Mar 7, 2018
#2,052
Roger Teave was a seven year veteran of the PRT. That sort of work experience might not have been too outstanding by some job standards, but he'd spent his years as an officer in Brockton Bay. He'd seen some shit. If someone were to take a cross-section of the city's criminal history they might mistake the Bay for a third world country. They had it all: from rage dragons to literal Nazis, from warlords to violent vigilantes, from common criminals to god-slayers.
He was currently en route with his team to assist the latter. It was almost comedic, the idea of helping out the local deity. Teave highly doubted there would be any of the Teeth left to deal with once they finally arrived. He was well aware of the power the girl could throw around. He had been there, that day Catalyst killed Leviathan. He had watched her delicate hand reach into the chest of a monster and rip out its heart. In all his years of fighting against and beside parahumans, he'd never seen something so...
Effortless.
He genuinely couldn't imagine the girl needing help with a damn thing. It was far more likely that his team would be a glorified prisoner transport, corralling a bunch of traumatized gang members. That was fine. It certainly wouldn't be the first time. It wouldn't even be the first time doing it for Vanguard. He'd cleaned up after Weaver multiple times, arriving on scene to find cocooned men and women covered in spiders and screaming. It was hardly glorious work, but he could live with that. Small price to pay for a peaceful city.
Opinions were somewhat split on that account, unfortunately. Though many saw Vanguard as a force for positive change, there were whispers of dissent from the higher-ups. Words like 'authority' and 'image' were bandied about. Troops were encouraged to wave the flag, to advertise their presence as loudly as possible on patrol. It was all fucking politics, ill-considered orders from people more concerned about holding on to power than doing their jobs. Most of the ground troops ignored the drama. They were people like Teave, who were just happy to see the city doing well for once. Others, the climbers, the career minded, they followed orders to a T, and resented Vanguard for the lost opportunities that peace brought. With any luck, Vanguard's reputation would drive away scum of every variety. Until such time, he'd play the hand he was dealt and continue doing his job. Right now, his job was to assist Vanguard with the Teeth.
He and his team arrived at the Trainyard in record time. It was late enough in the evening that traffic had died down, and the Yard was mostly abandoned anyway. Still, this was a rushed job. There was no support van assisting them, no backup right behind them. Dispatch could not help if they got into trouble; the price they paid for speed. They left their transport a quarter mile from the entrance, hiding it away in case of lookouts. They would proceed on foot to the GPS coordinates Vanguard had provided, under cover of darkness.
The area was poorly lit. Most of the street lights lacked bulbs, either stolen or destroyed, and the few lights that worked were dull with age. They moved out of an alley and into the street, walking silently. They could hear sounds in the distance, a sort of quiet humming, the drone of tiny wings. Had Weaver started without them?
"Night vision," Teave ordered with a whisper, flicking a switch on his goggles. The night came into focus, shades of green illuminating the dark. He glanced towards the Trainyard, frowning. There was some sort of interference, like fog or smoke in the distance. It was a dull smear in his vision. The sound of combat interrupted his thoughts. The noise level rose with a jolt, going from soft hum to dull roar in seconds.
Teave moved up with his squad, crossing the street in a hurry as they started jogging towards the growing commotion. Teave passed a sewer grate and stopped, some unfamiliar sound tugging at the edge of hearing.
Pitter patter, like raindrops, soft impacts against hard ground. A constant scratching noise, like sandpaper against metal, the sound of friction.
"Hold," Teave said, pointing towards the grate. A squadmate sidled alongside him, lending him support. Teave glanced down, deep into the darkness. Just a shade too dark and distant for the goggles to see.
Something was moving. He could see flickers, blurry shapes shifting in the dark. He took off his goggles, raised his rifle, and flicked on the flashlight mounted beneath the barrel.
Bodies, hundreds, thousands, tens of thousands, wriggling over each other. Roaches skittered through the tunnel like a living flood and Teave fought down the urge to scream. His spine was tingling, that primordial fear that all people face when seeing something instinctively horrifying.
"Oh, shit!" he heard the man beside him curse as he glanced into the sewer. "What is that? What the fuck is that!?"
Teave flicked off the flashlight, and turned slowly towards the Trainyard. The buzzing was almost overbearing now, like being in a room with a diesel engine. He flicked his night vision back on, staring at the blurry fog swirling above his destination.
"Switch to thermal," Teave said, swallowing audibly. His finger tapped at his goggles, and the world bloomed into shades of red.
The sky was on fire. That was the first thing he noticed. Solid masses of yellow and orange and bright bright red drifted just above the line of buildings. They were like clouds, bleeding clouds made of a billion squirming bodies. The Trainyard was worse, a pillar of red extending downwards from the sky like a god reaching for the Earth. Flecks of orange and yellow orbited the pillar, occasionally condensing into tendrils, and striking downwards at the speed of thought.
"Fuck me sideways," Teave gasped.
"Is— is that a friendly sir?" one of his men stammered. He was looking towards the sky in awe.
"I'm not sure we're equipped to fight that," another added helpfully, hefting a foam grenade launcher. "Whatever that is."
"That, gentleman, is Weaver," Teave announced, struggling to maintain his calm. The PRT dossier on Vanguard needed updating.
"Weaver was listed as Master 5 on the briefing report," someone pointed out nervously.
"She's never been officially tested, so it was just an estimate based on her performance," Teave replied, still staring at the storm of bugs in the distance.
"Shit estimate, sir."
Yes, it was. There were clouds of bugs moving in and out of his thermal range every second. The two-block range estimate for Weaver needed to be tripled, at least.
The sound of grinding sandpaper distracted him, and a wave of roaches poured out of the sewer. Several of his men fell backwards with alarmed shouts, but the roaches did not advance. They piled on top of each other like Lego blocks, linking together to form a crude facsimile of a person. Teave had seen this before, and it never failed to creep him out.
The roach clone raised itself up, its features writhing in place until a crude head was visible and facing him.
"Officer Teave. Nice to see you," the horrifying thing spoke, its whole body chattering and clicking to form sounds. A few roaches slipped free of its face, plopping onto ground. They wiggled themselves upright and scampered back to the group, wedging themselves into the swarm with a flutter of wings.
Teave fought through his nausea to nod and smile. "Hello, Weaver. We're here to assist Vanguard in assaulting the Teeth, but it looks like you've got that well in hand. How can we help?"
"I'm just about finished, actually. If you could call in a few prisoner transport vans, that would be great. An ambulance too. The Teeth were forcing homeless men to fight each other, and most are badly injured."
"The homeless men?"
"The Teeth."
Well then. Weaver had certainly grown from the awkward, unsure teenager he'd met over a month ago. His team advanced into the Trainyard, following a trail of fireflies. Teams of bugs constantly moved past them, presumably returning to whence they came. Thermal vision showed the red clouds slowly dissipating, though the sound of beating wings had yet to fade.
They arrived at a clearing filled with cocooned bodies. The scene was straight out of a horror movie. Men and women were wrapped head to toe in silk, bucking wildly in their bonds. At this distance, Teave could hear the muffled screams. He felt the smallest trickle of pity for these idiots.
Ahead of him was the source of the buzzing, a rotating sphere of bugs. They constantly darted in and out, moving with perfect coordination under Weaver's influence. Teave could spot the reflective glint of silk within the swarm, and with a start he realized what was being built.
The bugs stilled, each coming to a stop as one. They took to the skies a moment later, leaving the area in droves and unveiling their work.
It was a web. A massive, spherical web. The lines were not thick; in fact they seemed almost intentionally fragile, but they perfectly enveloped the area. Teave could see into the web, see to the very center where a massive orb was anchored.
"Butcher is in there." Weaver's voice made him flinch, and he turned to face a floating blob of bees. "I'm returning my swarm, so I won't be able to help you if something happens. Don't enter the area unless you want Butcher to kill you. Catalyst will be here soon."
There was his confirmation that Catalyst wasn't even involved in this fight. Jesus Christ. The blob turned to leave, but Teave raised a hand. "Weaver," he called out, gesturing to the bodies on the ground, "how many bugs did you throw at them?"
"All of them," came the chilling response, and the swarm faded into the distance.
Teave looked over the bodies once more, and called for prisoner transport.
————
Catalyst arrived before transport did. She zoomed in from the sky, standing on a pane of glass, with a whooping blonde wrapped around her waist. Catalyst landed with a thump, right in front of the web. She stepped off her platform, not even sparing a glance towards the gathered PRT officers, and strolled into the sphere with a hungry look on her face. The webbing parted as she entered, and she moved forward unimpeded. The blonde girl took a moment longer to dust herself off, then skipped up to Teave with a smile.
"I'm Fidelis, nice to meet you!" she announced, thrusting her hand forward.
"Teave," he said, taking her hand in bemusement. She was wearing a dark bodysuit similar to Weaver's, but purple-striped and slightly less armored.
"Teave, huh?" the girl repeated, nodding to herself. "I'd like to apologize for Catalyst, to all of you." She turned towards his squad at the end of her sentence. "She doesn't mean to be rude, it's just she's been looking forward to this all week."
Teave glanced inside the web, and saw Catalyst approaching. She dragged a body behind her by its arm; a woman, tall, heavily muscled, and trailing webbing in thick strands. Catalyst wore a broad smile.
"We're gonna deal with Butcher now," Fidelis said aloud. "If one of you wants to come with us to represent the PRT, now would be the time."
"Deal with," Teave repeated slowly. "...How?"
Catalyst dragged her captive onto the glass platform, still clutching the woman's arm. "Time to go," she said with glee, talking more to the body than the surrounding people.
"Oh, hell. She's not going to wait," Fidelis said hurriedly. She motioned for Teave to move. "You coming or not?"
Things were moving way too fast for Teave's liking. Protocol demanded he ask Catalyst to surrender Butcher into his custody, and wait for prisoner transport to arrive.
That seemed like a terrible idea.
No time to report in; he had to decide now. So, options. One: he could let them leave without him. They would do something to Butcher, and he would get chewed out for not following them if things went bad. Two: he could hop onto a slippery pane of glass and get hauled through the sky to parts unknown. They would still do something to Butcher, but he would be there to see it, and then he'd get chewed out for leaving his squad behind.
"Smith, you're in charge," he said with a sigh, and followed after Fidelis.
The glass was slippery and see-through. Traveling on it was the single most frightening experience of his life. Fidelis screamed like a teen on a roller-coaster while Teave did his best not to vomit. The ground blurred beneath him, and the rushing air pushed him almost horizontal. Only some unseen force kept his feet bonded to the platform beneath him. Thirty seconds of travel felt like an eternity.
They landed in a plaza surrounded by yellow police tape. Teave stopped kissing the ground long enough to record the scene with his helmet camera. A full 360°, capturing the somewhat familiar square. He turned to face the center of the area, and paused for a full five seconds. Another circle of police tape surrounded a bubble of frozen time. Hookwolf and Alabaster were crouched at the center, their bodies immortalized in surprised horror.
Catalyst stepped off her platform, dragging Butcher alongside her. Teave followed her with his eyes and his camera, burning this moment into his memory. The petite girl stopped at the border of the bubble, looking inward at the frozen villains. She stood there, contemplating, her face shadowed by a dim street lamp. She glanced between Butcher and the bubble, and her grin returned in force.
"No more Butcher," she announced, and with a flick of her hand the villainess was hurled into the bubble. The borders rippled as she entered, parting like water, and her movement slowed to a crawl. Her body was pulled deeper within, the energy making up the field acting like quicksand. Her feet were immersed last, the field oozing closed as her body came to a final stop.
Catalyst watched the process, transfixed. Teave stared alongside her, waiting for something, anything, to happen. After a moment, Catalyst clapped her hands together.
"It worked," she announced, high-fiving Fidelis in happiness.
The teammates hugged, and boarded their little glass deathtrap. Fidelis waved goodbye to Teave, as the pair rocketed into the sky, the sound of laughter echoing through the night.
Teave spent another minute staring at Butcher's frozen body.
It didn't move.
With a sigh, Teave called in his location.
The Director was going to have a coronary.
Author Notes:
I think this one is a little rough around the edges, but I managed to fit in all the moments I wanted. People were asking for reaction chapters and things of that nature, so this is what you get. I doubt I'll ever make a PHO chapter, but if someone makes a decent one I'll happily threadmark it. I just don't have a lot of interest in making fake shitposts.
Did anyone see this particular solution coming? I'm not sure its been used before. We know that people can be tossed into Bakuda's time bubbles because Leviathan kills several people in canon like that.
If anyone is interested, Catalyst's plans for Butcher were created and dismissed in the following order:
1. Unplug the shard directly, like she did with Coil. This runs the risk of alerting Scion if Butcher isn't a Cauldron shard, and the thing might just migrate to some other cape and she'd have to deal with it again.
2. Have Alec kill it with Lung. In theory, Lung would get the shard, not Alec, and the voices would only have themselves for company. Jaya likes Alec just a shade too much to risk this plan.
3. Toss her into space. No idea what would happen, too risky.
4. Time bubble. She's not dead, she's just frozen. Leet and Panacea are reasonable evidence that a shard can't just leave its host of its own free will, so the thing is stuck for good.
As always, comments and criticisms are welcome.
Hope you enjoyed it!