Web of the Weaver: Chapter 15

I had bought two more monitors from Lords Market. Both of them damaged, but not irrecoverably.

One had a damaged HDMI port, and the other had some corroded wires. Nothing I couldn’t fix.

Now, at least.

I’d been working with my ability to read more than one thing, to hear more than one thing. My patrols were mixed with exterminating bugs in various businesses. The flow of money was small, a few hundred a week, but more than enough for me, especially since PHO had a thread about the new PRT rating: “Bug killer: 0”.

But not a hint that I controlled bugs.

Good. My patrols were also time to learn. I couldn’t take my bugs with me, but it was easy to listen to a recorded book I brought along while staying alert. At home, the basement was where I read six to ten books, like the books I’d used to fix the computers. Books on electronics, DIY systems, some of the older books on irregular warfare.

I didn’t automatically learn how to do things, I had to practice, but it meant that I could work out in the backyard, practicing with a quarterstaff and escrima sticks, as well as other tools, while simultaneously learning other things. And sometimes I erred. The two monitors had come after I’d had to trash an earlier monitor that I’d been working on and hurried a little bit on.

Burning plastic stank.

I was having to keep my grades lower than they should be, as much as it irritated me. But it would seem strange for Taylor Hebert, failing student, to suddenly go to Taylor Hebert, college student.

But right now, I was watching three monitors, typing away on my school essay and watching the video of a certain Mr. Green, chatting with his friends.

The most unpleasant part of my job hadn’t been fighting Skidmark. The most unpleasant part was listening to a group of men chatting over poker. The comments… Talking about “real men” and any one of a dozen racial slurs (I was learning far more about the various ways to talk about minorities than I wanted to), made me feel like I needed a shower every time I watched a video.

I had never entered the apartment—the bugs pulled the video unit through the vents, then out of the building, and eventually brought it to a little tree where I could bend down and grab it out of its hole.

People really underestimated how strong bugs were.

So far, I’d gotten enough names and faces to identify the people Green worked with. His “in” for the Empire was to the city’s public health department. He regularly met with several field inspectors.

I was a little impressed at the skill the Empire used. Green talked a little too much to his friends, but the Empire didn’t charge protection money. The right sorts, of course, contributed to the Empire and got… warnings if someone found a rat in their kitchen.

The wrong sort had their shops shut down or were ordered to perform expensive repairs if the kitchen smelled wrong. An Empire-affiliated diner might be told to remove any sign of cockroaches in time for a second inspection. A minority-owned diner? Would be required to fumigate the entire premises, often by an E88-affiliated company. The Empire didn’t just harass minorities, it made them payfor the harassment.

But… if everyone who associated with Green had sudden cases of bad luck, it wouldn’t take too many brains to track the leak. That was plain from the books I’d read on espionage during the Cold War before Scion had appeared. Sometimes, using the information from a source risked more than sitting on it.

But I could use his friends. Green didn’t talk with the Empire Capes. He was too low-ranked for that. But one of his drinking buddies, Gregory, supposedly worked with Victor.

Supposedly, given that bragging was a common practice at their games.  But if I followed Gregory, he might provide a link to Victor, who supposedly was linked romantically with Othella.

Again, supposedly. I kept in mind the fact that if you listened to PHO, powers could be bought from dealers, and the Endbringers were the slaves of a powerful parahuman. He might just be another braggart.

But it didn’t sit right to just let these people get away with this… attack on honest people. It felt all too much like Winslow. What could I—wait a minute.

One of the books I’d read about keeping investigations confidential… Parallel construction was what they’d called it. I knew the inspectors were corrupt. I’d just need a way to prove it that didn’t lead back to Green or make the Empire think it was anything other than bad luck.

The problem was, just reading those books… Well they didn’t make me skilled.  This was a legal issue. I needed someone who had experience in such investigations.

Or in avoiding them.

Right, our new principal said his door was always open, and maybe he had heard some tales from the days of Marquis.

I would do that tomorrow, but first I had something else to do. I picked up the burner phone, my bugs buzzing around me, and dialed the phone number.

“This is Kurt.”

“Hello. I’m sorry that I haven’t contacted you as soon as I said. Other matters arose.”

“The Merchants.”

“Yes. No longer a problem. How is Maria doing?”

“She’s great. We knew a guy who got her into Winslow…”

I’d seen her in the hallways, one reason I hadn’t immediately jumped on finding her a new home. Fortunately.

“I fear we may have a problem.”

“What?”

“Substantial portions of this city’s government are… infiltrated by the E88.”

There was a snort. “Took you this long to find out?”

“To verify it. But my sources in CPS are currently limited, and I fear that…”

“She can stay with us. Lacy’s happy to have her. Those two get along like a house on fire.”

“Good. I will continue my investigations. I’m texting you an ID on PHO. If her former guardian appears, or you think you are in danger, contact me there.”

“Gotcha. Thanks for helping her.”

“It is my pleasure.” I hung up. Dad was up in the TV room, and I’d washed the dishes.

Well, actually sent a horde of cockroaches and ants over them, cleaning the plates to a mirror sheen. Then all they needed was a quick wipedown with soap and water.

After all, I was cleaning up the city; no sense in not using my powers to make cleaning up at home easy.

But now I was going to do a little patrol. Clean a few buildings, and well, if some of the minority diners that had issues with the Empire were now squeaky clean, it was just chance, wasn’t it?

I’d also get to play with my Escrima sticks. I’d managed to get some tasers, and wired them up so I could also use them as a taser, a good way for a non-lethal takedown. Better, other than the time to assemble them, I hadn’t lost any time, just going from the book and Youtube articles at the same time I was studying a few other things.

Like taking a keyboard apart. And ensuring that the key contacts could be triggered by very small weights… like, oh, an insect.

*****

As usual, I did my patrol wearing the overcoat and scarf, hat stuffed into my backpack along with my other equipment. I had to be back at ten, but this was more or less just a leisurely stroll.

A few people were getting ready to do drugs as I passed, and I just gathered enough insects to make a throat clearing noise from the walls around them. They took off. I found one man, shivering and in the throes of withdrawal, and called the paramedics. I strolled by Davis Apartments and checked to make certain my cameras were in place. They were.

I’d collect them in a day or so, when their memory was filled. No sense in risking exposure more than was necessary. But as the sun went down and things got chilly, I started focusing more on the groups around me. I put my hat on, adjusted my clothing, and now I was Orb Weaver, not Taylor Hebert.

I didn’t fool myself. Going after random criminals might not do much for crime, but it would make me feel better, and it would reinforce the idea of Orb Weaver as someone who just went after obvious crooks. Not someone the important people had to worry about.

I—

“Chickie, chickie, chickie…” the voice came from down the street. I glanced and saw a women, nice clothes, floppy hat, and a jacket a little too small for her, walking down the street. A group were following her. “Wanna help you get warm…” One said.

“C’mon, honey, don’t be like that,” another mentioned as she put her head down and started to move a little faster.

I didn’t like this. I started to pull my bugs, but they were in the street. No way they wouldn’t notice…

Then one man reached out and grabbed the woman. “I told you we wanted to tal—“

And then just sheer dread filled the street. My bugs went beserk, as I stared at the golden tresses that were revealed as the hat fell off.

“What did you want?” she asked.

“No-nothing!” he shouted, trembling.

“Cool. Why don’t you sit do—“

The snap of the pistol was quiet. I’d seen the man digging for his pocket, but hadn’t had a chance to say anything. The bullet impacted on the side of her face…

And fell to the ground, hot and deformed.

“You did not just shoot me!” the woman said. Glory Girl, actually. Now she shot across the street, hitting the man and lifting him up with one hand. He weighed at least two hundred pounds.

The pounding fear and dread was hard to endure, my bugs swarming, around. I had to focus on them—there was one way to make the feelings go away, but accidentally killing Victoria Dallon wasn’t a wise choice.

The men around her were whimpering, crawling away from her, knives forgotten.

I’d seen her around Arcadia during tutoring, but nothing I’d read had implied she had this kind of power. The most PHO had mentioned was that everyone around her knew if she was happy, angry, or sad. Given how outgoing she evidently was, a lot of people just assumed it was her.

Now I knew differently. I let the feeling wash over me, and then it vanished, almost like it’d never been. Glory Girl was turning the pistol into a crumpled mass of metal, while walking around and breaking a few knives left on the ground.

I moved down the alley, concealing myself, and took out my shotgun mic. Time to talk.

“Interesting work,” I said, the bugs rumbling. “What now?”

She paused, then looked around. I created a mass of bugs in the shape of a human on a roof and ‘waved’ to her.

“Orb Weaver.”

“Oh, you’re the guy who took out  Skidmark.”

“Yes. Though he more or less took himself out.”

She giggled. “I read about that on PHO. Are you on a patrol?”

“I  detected the fight.” I paused. “Are we calling the police?”

“Nah, I come down here mainly to scare the crap out of ‘em so they won’t do it again.” She paused. “And… I might not have told some people I was patrolling down here.”

I didn’t respond for a moment. I had to remember that Victoria Dallon probably had a more healthy relationship with her parents than I did. Though I wondered how useful her approach was. It wasn’t well known, that much was certain. Likely because nobody wanted to confess how they lost to a bubbly blond high school student…

Who could pick up a truck.

Mustn’t forget that.

“Were you patrolling?” she asked. Glory Girl was floating a foot off the ground, but the men around her seemed to be more concerned with trying to track my voice.

Time to make a show. “I have many senses. This part of the city interested me.”

“Oh, a thinker power?”

No Victoria, I’m not going to tell you, or the people on the street what my power is. “My abilities suit my methods. You might even say I can come up with what I need.”I changed the bugs, making a little chirring sound. Muffled by the buildings, they didn’t sound like normal insects. “Gentlemen. It’s lucky for you that Glory Girl found you. She is more merciful than I.”

“Heard he ate Mush…” one whispered.

“I would never eat Mush. I had a more convenient method to deal with him.”I paused. “May I address them?”

Glory Girl nodded.

“I might have had you arrested… or perhaps you’d have just vanished. I don’t know.” In the dark, on the street, none of them noticed the bugs running onto their clothes, in their clothes, seeking… ah. There it was. After all, if I was trying for a reputation of knowing stuff I shouldn’t… “You had a gun, but that’s not all you had. The drugs in your pocket. Take them out.”He was trembling. “Now rip the packet and scatter them.”The white powder was lost. And now I knew what the others had, but saying “hey you” would not play into my reputation. So… “I can sense the drugs. A switchblade, a little pistol in an ankle holster. I was merciful to your compatriot. I’ll count to five and see if I have to be merciful to you… One, two…”Baggies of drugs, a knife, and a gun were soon on the ground. “Very good. Glory Girl, if you’d do the honors with the knife and gun?” She did, and soon two more crushed masses of metal joined the first gun.

“I thought you were new at this, but whoah,” Glory Girl looked slightly disturbed, as the men got up and ran off. “But the cops never hold them that long, they have too many problems.”

“Yes. They do. Glory Girl, I may need to secure the services of your mother.”

“Are you in legal trouble?”

“No, but I intend to dismantle the Empire and may need legal advice.”

The floating girl hissed. “Orb Weaver, the Empire is… really dangerous. Mom doesn’t let me patrol anywhere near their territory.”

“No?”

She glanced around, in the wrong direction from my hiding place, but even lowered, her voice came through the mic. “Look, you heard about Fleur, right?”

“Yes. I’m sorry.”

“The Empire doesn’t care about the rules. If you go after them, they’ll go after you. Or your family.”

“I am protected.”

“From a bomb? Kaiser can always pull the shit he did with the guy who killed Fleur, and then just welcome them back to the Empire. Nobody went after him. Nobody backed us up.”

“As I said, I am protected.”

“Huh. Well, yeah, I’ll tell Mom, but… She’ll want to be certain you’re everything you say you are, before she puts us on the line against the Empire. They’re worse than the Merchants were.”

“Agreed. Farewell, Glory Girl.”

She rose up into the sky, heading off in the direction of her home. She would probably want to talk to her mother, away from where I might be.

I wonder how many other independents refused to fight the Empire with Fleur’s lesson. Did the E88 plan it, or did just take advantage of it?

Still, I had a few hours before I had to return home, three diners to de-bug, and a crack house I’d visit.

*****

The next morning I got up well before school. Dad had left for work, but now…

I didn’t know if it would work. I’d removed every key from the old keyboard, and now there were cockroaches stationed over the actual pressure switches. I sat down, warmed up the computer, and then started typing. This would be the first time that I was actively working on two things at once, not just receiving information while doing something else.

One screen had my report on Scion’s first appearance. And on the other screen…

My journal. A report on what I’d seen Glory Girl do and her tactics, typed by my bugs.

Oh yes.

Oh yes, I could make this work.

I didn’t need more hours in the day. I just needed more hands to do work in those hours.

And now, it seemed. I had them.