Lisa POV

  Lisa Wilbourn would rate bleeding out in a derelict fish-packing plant and trying not to panic a two out of ten stars. Highly NOT recommended.

  In her defence, none of this was her fault. She got shot at, chased all over the city while bleeding, and was almost gunned down in a trap she didn’t see coming. The only reason she wasn’t unconscious was because some spark of spite kept her eyes open and her brain whirring just fast enough to keep ahead of the dizzy spiral closing in on her vision.

  She was propped up against an overturned crate that stank of old brine and fish guts, arm clutched tight to her ribs, legs splayed out gracelessly in front of her.

  And looming nearby, just out of arm’s reach, but never out of sight, was Seraph.

  Despite the total absence of his signature armor and wings, he couldn’t be anyone but the mysterious figure that’s turned Brockton Bay on its head. The way her power couldn’t provide her with anything but superficial details. The overwhelming combat abilities that took down seasoned mercenaries literally faster than she could blink.

  Then there was the concern for Taylor. A concern she was now using to get herself out of this predicament alive.

  It took a few seconds for her offer to get a response. When he finally made his choice, he asked, “What do you have in mind?”

  Lisa had to tamp down on her urge to sigh in relief. Someone like her shouldn’t be messing around with someone like him. Seraph has shown himself comparable to some of the world’s most powerful parahumans. If he wanted to forcefully enlist her services, Lisa wouldn’t have been able to resist.

  But she took a gamble that he wasn’t that kind of person. A gamble that she won.

  Still, she needed to be careful in handling this. The situation was delicate and he was watching her like a scientist would a litmus strip.

  Lisa hated it.

  “Before we get to that, I don’t suppose you have a medkit tucked away under that scowl?” she rasped, trying for flippant. Her voice came out hoarse, but she smiled through it.

  Seraph didn’t rise to the bait.

  “That needs an actual doctor,” he said, nodding at her injured arm.

  Lisa rolled her eyes, then winced. Bad idea. Her head throbbed in time with her heartbeat. “Yeah, well, I don’t think my HMO covers supervillain betrayal and rooftop snipers.”

  She regretted the words instantly. The moment she mentioned the sniper, her power tried to give her something. Just a flicker of context, a possibility, a pattern. But it fizzled out like a wet sparkler.

  This wasn’t the time. Coil would come after her again.

  On that note…

  “Look, while I’m still conscious,” she said, keeping her voice light, “you should maybe, I don’t know, deal with the mercs? And whatever Coil’s using to jam the phone signals?”

  Seraph didn’t move for a second.

  Then he nodded.

  “I’ll be back. Don’t move.”

  Lisa raised an eyebrow. “Wasn’t planning on doing jumping jacks.”

  He was gone without a word.

  She let her head loll back against the crate and closed her eyes. The darkness behind her lids pulsed red.

  Think, Lisa, think! You’re not dead yet. How do you stay that way?

  Okay, priorities, what are her priorities? She needed to find the rest of the Undersiders. If Coil was willing to erase her, then Grue, Regent, and even Bitch were probably on his to-do list. If they were alive, she could get them to help. With Seraph in play, maybe they even had a shot at rescuing Taylor.

  God, Taylor.

  The kid had no idea how important she was. Even without all the extra details that she could have gotten from her power, Lisa could see Seraph visibly holding himself back from going on another rampage.

  Why does he care about bug girl so much? Were they part of the same cluster trigger? Is this an obsession? Whatever the reason, there was a more than decent chance that Seraph would lose it if anything happened to Taylor.

  That meant Lisa couldn’t afford to die here or the apocalypse might come early for the city. She’s no hero, but she’d already let someone die once before. This would be exactly that multiplied by a hundred thousand, at the minimum.

  Too bad her body wasn’t on board with that plan.

  She felt herself slipping sideways. Cold and hot at the same time. Her thoughts were slurring, her limbs leaden. Her power whispered one final warning before sputtering out completely: fifteen minutes, max.

  “Great,” she mumbled. “No pressure.”

  And then Seraph was back.

  “I moved them to their van,” he said, voice tight. “Smashed every piece of gear I could find, just to make sure, but the jamming’s gone.”

  Lisa cracked an eye open. “Didn’t even check if it was under warranty?”

  His eyes flicked over her slumped form. A heartbeat passed.

  “You’re worse,” he said.

  “No kidding.”

  “How bad?”

  She wanted to lie and say she’d be fine, if only out of habit. But what would be the point?

  “Ten minutes,” she said. “Maybe less.”

  His entire body stiffened. She could feel it even from here.

  Then came the strangest look of pure frustration coming over his eyes. As if he were mad at himself. Lisa tried to say something, but her mouth didn’t work right.

  Seraph stepped back, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. Then he stopped and closed his eyes, visibly trying to rein in the agitation practically radiating off of him.

  But then, out of nowhere, he froze and… ignited.

  Light exploded from his form, silver-white and pure and impossible. Lisa flinched and turned her face away, expecting heat, pain, or something. Instead, it was… gentle.

  When she looked back, Seraph was gone.

  In his place stood something from a dream. White-silver armour flowed over his frame, sleek and organic, and shaped like it grew out instead of simply appearing. Wings of layered crystal fanned out behind him, colours dancing like stained glass.

  Lisa’s breath caught as her brain finally caught up.

  Her pain was gone. Not dulled or numbed. It was completely gone.

  It wasn’t just the wound on her arm, either. The Thinker headache eviscerating her mind due to overuse, was similarly non-existent. In fact, Lisa couldn’t remember feeling so good since the day she triggered.

  But then, that’s when it hit her.

  The silence.

  Her mind, usually a hub of too much information coming through from sources she would often try to ignore, was no longer bombarding her with deductions and conclusions. No sudden jumps in logic, even pertaining to her current situation, when she would have been buried in speculations right that moment.

  It took a heartbeat for Lisa to come to terms with the most likely cause. But eventually, she did.

  And she screamed. Loud, long, and utterly unhinged.

  Alfred POV

  ~A few minutes prior~

  It started with the van. Ugly, boxy, and plain, it was clearly chosen to blend in pretty much anywhere. Luckily for me, it was the only one of its kind nearby, which kind of negated this effect.

  Right now, it contained eight unconscious mercenaries who needed hiding. The interior was smoking due to my precautions. Even now, a paranoid voice in my head was screaming that something about this setup was wrong.

  When I first slammed the door open, my eyes immediately went to the front console and the electronic systems that a piece of junk like this was definitely not licensed for. Screens, knobs, buttons, radios, a dashboard-mounted tablet, and something in the passenger footwell blinking faintly.

  Not being much of a tech-nerd, I recognized none of them. Neither did I have the time to figure them out.

  So, I smashed everything. It didn’t matter if it was expensive tech or an old GPS. If it had a wire or a screen, it died.

  The back of the van was a graveyard of broken tech by the time I was done.

  I took a shaky breath and fished out my phone. Yep, I can go online now. So, that’s mission accomplished.

  On the way back to Lisa, it suddenly occurred to me that Coil would definitely have installed failsafes in the van. I wouldn’t have been surprised if it had a self-destruct and a tracker. Great, the spike in paranoia was the last thing I needed right now.

  Every parked car, every shadow, and every stupid window above me felt like a threat. I kept expecting to hear a click or a boom, anything to tell me that I triggered a trap I couldn’t see. But nothing came.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  And that made me even more nervous.

  Coil isn’t the type to let anything go. He might not have expected me, but he definitely wouldn’t ignore me. He would plan and I would have to be ready to respond.

  This was just the prelude to our upcoming clash.

  I pushed those depressing thoughts aside, for now. I had bigger priorities.

  Like getting Taylor out of the snake’s hands.

  The image of her, alone, possibly hurt, maybe dead, gnawed at me like acid flooding my veins. I should have moved faster as soon as I saw the swarm. It never meant anything good in canon. But I was too slow.

  And now she was captured. I can only hope that I can get to her in time.

  Just the thought of losing Taylor was causing almost physical pain. Like little mandibles eating through my guts from the inside.

  Shaking my head, I grit my teeth and pick up the pace. I’m getting her back, even if I have to burn this city to the ground.

  I found Lisa still propped up against the crate, her face drawn and eyes sunken.

  “I moved the mercs to their van,” I said. “Smashed every piece of gear I could find. Jamming’s gone.”

  She cracked one eye open. “Didn’t check the warranty first?”

  I didn’t have it in me to smile right then, too worried about Taylor. So, instead, I looked her over.

  “You’re worse,” I blurted out after noticing just how much weaker she’s gotten.

  “No kidding.”

  “How long do you have?”

  She didn’t dodge the question.

  “Ten minutes. Maybe less.”

  It hit me like a punch to the ribs.

  Ten minutes until I lose Lisa. Ten minutes for me to get her to a doctor or a cape healer. Ten minutes to do the fucking impossible.

  Frustration boiled over, fists clenched and jaws locked. Why now? Why her? I didn’t have room for this. I needed her conscious, thinking, and alive. If she died here, everything got harder. I would have to transform and assault Coil’s base from the front, which would lead to consequences I simply didn’t have time to prepare for.

  I could take her to Panacea, but she was too far and would involve far too many complications. Likewise, mundane healing would take too long, so hospitals are out. But if I didn’t do anything, she was going to die!

  Fuck!

  I looked at Lisa again and felt something twist in my gut. Trusting her right now would be beyond stupid, but I wasn’t blind to her plight, either. She wanted to be free to make her own choices, yet time and again, forces outside her control did their level best to cage her.

  And now, here she was, bleeding out in an abandoned building, surrounded by filth. Her only companion is a screwup of epic proportions who, even now, can’t make up his mind on what to do to save her.

  But from one moment to the next, the decision was taken entirely out of my hands.

  Warmth flared from my chest with absolutely no warning.

  White-silver light erupted around me, wrapping my limbs in radiant living metal. My hoodie was replaced by armor where fabric had been. Wings of overlapping crystalline feathers snapped into existence, translucent and shimmering. And the abandoned building lit up like a beacon.

  By the time it died down, I was fully transformed and thoroughly annoyed.

  Again, it happened again. A Dragoon Spirit had taken the choice out of my hands. The fact that it was done by White-Silver was even more grating since I thought it would be the most responsible of the lot. Shirley, Shana, Miranda; all of its previous users were sensible women.

  So, what the fuck?!

  Lisa gasped, snapping me out of my stupor. Concerned, I looked her over with a critical eye, but I needn’t have worried. White-Silver could even bring people back from the dead. A little thing like blood loss and a GSW would be peanuts in comparison.

  Even so, I kept my distance. Wouldn’t want to spook her.

  Her face lifted, expression slackened and almost… dopey? For half a heartbeat, I thought she might smile.

  But then her pupils shrank and she absolutely lost her shit.

  My enhanced physique and White-Silver’s presence prevented hearing damage, but God damn, the lungs on this girl. Lisa then quickly became hysterical, shouting and screaming incoherently.

  Afraid she was going to hurt herself, I tried to lock down her flailing limbs, but it only made things worse. Launching herself at me: clawing, swiping, punching. She kept shrieking, “Give it back!”

  I couldn’t let this continue. More importantly, I’m only equipped to deal with one damsel at a time.

  Unable to think of another solution, I backed up half a step to make her stumble. White-Silver was dropped and with my entirely mundane limbs, I trapped her arms, fists, and head against my chest.

  Lisa immediately froze at the contact, which was exactly what I was hoping for.

  With a power like hers, personal space became a premium. And I just bulldozed right over it, making crooning noises, all the while.

  Was this wise? Nope. Am I going to pay for this later? Most definitely.

  Unfortunately, this was the most straightforward way of stopping the hysterics short of slapping her in the face. With my enhanced strength, I wasn’t about to risk that.

  After a minute or two of Lisa Wilbourn emulating a statue, I risked asking if she had calmed down. I got a small nod in return. Good, not a disaster, for once.

  Stepping back once more, I moved to let her go, but she suddenly grabbed onto my arms. Her grip was like a steel trap and my adrenaline spiked in response. Before I could do anything I would have regretted, though, she stared me right in the eyes in wonder.

  “What are you?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper.

  That got me blinking in confusion.

  “I can’t read you anymore,” she continued, form trembling for reasons I couldn’t even begin to guess at. “My power’s back. It’s back but it can’t read you. No, it won’t read you…”

  “Uhh…” came out of my stupid mouth, unbidded.

  Well, shit. How the hell was I supposed to answer this? Lisa didn’t seem content to wait for me to pull myself together, though. Gaze sharpening, she moved closer, close enough that our noses were almost touching.

  “Why is my power scared of you?”

  There, she is! That’s the Tattletale, I know. Brash, too curious for her own good, and perfectly willing to make people majorly uncomfortable.

  “Uhh…”

  There were a lot of things going through Taylor Hebert’s mind at that moment. She was cold, for one thing. She was hungry, too.

  Oh, and she was apparently in a cell with no windows, a single metal door, and the most uncomfortable bed in the world. The cot she was sitting on was small and narrow. The concrete walls refused to yield answers and the single light overhead was giving her a headache.

  The air was stale and made it hard to breathe. Worst of all, there were no bugs within reach. Not even a spider tucked into a corner. That absence struck her harder than the room’s bleakness.

  She was completely alone.

  Her costume clung to her body, still wet and getting uncomfortable. That meant she hadn’t been here long, though she had no idea how much time had elapsed.

  Closing her eyes, Taylor tried to recall what happened that landed her in this predicament. She remembered meeting Lisa, getting chased by mercenaries, suddenly finding herself on a roof and then… her eyes snapped open.

  Motherfuckers.

  There were three capes she didn’t know. Without her bugs, she couldn’t fight. Then, before she knew it, something solid hit her in the sternum. Everything else was a blank.

  Taylor instinctively checked her stomach and sighed in relief. There was no open wound and neither was she bleeding. Her costume didn’t even have a hole in it. Or maybe whatever hit her simply hadn’t left a mark.

  That made her gut twist in its implications.

  Shifting her focus away from morbid what-ifs, she focused on her current state. Since she wasn’t dead, that meant they wanted her alive.

  All she has to figure out now is why.

  Standing up, Taylor forced her breathing to slow as she walked a deliberate circle around the cell. It was maybe ten feet across, with only the cot, the table, and a narrow steel basin set into the wall.

  She tested the door. It was locked, obviously.

  Keeping calm after confirming her confinement became a lot harder. So, she turned to other avenues of occupying her thoughts.

  Coil.

  There was no one else it could be. Lisa said those were his mercenaries. Which meant the capes worked for him, too. This was probably one of his facilities, located in a secluded part of the city.

  She thought of Lisa, wondering if she was able to get away. She then thought of her dad, who was probably losing his mind in worry right now. Had Coil gotten to them, too? Were they dead?

  Her fists curled into shaking fists and she paced faster, trying to think through the fog of panic.

  Then a sharp crackle echoed from the ceiling corner, making her freeze.

  It came from a speaker embedded in the concrete wall. After a moment, a man’s voice was broadcast. It sounded measured and cold, carrying slimy undertones that reminded Taylor of Emma, for some reason.

  "Good morning, Miss Hebert. I trust you’re comfortable."

  Her blood froze.

  "You’re Coil," she said flatly.

  A low chuckle. "Tattletale really does live up to her name."

  Taylor grit her teeth. "What do you want?"

  "Answers," the voice said. "About you and your connection with Seraph."

  She blinked, the name hitting her like a slap. "What are you talking about?"

  "Come now," Coil said, amused. "Recordings of your confrontation with Lung are now a matter of public record. The same goes for your meeting with the flying newcomer, along with your subsequent act of chasing him away with your swarm."

  Taylor stayed silent, afraid of giving anything away.

  "Then, not even 24 hours later, he turns up at Winslow. No one appears to have grasped the significance of his presence there. But we both have, haven’t we?"

  Unbidden, Taylor’s mind connected the dots and came to a conclusion that she had been trying to avoid. Seraph had been on that rooftop, where she was almost killed by Lung. Seraph had appeared near Winslow, where she went to school.

  In both instances, she was the common denominator. As if he hadn’t given her enough to worry about, Coil then decided to drop the biggest bomb in this conversation, yet.

  “Tell me, Miss Hebert, how did he boost your power?” he asked, sounding almost frustrated at having to do so. “Better yet, why did he choose you?”

  Her mind reeled. There were only two people who knew about the change to her power: Taylor and her father. No one else.

  "You sent that message," she whispered.

  "I had to lure you out, somehow. You’ve been very hard to pin down, Miss Hebert."

  But Taylor couldn’t hear him anymore. The video was sent as part of a trap. A trap that used her father as bait. As soon as that thought formed in her mind, she was already shouting.

  “What did you do to him?!” The combination of panic, outrage, and disgust made Taylor want to throw up. “I swear to god, I’ll kill you if you touch my dad! My spiders will be the last thing you’ll ever see before they fucking eat your eyeballs!”

  Silence.

  Taylor Hebert has never made a threat in her life. But in that moment, she meant every word.

  Eventually, Coil spoke, “Please calm yourself, Miss Hebert. Your father is alive and well.” The attempt at reassurance made her want to snort. “If you want him to remain that way, I suggest you cooperate.”

  "You bastard," Taylor spat.

  "Such language," Coil replied, almost amused. "I think you misunderstand the situation. I’m offering you an opportunity to help me. Help him. Refuse, and, well. There are other ways to extract information."

  Anger and hatred were roiling so violently inside Taylor that it was all she could to stop from screaming incoherently. No matter her feelings, however, reality wouldn’t change. Right now, she might as well have no powers at all.

  "You’ll have time to consider your position," Coil said, the smugness thick in his voice. "We’ll speak again soon."

  The speaker crackled and fell silent.

  Taylor backed away from the door slowly, trembling with frustration.

  Her head spun and her chest ached. There was a knot of dread tightening in her ribs, squeezing her internal organs. She dropped onto the cot, pressing her hands to her eyes, and trying to think.

  She couldn’t breathe right. Her powers couldn’t help her here. There were no bugs and no escape routes. She didn’t know where she was, who Coil really was, or whether her dad was truly safe.

  And Lisa might be dead.

  Despair was something she thought she’d grown used to, but this was so much worse.

  Taylor wanted to scream until her throat was raw. She desperately wanted to cry, even while knowing it would accomplish nothing. But she didn’t have the energy, not when her thoughts were spiraling out of control.

  You wanted to be a hero. In the end, you amounted to nothing. Trapped like a bird… or maybe, a rat. You’ll die here, Taylor. And dad will be dead soon, too. All because you wanted to be a hero.

  She curled onto the cot, the helplessness flooding her mind with self-recriminations that were only fueling her anguish. Her thoughts turned to progressively darker places for a way out. And as she was closest to considering truly desperate solutions —

  —something touched her mind.

  It was a presence so vast, warm, and immense that Taylor felt like she would burst.

  She had never felt anything like it in her life, as if a hand was reaching into the darkness, not to take but to offer.

  Taylor went still, feeling her heart rate slow and her breathing calm. At that moment, there was no exchange of words or coherent ideas. Whatever this was, it was simply making itself known.

  And now… now, Taylor no longer felt alone.