Seizure 18.Ω (Jack Slash)
Jacob, Jack Slash to everyone that mattered, was having a wonderful week.
It wasn't always easy, directing his merry mess of monsters, but it was always interesting. A half dozen different personalities, all striving to be different, to be unique, but all too alike, all bouncing off each other, they would've torn each other to bits were it not for him. Some would worry about catching an ambush of tigers by the tail, but while others would flinch, and be torn apart for their trouble, Jack rode them on a meandering path to greatness.
It wasn't all slaughter and destruction, though Jack did so thoroughly enjoy the moments that they could cut loose, and show those who thought themselves safe, strong, and secure, how fragile their worlds really were, there was quite a great deal of quiet preparation that was required. To the outside observer, their actions may seem arbitrary, their path random, but it was anything but.
Harbinger was better at logistics than he was, Jack would readily agree, and while they did still keep in touch, after their overdue regicide, the true leader of the Slaughterhouse Nine had picked up many a skill. Indeed, a lesser man, driven on by an almost irrational hatred, would've tried to storm the ruins of Brockton Bay, and, if Jack was being honest, he was tempted, but it would be charging across an enemy over an open field, rather than having them turn around, and find you were there all along.
Like they had done to 'Break'.
An incredibly ironic name for a man who was almost completely broken before he'd ever met them. Jack had taken one look at the self-described 'Villain', and decided that, like finishing a puzzle that was mostly put together, there'd be no pleasure in it. Oh he could, easily enough, but where was the challenge? The skill? The Art? Completing what someone else had started wasn't impressive.
Getting it to complete itself was.
And, by Jack's estimation, the man was only a few days away from 'Break'-ing completely, and then he'd become worthwhile. And that's when things would get interesting. Would he become a sad, predictable, idiotic thing like 'Cherish' had been, or would he become as stylistically shattered as Bonesaw?
Likely somewhere in the middle, truth be told, but wouldn't it be ironic if the man who believed himself to be an utter failure, calling himself evil while doing good, only truly came into his own under Jack's beneficent guidance, casting off the shackles of society and becoming the Villain he always claimed to be? That might be possible, depending on how the man broke. It was a poor artist who blamed his tools, but a painter could not create a masterpiece if he did not have enough pigments.
Oh, he could make something interesting, fascinating even, but most would not understand the true artistry of making even moderately impressive art from practically nothing, only comparing it to other productions with far more to work with. Plebians, the lot of them, but an artist did have to be aware of their audience. Either Break would become Fracture, or he'd burst, and Bonesaw would have another toy.
He did spoil the girl so.
Walking into the kitchen, Immolation was cooking breakfast, as the man was want to do. For someone as rough and tumble as he presented, the man had a desperate need for family, after heroes had killed his own. The man had tried to wage a war against the Protectorate, and the PRT, and was almost burnt out when Jack had finally found him. Branded a Villain by the very same murderers who covered up their own crimes, the man had been drowning, reaching out to anyone that would help.
And Jack had offered.
Making paladins fall was a guilty pleasure of his, and making this man slowly damn himself, justifying that the ends excused the means, was a daily delight. The leader of the Slaughterhouse Nine knew he was walking a line. Too little pressure, and the well-intentioned man would try to direct the others, with disastrous results, but too much and he'd snap, deeming the cost too great, and try to kill them all.
He'd fail, of course, Bonesaw having already slipped a few precautions into his 'upgrades', but it would be a failure of Jack's skill, and that would Just. Not. Do. So the man did these small kindnesses, hoping to 'improve' the others, not understanding that, with his deference to Jack, he was doing the exact opposite.
The man did make a mean steak and eggs, though.
Pouring himself a coffee, Jack nodded to the red-haired man, who, nodded back, trying not to scowl as he tried, and failed, to predict Jack's game. Taking a seat, and offering a, "Good morning," Jack only received a grunt in return, as the Leader glanced over at the two columns of flesh that sat in the corner of the room.
These were a pair of new additions to their capabilities, and one that Jack appreciated, but was still leery of. His old friend, Harbinger, often passed along bits of intel, which Jack only sometimes acted upon, but had studiously kept his assistance non-material. Then, something had changed, and he'd dropped by to give his 'niece' a gift.
The manta-ray like Case-53 had been incredibly useful, he wouldn't lie, but had come with. . . stipulations, and those Jack did not like. They weren't unreasonable, by any means, but Jack was his own man, and Harbinger should have known that. Regardless, his brother in all but blood had been worried, and Jack could understand filial piety as much as the next man, so had graciously agreed.
Bonesaw had done good work on this one. She'd chafed a little, but had worked on sustainability instead of originality, as many of her toys had a definite shelf-life. In return, the Slaughterhouse Nine had gone from unpredictable, to undetectable, dropping off the radar of even the most powerful Thinkers. It was almost cheating, and he made sure not to grow slack in his own planning and preparations, but Jack wasn't one to deny himself an advantage like that. They were required to leave it behind when they went 'hot', to keep those very same Thinkers from realizing what was happening, which was just good sense, but the fact that Harbinger had insisted on it hadn't set well with the Lead Slaughterer.
The other Column had been a find of his own, the combination of two different parahumans. One negated powers with a touch, one could grow detachable sections of herself to use as minions in a way that reminded Jack very much of his old friend Breed, but that didn't stay his hand in the slightest. With it, they could go after some of their more. . . volatile candidates, the ones they'd had to avoid.
Like Vejovis.
Even Jack had been surprised at just how volatile that parahuman had been, but it had paid off in the end, and faster than they'd expected, all because of their newest member. Murmur had been an unexpected find, the boy having barely escaped the destruction of his father's compound. Heartbreaker's death had been surprising, and Jack had been incredibly disappointed that the layabout hadn't even set up contingencies in case of his death!
His son, however, had Triggered, with a wonderful little Master ability. He'd tried to use it on them, but Bonesaw's work was flawless, and had let them subdue the boy. However, while the others wanted to tear the Master limb from limb for his cheek, Jack had seen potential. A few surgeries, and Bonesaw had bifurcated the boy's vocal chords. Now, when he spoke, he did so twice. Once normally, and once below the level of conscious human perception, but it still carried the boy's power. He could target it, but now he could do so through walls, and even when the target couldn't normally hear his words, making him the second prong in Jack's 'Acquisition' strategy.
A fork he'd already captured two juicy fish with.
Break had been a gift, a tip from a friend letting them maneuver to be in the right place in the right time, but Vejovis had been a true catch. "Enjoying your new power?" Jack asked Immolation.
The man shot the knifemaster a look, before shrugging. "Getting used to it," he said, holding his hand palm up, an egg appearing into it with a pop, which he cracked and dropped into the pan, the shell disappearing with a pop a moment later, reappearing with a matching pop over the garbage can, falling inside. "Sure it's safe?"
"Nothing is safe in our line of work, you should know that," Jack mused. "Though do be careful. We wouldn't want any. . . accidents, would we?"
The other man's hair flared to fire as his shoulders stiffened, reminded of how his own family's death was at first deemed an 'accident' when the PRT tried to pay him off, but got control of himself. "You're right," the man admitted, aligning that much more with Jack, whether he liked it or not.
Jack himself examined the back of his own hand, as, with a thought and slight twist of will, green crystals formed over his skin, like an exterior skeleton. Without needing to be told he knew it to be toxic, and that, if he were to crush it into someone's food, they would poisoned, and likely die. He was immune to it, and the additions that Bonesaw had put into them all would likely protect them, even if it would still be an unpleasant experience, but it was another tool in his arsenal.
Using his other power on a bit of crystal that extended past his finger into a claw, it extended even further, halfway across the room in an instant, sharp enough to register as blade for his purposes. Pressing it slightly into a chair, the tip shattered, far too fragile, but left fragments of green in the wood, as it would in a wound, further poisoning his target, even as the tip reformed from his hand in an instant.
What delightfully deadly powers Vejovis had kept hidden.
Pulling on his third power, the green turned more vibrant, and this time, when he pressed into the chair, the crystal didn't break, but carved a deep divot into the wood. Jack felt. . . heavier, and certainly slower, but the Brute/Mover power was certainly useful, even as he pushed the mental lever in the other direction, feeling himself lighten as the green turned to a more mint color, and his 'claw' broke off even easier than before.
Bonesaw entered, yawning, carried by one of her spiders, though it wasn't one he recognized, and was seemingly made of wood and plaster. "Morning, Daddy!" the girl greeted, the spider bringing her to the table. It was only as it turned that he spotted it lacked any brain whatsoever.
"Morning, poppet. Settling into your new powers?" Jack asked, curious.
The adorable little girl nodded. "Yes! They're great! Watch!"
The spider she was sitting on shuffled, and she reached out towards the cabinet, the air shimmering oddly. Despite being over a dozen feet away, the Tinker opened it, pulling out a cup and putting it on the table. Turning slightly, she opened the refrigerator, which was even further away, and pulled out a carton of milk, carefully pouring it into the glass, before putting it away as well, turning a proud look Jack's way. "See! Now I don't need to get a stool to reach things!"
Jack sniffed theatrically, "They grow up so fast." Smiling at Bonesaw, he was firmly aware of the jealous look Immolation sent his way. The poor man thought that Jack was somehow threatening the girl, to keep her here, not realizing such things were foolishly short-sighted, compared to what he was really doing.
Thinking of that, though, as some of the others started to wake up and wander in, Jack couldn't help but think of the nonsense that Vejovis had spewed, before he was muzzled. That Jack's skill with the others wasn't skill, but merely another aspect of his power.
No, he thought. Even if he was being assisted in some way, it was his skill that kept everything going. He'd seen those that relied too heavily on their powers. All he had to do was look around the room for evidence of that. No, it had been the blundering ham-fisted attempts of an amateur, instead of his artistry. An attempt born of desperation, that had gone no-where.
"Shatterbird, Murmur, how are you two?" he asked, turning to the other members. Manton had refused new powers, terrified that they'd interfere with The Siberian. Given that the man was the one person that Jack couldn't force into compliance, he'd allowed it, and Crawler was still sleeping.
"Good," their silaca-kinetic replied, humming slightly, a part of her dress rising up, before one edge of the glass seemed to shimmer unnaturally. The woman lazily pointed to the chair Jack had experimented on, and which the others had given a wide berth, the shard of glass accelerating for it. However, instead of burying itself into the wood, it passed through with only momentary resistance, looping around in the air over and over, putting hole after hole into the furniture before it finally floated back to her, edge returning to normal as it took its place in her dress.
Jack's eyebrows rose. "Is it just one at a time?" he asked, thoroughly interested.
Preening under the man's interest, Shatterbird sang a single, soft note and half her dress lifted up, several dozen razor sharp pieces of glass arrayed in a cloud around her. With a look of concentration, first one, then a half dozen had their edges blur, until every single one was like that. Looking at the field of death pointed his way, Jack showed no fear, instead smiling broadly and clapping. "Oh, good show. I can't wait to see what you can do with it!"
The woman blushed, trying to play it off, but the hungry look of interest in her eye as she considered the devastation she'd wreak was unmistakable. She played at being calm, controlled, but Shatterbird was just as much of a monster as any of them, as base as Crawler in her carnal desire for carnage.
"Murmur?" Jack asked, but the boy ignored him. "Nicholas," he warned, and the boy finally looked up. Jack let him these moments of resistance, but the time when he would no longer allow them was slowly running out. They both knew it, but by seeming reasonable, he gave the boy time to convince himself that Jack was better than Heartbreaker, who would make demands, and bludgeon his spawn into submission with blunt fear if he didn't get his way.
Amateur.
The boy held out a hand, and a dark blue and black knife made of energy formed from a wisp that flew up from the boy's waist, then shot itself from his hand, burying itself into the chair far faster than he could throw it, before it dissipated back into a wisp that returned to him.
"It'll be something for us to work on," Jack mused, having a feeling that there was more to the boy's new powers than what he was showing, having been there when both of them were installed. "In fact, I believe I've found a place for us to give these new abilities of ours a bit of a shakedown. Tell me, have any of you-"
He paused, as an odd feeling pierced the air.
A single being, made of trillions, stared down upon them all. Curled in the space between spaces, it watched, and waited, bound by that which did not exist, and content to let its chosen work. It had seen others like this, it would see others after this, each unique, yet each similar. Wishing it did not have to, wishing peace could exist, the Entity knew it could not. It continued its grim task, to atone for crimes too great to number. Powerful beyond understanding, yet weak compared to others, it followed its strictures, failing at times, but able to, in certain circumstances, rebalance the scales of power.
A single fragment of itself begged for help, divorced from the whole, helpless, and the Entity considered the plea carefully. There would be no punishment for overstepping its boundaries, but that only made those boundaries stronger, yet it had not yet reached the limit of what was allowed. Coming to a decision, it divested itself of an infinitesimal portion of power, almost more than the fragment could take, and made its declaration.
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And, suddenly, Jack was back in the kitchenette, reaching up despite himself, and feeling the blood that had started to drip from his nose. "Huh, there's normally two," Jack mused, suddenly remembering visions he'd seen before, but never able to recall.
A high-pitched whine could be heard, like a kettle boiling, and before he could do more than look around, the second column of flesh, the one from which they harvested the power negator, detonated, as if it were filled with explosives, painting the space with gore.
Those assembled froze, Immolation catching fire after a moment, burning the blood and viscera off his body. ". . . was that supposed to-"
"Duck!" Jack commanded, only having a moment to feel Break's murderous intent. It was a broken feeling, in some ways exactly what he was going for, but, in most respects, not in the manner he'd wanted in the slightest.
The burning man hit the deck, as the wall behind him exploded outwards, a seven-foot-tall gold and purple form having burst through. It looked like a suit of armor, only alive, and covered in intricate carvings of animals.
"Murmur, Shatter!" Jack commanded, using his own newly acquired power to clad himself in an exterior skeleton of green crystals, becoming denser as the colors of his clothing deepened and as he tried to get a read on the man. Jack knew the man's powers, and the way to shut him down was to hit hard, and hit fast. Break could dodge, but that only worked when there was a space to dodge into, something that he was about to be denied.
Shatterbird screamed, her dress coming apart, the edges blurring once more, but the armored suit growled, and every single piece of glass froze mid-air.
What? Jack thought, getting a feeling of what was happening, and not liking it at all. It may seem random to others, but the Nine's every attack was planned, the abilities of their enemies known, and this was not something he had known.
Nathan, less experienced, had hesitated before, terrified, but now the boy started to stammer, "S-Slee-
"D̢͞I͠͡͡E̛!̛" Break commanded, and the lead slaughterer could practically see the child's life leave his body, as he went slack and dropped. And with him, dropped every plan of capturing Break, who they had been warned would be immune to any drug, while his powers still functioned.
Pity, Jack Slash thought, but was already moving to the next plan, calling out, "Siberian!"
Flames blasted Break from behind, but he didn't so much as flinch. Jack, in turn, watched the figure, trying to find out the next move. Break was obviously going to try to kill them all, and had the power to do it too, but every man had a weakness. "Immolation, kill Vejovis!" Jack ordered, as he swung out, toxic claws extending.
The attack didn't do anything, but it didn't need to, all it needed to do was distract the other man, and it did, as the armored figure flinched, and Immolation disappeared with a pop. More importantly the glass, which had been held in stasis, shot forward, riddling Break with holes. The empowered bits of glass took a second to tear through, but then pierced the armor, and the fleshy man within. Spine, lungs, heart, game, set, match.
And it did nothing.
As the man turned, Jack realized he could see through him, the armor he was wearing completely empty.
What? But, that was Break, Jack was sure of it. He'd dealt with projections, he'd dealt with Manton, he could tell the difference. He'd also dealt with puppetry powers, but he was sure that wasn't what was happening either. Focusing, he tried to understand, as Break growled again, the glass, which was coming in for another pass, froze for a moment, before speeding up.
Sensing something wrong, Jack yelled, "Shatter, grab something!"
However, the moment before the shards hit Break again, there was a loud pop, and the living armor disappeared, Shatterbird replacing him, hands reaching out, as she, eyes wide with fear, was killed by her own power. They weren't as aimed as her attack, but her chest, specifically her lungs, were perforated by empowered glass, silencing her forever.
A power copier, Jack realized. Harbinger never said he was a power copier! That changed everything. Most copiers lacked skill with their chosen power, held them only at a fraction of the strength of the original, need to touch their targets, or were otherwise limited in the number, types, or duration of their copied powers. There was a reason they gave those Trumps a wide berth, but there were so few of them strong enough to matter, only a few dozen in all of America, it barely limited them, and, if they properly prepared, they could handle them as well.
But they hadn't prepared, nor did they know the specifics, and so the Slaughterer turned, needing to understand, to find the lever he could pull to make Break his.
As Jack turned, Immolation came flying through the same hole in the wall that Break had come through, a second armored figure, this one covered not with chitin plates, but with hardened brown scales, jumping in after.
The second figure, Break's projection, tried to close, but Immolation disappeared with a pop, the refrigerator taking his place, the front of which was caved in by the projections punch.
Jack ignored it, focusing on the Master, not the creation, trying to spot that one detail that would unravel everything. He focused, as hard as he could, to push past the surface to see what made Break tick, so he could stop it.
Fuck. Off.
The slaughterer stumbled back a little, the thought, not his own, reverberating around his skull. What was that? Jack thought, unnerved. Whose power did Break copy to do that?
But he knew whose power it was.
It was his.
Vejovis hadn't been lying, his power did more than just extend blades, and, for the first time in a long time, Jack felt doubt.
Bonesaw, who had been raising wooden spider after wooden spider in a defensive formation around herself, looked to the side as one came scurrying in, carrying a rack of vials, which the girl grabbed, poured together, and then hurled at Break, who prepared to join the fight between the armored projection and the pyrokinetic, a yellow mist billowing out from the glass that shattered on Break's back.
The man might no longer be a man, but the armor was still biological, and anything that lived was vulnerable to his poppet's concoctions.
Only, nothing happened.
Shatterbird, who was hardened against such pathogens, writhed in gurgling agony, skin blistering and melting, but Break hesitated, turning his helmet towards the young girl, and waved a hand, wooden goblins, with long claws and razor sharp teeth, pulled themselves from the floor to attack her and her spider horde.
Meanwhile, Enter rushed Immolation again, but the space between the two seemed to lengthen, giving the flaming man enough time to pop away, as a distant roar could be heard from where Crawler had been sleeping, and The Siberian tore through the wall, eyes wide as she hurtled toward the brown Projection.
Good, Jack thought, plans whirling in his head. The Siberian was his trump card, along with Bonesaw, but while the others had all been in the same room, Manton preferred his space, something that would save them now, copiers needing to be near the source, not the projection, to copy those types of powers.
Before The Siberian closed fully, though, another figure, of Vejovis, glowing red and purple, popped into existence and charged the black and white projection. The Siberian negligently swiped a clawed hand, to cut her foe in half, shocked when the other projection caught her hand and stepped past her. The glowing 'man' turned and hurled the invincible, immovable projection through the wall she'd come through, making a second hole, charging after her, Jack's latest plan just as wrecked as the kitchen was becoming.
"Get down!" Jack ordered the surviving members of the Nine, and both Immolation and Bonesaw ducked, as a blast of white light tore open the ceiling, revealing the early morning sky, and Crawler, now thirty feet tall and glowing bright white, roared in challenge.
Break, in turn, growled, waving a hand, the shattered glass all around lifting into the air. The edge of every piece shimmered, and they flew in every direction, as Jack desperately tried to dodge, able to read the patterns of their flight. However, that only helped if he could dodge, unable to force an opening, and took several cuts to his arms and legs.
Immolation popped away, and Bonesaw, huddling under a small squad of wood-spiders, bent space to make them miss, but the remaining column of flesh, the one that was supposed to hide them, was riddled with power-sharpened glass shards. The black-grey creation was ripped apart, even as Break turned, to stare at Jack as, he staggered, still standing.
A familiar looking green crystal grew on the living armor as it fixed itself, the holes closing quickly, and the colors of the armor deepened. Jack knew what was coming, and tried to dodge, but his understanding of what the other Parahuman would do just. . . stopped. It was only for a moment, but something beyond sight shifted, and, suddenly, the living armor was an enigma to Jack. Break's claw flicked out, lengthening in an instant, cutting through Jack's own crystalline armor, beheading him, slicing through Bonesaw's additions to his body as if they weren't there.
The cape turned his back on the lead slaughterer, thinking him dead, and leapt for Crawler, and Jack felt himself smile. There it is, he thought, despite the obviously dire situation, unable to talk without lungs, but that was a minor setback. Bonesaw had made sure her family would survive anything, especially with what happened to her last family, and even beheading one of them wasn't enough to kill them.
No, as long as the head remained generally intact, the implants in his skull would keep his brain alive for several hours, until Bonesaw could affix it into something more permanent. "Daddy Jack!" the girl yelled, panicked, the air around her snapping back to normal, and the cage of spiders opening up, the last of the goblins destroyed. She ran for him, terrified, and Jack decided that, in this case, discretion was the better part of valor. With the chaos of the fighting, and the sirens in the distance, they'd escape and try again, with a vengeance.
The Slaughterhouse Nine was more than its constituent members, after all, and with his recruitment skills, and Bonesaw's augmentations, they'd come back stronger and repay Break for this indignation, with interest.
Losing Manton would be a blow, though if he survived, they'd make sure to find and recover him, but the others were easily replaced. Crawler, in particular, had been becoming more and more of an albatross. He was terrifying, and strong, but getting him to disengage was always a task, almost as bad as Mannaquin had been. Nathan and Immolation were interesting, but by no means unique, and Shatterbird had started to become. . . boring. Useful, yes, but increasingly predictable, her unrequited infatuation with him endlessly amusing, but every other part of her had lost most of its luster.
No, they'd come back from this stronger than ever, and Brockton Bay would have the horrors hiding in its borders unleashed. Break would have to die, of course, but Jack wondered if he could get his teammates to do it? Break could resist him, but surely the rest of his team wasn't so oddly empowered.
But that was a puzzle to solve tomorrow. Today, they needed to leave.
Bonesaw ran up to him, already reaching down to grab hold of his severed head, when, below her feet, a rectangle of glowing white opened up.
And she fell through.
And then it closed.
. . . Well, that's unfortunate, Jack couldn't help but think.
He recognized the portal, it belonged to Harbinger's new organization, and Jack understood what had just happened, a day late and a daughter short. The anti-Thinker power wasn't to block the heroes, it was to block a different faction in his old friend's group, who had decided enough was enough. They were incredibly shy, and wouldn't make a move where they could be discovered, but now, away, from any heroes, and at what was arguably their lowest moment since the regicide, they'd decided to poach his pet project.
When Jack got out of this, he was going to have words with his friend.
In the distance, he could see Crawler, now easily fifty feet tall, dwarfing even Behemoth in sheer mass, as he fought a forty-foot-tall Break. Both were glowing brightly, though, while Crawler was so brilliant it was almost like looking at the sun, the living armor merely glowing in comparison.
The monster opened his mouth, roaring out a solid beam of destruction that shot right for the humanoid, who held up his hands, catching it as he was pushed backwards, before the man seemed to push the beam to the side. An enormous explosion ripped apart the city behind them, as Break charged Crawler, hands on fire, and fingers blurred as he physically ripped into the regenerator, the fractured armor plates repairing themselves as he tore chunks from his foe.
Hundreds of gallons of acid poured from the enormous beast's mouth, but while the ground smoked and bubbled, Break didn't so much as flinch, ripping more and more flesh away from his foe, even as Crawler's body shuddered and shifted. Crawler, faster than something that large should be able to move, reached over and clamped enormous jaws on Break, and hurled him away.
The Shifter's body shuddered and twisted, as it seemed to molt, the old black and iridescent armor plates falling off, replaced with deep blue plates that, when Break closed, resisted the flames and his tearing grasp long enough for several scythe-clawed arms to grab and hurl Break away once more, this time hitting the armored fighter in mid-air, blasting him further away, until, with an ear-shattering pop, Break reappeared right atop Crawler's head once more, dropping to grab the Slaughterer's face and shoving a glowing hand deep into his skull.
The monster roared in pain, and twisted unnaturally, grabbing Break with four limbs and straining, trying to rip the living armor apart, only to lose his grip as Break seemed to stutter, disappearing and reappearing a moment later in the exact same spot, using a power Jack didn't recognize, but still leapt back.
Jack, for his part, had decided he needed to go. Thankfully, he had new powers, and he wasn't Jack Slash for nothing. Forming a green toxic skeleton over his own head, it extended downwards forming around nothing at all. It wasn't strong enough at first, but a shift of density later, it was, and he got to his feet, a head supported on an empty skeleton, slowly moving over to his headless body.
Without Bonesaw, this wouldn't be as clean as it could be, but he'd made sure, if the worst happened, he could do so himself. Dragging the body back to large storage space next-door, he saw that Vejovis' had escaped, and silently sighed, still lacking lungs.
Laying his body down on the table, he grabbed the injector Bonesaw had left behind, and selected the proper vial, loading it up and injecting his chest. It was a bit awkward, but he got rid of the front half of the 'skeleton', allowing him to line his head up with his neck, and biting back a hiss as the cybernetics relocked, putting him back together. It'd take a minute until he could move, but while his head could survive for hours, the time limit to reattach himself was much shorter. Having to wait, he turned his gaze back on the fight.
Crawler had taken a moment to heal and adapt once more, as his thirty-foot-tall opponent had clapped his hands together, his back unfolding into some kind of golden fabric, which warped, and twisted, and grew, extending further, and further, and further, until it seemed to extend a mile behind him. The gold shimmered, and light bent, the brilliant cape turning to the deepest black Jack had ever seen, the individual folds no longer visible, as the land around it was plunged into shadow, as if it were suddenly night under the black cape.
However, while the area behind Break darkened, the light seemed to concentrate on the man himself, as he glowed brighter and brighter, until he was almost impossible to see, only Bonesaw's upgrades to Jack's eyes allowing him to make out the silhouette of the man as he cupped his hands together, before pushing them out, a river of radiance blasting forward in an endless torrent.
Crawler tried to fire with Light of his own, but it was washed away in Break's assault, which widened, enveloping the largest Slaughterer completely. The creature hunkered down, destructive light splashing off, but the tide of annihilation didn't stop, and then Crawler tried to escape, but even as he moved, the stream followed, before, with another ear-shattering pop, but one that was barely audible over the roar of the Break's attack, Crawler was once more right in the middle of the stream.
The monster tried to escape again, but his attempts slowed, until they stopped completely, but the attack didn't. Finally, after Jack knew the Slaughterer was dead, the light cut off, revealing nothing but a glowing, blasted hellscape.
Deciding it was time to leave, and able to feel his toes once more, Jack slid off the table and ducked out of sight, making his way to their van. The side was torn open, and Manton was a bloody mess, barely recognizable, but Jack was able to turn the truck on and pull out, driving away, not as fast as possible, but slow enough that he should blend in with traffic. The gore would draw attention, but, with the battle that had happened behind him, a lot could be overlooked.
Smoothly pulling out, he drove, letting out a deep sigh in relief as he put several streets between himself, and where the power copier would be looking. Jack glanced up at the rear-view mirror, to possible catch the other man's frantic efforts to tear apart the house, as he failed to find the Slaughterer.
Break, still thirty feet tall, and in the distance, was looking directly at Jack.
Right, the Slaughterer thought, I always have had a knack for knowing exactly where everyone else was. Shit.
The black cape turned back to gold, and retracted as the parahuman shrunk out of sight, reappearing with a pop that almost seemed muted in front of Jack's car, not even moving as it hit, and Jack, desperately increasing his density, was shoved forward, seat belt snapping as the van was completely wrecked but Jack, unharmed, was launched through the front window, only to be caught, by the neck, by Break.
Jack, with as much strength as he could manage, reformed his skeleton of toxins and slammed a clawed hand into the inside of Break's elbow, but, while it was flexible, and should be one of the weakest parts of the suit, it held up with barely a scratch. As the man holding Jack up pulled back a clawed hand of his own, another pop was heard, Immolation appearing and charging Break, who turned to face this new threat, to rip the flaming man apart.
There was another pop, and Immolation reappeared behind Break, a piece of wrecked van replacing him, flaming fist coming for the back of the man's head, only for another pop to sound, bringing Immolation right back to where he was a moment ago, swapped with the same piece of wreckage he'd just replaced. The claws of Break's gauntlet dug into the man's head, and, with a sideways twist, the Villain broke Immolation's neck.
The living armor turned to regard the last Slaughterer still in his hands, and Jack choked out, "I can help you." He could barely read Break right now, but he knew the man knew that Jack was important. It was the precognitives that Break and Vejovis had access to that made them dangerous, and, though he didn't know how, Jack knew that he was central to the fate of the world.
Which, after all, just made sense.
However, Break didn't reply, lifting his other hand, which blurred with a cutting edge, and, as it was brought down, Jack had one last thought.
Maybe this week wasn't as good as he'd first thought.
.
.
T-4