23.3

Worm, Chapter 23.3 Summary:

Weaver enters the bustling domain of Glenn Chambers, the PRT’s head of costume design and marketing. The room is a whirlwind of activity, with maps adorned with hero portraits, display cases showcasing costumes, and a flurry of assistants catering to Glenn’s every whim. He’s a strange figure, clad in an eccentric outfit, a stark contrast to the archetypal power brokers Weaver has encountered. He reminds her of Skidmark, the former leader of the Merchants, not in appearance, but in the way he commands his orbit of subordinates.

Glenn, surrounded by a hive of activity, swiftly deals with his underlings, critiquing action figures and poster designs with a demanding eye. Weaver approaches, seeking a private audience, but Glenn insists on a public discourse. He’s busy, yet he can’t resist the allure of Weaver, his “most interesting project.”

Weaver confronts him about the disastrous mission in Las Vegas, where Pretender was broken out, their team was crushed, and Rime was shot. She blames Glenn’s restrictions on powers, particularly the butterfly mandate, for their failure. Glenn deflects, his indifference only fueling Weaver’s frustration. She argues for a more aggressive approach, citing the need to shed the “kiddie gloves” and unleash their full potential, especially in dire situations. The Wards, she points out, were whittled down in Brockton Bay because they couldn’t fight back effectively, and now the same pattern threatens the Protectorate.

Glenn dismisses her concerns, suggesting that her intelligence is overhyped. He questions whether she wants the Wards to emulate her viciousness. Weaver clarifies that she wants all capes, Wards and Protectorate alike, to stop holding back when necessary. She emphasizes that their failure to inspire confidence in the Vegas teams contributed to losing them.

At this, Glenn orders his subordinates to leave, granting Weaver the privacy she initially sought. He warns them against leaking any information, emphasizing his extensive network and the risks of disclosure. Alone with Weaver, Glenn shifts the conversation to her “misdirection and deception,” acknowledging her past as a successful leader of a group that ruled a city. However, he positions her as a novice in the Protectorate’s world, unfamiliar with its customs and precautions.

Weaver counters by highlighting her accomplishments, including taking down Alexandria and fighting class-S threats. Glenn remains skeptical, questioning her dependability. He reveals that they have footage of her “snapping,” transitioning from calm to homicidal in an instant. While he acknowledges the motivation behind her actions, he asserts that it doesn’t inspire confidence. The tests, he explains, are to gauge her ability to follow their restrictions, as unfair as they may seem.

Weaver proposes a compromise: she’ll make the butterflies work, but she wants permission to use her full arsenal against real threats, like the sniper and the woman in the suit from the previous night. Glenn rejects the idea, warning against an “endless loop of serial escalations.” He reiterates that the issue isn’t about lethal or nonlethal force, but about trust and whether she’ll stick to the path they’ve set for her.

Weaver argues for negotiation instead of rigid rules, emphasizing her experience, versatility, and ability to handle various threats. Glenn counters that the public’s scrutiny is too intense to “let her off her leash” so soon after Alexandria’s death. He suggests that when things quiet down, she might fit in with the “grayer” heroes of Vegas, but not now.

Weaver presses for a chance to prove herself, to deliver the wins they need. Glenn counters by showing her a video of herself, Skitter, attacking the PRT office in Brockton Bay. The footage is disturbing, even to Weaver, as she sees her own movements, coordinated with the swarm, in a way she doesn’t recognize. Glenn points out that this “nightmarish” image isn’t marketable.

Weaver concedes to work on being “less nightmarish” but insists on a way to be more effective. Chevalier and Defiant arrive, and Chevalier reveals that the restrictions will last until she turns eighteen and joins the Protectorate. He explains that it’s a compromise, a way to ensure she won’t snap again and to vet her thoroughly, given her past.

Weaver argues that the world will end before she turns eighteen and offers to be used, to round up tinkers or leverage her villainous reputation. Chevalier acknowledges her contributions, including her role in the fight against Echidna, but reiterates the need for patience. Defiant suggests she take this as a reprieve, a chance to rest after the tumultuous events she’s faced.

Weaver, realizing that the legitimate avenues are failing her, proposes helping indirectly by outfitting their heroes. Chevalier agrees, suggesting a deal similar to what they have with tinkers. Weaver declines the money, asking for a workshop and equipment instead.

Later, in the prison’s back corridors, Weaver starts breeding spiders, a step towards mass-producing silk. It’s a calming act, a return to something concrete after the frustrating meeting with Glenn. She receives a bundle of mail, letters from fans and critics, words of support and death threats.

Among them are letters from the Undersiders. Grue’s letter is a mix of anger, confusion, and longing. He calls her an idiot but admits he’ll write again. Imp’s letter is a single, explosive “HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! what the fuck???” Tattletale’s letter is a detailed update on the situation in Brockton Bay: Accord, Heartbreaker, the Red Hands, the Lost Garden, Grue’s struggles, Regent and Imp’s antics, Flechette and Parian’s relationship, and the impending Endbringer attack. She reassures Weaver that things are normal, in their own way.

Charlotte’s letter informs Weaver that Atlas died, and they’re making a brass mold of him as a way of keeping her with them. Rachel’s letter, dictated to a “minion,” is a glimpse into her life in the wilderness, hunting “fucked up bull things” (bison) and missing toilets. She expresses a sense of something missing, despite being in a situation she’d wanted for a long time. She warns Weaver against fighting them and signs off with a reminder to stay alive until they meet again.

Weaver, moved by the letters, starts sketching designs for a new costume and weapons. She wants to pay homage to Atlas with a flight system, to Skitter with a darker, more effective combat style, and to find a middle ground between the restrictions and her full potential. She jots down ideas for payloads, caltrops, toxins, and containment foam. She resolves to create something that’s truly hers, a fusion of her past and present, a symbol of her determination to find her own way in this new world.