61 Summit Confrontations
The assembled capes, and Saint, represented some of the most accomplished parahumans in the city, people recognized on the national or even international level. Through the meeting I had felt their reactions to the ebb and flow of the discussion, always moderated by self-control and rarely, if ever, actually displayed through their actions. They knew the importance of appearing composed in the face of their rivals.
This was a different situation entirely. Caution and comportment might be appropriate for staring down your competitors, but acting in defense of the group allowed emotions to flow free. Concern and tension rippled through the cape leaders and was quickly picked up by their subordinates. You still had various levels of discipline, Skidmark's muttered profanity contrasting with Uppercrust's concerned glance to his team, but everyone was raising their guard.
Which was something of a potential problem. Powerful capes were shifting from containing their anxiety to preparing to unleash it on a moment's notice. It was the exact kind of thing that could lead to an accident. A jumpy cape misfiring and starting a melee before the Teeth even arrived. Fortunately, I wasn't the only one who recognized the potential for disaster. With the weight of experience, Uppercrust took it upon himself to manage the situation.
"That is a most concerning declaration." He said in a voice of practiced calm. "Could you please elaborate as to the nature of the upcoming arrival?"
The man's formality, combined with the fact that we weren't immediately being raided by hostile capes, had a damping effect on the tensions of the table. It also passed the buck to me in terms of presenting the information in a way that wouldn't cause a disaster. While I was confident I could manage the task, it was probably better to lean into abilities that had already been demonstrated. Survey was the member of my group with sensor powers, and she had also been the one to actually locate the inbound gang.
Calling in someone from outside the table could be seen as a slight breach, but given the circumstances it would probably be forgiven. I turned towards our table and called out. "Survey? If you please."
"Thank you." She said neatly, climbing to her feet. She raised a hand and energized mass fields began to pour out, hanging in the air as bands of light. With impeccable precision she shaped them into a stable hologram, floating above the table. It displayed an outline of Hasting Street and the surrounding area. A pair of glowing dots were moving down the street in the direction of Somer's Rock.
"Two late nineties Volkswagen Transporter vans are approaching our location." A pair of holograms of the vehicles in questions appeared, perfectly accurate, through composed of blue light rather than accurate coloration. There was a brief moment before the assembled capes recognized the moving the wheels and slight shifts in suspension, indicating a live projection rather than pure reference.
"Three passengers are present in the rear of the first van, four in the second. Tint levels on windshields and windows are illegal in New Hampshire. Vans hold New York plates, registered to a holding company in…" I glanced towards her, nudging through my neural implant the importance of conciseness in this circumstance, as if the rapidly approaching dots didn't drive that home. She could have just announced the presence of parahumans and their identifying equipment, but being able to scan for powers in a localized area was already concerning enough. Demonstrating a multi-block range for that type of sense was not the kind of detail you wanted to reveal to a room full of jumpy capes. That meant piecing together the details that could be detected with more conceivable sensor effects. "While there are multiple factors indicating a cause for concern, most notable is the presence of a GAU-19 rotary heavy machine gun in the forward vehicle."
That got everyone's immediate attention. Additionally, that weapon's caliber stood right at the edge of what the Undersiders' force fields could handle, and that was in terms of single shots, not 1,000 rounds per minute.
Good thing they had the new costumes.
"An attack?" Faultline asked, glancing back to her team. There was a flurry of activity that seemed to be focused towards Labyrinth. It was clear the shaker 12 had some limitations on deploying her power, just based on the fact that she didn't instantly trounce every opponent her crew faced. It wasn't clear what the restrictions were or how they could be mitigated. If Labyrinth was in top form Faultline's crew would be one of the most powerful groups at the summit. If she wasn't they would shift to more of a low mid position.
"No other parahuman groups were expected for this summit." Kaiser said in a tense voice. "And there are no active teams of that size in the city. Normally, I would suspect ABB remnants, but with the state of that gang, it's more likely to be an unpowered force, some deniable group put forth to test the waters and see what response can be provoked."
It took a moment for the implications to set in. Coil looked more amused than affronted. "I assure you; I have committed my forces to no such action, and the proposition of such outlandish theories at a critical moment seems counterproductive."
"I can confirm the vans do not contain the equipment profile consistent with Coil's forces." Survey stated, with the holograms flickering through monochromatic images of his mercenaries in the field with various pieces of military gear and tinker tech highlighted. Coil looked smugly towards Kaiser. "Contrasting detectable equipment with that present with the observation team stationed on the third floor of the building at 234 Hasting Street, overlooking the entrance of Somer's Rock, it is unlikely any affiliation exists between the groups."
Coil's posture stiffened as a wireframe of the building with six dots positioned near the third-floor windows appeared above the table. "The team should be able to confirm my observations." Survey added in a helpful tone of voice.
"I do not believe that would be necessary." Uppercrust stated smoothly. "Apeiron, I wish to extend my thanks for your subordinate's assistance on this matter." His eyes darted up to the map and the rapidly approaching dots. "This does leave us precious little time to come to a decision regarding the upcoming arrivals."
Fleet contacted me through my implant while showing no sign of his attention. He offered to divert the vans and included a full breakdown of their mechanical and control systems. I acknowledged his offer, but rejected it. I had the sense it was more about wanting to remind people he could control machines outside of his personal fleet than because he actually thought it would be a good idea. Still, the various simulations of how he could seize the controls of both vans and send them off at high speed were moderately amusing, even given the seriousness of the situation.
"No mystery here." Skidmark spat. "Someone wants to act like Mr. Big Nuts and make an entrance." He looked around the table. "It's already open season for drifters and freeloaders. Should have expected something like this."
"Categories the Merchants are well acquainted with." Kaiser said, looking up to track the progress of the dots. "I am less convinced of the benign nature of this arrival, no matter how ill-conceived such an action would be."
"Speaking from experience?" Skidmark shot back.
"This is getting us nowhere." Grue's echoey voice cut through the conversation. "Things are getting close. We need a decision."
There was a brief pause as once again I realized the decisions of the summit were likely to pivot around whatever stance I decided to take. Whatever action was taken was going to end up at least within the same realm as whatever I suggested.
It went without saying that I didn't want the Teeth back in Brockton Bay. Captain's Hill was fairly insulated from the events of the city, but I remembered when they got kicked out of the city. Kicked out might be too generous. They were slaughtered nearly to a man and sent running from the aftermath of the Slaughterhouse Nine's rampage. Multiple Protectorate heroes killed, the city devastated, and the entire cape landscape turned upside down.
At that age I barely understood what was happening. Just that Light Devil, Phantom Archer, and Atomic wouldn't be around anymore. They tried to insulate kids from that side of hero work. Memorials had been lost in the aftermath of the destruction and the city moved on. Just like it was trying to do now.
I didn't have personal experience with how the Teeth had handled things before they got kicked out. They had functioned in a city that had Allfather, the Brockton Bay Brigade, Marquis, and a complete Protectorate Branch, so that spoke of resilience, if nothing else. Of course, they had decided to hire the Slaughterhouse Nine, so it wasn't like they were likely in a stable position to begin with.
In all likelihood this was an early example of what we had been discussing, an external force showing up to stake a claim. Skidmark, of all people, was probably right about the late arrival being for drama, with the Teeth probably counting on their reputation to carry them through. It felt like an intentional stress test of the integrity of the summit, but if I wanted the policies agreed upon to have any weight I needed to hold to the terms.
"The truce still stands. If they're coming to talk, this is the place for it. As long as they abide by the rules of the summit, I intend to as well."
There was a sense of finality to my words. Oh God, I had effectively extended protection to the Teeth. This was not the position I wanted to be in, but I couldn't change position now. The summit was going to have another member.
"In that case, it would serve well to prepare for both possibilities." Uppercrust gestured towards his table. Jacob's Ladder nodded and quickly moved towards the bar, speaking quietly with one of the brothers. He approached the table with a new chair while the other two capes in the Elite's group shifted their seating slightly. Chairs pulled back and angled in such a way that they could be on their feet and into the fray in an instant. Similar shifts spread through the rest of the bar along with a wave of tension that the Dragon's Pulse made clawingly apparent as everyone went on guard.
Everyone outside of my table. The Celestial Forge sat in the midst of a storm of tension as relaxed as ever. Beyond Survey's maintenance of the hologram there was barely any acknowledgement of the situation. Really, there were few things that could have been more intimidating than indifference to the prospect of a sudden attack. The assumptions would be that we either knew more than we were letting on or were so confident in our power that it didn't matter what walked through the door. In fact, both were true, but that only hammered home our position to a greater degree.
The placement of an additional chair at the main table was a bit contentious, both for the action and the practicalities. Having someone who was clearly relying on surprise enter to find a chair waiting for them could easily put them off their game, but it sidestepped any dynamics involved with them demanding a seat at the table. Probably with back-and-forth insults and veiled threats, challenges over rights to seats, and complex power dynamics being played out.
On reflection, that was probably why Uppercrust had proactively acted to sidestep the entire thing.
Finding a place for a new chair was also a delicate issue. Everyone was already settled and mostly comfortable with their personal space, though Saint may have had some issues with his proximity to Skidmark had his suit not been a fully sealed model. The main table was actually a collection of smaller ones that had been pushed together with the seams hidden by tablecloths. It wasn't perfectly arranged to begin with and things had slightly shifted as people had settled. Fitting a chair wouldn't be as much of an issue as deciding where to put it, probably with everyone wanting to remain an impassive bulwark with everyone else orbiting around them.
Well, if Uppercrust was going to proactively head off conflict I could at least manage the same. To the complete shock of the entire table, I shifted my chair slightly towards Faultline. Moving with perfect efficiency and the benefit of posing powers made the motion look completely natural and there was a brief moment where Faultline seemed momentarily stunned by my proximity.
I felt a surge of titanic effort through the Dragon's Pulse, more than anyone should have to bear, and looked up to see Uppercrust finish shifting his chair slightly towards Coil. He ignored the concerned look from Jacob's Ladder as he concealed the toll the exertion had taken on him. Still, the movement and the space it opened on one side of the table was enough to spur the rest of the capes into action, including a rather hasty repositioning from Faultline.
In the end everyone shifted their seat at least a slight amount, possibly out of a desire to not appear to be challenging the group, and a space opened between Skidmark and Saint. The movements settled just as the pair of dots reached the street outside the bar.
A movement of the Forge brought the Magic constellation towards me. My amassed reach was just enough to secure a connection to a mid-sized mote, and trigger another round of concerned looks from the table.
The mote was called Atlantean Power Crystals. It granted an item, one that had just appeared in my workshop. The collection of golden crystals held a titanic power. I didn't have any evidence that they were actually from Atlantis, but given the evident nature of my power and the fact that they shared an origin with the Alchemy Machine, they were probably from Atlantis. Some version of Atlantis, anyway.
My duplicates had already launched into analysis, confirming the information I had received along with the item. The handful of crystals was capable of generating titanic amounts of power, nearly twenty gigawatts, and did so by harnessing the power of the Sun.
That was where things got complicated. The crystals weren't solar powered in the photovoltaic sense. Obviously, there was no way to generate that kind of energy from an object that had a profile of a few centimeters square. No, solar powered crystals wouldn't be weird enough for my power. Instead of drawing from typical radiation sources they were powered by the Sun's neutrino emissions.
Frankly, that should have been even more ridiculous than drawing power from radiant energy, but somehow the structure of the crystal was able to perform a type of fermion manipulation that converted neutrino flow into titanic amounts of power. The actual mechanics behind the process was staggering on a level that made fold carbon look simple, but the effects were undeniable. It even sustained itself at night, given a neutrino's ability to pass through the planet itself. By forcing neutrino collisions, the crystals could take the power of 'the Sun' and turn it into something that could sustain a civilization.
Or destroy it. That kind of amplification was terrifying and I could see any number of ways it could lead to a 'Fall of Atlantis' situation.
Power sources weren't the biggest obstacle for me at the moment, but even so there was a significant benefit to be found in these crystals, particularly once they'd been sufficiently analyzed to allow more to be produced.
Which they now were. My duplicates could work fast when motivated.
Additional crystals produced would have the benefit of my crafting and quality powers, but that wasn't the most significant thing. The crystals generated power, but they didn't contain it. They were just really, really complicated crystalline structures. When it came to projection they didn't require any more mana to create than a particularly complex piece of nanoscale construction. They had no stored energy, instead drawing from the constant neutrino emissions that constantly flowed from the sun.
Basically, by integrating projected crystals into them, any machinery I formed could completely bypass the issues of mana conservation. Enough to fully power entire mechs without issue. Enough to power spacecraft.
I was quite happy with this for a number of reasons. It provided a key resource, it resolved a standing issue with one of my powers, and, best of all, it cleared my assembled reach. I was heading into whatever mess the Teeth would bring without a major power bearing down on me. That was enough to put a smile on my face and cause a sense of nervous confidence to spread across the table.
That's right. Apeiron was terrifying when you had to face him, but seeing him confident and aimed away from you was basically ringside seats to a rigged prizefight. No doubt there were still concerns about what my 'strategy trance' meant, but there was at least some level of assurance that, this time, it wasn't being directed towards them.
Survey's hologram showed smaller dots spread out from the back of the vans. Kaiser was watching with particular interest, no doubt piecing together how his grand entrance had been spoiled so easily. There was also a sense of vindictiveness from him. An eagerness to turn that tactic towards another group.
I nodded to Survey and she dropped the hologram before taking her seat. Rather than wink out the mass fields dispersed, blurring and fading away. She calmly settled into her seat and took a sip from her martini, behavior in sharp contrast to the rest of the bar. Despite dropping the display, she was maintaining her sensor sweeps and feeding me information on the progress of the Teeth.
Coil received a coded message through his earpiece, broadcast from his observation team. Even if I couldn't easily intercept and decode it I would have been able to tell from the way he tensed internally. He was still maintaining a front of slimy irreverence, but it was clear he knew who our visitors were. A spike of concern from Tattletale's direction and her re-opening the silent communications link to Grue showed she had managed to put the pieces together as well. With the cat mostly out of the bag and proximity enough to justify more detailed scans I lifted a hand to my visor as if to check something before turning to the rest of the table.
"It's the Teeth."
Whatever confidence had been built up through preparations and advanced notice vaporized in a second. A wide range of very concerned reactions spread first around the table and then through the entire bar. Even the staff were included. Quite understandably, nobody wanted to deal with the Teeth.
Not that we really had a choice. Tensions mounted as the nomadic gang arranged themselves outside the bar. As they finally moved to enter I turned to the door, just like I had when the Empire was assembling.
The sign that I still had a line of information dropped the general level of anxiety to the point where I probably didn't need to worry about anyone jumping the gun. The expanded empathic sense caused by my latest Unnatural Skill and Minor Blessing was a lot to deal with. The information was invaluable, but it was slightly unsettling having this level of insight.
I could ruminate on it later. The moment was at hand as the front door swung open, revealing a tall Asian woman toting a rotary machine gun with the kind of casualness that can only come from parahuman granted superstrength. Her costume was a slapdash collection of spikes and leather. The armor she was wearing was more performative than functional. Some padding under the banded breastplate did suggest her mix of durability powers wasn't enough to completely negate impacts, but the lack of protection on her head, neck, and various other 'vulnerable' locations indicated it was still fairly effective.
The most striking aspect, at least to me, was the trio of skulls strung from one shoulder. I could tell they were real human remains, as were more than a few of the bone accents dotting her costume and those of the capes shadowing her. That wasn't what bothered me. No, the disturbing aspect was how the skulls drew my mind back to the Laboratorium. What had started as a grizzly chamber of dark science had evolved into a lively and energetic area of the base filled with bright and cheerful individuals, at least once you got used to the cybernetic elements and necrotic décor.
Seeing 'dead' skulls was jarring. Not because they disturbed me. With what I had gone through and the level of biological and medical knowledge and practical experience I'd been blessed with I don't think something as simple as a skull could. No, it was more that it didn't seem right to use skulls like that. The Butcher was handling the desecration of human remains wrong, and I desperately wanted to tell her off for it.
It was a light, fleeting thought, and while it ran against the tone of the situation I was actually grateful for that. Despite the warning, the Butcher's appearance had a profound effect on the bar, and my newly refined empathy could have easily gotten me caught up in that wave of anxiety. Maybe Garment had been a good influence, if her style of assessment kept me from rash reactions and instead focused on less critical matters.
The rest of the Teeth filed in behind the Butcher. The Teeth didn't follow the costume conventions most capes subscribed to. The slapdash assembly of piecemeal armor, spiked accents, grisly trophies, and support equipment was in constant flux. Worse, the style was shared by their unpowered members, creating a mess where picking out capes before they used their powers was a serious problem.
I mean, it was for other people.
Despite the challenge, it was possible to identify most of the capes from records of earlier conflicts and my own advanced sensors. Spree, Animos, Reaver, Vex, and Hemorrhagia could all be easily identified, while a seventh member was either a new recruit or a cape from one of the splinter cells who had recently changed her costume.
Hemorrhagia was laughably easy to identify as she was highlighting the spikes and blades of her costume with solidified blood. She was probably hoping to create an imposing impression that would serve to cow members of the other groups. Things didn't exactly work out in her favor, but then again she probably hadn't anticipated an oversized death mink pouncing up on its chair the moment she entered and following her every movement with hungry glowing eyes.
Hemorrhagia got the unsettled reaction she was hoping for, it just wasn't directed at her. If anything, the other gangs were regarding her with a mix of sympathy and grim curiosity. Not that Tetra was discouraged in the slightest.
"Do you think she used her own blood for that?" She called out in her silent voice, appearing to flash a mouth full of molten fangs at the increasingly disturbed woman. "Does she have blood power? I mean, can she make more, or just use what she has? She fights with blood, right? Will we get a chance to fight her? After the summit, I mean."
'Tetra.' I replied through the infrared link as the Time constellation missed a connection. 'Try to take it down a notch.' We were in a delicate situation and she was making the murderer feel uncomfortable.
Tetra looked over to me, then closed her mouth and sank back into her chair. Her tail still thrashed with unfocused energy, creating a red strobe effect that Hemorrhagia seemed to be having a difficult time ignoring.
Tetra's unintentional intimidation had little effect on the Butcher, who continued into the bar taking both the lack of surprise at her arrival and the waiting seat in stride. Even the table full of completely unknown capes decked out in Apeiron-tier equipment didn't get more than a passing glance.
That was a nearly twenty-year career with fourteen lifetimes of experience in action. The Butcher wasn't really equatable to any other cape, existing more as a combination of mindsets and experiences rather than a single life and powerset.
Okay, I had not been looking for parallels to my own situation. I dialed down the philosophical musings and focused as the leader of the Teeth approached our table. She glanced down at the waiting chair and raised an eyebrow.
"Interesting." She said in a distant voice. "It seems we were expected."
"Butcher." The word was spoken with such vitriol that for a moment I had difficulty placing the voice. Kaiser had kept a controlled tone to his speech even when threatened with open war with the Elite. The seething hatred in both his voice and actual emotions was shocking. Kaiser was being completely genuine in his expression, and the contrast from his earlier detached demeanor was jarring. "You should know better than to assume you will be able to act with impunity in this city."
The woman turned her gaze to Kaiser as if she was seeing him for the first time. "Ah. Allfather's whelp. All grown up, but still struggling to hold the same patch of city?" Her lips were hidden by her mask, but the shape of her eyes suggested she was smiling. I had the feeling it was a novel experience for her. "This would be the first time we've seen each other since Vanir?"
There was a creek of metal as Kaiser gripped the edge of the table. My sense of his power showed subtle shifts in his armor, shunts springing into place ready to launch him to his feet.
Butcher continued, undeterred by his reaction. She glanced over to the Empire contingent, noting the glow from Purity's booth. "I see you've brought the replacement." She turned her head slightly to the other Empire table where Fenja and Menja were seated, both women staring daggers at the Butcher. "And the replacements for the replacement."
"Butcher." Uppercrust cut in, drawing attention once again. The Butcher regarded him with an amused expression. "You have presented yourself at a peace summit. Despite a lack of any recognized claim to the area, a seat has been provided for you. If you wish to uphold the terms of the accord, take your seat at the table. Otherwise, know that you stand to make enemies of those who gather under these terms."
There was a meaningful look exchanged between the two capes. I didn't know if it was connected to the Teeth's time in New York, or if their tendency to move from city to city had caused them to cross paths with some of Uppercrust's other projects, but there was a complexity to that exchange, one not even Kaiser had been able to match.
And fuck that situation. I could still feel the rage boiling off the man. Kaiser had been almost excessively controlled through the entire summit, even when trading barbs with Skidmark his anger and frustration was mostly for show. This was the complete opposite of that. Carefully restrained fury being directed at the newest and most dangerous arrival. Tiny expressions of his power were cycling through his armor, adding barbs and serrations to the exposed blades as he didn't take his eyes off the Butcher.
The relationship dynamics of the Empire weren't exactly the kind of thing that showed up on cape shipping threads or tabloids. The direct family line was well known, if just from the similar expression of power. Allfather, Kaiser, and Iron Rain. Father, Son, Daughter. Kaiser's connection with Vanir hadn't been confirmed beyond rumor, but judging by the man's reaction I think it was a safe assumption. The intensity emanating from Purity as well as Fenja and Menja suggested there was truth to the Butcher's offhand comments.
Despite the emotions in play, it seemed there was an advantage to dealing with established parahumans. Kaiser might have been fuming both from the Butcher's insults and her very presence, but he restrained himself within the bounds of the summit. Whatever history Uppercrust had with the Teeth, he wasn't allowing it to affect his management of the summit. Anything the Butcher had been trying to provoke had failed, leaving her on the spot, so to speak.
The Butcher's eyes shifted in a way that suggested she was smirking. Analysis sensors confirmed that she was excessively smirking with an expression that would probably have weakened her position if her face had been exposed.
Seriously, masks carried an intrinsic temptation to make faces at people, knowing you could get away with it. It was probably one of the least talked about parts of cape work, but when you had your costume handling the image work there was no reason to hold back in terms of expression, eye rolls, or derisive sneers. I'm convinced the reason they put Clockblocker in a full-face mask was to give him an outlet for that kind of stuff.
With a casual display of strength, one that most of the capes present probably found quite impressive, she hefted her mini-gun onto the table, pulled out her chair and slipped into it.
The table creaked under the weight of the weapon. The GAU-19 weighed one hundred and thirty-eight pounds, not counting the attachments and ammunition drum she had attached. Including the mass of the ammo, she had dropped an amount of weight that would typically require vehicle transport as a simple act of intimidation.
And a fairly stupid one. I could automatically detect flaws in structures and machines. The bar's tables weren't in great condition to begin with. They certainly weren't ready to have over two hundred pounds of concentrated mass set on their edge. I could intrinsically feel the way the table's bolts and joints were straining, know where and how it was going to break, and even how long it had.
"You have seven minutes and twenty-four seconds to remove that from the table." I said calmly.
The Butcher turned towards me. I had the sense she was going for the same play as with Kaiser, derision mixed with dismissal, but that faltered the moment she set eyes on me. Thanks to Aphrodite's Blessing I could tell there was some of the kind of appreciation you would expect, but also that her approach to matters of romance was not something the partner tended to enjoy. That was only a flicker as she looked deeper. Literally deeper, through the use of a thinker power.
Butcher II could see circulatory systems, and it was a power that had persisted in a usable form through the subsequent generations. It also used a rather unique mechanic of detection, based on what my sensors were telling me. Something that my normal anti-divination effects weren't completely blocking, which was apparent based on the way she was staring at my heart.
The heart that had been rebuilt with the highest levels of workmanship and artistry possible in a bid to save my life. The heart that glowed with Ragnite infused power and was imbued with technorganic enhancements. The heart that had gone unnoticed by everyone, save an offhand comment from Tattletale about something being 'different'.
I didn't know precisely what the Butcher was seeing or what she thought of it, but the sight definitely put her off her game. She took a second to recover and I wondered if she was consulting the past generations on how to proceed before she addressed me.
"Ah, the Enigmatic Artificer." There was a flicker of reaction through the entire bar. So far there had been no comment on my title, though now I had to wonder if it was intentional avoidance of the topic. I guess nobody wanted to raise the issue of a global stranger effect. Even if they could claim aggrieved status over it, the scale kind of dwarfed the matters at hand. The Protectorate had done their best to assure people, but that didn't dismiss the not unjustified fears about what such an effect could mean if directed in a more hostile way.
The Butcher noted the reactions with satisfaction then turned back to me. "And what will happen if I fail to move my weapon in the allotted time?" She ran a hand over the polished barrel of the gun.
"The bolt on the third attachment plate of the table will fail. The misalignment of forces, combined with the weight and placement of the gun, will cause surface failure in the table and deformation of the support posts. The table will collapse, likely causing injury to at least one individual seated near you. Even if all parties remain unharmed, the destruction of the table would constitute an assault against our hosts and a violation of the terms of the summit truce." I leaned forward, glaring at her over the assembly of her oversized machine gun. "At which point the course of action would become clear."
I locked eyes with her. My mask and hers were practically mirrors of each other, concealing eyes and mouth respectively. Normally that would give her an edge in intimidation, but in fourteen lives she had never run up against the Scowl of Sparta. I had advocated for her presence out of the sanctity of the summit, but the Teeth were already unwelcome. With everything I had invested in this, I wasn't about to let them sow chaos.
A telling creak from the table interrupted our staring match. With a look that held no hint of placation she grasped the handle of the gun and placed it on the ground behind her seat. And out of easy reach. It hadn't even been my intention to effectively disarm her, but that was an undeniable result. The Butcher glanced towards the rest of the Teeth and nodded, causing them to split off towards the remaining tables. There were some concerned looks exchanged between the bartenders and waitress before she took up her pad and made her way through the new arrivals.
"If you're done figuring out who's got the biggest dick, can we get on with this shit?" Skidmark said, giving the woman next to him a dirty look. "I mean, this is what we just agreed on right? The bitch is here for a territory grab."
"Archer's Bridge." Butcher said coolly as she gave Skidmark an appraising look. "I'm surprised you've lasted this long. Or is there really any continuity to what the Axeman founded? Just a name passed down by whoever squats on the edges of this city?"
Skidmark bristled and looked ready to launch into a tirade, but the Butcher's gaze slid past him like he had ceased to exist. "So many familiar faces." She settled on Blasto. "We have unfinished business from Boston."
"Years ago." He said in a hard voice. "Things have changed." He looked towards the Lost Garden group where the Apple-themed cape gave him a concerned look. "My presence in the city is temporary. I'm not interested in settling old scores." He looked across the rest of the capes at the table. "Not the time for that."
She inclined her head slightly, then moved on. There was a hard edge to her voice as she settled on her next target. "Trickster."
The front of confidence and bravado the cape had maintained showed its first substantial cracks under the Butcher's gaze. "Hey, like the man said, old scores."
"New York wasn't that long ago." She replied and gave him a hard glare, then quickly checked the Traveler's table. "So, it's true. You've lost Perdition." Trickster paled. "Such an annoying power. I wonder how that 'old score' would settle without his support?"
"What is your business here?" Faultline demanded as the Time constellation missed a connection for the second time in a row. "If you only wanted to threaten other capes you'd hardly need a peace summit to accomplish that."
I had the sense she would have enjoyed drawing things out further, more veiled threats, more references to old scores. Letting the weight of her reputation and the threat of her power work for her. The hamstringing of the Teeth's entrance had undercut that, and the last vestiges had petered out as resolves hardened. The Butcher was a frightening opponent, but not an undefeatable one. The rate at which the Teeth had been forced to relocate spoke to that. The threat of the Butcher could only be pushed so far, and after fourteen lives she had to be well aware of that limit.
"Our business is simple." She responded. "We're here to announce the Teeth's return to Brockton Bay."
Well, I'd give her points for audacity if nothing else.
"You seriously expect this claim to be accepted?" Coil asked. "Imposing an ancestral right on a city in chaos? There are capes in this room who I'd wager were born after the Teeth decided to abandon the city, which hardly strengthens your case."
Well, it might be borderline for some of the Undersiders, and I wasn't sure of the Traveler's ages, but Coil was inadvertently correct for my entire table. Not that you'd know it from looking at them.
There was a flicker of amusement from the Butcher, one I found particularly concerning. Brian tensed as well. Since the Teeth's arrival Tattletale had kept the link between their watches active, presumably feeding him information. I was hoping the results of the analysis would basically amount to 'stay out of the way', but you never knew when it came to Tattletale.
"You misunderstand." She said in her perpetually calm voice. "The Teeth were invited to return to the city."
The statement caused the assembled capes to exchange troubled glances. Assuming it wasn't a bluff or misdirection, neither of which were really things the Teeth were known for, it implied there was a complication in any plans we had assembled so far.
"It is beyond ludicrous that any force in this city would wish to see your return." Kaiser stated. He was still more agitated than I'd ever expect from him, but was reining it in. "Whatever farcical justification you are clinging to in order to mask your raw opportunism, it's nothing but a waste of breath."
The Butcher took Kaiser's rant with the same icy calm she had displayed since her arrival. Focusing my sense of the Dragon's Pulse on her, I could see it wasn't entirely true. There were emotions there, tension, concerns, and uncertainty. They just didn't make it to the surface. Budding thoughts and emotions were put through what I could best describe as peer review. The presence of other Butchers wasn't just noise in the back of her head. It was advice, reassurance, and emotional support. She was leaning on the mental effects of her power to help stabilize her during periods of stress and uncertainty.
I felt my own passenger's reassuring presence in my head and once again was not particularly pleased with the parallels.
"We were invited by Lung." She dropped the bombshell of a declaration with all the care one might use to comment on the weather. Before any of the budding wells of outrage could manifest she pressed on. "By prior agreement the Teeth were aligned with the ABB. Given Lung's incapacitation and the state of the ABB's forces we will be taking stewardship of ABB territory." Her eyes flashed as she swept them across the group. "Effective immediately."
I had to give her credit for boldness, if nothing else. Of all the possible avenues that could have been attempted, name dropping Lung and claiming allegiance with the most hated group in the city was not even on the list of possibilities I had considered.
Though apparently Survey had evaluated the possibility, based on the report and key points that were transferred to me. Really, that spoke more to the strength of her parallel processing capabilities and the number of scenarios she was able to evaluate than it did the likeliness of the occurrence.
"Bullshit." Skidmark's profanity broke through the stunned silence, jarring the rest of the table to action.
"I find myself in the regrettable position of having to agree with that." Kaiser said. "This is patently absurd. The notion that we would honor Lung's wishes to begin with, even if the man wasn't dead."
"There is far from a consensus on that matter." The Butcher countered. "Lung's death has not been confirmed, as can be seen from official responses."
I quirked an eyebrow, but Survey confirmed that Lung was indeed yet to be officially declared dead by the PRT. She conveyed the justification at the same time Uppercrust explained it.
"A technicality and artifact of standing policy decisions. A brute nine with regenerative abilities requires formal examination of the subject's body for a death certificate to be issued. Too many cases of presumed death and later reappearance. It is a formality, and not one being seriously considered in this case." He clarified for the table.
"The formality is what matters." The Butcher countered. "Organizations that take their lead from the PRT continue to regard Lung as alive and the ABB as an active group." She leaned back. "That state will impair any efforts to replace or officially eliminate them. We will be able to assist with that."
"Right, out of the goodness of your heart, you're willing to swoop in and claim a third of a city to save us from some minor administrative issues." Faultline countered as she glared across at the Butcher.
"Do those issues even matter?" Trickster asked, giving the Butcher a cautious look before turning to the rest of the group. "I mean, I thought they were pretty much picked clean over the last week. What's left?"
"Contracts." Saint spoke for the first time since the Butcher arrived. "Standing contracts, use of gang funds, and anything that was arranged before the ABB went dark. There is a chance…" He emphasized that word. "That some of those connections would be willing to work with a successor group that could prove a chain of authority."
"Irrelevant." Kaiser spat. "You profess allegiance with the enemy of everyone in this room, if not this city, and expect concessions for the chance to avoid some minor inconveniences?"
"The Teeth never fought alongside the ABB, or on behalf of any of their causes." The Butcher countered. "The allegiance is a formality, the same formality as the ABB's active status and Lung's presumed survival, lacking a confirmation of his death."
Good luck with that, unless they have a mortician willing to use an optical spectrometer telescope.
"You gather here for the purposes of peace. I'm offering it to you. A peaceful transition and return to stability." She stated triumphantly.
"Forgive my intrusion on this matter, but the Teeth have not been traditionally regarded as a stabilizing influence." Uppercrust stated.
"To put it mildly." Muttered Blasto.
"While it would be possible to argue that attaining a stable section of territory in a familiar city would resolve this issue, the territory being considered is far from stable, and the state of the Brockton Bay has shifted dramatically from the last time the Teeth held territory within its boundaries." He continued, ignoring Blasto's interruption. "From a purely technical standpoint, there is little merit in your proposition."
The Butcher leveled a glare at Uppercrust. "You seem to be under the mistaken impression that this is a proposition." She turned, raising her voice for the first time. "The Teeth are back, returned to Brockton Bay, their true home, and we will defend our claim from all comers."
"Bold words." Kaiser growled. He shifted slightly and there was a creak of metal. "And meaningless. Your claim echoes from a handful of ghosts in the head of a madwoman. Your capes have no connection to this city, no history or heritage. When the Nine sent you running your last true connections lay dead at their feet. The Teeth are a shadow, chained through the years by the disease that is your power. No one will tolerate your presence in this city, not now, not ever."
She glared back at Kaiser. "This announcement was a courtesy, and an unnecessary one. We are informing the city of our intentions and providing an opportunity to accept the coming reality."
A voice reverberated through the room as Grue spoke up. "I can't help but notice that you are extending this 'courtesy' at the one event where you are guaranteed protection from reprisal for your actions." He turned his head towards me and several of the other capes nodded.
The Butcher clearly didn't appreciate the insinuation. "Recent events may have clouded your perceptions. Do not forget, the Teeth persisted. The strongest capes in the country have failed to stop us. It will take more than flashes of power and grandstanding to deter us. We can weather whatever this city can bring, in this form or the next."
Those words brough spikes or fear echoing around the table. It drove home what we were dealing with, the true scope of the problem, but there was something else. Buried beneath the moderating effect of the past Butchers there was a similar spike of fear. The Butcher, or Butcher XIV at least, was afraid. She might level the threat of possession against anyone who would move against her, but she didn't want to die. Even knowing she would persist, that fate frightened her.
She would never show it. She barely showed anything. Without my enhanced capacity to sense physical reactions I probably would have missed it entirely. I checked in with the rest of the Celestial Forge for their input on the situation, hoping they could provide some more context.
Fleet was remaining focused on the two vans idling outside, though stood ready to launch into action with a speed worthy of his name. Survey had been cross referencing every statement and claim as well as obsessively monitoring every use of power from every parahuman in the bar. Tetra, well, she was trying to avoid looking at Hemorrhagia, but that made the fact that she was restraining herself from looking at Hemorrhagia more obvious, which only served to put the cape further on edge. Aisha and the Matrix were mostly spectating, and I was particularly grateful that I could perceive Aisha at that point.
Really, it was Tybalt whose insight I really needed. My observation of the Butcher was mostly surface level with limited displays of power, but I could tell there was a mess going on within her soul. I might be able to work with souls, but passive observation was significantly more difficult, particularly if I wasn't 'hands on' at the time. Tybalt relayed his confirmation and focused his attention and the effects of his Stygian Iron helmet towards the cape.
Just as it seemed the table was going to launch into another unproductive exchange I felt the Forge move. It was the kind of situation I typically wouldn't have been overly concerned about. I only had about half the reach needed for a major power so I wasn't anticipating anything significant. The constellation that approached was one I hadn't connected to in a while, but the mote was one of the smaller ones. I braced myself and prepared to play off the effects of whatever my assessment of the new power was interpreted as.
That all went out the window as I connected to a power called Fashion Nonvictim from the Clothing constellation. On the surface it was exactly the kind of minor power I expected. A variant of my early Fashion reinforcement power. Rather than strengthen my clothes and body it created the effect of a suit of armor around me based on whatever piece of armor I was wearing. In order to use the power, I needed to be in fashionable clothing, but with Garment's help that was practically certain. There were also some minor aspects of the power allowing me to be comfortable regardless of what I was wearing and to make ill-fitting clothes look good with some extremely minor modifications.
No, the problem wasn't the minor defensive power that I had been granted. It wasn't even the entirely new constellation that bloomed to life within the Celestial Forge as the mote detached from the depleted Clothing constellation. Like so many times before, the 'minor' abilities that had been tacked on to an otherwise unremarkable power were what turned the world upside down.
This power came with a flaw. Well, it would be more accurate to say the power called out an existing flaw. Specifically, it called me a Doormat. Unassertive, quiet, easy to push around, prone to going along with things even if they aren't in my best interest, and rarely taking the initiative.
That was my power, the source of reality altering infinite cosmic power, calling me out in a blatantly direct way. I could make excuses for that kind of behavior, explain the circumstances that led to those kinds of actions or the reasoning behind them, but that didn't change the fact that it was true. It might not be as true as it had been when I was in high school, or early in college, or when I'd been living at home, but that was just a matter of degree. It was a problem. A core failing, something I was aware of but couldn't break free of, only mitigate and attempt to manage.
When you get shut down at every opportunity, when any independent action is punished or mocked or held against you, then it's easy to shut down. To turn off and stop trying. When there's no hope for things to get better it's easy to take the path of least resistance and hope you can at least make them less bad. That kind of mindset had been ingrained into me to the point where most of the time I could barely see it. It took months of hard work and therapy to even be aware of the problem. The fact that I hated that state of existence, that I desperately wanted to get away from it, that helped, but not enough to just turn it off.
My power was calling my attention to that specific flaw, but not to reinforce it. To give me a choice. The 'free' power associated with Fashion Nonvictim wasn't the flaw, but it depended on how I dealt with it.
I stood at a crossroads. Two paths laid out for me, each with momentous consequences and massive repercussions. Did I want to defeat my flaw, to stop being a passive doormat and take control of my life, or did I want to accept it and live with that part of myself. Two paths, two powers, two possibilities. Hard change or easy acceptance. Revival or Reaperdom.
The second option might sound overdramatic, but that's only because it was. The name wasn't misplaced in the slightest. If I wanted to fall back into comfortable patterns I could do so. I could get away from the need to change, the struggle to improve, and in exchange for that concession I would become a Reaper. A being with powers literally fueled by death, with access to an intangible reality, an Underground complement to the Realground of the living.
This power was linked to the same source as My Fashion Sense is Tingling and every power and ability that came bundled with that power was amplified a thousand times by Reaperdom. My Player Pin could allow me to read the minds of living people from the safety of the Underground. I would effectively have an entire version of the world to myself, the peaceful isolation of my workshop extended infinitely. I would actually be able to create the psych pins that I had been granted with that earlier power, only much more powerful versions of them, and further boosted by my other craftsmanship powers. With free movement from the Underground to the Realground I would be nearly unstoppable.
And all it would cost is human lives. Reaper wasn't just a moniker; it was a literal description of the state of existence. The granted powers were fueled by death. One death equaled a week of power, and death could be either directly inflicted or caused through indirect means. As long as they could be connected to my actions they counted.
They could also be saved up, banked to provide a buffer of power. And I had a buffer. Seventeen deaths. Out of everything that had happened in the city, all the destruction, the collapsed buildings, the level of power I was throwing around, there were seventeen people who had died because of my actions.
There would probably have been a lot more people to die if I hadn't acted. Disrupting a volatile situation would always be a messy affair, but that didn't change the tallying. It was the kind of thing that would always hit hard, no matter the circumstances around it. It was the kind of thing that made a place where you could literally get away from the world so appealing.
But there was another path. Revival, the rebirth that came from addressing your faults and moving on to be a better person. With all the power that came from Reaperdom it would need something exceptional to make it worth both turning down that boon and dealing with a painful aspect of your personality.
Something like complete immunity to master effects.
Well, no. Not just master effects. Master, stranger, and really any possible expression of a mind affecting ability. The power was called Mental Fortress. It was a sense of self so strong that it rendered your mind impenetrable to all invasive influences. It even granted the ability to see through outside manipulation and actual illusions.
It also enhanced my artistic ability for some reason, probably something about the strength of individuality or whatever.
The point was, I had to choose. Not choose the power I wanted, that would have been too simple. I had to choose my outlook, how I wanted to approach this and move forward. It wasn't a matter of ghostly death god powers or fiat-backed master immunity, it was what I was willing to do, how I was willing to change.
Through my recovery and treatment, actually through a lot of my life, I had been isolated. It was easy to slip into that situation. I had gone over some of this in my last therapy session, but there were a hundred reasons for cutting myself off, most of which had been hammered in over years and years of hard lessons, and very few reasons to open up. I knew those were the important reasons, the ones I needed to hold on to, but they felt wrong. They were so alien from everything I had experienced in my life that it was almost unsettling to put myself out there. To prioritize my own needs and wants. To shut down other people, even when I knew they were wrong or abusive. It was just easier to cut myself off and try to avoid the trouble that I intrinsically knew I would bring to any situation.
But I couldn't do that anymore. I needed to move away from that kind of behavior anyway, but that was back when I was only worried about myself. Now the situation was a lot broader than that. I had seen, repeatedly and first hand, how my actions resonated and influenced the world around me. For better or worse, there was no getting away from this. Not even with an escape to the Underground.
Fundamentally, it came down to a single question. Does the world end with you, or does it extend further than that? I turned away from the concerned faces of the table, their reaction to this 'strategy trance' completely ignored in the face of the significance of the decision before me. I saw Fleet, Survey, Tetra, Aisha, Tybalt, and the Matrix. I felt Garment's gloves on my hands and the presence of the Undersiders through the Dragon's Pulse. I felt the weight of the world around me and all the ways I was connected to it, a connection I could not break.
Making the decision wasn't a light switch. The power didn't come in a burst, no more than a decision in the other direction would have caused skeletal wings to erupt from my back. This was something that would need to be developed and maintained. A power based on behavior, but one that would be self-correcting. Really there were few more effective ways to encourage self-improvement. Mess up and you'll lose your awesome powers and instead get… well, other awesome powers, but powers with pretty heavy implications.
I could feel the potential already. The nascent form of the Mental Fortress. Just the decision to move forward on my own was enough to get me started, make me more resistant. I would be able to feel it unfold, know when it was complete and tell if I was compromising it. Self-regulating therapy based on superpowers. It seemed like the kind of thing I really needed to talk to Dr. Campbell about.
I turned back to the table. The Butcher was looking impatient while the rest of the capes were on edge. This was another step, another place where I had to move forward. I'd been happy to let the Butcher make her proclamations, partially out of curiosity, but also in the hopes that I could work around her presence. That I could keep things stable long enough for them to improve. That I could go with the flow.
That stopped now. The Butcher and the Teeth were here, and it wasn't just to seize territory. Blasto had said it himself, Brockton wasn't a tempting target. Not now, and certainly not when it had been exploding on a nightly basis. But the Butcher had agreed to an alliance with the ABB. Why? What was she after? No, what had she been promised?
My own insights, Survey's analysis, fresh details from Tybalt, and the Butcher's own fear at the prospect of her death. It all came together. I smiled as I turned towards the confident women as the Forge missed a connection to the Size constellation, the murmurings of the table falling silent in response to the slight movement.
"Tell me," I asked the Butcher. "What was it that March offered you?"
Jumpchain abilities this chapter:
Atlantean Power Crystals (Shivers) 400:
Originally discovered by noted psychic Edward Layce, these shining golden gems draw power from the limitless energy from the Sun. When properly harnessed, these crystals can provide enough energy to power an entire city, and if more could be produced, perhaps even a civilization. But be wary, for Atlantis itself once relied on these crystals, and their misuse directly led to that ancient city sinking beneath the waves.
Fashion Nonvictim (The World Ends With You) 200:
For you, there is no such thing as suffering for the sake of fashion. As long as you wear fashionable clothing, you will always be perfectly comfortable no matter the weather. You can make ill-fitting clothing look good on you with a couple subtle pins in the right places, and it'll always be comfortable no matter how big or small it is. Even in the thick of battle, you will be no worse off for your lack of armor- So long as you wear a single peice of armor, like a shoulderpad or gauntlet, your clothes will protect you as if they were a suit of armor made of the same material.
Flaw - Doormat (The World Ends With You) Free?:
The Reaper's Game, above all else, is about personal growth. Only those who grow as a person and improve themselves are capable of freeing themselves from the game forever. Of course, in order to improve yourself, you have to have something to improve on. Here's a little help.
Doormat - Put simply, you're unassertive. You speak quietly, and it's easy to push you around - You generally go with whatever someone tells you to do, even if it's not really in your best interests, and you rarely come up with ideas on your own. Your partner will probably get tired real fast of having to tell you to do everything.
Revival OR Reaperdom (The World Ends With You) Free?:
Revival (The World Ends With You) Free- Revival:: Depending on what personality flaw you took, if you elect to press through and defeat it instead of becoming a Reaper you will earn an exclusive perk based upon your personality flaw.
Doormat | Mental Fortress - Your sense of individuality and self is so strong that invasive influences find your mind impenetrable. Whether it's Mind Control, Emotion Manipulation, Thought Reading, or any other kind of mind-messing mojo - You are the sole master of your own psyche. You can also see through outside manipulation and illusion more easily. Your art becomes famous for its originality and unique style, whatever you decide to apply this to.
Reaperdom (The World Ends With You) Free- Reaper: Or, instead, you can take the easy way out and make a bargain for power. Reaperdom comes with a number of benefits: First, you can now attune yourself to the UG or the RG as you see fit. When you're attuned to the UG, black skeletal wings manifest from your back. Attuning yourself to the UG makes you invisible and intangible. Attuning yourself to the UG also amplifies the power of your Psychs. Secondly, you can now fight Noise (or Players) on your own using a shadowy projection. You will be able to operate both bodies independently without confusion. However, it comes with a big caveat: Your continued existence depends upon the erasure of Players. If you don't erase any Players, then you will fade from existence after a week - So you must kill at least one Player in order to keep yourself alive. Considering that Reaper's Games might take place weeks or even months apart, it's generally a good idea to erase mulitple players to "bank up" your timer. If you leave this world to go to another, then you will not need to kill people to sustain yourself, but you will need to kill people to access your Reaper powers. One kill will give you access to your powers for a week. These kills can be acheived directly or indirectly - So long as people died because of your actions, then it counts.
You also get access to exclusive Reaper perks
Pin Creation (The World Ends With You) Free- exclusive Reaper: You have unlocked the secret of creating pins. You can make custom pins with your own art on them, with the psych of your choice attached to them. You can still only use psychs you have purchased, but the pins you make will invariably be more powerful than anything you can buy.