Wake-up Call – Chapter 11

'White and Nerdy' is a Weird Al Yankovic song that parodies the song 'Ridin',' which, as far as I am concerned, is clearly superior to the original.

No, this isn't relevant at all; I am just so bored that I am coming up with random trivia. Just because.

[Lisa Wilbourn lonely due to—]

Power, I am not so desperately clingy that I cannot stand being apart from my girlfriend while she has dinner with her quasi-estranged father. It's just that the past few days have been eventful enough that I am not quite sure what to do with all this extra energy.

[Lisa Wilbourn no longer finds masturbation—]

Aaaaahhh! Not listening! Gross, gross, gross, [gross]!

[Lisa Wilbourn childish—]

It's not childish not to want [you] talking about my sex life! Especially not my [solo] sex life!

[Lisa Wilbourn's hypocrisy—]

Fine, fine, I [do] use you to push Taylor's buttons, figuratively and otherwise; it's just…. Context matters, you know?

…

Fine. Be that way. It doesn't change the fact that I don't have anything to do other than stare at the wallpaper in search of hidden meanings in its pattern or browse the internet looking for even more reaction posts to Bakuda effectively being disappeared to Area 51.

[Lisa Wilbourn's costume and computers still—]

Oh. Right. My things. At the Undersiders' base.

…

Well, Power, it looks like we are going on a field trip!

***

Despite Brockton Bay's abysmal public transport system (something I can't quite blame the local administration for, given how much of the budget has been devoted to bulletproof windows—ineffective as that is when the rest of the bus isn't armored), I arrive to the sinister lair of my former band of criminals before too long. Standing in front of it now, with the perspective my reformed status as an undercover hero gives me, the building reveals its sinister secrets that I have been too blind to see for too long.

Namely, that there are likely to be three active supervillains inside of it who may not be all that happy with me taking off without even a call after getting involved in a school shooting with their other missing team member.

[Colin Wallis use of 'School-shooter' likely to be—]

I know, I know, no need to spoon-feed me. Especially when it comes at a cost.

Still… Let's see, Rachel should be taking care of her dog shelter at this hour, and it is a school night after a terror attack, so Brian is likely spending time with his sister in a misguided attempt at failed parenting, and Alec…

[Only one window lit. Sounds of electronic music interspersed with explosions—]

Playing videogames on the couch. What a surprise.

Well, I guess I could wait for him to go to bed, which would wreck what's left of my sleeping schedule, go inside like nothing's happened, or—

[Silence. Light turned off. Regent likely to—]

Or that. Shit.

All right, Tats, you've got a gun, mace, a taser, and everything else a non-braindead teenage girl should carry around when walking through the dock district at night in this damn city short of a grenade launcher (which, wonder of wonders, is actually legal for me to own, so maybe it's time for a costume upgrade). What can Mister I-point-at-people-to-make-them-twitch do?

[Formerly known as Hijack, Jean-Paul Vasil capable of completely overtaking a subject's nervous system while allowing their consciousness to remain—]

Ah. Yes. He can 'I have no mouth and I must scream' me. Delightful.

Do you powers take notes from horror stories? Is that what's going on here? Is it only a matter of time until I have to fight a dude who traps people inside walls with classy wine?

While I am internally freaking the fuck out and externally showing only my clearly composed and dignified façade (thank you, Taylor, for the crash course on the subject, by the way), Alec walks out of the Redmond Welding factory building. He's wearing a white t-shirt and black jeans in that apathetic way that makes him look like an Anne Rice vampire rather than a homeless musician, and he waves at me indolently. Now it may be a good time to run away, except that running is a pretty [bad] idea when facing someone whose power is a mix of making you trip and 'why are you hitting yourself?' Yes, his superpower is being a high-school asshole. To no one's surprise.

"Lisa. Long time no see." He stops before reaching my side. He's in the middle of the street, but it's not like this part of the city gets that much traffic at this time. Or at any other.

"Alec. Thought I would drop by for a visit."

"That why you've been standing around here for the past ten minutes?"

"Wha—fucking Hell, have you been peeping on my nerves?"

"Oh, Lisa, can you blame? You have such gorgeous… clusters," he says with a smirk that's oozing something I would rather burn my (very expensive) sneakers off rather than scrape off my sole.

"If you are hoping I will cover my chest with my hands in repulsed embarrassment, you are going to be disappointed."

"Yes. Having an unimpeded view of your sweater puppies. My disappointment is unmeasurable, and my day is ruined."

"Nice try. We both know you only care about what's inside. How wholesome of you."

At that, he clutches his chest in (wildly exaggerated) pain.

"Hiss! The forbidden word, she speaks to us!"

"Oh, come off it. Your Gollum is even worse than your Vader."

"You are no fun, you know?"

"I'll have you know I have it on good authority that I am delightful company."

"For about three days? That seems like a new record, Tatas." Ouch.

"Hey! She just had to go have dinner with her father, it's not like she couldn't stand being in the same room as me for another second without tearing her hair off… or… something non-specific like that…" As my voice drops, Alec raises an eyebrow in the universal expression of those suddenly confronted with TMI. Still got it, but… at what price? At what price?!

"Uh… You… need to talk about it or…?" He makes a vague gesture that could as easily mean 'come inside' as 'leave me the fuck alone, you weirdo.' I guess his unique perspective makes him really good at body language.

Goddamn psychics, man. They are everywhere.

"It's just, I think… I don't know, everything was so fresh at the start, but then, you know, the novelty of the hot, lesbian sex seemed to wear off, and… I don't know where we stand right now. Sure, she says she needs to check up on her old man, but I think she just wants space, and I don't know how to handle her needing to be away from me…" I look at the tip of my sneakers, avoiding Alec's dumbfounded look at my barrage, my voice breaking a bit at the end.

"That sounds… rough? It's not like I can give you a lot of advice, you know—" I cut him off.

"And this," I start rummaging through my handbag, "I mean, it was all going so well, and then I used [this,] and she seemed to, I don't even… She was quite turned on by it, I think, but then she… kinda shied away, you know? I think I crossed some kind of line and… It was too much, too soon?" I 'finally' find the item in question and show it to him.

The tube of cherry Chapstick.

Alec looks at it dumbstruck before switching to a great deal of annoyance when he meets my clearly not teary eyes.

And I laugh in his face.

"Ha. Ha. Ha." His tone is so dry he's likely to get chapped lips, but no way I am sharing [this] lip balm.

"Oh, you should have seen yourself! I should have filmed it!" I am not laughing at 'School-shooter' levels, but it's a close thing. Payback's always been a kink of mine.

"Fucking Thinker bullshit…" he starts rubbing his temples. "How come it's me the one who ends up with a headache?"

"Karmic retribution?"

"If karma is a thing, you are doomed, Tats."

"Yeah, likely. Kinda been working on it, lately." Aaaaand way to bring the mood down, Lisa.

Suddenly serious, Alec and I go back to staring at one another in a kind of stand-off. He can wreck any movement I care to make against him, but unless he can also make me bite my tongue, I am not quite defenseless.

"So. Are you reformed now?"

"Depends. How likely are you to sell me out to our mysterious boss?" And his face goes blank.

"Tats, you know me." And he smiles. Not his practiced, 'merry with a hint of scorn' smile, the one that makes it as likely you want to smack him over the head as give him a high-five. No. It's an unsettling thing, like an articulated doll whose lips have been carefully sculpted into something affable while its dead eyes have been left alone to stare at the void. "You know how much I care."

Ah, that's how you want to play it?

[Regent impaired empathy—]

I know, Power. No need for the CliffsNotes on this one.

"Yes. I know precisely how much your ability to relate to others and feel anything other than boredom or amusement has been gutted out of you."

"Not pulling any punches, are you? Is this the 'Thinker evisceration special' I've heard so much about?"

"I haven't even started."

"Good, because, so far, you aren't quite cutting to the bone, you know?" He smirks, an affectation of careless superiority.

"What's your counterplan then, Alec? Waiting for Bitch to come back so she can capture me? Keeping me tripping until I break something important?"

He takes out a gun from behind his back.

"Ah, that looks like a better plan," I remark, without swallowing in nervousness.

"What can I say?" He looks pointedly at my handbag. "I learned from the best."

"Flattery will get you nowhere."

"Funny, I thought we were discussing where [you] will be going."

"Oh, that was already clear about five minutes ago."

"Was it?" He arches an eyebrow.

"Of course it was." I take a step towards him, the gun never wavering from the center of my chest. "Because, you see, Alec, you are a complete and utter sociopath." Another step. "A man emotionally tortured to the point where survival and self-interest became your only driving forces." Another. The gun remains steady. "You are not the kind of person who would let a friend go just because of sentimentality or loyalty." The last step. The cannon is resting against my breastbone, right over my cleavage, the cold metal almost making me shiver. "You just wish you were."

And I get on my tiptoes and kiss his cheek.

"You big softie," I murmur against his ear.

Alec's hand clenches the grip of his gun until his knuckles go white, and the metal vibrates against me before he releases a deep sigh.

"You really go for the throat, don't you?" He looks tired, but his smile is halfway back to his infuriating self.

"Only the best for my frenemies," I reply with my own conflicted grimace, happy at having guessed right, sad at having done so.

He looks down at the plastic tube still in my hand as he gets the handgun back in his waistband.

"So, did you—"

"No comment."

"Oh, come on! After all that setup, [something] must have happened."

"And whatever did will remain between Taylor, me, and that seagull who kept peeking in on the rooftop."

"Wha—oh, [kinky]."

"Get your mind out of the gutter. It was perfectly innocent."

"What? Like a kiss or—"

"Like we both are minors, so it was perfectly legal. Ergo: innocent."

He looks at my smug grin (finally!) in open-mouthed surprise before palming his face and laughing.

"Never change, Lisa. Never change."

"Yeah… I'm afraid it's a little too late for that."

So he drops his hand and looks at me, before a less practiced smile takes over. Warm. Inviting. Open. A bit vulnerable. Still fake, but desperately trying not to be.

"I am glad," he says. And I hug the infuriating asshole.

***

Alec keeps me company while I dismantle my computers, taking out the hard drives and wiping the RAM. It doesn't take that long, but it's still mostly routine, so we can keep a low-key quipping battle going to stave off the boredom.

And finally, reaching under my bed, I pull out a sports bag with… My costume.

I don't know if I will remain Tattletale much longer. Maybe Tay and I will change our identities and publicly become heroes, maybe I will try to keep working in the shadows and flexing our unique advantages for that lifestyle, but… This will always be important.

I didn't become Tattletale because I wanted to, didn't become a villain of my own free will, but… I chose how I did it. I chose what kind of criminal I was going to be, what lines I would cross and which I would respect, what mask I would show the world.

I made Tattletale, and, good and bad, I am proud of her.

She also managed to land a hot girlfriend, so it's not like I could complain that much even if I didn't.

"Women and clothing. Could you be any more stereotypical?"

"Have you looked at the mirror lately? You look like LiveJournal's boyfriend."

"See, I know you mean that as an insult, but I can only hear the sound of a thousand goth teenagers frantically fingering to my profile picture."

"Ugh… You know I have a vivid imagination, why do you this to me?"

"Isn't there a word for questions that answer themselves? I could have sworn there was something like that…"

"The hypophora is a rhetorical figure where one immediately answers the question asked, but what you are talking about would be more like a tautological question, something like 'what color are red candles?'"

"… You are a nerd."

"You spend all day playing videogames and just told me you have a LiveJournal profile. The nerd supremacy is yours."

"… Was all that just a convoluted way to arrive at me calling you a nerd just so you could answer that?"

I smile at him, the vivid picture of innocence, as long as innocence is carrying a gun in her handbag, a stack of hard drives full of illegally obtained information, and a sports bag with a supervillain costume. So, not that innocent.

"Of course not, Alec. Free will exists, and you are perfectly able to make choices by yourself. Pinkie promise."

"… This is the creepiest thing you've ever said to me."

"I know, isn't it wonderful?"

"Kinda cool, yeah… So, existential crisis aside, are you coming tonight?"

"Tonight?" Oh, shit, I just admitted to not knowing something. And he's already smiling smugly. Your funeral, pretty boy; I guess the next existential nightmare will need to be a little harsher.

"Somer's Rock meeting. To deal with the ABB."

…

"I could kiss you right now."

"But you aren't going to, are you? I am still weirded out from before," he says, recoiling back and shielding his cheeks. Adorable.

"Nah, your chastity is safe from me. Welp, I guess I have work to do," I say as I get up and gather my things.

"Right. So… You two ever coming back?" Regent, your attempt at nonchalance just failed as much as you do whenever you challenge the Korean server.

"I don't know how things will go Alec, I… Fuck, I miss you too, as incredibly stupid and dysfunctional as that sounds, but I need to solve a couple of things before I decide what I am going to do in the future. I just… I promise I will try to keep in contact. When it's safe."

And he looks at me, face blank, not even a creepy mask of simulated emotion covering the sheer void where a playful, brilliant kid should be.

"For me, or for you?"

And I hug him, his limp arms falling at his side, his head straight even as I lay mine over his chest.

"I don't know."

And then I let him go. And I leave.

***

I am taking a walk through the docks after that, needing to clear my head from the turmoil Alec has managed to drag up to the surface. The truth is that I don't know what I am doing nor why; I am just reacting to things as they come along, just following my impulses and the determinations I have somehow stumbled upon in these crises we have faced the past few days.

Be a better person? Right, on the list, not gonna argue with myself over something so basic.

Support Taylor? It will be physically painful not to try, at this point.

Deal with monsters like Bakuda? Surprisingly enjoyable.

Be a hero? Now we are entering murky terrain.

I want to put Coil behind bars or in a shallow grave, I don't particularly care much for which one ends up being the winning option, but being a full-time hero runs into a few of the problems I am currently trying to get away from. I will still be under someone else's control, someone who will dictate my priorities, and, seeing how Colin has positively wilted under the current system, I don't think the change will be as much of an improvement as I have been hoping.

I may also, under torture, admit that I have a certain… fondness for my ex-teammates, and I don't feel quite comfortable just running away to leave them to hang.

[Lisa Wilbourn—]

Thank you, Power, but I think I need to work this out by myself.

But being a villain is not an option. Not only would it mean disappointing Colin horribly (wait, how come that is even a concern—never mind), but Taylor would just be heartbroken. She's too much of an idealist to just let me go back to being a petty thief, and that whole 'cops and robbers' thing no longer passes any muster after having the city bombed to Hell and back.

And I don't want to.

Which… Right, maybe I should have started with that.

[Lisa Wilbourn unnecessarily—]

Yes, yes, I get it, you already knew, and I just wasted time brooding through the moonlit streets over something that was blindingly obvious. Enjoy your moral victory.

[Lisa Wilbourn surliness—]

Oh, fuck off.

Also, my not wanting to be a villain is not at all a resolution to the underlying problem of my jumping from crisis to crisis without an actual plan or overarching goal beyond—

My phone is ringing.

"Tay! Hey, how is the dinner going?" No, my mood hasn't been immediately lifted, and this whole thing hasn't been a sign of my dangerously needy—

[Lisa Wilbourn denial—]

Oh, fuck [off.]

"Ended thirty minutes ago, which is why I'm back at our room, wondering [where the fuck are you and why haven't you told me?"]

"Uh… Is this one of those things where I should tell you to respect my boundaries?"

"No, this is one of those things where we are both wanted criminals, your previous boss is possibly planning to capture and/or execute you, and the city is still officially under an emergency state. So, Liz, dear, honey, tell me there's a good reason I just had the scare of my life when I found our room empty."

"You know that's the first time you have called me honey? Pun not intended, but it was very sweet." No, I am not starting to sweat nervously. It's just balmy. At night. In April.

"It may also be the last, and if you keep the evasion up, you may suddenly stop associating 'honey' with anything remotely pleasant."

"… I know it's stupid of me to wonder, but when I think about you, me, and copious amounts of honey, it's really hard to think of something I wouldn't enjoy."

"…"

"You are blushing. Oh God, I managed to make you blush in the middle of one of your 'fear me, for I am the wrath of nature and disturbingly creative' speeches, and I am not there to see it! This is so fucking unfair!"

"Liz…" she groans. "Tell me what's going on before I actually get angry enough to get past this embarrassment."

"Uh, right… Well, you see, I suddenly remembered there were a couple of things I needed back at the Undersi—"

"You [what?!"]

"I don't tell you who you can hang out with!"

"…"

"Did that work? I can't believe that worked."

"You are sleeping on the couch."

"We don't have a couch."

"I don't care. Buy one."

"Right. Well, there aren't that many furniture stores open at this hour… But! There's an alternative activity we can do instead that you will find both entertaining and informative!"

There's silence from the other end of the line, which is better than frantic screaming, but not by much.

"What 'activity' is that?"

And I smile, assured of my victory (and likelihood of not sleeping on a recently bought sofa).

"A supervillain summit."

Taylor's sounds of confusion are music to my ears. Yes, farewell, sofa, we were not meant to be.

… I hope.

***

"So, cameras ready?"

"Ready, they are set up all over the bar."

"Perfect." And, with a few taps, I set up my laptop and tablet to display what Armsmaster's very useful loan (that will likely end up like a loaned book: unreturned) are streaming. The inside of a bar that hasn't seen better days because it was a dump from its inception and is proud of its roots. Somer's Rock hasn't been closed already because no one who has the authority to do so would be caught dead near the place.

Oh, and all the supervillains, I guess.

Faultline's crew are already at their table, probably pondering once again the pros and cons of having the next meeting at their own club just to avoid the risk of infection. Brian, Rachel, and Alec are at theirs, with Rachel's dogs enjoying being in a place where they aren't the foremost source of a possible flea infestation, and Skidmark and his entourage are making a nuisance of themselves with the deaf waitress, who has given up on making them understand that she is, in fact, [deaf]. They seem to be screaming themselves hoarse at her, so that's a point in favor of not turning on the microphones until the big players get there.

Meanwhile, Taylor and I are sitting on the camping chairs that we remembered to bring this time around. We are roof veterans, at this point.

Also, we are in costume. Because variety is the spice of life.

And we may want to make a dramatic entrance, depending on how things go. But that's mostly just Taylor being Taylor.

Speaking of which…

"Still mad at me?"

The creepy bug mask shoots me a look that I know from personal experience is not half as withering as what lies underneath. I wonder if a future villain, after browsing the history books, will just decide not to mess with perfection and just wear a Taylor mask.

… That should not be arousing. Why is that arousing?

"It would help if you didn't make fun of me when I worry about you."

"I do what now?"

"You—are you being serious, right now?"

"Tay, I have no idea what you are talking about."

"I, you—" she groans, and not in the fun way. "You always need to quip, or joke around, or make me flustered—"

"It's kinda what I do, sweetie—"

"[I know!] And I usually love that about you, even when it drives me mad, which is confusing as Hell, but whatever. But… But please, don't do it when I worry about you."

"What do you mean?" She loves that about [me]—all right, not the time to get giddy or sappy, this seems to be serious.

"It's… Look, earlier, when I called you?"

"Yeah, you were angry that I—"

"I was [worried,] Lisa! I was freaking out—I told you I was freaking out!"

"Yes, that's why you were angry—"

"Of course I was! I can feel more than one thing, that's what humans [do!"]

I feel like this is a great time to point out something about how she shouldn't be the one teaching me how normal people work, but I also think that would be [suicidally stupid] to do.

"I—okay, let's try that thing sane people are supposed to do: I acknowledge your anger and your worry, and I am sorry I made you feel like that."

She looks at me weirdly (or at least I think so), her head askance.

"Just like that?"

"Hey, I made my cute girlfriend feel bad; it's only reasonable I would want to make it up to her."

She shuffles a bit, some of the hostility dropping from her body language.

"Stop calling me cute," she mutters.

So I get up, cross the small distance that separates us, and push her chin upward until I can see my soft smile reflected off the citrine lenses of her mask.

"Never."

"I… I feel like you are mocking me. When you do."

"And I won't stop doing it. I won't stop calling you cute, beautiful, gorgeous, smart, brave, noble, sexy or funny, adorable, cuddly, and a great kisser." I kneel down so I am at her level, so she doesn't have to look up at me to see how serious I am. "Not until you stop feeling ashamed. Not until you finally realize I mean it each and every time."

And I hug her, and, after a few seconds, she hugs me back.

We stay like that for a bit, in silence, but I can't help the need to reassure her further, to show her rather than tell her, so I let my hands wander, down her sides, up the smooth expanse of her back, my fingers gliding around the protrusions of her armor as if in a game to reach whatever sensitive spot of Taylor Hebert is still exposed, available to me.

"Liz… What are you doing?" She asks, her breathing already shallower than a moment before.

"Well, Tay, it just occurred to me… I have had sex with Taylor Hebert, but I have never had, you know," I drop my tone and make it as husky as I can as I breathe into her ear, "[fucked Skitter."]

I can hear her swallow, and that takes the slight embers in my belly and makes them roar aflame.

Before I even register, I am trying to pull Taylor's shirt out of her pants as her fingers drag across my scalp (because [of course)] when she suddenly stops.

"Kaiser just arrived," she says.

"Great. A Nazi [and] a cockblocker," I bite out, and her answering giggle does not help with that blaze under my navel. "Know what? Fuck it. We are recording this. It doesn't matter if we… indulge for a while."

"Lisa…" she murmurs as my slightly cold fingers finally get past her waistband and (inevitably) reach down to squeeze her mesmerizing ass.

"Lisa," she breathes out, as I nibble her neck even through the silk covering it.

"Lisa!" she yells, and she pulls my hair. Tay, you kinky—

Wait, she's pointing at my laptop—

Oh.

Lung just busted through the wall of Somer's Rock like the Kool-Aid man's illegitimate son with American Godzilla—the one that was female.

Yes, I know it was a terrible movie, not the point.

The point? The actual point?

The thing that trumps all other concerns right now?

The plague of fucking racist cockblockers.

Oh, and the homicidal rage-dragon. I guess.

==================

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 81 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!