Volume 9: Eclosion

Issue 7: The Bell Tower

Florian Reyes Honeywell

By Roach

Stagehand unlocked the door.

We had gathered in the school's basement, where the bell tower's entrance now opened before us. Apparently, Stagehand had been “borrowing” the janitor’s keys for some time now, as he explained yesterday when he first introduced us to the tower’s back door.

Spindle shifted uncomfortably next to me. Beneath her mask, I glimpsed how her eyes darted up and down the long, dark corridor. I hadn’t spent much time down here, aside from during the doppelgänger incident… Although any signs of their webbed—and, I couldn’t help but think, hive-like—cocoon had long since been cleaned up, the eerie quiet still sent an alert buzz through the swarm.

When Camilo had sent the picture of Vorpal's silhouette—poised at the top of the tower—we had quickly grouped together and changed into costumes. I had a hard time believing that Vorpal would also happen to be in possession of the janitor's keys; it seemed more likely that they had climbed into the tower from the rooftop…

But why?

As we started walking up the long, winding staircase, I could only think of two reasons.

One, Vorpal was looking for us.

Two, they were looking for Reticle.

Three, they were doing both.

But I still didn't quite get why they were here, as we had been planning to meet up again tonight anyways… Which told me that there must be something more urgent going on to warrant a visit to Chapel.

We reached the top of the staircase. Stagehand unlocked the final door and pushed it open, revealing a massive golden bell above us. We were in the bell tower’s cupola, where whoever operated the bell could stand—although, considering that it was all mechanized, no one actually used it. The exterior yellow-blue mosaic continued inward, and was just as beautiful inside if you looked past the copious amounts of dust and pigeon poop. Vorpal stood with their back turned to us, staring intently out the window—apparently unbothered by the strong breeze blowing in. Although a couple of pigeons watched us from where they sat perched on the beams, the vigilante didn't appear to have noticed us.

Stagehand broke the silence. “Looking for something?” he said.

Vorpal whipped around, reaching for the hilt resting at their hip. In one swift motion, they pointed it our direction. A shimmering white blade took form, and—within the blink of an eye—grew to be about two feet long.

“Careful. You might hurt someone with that,” Spindle said, rolling her eyes.

“You could have knocked,” Vorpal simply said, their blade vanishing as they stowed the hilt back on their hip.

“Well, I thought we were invited,” Stagehand said as he strolled into the cupola.

Vorpal eyed him carefully. “I was looking for you,” they admitted.

“This couldn’t wait for tonight?” Spindle asked.

Vorpal shrugged. “Made a bit of a breakthrough… Figured we needed a change of plan.”

Stagehand, Spindle, and I exchanged a look. When Vorpal didn’t elaborate, Spindle spoke, “So… Are you going to spend the entire day just standing there?” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Spill.”

“Alright,” Vorpal said. “You know those drugs you lost?”

My mind flashed back to last night. While we survived Reticle’s attacks, that was a far cry from victory. In the end, she still got what she wanted: a van stashed with drugs, lost in the cover of nightfall.

“What about it?” Spindle glowered.

“I spent all last night…” Vorpal started, as they paced back and forth in front of the window, “...and all day today, trying to track them down.” The vigilante then came to a halt, and turned to look out the window. My eyes traced their gaze, to the city sloping down Chapel Hill, with its colorful streets and buildings of the Mission District…

I turned my eyes back to Vorpal, studying them more closely. In the light filtering through the windows and mosaics, I noticed the scratches and tears scattered across their black clothes, hugging their lithe frame. I hadn’t thought about it yesterday—and it was hard to tell, thanks to their costume—but Vorpal really didn’t seem… old at all. I was taller than them, although that didn’t really mean much. How could they spend all day looking for the drugs? Didn’t they have school or something?

“Well, did you find anything?” Spindle asked, her tone increasingly impatient.

“I thought they were gone for good…” I admitted.

“Oh, really?” Vorpal turned their attention to me. “What do you think happened to the drugs, Hive? Do you think they just… vanished into thin air?”

A wave of self-consciousness washed over me. In hindsight, I wished I had tagged some of my bees on the van before it had a chance to make its getaway. But, to be honest, I hadn’t really thought much at all about the drugs in the moment. I had only wanted answers from Reticle.

Before I could decide whether Vorpal’s question was rhetorical or not, Stagehand interjected, “Obviously, they need to go to the dealers.”

Vorpal faced him now, cocking their head quizzically. “Sure,” they said, “but you’re missing a step.”

“Well…” Stagehand sighed. “They had crates of drugs in that van, right? That’s too much to give to their street dealers. I’m guessing a chunk of their dealers aren’t even proper Dragon’s Teeth.” He leaned against the wall, and propped his chin against his hand as he appeared to think it over. “That tells me that they were delivering to some kind of… distribution hub or something. A place where they can process the drugs, split them up… Then distribute them around the city.”

Vorpal nodded vigorously while Spindle and I only shared a surprised look. Although Stagehand’s argument sounded perfectly plausible, I didn’t think I would have been able to reason my way there with logic alone. Where had he picked up on this stuff?

“Exactly,” Vorpal said—ignoring Spindle and I—“and, since we busted their hub…”

“They have to take the drugs somewhere else,” Stagehand finished.

I had a feeling Vorpal was finally smiling under their mask as they paced back and forth. Stagehand’s face, as always, was entirely hidden behind the Comedy mask—not giving anything away. He didn’t even glance toward me and Spindle as we continued to stare at him.

“Thing is,” Vorpal said excitedly while twirling the hilt between their fingertips, “they must be panicking right now, thinking they have a mole or something… Like one of their dealers ratted them out. They’re not bringing it to a second hub just yet.”

“You think they’re trying to lay low?” Stagehand asked.

Vorpal nodded. “I bet that van’s parked in the garage of some random townhouse somewhere in the city. A safehouse no one but the higher ranks of Dragon’s Teeth know about.”

“And you found this place?” I said. My bees writhed inside of me with an anxious excitement, momentarily making me forget about Stagehand’s strange familiarity with drug dealers.

“Well…” Vorpal paused their playful fiddling with the hilt. “Not exactly, no…”

Spindle cocked her head toward them. She strode over to the other side of the cupola, casting her gaze back down into Chapel High’s atrium. Everyone was supposed to be in class—ourselves included—so the atrium was more or less deserted. “Then why show your face?” she asked, sounding more annoyed than anything else. “You just wanted us to know you’re useless?”

The venom in her voice caught me off guard. It was more than Amber’s typically snarky, patronizing comments—it was plain hostility.

Vorpal visibly tensed up as they narrowed their brown eyes at her. Their grip tightened around the hilt.

Before either of them could say anything more, I interjected, “Don’t mind her.” I shot Spindle a warning look as I stepped in between the two of them. With a glance toward Vorpal, I said, “I assume you do have a plan though…”

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The vigilante’s glare lingered on Spindle for a moment longer, before they turned their attention to me. “I do,” Vorpal replied, matter-of-factly. “Just because I don’t know where their safehouse is doesn’t mean those drugs are gone for good. Drugs that don’t sell are useless to Dragon’s Teeth, so they’ll want to get them on the street sooner rather than later.”

“They’re gonna get moved again,” Stagehand said.

Vorpal nodded. “Dragon’s Teeth will move them somewhere—and, it has to be a public place, too. Somewhere a lot of dealers can go in and out without drawing any attention. And it has to be somewhere different than last time, since they know we know about Linghun.”

“Do you think they will use the same van?” Stagehand asked.

“Maybe. Probably. It’s not exactly distinctive,” Vorpal said. “But there’s only so many places in Dragon’s Teeth turf that could serve as a distribution hub. If I keep up a good patrol, I should be able to catch them when they move the drugs again.”

“So why are you here then, instead of patrolling?” Stagehand asked.

Vorpal shifted slightly. “I…” They paused as their gaze flitted between the three of us. “I… can’t beat Reticle on my own. If I see something on patrol, I might need help at a moment’s notice. I can’t afford to wait for tonight…”

There was an awkward pause as we stood looking at each other. “So… Do you want our numbers or something?” Spindle finally asked, stifling an uncomfortable chuckle until Vorpal pulled a pink phone from a compartment on their belt.

“Yes,” they said simply, proffering it to the three of us.

We wordlessly glanced at each other. Spindle was the first to move. She peeked at Vorpal’s phone, before typing something into her own. “There,” she said. “You’re part of the superhero group chat.”

Vorpal rolled their eyes when she said superhero, but only replied, “Great.” Joylessly, they took their phone back. “Now, what’s our plan of attack?”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

Vorpal raised an eyebrow. “If I find those drugs, we’re probably going up against Reticle again, right? Unless you had luck finding her here?”

We all turned our attention to Spindle, who shifted uncharacteristically awkwardly under our collective gaze. “She’s not here,” she said shortly, not offering any elaboration.

“Okay, then we’ll need to plan to fight her out there,” Vorpal said, tilting their head in the direction of the window. “So, how are we taking her down?”

“Taking her down?” Spindle echoed, a note of alarm in her voice. “I-I…” she stammered as all our eyes darted back to her. “I thought we just wanted to ask her some questions.”

“Seriously?” Vorpal laughed. “No. We’re taking her down.”

I was surprised when Stagehand nodded. “We can’t let her get all those drugs to the street,” he said.

“Glad to see one of you has some sense,” Vorpal said. They turned their gaze to me. “What about you, Bee-Boy?” I frowned underneath my beekeeper’s veil, but let them continue without commenting on the nickname. “Are you Team-Do-Something,” they said, motioning to Stagehand and themself before continuing, “or Team-Fuck-Around?” Now, they motioned to Spindle.

“I…” I hesitated as I mulled it over. After yesterday, the thought of taking down someone like Reticle seemed like a herculean task—could we really turn it around, if we teamed up with Vorpal? “I just want to know why she’s here, at Chapel,” I muttered. “If we have to take her down to get answers, that’s what we need to do,” I continued, although I still couldn’t wrap my head around how we would do that.

“I think you know you will have to beat those answers out of her,” Vorpal said.

I didn’t say anything back.

“Alright, great.” They clapped their hands together. “Three votes for ‘beat the shit out of Reticle.’” Vorpal’s cheery tone gave me the feeling that they would be happy to proceed without Spindle. I glanced at my teammate, who only stared out the window—seemingly in her own world.

Vorpal continued, “Now we just need to figure out how to do that…”

“Well,” Stagehand started, “Reticle saw through my illusions… somehow. I should still be able to distract any of her ‘minions,’ but against her? I’m pretty much useless.”

“Maybe it’s that helmet she wears, with all those eyes,” I suggested. “Could they be cameras?” That might explain why his powers hadn’t affected her, if she was looking through cameras…

“My illusions affect the mind, not the eyes,” Stagehand said. “Sure, she could review the footage later, but as long as she’s in my range? I can manipulate how she sees me, at least in the moment—cameras or no cameras. There’s something else…”

“The swarm wasn’t doing much, either,” I murmured. “She has some kind of… force field, I think. Like the one we saw at the Extinction Refuge. I won’t be able to get my bees close.”

“My strikes didn’t exactly hurt her, either…” Vorpal murmured, before interrupting their own train of thought. “Wait, Extinction Refuge? Is this… Is this that school from the news? The one whose field trip nearly ended up as dinosaur chow?”

“Yeah, that was us,” Stagehand said, testily. “‘Dinosaur chow.’”

“Jesus.” Vorpal shook their head. “It’s just one thing after another for you guys, huh?”

“You don’t know the half of it,” I muttered.

“Either way, our odds aren’t fantastic,” Vorpal admitted. “At least I can keep those nets from causing any problems,” they said, fiddling with their hilt at their hip. “I’ll keep you all on your feet this time. That’s better than nothing.”

“Still doesn’t solve the problem of the force field,” Spindle said sharply.

Vorpal glared at her. “What about you? Can you do anything other than bitch and whine?”

Spindle glared back. “Use your brain. If you or the bees can’t penetrate the force field, we’re all fucked no matter what. Especially if she starts shooting real bullets, like the one that nearly killed you. And could have killed Hive. Or did you forget already?”

“Can’t you trigger a bond if that happens?” I asked. Yesterday, Reticle’s nets had incapacitated her… But, as long as Vorpal’s blade prevented that, she should be able to use her powers more freely.

Spindle only looked down. “I can’t guarantee the bond will be strong enough,” she said.

“Bullshit.” Stagehand straightened up from where he had been leaning against the wall. “We had only been racing against Bōsō for, what, five minutes? And the bond was plenty strong, then.”

The vitriol in his voice surprised me, but—at the same time—he had a point. We had developed a sufficiently strong bond with Bōsō to hurt him after a single encounter… Why shouldn’t the same be true for Reticle?

Spindle glowered at Stagehand. “Yeah, well, maybe it will work then!” Her sudden exclamation startled the pigeons above us, which bristled and cooed in alarm. “Guess we’ll find out! Let’s cross our fingers that no one dies trying.”

An uneasy silence filled the cupola as Spindle and Stagehand stared each other down. In the sudden quiet, I could hear the soft clamor of a hundred voices from the school’s atrium. The period must have ended, and I idly mused that I would be skipping two classes pretty soon if we didn’t wrap this meeting up. I cleared my throat, “Alright,” I said, not sure why I seemed to have been appointed mediator. “We need something more reliable than a bond to fall back on… Any ideas?”

Spindle shook her head. “We have to bypass the force field, obviously,” she grumbled. “That’s our biggest problem.”

“She’s right,” Vorpal said. “I don’t know how Reticle can see through your ‘illusions…’ But, if we want to hurt her, we need to bring down her defenses.”

“The shield needs power, right?” I asked.

Vorpal cocked their head. “Her whole armor does… I mean, she doesn’t have powers in the same way we do—it’s all wrapped up in her tech.”

“If we can figure out where her energy source comes from… And somehow target it…” Stagehand mumbled, seemingly to himself.

“Vorpal,” I said, “do you think your blade can penetrate the shield?”

Vorpal shrugged. “Maybe?”

“It only has to penetrate enough to hit the energy source…”

Vorpal snapped their fingers. “Even if I don’t hit her, I might be able to get the blade through enough of the field to cut something important. The battery or whatever it is…”

Stagehand nodded. “There’s no way she can stay on two feet with that crazy metal armor if it doesn’t have power.”

“How are we going to do that if all she has to do to win is take out Vorpal?” Spindle dully asked.

“We distract her,” Stagehand said. “Keep her on her toes, second-guessing herself.”

“And how do we do that?” Spindle asked, sounding increasingly annoyed. “Your illusions are useless, right?”

We all fell silent for a moment. Outside the bell tower, I heard a rumble as a Muni train came to a halt at the stop in front of the school.

I had no idea why Spindle was acting so… cautious. While Reticle’s bullets were a legitimate source for concern, it was far from the only lethal thing we had encountered so far. If I were to describe Amber, the first thing that came to mind wouldn’t be risk-aversive. I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more to her behavior. But, either way, she had a point. However Reticle did it, she could see through Stagehand’s immaterial illusions. We needed a more physical distraction…

“Beelusions,” I said, suddenly.

“Huh?” Vorpal said.

“Great. Hive’s lost it, too,” Stagehand chuckled.

“I’m serious,” I said. “Beelusions. I can have my bees create… I don’t know, blobs that look human-shaped? Something that can obscure us, at least… Unless she has X-ray vision, she shouldn’t be able to see past it.”

Nobody seemed convinced that she didn’t have X-ray vision, but nobody offered any better ideas, either. “Alright.” Stagehand shrugged. “It’s worth a shot. Better than sitting on our asses looking pretty.” He shot Spindle a look.

I expected her to snap at him, but—before she could say anything—I heard something shatter from the ground below, followed by a cacophony of screams. And, in the midst of the screams—louder than all of them—an inhuman cry pierced the air.

We all froze, glancing at each other, before rushing to the edge of the cupola. We peered down into the school’s atrium, where we could see a crowd of our classmates scattering before a large, alien shape. Shards of glass surrounded the ground around it—presumably having come from the nearby, shattered window. While I couldn’t see the thing too clearly from the few hundred feet we were above it, it looked kind of like a horse… Albeit one with six legs and mottled, dark bluish skin. The legs appeared almost segmented, like an insect’s, but it wasn’t the legs that caught my attention. At the end of an equine neck sat an oval-shaped head, topped by a single long, blade-like horn.

“What the fuck is that thing?” Vorpal gasped, looking down on the monster with wide, horrified eyes.

Stagehand laughed bitterly. “Welcome to Chapel High.”