Pitiful, the Sniper scoffed.
It was shameful that a drive through the broken streets would bring more excitement – nay, satisfaction than advancing her agenda.
Once, he stewed in guilt whenever a headless body fell under his scope. But now he understood the meaning of worthless thoughts. How could he doubt himself and, by extension, her when the results were as crystal before his eyes?
The sun had long since dipped below the horizon. Yet, the streets teemed with life. Men and women of all ages lived their life, going about their business without once looking behind their backs to see if murderers and rapists stalked the night. To those that lived in the docks, it was a sight foreign as the Endbringers.
Here, the law was merely a guideline.
Here, the ABB enslaved and raped.
Here, the Empire lynched and murdered.
Yet, a dream had become reality, aided by the blood he had spilled.
Yes. He had once felt guilt.
Now there was only pride; confidence that stemmed from deeds worthy of retelling. He chuckled humorously at the thought of regaling juniors with his tales. Too bad any tale of his worth spreading was confidential. But the loss of bragging rights was inconsequential. For the first time since his birth, his life had meaning. Value.
That was the only reward he needed.
Gently humming a tune he had learned from his childhood sweetheart, he gazed at the moon, lightly tapping the car's side in the song's rhythmic beat.
"Care to share the joy fella?" His taxi driver chuckled, chortling in good humor.
Startled, he felt his face flush at the prospect of being caught grinning like a fool in the company of a stranger. After leaving Rin at the local motel, he had hitched a ride.
"Just enjoying the scenery," he lamely replied.
"Hah! Would call you crazy or high – thinking this shit hole has something to like. But I think I know what you mean. Can't remember the last time I've seen folks so comfortable alone at this hour. God damn miracle, I say."
"I'm sorry, but you are?"
"Williams, but call me Bill," the driver introduced himself. "Been carrying all sorts in this pussywagon for decades and I've seen all sort of shit. From Marquis to Butcher to the Nine. Wasn't even surprised when Leviathan popped in. But never would have thought there'd be a day when this road was safe."
The Sniper smiled at the affirmation of what was obvious. Vanity was not among his sins, but the appreciation filled him with contentment. "It's our pleasure."
"Ah, bullshit," Bill snorted. "Yall work for the paychecks like the rest of those PRT cunts. But at least you guys earn your pay."
"The benefits of working with the Bureau are substantial but to say that we are driven by money is -. There are many who care for this city."
"Took ya for a soldier, not a walking talking ad. Even the worst can be proper when they're paid to be. But hey, not saying that's bad. Money makes the world go round," Bill muttered as he took a sharp turn to the right.
"You skipped a red light," he observed.
"Son, ya see another car here?"
He didn't. Rebuilding was slow, and the Mayor prioritized the commercial districts. It would be a half a year before the man even considered investing in what the city considered gang territory.
"You appreciate the results, yet you're pessimistic."
"Nah. A realist," Bill explained. "Don't get me wrong, better you than the PRT. Least you guys show up. But I've seen ship stains running around in your fancy suit, and joining a fancy gang isn't going to turn shit into gold."
It was true that Public Safety was crafted from the remains of the ABB. It was also the PRT's favorite point of attack. But membership exploded in recent times to the point that the ex-ABB were a minority. He could've explained just that, but he doubted the man was looking for something so unsatisfying.
"Have you ever had a revelation?"
"You a missionary now?" He couldn't see his driver's face, but he was certain the man had raised an eyebrow.
"Not quite," he chuckled. "But sometimes, a single point of inspiration can change man's life."
The old him would have scoffed at romanticized words. But how could he? With what he had seen – how could he be anything but humble.
Even now, he was in disbelief. Every morning, he would open his eyes to the orange shimmer of sunrise and wonder if it had all been a dream. That his family, friends, city and country remained unavenged beneath the sea as their killer remained free.
Upon rising, he would stare at a screen, watching the battle once, twice, a dozen times over again for hours on end. He would listen to the media, covering news of what he had suspected to be a hallucination just to learn what he already knew out of fear that he was mistaken.
It was the same as yesterday. And the day before. And from months ago, when the news first transpired.
But he was a coward, a man too frightened of once again being disappointed to have the courage to hope once more.
But the evidence was undeniable.
Leviathan was no more.
The Sniper would laugh. He would laugh until tears streamed down his cheeks like a river's unrelenting flow, and his throat burned as if he had imbibed a bottle of acrid scotch, rusted with age.
Bill scoffed, unconvinced as he ignored another traffic light. "What. Scaled bastard kicked the bucket and yall grew a heart?"
"No, but witnessing a miracle would."
"A miracle? Huh. Suppose ya got me there. Never would've thought they'd ever bite it."
To speak of God's miracle in this manner seemed heretical. But what other word could properly describe her feat?
What was a miracle but the actualization of what is impossible? But Makima-sama had done it. Watching her shatter decades of fears and expectations in a single evening filled him with a sense of…
Worship.
"Perhaps you should join us. See for yourself. Be part of the Bureau while getting a fat paycheck. We could always use skilled drivers," he offered.
"Might actually take you up on that," Bill admitted, his interest piqued. "Once the gang war dies down anyways."
"Gang war?" You overestimate the Merchants," he scoffed, derision bleeding from his voice. "They will be dealt with soon enough. With the Empire and ABB crippled, there isn't a force that could match the Bureau."
It was amazing how much the Protectorate could accomplish when sufficiently motivated. In coordination with Dragon, the Heroes launched a massive counterattack on the Empire, arresting nearly half their numbers, including Kaiser himself. The assault ended in a massive success that that the PRT milked for all its worth.
While he applauded them, where was this efficiency years ago? The Protectorate was competent despite the accusations of the opposite. The gangs had been able to tighten their grip on the city because the Heroes fought with kid gloves on, too frightened of defeat to perform at their maximum capabilities.
"Didn't hear?" Bill asked, surprised. "Son, I get you're busy, but you need to get your head out of the sand. Oni Lee busted out the Empire and a shit ton of people are dead."
"WHAT!?" He exclaimed, nearly leaping out of his seat. "That means…"
A sense of dawning horror created an empty pit in his stomach. He had never considered this possibility but…
"Looks like the ABB and Empire are teaming up," Bill finished his thoughts.
The ABB was made of Asians and the Empire was a gang of Nazis. They were as fire and water. Only one could remain upon contact.
But grudges were luxuries of the strong and Lung was no fool. Neither was Kaiser.
He could see the formation of an uncanny alliance if both grew desperate. Even with their mutual loathing.
Who else would join? The Traveler's? Coil? Merchants? Undersiders? Perhaps even Faultline?
That was a force that could threaten the Bureau. He had complete faith in Makima-sama but how much of the city would remain once the ash settled?
"Fuck," he cursed, frustration welling within him.
Just when things were becoming better…
"Hey man, it'll be all right. Your red-haired Jesus shat on Leviathan. What's a bunch of skinheads and pedophiles to an Endbringer? With the Protectorate stepping up their game, the good guys should be on point for once," Bill consoled worriedly, noticing his embarrassing outburst of emotion.
"Yeah… You're right." He wasn't so sure, but this was no time to worry about possibilities, especially when he had a mission to accomplish.
When the car screeched to a stop, the Sniper exited the vehicle and took out his wallet.
"This one's on me pal," Bill said with a smile. "I know I said some mean things, but I really am grateful. We all are. Keep up the good work."
A free taxi ride was hardly what he would call the epitome of generosity, but it was the thought that counted.
He gave a nod in thanks and hurried on his way. The faster that he could take care of these ankle-biters, the faster he could could face the true threats.
The first thing he noticed upon entering the dockyards was the human traffic. It was such a major change from the usual empty scenery that he had been momentarily stunned.
The collateral damage wrought from the battle against Leviathan had been so devastating that a new shoreline was created, half a mile proximal from the old dockyard. In other words, everything that was needed to house and anchor ships was… Gone.
Thus, the new dockyard was buzzing with the activity of a thousand people running around like headless chickens, building, transporting, and fixing whatever was needed to prepare for the Bureau's shipping industry.
Thankfully, the old, rusted ships that had been rotting in the Ship graveyard had been washed away as well from the said battle, saving the workers a significant amount of effort and time.
But regardless, construction was difficult, and the work was backbreaking. Yet, all he could see on the faces of the laborers was satisfaction and contentment.
It was not difficult to guess why.
Brockton Bay was once a city that thrived off its trade. But with the coming of Leviathan, the shipping industry was crippled, and all international trade ceased to a halt. With its lifeline cut off, the city faltered and began to rot into the cesspit it was now. Crime skyrocketed with poverty, and the desperate flocked to the gangs, giving them increasing control and influence.
But now?
Levithan was gone.
Despite being a foreigner to their world, Makima-sama wasted no time taking advantage of this newfound opportunity and purchased whatever cargo ships remained in this world. Unfortunately, restarting an entire industry was costly and the money she had from donations was insufficient. But once she made her intentions clear, investments came flying in.
Many within the city, even those unaffiliated with the Bureau, were interested in seeing the shipping business succeed. The wealthy saw it as an opportunity to gain greater riches. The poor and downtrodden saw it as a resurgence of their old way of life. And the rest saw it as a symbol that heralded a new age. The rebirth of an industry on the same land that had been the site of the monster's demise was a fitting form of poetic justice.
When construction of the dockyards began, people flocked to the Bureau, not just for protection but for jobs and employment. When combined with the infrastructure repair work commissioned by the mayor, unemployment was at an all-time low. Then came the pouring tide of tourists that wished to see the city where the impossible became reality. All in all, the city experienced an economic boom that it never had before.
But most importantly, the gangs were bleeding members.
Contrary to belief, crime was unpopular. It paid little, and was, most of all, dangerous.
If there was a safe, well-paying job, how many would choose to deal drugs out in the streets for a portion of a cut or risk their lives as a hired gun?
It was why the dockyard was the most heavily guarded area in the entire city. It was protected not only by the Bureau but by the sentiment of the entire city. To attack it meant suicide. Even the Merchants had enough functioning brain cells to understand the risks. Kaiser even more so.
Only the ABB would be desperate or angry enough. Their reputation was already at rock bottom. Very few things could make it worse.
"Alan! Stop!" A frustrated voice interrupted him out of his thoughts.
The Sniper stepped to the side just in time to dodge a disheveled red-haired man barreling past him without a word of apology. He would have frowned at the rudeness if the man hadn't looked so sickly.
"Alan-." Danny Hebert pursued, only to pause upon noticing him. "Oh… You're here. Uh… Come in, we'll talk inside."
He obliged, following the head of the Dockworker's Union into a tent with two chairs and desk.
"Drinks?" The host offered.
"I'll pass. But what was that about? Some kind of trouble?" He asked, wondering if he needed to add another name to his list. This was a vital time for the city and he would not allow anyone to get in the Bureau's way, no matter the reason.
"Nothing like that. He's a school friend," Hebert sighed in grief. "His daughter went missing during the Leviathan attack, and he hasn't been himself since. He asked me for, and I told my guys to be on the lookout, but it's been months…"
"That's awful…" He emphasized. He truly did. How could he do anything but when he too had experienced loss.
"Can't blame him for being angry. Don't know what I would do if I were in his shoes."
"You have a child Mr. Hebert?"
"Yeah, a girl, the same age as Alan's. Best of friends. We've undergone some tough times but I think things are getting better. But anyways, I'm assuming you're here to take care of the squatters?"
"What can you tell me about them? Has anyone been hurt?"
"Aside being a nuisance?" Hebert snorted. "No. They haven't done anything other than loiter. God damn pests… Chased them away a dozen or so times but they're always back."
The Sniper raised his eyebrow in confusion. "Truly?"
"Yeah, don't know what they want because all they do is harass workers. But we've learned to live with them for now since your people haven't done much either."
"I will get that fixed. Promise. Then may I assume everything is on schedule?"
"Better, we're ahead," Hebert said, a smile finally adorning his face. "Investments went through the roof when our main rival tanked, so we've been able to hire more and increase our equipment. Tell Miss Makima she has nothing to worry about."
"Southwest Shipping went bankrupt? How?" The Sniper asked in surprise. They had been their biggest rivals in the newly reformed shipping industry and had even tried to destroy the Bureau's business by citing the NEPEA-5 bill.
To hear that they bit the dust was a pleasant surprise for a change.
"You didn't hear? There was a storm," Hebert asked.
"I did, but I didn't think it was that bad."
"Oh boy. It was bad, all right. It was so bad that people thought it was Leviathan. Many died, and the entire dockyard was literally washed away."
It seemed that even God was on Makima-sama's side.
"Anyway, I'm sure you have better things to do than listen to all this depressing talk," Hebert continued.
The Sniper chuckled as he made to stand. "Only if. Please – keep up the good work."
The Sniper stood at the edge of the dockyard, his heels tapping impatiently as he awaited his promised reinforcements. The passage of time seemed interminable, and each additional second only heightened his sense of frustration.
He had expected more from his brother's elite team, composed of ex-military personnel, but they were now half an hour overdue.
While discipline was a foreign concept to a vast majority of the Bureau's personnel, most of whom were civilians or former gang members, he had assumed that Squad 12 would be the exception.
As he waited, his mind turned to the situation at hand as he pondered the ABB's motives. Normally, he would have dismissed these troublemakers as buffoons seeking to rapidly raise their reputation by troubling their Bureau. He had removed too many of such people to feel any sort of satisfaction from those kinds of duties.
But their ability to evade capture suggested a deeper level of sophistication. But if they were so well coordinated to the point that a member of the Special Division had to be sent, why did they limit their activities to mere harassment?
If they truly wished to fight, a few well-placed C4s would have shut the dockyards down for weeks, inflicting heavy losses to the Bureau's credibility. Instead, they used methods that were so… Childish.
But what concerned him the most was how they had escaped their forces for so long. Takemura had suspected a spy. If so, why did the ABB risk such a valuable resource just to have some goons holler at the dockworkers?
Even Bakuda wasn't insane enough to be so wasteful. Just what on Earth was their endgame?
A vehicle screeched to a stop, and he cast a withering glance at the Bureau's van as it pulled up. His discontent only deepened as he saw his reinforcements disembark.
Among the black-suited men making their way to his position, one figure sauntered ahead with a self-satisfied smirk etched on his face.
"The cavalry has arrived so let's turn that frown upside-down," his brother drawled, his tone laced with an air of playful arrogance.
"Jinichi…" The Sniper grounded out in between grit teeth. His irritation was palpable, and at this point, he did not care enough to hide it. "The cavalry was supposed to be here half an hour ago. And it is missing half its members."
"Yeah, sorry," Jinichi apologized halfheartedly with a shrug. "But it was out of our hands. We couldn't find any replacements for our posts so we had to split our forces. All hand are on deck after Oni Lee broke out the Empire."
"Why have I not been notified?"
"Again, all hands are on deck. Upper management is going haywire over a possible ABB x Empire. And when has Takemura ever been thorough with instructions," his brother snorted.
Well… He wasn't wrong, especially about that last part. That dick was far too succinct at times.
The Sniper sighed, still dissatisfied by the lack of communication and organization but could only nod with acceptance. "Fine, we've wasted enough time," he said tersely. "Let's g-…. Jinichi, did you run into trouble?"
Jinichi paused, an indiscernible look flashing crossing his eyes so briefly that he thought he imagined it. "Hmm? No. Why do you ask?"
Because you smell like blood and gunpowder.
It was not as dense as the smell that Takemura carried, but it was potent enough to trigger the Sniper's heightened senses. He knew that Jinichi was no stranger to danger, but the intensity of the scent suggested that he had been involved in something far more significant than just being in the proximity of a skirmish.
But he had not heard any gunshots to suggest a firefight. Not even with his enhanced hearing. And the blood… It smelled as if they had bathed in it despite the scent being covered by soap.
And their appearance…
It was too perfect. Too immaculate.
No matter how careful or cautious, stains and wrinkles were unavoidable. Yet despite being on patrol for what should have been six hours, their clothes looked as if they were fresh from the dry cleaners.
His brother was lying…
But why?
The spy… Could it be?
"Something wrong?" Jinichi asked, searching his surroundings. "Did you notice something?"
"…"
"Nii-san?"
"… It's nothing. My mistake. Just tired I suppose," he said with a shrug.
What the hell was he thinking? There was no way his brother would betray the Bureau. The mere thought was laughable as it was embarrassing. Jinichi had covered his back ever since they were boys. If he couldn't trust his own brother, he might as well retire.
"Geez man, with how hard Takemura is running you, ya really ought to ask for a raise," his brother chuckled, playfully slapping him on the back.
"Yeah… I should… Maybe after this mission."
Jinichi led the way, a casual smirk on his lips. "Let's get this over with then. The sooner we wrap this up, the faster you get your green," he said, motioning towards a dark, abandoned warehouse some distance away. "The ABB rejects are supposedly holed up in there."
"Tell me everything you know."
"Already did."
"… Are you telling me that you know nothing?"
"I know what the dockworkers 'claimed,' but we have yet to see a single gangbanger around. You sure the Union isn't pulling our leg?"
"Positive. Danny Hebert isn't a man to play games with his pewell-beingl being," the Sniper retorted. "Are you absolutely certain there were no signs? Not even a cigarette butt?"
Jinichi rolled his eyes. "Cigarette butts are everywhere. These people need to clean up, the water is filthy as it is," he grumbled.
"Jinichi…"
"Relax nii-san. We've scoured the entire area. Not a trace. But I don't know what you're expecting. It's not like they're going to spray paint their gang colors on the wall like some territorial bitch. Our only lead is the spot where the Dockworkers claim to have seen our ghosts."
The Sniper's forehead furrowed as concern burrowed its way into his heart. Despite his brother's occasional childishness, he was a competent tracker and solider, far too skilled to let his targets slip by even if they had prior warning.
But wouldn't everything be explained if the spy was Jinichi?
He shook his head even as he gritted his teeth, quickly dismissing the idea once more.
There was no way… His brother wasn't a traitor. He just couldn't be…
There had to be another explanation, like-
"A new parahuman?" He muttered. The thought sent chills down his spine. It was a constant fear of his – something he had to be always cautious of. If an unknown parahuman was involved, it would explain why all their attempts to capture the dissidents had failed so miserably.
"Stop," he ordered, raising his hand. "We're retreating."
"What?!" Jinichi exclaimed, shocked.
"It's possible that this is a trap set by a parahuman," he explained, his voice low and tense. "One that we are ill-equipped to deal with. I'll request a team from the Special Divisions to investigate."
Jinichi scowled, clearly unhappy with this decision. But it was the right call. By protocol, all parahuman-related events were supposed to be delegated to a full team from the Special Division. Their members were all powered, either from parahuman abilities or by the Gift from Makima-sama. As of now, he was the only member present and direct combat wasn't his forte.
He was an assassin, not a warrior.
And there was no way was going to risk his brother's life fighting against an unknown.
"W-wait, shouldn't we at least take a look? Look around? Maybe you'll find something we didn't!" Jinichi proposed, even as he stuttered.
He shook his head. "Too dangerous. If there really is a parahuman, it's a new one. We are not going in blind without backup. We'll follow protocol and let our parahumans take care of this."
"Oh, come on, you're making too much of a leap," Jinichi scoffed. He spoke casually, but the elder did not miss the tightening of the younger's fist or the nervous glances shared between the squad members.
"No. We're retreating. This is an order."
Jinichi sneered. "Scared?"
"… Care to repeat that?" He growled, his voice cold and even, but no less dangerous.
But his brother did not back down, holding his ground even as the rest of the squad shuffled anxiously at the growing tension. "You've heard. Or have you gone deaf as well?"
The Sniper took a deep breath, fighting to regain his composure. "I will pretend I did not hear that. Go back to your patrol."
"What the fuck is wrong with you?! Jinichi shouted, his fists clenched in anger. "What happened to the man that smacked his wife around for even looking at you the wrong way?"
"… What the hell are you talking about?" The Sniper demanded, finally showing signs of anger. "Are you high? Drunk? Right before a mission given to us by Makima-sama?"
"THAT's what upsets you?! That the red-haired bitch-."
A fist slammed into Jinichi's chin, sending the man sprawling into the ground. "You will speak of her with respect," he ordered coldly as he glared at his brother even as he tensed for the inevitable retaliation. But to his surprise, Jinichi's initial shock melted into relief.
"So you're still there," Jinichi muttered.
"What the hell is wrong with you!" He growled, grabbing a fist fold of his brother's collar and holding him up to his face.
"Nothing… But… There is something wrong with you," Jinichi said, calmly meeting his gaze.
"You- ack," the Sniper started before reeling back in pain, clutching at his throat. He hastily grabbed the handle embedded into his neck and pulled out the knife- syringe? The coldness was almost instantaneous, starting from the puncture and rapidly spreading. By the second, his muscles grew stiffer and more uncoordinated as if his nerves had been cut off.
Nevertheless, he reached for his gun. But before it could be drawn, two bodies slammed into him, grabbing onto his arms in a submission hold.
"Relax nii-san. That stuff won't kill you, but it might scar your nerves if you fight it."
Jinichi… You fucking-
"Traitor," he spat. "What do you think you're doing?"
"Saving you, ya dummy. Like I always had," Jinichi said softly. "This was not how it was supposed to go. Had it all planned out you see. Lure you into the warehouse and take you down from all sides with my new friends. Didn't think you would be so fucking cautious, but it worked out better than I expected," Jinichi mused. "Taka, call those ABB shits and ready the transport."
His heart sank. He had denied the obvious signs out of willful ignorance, but the evidence was now undeniable. Then the blood he had smelled earlier must have been from the loyalists of Squad 12, betrayed and butchered by their teammates. Killed not in service but in ignominy by traitors.
"How much?"
"Hm?" Jinichi asked.
"How much did Lung pay you?"
For a moment, the silence was deafening. Jinichi's visage faltered into one of hurt as if he had been the one betrayed. He sighed, his body deflating as signs of fatigue and sadness took hold. "Not a damn cent. You think I'm doing this for money? That I would sell you out for cash? Fucking idiot… I'm trying to save your ass."
"By selling me to Lung?"
"No, to Bakuda."
"Bakuda?!" The Sniper roared, or at least tried. The poison had pooled deeply in his throat; all he could let out was a strangled scream. "Are you fucking insane? You're dealing with that crazy bitch? Stupid brat, you'll end up tied to a chair with a fucking bomb in your head!"
"Maybe… Probably… But don't worry. I'll take care of everything. I'll fix you. I promise."
"You… Damned…" He gasped, fighting against his captors but his body was failing him. Never in his life had he felt so cold. But compared to the wound in his heart, it was barely registerable.
"All this for him? Seems like overkill. Well, as long as we get paid," drawled an unfamiliar voice.
The Sniper turned his neck to the side, watching as a dozen ABB gangbangers approached.
"Just shut up and get him in the truck Lee," Jinichi ordered.
"You've heard the man boys, do as he says."
"Come on, lets get you up," started one of his captors. "Struggling will only make things-."
The Sniper slashed his throat, ending whatever petty promises the traitor wished to make. Before anyone could react, the stolen knife flashed once more, embedding itself into the other traitor holding on to his side.
Finally free, he sprinted at superhuman speed for cover with an arm dangling behind him, pushing his body far past its normal limits even as dozens of bullets slammed into his back but failed to penetrate his suit.
He allowed himself time to regain his bearings only after hiding behind a metal crate. His right arm hung limply in a manner that it shouldn't, the shoulder out of place with its socket.
By utilizing his gift, he had weakened one muscle group while simultaneously contracting the opposite, dislocating his shoulder and allowing him to break free.
Normally, his arm should have been paralyzed. But his power gave him absolute control over his bodily functions in a manner that was physiologically impossible. By utilizing it, he could puppeteer his body even if every bone in his body was broken.
Ignoring the gun shots that rang all around him, he popped his shoulder back into place with a grunt. His power was handy, but it did not come without cost. It gave him supernatural control but did little to strengthen his core. The brief sprint had nearly torn parts of his legs muscles.
"Stop you retards!" He heard Jinichi shout. "We need him alive! Surround him!"
"Fuck that! You didn't tell us he was a fucking parahuman!"
"He's not!"
"There's no way a normy moves that fast!"
If there was one silver lining, it was that Jinichi was in the dark about his powers. Even among the Bureau, Makima-sama's trump power was a closely guarded secret.
"You think he would be hiding from us if he could take us on? Stop being such a bitch and earn your fucking paycheck!"
The Sniper sighed. Jinichi was perceptive as always. He had hoped that the display would have demoralized the ABB into retreating, but it looked like a fight was unavoidable.
At his brother's command, multiple footsteps reverberated around him. Within a minute, he would be surrounded. Their plan was sound. Against any other, it would have worked.
But against him? It was a mistake. All it served was seperating their forces into a row that he could eliminate one at a time.
Closing his eyes, he tensed his muscles to prepare them for the inevitable stress and began hypersecreting catecholamines. He broke down layers of bone to increase blood calcium, strengthening his heart's contraction and heart rate.
And once he was ready, the battle began. The first to stand in his way were two youths with far too much arrogance and too little wariness. They thought themselves invincible against a lone man with nothing but a knife. As a senior and mentor, it was his duty to correct such foolishness, even if this would be the last lesson they would ever have.
The two open fired, correctly aiming for his head, but they lacked the training to strike a moving target as he ran along the walls of a cargo container. The few bullets that hit him harmlessly clattered onto the ground, having failed to penetrate into flesh, although one dangerously grazed his ear.
Before they could even empty their magazine, he was upon them.
The two boys did what most did when they suddenly found their foe a mere arms-length away. They froze, spluttering in panic as they finally understood their own mortality. But the realization did little, and the lesson had come far too late. Their lack of discipline made certain that they could do nothing else other than spray and pray.
Two soon-to-be corpses collapsed onto the ground on their knees, desperately grasping their throats after a flash of light swept through both jugulars in a single stride. As they fell, a mix of terror-filled tears falling with their lifeblood, he flung his knife with deadly accuracy, burying it deep into the heart of a third.
Without a single pause in action, he grabbed one of the struggling boys, too busy trying to stem the flowing blood to resist and used him as a shield just as another hail of bullets rained down on him.
To his surprise and amusement, the boy still lived despite the few dozen holes that now adorned his body.
Grabbing his flesh shield's sidearm, he aimed and fired thrice.
And another three men fell.
Eight down. Eight left.
A faint swish, too minute to be heard by human ears, alerted him of an incoming projectile. Without looking back, he snapped his gun under his armpit and fired, detonating the explosive mid-air with a single well-placed shot. But before he could congratulate himself, he was forced to dive toward the ground, rolling into a crouch as another barrage of gunfire erupted around him.
This time, he wasn't lucky enough to remain unscathed. While his suit protected him from the worst of hits, his right hand had two new puncture holes and was riddled with shattered carpal bones. It would have been a debilitating wound in most, if not all. But the Sniper killed the pain and forced his hand to move in a way that went against all biomechanical principles.
"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" Eloquently screamed a man with a receding hairline. Unfortunately, his dainty speech and spectacular diction was silenced when he was forced to swallow a bullet.
Six.
'Fuck' was a pitiful choice of last words. But it was far from his worst mistake.
An ABB gangbanger bolted in from the left like a bull, his arms spread wide in an attempt at a takedown while he was distracted. Honestly, this was the best attempt yet out of everything he had seen so far. The timing was a six out of ten, and with the man's bulk, extracting himself from his grip would have been an arduous affair if he had been caught. But fortunately, his charging foe also had the subtly of a bull.
Just as the charge reached him, the Sniper dropped to the ground once more, slamming his body onto the legs of the charging mass, tripping him face-first into the ground. With a quick move, he pinned him to the ground even as the man roared and struggled to break free.
But the roar became a scream of pain when the Sniper grabbed his ankle and twisted it savagely with a quick snap to the side. As the man cried out in agony, writhing on the ground in pain, the Sniper picked up a brick. It was a poor and inelegant choice of weaponry, but beggars couldn't be choosers.
And how often does a man get to kill his fellow with a material used in building walls? He might as well take this opportunity.
The brick came crashing down onto a skull with a sickening thud. Blood and brain matter splattered the cement in a splash of red and pink.
Six.
A single tell-tale whistle gave him a half-a-second warning for him to tilt his head back just enough for a metallic bat to scream past his face, missing him by a hair's breadth.
The attacker's momentum carried him into a spin and he unleashed a second, more powerful blow aimed at his midsection. But while the Sniper was distracted by the foe in front of him, he did not fail to notice a second assailant slashing down with a thick iron pipe down onto his spine.
He would give a seven out of ten for the coordination alone.
A spin to the side was sufficient enough to avoid the bat and the slash of his pistol was enough to parry the pipe.
The bat-wielding thug floundered, having lost his balance from the sheer momentum of his missed blow. It was an opportunity the Sniper did not miss.
With lightning speed, he grabbed the man by the collar and belt, lifting him effortlessly off the ground and above his head. By the time the thug realized his predicament, his eyes bulged in horror as he realized that he was rocketing face-first into the ground.
With a resounding thud, head struck pavement, and the sickening sound of a snap told the Sniper all he needed to know.
Five.
The pipe-wielding thug looked on in terror at the twisted meat that was his former comrade. He watched the latter twitch unnaturally, struggling to stand as if not understanding that his spinal cord had been disconnected. Contrary to belief, a broken neck was not instant death.
For a moment, the thug remained rooted to the ground, as if paralyzed. But from the fear came pure unadulterated rage. A primal scream escaped his lips as he swung the pipe with all his might, forgoing little discipline and throwing everything into one attack.
Now that the Sniper examined the duo's face more closely, he noticed a familiar resemblance. Brothers perhaps? That wouldn't do at all. It would be cruel to leave one behind in this world. He would do them a favor and send them both off.
With arms raised, he grabbed onto the descending wrist, halting the blow in its tracks. With the snap, his knee met testicles and the latter was crushed. The man's eyes bulged in pain, dropping the pipe to clutch what little remained of his manhood as he crumpled to the ground.
His suffering would not last much longer. A second later, the eunuch would find his own pipe lodged in through his skull.
Four.
At this point, his enemies' spirit was broken. They fled. Without morale, a man was broken meat.
But nevertheless, the Sniper pursued, hunting down each with glee.
One.
"I will ask you again my ototou. Why?.. Just why."
Jinichi watched in stunned silence, mouth open and gaping at what he had seen. But to his credit, he quickly broke out of the trance. "… And if I don't answer? What are you going to do? Hmm? Kill me?"
"It's what you deserve," he spat.
Jinichi laughed, chuckling to himself as if he heard a joke. "You're right. But not for the reasons you think. Just get it over with."
"Stop playing games and answer me!"
"And what is the point? You and I are already dead," JInichi spat out bitterly. "No… You were already dead for months."
"Stop talking in riddles! What the hell were you even thinking? You would've been lucky if you were in one piece after Bakuda is done with you!"
"Bakuda could have saved you! I don't trust her, but I trust her self-interest. She wants intel on the Bureau and you are a high-ranking member. To get what she wanted, she would have needed to undo whatever that bitch Makima did to you!"
"…. What?"
"Listen nii-san," Jinichi started even as he grimaced. "You've been mastered. I know you don't want to hear it, but please. Trust me!" He begged. "Trust your brother like you always have."
"You… You're insane."
"The only one who is insane is you! We entered the Bureau so we could steal and sell intelligence! We're mercenaries for god's sake. Since when did you give a flying fuck about this city? You raped your wife. You beat your daughter. You're the biggest scumbag I know!"
"The hell are you on about! They died in Japan! I would never-"
Go to Hell Tachi.
The Sniper blinked. Whose voice was that? Whose memories? He-.
He spun just in time to avoid the bullet that cut the air where his head was a second ago before grabbing a nearby gun and returning fire. But Jinichi was already on the move, having reached cover behind leftover debris. "What happened to fixing me?" He snorted.
"That ships sailed long ago, don't you think?" His brother shot back. "At this point, I'd say there's only one other solution."
"Stand down Jinichi. Don't make me do this," he begged. "We're brothers. Put your gun down and walk away."
Once the anger had faded and the adrenaline gone, all he could feel was loss. His orders had been to interrogate and eliminate. Allowing Jinichi to leave was tantamount to treason. He would be demoted and possibly executed for this betrayal. But even then, he could not bring himself to kill the only family he had left.
"Do you know what the funniest thing about this is? The old you wouldn't have hesitated to kill me. Honestly, he would have swallowed a bullet if he knew what he would become. A fucking. Pet. Bitch."
"Enough with your bullshit! Just leave. Get out of this city."
"… No."
"Jinichi! Don't be stupid."
"Tachi… I'm not leaving you here like this. I can't… I'll save you… One way or another."
"STOP!"
Jinichi raised his gun
But the Sniper fired first.
Projection
Trajectory
Alignment
Control
Makima opened her eyes, waking from the dream that was the infinitesimal galaxy.
"Was the show satisfactory Makima-sama?" Takemura asked as he stood by her side.
She made no move to answer for several minutes as she digested her gains. "It was well worth the effort. Well done Takemura-san," she praised. "Inform Bakuda that I am pleased with her work"
He bowed in gratitude. "I am certain she will be overjoyed. But if I may ask, what power did he trigger with?"
"Thinker. His power is one of narrow but specific precognition, granting future-sight on anyone who would interfere with his goals. It is quite the power."
"I see… Then it is as you predicted."
"Just as how physical stress results in Brutes, mental stress creates Thinkers. Killing his brother provided a strong enough stimulus for Tachi-san to trigger," Makima explained, pleased at the results. She had taken control of his body at the end, but it didn't seem he noticed.
"Should we discontinue the Brute production and focus on manufacturing Thinkers?" Takemura suggested. "In terms of firepower, we are leagues ahead of any organization other than the Protectorate, but we are severely lacking in other aspects."
"Hmm…" Makima pondered, resting her chin on the palm of her hand. "Takemura, what are this week's gains?"
"As of last Tuesday, we have managed to produce four new parahumans. But sixteen others died in the process."
She sighed. "Better than before, but still costly."
"My apologies, but the procedures as of now are inefficient. We have found that torture is the fastest method, but it also carries a high mortality rate."
"Don't be, you have done well. But I noticed among the four, one was a teleporter and the second a cryokinetic. How did you manage that?" Their production was a cause for celebration. She now possessed dozens of different methods of superstrength and durability that they had lost their shine. Esoteric powers, possibly ones that could move across dimensions, were the ones she desired.
"Ah. We trapped a few subjects in a burning building. Most died, either from the flames or by suffocation, but I believe the experiment was overall a success. We can now have a greater variety of parahumans than just brutes."
"Fascinating. So the Avatars grant whatever power necessary for their hosts to survive the crisis they are in? Continue the trials in that direction. I would prefer thinkers, but I do not have the time to write another draft."
Takemura frowned before he hesitantly opened his mouth. "Makima-sama… We are running out of bodies to use. Too many are dying for Bakuda's recruitment to replenish the number of subjects. I highly recommend that we continue with my plan to seize Panacea. With her, we can reduce the number of casualties drastically."
"Your plan was fine, but we could do so much more," Makima shook her head. She appreciated his initiative, but at times he was far too hasty with his newfound independence. "It would be best if the PRT was blamed for Brandish's death."
"I find it difficult to believe New Wave would think the Heroes would assassinate one of theirs," Takemura protested.
"A man does not need to be the one to pull the trigger to kill. Inaction alone is enough cause for guilt. Has Kaiser agreed with your proposal?"
"He has not. At least, not yet. But he is intelligent enough to know that allying with Lung is the only way to survive the Bureau. I expect that there will be a tentative agreement between the two."
"If Kaiser refuses, have Lung start a war against the Empire," she ordered. If she could not use them in one way, then she would use them in another.
"Makima-sama, is that truly wise? I thought you had planned to unite the gangs to pressure the PRT?"
The PRT could not target the Bureau as long as the threat of a criminal alliance loomed over the horizon. It galled her to admit it, but she was not yet ready to take on an organization that spanned the continent.
"Procuring subjects is far more vital. Nobody will blink an eye when a few hundred people go missing after Bakuda does her work. And besides, the Empire is no longer necessary. We have enough spare parahumans to create half a dozen Empires. If needed, we can reallocate a few to create new gangs."
Takemura nodded in acceptance. "May I suggest planting a few in other organizations? We still have no spies among the upper echelons."
"Do so. Send the Protectorate a new Ward and Hero as well. But leave out the Undersiders and Coil. Espionage against thinkers is a fool's decision."
"Speaking of thinkers, what of Rin Sakeda? I believe we have a chance for her to trigger as a one."
"Oh? How so?" She asked in surprise, interest piqued.
"We have her parents in one of our shelters. The same ones that sold her into slavery when she was a child. I believe that a forced confrontation may provide enough stress for her to trigger."
Makima smiled as if amused but remained silent.
"Makima-sama?"
"Nothing. I was just surprised at how far you have come from that empty husk."
When she first met her future right-hand man, he was nothing more than a machine. No... It was fair to say he was even more simplistic than a computer, incapable of acting on his own. Now here he was, providing suggestions and acting pre-emptively. To see him grow brought a kind of satisfaction she was unfamiliar with, even if she had to occasionally reel him in.
"And for saving me, you have my eternal loyalty," Takemura swore.
"Go ahead. But if your plan doesn't work, have Bakuda take her. Rin Sakeda is a child that cherishes freedom and power, having been a powerless slave. If she ends up with a collar in the shape of a bomb, it should break her spirit."
"I will make the preparations. Is there anything else to address Makima-sama?"
"No. You may go."
"By your leave," Takemura said, before crumbling into ash.
As usual, would appreciate all and any reviews.