[Jason Wilke]
[February 22nd, 2011]
"- they came in like a fresh spring breeze, let me tell you what, folks. You only see Hero teams pop up every once in a blue moon, and most of the time they fade away into the background after they made their first big splash. However, Frontline, I think is different. Ha, ha, ha."
Listening to Mayor Roy Christner drone on and on was one of the worst parts about all of this.
"Now, let me tell you something, folks, Frontline and my office have sat down with the construction unions as well as the dockworker's unions and we think we've come up with a great plan that will jumpstart the Bay's economy and get us back on track," He chuckled and waved his champagne glass to all in attendance.
Ah, there we go, the stumping for his upcoming re-election in November.
Though I don't remember having sat down with them yet to discuss anything- Qi sent me a ping, letting me know that while I hadn't touched the subject yet she had already begun email and phone correspondences with all three organizations. It was mainly just laying the foundation for what our charities would be built upon, setting up priorities, and laying down initial targets to come up with an ad hoc construction timeline.
Unfortunately Frontline was not in full attendance; we were short of Combat teams 1 and 2 as well as our entire Overwatch team. The reason was pretty simple- the Slaughterhouse Nine had dispensed with their meandering pace and picked up; they drove through the night instead of stopping like they usually did, and instead of swinging up towards Newtown like we thought they would in pursuit of Mouse Protector, they'd course-corrected and were making a bee-line straight towards Brockton Bay.
Emily wasn't kidding when she said that they lived to rain on other people's parades- not that I didn't already know that; the Intel section had built up pretty extensive profiles of the Nine, and we all had watched them in preparation for the upcoming slaughter. It was gruesome and stomach-turning, but it needed to be done; there weren't too many instances of footage containing interactions with the Nine, but what little there was had to be scoured off the Deep Web. I wasn't about to bet the lives of myself or others on some previous dives into the wiki and fanon.
I continued to tune out the Mayor's off-the-cuff speech as I tapped into the video feeds of all of the girls that were out there; three Helljumpers, one for each team, were highlighted in the High Altitude stealth drone's sensors. There were two backroads that the Nine could come down, and we needed to know which one they took before we set up our ambush. So, until then, it was the waiting game; regardless of which route they had already picked their ambush points and had them mapped out, staged, and ready to go.
As for how exactly it was going to go down, I left that up to M16A1; Emmie was in my mind the better leader- M4A1 was certainly capable, but she lacked experience. Emmie knew every girl like the back of her hand, and how best to employ them- the only reason she handed off leadership to M4A1 was that she wanted to develop her little sister and because Mr. Kryuger made the call.
Regardless, I spent the day making munitions as well as adapting some of the Necron technology that could be made into a form factor the girls could use; Gauss grenades were something that we designed for Bonesaw- the little bitch was packed full of all sorts of contagions that were highly transmissive and highly lethal. If we didn't atomize her then there was a good possibility that we would have a serious pandemic- the Titans mentioned that Scorch's thermite material would be more than enough to do the job properly. Evil as the little lady was, searing her alive didn't sit well with me- hitting her with a compressed magnetic wave that would scatter her atoms seemed to be far kinder a fate.
For Crawler, I manufactured hundreds of small vibration warheads, but thanks to Big-Bada Boom I was able to shrink them down to the size of a standard throwing dart- a launch packet on the forearm could hold a dozen of these tiny but exceptionally powerful rockets. Only a single one was theorized to kill Ned the monstrosity, but when it came to heavy regenerators like him the best kind of kill was overkill.
The rest of the Nine- Burnscar, Hatchetface, Shatterbird, Mannequin, and Jack Slash could easily be handled conventionally. Dispatching William Manton who was the Master projecting the Siberian would handle that problem; he wasn't enhanced like the other members, so a simple bullet to the dome through his windshield would be more than enough.
"-but that's enough about me, I think its time we hear it from the Heroes of the Hour themselves. It is my sincere pleasure to welcome the hero group that has decided to call our weathered city home, so please, everyone give it up for Frontline!" The mayor's voice boomed as if he was an announcer for a rousing, highly-anticipated MMA event.
I barely suppressed the snort as I stood up and adjusted my tuxedo before standing up from my seat and moving away from the table. The gala in our honor was being held in the Forsburg Gallery, a rather large and historic building that was dated back to the early 20th century when the old money left New York and set up their shipping companies in Brockton Bay just after World War I. It had a gothic architecture that sort of clashed with the other more modern buildings in the district that contained City Hall; it did have a decent-sized wall that ran around the entirety of the property, and it had green, well-kept grounds with a number of different types of trees and flowers with a walk that moved around the building.
The interior was what one would expect for an art gallery that also doubled as the city's history museum, though most of the building was roped off with the medium-sized central ballroom having been filled with tables, and chairs, with the food and beverages off to the right-hand side. You could tell that this was a last-minute deal for the Mayor to get organized because only the tables in front of the cameras were embellished properly; the rest received a white plastic sheet to protect them and had folding plastic chairs surrounding them.
Frontline obviously had the nice tables and chairs, with candles on the table and a glass bowl filled with marbles; in the direct center was a small bouquet that admittedly smelled pretty good. The Mayor's friends and family had the good seats as well, and it was quite funny to see all of the Wards sans Shadow Stalker all gathered around a single table; clad in their costumes they looked as though they wished they could be anywhere but here. Assault and Battery were there, in addition to Miss Militia, though Armsmaster was absent, which was a touch shocking as this night was just as much about the PRT and Protectorate as it was about us.
I held my hand out and the remaining 30 women in attendance all strode past me up the stairs clad in their Parian-made dresses, and they were looking quite extravagant; there was a common theme among them, and that was an open back that dropped low, almost to the cracks of their asses. There was a certain amount of skin visible elsewhere- those who had generous bosoms had them tastefully on display while those who lacked had their figures emphasized in other ways, such as a cut or layering that highlighted their hips.
Some had their hair done up, some wore their hair in elaborate braids that were intricate but didn't look as though they were trying too hard, and the rest wore their hair down- their silken hair falling straight or rolling like a waterfall.
They were all gorgeous, and they were all mine.
My eyes crinkled as Qi took my hand and all but dragged me up onto the stage before giving me a playful little shove, a small smile on her face as she took her place beside the rest of the girls while I made my way to the center of the stage to shake hands with the Mayor. "Truly a pleasure to meet you in person, Mr. Christner."
He laughed and shook his head as he handed me the microphone, "Please, call me Roy; it's the least I can do after everything you and the protectorate have done for our city. Now, I do hope that you prepared a speech."
His tone was teasing and jovial and I nodded my head. "Well, I guess you can say that I stayed up late these past few nights getting some Tinkering done, so I didn't even know that this event was being held until I was dragged out of my lab and plopped down in front of Parian to get this tuxedo made."
The Mayor's eyes roamed over the bountiful beauties and shook his head, "Yes, I can see her work indeed. Impeccable work, as always Miss Parian."
He finally relinquished his grip on the microphone and took a few steps off to the side; not enough to leave the camera shot, but enough that it didn't look like he was hovering over me. I looked back at the girls and they gave me some big grins and more than a few thumbs up.
I cleared my throat.
"Thank you, again, Mayor Christner for that sterling introduction. I would first and foremost like to thank the People of Brockton Bay, for trusting us to see things through; more than a few Capes or Cape teams have tried to clean up the criminal elements of the city, and more often than not they've had to leave because it was just beyond their capabilities. While there is no shame in walking away from a situation before you can bite off more than you can chew, there is no doubt that this has caused a lot of resentment to build up." I let my eyes wander the small number of people in the crowd, mostly city officials and their families, along with the media and other larger cable network journalists.
"It takes an immense amount of trust to put your wellbeing in the hands of someone else, and I think I can speak on behalf of all of Frontline when I say that we do not take that trust lightly." I placed one hand in my pocket, which had the nice effect of elevating one of my coattails, "Secondly I would like to thank the PRT, the Protectorate, and the Brockton Bay Police Department. Without your immense amount of hard work, cooperation, and operational coordination we would not have been able to take down and apprehend the various criminal elements within the city; without Armsmaster in particular we would have likely had a much bloodier battle against Kaiser on the rooftop of the Medhall building."
"To the Wards," I smiled at the kids gathered around the table, and they perked up just from being mentioned, "The patrol teams would like to thank you sincerely for your assistance in easing them into interacting with the public during their first few days out and about- Vista, I'm told that you went out of your way to give some tips that have served them well, so for all of your efforts in helping us keep this city safe, we thank you."
The tween Cape tried to act as if it was a matter of course, but there was no hiding the fact that she was no longer slouching in her chair; the grin she wore had to be fought down multiple times. The little tough girl who wants to be taken seriously yet still can't help but act like a child when given genuine praise for her efforts. Too cute.
I felt the Forge grow warm as I began talking about the efforts we went through to secure the city- expounding upon the training, intelligence work, and coordination of working with the Protectorate and PRT in making what we accomplished all happen.
[Attempted Re-Forge: 35.0190 - Do One Thing At A Time - 300CP - Dinotopia - Quality Efficiency]
[Re-Forge Successful]
[Purchased: 0 CP Remaining]
Because I was focused on giving my speech, I felt the quality of my speaking suddenly increase- my word choice was better, my inflection was more genuine, and my pacing engaging. It probably wouldn't have been noticeable to most in the crowd, if anything it could be chalked up to me finding my stride as I outlined the plans we had for improving the city, this time in a bit more detail. Qi fed me the details of the various outlines as I talked, keeping me free to continue without delay.
That was when I felt it, a ping, along with a sizeable package of data; then the phone in my pocket vibrated, and I pulled it out to look at it, mainly for the show of it all.
I wound it down fairly quickly, "Sorry about that, but I just received some very important news."
My tongue wetted my lips as everyone hung onto my words with bated breath; a nervous chuckle escaped my lips. "Uh, well, I'm certain you all noticed that the full Frontline team isn't up on stage with us this evening. No doubt you were wondering why, and I'm certain that there are more than a few in the audience who would have loved to of seen what Parian came up for them."
"Though, the reason they aren't here right now to receive the award from the Mayor is because a few days ago we received word that the Slaughterhouse Nine had changed their normal meandering pattern; they shifted their direction away from Boston and started to squarely head in this direction." I held up my hand as people began to look around, and the Protectorate Capes started to look more than a little anxious, "Now, I didn't tell you that to frighten you, but merely to inform you. The reason I am doing so is thus..."
My back straightened and I smiled for the cameras, "As of a few moments ago, I received word from Frontline's Second-in-Command, M16A1, that the Slaughterhouse Nine is no more. All nine members have been successfully slain; we'll have to wait for the Boston Protectorate to arrive on the scene to confirm that the Kill Orders have been fulfilled, but if M16A1 says the job is done, then the job is done."
Silence reigned for a few moments, and then the few handfuls of people in the crowd stood up and began clapping; it wasn't raucous applause, but it was applause; far better than the polite golf claps the city officials and wealthy members of the community were giving anyways.
I let my smile drop as I nodded to the cameras before turning back to the Mayor, "Everyone can expect a report to be available on our Team Webpage. That does it for us, Roy. I think I've covered everything we can cover, at least at this time."
The man crossed the distance between us with a jovial stride; his re-election campaign was certainly looking quite nice right about now. As long as he doesn't drop the ball he'll be viewed as the Mayor that kept the city together during the rough times and helped bring it back to its former glory. We were going to be doing a lot of the heavy lifting, but to be fair he was probably one of the easiest mayors to work with in the country; some elected officials were quite adversarial when it came to allowing things to be done when they didn't have a direct hand in it.
He gave me a swift clap on the shoulder, "Wow, folks, just- wow. I'm speechless, I well and truly am. The Slaughterhouse Nine is no more? I'll just say that we should wait for the official reports to come in before we get too excited, but seeing what they were able to do here in our city? I wouldn't bet against them."
The steps creaked under my weight as I stepped down from the stage and took my place over at our table where dinner was served. We enjoyed the meal, as it came from three different dining establishments that had excellent reputations in the Bay, including the 'La Petite Maison'.
After we ate all of us stood up and spread out to schmooze with all of the big money and the rest of the city officials; they were going to be helping bankroll the infrastructure improvements and housing reconstruction in the downtrodden areas. I also wanted to talk to them about getting the Ferry back up and running and having the Boat Graveyard and Train Yards opened back up.
Among the few faces in the crowd, I saw who I wanted to talk to; he was tall, lanky, with brown hair that was beginning to thin. The glasses he wore were thin, but the suit he wore was just as nice as what everyone else was wearing. I strode through the crowd, giving promises to talk to some other important people- the city's senior permitting official being one of them- and I approached Danny Hebert.
"Mr. Hebert, just the man I was looking for," I spoke out warmly with a pleasant but not too broad smile on my face. I stopped a polite distance away and held my hand out for him to shake.
He shook his head, a small but wry smile on his face, "Honestly, I'm a bit surprised to see that Horizon of Frontline knows someone like me."
"Heh, give yourself some credit, Mr. Hebert. I've heard all about you- a man in the trenches that fights tooth and nail for everything he can get his people; it's respectable, especially when most others would have just given up and rolled over," Our hands shook, a firm but business-like shake, "You look after your people, and that should be commended."
"Well, someone has to do something; if I hadn't pulled up my belt then the Dockworkers Union would have bled out a long time ago," Danny ran a thumb over the top of his brow, "Already lost a lot of good people to Marquis when he was recruiting, I couldn't let the rest go without jobs, though there isn't a lot of Capes to go out henching for nowadays."
"Well, there is Uber & Leet, but from what I heard they've been silent for a long time now," I shrugged my shoulders.
"I don't want to lose any of my guys to those clowns, no way in hell," The man gritted his teeth before clearing his throat and changing tracks, "Well, regardless of who is left, I take it you came over here to discuss some things with me regarding the future projects?"
I motioned for him to follow me, my eyes scanning around and I found Taylor chatting with Python and AK74U; there seemed to be a genuine smile on her face as the two women had out their phones and they were showing the teen some photos. Of what? I couldn't tell, but I'll leave that be and let them handle it. We found two unoccupied chairs and I pulled out my phone, using my implant to create a quick slide deck of how I was thinking we could do everything.
"So, I'm thinking that we're going to need more than just construction jobs to bring the city back up on its feet. Fixing utilities for the affected areas is the priority, as are tearing up the old roads and replacing them with new ones. Renovating the apartment buildings in the low-income neighborhoods and expanding out there will be a great quality of life improvement, but the down and dirty is that people need jobs," I flicked through the first two slides as he leaned over and adjusted his glasses, "How we accomplish that is by getting the Boat Graveyard removed, getting the Ferry back up and running to reconnect North and South Brockton, and getting the Train Yard repaired and up to code to remove the scrap from the ships."
He hummed and motioned for the phone, and I handed it over to him as he studied the slides, "Your numbers are a little optimistic; with the number of personnel on hand it would take us decades to clear out the graveyard, let alone the railyard."
"Well it's a good thing we have a large budget for hiring people then, don't we?" I grinned, but that grin became smaller the more I spoke, "Now, we're going to be getting the city to pay their fair share for the revitalization of Brockton, and we'll be asking the wealthy to donate as well in exchange for things like parks and side-streets named after them. Not to mention getting them to think about the nice tax write-off. However, the majority of the funding will be coming from us, and while we supply most of our own materials for Tinkering a lot of what we built requires resources that we have to purchase elsewhere. We will pay fairly, and we can extend to the workers for some health benefits and the like through us- but we need you and George at the Construction Union to not nickel and dime us to death over every single little thing."
"In addition to the pay, we'll be supplying the crews with all of the tools they could ever need, with the equipment being normal, non-Tinker stuff, but brought up Frontline's standards," I leaned back in my chair, "So that way no one has to come out of pocket or worry about having their tools refurbished for the work that is going to be coming."
He finished the slide deck and adjusted his glasses before giving me a firm look, "I'm a Union man, always have been, always will be. That being said, I think there is room to negotiate- never let it be said that Danny Hebert doesn't know how to play ball."
I chuckled and he handed me back my phone. We chatted for a few more minutes and we ended up talking about the few things we had in common, mainly cars. I took the time to make a plug for my small business, pulling up the website and telling him all about this 76' Stingray that I saw get refurbished, and showing him some pictures of my work. He copied the website address, email address, and phone number down on a pocket-sized notepad and pen. The guy was seriously old school.
We ended our pleasantries there and I made my way over to George Foreman, the head of the Construction Union here in Brockton, and I gave him the same speech I gave Danny; the sheer undertaking of the Brockton project was going to run in the tens of millions of dollars, and that was on the low end. We will be able to offset a lot of the materials costs ourselves by supplying plywood, tools, and whatnot - with the speed we could harvest nanomaterials and the very high conversion rate for mundane stuff made it so that we could do a whole lot with very little.
If I felt so inclined I could get in on the builds myself if I had the time, and that would speed up progress while still keeping material costs under. Hell, I could probably build a whole house myself in a few days- even less than that if I was willing to take a small quality hit using the Rapid Construction Perk. Double Hell, with Shipping the Product I could make five houses!
As a matter of fact, constructing some connex trailers with water, power, and A/C for use as breakrooms and offices at the worksites would go a long way to adding some extra goodwill and raising the comfort levels of the workers. I had Enbee draw up some plans for simple, mundane shipping containers that ranged from ten, twenty, and 40-foot lengths and had him start stacking in the warehouse; high-efficiency solar panels and high-capacity, low-volatility batteries.
Though... they would likely be donated to Canberra to assist with the recovery efforts there.
On that tack, I had ten more Globetrotters queued up to build; ten of them would be reconfigured to house these mobile containers, and the other ten would stock up on supplies. Food, water, medical supplies, cots, blankets, and pillows- it wouldn't be nearly enough to supply the city, but it would at least jumpstart the recovery efforts and give Australia's government a few days to organize relief efforts. As Enbee dispatched drones to do some fishing for the biomass needed to create some MREs, I walked around and engaged a few people; I secured a few promises to look into some private donations, but that was about it.
When I finally had some time to myself I moved over to the Frontline tables, took my seat, and pulled out my phone to open up the video and photo attachments that M16A1 sent me of the Slaughterhouse Nine's slaughtering.
I barely paid attention to the Forge spooling up and attempting to reach out for a star as I played the videos both through my phone and through my implant.
[Remaining: 100 CP]
[M16A1]
[1 hour prior]
M16A1 was kneeling in the middle of the road wearing a reflective cloak that was bright white. In front of her was a circle that was roughly two meters in diameter that she drew with chalk, placed inside that circle were 21 white colored glass marbles that were arranged in a cross and spaced equally apart.
"Are you really going this route?" M4A1 spoke to M16A1 through the helmet comm channel, "There are a lot of ways we could do this, one that doesn't involve the risk to yourself. There isn't Neural Cloud waiting for us to back up from."
"Would you relax, little sis? This isn't Griffen, we can afford to play around a little bit," M16A1 huffed as she adjusted her position on her knees, "Besides, we weren't like other T-Dolls anyways; there was no backing up... not for us."
"That Commander wanted this to be clean."
"And it will be clean, it's not like I'm going to give him a chance to escape or anything; a little theatrics is necessary in this world, haven't you been paying attention to ART556's lectures?" She retorted, "Jack Slash is a man that likes games, so why not give him a nice bit of fun before we send him off? Besides, when the people see this it will be a nice bit of catharsis for them; the murderous joker killed in a game. Just like all of his victims."
NTW-20's voice broke through their private conversation. "Target vehicle approaching - 11 kilometers out and approaching, ETA 8 minutes. Eyes on nine visible occupants."
Well then, looks like the wait is almost over.
"7 kilometers out. Deep scans show positive ID on all targets except for one. The unknown is a Male, caucasian, brown hair, early 30's. Unremarkable in appearance- wearing a button-up shirt, slacks, shoes, and a belt with the letters 'NG' on it."
She rolled her eyes, how many millions of people in America fit that description? Besides the belt buckle.
"Siberian is currently inhabiting the RV. Target designated Crawler is in a vehicle trailer attached to the back on a tow hitch." There was a pause, "Second Target Vehicle entering into range- white panel van matching description. Initiating deep scan... male, caucasian, mid-to-late 40's. Matches description of William Manton."
M16A1 smirked. Bingo, all of the guests plus one unknown, but looking back through the Commander's database on important figures and Capes he remembered there had been one former member of the Slaughterhouse Nine that seemed to fit the description.
ART556 broke through the channel, "That's probably Nice Guy. Master power, makes people around him think everything he does is harmless and not out of the ordinary. Sir knew he was dead before the Nine's appearance in Brockton Bay, but there wasn't any concrete information on it. Guess we get to be the ones to do him in, hee-hee-hee."
"Four kilometers."
"Three kilometers."
"Two kilometers."
"One kilometer."
"800 meters."
"600."
"400."
"200."
M16A1's grin grew savage as she saw a pair of fairly bright headlights round the bend in the road and straighten out. They'd chosen this spot for a reason- it was wide open with few trees to hinder lines of sight, not that the Overwatch team needed it with those coffins hovering off the ground a hundred meters surrounding her position. She saw the beams of the headlights wash over her reflective form.
"100 meters. T.V. 1 is slowing its speed."
"75 meters. T.V. 1 has entered the kill box."
The Kill Box was their 'press the red button and say FUCK everything in this grid square!' backup plan. With her shields and armor, she would survive it just fine, but an added level of safety was given with the portable bubble shield to take the hit for her.
She could clearly hear the rumbling of the large RV's v10 diesel engine steadily growing closer as the distance was closed. The vehicle pulled up and stopped about ten meters away from her current position, the headlights dropped from their high beams down to the fog lights, and she heard the air brakes hiss as it was put into park. The interior cabin lights came on revealing the gaggle of Slaughterhouse Nine members all pressing up against the window with broad, unhinged grins on their faces.
The engine shut off but the lights were kept on, and the door opened up to admit them out onto the street. Jack Slash came first, followed by Bonesaw, the Siberian, Shatterbird, Nice Guy, Burnscar, and the long-limbed, nine-foot-tall Mannequin. The final visible member was Hatchetface, who stood a head taller than Jack but a few feet shorter than the ceramic and metal shelled Tinker.
"Well, isn't this a surprise?" Jack Slash stepped forward in front of one of the headlights; likely to give a bit of villainous flare and to act as a psychological attack- silhouettes were more frightening than the man naturally was. Not that it mattered- M16A1 could see him just fine. "To think that the very people we were coming to see would instead be coming to us! How... delightful."
He was fairly tall, maybe a hair under six-foot, with dark hair that he wore slicked back; on his face, he had a well-trimmed goatee where the interior of the hair was trimmed to look like saw blades. He wore a white button-up shirt with the top three buttons opened to expose his toned chest and grey slacks with comfortable-looking leather boots on his feet. Wrapped around his waist was a wide leather belt that looked like something a construction contractor would wear, and on it were a dozen different types of blades from small knives to a butcher's knife and even a machete.
"Well, you were on our 'honey-do' list, to begin with, so we would have come out to see you regardless," M16A1 drawled as she pulled back the hood of the reflective cloak and revealed her ODST helmet. A 'laughing' emoji with tears spilling out of its eyes flickered across the faceplate. "Though when you changed directions and started heading towards the city we've just started cleaning up... well, you stepped yourselves up on our priority list. So congratulations, you get to see us a few days sooner than you otherwise would have."
He chuckled smoothly, "Oh boy, if I had a dollar for every Cape that said something like that! I'd be rich, I tell you! A new RV, fresh off the lot with all of the bells and whistles so that me and my crew here could travel around in comfort and style."
Jack ran a hand over his goatee, "Though I could have sworn there were more than just you."
"Well, the others are at a nice little get-together being held by the Mayor; a soiree to thank us for all of our hard work. So while they get to wear fancy dresses and schmooze with all the fat cats me and my team get stuck taking out the trash." She sighed gustily as she shook her head, "Sometimes life is unfair like that, right?"
"Aw, that is truly unfortunate- M16A1, right? You mind if I call you Emmie?" He crossed his arms and leaned back against the front of the RV. "M16A1 is just such a mouthful- Emmie is much nicer, shorter, sweeter."
"Only one man gets to call me that, and that man certainly isn't you," M16A1 huffed, "Regardless, we're getting side-tracked from what we're doing here, Jacob."
It was part of what little Jason remembered about Jack Slash, about his relationship with King; the man really hated it when his name was purred out in a demeaning fashion. So, M16A1 purred it out as best she could.
He didn't twitch, but there was a small tightening of his eyes that would have been imperceptible to most people. A knife was drawn from his belt and he began twirling it between his fingers, "Oh? What are we supposed to be doing here, my dear Emmie?"
"Well, I thought that we would... play a little game, you and I. You like games, don't you Jacob?" She held up a small steel marble in her hand and mirrored him, rolling the sphere across the backs of her armored fingers, "This particular one is simple, the rules are ironclad. Why, even a boy trapped in a bomb shelter should be able to play this one."
That got a twitch out of him, and he grinned reflexively as he pushed off the front of the RV and took a few steps forward. The Siberian strode up right behind him, "Aw, thanks for the emotional support, Kitty."
A low, husky rumbling chuckle escaped the black and white tiger-striped woman's mouth.
"I only see eight of you, where is Crawler? Surely he wouldn't want to miss out on a fun time such as this." ART556 dropped her stealth cloak and appeared a few meters behind M16A1.
"Ah, you are right, wouldn't want Ned to miss out on the fun, would we?" Jack clapped his hands, "Hatchetface, would you be so kind as to let Ned out of the trailer?"
"Excellent! I can't wait to hurt him!" The small Assault Rifle chirped as she bounced in place.
The large trailer in the back of the RV shifted from side to side as a grotesque, muffled voice spoke out. "Did somebody say pain? For me?"
"Yup! I'm going to hurt you lots and lots, okay~!"
"Hue-hue-hue-hue. Yesssssssssss..." The trailer rattled some more until the back hatch was lowered and Crawler's large, van-sized form lumbered into view with surprising grace; he looked like a cross between a panther, a bear, and an inchworm and he moved like it too. A hundred eyes dotted the surface of his armored, scaled carapace and they all blinked at once, "Who was going to fight me?"
"Oh! That would be me! Don't be fooled by my tiny size, I'm a real monster!" The fox patterned T-Doll flexed a bicep while her other arm pointed towards it.
"I don't look down on anyone. If you can hurt me then it doesn't matter how big you are. Hue-hue-hue-hue."
Jack's smile grew strained as his eyes tightened, "Well now, I'm all about a fun game, though if you've done your research on me then you should know that by now. However, I too wish to play a game, so since we can't play two different games at once, I propose a compromise: We play your little game here, and then? Then you'll play my game."
"Sounds good to me, Jacob." M16A1 nodded her head, "Shall I explain the rules?"
"Wait! We need stakes, my dear Emmie," He ran his hand over his hair, "No game is fun when there isn't any risk involved!"
She slowly nodded her head, before it began to become more enthusiastic, "Perfect! You are indeed right, Jacob- no game is fun without some skin in the game."
"So, how about this?" She stopped rolling the steel marble around her fingers so that she could point at him, "You and me, Mr. Jack Slash. We play this here simple but entertaining game of marbles. If we win..."
M16A1 tapped the chin of her helmet before snapping her fingers, "Ah, if we win, how about you all die, huh?"
An uproarious laugh issued out of his throat, "Oh, my dear Emmie, you truly are a woman after my own heart. We'll die, that is if you can kill us. Now, what do we get if we win, hmmm?"
"Oh, that's easy, you get to die as well," She shook her head as she stood up and tore the reflective cloak off, "You see, there isn't a single possible future where anyone of the Slaughterhouse Nine leaves here alive; you get a body bag, you get a body bag, you get a body bag, and yes, even you little missy, also get a body bag of your very own. Everyone one of you gets a body bag!"
"Haaaaaaa," Jack Slash rubbed at his chin with the back of his hand, "Well, you see, there is a slight problem with that, Emmie. We are the ones who hand out the body bags- it's... kind of our thing, you know? We have this vibe going on here within our little group-"
M16A1 sighed.
This wasn't how she envisioned this going down in her mind, but this was honestly getting quite tedious. She sent Super SASS a mental nudge. While Jack was in the middle of talking Burnscar's head popped like a grape as an overcharged 7.62x51mm laden with a few grains of Nitramene explosives impacted; the unique characteristic of the materials was the implosion that happened- so when her head misted from the initial explosion, all of the flesh, grey matter, and blood was sucked back into a tiny sphere before it exploded outwards in an even finer mist.
The former asylum patient's headless, neckless corpse slumped onto its knees before keeling over; her blood flowing from the stump and onto the pavement. Looks like Bonesaw's improvements weren't enough to stop that.
"Weeellll now, that wasn't very sporting," He drew out his machete and gave it a few test swings.
"I did tell you the rules of the game. You and I were going to play while everyone else died. Simple rules, but since you decided that you didn't want to play then..." M16A1 raised her arm up and aimed the marble at him, she did it nice and slowly, though from Jack's perspective it would have looked like she was making a genuine effort to kill him. The steel marble shot toward Jack with the force of a bullet, but before the projectile could strike the man became a monochrome of black and white stripes; it impacted his forehead and flattened.
"Ah, I'm afraid that with my dear Siberian around that I'm quite untouchable," He wriggled his eyebrows with a devilish grin on his face, causing the flattened steel to peel off and fall to the ground with a plink. "Not even Hero or Alexandria could stand up to her, and despite having some fancy power armor I just... don't see you being able to do the same."
A raised eyebrow emoji flashed across her helmet visor. "Are you sure about that?"
Two kilometers down the road LTLX7000 slipped out of the brush and stuffed the barrel of her shotgun through the window of the white panel van and placed it up against the side of William Manton's head; a microsecond later the entire right side of his head, along with all of his grey matter and both of the coronas painted the interior of the van.
The Siberian's face turned to one of shock before she flickered out of existence like a soap bubble being popped.
That was when all hell broke loose.
Shatterbird sang shrilly, and the glass windows of the RV as well as the marbles that M16A1 had arranged shattered into a fine silica powder and wrapped around her body, and she took off into the air only to be intercepted by Honeybadger; the T-Doll smashing into the Cape feet first at terminal velocity.
1,000 pounds of armor traveling at 867.7 kilometers per hour smacking into a fleshy target... the results were about what one would expect.
Honeybadger's armored legs created great furrows in the ground as she skidded to a halt fifty meters away; the doll having used some of her Ki flight to slow her down more quickly than usual.
Crawler had already been let out, and ART556 was playing with him, picking him up and tossing him around like the great big worm/bear/panther he was.
TS12 appeared in front of Hatchetface and blasted him in the chest with a standard shotgun slug, but the lead didn't penetrate- the force hardly moving him. "Oh yeah, I've been wanting to test out the new shells."
He charged forward with a roar, wrapping his arms around her waist and carrying her off into the field away from the road while Mannequin jumped into the air with his blade arms streaking right towards M16A1; he was intercepted by a 40mm grenade striking him dead center of the chest. He was a big, tall, heavy wretch of a former man, but the grenades SOP MOD II was packing were far from normal. The blast cracked his white ceramic shell and sent him tumbling end over end where he impacted in the center of the road and began to skid.
SOP MOD II dropped her cloak and patted M16A1 on the shoulder, "I'll go handle the tin man~! 'Oh if I only had a heart, doo do doo doo doo doo'~!"
She watched her little sister walk off with a whistle emanating from her speakers, and her shields flickered as a solid impact struck her chest; the blow barely even registered. M16A1 turned her head to Jack Slash who had the machete in one hand and the butcher's knife in the other. He was looking quite maniac; not surprising really, all around him his Slaughterhouse Nine was getting dismantled with either ruthless efficiency or careless ease.
ART556 grabbed onto Crawler's leg and spun around before hucking him across the field- both thrower and throw-ee giggled in delight.
"It's impolite to ignore someone when you're in the middle of a fight, you know?" He gestured with his arms wide and a big grin on his face.
M16A1 blinked.
"You're right, it really is." The T-Doll turned towards Nice Guy who'd been standing to Jack's right with a small, nervous smile on his face, "Hi there, how are you doing, sir? Are you okay? I understand that being in the middle of a Cape fight can be quite distressing for normal guy such as yourself."
It was difficult to keep the mirth from her voice, but she thought she managed it well enough. "Hey, you see that gap in between the fights between DP12 and Hatchetface and Crawler and ART556? You see that corridor of off-colored grass? If you stay on that trail right there and move quickly it should get you out of here no problem."
The Nice Guy's smile became a touch more genuine and he waved at her, "Why thank you, you are too kind! Well, Jack, it's been a pleasure knowing you, ta-ta now!"
M16A1 gave him a silly little wave and Jack's eyes widened in shock. She turned her attention back to him, "No loyalty among murderers, eh, Jack? Don't worry though, I didn't tell him about-"
The Nice Guy's running figure was suddenly tossed two meters into the air as an explosion blew up from underneath him; his torso and arms pinwheeling one way and the shredded remains of his legs flying in another. "-the land mines."
The Nice Guy struggled for breath for a few seconds, but when he did get some air in his lungs he began screaming in agony as he sat up and clutched at his stumps.
"Ah! Don't worry, I can fix that! Don't worry-!" Bonesaw chirped up, but her following words were cut short as Crawler's body slammed into him, smearing the Nine member across the grass before more of the landmines exploded, sending bits of his soaring into the air. Crawler let out a sonorous howl of laughter before charging right back at the armored fox loli who had sent him flying in the first place.
"Wow, what a shame." M16A1 drawled.
"Yeah, couldn't have happened to... a Nicer Guy," Jack chuckled.
Then they locked gazes and the man became a whirlwind of projected blade edges, a dozen strikes of cutting force battering against her shields like the rain on the windshield. This went on for a few seconds before the man seemed to realize that he was only tiring himself out. Jack Slash looked down at the only remaining member by his side, "Well, Poppet, I think that things are getting just a touch too dicey, wouldn't you say?"
"Mhmm, Plan Z?" The blonde girl spoke out from behind her hands with a big smile on her face.
"Yup, Plan Z," He swung his blades again and Bonesaw pulled a small handheld from her pocket and she pressed a small green button on it. The undercarriage storage doors popped open and what could only be described as zombies started to crawl out. There were only a half dozen of them, but the biological hazard it represented wasn't something that could be tolerated.
M16A1 grabbed one of the Necron Gauss grenades, a small black metal marble, and flicked it under the RV; the moment it was in position she manually activated the trigger with her implant, and the RV and everything within two meters of it were consumed in actinic green light. Jack, despite not having a Shard to work off of to guess her movements before she even made them, was still an attentive man, and he saw the marble leave her hand, likely deducing the explosive nature of the weapon. The man scooped Bonesaw up and leaped away from the explosion; the shell of the RV's frame was all that remained as the zombies that had been crawling out were turned to ash.
It was Bonesaw that helped them quickly to their feet, her arms peeling back to reveal sharp, pointed metal instruments that acted as if they were spring-loaded; the points digging into the pavement and hoisting her and Jack back up in an astoundingly quick recovery. The young blonde looked at the softly glowing vehicle and then back to M16A1 who was rolling another such grenade between her fingers. "You know, Jack, this would have been a lot easier for all of us if you weren't so quick on your feet."
Her shields flickered, indicating a strike right across her neck. Oh, was Jack Slash close to the tipping point?
A roar of frustration and pain drew everyone's attention to where DP12 unloaded shell after shell after shell of their Commander's special AP Sabot rounds into the large, lumbering Brute; his knees had been shot out, and even Bonesaw's arguments couldn't keep the mangled mess together, he raised the ax high above his head and made to swing down, but the Shotgun stepped in close and caught his downward cut by the elbow; her fingers closed and the sound of flesh rending could be heard as she removed his arm like an industrial vice.
"YES! YES! YES! DO IT!"
"Are you sure~? If I shoot you with this it just might kill you!"
"YES! I'M SURE! QUICKLY, BEFORE JACK SEES AND TELLS ME NOT TO!"
"Okay!" ART556 posed with her arm extended before quickly saying, "Anti-Tank Missile."
M16A1 rolled her eyes, she really wished ART556 hadn't seen Iron Man.
A dozen dart-like missiles sprouted from the wrist-mounted delivery package on her forearm, and they soared high into the sky before curving off in different directions that all converged on Crawler's body. A series of 'tnk' 'tnk' 'tnk's could be heard as they weapons pierced his scales- there was a sound that started in a low bass rumble before amping up to a high pitched screech.
Like watching a water balloon get popped in slow motion, M16A1 could see Crawler's tough body disintegrate from the outside in; crazily enough, he seemed like he just might be able to adapt, but the frequency of the vibration warhead reached the core that contained his coronas. They vibrated apart in the span of microseconds, and the connection between Crawler and his Shard was severed.
Then, just like that balloon, his exterior- all of the armored plates and thick scales- turned to powder while his entire body became a giant puddle of fluid that spread out and turned chunky once the powder of his armor fell on top of it. M16A1 threw the Gauss grenade with expert precision, the black ball landing in the direct center before she triggered it- the green lightning taking the puddle and stripping its atoms apart until nothing remained except a ring of goo that was maybe an inch in thickness.
Had they only used one of those darts then Ned's Shard would have been able to out heal the vibration warhead's effects? They used twelve of them working in concert and the bastard was still almost able to survive it.
That would have been scary if they couldn't have just grabbed his new reformed body and slung him into the sun- it would have taken a quarter second to calculate the proper trajectory, but it was theorized that Ned couldn't survive in space because the Shards were hard-locked onto the Earth.
Hatchetface's head tumbled from his shoulders as DP12 extinguished her blue Lightsaber and clipped it onto the small magnetic plate on the small of her back.
So, that was Shatterbird, Siberian, Burnscar, Hatchetface, Niceguy, Crawler-
A limbless white torso was tossed and Mannequin's body skidded to a halt right in front of Jack's feet. The leader of the Slaughterhouse Nine looked down at the body, "Alan?"
The head twitched but its near faceless visage turned to regard Jack before nodding slowly. There were a few crunches, and the arms and leg sections of Mannequin's body were tossed, and they bounced around to land near the serial killer; they were completely mangled. "Hey, did you guys know that if you severed Mannequin's limbs they could move and operate independently of his body? I certainly didn't."
M4A1 SOP MOD II strode closer, and she saw the Tinker's head move. "Ah, shit, the guy's still alive. Lemme fix that real quick."
A sixty-round magazine filled with the Commander's special AP rounds started to pour onto Mannequin's torso and head; the first dozen or so rounds skittered off the ceramic and steel composite before enough chunks were torn off that the rounds following could bite in more deeply. The carapace was torn away to reveal a box filled with organs that appeared to be encased in a plexiglass box; it had to be plexiglass or some other glass alternative because he would have been in danger every time Shatterbird sang. The case was very thick, and the last few rounds merely caused spiderwebs to form.
"Ew, that's really gross man, sticking all of your organs in a box? Man, the Simurgh must have really messed you up good," She shook her head and slotted an armor-piercing grenade into the tube on her grenade launcher before she slid it shut with a click. "Don't worry though, I'm sure God can put you back together."
The explosion knocked Jack and Bonesaw off of their feet and sent them rolling across the wet grass of the field next to the roadside; when they finally made it up to their feet they were both bleeding and peppered with shrapnel. Well, it was nice to see that Bonesaw's augments were finally seeming to prove their worth here- M16A1 was beginning to wonder if her Master hadn't played them up a bit too much. Though it appeared that Bonesaw had saved the best augments for herself and Jack Slash; the bits of steel and ceramic popped out of their wounds, the flying debris stopped by the wet Tinker's subdermal mesh.
He let out a wet cough, "We-well now, Poppet. It appears as though we're in quite the predicament."
"M-mhmm, Mr. Jack. Th-this is quite a pickle we're in," The mad doctor agreed as she reached into the front of her blood-spattered apron and pulled out a pair of syringes and a tube of some kind. She easily slipped the needle into the vein on her arm before stabbing Jack with the other syringe; he let out a grunt but made no further mention of it. Instead, his eyes whirled around the area looking for an opportunity to escape; there was none, however- he was surrounded on all sides.
Bonesaw popped the cap on the tube and began applying it to the man's wounds, and after she applied the paste to herself an armored hand reached out and grabbed the young girl by the scruff of the neck.
"Eeeeeeee~!" The girl's voice cried out, "Wait! Wait! Wait! I-if you kill me or Mr. Jack then I'll release all of the viruses and bacteria I have stored in my body! They've all been aerosolized and can be carried on the winds for hundreds of miles; they're also not normal versions of them either. They're really, really, really nasty- you could end up being responsible for killing the whole world!"
"Hey, I'd listen to the little lady, she's quite serious." The man ran the edge of the knife in his hand along the side of his goatee, "Anything happens to me and all of that nasty stuff will get released, you wouldn't want that, would you?"
He put the knives away and slipped the machete onto his belt, with his hands free he opened up his arms, "Now if you would be so kind as to give me my little Poppet and we'll be on our way."
M4A1's visor stared down at Jack Slash, her body trembling in anger. "I hate you, Jack Slash. For all of the people that you killed. For what you did to this little girl. You turned her into a monster, a rabid dog that needs to be put down."
Despite the direness of his situation he grinned, "I can't see your face, but I think I can guess how it looks. It's probably quite fierce, my softspoken, would-be killer."
"Give him the girl, M4A1. She's got all sorts of biohazardous materials in her body M4A1, we won't be able to get them all out of her before she releases a plague. Or did you not notice the zombies they had stuffed in the bottom of the RV?" M16A1 shook her head, making it sound as if they were going to allow him to leave. If he had been thinking clearly, his mind not so addled with the sudden feeling of mortality without the Siberian there to pull his ass from the fire, Jack might have remembered that they had something that could handle organic things just fine.
"Finish the job; I'd like to see if we can't get back home before the sun rises. We also have to contact the PRT and Protectorate to collect their bounties." She muttered to M4A1 over the comms.
M4A1 placed a hand on top of the struggling girl's head and gave it a few soft pats. "I wish I could have saved you."
"Wha-?"
A Gauss grenade slipped down the back of the murder midget's dress, but due to how tight the apron was tied it could slip down no further. M4A1 picked her up and placed her in Jack Slash's arms; the man was quite stunned by the sudden maneuver. Had he expected them to not hand over the girl?
M4A1 was five meters away in the blink of an eye, and with a mental nudge, the weapon activated.
In less than a second both Jack Slash and Bonesaw were atomized, the only trace of their passing being heat, ash, and ionized particles.
M4A1's shoulders slumped and SOP MOD II bounded over to wrap her up in a firm hug, which the woman returned in kind.
M16A1 let out a soft sigh and shook her head as she mentally started filling out the Kill Order paperwork and sending it in through the PRT's online web portal. After that, she dialed the New York PRT and the County Sherriff's office; while they wouldn't be involved since this was a Parahuman-related event, it was still polite to inform them of what was going on.
They left the scene as it was and M16A1 pulled up everyone's helmet camera footage and sent it off to ART556 to be doctored a little bit; removing some of the choice dialogue and cleaning it up to look just a touch better. As soon as it was sent back the rifle ran through it, making sure that the censorship was in place as well as an uncensored version for those who wished to see the Nine's end in its full detail. It would probably end up being a very popular topic in the days and weeks to come, and they would catch some flak for it, but letting the people who were terrorized by the Nine for more than a decade see a definitive end would bring them some much-needed closure.
This day would mark the beginning of a new era for the country, a day when S-Class threats were no longer a threat that would only be driven off.
"Movement in the sky above." Super SASS spoke, and M16A1's eyes tracked in the night sky to see a streak of energy in the shape of a man barreling towards them like a bat out of hell; the pure energy slowed and took the shape of a man wearing a light blue body suit that stuck out even in the moonlit sky.
"Huh, I would say that I'm surprised, but I'm really not," M16A1 spoke out as the face of the Protectorate touched down in front of them, "I guess when someone claims that they've slain the Slaughterhouse Nine its a big enough deal to warrant you coming out in person."
The blue domino mask was pretty advanced compared to most of the crap she'd seen capes wear; it was able to let someone see the movement of his eyebrows and hid the color of his eyes from sight with a white film. The photos she'd seen of him were mainly of him smiling, but Legend, however, was not smiling. "Yes, indeed, the Slaughterhouse Nine were a blight on all of us, and if I hear that they're dead then I'm going to want to come see the bodies myself."
"Well, most of them have bodies, some don't," She gestured to bits of Shatterbird, her head was still intact, but that was about it, Nice Guy too was in bad shape, the man looking like he'd been crushed over by a steam roller. Hatchetface was probably the most intact corpse they had besides William Manton, "If you're looking for the Siberian's corpse, you won't find it."
He winced, "I suppose that I'm not exactly hiding that; she took one of my best friends away from me, and almost took another. Though you said there wouldn't be a body, did she escape?"
M16A1 shook her head, "No, that was because she was a projection, the Master that manifested the Siberian into the world was following roughly two kilometers behind them; we only caught on because we had a wide net cast in case any of them tried to make a break for it."
The T-Doll pulled out a small tablet and then expanded it in size to that of a small whiteboard, then she pulled out a USB drive and plugged it in; video footage played from LTLX7000's helmet camera, clearly showing the interior of the panel van's cabin and the tired, haggard face of William Manton. Legend peered at the still image before his jaw drew tight, "How do you know that he was the Master?"
"Because the moment we popped his melon the Siberian disappeared? Here, watch," She placed her helmet camera footage and LTLX7000's footage side by side on the tablet, arranging the time stamps on the mission clocks so they would play at the same time. The Italian Shotgun's barrel was through the windshield and blowing his brains out, and at that exact same moment, there was a look of shock on the Siberian's face before she popped like a soap bubble, "The guy was driving just fast enough to stay in range, and from what we were able to scrounge up from surveillance from the past few years... whenever the Nine attacked there was always a white panel van following them around; LTLX7000 is bringing the van over right now, but according to her this thing is lived in. Bed, food, clothing, etc. Everything a Murder Hobo on the Move would need."
Legend nodded, "I do hope that you'll be giving a full report because this seemed like a snap judgment that could have gone badly; he could have been someone looking to take revenge on the Nine."
M16A1 shook her head, "Not very likely, our Intel section is very on top of it, as is our OPS cell; we wouldn't have blown some random guy's head off. The Siberian has been observed to pop in and out of existence during attacks, quickly relocating around the city, and while others believed that she had a teleportation power to add onto the rest of the bullshit that was in her toolkit, we believed differently."
It was sort of a pain to walk around every single corpse, or what was left of it, and show it off to Legend as PRT trucks laden with crime scene investigators and whatnot showed up and began cordoning off the area. For every corpse, she showed the video footage associated with the demise, and when they got to Jack Slash and Bonesaw's remains Legend wasn't looking too hot; his normal demeanor was gone, replaced by a man fraught with tension.
"So as you can see, we were forced to atomize both Bonesaw and Jack Slash because the threat of her releasing her viruses and super bacteria were far too real to try and go for a capture," M16A1 finished up her verbal report and handed over USB thumb drives to whoever asked for them, "And that about sums it up. The Slaughterhouse Nine is no more, now the only real question is what was their official bounties up to?"
Legend coughed into his hand, "Well, I believe they were up to $232 Million dollars last I checked; the Siberian was worth $100 million herself since she was such a threat. Though you'll need to go to the PRT offices to officially claim the bounties."
M16A1 nodded before holding her hand out for Legend to shake, "Well, I guess I'll be troubling Director Piggot, though I think that she'll be more than happy to hear the news."
The man quirked his lips, "Well, after hearing about what you've done in Brockton Bay I've heard that she's been feeling a lot better about things; you didn't hear this from me, but there is a rumor going round that she was caught by her secretary doing a little dance in her office."
M16A1 snorted hard, her shoulders jerking a little with the force, "Well I can't say that I don't blame her. Anyways, we done here, Legend?"
"Well, officially? Yes, there isn't much else that needs to be done except file the claim at the PRT office."
"Excellent, because I'm missing a party right now being held in my team's honor, and I'd like to make it back while there are at least some finger foods available," She gave the leader of the Protectorate a finger wave, "Later, Legend."
With that, M16A1 turned around and leaped high into the air, the T-Doll tapping into her Ki and thrusters to take her a hundred feet into the air before hovering in place as a Helljumper slipped in front of her. Her boots hit the floor of the internal bay and the woman sat down in the nearest chair before reclining it out with a huge sigh. She wasn't going to take her helmet off until they Decon'd back at the Headquarters.
All in all, it wasn't quite the Cape fight spectacle that she and ART556 had war-gamed, but it was close enough. All she needed to do now was sleep for a few hours in the Superbolic time chamber, get changed into her dress, and have one of the Helljumpers drop her and the other girls off at the Gala.
She was quite hungry right now, and the City of Brockton had paid for the meal; it would be quite rude not to partake, no?
Special thanks to Lmc9389, Xodarap4, Artillery, DrkShdow, AuraofCalm, Zerak, Mioismoe, Zath, Splendid, D. Wongsonegoro, Darkarma, Acrimonius, T. Balewood, Randall Randall, Dominyx Black, CyberCrisis, Blue, Russ Stilter, Legion_13, Mike Fatal_Bullet, P. Nguyen, Fred65, K. Nielsen, J. Ricardo Passos, B. Rison, K. Weierbach, R. Alderman, A P, Arrorn, Empty Shelf, PbookR for being Patrons!
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Do One Thing At A Time (Dinotopia) (300CP)
When you focus yourself on doing a single task, your skill and efficiency doubles. Material requirements are unaffected, but time taken is halved and quality is doubled.