Wake-up Call – Chapter 12

As soon as I let go of Taylor to focus on the crisis at hand, she starts running to the fire escape, because, [obviously], her first reaction would be to throw herself into physical danger when her power works perfectly well at a distance of [two fucking blocks.]

"Tay—[Skitter]! Wait, I need you to coordinate!"

She pauses and looks over her shoulder. Good, now to come up with a plan that uses her powers and doesn't seem like a ridiculous excuse.

[Coordination and deploying of Armsmaster's—]

Yeah, kinda obvious. Because I already said it myself.

"You can fight from here; a baton or a knife isn't going to do anything when—"

I can hear the crash from here.

The cameras, by some miracle all of them still working (and I can't help but envision a very smug Colin at that little nugget), show Hookwolf already tearing into Lung, a mass of blades and spikes swirling around and through the reptilian giant.

God, am I glad not to be in the splash zone.

"Thank you, Nazis, for so eloquently proving my point."

"Stop being smug for a goddamn second and tell me what you need me to do!"

"Skitter, I didn't know you were so much into being ordered around," I look at her coyly, voice dripping with what I hope is flirtatiousness and not utter panic.

"[Tattletale—"] Right, looks like I have her fooled.

"Fly a bug with a speaker into each leader's ear. Start with Grue, because—" [Obsession with reputation, top villains present— "]Because the goddamn moron is about to get himself killed!"

I rush to the tablet and my laptop, cursing the seconds I have already wasted being horny, petty, and indecisive. Not necessarily in that order. The screen is clearly showing Rachel's dogs growing as Brian is starting to layer the ground with his fog, unwilling to impede his impromptu allies at the moment. Alec… Alec is sipping his drink and looking at the two pretend kaijus with amusement. Because of course.

Taylor nods, and I put my headset on, her fingers signaling to me Grue is on the third channel.

"Brian, get out of there right fucking now!"

"Li—Tattletale?! What the fuck are you—"

"No! No time, Lung's not playing around, he's—" [ABB deprived of parahuman enforcers, target of all villain and hero groups in the city, nationwide outrage—"]It's worse, so much worse than you think; Lung wants to kill everyone in the building, and the longer he fights the easier time he's going to have of it!"

"Let's say I believe you—"

"Stop stalling! You [will] die!"

"Let's say I believe you," he repeats, voice steady as he signals for Rachel and Alec to follow him behind the foam barricade Gregor the Snail is putting up, "Shouldn't we hit him hard enough he can't recover—"

"You aren't Taylor. None of you can inflict degenerative damage or sedate him. Brian, [please], I don't want to tell Aisha—" My voice breaks. It's not even fake.

"… You always have to play dirty, don't you?" I signal to Taylor, pointing at Faultline on the screen. Four fingers.

"You know you love it."

"Love is not the word I—" And I cut him off.

"Faultline, I know you despise me, but—"

"Priorities, Tattletale," she cuts me off as I see her collect Newter's saliva on her glass. Because of course the first plan the bitch comes up with is to directly contradict what I just told Grue.

[Newter's secretions hallucinogen—]

Right, the last thing we need: a tripping, murderous pyrokinetic.

"I was about to tell you—"

"Then tell me without any more preambles." Some day I will strangle this woman, and if somebody asks why, I will show them a recording of this very moment.

"[Fine]. Lung wants to kill everyone, don't fight him, get the fuck out of there. Cut the wall and have the Undersiders carry you three away."

On the screen, Faultline looks over the barricade to see Lung rapidly growing too big for the room, Hookwolf's best efforts barely enough to keep up with his regeneration as the dragon fights back just enough to keep him from getting a hold of his vitals. Skidmark has taken cover behind the wooden countertop and is layering glowing fields in front of it while Squealer seems to be fiddling with the kind of hand canon that wouldn't look out of place in a post-apocalyptic setting. Mush is just looking around, likely feeling as useless as he is, while the Wagnerian fetish twins are currently barely taller than him and flanking Kaiser with their shields raised in front of him, the armored moron apparently thinking that looking dignified is an actually valid combat strategy.

Of course the fucking druggies would be better at tactics than the World War Two reenactors. What was I expecting?

I mean, it's not like they admire the [winning] side.

While I took stock of the situation, Faultline has already cut a circular exit right through the back wall, big enough that Rachel's partially enlarged dogs can comfortably exit it. Obviously, the one time she agrees with me, she can't even verbally acknowledge it.

[Bitch].

Not you, Rachel. The other one.

"Skitter, keep your bugs in reserve while Lung fights Hookwolf."

"Already gathered them. Outside better than in, I presume?" Ah, right. She's the actual tactical genius here. No need to explain too much.

I nod to her and take out a burner. I [hope] I won't need to explain too much to him either.

"Lisa? Some people are trying to sleep." Colin's voice says from the other end of the line.

…

What[.]

"Are you… Is this a bit? Are you having me on right now?"

"It is an objective fact that some people are trying to sleep. Now, as I am not one of said people, what is it that you want?"

I try not to groan. I fail.

"If you start telling dad jokes I will—" Taylor grunts in annoyance. Ah, right. Life or death situation. "Never mind my pledge of eternal vengeance: Lung has gone off his rocker and is currently trying to kill all the villains gathered at Somer's Rock."

There's a brief pause at the other end of the line, followed by frantic clicking sounds.

"The supervillains of the city were having a summit, which I presume was intended to deal with the ABB, and I am just hearing about it [now?"]

"Uh… I was going to record it for you?"

"And you didn't tell me because…?"

"I… forgot?"

"That's it, you are demoted to Thinker six, young lady."

"Hey!"

"I'm on my way, don't do anything that drops you to five."

And he hangs up.

Jerk.

[Lisa Wilbourn likely to—]

If you are going to say that I am likely to get down to Thinker four, you should know, in your case, that's a [self-]burn.

Taylor has her arms crossed, and I can almost convince myself I see the dense cloud of insects already gathering around Somer's Rock, still a respectable distance away, but ready to act. I point at Skidmark's image, and I can [feel] her arched eyebrow before she lifts a single finger.

Not the middle one, but it's a close thing.

"Skidmark, I am a Thinker coordinating the response—"

"Going by this fucking mess, you couldn't coordinate a gangbang with more than two dogs, so you can go—"

And all Hell breaks loose.

I can see how all the cameras inside the bar simultaneously show an onrushing wall of flames before static takes over, and the bar is engulfed in a fire that erupts in jets through the windows and the wall Rachel's dogs walked through seconds ago. Swearing as much as Taylor is likely internally doing, I rush to the edge of the roof and take out my binoculars.

It's hard to make out Grue's darkness in the middle of the night, but I can see the trail he's leaving behind. He isn't moving that fast, the dogs likely still in the process of growing enough to carry their six passengers, and…

He is not gonna have enough time, because Lung just tore through the very same wall.

He's much bigger now, likely having tolerated Hookwolf's efforts just to get a leg up on his metamorphosis; his mouth is already split four ways, and there are some very disturbing nubs crawling out of his back. It's only a matter of time till he gets wings, and then Brian, Alec, and Rachel are [dead].

I run to the fire escape, and Taylor follows, relief oozing off her as we rush toward danger.

My girlfriend is likely insane and a battle maniac. News at eleven.

I switch the frequency of my headset to the remaining channel and pray my blonde hair and pale skin will lend me some credence.

"Kaiser, Lung's not retreating. He's after the runaway capes, just trying to stretch the battle long enough that he can wipe out the—" [Lung unable to hold assets. Lung uncaring of assets. Collateral damage no longer—] "the whole city. Do [not] fight him, that will only make things worse." Taylor and I are rushing down the stairs as quickly as possible, while I scan the street below for any kind of asset.

At this point, I would settle for a wheelbarrow and a holocaust cloak.

"Young lady," ugh. It's gross when [he] says it, "I am afraid the beast won't be amenable to your instructions."

Seeing as Lung is currently throwing bolts of fire into Grue's darkness while he walks toward it at horror movie speeds, it seems the Nazi is right.

I mean, broken clocks and all that.

"Pull Hookwolf's leash and use your power to contain Lung. Do [not] hurt him, anything that counts as aggression will only speed up our ongoing demise."

And Kaiser grunts in amusement. I guess even he doesn't like the fight-happy psychopath.

… Uh, Tay, the 'psychopath' part is the one I find objectionable. Really.

I am in time to see a circle of steel flowering around Lung before the nearest building cuts off my view of the battlefield. I am now blind, so…

"Tay?"

"What happened to 'Skitter?'" Ugh, is everybody going to be touchy tonight?

"Fine, [Skitter], what's the situation?"

"Apparently, Kaiser is capable of following orders. It must be ingrained in his creed."

… Holy fuck, that one is good. I am an [awesome] influence.

"I think I just fell a little more in love with you just now."

"We are going to have a serious talk about your sense of timing at some point."

"Likely, while the city burns down around us."

And Taylor sighs just before jumping the lasts steps to the ground.

"Likely, yes. It seems to be a pattern," she says as she grabs my hips and helps me down.

"Hey, [boring] couples have a song, we have—"

"We also have a song: 'We Didn't Start the Fire.'"

"… You need a mask I can kiss you through."

"[We] need to [run."]

And she takes off. Boldly. Straight into danger. Without a plan.

[Taylor Hebert sense of self-preservation—]

It's a work in progress, Power. A work in progress.

***

Luckily for my already burning lungs (no relation) I find an excuse to stop before we actually arrive at the bar. Namely, something that, as a former supervillain, almost brings a tear of nostalgia to my eye: a prospective crime.

"Skitter! Wait up!"

Taylor, for the second time in the night, stops when I ask her to and looks at me over her shoulder. I feel like I am burning down a non-renewable resource, and I am surprised at how plentiful the current deposit is.

So, not willing to waste any more of it, I slid to my knees aside the motorbike recklessly parked in this part of the city.

Really, I am quite sure this is grounds to void the insurance.

"What the Hell are you doing?" asks the person more likely to ask me that nowadays.

"Stealing a bike, what does it look like I'm doing?" Lockpicks comfortably dance around my fingers, Power helping me translate the tactile sensations into the visual model of the tumbler we studied not that long ago. Each pin on the padlock is carefully placed before the whole thing slides open with a satisfying click.

"Wasting time while a dragon-man is about to kill your teammates?" Oh, they are 'my' teammates now, are they?

"Be honest, honey, what is [your] plan?"

"Uh…" she actually fidgets. That's adorable. "I thought we were still arguing about the 'honey' thing…"

"No, we weren't, and you didn't think so. That's the weakest deflection I have seen you use [ever."

"Fine,] I don't have a plan. Happy?"

"Terrified, actually, because I don't either."

"What the Hell—"

"But I have an idea."

She crosses her arms and taps her foot as I manage to strip a couple of wires with my multitool and make the motor purr. Smiling as widely as I can without it looking like I am having some kind of painful spasm, I hop on and pat the rear seat.

Taylor cocks her head in a way that makes it painfully obvious what kind of dubious look she's throwing my way.

"Do you even know how to drive one of these things?"

"My Power is knowing things; how hard could this be?"

"Your Power is [deducing] things. Which includes trial and error. Trial and error is not a good way to learn how to use a death machine on two wheels [without a helmet]."

"Come on, this won't even be the fifth most unsafe thing you have done this week. Besides, you get to be in the backseat, holding me tightly…" I say as I rev up the engine. Uh. I guess that's what this thing here does…

Her right hand twitches as if she's about to clench something (which… well, not my kink, I think—asphyxia doesn't seem much fun) before she gives up and sits down behind me, her arms circling my waist.

"And now?"

"Now? We bully a dragon."

***

When we get there, the situation is just what I expected to find: a street littered with molten metal, two giant rejects from the Bayreuth Festival, a puppy for cenobitians, and Kaiser throwing spike after gigantic spike of metal at Lung, hoping that the Asian man addicted to tattoos will also somehow get into piercings.

Oh, and a dragon. Kinda hard to miss, that one.

Look, I'll be honest here: if I was sure that the three gang leaders that remain here would just do their best to kill each other and stop at that, I would have let nature ran its course. I mean, I'm sure Kaiser would appreciate my pragmatical appreciation of survival of the fittest, and both Skidmark and Lung are in no condition to appreciate anything at the moment—

[Skidmark's power enough to reflect deflagration—]

Oh. So he's alive and uninjured. Joy.

But the thing is, Lung's wings are almost done growing and he's [still] fixated on Brian's trail of darkness. If I let him, he will kill what's left of the Undersiders and Faultline's crew before the heroes can mount a response. And, well…

Gosh, I am far too sentimental for villainy. Good thing I gave it up.

[Lisa Wilbourn stolen motorcycle—]

Everyone relapses once in a while.

"So…" I look at Taylor over my shoulder, her mask close enough I can hear the air filtering through with every breath. "Ready to use the rest of Colin's gifts?"

"Like you wouldn't believe."

And so it starts.

At once, the whole street is engulfed by the roar of thousands of insects vibrating in concert, an almost deafening wave washing over us, which is quickly followed by Lung howling in pain as Taylor unerringly strikes his most sensitive spots with insects coated in nociceptor activators.

That is: Lung currently is suffering a pain whose only limitation is his physiological capability to process it. And he has [enhanced] senses.

The monster writhes in agony, his serpentine body contorting in inhuman shapes so violently his enemies are thrown aside with enough force to crack the walls of the very unfortunate bar where this debacle originated.

"The paralytic didn't work, I take it?" I ask with as much calm as I can fake.

"Of course not. It was graded for humans."

"Careful there. We don't want to make that kind of remark near Nazis."

"Don't you think we have already joked about them enough?"

I look at Taylor's lenses, my face a mask of incredulity.

"Right. Stupid question. Sorry."

At least she gets it.

Lung, unaware of the golden dialogue he's missing, is now cutting off his snout with his own claws and… Uh…

There go his eyes.

[Gross.]

"I don't guess you have any more of that, do you?"

"It was always going to be one shot. Now he will surround himself with fire and kill any bugs before they can do anything."

"… You used all of it, didn't you?"

Taylor's mask looks at me in intense silence.

"Right. Stupid question. Sorry."

"At least you get it."

Well, looks like the casual danger banter is about to come to an end, because Lung is roaring his rage to the Heavens (or whatever it is he thinks he's doing; maybe he's posing for a metal album cover?) and his missing parts are quickly resurfacing. The Nazis still seem dazed by his latest attack, and only Kaiser is keeping up his unlicensed acupuncture practice, which means Lung is instants away from being able to fly and fuck up every single plan I may come up with in the next few minutes.

So…

Time to earn that Thinker five rating.

"Hey, ugly! How does it feel to get beaten [twice] by the same girl?"

Lung stops roaring, his long neck whipping around till he's looking straight at us, blue flames racing up and down his metallic scales. Then his mouth splits apart and he screams something unintelligible and guttural.

Which I guess I can easily translate as 'Bug Bitch!'

Chivalry is dead.

Mostly because, as I accelerate the bike as fast as I can and Taylor flips him the bird over her shoulder—which… all right, that is kinda badass, but far too puerile and reckless. Facile, even.

Fuck it, I wish I had thought of it.

Anyway, chivalry is dead, because we, the gallant heroes, are currently atop our agile steed, rushing the [fuck away from the angry dragon.]

Good thing neither of us counts as damsels any longer.

And that the steed [technically] isn't ours.

"He's closing in!"

"Fuck, already?!"

"I think so, not that it's easy to gauge distance with the way you are swerving!"

"Tay—[Skitter], could you be any less of a backseat driver?"

"I don't know, could you make me feel like you know what you are doing? And turn on the fucking headlamp!"

Ah. Right. I knew I was forgetting something.

[Lisa Wilbourn driving—]

For fuck's sake, not you too!

[Turn left before end of—]

See? That's far more useful!

Following my mental map and Power's reminders, I get on my planned route as Lung keeps eating ground after us, his long stride quickly abandoned in favor of pursuing us on all fours, just as I—

"Dodge!"

Uh? Fuck.

I throw my body to the right, the searing heat that washes over me as the bike leans dangerously low all the confirmation I needed to know what Taylor was warning me about.

"A direction may be useful next time!"

"Don't get snippy with me! I'm not the one that decided that taunting the undying rage-dragon was a good idea!"

"Nobody told you to flip him the bird!"

"You are just jealous you didn't do it first!"

Damn. She knows.

Still… Lung is furious, wants to see Taylor dying up close and personal. If he's risking that taste of vengeance by throwing fire at us, then…

"He's shrinking already?"

"I can't see wings."

Good news: he's no longer ramping up and may even be losing strength faster than I hoped.

Bad news: now he's unpredictable.

Thankfully, there are plenty of things that are quite reliable in this city, aren't there, Power?

Sliding the bike to a stop in a way that could only be cooler if I had done it in a place called Neo-Tokyo (and without the utter terror at messing up and ending up with half my thighs scratched all over the asphalt), I face down Lung. Now he sees us as closer, as not running away, and he stands on two limbs once again, his towering stature surreal in a way that is hard to explain, because nothing is supposed to be that big and look even remotely human.

Lung approaches, something that sounds like it could be a laugh if it wasn't molded by a maw that doesn't belong on the animal realm rumbling out of him until Taylor's insects start buzzing in the same rhythm.

And Lung stops, fury and flame roiling over him.

"'Ou dare… Mog… Thragon?"

"I mean, I know it's rude to mock people for their speech impediments, but you make it so tempting…" I can't help but quip.

Well, more like I do it precisely on purpose.

Lung throws his head to the sky, roaring fury and flame in a bluish pillar, his declaration of intent crystal clear.

Pity crystal tends to be fragile, because while he's distracted by his theatrical display, Armsmaster's bike rushes past mine, halberd held in a jousting position, and impales the idiotic thug like he's been taking personal lessons from Saint George.

Which means he did follow the GPS signal on my burner, that he did it through the route I predicted, and that he prioritized our safety over that of the villains at Somer's Rock, all the while likely getting live updates about the dragon rampaging through the streets via a PRT analyst to make sure he remained on track.

And that Power correctly identified his bike when he approached.

See? Reliable.

Now, about that Thinker rating…

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

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!