Director Piggot glared at the assembled heroes before her, and she used that term loosely.
Thanks to Panacea, their little motley crew of superpowered wrecks were no worse for wear. While the director would admit that her distaste for parahumans sometimes clouded her judgment, she didn't let that side of her out in professional settings such as this.
But with the recent happenings in this damned city, it was a close thing.
The familiar pain at her side reminded her why exactly she hated parahumans. The building headache in her head reminded her why she hated her job.
"So you're telling me." The director began, her even tone causing the capes around her to break into a cold sweat. "That we have an unhinged Changer in the city. One that—from what you told me, his first appearance was to kill a dozen gang-bangers, kill Cricket, mutilate Stormtiger, and then single-handedly defeat the majority of the Brockton Bay Protectorate."
She leaned in, her chair ominously creaking underneath her weight. Her eyes gleamed with promises of cut paychecks.
"How did you let this happen?"
The capes in front of her were all seated at a large round table in the PRT's conference room. Quite frankly, everyone was pulled out of their scheduled patrols because the last time a villain showed up and beat back the Protectorate single-handedly was when Lung arrived.
Armsmaster coughed into his fist. "I believe I can answer that."
Director Piggot leaned back into her chair, the tension in the air dissipating. "Enlighten us, then."
Armsmaster gave her a stiff nod. "Director, as you know, most capes have a theme with their powers. As you know, mine is a Tinker power with a focus on efficiency."
Director Piggot raised a single brow, her patience thinning. "Your point, Armsmaster?"
"My point." Amsmaster continued, his jaw snapping. "Is that all powers are usually restricted to a single theme. Except for one."
"Are you telling me that our new villain is Eidolon lite?" Director Piggot said, not disbelieving, but almost resigned. You can never tell with this city.
Armsmaster shook his head. "Not exactly. I have reason to believe that the device on his wrist—the hourglass symbol present on all his changer forms, is the key to his transformations. Furthermore, each of the five transformations that he has shown us so far could merit their own power ratings." Armsmaster sighed, shaking his head. "What really beat us was his versatility and anonymity. We didn't know his powers and we didn't know him. What was particularly dangerous was his last form's Striker power, the ability to absorb energy. " Armsmaster slunk to his seat, frustrated with his recent showing.
Director Piggot almost sympathized with the man. His career had stalled as of late, with newer up-and-coming heroes overtaking him in popularity.
Speaking of which. "Dauntless." The director snapped. "Any updates on your equipment?"
Dauntless glowered at the reminder before he schooled his expression. "The energy is gone, director." He raised his spear, a small crackle of electricity sputtering weakly at its tip. Director Piggot would have snapped at the man for raising a weapon in the meeting, but she supposed she could let this one slide for now.
She had much more pressing matters to attend to after all.
"How bad is the damage?" Some may call her blunt, but she had to be in a city that was teetering on the edge of a gang war.
Dauntless made a showing of checking his equipment, before rubbing his face with a resigned sigh. "It took me years to build up all that energy."
Armsmaster made a weird strangled noise that sounded like a dying goat. Director Piggot's brows shot up, the only outward sign of her expressing emotions these days as her face couldn't emote anything less than a glare or a scowl.
Even the other heroes gathered stared at Armsmaster strangely.
Armsmaster coughed into his fist. "Don't worry, Dauntless," he said in a tone dryer than the Sahara desert. "I'm sure you'll build up enough energy again."
Dauntless gave the man a genuine, heartfelt smile that made the director want to puke. "Thank you, Armsmaster."
"Dauntless." Director Piggot cut in, interrupting whatever… that was. "How badly will this affect your performance?"
Dauntless sagged in his seat. "While I won't be as effective as before, I'm not exactly useless."
The director gave him a crisp nod. "Velocity." she turned everyone's attention to the fake speedster. "You were the first responder. Can you give us any insights?"
"There's not much more to add. He showed no remorse for killing those people. Quite frankly, unhinged is an apt word to describe him." Velocity said, before tilting his head in remembrance. "Though he did say—and I quote Having power in the tens! I don't know if it was just him boasting or…"
"Or if he had more transformations." Armsmaster continued for him, and everyone shared the grim mood. Nothing brings the mood down like knowing that the cape who beat them all was holding back.
"Okay, here's what we're going to do." Director Piggot started, with renewed determination that landed her this job in the first place. "You're going to patrol in pairs. There will be no solo patrols until the situation no longer remains as volatile. Naturally, this goes double for the wards as well. I'll try another request for reinforcements, but I doubt that nothing less than a full-scale gang war will get us the reinforcements we need."
"Are my instructions clear?" Her gaze roamed around the room, resting on each of the heroes who met her stare with a round of affirmations. Director Piggot nodded, a little bit of tension seeping away.
"Dismissed."
Naturally, that's when the explosions started.
"It came from the ABB territory, director." Say what you will about Armsmaster, he was efficient.
"Is it Lung?" Director Piggot asked, standing up from her seat.
"Nothing confirmed yet. But in light of recent events…" Armsmaster trailed off.
Director Piggot gave him a grim nod. "Armsmaster, take your team and try to limit damages. I'll round up a dozen PRT squads to accompany you." She was about to dismiss them again before she paused in thought. "Armsmaster, that paralyzing dart you used against Nemesis. That was meant to be for Lung, wasn't it?"
Armsmaster froze, nodding stiffly. That dart was still in its experimental phase and was definitely not vetoed by the PRT.
"Do you have more?"
The director's words made Armsmaster pause before he gave her a sharp grin. "I always pack extra."
"Good." Director Piggot said. "Now get out of here."
And when the last of Brockton Bay's Protectorate left the room, director Piggot slumped bonelessly into her chair. Her hand went to her head to nurse her budding headache.
"God I hate this city."
o0O0o
Taylor Hebert wanted to be a hero.
No. She was going to be a hero.
For three months since she got her powers, she had been testing them. Figuring out her limits, what she can and can't do. She researched the local cape scene in a public library, she trained her stamina by jogging every morning. She even made her very own costume made of spider silk and exoskeletons.
Looking at it now, she supposed that it did look a bit edgy, but she liked to think it more… practical. To better blend in with the darkness of the night.
But no. The time for waiting was over. It was now or never. She was going out to the city, show everyone that "hey, bug control isn't that villainous of a power!" and she was going to become a big damn hero.
Her house was an old, beaten thing with crooked steps and peeling plaster. She opened her door slowly, flinching at the loud echoing creak its rusty hinges made. She snuck out, sidestepping the broken step, and traveled through the city's night in a brisk jog.
One would be surprised by how close together the good and the bad parts of the city are. On the one hand, you have the boardwalk filled with tourist traps and clean streets. Travel a little further into the docks, and the streets start being less clean. You'll find broken windows and shattered glass at random places with the odd gang sign here and there on every other wall.
In truth Taylor wasn't quite sure what to do other than to patrol the beaten and abandoned parts of the city, to put a stop to any crime she saw happening before her eyes. But even with the city's high crime rates, it wasn't as if there were criminals committing crimes 24/7.
Luckily, she didn't need to look too far for trouble.
There was an explosion that rocked the city, buildings shaking from the force. Windows shattered into fine dust as her dark curls flapped violently in the force of the blast.
Watching a column of flames shoot up into the night sky like a raging inferno from the bowels of hell, Taylor Hebert decided that maybe, just maybe, she was a bit out of her depth.
There was an earth-shaking roar that split through the night. It was a low and guttural thing, that sounded, unlike any animal she had heard before.
Taylor paused in her steps, shaken. This was her first night out as a hero, and already she had encountered something that even veteran capes would flinch away from.
In the distance, veiled by smoke and smog, there were flashes of a long serpentine neck accompanied by a dangerous orange glow.
But Taylor Hebert wanted to be a hero. Her bugs were good for scouting, for reconnaissance. She could use them to search for survivors who were caught in the disaster.
A part of her wanted to run away. To pretend that she never went out tonight, to hide in the safety of her home.
Another part of her protested against the very thought. She went out tonight to become a hero, and what kind of hero would leave behind those who are in need?
And so Taylor resolved herself, trudging onwards with her heart filled with grim determination. Her swarm trailed behind her like ephemeral wisps.
The buzzing of her swarm drowned out the voice in her head telling her that this was a very bad idea.
o0O0o
"Oni Lee!" A harsh, raspy voice shouted into the dimly lit streets.
The voice belonged to a bipedal creature, with three-toed feet that ended in sharp nails, and a large pair of bat-like ears in place of a face. He had dark, yellowish skin, and dozens of large, bulging, crimson-slitted eyes all over his arms and chest. He wore black pants with red highlights, and a red belt that housed an odd hourglass-shaped device.
In the distance on a nearby rooftop, one far away enough that they won't be so easily spotted, but near enough, so they could still hear the cape's challenges, Grue let out a muffled curse.
"I told you this was a bad idea."
"Shut up." Tattletale retorted, her forehead wrinkled up in concentration as she glared at the unknown cape below.
"Hero or villain?" Grue questioned the thinker, his voice distorted by his shadowy veil.
"Villain… I think he was the one who rampaged downtown—you know, the one that the PRT's keeping all hush-hush about." Grue could physically see her eyebrows shoot up above her flimsy domino mask. "What do you mean he's not a parahuman?!"
Grue ignored her, as powerful as her Thinker ability may be, it was prone to misfires. There was no way that the many-eyed cape below them couldn't be a parahuman.
There was no warning that heralded Oni Lee's arrival. He was simply there, behind the cape, blood-red mask leering with exaggerated features. Long serrated knives glinted in the moonlight.
The cape grinned, dozens of large and bulging eyes swiveling behind him.
"Eye see you!"
There were a dozen rays of crimson blasts that shot out of the numerous eyes located in the cape's back. Oni Lee was blasted into gray ash, with stray shots hitting the streets, scorching the asphalt with searing flames and other beams coating it in sheets of ice.
Oni Lee appeared once more, this time to the side. He struck with all the swiftness of an assassin and collapsed into a cloud of dust when his head froze over, a crimson-slitted eye glaring at the spot where he once was.
This time he did not appear again.
There was a few seconds of absolute silence, a pause in the battle between Oni Lee's appearance and the next.
The eyes all over the cape's body glowed with crimson power. "You can't hide forever, Oni Lee!" And then that power was unleashed as dozens more lasers blasted the streets. They had no target, no purpose other than to smoke out the rat skulking in the shadows. Buildings erupted into flames, lasers dug themselves into the pavement, and ice froze over what was left untouched.
"Holy shit, it's like the lovechild of Legend and a case 53," Regent swore, the slightest bit of awe in the usually apathetic boy's voice.
"That's it, I'm calling it. We're pulling back." Grue ordered as the appointed leader of the team. "Whoever this new cape is, chances are he's going to get into a fight with Lung. When that happens, I don't want the Undersiders getting caught in the middle of it."
Bitch grunted. "I can take him." The butch girl didn't quite understand the apprehension. Her dogs could rip and tear their enemies to shred should they get close.
A stray crimson bolt flew past them and impacted the building a block over, jagged spikes of ice erupting from where it impacted. Grue sighed, a hand reaching over to rub his eyes, but he instead ended up palming the face of his smooth black helmet.
"No Bitch, we can't" His voice brokered no room disagreement, and Bitch reluctantly backed down. She may dislike it, but she listened to him. Most of the time, at least."Tattletale, got anything new?"
The blonde supervillain practically screeched. "What the fuck is an Opticoid?!"
Before Grue could even process that statement, Oni Lee appeared once more in front of the cape, a bandolier of grenades strapped to his chest. On his hands, a pair of unpinned grenades replaced his knives.
A laser pierced through Oni Lee's torso, his body dissipating into ash once more. The grenades fell out of his hands and rolled to the ground.
Each of the cape's many eyes shrunk, dilating at the sight of the explosives beneath his feet.
"Uh-oh."
Explosions boomed through the streets, coating the area in a coat of billowing smoke. Grue hoped against hope that the cape stayed down. The city had a delicate balance, a stalemate between the PRT, the Empire, and the ABB. They didn't need a cape who cared little for the unwritten rules flipping the board.
The menacing red glow that pierced through the black cloud shattered those hopes.
"Eye've had enough of this!"
A thick crimson beam shot out and displaced the dark haze, revealing the cape's slightly scorched form. Interestingly enough, his eyes looked as if they had retreated into his skin, and protruding from the middle of his chest by a thin stalk of yellow, sinewy flesh was the single most largest eye that Grue had ever seen. From the eye came out a steady stream of crimson heated energy, shredding through entire city blocks as the cape spun all around himself, his grotesque eye trailing destruction in his wake.
And then that same laser just so happened to hit the building the undersiders were standing on.
"Everyone, get on the dogs!" Grue barked as his team did as ordered, saddling up on the large hulking masses of armored flesh.
Bitch ordered her dogs to retreat, an order he did not quite catch as the whole world came tumbling down around him, and soon their mounts were free-falling amidst the chunks of crashing debris. Clawed paws crushed stone where they landed, the ground splintering with cracks. When the dust settled, they were greeted with the cape so much nearer than before, and the dozen or so buildings that once surrounded them lay flattened wrecks.
The cape dug his hand through a pile of rubble that looked no different than the other useless piles of wreckage laying around. Clawed digits wrapped around his prize, and the cape wrenched Oni Lee up and into the air by the front of his head.
"Oni Lee's teleportation is by sight! How the heck did he know?" Tattletale hissed in between panted breaths.
"Oni Lee." The cape greeted the villain cordially as if they weren't in the midst of murdering one another just now. Oni Lee futilely clawed against the cape's arm, where the eyes blinked and closed, thick eyelids defending them from getting poked out. "GoodbEye."
And then a hot red laser eviscerated Oni Lee's head, his brain exploding into sloppy wet chunks of gore splattering against the ruined street. The eye located in the cape's palm didn't even flinch.
The cape turned around, shifting his attention towards them. The Undersiders stared at the cape who casually murdered one of the most infamous capes in the city. The many eyes located on the cape's body stared back at them unblinking.
"Ah, the Undersiders." He greeted them casually, like how one greets a passerby a good morning. Oni Lee's corpse fell to the ground with a dull thud. "What brings you here on this auspicious evening?"
Grue's tendrils of inky darkness threatened to engulf the area, the order to retreat on the tip of his lips. The Undersiders prided themselves as escape artists, and that showed in their roster, with their only heavy hitter being Bitch. He doubted they could win against a cape who was gunning for the kill.
Tattletale's firm grip on his arm was the only reason he stayed his hand.
Tattletale met his eyes behind his helmed face. She gave him a shaky nod, her lips quirking to form that damnable smirk of hers, the one she uses when she wants to flex her superiority, that she knew more information than you, albeit with the use of her Thinker power.
Grue gave her a flat, unamused look from behind his mask. Her smirk wavered, but she renewed herself.
"Let me speak to him."
Grue thought that was a bad idea. He was just about to voice his objections when Tattletale interrupted him by pulling on his arm.
"Trust me." She insisted, flashing him with what might have been a reassuring smile. It would have worked too, if not for all the wanton destruction that surrounded them.
"Fine." Grue relented, but he didn't like this. It was just that arguing with a high-level Thinker was usually a futile effort. Even more so when that Thinker was Tattletale. "Don't get us killed."
Tattletale grinned, dimples on her cheeks. "I won't." She said, releasing her grip on Grue before turning to address the cape. "Hey! Eye—Eye Guy? Really? Well, we're the Undersiders—you knew that already, and a certain rage dragon wanted to stomp us out for hitting one of his stashes."
Here Tattletale took a few cautious steps forward, her voice growing more confident as she continued. "You know, he wanted to—" She made air quotes with her fingers. "Save face. Can't have a bunch of teenagers insulting his gang like that, right?"
"Right." Eye Guy agreed, a relaxed smile on his lips. He seemed amused, Grue thought and maybe that meant he wouldn't kill them as he did with Oni Lee.
"And you want to get rid of the gangs! And while you may be a bit… heavy-handed." She did her best to ignore the cooling corpse at his feet. "The Undersiders work small time hits. More often than not, our targets are gangs and—Grue, darkness now!"
It happened in an instant.
A tide of pooling, black tar consumed all light and sound. In the next moment, the oozing darkness dissipated into thin air, the Undersiders nowhere in sight.
Eye Guy turned around, feeling a sudden wave of heat from behind him. He let out a throaty chuckle at the sight, seemingly pleased. "Ah. So that was her play."
Lung stood at a good seven feet tall, tongues of flames flicking at the open air, his forearms and calves had already begun to grow hardened silver scales.
"Lung. Just the gang lord I was looking for." He said, the many eyes on his body bulging outwards with dark satisfaction. His hand reached down to grab at the unmoving corpse. Hefting it by the leg, he threw the body, landing just shy of Lung's feet.
"I believe that belonged to you."
Lung looked down at Oni Lee's corpse, before shifting his gaze back to Eye Guy. He inhaled, and his flames burst upwards with a rush of blazing heat. Lung held his breath for a second, and exhaled, his fire simmering back down to a smaller flame.
"You are going to die tonight." Lung said, his voice deceptively calm.
Eye Guy laughed at the gang leader's face. "Funny." Each of his eyes narrowed. "You took the words right out of my mouth,"
Lung responded by erupting into a torrent of raging flames, superheated fire melting their surroundings into lumps of molten slag.
Eye Guy slapped the dial on his waist, a dazzling flash of bright red light engulfing his alien form.
No matter the outcome of this battle, tonight Brockton Bay will burn.
o0O0o
"What the hell was that, Tattletale?" Grue demanded, upon ensuring that he and his team had secured a safe distance away from the ensuing chaos.
"He was going to kill us." Tattletale choked out bitterly, clutching the bony protrusions on the reptilian hide of her mount as it bounded forward, buildings passing by in a blur as they left behind the devastated street, flames roaring in the distance past them.
Regent and Grue both shared the mount next to her, with Bitch on her own mount leading the pack, as she was the one who directed the dogs.
"What?" Grue asked as whipping winds rushed past them.
"That cape. Eye Guy. Nemesis, whatever he calls himself. He was insane." Tattletale let out something that sounded halfway between a laugh and a sob. "If we ran, he would have chased us down. He was a Changer, a high-tier one too."
Grue sighed forlornly. This was just what they needed, the attention of an insane cape. "How bad is it?" he inquired.
"Think Triumvirate, and multiply it by ten." Tattletale shivered. "But what's worse is that… He doesn't even see us as people. It was as if we were characters to him, like toys in a sandbox and he wanted to see us break."
It was silent after that, save for the sound of mutated claws stomping through asphalt.
Of course, Regent broke it. "Sounds like my kind of guy," He said, as tactful as ever, a lazy smile hidden behind his porcelain mask.
And just when Grue opened his mouth to reprimand him, something large and big and covered in silver glittery scales crashed into one of the buildings in front of them.
The storefront exploded into roaring flames, the wall coming apart with a clawed, heavy fist. Lung stepped out, having grown another foot taller. He was covered in gleaming silver-plated scales, a facsimile for armor. His mask had already welded to his face, having transformed into something less human. Flames flickered out of it like a forked tongue.
His mouth opened, revealing an elongated jaw like that of a reptile. Serrated teeth grew longer and sharper, and there were rows of them in his gaping maw. There was a sputtering of flames, the only warning before he unleashed a surging stream of superheated fire into the night sky. He bellowed a deep rumbling sound that shook the air.
"Shit, turn the other way!" Someone shouted, and Grue realized that it was he who had screamed.
"Brutus, Judas, Angelica!" Bitch barked, their mounts turning on a dime, bony paws digging into the street for traction.
Lung didn't even notice their panicked escape, his glaring eyes focused on a figure in the air.
And then they were assailed with blistering winds. Behind them, hovering in the sky on a piece of black jagged rock that was covered in orange flames like a comet plucked out of the sky. There was a creature standing on top of it, made of molten rocks and living flames. His feet ended in two-pronged toes, and an hourglass symbol rested on his chest, glowing an intimidating red.
"What's wrong, Lung?" He said, voice sounding of burning coals. "Can't handle the Heatblast?"
Lung responded by blasting Heatblast with a wave of gushing heat. Heatblast waved a white-hot hand made of fiery flames and the assaulting fire bent to his will, splitting into a dozen streaks of orange ribbons that surged into the palm of his hand, taking the shape of a burning orb.
"Hey Lung, catch!" Heatblast said, lobbing the ball in a manner unlike a father playing catch to his child. Only this was a bit different because—
—Lung disappeared in an explosion of devastating flames that devoured both him and the building behind him like a demon of gluttony. The nearby asphalt had melted back into black tar, exposed to the torrid heat.
And just as the fire had begun to slowly dim, a long, serpentine neck emerged from the pyre. An edifice of pure muscle armored with glimmering silver scales. With it came its triangular head, any visage of his humanity has been swept away by rolling flames and slitted feline eyes. It opened its mouth, revealing rows and rows of its horrid, bristling teeth, tendrils of flame flicking out like a heated furnace before he snapped his jaws shut. A long, strong tail sailed over the ground, blowing away the dimming flames, darkness returning to the night.
The rocks on Heatblast's face formed into something resembling a grin. He made the motion of cracking his knuckles, despite his fists being made of pure flames.
"Now that's what I'm talking about!"
Lung didn't reply. He didn't need to. Instead, he unleashed a great and terrible roar that echoed through the city.
"GROOOOOOOAAAH!"
It was not meant to intimidate or threaten, instead, it was a declaration.
I am Lung.
I am the Dragon.
It seems this city has forgotten what exactly that title meant.
Allow me to remind you.
The dark of the night was turned to the brightest of days by a blazing inferno, a monument to supernatural firepower that pierced even the heavens, the dark clouds parting from the sheer blast force. A quarter of the windows in the city were eviscerated into nothingness by the ensuing eruption, and the very city quaked in fear from the ones who had wrought this terrible storm of fire and ash.
In the distance, where one can visibly see the transition from the good part of the city to the bad, there was a trio of hulking beasts galloping through the empty streets. Sirens wailed in the distance, and red lights flashed as the first responders began to trickle into the dock-turned-wastes.
It was Tattletale who spoke first, catching her breath. She did not hide the panic in her voice. "Okay. Here's the plan. We head to the hideout, and we go to the ground. At the rate they're going, we'd be lucky if there was even a Brockton Bay left in the morning."
Grue swallowed the spit in his mouth. "Yep. That sounds like a good idea."
Regent did his best to emote a shrug from where he sat. "A whole week of lazing around in the base? I think I like the sound of that."
There was only one member left. "Bitch?" Tattletale called.
Bitch grunted in affirmation, half of her focus spent on her dogs. "Dogs scared." She said.
Tattletale supposed that was as good a yes as any, and they continued their trek through the city until…
"Wait, stop!" Tattletale shrieked, even with her domino mask in place one could see the look of disbelief, her mouth hung open in shock.
"Halt!" Rachel ordered, and the dogs obeyed, loyal and obedient as they were.
Tattletale called out to the cape skulking in the shadows, yellow lens glaring beneath the light of the pale moon. Tattletale was surprised. The costume wasn't too bad, especially for an amateur. And she didn't think they would have spotted her if her Thinker power wasn't at work. Then again, their attention was solely focused on more pressing matters.
"What the hell are you doing here? —Wait, don't answer that. First night out?! Do you have a death wish? —Ugh, okay, I'm not even going to begin to unravel that." Tattletale pressed her fingers to her temple, already feeling the makings of a headache. "Listen. Whatever you're thinking of right now, stop it. You go in there, and you're going to meet a horrible, fiery, end."
Taylor Hebert was about to reply before a distant boom! Interrupted those thoughts. She looked past the obvious capes and their bony, reptilian mounts, and saw the orange glow of smoldering flames dancing in what used to be the docks. Taylor had to think, to really think. Why was she doing this? Charging headfirst into that?! There were better ways of suicide. What was she thinking? Deluding herself into rationalizing that she wouldn't get hurt. That she'd stay away from the fighting.
Besides. If she did get hurt… If she didn't come back…
What would have happened to her dad?
"Just go home." The blonde cape spoke, and that was the final nail in the coffin.
"I—" Taylor tried to find her words, but her tongue was tied into knots. Instead, she gave her a tight nod. "Thank you."
"Tattletale." The one with smoke leaking out of him hissed, and Tattletale snapped back to him.
"I know, I know. Think of it as my good deed for the day. Now let's get out of here."
There was a boy, a porcelain mask clung to his face. He chuckled, though it sounded fake. "Heh. who knew that Tattletale had a soft spot."
Of course, it was at this moment that everything went wrong.
A meteor smashed into the ground in front of them, the asphalt breaking into craterous cracks. Wispy flames ignited all around the crash site before something stood up from the hollow depression. Something that looked like a man made out of rolling magma and snapping flames. He shook his head, shaking the stars out of his eyes.
Heatblast turned to the gathered capes, red-hot stone expressed what may have been dark amusement on that facsimile of a face.
"Ah. The Undersiders." He addressed them, raising a burning palm.
"Shit, Grue—"
"I'm on it!"
And then there was dark.
Taylor did the only thing she thought sensible at the time, considering she was covered in thick, viscous darkness that she could not even tell her right hand from her left.
Her swarm buzzed to life, a thick cloud of screaming chitin wrapped around anything and everything they could get their little claws on.
She felt it, rather than saw it. Through her swarm, the warmth was the only warning before she felt her bugs abruptly disappear. Thousands of her insects were incinerated in waves of scorching heat. And then she felt the warmth near her face, and now she was rolling on the floor, clutching the side where hungry flames ate at her mask like ravenous hounds. She screamed a voiceless cry, the sound lost in the gnawing darkness.
And then the shadows dissipated as if it was never there, the Undersiders gone to the wind. Heatblast stood at the center, bugs crackling, sizzling, and popping all around him. He looked down, to where Taylor lay prone and in pain, and the fires lapping at her face dimmed and shrunk till they were no more.
She clutched the left side of her face, where the skin was charred and burned. She would have been crying, had her tears not evaporated from the blistering heat.
"Skitter. Weaver. Khepri." Heatblast spoke, words that held no meaning to Taylor. "Queen Administrator." He continued, stalking her as a predator would their prey.
"In another world, in another life, you would have become a legend. Humanity's savior, a mind-broken monster. Or you would have, had it not been for my intervention." He spoke distractedly as if he was speaking to himself rather than her. Taylor remained a pained, blubbering mess. "And it wouldn't really be fair to you if I killed you for actions that you may never take." He said so casually, so off-handedly. "Oh, and sorry for the face by the way." He added, almost as an afterthought.
And then a great, sweeping arm with fingers that ended in spear tips backhanded Heatblast, slapping him up and away, sending him careening into a nearby building. Lung stomped onwards, not even acknowledging the crying girl below.
Lung hunched over, spikes like jagged stones erupting all over his spine. He raised his two, large crushing arms and slammed their bulk into the building, sending it crumbling down to its foundations in a pile of wrecked debris.
Taylor crawled forwards, or at least she tried to, her palm grasping onto her face.
The sirens wailed louder, spots of red lights dancing in her eyes. She saw a blob of white and red before her world faded to black.
When the first responders arrived, they didn't know what to make of the situation. Oh, they knew that the city was struck with an unmitigated disaster, the likes that had never been seen since the times that the Teeth called Brockton bay their home. The firefighters knew that they had fires to fight, and the ambulances knew that they had lives to save.
No, the problem lay in the ones who were at the epicenter of this disaster.
Lung staggered back as ripping flames exploded against his mighty form. Heatblast rocketed himself through the air, fire jetting out of his feet as he continued to launch continuous blazing streams toward Lung's bulk.
Lung bent over, and a pair of jagged protrusions erupted from his back, just shy of his shoulder blades.
Heatblast was hovering, just scant inches away from Lung's reach when Lung grew in size once more and he found his legs wrapped in silver talons before being roughly thrown aside, his rocky form crashing into another building.
Lung stepped onwards with confidence. The cape had the means to diminish his flames, but that was all. Once Lung grew enough, his brute strength supplemented his fire, And he would continue to grow bigger and stronger until he was strong enough to put out this annoying flame.
So it was much to his surprise when he stood in front of the building, intent on destroying it and the cape within when a bright red flash assailed his senses and a large, meaty fist hammered his jaw, snapping his head up as a humongous figure exploded from the crumbling structure.
"Why don't you pick on someone your own size!"
The cape's new form stood a stature that rivaled even Lung's, with thick, stout legs like tree stumps, and a tall, broad torso that was rippling in dense muscles. He had a colossal pair of arms packed with bulging muscles like gigantic boulders. A pair of black briefs covered his modesty, and a red and black sash hung across his chest from his shoulder to his waist. Located on it was the hourglass symbol, both it and his eyes glowed a dull red. His skin was this thick hide of tanned brown scales, like what you'd see from a dinosaur.
"Humungousaur!" Humungousaur declared, his baritone voice sounding of rolling stones and shifting gravel.
Another fist found itself buried in Lung's face, scales splitting apart at the seams as Lung was in the midst of recovering from his surprise.
Humungousaur took advantage of it as he pummelled the gang leader, landing blow after blow, Lung's scales cracked and broke as fast as they grew, flames licking at his wounds as he regenerated the damage only to be undone with a heavy fist.
Lung's eyes smoldered with burning rage as he grew larger once more, his toothed maw opening to reveal angry red flames that cascaded down and unto Humungousaur, rolling waves of intense heat scorching his thick skin.
A pair of burly palms wrapped themselves around both of Lung's jaws. With enhanced vigor, Humungousaur slammed his jaws shut, cutting off his stream of flames. Clawed tips slashed at Humungousaur's chest, dragging thin lines on his rock-like scales.
"Hey Lung, ever heard of mouthwash? Your breath stinks!" Humungousaur hollered.
Lung continued to thrash and flail, flames flicking out of his shut jaws, only for Humungousaur to drag him by his snout and off to the side, before slamming his head down unto the nearby building's flat edge, the cement easily caving in with his immense strength.
Humungousaur raised a towering arm of bulging muscle, and Lung had only a moment to react when he brought it down like a hammer on a nail, smashing it on Lung's face with enough force to send both him and the building crashing all around him in a pile of crushing debris.
And then the world burned. Fires roared and the earth shook as Lung erupted from the wreckage like a Phoenix from its ashes.
Here be a dragon, wreathed in a halo of raging flames. It towered over the boardwalk's storefronts, lighting up the night with its orange glow. Tendrils of flames snapped around him like writhing snakes. Across his back, twin spindly pinions stood erect like jagged spikes, where a pair of terrible, leathery wings spread open and stretched outward to cover the night sky.
He flapped once, and then twice, and Humongousaur was assaulted by buffeting gales. Lung soon took to the air, hovering higher and higher before he felt an unyielding grip on his tail, and then he was yanked back to the earth, unceremoniously crashing down on his front on the charred asphalt.
He felt a pair of large hands grip his leathery wings, having a second to only process what was happening before they pulled.
Lung let loose a howl of roaring agony as his wings were ripped right out of his body, blood gushed out like a geyser before they were cauterized with a flash of searing flames. He spun around, lashing out with his dangerous claws only to be slapped back by his own bloodied wings, Humungousaur whipping it at his face.
Letting go of his gruesome weapon, Humungousaur charged, stampeding with relentless ferocity, he tackled Lung, the two crashing through dozens of buildings and neighborhoods as Humungousaur held onto Lung like a makeshift battering ram, leaving a trail of destruction and rubble behind them.
The two crashed back into the street just as another building crumbled behind them, the pavement splintering into a spiderweb of cracks.
With both hulking beasts on their knees, giving each other a chance to recover, it was Humungousaur who caught sight of a nondescript white van that attempted to rush past them. He grabbed it from behind, wheels uselessly skidding against the road as he smashed it on Lung's head. Men in black fatigues and bulletproof vests died in a fiery explosion on Lung's jagged snout.
o0O0o
With no small amount of annoyance, Coil closed that timeline. He contacted his mercenaries again, ordering them to take a left this time, avoiding the two brawling monstrosities.
He made sure to leave an anonymous tip to the PRT, kindly informing them of the wreckless bruisers who had bulldozed through several city blocks. He wasn't sure what the PRT could do at this point, save for bringing out the Triumvirate, but any response was better than none at all.
He didn't experience Thinker headaches, but this was a close thing.
You see, Coil was something of a schemer. A mastermind, if you will. He was a man with a plan to rule over this decrepit despot of a city, and now he finds himself wondering if there'd even be a city left come morning.
Coil was used to plots behind plots, like a spider waiting for its prey to ensnare itself upon its web.
And so when he heard of a new Tinker in Brockton Bay, he decided to whisper a little message to the Empire. Of course, he made sure that it couldn't be traced back to him. It was a test, to see the Tinker's tricks and toys, and when the new cape beat down the majority of the Brockton bay Protectorate, Coil thought that he could use that.
And so he kept that timeline, and here he was now. Hiding in his unfinished endbringer shelter, and unfinished it may be, but it functioned readily enough. It wasn't comfortable, and he had to have his mercenaries hurriedly carry his equipment down here, but he'd rather take his chances down here rather than out there when half the city was burning.
And with chaos engulfing the city, the PRT scrambling, the Empire nursing its wounds with the loss of Cricket and Stormtiger, and now the ABB warring, Coil decided that he may as well kidnap his little precog.
Dinah Alcott. He had a masterful plan in place for her forceful employment into his services, but all of that had gone up in smoke like the rest of the city. And so, he gave the order to just kidnap the brat right off her own home.
In a throwaway timeline, he had his men ask the girl what their chances are making it back to his underground base.
"Twenty-nine point eight one eight zero two percent."
And as the van was sent flying into the air before it skidded on its side, his men crawling out before getting splattered into wet squelches by a gigantic fist, Coil cursed, grabbed a drink before realizing that he forgot to pack any, cursed again, and split the timeline once more.
He liked those odds.
o0O0o
Lung and Humungousaur crashed back into the streets in a tangle of mountainous limbs, the building behind them collapsing into a smoldering wreck. Clawed talons dug themselves into the ground, Lung ripping himself free from humungousaur's hold as flames ate away at the asphalt, leaving nothing but bubbling tar.
Humungosaur recovered as well, lifting himself up even as the pavement beneath him gave away to a spiderweb of cracks. He brushed aside the pieces of burning rubble on his shoulder, but made no other moves, locked in a tenuous ceasefire with the flaming dragon as they both took this small reprieve in the battle.
But as Lung would continue to grow in size and strength, Humungousaur knew that the time to strike was soon. The only reason he didn't was because—
—The roar of Armsmaster's engine was lost amidst the sea of billowing flames. He sped on his motorcycle, making sure to stay close to his team of heroes, even if he so wanted to charge into the fray by himself and be the hero he knew he was.
But experience stayed his hand. Even if he had designed a counter to Lung's regeneration, it wouldn't do to underestimate him, even more with the possibility of him battling a cape that could keep up with his immense strength.
And so it was with this reluctant acceptance that Armsmaster arrived with his fellow heroes at his back, with PRT vans and troopers behind them securing the perimeter, to keep civilians out and to hopefully contain the fight.
And Armsmaster was struck with this odd familiarity. It was only hours ago since Nemesis' rampage, and the damage was very similar to that, with the streets laden with cracks and trenches and oozing tar. Not all the buildings on the streets were flaming wrecks, but that didn't stop the smaller flames from gnawing at their foundations.
And in front of him was Lung, a towering monolith of silver plates and rolling flames. He had already grown large enough, standing at a good twenty feet, growing even more. Beside him was a cape he hadn't seen before, his large size of dense muscle and brownish scales was all but dwarfed by Lung's enormous form. The light of his crimson hourglass belayed his identity, however. Nemesis.
And so as he rushed to confront the two villainous capes, his halberd taut and ready, he had only a second to process the flash of silver before an immense force struck his side and sent him flying away and crashing into a building, its base eaten away by hungry flames caused it to collapse in a burning heap of molten rock.
As the heroes watched as Armsmaster was casually batted aside by a whipping tail, they didn't even waver in their steps.
Miss Militia had formed a rocket launcher, her sights leveled at the two villains. She sent a barrage of missiles, explosions thundering with each impact.
Triumph, someone who looked like a mix of a lion and a gladiator, dashed past his teammates and skidded to a halt, opening his mouth to unleash shockwaves of pure energy, waves of sound splintering the already destroyed streets even further.
Assault and Battery rushed forwards, one in this garish, bright red body suit, and the other had electric blue lines running all throughout her costume, with forks of lightning surging with her as she bolted forward with her charged energies.
Dauntless hovered a scant few inches off the ground, a far cry from when his boots allowed him the capabilities of flight. He didn't let that stop him as he bounded forward, the light of his Arclance noticeably dimmer, but he held it with renewed purpose.
All of that was put to a halt when Lung spun around with his gaping maw, belching a tide of blazing flames that devastated the area, forcing them to retreat lest they be consumed in its intense heat.
Lung snorted in annoyance, twin puffs of smoke escaping from his nostrils.
And just as Lung turned back around, there was a dull ringing of metal hitting rigid scales as his head was struck down by a metal pole, his head snapping downwards with the blow. He brought his head back up, his eyes smoldering with incandescent flames.
Humungousaur grinned, brandishing the lamp post like a fencer would his blade. Next to him was a hole in the ground, with exposed wires from where he tore his weapon from.
"En garde!"
That was when he lashed out with a barrage of rapid strikes, the dull clanging of steel against armored plates echoed throughout the street as Humungousaur beat Lung on the head again and again with his large metal stick.
And then Lung caught the pole by his teeth, catching it in his jaws and then he bit down, rending metal apart as Humungousaur pulled his weapon away to reveal it shortened, with a jagged point at its tip. Lung spat out a wad of molten metal from his mouth, where it shot out and into the ground with a sizzling hiss.
Humungousaur blinked dumbly at the damage, raising what was left of the pole to his face.
"That's not good."
Lung clenched his fists, clawed tips scratching beneath his palms. His blazing charge was accompanied by a guttural roar, his arms shrouded in hellish flames.
Humungousaur flipped his weapon down and held it in an ice-pick grip, brawny fingers nearly wrapped around its shortened length. He held his fists close to his face in a boxer's stance and met Lung's blow with his own.
There was a shockwave that rocked the earth as scales of burning silver met a thick and heavy fist. Lung held in his free palm an orange glow that lit up sparks in the air with its unwavering heat as he launched a red-hot beam of dragon fire at Humungousaur's bulk.
Humungousaur was sent reeling from the fiery barrage of super-heated flames. Lung barreled onwards, clocking Humungousaur right in the jaw, the saurian cape staggering back even further. Lung doubled down on his assault as spear-like claws wrapped around Humungousaur's head, Lung's jaws splitting open wider than before, held together by strips of flesh and sinewy tissue. There was a sputtering of flame that came from within his cavernous maw, and the air ignited as the orange glow of raging flames lit up in Lung's gullet.
Humungousaur caught his second wind, breaking free of Lung's hold by cracking Lung's scales with a vicious blow, his head rocking to the side just as he unleashed a torrent of scorching flames that carved up the earth with its intense heat.
Humungousaur shoved Lung's head further away with a roar of effort. Humungousaur stomped forwards, spinning behind him before bringing his fist up and into the air, the jagged lamp post-turned spear glowed a menacing red against the infernal flames below.
Humungousaur brought it down, ramming its jagged edge down on Lung's jaws, slamming them shut, his fire abruptly cutting off with a final flickering of dying flames.
Lung exclaimed a raging roar, its sound muffled by his enclosed mouth.
And before he knew it, Lung was picked up with tremendous strength, Humungousaur heaving him up and into the air before spinning around and hurling him across the street, the pavement cratering beneath his monstrous bulk.
"Weak," Humungousaur said as Lung began to get up, a titanic fist slamming him back down.
Lung erupted into angry flames, the metal pole holding his jaws together melting into useless slag. He rallied himself, rising up with his mouth split open and spewing burning flames.
"Puny."
A gargantuan fist put an end to that notion as it smashed itself into his gut, and silver scales fractured and broke beneath the forceful blow, Lung's flames dimming and sputtering out like a candle in the wind.
A taloned grip dug itself into Humungousaur's shoulders, and he slammed another fist up Lung's jaw that sent him staggering back, and breaking his grasp on Humungousaur.
And as Lung licked his wounds with regenerating flames, Humungousaur picked up one of the PRT vans lying around, not unlike the ones he encountered before. Their drivers had abandoned it, and those who couldn't escape were left as blackened scorch marks in the shape of what used to be people.
"Waste of space."
Humungousaur rammed the vehicle down into Lung's open mouth just as he was about to unleash another torrent of raging flames. The van exploded into a mix of metal and containment foam, and the white gunk expanded in his mouth, blocking the passageway for his fire.
"One of the most feared villains in this side of the country," Humungousaur said mockingly, disdain dripping from his voice. "And this is all you could amount to?"
Lung kneeled down on all fours, clawed digits dug into the asphalt. His eyes burned intensely with burning rage as his flames ate away at the foam at an almost sluggish pace. This weakness, this helplessness. It was a feeling he had not felt since he met that woman in the fedora. He hated this, loathed his own inadequacy.
Humungousaur snorted. "Pathetic."
And then Lung exploded once more, and the world was showered in gouts of raging flames. There was a deep rumble, a tremor within the storm of fire as Lung laughed, his monstrous voice thick with its rolling depths. The fire shrunk and condensed, wrapping itself around Lung's towering form like a cloak of hellfire, where dense silver plates overlapped over one another like a knight's shining armor. The second pair of arms sprouted on his torso, just as large and monstrous as the first, with claws that ended in spear tips and scales like sheets of steel. Twin pinions sprouted out from his back once again, his leathery wings an umbrella that drank up the night sky with its vast spread. A large and long tail as thick as tree trunks swayed lazily, crashing over buildings and toppling them over with its immense bulk.
Humungousaur craned his head up and up, his vision moving past Lung's dense, monolithic neck, past the cavernous, yawning maw filled to the brim with rows and rows of serrated teeth as long as swords. He met Lung's burning glare, his four pairs of cat-slitted eyes danced with a raging fire.
"You know, this has gotten old real quick." Humungousaur deadpanned.
And then Humungousaur was picked up by his shoulders, pointed talons digging into his flesh as crimson blood ebbed from his wounds. Lung's second pair of claws gripped Humungousaur's heavyset arms, restraining them as Lung's throaty laughter echoed throughout the night, his wings flapping, kicking up winds like a hurricane. A jet of bursting fire erupted from the small of his back, just between the pinions of his wings, jettisoning the two up and into the air.
Lung laughed, his deep baritone voice rumbling all around him as all of his burning anger and fiery rage reached its absolute peak. Never before had he been as furious as he was now, reaching this almost tranquil fury.
With his most trusted lieutenant dead, his territory burning in shambles, and a kill order on his head even if he survived the night, all his anger, all his rage, it had wrapped back around to become this peaceful tranquility.
It was so absurd, that Lung started laughing, ignoring how his body had grown to the size of when he fought against the Leviathan.
He may not have a kill order now, but tearing through half the city and leaving it in flames to make sure it stays destroyed is the kind of thing that gets you a kill order.
And so, why not end the night with a bang?
Lung flew them higher and higher, up and into the air, his burning form glowed with the light of the sun. His eyes glanced at a tall building that stood just over forty stories tall. Lung grinned, his sharp, bristling teeth poking out of his jaws.
He flew them up and above the building, uncaring of Humungousaur's struggles. Even now, Lung continued to grow, faster and larger than he did against Leviathan. And when he judged that they were high enough in the air, he dropped.
Lung dived down through the air, holding Humungousaur in his iron grip. Heated winds rushed past them, with Lung howling with booming laughter as Humungousaur echoed his cries with roars of exertion as he tried to extract himself from Lung's clutches.
And when Lung judged them close enough, he threw Humungousaur with monstrous strength, hurling him down and through the building, and as his immense bulk crashed down on its rooftop and through its floors, the very air erupted into explosions of heat, the very molecules of oxygen themselves ignited as Lung took a deep breath and unleashed a pillar of fire, an inferno unlike anything else before. Its girth consumed the building and everything else around it in its blazing fury. For added measure, there was a series of crackles and sparks on both his palms. Then there was this blazing hot torrent of super condensed heat that tore through the building and devoured its foundations with ravenous flames.
And when the fire teetered down, all that was left was a crater the size of a dozen city blocks. From this crater, the buildings and their surroundings were transmuted into these alien spires of twisting glass. It was a wasteland comparable to the power of a nuclear blast.
Lung was almost disappointed that the fight was over.
And then the glass exploded outwards, showering the site with a rain of sparkling shards.
Standing on two stumpy legs like small houses was a mountainous giant, with plated scales and saurian features. He stood thrice the size of Lung, with rigid spikes running all the way down his spine. His thick, lengthy tail ended with four spikes jotting out of its edges. His arms were these hulking masses, an edifice made of absolute strength and hardened muscles that could rival the towering structures of Brockton Bay's skyscrapers.
There was this deep, booming sound that rang throughout the city like rolling thunder and crashing waves.
"You have made a humongous mistake." Humungousaur began, the glass rumbling with the depth of his voice.
And then Lung was swatted down like a particularly annoying bug by a hand the size of a bus. His monstrous form fell from the sky, with fire trailing behind him like a shooting star through the night sky.
When Lung crashed into the ground, with glass grinding and screeching in protest against his massive bulk, a truly colossal fist the size of boulders smashed down on him, leaving a deep indent into the earth.
And as Lung tried to get up once again, another fist slammed him down, the crater's edge growing larger, the trench digging deeper.
When Lung exploded into roaring flames, a fist pounded him down a third time, drowning out the flames with sheer force and size.
Lung didn't get up a fourth time.
Humungousaur tilted his head to glance at where he heard the sound of the thrumming of a helicopter's blades.
At its side, emblazoned in capital letters, was BROCKTON CITY NEWS. He almost laughed at the sight, not knowing if they were brave or idiots, possibly both.
Instead, a pair of enormous hands reached down, thick brawny digits wrapping around Lung's shrinking form like he was a particularly large toy. Humungousaur turned fully to the sight of the helicopter, red eyes glowing ominously in the night sky.
"Citizens of Brockton Bay." Nemesis began. Even from here, he could see the lens of the camera glaring beneath the moonlight. "I am Nemesis. Consider this as my declaration of war. This city is now under my control. And as for the remaining gangs? I have a message for you. To the Empire, the Merchants… and the PRT."
Nemesis paused for a moment, a deep rumble echoing from his throat. "You have until morning to vacate my city. If you don't?"
Humungousaur tore Lung into two bisected parts, and bits of silver scales rained down below like sparkling droplets, even as strands and sinews of flesh struggled to connect the two halves back together. Blood and other important internal organs fell out like a red tide.
"Well, you get the idea."
And then he pressed the dial on his chest, and he disappeared in a crimson flash.
o0O0o
For what was supposed to be a supervillain's hideout, the loft was surprisingly comfortable. If anything, it looked more like a teenager's hideout rather than something that you'd expect from a group of superpowered criminals.
Lisa shut off the television with a muted click, the news forecast cutting off just as the news anchor began listing the estimated damages to the city.
With the death of Lung and Nemesis' challenge to the city's gangs, including the PRT, the city was going to be very hectic in the coming days.
"Shit." Lisa succinctly summarized the situation with great eloquence and wit.
Brian flopped bonelessly down on the couch next to her. His head lolled to rest at the backrest's edge. "How bad is it?" he asked, sounding so very tired.
"The national guard will probably cordon off the city. In short, Brockton Bay's going to turn into a literal warzone." There was a sharp edge to her smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "But hey, if you want, you could get an autograph from Alexandria when she inevitably stops by to take a visit and see the sights"
Brian shot up at that statement. "Alexandria's coming?!"
Lisa's forehead scrunched in pain, a palm coming up to it to rub comforting circles. "First of all, please try not to be so loud." She reprimanded him with annoyance coloring her features. "Second of all, yes, the PRT's sending Alexandria. Or maybe Eidolon, who knows? It doesn't really take a Thinker power to know that they're going to send the Triumvirate over the stunt Nemesis pulled. Declaring ownership over an entire city, challenging the PRT, and then murdering a gang lord, all on live television?"
Alec strolled in, a tub of popcorn in hand. He looked at the television's blank screen, his lazy grin setting into a scowl. "Aww, is the show over?" He whined, but his words held no real heat in them.
Brian opened his mouth to reply, but he ended up shutting his mouth instead. He strained his ears… there was this faint scratching sound he could hear, something that sounded like Rachel's dogs.
Lisa rocketed from her seat on full alert, her previous exhaustion nowhere to be seen.
"Shit, he's here!"
The doors to the loft burst open from their hinges, their lock doing nothing to hinder the cape's primal strength. There was this dog-like thing, its muzzle brimming with sharp, pointed teeth, slobber drooling from its mouth. Its body was coated with long, bristling strands of this thick, orange fur. On its next was a black collar, with a red strip running through its middle. At the center was that same hourglass dial. His face had no eyes.
Bitch barged out from her room, from where she was grooming her dogs when she heard the commotion. She let out this shrill whistle, her dogs rushing out of the room as their skin hardened into bone-like plates, their bodies growing larger and stronger.
The cape, Nemesis—Wildmutt flinched at the high-pitched noise, long enough for Grue to unleash his power like slick oil that oozed its way all over the hideout, drowning everything in pitch black.
And then Wildmutt slammed a hairy paw on his collar, and there was this blinding flash of crimson red light that was smothered out by shadowy darkness.
Lisa ducked down behind the couch, using it as a makeshift barricade. She didn't know how long she spent in Grue's darkness, but she supposed it didn't matter all too much when the shadows dissipated into wispy smoke, revealing Grue caught in the jaws of the beast with blood pooling down his torso where dagger-like teeth dug into his skin.
Wildmutt now looked very different than before. With dark reddish fur the color of dried blood, and a size twice as big as his previous form. He had three bushy tails that ended in pointed spikes made of bone, and a total of seven visible slits on his neck.
From these vents, came out this dense, dark, choking haze, not unlike Grue's power. Different from him, however, was that this darkness did not nullify sound.
There was a series of barks and growls before Lisa heard the sound of claws and teeth ripping and tearing into thick flesh. Lisa's headache spiked before she hurriedly backed away from the couch just a second before a large mass of hulking bone and bristling spines crashed on top of it, its mutilated body torn apart with dozens of wounds and gashes. There was a second and third crash after that, followed by a shrill shriek that screamed bloody murder.
And then the smoke began to unravel, traveling to the center of the room like a vacuum cleaner sucking up all the dust in its vicinity. Ultimate Wildmutt's vents siphoned back in its dispensed smoke screen, uncovering its beasty form and its bloodied claws. Rachel lay in front of him in two pieces, with two new holes in the wall with crumbling plaster from where he hurled away Rachel's dogs. Alec was struggling and grunting as a powerful shaggy appendage wrapped itself around his neck, dangling him meters off the ground.
And then Alec's body fell limp, and now there was only her.
"Please, don't kill me! You're after Coil, right?" Lisa bargained, backing away even from her seat on the floor. "I've been to his base! He recruited me at gunpoint, I can take you to him, I can help you, just please don't kill me!" She tried very hard not to look at the corpses of her teammates. They weren't what you would call close, but they were something resembling friends. They at least trusted each other enough to form a supervillain team.
Ultimate Wildmutt was swallowed by a flash of light, his large and imposing form reverting back to its smaller, orange scruff. A second bright flash of crimson heralded Nemesis who now stood before her in his gleaming metal plates.
"Oh, Sarah." His venomous words oozed out of his lips like dripping tar. "I do know that you can help me." He stalked forwards, his heavy boots laden with sadistic delight. He knelt before her, her eyes meeting his gleaming crimson eyes. Crimson-armored digits caressed her face, and Lisa couldn't hold back her tears as her power told her exactly what was going to happen.
"No…" She shrunk back, her back hitting the wall, whimpering in fear.
"I just think it's funny you thought you had a choice."
o0O0o
Coil frowned as he ended the call. The loss of his Undersiders was a setback, yes, but ultimately a minor one. The most important asset of that endeavor was Tattletale, and so long as she was alive then he couldn't care less about what happened to them.
Still, with both Dinah and Tattletale under his thumb, in addition to his own Thinker power, he was going to rule this city, setback or no.
They say that information was power, and very soon, he will have all of it.
Still, he sent a team of mercenaries to extract Tattletale from her location, deeming it unsafe with Nemesis seemingly gunning for every villain in the city.
He received a message from his first set of mercenaries, the ones escorting Dinah. They were making good time, all things considered. With them across the city and getting caught up in the battle between two titans, one that they survived with no small amount of effort from him. Still, they were a ways away from his underground shelter, so he won't be greeting them for another fifteen minutes. Tattletale was much closer, however, which was some much-needed good news.
What wasn't good news was the headache all this chaos ensued. He slumped back into his large leather chair, taking in this brief moment of respite.
When he received another message, this one from the mercenaries guarding Tattletale, he reflexively split the timeline, reading the text informing him that they had arrived at his base.
Good.
He had Tattletale brought over to his office, mostly to explain what exactly happened. All Coil knew was that the Undersiders died somewhere in the fighting, and having Tattletale relay the information in person was much more effective than over a call. Besides, she was here now, so he might as well have her brought before him.
The vault doors opened, its hinges creaking loudly from the strain. Tattletale was brought in, a pair of armed guards at her side. Her blonde hair looked paler, and her bangs shadowed her eyes.
"Miss Wilbourn. It is good to see you are well." Coil began with the formalities. "Now, care to share what happened?" He cut to the heart of the matter.
"I'm afraid Sarah isn't here right now." A voice that didn't belong to Tattletale said, its tone biting and snapping. A dark chill hung over the air as goosebumps trailed underneath Coil's skin-tight costume. Her bangs parted, revealing her eyes flaring with crimson shades and black sclera. Black, jagged lines ran through her eyes like hideous scars.
Coil wanted to curse himself for getting cocky at this pivotal moment, but nowhere in his wildest dreams could he have foreseen this outcome. So instead, in the second timeline, he ordered his men who already had drawn their guns to shoot at the girl, or whoever she was masquerading as. Tattletale died without fanfare, falling to the ground with a soundless thump.
And then a pale, ghastly hand tore through his head and that timeline ended.
Coil broke into a cold sweat, and split the timeline once again.
"Ah… I believe that I'm at a disadvantage here." Coil began, much more cordially this time. He sent his men a discreet signal with a wave of his hand, and they lowered their guns.
"My… How rude of me." The unknown cape drawled, its terrible tone sending chills down his spine.
And then Tattletale collapsed to the floor, like a puppet with its string cut.
Tattletale's mouth split open far wider than it should have, her jaws dislocating as a mass of swirling shadows jumped out and into the air, the wind screamed its baleful howls as it solidified into something that was a mockery of life.
It was a phantom with skin in shades of reddish-gray. On its neck and waist were these heavy, rusted, manacles, held together by three sets of ethereal chains, all converging on the hourglass symbol at its center. On his arms and wrists were chainless cuffs, flaking and rotten. It had no legs, its waist trailing down into a wispy tail, hovering just shy above the ground. There was this black, jagged line that ran zig-zagged all throughout its body. In this space, was an eerie, bulging eye that glared crimson and decay.
"What's wrong, Coil? You look like you've seen a ghost!" Nemesis cackled this demented, discordant noise, and Coil blanched in his seat.
In the second timeline, a flick of his finger was the signal for his men to start firing. Their shots passed through Nemesis like he wasn't even there. His single eye glowered down at him with what may have been grim amusement.
"Cute."
And then he was gone, like ashes to the wind. There was no gesture, no warning. He was simply there one moment and gone in the next.
Coil held his breath. He didn't even think for a second that Nemesis retreated. It was simply not his way. Just as Coil preferred games of the mind and wit, Nemesis chose to completely and utterly decimate his enemies with pure, unrelenting force. He's seen it firsthand as he navigated his mercenaries out of their graves. Coil simply had to do the same thing for himself.
A breath escaped Coil's lips, and there was this sickening crunch. One of his mercenaries fell to the cold floor, dead. The second mercenary brought his arms to bear, its sights aimed at an unseen enemy. There was a snap, his head twisted at an odd angle. He too fell to the ground. Dead.
Coil felt a pair of freezing hands grasp the sides of his head, and he only had a second to process the breaking of his bones before his timeline ended.
He split the timeline once more.
"Nemesis." Coil hid the pooling dread in his stomach with the veneer of civility. "Do you have business with me?"
"Business." His single eye blinked slowly as he rolled the word on his non-existent tongue. "Yes. Something like that I suppose." Nemesis' words crawled over Coil's skin, skittering like a thousand bugs.
Coil nodded. Business. Business implies trades, deals, and transactions. That's something he can handle. He brought his hands together over his desk.
"I see. Let's talk business. Is there anything you want from me or my organization?" Coil's heart began to steady. He had made deals before. Deals with a shady organization pulling on the world's strings like a puppet master. Nemesis would be child's play compared to that.
"It's quite simple, really." Nemesis said. The attempt at reassurance might have worked if not for his constant chilling, haunting tone that felt like knives digging into his back. "I want this city, and I want you out."
Inwardly, Coil hurled a barrage of curses and abuse toward Nemesis, but outwardly, he sighed in resigned acceptance. He has spent years cultivating his contacts, decades carving his own place in this city. And now, it had all gone up in flames thanks to Nemesis. He supposed he should count himself lucky he wasn't torn in half like Lung, but even that silver lining rang hollow. Still, so long as he had his resources, his new pet Thinker, and Tattletale, he could come back from this, perhaps even greater than before.
"Very well." Coil agreed. "It shall take a few days to gather my resources, and then I shall leave. Does this satisfy you?"
Nemesis crowed at him, sounding something like jangling chains. Coil felt his heart sink to his stomach. "You misunderstand." Nemesis corrected. "I want you out. Permanently."
In both timelines, his men opened fire on Nemesis, their shots passing through his body as if it were air.
In the second timeline, Nemesis grabbed at his mercenary's chest, his hand passing through without resistance. There was a wet, squelching sound, and the body slumped and fell limp.
In the first timeline, Coil made a desperate dash to safety as he attempted to run past the manic cape. He made it a total of two steps before a bolt of plasma burned through his chest. He turned with the shot to see his mercenary, gross, dark veins running through his crimson eyes. Possessed.
Coil split the timeline again, an action he was too used to by now.
In the third timeline, he stood still, unmoving as his mind began racing for a solution, any solution that would lead to his survival.
"If you kill me, the base will self-destruct!" Coil blurted out the warning.
Nemesis' single eye narrowed. "I think I can survive the explosion. You won't."
"Ah—but what about the good people of Brockton Bay?" Coil bluffed. He didn't even have a bomb installed, let alone armed. Yet another future plan disrupted by Nemesis. "Will they survive?"
"It will be a tragedy." Nemesis agreed, yet Coil couldn't help the sinking feeling in his gut telling him, screaming at him that something was terribly wrong with this situation.
"But as they say." Nemesis continued. "There is plenty of fish in the sea."
Coil staggered back as if stricken. He should have seen it coming, all things considered, but he was literally grasping at straws.
"You're mad." Uttered Coil, a faint whisper from his lips.
"I'm mad?" Nemesis echoed, and there was this sharp edge to his words. "No Coil, this world is mad. This world that I've been chucked into without an errant thought, is mad. This sorry excuse of a grimdark world made to parody superheroes is mad. This world that's going to end in a few years because of a depressed golden idiot is mad."
Coil was backing away now, Nemesis' spectral form daunting over him.
"And in a world where sanity is insanity, and insanity is sanity, I am its sanest tenant." Nemesis finished.
In the second timeline, both his men lay dead at his feet.
"Hey Coil, want to see something really scary?" Nemesis reached into his skin, fingers digging into the black spaces between his translucent flesh, and he pulled. His skin unfurled, revealing dozens of nightmarish tentacles, wriggling and writhing, reaching out and grasping toward the air.
In both timelines, Coil screamed.
o0O0o
Lisa rubbed her jaw, wincing at the feeling of it snapping back into place.
"Did you really have to do that?" she asked irritably and scowled when he remained silent.
"I finished threatening all of Coil's mercenaries. Consider them under your control, so long as you don't attempt to—"
"—Subvert your control or take actions against you, yes I know." Lisa interrupted, flinching beneath Nemesis' blank, silver mask.
"If that is all." Nemesis continued, moving to leave the underground base. "I have places to be. People to kill."
And as he turned to leave, Lisa couldn't help herself. "Wait!" She called out to him. Nemesis paused in his stride, head tilting to show he was listening.
"Why did you let me live when you killed them?" She asked, not specifying who. She didn't need to.
"You're a Thinker. Couldn't you figure it out?" Nemesis drawled, tone laced with just a trace amount of scorn.
"I need to hear it from your mouth," Lisa replied, unbudging from the subject.
Nemesis sighed and spun on his heel. His gleaming silver mask glowered down at Lisa with its menacing red eyes. "I've made a creed to slaughter each and every villain that I come across. You Undersiders may be what some may consider minor villains, but you're all the same to me. As for why you get to keep your life?" Nemesis shrugged as if it couldn't be helped. "You helped me take down Coil. I owed you a debt, and so I spared you."
"Now. Is that all?"
Lisa opened and closed her mouth, before shutting her eyes as she took a calming breath. "What about Dinah Alcott?"
And for once, Nemesis looked surprised. You couldn't see it in his face, but the way his body shifted betrayed his shock. "He kidnapped her already?" he asked, though it was more to himself. He shook his head. "Bring her here. I have a question for her, then we can let her go."
Lisa contacted Dinah's guards, ordering them to bring her here. Soon enough, Dinah was there, doe eyes wide in fear.
"Dinah. Chances I let you go after you answer my question?" Nemesis began the moment she stepped a foot near him.
Dinah's eyes glazed over before she seemed to snap out of a trance.
"Ninety-two point two four four eight five percent," Dinah answered. "Will you really let me go?" She asked demurely.
"Do the numbers lie?" Nemesis asked back.
Dinah considered the query, before giving him a firm nod. "Ask your question."
Lisa could feel Nemesis grinning in anticipation underneath his mask.
Nemesis asked his question, and Dinah gave him the odds.
Nemesis' rumbling laughter echoed throughout the unfinished endbringer shelter.
Chances I succeed at World Domination?
