"There's still something off about him…" Lisa says, opening up another tablet and powering it on. "You know, like he's got PTSD or something. He's always had that, as if he fought in a war or went through something… I used to chalk it up to his trigger. You know, the Worst Day Ever and all that."
"Worst Day Ever?" I connect another tablet and let one of the extra-large ants from the Five Fingers breeding program access it. It's difficult for a person to control something shaped differently from their own body—at first. With time, though, you adapt, and you can manipulate an excavator's bucket as easily as your own hand. The Butchers who have already controlled ants get the hang of it pretty quickly, but still, I bred larger ants so they wouldn't complain that new tabs keep opening every time one scurries across the screen. Each ant represents a human palm, two ants—two hands. Sure, they've got six legs instead of five fingers, but more is better than less, right?
"You don't know?" Lisa glances at me quickly, brushing the bangs out of her face. "Ah, I see. You do know."
"I know. But probably not everything. I know that here, a 'trigger' is some event that sets off the process of these brain tumors starting up… those growths, Corona Pollenta, Corona Gamma, that distinguish parahumans from everyone else. They call it the Worst Day Ever, because almost always it's something traumatic—psychologically or physically, but usually more psychological. So you could just stick a 'PTSD' label across every parahuman's forehead. I wonder, what kind of trauma did Glory Girl have? I get that psychological trauma is pretty subjective—one person's soup is too bland, another's pearls are too small, but still. She looks like a pretty happy girl," I muse. There I go, letting myself be fooled by appearances again. Glory Girl shines with happiness and self-confidence, but so does Tattletale—just more mischievous. She radiates the same confidence, plus a touch of smugness, being the smartest in the room. But that says nothing about what they've been through. And me—as Taylor, that locker was hell, pure hell, a real nightmare, but to an outsider—what, some girls played a prank and locked a classmate in a locker. Who'd know she has raging claustrophobia, that she's scared of bugs and filth? If you had to choose between a jungle, bullets flying, enemies trying to kill you, a friend writhing nearby holding in his guts mixed with mud, or that locker with trash and bugs, Taylor would choose the jungle any day."
"You look like a pretty happy girl yourself. Especially when you're eating someone with your cockroaches," Tattletale points at me. "And hey, I'm not judging. What happened to you—it's not who you are. Some people get broken by PTSD, some people just deal with it. Glory, you, me—we dealt with it. Butcher One, the original, never recovered and went on a revenge spree against the world. My ex-boss…" she puts special emphasis on 'ex-', "he dealt with it. Twice. Maybe more. He's a rare bastard, Tay-Tay, please be careful around him. I'm smart, but even I can't predict what he's scheming. And he's always scheming. If he let me go, it's a trap. If he wants to speak with you, it's a trap. Just kill him, okay? It's easy for you. Zzzap—he's on the floor, writhing from your neurotoxin, then you can eat him with your bugs."
"You're pretty bloodthirsty, young lady," I say as I type the Wi-Fi password. There are five network access points running in my house right now, all paid for at max speed. If anything gives me away as a Tinker, it's probably this. But whatever. The Butchers don't bother me too much, but I do feel a lot calmer when they're kept busy, the general emotional background is just easier to handle. We're not just tied by an infochannel, which would be bad enough—some people can focus on what's important, tune out the rest. No, Butchers and I, we're joined at an emotional level. No yoga master could do anything for that, which is why everyone eventually becomes the Butcher. But I can offload emotions to the Swarm, so I'm not worried. Still, being an emotionless machine all the time isn't comfy either. So when my Butchers are occupied, satisfied with life, and mostly content, I feel good too. That's why I didn't run off, but set the meeting with Wyvern for tomorrow. Noon, neutral ground, Somers Bar. I'm taking Tattletale along—might as well let her have some fun.
"I'm not bloodthirsty. I'm practical," she replies, kneeling down to unpack another tablet. "Wyvern is Wyvern. He always squirms his way out and lands on his feet. If you negotiate with him, he'll get what he wants."
"Such little faith in me, the Great and Terrible Taylor. I can always eat him later. A bad peace is better than a good quarrel. You're worried he'll play me for a fool? Then what are you here for? How does it go…" I strike a theatrical pose, hands on my hips: "'I have slain the villain, I've set you free, and now, oh maiden, I must marry thee!'"
"You haven't slain the villain. You're negotiating with him," Tattletale points out, "and I really worry he'll end up winning. Sure, you're nearly invincible, you've got insane destructive and killing potential, you'd become a natural disaster if pushed. But you have morals, you're not a psychopath."
"And since when is that a flaw? It's thanks to that you're even alive and well, Lisa. If I were a psycho, your life would've ended in that alley by the dumpsters," I remind her. "And I even put up with your questionable sense of humor. You really do test my patience, Lisa."
"That's just it, Tay-Tay." Lisa sighs. "You're too good for the Butcher. Not that I'm complaining. It's just—I'm a manipulator, Tay. I manipulate you. I play on the loneliness you felt after your best friend betrayed you. I play on the fact that you'll never betray your friends, the ones you consider friends—because you've been betrayed. I use your hatred for bullies, because you've been bullied. I play with your feelings, Tay-Tay. And I'm telling you all this just so you… yeah, make exactly those eyes. So you'll decide you won't dump me, you won't kill me. See how easy you are to manipulate? A few words, and I can do whatever I want around you, and you're not going to eat me with your Swarm or paralyze me with a pain jolt. What's more—you're already ready to comfort me, to say it's nothing, everyone manipulates everyone and that I just have a little more info than most. You're about to pity me! It's amazing, Tay-Tay, how you can be so unbelievably cruel and impossibly gentle at the same time. I'm scared Wyvern will use your weaknesses against you. I'm scared he'll succeed."
"I see." I hook up the last tablet and let two large ants loose; they scurry off and start exploring the screen, tapping out letters in a search bar. I get up and dust off my knees.
"You know, Lisa-Tattletale, you amaze me too. So smart and so foolish at the same time," I say, turning to her. "No wonder you're called Thinkers, not Sages. Everything I do—I do because I want to. I like you, and I put up with your jokes, your jabs, your arrogance, your need to be the smartest in the class. Cross the line and I'll smack your ass. If I cross your line, you'll get mad. That's what human relationships are, Lisa. You manipulate me, I manipulate you. People just don't call it manipulation."
"And what do people call it?" Lisa squints, stepping back against the wall and folding her arms over her chest. "Don't you dare say…"
"Normal people call it a relationship, Lisa. Just a relationship between people. If I give in to your manipulation, it's not because you're such a mastermind villain who can read me and control me—it's because I let you. Maybe I don't mind, maybe I actually want it too. Either way, I prefer people to talk to me than force me. But… you're not the only one in the room who can read people, Lisa-Tattletale." I squint back at her. "I can do it too, just not as well as you."
"Oh, Lady Bug, Poison Ivy, the Fifteenth of her line—can read me. How terrifying. So what's written on my forehead?" Tattletale cocks her head, again reminding me of a curious little bird in a cage.
"It says you're scared," I reply. "And really, you're not scared of me. You know me well enough, you know I wouldn't hurt you. What you fear is the future—the Big Game. I don't know what exactly you see coming, but it terrifies you. Sometimes it's a curse, being too smart, huh?"
"It's always a curse," Lisa mutters under her breath. "Yeah, I'm scared. If only you knew, Taylor…"
"Sadly, I don't," I shrug. "I'm not that smart. Grant a bird singing in the sky a crumb of human wisdom and she'll drop dead to the ground at once. For in much wisdom is much grief, and he who increases knowledge increases sorrow."
"Ecclesiastes. Book of Solomon. Well-read, Tay-Tay."
"When your mom's a literature teacher, you get well-read by default," I smirk. "There are books I can recite by heart. No fairy tales at bedtime for me; I got Alexander Pope's Essays, Joseph Campbell's Hero with a Thousand Faces, James George Frazer's Golden Bough. I grew up with those."
"Your mom and Ecclesiastes are right. Like Paul wrote to the Corinthians: 'For the wisdom of this world is foolishness to God.'" Tattletale's face is lit by a sad smile. "'For with much wisdom comes much vexation; the more knowledge, the more grief. The wiser you become, the more you lament being subject to sin and far from virtue.' Know where that's from?"
"Do I look like a theology major? I just remember bits and pieces. Don't show off in front of the whole class, Lisa Wilbourn." I finally finish fiddling with the tablets, stack them on the shelf, and stand, leaning against the wall next to Tattletale. I feel good—the Butchers are finally busy, my head is pleasantly empty. Peace.
"That's Saint Jerome of Stridon. I could quote you thousands of wise sayings from humanity's archives, but none of it changes the fact, Taylor Hebert, that you and I are starting a dangerous game together. Until now, we still had a chance. Tay-Tay, let's run away. You, me, your dad. We'll find a quiet place by a lake, a small house, some beehives. I have money, you've got your ants and wasps. We'll wake up with the sunrise and see the sunsets together. And on the porch, Danny will sit in a rocking chair, reading, watching TV, and smoking his pipe. You barely had any time with him, right? If you want, I'll find him a partner: someone as lonely, good-hearted, and charming as he is. In the evenings, we'll sit on the porch and enjoy silent summer sunsets, hot tea with honey and homemade bread. My hand in yours, and the sunsets will be the most beautiful sunsets in all the world. Quiet and beautiful, Taylor. No one will find us there, and if they do, you'll stand up and say a firm 'no' and let the world go wherever it wants—just not with us. And I already know what you'll answer..." she sighs. "Remember this, Tay-Tay. Someday I'll remind you of this conversation. That we had a chance. One day you'll regret you didn't listen, didn't pack a sleeping bag and leave with me."
"Do what you want—you'll regret it anyway, right?" I tease, watching her bite her lip. "I… probably don't fully get what you mean, but still—I can't just run. This is my dad. This is my home. This is my city."
"And it's your country. Your planet. Your universe. And that responsibility will crush you sooner or later, Tay-Tay. You'll fight the Endbringers. The Endbringers! Do you know what the survival rate is for those who fight them? In every battle, almost a quarter of the responders die. Two fights and the odds are fifty-fifty, Taylor! You're not Alexandria, no matter how tough you are as the Butcher. Even Alexandria has her weakness. Wyvern will talk your ear off, convince you, make you do what he wants—I know him. There's no defense from him, he'll crawl right into your head. Kill him. Don't let him sink his fangs in, poison your mind. I manipulate you, but he'll do it ten times better. Okay, you convinced me—I'm not the smartest girl in the class, just because he was always a step ahead of me. You get that? With all my powers, I never could get away from him—you do realize that?! You think I'm smart, but think about it—Wyvern was always a step ahead. I don't know what his power is, I've never even seen his face, and his phone voice is always distorted by his defenses. But he doesn't miss. Ever. Understand? He doesn't miss. Even you—as strong and as smart as you are, you can process massive amounts of information, but he... look—he knew you were ready to kill him!"
"I haven't even told you that yet, and—"
"Exactly! That snake found out and called me—to set me free. Why? Because otherwise, you would have killed him. Isn't that terrifying? That bastard, he always gets away with it! Do you know why? Because he knows what will happen and how! I tried deceiving him, manipulating him, anyone else would have fallen for it, but not him! I'm afraid he'll bend you to his will, and my power says that's exactly what'll happen! Taylor! We still have two choices—kill him, or we can run. Fine, you don't want to get your hands dirty—let me kill him. I won't hesitate, Tay-Tay. I've wanted this for ages. Let me do it, just this once." Lisa pushes off the wall and turns to me, her face flushed, breathing heavy.
"Shhh..." I say, pulling her into a hug. "Hey, it's okay. Don't be scared. He won't hurt you anymore, I promise. If I need to kill him—I'll do it. Don't worry."
"Just don't talk to him, please," Lisa raises her face, and I realize I'm taller than her, she's looking up at me. "Please. Not a word. He's… a manipulator. He's dangerous. Not just for his powers, but for who he is. He's smart, cold, fanatical, patient." She pushes herself from my chest, breaking out of my arms. "Ah, but what am I saying? You've already decided, I can tell! You're gonna talk to him anyway, aren't you? No matter what I said?"
"Do what you want—you'll regret it anyway," I reply. "If I'm going to regret it anyway, and trouble's waiting for me whatever I do—how could I not go, if they're waiting for me there?"
"You're hopeless, Taylor. Remember you had a chance, you idiot." Lisa crosses her arms. "We had a chance to run from all this." She bites her lip again, hard enough to draw blood.
"I promise I'll be careful. And if Wyvern tries to manipulate me, I'll kill him," I say.
"Hah! You? You won't even notice!" Tattletale blurts out. "You're like a tree—straight and strong on the outside, soft and squishy inside. You won't even realize he's set up house in your head, treating it like his own and shitting right in your brain!"
"You know… speaking of 'regret it anyway'… since I'm going to regret it… and before you go…" I pull her to me. Lisa's lips are plush, soft, and her kiss tastes faintly of blood, iron-sweet.
"You're an idiot," she tells me as soon as we pull apart. "You just don't get it…"
"That's what I need you for. To understand."
"I don't have a boss anymore, I could just leave," Lisa objects weakly, making herself comfortable in my arms.
"You could," I agree with a smile. In my head, the Butchers start whistling and catcalling, looking up from their tablets. They're loving this. They start giving tips on what to do with Lisa and I have to spread their attention out among the cockroaches again.
"And never come back. Throw out my phone. You're gonna get in… you already have. Why am I even here? I could just disappear!"
"You could."
"I still can!"
"You can…"
"You! I can't stand you!"
"Yeah, yeah. I love you too, Lisa."