Chapter Text
Click. Whir. Snap.
Thud.
The bed shifted as something landed next to me, atop the blanket. I tilted my body, shoving my head under a pillow to hide from whatever had woken me up—but I knew that was a doomed prospect. Mornings like this weren’t unusual for me anymore. I wasn’t exactly a morning person. Most days, she’d wake up before dawn to watch me sleep, but more often than not she’d end up bored. On those days, she’d drop things on the bed to get my attention. Usually something that overwhelmed my senses, like ice cubes or dirty laundry.
It was probably a good idea to just get this over with. Hiding wouldn’t work—not with Taylor. So, I slowly slid down from beneath the pillow. Groaning, I stretched my arms, letting the sunlight warm my skin and sting my eyes.
I raised a hand to block out the offending light rays. Typically, the blinds were closed, but Taylor must’ve opened them to get a better look at me.
Which made it all the more odd that—as I finally took in the surrounding room—Taylor was nowhere to be found.
“Taylor?” I mumbled her name.
No response. That was unusual.
Already tired of whatever game she was playing, I grabbed at the object on the bed, pulling it into view. It was a Polaroid camera; Taylor’s camera. Staring at it, I tried to make sense of what this meant.
Taylor never let go of her camera. It was one of her most cherished possessions, and she took excellent care of it. There was no way she’d just drop the thing on my bed… but there it was, with a photo still sticking out of it.
Confused, I removed the still-developing film from the ejection slot. It was difficult to make out, but with some squinting and imagination, I could almost see my body asleep on the bed, from just a moment ago. Lisa Wilbourn, limbs sprawled out, mouth open, with her feet free of the blanket. Exactly the sort of look Taylor loved, for some reason.
I was too tired to read into what game Taylor was playing. She’d probably left the photo here for me to find—and left me to learn something from it—but I was drawing a blank. It was too early for this. Sighing, I resigned myself to figuring out the rules for the day as it went. I’d take whatever alone time she offered me, and this was more than I’d had in months.
I sat there, on the bed, leaning back against the headboard with my eyes closed. Another minute passed in blissful silence as I simply waited. Until the walls shook.
Thud.
My eyes snapped open as I turned my head towards the door. That noise had come from the living room, but it couldn’t have been Taylor. She was always careful not to make loud noises. She knew they distracted me, especially this early. I began to wonder what it meant. Thoughts were racing through my mind.
Did something happen?
Is Taylor okay?
Are we under attack?
Answers to each query filled my mind. Nothing happened; Taylor was okay; there was no attack. I looked at the ceiling and saw the spider web above my bed. The spider was still there, acting as a sentry.
Everything was fine. There was nothing to worry about.
The adrenaline drained from me, leaving me oddly exhausted and done with the day—even though I’d just woken up. Deciding there was no point in staying in bed—and dreading the discovery of whatever that noise was—I moved Taylor’s camera aside and kicked myself free from the blankets, before sliding off the bed. My feet shuffled me away to the adjoining bathroom.
The light automatically switched on as I entered and grabbed my toothbrush. Whatever Taylor had planned had to wait until my morning breath was taken care of.
"Good morning," I said, as I entered the kitchen, camera in hand.
I barely paid any notice to whatever Taylor was doing. Breakfast was more important, and I knew she’d eagerly answer me, like always. She’d explain the rules of her game for the day and I’d continue to work on bypassing her programming. It was an ongoing process—a comfortable pattern that we’d slipped into. Distracted by these thoughts, I set the camera on the counter somewhere and promptly forgot about it.
In the cupboards were some bowls and boxes of cereal. I took one of each and placed them on the counter, before finally peering up at my roommate. She stood frozen in the middle of the living room.
She stared at me… but it wasn’t her normal stare. This was far more intense. Confused. Angry. A loud buzz could be heard growing louder just outside the walls as her lips tugged down into a strangely familiar frown.
Now that my attention was on Taylor, I noticed other oddities about her. Her hair was longer than I remembered, but her face was thinner. She had a small scar above her left eyebrow. Muscle definition was more obvious than it had been the day before. Every detail came together to make her look both older and younger than she should’ve been— and her posture was more natural than I’d seen in ages, but she held herself completely still.
Most striking was her outfit. She wore what looked like a cross between Skitter and Weaver. All black, made from spider silk, with a belt and various tools attached to it. This was a costume for someone who didn’t exist… not anymore.
More importantly, this wasn’t my Taylor—the clone—this was…
"Who are you?" I asked, harshly. I was suddenly glad for the counter that separated us. “How did you get here?”
Instead of answering me, the imposter unclipped a strap on her belt, freeing something from a hidden pocket; a collar.
"You've been bad, Lisa," she said, holding it out in front of her.
“Excuse me?”
She clicked her tongue, shook her head, and took a single step toward me.
“No,” she said, as if I was some misbehaving pet. “You should know better.”
The windows shook with each stomp she took, closer and closer to the counter. Darkness settled in as the sunlight bled away, blocked out by a swarm of insects. All I could see was the invader, and the collar in her hands. It had a small light that blanketed sinister red over her face, from below.
With all this evidence, I couldn’t deny it anymore. I realized who she was; Taylor Hebert. Not a clone, but not my Taylor either. She was an alternate variant from another timeline, transplanted here through unknown means.
Joy and fear infected my thoughts. Taylor being here—a genuine Taylor Hebert—was my best nightmare come true; both kinder and crueler than I ever could’ve imagined. After so long with the clone I thought I’d be sick of that face being worn by someone else, but peering into those calculating eyes produced an entirely different feeling. I wobbled for a moment, unsteady on my feet. The strange emotion seemed to hit me hard, forcing the air from my lungs until I stumbled back and hit the kitchen wall.
She stepped around the counter, thudding on the kitchen tile. She took her time, savoring my reaction. Watching as I gasped for breath. This was nostalgic for her, and that unsettled me more than her practiced show of dominance.
“Taylor,” I said, hurt by how true it was to say that name. “Look—you aren’t where you were a moment ago. This is somewhere else!”
The skittering grew louder.
“That’s not what you’re allowed to call me.”
She loomed over me, encompassing my view. Re-enacting some practiced act to intimidate me into compliance. I was mesmerized, unable to move away or say anything else, until I felt her place a hand on my shoulder.
“This isn’t your Earth!” I managed to rush out.
She paused, tilting her head. “What?”
“Think—just for a moment. This isn’t your world, and I’m not your Lisa!”
Everything went still as she processed my words. The silence was thick with uncertainty. I didn’t dare breathe.
“No,” she finally denied. A spider crawled down her arm and onto my shoulder, itching my skin. “You’re lying. That doesn’t make any sense.”
“For fuck’s sake—” I started to say, but was cut off when she clenched her grip.
“Hold still,” she said, almost a whisper, as she lifted the collar toward my neck with her other hand.
“Look around you! Use your swarm, both inside and out,” I spat. “And maybe use your fucking eyes? Look at all the photos—this isn’t your world!”
She exhaled, obviously upset at my continued noncompliance, but actually listened. Seconds passed as the buzzing grew slightly louder. I literally felt the exact moment she started to believe me as her grip loosened just the tiniest bit, letting me slip free. She let me go, clenching her now empty fist.
I took a moment to observe her—making sure this wasn’t a feint for me to let my guard down—and then slowly stood myself up. She just watched me, like a weirdo.
“What the hell was that about?” I asked, my dignity reasserting itself. “Is this how you treat all your Lisas, or was that a special performance just for me?”
She didn’t answer. Instead, she kept staring at the spot I was just a moment ago. The swarm backed off and grew quieter, leaving us in an eerie silence. All I could hear was my pounding heartbeat as I tried to calm myself down—but this tension was too much. I needed to know what was going on.
“Well?” I asked, growing impatient.
As she turned to look at me, I was reminded of an owl. Her movements were smooth and oddly inhuman. Every action she took was precisely what had to happen. The bare minimum, and nothing more.
“You look different,” she accused, lowly. “This isn’t… my world.”
“No, it’s not.” My muscles relaxed, mostly in my shoulders. I hadn’t even noticed how tense I’d been until now. “And I’d bet it’s not your time, either. A different place and time, not to mention a different me.”
“How do I get back?” She didn’t hesitate or pause or think over what to say. This time, she spoke confidently.
But I didn’t know how to answer that question. This entire situation was so unusual.
“No idea,” I said, honestly. “But I have a feeling this will correct itself before too long.” It was more of a wish, actually. This version of Taylor was dangerous. I couldn’t afford to keep her around when anything I said might set her off into attacking me again.
“I understand,” she responded… as she continued to stand there, blocking any escape from the kitchen.
The collar was still in her hand—still a threat to me. I needed to move this forward somehow, before she got any ideas.
“So… what should I call you?” I asked, casually, as I forced myself to step forward and around her. I had to be confident and sure of myself, now more than ever.
Again, she didn’t move. She stood there, staring at the spot I’d just vacated for a long few seconds.
“My code name is Myriad,” she said. “Call me that. Never call me Taylor.” She said her name with such derision, but not because she hated it. Hearing me say that name had set her on edge.
“Well then, Myriad,” I said, finding my way to the couch. “Might as well get comfortable while we wait this out.”
Nodding, she turned exactly ninety degrees and marched to a chair on the other side of the room. There was no hesitation anymore—this was discipline. Training. She sat down and very obviously didn’t relax.
“Where is my counterpart?” she asked, immediately.
I groaned, rolling my eyes. “That wasn’t an invitation for you to interrogate me.”
“Why?” she asked, voice harsh. “Have you had a lot of those? Are you a villain?”
“I’m retired.” I clenched my fists.
“You’re dodging the question.”
“I’m objecting to the entire game you’re playing, Myraid.”
“So you’re a villain—and villains don’t just retire.” She leaned forward as a fly entered the room. “Why didn’t my counterpart stop you?”
This was not ideal, but I was losing patience with whatever the hell this woman’s deal was. I decided to push some buttons.
I grinned. “Oh, you mean Taylor?”
The buzzing grew louder for a moment. “Answer the question.”
“I corrupted her to the dark side, obviously.”
The fly sped at my face and I instinctively closed my eyes. By the time I opened them again, Myriad was standing directly in front of me.
“You manipulated me—her into being a villain?” She actually spat out the last word.
Again, this was not ideal. I went a little too far.
“She did end up a hero, eventually,” I said, not letting her affect me.
“But not you.”
“Oh my god,” I said, sarcastically. “I already told you. I’m retired. I’m not part of the cape thing anymore.”
A solid minute passed of us staring at each other. Myriad kept her face blank, but I spread my grin wider. She didn’t really have much of a choice but to go along with what I said.
Finally, she relented and looked at the wall, at one of the many photos of me and Taylor.
“Where is she, then?” she asked. Her voice was much calmer now, more conversational. “She obviously lives with you.”
I let my smile dim. “She doesn’t.”
“What do you mean?” Myriad asked, confused.
“I don’t know what to tell you.” I didn’t want to go down that route. “Your counterpart doesn’t live here.”
“These photos were recent, and there was already a swarm here for me to control.” She did the owl thing again, moving her head precisely as much as she needed to stare me right in the face. “Explain.”
I crossed my arms. “You’re very demanding, you know that?”
Myriad growled and reached forward, gripping me with both hands by my shirt to pull me out of my seat. I held my breath when she didn’t let go.
“I’ve been nothing but nice,” she said, lowly. Her hands began to wander closer to my body—but her fingers never made direct contact. “I know exactly how to get answers out of you, Lisa.” She let go of me, but didn’t move away. “Explain the photos.”
I let go of the air in my lungs, doing my best not to give away how unsettled I felt as I took stock of the situation. This version of Taylor was nuts. Besides being incredibly dangerous and unstable, her go-to for interrogation was apparently sexual assault, and she was fully prepared to do anything to get answers. In fact, she probably already knew what was going on. It wasn’t like clones were a brand-newish concept that’d never been thought of before.
“A clone of your counterpart lives with me,” I answered. “She likes to take photos.” That was perhaps the most understated thing I’d said all day.
Myriad tilted her head. “How did you make a clone of me?”
“I didn’t. She just showed up one day and I’ve been dealing with her ever since.” I fell back onto the couch. “Now if you’re done being handsy, I have some questions of my own.”
“I don’t cooperate with villains.” Her answer was immediate.
“I can tell you’ve run into my counterpart in your world,” I continued, ignoring her denial. “I’d like to know how she’s doing.”
There was a long pause. “She’s fine,” Myriad finally answered. “She’s a hero.”
“So she works with you—or for you—and you’ve gotten very good at forcing answers from her.”
“She understands her place.” Slowly, Myriad crossed her arms. It wasn’t an unconscious movement. She was doing it deliberately. “I don’t have to force her to do anything.”
“I’m sure you don’t,” I said. “Just like I’m sure you think she loves you.”
“I don’t think anything. She—”
“You said it, not me,” I interrupted. Despite knowing it was a mistake, I couldn’t help but grin.
Besides stopping what she was saying, Myriad didn’t react. She just kept talking. “Lisa is a well-trained hero. Lives were saved with her power, and some people even look up to her. She has me to thank for that.”
There was a lot to unpack in that statement, so I let my thoughts follow what she meant. Her version of me was “well-trained”—by her—and given how predatory Myriad was acting…
I didn’t like where this was going.
“Is that how heroes do things where you’re from?” I raised my voice. “You’re talking about her like she’s your slave.”
“Don’t call her that,” she snapped. Her arms fell to her sides as she took a ready stance. “Lisa isn’t any of your concern.”
Right on the money, then. The whole collar thing really gave that away.
“My counterpart isn’t my concern? Really?”
“You should be more concerned about your own situation,” she stepped forward, placing her legs around mine. “You’re a threat. You’re let loose in the world, with a clone of me, to do whatever things villains do when they retire.” Myriad leaned forward, towering over me. Pressing into my space.
The gall of this woman. She just showed up out of nowhere and wanted to dictate my life, taking away my agency and judging everything I ever did. All because I didn’t fit into her model of however my tortured counterpart lived. I was just a body to her, something to use.
“You know…” I said, formulating something to say. I wanted this to hurt. “I’ve kept myself from acknowledging it, but for the longest time all I really wanted was to see you again—my version of you—not a clone or echo or some other bullshit.” I searched Myriad’s eyes. She was paying close attention to my words. “But instead, all I got was another fucking nightmare.”
“A nightmare?” she said back, retreating from the couch. “You have no idea what an actual nightmare is.”
I scoffed. “What? Did the world end for you too?”
She shook her head. “The world ending would’ve been easy. I’ve seen real nightmares. They’ve made me what I had to be, and I learned how things actually worked. Everything is organized around principles and consequences that you’re incapable of understanding.”
“Oh, I understand just fine. You aren’t special—you were bad touched and had a religious experience about it.”
“No. No. You’re wrong.” She started to pace, finally showing a break in her composure. “I know how you work, Lisa. Intimately. You’ll always need something else to show you the truth of things.”
That all but confirmed it. My other self was Myriad’s unwilling stress relief. I didn’t really want to know the details, but I needed to. I let myself loose on that train of thought—and immediately shut that down as soon as the details started to coalesce.
“The truth means jack shit, coming from you,” I said, angry from what I’d learned. “You’re delusional. You’ll believe anything so long as it lets you rape your torture slave.”
Myriad went absolutely still, her face carefully blank. She was different from Taylor—from both of my Taylors. Her reactions were too perfect, like she’d carefully practiced how to be the most unnerving.
“Don’t talk about her.” Her presence seemed to fill the room and I could almost feel the fury behind her words.
I ignored her suggestion.
“Look at you, so intimidating. I’m sure the adoring public would love to know all about what you do in the bedroom.” I paused as more insights came to me. “And the office. And on patrol? With a leash? Actually, what the fuck is wrong with you?”
“Shut up.”
“Why? It’s not like I’m saying anything you don’t already tell yourself every night,” I said. “You’re completely insane, and you know it. Everyone knows it, and they hate you for it. They only call you a hero because they’re too disgusted to look at you. The same thing you feel every time you notice the dead eyes of your broken fuck-pet.”
She didn’t react, but I knew my words had hit hard—and not just because she hadn’t responded at all. The rapidly dimming light and loud buzzing noise kind of gave it away.
Glass shattered as the windows gave in and I dropped to the floor, reaching under the couch for the gun I’d stashed there for emergencies. It was still there. I grabbed it, flicked the safety off, and swung around just in time for hundreds of wasps to slam into my face, blocking my view.
Several sharp stings across my arms made my nerves twitch in pain as I hissed through my teeth. My hands spasmed, creating a gap for the swarm to pry the gun away before I could even fire a single shot. It fell to the floor with a thud.
More and more of the bugs assaulted me. Ants and spiders and mosquitoes—even a few butterflies. Before long I was covered from head to toe, but I knew this wasn’t over yet.
“You’re a villain,” Myriad spat through the swarm, coming from all directions. Hearing that voice again made the pain worse. “You’re dangerous. A threat.”
The swarm parted around my throat to expose it to the cold air. Her hands slid around it, burning hot with too much pressure. I wanted to scream. My jaw fell open, but no sound came out. Instead, I let dozens of wild insects into my mouth to crawl around on my tongue and across my teeth. And no matter what I did, I couldn’t breathe. My face went numb.
“This is self-defense,” she said through her own voice, on top of me. “You made me do this.”
I barely heard or understood her words, and I didn’t care how much it hurt; I needed to get away. I needed to breathe. Thrashing back and forth on the floor, with Myriad on top of me, I tried to push her away. It didn’t work. All I earned were a few stings across my side in retaliation, but Myriad otherwise didn’t react.
“Why are you still fighting?” she asked. She was actually confused, even as she continued to constrict my breathing. “This is what you deserve.”
The bugs crawled out of my mouth and she let go of me, I gasped for air. It took a few quick gulps before I noticed the rest of the swarm had retreated as well—and that the pressure where her hands had been wasn’t completely gone. Something was still there.
I felt a buzz as my neck started to heat up. It was the collar. She’d fucking collared me.
“You. Don’t. Matter,” I breathed out each word. “Nothing you do here means a thing.” Feeling returned to my face as an ice-cold calm settled over me. The collar continued to warm up, but I ignored it. “All you’re good for is hurting people.”
Complete silence followed my words. Myriad just stood there and stared at me as I struggled to find my way to my feet. I wanted to say more, but the soreness in my throat was returning. The endorphins were wearing off.
“No,” she finally said. “You don’t understand anything.” She turned exactly ninety degrees and walked around me, picking up Taylor’s camera from the counter. “I don’t care what matters here—and I don’t care about you, or how this will affect you. You don’t matter, and there’s no reason to worry about hurting you.”
I opened my mouth to respond, but the collar’s temperature spiked as it seemed to tighten, cutting off my words.
“You’ve said enough.” Myriad shook her head. “It’s my turn to speak… but I’d rather teach you another way.”
Once again, the buzzing grew louder as her swarm descended on me. Ants, beetles, and flies. It wasn’t like when Taylor controlled them. This was specifically targeted to unsettle me. To keep me where I was. Under Myriad’s control.
More and more. Across my body in strategic locations. Buzzing and itching and moving. A bee landed inside each ear, a moth on each arm, spiders along my legs. They convulsed in specific motions, intent with meaning. Instructions.
My power filled in the blanks. A buzz in my left ear meant to look one way, an itch on my arm meant to move it.
When I refused to move, the collar’s temperature spiked and I felt my hair start to stick up. A static charge.
Slowly, under duress, I obeyed.
I moved.
I was a puppet held up by a spider’s web. Maneuvered into a pose that could be best described as lascivious if I was being modest. My chest was held out, with a wasp or a bee or… something… on each nipple. Buzzing. It didn’t actually feel like anything, but the mere fact she was trying so hard made me feel sick.
It was a struggle to control my breathing, to keep myself calm. If I wasn’t already so used to Taylor’s swarm, this would’ve been unbearable. But I held on. This was nothing. I just had to get through whatever it was that Myriad had planned for me.
“Open your eyes,” she told me.
I hadn’t realized when I’d closed them. I opened my eyes.
“Good girl.”
The swarm echoed her words.
“All I need from you is to do what I say.”
She lifted the camera.
“Smile for me, Lisa.”
I did.
Click. Whir. Snap.
Thud.