Setting up a meeting to join the Wards had been a lot simpler than Taylor had expected. She'd kind of thought there would be a bunch of conversations back and forth, and then she'd need to demonstrate her power, and she'd have to wait for them to run a comprehensive background check, and then they'd do an MRI scan on her brain or something to make sure she had an active corona. Well, maybe not all of that, but she hadn't been expecting it to be as simple as making a single phone call to the PRT and setting up a meeting for the next Tuesday, after school.
It made sense, though, after she gave it some thought. The whole point of the Protectorate was to try and get as many capes working as heroes as possible, and that went doubly so for the Wards. Taylor herself had some feelings about the way they went about it—at least five of the Butchers would likely have ended up as rogues rather than villains if NEPEA-5 hadn't made it almost impossible to earn an income with your power—but right now, it meant that the barriers to joining the wards were practically non-existent. That was good, because Taylor was very much counting on that for her plan to work.
Most of the collective didn't like her plan very much, but Taylor had their memories of living with the Teeth and frankly it reminded her of a fraternity mixed with a Upton Sinclair-era slaughterhouse, with all the cleanliness that would imply. It seemed pretty fucking awful, honestly, and for some reason she didn't find herself swayed by arguments about the opportunity to 'do pounds of blow off a hooker's tits,' as Frenzy had so politely put it. Some of the collective were on board, though—mainly the ones who had an actual sense of humor. There was an uproar of protests at that thought, but she just banished most of them to small and disgusting insects in her swarm, and that worked pretty well for keeping them quiet.
By the time Tuesday rolled around, Taylor was practically jittery with nerves, although not so much for fear of being injured—she had about a half dozen brute packages, and as long as she could avoid asphyxiating like Quarrel she'd probably be fine. Rather, Taylor was jittery with excitement, like she used to get when she and Emma were about to pull off a new prank.
When school was out–she'd spent most of the time between classes avoiding the Trio, a task made substantially easier by a combination of bug senses, bloodsight, and danger sense–Taylor practically skipped out of Winslow and began jogging toward the PRT headquarters. She ducked into an alleyway—again, it was a lot easier to make sure she was unseen with all of those senses–and then she quickly changed into the temporary outfit she'd assembled. First went on a leather jacket, which she'd embossed with fifteen symbols using Knapper's power, one for each of the Butchers. The first Butcher got a pig's head, Devein got a syringe, Cordyceps a mushroom, Quarrel a bow, and so on. Right over her heart, she'd embossed a little spider for herself. Her jeans she kept as is, and she'd molded the blade from an actual Butcher knife into a suitable mask, which would probably be horrifically uncomfortable for somebody that could feel pain or wasn't a brute many times over.
The PRT troopers in the lobby turned to look at her as she approached, hands going to the triggers of confoam sprayers. Taylor did her best to project an aura of nervousness as she walked over to the receptionist at the front desk, who was watching her with wary suspicion.
"Er, hello," Taylor said. "I'm here to join the Wards? I've got an appointment for 4:30."
The receptionist just nodded, clicking a few times on her computer. "Do you know who you talked with before?" she asked.
Taylor thought back. "I think she said her name was Jessica Song?"
I think her name was Agent Bitch– was about as far as Devein got before he was punted into a fruit fly in a neighboring office building. He knew better than to try and tick her off like that, of course, he just delighted in being a pest.
The woman just nodded. "Alright, I see your appointment. Trooper Hernandez will escort you to the meeting room."
One of the PRT Troopers, looking pretty much identical to the rest of them in oversized body armor, walked over toward us. Taylor could read the little nametag that said Hernandez, at least. "If you'll follow me," he said, his voice thick with a Brockton accent.
"Sure thing," Taylor replied. She'd noticed that her own voice had started to shift in its accent a little bit, a consequence of constantly hearing and having memories of a mix of Brockton, Boston, New York accents from the voices in her head, plus a Brazilian accent (from Sepsis) and a Japanese accent (from Quarrel). The end result was still mostly Brockton, but it clocked as a little foreign. Not that there was much she could do about it, though—humans are kinda wired to pick up the accents of people around them, and Taylor was always around the other Butchers.
Hernandez led her toward an unmarked door off the end of the lobby, which opened with a few taps to a keypad. It was a little disappointing: for all that this was the PRT, their interior decorating was pretty similar to any number of other offices her predecessors had seen. They ended up going up two stories in an elevator, and then Hernandez led her down a hallway for a few steps before opening up a meeting room. There was a long table with about ten chairs, and sitting on the other side while looking over some papers was the unmistakable forms of Battery and Miss Militia, in a circuit-lined bodysuit and a camo jacket, respectively.
Hernandez gave them a short nod, then stepped out of the room. Miss Militia stood up, gesturing at the chair across from them. "Please, sit down. We just wanted to go over some preliminary details with you."
"Sure thing," Taylor replied, sliding into the chair. There was a black knife sheathed at Miss Militia's side, with a green inlay, and she felt like she was probably a little too obvious in looking at it.
The things we could do with that power… Absinthe said, a little wistfully.
I changed my mind. Taylor, you should rage blast her right now, Wendigo said, and got the mental equivalent of a flick on the head in response.
"Are you interested in my power?" Miss Militia said, not unkindly. It flickered into a burst of energy, green and black light, and then it appeared in her hands.
"Yeah," Taylor admitted. "It's really cool. Probably one of the best examples of the Sheindel Aggression Hypothesis, though."
"You're interested in Parahuman Studies?" the beflagged hero asked.
Taylor gave her a sheepish look. "I've got something of a vested interest, you could say," she said. "You're actually a big inspiration to me, though. You've got a power that's almost designed to be lethal, and yet you've managed to make a career out of being a hero with hardly any kills to your name."
"That's what the Wards program is for," the hero said. "Helping young parahumans with potentially dangerous powers learn how to use them safely."
Battery spoke up. "We should probably do at least somewhat formal introductions. I'm Battery, and you clearly know Miss Militia already. Do you have a name picked out yet? I can't guarantee that it'll be permanent, because occasionally Image has some concerns, but we do our best to respect people's choices."
"Er, yeah, I've got a name, although I imagine that they'll want to change it." Taylor took a deep breath, then said, "Hi. I'm Butcher." At least ten different voices began to laugh in her head, and she struggled to keep a smile from spreading onto her face.
The capes across from her froze, Battery's pleasant expression going rigid on her face. "That's… that name has quite a bit of baggage," she choked out.
Taylor chuckled, more amused than she probably should be. "You're telling me! I'm the one who has to deal with fourteen voices in my head."
Miss Militia's power was rapidly flickering between several different weapons—Taylor saw a shotgun, a saber, a revolver, and a blunderbluss, just to name a few, before it settled on a confoam sprayer, pointed directly at her. Battery's body was flickering with a ghostly blue light, which meant she was primed to release her charged energy.
Taylor just leaned back in her hands, holding up her arms. "I'm not here for a fight," she said.
Battery stared at her, and Taylor could see her noticing the embossing on the jacket and starting to draw the right connections. "Why are you here, then?"
At that, Taylor just stared at her. "To… to join the Wards? I thought that was obvious."
You're way too good at that, Frenzy said, a quiet amusement evident in his voice.
"Forgive me for saying this, but you seem a bit too sane to be the Butcher," Miss Militia said, her voice controlled. "If this is a joke, we'll need to have a long conversation about appropriate topics and times for that kind of thing."
"Not a joke, unfortunately," Taylor replied. "My original power let me control bugs within a radius, and that meant every bug in that radius. I was in the hospital for, like, a week as my brain had to adapt to dealing with that much information. The flip side of that is my power lets me multitask like crazy. I can already process the location and senses of like hundreds of thousands of bugs, including hearing a bunch of conversations going on, so having fourteen more voices isn't actually that bad." As she said that, she had a few spiders crawl out of her hair and down her body to the table, where they did a little jig.
Miss Militia took a deep breath when she saw the spiders. "Quarrel's autopsy suggested she died from asphyxiation after her airways filled with insects," she said, faintly.
At that, Taylor winced. "Okay, yeah, not my best moment. I was in Boston with my Dad when we got caught in the crossfire between the Teeth and one of Blasto's monsters. Quarrel went for my dad and, uh, I kind of panicked. I hadn't gone out yet though, or even tested my powers as much as I wanted to, so I didn't really realize what I'd done until suddenly there was a bunch of people screaming and I could remember what it felt like to drown on bugs."
Both of the capes across from her winced at that mental image, and Taylor realized that maybe admitting to killing somebody wasn't the best look—although Frenzy had been a lawyer before he triggered and joined the Teeth, and his memories made it pretty clear that her actions fell under the grounds of a justifiable homicide, given Quarrel's obvious lethal intent. She tried to change the subject anyways. "Oh, um, you guys wanted proof that I'm Butcher, right? I mean, obviously there are a bunch of powers I can't really show right now because they only work on people, but I can safely show you Mason, Howitzer, Sepsis, and Quarrel's powers," she said.
There was a moment as Battery and Miss Militia's eyes met and they seemed to have a non-verbal conversation, and then Miss Militia said, "As long as you can do it safely, go ahead."
Taylor nodded, then pulled off her mask. Both of the heroes stared at her. She blinked back at them. "What? It's not like this would stop you from finding out, if you really wanted to, and I'm already trying to join the Wards. I'm pretty sure that revealing my identity is part of that. Anyways."
She called on Sepsis' power first, draggin her finger down the center of the mask in her hands. As she did so, the metal began to turn black and flake off, decaying where she touched it. She'd used a relatively light touch with the power, so the decay didn't last all that long, and then she snapped the mask in two. With Mason's power, she molded both of the pieces of metal at once, turning one of them into a flat disk with a small hole in the middle, and the other into a metal dart.
Then she tossed the disk into the air, teleported backwards (she'd barely charged it up, so the accompanying explosion was incredibly weak, not even enough to singe the carpet) and then tossed the dart into the air as well. Quarrel's power took over, the dart and disk meeting right as they hit the table, the dart sliding cleanly into the bullseye.
The two heroes stared, speechless. Taylor gave a little bow, because Cordyceps had suggested it and she thought it was actually pretty funny, and then she pulled the chair out and sat down in it again. "So, uh, pretty sure that's proof I am who I say I am," she finished, kind of lamely.
"I'd say so," Miss Militia said, staring at her in shock. It was pretty clear that neither of the capes had fully believe she was actually the Butcher before then, but her little demonstration had neatly put to rest any doubts. To pull off that kind of stunt, she'd either need to be the Butcher or an extremely powerful trump, and there was no reason for a trump with that kind of power to pretend to be someone like Butcher.
"So," Taylor said, and the two heroes flinched a little. "Joining the Wards?"
~*~
Director Emily Piggot was a hard woman. She'd always been stubborn and opinionated, but life and tragedy had forged that raw iron into brittle steel. Ellisburg had shown her that all men were cowards at their core, and capes were no exception.
She could tell at once that the girl across from her was cut from the same cloth. Taylor Hebert was strong long before she killed the previous Butcher and inherited that monster's powers and memories. She'd been broken, as well, but had come out all the stronger for it—although riddled with fault lines, like all things that have been repaired.
"Why do you want to join the Wards?" Emily asked. She didn't see much point in wasting time, not with someone like this.
"I don't want to die," Hebert responded. Her voice was level, almost casual. "And I always wanted to be a hero."
"It's hard for me to imagine you wouldn't be more trouble than you're worth," Emily said. This was a verbal spar, but she had long experience in this arena.
"I won't dispute that," Hebert replied, with a faint smile. "All the same, the Wards charter requires that you take me on."
"I could trade you to another branch," she tried, but she knew it was futile.
"Really? And who exactly would take on the Butcher? Especially when I'm so reluctant to move from my hometown."
"Probationary wards don't have control over their postings," Emily replied.
"And why would I be probationary, exactly? It isn't like you have me for any crimes."
"The murder of Butcher XIV doesn't count?"
"Do you really want to go that route? It's a hilariously easy case of self-defense, given Quarrel's reputation and prior actions. Even if you managed to stack the deck enough to see me charged, the precedence that would set would be… inadvisable. And I can't help but worry that pushing too hard might see me less reluctant to work for the PRT. Who knows—you might end up driving me into the hands of some nefarious organization. It's happened before, as I'm sure you're aware."
Emily gritted her teeth. This was not a problem she'd been expecting to have to deal with, but it was one she had anyways. The worst part was, the girl had her over a barrel, and they both knew it. The Wards charter did require that any parahumans below the age of eighteen without a criminal record be allowed to join, and that any transfers away from their home must be voluntary (except in the case of a probationary ward). Trying Taylor Hebert for the crimes of past Butchers would be impossible, and trying her for the death of Butcher XIV would take more political capital than she had at her disposal or, indeed, was willing to spend. And frankly, she could admit that she would much rather have the Butcher where she could see her, rather than with the Teeth.
Of course, the Youth Guard would probably have her head if they found out Emily let the goddamn Butcher be around the other Wards, but she couldn't do anything about that. All she could really do is delay Hebert for long enough for the girl to get any psychotic breaks out of her system—that is, if she was going to have them. The girl was clever and well-prepared, and that was very different from the insanity that Emily had known from previous Butchers.
"Welcome to the Wards, Miss Hebert," she said, because there was nothing else to say. "I hope you won't cause me to regret this."
The girl's grin was entirely predatory. "I'm sure I won't, Director Piggot."
~*~ Award Quote ReplyReport1140ThaviaVex26/3/2025Reader modeNewAdd bookmarkThreadmarks Threadmarks Chapter Two - Butchering An Introduction New Threadmarks ThaviaVexShe/Her26/3/2025Add bookmark#2Missy bounced in place a little as she waited for the new Ward to arrive. Miss Militia had seemed oddly distracted when she was telling them all about it, but she had mentioned that the new Ward was a girl. There had apparently been some issue that had delayed the actual onboarding process for two weeks, much to Missy's displeasure, but today was finally the day when the rest of the Wards would get to meet her.
Not that Missy disliked the rest of the Wards—sure, Dennis could be a pest and Rory had something of a stick up his butt—it was just that it was such a sausage party. She liked them, considered her team somewhere between family and close friends, but her age and gender meant there was something of an inevitable distance between her and the rest of them. She couldn't gossip about Arcadia, and despite her best efforts she really couldn't bring herself to care about the shooting games that Chris and Carlos loved.
Missy herself was one of two girls on the Wards, and Sophia really didn't count because she was nasty to everyone, especially Missy. A part of her also hoped that a new female Ward might take some of the pressure off of Vista to be the token 'cute' representative, although she wasn't exactly holding hope for that.
The mask alarm sounded, although everyone was already in full costume already. Dennis was slouched into one of the couches in full white plate armor, while Chris was perched precariously on the arm of the couch, fiddling with a circuit breadboard while they waited. Rory and Carlos had been sitting at the table, having a quiet conversation, and both of them stood up as soon as the alarm sounded. Sophia was being an edgelord, leaning against the wall and tossing a blunt crossbow bolt end over end, but she was a fuckhead so who cared about what she did.
Thirty seconds after the mask alarm went off (it could be extended if any of them had called out a manual override to give them more time to put a costume on), the doors to the Wards quarters slid open with a quiet hiss. Miss Militia came in first, giving the assembled Wards a tight smile, and then Missy saw the person following her.
Her first thought was that there had been a mistake, because the woman standing behind Miss Militia didn't look like a kid. She was tall, probably with a good four inches over Miss Militia herself, with a lean build that nonetheless rippled with muscles and strength. She was wearing a leather jacket that had several symbols etched into the surface and a pair of jeans that fed into a pair of combat boots. When she moved, it was with a confidence and surety that seemed out of place for a teenager. Her hair was long and loose, falling in smooth black curls, but her face looked young–what she could see under the metal mask. It was a very understated costume, and the mask really didn't conceal much, which was… an interesting choice, to be sure.
"Hello, Wards," the girl said, her voice a little husky but clearly young. "I'm very excited to be joining all of you."
Rory stepped over, holding out a hand for her. The girl took it, giving him a firm shake that left him wincing a little—no small feat, since Rory had a minor brute package. "We're glad to have you. I'm Triumph."
The girl gave him a faint smile. "Nice to meet you. I'm glad to be here—my last team kinda sucked, to be honest. I'm still working on my cape name, but the PRT really didn't like my first choice. For now you can call me Fifteen."
Miss Militia flinched at that, Missy noticed, but she didn't know what it was about. Carlos stepped up next, holding out his hand. "I go by Aegis. It's nice to meet you, Fifteen." He paused, as if debating whether to go on, and then he said, "Interesting name. Is there a story behind that?"
The girl laughed, and it was actually closer to a giggle. "It's not very deep. That's just how many powers I have." That got a reaction from everyone, mostly expressions of shock and disbelief.
"Bullshit," Sophia cut in, from where she was leaning against the wall. "You're really gonna come in here and pretend to be some kind of discount Eidolon?"
"Not Eidolon, no," Fifteen said, shaking her head, a small smile dancing over her wide lips. "And can I just say, it's wonderful to see you here, Shadow Stalker. Suddenly a lot of Blackwell's behavior makes way more sense."
That got both Sophia and Miss Militia's attention. Sophia opted to growl, settling into a fighting stance, while Miss Militia went rigid and one hand subconsciously went to her weapon. "I'm going to need you to explain that, Fifteen," she said, iron in her voice.
If Fifteen felt at all threatened, she certainly didn't show it. Instead, she stepped forward and collapsed into one of the armchairs in the room. "I know her in my personal life. Between my bloodsight, my sense of smell, and my rage sense, it's pretty clear who she is. Her anger is a… unique flavor. I'm sure Gallant can confirm."
"Go fuck yourself, Hebert," Sophia hissed out. Missy gasped, and she wasn't the only one. Unmasking somebody like that, even if they were ostensibly on the same team, was a big deal. It wasn't the kind of thing you did lightly, but Sophia always had a problem with keeping her head when she was pissed—which was unfortunate, because she was pissed a lot of the time.
Somehow, Fifteen didn't even take offense. She just reached up and touched her mask with her left hand—and then the metal began to flow like it was a liquid, rolling down her hand and forming a braided bracelet around her wrist. "Fuck me yourself, coward," she said, and Missy practically choked on her her own tongue. Then the girl turned to them, and Missy could see that she had bright green eyes that were sparkling with mischief. "Taylor Hebert, out of the mask."
Dennis let out an incredulous laugh. "Damn, girl, you've got some brass ones," he said. "Clockblocker in costume. I'd unmask too, but we've gotta get permission from upstairs first. That was a neat trick, with the metal." He held out his hand for her to shake it.
"Thank you, it's one of my favorites," she said. She went to take his hand and then, at the last moment, her body went rigid and, with a 'thump' of displaced air, she was standing five feet away from him. Small curlers of fire flickered off her body, disappearing rapidly. "Right, Clockblocker. Short term temporal stasis, combined with a reputation as a prankster." She almost sounded like she was talking to herself, an impression not helped by her snickering a few seconds later.
Something was tickling Missy's brain. The girl had mentioned bloodsight and an enhanced sense of smell, plus some kind of rage sense as well. Then she'd had some kind of ferrokinesis, and a short teleport as well. There was something about that combination which Missy felt like she could recognize—beyond just the sheer number of powers on display. Maybe the metal shaping just reminded her a little of Kaiser, and that was setting her on edge? That didn't seem quite right, though.
"Sorry about Clock," Missy found herself saying. She twisted space slightly, reaching the girl with a single step. "We've tried to housebreak him, but it never took. I'm Vista." She ignored Dennis' cry of 'Hey!' from behind her, holding her hand out for a handshake herself.
Fifteen, or Hebert, or Taylor—whatever she preferred—returned Missy's shake. Her hands were surprisingly smooth, without any calluses at all, but that didn't mean much where capes were involved. "It's great to meet you, Vista. I'm a big fan, to be totally honest. Your battlefield control is ridiculous, and you've got a great tactical mind. You have a strong power, but you don't use that as an excuse to rest on your laurels or use it as a crutch. It's inspirational."
Missy felt her cheeks burning. When was the last time she'd received a compliment like that? Actually, had she ever received a compliment like that? Had she ever had someone really acknowledge just how hard she'd worked to figure out new and effective ways to use spatial manipulation to fight and capture opponents? She couldn't remember it ever happening before.
"Oh, uh, thanks," she said, glad that her mask covered the top half of her face. "Your power seems really cool, too." The words just spilled from her mouth, and she kind of wanted to die on the spot.
Taylor gave her a strange expression, almost bittersweet. "Some of them are pretty cool. A lot of them are kind of nasty, though. My original power fell somewhere in the middle–bug control." The girl reached into one of her pockets and pulled out—was that a black widow? Missy recoiled instinctively, but the spider was unnaturally still in the girl's hand. Then it began to do a little dance on the girl's palm, rotating around with a series of little hops. Taylor looked down at it with a bemused smile, then she slipped it back into her pocket.
"How many can you control?" Rory said, his brow furrowing. Trust him to immediately assess the combat potential, while Missy was still dealing with calming her heart down from having a black widow that close to her. It had taken all her control not to expand space between her and the spider.
Taylor shrugged. "Haven't found a numerical limit yet, but everything within a couple blocks' radius," she said casually, like that wouldn't be an insanely strong power on its own.
"Wait, does that mean that you can keep the Wards area bug free?" Dennis said. Trust him to immediately assess how her powers could be used for mundane purposes. She'd once seen him freeze a slice of pizza in mid-air while he was talking just because he'd gotten tired of holding it up—only to forget about it a couple minutes later, until it unfroze and fell down onto the carpet.
"I can, yes," the girl said, smiling faintly. "Well, outside of my rooms, where I'll be keeping some terrariums, but I can keep the rest of the building free of all kinds of pests."
Bug control. Where had Missy heard about bug control, lately? She wracked her brain. There had been some insect-based biotinker in Nevada, she remembered, but they had made giant insects and controlled them with a brain chip. There was that one villain with centipede minions and ties to one of the smaller cartels in Mexico, but that was just a master projection. Oh, and there had been that report of a bunch of bugs acting strangely in Boston, during one of the Teeth's attacks where the… where the Butcher had… died… Oh god, bloodsight and matter manipulation. That teleport, with its distinctive burst of flame. Fifteen. It had been staring them all in the face, all this time.
Missy froze, her heartbeat spiking. Taylor's head snapped toward her, and the girl's eyes widened a little before a sad smile flickered onto her face. "Ah. I guessed that somebody would figure it out. Don't worry, Vista—Militia already knows, and I promise you I mean the Wards no harm. As best we can tell, it's my original power that keeps me sane. I had to spend a while learning how to deal with all those bug senses, and it gives me considerable more multitasking ability than my predecessors."
Rory had clocked that something was wrong, but he didn't make the connection. "What? What is it?" he asked, sounding a little petulant.
Missy desperately tried to get herself under control. She chanced a look toward Miss Militia, who just gave her a nod. So either Militia was compromised, or the PRT had done their due diligence and found that Taylor wasn't actually lying. "Alpha niner two six epsilon," Missy said.
"Phi rho four four eight," Militia replied, completing the day's stranger verification code. "I promise you, Vista, I would not have brought Fifteen here if I believed her to be a threat to any of you."
"What the hell is going on?" Rory asked, looking between the two of them. "Why did you invoke M/S codes, Vista?"
"It's my fault, I believe," Taylor said, with a light one-shouldered shrug. "Vista put two and two together and got four. Or, well, she put fourteen and one together and got Fifteen."
Missy licked her lips. "She's the Butcher," she said, quietly.
A part of her almost expected the girl to deny it, to come up with a good explanation that would make this all make sense and also not mean that Missy was in the same room as one of the most brutal and dangerous capes on the whole continent.
Instead, Taylor just raised her hands, that sly smile on her lips. "Caught," she said, softly.
And then the room exploded into chaos.
~*~
"Stand down!" Miss Militia cried out, her power shifting into two riot shields that she interposed between Taylor and the rest of the Wards, despite the fact that the girl hadn't attacked back once.
Three crossbow bolts, one panicked shout, several emotion blasts, one tinkertech force projectile, and a desperate flying tackle later, Taylor was unharmed and looking at the Wards with one eyebrow raised in an unimpressed expression. "Really?" she said, sounding disappointed and a little incredulous.
Taylor was unharmed, but that couldn't be said for the rest of the room. There were two crossbow bolts in the wall, a crumpled section from Chris' tinkertech blaster, and another crater where Aegis had hit it at full force. The girl–the Butcher, holy shit–had the last crossbow bolt in her hand, and she was spinning it absently just as Stalker had. The couch had been knocked onto its side by Triumph's shout, which had done precisely fuck-all to actually cause the Butcher to so much as stumble. Sophia had phased out of the room at some point, but the rest of the Wards had guilty expressions on their faces. Miss Militia waited until they had all stopped attacking, then said, "We'll be having words about this," and stomped over to check on Aegis.
Triumph looked a weird mix between terrified and ashamed. "I–I'm sorry. I panicked," he said. There was a murmuring of assent from the rest of the wards, all of them staring at Taylor. She had made it look easy, dodging everything like she knew it was coming a second before it did—oh right, didn't the Butcher have some kind of combat thinker danger sense thing? The girl hadn't even used any obvious powers, just ducking and weaving in smooth motions at the right time. She had grabbed Aegis' arm when he passed overhead, using his motion against him to throw him into the wall, but he was well known as an adaptive Brute so that was far from the worst she could have done without actually hurting him.
Taylor's eyes met Missy's and she gave her a look like, 'can you believe this shit?' Out loud, she said, "See, this is why Vista is my favorite. She figured it out and her first response was to actually assess the threat and gauge if Militia was being impersonated. She realized I wasn't acting hostile, and that it would be stupid to initiate hostilities if I was unstable and dangerous."
Once again, Vista felt herself flushing. Even the fact that the person complimenting her was the freaking Butcher didn't take away from the embarrassed pride she felt. "Thanks," she muttered, not making eye contact.
"Of course, Vista," Taylor said, smiling warmly and laying a comforting hand on Vista's shoulder. She gave it a light squeeze, and somehow it didn't feel condescending coming from her. Belatedly, Vista realized that she hadn't even tried to expand the space between them—she hadn't even registered Taylor as a real threat, in that moment. Then the girl turned back to look at Miss Militia. "Hey, Militia, I think I'm gonna take off for now. Give the Wards some time to come to terms with things without me looming over them." She paused, then said, "And uh, is Aegis alright?"
The Brute got on his feet. "I'm fine," he said. "Bit bruised, but I've had worse just sparring with Triumph."
Miss Milita, having finished her field check-up, nodded in agreement. "I don't want you to feel you feel unwelcome, Fifteen, but that might be for the best."
"You got it, M&M," the Butcher said, snapping a lazy salute. At the same time, the bracelet began to melt from her wrist and fell onto her face, forming a mask once more. Then there was a dull pop of displaced air and the girl was gone.
There was a long moment of silence left in her wake, and then Missy said what she was pretty sure everyone had been thinking. "What the actual fuck."
It said something about the state of things that Miss Militia didn't even reprimand her for that.Last edited: 26/3/2025 Award Quote ReplyReport1086ThaviaVex26/3/2025Reader modeNewAdd bookmark Threadmarks Threadmarks Chapter Three - Butchering Her Image New Threadmarks ThaviaVexShe/Her26/3/2025Add bookmark#3Taylor had been looking forward to this meeting for weeks, now. An unusual attitude for a new ward, probably, but Taylor could admit to herself (and the fourteen voices in her head) that she would never really be a 'usual' ward. From what she'd read online, and what the Butchers remembered from the couple of Teeth capes who used to be wards, including Cordyceps herself, the prevailing attitude toward the Image department was one of annoyance and hostility. Taylor probably would have felt the same, before she'd inherited, but considering she had fifteen powers and her whole 'not dying horribly' plan depended rather heavily on her being accepted as a bonafide ward, she was mostly just excited.
The PRT trooper escorting her either didn't know who she actually was, or he had balls of steel, because he seemed more irritated than scared shitless. "Here you go, Fifteen. Good luck—apparently Chambers himself flew out for this."
"Thank you," Taylor replied, smiling slightly. That was exciting—Glenn Chambers had a reputation for a reason. She knocked, and after hearing a distracted 'come in,' she pushed open the door.
The man sitting behind the desk was a study in contrasts. He was overweight, wearing a Hawaiian shirt with little pineapples on it, and his hair was gelled into an unflattering mess. But his eyes, behind his square glasses, were sharp and intelligent, and Taylor's bloodsight showed that he was well-muscled despite his apparent weight. The cup of coffee on the table was at precisely the right place for him to take a sip, and the papers on the desk were in neat stacks within easy reach. This was a man who was fiercely controlled with a precise understanding of image and appearance, yet used that to appear slovenly. He didn't shift as she entered, just looked at her with an assessing gaze, and her evaluation of him raised a notch.
"Fifteen, right?" he asked, as she came in.
"Chambers," she said, giving him a little smile. "It's been a while."
He tilted his head, his expression never changing. "I don't believe we've ever met, young lady," he replied. His voice was nasally and more than a little unpleasant, but she had no doubt that was just as carefully controlled. He was easy to hate and resent, which was likely the point—image would always be an adversary for heroes, especially wards, and it was better that resentment was targeted toward him than their command or the local PRT director.
"Not in this life," Taylor said with a faint smile. "But one of the others in the collective—Cordyceps, or Butcher XI—knew you rather well. You'd know her better as Miss Celia, I believe."
It was always a stupid fucking name, Cordyceps complained in her head. Might as well call me the Fun Guy, for fuck's sake. I like a pun as much as the next gal, but come on.
Chambers blinked a few times, the only sign that he'd actually been surprised. "Ah yes, I remember her. We always wondered what happened to her after she refused to join the Protectorate. It's good to have some confirmation of her fate, even if it's not one I would wish for her."
Go sit on a cactus, you fat fuck, came Cordyceps' uncharacteristically caustic reply, and Taylor gently pushed her down into the swarm. It wasn't an unfair reaction, but it also wouldn't be helpful right now. Taylor usually enjoyed Cordyceps, since the woman was one of the more cheerful Butchers, but she was still a Butcher.
This guy's a weak asshole, Mason complained, only for her to also be pushed down.
Nobody weak lasts as long as he has in the PRT, Sepsis replied. If you were paying attention, you would have noticed the same things as Taylor.
Doesn't make him any less of an eyesore, Basilisk grumbled, and Taylor silently agreed with him.
Out loud, she said, "Yeah, she didn't exactly plan on becoming the Butcher either, but Basilisk was drawing too much heat and she was still enough of a hero to stop him from poisoning Boston's central water supply. But I don't think we're here to discuss old history—you're here to handle my image as a ward."
Chambers nodded. "Exactamundo. I'll admit, Fifteen, I never expected that I'd be brought in to help with the image of the Butcher, but you're not the hardest case I've had to work with."
She raised her eyebrows. "Really?"
He shrugged. "We both know how the game is played, so let's just say that the Cornell Bomber has a mean mouth on her and leave it at that."
Taylor let out a bark of a laugh. "I can believe that. Anyway, I had an idea for my hero persona that I wanted to run past you."
He gave her a considering look. "By all means, although keep in mind that your situation means we're a little more restricted than we'd otherwise be—especially since you're a ward. Even the jacket you're wearing right now is likely too edgy for your persona."
At that, Taylor gave him a wide grin. "Oh, believe me, I know. That's why I looked elsewhere for inspiration. Specifically…"
And then, because she had been a dramatic little shit before Emma had weathered that part of her down, and because becoming the Butcher had been surprisingly great for her self-esteem, Taylor vanished and reappeared with a small burst of flame a few feet behind her chair. She reappeared standing up, one arm posed up toward the sky. "Quiver in fear, villains, and surrender in the name of all that is Gouda! The Mouse Protector is here to to save the day, you'd better brie-lieve it!"
To his credit, Chambers barely flinched at the teleport. He stared at her for a moment, and then, very slowly, a grin grew over his face. "Oh, you do know how the sausage is made, don't you?" he asked.
Taylor grinned back. "Mouse Protector's abilities would let her be an assassin so deadly that it makes Oni Lee look like an absolute chump, but nobody would even think of being afraid of her. It doesn't matter if I seem weirdly strong, as long as everyone thinks I'm just a joke—and I've got enough powers to pull my punches without being put in danger. Plus, it's all the more humiliating for anybody I actually take down."
Chambers nodded a few times, the smile never leaving his lips. "That would have been my first choice, if I thought the Butcher would ever be able to pull it off. It's certainly better than any of the anti-hero pitches that some of the local team were putting forward."
She just scoffed. "Really? Anti-hero pitches? That kind of thing is for established vigilantes who want to keep the element of danger, not reforming villains. Not that I'm exactly a villain, but the point stands. I mean, didn't they learn anything from the Madcap rebrand?"
"The Madcap rebrand that's very, very classified?" Glenn said in a low drawl, raising an eyebrow.
Taylor mimed zipping her lips. "Hmmm? What's a Madcap? Who even is Assault? I'm sure I have no idea of anything at all, Mister Chambers sir."
He let out a bark of laughter. "Alright, I get it. Any ideas on your costume or name?"
She smirked. "Well, I've talked it over with the others in the collective, and I think I've figured out what would piss them off the most, while working within the humor hero brand. I was thinking of going with Bumble, with a bee-themed outfit."
Glenn seemed to consider that for a moment. "I definitely don't hate it. I'll have to do a quick check to make sure nobody else has that name, but I'd be surprised if they do—not many people want to choose names that make them sound incompetent. As for the outfit… one moment." One hand grabbed a blank sheet of paper while the other picked up a pencil. He made a quick sketch, and then slid it over for her to look at. Striped body suit with black tights, a cape shaped like a pair of wings, fuzzy arm and leg warmers that looked like they'd come right out of the 80s, and a mask that covered the top of her face with huge goggles mimicking a bumblebee's eyes and a set of antenna emerging in a curl from the top.
That looks fucking ridiculous! Butcher cried out.
She's making a goddamn joke of the legacy! Devein said, at nearly the same time.
You really want to look like a yoga mom doing a lazy halloween costume? Novocain snapped, fury in his tone.
Taylor took great pleasure in crushing those voices down into the depths. "It's perfect," she said, grinning widely.
He smiled back. "We'll need to get you some training on the comedy side of things, plus how use of force differs for comedy capes as opposed to regular wards. I've got an idea on who I could contact for that, but I'll have to reach out and see. Still, pending any other problems, I don't see any issues with your proposed name and image. I must say, this was a much easier conversation than I had been expecting, given the Butcher's reputation."
"I could say the same for you, Chambers," she replied, and he let out a bark of laughter.
"Fair play, Fifteen—or Bumble, I should say. Now get out of here while I figure out how to tell the Director that she's going to have to deal with the Butcher pulling a Mouse Protector imitation. Your costume should be ready in a couple days." He gestured for her to leave.
Taylor nodded. "Good luck, Chambers."
The trooper gave her a curious look when she exited—she'd known he hadn't left, tracking him through her insects and bloodsight (it wasn't exactly sight, since it manifested in a radius around her, but sight was the closest sensation). "That didn't take long," he said.
"We had similar ideas about my image," she replied.
"That's a first," he muttered, but her sensitive hearing caught it. Yes, she could see how someone like Vista or Stalker would despise Image, and Glenn Chambers particularly. For herself, though, with nearly a century of cumulative experience in the cape scene, well. She understood the importance of image, and she remembered how much reputation Absinthe had lost when he was soundly trounced by Mouse Protector, back in the day. Yes, she understood Glenn Chambers very well, and she was more than happy to play his game if it meant she could better separate her appearance as Bumble from the Butcher.
She whistled a little tune from Quarrel's childhood as she dutifully followed the trooper, enjoying Frenzy and Hazard's howling laughter and the simmering anger from Butcher, Devein, Novocain, and Quarrel. Taylor couldn't wait for her costume to be done.