A Guiding Hand 12: From Rest to Relief, And Back Again

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For people who don't know what the fuck A Guiding Hand is, here's the 150k word story you need to read before this one: A Guiding Hand (PtV/RbD Worm fic) [NSFW] | Questionable Questing

After eventually finding replacements for all the clothing and gear that had been dissolved in Crawler’s acid-blood (who the fuck comes up with this shit), I discovering that Dragon had unleashed several drones that had been monitoring me remotely through her various Mini-Mes in case anything bad happened.

Apparently getting swallowed by the ever-adapting monster was the single scenario she physically couldn’t prepare for, which made sense but I was going to reassure her constantly until she got sick of feeling guilty.

Either way, because of that and my dramatic injuries that have stopped existing for a while now (Hatchet-Face didn’t lose much taste after being charred), I was taken to the medical wing for rest while they went over the footage of my fight.

So fifteen minutes later, more awake than a chipmunk on coke after getting the closest thing to rest I could, I finally had enough energy to actually think instead of having Dragon hand me things and send me off to bed.

Like wondering where the fuck our extractions went. A sniff in the air revealed that Burnscar was deep in one of the holding cells of the fucking airship Dragon had used to pick us up, Bonesaw was actually in the medical area with me. But where I was just getting bedrest, she was farther in…where more serious injuries were treated.

Absently saving in the bed, I pulled myself up and off and headed over to where she was, because I’ll be damned if something bad happens now.

The operation was sudden and stealthy, emphasis on sudden, so aside from Dragon, Narwhal, and myself there was no time or reason to get anyone else when we flew over to the center of the country.

But even Dragon can’t run an entire airship by herself… when she had business with two other people on board, so her custom-AIs have taken over specific tasks that would take up too much of her time in case of emergencies for her to do it herself.

Like work the medbay.

“Hello, Abaddon! Do you have any medical concerns, or are you trying to check out?” A hologram floated in front of me, one of the various cartoon-dragon avatars looking at me, the obvious heterochromia literally looking me in the eye.

“Nah, I just want to know what’s up with Bonesaw.” The avatar grimaced, the expression in stark contrast to its naturally chipper and cutesy appearance.

“After she appeared in her cell, she… broke down and attempted self-harm. She was sedated and restrained to her bed.” Oh.

“I’ll talk with her.” The AI fixed with a look filled with such gratitude and relief that it seemed like she thought I had already set everything right at that moment.

“Thank you.” The sheer… faith in those words was as humbling as it was heavy, forcing me to realize the weight on my shoulders. This was going to be the hardest conversation I would ever have, and a child’s life was on the line.

So I tossed aside every expectation, nodded seriously at the hologram, and walked to the girl I was about to save.

Entering a vault-like door, which was probably more for her protection than anything else, I immediately recognized what she had done. The smell of blood in the air and the bandages on her wrist made it perfectly clear the method she had chosen.

It was rough and dirty, an attack made with a bestial aggression to the perceived source of all her problems… but let’s save the psychoanalysis for when she was awake.

I walked towards her bedside, and spoke.

“Wake.” Every bit of Sloth she had burnt into nothing as she was suddenly as awake and aware as possible. Her eyes flickered around her, before she remembered and-

My hand wrapped around her wrist, the back of it taking the brunt of her bite, an insignificant amount of pain on either of our parts. Blonde hair flew back as she flinched from the sudden pain in her mouth, baby blue eyes wide in shock and desperation as she finally noticed I was in the room.

“Hey, Riley.” She full-body flinched away from me at the sound of her own name, and it was only my immovable grip on her that kept the Biotinker from throwing herself head first onto the floor.

Once she realized I wasn’t letting go anytime soon, and that I wasn’t going to let her commit suicide, did she finally speak. “D-don’t call me Riley. I don’t d-deserve it.” She was shaking, constantly an explosive mix of adrenaline, shock, fear, and Melancholy creating a completely unstable mental state.

“Alright, kiddo.” I acquiesced, still holding onto the girl. “My name’s Kris Ashton.” I said calmly, reaching up and removing my mask with my free hand, as I gave her the most comforting smile I could. “Nice to meet you.”

A sullen, melancholic look took over her features. “No it’s not.” Those words were said with complete and utter certainty. “It’s never nice to meet me. Or the rest of-” Her face quickly paled, a grimace on her face that I recognized was the unique brand of self-hatred when you don’t react normally to something that should horrify you. “... us.”

[+5 Wrath]

The absolute bitterness of her tone made it completely evident exactly what everything was stemming from, if it wasn’t plain to see before. “What did you do to the rest of- of them?”

“I killed everyone else, save Burnscar.” She whirled towards me, eyes wide with fury and anguish, and said the words that I desperately wish I didn’t expect.

“Why didn’t you kill me too?!” She demanded, tears pricking in the corners of her eyes, a hatred of herself lashing out at anyone who even shows a sliver of kindness towards her exposing itself. “I-! I’m worse than all the other ones! I t-tortured and maimed and called it art! You have no idea how many people I’ve-” She gasped, her chest working against herself as she spoke, physically fighting to deny everything that’s happened. “I’ve turned into art that failed, or didn’t have the right shape or color, that I threw away like trash!”

I didn’t speak, letting her burning hatred mix with heartfelt sorrow that needed to burst out all at once. Because she’s going to be both the easiest and hardest person to set right, and I cannot afford any mistakes.

“I’m a murderer, and I treated all the people I’ve hurt like macaroni art to take home and show my- show my-!” She gasped and wheezed, choking sobs trying to escape her as she spat venom to the world, her emotions an ever-twisting whirlwind that could not be stopped. Only endured.

“I replaced them!” The words were screeched out, like every syllable was a blade being torn out from her stomach and dragged along her throat. “I replaced them with murderers and maniacs and I loved it! I loved thinking that Jack Slash was my Dad! That Sibby was my mom, Shatterbird and Burnscar were my sisters, that Mannequin was my uncle, that everyone was the family I killed! I-” She stopped, tears pouring from her eyes as she glared into my own. “-I liked them better than my Mommy and Daddy!”

She confessed, huffing and panting like that was the greatest sin in the world, like the mere admission of the fact was enough to ‘rightly’ damn her to the pits of hell.

Her other arm moved, and my hand lashed out to wrap around the other wrist, and all semblance of composure fell apart.

“Why?! Why won’t you let me go to Mommy and Daddy?!” The little girl, no older than ten, sobbed desperately as she tried to escape my grasp. The scent of her blood on her lips so disgustingly sweet as she hacked and sobbed and kicked at me. “L-let me go! Let me go to Mommy and Daddy! I-I’m sorry, I’ll never be a bad girl again! I promise to be good, I’ll go far away and never hurt anyone again just let me go please.”

For a split second, part of me felt cold. Like the burning heat of anger and indignation lacked even a single spark, and without it I was completely and utterly composed. It felt like I was completely above all petty reactions, as if rage itself was merely a switch to be flicked on and off.

And when I noticed I didn’t feel that same overpowering sense of rage at the world for what it’s done to this little girl, I flicked the switch so fucking hard it snapped.

“No.” I breathed out, and the girl struggled even harder, hoping that if she could beat me down she could follow her parents and beg for forgiveness.

“P-please, I’m sorry, I’m begging you! Mommy, Daddy! I’m sorry, help me, I won’t do it again!” The girl pleaded to the heavens, sobbing concessions to anyone who would listen when she realized she had no possible way of beating me. “Please! Kris, let me go to my Mommy! My Daddy is waiting for me, I need to say sorry for being a bad girl.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

“LIAR!” She screamed in my face, my enhanced ears throbbing painfully as her heart continued to race. “I- hurt everyone-”

“Jack Slash Mastered you, like he did everyone in the Slaughterhouse.” I told her pointedly, and I saw a light of realization flicker in her expression as a question she had was suddenly answered, even as she struggled harder.

“I came up with the ideas on how to turn people into… into those things!” She shouted back at me, as if trying to scare off the very idea of forgiveness from getting anywhere near her. “Even if he made me do it, I wanted to. I loved to show off to him, I wanted his praise even without his powers!”

“You were a traumatized child with nowhere to go, only a fool would blame you for doing whatever it took to feel loved.” She flinched away at my words as they grew in intensity and assurance, like a dog turning away from the light after being locked away for its entire life. She rejected any hope of getting better, of being kind to herself, as if it were poison.

I could feel my blood boil in my veins, and wished I could kill the entirety of the Slaughterhouse a second-time over.

“I-I tried to make the people who killed my family into their replacements! I liked them better, I’m the worst daughter in the world! How could anyone forgive me?!”

“You were doing everything in your power to trick yourself into believing someone you loved was right in front of you, alive and well.” I didn’t even need to close my eyes to see the cold, dull eyes looking up at me from the corpse of Amy Dallon. “Believing a comforting lie to ignore the unbearable truth isn’t a crime! All you’ve done is want your family back, and to be forgiven for your mistakes.” My words were, ironically, less effective against me than they were against her.

She did her best to pull herself from my grasp, but again she is a literal child and I’ve suplexed a nightmare monster the size of a double-decker bus not even an hour ago. My strength was as dauntless and unyielding as my intentions of making her see reason.

“Stop it, stop it! I don’t deserve it, why are you giving me hope for forgiveness?! I’ll never get any mercy for what I’ve done, stop lying to me-!”

“Do you think you get to decide when you’re forgiven?” I asked heatedly, the burning sensation in my stomach flaring up as I let word after word flow without hesitation. “That is the height of naivety. You cannot decide when one lets go of the pain you’ve inflicted on them.” She winced, her defiance of my words faltering as I seemingly condemned the very forgiveness I gave her. “No, every single person you’ve hurt- no matter how directly involved you were- are the ones who decide if you are worthy. You desperately want the world to hate you as much as you do. I will not give you the hate you oh so desire.

“You have done horrible things. I will not deny or sugar coat it. Even if you were Mastered into doing them, those crimes are yours, even if only slightly.” I let go of the girl’s hands as I rose to my full height, sharp brown digging into tear-stricken blue as the Biotinker froze. “But I know you are more than that. You would not be so absolutely destroyed the second you received Freedom otherwise. You know enough to hate what you’ve done, but not to realize my forgiveness is not the mercy you believe it is.

“Mercy comes when you decide not to condemn someone based on what they’ve done beforehand, it is a stay of execution on the chance they prove to be more than their prior actions. Mercy is a gamble on your ability to become better, to become worthy of your forgiveness.”

At this point, I could say many things and ensure everything goes my way. I could use her parent’s love to force her to continue living out of debt, but life is not something to be measured and paid back, and I won’t pretend otherwise.

Likewise, I could use guilt to ensure she spends every moment of the rest of her life repenting the sins of her ‘childhood’, but I will not turn her into a prisoner trapped by their own guilt.

So, once again, I spoke the words from the bottom of my heart.

“Mercy is the chance to be something, someone different. Better, worse, entirely new! It doesn’t matter what you pick, and it doesn’t matter how worthy you are of it. All of that is irrelevant, because even for the most pure of saints and the most heinous of sinners, and everyone in between there is one fact shared by all of them!”

And suddenly, without warning, my arms were wrapped tightly yet gently as for the first time in who knows how long, the Biotinker was given a hug with no complications or conditions attached.

“Tomorrow will come. That is mercy.” I told her, quickly yet with unshakable firmness, as I placed a hand on the back of her head. “It doesn’t matter whether you own up to your every sin, or run away to the far corners of the world without ever even thinking of what came before this day. Just… I beg you, whoever you are today, and every day that follows. Treat yourself kindly, for all the people who love you. Even if they’re gone- especially if they’re gone. Because death won’t keep anyone from loving someone, not in the ways that matter.”

The girl said nothing for a good long while, making no movements and no sounds for a period of time I lacked both the means and desire to count. But eventually, small arms wrapped around my torso, and I pushed her head into my shirt as the wailing began.

Tears and snot flowed disgracefully, and hiccuping cries bounced off the walls as she apologized over and over to everyone she believes she’s wronged. But it was different now, for these tears and apologies were not that of a despairing girl who couldn’t bear her own guilt even a second long, who sought escape under the guise of seeking forgiveness.

No, for the very first time, Riley shed all the tears of grief and sorrow she could. She cried and cried her eyes out, her despair finally released from the depths of her soul. And after an unknowable amount of time spent holding her gently, she stopped crying.

I would let her sleep for the day, and see what she does with the mercy tomorrow brings.

“-Sorry, I’m not going to make it to the meeting with-”

“It’s fine.” Narwhal interrupted me as she went to face the consequences of my actions in my stead, my guilt crystal fucking clear even from the other side of the country.. “This entire meeting is just going to be a giant power-play on the PRT’s side; not even the most crooked lawyers in all the world would make murdering the Nine as anything less than an act worth celebrating.” My boss then chuckled lightly. “Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if they made a national holiday out of this.”

“Hah,” I huffed in good humor. “I’d be happier about that if I ever got to take days off. Least you can do is get them to name a fucking sandwich after me or something.”

“... Abaddon.” My spine straightened at the tone the far more experienced parahuman used to address me. “If you are ever going to listen to a thing I say, listen to this. Everyone is going to have something to say about this, good and bad. They will try to use this for their own agendas, twist all you’ve done to meet their own ends. But as someone who's been in the game longer than most, who has won and lost more than I ever want you to comprehend, I want you to remember this.

“You have avenged countless people, and saved countless more. I speak only for myself when I say that you are the type of cape that I would trust my back to, and you are the type of person that makes the future worth fighting for. I’m proud to have had the honor of meeting you, and I am proud to call you a comrade and friend.”

“...”

I don’t fight for acknowledgement or glory, despite how the public sees me. I fight for the hope that things can get better, the opportunity that this place has taken away from these people. I’d be perfectly happy accomplishing that goal and being forgotten immediately.

Yet, somehow, those earnest words of praise from someone who I respected more than most people live… without asking or prompting, without hesitation or even stopping to get her words in order. A speech straight from the heart, right when my relative anonymity outside of Brockton and it’s immediate surroundings is about to die a dog’s death…

“... Stop trying to make me cry, it’s not going to work.” I forced my voice not to shake as I silently brushed the pooling tears from the corners of my eyes, letting off a lame joke just to diffuse my tension. Fuck man, I’ve already spent way too long crying, I needed to get to work. “But, thank you. I can’t even describe how much that means to me, coming from you.”

“I meant every word. Now, we’ve both got some important work to do, so good luck.”

“Knock em dead, Narwhal.” Hanging up at that warm note, I put away my phone and instead focused on dealing with the last person I’d saved from the Slaughterhouse. Burnscar.

I’d probably have to deal with this pretty delicately, considering the child who spent a large portion of her life indoctrinated by Jack Slash immediately tried to kill herself the second she was freed from his influence.

But hey, at least this one actually got sedated before heading here.

God I’m a fucking idiot.

I opened the door to the holding cell, taking in the multitude of non-flammable materials I didn’t have the focus to spare identifying along with the older woman on the bed in front of me. Well, not that much older- two years bare minimum, or it may just be the highway man lifestyle taking a fucking toll on her. Parahuman healthcare or not.

She had long, messy black hair that reached past her chin. A glance at her sleeping face showed a trail of cigarette burns trailing from beneath her eyes down to her jaw, like burnt-out tears. A sniff with my human-hunting nose revealed that she definitely had much more wounds than that, considering the stink of various ‘recreational’ chemicals pouring off her, along with the prickly smell of regularly reopened wounds.

I’d just barely gotten another charge of Temporal Reversion, yet I didn’t hesitate to hit her with it- both to flush whatever is still in her system, as well as removing her wounds from her body.

Oh, and forcing her awake. That too.

The second she began to wake up, a low groan came from the back of her throat, a wordless distaste with being conscious I could no longer relate to. Steeling myself, I spoke up.

“Hey.” Her entire body launched itself up out of the bed she’d been laying in, eyes wide and wild as she moved to the ground and farther away from me. She raised her palms towards me, an orange flicker appearing between them and in her eyes.

{Burnscar(?)’s Pyrokinesis has been negated!}

Oh she’s using her power-

“The Slaughterhouse are dead.” Ripping the bandaid clean off shocked her out of attacking me, and I was suddenly aware of the fact this was the first time someone had been hit with Bestow Freedom while they were unconscious. It was probably why she was unable to recognize- oh she didn’t even see me at all before now.

Right.

“W…what did you- what did I-?” The girl wrapped her arms around herself, probably being the most lucid she’s ever been in months as she deals with every mistake she’s ever made all at once. She doesn’t know where she is or what’s happened to her, but I don’t think she’s in the mood for concrete facts right now.

So, I did the only thing I could think of, and held the traumatized girl. The pyrokinetic stiffened in my arms, not having the mental fortitude to even understand whether she should or shouldn’t torch me alice, but I spoke before she could make the decision either way.

“It’s gonna be alright.” A heavy, shaky breath left her at that moment as the absolute certainty in my words as I gave her the most comfort I could. “I’m going to do everything I can to make things okay again. It’s all going to be just fine.”

Shaking fingers dug into my skin as she gripped me like she’d die if we separated, as I offered her what I knew would get her to calm down and see reason.

After all, when her powers couldn’t burn out her empathy and had to deal with her life as a member of the Slaughterhouse Nine, she got high off whatever she could find. She’s been in a constant loop power-enforced sociopathy, depressive episodes once she stopped using her power for long enough, and highs to keep the guilt away.

Right now she was in the middle of none of those, considering I’ve essentially forced to go cold-turkey from all of the above. She has no frame of reference for the here and now, she’s been completely alone aside from her kidnappers but unlike Bonesaw her delusions weren’t self-sustaining. She knew exactly how awful her situation was the entire time but lacked the ability to escape.

And right now she has, but she doesn’t believe it. So instead of an empowering speech, I gave her as much comfort as I could give, until she could recognize that things had finally changed.

Over the next two hours, I stayed with Mimi, and slowly but surely weaseled some conversation out of her between all the reassurances.

Mimi was originally part of the Parahuman Asylum, due to her power fucking with her brain. When her best friend Elle (Labyrinth) got broken out by Faultline’s crew, she escaped along with them.

She didn’t want to talk about much past this point, but from what the System tells me she killed a man in self defense with her power, was thrown into a negative feedback loop with her only escape being drugs and cape shit, until she eventually got recruited.

Those weren’t the important things, considering that Mimi only wanted to go back to the Asylum and see Elle again. Which… may not be an option for her anymore, considering Bestow Freedom makes it so her powers don’t have that shitty side effect anymore.

I mean, I’ll still send her over there to see what else could be done- I can talk my way out of a lot of shit, but up-close contact with the Slaughterhouse Nine is out of my league.

… But considering she’s a known member of the Nine, well… yeah she probably won’t last the day without having to kill in self-defense.

But, well, aside from that Mimi absolutely doesn’t want to ever use her powers again for the rest of her life. Cured side-effects or not, which is honestly the correct decision after all the shit she’s been through.

… Though that meant that I needed to hand her off to someone else- someone more qualified that could give her what she needed better than I can. Cause, y’know, bringing her back with me to Brockton is like the opposite of a good idea. Like, one of the worst ideas I could possibly have in this situation.

So, at the two hour mark, after getting to know Mimi as well as I could so we both knew what would be best for her from now on I called in Dragon and let her knew that Mimi only wanted a life as far from capeshit and fire as she could find.

So Mimi would probably end up going to Canada, but honestly I was too busy collapsing in one of the guest rooms to pay attention after I gave the soon-to-be-ex cape over to Ddraig.

God I don’t think I can handle these speeches back to back like this…

And in that moment, for the first time since I’d gotten here, after beating an unkillable monster to death with my bare hands and giving the psychological equivalent to emergency aid for two parahumans almost immediately after… I slept long and hard for the first time since I could remember.

A/N: Holy fuck did I have to change this chapter.

An AGH chapter below 8k words? Essentially two speeches back to back? Posting fairly quick for this story?

Yeah, times are a’changing. Also originally his chapter was way different after the Bonesaw speech, but A) the direction it was going in was kinda ass, and B) it didn’t involve Kris going out of his way to help the unconscious girl who didn’t need to be prioritized, but if he didn’t do it he wouldn’t be Kris.

I hope Narwhal being the only responsible adult in this entire franchise is enough recompense for this.

Thank you all for reading, Peace.