Wake-up Call – Chapter 59

There's a weird thing about superheroes. I mean, other than the sexualized costumes, the 'no guns allowed unless a gun is your whole thing' rule, the 'no killing allowed unless killing is your whole thing—with an exception clause for the gun thing' other rule, and the alarming propensity toward child labor. Yeah, those things aren't concerning or alarming at all. Just staples of the genre.

Even when the genre is actual people.

That includes me.

… Ugh, I feel dirty.

[Lisa Wilbourn's avoidance strategy—]

I did the same before ballet rehearsals, I know.

[Lisa Wilbourn's total amount of ballet practice hours—]

… Look, there's a reason I don't like unnecessary exercise, all right? And you know damn well what that reason is. Now, as I was saying, there's something a bit off about the conventions of superheroes, and that is…

The lairs.

I mean, the mere concept of a lair? Yes, it kinda makes sense on the surface. A place to gather with your allies, store your equipment, your costume, plan your strategies and long-term objectives…

Except…

Well, sometimes, when things are at their sanest, your lair is just a nominally abandoned building where your almost sitcom-esque partners in crime live together for tax deduction purposes.

"Lisa? I swear, if you start this by saying, 'I suppose you[']re wondering why I gathered you together here today,' I'm going to—" Brian says, once again establishing that he's perfectly Brian about some things.

And then Alec waves his hand, and the well-muscled, authoritative, imposing former leader of the Undersiders goes from dramatically leaning his chin on top of his folded hands to smashing his face against our kitchen countertop.

I give Alec the nod of respect that he rightfully deserves, and I try to pretend I don't see Taylor glaring at the two of us as I studiously stir my tiny coffee cup with the diminutive spoon that always seemed far too impractical when compared to a proper teaspoon.

Rachel blinks between the four of us, shrugs, and goes back to scratching an ecstatically happy Brutus beneath his chin.

And Brian…

"Alec… I'm so gonna practice joint locks on you."

"Aren't those supposed to require a great deal of precision to avoid causing injury to your training partner?" Taylor asks.

Brian smiles a not-nice smile.

"Yes," he says in the right tone to earn some actual rep at Somer's Rock.

"I'm gonna sue for spousal abuse," Alec remarks in precisely the right tone to make me forgive about a hundredth of a cherry Chapstick.

"Wha—don't even [joke] about that! Gross!"

"Great, I'm gonna add homophobic hate crimes to the list."

"It's not because I'm homophobic; it's because you're [French]."

"Canadian, thank you very much."

"From the [French] part of Canada."

Alec slowly raises a very meticulous eyebrow that has clearly been trained by someone who makes it a habit to read the nervous systems of those around him (and, yet again, makes the 'Thinker' label useless) and gestures toward Brian.

Who first flinches, then is very surprised to still be on his stool before seeing Alec has lifted both hands above his head.

"I surrender," he says, in his [worst] French accent.

And I almost snort out my espresso foam, which would have made me quite cross.

It's the best part of the espresso, after all, and Colin should make me a machine that produces only foam. It is his duty as a neglectful deadbeat, after all.

Also, Brian is laughing, and Taylor grumbling. This day is going to be weird.

"OK, I suppose you[']re wondering why I gathered you—"

"Damn it, Lisa! What did I just say?" Brian protests, laughter forgotten in favor of irritation in what is a sad commentary on the human condition.

"Brian… She wasn't going to say that until you told her not to," Taylor calmly points out before indifferently sipping on her chamomile tea in what is an uplifting commentary on what kind of Hot Librarian vibes she can unintentionally give off.

"… I should have guessed it."

"You really, [really] should have," Alec says, reaching across the counter to lay a reassuring hand on the bare, muscled shoulder peeking out of the red muscle shirt of somebody who should know I already staked my claim, so he can stop pointlessly showing off. "But you're hot enough that I'll overlook how dumb you are."

Brian [slowly] turns from Taylor to look at the solemn-looking Canadian in front of him.

"Did you just call me a himbo?"

"I mean, if the overly tight clothes [almost] fit…"

"Alec, stop slut-shaming Brian. Brian, stop derailing this very professional meeting with your overly sexual behavior," I tell them with a chastising tone that earns me a contrite, apologetic and [totally] sincere nod from Alec and spluttering rage from Brian.

"Can I watch?" Rachel asks suddenly while her eyes go from the thin, lanky, goth-vampire cover to the other kind of cover as Brutus rests his head on her lap with a look of utter adoration.

Brian starts to panic.

Alec to laugh.

And Rachel shoots a small, short-lived smirk that breaks my heart.

[Rachel Lindt's emotional attachment and socialization—]

Yeah. Add one more thing to the pile, why don't ya?

[Time management skills—]

That was a rhetorical question!

[Rhetorical answer gag often used as rejoinder—]

… I'm ignoring you right now. This is me ignoring you, and not only because Taylor just discreetly kicked my shin.

Now [that's] spousal abuse.

"All right, now that we've established the universal mockability of Brian's sexiness, I guess we should get to the actual issue. That issue being how I'm about to turn you into the most famous group of mercenary heroes in the country and send Faultline into an inadequacy-fueled spiral of depression for decades to come. One of these things is more important than the other, but I'll make a small sacrifice and prioritize you all for old times' sake."

Everyone's staring at me. Huh. Weird.

"Please tell me you aren't sending us on a suicidal mission," Brian says as he buries his face in his hands and shows me a profile that would have made Rodin wet his pants.

"I'm not sending you on a suicidal mission."

"That's… far less reassuring than I hoped it would be. Mostly due to the tone. I think it's the tone, yes."

"All right, how's this: Taylor and I are coming with you."

Taylor, still at the head of the counter where [I] should be, given I'm the one supposed to present my evil master plan, briefly stiffens.

Ah. Right. I didn't brief her beforehand.

…

Oopsie?

Also, does this merit some… [punishment?

Lisa Wilbourn's lack of focus—]

Hey! It was you who postulated that my libido may be a cognitive booster! This is all your fault!

"Coming with us [where?"] Brian asks, flawlessly depriving Power of his chance to interject.

And, with long practice, I pretend I wasn't participating in a parallel conversation as I turn the full Wattage of an all-knowing, infuriatingly smug grin at him.

"Tell me, Brian, have you ever heard about… [The Machine Army?"] I say with a tone that should have me backlit by roaring lighting.

"… No?" he says with a tone that should be punctuated by a record scratch.

"Way to kill the mood. This is why you can't keep a girlfriend, you know?"

"Hey!"

"OK, these are the very basics: there are parts of the planet that have been closed off from the rest of what can be charitably called 'civilization' due to parahumans doing their thing and setting off an apocalypse that is currently being put on a time-out. They all are an immense drain on resources, and one of the things keeping heroes on the backfoot as it's not the usual villainy thing to do to help contain said zones."

"I know [that much]."

"Yeah, but Taylor 'I don't know what a trigger event is' Hebert is in the room, so I thought I may as well be thorough."

This time around, the kick is slightly less discreet. Alec giggles.

That's it; he's going back to a full cherry Chapstick now.

"Will you let that go already?" she says, once again sipping from her white mug, yet glaring at me over it in ways that… Uh…

"[Never]."[] Yeah. That.

I wonder if I should buy a bigger strap-on? Or, you know, an actual one rather than the current double-dildo.

"Damn, girl. She's got you whipped," Alec tells her with an impressed expression that seems legitimate.

"Not [literally]," I… don't quite protest.

"Can we get back to the threat to all human life as we know it? It's slightly less disturbing," Brian mutters.

And Rachel snorts what I think with some work could become a giggle.

Damn me and my bleeding heart.

"Right. The Machine Army. Ominous as the name sounds, it's currently not as much of a threat as it could be, but it has worrying potential. The idea is that it consists of a set of self-replicating robots guided by a hive mind who has watched too many slasher flicks. They absolutely [loathe] humanity, yet their attacks mostly consist of more or less elaborate shankings and ambush tactics that would make a five-year-old proud, so… they can be more or less contained in the evacuated ruins of Eagleton. The problem is that they have the known capacity to replicate any technology they come in contact with, and that a lone fugitive could easily become another city lost before we had time to react, with each new robot adding to their overall intelligence and capacity for destruction. It's… The PRT is more or less sure that their current tactics will hold, but it's a constant struggle and source of casualties. And we're going to solve it."

My three former teammates and current employees share a look between them.

This time, it's Alec who turns to look at me.

"OK, I'll bite: how?"

Yet again, I smug harder than I have in quite a while. Except for moments ago, I mean.

"Brian… how well does your phone work inside your smoke?"

His eyes widen, and, actually hurting a little bit, my smile does pretty much the same thing.

***

"OK, so, the overall plan is for us to trawl through Eagleton on a search and destroy mission, Brian's fog disconnecting every individual robot from the hive mind and hopefully leaving them too dumb to act. I assume I'm supposed to use my bugs to search the volume of smoke, and Rachel will lead her dogs to attack after we clear a pocket inside the smoke with an isolated robot. Is that all?" Taylor says while looking straight into my eyes, looking for…

Sweetie, you just told me yesterday that you didn't care I was hiding things. Stop making me feel like you're baring my soul to your all-seeing gaze. It's unsporting of you.

"Yes and no. We're also taking Dragon with us," I manage to reply through dry lips that could use some Chapstick, fruity or otherwise.

"We're [what?"] Brian Brians.

"Taking Dragon with us. Geeze, I keep telling you not to play those games of yours so loud; you're ruining your hearing, young man," Alec retorts in a [brilliant] exasperated dad impression given it comes from someone who—uh…

That went to a dark place.

Much like Brian's face. I guess the lack of oxygen is kinda getting to him.

And the rage, yeah. That too.

"I am going to… You know what? I'm going to ignore you. Lisa. Explain."

… I may have miscalculated.

"Dragon has so far refused to take action in Eagleton due to the danger of the hostile hivemind grabbing her tech and doing… [something]. As a Tinker with replicable tech, it's a very understandable position to hold, but if we could assure her that nothing she does can be leaked to the greater awareness of the Machine Army… well, let's just say that's far better than just relying on Taylor's bugs to keep us safe from any unexpected trick."

Brian crosses his arms and thinks it over.

Then stands up and pulls his stool away from the counter.

"A word?" he says.

And… well, it's not really a question, is it?

I shoot Tay a reassuring smile and follow him downstairs before he opens the door and holds it for me.

Then, as soon as it's polite to do so, he also steps outside and walks at a quick pace, forcing me to catch up.

Power games. Great. I love power games. Particularly ones that involve physical exertion.

[Lisa Wilbourn does, in fact—]

Shut. Up. I don't want to blush right now.

"I'm sorry," I tell him as soon as I reach his side.

"What for?" he asks with affected disinterest after a moment of brief hesitation.

And I sigh.

We reach the corner of the block before I can answer, the red brick flying past us at a pace I rarely manage when I'm not running to or away from something.

"Brian… We already did this. I don't want you to think I've planned this whole conversation—"

"I don't. I think you and… the others just went a bit too far in what you thought was good-natured teasing. I also think you don't realize just how bad things are."

I look back over my shoulder at the entrance to my old lair as we cross the street, not even bothering to look for incoming traffic in this part of town.

"I don't? Then… tell me?"

This time, he sighs.

"I've got a team with just Alec and Rachel. Both of them are… they aren't [functional], Lisa. They are… You know. And I'm supposed to be the leader of this thing you claim is us being heroes for hire, even if we're just your muscle. I'm a leader of a group of three, consisting of the most uncooperative jackass to illegally immigrate here and a girl who needs therapy more than anything else. This is not what I signed up for. This is not what I'm ready for."

I don't speak, let him have some time.

And then we stop walking.

Two blocks away from Taylor.

"OK, so what do you want to do?" I tell him, guessing how Tay just stiffened as we walked out of her radius.

"I don't know. I… You know why I started doing this. And the money's good, Lisa, don't misunderstand, I'm not saying you aren't doing your part. But… But what am I supposed to do? I am not a respected figure of authority, nor really their friend, and—"

I dope-slap him.

He shoots me a very unimpressed look.

"I thought you were somewhat regretful of crossing a line back there?" he says.

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean I can listen to this nonsense and don't react. Not their friend? Really? Do you think Rachel has joked like that with [anyone] in years? Do you think Alec would even tolerate your 'roughhousing' if he didn't feel like it? He would [murder] you, Brian. He would… God, you just… You really don't know, do you?"

He blinks at me in what seems to be the beginning of sincere alarm.

"Know [what?"]

And I… swallow.

"Alec's… I can't tell you the specifics, but the short of it? He's an abuse survivor. He had empathy beaten out of him systematically, then he was forced to victimize others since he was younger than Aisha. He's… He's [relearning] how to be a human. If he didn't want to? If he wasn't [desperate] to reclaim even a tiny bit of the person he should have been? It would be entirely too easy for him to murder you in ways far worse than just killing your body. Alec… he isn't well, Brian. He's worse off than Rachel in many ways.

"And they both trust you."

I let the words hang in the air as he processes them, alarm mixing with concern and…

[Brian Laborn's silence, focused stare at Redmond Welding—]

Right. Caring.

He's scared for them.

Thank God. I don't think I could've worked this out otherwise.

"They…" I lay a gentle hand on his upper arm, feeling the warm skin under my cold palm. "It's the same thing with Aisha, I think. Your… your better parent? He didn't know how to relate to you other than as a superior officer, and you took to it, but she didn't. Now you're repeating patterns because that's all that anyone can do, what comes naturally, but she's also chaffing against them because she needs her brother, not her leader. And so do they."

His gaze goes back to me, hardening, but…

"You always have to say that last thing that manages to push too far, don't you?"

"Hey, would you rather I don't?" I say with a grin that's not as smug as a moment ago, that's slightly frail at the edges.

He keeps staring at me until it wilts under his stone-faced look.

And then he grins.

"I'm not adopting those two," he says, lying about as convincingly as when he said he didn't have a thing for leggy brunettes.

"Great. I've got in good authority that adoptive children are awful, terrible people who will do their best to destroy your sanity."

He looks at me weirdly, and I smile the smile of someone who knows a joke you don't understand.

Then I turn around and walk back to my former lair, to my sexy second-in-command with a penchant for wearing form-fitting, black clothing, and to finish my Bond villain speech to my emotionally damaged minions.

Honestly, I don't think I was ever as properly villainous when I was actually a villain.

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

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 88 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!