Wake-up Call – Chapter 25

"This is ridiculous," I say to Brian. Unnecessarily, really, because he [knows]. He's just decided to be a prick about it.

"The gun, Tattletale," he insists once more, blocking the entrance to the Undersiders evil-lair-slash-teenage-shelter.

"Do you really think I need a weapon to get you on your knees and crying, [Brian?]" And that's another thing that pisses me off. Codenames. Really? [Really?]

"It's the principle of the thing."

"… There's a point in the human body that, if pressed at the right angle and with enough force, will stop your ability to breathe without thinking about it. A bit more damage? It stops your heart from beating. I know where that point is—you don't. I know how you move, how you will react to a perceived threat and attack. I can set up a feint that's three levels deep and ends up with you laying on the floor, looking up at me as you lose consciousness while your heart refuses to pump blood to your brain. If I feel merciful, then I will take [my] gun from you and shoot you."

He looks at me, and his eyes widen before his face closes off.

"You are bluffing," he says.

[Brian Laborn's increased pupillary response—]

I know.

"That depends, Brian. Am I your wayward teammate come to check up on all of you and see how things can go moving forward, or am I a hostile cape that needs to be disarmed before allowed entry?"

He hesitates. Because I'm guessing he really doesn't want me to be an enemy, but he's—about to be dope-slapped by Alec.

"Hey!" Brian cries out.

"You are being a jackass, and, as the resident expert on the subject, I can tell you you're doing an awful job of it. Now let the lady keep her accessories before she goes Fist of the North Star on your ass."

"You seriously can't tell me you believe she really—"

"Vagus nerve response. Look it up, genius," Alec says, and then smirks at me.

… Of [course] the little brat would know every single creepy thing you can do with the nervous system. I'd better pretend that was part of the plan all along.

Especially given how pale Brian just got. Uh. Maybe if I keep it up, he could infiltrate the E88?

"Thank you, Alec. Nice to see chivalry isn't dead."

"Dead? I hope not; I was holding it ransom."

"… I am not quite sure where you were going with that, but I will take it as you saying you just decided to act polite on a whim just so you can better shock me later when you decide to return to your roots."

"Sure. That. Let's go with that." He's grinning.

It's exhausting.

So, without giving any more chances for any of the two morons to aggravate me further, I step around Brian and into my former base.

It's… Nostalgic, actually. I thought I would hate it more, but… There were some good memories in here. I felt like I was accomplishing something at the time, and this team was the first thing I built.

Also, this is where Taylor and I had our first time, but it would be absolutely mortifying if Alec caught me blushing, so I'd rather not think about it.

[Spontaneous thoughts and memories impossible to control—]

I [know]. I know, all right? Damn, it, I can already feel my cheeks heating up…

And then I go up the stairs, and I'm confronted by three dogs staring at me and a girl who manages to get my incoming blush to give up and go back to the land of fuzzy feelings, where any good memories get banished to when confronted with fucked-up realities.

"You are back?" Rachel says.

And… Don't smile, because she will feel I'm mocking her. Don't use complicated words, because she will feel I'm looking down on her. Don't infantilize her, because she will feel I'm talking down to her.

She's fucking exhausting.

"Just for a while," I eventually set on.

She grunts, and Angelica shows me her teeth.

… I like dogs, but I really, [really] don't like [her] dogs. Something about being a word away from having to get a rabies shot, maybe.

Before things can devolve any further, I pick a chair at an angle with the sofa and sit down. It would be better not to force anyone to sit next to me for what's coming, but I also don't want us to be geometrically opposed.

Alec and Brian follow me up shortly after. Alec is rubbing the back of his neck, so I guess Brian got vindicative. Cute.

… Well, not really. I don't know what's up with him today, but it's making me glad I didn't give up my gun.

[Brian Laborn's need to control his environment—]

Well, [duh]. I mean, aside from that.

[Brian Laborn's abandonment issues—]

And that.

[Brian Laborn's feeling of betrayal—]

… Are you trying to make me feel guilty? Is this you making an audition for the Jiminy Cricket role? Would Taylor enjoy it if my nose grew to—[down].

[Lisa Wilbourn's sexual frustration—]

Look, as romantic—or whatever the right word is—as last night was, I have [needs].

Frustrated, thigh-rubbing needs.

… Tay better be appreciative next time.

[Taylor Hebert's likelihood of using reciprocity as means to reestablish usual dynamic—]

… That's both terrifying and arousing. Scarousing. Like the first time she showed up in the middle of the night and tied me to my bed…

Fuck.

"So, are you going to sit there all silent and broody-like the whole time? I mean, it's a nice change of pace, don't get me wrong, but you could've just sent a picture," Alec says, teasing Brutus by putting the tip of his sneaker right against his nose until the poor dog tries to react to it.

… Is he reading his reactions? Can he do non-humans? Can he use his power as a combat Thinker—no, he needs to get a read on a specific subject before he can gain control, which means every individual is distinct enough that he wouldn't manage to accurately predict any motions. Still, he would see a burst of activity right before a movement happens… An early warning system? Right, but it would amount to literal fractions of a second—

[Speed of nervous signal traveling through human nervous system averages to 3.5 meters per second due to slowing down through chemical diffusion—]

Right. Right. If he had super-reflexes, that would do something, but in this case, he needs to process the signal before he himself can react, and, assuming he takes about as much time as it takes to process a visual stimulus, and seeing Alec doesn't put much effort into keeping himself in shape—

"… If you don't move, I'll assume you've been paralyzed and start writing obscene things on your forehead with permanent marker."

".. Alec, can't you take things seriously for once in your life?" Brian, stupidly, asks.

"I'll have you know I take my profanity very seriously."

"It's true. I have seen his chat logs in Call of Duty. They… I think a man cried, and I'm still not sure whether it was because of trauma or sheer awe." Credit where credit is due. He puts in the work.

"What are you even talking about?" Rachel asks before Brian can.

Which puts a bit of a damper on the banter, seeing as I don't want to antagonize the girl known for making people who piss her off rush to the emergency room to get stitches. Really, I'm pretty sure dogs who bite humans tend to get put down as a matter of course, so I don't think she should be risking them like that while in her civvies.

"I was trying to think about how to say what I came here to—"

"Say it."

"Rachel… I… Fine. Fine, I'll talk, just… let me finish?"

"Aren't we supposed to shut down Thinkers hard? That's what you always told us, Lisa," Brian can't help but snipe at me.

"Enemy Thinkers, yes. And if you keep implying I'm one, I'll start acting like one."

"You just threatened to murder me. It doesn't get much more hostile than that."

"You were acting like a prick, and you know it."

"Can confirm: he definitely knows it. I mean, I've tried to teach him all I can, even if the guy is kinda slow, but he must have learned some basic pattern-recognition already."

"… Alec, as much as I appreciate the emotional support—"

"What? Is that what that was? Jeez, no wonder it felt so… icky."

I stare at him. Brian stares at him. Rachel kinda growls at him.

I try not to laugh.

"Anyway!" Oh. Rachel just got kinda jumpy… right, no sudden, loud noises when talking to the traumatized abuse victim with socialization issues. "I've gathered you all here to—"

"We live here," Alec points out.

I flip him off.

"To [explain] what's actually been going on. Coil—"

"Our boss," Brian interjects, and I have the urge to kneecap him on principle. Hell, that way, he would match Stalker.

"Our [former] boss recruited me at gunpoint. He didn't have 'fate manipulation,' he split time. In one timeline, he would do something; in the other, try something else. And then he would keep whichever worked better."

"So, he cheated?" Rachel asks. Which is a level of engagement I'm pleasantly surprised by.

"Like a motherfucker. Part of said cheating was that he would regularly take me away and… interrogate me." I don't suppress the full-body shudder. I'm not here to be seen as a damsel in distress, but trying to sell that I was in control the whole time won't earn me any sympathy. They need to see human Lisa, not mastermind Tattletale.

I hate it.

I hate it so much, to even allow them this little glimpse into… Right. Head in the game. No time for this.

[Lisa Wilbourn's repression—]

No time for therapy either.

"So, I couldn't tell any of you anything, because I'm pretty sure he tried the same thing once or twice. Either with you or… someone you cared about."

"You can say it was Brian's sister. Not like Rachel and I have too many potential hostages to get manipulated by."

"And I commend your foresight on avoiding giving your enemies any emotional levers."

"But of course. All according to keikaku." Alec grins, and I try very hard not to answer in kind.

I wish I could get lost in this, in the back and forth, but… Well. Time and place.

"So, your excuse to get us in this mess without any warning is that, potentially, Coil was kidnapping my sister in realities that never happened," Brian succinctly summarizes what he thinks I just said.

… I swear I liked him better when he was the voice of reason.

"They happened to him. Coil lived every second. Now, tell me, Brian, how comfortable are you with letting someone who remembers what Aisha looks like naked, the way she screams when—"

"Enough." His tone is dull, lifeless. His hands are clenched.

Ah, trigger events. The gift that keeps on giving.

"I would apologize, but you need to understand."

"Understand what, Tattletale? That you are a heartless bitch who will use any tool at your disposal to get a rise out of me? I think that isn't a hard concept to grasp."

Keep calm. Breathe. Don't agitate Rachel even more than she is.

"Do you think that's what I'm doing? Do you think if I really wanted that to happen, you would even [notice]?[] I'm telling you the truth, you fucking asshole—" Right. Breathe. Breathe, Lisa. It's not a hard thing to do. "I… I apologize. I know it hurts, I know you didn't deserve this, none of you, but…"

"My dogs," Rachel quietly says right as I trail off.

"Your dogs, Rachel?" Tone steady. Not firm, but neither compassionate. She despises being seen as weak.

"They are 'potential hostages.' Did he hurt them?"

… I am really feeling like an awful human being for not even thinking about this.

"He… I'm not certain. I can't be certain. But… likely."

Her eyes are nailed to mine. She isn't trying to look away or to glare me into submission; she just… looks at me.

Inexpressive, her mouth a thin line, her eyes just… blank.

[Rachel Lindt's lack of socialization at key developmental age—]

I know. It's still unsettling to see a human being just not know how to express themselves, how to emote… I wonder if I could've done more for her, more than I tried to do, or maybe not more, but better. If I hadn't been so focused on just escaping, could Rachel already be recovering? Already be someone that can talk to another person and enjoy the experience?

[Lisa Wilbourn's recent shift in outlook and priorities—]

If you're going to say I am a better person and feeling guilty is part of the package, I would reply that there's a reason I don't want to let go of the villain label.

"Will he do it again?" Rachel finally asks.

"No. No, we are making sure wherever he ends up in, he will stay there. He won't hurt them ever again."

She pauses, searching my face for something. That smile she always thinks is mocking her, that upward tilt that makes her feel I'm looking down on her…

She doesn't find anything, because there's nothing to find. Not with how carefully blank I'm being, just letting words come out without any inflection.

And so she nods.

"Good."

And I would say I'm sorry, that I wish things never happened the way they did, but… She said 'good,' and that's the best I can get out of her.

And everybody is silent.

"Welp, that brought the mood down. Anyone else wants to get some waffles?"

Well, not [everybody.]

***

Walking down the Boardwalk while eating a chocolate-laden waffle is a bit less unnerving than sitting in a supervillain-lair-slash-frathouse, but it is still not the most relaxing way to spend my morning.

"Are you [sure] Rachel can come with us—"

"For the last time, Brian, you've already trusted me enough to bring her. There's not much else you can do if this is a cunning trap."

Rachel is at Alec's right, alternating between throwing distrustful looks to her waffle and taking small bites out of it.

The noises she makes when she does… Let's just say that, as a practicing lesbian, they are kind of [distinctive].

Alec is also trying not to laugh his head off, but only because he doesn't want to choke on his own waffle. Again.

And Angelica is throwing hopeful looks at her owner from time to time, but Rachel is enough of a dog-lover to not succumb to the emotional blackmail when it comes to sugary treats.

"I still say we should have finished this back at the [apartment]."

Ah, 'apartment.' Yes, such a cunning codeword for 'lair.'

"Do you actually think we will finish this?"

"Excuse me?" No, I don't think I will. Not after today's impending headache.

"I did what I did. That isn't going to change."

"Well, at least you admit it."

"Right. And will [you] admit it?"

"… What?"

"Will you admit that you've been antagonizing me because you just don't know what else to do? That you thought you had things figured out, only to discover that working for a 'mysterious backer' who knew your secret identity may not have been such a brilliant move?"

"Are you trying to make me angry, Lisa?"

"No. You already are. You [always] are. Because the world isn't fair, because you've been dealt a crappy hand. Because even being one of the few people in the world with actual superpowers, you still are a black guy in the Nazi capital of America, your mother is still a druggie, your father is an emotionally neglectful bastard, and your sister is a constant reminder of—"

"I can still hit you, even if we are in public."

"Right. A black man hitting a blonde, white girl. That won't get you in any trouble."

"Are you really trying to make me—"

"I'm not trying anything! Don't you see, you moron?! We were friends! It sucks that I was forced to lie to you, that you trusted me and I broke that; I get it! But try to get how [I] felt!"

"It's [always] about you! Always about poor Lisa, who's so smart we can only drag her down to our level, who keeps being so perfect I need to listen to everything she says, but it turns out everything she says is actually a lie!"

"Yes! Yes, [everything] was a lie! That time I frantically bandaged you while you bled to death, and I tried not to cry my eyes out? A lie! That time I helped you pick the best way to furnish your apartment to get a good impression from Child Protective Services? A lie! That time I pretended not to notice while you locked yourself in your room and punched a hole through the wall? A—"

"That time you told me to trust you? A[ lie!"]

I look at him, at his wide eyes, his chest rising and falling far too fast for a brisk walk and a heated conversation.

Then I look at Alec, pretending to enjoy his food without any care for what's going on, and at Rachel, who stopped walking three steps ago. And at the people in the Boardwalk, looking at the couple of screaming teenagers.

Also, at the Enforcers heading our way.

I recognize one of them.

…

I can work with this.

I take Brian's hand and drag him into a side alley without giving Alec or Rachel any indication that I want them to follow. Then I shush Brian and wait.

I don't wait too long.

"Hello, George," I say as the stupid goon steps into the alley.

He freezes.

"Oh, [now] you are worried, aren't you? After kidnapping a teenage girl for a few extra bucks, it is now that you begin to worry? Well, I've got great news, George! You can relax; there's nothing going on here that requires your attention."

"Hey, everything—" Another man arrives, dressed in the same black sweater and slacks, his muscled build so close to George's they could pass off as brothers.

"Yeah. Yeah, everything's under control. Let me… handle this," George says. And the other guy throws me a look that lingers on a couple of spots and grins before walking away.

… I'm going to buy this place just so I can burn it to the ground.

"Nothing that requires my attention, you say?"

Brian is looking between us, still off-balance.

Good.

"Well, the guy who paid you that little extra every month is no longer paying the bills, is he? So, no, nothing in here you should bother with."

"Ah. But what if I [did] bother with it?"

He takes a step forward, closer to us.

Brian is a big guy. Muscled in that way that shows more focus on practicality than aesthetics, definitely imposing if you were to come across him in a dark street.

He's also not yet an adult, and he's never even thought about touching steroids. To someone like George, he doesn't even rate.

"If you did? If you decided to try and get little ol' me to make up for your missing bonus paycheck?"

"Yes. If I did that. What would happen?"

He smirks down at me. He's a head taller, shaved bald, and has a nose that hasn't been broken despite his bruised, calloused knuckles telling me how much he enjoys getting some 'practice' in. He's almost touching me with how close he's standing to me.

"I would get very upset, George."

Brian is silent. He doesn't know what I'm doing (which is a relief, because I myself don't quite know what it is I'm doing), but he knows what's being implied. He knows I'm not very fond of George.

"Really?" the Enforcer adds.

"Really. Because I guess a man like you has needs, and those needs won't get covered with a pay cut. So, who's taking care of the sex trafficking now that the ABB is gone?"

Brian stops breathing.

Then he resumes, but now it's controlled, slow, steady. Deep.

"There were gangs before the ABB. Now there are gangs after the ABB. Some of them even have the same name."

And the words are far more of a blow than just seeing this amoral monster has been. Because of course removing Lung, Oni Lee, and Bakuda wouldn't take care of the actual problems, it would just—no, can't think like that. It helped. [We] helped.

It just means there's more work to do.

"Gangs who would buy a pretty young girl like me, I take it?"

"I don't know. Maybe I should check the merchandise before I—"

I will never know what comes after 'before.'

Mostly, because as George reaches a hand toward me, his left knee buckles underneath him, I hit him in his solar plexus with two knuckles extended, and Brian punches him in the throat.

The coughing, curled-up man lying on the ground is a very tempting target.

I think it's already been established that I'm awful at resisting temptation.

So I kick him in that precious, Greek, intact nose of his, and it shatters with a spray of blood.

I don't know what comes after that, because the next thing I register is Brian hugging me to his chest as he drags me out of the Boardwalk.

I… I think I dropped my waffle.

I feel a bit upset by that.

***

I'm sitting on a bench, the two people my age I trust more in the world who I'm not having sex with at each side of me.

Alec is eating his third waffle.

Grue is wringing his hands.

Rachel is… Somewhere, walking Angelica. She didn't feel comfortable with the atmosphere.

Can't blame her: neither do I.

"So… That's a thing that happened," I finally say.

"Did you do it on purpose?" Brian immediately replies, as if he'd been waiting until I was well enough to talk without prodding.

"Yes. No. I… I saw him. Hadn't expected him to be there, but when I did, I just…"

I shut up on my own and without anyone begging me to. I think this counts as character development.

"You did a number on him," Alec says. Because he's not that developed.

"I'm glad."

"No, really, that alley was starting to look like a Jackson Pollock by the time we dragged you out of there."

"Oh, now I merit the highbrow comments, do I?"

"Bitch, I speak French: everything I say is highbrow."

"I have seen your chat logs."

"I stand by my assertion."

And, despite myself, I chuckle.

I nudge Alec with my elbow, and he flashes a grin at me.

Brian just looks like… I don't even know, and that's never a good sign.

"Did he really—" he starts. And I don't want to let him finish.

"He put a gun to my temple and dragged me to Coil, where I was made an offer I couldn't refuse. Now, remember that Coil had unlimited tries, could have chosen any approach he wanted to recruit me and see how they worked before settling on one. And he went with that one."

I don't stop. I don't swallow, don't wet my lips, don't even think too much about what I'm saying.

Brian understands what that means.

"I'm still pissed at you," he says after a long silence.

"Of course you are. I'm me."

… Alec, stop laughing.

Brian turns his head, looking directly at me for the first time since we sat down.

"So, now what?"

And I sigh. Because that's what I came here to hash out, but… I don't really think my plans will work out. Not after the morning I've had.

"Now… Now I would've tried to convince you to get into the Wards in exchange for a total amnesty and some juicy government benefits. But… Maybe later. Maybe after I give you one last job."

"[You] are going to pay us?"

"I'm a Thinker seven who recently looted a bank's stash of confidential information and went after a villain who had an Endbringer-shelter building corporation. Do you really think I lack [funds]?"

… Alec, you can keep laughing. This time it's flattering.

"Right. You can pay. So, what's the job?"

I look at him, at the sulky teenage boy who just got into a fight because of me, then at the irreverent sociopath who wants to be a good friend.

Then at the girl looking at her dog go from lamppost to lamppost as if she held the secrets to whatever it is the girl always lacked, always missed.

And I make a decision.

"The docks. You are going to patrol the docks and protect the dockworkers from the gangs."

You're welcome, Danny.

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

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!