Orb Weaver: Plague, Chapter 7

When I left the hospital, I let Dad know I’d be late. The sun wasn’t going down yet, so there was time, I quickly changed in a bathroom, using my bugs to ensure nobody saw me go in or leave. Granted, everyone who counted knew my identity, but there was no reason to slack off.

How do I find her? And it had to be me.  Orb Weaver trafficked in terror and the last thing the city needed was someone with the power Madison now had, being terrified into blindly running—or lashing out.

Lower the tension, give them a way out… The books I’d read on hostage negotiations and domestic disturbances alike agreed. This was a situation where escalating the tension would do no good at all.

And that meant I had to find her before the Empire did.

And fortunately, just because someone didn’t see Orb Weaver, didn’t mean I couldn’t use my true powers. I was too far from home to get the bike in the garage, so I ducked into a little used store and picked up a battered 10-speed. It might last the day, but that was all I needed. I’d also be moving fast enough that anyone who recognized me probably wouldn’t be able to follow.

But not too fast, and if I saw anything interesting, I could stop.

I bicycled by the hospital, a PRT van watching the hole in the ground. Underneath, my bugs started to work.

At first the trail was easy enough to follow. Gouges where concrete had been torn like it was Styrofoam, splashes of water on the roof—a normal investigation wouldn’t pick it up, but my bugs were able to taste the material, picking up the parts of the roof where the rich gunk from the floor had been splashed up, instead of the more typical condensation.

Moving fast. She was running.  Armsmaster had sent probes down, but she’d quickly outrun them.

He hadn’t chased her. Piggot’s orders. The director was worried that if she got too afraid, we might be confronted with the spectacle of Madison erupting from the ground in the middle of a street or a park. And Armsmaster’s drones might trigger that kind of reflex, especially since PHO was full of people speculating when the Kill Order would be dropped.

Evidently, my speech hadn’t had as much impact as I’d hoped. People who wouldn’t have given Taylor Hebert a second glance when she was being bullied were falling over themselves to help me get vengeance on “Locker Girl” regardless of my wishes.

I stopped at a red light, and waited, and then my bugs found something.

Crushed concrete. I picked out the shape, bugs crawling over it. For a moment, I remembered an old cartoon where the villain had run into a wall, leaving an outline.

It wasn’t as funny in reality, because almost a foot of concrete was powdered, the rebar twisted like taffy—and on the floor as I sent my bugs down…

Running. Panicked. No light, so she just… slammed into the wall. Then she fell back.

Not from being hurt. No, this was shock, the kind of shock that broke someone’s mindless panic.

I pulled my bike to the side of the road, a girl who was a little tired. And let more bugs go to work.

She lay here.  Likely for some time. No sign of crushed concrete under her, so Madison wasn’t naturally heavy. I expected she had to want to do something, to go somewhere without anything getting in her way.

There were marks on the wall. She’d gotten up, and without being able to see, save for the light that came in from the manholes and street drains, she felt her way forward.

Slower. Much slower. Calmed down? No. But no longer completely panicked.  I got back on the bicycle and started moving slowly. This was leading to Empire territory. Why? Madison was Jewish and I was certain she knew what parts of town you didn’t go into.

Then I kicked myself, remembering all the bad decisions I’d made back when the Trio was the beginning and end of my day. Madison wasn’t thinking.  She was calmer, but more likely the kind of calm that you saw in news media, like the man I’d seen in a video of  the aftermath of one of Leviathan’s attacks, walking up to the reporter, holding a briefcase and dressed in a waterlogged suit, and asking them when the bus would arrive, as he had a very important meeting to get to.

So I needed to get to Madison quickly. Riding along, I also noticed something else. The marks on the wall were getting lower. She was shrinking, and I paused to note that in one place where the muck was thinner, the imprint was now of a human foot—clawed, but human, not the great talons that Madison had torn gouges in the concrete with.

She is a Changer. Does she lose her strength and invulnerability? Or is this just a cosmetic effect?

I had my answer soon. This wasn’t a heavily populated part of town. There were warehouses and businesses. The Empire’s logos were there, some of them painted over by the symbol of an Orb Weaver.

Not all of them my doing. Orb Weaver might be feared, but post Alabaster, some loved him. I would be lying if I didn’t say sometimes I looked at the PHO’s artwork from those who had “seen him and spoke” to him. They were… amusing.

But here… A manhole cover had been pushed up and tossed aside. The stench of sewage filled the air, and that was gonna draw attention.

Very dangerous attention.

I quickly donned my mask and outerwear from my backpack. Following the dripping, bare, footprints. At the end of the alleyway, there was a thrift store, windows caked over with grime.

The door had been… pushed in and off of its hinges.

Strong. Maybe not as strong as her Changer form, but strong.

I walked in. There were clothes tossed left and right, and I’d expect that Madison had run, but the trail was new. She’d probably spent some time under ground, looking up at the man hole cover, building up her courage.

I paused at the open door. I could hear movement, my bugs detected someone in the… changing room? I approached and I could hear a voice.

“It… it doesn’t fit!”

Huh. Madison must be falling back on old habits. You changed in the changing room.

“Madison,” I called.

The voice went silent, Madison went still, a few bugs in position to let me know if she moved. Underneath us, and above us in the rafters, more bugs waited.

“Madison,” I repeated. “I’m The Investigator. I’m here to help.”

“No! No, no, no, no…. I killed Rosita!”

“Rosita is well. I spoke to her.”  I didn’t move towards her. “I’m in the front, and nobody else is here. Would you like to come out. I promise not to approach you. If you want to leave, I will let you. I will not follow you.”

True, in a way. The Investigator would not follow her.

The door opened. I tilted my head. So soon after her trigger, the fact that she didn’t destroy the door implied that either her base form was less tough then her Changer form or she had a great deal of control over her strength. Perhaps both.

Madison was wearing an overcoat, the kind she’d never be caught dead in.

Even with it, she was shorter than I remembered. Madison had always played up the cutesy attitude, had trained herself in how to look worried, or happy, whatever the people around her wanted. It had been her tool.

Now, huddled into herself, I saw that her tool had been broken.

She was running one hand through her hair, a distracted gesture, not looking at me, hunched in on herself. I could see that she had fangs now. I wondered if that was a permanent addition to her form.

“I… I broke the rules. I ran away.”

“To save Rosita,” I said. Breaking the rules. Always a follower. “I have spoken to Director Piggot and Armsmaster. You are not in trouble for bringing Rosita to the hospital.”

“Home… They burned down home. I heard it. My fault, all my fault—“ I noticed her fingers were changing, fingernails growing.

“No,” I said. “Not your fault. What we do is our own choice. But this place is not safe.”

“It… isn’t?”

I shook my head. “It’s forgivable for you to not notice, but this is E88 territory.”

Madison’s breath caught.

“Indeed. There are two things we can do. First, call the PRT. They will bring a unit here and will transport you. Again, you are not in trouble for what has happened. The second is I walk you back, but you must do exactly what I say.”

“Are they going to handcuff me?”

“Why?”

“They said I was like the Siberian or Crawler.”

“I doubt ‘they’ are making decisions.” Was I ever that naive? 

“Oh. I guess… Call?”

“Very well.”

I held up my burner phone, and letting Madison see, I called and put it on speaker.

“This is Director Piggot.”

“I have located Madison and she would like to come into the PRT.” I gave the address.

“So quickly?”

“I was lucky.”

There was a snort. “Sure you were. I’ll be sending a unit, along with Armsmaster.”

“Very well. And Madison is worried about being arrested.”

“She doesn’t need to be. This is simply a measure to protect her.”

Madison looked calmer.

I decided not to tell her that one reason Emily Piggot was using the soft touch was, well, even as a Ward a Brute 8 would be formidable, and if Madison had to leave the Bay, I expected some horse trading on the part of the Director for losing such a potentially valuable Ward.

We waited.

“I…” Madison swallowed. “I deserve this.”

“Really?” I asked.

“For everything I did. Maybe they should send me to the Birdcage.”

“I doubt you did anything that terrible.”

And I realized I was telling the truth. Madison might be a bully, might have made my life hell, but compared to those in the cage?  It was no contest. Not the least being that Madison was apparently considering her past behavior and not liking what—

My phone rang. “Investigator, this is Director Piggot. Coil’s men hit an Empire front and the PRT unit is going to be delayed. We have civilians in trouble and Crusader is on the scene.”

She didn’t need to say anything more. Crusader if things went south, was one of the more deadly capes to bystanders.

“Should we stay put or come in?”

“Stay put I’ll—“

The signal went out. I looked at the phone, noting the lack of cell service. But the mesh network should have taken over. And it hadn’t.

“What’s…”

“I think we’re about to have visitors,” I said. “Madison, whatever happens, do not fight. Run to the PRT. You are not experienced with your power and the Empire may try to provoke you into lashing out and harming someone. Remember, they can’t hurt you.”

“I…” Madison’s hair was starting to come together, strands congealing into some kind of dreadlocks, while her body was starting to shift under her overcoat. Her skin was becoming darker, gleaming, while her mouth was pushed out, forming a muzzle, her teeth growing, as her ears shifted.

The look was… disturbing.

“Madison. Remember, they cannot hurt you.”

“But what about you?”

“I am very good at avoiding people who wish to hurt me.”

And then a single van turned the corner and drove right up to the back, where the door was open. Three people got out. One wearing some kind of suit of armor. The others were smaller. I kept my bugs in reserve, and waited until they walked in the door.

Ah. So that was who they were.

“Well, hello, beautiful!” Tattletale said to Madison, ignoring me. “I’m here to keep you from making a terrible mistake, and give you the job offer of the century!”