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Predatory by sinereal

Books » Worm Rated: M, English, Romance & Horror, Vista, Panacea, OC, Words: 246k+, Favs: 1k+, Follows: 1k+, Published: Jun 12, 2022 Updated: Jun 25, 2022

198Chapter 7: 07

Predatory

07

Panacea glared across the short distance separating her from Widow. Specifically, at the white box of custom made, flavored goodness that was her doctored up smokes.

"Give those back."

"Nope," Widow denied, tossing the box over the edge of the roof. "If you want something to suck on that badly, I've got something in my pants for you."

Hazel eyes rolled as Amy turned away from Missy and her… roommate? Passenger? She didn't know what to call the other person riding around in her friend's body. Worse, sometimes she couldn't actually tell which one was speaking. They took turns, but unless they made it obvious, sometimes it was hard to tell. Like that comment.

Worse, I know it's actually possible, she mused, squirming slightly and trying to take her mind off the pervasive and perverted imagery that flooded her mind. Thoughts of pushing Missy down, those muscular little thighs wrapping around her head as she dove into a cute little blonde snatch, Missy's hands grabbing her head as an absolutely massive cock of ridiculous anime proportions grew out from her clit, before the blonde gently but forcefully pushed her head down on the massive meat stick—

Amy shook her head. Fuck me, is her power 'being walking fetish fuel?'

"Something on your mind?" the younger girl asked, startling the brunette.

"No!" she answered quickly. A little too quickly, given the way those expressive eyes emoted interest.

Thankfully, Missy knew when to leave things alone. Instead, she asked, "So, how's things with the family?"

And now, Amy really, really wished she was talking about just how much she wanted to go down on her jailbait friend. Anything would be better than talking about the cluster fuck that was her home life. Instead, she bit the bullet and opened up. "Sucks."

Missy was silent, one leg dangling off the edge of the building while the other was pulled into her chest, serving as a place to rest her chin—and showing off her deliciously toned leg in the process. Pulling her thoughts away from her friend, Amy turned her gaze out over the city. From this high up, she couldn't make out anyone. Even the cars were little more than vague shapes, mostly hidden by their lights at this time of night.

"Carol's being a bitch," Amy finally said. "Mark is even more checked out than normal. Vicky can't keep a fucking grip on her power and I want to push her down and tear off her panties with my teeth and it's driving me up a wall. Crystal, Aunt Sarah, and Uncle Neil are great as usual, though. Haven't seen much of Crystal lately since she started college, outside of 'work,' and even less of Eric."

And now that the floodgates were open, she couldn't shut up. "Vicky's getting more serious with Dean. I caught Vicky blowing him. Dean apologized, for fuck sake. I hate his stupid face, but I was the one who walked into Vicky's room without knocking, why the fuck would you apologize for that you idiot?! Crystal, Aunt Sarah, and Uncle Neil just laughed when they found out. Carol made me apologize to Vicky. And she's been pushing for me to do more and more hospital hours lately. I'm… getting tired of it. It's boring and depressing, and I want to quit. And then I just feel guilty for thinking that and force myself to do it anyway. Or I want to do more, but I can't, because the law says I'm not allowed due to being a minor. Or I feel guilty because I could make a difference, but if I quit I'd be choosing not to, and it'd be wrong—"

A hand reached out and laid itself over hers, filling Amy's mind with the overlaid biology of her friend. "No, it wouldn't," Widow said softly, but firmly—and Amy knew it was Miles talking, not Missy. "You're not a machine to turn out heals on demand, Amy. You're a person, with her own goals and life to live. What you're feeling is something we liked to call the Superman dilemma. I suppose in this world, it'd be the Scion dilemma. If a hero can be anywhere and everywhere, hear and see literally anything and everything on Earth, stop every crime, right every wrong, is it morally okay for him to do anything but spend every waking moment of his life doing exactly that? And what about free will? If you're watching what everyone does and step in any time people step out of line, can you really say people have free will? And sometimes, people really are just too stupid to live. It's not your responsibility to handhold the world and protect people from themselves. Shit happens, and after you're gone shit will continue to happen."

Missy's hand squeezed hers and the mask around Widow's face squirmed and shifted away. When the platinum blonde turned to face her, Missy sent her a forlorn smile. "What he's trying to say is, life's too short to waste on stupid shit. That includes doing things you don't want to do, because you think you have to, or because it'll make someone else feel better, or earn someone's approval. Fuck what other people think or want. Live your life for you and the people you love. Because one day, maybe one day very soon, it's going to end."

Looking into her friend's eyes, something clicked for Amy then, and everything fell into place.

What could convince Missy to leave her family and go full-time vigilante?

What could convince her to leave the Wards, because they were too ineffective?

What could make Missy desperate to make her own team and cherry-pick specific capes, herself included?

Amy swallowed hard, her throat suddenly feeling dry as the Sahara. "How," she choked on the word briefly, swallowing again. "How long? You said he got a look at the future. How long do we have?"

Frowning, Missy pulled her hand away and the mask covered her face again. "Shouldn't have said that," she murmured, eyes narrowing in annoyance briefly. "Yeah, well, she deserves to know." She sighed. "Fine. On your head be it."

Turning back to face her, Widow answered, "Could be as long as fifteen years. Could be as short as a few months. I think, with one… problem handled and another one no longer in play, that might be a bit longer, if we're lucky. If not, well, we're boned."

"What do you mean, 'handled?'" Amy frowned.

"I mean, we stopped a villain from getting their hands on someone who would kick off an Endbringer attack on the Bay."

Amy blinked. "And then the Endbringers suddenly disappeared." Missy simply nodded. "You—"

"Do they still teach triage?" Widow interrupted. Amy frowned, but nodded once. "How about cancer? How do normal doctors deal with that?"

"They cut it out. But people—"

This time, it was Missy speaking. "If I handed you a gun and put Jack Slash in front of you, would you pull the trigger?" Amy hesitated, and so she followed up with, "What if I told you that for all the bad you think he's done, he would do so much worse if left alive? That he would indirectly end the world with just a few words. How about then? Everything you know and love," she held out one hand, "versus a mass murderer," and followed by the other hand. Then, she wobbled them back and forth. "And no, there's no clean, easy, pretty solution to it. Either he dies, or everyone else dies."

Amy bit her lip, turning away as her mind whirled. God, this is really happening, isn't it? We, we're all going to die, because… because some psycho thinks it would what? Be amusing? No. No! Fuck that!

Missy sighed and went to lower her hands, only for Amy's to reach out and snag hers—on the side she'd used to weigh 'everything you know and love.' "What… what can I do to help?"

Widow chuckled. "Told you so," she murmured. "You owe me ten bucks."

"Worth it."

Shaking her head, the blonde squeezed Amy's hand back. "Nothing, yet. Just be my—our friend. Later, maybe more."

Letting go of Amy's hand, Widow stood and stretched. "Come on. What do you say we go kick some heads in?"

"I really should get back to the hospital—"

"Do you want to punch a villain?" Widow sang—and Amy realized Missy actually had a nice voice. "Come on, let's go today. We never punch things any more—"

Giggling, Panacea carefully stood and climbed on when Widow turned around to offer her back. "Fine. If you're going to torture me with singing, I suppose I have no choiceEEE~" Widow jumped off the building, and Panacea's shriek trailed after them.

Lisa's head ached as her power twinged and she looked up, glaring at a bird—a common raven—sitting on top of a power line and staring at her with its beady eyes. It's just a bird!

And yet, her power insisted that bird, just like the dog in the alley she had just passed, the cat a block back from that, the girl she had passed on the street who had eyed her up like a slab of beef and a knowing little smirk—they were all watching her. Stalking her. Every one of them was focused on her, like they knew exactly who she was and they were following her specifically. Just like every other animal that her power had been telling her was following her for the better part of the past week.

Taking a deep, steadying breath and swearing she would be downing half a bottle of painkillers when she got back to the safe house she was… relatively sure that Coil didn't know about. She tried to tune out her overactive power as she walked, putting her head down and letting her feet carry her. Eventually, she found herself in front of the apartment building, and made her way inside and up the stairs to her fourth story, two bedroom apartment.

Pausing at the door, she checked the tiny strip of cellophane tape under the knob and found it undisturbed. Nodding to herself, she unlocked the door stepped inside, before locking the door behind her. She stumbled a step into the apartment as her power told her that something was wrong.

Too wet. Too warm. Too humid. Exhaled breath. Something is here. Not a large change. Something small.

Lisa looked around, bottle green eyes tracking over the empty apartment and seeing nothing out of place. She checked the bedroom, office, bathroom, and all the closets—finding nothing in each. With a frustrated sound, she opened the bottle of ibuprofen she'd taken from the bathroom and dry-swallowed ten pills, then made her way to the kitchen and chased them with a glass of water. Lisa stripped out of her clothes as she stumbled towards the bedroom, collapsing naked face down on the bed. With a grunt of effort and a heave, she rolled herself up in the blanket like a burrito and tried to force herself to sleep.

"Fucking Coil and his stupid bullshit," she grumbled quietly, lamenting her use and abuse as his pet Thinker, made to analyze data and spit out results.

Slowly, the pills kicked in and her splitting headache faded somewhat, and Lisa drifted off to sleep.

Above the blonde, in the vent on the other side of the ceiling fan, a pair of red eyes opened and lit the dark recess of the air duct. Black and glowing red liquid seeped down from the vent, pooling in the air, before falling on the blonde's face with a wet splat. Lisa's eyes shot open and she jerked to sit up… entirely too late, as consciousness fled her and she fell back into a deep sleep.

A body rose up from the red-veined black biomass, revealing Widow leaning over the supine form of the girl Miles knew as Lisa.

"You don't have to be here for this—"

"Stop trying to shut me out," Missy whispered, voice annoyed. "Now, dig in and let's see who she really is before we try making an approach."

"Alrighty then," Miles murmured as he spread over and through the unconscious blonde's brain, absorbing and processing her memories at a speed beyond thought, thanks to offloading the job of processing to his bio-mechanical crystalline goo shard body, currently nomming on a planet to recharge its batteries. What he found there was both less surprising and more mundane than he had thought it would be.

Lisa didn't exist. Not as people knew her. 'Lisa' was the product of Sarah filtering everything she wanted to do through her shard and blending in depending on the situation. A true chameleon. Lisa was as real as Gwen Stacy—a public face she wore to hide who she really was from prying eyes.

Sarah was a piece of shit. An opportunist with no allegiances except to herself. No friends. No loved ones. One hundred percent self-interest. She had no problems taking advantage of or manipulating people.

Her situation was pretty crappy, but mostly of her own making—save for where Coil was concerned. And honestly, 'Lisa' didn't mind working for Coil. It was the whole 'against her will' part that chaffed. Being someone else's tool. Her power telling her things about the man and the way he looked at her like a fuck toy. Which, given what Miles knew about Coil's power, made sense—the man likely ran simulations of raping her on the regular.

"Wow. Just," Missy swallowed. "Wow. That's a lot."

"I warned you. I got more from Eidolon. He'd been alive longer, though. Lucky for you, I'm filtering most of this shit. You don't need the play by play of her childhood, just the highlights reel and the most recent stuff. I don't think this is going to work. She'll probably run straight to Coil if we make the offer."

"I still want to try. You have to give people rope. If they decide to hang themselves, that's on them," the blonde murmured. "What about her power?"

"Going in now."

Popping open her shard connection, Miles took a look at what he had and hummed. Going over his shard-body's communication protocols, he nodded to himself—or rather, Missy's body nodded. Okay, let's try this…

Crafting a packet, a standard syn/ack for shards, he sent it. This one, however, bore Eden's security key and identifier—or at least, the equivalent. From what his consumed shard's logs said, shards talked to each other all the time during the cycles, so this was nothing out of the ordinary. That was especially true for shards like the one he had eaten, which played a larger role in the whole song and dance.

A few milliseconds later, a small eternity for a shard-based super computer, he got a reply.

[Confusion.]

[Designation?]

Yeah, I'd be confused too, if a dead person started talking to me, Miles mused. Quickly crafting his own key and identifier, Miles sent a reply.

[PREDATOR.]

There was another pause as it thought.

[Query?]

There was a whole bundle of requests for information packed into that one packet. It wanted to know what he was, what he intended to do, what he was doing with its host, and more. With a grin, Miles sent an answer, and a request.

[Apotheosis.]

[Union.]

An even longer pause this time, before,

[Transfer.]

It sent a set of newly generated codes and proof that it had disconnected from the [WARRIOR] network. Miles threw open the connection and flooded it with biomass, connecting directly with his shard body for physical access to the new shard, and sent a confirmation of his own and a course of action.

[Assimilation.]

And then it was tentacle monster on shard action as two eldritch horrors merged, integrated, and became one being. Biomass shifted and the entire shard that had belonged to Lisa left the Earth it had been assigned and moved into place beside Miles' own shard, integrating itself more fully and setting down roots in the earth beneath them.

At the same time, something shifted loose in the man-turned-puddle's mind.

["And… done. The last Klyntar clone has been wiped."]

["You said you had something to show me, doctor. I assume it wasn't just another puddle of braindead alien."]

["No, sir. This is a sample of a bio-weapon known as DX-1118 C. Otherwise known as Blacklight. Its effects on humans are all on file—"]

["Yes, yes. Get on with it."]

["Its mutagenic properties, shapeshifting, adaptability, survivability—they're all off the charts. This thing can regenerate itself from little more than a few individual traces of the virus. We want to try to combine an… unactivated version of it with one of the Klyntar symbiotes."]

["'Unactivated?'"]

["Well, sir. In every world where we've found this stuff, the first person it comes in contact with, it consumes fully and imprints their consciousness in its genetic memory—that consciousness then becomes the dominant one in a sort of amalgam of everything else it absorbs over time."]

["So feeding it to a symbiote that's been wiped…"]

["Would leave the final product viable for imprinting. We think."]

["…Send me a risk assessment and I'll get you the approval you need." A sigh. "To fight monsters with monsters."]

Miles felt his entire biomass shudder as thoughts, memories not his own bubbled to the surface. Deal with it later.

"What the actual fuck was that?!" Missy hissed, shaking where she had collapsed atop the still-unconscious Lisa.

"Memories. I think they're from the goop, from before when the assholes who picked me up fed me to it. Both of the things they were using have genetic memory and extra-sensory capabilities, so I'm not entirely surprised. Anyway, we've got a new shard. Let's see what it's got on Tattletale."

Now that there was no need to communicate with the new shard, since he was the new shard, Miles went over its data and capabilities, along with everything it had recorded from Lisa and her interactions since it had activated a connection to her. It only confirmed his suspicions about Lisa and Coil.

"So, now what?" he asked, considering Lisa's body as he healed the damage done by her shard forcing usage limits on her. "Wipe her memory of it and move on? Try to approach her anyway, and erase her memory if she refuses? I am her shard now, so I could just… shut it off or remove its connection to her. Could fix her brain and flip her conscience and empthy back to the 'on' position. You wanted to handle this one yourself—"

"Stop harping on it," Missy snapped. Miles shut up, but she could feel his irritation bleeding through their bond. "Sorry. Give me a minute to think."

So, Miles gave her time, watching silently as her brain whirled with thoughts and plans. And as she thought, she spoke. "If you remove her powers, we might as well kill her ourselves, because Coil will once she stops being useful. If we're going to alter her brain, we may as well go whole hog—you and I both know there is no such thing as 'one little change.' It'd be like making one little change with a sexuality changing power to make someone sleep with you—they'd throw your ass in the 'Cage for that on the argument that that 'little change' essentially killed the person they were. That sort of personality death and recycling of someone's walking corpse should only be reserved for people like Jack Slash. Completely unrepentant sick fucks who wouldn't change for any reason."

Missy sighed. "I don't think she's that far gone. I want to actually give her the choice to be better. To work towards something greater than herself."

"I know. Redemption is a lofty goal…"

"I'm sensing a 'but.'"

"Not everyone can be redeemed. Not everyone is worth it. Certainly not everyone wants it—and usually not until it's too late. But I won't begrudge you the opportunity to try."

Several minutes later, Missy nodded. "Okay. So, here's what we're going to do. You wake her up, I'll approach her and make the offer, and see if that takes. You can watch her brain as we go, right?"

"Yup. Every little thought in her head is mine to read at the moment."

Missy frowned. "So why can't I just think at you, instead of talking out loud?"

Missy's mouth pulled up into a smirk. "I thought you looked cuter talking to yourself."

'Going to kick you in the dick!' Missy thought towards the man occupying her head.

"I love you too. Now, you were saying?"

The girl sighed. 'Watch her brain as I talk to her. We'll see what she decides to do. If she decides against it, erase her memory of the meeting, put her back to sleep, then we repeat the thole thing and try a different approach.'

Missy's head nodded outside of her control. "So, the time looper's default option for brute forcing a friendship by figuring out someone's 'routes.' Alright. Let's give it a try."

Widow moved to the window and slipped outside. 'We ready?'

"Good to go. Just knock."

Nodding, the spider-themed heroine knocked on the glass to the apartment window. In the bed, Lisa's body jerked slightly as she came awake, but she didn't move. She waited, listening, not hearing anything in her apartment. Cracking her eyes open, she didn't see anything.

"She's playing possum. Knock again."

A tapping at the window drew her mostly closed eyes to where a form she recognized from photos sat, crouched on her fire escape. Curiosity getting the better of her, Lisa opened her eyes fully, gathered the sheets around herself, and left the bed. Moving over to the window, she opened it and leaned against the sill. Shit it's cold! she flinched as the window let in the cold late autumn air, sending goosebumps up her flesh and turning her nipples into little diamonds under her arm.

"Can I help you?" she asked, politely but under the assumption that this was just a hero knocking at a civilian's window and not a hero knocking on a known villain's window in her civilian identity. In the same way a serial killer doesn't freak the fuck out with a concerned police officer knocks on her door in the middle of the night to let her know that there's been a break-in nearby and residents should be aware that the suspect may still be in the vicinity.

"I was hoping we could help each other. Can I come in? It's kinda cold out here," Widow laughed, her head tilting and those expressive eyes emoting amusement as Lisa's power told her the other woman was eyeing her nipples specifically. "I think you'd be more comfortable beside a heater anyway."

Lisa considered it for a moment. Her power (read: Miles, filtering her power's results first and feeding them to her straight for the moment) supplied more details from what she had already learned of the costumed hero.

Widow's a known goody two shoes. Wards candidate. PR friendly. Highly effective. Strong moral compass.

Hangs out with Panacea. Friends. Potentially knows her civilian identity—need more data. Avoids Wards to associate with Panacea. Potential conflict of interest with Wards.

Coil would kill to have her on the team, but I don't think she'd be a good fit for the Undersiders. Could be convinced with time and the right conditions. Suggest slow approach—befriend, make myself a sympathetic character, convert. Do not mention associations with Coil without framing them as coercion at gunpoint on Coil's part. Potential ally against Coil due to moral alignment?

What does she mean by 'help each other?'

Miles intercepted the next package and snorted softly to himself. "Her power wants to tell her it suspects we've been spying on her, based on the timing. Cute. Sorry, not happening."

'Yeah, let's not,' Missy agreed.

Need more data.

Lisa bit the bullet and nodded. "Sure. Come in. Can I get you something to drink…?"

Widow climbed in through the window and closed it behind her, shaking her head. "No thanks. I don't think I'll be here long. You may want to sit down for this."

Lisa shrugged, moving back to her bed and sitting down, wrapping the blanket around her form as she did. Her eyes stayed focused on Widow, but her thoughts—

"Gun under the pillow. Paranoid much? Even I was never stupid enough to sleep with a loaded pistol under the pillow. Beside the bed, sure, but not under my fucking head," Miles warned.

"So!" Widow chirped. "I'll just get right down to it, shall I?" Lisa nodded, gesturing for her to go ahead. "I want you to switch sides."

The blonde on the bed went very still, her expression going slightly wooden. Ever so slowly, her right hand crept towards her pillow. Knows my secret identity. Plans to exploit it. Willing to break the unwritten rules. The 'goody two shoes' routine is an act.

"Do what?" Lisa asked, forcing confusion into her voice. "Sides? What are you talking—"

"Lisa." Lisa's jaw clicked closed. "It's okay. I'm not here to bust you or anything, Tattletale. I'm trying to recruit you to my own team."

Lisa's hand stopped reaching for the gun, but it didn't move back towards her either. Okay. She knows. But it's not as bad as it could be.

She wants to recruit me. Tone implies urgency, suppressed. Doesn't want me to know how important it is.

Shifting slightly in her bed, Lisa Tattletale adopted her trademark vulpine grin. "You have me at a disadvantage," she said, gesturing towards her nude state, and at her power's urging, allowed the blanket and sheets to fall a bit, revealing her freckled shoulders down to her upper breasts.

Sexually attracted to me. I can use that. Imply, tease without being overt. May offer distraction that could prove advantageous in negotiations.

"Seemed like the best place to put you," Widow snarked. "You're a Thinker." Lisa's mouth opened. "It's in the name. I'd rather have someone who calls themselves 'Tattletale' on the back foot in any conversation. Sorry."

Not actually sorry. Completely unrepentant. Not a Thinker. Naturally intelligent and aware of it. Competent. Point of stress if prodded/challenged? Need more data. Control issues? Needs to feel in charge of negotiations. Another potential point of stress.

"Well, you've done that," Tattletale admitted ruefully, playing exactly the part. "What did you have in mind?"

Crossing her arms under her small breasts, Widow sighed. "I need… a planner. Someone who can take a situation in and turn it to their advantage. Someone who can direct a group of other capes acting independently or as a team towards seemingly disparate goals, working towards a larger end goal and keep it all straight. A master of misdirection, who can keep other capes—both heroes and villains—off our asses and shift blame somewhere else. And I really need a bloodhound who can track down anyone, anywhere, with enough time and information. The pay sucks, the hours will be long, and the company consists of an edgy do-gooder, a stubborn ass, and a crazy bitch so far—tentatively working on getting a jaded misanthrope and maybe even a queen of escalation."

She knows my powers. And how the fuck did she figure that out? Need more data. No shit, Sherlock! What about the rest? Who's that list made of?

Widow. Self-depreciating tone indicates she doesn't think of herself as a 'hero' any more. Former hero? Correlating data…

Lisa blinked. Her power had never asked her to wait while it thought something over.

Miles resisted the urge to have Missy frowned. "Fuck."

'What?'

"Her power just figured out you're Vista. Matched the voice to what you said and some context clues."

'I thought you were in control of that thing!'

"I am that thing, but they operate on subordinate AI—I don't micromanage, usually. This one actually likes its host and wants to be helpful—the only reason it can't do more normally is because of the Thinker limitation. I could wipe and reinitialize, but that'd take a few minutes and she'd notice. Best I can do is filter. Want me to tell it not to report that?"

Missy considered it for a brief moment before giving a mental shake of the head. 'No. I want to see where she goes with it.'

"Alright."

Voice recognition pattern matches for Vista. Former Ward. Disappeared, presumed kidnapped. Widow appeared immediately after. New power set, not second trigger.

Holy fuck! Lisa thought, clenching her fist in the blanket to keep her reaction off her face. Okay, Vista abandoned the Wards, got new powers, and wants to start a new team.

Other members:

Unknown partner, 'stubborn ass.' Voice indicates fondness. Lover or love interest.

And this is relevant why? Not Gallant, as indicated by previous footage of Vista's interactions with Brockton Bay Wards. Feelings towards Gallant unrequited in favor of Glory Girl. Relationship with partner recent. Points of stress if pushed.

That has potential. How can I use it? Suggested attack vectors: rebound, fling, failure to best a rival and had to settle—plays into competence and control issues.

Unknown partner, 'crazy bitch.' Need more data.

'Jaded misanthrope.' Voice indicates fondness. Secondary love interest? Sexual interest?

So she can't make up her mind? Or she wants to have her cake and eat it too? Need more data.

Real helpful. Who is it, then? And how do I use it against her? Most likely candidate is Amy Dallon, aka Panacea. Suggested attack vectors: change of sexuality due to failure to initiate with Gallant. Teenagers are notoriously insecure about their sexuality, actual or perceived— Imply she took it so hard she went dyke? Nice. Secondary redound target, imply promiscuity. She's a slut, got it. Inability to commit to one partner or the other, imply infidelity— So a cheating, AC/DC slut, good good. Plays into failure to Glory Girl, imply she settled. So GG cucked her for her crush, it broke the bitch, she picked up some rebound, and then… he wasn't good enough and she was still pissed, so she went after GG's sister. Smells like teen drama. I like it.

Missy's eyebrow twitched under her suit. 'If we didn't need her… Swear to god, I'd slap the taste out of her mouth. It's not like that!'

"I know. Relax. This is what she does, remember? You're just seeing it from her side of the fence."

Now, what would she need all of that for? Lisa queried her power. The answer that came back caused her eyebrows to raise. Permanent removal of gangs in Brockton Bay most likely goal, based on Widow's actions to date and Vista's service with the Wards. Lower probability of removing a specific gang. Stated desire to track targets indicates potential shift in theater outside of Brockton Bay, either temporarily for specific targets or permanently as part of a larger goal.

"I uh," Tattletale cleared her throat. "I'd need some time to think it over."

"More time to consult your power, or a few days to consider the offer?"

The green-eyed blonde nodded. "Yes. Let me think for a minute. I may need a couple of days to arrange some things, if I decide to agree."

Coil's going to lose his shit if he finds out. Question is, do I tell him? No, better question is, when do I tell him? When would be most advantageous? I could turn them against each other. Get Widow on-side by spinning a sob story about being taken in by force— Probability of success based on Vista's personality model, updated for 'Widow' identity: high.

Tell Coil she approached me and wants to shut down the gangs. Tell him we can use her to our advantage. Offer… offer info. Yeah, we already have info on the other gangs and their businesses and safe houses. Probability of Widow targeting specific gang assets: high.

Introduce her to the team. Likelihood of personality conflicts: Brian, low; Alec, medium; Rachel, high.

Yeah, but how likely is Rachel to start shit? Very.

Okay, what if I tell her their own sob stories? If I can have Brian keep Rachel on a tight leash, how likely is Widow to start shit herself? Unlikely.

"What about the rest of the Undersiders?" Lisa asked, to buy time and gather more information.

Widow shrugged. "What about them? So far, all they've done is steal from the gangs. If that's a crime, I'm a criminal too."

Doesn't care if people regard her as a criminal, expects people to.

Vista? A criminal? Now that is something. The question is, what's she done— Planning to do, based on stated need to divert attention of heroes and villains and shift blame elsewhere.

Oh shit. Oh. Shit. She's… she's gone off the reservation, hasn't she? She came at my in my civvie ID, in my home, in the middle of the night. She wants me to help plan and run ops against both sides! Very likely.

And she's not going to respect the unwritten rules. Very likely.

Haha! Fuck you, you little holier than thou bitch! I've got you by the balls now! I'm going to make you my bitch. You're going to kill Coil for me so I can steal his stuff and take over his gang, then you're going to do every shit job I send you on until I decide I'm done with you.

Missy very carefully did not allow her face to so much as twitch. It helped that Miles had locked the suit over her face into its default expression and he was holding her face still. 'Am I going to have to choke a bitch?'

"Well. It's Tattletale. You saw what was in her head. …Probably, yeah. 'Bitch choking' may actually be the solution here."

Tattletale smiled—more of a baring of teeth, really. "So, let me see if I've got this straight. You struck out on your own. You're putting together a team to replace your old one, because you couldn't stand another day of being sidelined and treated like a little girl, or being cucked over Gallant by Glory Hole. So you quit the team, picked up some guy off the street to pop your cherry, and now you've decided he's not good enough and you want a little revenge so you're going after Glory Hole's sister, the heal slut. You think you're a big girl now, since you got some new powers and grew a set of tits, so you're just going to break all the rules and do all the things your old bosses wouldn't let you. You want to be the boss now. And you want me to help you beat— no, you want me to help you kill the parahuman gang members in the Bay, find some sucker to blame it on, and move on to greener pastures after. That sound about right, Vista?"

Chuckling, she sat up a bit straighter. "Do you have any idea what they would do if they knew you'd gone rogue and what you intended to do? A few words in the right ear, and they'd issue a kill order and a bounty in a heartbeat. Maybe even launch a salvo of city-to-city missiles, if they knew where you were—not like anything of value would be lost if Brockton Bay was reduced to dust. Unless you want every hero, villain, and in between in the Americas gunning for you, you're going to do exactly what I say from now on. When I say jump, you ask how high. When I say come, you come running. But don't worry, working for me won't be all bad. If you beg, I might let you sit under my desk and put your mouth to good use until I get tired of you. Understand?"

"…"

'Whatever you're thinking of doing, please don't.'

"I could just eat her."

'No.'

"Fine. No eating. Let me talk to her."

'…No. She's mine, damnit. I said I'd do this and I will.'

Widow's demeanor shifted as she pushed off the wall and stalked towards the bed. Not Vista. DANGER!

Tattletale reeled as her power practically screamed at her. "Wha—"

Strolling around the bed, Widow reached up and pulled her hood back, then grabbed her mask and removed it. Staring down into Tattletale's bottle green eyes with her own blue, Widow leered. Where Tattletale's grin was vulpine, Widow's was… wolfish. Hungry. Predatory.

"Yes~" 'What's her name?'

"Sarah. I forget her last name, but I don't think it'll matter."

What? Not Vista. Someone else.

"Not precisely, but close enough, Sarah." 'Get ready to send something, then shut her power off.'

How the fuck— Need more— You're not going to get more data. Let's turn this off and let you think for yourself, shall we, Sarah? Oh fuck, oh shit, oh fuck!

"Now, I came to you in good faith here… mostly," Widow shrugged. "I really wanted to get you on-side peacefully, of your own volition. I wanted to give you a chance to redeem yourself—to make something better of yourself, even though we both know that deep down, you're an opportunistic piece of shit who doesn't deserve it. So, this is it. Your chance. Just to lay everything you need to know out on the table… Yes, we're going to kill a lot of people before this is all over. Yes, your boss included. No, you can't have Coil's resources—we're claiming those for ourselves—but you will be paid for your services. And yes, we can turn your power off at will."

Or just make it lie to you.

"Decision time, Sarah."

Sarah reached back and drew the pistol out from under her pillow. She brought it up and her power did absolutely nothing to aid her aim but that was fine, she had training with sidearms. She aimed down the sights, put her finger on the trigger and sq—

Sarah frowned.

And squeezed?

Her finger refused to move. In fact, when she tried to shift her aim, she found that her arm had locked up. No, not just my arm, my whole body!

Vista/Widow sighed. The mask in her hand liquified and absorbed into her suit, while a new mask bled out of her face. Lisa wanted to ask what the fuck was going on. She wanted to scramble away. Pull the trigger. Run for the door. Anything at all. But her body refused to respond.

Widow sighed. "You were right. I owe you ten bucks."

Her demeanor shifted again, head tilting slightly to the left. "Double or nothing?"

Her head tilted back the other way and Sarah realized she was talking to herself—and actually answering herself. "Sure, why not? We've got all night~"

Turning back to Lisa, Widow's expressive eyes turned to the gun in amusement. "Put that back where you got it, you dumb bitch." Entirely against her wishes, Lisa put the gun back under the pillow, exactly as she'd found it. "Now, lay down and fix your covers."

Lisa did as she was told, before finally settling in as though to go back to sleep. Widow stood over her, those huge eyes staring into her face. Then, the costume over her mouth split open, revealing an impossibly huge maw full of teeth as the girl leaned down over her. A thick tongue the size of Lisa's forearm lolled out of Widow's craw and ran up her cheek, all the way to her eye, coating her face in drool. "See you soon, Sarah," she whispered, before stepping away and walking towards the foot of the bed. "Erase her memory and put her to sleep. Let's try this again."

Wha—

Lisa fell into a deep sleep.

"So, here's the deal. I need your help. I want to clean up the Bay—"

"By which you mean 'kill the criminal element.' Wow. Who knew the goody two shoes Widow was actually a stone cold killer? Well, with a spider-theme and a name like Widow, I suppose it is kind of on the nose after all. Obvious in hindsight, you know? I mean, really should have figured it out from the visual cues. A white black widow spider, the edgy glowing red webs in the hood and hourglass on the spider. It was there all along. But that's not how this is going to work. No, I'm not going to work for you. You'll be working for me—"

"Shut her up."

Lisa's mouth stopped moving.

"Okay, reset it."

Lisa fell into a deep sleep.

"A little digging—okay, stalking. A little stalking panned out and I learned you were working for Coil, likely against your will. I'm here to offer you a better deal—"

"Can you pay me a million a year, guaranteed, as a retainer fee? On top of whatever else we make from our heists and commission per job?"

Widow frowned. "No, but—"

"Didn't think so," Tattletale grinned. "You can't afford me."

Sighing, Widow asked, "You do realize your boss is a piece of shit, right?"

Tattletale laughed. "Of course he is. You think I don't fucking know? I either get him the information he needs to plan half his jobs, or I'm the one planning them."

"He's into worse than robbing a few villains and taking some territory—"

"No shit. This month alone, I've collected the civilian identities of half of the Empire, Oni Lee, most of the Brockton Bay Protectorate, and about half the Wards. What do you think he plans to do with that info? Or how about when he had me verify that the mayor's niece had triggered as a precog? A twelve year old girl. He plans to kidnap her, drug her to the gills, and use her as his pet Thinker—even calls her 'pet' when he refers to her. And do you know what? I'm okay with that! Know why? Because once I kill him and take his shit, she'll be my pet precog and I'll use her for pretty much the same thing Coil plans to—taking over the Bay, making a lot of money, and ruling over my own little fiefdom as the government breaks down over the next twenty years or so and falls into cape rule. But hey, at least I won't rape her like his pet pedophile doctor plans to."

Widow palmed her face. "You know what? I think I liked her better with the filter on. But fuck it, let's see how deep the rabbit hole goes. Knock her out."

Lisa fell into a deep sleep.

Early dawn light streamed in through the window. Missy was tired, hungry, cranky, and completely, utterly frustrated. "It's like she intentionally chooses the option most likely to piss me off!" she growled.

"Well, yeah. It's Tattletale. That's her whole shtick. The shtick she beats you with."

"You think you're funny, but you're not," Missy grumbled. Running a hand through her hair in irritation, she asked, "Is that normal? Didn't you say at one point that shards made people more aggressive? More prone to seek conflict."

"Oh, they absolutely do. They ramp up aggression and make people dumber overall on common sense things and limit things like 'empathy,' which she didn't have to begin with, 'understanding,' or 'compromise.' Except for Lisa. When I said she and her shard were perfect for each other, I meant it. Fun fact: that's all her. Her shard didn't have to do anything but feed her information and they got on like peanut butter and chocolate."

"But peanut butter and chocolate is disgusting. Like mint chocolate."

"I know. Most people like that shit, while anyone with taste finds it absolutely unpalatable. Kind of like Tattletale."

"Oh. Yeah, cute," Missy sighed, not really appreciating the attempt at humor after a night of seeing the bitch in question at her absolute worst. "One more try. Turn her brain-to-mouth filter back on and let her power give her everything she wants to know, uncensored. Including the restricted stuff. Whole, unvarnished truth. And… change my face back to Missy."

"You sure?"

"Yeah," the blonde agreed. A moment later, she felt the layer of suit over her face and hair shift. Moving back outside the window, she settled in and rapped on the window. Tattletale went through the usual wake up routine, before Missy knocked again. The moment Tattletale opened her eyes and sat up, Missy warped space between herself and the bed and stepped through.

Lisa blinked stupidly for a moment, and in that moment, Missy pulled her mask off. "Holy shit. Vista?"

"Yeah. And I need your help, Tattletale." Lisa went stiff, but the now-revealed Vista steamrolled over her. "I met someone. Another Thinker. Pre- and post-cognitive. He told me something," she didn't have to fake what she was feeling as she told the truth. "If we don't do something, the world is going to end."

Pointing at Lisa, she said, "For starters, you don't have powers. You have a parasite. Part of an alien entity lodged in your brain. That alien means to kill us all eventually, but if we don't find Jack Slash and put a bullet in his head, that's going to be a lot sooner."

Lisa made to open her mouth, but Vista didn't give her the chance to speak. "The Endbringers? Autonomous weapons platforms running off of 'powers.' They were sandbagging the whole time. Their entire purpose was to put the world into conflict and stir the pot if people got too comfortable. They were technically someone else's power: Eidolon's, before No Face killed him. That's why the Endbringers disappeared. It's also why, if you look at who all died in almost every attack, you'll find some rising star—someone promising, who might one day eclipse Eidolon's power."

Frustration evident in her voice and on her face, Vista continued, "We've already neutralized one threat to the Bay and one of the catalysts for the end—a bomb Tinker who would've burned down most of the city and laughed while she did it, which would have drawn in Leviathan, which would've brought in the Slaughterhouse… The entire chain of events would've lead to Jack Slash putting thoughts into the ear of what amounts to an alien god and suggesting it would be more entertaining to kill us all than keep up the puppet show. I want to track down the S9 and eliminate them. Then, we need to work towards making sure the world's still spinning twenty years from now. This whole… thing? The games heroes and villains play. It's bullshit. It's the alien making us dance around like puppets for its amusement—and that's exactly what it is."

Vista was begging, now. Tears in the corners of her eyes and her voice sounding tight as she said, "I don't give a shit about the game. Or your team. Your boss. Your plans. None of that. You want Coil's assets? You can have them. I'll kill him myself and put you in the big chair. But money, power, fame, territory—none of that shit is going to matter when that asshole decides he's tired of playing around and blows up the fucking planet. There's no running from it—every alternate Earth that thing touches is locked down to prevent the prisoners from escaping. So please, help me save us all."

Lisa stared, open-mouthed, as her power worked—confirming Vista's story and feeding her ever more information as she asked for it. Faster and more detailed than she'd ever had before, and with no headache in sight—it seemed her power had decided to stop fucking around for once.

Finally, she came to a decision.

"So, that's why you ran away from home."

Parental issues. "You took the first chance you had, the first excuse you could find, to leave."

Parental abandonment. Likely cause, divorce. "Mommy and daddy didn't love each other any more and with all their fighting, they didn't have time for you any more."

Revenge. "You wanted to get back at them for abandoning you, so you abandoned them."

Mission is an excuse to abandon previous team due to conflict of interests/methodologies, unrequited love interest towards Gallant… "And then there's Gallant, who wouldn't give you the time of day with Glory Hole's lips wrapped around his cock. And who could blame him? You're so underdeveloped you look like a nine year old in costume playing at being something she's not, and she's a blonde bombshell bimbo with huge tits, child-bearing hips, and legs that go all the way—and she's only going to get hotter as she gets older. So you abandoned the Wards too."

Imply connection to parents in motive. "So really, you've come full circle. Congratulations, you've become your parents—"

'Destroy the bitch!'

"Missy, calm—"

'Don't tell me to calm down Miles! I'm not like them! I'm not!'

"Talking to yourself? That's a sure sign you've gone crazy, you know."

Missy's patience, strained to the breaking point and frayed down to just threads over the last six hours, snapped. Her body stilled. Her anger cooled. "You know what? Fuck it."

Sensing an opportunity, Tattletale leered. "Yeah? Going to give up? No, I don't think so. I've got you, now. Your ass is mine. A few words into the right ears and I'll have you locked away in a padded cell for the next fifty years as they try to figure out if you've been Mastered or not—"

"You're right," Missy nodded.

"Of course I am. Thinker 9, bitch."

"Some people just aren't worth redemption." It was at that point that Tattletale realized Vista wasn't talking to her. Of course, by then, it was too late for what little shred of self-preservation instinct she had when it came to running her mouth to save her. "Kill Eidolon, Endbringers stop being a problem… Why does it seem like the things I don't agree with work out really fucking well?"

"T-that, what? But no. How? You don't— You're just Vista."

"Make with the eyes," Vista growled, refocusing her attention on Tattletale. Blackness exploded off the girl, spreading across the room, over the floors, the walls, the ceiling, up the bed, over the covers—leaving the room pitch dark for just a moment, before it was lit by a sea of glowing red eyes. Only the eyes, Tattletale, and Vista herself stood out against the black. Vista hung suspended in midair, mostly naked save for random strands of red-veined black stretching off her body, like an eerie parody of a spider in its web. Her formerly green eyes had gone red and slitted, her hands and feet clawed, and when she smiled, her mouth was a maw of rows of razor sharp teeth that looked like they belonged on half a dozen animals, her power told her—sharks, snakes, crocodiles, lions, tigers, and bears.

Oh my.

"It's you. You're No Face." Her power whispered to her as they leaned on it. "No, not 'No Face,' 'Noh Face.' It's, it's a fucking joke to you."

"Shut up."

Cheshire crescents spread through the darkness.

"Shut up.""Shut up.""Shut up."

"Be"

"silent"

"Sarah~"

A chorus of the damned whispered around her, while that last female voice felt like it came right beside her head and was laced with enough overt sexual energy that it might as well have stuck its tongue down her ear. It was intimate, dark, longing, smoke and honey, liquid sex and it was all wrong. The blonde would have shuddered, but found her body had gone limp and still. She couldn't move. Could only intermittently blink.

Vista loomed over her in the dark, body trim and athletic, curves that had been hidden by her costume as Vista on full, open display and how had anyone ever mistaken her for a child even with her size?

Clawed hands cupped the sides of her face as Vista lowered her surprisingly hefty weight atop Tattletale's prone form. Long fingers stroked her face almost lovingly—until Tattletale felt the first time the claws just barely broke the skin. Not even enough to sting, but enough to feel that even just a hair more pressure would part her flesh more surely than any knife.

A long, thick, drool-covered tongue slipped out of the thing pretending to be Vista's mouth, running from the bottom of Tattletale's chin, over her lips, across her nose, over both eyes, and up to her hairline. It coated her face in a thick, hot layer of slime with a scent that clung in her nose and mouth when she breathed—sweet, mouthwatering, and feminine but also musky, strong, and masculine. It left Tattletale's body quivering in need, her cunt immediately flooding as she was left hornier than she'd ever felt in her life.

The control over her body slipped for just an instant, and Lisa opened her mouth and drew breath to plead. "Please—"

Black and red rushed into her mouth, filling it and solidifying into a thousand squirming tendrils that oozed more of that same delicious fluid. "Shh."

"Shh.""Shh.""Shh."

"No more words now."

"Only"

"tears~"

Once more, that tongue swept over her eyes and Tattletale tried, and failed, to shudder.

"We only need your power, Lisa. We don't need you," Vista cooed, her words completely at odds with her tone. "We ate the parasite in your brain hours ago, Lisa."

We've been in your head

the

whole

time~

"Trying to convince you to do the right thing. To see beyond your petty selfishness, for once in your miserable life. Over and over—"

"and over""and over""and over"

"and over~"

"We tried. You rejected us and we ate your memory and started over. And you kept rejecting us. We laid your true self bare before us and when offered help, forgiveness, redemption, and even an opportunity to save the world… you chose to bite the hand we held out in friendship. I wanted you to prove us wrong, to prove that there was still something worth saving inside of you, but you did everything in your power to do the exact opposite."

I'll do it! I'll help! Just let me go—

"No. None of that," Vista shook her head, one clawed finger wagging back and forth in front of Tattletale's face.

"No"

"more"

"second"

"chances~"

"No running to Coil to sell us out. No playing us against him. No turning every hero, villain, and in between in the Americas against us. No missiles. No Birdcage."

"No"

"one"

"to"

"save"

"you~"

"from us."

"us.""us.""us."

What are you going to do to me?!

"Hmm. That is the question," Vista tilted her head, seeming to consider it. "I can turn your powers off, like that," she snapped her fingers. "A flip of a switch and Tattletale dies, leaving only Lisa behind to pick up the pieces."

Coil—!

"Coil would kill you the moment you stopped being useful. Rape you, run you through a woodchipper feet first, and use you for chum in the Bay."

And even as she said the words, Lisa knew them to be true—knew that the man's looks would become more than just looking and he would have her disposed of. After all, she had been privy to more than one conversation ending in exactly that for someone else.

Vista tapped a clawed finger against her own lips. "We could fix you. Just… reach down into your brain and turn on that atrophied part that would have been your conscience."

This time, Lisa was allowed to shudder at the thought of someone changing who she was at the very core of her being. Not that! I don't want to die—

"But we just don't think it would be enough, you know? It would still rely on you wanting to change and not ignoring your conscience once you had it. You'd still be a liability, capable of spilling all our secrets to your master."

I won't!

"Liar.""Liar.""Liar."

"Tattletale."

"It"

"was"

"there"

"all"

"along~"

Humming to herself, Vista's face suddenly lit in a wide, wolfish grin. "We have a better idea. Keep your friends close,"

"and"

"your"

"enemies"

"closer~"

Dread welled up within her at that. What do you mean…?

"It's simply, really. If Lisa is the problem, we'll just…" Vista gently tapped her forehead. "Uninstall Lisa."

Nooo~! No no no nonono—

Lisa's panic shut off like someone had flipped a switch, and she realized then that Vista or whatever it was hadn't been lying, and had in fact undersold it when she said she had eaten the parasite in her brain. She had a direct connection to Lisa's brain somehow. It explained why she could only move when Vista let her, how she could manipulate her memories, how she could read her thoughts as she had them, how the eldritch abomination was making her body ache in arousal—

"Nope. That last one's all you. Mostly," Vista shrugged. "There's some aphrodisiac effects in our fluids, but not much. No, you just have a rape fetish."

The delivery was completely normal, as though they were just two friends talking about something completely inconsequential. So normal it was jarring and unsettling, given the contrast with their surroundings.

"The problem with personality death," Vista continued, bringing Lisa's still too calm mind back to the subject at hand, "is that it's permanent. We get rid of you and gain a valuable tool, but you—Lisa—learns nothing. You don't pay back any of the suffering you've put others through. The things you've done, or planned to do."

"Like Dinah~"

"But we can't just leave you in the body, either. There's normally only room for one consciousness in a human brain, and if we tried to make a new personality they could fight, the new one could be subverted or broken."

"And"

"we"

"can't"

"have"

"that"

"can we~?"

Nodding slowly, Vista said, "We have a neater solution…" Beneath the covers, something squirmed and crept up Lisa's body—slick, wet, tight warmth wrapping around it from the tips of her toes, up past her calves, her knees… When it passed her dripping lower lips, she felt something that felt entirely too much like a tongue flick out and lick the fluid off of her and a set of lips kissing her pussy before it pulled tight against her skin and continued to creep up.

"We'll sandbox you. Stick you inside your power, locked down and with no access to anything except what we want. You will feel everything your body feels, see everything it sees, experience everything it experiences—all with absolutely no input over what the person it becomes it does. It'll be like a lasting case of Locked-in Syndrome. You could perhaps even consider it being reborn, because we won't even change everything in your brain. Just fix it so the person we shape you into can feel empathy. Has a conscience. Remove all your memories and experiences and wipe the slate clean. Alter her powers a bit. And then, be there for her as she grows into a new person—who you could have been under different circumstances."

Vista's wolfish grin returned. "And then, we'll introduce the two of you and let her decide your fate. Do you like the sound of that, Lisa?"

Lisa absolutely did not. The thought was… distantly horrifying. If I were sat in judgment over myself, I'd pull the trigger and call it a day. I don't stand a chance.

"Dread that day, Lisa. Live in absolute fear of that day. And pray the golden dickhead kills you first, so you never have to know you would choose," Vista whispered into her ear. "Now, say goodnight. When you wake up, it will be as—"

"an"

"entirely"

"new"

"you~"

"A better person."

For the last time, Lisa fell into a deep sleep.

"Do it."

"…You're sure? Missy, there's no turning back from this. You—"

'You don't have to protect me any more. We're a team. You and me. A package deal. I really don't like the bitch and she deserves whatever we decide to do to her. You can make real bodies now, right?'

"Maybe. Probably."

'So that's an option. Do exactly what we said. Give another version of her a chance to live, grow, and make the decision herself. If she chooses death, we eat the bitch and be done with it. If she chooses life, spit Lisa out in a new body, with a new face, and no powers somewhere she can't hurt anyone and stands a chance of living more than five minutes on her own.'

"It's a pretty fucked up idea of time served."

Missy grinned. 'We're pretty fucked up people.'

"I think I'm corrupting you. And this place is corrupting me."

'Probably,' the blonde nodded. 'Now, stop stalling and let's eat her fucking brain.'

Taking a deep breath and steeling their nerves, they dug into Lisa's brain, copied Lisa over to a prepared space in her Thinker shard, and uninstalled Lisa from her body.

They ate every memory, everything attached to her personality, the essence of Sarah Livsey—all slurped down until nothing was left of the person that she had been. Then they went over her brain with a fine-toothed comb—fixing any problems they found including her complete lack of empathy and conscience, increasing her natural intelligence, increasing her sense of balance and proprioception, and making a few other changes to her brain meat that would make her better at what he intended her for and hopefully, a better person in general.

As one final laugh they upped her libido and sensitivity, gave her body a naturally fruity taste (strawberry), and… nudged her sexuality.

Lisa had been something like asexual by choice, because her power kept telling her all the truths no one wants to know in a relationship. But that was an entirely different person. For the one they were creating, they set her strike zone for 'tiny, blonde, athletic, female' or 'tall, dark haired, athletic, male' given that Miles was currently shaping himself a body now that he had Eidolon's form to spit a true male body out made of biomass. A few tweaks here and there would encourage her towards sharing instead of jealousy, if something ever came up.

"You realize we're going to hell for this."

'Better she's with people who will look after her than getting taken advantage of by someone else.'

"Okay, true… And, well, sex leads to emotional attachment and emotional attachments make people less likely to betray someone and far more likely to do their best to help them. Which, given who we're dealing with, would be kind of helpful."

Then, they moved on to her body. Sarah/Lisa was a known entity to Coil. The moment she disappeared, he would be combing the city for her and anyone who even vaguely matched her description was suspect. So, they changed some things around. Gave her a few inches in height—legs lengthening a bit, hips flaring. Some extra muscle mass and tone, while removing most of what little fat Lisa had. Her metabolism increased significantly and her body shifted over towards building muscle over fat. Her breasts grew larger, becoming upturned and perky, with bright pink nipples.

Her facial shape changed a bit, losing the 'foxy' look and growing a little more heart-shaped and rounded. Her lips grew a bit and changed shape just slightly. Her nose shrank a hair and shifted a little on her face. Complexion went from lightly freckled and somewhat tan to very freckled pale. Her naturally somewhat wavy blonde hair fell out, where it was consumed and added to Miles' biomass, and straight red hair grew from her head, eyebrows, and pubic region. Her eyes changed from bottle green to sky blue. Every print on her body was randomized in a way that would look natural.

Then, because all of those changes were superficial, Miles reached down into her DNA and, using his two shard-bodies to model out the changes they had made and work backwards from there to figure out what genetic changes would be needed in order to produce the results he wanted naturally, adjusted her DNA to match what it should be.

"That reminds me. I need to eat your shard when we get done here."

Missy raised an eyebrow. 'You mean you haven't already?'

"Nope. I've just been shutting down its attempts to manipulate your brain into doing stupid shit."

'Yeah, please do that soon. I don't want anything in my head attached to that golden prick. …Did you already eat Allison's?'

"Shit. Nope. I'll do that after I do yours."

Finally, Miles reached into the shard he'd claimed from Lisa, looking over the power set assigned to its host. "So, we'll keep most of this. Remove the Thinker limitation—meaning no more headaches. Modify it to add a new Thinker element in the form of visual cues to highlight anything her power deems important to focus on or tune her senses to enhance them or filter out things. Add a basic physical improvement and maintenance package—that should keep her healthy and fit.

"Minor physical enhancement package—strength, speed, reflexes, balance, flexibility enhancements all around. Thinker package to support that with a human-specific armed and unarmed combat database. Another Thinker package for hacking Earth computer systems and Tinker-shit. Minor Tinker package—computer equipment, gadgets, small energy weapons, armor, low-yield power armor, personal vehicles… with an animal themed leaning, specifically bats. Aaand imprint her subconscious mind with a love of bats and spiders.

"And… I think we're done?" Miles considered for a moment, before smirking as he added a little something extra, just to shift the blame. Above her ass, a black omega symbol appeared in the 'tramp stamp' area. "Perfect. And flip the 'on' switch for her new powers… Holy fuck."

"Whoa," Missy agreed aloud, suddenly very aroused as the changes finished taking effect.

What had started out as a beautiful redheaded beauty of around sixteen that Miles, with Missy's hand here and there, had hand crafted to suit their own tastes, because why not, went from a 10/10 due to his meddling to a 15/10. Missy's own mouth watered at the sight of the new body.

'We done here?'

"Yeah."

Missy's splayed out eldritch abomination form abruptly imploded into itself, leaving her once more as the (mostly) harmless Widow. Then, she and the newly created redhead disappeared from a locked apartment. Widow reappeared in an alleyway and started swinging across the city, as if she were on a routine patrol.

The redhead reappeared halfway across town, on a rooftop in Widow's swing path. Black goo with red veins leaked out of her body, coalescing into a puddle that moved quickly away from her and joined the raven that had served as a point for Miles to shift her biomass to. Taking flight, Miles had the raven circle up around her and keep watch. Then, he sent Missy the feed from its eyes to her visual cortex.

"Damn she's hot. I mean," Missy cleared her throat. "Oh no. A naked woman all alone, out in the cold, stranded on a rooftop. Quickly! We have to render assistance!"

Miles snorted. "Your acting needs work. Also, you're drooling. From both sets of lips."

"Shut up~" Missy whined, adjusting course and clearing the next few blocks quickly.

"Remember—assume that we're being watched and listened to by someone with a directional mic from here on out."

'Yeah, yeah, I'm not a dumbass.' Landing near the redhead, she took in the scene and hurried over. "Jesus, she's fucking freezing. I didn't realize it was this cold out."

"Just give her your coat," Miles suggested. "It'll look more natural that way if someone spots us. You know people are on 'Widow watch' now, ever since we stopped fucking with them to keep them from getting good pictures."

The blonde nodded, pulling off the thin 'coat' that formed the upper layer of her costume and typically kept her ass crack and camel toe off of display, unless she was flirting with Amy. The section of symbiote flowed around the redhead and pulled tight, before it began putting out much more warmth than any coat should. Missy blinked, frowning down at the unconscious body, peeling up the coat over its back. "What's this? She doesn't look like a Case-53."

Nodding, the blonde hefted the redhead up into a fireman's carry. "Now, where should I take her? My place would probably be safest for now…"

Widow stepped off the roof and into a one-armed swing across town.

A little over an hour later, after calling Amy over and Miles eating Missy's shard, Amy frowned as she pulled her hand away from the unconscious girl's. "Well, good news. She's healthy."

"And the bad news?" Allison asked, arms crossed under her breasts as she leaned against the wall nearby, wearing winter clothes and obviously just having come in from her lab.

Amy sighed. "She's definitely a Case-53. One of the most human ones I've ever seen, but unless she won the genetic lottery several times over, she's almost inhuman in just how perfect she looks and how her body is set up. And like every other Case-53, she's got no memories other than language, walking, things like that. I've never been around for one of these when they wake up, but I'd like to be for her." Turning to Gwen, she sent the blonde a meaningful look. "We should notify the Protectorate—"

Gwen shook her head. "No. They'll just fuck it up and press-gang her into the Wards, in exchange for a new identity on paper and resources. We can handle both of those. I can have papers within the week and we're sitting on a stockpile of cash from the gangs."

Amy's hazel eyed gaze shifted to the man leaning against the wall beside Allison. He had short, straight brown hair and brown eyes of a light enough shade to look gold, a tall, athletic frame, a fading light tan that could be attributed to the fact that it was winter, and wore a black leather jacket and white hoodie over a set of jeans and boots. He was attractive if Amy was being honest with herself, but so average-looking as to be almost immediately forgettable if she had passed him on the street—which was likely intentional on the shapeshifter's part.

"What?" Miles asked. "That's all her."

"I find it hard to believe you don't have anything to do with her opinions on the PRT or Protectorate."

The recently embodied symbiote shrugged. "I just pointed out things she already knew."

"It's true. Now, can we not argue about this?" Gwen demanded. "How long until she wakes up?"

"I don't—" Amy watched as Miles reached out a hand. "No! You could hurt her!"

The man rolled his eyes. "She'll be fine. Promise. Unlike you, I'm not scared of doing brains."

Amy growled quietly to herself as red-streaked black tendrils snaked from his hand and pressed against the redhead's face. "I'll do your brain," she threatened, laying her hand on the girl's arm to make sure he didn't fuck something up. Her power told her what he was doing as he worked, tendrils on the cellular level stretching down into the redhead's brain and connecting. After a few seconds, he pulled back and she noted that the girl's brain activity was coming up from REM to waking.

"She's coming around," Miles said, moving back to his spot beside Allison, who shifted and bumped his hip with her own as he did.

"So daddy, when am I going to get to break this body in?" the half-Asian practically purred under her breath.

"Later. And keep that up and I really will knock you up," he threatened halfheartedly.

"Threaten me with a good time." She eyed him up and grinned. "We'd make cute babies… And they'd get all the genes for intelligence."

"Probably the ones for 'crazy' too," Miles murmured, earning an elbow to the side and a stuck out tongue.

Eyelids fluttered open, revealing startlingly bright blue eyes. Those eyes rolled over every person there and Miles resisted the urge to smirk as he fed data directly to her via the shard connection, influencing the way she would think of them right out of the gate by having her shard tell her that they were all trustworthy, friendly, and concerned for her health. Putting a hand to her head, the redhead sat up—the covers falling about her waist and leaving her clothed only in Widow's jacket. She blinked, before looking back around the group.

"How do you feel?" Amy asked, not having taken her hand off the girl's arm.

"…Strange," the redhead finally said. "I don't… I don't know anything, but it's like… I do? I want to ask where I am, but something's telling me this is an apartment, and it belongs to her," she gestured towards Gwen. "Or who you people are, but something says you're a healer of some sort," she nodded towards Amy, "and other stuff."

We all shared a look before deferring to Amy. "My name is Amy Dallon. In costume, I go by Panacea. And I use my powers to heal people," she explained. "Unfortunately, I can't do brains, and even if I did… there's nothing there to heal. I'm sorry to say that your memories are gone and you won't be able to get them back. I don't like having to just put it out there bluntly, but I don't want to give you any false hopes of ever recovering—it's worse than knowing the truth." Seeing the redhead's lips turn down into a frown, Amy hurried to add, "But! That doesn't mean you can't lead a normal, full, fun life!"

"Amy, you're babbling," Gwen sighed, shaking her head. Holding out her hand, she smiled. "Gwen Sta—"

"Why are you lying? And why do I still think I should trust you?" the redhead asked, and 'Gwen' withdrew her hand with a wince.

Allison laughed quietly at 'Gwen's' expense. "I'm not a moron, you know. I worked out that 'Changer: Yes' meant you were probably hiding who you actually were from day one. And Panacea obviously knows. I just don't care, beyond being a bit annoyed that you don't trust me enough to tell me."

Sighing, Gwen shot the Tinker a brief glare before turning back to the redhead. "She's right. I'm hiding who I am. Gwen isn't my real name, but it's what I'm going by right now—or Widow, in costume. I might tell you what it really is some day, but this isn't really the time for it. Sorry."

"Allison," the Tinker introduced herself. "I'm thinking of going by Bakuda—"

"Hanabi is more PR friendly," Miles suggested, earning a nod from Amy and a shrug from Widow.

"You know my stance on PR bullshit."

The shorter woman glared up at him with her stormy blue eyes. "I'm not going to get out of the lab much. Let me have this."

Sighing, the puddle-turned-man nodded. "Fine." Sending the redhead a smile, he introduced himself. "Miles."

"What's all this stuff about costumes and powers?" the redhead asked.

Amy opened her mouth, but Missy beat her to the punch. "Short version? People got powers. Now they're using them for stupid shit and playing cops and robbers—except the 'robbers' are killing people and the 'cops' have their hands tied by politicians. Also, the world is going to end if things keep going as they have."

"What the fuck?" Allison asked, jerking away from where she was leaning and looking around the room, from Amy, to Gwen, to Miles. "Holy fuck, you… you three all seriously believe this. What sort of crazy bullshit did you hear to make you think that would happen?"

Gwen and Amy both turned their gazes on Miles, who pinched the bridge of his nose. "This is neither the time nor the place. Later, please."

Allison looked annoyed, but nodded her agreement. Gwen turned back to the redhead. "So, here's the deal. We're trying to prevent the end of the world as we know it. You're in a pretty shitty situation. No memories, no identity in the system, young, pretty, female, and you've got at least some Thinker and probably Brute or Changer powers. Maybe even a grab-bag. People on all sides are going to want to take advantage of that. You have options."

Pacing back and forth in front of the bed, Gwen began her pitch. "Option one," she held out her hands and counted off a finger, "stick with us. We can get you an identity on paper and in the system and provide you with support, resources, and protection. Being completely up front, I want you on the team. A Thinker power would be invaluable. We already had someone in mind, but I don't think she would work out anyway—you're the better option."

Gwen counted off a second finger. "Option two: you go to the Protectorate. They'll also give you an identity, resources, and set you up with most of what you need to survive. That's going to come at the cost of being pressed into service as a Ward—a member of their junior varsity hero squad. You'll be paraded out in front of the crowds by the PR Team, told to smile and sign autographs, and kept far back from any potential danger or making any real change on the world. Your hands will be tied by bureaucracy the entire time you're with them and you'll be expected to fight with one hand tied behind your back, and in a way that isn't too scary or unfriendly towards a good public relations image. Or, you know, isn't marketable as a children's toy."

Missy counted off a third finger. "Option three: go to one of the gangs. I don't recommend it. Here in the Bay, there are four major ones and a few minor ones. Your major contenders are Empire 88, the Azn Bad Boyz, Archer's Bridge Merchants even though they're a fucking joke and can't find their ass with both hands and a map, and Coil's gang. Neo-Nazis with enough capes to steamroll the city but who are apparently content to sit on their asses and bide their time, probably building up forces for a large scale takeover if their leadership is at all competent—which is up for debate. Asian Neo-Nazi equivalent who looked to the Empire for inspiration and decided to be worse, what with the child trafficking, press-ganging, and forced prostitution. Drug dealers and users with three capes who are so perpetually high it's a wonder they can function. And a guy no one knows anything about, but who's hired out a bunch of mercs. Small time gangs include the Undersiders, who are basically an urban legend because they've barely been seen in public, and Faultline's Crew—who are made up of other amnesiacs like yourself, but less pretty. They're mercenaries who commit crimes or do hero work for cash out of town, and are officially neutral, and pretty much the best out of a whole bunch of bad options there."

"Option four," Amy piped up. "You could join New Wave. A public hero team that have all come out in their civilian identities as capes." Frowning slightly, she sighed. "But while it's always been open to join, it kind of is a family team and they—we—require you unmask for the public for accountability purposes."

"Option five," Miles followed on. "Try your luck with the system, outside the channels of the Protectorate and PRT. Wait five minutes, get kidnapped, drugged, and turned into a mindless slave being used for her powers."

Oh so slowly, Gwen turned her head to face Miles. "That's very specific."

"We need an excuse to go after Coil. Might as well do him today, before he can figure out we took Lisa and change all his shit."

'Agreed. How much money do you think he has?'

"A lot."

"Oh by the way, that reminds me," Miles continued, as if just remembering something, "we should go kidn—I mean warn the mayor's niece that Coil's looking to kidnap her, drug her, and turn her into a mindless slave to use her for her precognitive powers."

Gwen palmed her face. "You couldn't have said something a little sooner?"

"Wasn't relevant sooner," he shrugged.

"Can I," the redhead piped up quietly, drawing everyone's attention back to her. "Can I have some time to think about it?"

There were nods all around. It was Gwen who said, "Sure. You can crash here in my spare bedroom for a while." Considering the girl, she added, "One of the first things you should do should probably be thinking up a name for yourself." Sighing, she shot an annoyed look at Miles. "We have to go see a guy about a thing."

"I'm heading back to the lab," Allison announced. Leaning up, she pecked Miles on the lips, before skipping over and doing the same for Gwen. "Don't wait up. I've got ideas."

"Make sure those ideas can be fired out of a 40mm launcher," Miles said, earning a nod and a wave as Allison left. Turning to Amy, he asked, "You mind staying with her for a while? We can pick up some clothes while we're out."

Amy nodded. "Sure. I'll help her pick out a name while you're out."

The redhead looked confused when Gwen walked straight towards Miles, before stepping into him—the man's form rippling and breaking down into a mass of black and red tentacles and tendrils, before settling down around Gwen as her Widow costume. She looked down at the jacket she was wearing and felt only curiosity as her… power told her that yes, the jacket was in fact part of the man who had just become some mass of flesh, before pulling himself tight around the blonde and reforming into a skin-tight costume.

"What even is this place?" she muttered as the spider-themed cape left via the window.

"It never stops feeling like that. You just get used to it. Or go insane," Amy chuckled, before sitting down on the bed next to the cute, super vulnerable redheaded sex goddess given form. Pulling up her phone, she brought up a browser page and searched for popular names for girls. "Let me run some of these by you…"

'So, who and where is Coil? I know you know, even if Lisa didn't.'

"He's a PRT consultant. Thomas Calvert. Lanky, thin black guy supposedly, but the suit makes him look skinnier. I say supposedly because I vaguely recall the author changed it at some point? I'm not sure. The rest of the description is supposed to fit though."

"I don't recognize the name. Then again, not like I know everyone in the PRT by name. Just the ones we dealt with as Wards."

Widow's head nodded and they passed over a rooftop on their next swing. She was out of sight long enough to leave behind a pair of ravens, before running and jumping off the building and resuming her swing. The ravens, meanwhile, took flight—one headed for the PRT office, one for the site of Fortress Construction's incomplete Endbringer shelter.

"So, what's his power?" Missy asked.

"He gets to split timelines, sort of. I think it's more like his shard models probabilities and whichever one succeeds, he follows through on. But it's an as-it-happens thing. So while he's doing something risky in one version, he's waiting in the other, then he picks which one to commit to. Essentially, he can split, flip a coin, stall for time, and then pick the universe where it comes up heads every time."

"Then we'll have to make sure it lands on edge."

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