A/n: … sorry for the delay… again…
At least this snippet chapter's longer than what I usually type, at 3400+ words…


Interlude 5

Taylor

I woke up slowly.

My eyelids felt as if they were grinding against sandpaper as they opened, and it took a while before I realized what I was looking at.

A wall.

A wall I did not recognize.

My just awakened lethargy was evident in how I was unable to process this simple fact. I continued to stare at the unfamiliar concrete surface, the rest of myself remaining still where I half-laid, half sat on a reclined surface…

… a surface that was hard, uneven and very uncomfortable.

It was also cold, and there were three sharp somethings digging painfully into my back. It seemed that I had been lying here a while, but not long enough for my body to give up on telling me how much things hurt.

... let me out!" I shouted, "Please!". The hurting had stopped for a while, except in the elbows where I…

I took a deep, shuddering breath.

'That was in the past.' I tried to forget. 'It's in the past.'

That breath ended up being the reason I was forced fully awake; the air was thick with something that tasted and smelled like ashes. By the time I realized I had inhaled a lungful of dust it was too late; I couldn't help but cough repeatedly afterwards. I began to shift about as I hacked the irritant out of my lungs, but that only exacerbated the pain on my back as the sharp points of my uncomfortable bedding dug in.

I took the obvious hint; I pushed myself up with my left, my mouth covered by my right hand as I tried to stop the coughing.

The coughing fit eventually passed, and I began to really look about me from where i sat. I was underneath a sloped ceiling, a roof too low to stand up under. Behind and beside me, walls boxed me in, two of them concrete with the taller wall made out of wood.

The fourth wall was not there, although there were hints to its former existence. And beyond that was a ruined room. The previously tiled floor was thoroughly chewed up from where I sat to an equally charred and cracked wall on the far side of the wide hallway.

Why was I here? Why did it look like someone demolished the room?

I closed my eyes, squeezing them tightly shut as my right arm reached up to rub the last of the cobwebs from my eyes. And that was when I finally realized I was wearing my mask instead of my spectacles.

But that meant-

I remembered, and immediately wish I didn't...


"...you… -right?"

My eyes snapped open.

It was like waking up from a dream, no, a terrible nightmare.

I was still under the stairs, still seated on the floor. My thighs were drawn up to my chest, both my knees an uncomfortable pillow for my head. My arms were wrapped around both, around as much of myself as I could grab, hugging myself, keeping all of me together with more strength than I needed. My breaths came in short and frequent gasps, quick gasps of charred air through my dry throat and open mouth.

My surroundings were thankfully dim and shrouded, the ground firm and still. There was a feeling of slight, tingling pain on my forearms, as if the exposed skin not covered by my short sleeves had been sunburned by… by...

I quickly shifted my thoughts away, tearing my attention away from indistinct memories, forcing myself back to the present. I shook my head within the confines in between my knees, concentrating on what I could immediately see, hear and feel.

"Contr... yo..." the voice came again, strangely muffled.

I realized I was not alone. A hand cupped on my shoulder was shaking me, waking me up from my… dark brooding. I could feel him standing in front of me, a silhouette leaning forward. His arm was stretched out, as if there was a chasm between us and my shoulder was almost too far away to grasp. He had paused when I stirred in response earlier, and was now redoubling his efforts pushing and pulling on my shoulder.

A brave someone, I added a moment later.

I did not realize I wasn't actually looking at him. With my head tucked in between my knees I still wasn't, my eyes staring at the concrete showing through the shattered tiles in between my feet.

I had been seeing the person through my swarm instead.

He had an arm into a cloud of insects I did not remember gathering. Anything that could fly was part of a maelstrom of dark chitin, a tornado of tiny wings filling the air below the staircase with a living shadow. The rest were swarming in circles on the ground instead, the moving carpet thick enough in some places to completely blanket the rubble on the ground. It was thickest near the edges, but there was a not inconsequential amount crawling up and down the person's arm and onto his body.

They were crawling all over me too.

I felt my everywhere tighten, an instinctive cringe the moment I made my observation. An ice cold shiver went down my spine as tiny legs tickled down my back, goosebumps formed on my skin as chichin shapes jammed themselves inside my clothes, and I shrunk my shoulders inwards as tired wings landed onto my shoulders.

And hair.

I did not quite jerk myself upright, but I did so hastily enough I would have earned myself a nasty bump if the low ceiling was just an inch lower; I did hit the ceiling with my hands as I patted and combed vigorously at my hair in a- with a slight haste, before I remembered I could simply order the bugs off. The space was also narrow enough I hit my elbows several times on the wall, once hard enough to sting.

I most certainly did not make any sound as I did so, as my mouth was firmly closed. It was an obvious necessity when the air around me was made out of bugs. And it wasn't as if anyone could have heard; I only realized how loud the drone of tiny insect wings were after I hastily ordered the swarm into acquiesce.

As the shell of insects began to thin around me, sounds from outside the flying globe began to intrude, first and foremost the familiar voice of the person who was still holding onto my shoulder.

Not that I needed his voice to identify who he was.

"You recovered. Good." Armsmaster's visor was focused on me as he let go, taking a few steps back to allow me to exit from under the stairwell. He settled into an upright if slightly slouched posture, leaning heavily on his halberd as he added, "Are you hurt in any way?"

It was a long moment before I replied, "No."

My voice came out all wrong; on top of being too soft, the words were strangled as if I had choked on something.

"No. I'm… I am good." I said again as I looked to the side, but there was no significant improvement in the quality of my voice. In fact, it sounded even worse.

"Huh." Armsmaster responded with barely a pause. I could feel the frown in his words as he added, "The truth."

"yes...?" I couldn't seem to be able to whisper out this reply. My next attempt was an utter failure as while my mind wanted to respond, but I couldn't seem to get anything past my mouth. Instead, I returned most of my attention to my swarm. I split them up, keeping the grounded insects near me as I redistributed the fliers, directing them towards blind holes in my awareness of the surrounding area.

In the pause, the iconic visor had dipped slightly. "Ah, I see. A strong belief is… no, not the time." The Hero muttered, before he shook his head slightly but vigorously for some odd reason. I felt his eyes on me, and he continued his questions as if he had not stopped, "Are you really ok? Do you require any assistance from me? From the PRT?"

I made a noise, a noncommittal hum. Was I really alright? I did not seem to be injured at least, so… no? Or was that yes?

A distant thought threatened to come into focus. I suppressed the feeling, squashing the dread my concentrating on my surroundings with senses both seen and unseen, drawing my attention away from the past into the present.

That helpfully answered the question for me.

"I wasn't," I admitted. The words came easier after the admission. "I'm kind of scared, but... I'm good. I'm ok for now... I guess."

"It is not shameful to admit that. I'd say your ability is at the lower fourteenth percentile of offensiveness against any Brute 3 and above, and fear is a natural response if you're effectively helpless." Armsmaster declared with hardly a pause. "Furthermore, your powers are simply not good in a direct confrontation. Even if it's not against Lung or others of his level, being scared is a given after what happened. I've seen men who trained all their lives freeze on their first mission, and you're only a teenager after all."

I blinked. Did Armsmaster just say what he did? I felt a frown form on my face, but before I could shoot a retort back...

...an entire wall gave way, replaced by a two story tall expression of violence and flame...

… I found my arms crossed in front of my chest, my head dipped down, my eyes shut. My stance was bent slightly forward as I tightly hugged myself.

"It's all right." The weight on my shoulder had returned. "You're alive, things will be fine." Armsmaster declared almost conversationally as he squeezed my shoulder slightly. "You're lucky, you know that? You've survived with hardly any scratch, and not many can say that after facing Lung. It's going to be all right."

"I… I'm ok." I continued to keep my eyes shut, trusting my surroundings to my powers. "Yeah. I'm ok. I'm good."

"Good. Although you might want to reaffirm your control over your powers."

I knew what he meant immediately. I immediately withdrew the handful of bugs that were trying to bite the Hero, especially those which had made it through the cracks. I thanked my lucky stars that the insects' attacks had been only a mere annoyance; the fliers I had unconsciously gathered were more venomous in their stingers than their mouths.

Wait a minute. Cracks?

"Interesting," Armsmaster said, looking interestedly at my swarm as they lifted off the dented armour of the Hero before me. My eyes widened as I finally took in the full extent of damage he had; there was an enormous indent in the middle of his chestpiece. Several other pieces of his armour was cracked, shattered or both, including his inverted V visor, and those that hadn't had gigantic gashes. The worst damage appeared to be on both his arms and his right thigh, and... was that blood?!

He was BLEEDING!

"An unconscious command?" the Hero continued, "Or an expression of-"

"Are YOU alright!? You're hurt!"

The visor snapped towards me for a third time in as many minutes, the Hero surprised if his slightly open mouth was any indication. He soon followed it up with a poster perfect smile of confidence, replying with, "I had better days. But don't worry, I'm fine."

"But… but... You're bleeding!" I exclaimed, my own concerns forgotten. I took a step towards my childhood idol, reaching towards the dented chestpiece.

"No." he ordered, his voice stern and unwavering despite his obvious condition, the smile gone. An armoured palm on one of my hands enforced his warning, "Stop."

I stopped, my arms raised awkwardly up in between us.

"My armour has sustained some damage. It's a miniscule probability, but there is a chance it can hurt you."

"But you're… I know some first aid, can't I help?"

"Not as much as the systems in my armour."

Seeing my confused expression, he continued, "I have an anaerobic recovery system built into this version of my suit. It is bulky, with a structural chemical net tailored to the operator's body which is difficult to design around and displaces a great many other systems I usually build into my armours. But if the injectors are designed properly this system can artificially manage lactic acid buildup and structural tearing, and can even assist with the demands of large aerobic metabolic surges of muscular activity. It allows the operator extended exertion time without being impaired by fatigue, a quicker recovery from both afterwards, and also doubles as a limited recovery system from muscular injuries. There are no long term side effects, well, none unless I reverse its functionality to overboost nerve commands past natural limitations. If I do so, that causes more damage than the recovery systems can handle, but in exchange I can enhance my strength to the edge of human capability without suffering from the crippling, permanent side effects which usually happens when a human body does so."

Armsmaster seemed to return to Earth Bet only after he completed his lengthy explanation with the way he tilted his visor back in my direction. He harrumphed for some reason before he added, "It reinvigorates me, regenerates my muscles and gives me a minor Brute rating on demand."

"Right. You're the Tinker." I replied, completely lost in the onslaught of obvious trade language. A thought occurred to me however, and I voiced it, "Is it working? You still seem to be…"

"I'm recovering." the Protectorate Leader interrupted. The arm gripped tightly against his Halberd paid lie to his words.

I took a chance, "But…?"

Despite his helm, I could feel the frown on Armsmaster's face as he looked away.

"It's a bit too slow?" I guessed, pressing my luck.

"It's damaged, but it's working." Armsmaster's voice was even grumpier now. "I have some way to go, but I'm a lot better than I was a few minutes ago. As long as Lung doesn't reappear, I'll be fine."

"But he could, and you're still hurt badly!" I pointed out, "You shouldn't be up and about, you should be hiding, avoiding trouble you couldn't handle."

"I'm the leader of the Protectorate, East North-East division." He replied easily, "I have duties beyond merely being a hero, and I must attend to them no matter what my current condition is."

"But…"

"Additional Protectorate and PRT support will be here shortly to take over. I'll be able to hold on until then." The silver and blue helm turned to look in my direction yet again. "Incidentally, this is what being part of a team means; you can count on other people to have your back as much as you have to work to keep them safe. And being in the Wards is…"

I blinked. A Ward's pitch, again?

Armsmaster paused for some reason I could not discern before he smiled. It wasn't his usual confidently sincere half-grin that was printed in all his posters, nor was it the insincere almost not-a-smile I had since associated with the hero.

It was a tired, weary smile.

" 'ermind." Armsmaster mumbled before he raised his arm to his shoulder. Picking up a cylinder from a slot there, he extended his arm towards me.

"What's this?" I asked as I picked it up. The long but thin plastic cylinder was similar to the epi-pens I had, complete with similar pictured instructions and a large orange arrow on how to use it.

"It's a tranq. My own personal mix" Armsmaster explained, "It's safe no matter who the target is, but please use it only as a last resort, and note the expiry date. You will also want to heed your own advice and hide until this all blows over. At least-."

"Sir!"

We turned at the same time. Officer… Jonnas I think, one of the PRT officers from earlier was standing at the doorway. He had his helmet on again, holding a pistol lowered towards the ground, and his eyes were wide as he looked into the cracked foyer.

"What is it?" the addressed leader spoke up as he straightened, every bit of his earlier infirmity erased in his new posture.

"We're ready to… erm… are you alright sir?"

"I'm fine. We've secured working transportation then?"

"Yes and no. I'm thinking we can load them up on a utility and push them out of here. If we don't find a pothole it shouldn't be too hard."

"Good thinking. Let's evac the injured then."

"Erm…"

Both lawmen looked in my direction as I pointed behind me, "There's a grandmother on the steps there. I'm not sure-"

"Concussion." Armsmaster interrupted, a hand braced against the side of his helm. Without leaving his spot, he continued as he looked up, "Bruising, mainly on her back and head, but there's a large one on her left shin. First degree burns in places, mostly on her left foot. Possibly in non-critical condition, but we might want to take her with us; there may be more injuries on her right, and let's not leave it to chance on account of her apparent age."

"On it, sir."

There was another awkward pause as we watched the officer move towards the foot of the stairs.

"Skitter?" Armsmaster broke the silence first, "About your… partner?"

"Skitter?" I repeated.

"That's your current PRT codename. Incidentally, his current codename is Knockout, if he decides to drop his 'Runner' persona for the yellow suit that is."

"Knockout?" I thought about how Simon would react to that, "I don't think he's going to for that. He will rather stick to the name he has."

"Both codenames are only placeholders until you pick something officially, you can change your cape names in any PRT office once you've decided what you want to call yourselves. If there are no problems with what you picked, that is; I'm sure 'Sentai Spartan' is copyrighted. And I think I've heard 'Tarantula' before, that name is probably taken."

"Maybe. We'll drop in if we think of something." I said, unconvinced. This was obviously another attempt to get Simon into the PRT's offices again for a recruiting spel.

"Good. About 'Knockout'," his mood turned a bit pensive as his visor dipped again, "Please, keep him out of trouble, if you can."

"Maybe." I parroted myself.

"I'm serious. The gangs of Brockton Bay are precariously balanced. If anyone decides to shake the status quo, retaliatory events like Bakuda's bombings today will continue to occur. While we're capable of arresting the perps, there'll be innocents caught in between."

Watching the PRT officer lift the granny up in his arms, I pointed out the one hole in his logic, "And if we don't shake things up, the gangs will remain here forever."

"And that's the sad truth of it. But we can defuse the situation better and with a lot less casualties if we do it slowly, carefully. Unfortunately, with the waves Knockout is making, we're risking a full blown gang war, and soon."

"I…" I looked at Armsmaster. He had turned away from me, the shards of his armour bright around the edges as he looked out of the large hole in the wall. He looked like a perfect mirror of my opinion of the Hero after meeting him in person: Tarnished, damaged, but still gleaming in the light.

I replied honestly, "I don't think I can stop him, even if I wanted to."

"Just try. Please."

With those words he left, following the PRT officer out without waiting for my acknowledgement. The PRT officer followed him with the old granny, and soon I was alone once again.

'Should I follow?' the thought came to me. I should, shouldn't I? There should be more outside for me to assist, to help… to protect?

I looked out of the apartment lobby, and my sight was drawn to the jagged remains of the exterior walls. My eyes followed along a nasty crack, the damage leading down onto the floor in the interior, and I looked at the ruins of the lobby.

My bugs continued to swarm around me, a cloud of insects a few tens of thousand strong. But despite the impressive number they weren't much to look at, at all. Fliers covered the air as they swarmed, the ground-bound a carpet crawling all over the rubble. And yet they still seemed tiny against the debris left behind from Lung's rampage.

I let the silence stay for a bit longer, the only noise that of my insects as they dispersed.

'I guess I better take his advice' I thought, retreating back towards the stairs.