Sonata 13
Gallant breathed heavily in his outfit as he moved through the crowd. It was taking all of his concentration to keep from getting swept along in the massive maelstrom of emotions that was tearing away at him. It wasn't that it was unpleasant, per se, far from it! As a point of fact, the rush of euphoria that was cascading around him was actually a pleasant break from the usual undertone of doom and gloom that seemed to universally haunt Brockton Bay's citizens.
No, the issue was that if he gave in, he had the feeling that he'd get so swept up in the sheer energy of it all that he wouldn't be able to stop partying until the party itself ended, and even then he suspected he'd most likely have a residual buzz lingering as a result.
Still, with any luck, this wouldn't take too long. All he needed to do was concentrate. All he needed to do was concentrate! All he needed to do was find-
"And thiiiiis is Game Street!"
"We wheeled in a load of arcade games and stuff and jury-rigged 'em so that no-one has to pay! FYI, we hold the high scores. Challenge us if you dare!"
Find them.
A quick glance up confirmed that Hip and Hop were floating above the crowd, the both of them speaking to a blue tattoo-winged mink with a camera-mounted helmet strapped to its head. Another glance at his surroundings confirmed that no other Reapers were nearby and none of the partiers had recognized him.
He'd ditched his power-armor the minute he'd gotten the chance, ducking into a nearby alley and stripping himself of it before wearing a backup cloth mask that all Wards and Heroes carried around in case of an emergency. He'd also managed to grab a gray, non-descriptive hoodie from a Reaper who had been handing them out.
Gallant sighed heavily as he slowly raised a hand to point it at the twins. 'This should disrupt their broadcasting,' He thought remorsefully. 'Sorry you two, it's nothing personal. Just business.'
He reached deep, deep inside himself for the familiar pool of energy, harnessed as many red,angry thoughts as he could and-
WHAM!
Was swept off his feet and slammed into an alley by a blur of white.
Hip and Hop blinked, looking down in surprise.
"You hear something?"
"I 'unno. Hey, I'm hungry, wanna get some nachos?"
"You are my sister!"
As the twins drifted off towards the buffet, Gallant groaned as he clutched his ringing head. "What hit me...?"
"A freaking pissed off girlfriend!"
Gallant's mind snapped into focus as a strikingly familiar voice cut through the haze."Victoria!?"
The ball-gown clad heroine gave him a cold smile. "Hi honey!" She crooned sarcastically. "Say, answer me this, would you? What the hell did you think you were doing!?" The last words were hissed out furiously.
Gallant stared at her incredulously for a moment before setting his jaw. "No, what the hell doyou think you were doing?! I had them. I-!"
"Could have brought every Reaper in this party down on your head? Oh yeah, real smart plan, genius!" Glory Girl snarled. "They've got the huge Reaper guy, Grunge, and a few of his verylarge friends acting as security! They already threw out Shadow Stalker when she tried to mess with the Review- Five hundred K views already, just so you know- And you should haveseenwhat they did to this one guy they caught toting around roofies! Suffice to say I am never going to look at crabs the same way again..."
Gallant shivered slightly at the connotations of the ominous statement before reasserting himself. "Regardless, it's still my job to stop them! Armsmaster gave me orders-!"
"That come straight down from Piggot, meaning that in my opinion, I'd take them with a grain of salt." Victoria snorted before sighing heavily. "Look, Gallant... Dean... I can appreciate you trying to be the good soldier boy and all that, but look around you!" She waved her arms around. "It's a party! Come on, lighten up. There's no way you can stop something the people love so much. If you can't beat 'em... is it so bad to join 'em?"
Gallant stared at her silently for a moment before sighing heavily and hanging his head. "I'm sorry, Vicky, but I just can't. Can..." He gave her a pleading look. "Can you forgive me?"
Victoria stared at him in turn before slowly nodding her head. "Yeah... I can."
"Good. Now-"
"The real question is whether you will forgive me."
"Wait, what are you-MMPH!"
He felt a jolt of surprise when Glory Girl suddenly drew him into a kiss... and then everything became a swirl of lights and colors.
When he everything fell back into focus, the one thing that captured his attention was hisbeautiful girlfriend's intoxicating smile.
"Now..." She breathed in his ear. "Do you remember where you put your armor?"
He broke out of the rapture he was in from the current of emotions flowing through him to nod languidly.
"Good..." Victoria grinned eagerly. "Now come on, let's get you all suited-up. I want to dance with my man tonight!"
And with that, the two of them left the alleyway, both giggling eagerly at the thought of events to come.
-o-
Kid Win swallowed heavily as he slowly steered his hoverboard above the crowd, sweeping his gaze left and right over the party-goers. He'd tried to mingle with them for a time, but the sheer... intensity of it all, the movement, the energy, triggered a fight or flight reaction. So for now, he was keeping well above the crowd, where the only other fliers were winged Reapers or the odd Noise bird or bat.
Honestly, it wasn't like he even wanted to be there. He wanted to be in his lab, attempting to finally, finally find out what he was actually good for. That, and he wanted to fine-tune his Alternator Cannon, several parts were showing strain, incapable of supporting so much stress simultaneously. Plus he really should have gotten around to filling out the paperwork for Piggot a lot sooner.
He sighed and hung his head as he flew. That was another issue. The Director had been slightly... irritable the past few months. As far as he, or anyone for that matter, could tell, her temper had been mounting higher and higher every time another piece of Reaper art surfaced. The gang-group-whatever's rising popularity was a consistent source of ire for the Director. It had only been a matter of time until something gave. Apparently the Reaper's involvement in halting the ABB's rampage had been the straw that broke the camel's back. Now the consequences were spread out below Kid Win.
If he was being honest with himself, Kid Win somewhat liked the Reapers. They were definitely a fair sight better than the usual brand of crime that had as-of-yet populated Brockton Bay. Who knew, maybe he'd have even enjoyed partying a bit with them.
But, sadly, that wasn't a possibility. Director Piggot had given Armsmaster her orders and Armsmaster had given Kid Win his.
'Still...' He thought wistfully. 'Maybe there's a loophole? Armsmaster said to look for the chief Reapers. Maybe if I just flew around in a circle, stayed out of sight and tried not to draw-'
"LOOK OUT!"
SMASH!
Suddenly, a weight smashed into Kid Win's side, knocking him out of the sky and to the ground in a tumbling mess of limbs and metal and plastic and pain.
Finally, the world slowly stopped spinning as Kid WIn lay groaning on the ground. He slowly came to be aware of a laughing mass that was resting on his chest. He then became aware that said mass was laughing.
"Oh hohoho man that was AWESOME!"
Kid Win tilted his head up... and he took in the strikingly familiar hood that the figure was wearing. His blood ran cold as he made the connection. "Rune!?" He squeaked incredulously.
The teenage Empire cape merely giggled in response as she laid on his chest.
The Ward glanced around nervously in despair as he searched for any and all means of escape he could find. The last time he and Rune had fought, he'd managed to chase her off via an exceedingly cheap shot. One that she hadn't appreciated, judging by the way she'd been screaming bloody murder after him.
As hastily as he could, Kid Win scrambled to his feet, dragging Rune up with him. "L-l-look, Rune! I-I'm sorry about the whole dumpster thing, alright!? P-please don't try and kill me, the Reapers won't-!"
"What are you tawking about?" Rune snickered. Kid Win blinked in shock when he noticed how she was swaying on her feet slightly. He then stiffened in terror when she suddenly pressed herself up against him, running a hand over his chest. "Why wud I ever be angry at someone as cuuuute as you?"
At that point, three facts popped out at Kid Win. First, Rune was definitely slurring her words. Second, There was a pungent smell on her breath as it flowed from her mouth, which was waytoo close to his face. And third...
"Were you flying a surfboard?" He whimpered, incredulously eyeing the slab of plastic that was haphazardly lying next to his own hoverboard.
"Yup!" The teenage villain nodded eagerly. "I thought it would be fun! Kowabunga dude!" She threw a hand up in a shaka sign.
'Oh shit, she's drunk off her ass.' Kid Win mentally groaned. Out loud, he nervously placed his hands on the girl's shoulders. "L-listen, Rune, can you try and focus please?"
"Aww..." She pouted in exaggerated misery. "But I don't wanna!"
"Please try!" He hissed frantically, glancing around for any on-lookers. Luckily, no-one was paying them much attention. Apparently mid-air collisions were common amongst the Reapers. "Look, a-are you here with anyone, do you have a supervisor or-?"
Suddenly, a large and very heavy hand clamped down on his shoulder and squeezed, hard.
"Yes, she does, kleine Göre." A deep,heavily-accented German voice rumbled.
Slowly, shivering in terror, Kid Win craned his neck around and stared up at the person behind him.
He knew who it was. He recognized the silver shoulder spikes. He recognized the Nazi officer hat. And he definitely recognized the glowing red goggles, bordered on all sides by pitch black cloth.
"Krieg." He whispered in numb terror.
"Tell me, boy," The neo-nazi rumbled darkly, "How do you wish to die for the crime of injuring and embarrassing my beloved niece, hm? Swiftly? Or very, very slowly?"
Kid Win stared up at one of Kaiser's more ardent supporters fearfully, praying for some way out of the steaming hot mess he'd landed himself in.
Luckily, a way presented itself.
"Aw c'mon Unkie Krieg!" Rune giggled as she all but hung off of Kid Win's neck. "Don't stone him! He's really really cute! I wanna have some fun wit' him!"
Krieg stared down at the female Parahuman in silence for a moment before refocusing on Kid Win. "Allow me to make something clear to you, boy," He stated briskly."I allowed my niece to attend this... event because I believed her to be mature enough to handle herself. Apparently, I overestimated her alcohol tolerance. Luckily for you, she seems to have taken a liking to you. So long as this attachment remains, then you are safe. However..."
He leaned down until his glaring red lenses were mere inches away from Kid Win's mask. "Should that status be revoked for any reason whatsoever over the course of the night, I willpersonally chain your feet to a cinderblock and launch said block out over the bay. Am. I. Clear?"
All Kid Win could do was whimper miserably as he slowly nodded, actively fighting to keep his bladder under control.
"Enough talk!" Rune interrupted impatiently, clutching at one of Kid Win's hands and pointing towards the heart of the crowd. "Come! VE DANCE!"
Kid Win only had a single moment to lament his fate before he was all but yanked off his feet.
-o-
Unseen in the shadows of the party, a single individual was sitting in an obscured corner, a tophat sitting discarded at his side. Unlike most people would expect, the figure wasn't sad or sulking. He was... happy. Grinning contentedly as he watched the people dancing around.
"Hello?"
The figure's smile faded ever so slightly as he glanced down at the tablet that was sitting in his lap. Displayed upon it was the pale, gaunt face of a brown-haired woman.
"Hey..." The man whispered quietly.
"How does it look?" The woman asked quietly.
The man's smile returned ever-so-slightly. "See for yourself..." He held the tablet up, giving its camera a clear view of the party.
"Wow..." She breathed in awe. "It looks like they're having fun..."
"Yeah..." The man nodded in agreement before flipping the tablet around and forcing his smile o widen a bit. "And you'll be able to have fun like that too. When we get you fixed and we go home, alright? We'll be able to dance. Forever."
The woman was silent for a seemingly interminable amount of time before a ghost of a smile graced her lips.
"You promise?"
"Of course, I do..." The man slowly brought the tablet up and hugged it to his chest.
Hot tears ran down his cheeks as he hugged the woman as hard as he could.
"I promise..."
"...I love you, Krouse."
"... yeah. Me too, Noelle. Me too..."
-o-
Armsmaster marched imperiously through the crowd, watching as the party-goers solemnly parted before him.
'Alright, I've checked the food area, the gaming area, that fight ring they had set up... logically, I suppose there's only one place that remains...'
"The stage..." He muttered to himself.
He made to walk towards the source of the thumping music...
FWOOSH!
When the sound of fire flaring up behind him caused him to whip around and raise his halberd defensively.
He had a second to take in the purple and yellow fox that was floating at his eye-level before one of the multiple tattoo-tails swishing behind it languidly floated in front of his face and pressed itself on his helmet, between his eyes.
After that, the world was engulfed in tattoo-flames.
When the flames faded away, he had moved.
He was now on a rooftop bordering the stage-area with a clear line of sight to the party's main moshpit. Arrayed across the rooftop was a semi-circle of sofas, with one raised up slightly on a platform.
Laid out on one of the couches to Armsmaster's left was Gangsta, her legs kicked up on the couch's sidearm. On the right, sitting up with a high amount of poise, was a Reaper in a ball-room gown, her face covered by a porcelain opera mask. Standing behind the central couch was Grunge, tall and proud with his arms crossed behind his back. Two of his grizzlies were standing at both sides of the couch.
And there, laid back in the central couch, was the Composer, completing the stately aura of the locale.
"Hello, Armsmaster," The primary Reaper greeted cordially, gesturing at the fox Noise and causing it to drift towards her. "So sorry for the abrupt invitation, but several of my Reapers were starting to complain about how you were ruining their good times." Once the fox reached her side, she reached out and tapped it on the forehead, causing it to devolve into static and soak into her arm. Once she was done, she shuddered heavily and leaned back in her seat. "Damn I hate making those things. Stupid spatial warping, how the hell do Movers do it?"
Armsmaster stood up as tall as he could, steeling his back as he stared at the girl. "Composer," he stated with an air of definity.
"Yes yes, that's my name, don't wear it out," She waved a hand lackadaisically. "So! Would you like to sit down or remain standing? I'm sure you'll want to be comfortable. Sorry about the decor, I don't normally like things this... imperialistic, but, well..." The Composer cast a light glare at a snickering Gangsta. "That's what happens when you leave the small details to a friend and two particularly mischievous Undersiders."
The hero ignored her statement, instead choosing to watch her solemnly. "Composer. You are under arrest for disturbing the peace, inciting an unlawful assembly, illegal sale of alcohol without a license, and multiple counts of noise pollution. Please come quietly."
Almost instantly, the Composer and all her Reapers sat up in their seats, silently staring at the hero.
Finally, the Composer raised a hand and snapped her fingers. "Gangsta. Waltz. Go. Make sure everything is ready."
The female Reapers nodded in agreement, standing up simultaneously. Gangsta produced a pair of wings and took to the air while the other one, Waltz, strode towards the building's fire-escape.
The Composer glanced up at Grunge momentarily, but the Reaper shook his head with an air of finality. She responded by simply shrugging noncommittally before readdressing Armsmaster. "Please, Armsmaster, sit," She gestured at the couch on her right.
"I have no intention of sitting, Composer." He responded stiffly. "Please come with me. If you resist arrest, I can and will take you in by force."
The Composer was silent as she stared at him for a minute before raising her cane and tilting the brim of her hat down over her eyes. "Mister Armsmaster, let me be clear: this is our party. This place is under our authority, not yours. While you are here, you are here as our guest and you play by our rules. I just want to speak with you in a calm, cool and collected manner. But if you insist on inciting conflict while you are here..."
Grunge flashed his arms into claws, while the Grizzlies raised their hackles and flexed their claws.
"Then we shall meet brute force with brute force. So! One last time..." The Composer tilted her hat up just a bit, staring straight into Armsmaster's visor with cold indifference. "Sit. Down. Now."
Armsmaster stared at her in return before silently trudging towards the indicated couch and heavily dropping into it.
The Composer watched him solemnly for a moment before sighing and running a hand over her face. "I apologize, that was out of line. It's just... I've been so used to having my Reapers work alongside me willingly that I've had to... acclimate myself, if you will, to actively persuading others. I've started to learn that when the kind, persuasive way doesn't work, its just better to cut straight to the chase. I trust you understand?"
Armsmaster slowly nodded in agreement. "I... comprehend, I suppose. The villains of this city are far from reasonable."
"Nononono!" The Composer groaned, grimacing under her scarf as she ground the heel of her palm into her hand. "Damn it all Armsmaster, I thought you were better than that!" She sighed heavily as she cast a tired glare at the hero. "You're falling into the trap!"
"Trap?" The Tinker questioned.
"Yes!" The Reaper threw her hands up in exasperation. "The same trap Piggot and the PRT and most of the people of the world have fallen into! 'The villains' you call them! You're talking about them as though they're a breed of their own! You're dehumanizing them! You make it impossible to negotiate, to find a middle way that keeps everyone happy, by seeing them as monsters!"
"And what of Lung or Kaiser?" Armsmaster questioned accusingly. "Or Skidmark or Bakuda? What do you suggest? That we try and 'negotiate' with them? With killers, murderers of the highest order?"
"I'm not saying that they're not bad. They are criminals, of that there is no doubt. But they are criminals of a far lesser scale when compared to the true monsters of the world, such as Nilbog or the Nine. They're dangerous humans... but they're not monsters. Humans with families, likes and dislikes..." She sat up and looked Armsmaster in his visor once anew. "Hate their crimes, sure. But try not to hate them."
Armsmaster hung his head quietly as he mulled over her statement before looking up again. "I still need to arrest you, Composer. You have committed the crimes I cited."
The Composer exaggeratedly rolled her eyes, moving her head to show it. "Yes yes, you have a job to do, except... you're wrong on one point. The Reapers are guilty of no crimes."
"Wrong. Distur-"
"Yes, yes, yes," The Composer waved a hand dismissively. "But!" She jabbed her cane at him. "There's a little something you don't know. Namely... a few forms in the city's digital bureaucracy, signed by an 'Aria Melody'."
Armsmaster jerked his gloves for a bit, digging around in City Hall's database until he finally found the relevant documents.
A quick read-through caused his mouth to run dry.
"I trust that everything is in order?" The Composer asked innocently.
The Tinker stared at her in shock, his mouth working helplessly. "How- Why didn't anyone know!?"
The teenage Parahuman shrugged languidly. "It must have been a government oversight, I suppose. After all, Chicago and Tattletale are quite good at finding the cracks and openings in the system. Don't worry though, on paper everything was well and truly legal."
The hero ground his teeth in frustration. "And off paper!?" He demanded.
The Composer tapped her cane against her scarf before nodding in agreement. "To quote a phrase often used by my good friend Gangsta: 'you can't prove jack shit.'"
Armsmaster's grip on his halberd tightened dramatically as his mind searched for a solution.Any solution. "I can still pin the noise pollutions charges on you."
The Composer rolled her eyes again in derision. "Well technically, noise pollution is only afineable offense, but very well, if you insist!" She stuck her wrists out towards him. "Take me away! Lock me up and throw away the key!"
Armsmaster got up, started to reach for the handcuffs in his utility belt...
"Yes. Arrest me for noise pollution and take me back to the PRT through the crowd of people, both normal and Parahuman, who are enjoying the party we're throwing. Say, run the numbers for me, will you? Just how many do you think will have smartphones with internet connections?"
When he was floored by her following statement.
The Composer crossed her arms as she stared the hero down. "Let's be honest here, Armsmaster. The one thing that both the Protectorate and PRT have in common? The two first letters of their names that rule them with an iron fist. If you try and take me? You can kiss any and all public support goodbye."
Armsmaster's jaw twitched imperceptibly. "That's a guess. Not a definitive fact."
"No no no, it's a highly likely possibility!" She corrected before standing up and striding towards the edge of the rooftop. The Composer then swept her arm out, gesturing with her cane at the crowd. "Come, look and behold!"
Armsmaster frowned as he watched her cautiously, assigning a hidden camera in his helmet to keep watch on Grunge, who hadn't moved an inch the whole time. "Revelations 6:1 to 6:8, heralding the arrival of each of the Four Horsemen."
The Composer tilted her head slightly as she glanced back at him. Glimmering in her eyes was the tiniest, nigh non-existent spark of madness. "Heralding the end of an era. Tattletale recommended it. I find it fitting. You?"
Armsmaster didn't respond. He merely stepped up, looked out into the moshpit... and stared.
Stared as he watched a clearly drunk Dauntless and Victor all but dragging a clearly reluctant Night and Fog across the dance floor.
Stared as he watched Battery being carried across the top of the crowd on the hands of the dancers.
Stared as he watched Mush slowly melt out of a pile of debris and garbage he'd morphed into an intricate pillar, to the applause of the onlooking Reapers.
Stared as he watched Velocity dancing around wildly.
Stared as he watched Othala knock back shot after shot alongside an extravagant Lady Photon, a sulking Brandish and Purity.
Stared as he watched Glory Girl holding up a fully-armored Gallant in front of Hip and Hop as they gave what appeared to be a very exuberant interview.
Stared as he watched Tattletale needle a meek and skittish Panacea onto the dance-floor.
"Do you see, Armsmaster?" The Composer breathed lightly. "Reaper, hero, villain, it doesn't matter. Tonight, we crush any and all boundaries. Tonight, no one cares about who's who."
"The Director-"
"Addendum: No one who matters. Listen, Armsmaster..." She turned and raised an eyebrow at him. "You're a great hero. You've got a nigh flawless track record that no one can possibly deny. One night. Just one night of slacking off, of relaxing and rejoicing and celebrating... that won't hurt anyone! Just for tonight... can't you let things go?"
Armsmaster stared at her contemplatively for a second... before turning to face the other Reaper on the roof. "Grunge, correct? You... work for the PRT?"
The muscle-bound man hesitated slightly before nodding in confirmation. "Yes sir."
"...why did you join the Reapers?"
Grunge was silent for a moment before reaching up and tipping his hat down. "I believe in the PRT sir. I believe in the work we do and I believe in the good men and women that I serve alongside with. That being said..." He raised his head, a defiant gleam in his eyes. "I feel I haven't violated the oaths I took in any way, shape or form. I have not divulged classified information, provided false information, coordinated sabotage... and I have not willingly fraternized with wanted villains. The Reapers aren't villains... they're just the Reapers. Sir."
Armsmaster didn't respond. He merely bowed his head in thought for a full minute. Finally, he raised his head, faced the Composer...
When a ringing noise came from Grunge's pocket. The Reaper whipped the device out of his pocket and pressed it to his ear. "Hello?... got it." He hung up and looked at his boss. "They're ready."
The chief Reaper sighed sadly as she turned back to face the stage. "My apologies, Armsmaster, but our time is up. The crescendo of tonight's performance is nigh and I'm needed elsewhere. But please..." She shot him a mirthful look. "Please. Feel free to enjoy the show."
Before Armsmaster could react, a burst of static erupted from the Composer's lower back, coalescing into a trio of swishing tattoo-fox tails before she was engulfed in a burst of flames.
Armsmaster stared at where the Reaper had been moments before, right up until a heavy hand fell on his shoulder.
"Better get comfy," Grunge grunted. "After all... this is gonna be one helluva show."
-o-
Chanson tapped her foot idly as she stood at the back of the stage, watching the crowd move all around her and the DJs and renegade Ward play with the controls arrayed before them. "You're certain that everything is set up properly?" She spoke into the phone she was holding.
"Yes, yes, it's all hooked up," Waltz responded in exasperation.
"Good, good, just make sure that ruffian Gangsta doesn't damage my investment, hmm? I will be ever so cross if she ruins this. I wouldn't want to have to-"
"Chanson? You're starting to go to the creepy cutthroat-business-mode place."
"Ahem!" The fashionable Reaper hastily readjusted her mask. "Right, well then, let's just pray everything goes according to plan! After all, it's showtime!"
"Alright, got it. Good luck!"
"You too!" Chanson clicked her phone off and flashed a thumbs-up at DJ Synth who nodded in acknowledgment before nudging his partner. The two grinned at each other eagerly before simultaneously hitting switches on their controls.
Nigh instantaneously, the lights and music throughout the party died out, plunging the show into silence and darkness, save for the relatively scant luminescence provided by the streetlights and storefronts.
"Attention partygoers!" Chiptune announced whole-heartedly.
"Sorry to put a momentary damper on festivities, but we've gotta set the stage!" Synth agreed wholeheartedly. "See, this whole time, we've been setting up for a coup-de-grace, a final crescendo for tonight!"
"So right here and right now, we ask you all to direct your attention to the stage or the screen so generously provided to us by Uber and Leet so that you can watch the spectacle unfold! Literally!"
"But first! Any good event requires an appropriate soundtrack! So please please please put your hands together for one of the newest inclusions to our ranks!"
"The one!"
"The only!"
"Ladyyyy Freeeestyyyyyle!" They concluded in unison, gesturing towards the back of the stage, where an array of spotlights lit up, their beams framing a woman who had seemingly appeared from thin air.
Hip and Hop dropped out of the darkness, hovering around her and directing their camera to acquire the female Reaper's best angles.
The woman's body was shrouded in a silky, tailored black robe that seemed to hang off her body. A thin veil of black-fabric hung in front of her mouth. A bandana was tied over her shoulder-length black hair, which was tightly braided against her skull.
Slowly, languidly, she strode up towards the front of the stage, moving in such a way that was only attainable via much, much practice.
Reaching the DJs, she held a hand out, into which they promptly placed a microphone. She swept her gaze about the hushed crowd, brought the device to her mouth, and then...
She began to sing.
The sound of her voice was... captivating. Beyond amazing. The whole of the crowd was silent as they listened to the awe-inspiring product of the woman's vocal cords.
And then...
"CAAAW!"
It happened. From behind the buildings that lay behind the stage rose the massive form of Gangsta's nigh trademark Cornix Canor, flying straight up into the sky. In its talons, it carried a massive contraption of metal, composed of a trio of spools arranged in a triangular manner, each containing a large bolt of white cloth. As the avian Noise ascended, the cloth unfurled behind it, leaving a trail of blinding white in its path that was illuminated by a number of searchlights that lit up and illuminated the Cornix and its trail as it rose.
It rapidly rose for a few dozen yards until it finally started to slow down.
-o-
"Alright, slow down, slow down," Waltz shouted over the sound of the wind rushing around them. "We've got about forty yards in each bolt and we're starting to run out!"
"Got it!" Gangsta nodded in agreement, mentally ordering her mount to decrease its flapping.
"Alright, almost, almost... aaaaand... alright, that's all of it! Stop here!" Waltz stuck her hand out. "Now... a bit to the left... bit forward... there we go!" She smirked successfully as she watched the walls of cloth fall dead on the stage. "Perfect!"
"Hot damn..." The older Reaper whistled. "How're you doing that? I thought you could only control so much cloth?"
"Normally, yeah, but this is just cloth, unshaped and unformed and I just need to keep it straight. Easy enough. Now hush!" The grin was self-evident in Waltz's voice. "The real fun is just starting."
-o-
For a long moment, there was nothing but silence. Then...
FWOOSH!
A bonfire of tattoo-flames sprung up at the forefront of the stage, just behind Freestyle, who didn't stop singing for a moment.
And when the flames dissipated...
The crowd erupted in cheers as the Composer spread her arms in greeting.
She held an arm out towards the DJs, who dropped a microphone into her open palm.
"HELLOOOOOO PEOPLE OF BROCKTON BAY!" She called out, waving at Hip and Hop's camera as it flew around her. "AND HELLO MY FELLOW REAPERS!"
The cheers and cries of adulation rang out throughout the Boardwalk, and the city as a whole.
"Now then!" The Composer chuckled merrily. "I hope you've all been enjoying the festivities as much as we have! Now then..." She started to stride around the stage victoriously. "Tonight has been a night whose entire focus has been based on and around freedom. We have had music! We have had fun and games, and all manner of entertainment of which you can possibly conceive! But... there has been one aspect of us Reapers, one crucial keystone that we have failed to properly demonstrate!"
The Composer gestured at the triangular pillar of cloth arrayed behind her. "Our art! And, sadly, in recent times, I myself have been remiss in the introduction of any of my own works, content to allow my Reapers to display their skills! Well!"
She stepped up to the cloth, casting a content smirk at the onlookers as she went. "It is high time that I rectify this horrid misstep, and in a most spectacular fashion befitting of the crescendo for tonight's performance! And so, without further ado!"
She tossed the microphone back to the DJs before turning back to the cloth, smiling at it eagerly.
"Enjoy..." She breathed under her breath before burying her hands in the fabric.
She felt it instantly: Sound, painstakingly woven within and throughout the entirety of the cloth. Blank, untouched and untamed. Awaiting for a wave from the proper conductor's baton to toss them headlong into the throes of energy.
It was like reawakening a sleeping limb. All she had to do was reach out... and...
Flex.
The reaction was instantaneous.
Each side of the cloth pillar lit up with a dazzling array of colors. Pattern and design after pattern and design flowed across the cloth like a cascade of water. Colors and shapes and pictures, one after another after another. An unending display of vivid, vibrant fractal and abstract works.
Suddenly, words in unique, stylistic fonts began to display themselves.
FREEDOM IS WITHIN US ALL!
YOU JUST NEED TO FIND IT!
REACH OUT AND TAKE IT!
FIGHT FOR IT!
REAP IT!
The display continued for almost a full minute, the holographic screen showing the masterpiece off to the the city as a whole.
When it finally ended, all there was was silence... and then...
Brockton Bay erupted in cheers, and the party renewed itself tenfold.
-o-
Piggot breathed heavily through her nose as she stood by the Gala's windows, watching as the lights and music spread out from the Boardwalk, the city as a whole waking up and joining in on the festivities.
She didn't even turn to watch as Glenn strode up next to her.
The PR official raised an eyebrow as he watched the streets come to life, idly plucking shrimp out of the cocktail he was carrying.
"I believe..." He stated neutrally. "That this constitutes as checkmate."
SMASH!
"You're acquiring a bad habit for breaking glass with your bare hands, you know that?"