Chapter 2.4
Monday, April 11th 2011
I didn't even need to sneak out of the house, not really. All I had to do was target a bug a couple of blocks away and I was gone. Thankfully, the Butcher's teleport only exploded on arrival, and the exit itself was barely a pop by comparison. Dad didn't even stir.
Barely five minutes later I was walking into the Teeth's arena lair formerly used for basketball, boxing, and a handful of other events back in the eighties and nineties. The Teeth claimed it as their own when they rolled back into the Bay last year and nobody had made the attempt to remove them.
I was getting a curious mix of looks from the unpowered members that I passed. Tonight I was wearing one of the outfits Chrissie had picked out for me, a red blouse with gray dress pants; I looked like a business woman on her way to a meeting, just in gang colors. I had no intentions of ever wearing this to Winslow, but it was great for making a statement to the lesser fools that worked for me.
The confidence that the Butchers carried themselves with was on full display as I made my way towards the old VIP box seats where our rooms were located. Most of my minions were smart enough to step out of the way, but that didn't mean some of them weren't already drunk and demonstrating horrendously poor judgment and a complete lack of survival instincts.
It was almost amusing to watch as this group of barely adults moved to block my path, because the others recognized how hopelessly stupid it was of them and were already lining up for the show. It would have been a simple manner to diffuse the situation, a few stray bees, a subtle pain blast, or hell, just shove them aside. I had options, many of which would have left them untraumatized, but that wasn't my goal.
"While another example is prudent, remember that these are your minions and not Empire filth" Stratego reminded me.
I promise to be gentle with my toys.
"We haven't seen you around here before," one of the men spoke. He was wearing a Brockton U shirt. "How about the boys and I show you what the Teeth are all about?"
"Sorry to disappoint, but my girlfriend is expecting me, so piss off before I get pissed."
"She's welcome to join us," another said. This one was wearing a band tee. "The more the merrier."
"Goddess I hate pushy men. This is why I started castrating the fuckers," Fester grumbled, and I was having a hard time disagreeing with the sentiment.
"I am curious," I mused aloud. "How do you think the Butcher would react to a group of pushy men trying to accost her?"
My question seemed to have caught them off-guard as I pushed the chorus back a bit so their snickering didn't show on my face, because I was having a hard enough time not laughing myself. My bugs began to pick up whispers in the crowd, my enhanced senses picked up Weaver more than once.
"Uh… I'm not sure," Brockton U answered.
"Well damn, and here I was hoping you could have given me a few ideas." As I spoke, the drone of my swarm intensified as the fliers began to gather around me. I waited till the exact moment it sunk in before my arm snapped out and closed around his throat and lifted him like a ragdoll. "I guess I'll just have to use my imagination."
"Ask us verbally," Damascian suggested.
Pyro nodded her head. "Yeah! You're the Butcher on her home turf, play it up!"
"It seems my predecessors have a few ideas of their own," I said, tapping the side of my head. "Damascian seems to think I should peel you like onions. Fester wants me to rot your balls off, while Marauder is suggesting that I eat you. I'm leaning towards the former, given how stringy humans are…"
With each suggestion I threw out the men paled further and the man in my grip thrashed harder. The onlookers had closed ranks and cut off any hope they had for retreat and seemed content to just enjoy the free show. It was then that my bugs picked up someone moving through the crowd.
"Weaver! I heard you got me a present!" Chrissie's voice called out over the din of the crowd as they parted to allow her passage.
I had a few of my wasps move to her, many landing on her while the rest provided a vanguard. Once she was close enough I tilted my head so I could see her with my own eyes. She was in full costume, radiating a pure violence and danger from the skeletal remains of several men attached as trophies. I made a mental note to address that little practice if I was going to attempt to reform the Teeth into something a bit more palatable to the masses.
"Vex, perfect timing. Perhaps you could provide me with some inspiration on how to handle a couple of pushy men."
"They were hitting on you and you didn't hit them back? Glad to know I have nothing to worry about."
The crowd gave a polite chuckle at her joke and I grinned wide. "Of course not."
I hit the three with a mild pain blast and dropped the one still in my grip. They shrieked in agony and I left them where they fell.
"Grab a minion you trust and a moving truck, we're clearing out my old base. When we get back I want all our capes gathered for a meeting. We have much to prepare for in the coming days."
"You got it boss!" Vex said cheerfully.
As she sauntered off my bugs caught someone with a phone either taking pictures or recording what had just transpired. A mini swarm descended upon them and stung at his hand until he dropped the phone with a scream. A tide of roaches, beetles and spiders secured the device, only for my fliers to pick it up and drop it into my waiting hand. Even as that was going on I repurposed my swarm into binding his limbs.
The phone was still unlocked with the camera app opened. I opened his gallery and found a dozen pictures of my actions as well as a short video of my little speech to the little shit still sobbing at my feet. Holy hell, I looked terrifying from the outside. I quickly deleted the offending media from the phone itself and did a quick check to ensure he hadn't uploaded anything, then I crushed the phone in my hand. A single wasp grabbed the memory card and flew off with it just to be safe.
"I'm fine with pictures taken of me while I'm in costume and masked, but if I catch anyone else trying to record or photograph my activities while I'm in civvies… Well, not even Panacea will be able to help you after I'm through. If my identity is ever outed, those responsible will be killed, no exceptions. Are we clear?"
The crowd gave murmurs of assent at my pronouncement, so I strode for Chrissie's room as the crowd gave me plenty of space. I needed to recover my costume before we set off for my old hideout, which triggered a blush when I realized why it was in Chrissie's room to begin with. I had a few bugs slip inside and unlock her door on my approach, however, when I stepped inside I didn't find my costume. I did however find a note.
Hey TayTay, your costume is in your room.
Here's the key for what that's worth compared with your mastery of the break-in.
You are reading this after all. Feel free to break in anytime.
At the bottom, rather than a signature was a set of deep red lip prints.
"Aww, you're smiling! Don't even try to deny it!" Alkaline teased.
I was smiling. In fact, a glance at Chrissie's mirror showed I was actually grinning like a loon. I shook my head and carefully packed the note away before locking the door behind me and making my way to Quarrel's room.
"Oh, here we go!" Pyro said while rubbing her metaphorical hands together.
"Place your bets on how long it takes Taylor to squick out!" Sabertooth said gleefully.
Various numbers began to be shouted, causing me to roll my eyes. At least bet something you idiots can use, like food votes.
There was a precious beat of silence before the betting resumed with their new currency. With a weary sigh, I used the provided key and unlocked the door. Chrissie was lucky that Quarrel had forgotten to use Chisel's power to reshape the secondary lock before she rushed off to fight Lung.
I'd known what to expect from Quarrel's memories, but that still wasn't enough to prepare me for the smell. How Chrissie hadn't puked was a mystery for the ages. Like most of the Teeth, Quarrel took trophies. Unlike most of the Teeth, she prepared those trophies in her bedroom. She had been in the middle of such preparations when she departed and now I had two half desiccated human corpses that needed immediate disposal. Even beyond that, the room was appallingly filthy, what with the haphazardly discarded knives, arrows and… sex toys…
Stay classy Quarrel.
"Fuck you!" Quarrel spat.
Not with these nasty things.
I sent my swarm in and set them to consume all the decayed flesh as well as any other waste and refuse they could find throughout the room. I did my best to ignore the bleached skulls and human spines adorning the walls, then turned my attention to her bed.
I'm burning it.
"No one would blame you, that thing was uncomfortable," Marauder complained.
"I blame the concertina wire," Stratego said.
"It did keep the others out of our coke stash," Knockout said with a sagely nod.
"At least sell the coke before you burn the damn thing," Pyro whined.
Duh, I'm a villain now, that means selling drugs… unfortunately. I may find it distasteful, but I do plan to curb the sale of the more dangerous drugs on the streets. It's not like we can actually stop people from selling, but we can regulate it.
"I'm gonna miss meth," Sabertooth said mournfully.
Cry me a river, at least I'm keeping coke. Weed too, along with a few others. You'll live.
"Not that you'll use any of them," Sanguine grumbled.
Hey, I smoke weed!
Chisel snorted derisively. "Shitty weed."
Through that conversation I'd been pulling my costume on while my swarm continued to clean house. In fact, there was enough disgusting refuse for the bugs to eat that I actually had to call in more from the basement. However, that meant that I had a big enough swarm to carry the trash out, depositing the sizable pile of bones, soggy porn mags and dildos for some hapless idiot to stumble across.
"Please set up a camera, the reactions will be priceless," Pyro nearly begged.
"That would be poor security in the event an infiltrator finds the memory card," Stratego retorted.
"Just kill all the fun, why don't you?" Alkaline snapped.
"Yeah, who made you the fun Nazi?" Knockout bellowed.
I made my way to the arena's VIP parking area, following my bugs to where Chrissie had the truck waiting for the mission at hand. I considered just teleporting there but I didn't want to risk startling someone who might have poor trigger discipline. I'd rather not lose someone important to a jumpy idiot.
"Pyro had the excuse of her explosions being bigger and louder, what was your excuse Knocky dearest?" Alkaline asked sweetly.
"Fuck off, at least I didn't mustard gas our boys!" Knockout retorted.
"That was their own damn fault for rushing in dick first!"
"Well, there should be one thing we can all agree on," Butcher said, then grinned. "Only one of us had the misfortune to kill a Butcher by complete accident."
Damascian and Stratego. I immediately countered.
"Sold to the Teeth, so she should have known better and intentionally killed Pyro while crossing his fingers, hoping that he didn't inherit," Butcher stated, then his voice turned sadistic. "You got stuck with us because you killed someone with a fucking allergy and couldn't get the epipen to work."
And now you're all stuck with me, so sucks to be you! I slammed him into the dark before he could snipe back.
"Hey Weaver!" Vex called out with a wave. "Where's this mysterious base of yours that we'll be cleaning out?"
"Right outside the DWA offices." I hoped that something as simple as picking up cash and some Tinker experiments wouldn't attract any undue notice.
"Damn, that was ballsy of you. Ever since the Teeth showed up, they've started shooting on sight."
"Militia hit me with a .50 cal to the shoulder Friday and didn't even leave a bruise, I don't think I need to worry about 12 gauge."
Vex paused and fixed me with a look that I hadn't seen in years. Genuine concern without a hint of suspicion — she was actually worried about me. The Butchers laughed as I blushed under my mask, because even though I wasn't totally sure if we were dating or not, it felt good to have someone… special. I just wish the whole thing didn't leave me so flustered, and if I was being honest, that my maybe-girlfriend wasn't a supervillain.
"You expect the world to be good and just; for there to be clear lines of black and white, but there is anything but," Alkaline said.
I get that, I don't need the reminder. I just need time to accept it as the truth.
"Fair enough."
We piled in the truck and settled in for the drive. After a few moments, I saw that the minion was very pointedly not staring at me as I did my best dark and brooding impression, an image that was marred by Chrissie practically sitting in my lap. There were snickers and quiet murmurs in the back of my mind the entire ride over, all because of the girl clad in red and bone who was cuddled up against me.
She was lucky that she was gorgeous…
Vex whistled appreciatively as she helped me load the duffels of cash into the truck. "Boss, when you said you had a million dollars, I wasn't expecting that to be literal."
I turned back to her, my incredulous look blocked by my mask. "What did you think I was doing with all the things in the storehouses I kept hitting all of last week?"
"Burning them like you did with the drugs?" She said with a shrug, easily hefting a bag that one of the minions struggled with; I was fairly certain that one was full of assault rifles I'd taken from the Empire.
"Kinda regretting that now that I lead the Teeth," I said with a weary sigh.
"We told you!" Sanguine yelled. "Next time just listen to us!"
"Millions wasted… So much coke and weed, up in smoke," Sabertooth lamented.
I get it alright! I fucked up. The collective hadn't let me live this one down since I took over the Teeth.
"No more wasting profitable merchandise, agreed?" Damascian asked.
"Agreed," I muttered.
"What was that, Weaver?" Vex asked, now loading a piece of equipment I'd adapted for tinkering. Pity I no longer needed it with the Workshop available, but like hell was I leaving it for anyone else to find.
"Just getting lectured by the chorus about wasting profitable merchandise, don't mind me."
She patted my shoulder in a reassuring manner before she looked across the warehouse. "That everything, boss?"
"I think so," My bugs were doing a final sweep when something caught my attention. "Shit, DWA security."
Stratego and I were proud that the minion snapped to attention with his weapon ready at my words; even Vex had summoned an array of force fields in response. In contrast, I was perfectly calm. The association had been reeling ever since the Merchants killed the old president, and since being effectively forced into the role Dad had decided that they weren't going to lose anyone else.
It was hard to fault Dad or the DWA for being prepared with such fervor, given that the union had folded in many (if not all) of the remaining organized labor groups in the city over the past two decades. Dad no doubt felt responsible for their safety, and the unfortunate reality of the Teeth was that we really did merit that sort of response. Still, I wasn't going to hurt some innocent guy.
"Relax, we won't be fighting them. Get the truck ready and head back to base, I'll keep them busy." My minion listened well enough, but Vex hesitated at my side. "I'm not going to hurt them. Hell, I probably know them… Just let me handle this, alright?"
Vex moved part of her mask aside and gently kissed my own mask. "Be safe, Weaver."
"D'awwwww!" I could imagine Pyro holding her cheeks in mock-fawning for the cuteness.
I was blushing under my mask as she hurried off to the truck and they drove off. No sooner had they vanished than a Dockworker ran around the corner, shotgun with tac light at the ready.
"Who's there!" the man shouted as his light passed over me; I had to force down the reflex to shield my eyes. "Shit, a cape!"
"I'm not going to hurt you," I said, keeping my swarm voice out of it for now.
"Oh fuck… You're Weaver…" And now his voice and gun were trembling, perfect.
"Oh for fuck's sake, save us from the incompetence," Ironsides muttered.
"So I am," I said, wishing that the bug I had on the roof of the van would get outside the fence line faster. "Look, I didn't steal anything, and haven't caused property damage. All I did was reclaim a few things, so —"
My precog senses pinged the instant before the man pulled the trigger, but I wasn't really worried about one guy with a twitchy trigger finger, shotgun or no.
I felt like I had been punched in the chest when the double-aught buckshot slammed into me, ringing my ears with the blast. Thank Scion for the lack of pain, because even with the Brute packages I would have felt that in the morning. And thank fuck for Sabertooth's regen: I wouldn't even have a bruise. It did shred my front armor panel, unfortunately, but I was more concerned with keeping my own reflexive near-panic under control and displaying confidence.
"Failure to anticipate your enemies will see you dead," Stratego rumbled. "And I rather like your usual style. What if he had used a more damaging ordinance?"
Teleporting, putting up shields, even just turning my head away — all of those options made much more sense than just fucking standing there, and I had known he was coming.
"He fucking shot you! Why aren't you killing him?" Butcher demanded.
I shoved Butcher back into the void. He's just doing his job.
"Are you done?" I asked as the swarm swept in around me and echoed my words. "You do know what happens if you kill me, right? Learn some goddamn trigger discipline."
He racked the slide and I sighed — the escaping Teeth were close enough to the exit, so rather than get shot again I instead teleported to the roof of our truck just as it pulled onto the main road. Reaching down, I tapped the passenger side glass, and I swung myself in as soon as the window opened.
I landed right in Vex's lap. "Miss me?"
"I sure did… but apparently the other guy didn't!" She reached up with one hand and poked at my chestplate forcefully. "You let him shoot you? What the hell were you thinking, boss?"
"I didn't let him do anything," I said as I touched my damaged armor and let Chisel's power filter into it, popping the buckshot out and reforming the plate back into its original shape. "It wasn't like he could actually hurt me."
An awkward silence settled in the car. Most of that was due to Vex just staring at me, as our driver was extremely focused on where we were going. Absently, I gathered the pellets into my hand, formed them into a basic throwing knife, and began to roll it between my fingers.
Vex rolled her eyes. "Oh goodie, you got that habit too. Fuck, Weaver, that sort of crazy attitude is how we get new Butchers! That's the stupidest way to die, and you're too cool to leave so soon…" She trailed off, the heat in her voice cooling as fast as it had appeared. "So please don't let yourself get sucked into it… for me?"
That brought me up short. As usual, Stratego was right, but cold calculations about powers and potential laser rifles didn't seem to hit nearly as hard as the pain and worry in Chrissie's voice. I didn't want to force the consequences of my arrogance on her, too.
"Never underestimate the unpowered," Ironsides grumbled bitterly.
"Don't encourage her, you idiot!" Butcher snarled.
"For you?" I asked, letting my head rest against her shoulder as her arms tightened around my waist. "Yeah, I can do that."
"All of this mushy shit is ruining her brain," Marauder complained.
Shut the hell up.
"I'm with Taylor on this one. Chrissie is cute and you're just bitter," Alkaline agreed. I put the ensuing argument out of my head, and focused on the girl whose lap I was sitting in. She looked honestly worried, though I suspected it wasn't because of a thin knife that I couldn't even use to trim my own nails.
"I'm not going anywhere, anytime soon," I said, doing my best to sound comforting.
"Good," Vex replied, snuggling up to me and rasping our armor together.
Our minion demonstrated his well honed survival instincts by not saying a damn thing as we cuddled in the front seat. Nor did he risk a glance at what had to be some of the best damn gossip to offer at the minion gatherings. That wouldn't stop him from telling the story, but it did earn him points with me. He was a good minion, I decided. Hopefully the promotion I was going to offer him didn't get him killed.
"Good help is so hard to come by in this economy," Stratego mused.
With the flick of a switch, fluorescent lights came to life, illuminating what was once Damascian's then Quarrel's workshop. Now it was mine. I had never been in a Tinker's workshop before, much less owned one, and for a long moment I couldn't help but stare at the huge assortment of weapons, tools, and other equipment.
It made me feel somehow inadequate despite having a small armory of my own attached to my costume.
Adorning the walls were dozens of Tinkered blades of various kinds, from the run of the mill to the exotic. Many swords, an army's worth of knives, some axes, an oddly appropriate butcher's cleaver, a futuristic-looking spear… each and every one sharp enough to cut down all but the mightiest of Brutes. Damascian knew for certain that people had tried her blades on both Alexandria and the Siberian.
That both were still around and unblemished spoke volumes.
"Not that we ever got the chance to knife the flying brick," Alkaline muttered.
Knockout chuckled. "No but we did have that one barfight tha—"
"One barfight, that you haven't shut up about for half a fucking decade." Butcher growled. "You have one goddamn claim to fame, and you're sure as hell milking it like my alcoholic father milked his high school football accomplishments!"
Damn, that actually silenced everyone. I elected to avoid that powder keg and instead moved on with my inspection, eyeing a repurposed bookshelf laden with jars, vials, and flasks. Paralytics, poisons, the anti-regenerator poison Quarrel had bought on the black market and used on Lung sat alongside specialty polishes, enamels, and oils that Damascian needed for her tech.
My eyes lingered on the large jar of fire suppressant solution. Lung might be dead, but there were other pyrokinetics in the Bay and I rather liked my costume.
From there, I moved onto the bows that Quarrel had created. She still had a backup bow in addition to the two prototypes, and it was already far nicer than my crude attempt at repurposing a store-bought bow. I still hung my creation alongside hers, but I was already getting ideas about how to finish and improve Quarrel's bow.
"You had better make it worthy of my name," she hissed, but I didn't bother replying.
Bows needed ammunition, of course, and there was a whole table of arrowheads waiting to be affixed to shafts the size of a small spear. The resulting arrows were completely ridiculous, more befitting a medieval siege engine than man-portable weapon, but for the Butcher? They were part of my standard loadout.
Finally, in the back — past the forges, lathes, and other equipment that I know Damascian had procured at no small expense — I encountered the grand finale. Ten feet long, resting on its own workbench, and glittering despite the harsh fluorescent light, I beheld the late Tinker's own notion of the Butcher's over-the-top absurdity.
Merely calling it a 'sword' didn't do the creation justice.
It was a Sword that belonged on the cover of a video game magazine.
I needed all of my strength (and especially Knockout's force field) to even lift the comically large blade, my mind boggling that the handle could actually support the weight without bending or breaking. The repurposed basement was large enough that I could give the Sword a few experimental swings, though I had to be careful — I had no doubt it would shear right through the reinforced concrete supports in the middle of the room.
Physics demanded I should have been pulled off my feet by the force of the swing, yet I remained firmly on the ground. I let the memories of prior Butchers wash over me, and fell into a Kendo kata that Stratego had learned. The actual muscle memory wasn't quite there, but I remembered the steps all the same. When I finished, I wasn't even winded.
That thing is such bullshit.
"I would tend to agree." I could practically feel Damascian's crazed grin. "While it might be too impractical to wield in a fight, it certainly does not lack presence or style!"
"And Quarrel said it was stupid," Knockout said, shaking his metaphorical head.
I will need to find an opportunity to fight with this sometime. I set the blade back down on its bench and turned my attention back to the reason I had come down here. The Butcher mythos — my mythos — was built on the back of extreme and unnecessary violence, propped up by attaching a small armory of weapons to my costume. My machete and knives were a good start, but if I wanted to intimidate the other Teeth today, then I needed a bit more oomph.
Applying Chisel's power to unlock the final display case, I eyed the prize that I had been seeking. Inside were twenty six heavily modified OTs-62: a Russian made, 12 gauge shotgun revolving fucking pistol. Those crazy bastards hadn't intended for this thing to be used for anything beyond rubber rounds, so naturally Quarrel had modified them to accept full on explosive slugs. She bought fifty of the things, and as of the Friday before last, was down to twenty six.
"You know what they say, bitches love cannons," Pyro quipped.
"Fuck you, it was a great investment to buy them in bulk," Quarrel grumbled.
You threw four of them at an enraged Lung! He melted them! You knew they wouldn't do shit and you still wasted them!
I pushed her into the dark just for making me think of how much money each cost, even with the so-called bulk discount, then took four out then resealed the case. Next I moved to the weapon harnesses that were completed, only two, and set about modifying one to fit my frame. If I was attending this meeting, I wanted to look the fucking part.
"What the shit are we having a meeting for?" Reaver bellowed as he took his seat at the steel table I'd crafted with Chisel's power in the common area of the Teeth's Arena HQ.
Wait, Michael — Reaver's name was Michael. The Butchers barely bothered to remember the names of the other Teeth capes, to the point that I'd had to ask Chrissie whether Damien was Animos or not; my guess had been wrong. Animos was Elliot, Damien was Spree. It helped that while we were all in costume, none of us were masked.
At least they remembered that Hemorrhagia's name was Alice… If only because Ironsides had been sleeping with her since before he inherited, and the following Butchers had continued the trend. Even Damascian, who was incredibly reserved for a Butcher, had fucked her a few times over her tenure. I planned to break that damned trend.
"She'd be down for it," Ironsides said. "She didn't complain with any of my successors."
She's twice my age.
"You're also jailbait, but villains have cared about the law since when?" Fester said with a chuckle.
Muting you all on principle.
"Wai—"
Seriously, they might not have cared but I sure as hell did. Chrissie was barely a year older than me, I could accept that. Alice was closer to Mom's age than my own and Fester I swear to fuck, stop prodding those damn memories!
Then another memory was prodded and I felt my cheeks and neck burn. Quarrel, I get it, Damien is packing heat, I don't fucking care!
"He's also only twenty. That still too much for your precious sensibilities?"
YES! I huffed. If my dad would lose his shit over them, they're off the table.
"She's arguing with her predecessors, isn't she?" Alice asked Chrissie.
"Oh yeah, you can tell by the lip twitches," she answered, then nudged me.
"Sorry, they're being bitchy about something inconsequential to this meeting," I said as I pushed all but Stratego and Damascian down for the moment. I'd need Ironsides as well, but he was on time out with the rest of the shippers that would be banned from PHO for any of their suggestions. "The reason I called this meeting is simple; I plan for us to take over Brockton Bay completely, but to do so I need people that will follow orders and not go off on wild tears that risk calling the Triumvirate —"
"Words words words," Elliot mocked. "Lotta hot ai—"
A burst of flame was all the warning he got as I slammed him face first into the steel table we were gathered around.
"Holy shit!" Knockout yelled in surprise. "We didn't even have to —"
I pushed the chorus down as Animos' skin rippled and began to bulge as his transformation began, but I couldn't afford the distraction. He screamed out as I hit him with a pain blast, but the transformation hadn't taken hold so it was just a normal scream, not his nullification one.
"You done being a little bitch?" I demanded of him with the full swarm voice in effect as I lifted him by his hair to look him in the eyes. "If you don't like how I'm running things, feel free to challenge me for the mantle at any time. I'll fight you to the death in the pits as is our tradition."
"Well-handled," Stratego stated.
"No shit, that was the most Butcher worthy thing I've seen out of you," Butcher said with what sounded like a hint of… Pride?
Aw, fuck. I pushed him away and he cackled the whole way down.
Blood was dripping from Elliot's nose as I gripped his face tightly enough that he couldn't turn away nor nod in my grip. I was the Butcher, everyone knew that by reputation alone, but I had to earn it by deed. Putting mouthy subordinates in their place was part of that. It said a lot about how normal something like this was that none of the others had even reacted aside from a few muted chuckles. This was just how things were done in the Teeth.
"G—got it boss," he muttered. I dropped him.
"So, I have grand plans and want to make sure you fuckers are up to snuff." I glanced back down at Elliot as he began to pick himself back up. "Was that dumbed down enough for you or do I need to write it out in crayon?"
He coughed up a glob of blood, then nodded. Good. I sent a small swarm of bugs to clean up the mess he made of my floor as I turned my attention back to my little roundtable and sculpted the center into a rough representation of Brockton Bay. I'd do the detail work later, but this was a good start.
I very pointedly ignored how Chrissie was wiping drool from her chin.
"The Teeth were born in the Bay. This city is our home. And in the time since we left, not only has the Protectorate failed to remove the literal neo-Nazi infestation, they let Lung and his sex slavers move in alongside drug pushers and laser-slinging mercenaries."
"Well, two of those are dead," Chrissie said helpfully, giving me one of her radiant grins. I did my best not to blush as I turned my attention back to the map.
"The Empire will die in blood soaked agony." I pointed at their territory, then moved my finger a bit to another section of downtown. "Whatever Coil truly represents, we will end it. The PRT will learn to accept us as the rulers of the Bay, or we will cast them out as well. Those are my goals, I trust everyone has no issues with them?"
Nobody voiced an objection.
I clapped my hands once. "Magnificent. To achieve this, I need everyone working for me to be able to handle themselves appropriately. Kaiser trains his SS wannabees to be good cosplay soldiers, the PRT has actual military backing, we have… drugged up idiots with AKs. Aside from our capes having powers that are actually worth a damn, we have nothing of worth for actually holding territory."
"We have you, boss," Chrissie said proudly.
"That you do," I answered with a smile. Her cheeks darkened as she glanced away; my heart fluttered as well but I had a job to do. Flirting could come later. "I am, however, just one cape. I need pawns, knights and rooks that will be in place when I need them and act as I instruct them to. If I intend to checkmate an entire city, even one unruly pawn could spell the end of my designs."
"So what?" All eyes turned to Alice, "You want us to practice military shit?"
"I am not doing push ups," Damien declared, slamming his hands on the table.
"Stratego put you up to this, didn't he?" Michael asked, tapping a finger. "That bastard always had a screw loose, though you couldn't deny the results he got."
"Don't tell me you're actually considering this," Damien said with fear in his eyes.
"Yes, I consulted Stratego as well as Chisel, Alkaline, Ironsides and Damascian seeing as they were the most effective leaders of the Teeth to date. What they did worked. What didn't work was being arrogant hotheads throwing ourselves into reckless battles and getting each other killed. That won't gain us the territory or funds we seek."
Chrissie leaned forward, searching my face, then she fell back into her chair, softly laughing. "Damn boss, you actually think we can do this… You aren't just blustering?"
"The Bay could be ours, we just need the means to seize it."
"An entire city to call our own…" she said wistfully, looking up at the ceiling. "Well fuck me sideways and count me in."
Damien groaned. "She already fucks you sideways, what about the rest of us?"
"What? You want a go?" I asked, turning to face him. "Hate to break it to you, but aside from Chrissie the rest of you are a bit old for me."
Damien's head banged against the table in frustration. "I meant, how are you going to get us to agree to this plan, bitch?"
Rather than verbally respond, I made a show of turning to look at Elliot, who had shoved a few bits of tissue up his broken nose. When I turned back, Damien's expression had shifted to understanding.
"Any other idiotic questions?"
"No, boss," he muttered.
From there I began to outline what I expected; the improved training and how we could make it something our violent horde would actively enjoy. Chrissie's suggestion of airsoft and paintball went over well and I decided to adopt them with a focus on small unit tactics. Any members with prior military or police experience would be encouraged to start forming teams. Michael had suggested restoring some of the training rooms and I greenlit the idea immediately if it got our minions into better shape.
I was pleased at the ideas being tossed about, even if some of them weren't really feasible, like restoring the pool. Too much money and no reputable company would dare send their people into a known gang headquarters. The addition of a proper bar and lounge for the higher ranked members wasn't tossed out of hand. I tasked Alice with looking in on that if it allowed us to curb excessive drinking before missions.
I groaned when the subject of adopting tabletop gaming came up, since apparently many within the Teeth actually enjoyed Warhammer 40k. That little revelation had been horrifying in itself, and I vowed that Greg would never learn of this because there was no way in hell I was going to have him trying to join just so he could have a consistent group to game with. I told them I wouldn't interfere with the attempt but wouldn't endorse it unless they could prove that the players learned proper strategy and tactics from it, which immediately doomed me into participating at least once.
The subject shifted to what equipment could be made for the rest of the Teeth and I set Damascian to brainstorming what I could Tinker up easily in large numbers. Pocket sharpeners and enhancing various blades would be a late night project for when I wasn't able to spend the night in Chrissie's bed. I might even be able to run that project from home if I could make the equipment small enough.
While Damascian pondered that idea, I remembered my assembly line of spiders working on my costume. It would be easy enough with my insects to just make shirts and pants rather than silk body gloves for the masses, and generic chitin plate armor could be molded with Chisel's power into various shapes so if I just have them craft blocks of the material for me to work with… Shit, this would actually work. I would prioritize my capes, but eventually I'd have enough for all my minions, which should reduce casualties greatly.
As the meeting continued, our agenda became the main topic. We decided that recovering my minigun was a priority; it was a status symbol for the Teeth and the PRT couldn't be allowed to keep it. That didn't mean I wouldn't be smart about the recovery effort, though. I'd work on that plan in the coming days and wait for the right opportunity.
Taking over what remained of the ABB along the edges of our territory would be handled by our lieutenants, as we had luckily recruited a few guys who knew how to manage such things from the bad old days of Brockton. That was good — the Teeth weren't exactly known for their territorial prowess in Boston or New York. I actually laughed when I saw that both Winslow as well as my home now technically fell within my territory.
After hearing a rather vehement argument in favor of a gaming room full of the latest consoles from Damien as the meeting wound down, something occurred to me. You guys have been awfully quiet, what gives?
"We're just admiring your work, kid." Ironsides said fondly.
That can't be all there is to it?
"Actually stop and think about the last two hours," Fester said. "You walked into that meeting, took them by the balls and made all of them your bitch, without any of us having to prod you into action or offer advice. You got exactly what you wanted in a way that any of us would be proud of."
Running back through the events, had that really been all me? When Animos had acted up, I vaguely remembered someone saying something before I muted them and then… Nothing but the usual background whispers I barely paid attention to… "Holy shit."
Chrissie spared me a glance while Damien and Elliot were arguing over which TVs were the best choice for the room I was barely interested in furnishing with the communal funds. Alice seemed to have caught on to that as she suggested they either steal the shit or buy it themselves.
Sure, Damascian had planned the Teeth's grand return to the Bay, but neither she nor Quarrel had been able to capitalize on the chaos they had caused. They lacked the coordination, the cooperation of all of the relevant pieces to actually turn the Teeth from a (very deadly) annoyance into a successful criminal empire. Managing territory, outfitting grunts, planning a vision — far too much for the Butcher's usual short attention span.
I had done all of that myself. Taylor Hebert had just laid the foundation for turning the Teeth into something that would shake the foundations of Brockton Bay…
"Even I'm proud of you, kid," Butcher said. "Shit was beautiful."
I felt like I was going to throw up.