If she hadn't been wearing that mask, her jaw would have been broken almost completely. Hell, it might have even killed her.
Even now, she was shaking with pain. He could see her wince and spasm with every shift from shadow to person, and her eyes were welled up with hard-fought tears.
She should be screaming at him, calling him names, running away, or calling the PRT.
Instead, she was following him to his apartment.
He had her.
Completely.
Something in his stomach lurched, and he nearly missed his next jump.
It had been so easy.
It shouldn't have been so easy.
He knew how she looked at him.
Another lurch, and he stumbled mid-step
Blake had the same way, he just hadn't seen it at the time.
It was what he wanted, wasn't it?
To control her, shape her, mold her into something better than she was?
Someone better than him?
Yet he felt nothing but sick.
He'd be lying if he said he wasn't fond of her. She was smart, witty, and eager to learn.
But she was a child compared to him, to his experience, and his age.
A child he was teaching to fight, maim, and kill.
But she had already been doing that before you. All he could do was point her and aim her.
He stopped at the edge of his building, waiting for her to catch up.
She landed a few feet away, and the sole working street lamp on the block painted a rather poor picture.
There was a massive bruise forming under her chin, and between the blood, he could see small glints of light flashing before the river of blood drowned then. Some pieces of metal had stuck into her chin and cheek, and whenever her shoulder rolled, her breath hitched.
This wouldn't be easy.
They both walked inside the complex, and the sound of the dripping blood echoed loudly as they climbed the stairs.
She was silent, and when he looked back at her, her eyes were almost completely squinted from the agony.
She had his tolerance for pain as well.
He wondered how she acquired it.
For him, it was a matter of necessity.
You learned to control your reactions quickly when Indigo played his game with you.
Every wince got you another lash.
He dispelled those memories away with a shake of the head.
They would only make this worse.
When they made their way to the top, he opened his curtain and made his way inside, striding towards one of the many bags Parian left him.
She followed, but not for long.
She made it three feet inside before she stopped dead in her tracks.
Her breathing had slowed, and he heard her mumble a low "Wow" of amazement.
Had had to admit, the moonlight gave the place a rather striking figure.
She walked towards the mural of Argus, and his hands twitched before they resumed rifling through the bags.
He pulled away with some bottles in hand, but it was hard to read the labels with the mask in his way, especially with one eye. The moon wasn't much help either. He'd have to ask Parian for a nightlight of some kind.
Shadow Stalker looked between him and the mural before wincing, and he didn't think it was from pain.
"You made all this?"
He set the medicine down and reached for a water bottle. "Mhm." He'd need salt as well.
She whistled and looked around the room. "How do you even fuckin see?"
His hair, hands, and back bathed the room in crimson light, and she huffed.
Some of the murals lit up along with him.
She ran her hands across Sienna's face, and he almost walked down and slapped them away before he thought the better of it.
Even with the impromptu light, the slit's in his mask didn't make it easy to read.
He flicked his head to her bare face and sighed.
She stopped and turned towards him as he strode to his spare clothes pile.
A half-finished jacket sat at the top, and he grabbed it.
Her breathing stopped when his mask clattered to the floor.
He angled his back towards her, and she didn't dare try and peek.
He tore a strip from the jacket and tied it around the brand. It was a little awkward angling it to the side, but he made it work. It covered his eye, but part of the scar was visible above his nose.
Good enough.
He turned around and dragged his stool towards the bottle pile.
She tracked him the whole way before they locked eyes.
"Sit."
He walked away from it and reached for the water, and he desperately tried to pretend the red on her face was just from his light.
His heart throbbed, and he forced some bile down his throat.
He fished a small packet of salt from a box of pretzels and walked over to mix it in the water.
She swallowed and seemed to gather her voice. "How bad?"
"Nothing life-threatening, but all very ugly. The worst part is the tooth, and the metal still in your face. I assume you can keep Panacea quiet about the last part?"
"Easily. I'll swing by the hospital later tomorrow and try to find her there. Or just ambush her and get her to fix it whenever you fuck up another PRT stooge and she heads over to patch them up."
He shook the bottle a moment, letting the salt mix and dissolve. "Good. Drink."
She wrapped her lips over the lid, and he tilted it down before pulling away. Her face twisted up, and her nostrils flared, but she swished the water around fine enough. She'd probably dealt with mouth injuries before. He held the bottle up again, and she spat a pink glob back inside.
"Open." Normally he wouldn't be so curt, but he wanted this done with.
She opened her mouth, and he looked inside.
The blood in her mouth was glowing alongside everything else, and the bleeding from the missing tooth had almost stopped.
He tore another strip from the jacket and balled it up. She opened her mouth wider, and he placed it in the gap.
She bit down automatically, wincing.
"Swap that for a cotton ball as soon as possible. Most of the cuts on your face are superficial, but the metal won't be fun to deal with."
Her eyes followed his hand as he gripped onto a metal shaving that had sunk inside her cheek. Her breathing had sped up.
"On three. One, t-"
He yanked as hard as he could, and it slipped free.
Her mouth was still shut, but he heard the stifled scream just fine, and she was glaring daggers at him. "Preparing for the pain makes it worse. You told me you weren't a pussy, remember?"
At that, she glared even harder, but nodded after a moment.
After a few minutes, she was clear of metal, but there was still blood all over her face, and those cuts would be noticed.
"Let it all scab before you wash your face. Find a good story, maybe you fell off a bike and scuffed your face, I dunno. Hiding that isn't going to happen."
She nodded, and he walked away. "I'm sleeping in. Let me know when you've recovered."
He hesitated, and the words that followed tasted like ash.
"If you need a place away from everything, this is it."
Another nod, and her jaw clenched tighter against the fabric.
She walked towards his balcony and gave one final lingering look at his home, and her shattered mask tucked in his belt, before slipping into shadow and leaping off.
His stomach lurched again, and this time he didn't fight it.
He walked towards the edge and threw up.
Last edited: May 21, 2022
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May 21, 2022
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Big Fan of a Mad Cow
May 21, 2022
#485
Wilt brought another face to life.
He couldn't sleep, but he could think.
Plan.
He slipped Shadow Stalker's mask free from his belt and laid it next to his bedroll.
The PRT hadn't brought anyone else in, but he knew she wasn't lying to him. Brockton Bay wasn't exactly the most welcoming of assignments.
But eventually, one day, more would come. And when he beat them, yet more. A zero-contact policy was the only way he could last long enough in the city to make his mark. But the PRT would do their best to force an engagement, and when he beat them soundly, they wouldn't stop bringing capes in until he was brought to heel.
And he would be. No matter your skill or your power, someday, your turn would come.
He learned that the hard way.
The only matter of debate was whether he would resist.
Once the Empire was gone, perhaps he might turn himself in, but whether that would be to jail, the birdcage, or the headsman he didn't know.
He couldn't think of anything else do to with himself.
Whore himself to the highest bidder like Faultline? He still had some pride left, and the life of a common mercenary didn't sound appealing.
Perhaps stomp out the merchants, and be his own beggar king? The same issue with the PRT, and he had no appetite for power anymore.
Maybe he would simply leave. Wander the world and see the sights. He doubted the PRT would follow him to England or Japan. Perhaps something there could grab him.
The Empire was reeling. The people of the city used to see them as an unstoppable juggernaut second only too Lung and the ABB.
But now they were scrambling, and plenty of its members had simply covered their tattoos and walked away. The Empire's economy and manpower base were in shambles.
But with the PRT's soon to be stepped up efforts, STRIKING STAR might have to come early.
The only thing about the Empire that was left untouched was its capes.
The Empire was still(Poorly) running its counterintelligence campaign. They were still haphazardly attempting to force him into a decisive battle, where either sheer power or sheer numbers would put him down.
They had set the table, and were waiting for him to sit down and eat.
Perhaps he should entertain them.
Some would die, no doubt about it, but he could cripple the rest enough the PRT would take over.
Shadow Stalker was shaping up nicely. Now he just had to distance her further away from the PRT, and suggest she join the Guild. Subtly, letting her come to the idea on her own. It was nice to have a partner again, for however such a short time, he just wished he didn't have to manipulate her so.
Maybe he didn't at all, and just defaulted back to what was familiar.
He turned his head to check the time, and winced at the sunlight, ducking and shielding his face with his arm.
How long had he been awake?
He looked back at the wall. It was progressing nicely.
For all she had done for him so far, she deserved a monument.
He knew she was a loose end.
The PRT could use her to find him, and she could be punished harshly for aiding him.
But, selfish as it was, he didn't want to let her go. It was nice to have something to look forward to, even if it was a simple five-minute chat in the morning or evening, or advice about a dress or costume.
It helped keep him grounded in the here and now.
It was nice, to have at least one person he could call a friend.
Perhaps he could start seeking her out during the day. It would keep him distracted, and besides the spare clothes, he hadn't much kept his sewing skills intact.
Maybe he could help her out more directly. Leave a different mark on the world besides just death.
He heard the subject of his consideration slowly make her way up the stairs.
The fine details were done. All that was left was to either paint it or leave it blank.
He'd let her decide.
The quick clangs of her feet striking the staircase were comforting, and he counted the steps until they stopped.
When she made her way inside, she dropped her bags.
When he followed her gaze, he saw his mask right where he left it.
Not on his face.
Oh.
Right.
He tugged the fabric further down. "Good morning."
She eyed him and didn't say a word.
She was staring blankly, head swiveling between his good eye, and the hint of red peeking out above his nose.
"Something on my face?"
That broke through her haze, and she let out a small laugh.
"What do you have for me?"
She stilled a little at the question, but since he didn't normally ask, he let her have it.
"Food, batteries, and a nightlight. I figured since it had been getting so dark lately you'd want one, so I bought one before you could ask, an--"
She stopped mid-sentence and stared at the doll mask he'd carved next to his bed, by Blake.
"Is.." He heard her swallow. "Is that me?"
"Yes."
She strode forward, and he shifted himself out her way. She stopped and stood in front of it, one hand running across it almost delicately.
"It's beautiful."
They both stared at it quietly, and the sun's shine left them at peace.
She let the quiet hang for a moment longer before turning back to him. "Thank you, Taurus."
"Adam."
It had slipped out almost automatically.
But he didn't take it back.
"Taurus is my last name. My name is Adam."
She froze up, and stared at him for what seemed to be an eternity.
Then her hand rose up, almost shakily, before she pulled off her own mask.
"Sabah."
He waved his hand towards the pails of paint scattered across the room. "Would you like to paint it?
She seemed to gather herself a moment, before nodding.
A small smile made its way across her face.
"Yes, I would like that."
Last edited: May 21, 2022
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Big Fan of a Mad Cow
May 22, 2022
#527
The car shuddered to a stop, and he opened the door and stepped out.
A crowd had formed, media vultures holding microphones and cameras over hastily erected police barricades, with the sheer wall of bodies nearly tipping them over if not for the two-man teams holding up each one.
Even some civilians had joined the fray, shouting and heckling, or standing on the sidelines and watching it all go down.
It was a fuckin feeding frenzy, and he just got dumped in the middle of it.
He fumbled with his lighter and stuffed two cigarettes in his mouth, lighting them both and almost immediately inhaling half of them down.
He looked towards the scene, where several officers stood on guard at the doorway.
Just his luck to be sent to the goddamn zoo. The captain knew how much he hated the media circus.
But he sent him anyway.
Prick.
He saw Mike step outside, and he marched towards him in a fury.
"Mike, what the fuck is this shit?"
"It's bad Cole, it-"
"No fuckin shit it's bad, I haven't seen crowds this big since Marquis, what the hell kind of crime scene is this?"
"Empire shakedown went bad. Real bad."
He spat out his burnt-out cigarettes and reached in his pocket to fish out more, grumbling. "How does an Empire shakedown lead to this shitshow?"
"Empire's been on the back foot since Th-Taurus, and people ain't been as scared. Old lady, badass, been here since Allfather, stopped paying her dues, and the Empire sent some boys to shake it up."
He lit his newest(But likely not his last) smoke and tried to center himself.
"Let's get inside, away from all the noise."
They both walked away, and the shouts of the crowd rose up louder than ever before fading out as soon as the door to the shop shut behind them.
The cigarette dropped from his parted lips.
"Woah."
Shattered display cases left glass all over the floor, and numerous antique statues and books were scattered all over the floors and shelves. The whole place looked like a hurricane had gone through it.
But the white sheets were what grabbed his attention.
All six of them.
"Christ on a cross. This all of them?"
Mike shook his head, nodding his head towards a staircase in the back. "We got three more up there, plus the VIC."
He stepped towards the nearest body, carefully tugging the sheet back.
He sighed. "Another dumb-ass kid dying for nothing. Any of-em vets?"
"The ones upstairs. These lot were just the rabble-rousers."
"Who called it in?" It had to have been a neighbor and customer.
"Vic's granddaughter. She's upstairs."
He winced, choking slightly. "What even happened? How did one lady pissing them off get us ten cadavers?"
"We found a holdout gun over by the register. She shot the ones here, but one of them made it out and escaped, so she went upstairs and barricaded herself in her bedroom. Empire comes back with the big guns before sieging her out for maybe half an hour. Eventually, they made it in and got her, but she took a few more with her."
"Well, where the hell were we?"
"Nobody called it in until the granddaughter came in to visit, and you think some fresh-off-the-boat beat cop was gonna want anything to do with this?"
"No."
He bent his head low and stared at the body. The kid's eyes were blown wide like he was in shock, like he couldn't comprehend what had just happened.
The hole in his head was bigger than a quarter.
"No, I guess not."
What a goddamn waste. All of it.
"And it ain't just here. People all over town are pulling shit like this, and the media are starting to notice. The spectators out there are mad. At us, the Empire, and the PRT. People are starting to wonder if Taurus is so bad after all."
"Don't I know it."
He walked back and snubbed out his fallen cigarette with his shoe.
"Let's head upstairs, check out the VIC. Granddaughter still there?"
"Yeah. No statement yet. She hasn't said a word since she called us."
Cole didn't blame her. No matter what she said, the Empire would probably get away with it.
Still, he had to try.
They walked to the back and made it up the stairs. Shell casings littered the steps, and he had to watch his footing to not nudge them away.
He stopped mid-step near the top, and Mike slammed into his back and nearly fell down.
There was a bedroom door that was kicked wide, and three body's marked the path inside.
The rest of the beat cops were upstairs, covering the corpses, and a few were fruitlessly trying to coax the woman standing by the window to talk to them.
"Think you can make her talk?"
"No. Don't think I can."
With that, he made his way toward her.
/
Short chapter is short, but I'm pretty busy today, and the next few chapters are when shit really kicks off and gets much longer.
Last edited: May 22, 2022
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May 22, 2022
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Big Fan of a Mad Cow
May 23, 2022
#553
"Something...knight themed?"
"It's...vague, I know, but it's what they asked for."
"Knight themed could mean lots of things, and if we want this to be something quality made and something they are happy with, we're gonna need more than that."
He crumpled the sketch paper in his hand and tossed it out his balcony, grabbing another piece and readying his pencil, tapping it against his chin.
"Did they mention their powers at all? Their appearance or environment?"
Sabah ceased her sketching and paused, eyes rolling up in thought. "No, not that I remember. They just contacted me online, and paid me to make them a costume. I don't normally get many details."
Annoying. Something knight themed..
His thoughts drifted to the boy, Arc(At least he thought that was his name).
If they could source and paint the steel, that could work.
His memory of the boy was hazy, but the gold-white of his armor stood out.
He'd need time, and perhaps a forge, which wouldn't exactly be easy to come by.
No, that wouldn't be practical.
Unless..
"I have an idea, but did they say anything about armor, or did they just want you to make something sewn?"
"Like I said, nothing specific. What's your idea?"
"Give me a moment and I'll show you."
She nodded, and went back towards her own drawings.
He drew a vague outline, slowly sketching and filling in a silhouette.
He'd followed the boy and his group for weeks.
Watching.
Waiting.
He'd listened in on dozens of their conversations and arguments, memorized their sleep-schedules and routines, all while waiting for the right moment where he could find Blake alone.
He knew the time had come at the radio tower. She would be alone and isolated, away from her friends and Yang.
Yang.
His hand stilled.
At first, he had no idea who she was. At Beacon, when Blake looked between him and her, ears flattening and eyes going wide, all he knew was that she mattered to Blake.
And that was good enough.
But by Argus, he knew better.
At first there was anger. That she had the gall to abandon him, run away, tail between her legs, and then replace him. Like all their years were worth nothing at all.
But the longer he thought about it, the more the anger faded, replaced by dawning comprehension.
In his sleep deprived, half-mad and half-starved mind, he had an epiphany.
He wasn't a one time thing.
He was the beginning of a cycle.
Blake had found a replacement, someone else she could use, lie to, and string along, and the girl was just as blind as he had been.
He originally was going to follow them to Atlas, but when he realized what was happening, he stepped up his timetable before she could sink her hooks any further in, and ruin the girl as she had him.
In his own, twisted, malformed way, he was almost trying to protect her.
"Adam?"
He flinched, pencil snapping in two in his clenched fist.
She frowned, and stepped over to him, placing a hand on his shoulder, and he shuddered, leaning in.
"Just a bad memory. Don't worry about it."
"You've been staring at the wall for the past five minutes, I was getting worried."
Her eyes were shining, free of judgement or pity.
She didn't grill him, she just simply waited for him to make the first move.
"I'm fine. Just get me another pencil, will you?"
Her frown deepened, but she nodded her head and handed him her pencil, walking back to her corner of the room and fishing another one out of a bag.
He looked back towards his paper and went back to work.
The armor would have to be outsourced, likely at the customers discretion, but the rest could be done here.
Instead of a hoodie and jeans, perhaps a padded leather jacket and matching pants?
Layered and tightened enough to help to protect against stabs and cuts.
Woolen gloves, for protection against all kinds of weather
Greaves would be needed as well, for extra core protection. The armor wouldn't stop a bullet(Unless the tinker was good enough), but any kind of blade would glance off.
He could leave the mask to Sabah.
He stood up, and she put her paper down, and he handed her his design.
"They would have to outsource the armor, but the rest would be do-able, and we could cover the tinker's costs ourselves. What do you think?"
Her eyes widened, flicking between his paper and hers over and over before she handed it back to him.
"It's perfect, I'll start on it as soon as I head back."
She gave him a smile, all teeth, and made to walk out.
"Maybe we could do it together?"
She stopped, looking back at him, and her smile widened. "I'd love that. I'll go gather the materials, and we can get started."
He nodded, and she stepped out.
He walked back towards the balcony, sitting down and kicking his legs out past the edge, and surveyed the city.
The people had turned against the Empire.
Cops were arresting members in the street, businesses were refusing to pay protection money, and the PRT were actually starting to go on the offensive.
The Empire was dying, and it was lashing out at everyone and everything on its way out.
Maybe when it was gone, he could go into hiding.
Find a place where no-one knew his name or face, and settle down.
A quiet life hadn't suited him in Remnant, but maybe it could here.
But that was wishful thinking.
As long as the PRT wanted his head. And they wouldn't stop looking for him even if he went to ground.
Perhaps he could strike some sort of deal, but that was neither here nor there.
He turned his body, leaning against the wall, letting the breeze flow across his face.
The suns shine relaxed him, and he let his eyes drift shut.
Maybe peace was something to aspire too after all.
The chirping of insects woke him, and he nearly fell off the edge, scrambling to grab the wall before his weight could send him off the side.
The sun was halfway down, and the sky was a burning orange.
He turned his head.
Sabah hadn't returned.
He stood up and walked back in.
Everything was as he left it. It must have been a good few hours.
His head snapped towards his doorway, and he relaxed at the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs.
Why had she taken so long?
Ma-
He stilled, and focused his aura in his ears, sharpening his hearing.
There was a second pair of footsteps half a second behind.
Then a third.
Then a fourth.
By the fifth and sixth, he had run to his bedroll and grabbed Wilt and Blush.
He walked towards his doorway and tugged his curtain shut, and waited by the side of the door.
The closer they got, the more worried he was.
He could hear the rustling of guns on slings, and the stretching and clenching of leather gloves.
They all stopped when they reached his floor.
He could hear their muffled breathing. Balaclavas.
His hand drifted to Wilt. Not PRT, so they were free game as far as he was concerned, especially if they were going to barge into his home.
There was a grunt, then the sound of a punch or shove, and he heard a woman gasp.
Parian.
She walked forward towards his door, almost delicately, and knocked on the wall.
"I brought the stuff you wanted! It's really heavy, I'm not sure how much longer I can hold it."
His pointer finger clenched on Blush's trigger. "How many bags?"
"Five, they have lot's of stuff in them. Really stacked tight."
He frowned.
His finger left the trigger, and he thumbed his blade free.
"How long will they last me?"
Silence.
His heart hammered in his chest.
When he heard the clicking of a safety, he was about to step out and cut them all down before she hastily replied.
"They should be fine for a little while. Can I bring them in?"
His hand clenched around Wilt's hilt, squeezing down hard enough to hurt before he let go.
"Come on in."
Last edited: May 23, 2022
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Big Fan of a Mad Cow
May 24, 2022
#579
A barrel prodded her back, and she stepped inside the apartment.
As soon as she cleared the doorway, her arm was seized in a vice grip, and Adam yanked her behind him hard enough to nearly dislocate her arm, shoving her away in the direction of the bathroom as the five men stepped inside.
Darkness.
She was blind, hands and feet invisible in the emptiness.
Then a red light blinked to life, so bright her eyes stung, and when her vision cleared, Adam and the mercenaries were the only people left in the world.
The sun was gone, the insects and passing cars all swallowed by the void she now inhabited.
There was a ringing in her ears, an unidentifiable sound, like the crackle of electricity or a wailing alarm thrown together with an ever louder and louder scream.
She had no body, she simply existed in the moment.
The bloodshine of Adam's blade and body were her only guiding lights in a starless universe.
Then she heard the words.
"You blink, you die. Breath, you die. Move, you die, SPEAK, you die, do anything that I did not tell you to do myself, I kill you all, and there will not be any bodies to bury. Do you all understand?"
There was nothing, and a chuckle filled the air, mocking and cruel.
"Right. Nod if you understand."
She couldn't see any movement, but Adam apparently had, because like the press of a button, her world came back.
All at once, the lights and sounds overloading her senses before she adjusted.
Adam was still, one hand clenching his sword, the other his rifle.
His face was made of thunder, the most furious scowl she had ever seen in her life chiseled to his face, eye narrowed, teeth bared, and lips curled.
He looked between her and them for a moment, and his hands started shaking.
She knew the only reason he hadn't butchered them all was she told to not to.
That trust and care was as flattering as it was terrifying.
The men were stock still, the perfect representation of composure except for the trembling in their feet.
"You get one breath. Tell me what you want. Now."
The men inhaled deeply, the tremble growing as they did, before one man spoke up. "Our employer wanted us to get in contact with you so he could establish a dialogue. He informed us that the woman behind you comes and goes from here, and that this was your location of residence. We co-opted her to bring us here so we could fulfill our mission."
"And you-
Adam stopped mid-sentence, and then he smiled.
The man who had replied had taken a small breath.
Then he was dangling in the air, feet kicking out uselessly as Adam held him by the throat one handed.
His smile froze her blood.
Adam turned to the other mercenaries, who were desperately holding their breath as best they could.
She didn't realize she had been holding hers until the burning in her chest intensified enough that she fell to the floor panting and gasping for breath.
In Adam's eye she saw hell.
It was almost glazed over, like he was in his own world, lost in a memory.
"What were my words, Hmm?"
The choking man's eyes were starting to rollback.
"Do anything I didn't tell you to do, and there won't be a body to bury."
She could see the skin around the man's eyes turning blue.
"You all get one breath and the privilege of watching."
Her voice was hoarse and thin. "Adam."
The man dropped to the floor, heaving and panting, tears soaking his mask.
She knew he had killed. Killed many, and in some horrible ways, but she never knew he enjoyed it.
But when Adam turned to her, she saw horror and fear and terror and misery and sadness and longing and grief and anger and fury all at once before a tide washed it all away and replaced it with emptiness.
"Breath."
All at once, the men lurched forward and took deep, gasping breaths.
He looked down at her and sheathed his sword, extending a single hand to pull her up.
She hesitated for a moment before she took it, and anyone but her would have missed his minute flinch.
He pulled her up, and this time let her be as he faced the mercenaries again.
"Why didn't your employer come to me himself?"
The man who had been choked answered, voice a deep rasp. "We don't know exactly, but from our experience with him, he's a very cautious man. Doesn't like going out himself."
"How were we to speak then?"
The mercenary with a bag slung over his back spoke up, reaching to his back and setting it down. "Via call from the laptop inside this bag. May I retrieve it?"
"You may. Once it's set up, all of you will line up against the wall and hold your breath until I give a signal. When I do, you can take a single breath. Do we understand each other?"
There was a chorus of nods, and the man with the laptop retrieved it and placed it on Adams stool.
He fiddled with some keys, then stepped back and joined the men facing the wall.
When Adam unsheathed his sword and placed it against the wall, she took a death breath.
It turned to a choke when his sheath shifted to a rifle and pointed at the men on the wall.
She heard the static of a microphone before a tinny voice bounded across the room from the laptops speakers.
"Can you hear me?"
"Yes."
"Ah, good. The wait was getting concerning. Are my men coming back home?"
"That depends on the outcome of this conversation."
The men huffed, and it sounded slightly distorted. "Fair enough. I believe I should introduce myself. My name is Coil, and I am a major player in the Brockton Bay underworld."
She didn't think he could have been very major, because she hadn't heard of a Coil in all of her time in the Bay.
Adam lifted a finger, and the men took a breath. "What do you want?"
"Straightforward of you. How refreshing. Simply put, I want you either dead, gone, out of my way, working for me, or not causing trouble."
Adam started pacing around the room, and she was reminded of a tiger eyeing children through the glass at a zoo.
"And you think you can kill me?"
"Not at all." And the voice sounded genuinely irritated at the fact. "But what I can do is make your life very difficult. I figured I would at least attempt to reign you in first though, as you've caused me an equal amount of trouble and prosperity both."
Adam rolled his eyes, smiling wide, but it didn't reach his eyes. The men at the wall were starting to choke, and Adam lifted his finger almost as an afterthought.
"And I assume this is the part where you either try and threaten or bludgeon me into submission, or convince me our goals align?"
"Of course they don't, I want the city, and I can't exactly take it if you tear it all down along with the PRT and Empire. And while you can rest assured I tried looking, there is nothing I could hope to even try threatening you with besides Parian, and I doubt that would end well for me. Instead, I'm going to dispense with the usual posturing and tell you what I want from this meeting."
Adam's smile had died, and a pensive frown had taken it's place.
"Go ahead then."
"I want to co-operate with you in the short term against the Empire Eighty-Eight, and depending on how much more attention and damage you cause, on a long term basis with the PRT and Brockton Bay."
"And why would I agree to this?"
"Protection against the PRT, For you and dear Parian, extra equipment and materials, and access to my funds, territory, and hired mercenaries. You strike me as an operator, but more than that, a military man, someone used to planning operations and leading men in battle. I can facilitate all of your needs with ease, and I would honestly enjoy co-operating with another big planner. I have a big thinker, but she's rather tiresome."
"All of that sounds wonderful for me." She heard the click of a safety, and Adam let the men at the wall take a breath before they fell over. "But what do you get out of it if I have apparently caused you so much trouble doing what I do."
"Well, I get either you dead and out of my way, The Empire dead and out of my way, or both. Either way, I win, and If we can curb your more bombastic modus operandi, I think you could possibly have a lasting place in my city."
Adam's gun lowered, and he looked almost considering. "I've been fucked before, several times. What reason do I have to take your word when your men put a gun to my best friend's head?"
Her heart fluttered a little at that, but it only lasted a moment before she looked at the gun in his hand, and she felt cold again.
"They did what now? They were meant to talk to her, not force her. You have my permission to kill them then if it pleases you. I have no use for men who cannot follow orders."
He turned back to her, and she pleaded with him as best she could, but no words came out of her mouth.
Something in him seemed to shift, and his gun flickered back to a sheath. "I won't kill them. You can do with them as you like."
"If that's your choice. As another piece of evidence for my genuine intentions, I'll give you some intel, free of charge. Over the past few days, my scouts have been reporting strange meetings between Hookwolf and Krieg. Every other day, Krieg and Hookwolf meet near the edge of his district, like clockwork. If this is a genuine meeting or a ploy to bring you to them I cannot say, but it's something noteworthy."
"And what would long term look like for me?"
"I would keep you in reserve as a wetwork operator and/or a spy, and use your expertise to help refine my own plans, while making sure to keep you away from the prying eyes of the PRT."
Adam walked back to his sword and sheathed it, before he glanced towards her. His finger lifted, then pointed towards the door, and the mercenaries started breathing again, before slowly shuffling out the door. "And S-Parian?"
"Hurting her would hurt you, which would get me killed rather quickly, and considering she has zero interest in the cape life, I have no interest in her. I needed her to get to you, that is all. She would have no part in this."
Adam went quieter than she'd ever seen before, eyes looking outwards past the city.
Minutes must have passed, the only sound in the room besides her breathing being the static from the computer's speakers.
At last, Adam turned back.
She was the only one to see his scowl.
"I accept your deal. In the short term, at least."
"I'm glad to hear that."
/
Had quite a lot of fun writing Coil, and describing the effects of Adam's semblance from the POV of someone who's trapped in it.
Last edited: Aug 10, 2022
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May 24, 2022
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May 25, 2022
#622
Slightly pressed on time, so this one's being divided into thirds.
I never thought Hookwolf would end up being one of my favorite characters to write so far, but he is.
I guess it helps that he's literally just (White Trash)TM, All rights reserved.
/
Another Cinder.
Another Hazel.
Another liar.
This Coil thought he could be manipulated. Be used.
He figured him to be some wild dog one could tame with a treat and a pat on the head.
The half second pause when he mentioned Parian's treatment told him all he needed to know.
Cinder had lorded over him. Every call, every meeting, every conversation they had, she took the opportunity to gloat. To smile and flutter her eyes, silently taunting him, knowing he couldn't react.
Touching him was her favorite. She knew it incensed him, and so she'd run a finger up his arm, put a comforting hand on his shoulder, and lean in close, making sure her breath touched his skin when she talked.
All he could do was sit stock still and grind his teeth.
Petty power plays, all to show him how impotent he was. Childish, pointless, done only to satiate her ego.
She quickly learned that even as tied as his hands were, there was a limit to how much his pride could take.
At their second to last meeting, when they were discussing the White Fang's role in the attack, out of the blue she had asked him to look her in the eye when he spoke to her.
She had her usual smile in place, but there was something darker about it than usual.
He asked her, fruitlessly, about what she meant by that. His men had always watched their meetings in poorly hidden anger(And interest)and a small crowd had formed to watch.
She asked him to remove his mask.
He had unsheathed Wilt before a rational thought had even formed in his mind. At that moment, he was closer to simply damning his men and cutting her down than he ever had been since their first meeting.
But when that familiar glow entered her eyes, and the tips of her fingers brought an undying flame to life, he stopped.
Wilt slid back home, and he lifted a single, shaking hand, and removed his mask.
He couldn't place her reaction.
There was no mocking, nor sympathy. No anger, or glee. No sadness or happiness. Her face had twisted, and her mouth had shaped itself into a confused frown. Her eyes were utterly empty, devoid of anything even resembling Human or Faunus. The Grimm had more life in them.
She had tilted her head, as a dog might at a particularly strange sound.
She took a single step closer, honing her gaze on the scar like a laser. He had blinked on reflex, and she watched the melted skin and poorly healed muscle tug the eye slowly up, then back down again, much slower than his good eye. There was a resistance to the movement, and every time he moved his eyelid, it almost seemed like it was peeling back.
There was something unknowable, incomprehensible in her eyes. Neither of them could identify what it was. Perhaps a sort of connection, as close to a genuine emotion as she could bring herself to feeling.
It ended the moment her hand reached out to touch it, and he snapped.
He rammed his horns through her hand with a loud CRACK.
They had punched through the skin, muscle and bone, tearing free out the other side, dripping blood.
When he pulled his head back, he nearly split her hand apart.
She had slapped him with her other hand hard enough to split open his cheek, and both of their aura's came to life.
She looked at the slowly healing holes in her hand as if in disbelief, then back to his eye.
The fire had come back, but nobody was yet dead.
She simply stood, staring at him. She lifted her hand to her face, eyeing the newly healed and stretching skin, and told him she would contact him later.
Then she walked away.
After that, she was simply cold and methodical. The taunts were still there, but less invasive. He never understood why.
A creature like her couldn't feel remorse or sympathy.
Hazel had been different from the start. From their very first meeting to the last, he was calm, quiet, patient.
He answered every question, accounted for every variable, and even seemed pleased when he gave his thoughts and idea's for the attack on Haven.
He was everything Cinder was not.
But he was just as vindictive when it counted.
After Sienna, he changed.
The man in fact had at least one quality from Cinder.
They both were petty.
This Coil seemed a mix of the two.
Hazel's pragmatism, willingness to co-operate, and seemingly blunt honesty.
But honesty wasn't the right word.
He had Cinder's ability to twist words and meanings, her ability to lie on-the-fly, and willingness to sacrifice pawn's.
He let out a small chuckle. He had her insane and lofty goals as well.
And her tendency to talk.
He had mentioned a Thinker, someone he had in his employ that he either found irritating, or hard to work with.
Both things he could use. The issue would be finding them, and testing their loyalty.
He certainly didn't have any, at least for now.
But he'd play along.
Either Coil would be the exception to the rule, or he would die.
Only time would tell. No one else would command him again. He would have to be an equal, and whether Coil dealt in equals or not he couldn't say.
He eyed the man angrily pacing back and forth through the glass.
At least his intel was good.
Hookwolf was maskless, a tank top and sweatpants his only clothes, feet bare of socks or shoes.
His lips were moving, but he couldn't hear the words.
He was scowling, fists shaking and clenching.
Krieg was nowhere in sight.
Good enough.
Wilt angled to the side, and the glass shattered.
Hookwolf's slight left turn was the only thing that saved his head.
It didn't save his throat though.
Wilt carved completely through, windpipe and arteries severing, blood spraying wide.
The falling glass lodged itself in his arms and back, and he heard a gurgled sound that could have been a "What the fuck" before it was drowned away by the blood in his throat.
Blush barked, and two bullets lodged themselves in his chest, and a third punched halfway into his skull.
Then he was gone.
Metal exploded outwards like a hedgehog's spikes, and he rolled out of the way. Then it all collapsed to the ground, more liquid than anything else, and flowed across the floor towards him like living quicksand.
Fast too.
He leapt up to avoid it, and when he passed over it mid jump, spikes shot up and out to skewer him.
He twisted around mid-air, but they tracked him, and they curved and grew and bent to ensure at least one or two scraped across his cheek before he landed.
As soon as he did, Hookwolf was upright, and his arms grew long enough to punch up through the ceiling.
Then he reeled in, pulling himself forward feet first toward Adam, legs forming into solid clubs and lumps of steel, constantly skidding and grinding against each other with an ear splitting screech.
Wilt was up, but Hookwolf twisted his entire body mid swing and kicked him straight out of the building, plowing through the brick and sending him back out into the street.
He flipped mid-air and landed on his feet, Hookwolf closely following behind.
Hmm.
That was more creative than anything Hookwolf had been seen doing before.
Even now, he abandoned his signature Wolf form, and was standing upright in a bastardized mix of bear and man, knives and screwdrivers and files layering on top of one another like skin. And it was all constantly moving, like a seven foot walking buzzsaw.
Worse still, he'd been practicing too.
Hookwolf stood straight and touched a hand to his "throat", coughing. "Fuckin hell man, you couldn't have just knocked?"
"I wasn't in the mood. Just wanted you dead and dealt with."
"Well shit, least ya-"
There was a boom, and a nearby window shattered as Adam sped past him, Sword carving through steel.
Hookwolf's head shrunk into the center of his chest just in time to avoid losing it, but half of his upper body was gone, sloughing off and disintegrating in the night's breeze.
Wilt clicked, and Hookwolf shrank back at the sound, as if realizing how outmatched he was.
"Your serious, Ain'tcha? You ain't dickin around anymore?"
Wilt slid half free in response.
Hookwolf was still a moment, then spikes and thorns extended out over his entire body, and he could see steel plunging out of his feet into the street below, tunneling through the ground.
"Well fuck it, let's do it."
He seemed giddy and resigned all at once.
As one they lunged.
Last edited: May 25, 2022
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May 25, 2022
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May 25, 2022
#638
Okay, things have calmed down enough I can get part two out tonight, but I'm going to be busy for realzies tomorrow and possibly Friday.
/
His charge was interrupted by the wall of steel that plowed through the ground and rose up in front of his face. It started to collapse as soon as it came up, gravity tugging it down as Hookwolf detached it from his feet and leapt clear of the obstacle, in an admittedly decent attempt at a distraction. The ideal victim would have to take the time to dodge it or knock it away, and Hookwolf would be in prime position to attack his back.
He was not the ideal victim.
Instead, he simply held Wilt upward and let Hookwolf do the rest of the work for him. His chest and stomach slid alongside Wilt's tip and split wide, rot spreading across his body. The steel clattered noisily off of his aura, and the worst he came away with was a slight throb in his temple.
In the meantime, Hookwolf landed in a tumble, falling apart and re-growing just as quickly as Moonslice did it's work.
He almost had to respect him. He knew he was dead, but his head was held high.
He added a few bullets to the writhing pile of steel before sheathing his sword and concentrating.
The sound of a jackhammer tearing through concrete nearly deafened him before a red wave erased half of the street, dust, smoke, and petals blinding him and any nearby possible spectators.
He took a step back, humming a song Parian had gotten stuck in his head.
He tuned his aura and listened.
He was too stubborn to die so quickly.
His hypothesis was proven correct when a giant drill plowed through the ground he was standing on a half second ago.
A thin red line raced outwards, narrowly missing the living drill bit that quickly split down the middle, opening a gap the energy slid through harmlessly.
Another boom, another few shattered windows, and Wilt slid back into Blush just as the metal mass collapsed in on itself.
It wilted away until only a small pile of loose scrap remained.
It didn't stir.
One final gunshot rang out, chipping away another small piece of steel.
Wilt was sheathed again, and this time it stayed still.
Nothing.
As soon as he turned around the pile exploded into motion.
Figures.
An iron tornado spun across the street towards him, grinding the road to dust.
Then at its apex of speed, pieces started shooting out of it faster than a bullet.
Three steel chunks the size of bowling balls smashed into him before Wilt smacked the rest away.
Stubborn son of a bitch.
He ran, and the tornado gave chase, spitting bullets as fast as it could make them.
That saying about a cornered animal held true.
But it wouldn't be enough.
He took cover behind a parked car, and as the whirlwind advanced, Wilt swept out and carved open the cars gas tank.
Then he bent down and kicked out with both feet, crumpling in it's passenger door and sending it skidding thirty feet down the street.
Hookwolf didn't even pause, simply striding through it, tearing the vehicle apart.
Checkmate.
Wilt scraped across the ground, sending sparks flying.
The gasoline trail ignited, fire racing across the street until it reached the remains of the car.
The explosion was small by his standards, but no less effective.
Hookwolf shook apart, the fire heating him up and the scrap shearing him apart.
He collapsed in a pile, and this time, he stayed down, metal rising up and up, shaping back into the naked body of a shaking and gasping blonde man.
"It was a good effort."
Hookwolf's head rose up, coughing and sputtering, but a shaky smile spread across his cheeks. "Ya really think so?"
He rolled onto his hands and knees, metal spurs and brambles poking out of his shoulders.
Even now, he was still trying?
The skin around his arm seemingly sunk into his arm, and steel muscle rose up and took it's place.
A self deprecating chuckle, and Hookwolf looked back at him. "Being honest, I thought I did pretty fuckin shitty." His voice dissolved away into giggles at the end of his sentence, voice tinged with hysteria. The imminence of his death had finally sunk in.
"It wasn't the most challenging fight I've ever been in. But I'll give you most interesting."
Hookwolf tilted his head back, exposing his throat and rising onto his knees. "I'll take that at least."
His eye flicked to the side, and his face seemingly went through all five stages of grief in less than a single second before finally settling on anger. "You rat fucking cun-"
Then Adam was in the air.
His arms were flailing, reaching out to grab something to catch in vain as he landed hard, carving a canyon in the road five feet wide.
Hookwolf's screams and swears would have made a sailor on shore leave blush.
Krieg placed his outstreched behind his back, clasping both hands together, arms behind his back in a textbook parade rest.
"Guten Abend."
Hookwolf finally regained his wits and turned to Krieg, practically foaming at the mouth. "You kraut, scum-sucking squarehead pile of shit! He's mine!"
Krieg turned towards Hookwolf, and while he couldn't see his expresion behind the gas mask, he got the impresion of nobility staring at a begging peasant.
"Really? From where I was standing, you were about to lose your head. And while I wouldn't mind that, Kaiser is rather attached to it."
Hookwolf blue-screened, and Adam spoke up.
"How long have you been watching?"
"Long enough to make a few calls. In fact-"
Two 7.62 bullets left Blush at 2,800 feet a second.
Thirty feet from Krieg, they slowed to a thousand.
Fifteen feet, and it slowed down to a speed only slightly faster than a limp arrow.
By five, Krieg closed the distance, flicking one bullet frozen in time away, and pinching the other in between his finger.
The flicked bullet floated away as if in Zero G, spinning in place.
A cold feeling washed over him, and his chest grew tight. He stood up, but there was resistance, like he was moving through water.
Krieg crushed the bullet between his fingers, and his smile was patently obvious, even if he couldn't see it. "Temper temper, Taurus."
He'd made plans for killing Krieg. There were none that involved a melee.
That was why.
Hookwolf made it too his feet, and metal replaced his skin again, much slower this time.
He looked between him and Krieg, and for a moment he almost looked like he was about to attack Krieg before turning back to him and charging on all fours.
Wilt came up to swing, and then something pushed his arm to the side, and he stumbled.
Hookwolf was slowed as well, but it hardly mattered when he could simply brush against him and drain his aura that way.
For the first time he was on the back foot, dodging swipes and cuts and flying steel, but for every piece of Hookwolf that fell away, there were three glancing slashes or scratches that hit him.
He snarled under his breath as he rolled under another of Hookwolf's tackles, and Hookwolf's freshly grown tail shot out and slammed into his throat.
Something shoved him forward from behind, and an eight foot long arm smashed into his chest.
The air left his lungs, and the cold intensified, and then he was forced onto his knees.
He blinked in surprise when Hookwolf was brought down with him.
"T'fuck are you doing??"
Krieg didn't answer.
Then a white comet raced through the sky.
Oh-
Hookwolf was kind enough to finish his sentence for him as a white beam melted the street into glass and sent him tearing through the pavement.
The agony was something he hadn't felt in a long time, and the beams sheer heat brought back the memories of cooked flesh and a child's screams.
He was sent through a storefront and smashed through a cashier's counter before stopping.
Wilt came up on instinct just as a second blast came through.
The energy fueled him, the pain and lethargy fading amidst the growing adrenaline, and a high seized him just as the beam lanced upward, briefly heating his face before it brought the ceiling down on him.
The face of the building collapsed, and the light winked out.
The dust and smoke filled the air, covering half of the block in a deep smog.
The silence was deafening.
Krieg relaxed his arms, and Purity made to leave.
A red wave parted the cloud of smoke and a shrill scream sounded out.
Adam jumped through the ruble, landing in a crouch on the street.
Hookwolf's charred and half melted body twitched to life in disbelief.
"HOW IN THE F-"
A ring of energy burned a circle around his feet as the universe blacked out.
The tips of his hair were glowing white with power, black and red lightning dancing and flowing across his unsheathed blade.
It arced off the tip, striking into the street and nearby buildings, crimson petals forming new stars in the inky darkness.
Purity flew off in a blink as he threw his arm behind his head and swung.
Hookwolf's desperate dive was quick enough to save him.
Krieg wasn't fast enough.
/
Krieg's power always intrigued me, and seemed fairly cool and OP.
Shame he won't use it anymore.
Last edited: Jul 22, 2022
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May 27, 2022
#716
He focused what little energy he had left into crossing fishhooks over his arms, legs, and chest, connecting and linking them together like chainmail, for decency's sake and the bare minimum of protection.
Well.
Not like it would matter with Taurus anyway.
He couldn't bite down the somewhat manic laughter that erupted out, and he collapsed onto his knees, the pavement crumpling under his weight.
He felt a shiver knowing that Taurus most likely could hear it, but after a moment it simply made him laugh harder.
This was how he fucking died?
This?
He always wanted to go out in fire and flames, bringing his opponent right down with him. Something memorable, something no-one could ever forget him for.
But right here, right now?
Alone except for his executioner and the wind, crippled and broken, killed by someone he couldn't even fight?
Earlier he had accepted it, if only because he had gotten a few licks in, even against someone that powerful.
But now he knew he never had a chance at all.
Not only would he have died, he would have died without a purpose.
Just another body in Taurus's pile.
And who would even remember him? Even if they did, what for?
Dying slightly slower than everyone else?
Being a mild inconvenience to a man who could kill him without even trying?
It would all have been for nothing.
He heard a building shudder, and a loud crash made him jump.
He turned around back towards the street where Krieg had been standing and walked towards it.
He made it to the edge of the alley.
His feet froze up, halting in his tracks.
He blinked.
Once.
Twice.
Brockton Bay had a new ravine.
Twenty feet wide and fifteen feet deep.
It stretched on and on and on, until it finally stopped at an intersection filled with several dozen panicked and confused cars.
The street and sidewalk was gone.
Parked cars, lamp posts, all ceased to exist.
Several buildings had windows or random chunks that had simply disappeared, like almighty god had taken an eraser to them.
The faces were completely bare of paint, and a few extra wide ones had no face at all, and furniture and desks and supplies fell out into the chasm below.
Thousands of petals flooded the air and covered the bottom of the canyon.
Busted pipes poured water and all kinds of shit and muck into the pit, and leftover melted concrete from Purity's blasts had started flowing and dripping inside like magma.
If you had told him Behemoth had gone for a morning stroll here, he could have believed it.
But it was just one man.
One man who wouldn't die.
Then he realized.
He wasn't a man at all.
He was a force of nature, like Leviathan or Behemoth.
Unstoppable.
With just one simple goal in mind.
Wiping out the Empire.
And Brad Meadows knew he would succeed.
He looked to his right, freezing in place.
The man himself was standing still, red sparks sputtering off his sword before he straightened out and sheathed it, free hand slicking back a few loose strands of auburn hair.
He was staring blankly at the street as if in thought.
Some buildings were still slowly peeling away, and an apartment complex lurched, dangerously close to collapsing.
Then Taurus turned and looked at him.
His hand tugged the blade partially free, and his hair lit up.
He spat at the ground in defiance. "Do your worst."
The glow intensified, spreading all across his clothes.
Then it winked out.
He tracked Taurus's gaze back towards the ravine.
Dirt and rock had finally shaken loose, and was piling on inside of it.
Taurus angrily slammed his sword back, then turned around and jumped away.
He watched him leap from roof to roof until he disappeared from sight.
He exhaled, leaning against the alleys wall and slumping down till he sat on his haunches.
Kaiser was dead.
Purity was dead.
Justin, Night, Fog, all of them were dead men walking.
The Empire itself was dead, had been since Taurus arrived.
They just didn't know it.
He did.
Taurus had maybe a month to live before the PRT finally called in the big guns.
But in that time, everyone would know his name. He would be feared, famed, someone Brockton Bay would never forget as long as the city stood standing.
When he went down, he would take an organization that had been around since the dawn of the cape age with him.
He would be immortalized.
And the Empire?
Nothing more than a footnote in his legacy.
If he stayed, he would die.
For a cause, sure, but just because your cause was doomed didn't make it righteous.
If anything, it made it all the more pathetic.
And it hadn't been his cause in the first place.
He couldn't stand most blacks or asians, but trying to kill 'em all was just plain stupid.
There were more of them than there were of him.
Always was, always would be. No point getting mad over it.
He hummed.
He had an idea.
It would take time. He'd need to plan it carefully, and see who he could convince to join in.
But it would be worth it.
He'd make sure that when the time came, his name would be right along Taurus's.
No matter what.
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May 28, 2022
#774
She leaned back in the swivel chair, uncomfortable squirming in her seat, trying in vain to get comfortable.
Leaning back nearly tipped it over, and Armsmaster's pointed cough made her scowl.
She gave up, and instead leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table and burying her head in her hands. He stared at her, but held his tongue.
The waiting was the worst part.
She didn't know for sure why everyone had been called up, but she could guess.
Her lips twitched upward, but she managed to school her expression into something resembling bored neutrality before anyone else could notice. The whole PRT team was here, and all they were waiting on was the director and the rest of the Wards.
She ran her tongue across her newly restored tooth, eyes narrowing at the door. Nobody.
"What's this about?"
Velocity opened his mouth, but ironically, Armsmaster answered first, a blank frown across his face. He was the only one who'd kept his costume on.
"Once the director gets here, we'll explain everything."
His voice was flat and dry, and she could tell the waiting was bothering him just as much.
She made to ask again when the doors finally opened again, and her teammates walked inside.
Clockblocker(She fucking hated that name)made it inside first, sitting in the chair next to her.
She inched away on reflex.
He smiled, kicking his feet up on the table, mouth opening to make some inane joke before Miss Militia cleared her throat, and he rolled his eyes and sat down normally.
Everyone else could just sit down quietly, but him? Noooo, he had to go extra with it, didn't he?
She couldn't stand him, and the feeling was mutual on his end.
"Did you cut your hair? Gotta say, I miss th-"
When the door opened one final time and Piggy stepped in, he stopped dead, blanching a moment before steadying himself and shifting his posture to something more professional.
Piggot bumbled her way over to the end of the table, pulling up a chair and sitting down.
"I'm sure most of you know why I've called this meeting, but for those that don't, we're here to get a tactical assessment on Taurus, formulate a strategy, and set some ground rules."
She stared at the Wards, glowering. "First, I want to get this out of the way. We already forbade contact between you and Taurus, but after yesterday, I want to make it crystal clear. If you see him, turn around and run the other direction. Treat him like you would one of the nine. I don't care if he's helping old ladies down the street or napping on a park bench, if you make contact, haul ass the opposite way, and call everyone in."
She waited a moment to be sure we were fully cowed, before nodding Armsmaster's way. He stood up and walked to the back of the room where a computer and projector sat. He flipped down the lights, and turned both electronics on.
"While he prepares the footage, let's go over the basics." She sighed, deep and dour. She sounded irritated and exhausted in equal measure. "What do we know? When did he start, what can he do?"
Velocity leaned forward this time, tone cold and professional. "He started a month ago, shaking down and killing small Empire patrols and gatherings. Initially, we assumed a new stranger had come to town, a parahuman serial killer. Then the wharf incident happened, and we realized he was a vigilante. Our very own Gavel, in fact. Our first confirmed footage of him was during his first bout with Hookwolf. There, we got our first glimpse of his appearance and power."
He was cut off by the projector surging to life, and a video thumbnail appeared on the wall, showing Taurus rising from a crouch, dust and powdered brick sliding off his body. "Just from this, we can infer a lot about his durability. If you look closely, you can see the debris isn't actually touching his clothes. It's spaced off by a few millimeters."
Gallant spoke up, interrupting. "Like Glory Girl's shield?"
Kid Win cut him off.
"Or possibly Tinkertech. In the footage you shared with us from his fight with Armsmaster, you could see sparks for a few frames during some hits. I noticed it the most when Miss Militia used a grenade launcher on him."
She saw Armsmaster twitch out of the corner of her eye. She nearly laughed, but Gallant gave her an odd look, and she got her mirth under control as quick as she could.
"Speaking of Tinkertech, the sword and sheath. How do they work, and did he make them or get them from a third party?"
Armsmaster straightened, and she thought their might have been a tinge of jealousy in his eyes. "They are both exceptionally well made. The blades color is something to note, but it could simply be a power interaction. Besides the abnormal sharpness and color, it seems to be a normal chokutō. I'm more interested in the sheath. It can shift from rifle to sheath and back again in less than a second. It's 7.62 in caliber, and he uses it as a close defense weapon, which is a rather odd use for such a high power round. Then again, with his enhanced strength, recoil doesn't seem to be an issue, so it would make sense to use it in such a way, especially one handed. It's unknown if he made them both, but by how they are decorated, I'd lean towards them being his own manufacture. I cannot say for certain though."
He cleared his throat before continuing. "This footage clears most of our questions regarding his speed and the disintegration power. I'll let it speak for itself."
He hit play, and a storefront cam highlighted an empty road. There was no sound, and it almost seemed like a still image until a nearby buildings wall exploded.
Taurus came flying out, spinning through the air until he oriented himself and landed on his feet, hand on his sword.
Hookwolf came back behind him, and they seemed to talk a moment before Taurus simply disappeared, before re-appearing twenty feet behind Hookwolf, sheathing his blade in time with half of Hookwolf's body collapsing to the ground and wilting away.
Swears filled the room.
"It was my estimation that here in this footage, he was moving faster than velocity, but I don't have an exact measurement for his speed."
"And only one person here could even get close to that."
"Yes. But on the bright side, I believe I know how Taurus's energy projection and disintegration power works."
He fast-forwarded the video, speeding past the fight with Hookwolf, only briefly stopping at the moments where Taurus or his sword were glowing, and even then for only a second two at max. He stopped and let it play at the moment where Purity blasted Taurus, and if she said her jaw hadn't dropped along with everyone else's, she'd be lying.
He paused as soon as Taurus stood backup and held up his sword. It was half-unsheathed, One hand tugging the blade out, and the other holding the sheath as if bracing for an impact.
"My theory is that Taurus can't use his energy projection or sharpening without absorbing some sort of impact or blast beforehand. He must be able to hold onto it for sometime, and seems to need his sword to use it. We haven't seen any examples of him using his power without it."
"So that's his weakness?"
Armsmaster paused.
He hesitated for a long moment before nodding.
"And our reinforcements?"
Piggot scowled at that. It made the lines on her face and throat that much more visible. "New York's been stonewalling, but since Accord's been so quiet lately, I've been in talks with the Chicago branch, and they're considering leasing us Gauss and Brazier."
Dauntless scoffed. "Two capes?"
"It's the best we're going to get for now."
"And the plan for Taurus?"
The silence was telling.
"Same as it was before. Hit him hard, hit him fast, and always call in reinforcements. Try and disarm him. He'll still be dangerous, but we need to neuter him as best we can until we get more men."
"Everyone understand that?"
There was a chorus of nods across the room, and Piggot sighed.
"Okay. I'm assigning him a rating of Brute 7, Mover 6, Shaker 0, Tinker 0, Master 1, Thinker 0, Striker 5, and Blaster 8."
She rose from her chair, grunting with exertion.
"Dismissed."
/
One more Sophia either tomorrow or Monday, then we get one final calm chapter before canon begins.
Last edited: May 28, 2022
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MasterDuplicator
May 28, 2022
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MasterDuplicator
MasterDuplicator
Big Fan of a Mad Cow
May 30, 2022
#836
Hey y'all, I'm back with the milk. This was supposed to be another Sophia chapter, which originally was going to be the 2nd half of the last chapter, but I cut it in the interests of time. I may go back and change a few things so it could be put back in, but since I'm going to be much busier from now on, and daily chapters probably won't happen anymore(Or at least with any consistency), I figured I'd finally get canon started. After this chapter, as recompense for the extra wait times, I'm also going to try and double the average length of chapters, to help myself get used to writing much longer, to advance everything quicker, and not bloat the threadmark count.
/
She hummed to the tune of the radio as she worked. Not for the first time tonight, she turned over to Adam to watch his progress.
He'd ceased his knitting, tilting his head at the newest song echoing throughout the warehouse. She giggled. He did that at just about every song that played, like it was his first time hearing it. The beats and lyrics all seemed so bizarre and foreign to him, like he'd never actually just sat down and listened to the radio in his life.
For all she knew, he hadn't.
Not for the first time, she lamented the cruelty Case-53's went through. Not just the stares or jeers, but the agony of not knowing why you were the way you were, of not having any previous life to look back on.
She looked over at the pile of clothes at her feet. The client's costume, at least on their end, had been finished for all but the gloves. They'd bantered a bit about the color and style, but Taurus convinced her to let him handle it. They'd both split half the work, and now he was finishing up his end.
She pushed the stuffed bear she'd been stitching up to the side, eyeing Taurus as he went back to work, this time lightly tapping a beat with his feet to the tune of the music. He seemed to like things with guitar and drums the most, so she mostly let the local eighties station play for him.
His face was blank except for the slightly narrowed eye, while his hands slowly brought the gloves to life.
His back was arched slightly, legs tensed. He had a ragged cloth draped across his face like a bandage, smothering half of it from view. His jaw was set tight, like he was focused or irritated.
Another small round of laughter, this time loud enough to get a raised brow.
That only made it funnier.
"What?"
"I don't know, it's just.." She paused to gather her words and breath, lips trembling. "You just always look so determined. Knitting and sewing relax me, and you look like you're taking it more seriously than a cape attack. When was the last time you actually just sat down and relaxed?"
He opened his mouth to reply, but she cut him off. "A time that wasn't you painting or drawing when you couldn't sleep?"
His mouth shut, and his eye rolled to the side like he was trying to remember. The pause stretched on and on and on and on, and her worry shot up in tune with her eyebrows for every second that passed. His fingers splayed out like he was counting days or weeks.
When it looked like he was actually trying to count out months of the year, she snapped.
She walked over to him and snatched the needles out of his hands. His jaw dropped, and she used the distraction to grab the gloves as well, and she turned around and tossed them towards her table.
"The hell was that for?"
He sounded more confused than irritated, singular eye squinting in disbelief at what she just did. She was almost as shocked at herself as him, but didn't back down.
"We are taking the rest of the night off and having a break."
"But I'm almost fin-"
"We are taking a break." She pointed her finger at him menacingly, but the effect was lost with the height difference.
Absurdly enough, he nodded, blinking one more time in humor and shock before relaxing in his chair. "Alright then."
She looked around, pulling a blanket from the floor that was holding a small doll collection in place. They scattered about when she yanked it from under their feet, but she'd pick it up later.
She walked towards the opposite end of the warehouse, laying it down at the far wall, directly under the skylight.
"We are going to sit down, curl up in this blanket, and relax with some nice American music and a wonderful view of the stars, understand?"
Adam worked his mouth soundlessly a moment before standing up and nodding.
She sat down against the wall, tucking the blanket across her body up to her chin.
Adam made his way to her side, shrugging off his jacket and sitting next to her.
She leaned against him, letting his body heat warm her up. She tried to pull the blanket to cover him as well, but he was too tall. Instead, he unwound the banner on his belt and draped it across his chest
They both tilted their heads up and watched the sky. The music shifted to something much quieter, smooth synth mellowing them out.
Adam sighed, deep and forlorn, and slumped down completely, body going limp.
She leaned against him slightly, then slumped as well.
For a long time, they simply sat together, letting the soft music and moonlight soothe them.
Eventually though, he seemed to get slightly restless, fingers twitching and curling, and he spoke up quietly.
"What made you get into fashion?"
She tilted her head, blearily eyeing him in her peripheral vision. "Hmm?"
He shook his head, eyeing all the stuffed animals and stray clothes. "Why do all this for a living?"
"Oh." She swallowed, looking him in the face.
There was an earnest gleam in his eye, like he truly wanted to know.
She nodded to herself slightly. She could trust him.
"My family came from Basra." She noticed the blink and quickly clarified. "It's the second-largest city in Iraq. Almost three million people live there."
She paused slightly, letting the quick rush of memories fly by. Adam seemed content to let her reminisce.
"Our family didn't make much money, but my father eventually managed to bring us to America on a work visa. Two years after that we got our green cards, and I started going to college."
She laughed slightly at the memory of her broken English when she introduced herself to her classmates.
"At first I went for the bigger subjects, Math and Engineering. My family wanted me to take the most complex courses, make the most money, and live the American dream. And for a while, I did too."
"But it didn't make you happy?"
She flinched at the interruption, but nodded. "I studied hard, and did well. My English was getting better, and my grades were high. But it wasn't something I enjoyed. There was a boy who would bother me, and I didn't make any friends, and mostly stuck to myself. Eventually, my grades started to suffer. After my father died, I realized I needed a change. I left my engineering class and tried to find something that would be enjoyable."
"How did you pick fashion?"
"Well, I came from Basra. Everyone there spoke the same language, wore the same clothes, and had the same appearance. But in America?"
She smiled, softly laughing. "Just getting off the plane and into the terminal, I was awestruck. So many colors, so many faces, so many new sounds and smells and just people. When my father drove us to our new home, I remember pressing my face to the car window and gasping at each new sign or person or car until he told me to stop. It was like I was a little girl again. It was all just so new."
She looked back upward at the shining stars, marveling at the brightness. "I remember going into a coffee shop. I was sitting at a table, and I was idly watching a commercial while waiting for my drink. Eventually, it ended, and some sort of fashion show was playing. A woman started walking onto a runway, and I was entranced. The outfit she was wearing was the ugliest, loudest, most gaudy dress I'd ever seen. But I couldn't look away. I watched her strut up and down, then walk back for the next person. I must have been there a half-hour, just sitting at the table open-mouthed until the episode ended. I looked at all the other patrons and their clothes, the shoes, the boots, the jackets, the dresses, and I realized right there and then that making those clothes was what I wanted to do."
Adam's lips curled up slightly, and he gently nudged her shoulder. "I'm glad you found your calling then."
She nodded, returning the smile. "Me too."
The next song came on, and the sound of a wailing guitar bounced across the room.
She noticed Adam's feet twitch in tune with the drums.
She eyed the banner at his chest. It was exceptionally well made, thorns and stalks sprawling and flowing all around. She looked towards the jacket on the floor, and took note of the perfectly sewn patterns on the back.
"You mind if I ask you something?"
"Go right ahead."
"Where did you learn to sew?"
Adam froze.
His feet stopped moving, his breath hitched, and his eye was blown clear wide, pupil dilating.
He didn't speak for what felt like forever, but just as she was about to apologize, he responded.
"My mother."
"Your mother?"
He swallowed, mouth opening and closing like he wasn't sure what to say.
She watched him with rapt attention, letting him take as long as he needed.
Eventually, he seemed to find the words, and his voice was flat. "I woke up here in 2001. I was cold, I was hungry, it was dark, and I didn't know my name, my age, or even what city or world I was in. The PRT didn't quite know what to do with people like me yet, so most of us lived out in the streets. I slummed it out for a short while, but eventually, the police got me, and I was sent off to foster care. Some doctors guessed I was around thirteen. They sent me to an orphanage, told me to pick a name, and wished me good luck. I never bothered picking a name out."
He reached up to scratch his makeshift eyepatch before speaking again, and she didn't miss his minute wince when his fingers had pressed down.
"Eventually a family found me who didn't mind the scar, and they took me to their home."
She eyed the cloth, voice wavering. "Scar?"
"Under this, I still have my eye, but it's..."
His visible eye spasmed. "Damaged."
He resumed talking before she could inquire further. "They took me to a small town, and I lived there with my first dad, first mom, and first sister."
"You have a sister?"
He smiled, and for a moment it looked like he had left the room, and was somewhere else entirely. "Eve. She was a few years younger than me, and she was the happiest, most excitable little girl you'd ever seen. Never slowed down for anyone."
"What was it like?"
Something dark flashed in his eyes, leaving just as quickly as it arrived. The smile on his face turned jagged and empty. "Quiet. Peaceful. We didn't have much, no one did really, but everyone in town knew each other, and when I was with my family, I was as happy as could be."
Then everything shifted, and his expression cleared. The smile came back, genuine again this time. "My mother was the one who named me, and she was a seamstress. She made clothes for the whole town, and I'd spend all day watching her work. Every day, like clockwork, once she finished her quota, she'd go out into the backyard and tend to her garden. She had roses and tulips and sunflowers, and every day I went out with her to help tend them. The roses were both of our favorites."
The thought made her smile, but something about his wording struck her. "Quota?"
Another flash, this time even faster, before he spoke again. "Every day, someone in town needed a new pair of pants or socks. No one else in town could do her job, so she had to work every day."
The explanation didn't sit right, but she was happy enough about him finally opening up that she let it slide. "She sounds like a wonderful person."
"She was." A pause. "They all were."
She winced at the past tense and closed her mouth.
The music changed to something calm again, and she let it take her away.
Right as her eyes were about to close, a knock sounded at the door.
They both lurched upward, a surprised gasp slipping free from her while Adam growled and ran for his weapon.
The knock sounded again, louder. Adam stalked forward towards the door, rifle in hand. He'd left the sword by his stool, and she eyed it, judging the distance.
Adam swung open the door and placed the barrel of the gun right at the forehead of a balaclava-clad mercenary.
The man's hands shot up in surrender, eyes wide. She blinked.
It was the same man Adam had choked out before.
"WAITWAITWAITWAIT!"
Adam's finger curled around the trigger, and the man panicked, reaching into his pocket and tossing a phone to the ground.
"That's all he wanted! For me to give you that!"
Adam's face twisted, and for a moment it looked like he was about to shoot him before he prodded the man's head with the barrel instead. "Run along and tell him the next time he sends an errand boy, they don't come back. He either comes to me, I come to him, or we call. Understand?"
The man nodded, and made a hasty retreat.
Adam lowered the gun and picked up the phone with a snarl.
As soon as he faced her, it rang.
He growled and answered, raising it to his ear. "What?"
Adam was quiet for a moment, then his face fell.
She could hear the caller hang up.
His lone eye was wider than she'd ever seen, and he seemed paler than normal.
He put the phone down and into his pocket, voice hollow.
"Armsmaster caught Lung; Hookwolf, Stormtiger, and Cricket have been missing for the past two days, and someone crashed a merchant block party with over forty dead. The Empire's about to go on the offensive, and the ABB's in a panic."
She paused to let the implications sink in.
"Oh."
/
Fun note I remembered while writing this, Adam's fucking 6'4, and Parians 5-5'1.
Just got a giggle out of me.
Note About Adam's family, the adoption part is BS, but he did have a sister and all that jazz*