Pre-Readers: QAI520, Ando Owen, SpellLoyal, NephyrisX, Rejnka, Revan64
Jacob
When Mannequin notified him that the Simurgh acted strangely in some remote, backwater town, it got his attention.
When he found the Fallen in the same vicinity, he was intrigued.
And when he heard that their God wanted someone dead, he was fascinated.
Most would have elected to stay away from any place the Simurgh marked. It was just common sense.
But that was why they were so utterly dull.
For him, it was a breath of fresh air- a break in his life that had become so repetitive.
Sure, the Simurgh had always been unpredictable. But she had never acted so directly or so strangely.
The reason for her deviation?
So that she… an Endbringer… could hire her worshippers as assassins. He could still remember how he laughed so hard at the news that even his poppet looked at him strangely.
They just didn't get it. They didn't see why this was so fucking hilarious.
The Simurgh!
The Hopekiller herself!
Was afraid of a little girl.
If the Simurgh wanted someone dead, all she would have needed to do was move a toaster here, unlock a door there, and a skyscraper would have fallen crashing down on her target's head on the other side of the world.
She could have killed the girl just as easily in the same manner.
But she didn't.
Or rather, couldn't.
But why? Was the girl immune to precogs? Or was she just too strong for the Simurgh's usual methods to work? But if that were true, why didn't the Simurgh act directly?
After all, no single parahuman could match an Endbringer other than Scion. Why waste time with the Fallen when she could just kill the girl herself?
Because she couldn't.
Or, more likely, because it was too dangerous to do so.
The idea itself sounded crazy. Even to him.
But something in him… something in his mind told him it was true.
That same instinct had always advised him, helping him avoid dangerous situations. He had always listened to it as it had saved his team from trouble.
But when he watched the video of her fight against Lung, he couldn't help but be intrigued. At his greatest, it was said that Lung could drive back Leviathan. So what did that make the girl who so easily destroyed him?
Furthermore, it wasn't just her brute force and power that he found fascinating.
The way she fought. The way she moved. The way she fucking spoke.
They all exuded nobility. Pure and untainted, like she had emerged from the pages of a child's fairy tale.
The girl was so clean that it should have pissed him off. But it didn't.
After all, unsullied white was the best canvas for black.
From how Mannequin pressed the Nine to visit Brockton Bay, even the terse Tinker seemed eager to ruin her.
More than anything, he wondered. Could the girl kill an Endbringer? Was that why the Simurgh was afraid? The possibility should have frightened him. But at that time, all he felt was exhilaration.
He would never admit it, but his life was getting dull. Things that raced his heart in the past now couldn't even get it to skip a beat. You could play only so many games before even his favorite became boring.
But if he were to challenge the Simurgh… Not directly, of course. He wasn't suicidal. But if he were to be able to mastermind her death…
Just the thought made him shiver as the thrill intoxicated him. Now THAT was a challenge. One that would bring the infamy of the Nine to another level.
He imagined a Knight, as noble as legend, bestowing hope upon the world by slaying the monster that killed it. Only to fall like the disgraced Lancelot and take the Endbringer's place as a demon with a soul blacker than the devil's.
What a fantastic story it could be.
...
On the rooftop of what was once a store, Jack let out a sigh of appreciation as he watched the projected screen.
He knew she was dangerous. Had been counting on it even. Otherwise, how could she ever hope to be the protagonist of his story?
But there was a difference between knowing and seeing.
"Marvelous," he breathed out, quiet awe filling his voice when he witnessed the girl charge through a minefield at a minimum speed of Mach 23. Jack fell into deep thought, spinning Mannequin's severed head on the tip of his finger.
"W-was I… right?" Stammered the Fallen precog he had borrowed from the cultists- although without permission or consent and no plans to make a return. His voice was tinged with desperation, as if he was praying rather than asking.
"Yup! Congrats! You're free now!" Jack beamed, his grin spreading from ear to ear.
"Oh? Oh… Thank god," he gasped, clasping his bloodied, fingerless hands together in prayer. And just as the man's eyes began to fill with hope, Jack flicked his knife, and his power tore a cut on the man's jugular. Not deep enough for heavy bleeding but not shallow enough for him to survive. The depth was just right for inflicting prolonged suffering while ensuring the victim did not survive.
"Just kidding! Wrong again," Jack mocked, kicking the dying man to the side as he grasped his neck, trying to stem the flow of his lifeblood.
The precog had made eleven predictions. But for a Thinker whose power was to see a person's chance of death and to know how to increase it, he was terrible at predicting Saber's.
And for each prediction that failed to come true, he took a finger to incentivize the man to do his utmost best. Ten predictions later, there were no more fingers to take. So, at the eleventh, he took his life.
Seeing the precog's initial look of confidence morph into despair had been particularly entertaining, a fitting appetizer for the main course to come.
But while he had fun seeing the man fumble, what he learned was quite substantial.
Artoria Pendragon could not be pre-cogged.
At least, not in any meaningful way.
Jack had suspected it. After all, the Simurgh would have no reason to fear the girl if she could predict her actions. But now, his hypothesis was a certified fact.
A satisfied chuckle erupted from his throat as delight coursed through his veins.
Speed that outclassed Movers.
Immunity to precognition.
Brute and Blaster powers that outmatched Lung's.
She had a chance…
She actually had a chance to kill the Simurgh.
A shiver coursed down Jack's spine as imagined a dream converging into reality- the birth and fall of a hero. Gently placing Mannequin's head down, he eagerly reached for his phone. Saber had passed his tests with flying colors. Now, the moment of their meeting had finally arrived.
This fucking brat, he swore to himself, anger still boiling within his heart. While he had managed to calm himself, the bite of her words still stung. But the sting was nowhere near as painful as the embarrassment of losing a verbal spar.
But regardless of what he thought, he had to continue to proceed with stability.
"I'm sure you have a ton of questions. I'll answer them, promise. But first… mind sharing with the class why the Simurgh wants you dead?" Jack calmly inquired, even though he was already aware of the answer.
To the Endbringer, Saber posed an existential threat—a presence that needed to be eliminated. The true question he wanted to ask, however, was whether the girl herself understood that the feathered bitch wanted her head.
He scrutinized her through the lenses of Mannequin's camera, one of the last mementos left behind by the Tinker before Jack had the Siberian tear him apart. He tried to decipher her body language, but the girl had such control over her physical form that he couldn't discern a twitch. Moreover, her full-body armor only made getting a read of her harder.
Was she afraid? Angry? Worried?
He couldn't tell, and his failures frustrated him to no end.
"I warned you not to cloak your words in nonsense," Saber snarled, looking every bit at the danger she was. "If you have no wish to answer, fine. I will find you wherever you hide. And this city and its people shall have their justice."
Jack frowned. Was she playing stupid? Or was she actually oblivious? Fuck… He couldn't read her at all.
"I see… Then let's talk. Face to face," Jack proposed. Perhaps meeting her in the flesh would make her easier to read. "But for now… Please enjoy our hospitality."
He squeezed the trigger, detonating the remaining hidden bombs within the sewer.
A colossal mushroom cloud of dust and light immediately painted the night sky, resembling a second sun as the remaining explosives hidden within the sewers were detonated. Moments later, a ground-shaking boom reverberated across the city, the shockwaves reaching even the spot where he stood, miles away.
"The hell was that?" Cherish snidely said from behind, a mischievous glint dancing in her eyes, barely hidden behind her smirk. "You're losing your touch."
"No need to worry," he chuckled, his words flowing effortlessly once more as if a block had been lifted. "If she were that easy to kill, the feathered bitch above would've turned her into another Mannequin instead of hiding away in orbit."
Even Alexandria wouldn't have escaped that trap unscathed. But for some reason, there was no doubt in his mind that Saber would survive.
"You know that's not what I'm getting at."
"Oh? Do enlighten me," he chimed, playfully twirling one of his blades in hand.
"She just kicked your—"
"It just occurred to me," he interrupted. "We're already at nine, aren't we? Should our valiant Knight decide to join us, I might need to rethink our name. 'The Ten' doesn't quite have the right ring to it. It lacks a certain…. Je ne sais quoi. A dearth of impact. Wouldn't you agree? But if we're not keen on changing our name… any suggestions?"
"You killed Mannequin," she pointed out, suddenly wary. "We're at eight."
"So, I did. But I say he's still with us," Jack sighed in sadness, pointing at the Tinker's remains. "In both head and spirit." Mannequin had been one of the more permanent members of his group, not to mention one of the more valuable. Killing him off was regretful, but the man was a Ziz bomb. Not the healthiest person to have around when your plans involved the Simurgh. "And I liked him better than you."
Cherish's pretty face turned a shade of pale as she involuntarily stepped back, recognizing the threat for what it was. She fell into a tense silence.
"Oh, it wasn't a rhetorical question, dear. Do answer," he instructed, a faint smile tugging on his lips.
"… You need me," she murmured, as if trying to bolster her own confidence.
With a casual flick of his knife, his power deftly clipped the top of her ear. To her credit, she barely flinched, letting out only a slight wince as a trickle of blood traced its path down her cheek.
"Tsk, tsk. Give it another try," he taunted. In truth, she wasn't entirely wrong. Her abilities would prove indispensable in keeping Saber under control, at least for the time being. Admitting that, however, would be the act of an imbecile. It was best to keep the woman doubting her self-worth, only to prevent her from having any ideas.
Besides, after that insufferable tete-a-tete, he needed an outlet to vent his frustration.
"Oh, oh! I know!" Bonesaw's voice echoed with childlike excitement, raising her hand like an eager schoolgirl vying for the teacher's approval. "Let's do a 1+1! Then we can still be the Nine!"
"Brilliant idea, poppet!" He chimed in, feigning pride as he playfully ruffled her hair. "That's my girl, always full of suggestions! So, what's your take?" He asked, his gaze shifting briefly to Cherish with a grin too wide to be comforting.
Cherish, however, appeared far from amused. She maintained a face of composure. But the telltale beads of sweat tracing paths through the rivulets of blood and the once-perfectly painted lips draining of color, along with her eyes darting left and right as if searching for an escape route, told a different story altogether.
"I…" Her voice wavered, teetering on the precipice of uncertainty.
"Ah~ I'm just teasing," he laughed, slapping his thigh in delight. "You should've seen your face! Did you think I was serious? Relax, my dear. I do enjoy my little jests, but even I won't cut a friend. Well, not too deeply anyway," he added, glancing at the woman's missing bit of ear and Mannequin's head.
Heartbreaker's spawn mustered a strained grin, a twisted imitation of her usual allure that clashed grotesquely against her otherwise lovely features.
"Awww," Bonesaw pouted, a disappointed whine escaping her lips.
His hand reached out, finding its place in Bonesaw's hair once more, tenderly tousling it as he concealed his relief behind a mask of smiles.
Words had always flowed effortlessly for him. It was his gift- a skill he valued over his power. All he ever needed was the right word at the right moment, and he could make anyone dance.
But…
Against Saber… Nothing came to him.
His tongue, which should have moved as smoothly as a marble gliding across a polished surface, felt like it was trudging through a swamp of tar.
He had fucked up before. But never to this extent.
Already, a rift was forming within his team. He could feel the glances on his back whenever his team thought he wasn't looking, their eyes quizzical and judgmental in equal value.
As the leader of a group like the Nine, it was paramount that he remained infallible. It was the linchpin that held the team together. But his recent humiliating stumble had nudged the first domino, and now everything he had built threatened to cascade into complete ruin.
Even Cherish, that cowardly bitch, smelled weakness like a shark to blood and latched on.
Thankfully, he had managed to put her down with his usual eloquence, but the damage had been done.
"She survived," Shatterbird reported, her eyes on a tablet displaying surveillance footage from one of Bonesaw's drones. "She even got Bakuda out. Left her by some building. Didn't we stick a couple of bombs in her head? How the fuck did the brat save her?"
"Ain't she the poster child for heroism," he muttered with a hint of disappointment. It would have served him better if the bomb tinker had died. That way, he would have another point of attack on Saber's moral armor.
"Did she find the garden bridge? Did she? Did she?" Bonesaw's voice brimmed with excitement. "Hurry, turn on the lights!"
Ah, the garden bridge. He personally found it tacky and somewhat tasteless, not to mention that secretly abducting and crucifying the ABB grunts and their families had taken forever. He personally would have preferred impaling them. It would have been easier too. But Bonesaw argued that she was too 'young' for something so vulgar.
Regardless of his protégé's peculiarities, seeing two parallel rows of crucified humans creating a road to where they were would have shaken anyone, much less a wealthy, privileged little girl.
Did he say wealthy? Cause he meant insanely wealthy if the numbers that Mannequin found were anything to go by.
Seriously… Who the fuck had that much in gold?
Bonesaw had even implanted lightbulbs through their victim's eyes and used their bioelectricity to power them. Saber should have been terrified at the sight, shaken and disturbed regardless of her power, making it easier for him to get inside her head. Everything, including the tacky holiday lightings to do the bombs in Bakuda's orifices, had been for that sole purpose.
Cherish suddenly flinched, her eyes dilating. "Holy shit," she blinked. "Yeah. The brat saw it all right. And she is pissed. Damn. I can feel that."
A scowl etched onto his face as another one of his plans fell apart. To make matters worse, it backfired in the worst possible way. Instead of facing an intimidated schoolgirl vulnerable to manipulation, he would meet an enraged blonde Behemoth.
He had misjudged her. Badly.
He considered abandoning everything. Nothing seemed to be going right. He should retreat and—
No… It wasn't over yet.
"Get the hostages ready," he ordered Cherish, his voice carrying an undercurrent of urgency. "You know the drill. Poppet, port back to your lab. I need you to man the teleportation beacon." While Bonesaw could have been a helpful meat shield, the teleporter was Mannequin's tech. He needed another Tinker to ensure it would work seamlessly if things turned to shit.
Both girls did as they were told. The older moved towards the back, and the younger disappeared with a flash of light.
Contrary to popular belief, he was cautious. He always probed and assessed before launching an attack, preferring to target cities with well-known parahumans rather than those hidden in obscurity. The latter always carried the risk of unpleasant surprises.
While not following his usual cautionary habits, he had prepared backup plans over backup plans. The Nine should be able to leave without a casualty regardless of—
A crack of thunder sliced through his thoughts, a billowing cloud of dust erupting a dozen meters away as the day's guest star descended like a meteor from the sky.
Speak of the devil.
The Nine reacted with practiced fluidity, snapping into attention and battle readiness. Siberian clasped a hand on his shoulder, granting him invulnerability. Crawler stood by his side, grinning from ear to ear at the prospect of battle. The rest stood behind him, ready to assist the moment a fight broke out.
He grinned, maintaining an image of arrogant confidence. They were the Slaughterhouse Nine- a disaster equal to Endbringers. Yet, facing the diminutive child before him, he could not help but feel a trickle of cold sweat pouring down his back.
Artoria Pendragon.
She was dangerous- a risk that he always tried to avoid.
But as the adage goes, the greater the risk, the greater the prize.
And what a prize she'll be.
Before she could charge, he raised his hand, twirling the detonation trigger so Saber could clearly see it. The implied threat was clear.
Artoria halted mid-stride, lowering her invisible sword that would have probably been halfway to his head if he had been a second slower. "Fiend," she spat, her entire body shaking with volcanic rage.
"Well, well, that's a novelty. Usually, it's bastard, bitch, or monster. Though, the hurtful words typically come after the begging," he remarked with a chuckle as he struggled to maintain a veneer of nonchalance amid the tension.
"You dare laugh?!" Saber roared in rage, her cry reverberating across the night sky. "Just what of this madness is so humorous?!"
He opened his mouth, ready to spit out his customary retorts. But, once again, his tongue failed him.
Fuck… Was she disrupting his cognition with a power? No… He was immune to Master powers.
"Why does anything?" He replied instead, his mind racing to salvage the situation. "Humor is just a human invention, unique to an individual. Though, I can sympathize. Just as you find my tastes abhorrent, I find yours and your kind's to be dreadfully boring."
Not his best work, but acceptable.
"But, regardless of philosophy," he continued without pause, knowing the importance of maintaining control over the conversation. "I believe I owe you some explanations."
"Unnecessary," she spat, her disdain palpable. "Nothing intelligent can come from that opening you call a gullet. Watching you pretend as you squirm is a painful sight to witness. So, hold your tongue. And fall to hell."
You bitch, he almost snarled.
"Well, that's just rude," he smirked instead, dramatically holding his hand over his chest like an arrow had struck his heart. "Listen, I know you're angry. I bet you're itching to give us the Lung treatment. But let's have a civilized talk. It's important to you. I promise."
"Civilized? Have you no shame!? I have nothing to say from a madman, even less to hear. Drop the trigger. Face me in battle. It is nine to one. You can't be craven enough to find even these odds unacceptable."
He palmed the detonator, rubbing his thumb over the trigger warningly. "What if I say I'll push this button unless you listen? This thing is a hair trigger. Even a muscle spasm is enough to set off the rest of the bombs in the city."
"And if I listen, will you relinquish the trigger? When it is the only reason why you draw breath? Do not take me for a fool. Even if I complied, you will ask for something else afterward. I will not be blackmailed. If the city dies, I will avenge," Saber vowed.
A flicker of surprise danced across his eyes. Honestly, that had been exactly what he had been planning. His plan revolved around compelling the girl to cooperate by leveraging the lives of thousands. That way, he could put the first cracks in her moral armor.
"Fair enough. Let's try something else," he proposed before signaling to his team. Since his initial plan failed, he would have to adopt.
Promptly, Cherish appeared, maneuvering a cart loaded with people bound together. "These fine fellows here are the extras—those we couldn't use as streetlights because we ran out of space. As long as you listen, regardless of what happens, I'll release them," he lied. "I have no reason to lie. As long as I have this trigger, I don't need them."
Her fist tightened even further in anger at the sight of her fellow man, cowering in their bonds. For a while, Saber remained silent as she contemplated, obviously not trusting a single word he said. "And what reason do I have to believe you?"
He sighed. "I could kill them one at a time. Crawler—"
"Stop," she interjected angrily, her voice reluctant. "I'll listen. But be brief. What is it that you want?"
Jack almost snorted. While she said she would listen, her entire body resembled a loaded gun, ready to fire when she saw a chance.
He took a deep breath before releasing it as a sigh. This was it. The moment that the challenge truly began. His performance hadn't been clean, but he had done well enough so far. He just needed to keep it up.
"I want you to kill the Simurgh."
A stunned silence followed.
"… What are you scheming?" She finally asked, suspicion radiating off in waves from her five-foot-tall body.
"Didn't catch that? I'll say it again. I want you. To kill. The Simurgh," he responded, carefully enunciating each word.
"Do not squander my patience with empty words," she scowled. "I know who you are. Of your kind. You see people not as individuals but as pawns to further your own vanity. Why would a monster in all but form want to kill an Endbringer?"
"First a 'what'. Then a 'why'. Will a 'who', 'when', and' how' follow?" He chuckled as he pondered her reaction. Odd…
Most would've focused on the 'how' of killing an Endbringer rather than questioning the 'why' behind his proposition.
'Impossible', 'you're insane', and etcetera, etcetera.
Those were the words he had expected. But rather than disbelief, all he saw in the girl was confidence, as if there was no doubt in her mind that a battle against an Endbringer would end in her victory.
Normally, he would have thought her a different kind of crazy. But considering what he knew, her confidence had a different meaning.
"Would you believe me if I said I wanted to atone? To do some good after all the bad I did?" He inquired innocently.
All that returned was a gaze of disbelief. He could practically hear her featureless helmet saying 'bullshit.'
"Fine… It's because I don't have a fucking choice," he began, starting the story he had crafted.
"This senseless devastation. This insanity. A thousand dead. More wounded. And that is your excuse?" Saber snarled.
"Senseless? Not at all. You see, that's where you're wrong. All this murder. Chaos. I did it for you. For us. So that we can have a chance at that winged bitch above."
"Audacious wretch," she scorned, ablaze with anger. "You dare to make such a claim? I've heard enough. Honor your word and release—"
"Did you know?" He interrupted. "You were supposed to die during those bombings. That's what our precog promised almost a dozen times. But you're still alive. Do you know what that means? It means that you're immune to precogs."
Saber stilled as understanding seemed to dawn on her. "The bombings… That was all a test?"
"Bingo! And if we add in your other powers, you become a credible threat to the angel above."
Saber shook her head. "Even if every word you utter is true, it does not explain your motive. Nor is your rationale adequate to stay my blade. So, explain. Why this was so necessary?"
"A few months ago. Way before anyone even heard of you. The Simurgh wanted you dead," he smoothly lied. Or maybe he was telling the truth? Regardless, what was true or false didn't matter. She didn't need to believe the story he made. All that mattered was to ensure that Saber became wary of the Endbringer. That way, the two would inevitably collide as each hunted the other. And when they did, he would watch with glee.
"Impossible," she immediately rebuffed. "A year ago, I wasn't…" Her voice trailed off.
"A parahuman? Even if you weren't one then, the Simurgh can see the future in ways no one else can. And whatever she saw. It scared her. So much so that she would rather force people to be her assassin than fight you herself," he said truthfully.
"And you are that assassin?"
"One of," he corrected. "The Fallen are the only ones I know with the same mission. But I'm certain that there are others." The best lies always had a bit of truth in them. While the Simurgh never recruited his team as he claimed, it was true that the Fallen was aiming for her head. As long as Saber discovered that bit of truth, she would begin to wonder if the rest of his words were honest.
"Then why haven't you? I would assume that you believe that killing me would be easier than killing an Endbringer."
Believe? She talked as if the Simurgh was the easier target.
"This isn't about difficulty. It's not about being easy. It's because I'm Jack fucking Slash. I'm not a puppet to some bitch's whims. To move and kill whoever she wants! I'm the conductor, not the orchestra! Nobody controls me. And anyone delusional enough to try is a walking corpse!" He snarled, allowing his expression to morph into a believable rage.
This time, he didn't even need to lie. The thought of being another's tool made him want to puke. So much so that he would rather die than take that kind of humiliation.
"So. In the end. It is your inflated ego," Saber spat disdainfully. "How petty."
Jack sneered, contempt dripping from his words. "And so what? You think the world will care about the 'why' when we pluck the Simurgh's feathers? Regardless of motive, we all get what we want in the end. I get my freedom. You get to be the world's greatest hero. The one who brings hope by killing the bitch that kills it."
Saber scornfully scoffed. "There is one thing that you misunderstand. I do not require the aid of a monster to kill another monster. You claim that the Simurgh fears me? Then she is far wiser than you. Were you to possess a fragment of her wisdom, you'd have stayed distant from where I stand. At the very least, you'd have stood a better chance against her."
Arrogant. Unbelievably arrogant.
But he believed her. Maybe it was the way she spoke. Or maybe her Master power was getting past his immunity. Regardless of the cause, he didn't doubt that she could do exactly what she claimed.
"How many lives are you willing to bet? How many cities?" He pressed. "Don't be stupid. I've had time to prepare. I know you're strong, but every knight needs soldiers. I can give them to you. An army capable of killing an Endbringer."
While he didn't have an army, Bonesaw could make one.
"If you had such an army, why waste your time with me?" Saber asked s keptically.
"Because it's a fucking Endbringer," he seethed, letting irritation and anger rise to his throat. "There is no such thing as enough when the goddamn Simurgh is your opponent! I need every weapon and advantage, and so do you!"
His voice trembled as emotions sang with his words. It was an unfamiliar sensation. Thoroughly unpleasant. But he had to fake the emotion and passion for the girl to buy the story.
"Join me," he continued. "Join the Nine. Not for my sake, or yours. But for the people around you. What can be more heroic than killing an Endbringer? I can help you be the greatest hero, loved more than anyone. Even the Triumvirate and Scion. Isn't that what you were born for?"
To his satisfaction, Saber flinched, finally displaying a reaction he could read. Honestly, it was so obvious that it was embarrassing he noticed only now.
Her extreme wealth suggested an influential and powerful background. Even her name was literally a female moniker for the legendary king Arthur Pendragon. From her outfit to her mannerisms and even the way she talked… None of it could have been achieved without years of training and preparation. She was bred and raised to be something greater in life from birth.
And what better way to meet those expectations than by killing an Endbringer?
Saber didn't respond. She fell into silence, mulling over his words. Seconds stretched into minutes, and as time marched forward, he waited in anticipation for her answer.
"Your arguments have merit," she grudgingly admitted.
Jack Slash's heart soared, his lips forming a triumphant grin. "Then—"
"But answer me this," Saber interrupted. "What will you do with this 'army' capable of slaying an Endbringer once its purpose has been fulfilled?"
Now, it was his turn to fall into silence. He could've given any answer. He could've promised that he would disband it or that he would change his ways. But the girl would never fall for such a blatant lie.
"As I thought… Even if the Simurgh dies, the threat will not disappear. Just replaced by another. Even if I were to destroy your weapon, you could always build more. Thus, I refuse. I cannot permit a calamity like yourself to exist. This talk is over," she said with such finality that Jack knew that further conversation would be pointless.
"I see. Disappointing…" It wasn't.
He had never once expected her to accept his invitation in the first place. Even is she had wanted to join, he would have refused. He wanted her, true. But he wasn't reckless. Adding her to his team would have been the same as throwing the Nine in the path of an Endbringer.
Saber was strong. But her victory over the Simurgh wasn't guaranteed, nor was it even likely.
His only true goal today was to sow the seeds that would bloom in the future, an investment. So that if, and only if, the Simurgh died, he would come to pluck the ripened fruit.
The first half of his plan had been completed, albeit with difficulty. All that was needed were a few more steps and some brain surgery.
"Hatchet Face," he called out, giving the implied command.
The man complied, activating his power and sealing away everything that made a parahuman special.
Jack's lips curled into a smirk as he watched Saber fall into visible confusion as the power she once possessed drained away. It was always entertaining to watch capes fall into panic as they realized they were suddenly powerless.
"I'll give you two options," he started, striding towards the now powerless girl and leaving behind Siberian's protection. He gestured towards the hostages shaking in fear. "Kill them. Or kill us. Your choice."
She would refuse. They always did, at least at first. But in the end, they would give in. Once she spent some time under his knife, she would forget her principles if it spared her from the pain.
And once she covered her hands in blood, the descent would begin. Her morals, her ethics, he would strip them all away until nothing remained but what he wanted.
Then, Bonesaw and Cherish would have their turn, molding her into his image and shaping her into his doll. Even when she returned to her friends and family, she would find that certain thoughts and emotions would constantly plague her. She wouldn't fall immediately, but what they would leave behind would haunt her, change her, so that all he needed to do in the future was flip a switch to change a hero loved by the world to the worst calamity it had ever seen.
She would become his bomb, just as Mannequin was the Simurgh's.
Jack placed his hands on her shoulders and leaned closer, his voice a whisper against her ear. "What do you say, poppet—"
He flew, launched into the air like a twirling bird. His eyes widened as he caught a glimpse of a headless body- one that strangely resembled his own. But that was impossible. He was—
With a jarring thud, his body collided with the hard pavement, throwing up a cloud of dust and dirt that forced their way into his mouth and eyes as he tumbled and rolled.
Before he could regain himself, the world around him burst into a resplendent golden radiance that defied any human description or comparison. The sight was so breathtaking, so awe-inspiring, that to call it beautiful would be an injustice.
For a moment, he lost himself, gazing at the light.
Then, the light became an detonation that painted the city in golden flames and shook the earth beneath him. Once more, he was thrown into the air- tumbling and twisting. Once, twice, a dozen times before coming to a stop once more.
Jack Slash found himself facing a wall. He tried to stand, reorient himself, and see what was going on.
He couldn't feel his hands. Or his legs. It was like he was stuck, frozen in space.
He had always been the player. Now, he was a member of the faceless audience.
While he was effectively blind due to the wall obscuring his vision, the sounds told their own story.
Over the near deafening chaos, he made out the clatter of battle – of fires and roars. Shatterbird's scream and the shattering of glass. The destruction that echoed in every direction. The pained screams from voices he recognized that soon went silent.
What the fuck was Bonesaw doing? Why hadn't she teleported them-
Jack stopped, his eyes zeroing in on a drone. He recognized it. It was Mannequin's.
But how? He killed him! The man was dead! He went bowling with his fucking hea—
He shut out the thought. There was no time to waste on speculation when death was next door.
Time stretched on, elongating into an eternity. He lost count of how many seconds and minutes had passed as he tried to think of a way out. But gradually, the intensity of the battle began to wane like a heavy curtain had muffled the world.
"Wait, please!" He heard Cherish beg as she sobbed. "I just wanted to live! To survive! I didn't have a choice!"
Coward, he sneered.
"Then may God above judge you justly," Saber coldly declared, before the wailing came to a shrieking end.
As the footsteps drew nearer, an icy river of terror surged through him. He closed his eyes and held his breath, silently praying he'd go unnoticed.
But the footsteps ceased- far too soon and far too close. He could feel her presence pressing against his skin. If he still had a body, his heart would have been pounding against his chest.
"You hold your breath well. Your body better. But… you stink of fear," Saber's soft voice was patient, almost kindly. But it chilled him to the bone.
Recognizing that his ruse was discovered, he opened his eyes. "Wait," he rasped, desperation tainting his voice. "I can help you. I have resources. A shit ton of it! We can save lives! Everyone!" He pleaded, his mind racing for any escape.
The moment those pathetic words left his mouth, he felt like he would retch. But he didn't want to die. He refused to die. Not like this.
"Perhaps. Taking your hand might be the right path. One that could save many," Saber mused, her tone frighteningly detached. "But as I said, I know your kind. You will betray as soon as you are able. But more than anything, I'm sick of it. Of trading honor. Chivalry. For practicality. Thus… I refuse."
"You're making a mistake," he screamed, frustration boiling over. "Don't you understand! This is a trap! This is exactly what the Simurgh wants to happen! My weapon! The army! It can be yours! You can have it all! Fame, fortune, power! They're your fucking birthright!"
"I once had everything you mentioned. More than anyone. But they never once brought me joy. Despite your infamy, you are nothing more than a glorified bandit. Do not dare presume you understand me."
His mind flashed white with rage, the insult thinking like a thousand hornets. A bandit? Him? She would compare JACK FUCKING SLASH to some common gangbanger?
The temptation to spew curses that would make even the Teeth pause was irresistible. But at the last moment, his instincts for self-preservation reeled him back.
"Then what the fuck do you want! Tell me!"
"For now, your demise shall suffice," she coldly stated, extinguishing any hope he clung to.
As his life teetered towards its end, a whirlwind of memories swirled through his mind- of battles won, of keystones made, and the chaos he had so delightfully sown. The thrill of the game had been his lifeblood—the power he wielded, the fear he instilled. Heroes had trembled at the mere thought of the Nine descending upon their city.
And now?
This was how his story was ending? Him? THE Jack Slash? Reduced to a severed head resting on a pile of dirt? He didn't mind dying if he could fuck over the world with his last breath. But all his plans had failed. All he could do was wait for death to—
No!
It couldn't end like this! It wasn't over… He just needed to think! Think! THINK!
"I still have hostages!" He threatened. Women! Children! All locked away! You'll never find them if I die!"
Saber hesitated, and for a brief moment, Jack dared to hope. She was a hero, and heroes saved innocents, even if it meant letting a villain slip through their grasp.
"… How many more will die if you don't?" She asked, her voiced tired. Her once rock steady form suddenly seemed to age a hundred years in a span of a second.
"You call yourself a hero?!" Jack spat, his frustration driving him into near hysteria. She was bluffing. She had to be! Saber was the very picture of the perfect hero! There was no way she'd ignore innocent lives.
But when he gazed at her faceless helm, he knew that his time was up.
Fear gripped him like a vice as bitterness surged, a cocktail of rage and despair so potent that he thought he was going to go insane. He wanted to shriek- a shout of guttural disbelief.
How could things have gone so—
Mannequin…
That fucking bastard!
He was the one who lured him into investigating the Simurgh's strange activities.
He was the one who pushed him into coming to Brockton Bay.
Did he sabotage the teleporters? So that the Nine couldn't escape?
Jack had killed him as a precaution, worried that the Simurgh would interfere. But somehow, Mannequin was still alive- spry enough to carry out the Simurgh's plans while he played dead.
It didn't take a genius to realize that he had been used and exploited. The realization was humbling. And now, with his usefulness expended, was he being discarded just as he discarded his toys? Or was his death the keystone of the Simurgh's plans?
His heart shattered, humiliation unbearable. He wanted to rage, lash out. But he was nothing more than fucking head, lying powerlessly on the ground. All he could do was endure, impotent and helpless.
Like the days before he triggered. When he was nothing more than Jacob.
Trajectory.
Alignment
Agreement.
Almost instantly, the fog in his mind lifted. He could almost taste the words that would secure his survival flowing into his tongue. He grinned, his fear and terror forgotten. At this moment, he felt invincible- like he was a child shaping a sandbox called the world.
He tried to turn, his eyes twisting to the side to glance at the girl who so arrogantly stood above him. He opened his mouth, his lips curving and his tongue twisting to utter the words that would grant him victory.
But he saw nothing but the underside of a metal boot smashing down.
...
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