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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 11: Interlude 01

Predatory

aka

Venom 53

Interlude 01.

Madison.

Madison collapsed onto her bed with a pomf. Groaning into her pillow, she rolled over and threw an arm over her eyes. "Fucking Emma. Fucking Sophia. Fucking Taylor."

School was long, hard, boring, and filled with people she would rather not deal with, but was forced to. It was stressful, having to play along with Emma and Sophia's stupidity. And all because she would rather it be Taylor on the receiving end than herself.

Pushing those thoughts from her mind, she sat up and grinned. "Well, time to shitpost and fap!"

With that little cheer, she launched herself into her desk chair and brought up an image board for some visual stimulation—porn, she meant porn—and PHO for some stimulation of the mental kind. She quietly hummed to herself when she saw a new thread in the Brockton Bay general section. Clicking it, her eyes ran back and forth over the text as her mood rapidly plummeted from 'perpetually aroused' to 'worried.' Then, she started clicking videos.

"I""We"

"have"

"come"

"for"

"You~"

Madison shuddered violently, before reaching out turning her PC speakers down. "Fuck me that's some horror movie shit. How is this the first time anyone's heard about this person?"

As it turned out, there were links showing otherwise. Clicking them brought up the Houston section and a thread dedicated to who was tentatively being called 'No Face,' the name credited to Dispatch and his released body-cam footage of his brief engagement with the villain… and what she hid under her mask. Also, a recommendation that, if forced to engage, to never, ever fuck with the mask in question as it was pretty much the villain's berserk button. She had been perfectly willing to deal with police, PRT, and heroes using less than lethal force—containment foam, that is—before Dispatch made the mistake of knocking her mask off. Then she hit him hard enough to collapse his skull if not for his armor. As a warning given her visible, intentional telegraphing of the retaliatory strike and allowing him to block it.

"Damnit! I hate being late to the party," Madison grumbled as she read the thread and watched the videos. She couldn't decide if No Face was more or less creepy now that she was apparently doing more than making the creepy moaning sounds. On the one hand, the Houston videos were like some shit out of the Ring. On the other, the Brockton Bay visit was more like Evil Dead—the funny version, not the shitty remake. Then again, as some comments in the thread pointed out, the tone had changed after she dealt with who people were saying was Coil—going from serious horror movie monster to campy monster toying with the heroes. The prevailing theory was that she reserved the scary shit for people who truly deserved it. Meaning that she felt that someone in Houston deserved it.

Some enterprising poster had even created a video compilation, putting together the Houston event and the Brockton Bay event. Where there were multiple camera angles, those were stitched together side by side—otherwise it generally followed along with whatever camera was next in sequence in her path.

Madison watched the whole thing from start to finish. From No Face approaching the apartment building and walking in casually as you please, completely bypassing whatever security they had, through her 'fight' with Houston Protectorate/PRT/police forces, her shadow just appearing outside the Brockton Bay PRT HQ building and rushing inside, the audio of the confrontation with Coil as caught from a camera in the hall, to Coil's 'confession' and her leaving.

The whole thing was like watching a horror movie brought to life by a fan of the genre… who was using those tropes to murder people. Part of her wanted to turn off the computer and pretend she had never seen it, while the other part didn't want to look away.

And then, even as she watched, a new post popped up, from a new user—this one with more video. Clicking the video link, she was treated to the sight of a view from two cameras—one seemingly floating in a sea of black and focusing on No Face, the other apparently somewhere at No Face's chest level. This particular video showed the whole confrontation in Brockton Bay—from the camera pointed at the sky, then zooming through the PRT building, to facing Coil, birthing a suspected Brockton Bay villain from the walls, doing something to Coil that caused his body to waste away and disappear, to her view of playing with his skull. The only edits were where the video was cut any time No Face teleported and some very obvious bleeping out of Armsmaster's name and the name of whoever it was Coil planned to kidnap.

If the security footage was creepy, the actual body-cam footage from the culprit herself was even moreso.

"Oh my fuck, that scary bitch recorded the whole thing and uploaded it!" Madison didn't know whether to be terrified or impressed.

Her computer dinged an incoming message alert and a new message notification popped up from her main browser window… while the window running a VM, routed through a VPN, running a stripped down browser with enough anti-tracking and browser spoofing to throw off Armsmaster also blinked. "Hm?"

Checking the message to her public account, she found only a single picture. It was taken from a phone and aimed at a table, where a sticky note lay stuck to it. On the note were only a few lines lines.

Madison Clements.

11PM.

And an address to a park near her house, down to a specific bench.

"No way," Madison murmured, before opening the VM running her special account—the one used to write bad fanfiction about various heroes and villains and to do the majority of her shitposting. It also had a message. A feeling of dread pooled in her gut as she opened the message… and found a sticky note with her name on it. "No fucking way."

How?! I was so careful! Oh God, what if it's some kidnapper? What the fuck? Should I call the cops?

Madison's brain went off at a mile a minute before, eventually, she closed the VM window and sent a reply through her normal account.

FlippinMad: I don't know who that is.

mr10tickles: [picture].

Madison's eyes went wide as the photo loaded… showing her. Sprawled out on her bed. Through her bedroom windows. Thirty minutes ago. "Fuck me!" she yelped, jumping up and drawing the curtains closed.

FlippinMad: wht the fuck do you want frm me

mr10tickles: Be there or be square, Madison.

Further messages got no response and Madison eventually shut her computer off.

Her stomach did flips in anxiety as she paced her room, wondering what to do. Finally, glancing at the clock beside her computer, she grabbed her coat and left the bedroom. Slipping silently out of the house, she made the short walk the few blocks over and down to the park. Counting from the entrance, she found the bench in question under a tree. Then, she sat down and waited.

This is stupid. I'm going to get raped or kidnapped or something. Madison debated leaving, but she was angry and stubborn. She wanted to know who had tracked her down and called her out.

Something wispy brushed against her face, like a spider web. She reached up to brush it off, only for exhaustion to hit her like a hammer and consciousness to flee.

Thin, black strands of not quite web lead up into the tree, converging and thickening into tendrils, then into tentacles, leading off of Widow's hand. "Let's see what we're dealing with…"

Several minutes later, Madison's body sat up, eyes closed and head limply resting leaning forward.

"You know, it's not safe for a girl to be out all by herself at this time of night."

Madison Clements jerked awake.

Dennis

"Did it seem like Sophia was acting weird to you?" Chris asked, from where he was sitting in the chair beside Dennis's own. Ms. Militia, their adult supervision for the night, was currently getting a cup of coffee and 'taking a walk.' In other words, giving them a few minutes to talk amongst themselves.

Sparing a brief glance at the eponymous console he was on duty for today, the redhead nodded. "A bit. Like she felt particularly smug about something."

"So, I wasn't the only one," Dean murmured, from where he stood just inside the doorway, his helmet under his arm. "She came in that way though, so probably something in school."

"I miss Missy," Chris sighed, and Dennis nodded.

"Maybe, but we can't exclude Sophia. She needs friends. People to give her a chance to clean up her act and turn her life around. And she can't do that if we're judging her for every little thing," Dean chastised. "Or if she's constantly being compared to Missy and found wanting."

Looking the armored boy's way, Dennis rolled his eyes. "Dean. Buddy. Stop reading the PR manuals. Have you met Sophia? She doesn't have or want friends. At best, she has allies and minions."

"Anyway," Chris interrupted the brewing argument. It was familiar ground, since Vista had disappeared and she was… replaced by Shadow Stalker. As much as the higher-ups wanted it, Sophia could never replace their friend. Nor was the girl a good fit for the team. She didn't fit with the team dynamic and she didn't want to. Stalker wanted to be a lone wolf. She didn't think she needed a team and went out of her way to let them know it.

If left to their own devices, Dean and Dennis would argue about it for the rest of the night. Dean, because he felt he should defend Sophia when she wasn't there to defend herself—exactly like, as Dennis suggested, he had been reading up on the manuals; PR, image improvement, team cohesion, anti-harassment/bullying, and so on. Dennis, because he wanted her gone and resented always being forced to be the one to play nice, when Sophia instigated ninety percent of any team issue. Even Carlos had an opinion—which boiled down to 'shut up and follow orders, and she'll either wash out or shape up. And if neither of those happens, we can request to transfer somewhere else once we're in the Protectorate.'

And lately, Chris had been stuck playing peacekeeper—not that there was any actual fighting between the original members of the team outside of Stalker, just people with very different opinions on what should be done about what they all agreed was a problem. So, Chris changed the subject, since it was the only thing that would get them to stop. "So, you guys see the new video of No Face?"

"God no, I don't need a why boner right now," Dennis groaned, turning away.

"I want my horror movies to stay movies, thanks," Dean immediately agreed.

"On the other hand," Dennis hummed, "I wouldn't mind watching if she went after someone like Kaiser, Hookwolf, Lung, or Oni Lee."

Chris frowned, "Are we sure she's not actually with the ABB? I mean, she's Asian—"

Dean cut him off. "That's racist."

"Fuck off," Dennis rolled his eyes, but there was no heat to the words. "Name one Asian cape in the Bay that isn't working with the ABB. Other than Silk, who we all know is teamed up with Widow—team spider-girls." When Dean's mouth only pulled into a thin line, Dennis nodded. "Didn't think so."

Turning back to Chris, Dennis continued, "Doesn't mean she's working with them though." When the blond boy sent him a questioning look, Dennis shrugged. "Seems like an equal-opportunity horror movie monster to me. She's hit Houston, the Bay, and while the posts haven't actually made it to the Brockton Bay thread on PHO there have been sightings of her in pretty much every major city in the United States. Sometimes, in the same night—like, has to be a Mover because she's seen in New York and then five minutes later, spotted in LA. Never anything as big as here or Houston. Usually just popping up in the background of a shot somewhere and someone noticing it later on. Don't think she's actually attacked anyone else yet."

"So, maybe she doesn't actually live in the Bay?" Chris asked, hopefully.

Dean and Dennis shared a look before the redhead snorted and the blond boy sighed. "We're not that lucky," Dean muttered, shaking his head. Chuckling darkly, he said, "Maybe we should invest in stock for night lights."

"All those kids, suddenly afraid to sleep in the dark?" Dennis nodded. "We'd make a killing."

"Remember to check your closets and under your beds, gentlemen," Dean said solemnly, sparking laughter from his friends.

Humming quietly, Chris smiled and asked, "What if she went after the Nine?"

"Don't even joke," Dean shook his head. "For all we know, they would welcome her with open arms. Can you imagine it? The Nine, with a Mover, Shaker, Brute, and whatever else she is?"

Dennis shuddered. "Pretty sure they invented a new category just for her and gave her the highest rating. Scary: yes. No, I'll hold out hope that she'd do to them whatever she did to Coil, Tattletale, and whoever she got in Houston."

A frown crossed Chris's face. "Yeah, about that," he murmured, lowering his voice. "I've been seeing some rumors online. Dark-web stuff, you know? Remember that reporter that asked about Eidolon when the PRT did that reveal about the Endbringers disappearing? Yeah, she fell down a flight of stairs. Into an open elevator shaft. Onto a couple of bullets to the back of the head. You don't think…?"

The three boys exchanged a look. Finally, Dean hemmed, "You shouldn't believe everything you read online."

Dennis shrugged, before adding, "Especially if it's posted on PHO, and by…"

"""Void Cowboy,""" all three boys said, simultaneously.

The console rang, indicating an incoming call on the non-emergency line. Dean and Chris went silent as Dennis picked it up. "Console, Clockblocker speaking."

"Clockblocker, please put your supervisor on," a familiar voice came over the speakers. Brandish, and she sounded annoyed.

"Ms. Militia is—"

"Here," the woman called, stepping up from around the corner with a cup of coffee in hand. "Isn't it time for your patrol, Gallant, Kid Win?"

The named boys quickly vacated the room. "Go for Militia," the woman said, holding the second headset to her ear.

"New Wave is heading to Winslow High. Widow called and requested Panacea at the site of… something. I'll call back with more details when we get there."

Militia nodded. "Should we dispatch a PRT unit?"

There was silence over the line for a moment before the response came. "Negative, Console. No active parahuman threat. If it looks like there's parahuman involvement, we'll let you know."

"Thank you for the heads up, New Wave," Militia said, and they signed off.

Sitting down in her chair, she sent Dennis a smile under her mask, stirring her cup of coffee with her straw. "Dennis, you haven't been yourself lately. Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really," the boy grumbled, but… Ms. Militia was hot and he was a healthy teenage boy, so he didn't give her the complete brushoff. Besides, she was nice and actually did listen when they came to her with problems.

"I understand you're still upset about Vista's disappearance. We all are—"

"She didn't disappear. She left," Dennis insisted. "This is Missy we're talking about. She wasn't kidnapped and she's not dead. She's out there somewhere."

Militia nodded. "I hope so too."

"It's not hope. It's a fact."

Dinah

For the first time in recent memory, Dinah felt free. The future had changed, her future had changed. And it was wonderful.

She let her friends' conversations, teachers' lessons, and everything else wash over her in a sea of warm noise—secure in the knowledge that she wouldn't be ripped from her family by someone looking to abuse her for her powers. She could relax again. Sleep again, without waking up in the throes of another nightmare of the bleak future to come.

When she got home, she diligently did her homework and studied a bit, took care of her chores, ate with her parents, and retreated back to her room after making herself a bowl of popcorn. Once inside, she turned on her TV and brought up her new favorite genre of movie on a streaming service. Settling in on her bed, a smile graced her face as she watched the opening to Friday the 13th.

Her room grew subtly darker and a weight settled onto her bed, near enough that Dinah could feel the warmth coming off the other form. She should probably be afraid, but she knew better. She was safer right this moment than she had ever been.

"You"

"shouldn't"

"watch"

"this""this""this"

"stuff."

"It"

"could"

"give"

"you"

"nightmares~"

Dinah snorted softly. "Pleasant dreams, compared to a future of being locked in a cell and doped to the gills with drugs, and only trotted out when it was time to tell the future."

The whispers fell silent at that. Out of the corner of her eye, Dinah saw a pale arm reach up and remove the mask, revealing a blank face. Blank, until full, pouty lips formed where they should normally be on a person. Her hand brushed someone else's in the popcorn bowl when she reached for her next bite, but Dinah didn't mind. She turned her attention back to the movie and simply enjoyed her new lease on life.

Guardian angels? Pfft. Who needs those? They went out of style with the Simurgh.

Dinah had something much more practical looking out for her, given all the bad things in the world.

A monster that seemed content to eat other, smaller monsters. Which seemed to be every monster other than her.

"Probability"

"you'll"

"make"

"more"

"popcorn?"

"Ninety-six point three percent," Dinah answered absently.

And also popcorn, apparently.

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