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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 12: 11

Predatory

12

Taylor sat in class, counting the minutes until the lunch bell rang and nervously wondering where Emma and Sophia were. That they were both out at the same time was odd, but more worrying was the fact that no one seemed to know why. If it was something bad, Taylor just knew she was going to be the one bearing the brunt of their frustrations.

Finally though, the bell rang and she was free to go, at least for a little while. Taking up her bag, she fled up to the third floor restroom. Once there, she locked herself in a stall, pulled out the little pita wrap she had made for lunch and sat down to eat.

Two bites into her lunch, the bathroom door opened. Taylor stayed quiet as someone locked the bathroom door. Then, the stall next to her opened and Taylor resisted the urge to sigh, taking another big bite out of her food and stuffing it back into its wrapping so she could leave...

A phone slid under the stall, stopping at her feet. Taylor moved to kick it back over thinking her neighbor had dropped it on accident, only to pause as she caught sight of the screen, open to a paused video. Knowing she shouldn't, but morbidly fascinated in the same way as a person watching a train wreck, she picked up the phone and hit play.

"Gluck gluck gluck."

"Who's a stupid slut? You are, yes you are."

Taylor's eyes went wide as she stared in shock, watching as Madison Clements, one of her primary tormentors, was... Brutally face fucked by a cock that looked like she needed to dislocate her jaw to take.

"Are you ready for your treat, Maddy?"

In the video, Madison nodded frantically. Why does that voice sound familiar? Taylor wondered.

The cock fucking Madison's face pulled back and a small hand reached in from off camera and jerked it off a few more strokes until thick ropes of jizz shot out at force, all over Madison's face. Lips, nose, eyes, chin, forehead—sperm coated everything.

"Now, what do we say?"

"I'm sorry for being a stupid slut, Taylor. It won't happen again."

"Good girl." The camera shifted, turning around until it was showing a shot of Gwen from the shoulders up. "We figured a little tit for tat was fair, so we recorded Madison in all sorts of compromising positions, doing the most degrading things. But that's just to give you a handle on her. In case she hasn't told you already, Madison turned on Emma and Sophia. She's a key witness in all this, in exchange for a lighter punishment. Yeah, it's a slap on the wrist... But we felt that two out of three was better than none. This way, the other two wind up behind bars for a good, long while. And let's be honest here, Madison was the least bad of the three. Anyway, she's yours now. Do with her as you will. Have her do your homework, carry your books, make your lunches, streak through the halls naked, eat you out during lunch breaks—whatever you want, she'll do. Because if she doesn't, we can always arrange for her to join her friends. Isn't that right, Madison?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Taylor blinked as she thought she heard an echo, until she realized that Madison, who was in the stall next to her, had responded reflexively. Taylor snapped the phone closed, gathered up her bag, and slammed the stall door open. Moving to the next stall, she threw that one open as well and glared at Madison. "What. The. Fuck. Madison? What is this?"

"Exactly what it said," the girl answered, her head tilted down and refusing to meet the much taller girl's gaze.

The phone squeaked in her hand as she clenched it, and Taylor suddenly realized just how much taller she was than Madison, when she wasn't hunching into herself. She practically loomed over the smaller girl, and the way Madison quailed was… nice reminding her of what Emma and the others did to her. She backed away, out of the stall. "If you wanted to apologize, you could just say you're sorry."

"Actions speak louder than words and the words that come out of my mouth have less worth than a stale fart."

Taylor blinked. Inhaling through her nose, she shook her head and tossed the phone back to Madison. "I… I can't handle this. I need, I need to go."

She turned and unlocked the bathroom, then left. She considered going back to class, but… Not today. I need to think.

So she left. Walked right out of the front of the school and turned for home. No one stopped her. No one said anything. No one cared.

Footsteps behind her caused her to turn her head, where she found Madison following. "What are you doing?"

Madison opened her mouth, stopped, visibly thought about her response, before saying, "Following through."

Taylor resisted the urge to scream in frustration. Instead, she picked up her pace as she stormed away. That lasted maybe a hundred yards before her 'storm' turned into a shuffle and she slowed. And judging by the sound of footsteps, Madison had kept up with her easily. "What do I have to do to get rid of you?"

"I… am to make myself available to you any time you may need me, for any reason, during the day. Unless doing so would jeopardize my safety or yours, or hurt my classwork."

The taller girl frowned. "So you're saying I can't get rid of you?"

Madison simply shook her head. Taylor let out a frustrated sound.

Not too long later, Taylor paused on the sidewalk as she considered her neighborhood and what she should do. On the one hand, she wanted to go home, shut the door in Madison's face, and retreat to her room. But she had a feeling Madison would just sit on her porch and wait there until dark or something. On the other hand, she really wanted to find Gwen and ask her what the fuck she was doing.

Turning to Madison, she said, "I don't know where Gwen lives, exactly. Take me there."

"Yes, ma'am," Madison nodded quickly, taking the lead as they walked and moving over a street.

Eventually, Madison stopped in front of one house in particular and knocked on the front door. A few moments later, a short, blue-eyed Asian girl opened the door and regarded them. "Ah," she murmured, before opening the door and standing aside. "Gwen's asleep, but you can come in."

"Thanks, Cindy," Madison gave the girl a small smile before gesturing for Taylor to follow.

"Can I offer you anything?" the girl asked as she closed the door behind them.

"Soda's fine," Madison answered, making her way through the house to what looked like a living room, where she dropped into a seat on a leather sectional couch.

"Sure," Taylor nodded hesitantly, setting her backpack down and sitting on the far end of the couch from Madison. A moment later, Cindy returned with three red cans and passed one each to Taylor and Madison before dropping into the middle of the couch and popping the top on her own.

"Cindy Moon," she finally said, by way of introduction. "And yourself?"

"Ah, Taylor Hebert," the taller girl murmured, sipping at her drink. "So, uh," she floundered.

Madison sighed. "Don't worry. You don't have to make small talk with Cindy. She's not going to get offended." The Asian girl nodded at that.

Frowning, Taylor asked, "How long have you been…?"

The brunette's lips twitched. "About a week." Her smile fell. "Since the day after, well, you know."

'The locker' was left unsaid. Not that either of them needed to say it. And Taylor's anger was once more focused on the smaller girl and what was done to her. Before she could say anything however, a familiar form entered the room from the hall leading to the stairs. Yawning, Gwen collapsed into one of the two recliners opposite the couch, which swallowed her whole. "You're not in school."

Taylor set her drink down in a cup holder and crossed her arms over her chest. "Kind of hard to focus with Madison showing me your sex tapes."

Gwen chuckled at that and Cindy blushed, before quickly standing and leaving. "Still so shy. So cute~" the blonde murmured, watching the other girl flee. Turning her attention back to Taylor, she said, "Everything we really wanted to say, we said in the video. But if you've got questions, go ahead."

"Why?" Taylor asked. When Gwen merely raised an eyebrow, she gestured at Madison. "Why?"

"Why… did we choose to give her a shot at redemption? Because some people objectively deserve one, and some don't. We've seen a bit of both. Madison falls into the former category while Sophia and Emma fall into the latter category," Gwen explained. "What Madison did was shitty, yes… but can you step back and objectively say it was any worse than any of the other girls that bullied you? No, because you're too close to the situation. We can. Sophia got off on it. Literally. The bullying, assault, and power trip got her motor running. Emma… is broken."

"What do you mean? And how do you know that?" Taylor asked. "I don't see how you could short of mind reading or something, and I don't think you have a Thinker power."

Madison shot a look between Taylor and Gwen, before nodding slowly. "It doesn't really fit with what's known about Widow. Brute, Mover, Blaster, maybe lower tier Thinker due to reflexes—or so the discussion threads go."

Gwen bit her lip. "We have a cape in our pocket whose power is, to put it simply, Sherlock Holmes but with more ass kicking. And another who can read thoughts and memories—and that doesn't leave this room." She leveled a glare on Madison, who nodded vehemently. "You don't need to know the mechanism, just that it's foolproof. When it's actually employed," she muttered the last under her breath with an annoyed look.

"As for Emma. Hrm. She was almost raped by ABB thugs. Shadow Stalker saved her and poured poison into her head, and Emma drank the koolaid. She became fixated on you," she nodded at Taylor, "wanting to either utterly destroy you, or force you to become stronger—like her. Even she wasn't sure which outcome she wanted."

Taylor held up a hand. "Wait. A Ward was in on this?"

Madison tilted her head slightly, eyes going a bit distant as she thought. "That must have been what happened that summer. She changed completely. That'd be before Shadow Stalker joined the Wards—before Vista left, actually. Stalker saves Emma, and suddenly Emma's best friends with S—" The brunette's blue eyes went wide. "No."

Gwen nodded. Looking between the two, Taylor's expression grew thunderous. "You mean Sophia Hess, one of the girls who has been making my life a living hell for the past year, is Shadow Stalker? A Ward? Did—who knew about this?!" She turned a glare on Madison. "Did you know?"

Madison shook her head. "No. I'm as surprised as you. It totally makes sense though. I wasn't there for the setup, and I told them it was a horrible fucking idea, but it explains how they got all that crap into your locker without any of it spilling out since her power is basically 'phasing.'"

Taylor looked extremely skeptical and Gwen intervened. "She didn't know, and yes, she did say it was a bad idea. She didn't tell them not to do it."

"They were going to do whatever they wanted and nothing I said would've stopped them. If I had spoken up, or reported them, they would've just turned on me next. And knowing what we do now, I see why Blackwell never did anything about Hess or the rest of the bullshit," Madison defended herself.

Gwen shot her a look and Madison wilted slightly. Before Taylor could really process what she was hearing, Gwen continued. "Why did we turn her into our pet? Because we like cute girls, and we needed a handle on her."

Blinking, Taylor frowned. "You're blackmailing her?" she asked, not sure how to feel about that. That one of her bullies—former bullies?—was being blackmailed into a sexual relationship. Or with a sexual relationship. She wasn't sure which.

Surprisingly, Gwen and Madison both laughed. "You want to tell her or should I?"

"It's not blackmail," Madison explained. "I really, really like sex. And uh, I don't really have preferences about whether they're male or female, so long as they're hot. I get my needs met, they have their fun, everybody is happy. The 'handle' Gwen's talking about is that if I don't do what they say, I don't get any more mind-blowing sex. I agreed to this because it keeps me out of jail, it gets Emma and Sophia out of my life and yours, and I get laid. It's win/win/win as far as I'm concerned. But at least I'm not pretending I'm not getting something out of it."

Taylor's mouth flapped open and closed as she took that in. Gwen took another approach, in the meantime. "Why did we give her to you?" Taylor nodded once. "If you want to learn who someone is, give them power. Especially over someone else."

"I don't want it!"

"We know," Gwen nodded, a smile pulling her lips up. "And that is exactly why you have it. And will keep it, until we're satisfied."

"Satisfied with what? This, it, it feels like…"

"Bullying?" Gwen asked, and Taylor nodded minutely. "It's not. 'Doing something someone else doesn't like' isn't bullying or harassment, it's a fact of life that you have to get used to—people are going to do things for us, to us, or around us that we don't like and you just have to get over it. Learn to accept it. That's called 'growing up.' And in this case, it's the exact opposite. Before, you were powerless. Now, you have all the power. You have to learn what it's like from the other side of the equation, or you won't grow. You'll be stuck jumping at shadows or meekly submitting to whoever comes along for the rest of your life, because it's easier than standing up for yourself. You can do whatever you like with Madison, within reason, and she'll obey. If that is 'absolutely nothing,' then that's your choice. If that's making her do your homework, chores, or whatever else, that's fine too. You can even get a little rough with her. Slap her around if you like." Madison winced slightly, but didn't deny it. "As long as it's still attached, we can always get her healed up."

"But, but I don't want to do any of that!" Taylor protested.

Gwen's demeanor shifted as she straightened in her seat, legs spreading a bit and crossing her arms over her chest. She smiled and nodded, and asked, "And how long will that last? Taylor, she hurt you. They all did. It's not okay to bottle that up, to pretend it didn't happen, or that you're not pissed about it. You have every right to be. There's no need to be some selfless martyr. You don't have to grin and bear it. You don't have to turn the other cheek. They don't win if you just stop playing the game, or if you fight back. Revenge is okay. Within reason. Whether you take the option or not is up to you, but we're giving you the option where you didn't have it before."

The curly haired girl made a frustrated noise and pinched the bridge of her nose. "And I can't talk either of you out of this?"

Gwen grinned. "Sure you can. Stand up for yourself, right now. Tell us to fuck off and walk out. That's a perfectly valid option. But unless you do exactly that, Madison's going to remain your pet until we're sure she's served her penance and has been properly chastised. It's not just about you, Taylor. It's about her, too. Maddy was a bad girl and needs more discipline in her life. Her getting laid is positive reinforcement for agreeing to the… rehabilitation program. But there has to be some negative reinforcement in there somewhere too. Otherwise, well, if someone never sees consequences to their actions, they'll keep doing them."

Turning her gaze on Madison, Gwen added quietly, "Unless you want to become your mother—"

"Shut up about that!" Madison hissed. "I'm not her. I already told you, I'd take whatever punishment you wanted."

Looking between the pair, Taylor asked, "Do I want to know?"

Madison looked away, refusing to meet her gaze. Gwen considered the girl briefly before her gaze softened. "Maddy's mother is not a nice person, and I'll leave it at that."

Glancing at the open window behind them, the blonde hummed. "Madison, why don't you go home? We want to speak with Taylor about some things."

The brunette stood up quickly. "Tomorrow?"

"Sure," Gwen agreed, and Madison gave an awkward parting wave before leaving. As soon as the front door closed, Gwen slumped slightly in her seat. Looking up at Taylor, she considered the girl across from her. "How's training your power going?"

Taylor shrugged. "It's hard to interpret senses from the bugs. I can kind of identify some, if only by what they can do. I don't see how this could ever be useful."

Shaking her head, Gwen said, "You just need experience. And you can't get much of that just sitting around in your house. So, you're coming with me tonight."

"Wha— But I don't have a costume! And dad will wonder where I am," Taylor protested.

Gwen rolled her eyes. "Excuses. We have a phone. You can call your dad. There are no less than four capes living here. We've got masks and costumes to spare."

Frowning, Taylor said, "You said you moved here with your parents, but Vista disappeared."

"Cover story," Gwen shrugged. "I live here with my partner and our two friends. He's the guy from the video with Madison. Cindy, you've already met. MJ is in her lab, Tinkering or training. Well, no—I take that back. This time of day, probably sleeping still. She'll be up soon though." Pushing herself out of her chair, she walked over and offered Taylor a hand. "Come on, it'll be fun~ You know you want to."

Taylor sighed, putting on a put-upon look, but hesitantly took the offered hand. Gwen lead her over to a cordless phone and handed it over. Dialing the number from memory, she waited. No one picked up, but she wasn't surprised. It was just barely time to school to let out, and still a couple of hours until her father got off work. The answering machine eventually caught it. "Hey dad, it's me. I'm going to be over at a friend's for a while. I'll try to be back some time tonight. Love you."

Hanging up, she passed the phone back to Gwen, who dropped it into the cradle. "Okay, let's see what we can find in your size."

Taylor followed as Gwen lead her into the garage, to a closet in the back filled with tools. Stepping inside with Gwen, Taylor watched as she opened up a hidden panel and tapped in a sequence of digits. A moment later, the floor shook as it descended, leaving the walls and tools behind. After a good hundred feet of metal walls, space opened up around them and Taylor stumbled as she realized just how large an area they were in. Gwen grabbed her by the hand and steadied her. "Careful. We're not up to OSHA standards down here. But, if you'll look over the side," she suggested.

Taylor, still holding Gwen's hand in a death grip, carefully looked out over the side of the elevator. "Is that… webbing?"

"Safety net. Cindy and I maintain it, just in case someone does fall." She gestured at the walls and ceiling, supported by metal supports, which were used to anchor the silk. "It's about a hundred square yards worth of space, subdivided into labs and work areas."

Nodding, Taylor gestured at an area lit by flood lights below. "Is that a car?"

"Heh," Gwen laughed. "Yeah. That's MJ's pet project. It's a Batmobile. Or it will be, when she's finished with it."

The elevator came to a stop at the bottom and Gwen stepped off. Taylor followed as they headed in the general direction of the car. Eventually, they came to a sectioned off area with a series of display cases, holding what looked like, "Are those costumes?"

"Incomplete," the blonde confirmed. "Except for the one on the end." The completed version in question looked like it was meant to be skin tight on a particularly shapely female form. It was matte black and dark gray, with a single splash of color on the chest in the form of a yellow bat.

Moving over to a mannequin near the middle, Gwen read over something on a display there and nodded. She pressed a button on the panel and the glass slid away. "Alright, strip."

"Wh-wha- no!" Taylor squeaked. The 'costume' in question was an all-black leotard type thing that went from neck to wrists and covered the feet, like some kind of onesie. As Gwen touched something on the wrist, the whole thing sagged and she started pulling it off the mannequin. "That's way too tight! Too revealing! And it'll never fit!"

Gwen sighed, before sending the girl a look. "You'll be fine. Trust me. Now, get those clothes off and get over here."

Taylor looked away. "I don't feel comfortable with you watching."

The blonde blinked. "So, what, you'll do it if we don't watch?"

Grumbling quietly to herself, Taylor nodded. "I suppose," she murmured.

Gwen pulled the costume the rest of the way off its stand and tossed it at Taylor. "There's a button on the inside of the left wrist. Hold it for three seconds to seal it up," she explained, then turned and walked away. "I'll be over here when you're ready."

Taylor sighed as the smaller girl left. Hesitantly, she toed off her shoes, then her socks. Her coat came next, falling into a pile on the floor beside her. Deciding it was a lot like ripping off a bandaid, she hurriedly shucked out of her shirt and pants. "Underwear too?" she called out.

"Those too!" Gwen confirmed from some distance away.

"Fuck," Taylor cursed under her breath. Unhooking her bra, she dropped it, then pulled her panties off. Then, because it was that or stand around naked, she hurriedly slipped into the suit, one leg at a time. Legs first, then arms, and finally her head. After pulling her hair through the neck hole, she felt around and found a slightly hard spot on the bottom side of her left wrist. The whole thing hung off of her frame like a tent. Pressing and holding it, she waited. Suddenly, the suit sucked in tight around her with a hiss of cloth moving. Taylor yelped as the suit conformed a little too closely in places.

Then, it started shifting around. The section over her stomach tightened, forcing the pudge she had wanted to hide to compress almost uncomfortably. Muscles she didn't actually have stood out slightly from the suit, giving her a well-defined abdomen. The part around her breasts tightened up and swelled a bit, changing the outward shape of the suit itself while providing support for the boobs underneath. Looking around, she walked over to the set of full length mirrors stood up at the far end of the line of display cases. Standing between the three mirrors allowed her to see herself from pretty much every angle if she turned her head or body just a bit, and Taylor felt her jaw drop a bit.

The face and hair were still distinctly Taylor, but the body… Oh my God, I look like a super model, she thought absently as she turned this way and that and looked herself over. Long, muscular legs and toned thighs. Slim waist and some nice hips. Small but perky breasts. Arms with defined, feminine muscles as opposed to her noodle arms. For the first time in her life, she looked… sexy.

Reality immediately doused that with a bucket of ice-water. It's just the suit, she reminded herself morosely. At the end of the night, she would have to take it off and go back to looking like Taylor. She had never felt so ashamed of her own body. Enough that she wanted to rip the whole thing off, run back to the elevator, leave, and never look back.

"You look good," Gwen said from nearby, causing her to start and turn around. "Sorry, you were taking a while so I came to see if you needed help. Looks like you got it just fine. Just one more thing."

Gwen stepped closer, producing the mask that had been hanging on the mannequin's face. It was just a domino mask and Taylor didn't see how it would do anything at all to hide her identity, but she held still and let Gwen press it into place. After a moment, she let go and stepped back. Somehow, the mask adhered to her face and even felt like it changed shape when she changed facial expressions. Turning back to the mirror, Taylor found herself looking at a complete stranger. A sexy and mysterious dark-haired stranger.

Still, she just didn't feel comfortable like this. "Can I… Can I have a jacket or something?"

"Hm?" Gwen asked, then shrugged. "Sure. That was MJ's problem with that outfit. Said she actually felt more exposed in it, not less. Which is weird, because she's perfectly fine running around in one that fits her like a second skin, but whatever. I think she left it around here somewhere."

Gwen moved away and opened a drawer beneath the display stand. "Ah ha!" Taylor flinched as a red hoodie smacked into her face. She quickly pulled it on and zipped it up. Then, looking at herself in the mirror, hemmed and hawed for a moment before bringing the zipper back down to expose most of the suit's cleavage. Something else nearly smacked her in the face and she blinked as she found a pair of dark, cutoff shorts. Shrugging, she pulled them on as well. They did nothing to hide her legs, but at least they covered her ass and crotch. Finally, Gwen came over and snapped a belt around her midsection before handing her a set of gloves, which Taylor pulled on.

"Hands," she demanded. Taylor complied and Gwen snapped a pair of things that looked like watches on her wrists. "Web shooters. Blink twice, right eye then left. Right-left, right-left."

Taylor did as instructed and a moment later, her field of vision was overlaid with some sort of display. Words scrolled across the left side of her field of vision.

Power: 100%.

Suit Integrity: 100%.

Hydraulic reservoirs: 100%.

Ammunition:

-Left arm: 100%.

-Right arm: 100%.

-Special: 0%.

Temperature: nominal.

Active Camo: ready.

Then, it all mostly disappeared, save for a battery display in the upper right and a percentage counter in her lower left and right, each with a little web icon above it. "What am I looking at here?"

"Oh that? Nothing much. It's a tactical HUD tied into the suit and web shooters. The suit itself is hydraulic power armor. It's not as strong as traditional power armor, like say Armsmaster's, but it's faster and more agile, and perfectly capable of dealing with normal threats. It'll do most of the work for you, too—beyond a certain point. If you're just walking or moving around, it won't engage. But if you go to lift something, run, swing, and so on it'll kick in and take off most of the load. Hold up your right hand and aim at that beam, like this," Gwen instructed, holding out her hand with her pinkie, index finger, and thumb extended.

Taylor did as she instructed and raised an eyebrow as a targeting reticle appeared in her field of vision. Below it read: Webbing: standard.

"Now, squeeze down with your middle two fingers."

Doing so sent a stream of webbing out, which smacked into the beam, right where she aimed. When she released her fingers as it hit, it stopped firing and zipped away from her hand. "Cool," Taylor murmured.

"Now, do that and catch the end of the line before it escapes. It's easier to grab the line as it's firing and let off, from what MJ was telling me," the blonde explained, moving to Taylor's side and holding her own hand out to demonstrate. It took a few times, but Taylor managed to repeat the feat. "You can change web types by either tapping the physical buttons on the shooters or using the blink menu. Focus on the web type and blink twice and it'll change over."

"This… seems like a bit much for just a 'ride along,'" Taylor commented, and Gwen shrugged.

"Come on, let's get going. And don't forget your clothes. Just leave them in the garage." Looking over Taylor, Gwen added, "Oh, one more thing. Reach down to your belt. Press the button in the middle, then turn the dial."

Doing as she was told, a new menu option popped up: Suit Pattern. Turning the dial changed the matte black suit to black, with a web design over it and a white spider on the chest. Another click produced a red and blue suit with white highlights. Taylor flipped through several variations before coming back to the first alternative—black, with gray webbing designs and a white spider on the chest.

"Looks good," Gwen nodded, taking off the the elevator. The clothes around her body rippled and changed, forming into her own iconic costume.

I want that, Taylor mused, thinking how convenient it would be to be able to just change your clothes into whatever you needed at the time. Taylor gathered her things up and followed along. Once they were upstairs, she nervously eyed Gwen's bike as the blonde slid on and patted the seat behind her. "No helmet?"

Rolling her eyes, the blonde flicked out a web and snagged a black helmet off a nearby shelf, before tossing it to Taylor. Once she had it secured, Taylor climbed on and wrapped her arms around the smaller girl's waist. Then, she held on for dear life as Gwen sped down the street. After a few blocks, the bike's paint job shifted when Gwen hit some button up front, to a black and red spider theme.

They rode into the city, obeying traffic laws and cruising along in high traffic areas, Gwen waving to the pedestrians any time they stopped at a red light. "Smile and wave, Taylor," she murmured back to the girl behind her. "Trust me. Just smile and wave."

Taylor's social anxiety was giving her fits, but at the next stop, she managed to do as Gwen had advised—even if the helmet would hide the smile. People on the street returned the gesture—some even taking out cameras and snapping pictures. This is… nice, the girl realized, getting a dose of positive attention from strangers for the first time in what felt like since her mother died and finding she… really liked it, even if it made her nervous.

"See? Was that so bad?" Gwen laughed as they pulled away.

Not… really, Taylor was forced to admit to herself as she clung on while they rode.

Eventually, Gwen pulled slowly through an empty alley somewhere in the docks. There was a twist in space and they rolled to a stop on a rooftop not far away. Gwen shut off the silent bike and slid off. Taylor hurried to follow, pulling off her helmet and setting it on the handlebar. "Alright. Let's work on your traversal skills," Gwen said, stretching herself out and limbering up. Pointing to a nearby roof, she instructed, "Run across the roof and jump over to that one."

"There's no way I can make that," Taylor protested.

Gwen rolled her eyes. "Trust me, you can. Now, go for it."

So, as the sun set over the Bay, Gwen walked her through move to move in the new suit. Running, jumping, climbing, even swinging—which was absolutely terrifying the first few times, but Taylor was quick to adapt and swiftly grew to enjoy it. Some time after the sun went down, when Taylor was just starting to feel a bit tired, Gwen said, "Alright, let's take a break and get some water in you. Then, we're going to go hunting. But before we do! You need a name."

The brunette frowned, before admitting, "I hadn't really thought of one."

Gwen, or Widow she supposed, sighed. "Well. Let's see. Skitter, Weaver, Swarm, Arachne, Recluse, Spider-girl, Spider-woman, Scarlet Spider—"

"Skitter is fine for now," Taylor decided quickly.

The expressive eyes of Widow's mask emphasized her smile. "Well then, let's go, Skitter."

Taylor—Skitter—nodded and followed along as Widow lead them swinging over the street to a convenience store several blocks away. They stopped long enough to use the restroom and grab some water, and a granola bar for Skitter because she hadn't finished her lunch and was starting to feel a bit lightheaded. Then, they set off across the docks and into Empire territory.

"So what, we just go around looking for trouble?" Skitter asked, when they set down on a roof to look out over a neighborhood.

"Some nights," Widow agreed. "Other times, MJ's got a list of targets to hit. This is my patrol week, where I just run around being visible and stopping petty crime as I come across it. Batgirl, Silk, and I rotate out weeks where we'll focus on one gang in particular. One week each of one of us harassing a specific gang and a week of patrol. It's randomized so they don't know who's coming or when. More effective that way for taking their money and sabotaging their operations."

Skitter sent Widow a skeptical look. "Isn't that illegal?"

"Nope. 'Spoils of war' clause. The Protectorate and Wards aren't allowed to claim anything personally, except maybe a trophy every now and then, because their higher-ups want all that money kicked up to them. But for your average independent hero? It's not an issue." Widow's ears twitched and she tilted her head a bit. "We've got nothing so far. Worse we've heard is a guy talking to his buddy, wanting to go out and buy some weed. We figure we'll make a complete loop through the area and move on."

"Is that normal? Didn't you say this was Empire territory? I thought it'd be more, you know, Neo-Nazis goosestepping in the streets after dark and beating up minorities, selling drugs, shaking down businesses?"

Widow turned and stared. When she remained silent, Skitter fidgeted. "What?"

"You need to get out more," the girl finally sighed. "Even when I was still just Vista, I knew that wasn't true. When I could manage it, I would sneak out and spy on places like this, looking for trouble. Do you know what I found?" Skitter shook her head. "Merchant 'territory,' what they claim of it anyway, is full of dealers, addicts, and drug operations. More violent crime by non-capes than any other area of the city. More crime, more poverty, and almost no one appreciates police and especially capes showing up. You're likely to get random potshots from idiots just moving through an area if they spot you.

"ABB territory has the worst crimes. Kidnapping, human trafficking, forced prostitution—that sort of shit is all run by the gang. There are a few break-ins and convenience store robberies, that sort of thing, but generally they subscribe to the philosophy that they have to live there, so they tend to keep those sorts of things more… polite, so to speak and are more likely to take it into another territory. It's less likely to escalate into someone getting shot or stabbed. Most of their crime is prostitution, drug related, illegal gambling, cockfighting, theft, pick-pocketing, protection rackets, and arms deals.

"Empire territory has the least street-level crime. They have a weed growing operation running outside the city somewhere that brings that stuff in and there's some prescription drug trade, but they sell their shit behind closed doors and don't sell to kids. There's some dog fighting out in the train yards, along with a few fight clubs for people and capes—most of which are run by Hookwolf. The worst you'll find out here is someone running guns in for the gang. That kind of stuff is all well hidden in safehouses outside of the red zone neighborhoods, usually places bordering other territories or the outskirts of the city. They're very much a 'don't shit where you eat' gang and they police their own. No, most Empire crime is white-collar, and that's not really a Protectorate thing, outside of special groups like Watchdog. Most capes just aren't suited for tracking down fraud or embezzlement. We knew they were getting a lot of money from somewhere, but no one could ever track down where. There were some suspicions, but no one could prove it without violating the unwritten rules."

Frowning, Skitter pointed down the street, to a group of guys walking down it with visible pistols holstered at their sides. Beyond that, nothing about them really stood out. No gang colors, no arm bands, no tattoos, no shaved heads. "What about those guys? You're telling me they're not nazis? We can't go beat them up?"

Widow shrugged. "Possibly. Or maybe not. Could just be guys going to the gun range, a group of people who all open carry everywhere because Brockton Bay," she said, as though that were self-explanatory, and Skitter had to admit that yeah, it kind of was, "or neighborhood watch. That's the problem—sometimes, you can't tell someone's in a gang just by looking, and at the moment they're not doing anything illegal. 'Being white, carrying a firearm, and being in Empire territory' isn't proof of 'being a member of the Empire.' Just like 'being black and being in Merchant territory' or 'being Asian and being in ABB territory' doesn't mean someone is a member of those gangs.

"And even if they were members? State law says it's technically not illegal to belong to a gang if you haven't committed any crimes or been part of a conspiracy to do so. There's some legal mumbo-jumbo bullshit that basically says 'just because they're members of a gang doesn't mean you can kick their heads in' because otherwise it's a first amendment violation, and RICO doesn't always apply. So, you'd have to prove they had some outstanding warrant, were in the commission of a crime, or were about to commit a crime. The majority of the ones who are in the gang at their lowest level? No criminal record, no arrest record, and the weapons are legal—"

"But it has to be a crime to just wear them out in the open like that," the other girl asked.

"Nope. One of the many courses they offer in the Wards is a condensed version of what is and isn't legal with regards to certain activities in your area. New Hampshire law says you do not need a permit to openly carry a weapon, but you do need one to carry concealed, and the city of Brockton Bay follows state law on this. You can't just drop in on them and start busting heads for carrying a firearm, unless it's a firearm of a type you know and can prove is illegal to own. And good luck with that. A machine gun is legal with the proper permits, tax stamps, and licenses. If they were carrying rifles, you couldn't bust them because they might be fully-auto and they might not have the permits—because a lot of those military style rifles, like the AR, look a lot like their military counterparts but are semi-auto and perfectly legal to own and carry around without any special permits. What the media and some politicians call 'assault weapons,' basically.

"And since we, you and I, are not part of the Protectorate or an affiliated group like New Wave, we don't have the same weight of law behind us that a Protectorate-affiliated cape would. For instance, we can't go over to those men and ask them to stop and identify themselves, nor can we say that because they had guns, they were clearly preparing to commit a crime—according to state laws. A police officer or Protectorate affiliate could do the first, but not the second."

Frowning, the curly-haired girl crossed her arms over her chest. "That… seems like a cop-out."

Widow shrugged. "The law is the law. That part of being a Ward I didn't have much of a problem with. If we start busting heads and arresting law abiding citizens, we're the ones breaking the law. This is how you get cape rule, and nobody wants that, because the gangs outnumber the good guys. The Protectorate is one false arrest and police brutality charge away from a lawsuit. We had yearly courses on this shit in the Wards just to keep us from doing something that might get the PRT or Protectorate in legal trouble. Because as bad as it is for cops? They're basically cops with powers, meaning every fucking thing is appended with the 'with a parahuman power' tag. Unauthorized use of excessive force with a parahuman power, for instance. And that constant dancing on eggshells? A big part of why I left. At least on our own, we have some ability to execute certain… extra-legal activities that would be frowned upon within the Protectorate. Such as, if we wanted to, we could follow those men home, break in at a later time, and look for evidence of any crimes. Wiretap their phones. Lojack their cars. Not a Protectorate cape."

Sighing, Skitter sat down on the edge of the roof. "Okay, so what about the beatings I've heard about? I thought everyone who joined the Empire had to beat up a minority."

Widow shook her head. "The kind of things you're thinking about? That's for advancement within the gang. Your entry-level members have nothing to do with that. Intentionally. There's a whole lot of separation between levels and compartmentalization within the group as a whole—mostly to defeat things like RICO. It's part of how they've managed to survive this long. That's another of those courses the Wards and Protectorate-affiliate courses offered—lessons on your local gangs' internal structure and hierarchy. Namely, so we didn't waste time on low level peons who were innocent of any offense beyond forming what amounts to an armed neighborhood watch committee—which is legal now, thanks to the overhaul on vigilantism laws that allow capes to exist.

"The Empire as you know it is more like five or six gangs all working under the same banner. That stuff does happen, yes. At the higher levels. And it's not done here—again, don't shit where you eat. Usually, they go into Merchant or ABB territory and find some dealer to kick the shit out of—takes care of two birds with one stone. Discourages the competition and provides an easy target that no one really gives a shit about. I mean, who's going to cry over a drug dealer getting beat up? Nobody, that's who. Cops will look into it as a formality, but aren't going to look very hard. And to be honest? That's fine by me. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes."

Looking surly, Skitter quietly asked, "Then what are we even doing here if you're not expecting to run into trouble?"

Widow's ears flicked. "I thought that was obvious. Firstly, flying the flag. People here see us, they know heroes come through. They don't feel like we think we're too good for them. Your average citizen doesn't give a shit about the Empire and appreciates the gesture. Even most Empire capes don't mind us coming through their territory, because they don't want trouble here. Unless we're directly fucking with them or their stuff, or we've pissed one of them off specifically, they fuck off when we come through and let us do our job—same as police. It's been a gentleman's agreement since, shit, Marquis was around? If you ever leave the Bay, or start looking into it because you want to leave this cesspool—and I did, a lot—you'll find there are a lot of agreements with local heroes and cops like that. Technically, even the ABB has a low-key agreement with the police to not harass them on the street and let them do their thing, it's just not official or acknowledged at the higher levels. Secondly, Empire territory is safer than Merchant or ABB territory, and if we actually do run across trouble it's not likely to devolve into a gunfight or a cape fight. Thirdly, you need practice running around as a hero. It's very active work, and even with that suit you're getting a workout. Fourthly, why aren't you using your swarm to spy on everything within a block of us?"

The new hero blinked. "What do you mean?"

"And that is why we're out here, in the safest part of town that isn't the Boardwalk, where we can loiter and you can practice your powers in real-world applications without taking potshots from the local shitheels or have the Wards or Protectorate capes trying to recruit you."

Skitter opened her mouth to ask why that would be a bad thing, then remembered. Sophia was a Ward. No, I think she's right. I don't really want to deal with them right now.

Nodding, she focused on her power and stretched out her awareness.

"If you do well, I'll take you out somewhere fun, where we can indiscriminately smash heads in," Widow promised, and Skitter smiled faintly, before turning her attention back to her bugs.

"What's that smell?"

"Smells sweet, but also like ass?" Widow asked, and Skitter nodded. "Meth cooking. How many people do we have in there?"

Skitter frowned, concentrating on her swarm and the bugs in the building. "Ten, I think? It's… hard to tell. Bug senses are hard to understand and something in there is making it hard to control them."

"That'd be the fumes. So, here's what we're going to do. I'm going to go in there and run them out, you stick them to the ground or each other with webs. They'll dissolve in an hour or so, so just go nuts with it," Widow instructed.

Skitter nodded and moved into position across from the front entrance. Widow grinned though her mask and leapt across the street, before dropping down behind the building. Skitter winced as she heard a huge boom of something on metal, followed by a faint battle cry of, "Surprise, motherfuckers!"

Pandemonium erupted as naked people wearing gas masks, and a few in full hazmat suits, came stumbling out of the building. Skitter took aim and started firing webs. Too far away for this to really work, she decided, before leaping down. A group of the meth cookers tried to flee down the street. Not wanting them to get away, Skitter reflexively reached out for the massive swarm she'd had building around them since leaving Empire territory.

A tidal wave of buzzing, chittering insects filled the street, coming from inside buildings and in the storm drains, where she'd navigated them to keep them from freezing in the cold of winter. The men and women screamed as the swarm descended on them, crawling over skin, biting and pinching, crawling into and under clothes, going for their masks. They collapsed to the ground, huddled up and whimpering, some trying the stop drop and roll maneuver only for her to sting those with a few wasps, until they too gave up the fight. Those, she left for the moment as she turned her attention back to the front and the people standing there, pulling off masks and staring wide-eyed at the biblical plague worth of bugs swarming their friends. They quickly dropped to the ground and assumed the position, allowing Skitter to web them to the sidewalk. Then, she walked over and did the same with those who had tried to flee.

Slow clapping drew her attention to where Widow leaned against the door frame of the drug production facility. "Good job. Just be careful with poisonous insects. Don't want to kill someone with an allergic reaction. You should probably start carrying epipens just in case."

Pushing off the door frame, she pulled out her phone and hit speed dial. "This is Widow, Whiskey-Delta-Oscar-1118. Just busted up a suspected ABB meth cooking operation. Equipment's intact and I haven't touched any of it, so be aware of that when you send in the unis."

Skitter listened to the rest of the short conversation before Widow hung up. "We can go, or stay on scene for the cops to get here. It's up to you."

"I think I'd rather just go. My dad's probably home by now and wondering where I am," Skitter sighed.

Widow nodded. "That's fine. One more stop, then we can go back to my place and get your stuff, then I'll take you home."

They swung back to Widow's bike and, by then, Taylor's arms felt like lead under the suit. She collapsed onto the seat with a quiet groan, wrapped her arms around Widow, and put most of her weight on the smaller girl—who simply chuckled as she started her bike and drove them off the roof and across town. Skitter raised an eyebrow when they pulled into the hospital parking lot and Widow got off again. Skitter followed her to the elevators, which they rode up to the top floor. Then, they took the stairs up to the roof. There, they found the white-and-red, highly recognizable form of Panacea.

Skitter hummed quietly to herself as she took the other girl in. She looks… different from what I've seen on PHO, she mused.

There was a healthy glow to the girl's skin and her hair looked straighter than Skitter remembered from her photos, but still messy, if a bit shorter. She looked well rested, energetic, and eager even. She was practically vibrating on the spot. As soon as Gwen cleared the stairwell door and it shut behind them, the hazel-eyed brunette launched herself at the blonde. Skitter watched as the shorter girl's mask retreated from her face and the pair kissed.

With tongue.

Oh. …Ooh, she blinked.

Panacea pulled away, her cheeks flushed and a mischievous look in her eyes, before she turned to Skitter and held out her hand. "I'm Panacea. Amy out of costume. Nice to meet you."

"Skitter," the taller girl murmured, accepting the offered hand to shake.

"So, Gwen tells me you control bugs?" she asked, and Skitter nodded. "She said you were having some problems interpreting their senses, right?"

Skitter nodded again. "It's all kind of jumbled up," she admitted. "Bug senses are awful."

The healer hummed quietly to herself, before sending Skitter a serious look. "If I show you this, you have to promise to keep it to yourself. It could get me in… well, really big trouble, if the wrong people found out. Deal?"

"I won't tell anyone, but if it's something bad—"

Panacea waved her off. "Nothing bad. The PRT just has certain rules about what people are allowed to do that I've recently come to disagree with. I'll need some biomass for this. Can you bring me some bugs?"

"I'll have to move them through the building, but I should be able to," Skitter agreed, and began doing just that.

As she worked, Panacea turned back to Widow. "How'd she do?"

Widow shrugged. "Not bad. Not great, either. About what we expected, really. Doesn't know the law and needs to study up, maybe look into the courses for affiliates on the Protectorate's website," the blonde pitched the words at Skitter specifically, drawing a nod from the girl. "Needs some exercise and a proper diet, too. I think she's on one of those stupid 'starve yourself' diets."

Panacea nodded. "I'll write up something for her for burning fat and building muscle."

"Thanks. From what I've seen, she's eager. Driven and determined. She just needs time and experience."

"I've got the bugs," Skitter interrupted, and a flood of insects started pouring out of the elevator engineering room.

"Bring some over here, please," Panacea instructed, holding out her hand. Bugs began to land on it and as they did, Skitter felt them leave her control as they shifted and changed, merging into a single creature. The result began looking like a stick bug crossed with a leaf bug—a sort of branch with lots of small leaves along the body and four big ones in the middle. As Panacea worked, Skitter felt her bug sense connect and disconnect from it several times, each time feeling stranger than the last.

Finally, it connected and stayed that way—and Skitter felt her world expand. "Whoa," she murmured, stumbling slightly. She could see and hear perfectly out of her bugs—the sensory inputs from several different groups of insects streaming into a single, cohesive picture, like eyes and ears she could shape and move as she wanted. The vision wasn't quite as good as her natural eyes, but it was good enough to clearly make out details, even if the colors were off. And her range, which had been about a block before, seemed to have easily doubled.

"Wow. It's… just, wow," Skitter shook her head, still trying to take it all in, even as her power adapted to the new input.

Panacea grinned. "Thank you, thank you," she took a small bow, before holding out the bug above Skitter's head. There was something there in its biology, and after a moment of inspection Skitter realized what it was. The bug curled into a circle, its front latching onto its back as Panacea settled it on her head. The legs grasped tightly into her hair and locked into place. The leaves shifted around a bit, rearranging themselves, leaving her with what looked like a leafy crown, as seen through the eyes of her swarm.

"I got it to act as a relay for your powers and gave it enough brains to act as a sort of biological coprocessor to combine sensory input streams into something usable. Care and feeding are simple: it's part plant, it lives on water, soil, and sunlight. Go to any store that has a garden center, buy a small pot, and fill it with potting soil—it'll plant itself and won't go anywhere until you're ready to move it. It should only excrete liquid waste, which it shouldn't need to do often and you can take care of manually before or after using it. I've made it about as temperature resistant as I can, so it shouldn't freeze… but I'd recommend putting the hood up just in case. It can reproduce asexually, but only manually and one at a time," Panacea explained. "Please don't make a million of these at the same time."

Skitter chuckled, shaking her head. "No, of course not. Maybe… maybe a few would be fine? Just enough to expand my range a bit?" Panacea nodded.

"I could just make bugs tailor-made to act as relays if that's what you want. Make sure they can't breed with anything else… Maybe later," she shrugged. "Can you think of anything else you want?"

The bug user shook her head. "Not… really? Unless you could make something that can turn out the sort of webbing this can and fly," she said, gesturing with her wrist to indicate the web shooters.

Amy considered for a moment. "Maybe. I'll have to test some things out. And there won't be any mass behind them, so if you web someone and leave the bug attached, it'd just go flying. You'd need to anchor them to something. Give me a few days."

"Sure. Thanks for this, really," Skitter beamed.

Turning to Widow, Panacea asked, "Did you tell her about the thing?"

"Yeah. She's still making up her mind."

Panacea frowned, turning a considering look on Skitter. "We could use your help, but I'm not going to pressure you. I'll make whatever you think you need, whether you agree to help or not."

"Thanks," the bug controller murmured, now feeling a bit guilty over taking their help and not having agreed to reciprocate.

Widow's mask shifted to cover her face again and she walked towards the edge of the building. "Come on, let's get you home."

Skitter nodded, following along behind her. "It was nice meeting you," she called to Panacea.

"Likewise. Don't be a stranger. If you want to talk or hang out, give me a call. Gwen has my number."

Skitter bit her lip. "I uh, don't have a phone."

"I've got spare burners. I'll send her home with one," Widow said, before stepping up onto the ledge around the edge of the roof. "Later!"

Panacea waved and Widow hopped off, into open air. Skitter hesitated at the ledge, before sticking a webline to the top of the building and lowering herself down at a much more sedate pace. Then, they rode back to Gwen's place and picked up Taylor's clothes. The taller girl went to strip out of the suit, but Widow waved her off. "Don't bother. Keep it. It'll keep you safe and give you more options. Might want to throw your normal clothes on over that, though."

Skitter blushed and quickly did just that, before pulling off the mask and sticking it in her pocket. Then, they were back on the bike and Widow drove her back to her house. Taylor watched the girl's tail light make the turn down the street and speed off, before she hurried inside, but only after directing the bug in her hair to crawl down into her shirt to hide. She found her dad waiting in the living room, watching television. "Hey, kiddo. You're home late. Did you, uh have fun?"

"Yeah, dad. It was… fun. I made a new friend. She lives nearby. I may be spending a lot of time there in the future, if that's okay?"

Danny nodded. "Sure, hon. I'm glad you're making be—" he cut himself off, correcting himself, "friends." Both of them heard the aborted 'better' and understood he meant 'better than Emma.'

"I'm going to take a shower and get to bed. Kinda tired. Worked up a sweat."

The man twitched in his chair. "Taylor… So, your mom experimented a bit in college. Do I need to give this girl the 'If you break her heart I'll break your legs' talk?"

"What?! No! Dad!" Taylor protested. "It's not like that! She's, urg!" Taylor glared at her father, who tried his best to hide a smile. "She's a cape. A hero. She was showing me some stuff."

Raising an eyebrow, Danny asked, "Anyone I know?"

The girl shrugged. "Maybe? It's Widow. Well, Gwen most of the time."

Humming quietly, he scratched at his balding head. "That the spider-themed one? The one with the ears?" he asked, and she nodded. "Is that safe? She shows her face, so people are bound to find out where she lives."

"About as safe as New Wave," Taylor shrugged again. Historically speaking, that didn't turn out too well for them though. But things have settled down since then, and not many people really go after capes in their civilian identities. …Except No Face.

"Well, as long as you're being safe," Danny hemmed, and Taylor nodded. "Alright. Why don't you bring her by some time so I can meet her?"

"Sure," she agreed, before tossing a quick 'night dad!' over her shoulder and hurrying upstairs.

Once she was in her room, she pulled off her clothes, put the bug on her windowsill where it could get some light tomorrow, and took a moment to look down at herself in the suit again. She flopped down onto her bed and quietly squealed into her pillow.

She had powers. She had friends—both of whom were heroes. She had Tinker-tech power armor and web-shooters. She had… Madison as a pet. That last one put a bit of a damper on her spirits, but not much of one.

That night, after her shower, Taylor went to bed feeling better than she had ever felt.

The next morning, Taylor woke up to the feeling of the strongest orgasm she'd ever had in her entire life. Her panties were soaked through and stuck to her skin, her nipples painfully hard, and in spite of the orgasm that had been strong enough to wake her from her sleep before her alarm went off, she felt… unsatisfied. Worse, were the lingering remnants of her wet dream. The first one she'd had in over a year.

She and Madison had been at Winslow. She had ordered the other girl to follow her up to the roof. Once there, Taylor ate her lunch in peace while Madison… went to her knees and ate Taylor for lunch. And then, for some reason, Gwen was there—her hand buried in Madison's hair and forcing the girl's face into Taylor's sex, instructing Madison how to eat a pussy and giving derisive commentary the whole time.

I blame Gwen. It's her fault. Has to be. She put the idea in my head, then there was that kiss with Panacea. It's not my fault, Taylor immediately shifted blame onto the nearest convenient target.

Coincidentally, she happened to be correct. Just not in the way she had thought.

'You two feel extra smug today. What did you do?' Amy asked into the hivemind.

'Nothing,' Missy denied immediately.

"Everything," Miles answered at the same time.

There was silence for a moment, before Missy giggled, sending the mental equivalent of a leer towards Amy. Miles explained, "Visited Taylor early this morning. Tentacled her brain. Cleared the long-term effects of her depression and rewired a bunch of stuff so she'd be less likely to fall back into another spiral. And uh… jump-started her libido."

'Over-charged it, more like. And gave her a wet dream of Madison, for laughs,' Missy supplied.

"Might have maybe upped her sensitivity a hair. And strengthened the whole biological reward system a little, to encourage her to relieve her stress."

'Fap. You mean fap,' Amy sent a mental eye-roll. 'What next? Going to get Madison hyper-pregnant?'

"'…'" Both Miles and Missy sent a mental stare back at the healer. Finally, as one, they sent, "'Don't tempt us, Amy.'"

The healer chuckled into their link before her presence faded into the background as the pair made their way to bed.

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