Chapter 3.t
Thursday, April 21st 2011
—Robbie—
Even more than two decades after leaving the service, Robert kept to a strict morning routine. He had not survived the intervening years since joining the Teeth under Butcher — the first Butcher — by being lazy or letting his weapons go dull. Waking at five in the morning had caused many, many knife fights among the Teeth, but a habit of rising early meant that he had won most of them.
It also meant that Robert often had to be the responsible one, which he considered a necessary sacrifice to keep the Teeth running. Given how the Teeth were drunk, high, or both more often than not, he had created a new rule in the Teeth style: be sober enough when on watch duty, or face the consequences.
Given that even the dumbest members realized that losing a few hands of poker and having to spend a night sober was better than losing literal hands for being drunk on the job, Robert's might tended to make right.
He only wished that the same level of discipline, however minor it may have been, could also extend to their capes. Before it didn't matter what state they were in — anyone stupid enough to attack the Teeth would face the Butcher's wrath, with all the lethality that entailed. With Weaver's rule, though, things had changed. The Butcher was no longer a guaranteed presence at their current base. Weaver, Taylor, somehow managed the impossible. She held onto some part of herself that wasn't swept away in the madness.
Butcher was inexplicably able to maintain those ties to her former self, and could hide her identity in plain sight. The girl was unlike anything he had seen before outside of Chisel on a few occasions, but those were fleeting moments. Weaver's control was a constant. She wasn't the little girl she was before inheriting — Robert recognized all of the tics and quirks of her predecessors — but at her core? She was something new.
Outsiders had inherited in the past, Damascian, Stratego, Fester… Reflex. Even though the madness began with him, the Butcher always returned to the Teeth. Even Weaver came back, but not like the others. Chisel had hammered order into the Teeth under her reign, Stratego had expanded their operations vastly, but Weaver?
The girl was ambition and focus personified, with the ruthlessness necessary to do what was needed without being reduced to petty cruelty for her own amusement. She showed her heritage only when necessary and leveraged her reputation when it would prove advantageous.
Weaver was transforming the Teeth into something new, into a force that could actually take and hold territory. She cared about the people she led, which Robert would usually ignore but she had saved him whereas all past Butchers would have shrugged off his death and taken another hit of their poison of choice.
For the first time he could see a future that didn't end in a violent death for everyone he knew. Robert wasn't so delusional as to tempt fate, and he knew he would die in battle, likely to something embarrassing that the gang would all laugh over. He just hoped that their younger members wouldn't be subjected to the same horrors he endured. Twenty years with the Teeth wasn't something he wished for anyone.
On this gray and slightly chilly Brockton morning, Weaver and Vex would be off to school, and so the safety of the Teeth rested in his hands until their return. From the outside, that might seem easier with four new capes, but the Undersiders represented an unknown element in their combat capabilities. Weaver didn't even employ them in the fight against Coil, though part of that was due to them being a potential liability if one of them flipped. Tattletale was the sole exception, because her life was the one in danger… but while vengeance was her right as a member of the gang, the Thinker had not taken the shot.
Robert didn't like that.
The girl held too much power and authority for someone unblooded; he could see the innocence in her eyes, ill-fitting one of the Teeth's capes. Regent and Bitch lacked that weakness, their eyes were hard and focused. Both had spilled blood in their lives and wouldn't balk if it came to spilling more.
Weaver would have no issues integrating the pair into their own tactics, and while Robert personally objected to the cloak-and-dagger bullshit of Thinkers, he could begrudgingly admit that Tattletale might be useful to his boss. Of course, he held no such qualms about Omen. She had earned her place in true Teeth fashion. He wasn't even angry that she had almost killed him, he was in her way and she still took the shot. That was worthy of respect.
Speaking of the unblooded, the young Todd was actually demonstrating some measure of worth. Finding a team that fit his specifications took longer than expected, as most of the Teeth used or imbibed and the exceptions were few and far between. The boy was motivated to a fault, and Weaver's offer having spurred him into action not unlike the literal fires Pyromancer had liked to light under people's asses.
Weaver was leveraging the Butcher identity in ways no other had before, especially in her civilian life. From what he was hearing at their parties, half the school followed her now. The other half were future trophies for the Teeth to claim. He initially feared she might be soft on the kiddie racists until she brought four of them back to the arena to face justice. His final doubts about the girl vanished at that moment. The arena wouldn't be lacking for training dummies anytime soon.
Taylor, of course, was Teeth. Weaver was a worthy Butcher, even if she saved killing as a last resort for herself. All that remained was to convince the older capes of that fact. They feared her to be soft, but she was anything but. Given the slightest justification, she would commit atrocities worthy of any of her predecessors, and Robert had no doubt in his mind that she was capable of far worse. What she did to Menja was proof of that, as the Butcher's victims usually didn't survive their attention. Leaving survivors to intentionally suffer was a new trick to the Butcher arsenal, one that actually gave him chills to consider.
Robert observed as a yawning man passed his shotgun to a new arrival, both following his strict safety checks while under his watchful eye. No doubt those getting off duty would hit up the lounge for their vice of choice shortly after, but until then, they still had a job to do. The nominal supervisors traded information, keeping each other up to date on the rotations and happenings, it was a routine he had drilled into his men.
Even as Robert watched what had been routine since they settled within the once abandoned arena, something felt off to him. Years of experience were telling him something was coming, that things were too quiet and that there was blood to be shed. Someone was hunting them, which was why nobody was going to skimp on their duties. He was at his final stop for the morning, and rather than follow his routine and head back inside for a meal, he instead joined the men on perimeter watch.
The green recruits always loved his stories of the old days, and despite the unease in the air, Robert was happy to oblige. Conquests long past, battles hard fought… A particular favorite was the tales of the Nine's visit to Brockton Bay, and his run in with Jack Slash at Somer's Rock. Robert wore that scar with pride, because it was an exchange. He'd earned it by inflicting the only injury on Jack throughout that entire bloody affair.
That Jack still carried the scar he'd inflicted told him the man carried a grudge from their encounter. The unhinged murderer had been around several healing-capable capes since then after all. Hopefully it reminded the smarmy fuck of why Truce meetings were sacred amongst villains. Robert's finger absently stroked one of the skulls on his belt, another memento from that visit of the Nine. Winter had been a hardened cunt, but she died a warrior's death and so he wore her skull with pride.
What Sabertooth had been smoking when he got the bright spark to call upon those psychotic assholes to assist in Brockton… That remained one of only two times Robert had been glad to see the mantle pass to another. Pyro gave him exactly what he deserved for that mess.
In some ways, the Nine weren't all that different from the Teeth prior to Chisel's reign. Nomadic, following a set leader with a rotating ensemble while causing death and mayhem wherever they went. The Teeth never did shake that reputation, even after establishing semi-permanent cells in New York, Boston, and Philly. While none of those cells were truly active at the moment, they left a few of their own behind to keep safe houses and weapon stashes ready in the event they needed to return. He refused to endure another sudden relocation, even if it did have Thinker support.
He was just getting to the part where the Nine were down to Three when movement caught his attention out of the corner of his eye along the skyline. A cursory scan showed nothing truly amiss, the usual rundown buildings, a handful of old billboards dotting the rooftops…
"Huh, I don't remember there being a life size Battery to ogle," one of the sentries mentioned.
His eyes snapped to a billboard featuring the Wards roster from about three years prior — Battery had been team lead then, transferred in from New York. Rumor among the Teeth was that they delayed her moving to the Protectorate to hide her actual age, a common tactic amongst the government lapdogs as he understood it from the occasional on the run cape that joined the Teeth over the years.
This neighborhood hadn't received an updated billboard in almost a decade.
"Eyes up, you fucks!" Robbie roared, starting the Teeth into action. "Weapons ready, sound the alarm, we're under attack!"
No sooner than he yelled did the billboard fall over and take to the air. Five figures stood atop it as multiple black SUVs pulled onto the main road leading up to their HQ. Robbie snatched a rifle from one of the fumbling dipshits and quickly took aim. He snapped off three pulses from the laser rifle in quick succession, peppering the driver's side windshield of the lead car. Three more shots followed into the rear car.
Their assailants had invested in bullet resistant glass, which would have been good thinking, if their sentries hadn't been armed with the pilfered rifles from Coil's mercs. Two more racist shits confirmed dead, perhaps more as he watched both cars crash, sealing in the rest of the vehicles in their killing field. He handed the rifle back to the now slack-jawed idiot and shouted a war cry.
His morning was already off to a good start.
—Alice—
Hangovers were a bitch and a half on a good day, which is why Alice was infinitely grateful that her power let her pull the alcohol straight from her blood. It was definitely one of the better perks of self-hemokinesis and she abused the hell out of it. She could sober up in an instant if the need ever presented itself, which was fortunate because the fucking Nazis had come calling!
Nine in the morning was too damn early for this shit. Reaver was working on getting Spree and Animos up, which would be another bitch and a half after their bender last night. Big Robbie would be somewhere near the worst of the fighting. What she hadn't expected was for Tattletale to commandeer the sound system and start coordinating their response. Locations were being called out, and various groups directed to them in an effort to counter the Empire chickenshit's attack.
Vex, and more importantly, Weaver, were currently in school. Weaver would be able to teleport, but Alice guessed that still put her at least five to ten minutes away, and Vex wouldn't be making it to the fight at all. This meant the Teeth were on their own, which seemed far too convenient. Civilian life just didn't suit the Teeth, and that the pair weren't all in was an embarrassment.
An explosion rocked the arena as their minions scrambled to arm themselves and join the fight. Maybe Weaver actually had a point with those drills she kept forcing them to run. Regardless, that didn't matter at the moment, they had Nazis to kill.
Her nails pierced into her palms, drawing forth her blood. Blood that she could shape to her will. It flowed freely, far faster than was natural, yet she never once became light headed. It was a nigh bottomless well for her to draw upon.
Someone rounded the corner with a shotgun in hand and bearing the Empire's colors. His eyes widened in panic as Alice brought her now formed sword down, shearing through his gun and the arm holding it. He barely had a chance to scream before she plunged it into his heart. In that same instant, the blade blossomed within him, shredding his organs like tissue paper. She couldn't manipulate his blood, but any of hers was always under her full control. She left him where he fell and continued on.
Shit like this was why the Teeth never settled in one place for long, it just invited stupid fucks to do stupid things. Most of the people that had joined up since their return to the Bay weren't even fighters, just people looking for a place that wouldn't judge them for their skin color or choice in fuck buddies.
Even Vex had joined up for those reasons, but she was a rare exception since she'd claimed a worthy kill for her initiation. Hell, if Alice was willing to put money on it, she would have thrown down on Vex inheriting one day. All of that changed when Weaver joined, of course —thank god Vex had the newest Butcher wrapped around her finger and didn't seem willing to let go.
It was infuriating, even with all their members and the Capes they could call upon, it was always the fear of one specific individual that kept people from attacking. They had to know Weaver wasn't around. That arrogant bitch was going to be the death of them.
When Alice made it to the arena's entry hall, she found it in ruins and infested with the Empire's goons. Just outside the blasted entryway she could see Rune atop a floating platform alongside Alabaster and Krieg, both of whom were armed with RPGs. That explained the explosions. Fighting below her down in the concessions area was Bitch with her dogs, facing off against Night and Fog.
Shit, if they were back that meant that Purity was probably back too. Sweeping her eyes across what she could see of the sky revealed no glowing cunts, but that didn't mean much. The Nazis had the skies, which meant they needed to make them pay in blood on the ground. She would be all too happy to bleed them dry.
At least Big Robbie was having minimal issues keeping the Nazis held back. She could trust the man to keep their normies out of the fun parts. It was probably a surprise to the racist fucks that the Teeth weren't helpless without their goddess of the battlefield to direct their men. They refused to be.
Alice broke into a sprint and leapt off the upper balcony, blood swords in hand and plunged them into some hapless piece of shit. Crimson spires blossomed from within him, spearing through those around her like a wireframe tree of death.
"Okay, bad analogy, moving on."
It was a pity there wasn't time to claim trophies, but these were the trash of the Empire, the disposable pawns. They weren't worth claiming. At least Big Robbie was now able to refocus on the battle now that one of the Empire groups was down. Just because the Empire had caught them with their pants down didn't mean that they were gonna roll over. It was only a matter of time until the Teeth had them running scared, or ground them into pulp.
The question was, how many of their own would it cost them? If any of the Empire capes escaped with their lives, they would be as good as new within a matter of days thanks to that Othala cunt. Kill shots were the only way to be sure.
In the distance, Bitch whistled sharply and pulled away from her fight along with a second of her monster dogs. The third was lying motionless on the ground near Fog. The coward was fleeing because she'd been bloodied. Pathetic.
—Michael—
Rude awakenings were nothing new to Michael, as they came with the territory when the Butcher was your boss. Sure, things had calmed significantly since Weaver claimed the mantle, so it was only fitting that when shit finally did hit the fan, it was a storm of truly epic proportions. He didn't even try to get Alec up, the guy was beyond fucked up after trying one of Spree's coctails just hours before while they were gaming. Asking him to fight would be asking him to die.
He'd barely had time to grab his cloak and mask after the alarms blared before he was out the door, Tinkertech scythe in hand. Reaver was the name given to him by Ironsides before the man inherited, and he took great pride in the name as it suited his powers perfectly.
Michael had been with the Teeth for years before he finally earned his place among the capes. He'd encouraged Ironsides when he decided to overthrow that maniac Knockout and finally get the Teeth back on track. The Teeth were his life and he wasn't going to let anyone fuck with them!
Someone had a set of iron balls on them to think that attacking the Teeth at their home was a good idea. No doubt they were being gifted a new shithole even as he ran towards the action. Only the Empire could be this stupid, because the Heroes were too pussywhipped by Weaver to try something like this.
That the Empire were whacking the beehive intentionally spoke to a special kind of stupid that could be cured in only one way. Liberal application of lead to the cranial cavity, as Robbie had once put it.
Their parking lot was a wreck of debris, which wasn't all that different from normal, the floating cars however were a bit unusual. Either that acid he took the night before was still working, or Rune was nearby. When one of said cars launched right for him, he could only assume it was real.
A grin stretched out under his mask as he swung the scythe, cleaving the car in two, sending the pieces crashing into the building behind him. Not one to boast about his accomplishments, he flipped the Nazi bitch off.
His scythe was already transforming, the Tinkertech unfolding flawlessly within itself. It had been a collaboration between Damascian and some other Tinker before she inherited, inspired by some cultural thing from Aleph. He didn't care about that part too much, just that they had fucking nailed it!
He took aim at the floating platform teeming with targets with the now sniper rifle and opened fire. He whooped out a cheer when one of them fell thirty feet to the asphalt below only to curse when the fucker stood back up seconds later.
Great, he'd pissed off the immortal albino prick, just his luck that he'd wind up with the unkillable masochist. He spun his scythe with a flourish and took his stance. Well, at least he could work out some of his aggression that had been building over the past several weeks.
—Elliot—
Who did that bitch think she was, ordering him around like that? Sure, the HQ was under attack, but why did Tattletale insist he needed to be heading away from the action? The Empire was on their door and she had him running down fucking side hallways chasing after two capes that left the city the same day the Teeth fucking arrived!
Night and Fog were scared shitless of the Teeth, they fucked off to Boston and hadn't been seen since. Now, they were supposedly trying to kill Rachel, and if it wasn't for how frantic Tattletale was about the whole thing, he would have told her to shove it and joined the fight wholesale.
It also didn't hurt that it was Rachel, whose social skills were about as useful as Damien's. She was a human-shaped dog that could speak, and once you grasped that, she was easy enough to understand. It was clear she hadn't had any meaningful human contact since whatever had fucked her up in the first place. Well, he was determined to change that, and he wasn't gonna let any Empire shits hurt her.
She reminded him so much of little Erika, how she had triggered from abusive guardians and lashed out by accident. Erika might have shared a similar fate if he hadn't taken the fall for her. She'd killed the bastard before she even realized that she had triggered, leaving him a bloody smear on the wall, if he hadn't come home when he did… Well, he took the blame so she could live a better life, and since he already had a criminal record both as Elliot and as Animos, it wasn't a major sacrifice either way.
At least she understood it all, why he had joined the Teeth… He didn't get to see the brat often, not since she had joined the New York Wards, but he tried to get away at least a few times a year to check up on her, slip her some cash… Seeing her last week had been the highlight of his month, even with Weaver coming in and kicking ass and taking no shit, even from him.
Rachel was like a dark mirror of his sister, and it tugged at what little remained of his humanity. He was determined to watch over her, to make sure that she could handle herself. She was as squishy as any of their normals, her dogs were all she had for protection otherwise.
The wall ahead of him burst, he raised his arms to cover his face and reached for the beast within, feeling his skin swell and split. His muscles burned as they twisted and stretched, his jaw popped and elongated, teeth sprouting in razor sharp rows of fangs. A bestial roar erupted from his throat, but not his scream, he couldn't waste it, not when he hadn't sighted his prey.
Several Teeth were shredded, blood pooling around them as he caught a glimpse of Night before she was engulfed in Fog. He felt his rage swell as he watched his fellow Teeth die at their feet, because Fog didn't spare anyone that wasn't Empire. A cough drew his attention off to the side, Rachel… She was alive!
She was standing over one of her dogs, while another was a bloody mess on the ground, likely having been the one to tackle Night through the wall in the first place. He wasn't about to give them the chance to hurt anyone else.
He SCREAMED!
The fog dispersed in an instant, leaving a man on the ground trembling in agony as the woman he had been sheltering backed away. He wasn't going to let them off easy, they'd killed Teeth, and they would pay in blood.
"Brutus, kill!" Bitch yelled.
A bloody mess of a dog, flesh falling off it with each bounding leap slammed into Night, and one of its massive paws popped Fog's head like a water balloon. Much as he wanted to laugh at that, he didn't waste the opening, even as Brutus collapsed he moved as fast as his monstrous form would allow after the tumbling Nazi cunt.
She tried to scramble to her feet and into an empty storefront, but he was faster and caught her in his maw. Her eyes were pleading as he held her, a chuckling guffaw billowed from his throat, then he bit down and thrashed, rending the Empire cape into tasty giblets.
Rachel's coughing drew his attention and he hurried back to her. She was cut up, and Angelica didn't look too good behind her either, she'd long since lost her bulk and was wheezing worse than usual. He knew he was needed back at the main battle, but he wasn't about to leave her alone when she couldn't even defend herself. Brutus came limping in behind him, flopping against Rachel's side, the poor thing didn't look much better than Angelica.
He pulled up beside her and rested against her uninjured side, staying close, but ready in the event some dipshit was stupid enough to try and hurt her further.
—Damien—
Fucking Empire. Fucking Vex. Fucking Weaver.
Sure, Weaver was proving she was a true member of the Teeth, but she was also insistent on getting to play-act at being a teenage girl in school. So of course the Empire showed up while Weaver was at said school. She runs around, flaunting her identity to piss off the PRT, but doesn't stop to think that she was broadcasting when it was safe to attack the rest of the Teeth! Thank fuck Big Robbie was on the ball, otherwise it would have become a slaughter, and not the kind he enjoyed.
Thankfully the Empire held back most of their heavy hitters. Night and Fog were dangerous, but manageable thanks to Animos being sent after them. Tattletale was an insufferable bitch, but she knew how to use the resources at hand. Alabaster was playing with Reaver, which was a good matchup and Damien's own clones were keeping Krieg busy while he kept sending some of them to be meat shields for Big Robbie's men. Rune was a pansy ass little girl that didn't hold a candle to their own precocious little murderer, so long as she didn't squish anyone with a car, she wasn't much of an issue.
Speaking of Omen, why hadn't anyone thought to ask her if the Teeth would be attacked today! She was a fucking precog for Butcher's sake! He was so going to throw that one in Tattletale's face next time he saw the smug cunt. Leave it to the women to cock it all up.
He also wanted to scream at the fact that only Big Robbie's group seemed to be using the Tinker rifles they looted from Coil. Those things were used to make mincemeat out of their own boys, and only a handful were being used to defend their home from a Nazi invasion. What was the point of looting amazing weapons from the corpses of your enemies if you weren't even going to use the damn things?
Still, for as dire as the brazen attack was, the Teeth were handling it rather effectively. Certainly better than they would have if the Empire elected to attack back when Weaver was playing hero for that week.
Much as he hated to admit it, those drills she insisted on were proving effective. The Teeth weren't caught completely with their pants down, and had responded fast enough to prevent the Arena from being overrun. Sure, Night and Fog got inside, but Bitch could handle herself until Animos managed to back her up. If anything, the Empire would just keep bleeding the longer they stuck around and he was all for that.
An explosion caught his attention as Reaver went sailing through the air, crashing to the ground with a meaty thump. From the dust, Alabaster stood up and dusted his outfit off in a brazen display before unholstering a gun and calmly walking over towards the downed Reaver. Dozens of clones exploded off him, surging to assist his fallen teammate. Reaver was Teeth to his very bone, and Damien wasn't about to let some albino asshole kill him.
His clones poured over the debris and several formed meat shields around Reaver while the rest attempted to kick and scream and claw at the Empire bastard. It was like a hoard of zombies coming after you and even with his little reset, there wasn't much he could do against the tide of flesh. Damien had to resist the urge to cackle in the face of the flailing immortal, because that shit was amusing.
He finally made it to Reaver's side, only to spit curses when he saw the ruined stump of Reaver's arm and charred face. Fuck. That bastard was going to fucking pay. His clones burst forth in a renewed wave, pushing the albino further back, towards the Arena and up against the outer wall.
He was determined to force hell upon the man until he begged for a death that would never come. His clones continued to rip out flesh, dismember limbs and repeat the process with each refresh as Damien crept closer, and closer. His clones gnawing on Alabaster became more and more sophisticated as he approached, ripping at his flesh in ever more creative ways.
That was when a piercing scream echoed through the air, one everyone recognized as Animos' power nullification. He heard it, but the clones continued to appear, so clearly he had been far enough away. He continued to send his clones after Alabaster— that was when he noticed, and this time he did allow himself to laugh. Alabaster wasn't resetting anymore.
Alabaster couldn't even scream in horror at the realization that he had been caught up in the nullification because one of his clones had ripped his throat out. His torso was pulled apart, several clones dragging his legs away even as others ripped into his bowels.
He was a dying man, the Teeth had killed an immortal! That was going to be a story to tell for years to come, right up there with Big Robbie's Slaughterhouse tales!
The Empire didn't waste time sounding the retreat after that, and he was pleased at how few of their members were still on their feet and able to follow orders. Rune and Krieg took to the skies, but that wasn't much of a loss. The Empire had lost this battle, and the Teeth wouldn't let them forget it.
A telltale pop sounded from the direction of the retreating fodder, followed by a crowd roaring in unthinking rage. The Butcher had finally arrived, and she was fucking pissed if she actually used Marauder's rage aura.
Good. She should be pissed over all this. None of it would have happened if she had been there, the Empire wouldn't have been brazen enough to attempt something like this. He was going to have words with her, but he remembered her little chat. Words in private, because he didn't feel like being another example.