taylor?" His voice has worried notes. No wonder - last time his Little Owl returned looking like demons under a bridge had been tearing at her all night. The conclusion he drew blew my mind. He decided his daughter was gay. Where did that come from?! Sure, I don't wear dresses, don't use makeup and such, but to jump straight to "honey, I understand, it happens, it's normal"... my eye actually twitched. I thought Danny realized his Little Owl was a cape and connected the new cape, Lung's murder, Butcher's murder, changed behavior... but it was easier for him to blame difficult age and sexual identity search. Quite understandable behavior - people always choose the simplest, most convenient option. What's easier and more convenient to believe - that your daughter became a cape and cold-blooded killer of nearly forty people including two very strong capes, or that she's a lesbian? Clear, right?
I had to put in huge effort proving I'm not gay and that girls don't interest me at all. Nor boys. And I didn't lie about that - lately I have no sexual thoughts, I don't even masturbate. Yes, I know everyone masturbates, but not me. And not because I suddenly became a nun. Try doing it when you have fourteen personalities in your head who'd gladly savor the whole process while making lewd comments... I personally can't manage it. So no sex, Taylor, unless you don't mind doing it in the square before a crowd of critics and connoisseurs. And yes, if this audience were friendly, but no. These are Butchers. Even ignoring their opinion - their comments immediately kill any mood for anything more erotic than taking a shower.
"I'm... just going for a walk," I improvise. What else to say? I don't need school today, and after yesterday I can't bring myself to say "going to a friend's."
"Taylor, I have nothing against you having a girlfriend," Danny folds the newspaper and leans forward. "And I understand you're eager to meet her. It's good that between you... friendship."
"Dad!" I roll my eyes. "Please! Lisa and I are just friends."
"That's exactly why I'd like to meet this Lisa. Since you're just friends and there's nothing between you, that shouldn't be difficult, right?" Danny corners me.
"Fine. I'll bring her over." I answer to get him off my back. I have other tasks right now. Need to discipline Shadow Stalker, get Bakuda ready for proper combat, I already owe Tattletale and she owes me, should meet with her... no peace for the wicked.
"Excellent. I'll make pasta, the way you like it," Danny nods. "I have all the ingredients at home. Bring her around five, not too late."
"Today?!"
"You were going to meet her anyway," Danny points out.
"Uh..." I think. Of course, I could make excuses, say she's busy and all that, but it would raise suspicions again. Lisa in her civilian guise is quite a decent girl, and if anyone can play the role of a "decent girl," friend and older companion to wayward Taylor, it's her - with flying colors. Main thing is her mouth doesn't give her away - she likes walking on the edge. Well... she owes me, and I don't have much reverence for Unwritten Rules. Meeting Lisa will calm Dad down, he'll stop helicopter parenting me, and I still need to shock him with the news I'm a cape - need to ease him into this like a fish into an aquarium.
"Fine," I agree. "Five it is. I'm going!"
"Be careful out there, Little Owl."
"I promise." I throw on the hoodie and go outside. Happy hunting, Shadow Stalker, happy hunting.
Interlude
Amy had never worked so feverishly and intensely in her life. She sat at her desk with a container filled with ground meat and cabbage leaves before her - containing that same little worm Butcher had implanted in Victoria's body. But now Butcher herself wouldn't recognize it. It was much larger, nearly finger-thick, with strange constructions growing from its body that looked most like antennae.
"Amy!" A knock on the door made her hide the container in her desk drawer. "Time for the hospital! Want a ride?"
"Yes! Coming!" she answers. Well, every cloud has a silver lining - Vicky was forbidden from leaving home. Only for business. So even taking Amy to the hospital was a chance to fly out of her cage and soar over the city, maybe even drop somewhere along the way, exchange a few words with Dean, or sit in a cafe for a minute. So now Vicky perceived this not as routine or annoying obligation, but as entertainment.
Amy leaves her room, throwing Panacea's cloak over her shoulders. She looks at Victoria. God, how beautiful she is, Amy thinks. Just a girl, just standing before her with head slightly tilted, looking at her questioningly, and every curve of her body, every pore of her skin, her light smile, her eyes open to the world... this is perfection in its extreme expression.
Amy knows Victoria's body like no one else in the world - she knows it down to the smallest cell, and she's the only one who can say she likes everything about her. Dean is just an admirer - he sees no further than skin, than epithelium. He likes her appearance, but can't appreciate the quality and beauty of blood vessels, the proportion and harmony of liver and kidneys, the perfect curve of her spine... nobody can. Only her.
That's why she'll find this Butcher and kill him. Or rather - not quite kill. More like punish. Because nobody dares defile Vicky's body. And Butcher will regret his decision to violate Vicky with his worm ten thousand times over.
Amy is a weak girl, but Panacea... oh, Panacea can make it so Butcher lives. But can't move. Can't even blink. And feels everything. Hears everything. Understands everything. Then he'll remain alive while simultaneously dying. Stop existing as Butcher. Only a mindless vegetable in a hospital bed will remain, drooling and unable to control his own bladder. All she needs is to touch his skin. For that, she needs to identify him. That's why she's enhancing the tracker worm. She'll be able to determine who exactly violated Vicky and destroy him. No, not destroy - punish. Pain can be felt by everyone, even insects and simple organisms. But suffering... only highly developed species can suffer. Butcher will suffer.
"I'm ready," Panacea says. "I'll get off early today - I have an unfinished school project."
"Perfect. I'll wait and pick you up," Victoria beams, and Amy can't help but smile back. Just a little, with the corners of her mouth.