Chapter 23: The Witching Hour Approacheth
-SATURDAY (TIME UNTIL MEETING: 6 HOURS)-
The day was here, but the time was far off. Nonetheless, Dylan and his compatriots were on the move. They were going… somewhere. Dylan had been woken up, late as normal, dressed and marched out the door without his usual hellish 'training' or even a scant meal. He was merely awoken, dressed and filed out the door with a knowing glance from Redd.
Redd's branch travelled in two vehicles, along back roads and quickly into the countryside and through forest paths. A tactic to avoid attention, sure, but also a shortcut to the country-residing academy. Leading the group was Redd, who drove a little communist-china-red beetle car that seemed lovingly maintained but still worn down by age. While Redd was upfront, Dylan was in one of the two seats at the back, alongside Jessica. He might have had to crouch in order to fit even his average height under the short roof, but he didn't put a seatbelt on and instead positioned himself in an extreme slouch, eliminating any headroom fears but putting a serious crick in his neck, back and knees for sure.
Bo and Izzy rode together in the van that shall not be named. The Union's residents eight-foot-tall clown beast couldn't fit in Redd's car if you removed all the seats and then rolled the man into a spine-breaking sphere. He needed the spacious travel comfort that could only be found on Izzy's travelling water-bed. The unnameable vehicle rattled behind them, wobbling with the bumpy tracks as the large ballast swung to and fro.
They were going through the woods now, and it was getting dark. The dirt path was knobbled with roots much like the car park out the back of the flats. It made for an uncomfortable ride. There was no heating or light in Redd's car, so Dylan was chilly and blind. Nothing out the window, and nothing to listen to save unidentifiable Russian nonsense on the CD player. Oh, and Jessica.
"Dylaaan~" She mewed.
"What?" He barked, generally frustrated.
"Do you wanna be a dad?" She asked. Jessica was right up next to him. Their hips were about touching. Her head was rested on his shoulders, and she was looking up at him with anticipation. In her spindly arms, she was strangling a big, fat stuffed Cheshire cat. The warm, cuddly thing helped her retain some body heat, which Dylan got his fair share of through proximity. As a result, he didn't really mind the closeness.
"Fuck if I know... maybe?"
This was the answer to most of the girl's questions, which she had been asking basically non-stop since they set off. They were niggling little questions like a kid might ask. Dylan didn't see the point in them but felt that he should keep his complaining mouth shut as the definitive lowest ranking member of the group.
The car jostled suddenly and with more energy than usual, and then it went completely smooth. Dylan peered out of the window, cupping his hands around his eyes like binoculars to make out the scenery better.
They had left the forest and driven onto a quiet rural road. The sides of the roadway were overgrown with tall grass. Suddenly, Redd pulled to the left, and Dylan saw white lines painted onto the road. The car stopped. They were in a car park, presumably.
"We will be waiting out a portion of the remainder of our time at this establishment," Redd said. They and Jessica hopped out the car first.
"What establishment…" Dylan thought. Then he looked up. Comfortable yellow light shone from within a quint old fashioned cottage-looking building. Real thatch on the roof he presumed, and those white walls with wooden braces in a crisscross pattern? Dylan didn't know what they were called. It was a large and sturdy structure with a pair of big wooden double doors and exterior signs denoting it as a modern-day 'inn and tavern' of sorts. "Is this place… secure?"
"I have an arrangement with the owner," Redd began. "He's a sympathiser of sorts. Provided we keep our dirty business elsewhere, he will grant us sanctuary and turn a blind eye to any extra-legal activities."
"What about other guests?" Dylan asked.
"We cleared the place out, its just us."
As Izzy's conspicuously named vehicle pulled up next to Redd's beetle, the branch collectively proceeded indoors. Bo swung the big doors open, and Dylan was hit with a wave of warmth and a homely smell.
-LATER THAT NIGHT (TIME UNTIL MEETING: 5 HOURS 15 MINUTES)-
Dylan went to bed without eating that night. In one of the three available rooms. Which he shared. Redd was on their own. Bo and Izzy bunked together. That left him and Jessica, stuck in a room no larger than the average walk-in closet. Under the duvet, of course, because it was cold as balls anywhere that wasn't right next to the authentic woodburning fireplace in the beer hall downstairs. It was a one-person bed, too.
"Hey, Dylan…" Whispered Jessica, who was attached firmly to his arm like a clingy pet cat.
"Y-yeah?" Dylan half stuttered, half shivered.
"We could die tonight, you know." That didn't do a whole lot to ease his nerves. "Heroes kill aaalll the time… This could be the last few moments we have with each other…"
"I guess you're right…" Dylan murmured, looking at the slanted ceiling and fruitlessly trying to get a precious few hours sleep.
"That's… Kinda romantic… Don't ya' think?" She laughed.
"Sure, I guess under a certain analytical lens it- wait, what?"
Before Dylan had full time to process, Jessica was on top of him. He was pinned down, straddled by the stomach. His muscles went ice stiff at any and all points of contact. She grabbed him by the collar of his hoodie and pulled him so close to her face that their foreheads pressed together.
"You heard me~" She mewed. Then, she went for it. She was going all the way in. Dylan was watching it happen. Dylan could feel himself on the verge of reciprocation. He moved it a little closer himself. But then, he didn't. As if, right?
Dylan had an adverse reaction. A classical case of his famous allergy to good things happening to him. He shuddered and yelped so hard that he bucked Jessica off of him for a second. She and him both banged their head against the headboard. While Dylan shielded his face, still under the effects of his knee jerk reaction, Jessica held her head.
"Are you some kind of idiot!" She fumed. Dylan dropped his arm shield.
"I-Im sorry… that was dumb…"
"Look, maybe I'm not the best with feelings and shit, but I think I made myself pretty obvious just now! And if that wasn't fucking enough for you, I'm literally saying it right now!"
"O-Ok…" Dylan stammered, thinking he understood.
"...So…?" Jessica crossed her arms.
"...So… yeah… Ok…" Dylan whistled incompetently.
"So what! Moron! Dumbass! Yes or no!"
Dylan didn't even think about it.
"Y-Yeah…" He blurted out. Jessica's grin returned.
"Excellent!" She said, re-grabbing him by the collar. He let himself be pulled around, his heart rate elevating beyond the point that he was comfortable doing anything bold without risk of dying on the spot. "Now, where were we?"
This was good. Absolutely. Great, even. Dylan liked it. He liked it for sure. He was stoked, even. This was way better than what he was expecting! He couldn't have asked for anything better to happen. Yup. And there it was again.
In a display of martial arts that would have raised Bo's eyebrows, Dylan cupped his hand over Jessica's mouth centimetres away from his own. Then, like an aikido master, he tossed her off of him and slapped her down onto the far side of the bed like a wet rag before scrambling to the bathroom and locking the door shut behind him.
What? That wasn't how he imagined that going. It wasn't even what he intended to do, though he felt like a complete twat trying even mentally to justify what just transpired as an accident.
Nausea. Nausea at something. In the cramped ceramic bathroom, Dylan felt profound nausea. He fell to his knees and went for the toilet. Disgustingly, embarrassingly, he began to vomit. He was unable to control the retching, which persisted long after the semi-digested chunks of his light lunch had all been expelled.
How could he feel fucking sick now? How and why? He could really use some of that earlier fucking numbness right about now. The revolting stench was barely anything compared to how disgusted Dylan was with himself.
He was a villain now, no matter which politically correct term Redd wanted to use for it. A spade is a spade. And villains all have one thing in common, they take what they want. He could be sure beyond a reasonable doubt (though unreasonable doubts crept in from all sides) that he wanted her and vice versa, so what was the fucking problem? Why couldn't he just fucking reach out and grab what's right in fucking front of him?! Why was he so… disgusting and weak. Coward.
Suddenly, the poorly hung oaken door began to rattle off its hinges. It rumbled and shook from a repeated, enraged thrashing that came from the other side. It could only have been Jessica. Dylan's heart sunk even more.
"...Is that how it is…?" Jessica warbled. She sounded on the verge of tears. Wait, that wasn't right. She was angry! Where was the anger? She was pissed, right?! "I can hear you throwing up in there, asshole!"
"Jessica… what are y-" Dylan was interrupted by the worlds worst timed gag. Dylan heard Jessica's sniffling at fifty per cent speed. The world was slowing down and allowing him to bask in his own pathetic idiocy.
"...Do you really find me that disgusting...?" She said, most definitely crying by now. Dylan lunged to the door, slipping on a loose puddle of his own spittle as he did so and banging his head on the side of the bathtub. As if he needed anything else shitty to happen.
"No… that's not…"
Jessica couldn't hear him. She was gone already. Disappeared somewhere to seeth about how terrible he was. Wordlessly she parted, not wanting to exchange another breath with him. He didn't blame her.
His heart sunk right down into the toilet bowl. He wanted to melt and disappear down the drain. He wanted that so, so much. Knowing him, he wouldn't be able to achieve even that.
What a piece of shit he was. He passed out.
-LATER STILL (TIME UNTIL MEETING: 2 HOURS)-
Dylan was awoken while it was still dark outside. He could tell because the first thing he saw when his eyes fluttered open was a frosted glass window which was eerily black to stare out of. The witching hour approacheth.
"Move it. It's time," Redd declared, thumping on the side of the plastic tub. Dylan slid around for a while trying to right himself, still feeling nauseous. He wondered why he decided to have his brief sleeping reprieve somewhere as shitty and uncomfortable as this grotty bathtub. Shame, probably. Even with Jessica gone he didn't want to face his flub by going back into the room that it had happened in. He closed his eyes all the way through to the hall, masking it with a fake yawn and rubbing of his eyes with a closed fist. Redd said what he didn't want to hear most of all.
"So… About Jessica."
"Oh please god no…"
"Dylan, as the delegate of this faction it's my responsibility to iron out interpersonal disputes before they evolve into rifts. The last thing you want when fighting for your life if for teenage bullshit to get in the way."
"So what? Is she ok? I didn't… fuck anything up did I?"
Redd chuckled.
"This girl watched her parent bleed out under the rubble of their family home. How beat up do you really think she is about one cold, boring houseplant of a potential partner?"
"Doing wonders for my self-esteem here, Redd…" Dylan groaned.
"Oh, your self-esteem?" Redd sneered.
"Fucking forget I said anything!"
"Listen, Dylan. I didn't come to mediate, I came to… console. Sometimes, I think its best if these kinds of relationships remain platonic, you know?"
Dylan scratched his matted, knotty hair.
"Fuck it. You're right…"
"She's a nice girl, but I wouldn't say she was… girlfriend material. Her strengths lie elsewhere, I guess. Plus, she's extremely high maintenance. I don't think you could have handled it in the best of cases."
"You don't have to rub it in anymore. I'm over it, alright?"
"Alright," Redd said, satisfied with the job they had done. They opened the exit which led to the car park, and Dylan slinked out ahead. The outside was as bitterly cold as he expected it to be.
"Wheres the car…?" He grumbled.
"Already gone," Redd replied.
"What do you mean?"
"I had an… attendant… take the vehicles away from the premises and as far away as possible. We want no link between the 'event' and our vehicles to be recorded by law enforcement so that we can still drive them around in civilian areas afterwards. Thusly, we travel on foot from here," explained Redd.
"Don't worry sunshine, be some good exercise for ya'" Izzy grinned.
"You might put some… muscle… on those bones…" Droned Bo, staring straight forward with a glassy-eyed expression. As he said it, his own muscles flexed under his painted skin in a regular undulating pattern. He was doing something to them. Warming them up, maybe? Occasionally, he shivered and shuddered. It looked to be a part of whatever esoteric exercise he was doing, as was the dumb look on his face. Both of those could have been down to the cold.
Jessica was there, but she was giving him the silent treatment. When he glanced over, she obviously averted her gaze from him in a fashion that felt way colder than the night air. He rubbed the patch of skin on his nape which started to feel itchy and disgusting every time he thought about her.
Redd walked while they talked.
"...The way is through these woods here. It's not an insignificant walk, so we'll be going over our strategy brief on the way." The group's delegate snapped a twig under an armoured foot as they went. "First thing's first: Leave no trail. We don't mind leaving a trace. We want to have an impact after all. It's fine if the authorities find out who was there and what they did. That's what we want. What's important is that they don't find where we are. That's why we took the cars elsewhere."
"So how do we… you know… blow the joint?" Dylan inquired sceptically.
"Ignoring that you uttered the phrase 'blow the joint', escape will be via the typical means. The 'Blood Knight' will be present on location, and we shall make our escape via the use of their quirk."
Dylan blinked a few times.
"Am I meant to know who that is? What the fuck kind of a name is 'Blood Knight' anyway? Do they got anything less self-aggrandising that we can call em? Something kinda normal?"
"Okay, 'Dire'," Redd snarked.
"Huhuhuh… It's your first time. You don't know about the 'Blood Knight'..." Bo heaved with low, rumbling laughter like the purring of a two and a half thousand-pound crocodile. Dylan ruffled his own hair with frustration.
"As if that's a fucking normal thing to know about! Is this world of fucking warcraft we're talking about?"
"Never heard of it," Redd said.
"Me neither," Bo followed.
"Don't ring a bell, sunshine…"
"Oh, fucking forget it. I suppose I'll figure it out when I get there."
"Good attitude to have," Redd complimented half-heartedly. "Next item on the strategy brief is keep your god damn mouth shut when I'm talking-"
"I suppose theres all sorts you won't know about yet," Izzy wondered. "Blood Knight, obviously, then the chairman, hammer and sickle…" He scratched his little grey blond goatee as he thought. "Whole lotta fellas…"
"Did we bring a fucking army or something? I thought it was just us…" Dylan felt increasingly frustrated at how little he knew.
"Aside from the fact that this operation is bigger than whoever works with me," Redd began. "That Man has graciously provided us with a large group of... attendants with which I can carry out operations."
"Just how… large… are we talking here?" Dylan inquired. He didn't even want to spitball at a figure to avoid making a fool of himself. Just as he said so, a line of silhouettes faded into view from the murky blackness.
They wore white ceramic masks akin to Redds. They stood in lockstep, with their hands joined together. A disciplined, motionless pose that would give a beefeater a run for their money. Dylan almost fell on his ass from fear at the almost occult looking scene. The individuals came in a variety of heights, shapes and levels of anthropomorphism. Dylan swore that they must all have been mutants in some way or another. The line, only a single individual deep, stretched far past where Dylan could see to in the dark of night. How many of these mask wearers were there?
"It's like an army…" Dylan muttered. "Where did… where did they all come from?"
"They congregated independently towards an agreed-upon position. We are a heavily decentralised operation. By splitting our ranks up, we don't run so much of a risk of being taken into custody or killed by law enforcement. Even if they do get some of us, getting all of us is practically impossible," Redd explained pridefully. "Oh, how rude of me to not introduce you. Dylan, these are the 'Chess Folx'. You could call them… close personal friends of mine. They number in the range of two hundred to two hundred and fifty, but it been a while since I've made a precise headcount."
"Right… pals of yours…" Dylan groaned, standing up and wiping the cold dirt off the behind of the tracksuit. "Did you say two hundred and fucking fifty?"
"Yes. Two hundred and fifty. And we'll be marching each and everyone into Regency Academy without even alerting the security system."
"You've cracked it then, the security system?" Dylan inquired.
"Well, not exactly," Redd admitted.
"I'm gonna need a degree of fucking certainty here…" Bemoaned Dylan.
"Heres your degree of certainty, putz…" Izzy growled, stepping forward. "It don't matter what the man's got going for em', I can break in n' out of anywhere, clean as a whistle. It's my speciality, you might say."
Izzy had no time to elaborate on that point because a distraction presented itself. From behind the firm line of the Chess Whatever-They-Were-Calleds emerged a different sort of character entirely. No mask, no decorum.
"Jessica!" They squealed in a high pitched, excited tone of voice. The petite figure ran forward until they were within Dylan's rather limited cone of vision. She had that elusive combination of sharp green eyes and hair as red as wine, tied into a drill-like ponytail with a pretty pink bow. She was wearing an agonizingly saccharine and cute pink frilly dress. The kind of dress that pops into your head when you think of the word 'princess' only shorter in the skirt so as to give her plenty of freedom of movement.
This freedom of movement she used to launch into a running, leaping tackle hug aimed at Jessica, who just as quickly engaged one back.
"Rosette!" She cried with elation. At least she was happy to see somebody. The two collided in the middle, their foreheads butting together like they were a pair of angry rams. A little bit of blood might have spurted out, but with the prevalence of sadomasochistic tendencies among Union members, Dylan figured neither really minded. In fact, by the time both of them hit the floor they had their arms around each other and their cheeks pressed up so hard that their faces turned red simply from all the blood being squashed up in there. The ends of a gigantic ribbon that 'Rosette' wore around her waist were dragging in the cold hard mud, getting slightly dirty around the edges.
"Whos this now?" Dylan whispered to Redd, not wanting either of the girls to hear him.
"That is a one Rosette Cordon, another of the trustees we have working among us. You may have heard That Man mention something about it, but we have twenty or so of her rank and general strength level. They will also be gathering, but it seems she was the first to arrive."
"They look… close…" Dylan observed.
"They're friends. At least, I think they are."
"What do you mean you think?"
"They have tried to kill each other in earnest no less than sixteen times apiece. They always make up, even if one puts the other in a back alley surgery for a while. Its… tenuous… having them around. I try not to have them work too closely. It's a necessity to avoid highly destructive arguments or backstabbings."
"I see…" said Dylan, catching a glimpse of the malefic glint in Rosette's eye.
-DEEPER IN THE FOREST (TIME UNTIL THE MEETING: 1 HOUR 10 MINUTES)-
They had all been walking for quite some time now. Under the cover of darkness, making as little sound as possible, the union crept up on the academy. Moving through no privately owned land, the could get within spitting distance of the grounds. From there, it was Izzy's job.
The convoy had settled into several distinct layers as the walking continued. In front was Redd, who personally guarded the 'payload', which was Dylan. He didn't feel flattered to have all of this trouble about just him having a meeting, In fact, he felt quite embarrassed, but he was left with no choice but to assume a greater karmic purpose to his coming to see That Man here and now.
Behind them were Izzy and Bo, and behind that pair was Rosette and Jessica. Taking up the rear was the ever-tightening circle of masked mutants, followed behind closely by a quickly materialising band of trustees. Dylan caught a few of them as they checked in with Redd. They werent too notable, mostly seeming like mindless muscle or otherwise just goons. Dylan knew he shared their exact rank and didn't voice his concerns regarding their potential effectiveness.
Then came the wall. Dylan didn't notice anything exceptional about it at first. It wasn't like it even occupied a clearing or as if there was anything to denote it as anything other than a random obstacle on their path. Redd jutted their arm out to stop him though. Then Dylan knew.
"This is the border, right? Past that wall is the academy grounds?"
"You'd be correct," Assured Redd, cautiously picking up a stick off the ground. With a hefty heave of effort, they tossed the stick skyward. A rather lousy throw, objectively speaking, but strong enough to demonstrate their point.
The stick was fried instantly, and its ashes shot back at projectile velocity. The reaction was silent and assuredly mortally dangerous for a person.
"And those would be the defences to which I referred. A field operates in a hemispherical shape around the academy grounds, with the technology held within this wall as its source. Try to touch it with bare flesh, you get fried. Armour yourself, instantly alert the pro heroes beyond the barrier to your presence by setting off approximately one million alarms upon contact with the wall. Manage to get past both of those, and the slightly smaller secondary field will activate directionally and forewarn the faculty of anything outside coming in. To defeat all three stages of the defence would be a ridiculous assertion for any decentralised villain organisation. At least, that's what they want you to think."
"Are we gonna-"
"No, we are not digging under the wall. Even if the field doesn't reach down there, I severely doubt that it's unprotected since its the first thing a buffoon like yourself thought of. Secondly, it would take far too long to dig a tunnel. Not only would we miss the meeting, we'd be invading in broad daylight while the majority of our forces are held back trying to squeeze through a series narrow tunnels. We have something much better than any of those solutions."
"That's me!" Izzy said excitedly. "They's talking about me!" He reiterated, for anyone that didn't quite catch him the first time around.
"Yes, Izzy, I meant you. But before any of that, a strategy brief is in order. While on the premises, we are to refer to each other only by our aliases. However much this will protect our identities is disputable. What's likely is that the authorities will still be able to determine our real names by using quirk forensics and background checking our birth certificates, however, this rule is as much about branding as it is about protection. I expect no slip-ups, understood?"
Everyone muttered in uniform agreement. Redd deemed that they were clear enough and moved on to the next item of business.
"Secondly, I advise any of the more idealistic of you to manage your expectations. This operation has one goal and one goal only. We are to lead Dire to his meeting with That Man and then we are to vacate the premises and make an escape as soon as possible. In the time between Dire arriving at the clocktower and regrouping with me, we will make ourselves known by causing as much damage and destruction as possible. The Chess Folx and the Trustee division will be tasked with distracting the faculty-"
"Wait, Redd…" Inquired a squeamish sounding trustee. "Wouldnt it be better to have the strongest people go against the faculty? That would be you and the executives wouldn't it?"
"You seem concerned for your own safety. That I understand. Don't worry, I'm not the type to lead men into suicide missions. I take my killing very seriously and hate to toss away resources and lives like that. The trustee division and the Chess Folx will be receiving direct instruction from myself. Follow them to the letter, and you will lead the faculty around in circles. It's unlikely that any of you individually will see more than a few moments of direct combat."
"And… what are you gonna be doing? You and the executives that is?"
Redd took a deep breath. What they said next they did not say lightly. Their voice had a depth and gravitas to it.
"I have a theory… A theory that to do as much damage as possible, one must strike from the foundation, or at the sapling. Our job will be very important, don't you worry. Tantamount to the goal of Dire arriving at his rendezvous will be the Union of Dissent neutering the 'British symbol of peace' before they have even been given a chance to grow… Everyone, don your disguises if you have them. The time is upon us. Izzy?"
Dylan reached into his tracksuit pocket and pulled out his mask. It looked kinda shitty off of his person, but he had a brand to uphold. He stretched the thin, raggedy leather over his face by the two handles on either side, making sure the eyehole was positioned just so. He took a deep breath himself, but for a separate reason to Redd. His chest was tight, and his knees weak, but he had come this far.
It was Izzy's turn to step up to plate. He put his cigarette out on one of the iron studs on his long leather jacket and discarded the butt into a deep exterior pocket. Then, he licked his lips. As he made his way up to the alabaster wall, the impenetrable field glittering above it, he got a look in his eye like he was closing in on prey. He was hungry and looking forward to showing his stuff, especially in front of all the newcomers.
Rearing back his arms, his eyes swivelled in their sockets. He rolled up his sleeves, and a sort of blue energy overtook his forearms. It dripped down the length of his limbs until it gathered in the tips of his fingers, and began to drip out of them like condensation. That was until he flexed them ever so slightly and commanded the energy to take shape. Suddenly, the chromatic light took the shape of blades, thin and small like surgical scalpels. His hands scraped the wall, the wall which should fry him to death to even touch, and closed in ever so slowly.
"Alrighty, Miss Academy… Open Sesame!"
TO BE CONTINUED
Hello everyone! It's an OC light chapter this week I'm afraid. Sometimes, you just gotta do plot stuff and prioritise that over everything else. Not much is happening on campus right now, unfortunately... that is... not yet... Um, anyway! I did manage to introduce one OC this chapter, no matter how briefly. And it's our first villain OC! Perhaps now that we know a bit more about the structures and group dynamics at play, submitting villain OCs will become a little easier? Perhaps that's wishful thinking.
Anyway, the next chapter begins the climactic arc of this story's first 'Act'. Much like a play, I plan on having three acts to the story! And after all this time, we are coming up on concluding the first. Exciting times! If you're even a little bit as excited as I am, then be sure to leave a review telling me what you thought about the chapter. Who are these peculiar associates of Redd? How does Izzy plan on breaking through the Academy's lethal defence system? What exactly is that quirk of his capable of? I'm asking you! And as always, thanks for reading. I'll see you in the next one!