“So that's it,” I said grimly, my shoulders slumping slightly.

There was a long pause as the collected heroes and Wards digested what I'd told them. The truth: that apparently my mom had connections to E88 that I didn't know about. They already knew about the ambush, so I'd skipped that in my little part of this debriefing. The seats were hardly packed, but Gallant, Flechette, and Vista were here representing the Wards, with Miss Militia and Assault for the Protectorate. And at the head of the table...

“This is obviously quite serious,” Director Piggot said with a frown. “And you don't know anything about your mother's connections to the Empire?” I shook my head.

“She worked for some pharmaceutical company,” I answered. “Not MedHall though, I don't think anyway.”

“Anything more subtle?” Miss Militia asked, more kindly than Piggot but still with an edge. “Odd symbols or peculiar family sayings?” I grimaced.

“Freya knows,” I muttered under my breath, nodding. “I didn't...put it together.” To be fair, I'd only known the woman for three days, three weeks...and sixteen years.

“That's not your fault, Amaranth,” Gallant reassured me. “We didn't either.” That earned him a glare from Piggot, but did sort of help.

“Well,” I began after a moment of quiet. “I want to stick to our agreement, and I sure as hell don't want to join whatever's left of the 88.” I'd die before I was a Nazi again. “I did okay in the fight, I think, and I want to keep helping.” I shrugged, it was as good a plea as any.

“Well,” Gallant began after another, longer pause. “I can vouch for her doing better than okay in the fight. I saw what happened to Hookwolf.”

“What happened to Hookwolf?” Vista said, perking up.

“Amaranth nearly tore his jaw off,” Gallant replied. I could hear the grin in his voice.

“My projection punched four holes in his mouth,” I explained, shooting him a look. “They healed as soon as he spat me out.”

“I saw them punch clean through,” he countered. “You did more than you think.”

“She followed every order I gave her,” Assault added. “Better than some of the soldiers. And standing her ground against Hookwolf...I'd rather have her on our side.” Not exactly a glowing review, but at least it was in my favour.

“She has been very cooperative,” Miss Militia said, as if thinking aloud.

“We'll discuss this at length soon,” Piggot said with a note of finality. “Your next patrol is scheduled in...”

“Ten hours,” Miss Militia offered.

“We'll decide before then.”

I was dismissed with an escort and the heroes did...whatever, decide my fate, I guess. I was marched back to my room, then left to myself as usual. I pulled my balaclava off as soon as the door clicked shut, wincing at the scrape on my wounded nose. I headed straight to the bathroom and...yup, missing the tip. Not enough to be too gory, but it would probably grow back weird. Oh well, not like I'd been much to look at, here or the last life.

I stripped and stepped in the shower, blasting myself with steaming water for the twenty seconds I could bear it, then shut it down and rapidly toweled myself off. Fuck I hated that. I went to the dresser and changed into a pair of PRT issued sweats, two sizes too big, perfect. I sat down on the couch, curling up for a brief, cozy moment. Then my stomach growled and ruined everything.

With a sigh, I went to the kitchen and poked through the cupboards. I'd at least been given the flour and yeast I'd asked for, along with a sadly small portion of sugar. They'd also left me a bread pan so, when I wasn't wiped from ten to twelve hour shifts every day, I could bake. That I was looking forward to; making my apartment smell like fresh bread was a joy that always soothed me...and god I could use that.

I stared at the ingredients, tapping my foot. It was just fifteen minutes of work, but then it had to rise, rise again, then finally bake and cool. Two and a half hours, most likely, which wasn't actually too bad. I'd have another ten hours where I could get four maybe of sleep, then...chill. Huh. If I didn't panic or just sort of...crash, maybe I could actually see about doing something. Talk to the Wards, get an update on my status, something productive.

I smiled and grabbed the flour, yeast, and sugar. I opened another cupboard and found a set of measuring cups, perfect. I even had my usual recipe for plain old white bread memorized: three cups flour, one of water, half cup of butter (overkill, but delicious), two teaspoons of yeast, one and a half tablespoons sugar, one of salt. I had a single pound of butter, sadly, so I'd have to do with a bit extra water instead.

I got to work right away with practiced ease, grabbing bowls and utensils as I thought of them. Yeast in the bowl first, then sugar, then warm water. Mix it, then add a cup of flour, then salt, mix again, more flour, mix. The dough got firmer and I grunted as I forced the fork I was using to blend it properly. After a minute, I gave up and started working it by hand.

I stopped once it was properly mixed, then wiped the counter before dusting it with dough. I set the dough on the counter and began kneading, and kneading, and kneading. It was too bad I hadn't thought to grab my phone, some music would have been nice. Not Justin Bieber because no, but surely I had something good on there and just got unlucky. Oh well, too late now anyway.

Once it was ready, nice and elastic, I grabbed another bowl and...shit, no grease. Really, they didn't have vegetable oil in this city? Well, fine. I dusted the outside of the dough with some extra flour, then set it into the clean bowl. I wet a cloth with warm water and covered it, noting the time on the fridge clock. I washed my hands, then the utensils and the bowl, setting them all out to dry. I headed to bed and picked up my phone, setting a timer for fifty minutes. It'd be fully risen by then.

I then fell backwards and straight asleep.

----------------------------------------

I woke up at the insistence of my alarm. My heart raced in panic for a second, before the yeasty scent of fresh bread caught my nose. Right, right, it was fine. I hadn't expected to crash like that, but I guess I needed it. God bless baking for letting you do shit like this. I rose from the bed and wiped my mouth before returning to the kitchen.

After dusting the counter again, I took the dough out and pounded it down, then formed the loaf. It was plenty dry as it was, probably wouldn't stick to the pan, so I put it in, covered it with the cloth, and once more did the dishes. I washed my hands and headed right back to bed, setting another timer for forty-five minutes. I was about to lay back down for another nap, when a knock came at the door.

I grumbled and rose, grabbing my kerchief and tying it around my face. I winced as it brushed my projection before I settled it in place. Tender. I probably should clean that... but later, when a guest wasn't banging on the door. I flipped up my hood and strode over, yanking open the door to find--

“Hey.” Panacea again? “Mind if I come in?”

“Uh, sure,” I said with a shrug. Why was she here, I'd barely been scratched. “Don't mind the mess, I'm baking.”

“You bake?” she asked, stepping past me and looking at the kitchen. “What're you making?”

“Bread,” I replied, gesturing at the pan. “Just doing the second rise now. It'll be ready in just over an hour.”

“Huh, cool.” Panacea sounded genuine, and I smiled.

“Anyway, what brings you by?” I asked. She looked at me and winced.

“That.” She said, pointing at the center of my masked face. “You apparently lost a good chunk of your nose, and god only knows where Hookwolf's blades have been.” We shared a shudder.

“I'm gonna clean it in a minute,” I replied. “And it's fine, it'll grow back.”

“What?” Panacea narrowed her eyes. “No it won't, it's cartilage, dumbass.”

“Wait seriously?” I glanced at my fingertips. Huh. “Well...did you get Assault's team first?”

“Of course.” She rolled her eyes. “I wouldn't come out to this wing first...no offense.”

“None taken.” It was pretty out of the way. “Well, okay, fine.” I held out my hand and lowered my projection to expose my palm.

“Can we sit down for a minute?” Panacea asked, ignoring my hand. “I just got back from one of the temporary hospitals.” I grimaced.

“Ah.” The national guard field hospitals were...stark. I hoped to not end up in one. “Yeah, come on in.”

We kicked off our shoes and headed to the couch, sitting across from each other. I tucked my legs under me and settled down while she did the same. With a huff, she pulled off her hood and loosened her scarf, sighing. I pulled down my own hood and leaned against the headrest, sinking into the soft cushions. God bless the PRT for splurging on things like this.

“Hand,” Amy said. I set it down on the couch, displacing the cushion as I moved my projection again. She touched the palm of my hand with two fingers, then chuckled dryly. “Sorry. AIDS.”

“Fuck off,” I said, letting out a barely amused huff. “What's the damage?”

“Hepatitis, no, not joking.” I shut my mouth. “It's fine. Besides that, just the damage to your nose and...hm.”

“I don't like it when a doctor goes 'hm'.”

“Not a doctor,” she countered flatly. “And it's nothing, your heart is a little strained. Seriously, lay off the caffeine.”

“I'm only having one cup a day as it is!” It was all I could swing by the rationing.

“Then have herbal tea instead,” Amy said with a shrug. “An ounce of prevention is a hell of a lot better than dying.” I grimaced and nodded. “Anyway, can I heal you?”

“Oh, yeah go ahead.”

It only took a minute. My nose was in pain, then just itchy, then fixed like nothing had ever been wrong. The general soreness that I had barely noticed diminished too, then disappeared. I let out a sigh and felt myself relax, more than I'd been able to in a while. I shut my eyes and hummed happily.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

“All done.” I let out a sigh as a small smile crept onto my face.

“Thanks,” I said, keeping my eyes shut. Too comfy to move, to even look at her. “Seriously, thank you. Dunno what you did but--”

“Healed you,” she replied quickly. “That's it.”

“Well duh,” I said, mentally rolling my eyes. “Just...I feel better, you know?”

“Because I healed you.” I opened my eyes and saw her shrug, staring down at the carpet. “That's what I do.”

“Yup,” I agreed. “And you're damn good at it.”

“It's fine.” Another shrug.

"They have you doing full-time now?"

"Yeah," she nodded slowly, exhausted. "Sometimes I...stick around." I grimaced.

“Want me to make you something?” I asked. “Coffee, tea?” I winced, I actually didn't have anything but... “Coffee?”

“You said that twice.”

“It's...” I sighed. “It's what I have.” A pause, then she nodded.

“Sure,” Amy said with a shrug. “Cream and sugar, if you have it.”

“Milk okay?”

“It's whatever.”

I nodded and rose from the couch, heading over to the kitchen. Like back home, I had a simple, drip coffee machine. I filled the basket with enough grounds for one cup, since I already had one today and apparently had to cut back. God dammit. Well, I probably didn't have a caffeine addiction in this body...yet. Maybe it would be a good idea to maintain that for a little while.

Later. I put some water in the machine and set it to work. While it brewed, I checked on my bread. Okay, not doing bad, but still had a while to go. I went to the fridge and grabbed some milk, then took the sugar from the cupboard. Once the coffee was brewed, I poured it into a mug, along with a spoon and a half of sugar and enough milk to turn it caramel. I put the ingredients away then, as an afterthought, added just a pinch of salt to the coffee.

“Here,” I said as I returned to the couch, offering her the steaming mug. “Let me know if it needs anything.” Amy sniffed it, glanced at me, then took a sip. After a moment, she took another, and I swear her eyes brightened just a bit.

“Thanks,” she said. “It's fine.” Well...good enough.

“Cool.” I leaned back into the couch, staring at the black TV. Impulsively, I grabbed the remote and pointed it at the box. I glanced at Amy. “This okay?”

“Oh, sure, go ahead.”

I did, then went through a full-body shudder at a grisly aerial shot of the crater lake. I changed the channel in an instant and paused, taking a series of deep breaths. If Amy noticed, she didn't say anything, and I appreciated it. Getting freaked out over a picture on TV... I shut my eyes, breathed deeply in and out one more time, then opened them.

“Huh.” It was...some anime? “Hey, do you mind?” Amy looked at me and cocked her head.

“You're a weeb?” I snorted with laughter. “What?”

“I haven't heard someone call someone 'weeb' unironically in forever.” I shook my head. “Jesus it really is 2011.”

“Uh, yeah, has been all year.”

“Right?” The conversation died and I turned my attention to the screen.

Damn, this art was pretty great. It reminded me, of all things, of Land of the Lustrous back home. The OP slapped and I was tapping along to it by the end. The title came up, first in kanji and kana (too illiterate), then in English. Miko no Abyss. Damn, that was fucking good. I had a small smile on my face as the action began.

And action it was, we'd been dumped in the middle of the season apparently. Currently, a girl in a bright red, spider-web patterned costume was battling a literal beast of a man wielding a massive axe. She dispatched him with ease and, damn girl go easy! Disarmed and disarmed, ouch. Red ribbons of more spider-web...I guess it was silk, trailed out behind her as she charged forward, screaming a name.

“Myrie!”

It cut to the girl in question. Cute hair, very curly, very fluffy, and big, broken glasses. Her eyes, flat brown, returned to a brighter amber as she heard the girl scream for her. But it was too late. A thick, armoured door slammed shut and separated them, then the tank of a truck it belonged to drove off at rapid speed down the dusty streets of a ruined city.

She panted heavily, staring at the retreating truck, then dropped to her knees and screamed so violently I was worried for the seiyuu's health. Sure enough, blood began dripping from the girl's throat as she stared sightlessly into the slowly growing pool of it. A figure appeared, whispering kindly to her, about how it would help her, as long as she embraced him.

Well, fuck, that was some evil shit. Despite that, the girl smiled, then leaned down and drank her own blood back up. My eyes widened and I heard the creak of the couch as Amy sat up, suddenly paying attention. Okay so what the fuck was this anime? I was glued. The girl, 'Jorogumo' as the blood-image had called her, drew a long stiletto and stabbed it into her arm. It gushed, and a crimson spider rose up under her, cooling rapidly to an ugly-scab madder.

They charged after the truck, blood still streaming from Jorogumo's mouth and arm. She had a mad look in her eyes, and I noticed they'd changed colour and...style, I guess? The music was tense, and the spider continued the whispering from the blood image. It grew larger, ran faster, as more blood poured from Jorogumo. She never seemed to run out though.

When they did catch up, the spider was near twice the size of the truck. It crushed the hood with a single leg, then tore open the back, revealing Myrie bound between two men in black armour. They fired their submachine guns into the spider desperately, to no effect. Jorogumo leapt down , the ribbons of silk reaching out before her and tearing the soldiers to pieces.

She descended on bloody pinions, arms outstretched, with a beatific smile clashing against her crazed eyes. Myrie looked awed, terrified, and lovestruck all at once. She was soaked in the blood of her captors, from head to foot, the same colour as Jorogumo's costume. Jorogumo wrapped her arms around Myrie's back, embracing her tightly, and whispering something inaudible that looked like 'aishiteru'. A chill went up my spine.

Jorogumo leaped back onto her spider, still clutching the bloodied Myrie. The spider took off at high speed, heading towards a distant...crack in the sky, it looked like. The spider was whispering to Jorogumo, and she whispered to Myrie, promising her safety and silence in the Abyss. Fresh blood dripped onto her charge as she spoke, wetting the drying stuff from the soldiers.

Even though Myrie clung to her rescuer, she looked terrified by the words streaming from Jorogumo's mouth. The scene cut away to a group of men and women dressed in bright pastels, clearly the heroes. They had a number of soldiers with them, and were planning out Myrie's recapture, and Jorogumo's death. She had a 'black tally', a death sentence apparently. Considering what she did to those guys, it made sense.

“What the fuck?” Amy breathed as the commercials began.

“I uh.” I swallowed against my dry mouth. “I don't know...but I want to keep watching.” She nodded slowly in agreement.

With the little commercial break, I checked on the dough and started the oven preheating. I returned to the couch, collected Amy's empty coffee mug, and rinsed it out before sitting down again. An ad was playing for the season finale of this, apparently next week. I was...interested, to say the least. I sort of wanted to start from the beginning though, and a week wasn't enough time with the way I was scheduled for patrols. Maybe if they took me out for a while to investigate the Nazi shit...no, that was a damn selfish thought. Bad girl.

The program began again, showing the heroes as they pounced on the escaping pair. One dove down from the sky like a meteor, smashing into the swollen abdomen of the spider, behind where the girls sat. Jorogumo rose, still embracing Myrie, and her pinions lashed out at the hero. He deflected several, but was cut by others. He lost and eye and three fingers before rocketing into the sky again in retreat.

Others caught up and began slowing the spider through dropping buildings in its path, putting up shimmering, phantasmal barriers, or just plain hitting it. Jorogumo fought to defend them and their mount, but it was a losing battle. They were outnumbered badly and still far from the crack. It didn't look like anyone was coming to help them either.

Jorogumo cursed, and the spider exploded violently under her. Three heroes died, torn apart by scabby shrapnel or drowned in a flood of viscous, boiling blood. Jorogumo and Myrie were thrown into the air, and the pinions stretched out like makeshift wings. They began gliding, and Jorogumo's blood flowed up and into the stretched silk. They began changing, stretching out, with lines of blood connecting each one like a gory spider web.

They were close to the crack now, and I leaned forward in my seat. Amy, I noticed, was just as attentive as I was. A small smile touched Jorogumo's lips as the crack yawned wider and wider before them. Home free. The mutilated hero came from nowhere, smashing into her shoulder with a sickening crack. She cried out, as did Myrie, as they plummeted to the earth below.

Jorogumo was slow to rise, and she stood panting over a fallen Myrie. The heroes landed across from her, rallying their forces for one last effort. She panted, clutching her bleeding arm, pupils dividing and writhing inside her eyes as the whispers of what had to be the Abyss itself grew louder. She gritted her teeth in a bloody grimace, looking down at Myrie.

“I'm sorry,” she said, barely audible. “I'm sorry it got this bad, Myrie. You never should have come this far.”

“Lily wh--”

“Not Lily,” she snapped, then whispered, “Not anymore,” shaking her head. “I...you need to run. As far and fast as you can Myrie. Never come back, please.”

“But what about you and--” Myrie gulped, tears forming in her eyes.

“It's too late,” she said miserably as one of her pinions rested on her shoulder. The spider-web patterns were writhing like they were alive. “You're still you though, Myrie. Hold onto that. Reject the Abyss.” Myrie reached up and grasped Jorogumo's hand.

“Come with me,” she said weakly, blood dripping down Jorogumo's arm, then down hers. “Please, you can reject it too!” Jorogumo shook her head and let go of Myrie's hand.

“I was born of the Abyss,” she said gravely. “It's part of my body, part of my soul. It's my home.” She slowly drew her stiletto as the whispering in her head intensified. All sound cut off as she pointed the tip at her heart, then she whispered. “It's my home. Here I am, here I remain.”

She plunged the blade into her chest with the rasp of steel on bone, and the credits rolled.

We stared silently as the screen as plain, white text scrolled over a black background. No music, no sound at all, but a slight and constant dripping. I took deep breaths at my heart galloped in my chest, sweat pricking at my back. What the fuck? My stomach was churning as the credits ended and it cut to a commercial for some comedy anime or another.

My mom was a Nazi, high up enough that apparently Victor knew her. Even though it repulsed me, I had a niggling feeling of guilt. Lia hadn't been a Nazi, according to her memories, but she wasn't the only one in here. I clenched my hands into white-knuckled fists and stared at the carpet. God dammit, god dammit.

“That was...” Amy's rattling voice trailed off as she took a shuddering breath.

“Yeah,” I said, nodding. She knew too, didn't she. “Sorry.”

“It's fine,” she replied, far too quickly.

Despite my misgivings, and the new weight on my shoulders, I rose and went to the kitchen. I didn't want to think about that right now, or about what it meant for me in this world. I grabbed the fully risen dough, then put the pan in the heated oven. I set a timer for a half-hour, then returned to the couch and flopped down bonelessly. I glanced at Amy, then down at the floor. She should probably know too.

“Um,” I began hesitantly, meshing my fingers together. “I uh...I have something to tell you.” She glanced over and cocked her head, a frown touching her lips.

“What?” Amy didn't sound like she wanted to listen but...

“My um.” I swallowed and squeezed my fingers together. “When I was fighting Hookwolf and Victor, my balaclava got snagged and my face was exposed.” Her eyes widened.

“Shit,” she swore. “Are you okay?” I shrugged.

“Physically,” I answered, then took a shuddering breath. “Victor knew me, or my name at least. And he knew my mom.” A sharp intake of breath and the slightest recoil. I flinched back. “Sorry.”

“You're a Nazi?”

“Fuck no!” I exclaimed, loud enough that she jumped. “Sorry I just...no, no Amy, I'd fucking never be one of them.” Not anymore. My cheeks burned and I felt my throat closing. I looked away and took a shuddering breath. “Sorry I just...I had to tell you.”

“I...appreciate knowing,” Amy said slowly after a quiet pause. “So, what are you gonna do?”

“What, about...that?” She nodded and I sighed. “I dunno. I told the PRT, they're going to decide what happens.”

“Are you going to join?”

“I don't know,” I admitted. It made more and more sense but...I wasn't sure.

“Maybe...maybe think about it more,” Amy said, her voice getting quieter as she spoke. “It's...you've worked with the heroes and done good things.” She took a deep breath and practically whispered: “It doesn't make you a good person though.”

“Yeah,” I murmured. It didn't, that was a lesson I'd forgotten. “I still don't know about the Wards. I don't want to be a villain though.”

“Only real monsters do,” she replied. “It's good you know, at least.” I glanced at her. Amy's gaze was distant, fixed on the TV but seeing something else.

Silence hung over us like a pall, everything far too raw to talk about. No way I could tell her about me, and she certainly wasn't sharing. That was okay, I knew she understood and wasn't just saying shit. I sat up, gently running my fingers through locks of curly, auburn hair. I took a shuddering breath.

“Thanks,” I said. “Thank you, for...reminding me. I'll think about the Wards, but no matter what I'm going to be a hero.” She nodded her head slowly.

“Good,” then, almost too quiet to hear: “Me too.”

The timer for my bread sounded and I left Amy on the couch again. I pulled the pan out and put the bread onto the cooling rack beside the oven. Once done, I numbly did the dishes for the third time in three hours, and set it all drying. A knock came at the door, sudden and sharp. I flinched at the sound, checking the time. Damn, it really had flown. I grabbed my kerchief from the couch and headed over, answering the door after covering up.

“Hi Amaranth!” I blinked.

“Hi Victoria,” I replied flatly, hiding my churning guilt behind studied neutrality. “Uh, what are you doing here?”

“Making sure Amy didn't fall in.” She peeked around my shoulder. “Ames?”

“Yeah,” her small voice answered from the couch.

“Mom wants us home in ten for a meeting,” Victoria continued. “Ready to go?”

“Sure, sure.” I heard the couch creak and a moment later she shuffled over. “Li-- Amaranth.” I looked over at her. Her features were drawn tight, skin pale. Her gaze had a weight to it. “You can make up for it.” I felt my cheeks warm and nodded. “Cool. Uh, see you.”

“See you Amaranth.”

“See you both,” I said as the door clicked shut behind them.

I let out a long, shuddering sigh and scratched my head. I had a lot to think about.