Eric Newman, known to the public as Victor was watching TV with his newest mistress when he received a call from his boss. The cape one. He stood up and walked away from the TV to pick up the call.
"Victor. A cape has taken over our Westminister holding."
Max liked skipping pleasantries when it was a cape problem. Newman liked that about him. Though his preference for saying something knowing full well that the listener will have to ask probing questions was unpleasant. Newman knew Max knew that Newman knew about his powerplays. Max also knew that Newman only started picking up on the powerplays after Max gave him an opportunity to steal a mayoral candidate's Skills.
He hated talking to Max.
"What do you mean, taken over?"
"Ah yes, Somehow this cape found out about our operation. Careless grunts no doubt. She is holding the grunts hostage and threatening to burn down the building."
That wasn't how any of the factions in the city operated. PRT would never find a stash house, new independents will call PRT to the premises while stealing as much money and sometimes drugs for themselves, ABB and Merchants would kill the people guarding the place and loot everything every other villainous gang would make running away their first priority.
"Who is this? Someone new?"
"Yes. We don't have a name. She let one of the grunts call Stromtiger. Wants to talk to a cape, apparently."
"Are you thinking it might be a PRT trap?"
"Victor, since when have those cowards shown any active interest in taking down our operations?"
"If not PRT then maybe Coil? Just tell me what you think Kaiser."
Max obviously knew more about what was happening. He was holding out on information because he knew how much Eric liked using his interrogative and detective skills but Max didn't understand how frustrating playing the game was when he didn't have all the information and the person you were talking to did.
"Sure. The cape is new and overconfident. From the lookout who first reported in, she has enhanced strength and speed. Reflexes good enough to dodge bullets. I have sent the footage of the fight. Look at the 36-minute mark and tell me what you think."
Victor watches on his laptop as the girl in an unusually well-made costume dodges bullets from three goons then does some impressive acrobatics and subdues them.
"Some sort of a combat thinker with a minor physical boost? Less than three in thinker, mover and striker categories. Hmm, so what are we doing? How much did we have there?"
"30K in cash and drugs. Not much, But I don't want to let her go."
Victor scoffs as he responds. "Of course. We can't let an insult like this stand."
"That is if this is an insult. Victor, keep in mind that she wants to talk to us. It could be that she wants to join up and this is her way of showing how she can be useful to the cause."
He lets out another scoff as he responds. "Stupidest way I have seen so far."
"Yes, I understand. However, New capes aren't the smartest. Or it could be that I am completely off the mark. Either way, we need to apprehend her. As you well know, there are ways to bring an independent cape to our side."
"Ok, I understand. Standard new cape tactics?"
"Yes. Get a power from your Wife, Use the vantage point we have near the location and keep an eye on her. I want to know everything about her powers if she somehow manages to capture either Stormtiger or Circus. Don't shoot unless she is about to do something stupid."
"Roger that. I will be heading out."
"One more thing Victor. I was told she was either a talented martial artist or her power gives her a few advantages. I believe you know what to do?"
A cape's power-given skills were special. He had tried to drain another cape, a joke, called Uber's power. But that had not worked out. Uber had the power to become proficient at any skill or technique he wanted. It would have been a great power-up for him if that had worked out. All it did was now he had one more reason to hate him outside of his name that would have been perfect for the Empire and him acting like a manchild.
"I will try."
Then he hung up the phone and got ready for probably the worst part of the assignment, He had to go visit his Wife.
—
"Where were you, Eric? I called you so many times. I had so much planned for you today. Tomorrow is Valentine's day, I must have sent you at least twenty texts you didn't read any of them. Newsflash, we are married. You know that means—"
It would be wrong to say that he loved his wife. Mary, Othala in her cape identity had a trump power to give powers that lasted for about an hour. Powers like pyrokinesis, invincibility, flight, super-speed, augmented strength and most importantly regeneration. She could do this three or four times a day.
He thought she was great at using her power. All she had to do was give powers to who he wanted and she was usually good at doing that. He felt what she wasn't great at was shutting up.
He put his hand over her mouth and closed it shut.
"Not now. I don't have the fucking time for this. I am here for a power."
It didn't take too long for her to work out of the hold he had over her.
"You don't have the time for our marriage Eric? You don't have the time for me? You—You just rush off to anywhere Max asks you. You don't want to spend time with your wife. Not when I try so hard Eric. Not when I do so much for you."
He had no idea what she was talking about. Neither did he care. She continued
"Tell me why should I give you a power? Why should I give it to someone who doesn't care about me? Don't you have one of your own?"
She continued rambling, interspersed by sniffling and crying. He had heard this speech over and over again. He should have just let her get it out on him when he first walked in.
Marrying a high schooler would be fun, they said. You got an upgrade, they said. But no matter what his brain-rotten, pedo friends said about young girls, he knew it would never work. She was little over sixteen when he married. He had prior experiences and his stolen skills whispering in his mind about how compatibility in relationships required equality and respect.
Mariam was killed and his marriage partner had shifted from the girl he had grown to care about to her sister, The crying overdramatic little girl. What he wouldn't have done to be rid of her. But success demanded sacrifice.
If what it took for him to keep her happy and labouring for the Empire was a few sweet words, He would do it. Because she was a healer and she was the only one the Empire had. The amount of money she bought in was absurd, Moreover, the political power that she bought to the Empire, more specifically him, was even more vital. He might not like the crying whore, but he would channel every single one of his relationship skills if that meant she was happy and working under his instructions.
"Mary, I understand you are upset. And you have the full right to be. I was away, I was unavailable to you when you wanted me to be there for you. I was terrible to you."
He hated using this subset of his skills because it always started with him having to apologize. His apology was enough for her to look up at him.
"No no no, we are not doing this again. You do this all the time. It's always the same. You continue apologizing but nothing ever changes. You are always doing what you promised not to."
Using it so much meant that a vapid cunt like her could also catch up to his tricks if he repeated it enough. He was not deterred in the slightest though. He had cultivated his relationship management skills by stealing them from the best. The relationship therapists, divorce lawyers, famous playboys, pickup artists and for a good measure men in some of the most stable relationships he knew of.
Sure they were almost always in disagreement on how to de-escalate, or even if he should, but they all offered different skill sets and that's all he needed.
"Mary, can I tell you what I was doing away from you?"
Taken back by the question and thrown for a loop by his calm demeanour she listens to his newest batch of lies.
He put on his best fake smile. The smile had the perfect blend of embarrassment, pride and joy for what he wanted.
"This is a bit embarrassing but I wanted to make tomorrow special. I wanted to give you something that will make up for you being married to an old distant man like me."
Self-deprecation didn't work for all women but he knew it worked for the bitch. She loved when he showed a 'chink in his armour', a vulnerability only she got to see. Their age difference would be perfect for this. He never had to say it out loud before but he had been sowing the seeds for a day like this. It would not have worked otherwise.
He continued "I wanted to make you feel special. I didn't want to give you something shallow like one of your friends getting a stupid gift from their immature boyfriend. I want my gift to speak of what you mean to me. That our marriage is something sacred to me."
"I go out on missions a lot. The empire, our righteous cause needs me. And I am sorry for that. But this time. I was out there trying to make tomorrow special. And don't get me wrong, I don't blame you for being upset. I really don't. You have all the right to be upset at me, but I hope that you will give me a chance to get you back."
He looks down. Exactly at the angle required for the desired effect. Sighs at the exact time his power tells him to. And just as he expected he hears Sniffles.
"I am so sorry hubby. I didn't know. I thought you were out doing god knows what, bu—but you would never do that to me. I should have known. I am just—I am so sorry."
He wondered if she had endless tears. As he followed everything his skills told him—the appropriate amount of hugs, counter-counter apologies and kisses—he ruminates how easy it was to manipulate the young, impressionable, smitten high schooler with no prior romantic relationships he knew of. She had grown up without little to no familial affection and way too much wealth. She romanticized everything about him and the marriage for reasons he didn't want to spend any time thinking about. It was so easy and oh so boring. If she had a single interesting thing to offer him he would have stuck around more.
And now to wrap this whole up. He just had to bring up bit more details on the non-existent gift. He could afford a lot and had access to more than enough manpower needed to make a decent gift for her. His powers already told him ten things that would be enough to keep her in line, all easily procured and all of them would make it look like he spent a lot of time preparing them.
"So I will have the first gift already picked up and arranged to be here tomorrow at 9. Don't go to school tomorrow either. I have a party prepared that will blow your mind." Party planning was a skill he was often thankful for acquiring. A day spent with her would be enough to keep her happy for months.
She looked giddy as she responded. "Oh Eric, you didn't have to…"
"I did. But, right now I have to go out. I need a power. New cape."
While that brings her back to reality a bit, she still keeps up her smile.
"Of course, what do you want?"
"Why don't you choose this time?"
She looked even happier now. It was all so
"Can I give you invincibility? To keep you safe."
"I will never have to confront the cape. Don't worry about keeping me safe as long as that's the power you want to give me, I trust you and Invincibility is an amazing choice."
Her smile grows again at his simple praise as she fills him with potential. The now familiar feeling grows inside of him and lets him know that very little on the planet could hurt him.
"Thanks. Let me get my standard loadout for this power and I will be out. I will see you when I am done with this case. I hope you are ready for your mind to be blown tomorrow."
Ah, the things he had to sacrifice for power.
—
"In position, I suggest that ST you move in to confront the cape. Cricket, only go in if it looks like she might apprehend him without having pushed her enough."
"Oh please. I know, just let me do my thing." Replied Stromtiger through the earphone. He ignored the arrogant jackass.
"Cricket, We don't want to send more than one person to Jail. If it looks like she might be stronger than we expected then do not engage. Throw your hand up in the air if you agree."
He should have expected the finger that she threw him. He couldn't do anything about the insubordination now but cutting the funding their fight rings got might be an appropriate recompense.
"Go."
—
Victor watched through the scope of his tinker tech sniper rifle capable of seeing through walls. It was a necessity for a lot of these missions. People liked to think that they were safe beyond a thin layer of brick or drywall. As if his .308 and 30–06 weren't perfectly capable of piercing through almost all obstructions that stood in his way.
He liked these missions, no matter how small the role he played. The feeling of looking at someone entirely unaware of him, standing there assured of their safety when their life was in his hands. Just delectable.
The cape was a teenager. Her costume was well made, he wondered if he could track the cape by figuring out who made it, there were only so many people that made costumes in Brockton Bay. An avenue to follow later. Light grey pants and shirt, a green vest worn on top of it, with pouches and pockets everywhere. He mask was a black skin-hugging neck gaiter.
What stood out the most about her costume was how Asian it looked. How the lookout or the hostages couldn't tell that was baffling to him. If he knew that she was wearing a getup reminiscent of Asian Assasins then that would have needed an entirely different response. And now it was too late to call this off, both Cricket and Stromtiger had taken off their communicators.
BOOM! BOOM!
"What the—"
Two explosions went off in the drug house. Not not in the house, outside it. Right on top of Cricket and Stormtiger. How did that happen? They hadn't even stepped inside the drug house?
BOOM!
Then suddenly he was no longer looking through his lens. There was an even louder explosion. But this time one without the fire that went off right behind him, aimed at him. It was an intense burst of air that pushed him through the balcony and out to the courtyard.
His mind races and instead of trying to break the fall, trusting in his borrowed power, he looks backwards. To see no one. What he saw was a knife being thrown at him. He didn't even have to be worried about it because it missed him. And right as he was looking for who threw the knife, another explosion went off. This time it was accompanied by the intense heat of a proper explosion.
It cooked him alive, or he felt like being cooked alive. Fire washed over him and he remembered that he didn't have access to fire resistance, just invulnerability. So he had to feel the pain of being burned without actually being burned. Soon it was over as his body fell to the ground. He thanked that invulnerability meant that the kinetic energy of the fall didn't hurt him.
"Here I was hoping that the explosion would have done the trick. Though, It didn't burn your clothes off so it makes sense."
His nerves still remembered the phantom pain of being cooked alive. But he had to see who it was. He had to see who had ruined a perfectly normal day. Was it that cape? If so how?
It's just as he starts turning to see who was speaking to him that a foot lands on top of him pressing him down. Strong enough that he couldn't just push through the weight. His first instinct to start draining their skill runs into a wall when his power runs into some sort of protection keeping her skills from being stolen.
Not an indestructible protection, he can tell. He could chip away at it if he had enough time and close enough contact.
"You are so lucky. I was hoping that the bomb would do the trick or that you would land slightly to the left. I wanted to see what that scroll did."
What scroll? The best option he currently had was to keep her talking, thus increasing the 'connection' that he had with her giving his power the often contradictory closeness it desired to start draining the opponent. He needed time for his nerves to reset, for him to fight the opponent off after he breaks out of this weak but effective hold she had him in.
The second best option he had was to explode the bombs strapped to his chest. He didn't like being burned even in this form, especially after he was reminded of how being in an explosion felt like.
"You have gone quite there, buddy. Don't you want to talk to me? Come on tell me why you were up there."
The cape was actively engaging him. It behoved him to respond to the courtesy.
"Why? I was keeping a lookout for the newest cape in town, bitch. The empire doesn't allow its capes to go into a potential trap without backup. We care for our own. A fact that you should keep in mind."
She snorts. "Pfft. For all the good that did. Cricket and Stromtiger are both out. Don't worry about the capes you care so much about. They aren't dead, that was a carefully calculated explosion without any shrapnel. It will hurt but won't kill."
He didn't truly care whether Cricket and Stromtiger were dead or not. Neither of them was charismatic or that important in the large scheme of things, they were thugs with run-of-the-mill powers. Unlike him whose absence would be a heavy blow to the Empire. For he was their primary thinker and he worked with Kaiser to keep the Empire running. He organized, kept track of monetary assets. Used his skills to make the Empire digitally unassailable, Trained the infiltrators they had in organizations like PRT.
"I can feel all that care and sympathy radiating out of you. Don't want to answer my reasonable question, sure. Tell me something else then, Why are you part of the Empire? You have decent power, why not do something less heinous."
Her protective shell was already down by half or so. His nerves were starting to feel something other than pain. He just had to stall.
"Heinous? Heinous? You think believing in a future in a country where I don't have to share my—"
Suddenly he was naked. The only thing left on him was his mask. Not even his underwear was spared. He was left naked without any of his bombs or weapons.
"I want you to know that you could have kept your underwear if you had started with something less terrible. I had almost figured out how to isolate it."
Huh? The next sound he hears is the sound so something being thrown and he no longer has that weight on top of him. Confused and disoriented he manages to stand up.
Only to be suddenly lassoed by a chain and pushed up. Before he knew it he was strung up naked with only his mask on from a tree. All that and he still hadn't seen his assailant.
"I hope that wasn't too much, or I do. I can't really tell. You've ruined my last three days." Comes a mumble from below, he looks down and sees the same cape that they were here for. So it was a trap. The only question was, just how did she do all this?
He did gain an important clue that she was someone he knew. Someone he had met this week. He liked when the newbies gave away information thinking he was done for.
"And don't bother. None of your escape artist skills is going to matter. Since I—You know what? Why am I explaining this?"
His psychology skills told him that when confronting victory over a person someone hated, it was natural to want to make the person suffer by lording over the enemy with exactly how they lost the confrontation. In other words, it was a villain monologue.
So someone with a prior grudge. Someone who knew his powers and modus operandi. Specifically, a teenage girl that he had pissed off this week.
Mary's friend? Some other girl he slept with? No, not the time for thinking about that. He starts wriggling around in his chains. The third largest subset of his skills came from escape artists, magicians and other performers. This lazy lasso should not even be a hindrance. But no matter what he did he could not get out of the chains. It refused to budge.
It wasn't a matter of physical restriction either. He could have pitted his invulnerability against a number of physical restrictions and came out on top if only because his body refused to be affected by kinetic pressures but some other force was holding him down.
"Nazis, No respect for the people who know their stuff." She sighs. "Ah well, I will call the PRT now, since no one in this blasted neighbourhood has done it yet. There are like three or four families living here, Jesus."
She lets out another sigh as she continues."When they get here, tell them that I've already secured the other two capes, the other Nazis burned your entire stash of drugs and left the money for pickup with not a cent missing. Clever trick with those tracking chips in those bags though. Has anyone ever fallen for it?"
There was an internal leak and he wanted to find out how. He was going to respond but he found out that he couldn't move his mouth. Whatever it was had been she used, slowly locking his movements.
"And one more thing. Tell them you were apprehended by the dashing heroine 'Agent Fox'."
Agent Fox? What kind of name was that? There was nothing spy-like or fox-like about her. He could already hear the 'Agent Fucks' jokes. The two PR managers and one Marketing guy's skills he had stolen rebelling inside him as he heard that name.
"That's a stupid fucking—"
She was gone. He had taken his eyes away for a second and she was gone. She did make sure to drop a bedsheet over him that she had gotten from somewhere.
—
It took PRT forty minutes to get there. He had worked hard to make sure that their response times to areas important to the Empire would be slow. A meticulous game of using internal assets, cleverly chosen environments, stupid legal minutia and even sabotaged roads.
Forty minutes of hanging from a tree not able to call for help, hoping against hope that Max would send backup. Why would he? Victor had never failed before, never been arrested.
As a confused Armsmaster dragged him down the tree, As he was covered in PRT's foam when he tried to resist arrest after getting free, As he was carted over to a PRT cell like an animal, As he remembered his promise to his wife and imagined how this arrest was going to bring down his lies, As he imagined the face of that fake german cunt, Kreig, when he got out of the cell, As he imagined all the political capital this loss had cost him, As he looked at the two other buffoons he shared his cell with, As he waited for a jailbreak, As he recounted every little fact he remembered about the girl to the PRT, there was only one emotion within him.
Rage. He burned with rage. More rage than he felt when Mariam was killed, almost as much as when his whore of a boss had stolen his years of work causing him to trigger. But even with all that rage, when the PRT questioner asked him what the name of the cape who apprehended him was, he couldn't say her name. Because he couldn't say he got shown up by a cape called 'Agent Fucking Fox'. So he followed his PR skills, and translated to—German, no Latin—'Agente Vulpes'. Move it around, combine the two words and he had something half-decent.
So he gave them the name he created and hoped she knew this was the only kindness she would get from him.
—
AN: Changed Othala's powers a bit because I forgot how long it lasted. I have a mini-arc planned for her that needs it. Thanks for reading.
