Chapter Text
“So, okay,” said Circus, “you’ve assumed total control of the area, that’s undeniable. And it’s not even like there’s any major competition. So, essentially, what I wanted to ask you is: what are you going to do with it? The land. Because, I mean, for all intents and purposes, you own it. Sure, it’s not like you have a deed or title or anything like that, but those were always just pieces of paper anyway, and the fact remains, this whole area belongs to you. That’s a lot of responsibility.”
“And you think I’m doing a bad job?” said Skitter.
“Not bad, but this is more than a responsibility — this is an opportunity. You’ve basically led a successful revolt against the US government. You’ve seceded . And it’d be a real shame if things just stayed the same.”
Speaking to Skitter, Circus felt like a peasant coming before a queen, and they loathed it. She was slouched villainously in a big plush armchair, and she hadn’t let Circus get too close for fear of some kind of ambush. This ‘plea’ was going to be like pulling teeth, Circus knew. So why try at all? The reason they would give if asked was that it was their duty to help, to advance this noble cause, but that didn’t tell the whole story, did it?
“That’s kind of an exaggeration,” said Skitter. “There’s no Declaration of Independence, or a new constitution, or anything like that.”
“Let me ask you this: do you pay taxes? Any kind — federal or state.”
“Well… no. I don’t exactly have a source of income. A legal one, I mean.”
“And do the people who live around here pay taxes?”
“Uh, I mean, I don’t think so. I’m their primary employer for the most part, and I don’t exactly give out W2s. Maybe some of them have jobs in other parts of the city. I don’t know.”
“But you collect payments from them?”
“Sure. Only from the people who can afford it. So I can afford to help out the poorer ones without having to rely on an external stream of revenue.”
“That sounds like you’re collecting taxes. A progressive tax, but still. And then but so to reiterate: The operation you’re running here consists of people who pay taxes to you and not the US Federal Government. A group that isn’t beholden to any US penal code. A group who, I’m sure you would agree, is loyal to you , Supreme Leader Skitter, above any mayor or governor or president. What would you call that? I’d call it an independent nation.”
“Don’t call me Supreme Leader.”
“Ah — that brings me to my next point. What gives you the right to be in charge of this fledgling nation-state? I mean, seriously, that’s not a rhetorical question.”
“A lot of things. Coil gave me this plot of land to begin with, and I’ve protected the people here from the worst kinds of monsters. For the most part.”
“So there wasn’t, like, an election?”
“What? No. Of course not.”
“So everyone just unanimously chose you as their leader.”
“Not unanimously .”
“Oh? And what did you do with the dissenters?”
“I kicked them out. Or, you know, scared them. What else would I have done?”
“Skitter, what you’re describing is called a military dictatorship.”
Skitter sighed a long, exasperated sigh, which was amplified by the black swarm hovering around her head. “Look, Circus,” she said. “I don’t know where all this is coming from, and to a certain extent I don’t care. I barely even know you. I’d kind of forgotten about you, to be a hundred percent honest, after all the shit with Coil. And you show up at my secret lair — which I’m not even going to ask how you found — all to try and convince me to be, what, a more liberal leader? I’ve got important shit to deal with at the moment. I can’t hear out every radical armchair revolutionary who wants to use my territory to establish their weird utopias.”
Circus was going to respond, but was interrupted by the sound of a phone ringing.
“Speaking of important shit,” said Skitter, and she removed a cellphone from an unseen pocket, flipped it open, put it to her ear, and said, “Hello?”
Silence for a moment.
There was something electric in the way Skitter spoke, especially when she was condescending. She hardly moved, simply let her thoughts tumble out over her tongue, and she didn’t care what you thought afterwards. A true warlord. And although for Circus that mode of thought symbolized everything wrong with society, they wanted to hear her speak again.
Then, Skitter: “Jesus, really? Right now? Fuck. Okay, fine. Goddamnit.” And she hung up.
“What is it?” asked Circus.
“Nazis — I don’t even know what they’re calling themselves now — they’re holding a recruitment rally a couple blocks down, and I should probably, you know, go and sting them or something. Unless you’re worried that would, like, restrict their freedom of speech?”
“No, not at all. Let me come with you.”
Another sigh. “Fine. I guess. They might be armed.”
“Cool.”
#
They walked through the middle of the street, obscured from onlookers by a buzzing black wall that danced and swirled with the flow of the wind. Skitter walked so fast Circus had to skip to keep up. Up close, Circus saw how scrawny she truly was. Lithe. Like she would stumble from the slightest breeze. All of which, of course, belied the iron-will within.
“And another thing,” said Circus between bouts of panting. “Let me know if I’m off the mark here, but you strike me as someone who’s wary of authority.”
“You mean like the Protectorate? Sure. I guess ‘wary’ would be a good word.”
“Yeah, them, but I mean all kinds of authorities. Government officials, CEOs, cops, teachers, even parents. Don’t tell me you’ve gotten along with all of them.”
“I guess not.”
“Right. And why should you? They’re corrupt, they abuse their power — we’ve both seen this first hand. So, having said that, let me ask you, what makes you any different?”
Skitter stumbled slightly, and she turned her head away. “I’m just. I have compassion and empathy. I’m basically a good person. That’s what makes me different. I care.”
“Okay, I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. I believe you when you say you’re a good person. Or, at least, I believe that you believe that. But how long have you been in power? I mean, it’s obviously a cliche, but power corrupts. I know you know that. So, I’ll ask again, what makes you any different?”
They turned a corner and were confronted by a sea of bald, white heads, all turned up to face a man on the stage who looked exactly the same as the rest of them. Strokes of color were added to the scene by red and black Swastikas, American flags, signs with racial slurs, confederate flags.
Circus put a hand on Skitter’s shoulder and said, “Before you start stinging or whatever, let’s just listen for a second.”
“What? Why?”
“Information.”
“That’s a debate I’m not really prepared to have.”
“Come on. Thirty seconds. It’ll be instructive.”
“Thirty seconds.”
They turned to listen to the man onstage, who was clad in faded denim and black leather, speaking into a cordless microphone: “...to be white. It is your gift from God. It is your heritage. It is your legacy. Do not let anyone convince you it isn’t okay to be white. Because it is. In fact, it’s more than okay, it’s better than anything else . People tell me to respect the [black people], to treat them as if they were equal to me. But I know better. I am white, and they are not. This is not hate, this is not bigotry, this is science. Let me tell you, I’ve looked at the data — to be white is to be stronger, smarter, be—”
The man was cut off by a fleet of wasps perching on his neck and driving their venom into his flesh. Screams from the crowd. The man toppled off the stage, sputtering and convulsing, and those close enough to see all this scurried away like rats. Those closer to the back, to Skitter and Circus, were not so lucky.
A legion of bugs fell from the sky like some biblical plague. Circus withdrew a grenade, pulled the pin, and tossed it with perfect accuracy into the center of a fleeing gang of surly supremacists, and they ran out of the resulting cloud clutching their faces and crying.
It ended as soon as it began.
Breathing heavily in the now-empty street, Circus turned to face Skitter, who didn’t give any indication she’d just been in combat, and said, “Let me tell you why I wanted to listen to that guy.”
Skitter didn’t say anything, buzzed instead.
“I wanted to listen to him because you and him are two sides of the same coin — the coin of power. I don’t think you’re a bigot, Skitter, but the reason you’re in charge around here, even if you refuse to admit it, is because you believe that you’re more powerful than anyone else. Which, of course, is more than a belief — you’re strong, anyone could see that. Few people on this planet could hold a candle to your strength. But why is that? I don’t think you’re dumb, I don’t think you’re anything other than a strategic genius, but, above all, your strength is due to this gift that some unknown entity chose to give you. That’s why you’re in charge.”
“But what does that have to do with white supremacy?”
“White supremacists believe that the white race is the race of God, that to be on top is their divine right, and that any ethnic minority that can’t see that deserves to die. All you’ve done, Skitter, in the creation of your new nation-state, is exchange the word ‘white’ in that sentence with ‘parahuman’.”
“First of all, harsh. Second of all, like, white people aren’t better than everyone else, obviously. But parahumans kind of are, right? I mean, there are some incompetent fucking capes, but even they could demolish a non-cape in a fight. Not everyone is created equal.”
“You’re right. Not everyone is equal, they never have been. Some people are born prettier, smarter, stronger. But that doesn’t mean they deserve more than everyone else. ‘From each according to their ability, to each according to their need’.”
Skitter appeared to rub her eyes with the heel of her hand. “Okay, look, I get it. Jesus, you’re like a tick, Circus, you know that? Except I’d actually be able to make a tick go away. I mean, can we finish this another time? I’m exhausted.”
“Sure, but let me leave you with my proposition. Step down from power, get your Undersider commandants to do the same, destroy all forms of hierarchy in your territory, destroy private ownership, create a more just society — it’s the least you could do.”
“I’ll think it over.”
“That’s all I can ask for.”