15.y (Bonus Interlude #2; A guy with the second trigger event)

Worm, Chapter 15.y: Bonus Interlude Summary

He hammered the punching bag, a relentless, arhythmic assault. His form was ingrained, automatic: knuckles aligned, weight shifting, the thuds echoing. His dad’s warnings about injury were irrelevant. He needed this release, this physical exhaustion to silence his thoughts. But frustration only intensified, a gnawing fear that this was his new normal, a permanent state of agitation.

A roundhouse kick sent the bag swinging. He turned away, drenched in sweat, hands trembling, breath ragged.

“Jesus, bro. You look like you’re going to have a heart attack.”

Aisha stood in the doorway, masked, her black scarf loose around her neck. He recognized her instantly, yet the initial jolt of surprise lingered, an unending tension. She seemed oblivious, existing in a different reality. For a fleeting moment, he saw Bonesaw instead - similar height, dress, bloodstained apron, wide, darting eyes. He blinked, dispelling the image. Aisha’s survey of the room was casual, unlike Bonesaw’s manic intensity. His room, atop their shared headquarters, was spartan: a punching bag, weight bench, sink, bed, costume stand, and a TV.

“You’re back,” he grunted. “Didn’t tell me you were going.”

“You mean I didn’t ask permission. No. I totally wanted to hang around here with you wound as tight as a new clock.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” he said, still breathless. His chest ached. He splashed water on his face.

“Sue me. Not like I’ve ever seen a wind-up clock. Not like you’ve ever seen one either. Don’t pretend you’re so much more civilized.”

“Grandpa had one.”

He nodded, still struggling to breathe. This isn’t just the exercise. Something else. Can’t let her see it.

“Still good to see…” he paused, catching his breath, “You’re okay.”

“Of course I’m okay, dumbass. Nobody knows I’m there.”

“Not good enough.” He peeled off his gloves.

“I’ve got the costume Skitter made me. I had no idea she was wearing something like this,” Aisha stretched the fabric. “It’s so smooth and so light, I thought she was bullshitting about the fact that you couldn’t cut it. But I tried and she was right. It’s crazy. But yeah, I’m as safe as any of you. Safer.”

That’s not saying that much. He examined his torn, bloody knuckles.

“Jesus fuck,” she gasped. “Any time I’ve spent in the gyms, it’s ’cause Dad dragged me there, so I wasn’t paying attention so much as I was looking for the nearest exit. But I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to be bleeding like that.”

What was he supposed to say to that?

“Why did you do that to yourself?”

“Just trying to tire myself out.”

“You’re already tired, you dumbass! This isn’t going to improve the situation. How long were you fucking hitting that thing? The entire time I was gone?”

I’ve handled worse, he thought, a humorless joke that failed to amuse.

“Incision here… saw through the breast bone, there we go. You’re cooperating so nicely! Not that you have much of a choice. Oh, here. This part is always cool. See, the ribs are flexible, and with the sternum separated, a little bit of help from Spider thirty-three here, they unfold like a bird slowly spreaaaaading its wings.”

He leaned over the sink, gripping the edges, chest tightening further.

Her tone changed. “Hey, seriously, are you okay? You’ve been breathing really hard for a bit now, and now you’ve gone really quiet for, like, a minute. I didn’t use my power, either, so I know it’s not you ignoring me because of that.”

He suppressed a harsh retort, an urge to tell her to shut up, to leave him alone. If he did, she would; she’d run away from home six times in four years, bouncing between their parents and foster care. Each time, there was a reason, some argument or incident. Any excuse would do. She was flighty, like a wild animal ready to bolt.

If he lashed out like he had with Taylor, he doubted Aisha would forgive him so readily.

“I’m okay,” he lied. “Tired.”

He couldn’t scare her away, but he feared he would. He couldn’t trust himself in this state, on the verge of snapping.

The fear fueled his anxiety, creating a vicious cycle. Rest and rational thought could break it, he knew. The exercise had failed.

He flinched at a hand on his arm.

“Hey,” Aisha said. “Zoning out again.”

“Mm.”

“I was going to go out on a patrol near the school. Tattletale said there’s some leftover members of the Merchants hanging around over here, thought I’d scare them off. Maybe see if I can drive them into Ballistic’s territory, if I can’t push them out of the city.”

“Don’t antagonize him,” Brian said.

“Just saying, he’s better suited for a straight-up fight, and these guys are low-level mooks. We want them to panic, to see there’s no place to go.”

No place to go.

“I’ll come,” he decided.

“No!” She emphasized, “No you won’t. I’m perfectly capable of handling this. I’d stay to keep an eye on you, if I didn’t think it would do more harm than good.”

“Alright,” he conceded. “Alright. Some quiet sounds good.”

“I don’t want you doing this again, okay?” she gestured towards the bag, then his hands. “Really, it’s more than a little creepy. I know I don’t have a nurturing nature, like, at all, but I’m gonna feel pretty terrible if I come back and you’re a bloody mess.”

“Oh,” Taylor’s voice, a croak. “Oh, Brian.”

He winced.

“Poor choice of words,” Aisha said. Quieter, she added, “Sorry.”

“We shouldn’t be going anywhere alone,” he said, his breathing finally নিয়ন্ত্রণে.

“Tattletale did. Skitter did. Regent sort of did.”

“Tattletale and Skitter can see trouble coming. Regent’s got Shatterbird so he’s not alone.”

Aisha shook her head. “Which doesn’t do him any good if he gets shot. Shatterbird would get free, and then everyone loses.”

Don’t want to argue. Don’t want to get too deep into this. There’s already too many things to keep track of, too many variables to consider. “Hopefully everyone has more common sense than that. He really should be keeping her in containment unless she’s needed.”

“We were taking on the Chosen, and some of Purity’s people. It’s all good. We picked up Victor, and Tattletale’s hoping you’ll try your power on him, see if you can’t pick something up.”

Brian nodded, “After.”

“So I’m gonna go now-”

He grimaced. “I don’t want you going alone.”

“I’m going with Regent. Relax.”

Not sure that makes me feel better. “Not sure that’s the company I want you to keep.”

He knew her annoyed look well. She forced it away, saying, “It’s fine. He’s your buddy, and our powers actually work well together. You and me, we can’t… what’s the word?”

“Synergize.”

“We can’t synergize. I do my thing, you do yours, but we get in each other’s way. You blind me, I wipe myself from your memory. With Regent and me, I can set people up for him to mess with, give him a chance to use his power. Or we mix it up a little, so I spook people, then he uses his power to make them feel like they’re being pushed around while I deal with others, to freak them out. Or I go in first and then give him word on what’s going on.”

“You’ve been out with him before,” he realized.

“Couple times. Just doing what you asked, not going out alone. You weren’t exactly up to it.”

He looked down at his hands, picking at a peel of skin.

“Um. So yeah. You stay right here, try to take it easy?” She sounded tense.

“Yeah,” he replied.

“Maybe we could go for a walk later? Check on one of the ’rents?”

It was so unlike her. He could count on one hand the times she’d been this conciliatory. She always wanted something when she acted like this.

Brian forced a smile. “Maybe. You go. Be safe.”

He was both relieved and terrified when the door shut behind Aisha.

So many things were like that now. Bad with the good, or just plain bad.

Didn’t realize she’d been out with Regent. Need to catch up on things.

He flexed his hands, feeling the pain, and went to the war room.

The war room was opposite Aisha’s room. Satellite images of the city were printed on large, laminated sheets, shelved on the wall. He picked his territory’s roll and unfurled it.

Southwest end of the Docks. Residential areas, schools, small businesses. Hiding places for troublemakers he was supposed to deal with, and keep others from setting up shop. Tattletale shouldn’t have to shoulder the full load, she had her own territory.

Coil provided the map, Tattletale the details. Symbols marked enemy locations. Stars for nobodies, an M with two dollar-sign lines for Merchants’ stragglers, a wolf’s head for Fenrir’s Chosen. His own were in block letters, noting priority, locations, and operations. Drug dealers and looters here, Chosen selling families as slave labor there.

But the map was altered. Red ‘x’ symbols crossed out two-thirds of the symbols. Barely legible handwriting filled the white border: ‘Gone’. ‘Left city’. ‘Hospitalized’. A circle around one of the Merchants’ symbols at the school. The next target.

He should feel relieved. Aisha had been helping, even if she wasn’t good at expressing concern.

He only felt guilty.

He’d been wallowing, and Aisha had been taking out enemies, clearing their territory. A big task for two, and she was doing it alone.

Why am I here? He wasn’t a leader, wasn’t doing his job, wasn’t protecting anyone, wasn’t working towards anything…

He shook his head, trying to shake off the thoughts.

Four or five days since the Nine left, and he’d been spinning in place, sinking deeper into negativity.

He hated this. Hated that his body, always under his control, was betraying him with anxiety and weakness. His power, too, now carried negative connotations.

He hated that everything seemed ugly. The city was soiled, friends and family tainted.

Seizing territory felt hollow, a reminder that this might all collapse, leaving him with nothing but unwanted memories. Hard to care, especially with the alleged end of the world.

Of course, he couldn’t not deal with Coil. Taylor wouldn’t stick around if they didn’t, and Dinah deserved to be rescued.

I spent three hours in that refrigerator. Dinah’s spent nearly that many months with Coil.

And he feared the nebulous future. He’d been so sure of his path, A to B to C, but now the possibilities were open-ended.

Even sleep was hard, riddled with terror dreams that left him exhausted.

He clenched his fist, feeling the sting of his bleeding hand.

He’d go after Aisha, lend assistance, make sure everything was okay.

He couldn’t even explain his own line of thinking. He didn’t always like her, but he could barely think straight when he imagined her suffering anything close to what he had.

Aisha would be annoyed, even upset. She was feeling pressured, but he had his own pressures, his own concerns. It would reach a critical point, but for now he needed to check on her.

He paused in his room, facing his costume. Horned eyes, teeth curled into each other. A demon, a creature of nightmare.

“…I could give you a skull face like that helmet of yours, only real… and crank your power up to the max, always on, give you some biological imperative to encourage cannibalism, see how long it takes for them to eliminate you if they can’t see or hear you…”

“You’re gone,” Brian growled to the empty room, seizing the mask. “We won. Shut up.”

Her giggling was so vivid it sounded like she was right next to him.

He stared at the mask, glad it wasn’t the skull mask Bonesaw had referenced. Hard to explain why.

He was reaching to pull his mask on when he felt something brush against his bare arm.

A moth?

“I sure hope that’s you,” he said. “Because I’m talking to myself too much already.”

The moth flew in a lazy circle in front of him.

“Right. Meet you at the door,” he said.

He hesitated, then put the mask back on the stand.

A few minutes passed. He wondered if he’d misinterpreted the moth’s movements.

I remember when I didn’t have these doubts about what I was doing.

She wasn’t in costume. Odd, seeing her approach from a distance, observing her uninterrupted. She conveyed an eerie confidence he knew she didn’t have at her core. She didn’t react as the wind blew her hair, didn’t look around as she crossed the street.

He might have to say something about that. If that was her using her power to assess her surroundings, she should avoid doing it in civilian wear.

She stopped a short distance away, holding grocery bags, tucking her hair back into place. Tank top, jeans, rubber boots, a sweatshirt tied around her waist to conceal weapons, he guessed. Her glasses caught the light, turning opaque as she looked his way.

“Decided to check in on me?”

“Imp asked me to,” she said, her stare uncomfortable, analyzing him.

He nodded. Imp’s earlier behavior made more sense. She’d wanted him here for Taylor’s arrival. He felt self-conscious of his wounded hands. She’d seen them, but hadn’t commented.

“But I wanted to anyways,” she added.

He nodded again. What could he say? He changed the focus, asking, “The bag?”

“I thought I’d make dinner for the two of us, if you wanted. You can say no.”

“Okay. Sure.”

He let her inside, then shut and locked the door.

Not that a lock would do anything against the kinds of people who haunted his nightmares. The ugly side of dealing with capes, knowing there was no security that would stand up to all of the bad guys. Always people like the Nine, like Leviathan and Behemoth. Forces as inevitable as a natural disaster. Like the Cold War, bombs could drop at any moment, and there was nothing anyone could do.

Unlike the major players in the Cold War, the monsters he was thinking about weren’t so rational that they’d stand down with Scion in the picture.

“Hey,” Taylor spoke up, “You okay?”

“Hm?”

“You’re sort of staring off into space. Come on, sit down and talk to me.”

Brian nodded and followed her into the kitchen. He opted to stand.

“Chicken breasts okay?”

“Sure.”

She retrieved a ziploc baggie with marinated chicken. “Was going to bring pork chops, but I just served this huge pork shoulder roast for everyone in my territory the other night, and then we had leftovers so I’ve had it for lunch a few times. Kind of sick of it.”

“Ah.”

“We’ve got lots of kids running around. It’s kind of nice, but hard. It’s like they’re totally unrestrained, so when they’re happy, they’re ecstatic, and when they’re unhappy they’re miserable, you know?”

“I haven’t spent a lot of time around kids. Only Aisha, when I was younger, and I think she might have been a special case.”

“She’s really coming into her own, getting comfortable with her powers, figuring out where she needs to be and when. Can’t be easy, when the rest of us don’t know where she is half the time.”

“Did she put herself in any danger?”

Taylor started frying the chicken. “Yes and no. She took down Night, but Night wasn’t able to use her power, had no idea she was there. She was safe.”

Took down Night. Aisha?

That bothered him, and he couldn’t say why.

“We got Victor. Not sure if I like how Lisa sprung that on me, but we got him. We were thinking you could try borrowing his power, see if you don’t get any permanent boosts.”

“Sure. Aisha mentioned that. I don’t know if it’ll work.”

“No?”

Brian tried to organize his answer. What had Bonesaw said? Something about passengers.

He glanced at Taylor, busy with the sides, sweet potato, parsnips. She looked over her shoulder, and he was struck with the image of her lying on the ground, Bonesaw straddling her, her forehead a bloody mess, a small electric saw grinding through her skull.

He looked away.

“What is it?”

“Trying to get my thoughts in order. Tired.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He shook his head. “Victor’s power… If we supposedly have these ‘passengers’ in our heads, guiding our power use, giving us the brain structures we need to manage the powers, I don’t think I have that with any powers I borrow. They’re weaker, but I don’t have that knowledge about what’s going on, or that extra measure of control.”

“Want to try on me? I know I wasn’t ok with it before, but I think I can handle it if I know it’s coming.”

He considered. “Okay.”

He reached out, darkness streaming from his fingertips. It coiled and lunged, heavy, spilling to the ground. It didn’t obscure his sight, but he could tell where it was, almost like seeing in black and white, but the color was still there. Bad analogy. The difference was stark, but he couldn’t pinpoint it.

Contact with Taylor was like opening his eyes as a firecracker burst, seeing sparks scattered, alive, moving.

Unsure how to use the ability, he pushed out. No control, no sense of what he was controlling. He was the wind, Taylor’s bugs the leaves.

She pushed back, winning easily. He could feel her moving individual bugs, casually picking them out.

“It’s sort of calming, when you think about it,” she said. “You realize how small you are in the grand scheme of things. We’re not really the rulers of this planet, we’re just tenants, and it’s the small stuff, the bacteria and insects and the plant matter that really runs it all. Even the big stuff, the nasty, scary stuff, it’s all pretty small in the grand scheme of things, isn’t it?”

Is that a good thing?

“I know I sound a little crazy when I say that, but really, you get a glimpse of these bugs as they go about their lives, almost mechanical in how they follow their instincts, you see them breeding, eating, building nests, and dying, and you see how they just saturate every aspect of our existence, in the air, the dark corners, the insides of the walls, they eat our dead. I can’t sense them, but there’re skin mites all over our bodies and in our eyelashes… I guess it takes me out of myself when I think about it, reminds me that we’re only one part of this vast system, we’re cogs in the universe, in our own way. Seeing the little details makes me feel like the big problems aren’t so personal, they aren’t as overwhelming.”

Rambling aside, she looked more at ease than he’d ever seen someone in his darkness. Blind, deaf, leaning against the counter, staring off into space as she talked. Even the talking, it caught him off guard. Blind, unable to see reactions, most people would struggle, like speaking to an answering machine.

“I don’t know if that makes sense, but I usually try reaching out to these guys when things get bad. In retrospect, it kind of centers me.”

“I wish I could find the same comfort in my power,” Brian murmured.

“Did you say something? I think I just felt some vibrations in the air, but it’s hard to tell with your power out there.”

He didn’t reply.

Instead, he looked at Taylor. Not conventionally attractive, he had to admit. Wide mouth, large ears sticking out of her messy black curls. Narrow, bony shoulders, deceptively delicate. Self-conscious yet unaware of how she held herself. The seeming fragility accented by the angles she settled into: wrist bent, leg raised, shoulders tilted forward. As if her skin didn’t fit.

Not dramatic, but a quirk he noted as he studied her. Like a bird, or one of her insects, but… he didn’t feel he was being unflattering.

In fact, he could note how long her arms and legs were, the length of her neck and torso. Still growing, she had grown even in the months they’d known each other. The groundwork was being laid for the finished product, a body that wouldn’t be skinny, but slender, long-legged. If she was still growing, and if her dad was any indication, she’d be tall.

Would she be a trophy wife, or turn heads? Probably not. But he could see how someone might come to look past the quirks, even come to like them, and they’d find nothing to complain about in her. How someone might want to hold her in their arms-

She spoke, interrupting his train of thought, “Okay. You probably have some reason for keeping the darkness up this long. I won’t complain, since you’re probably working things out in your own way, like I was talking about with my bugs, but maybe keep an eye on the chicken?” She offered a small laugh, “I could use my bugs to check on it, maybe, but I don’t think either of us want that.”

He glanced at the stove, prodding the chicken. No problems. He turned down the heat to be safe.

“Look, Brian, I don’t want to stir up any unhappy thoughts, but I don’t want to ignore the subject either. I did some reading, and there’s a pretty scary number of people who have their second trigger events and then have a bad ending shortly after. I think it has to do with the toll it takes on you, the event… I’m… I’m not good at this. At the people stuff. But I have been through some dark spots. My mom died not too long ago, I can’t remember if we really talked about that. And there was the bullying, I sometimes wonder how much that influences what I do and why. I don’t really know where I’m going with this, but I guess I’m saying I’m here for whatever you need.”

He expected a swell of that dark anxiety, but when his heart pounded, it wasn’t the same. Through the sliver of power he borrowed, he could feel the bugs at work, sweeping areas, drawing lines of silk, marking people, gathering to check rooms.

And Taylor was just standing there, leaning against the counter, calm. Blind, deaf, and the person at the other end of the conversation hadn’t responded for at least a minute. She had her own ugly thoughts, responsibilities, reasons to feel angry or guilty, but she’d somehow found a way to let herself be at ease here.

Or was that the same deceptive confidence she’d displayed as she’d approached his headquarters?

He idly wondered if that veneer would crack if he surprised her here. But he didn’t want to be mean, that felt wrong.

Something else. Almost on instinct, Brian stepped forward, reaching for her, then stopped, letting his hands drop. If he reached out to hold her, that would be a breach of trust, wouldn’t it? He-

“Hey,” Taylor said, her voice so quiet he could barely hear it. Slightly louder, she said, “Go ahead.”

She knew? But- He felt out with her power, saw the ‘spark’ of the bugs she’d placed on his cuffs, on his sleeve.

How did she keep track of all that?

And how was he supposed to respond, now? He barely had any friends, outside of ‘work’, his contact with girls had been limited to flirting, more ‘work’ and fighting with his sister.

Swallowing, he reached out and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, gently pulling her close. He couldn’t shake the idea that she’d break if he squeezed too hard, so his touch was light.

She hugged his lower body, pressing her head against his collarbone, both actions surprising him with their strength and ferocity.

He willed the darkness away, banished the sparks that painted them as very small people in a big world. As the light returned, it was just them.

“This is what you wanted?” she murmured.

“You’re so still,” he replied, not even sure what he meant.

“That’s good,” she answered him, her non-sequitur almost matching his own.

They stayed like that for some time, his chin resting on top of her head. He could feel her breathing, her heartbeat, and the warmth of her breath against his chest. He felt tears in his eyes, blinked them away, unsure why they’d even come in the first place.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“Don’t be.”

He couldn’t be quite sure what he was sorry for. This awkwardness, the length of time this had gone on? For putting her in a position like this, when she knew he was vulnerable and would have a hard time of saying no? He didn’t get the sense that she minded. If she had, he suspected, there would be some sign, some movement, some attempt to pull away.

Maybe he’d said it because it had taken him this long?

He dismissed the doubts and hesitation.

“Can we?” he pulled away slightly, and looked in the direction of the couch.

“Um,” her eyes widened a fraction.

“Not… not that. Just-” he paused, trying to find a way to say what he wanted to say without putting her in a position where she couldn’t say no.

“Okay.” She seemed to get his meaning. She led him by one hand into the living room. He laid down first, arranging the cushions into a makeshift pillow. She took that time to remove the knife, the gun and the various contents of her pockets, placing them on the nearby coffee table.

Once he was arranged, he was the one to pull on her hand. Moving gingerly, as if she expected him to react badly with every motion she made, she found a way to lie across him without lying on top of him, her head on his shoulder, both legs draping across his pelvis, her upper body pressed against his side. If he hadn’t noted that quirk of hers, how she bent herself at odd angles, he might have thought she’d be uncomfortable. As it was, he somehow didn’t feel the need to worry. He pulled her closer with one arm.

For days, he’d been seeking some way to get centered, to stop that downward spiral where anxiety and fear gave him cause to be more anxious, more afraid. He’d hurt himself doing it, and he’d very nearly hurt his relationship with Aisha.

He’d been trying to do it alone. He’d needed a rock, an anchor. If he’d been asked months ago, weeks ago, even days ago, he wasn’t sure he would have believed that was true, or that it would be Taylor, of all people.

“The stove,” he said, starting to sit up.

“Handled,” Taylor replied, pushing him back down.

He looked over and saw the dials had been set to ‘off’.

“Thank you,” he said. It took him a second to raise the courage, but he kissed the top of her head.

She nodded, her head rubbing against him.

“Really,” he said, reaching over to tilt her head so she was looking up at him. He kissed her on the lips this time. “Thank you.”

She didn’t reply, only smiling and nestling in close again.

Taylor fell asleep before he did. He laid there for some time, trying to match his breathing to hers, as if he could copy her and fall asleep the same way. It was almost as if he’d forgotten how.

He wasn’t all better. Wasn’t sure he would ever be. He just had to think about it, and he could almost see Bonesaw in the kitchen, waiting, watching. Whatever barriers he’d erected between reality and the uglier possibilities, they’d taken a beating.

But he could breathe, now.

His eyes closed.