CHAPTER SEVEN: Lightning Strikes Twice
"I ask myself could it be a disaster and when/It's maybe threatening to happen again?"
The penthouse apartment was quiet and dark, except for the sparse light coming from a few monitors and the flickering lights of the city below. Sitting on a leather chair, Mark was eyeing one of the screen with a distracted and mildly irritated look while sipping on a small shot of Suntory whiskey. Most of them were showing panoramic views of the skyline and streets; some lower, some higher. One - the screen that was the center of his attention - was showing Shigaraki and Muscular making their way down a flight of stairs into a club.
On one hand, they were following the breadcrumb trail he left without deviation. On the other, they were being incredibly efficient in doing so: so much he risked having them at his doorstep before he was ready to welcome them. And it's not that he had disposables to throw at them... not yet, at least. All he had was his powers, a lot of money, a cache of weapons, a few well paid security guards and surveillance drones. He could banish him with a snap, but that wasn't the plan at all - something to do only in the direst of situations. That little psychotic fiend had something he wanted, the key to his success in this world - and before eliminating him, he would have to rip his gift off him.
"Not to mention the fact that you're not the only one in this continuum with... our peculiarity. Fate is strange, isn't it?" A voice in his thought echoed. The gem in his forehead glowed faintly like an opening eye.
"I know." Mark sighed, his lips still compressed in growing annoyance. "I will deal with him when the time comes. If anything, he's predictable. He'll get mad, make a blanket statement about justice and charge like a rhino. That's what he always did. That's what he always does."
"Hm." the voice replied, and then fell silent. There was a slightly mocking quality in its tone, but Mark let that go. His ruminations were entirely elsewhere - considering alternatives and managing resources as he looked at the club's door closed. He remained there, sitting and looking for a few minutes - until the door itself exploded and a few broken bodies were catapulted outside to the sound of panicked screaming and an alarm siren.
He raised his eyebrows and gave his whisky another small swig. "Well, it looks like I was hasty in my judgement. These idiots are already tripping over themselves. Good."
"They could be arrested though." The voice quietly pointed out.
"Highly improbable." Mark replied "Worst case, discount Hulk gets caught, but not the priority target. He's simply too powerful. He'll make an escape."
"Hm."
Snorting, Mark moved from the monitor to another one - this one near an ergonomic keyboard. Closing his eyes in concentration for a moment, he sucked air in and begun to type furiously.
"Can you imagine your neighbor not having the power to raze your house? Can you imagine being able to not live in fear - discriminated - treated as a second class citizen in your own country just for being what you are? There was a time when we weren't the abominations. Better times, safer times. Times when we had rights. Tell me: do you remember the bitter taste of being passed over for a job? The sheer horror derived from the impotence of being caught in a metahuman attack and knowing you have nothing to defend yourself with? 'The Pro Heroes will protect you!', they will say to you. LIES! Where were they yesterday? It was just because of the benevolence of a civilian metahuman that those lives were saved. But is that what you want? To live in dependency, to live in servitude? I say NO. I SAY RISE, AND DEMAND YOUR RIGHTFUL PLACE IN SOCIETY. NEVER AGAIN THE QUIRKLESS WILL BE OPPRESSED!"
Grinning, he pressed the POST button - his alias, The1stExarch. His software started to disseminate the message in the thousands - every political forum, every bulletin board, and most social platforms.
"This will start to stir things up." he whispered. "A small pebble in a pond. And then..."
One by one the screens went dark: all that remained was silence, a faint red glow like a distant star, and a chuckle rising to a sinister laughter.
Dave was laying on his back on Himiko's bed - with her literally wrapped around and on top of him and exerting as much pressure as she could to keep him where he was. Her eyes were looking up at him and her lips were curved in a smug smile as she listened to him answering her questions. On the good side, she wasn't holding any bladed instruments, though the small bloodstains on her lips betrayed a lot of playful biting on her side.
His voice was somewhat uncertain: as much as he tried not to outright lie or omit things, on one hand he knew the turn of events that brought him here was scarcely believable and on the other he didn't want to feed much information to a bunch of criminals. He liked Himiko a whole lot, but the unsaid possibility of being involved in terrorism was something he wasn't willing to face yet. And since she had stated her unwillingness to let him leave the group in the most persuasive terms (that was, a knife threatening his family jewels first and a makeout session that had the temperature of a quasar as soon as the door to her room closed) he had to walk somewhat of a tightrope.
"So, I looked like I was talking to myself because in a sense, I was. There's a voice in my head that's a dissociated part of me, and it's linked to my abilities." he sighed.
She nodded, looking at him seriously for an instant. "It's ok, Da-kun. Twice is kinda like that. I think it's his Quirk. He can clone himself, you know? He got a bit crazy because he started to ask himself who was the original. I think it's called an existential crisis? He had one of those. If you take his mask off, he starts to freak out. With the mask on, he just goes all saying-two-opposite-things-at-the-same-time every now and then."
"Talk about getting the short end of the stick, huh." Dave mused. "At least I have a solid self image."
"It's what saved your ass in the first place, if you remember. So, yay?" Prometheus quipped.
"So...this is why you always look like you're a lost tourist." she giggled. "You literally popped into existence from...somewhere else. I knew you were different since I laid my eyes on you. Quirkless, and yet so powerful. And this ability of yours is linked to the place you went through?"
He nodded, gently pulling her chin up to make her look at him fully. "Yes. But remember your promise. This stays between us for now. Consider what I'm saying to you the ultimate token of trust. Squander it... and you'll break my heart, and that means you'll never ever see me again no matter what you do or say. Mutual trust is part of a relationship. It is part of love."
In a way, he was still scared of her overreacting like she was used to when he mentioned leaving in passing... but he also knew that he could keep her at bay with the leverage he had. In a way, at least try to teach her some - if not all - aspect of a healthier relationship. She'd probably still be a homicidal maniac... but if he would make her less homicidal and at least substitute most of the stabbing with more, let's say, mainstream forms of affection, he'd chalk it as a success.
Of course, her face froze in alarm and something akin to preoccupation when he spoke - but instead of a blade to the neck all he got were her slender fingers digging into his shoulder as she shook her head almost frantically. "No no, of course. I would never betray my Da-kun's trust in me. There lips are sealed until you're ready to talk. And..." she blushed slightly as her muscles relaxed only slightly and her head cradled under his chin "... I'm happy you decided to share this with me. Willingly, I mean." She let out a sudued but still shrill laughter. "I was prepared to wring it out of you anyway...but like this? It's...so much better."
"Glad you approve. Now, where was I?"
Still smiling and blushing, Himiko closed her eyes and resumed to listen quietly.
