Nazis cry out for the squishening!
Beta'd by Firstselector, SpytheEngineer, and Kinsfire.
Content Warning: Nazi POVs and all the attendant issues there.
Hookwolf was not a man accustomed to defeat.
Even just off of the back of his power, he was hard to contend with on a physical level- between the sheer mass of metal that was there and how sharp it was, it was hard for anyone except the chink dragon to stand up to him, purely from a standpoint of "who's tough enough and strong enough to take what he can dish out and dish right back". Combining that with his experience, both before he Triggered, in the pit fights, and after, and he was one of the largest individual threats in the city, and his reputation and sheer brute power helped discourage every dumbass with a ski mask and a power (or hell, a ski mask and a gun) from making a run at the Empire.
All of this made it all the more galling that some girl could just manhandle him like so much wet lint, even if he knew that that girl had stood up to Endbringers (and him) before- doing it in civvies was just different from coming out the loser against an armored cape like Volur.
Oh, sure, Hookwolf knew in the abstract that there were threats that he didn't have a hope of standing up to. The Endbringers, the Triumvirate, hell, even that Quarrel bitch were all big names that either he couldn't touch or could feasibly put him down like the rejects from the dogfights, but at least they had the fucking balls to present themselves as the actual big names they were- even the new girl, Quarrel, she'd proved her bona fides by putting down the Butcher and then an Endbringer within a matter of hours, and the massive fucking bow was just an accent on top of that.
But some girl in her civvies chumping him that hard, without even paying enough attention to him to realize that she threw him right into Squealer's latest truck's blind spot, that stung. The druggie bint hadn't managed to kill him with the shot that had thrown him into the house, but she had slowed him down enough to escape, and with the raid on the drug den in one of his warehouses already done, that was all she needed to let the rest of the mooks get off without a scratch.
"So, let me get this straight." Clausewitz steepled his fingers, his voice carrying the air of authority that was normally Kaiser's to exert. "You failed to defend your territory against a half-wit, drug-addled whore, whose only saving grace is that she found a benefactor to hitch her disgusting trailer to in order to afford to put a tank in all but name on the streets of this good city. In fact, in the process of attempting to pursue Squealer, you ran the risk of earning our good people a reputation of being trucebreakers that we only escaped by the good fortune you had to be pursuing a bitch so drug-addled that she violated the recovery period and that our city has a cape capable of undoing the damage dealt by the former Endbringers so comprehensively that the recovery period was shortened to just two days, at which point you found yourself destroying a civilian house- not even any civilian, no, just the cape who repaired the city. The only reason you haven't found yourself in Allfather's company is the fact that she has, in all the mercy a person like that can hold in their heart, decided not to pursue your head."
Hookwolf winced. "Well, when you say it like that, then it sounds bad."
Clausewitz leaned forwards over the desk that was separating them. "That is the intent, yes- Kaiser has charged me with driving home the magnitude of your choices and their consequences, and these are indeed weighty choices."
"So what, you're just gonna beat my ass until I apologize or some shit like that?" Hookwolf didn't really think that would happen, but one way or the other it would get a response from the egghead, and that was the important thing.
"No, I shall be putting your talents to use in a more… appropriate manner as we strive to rectify the problems you have caused our organization. You may go, until I have need of you in a more direct capacity, at which time I will reach out to you myself." Hookwolf was tempted to take a swing at Clausewitz for his arrogance, like he'd have handled Squealer driving through his wall any better, but he held onto his temper, banking it for another occasion.
"Sure," he spat, turning and slouching out of the room that the man liked to call his office. He'd done that song and dance before, and he knew that, for as much of an ass as Clausewitz was, he'd find some way to make his petty personal grievance serve the best interests of the Empire.
As long as he served the cause, all could be forgiven.
Hookwolf had very nearly ruined everything.
Not that the situation wasn't already precarious, but it was precarious in a manner that Clausewitz planned for- something that he wasn't half bad at, if he did say so himself, especially with his brother to help cover for his blind spots. For as treacherous as the Butcher was, as fraught a plan as applying both his and his brother's talents against the PRT and New Wave to handicap the fools, those were all things that he'd planned for and could predict the responses to, which opened up the door to his own countermoves that would keep them in the game even if someone thought they could maneuver the Empire into checkmate.
Having such a powerful cape as Volur feel targeted by the Empire by what was essentially random chance, especially when she had enough favors to call in to crush them, was another matter entirely.
He couldn't entirely fault Hookwolf for the situation- Squealer was a Tinker, yes, but she'd been of such middling performance that neither him nor the rest of the Empire could have predicted such a bold strike from her, let alone that it would be so successful. Indeed, it was only Othala's aid that prevented them from losing any manpower to go along with the weapons and drugs she'd denied them in the raid, and Taylor Hebert was a personal project, so he hadn't put her address into the wider Empire awareness as a location of a potential recruitment target.
Still, it was clear that, one way or the other, that could not stand. Too much had changed of late, in the last 48 hours alone, for him to afford to stagnate in his plans.
Taylor Hebert could no longer be recruited in the conventional sense, if that had ever truly been a possibility. Even if he had managed to control the situation well enough to present her with situations that would entangle them more closely together, her dalliance with Victoria Dallon of New Wave made it clear that she would not be someone he could recruit with conventional methods.
Nor could he recruit her through the mechanism of his power. Both Hebert and the Dallon girl were immune to the short-term aspects of his power, and as much as he believed in the effect of the longer-term side of his power to break through even their formidable wills, he needed his shorter-term power to keep them around for long enough for said power to reeducate them, and while he'd managed to ply his trade well at Winslow where he could rely on the rules and regulations of the educational system to bind his conscripts, neither of the girls would be within his reach any time soon with the transfer that Arcadia had offered the Heberts.
Ah, well, he'd be able to at least work with whatever capes Gesellschaft decided to offer in exchange for such a potent ability.
Their brainwashing programs (or, if push came to shove, breeding programs) were far and away superior to anything he'd seen or heard of in America, even when taking factions like the Herren Clans or the Fallen and all their Masters into consideration.
Their masterpieces, like Night and Fog, far outshone what measly work he'd been able to put into the likes of Hookwolf- he'd merely leashed a rabid animal, they had torn apart two degenerate crossdressers and in their place built up respectable members of society who could be trusted to kill their depraved friends with their bare hands as their first acts of repentance for their sins.
Yes, Gesellschaft would be able to rehabilitate the two degenerates far better than he could, and the only obstacle to that was their capture and delivery, which was something he was far more equipped for. With New Wave in shambles and the Protectorate already disrupted by the director's reaction to Hebert, he only had to contend with their own resistance, with perhaps a token chance of external issues, nothing he hadn't overcome before. He'd even managed to convince Kaiser to make a strike against the ABB, especially in the wake of their alleged dragon's refusal to stand against the Endbringers- while they did lose Stormtiger in the Endbringer battle, they were seen standing and fighting in the figurative trenches to defend their city, and had the victory to ride the crest of.
All this to say that, if all went well, he would be able to sweep many obstacles off of the path to the Empire's conquest of the city.
He raised the phone on his desk, dialing in a number from memory. "Purity, my friend, it is time. Lung is in the shopping mall. Begin your attack run."
Cleo Gaul wasn't particularly special, by the standards of Brockton Bay- working single mothers weren't, unfortunately, that rare in the context of the sociopolitical situation in Brockton Bay.
She had had the good fortune of her husband not dying of violent means (heart failure was, for all the tragedy of the means, not something that was inflicted on her Flavius by anyone who she could put a face to), and being able to live in the house that was paid off by his life insurance, but that didn't stop little David Dwight Gaul from growing up without ever having seen his father's face.
Still, life had to go on, and today, that meant going to the mall. David's clothes weren't going to buy themselves, unfortunately.
After entirely too much time cajoling a fussing baby into the stroller, she could finally get into the building, and hopefully things would go well.
The store was, unfortunately, busier than she'd hoped, but she made it through, and after a line that she thought was too long for just two days after an Endbringer attack, she decided to go to Baskin-Robbins for a little treat.
There, too, the line was onerously long, and David was starting to fuss far before she got to the register, but by a stroke of luck, the burly man in front of her in line turned around and started letting David play with his finger before she could wrangle the bags into the storage area under the stroller, to the point where after they'd gotten their ice cream (rainbow sherbert for the man, who introduced himself as Kenta Tatsuma, and rocky road for Cleo), they accompanied each other to the same table.
"...thank you so much for the help, Mr. Kenta," she said, setting her cup down and maneuvering the stroller around to where David could see both of him. "I've been trying, but… well, ever since my Flavius passed, I've been overwhelmed, and as much as I love little David, having him really hasn't helped me get back on my feet especially with how much my mother-in-law hates me for 'stealing away her darling baby boy' from someone of the 'right sort'." She made air quotes around the last.
Kenta snorted, finger still clutched in David's brown little fist. "Someone like that," he said, "isn't worth the title of mother.
"Preaching to the choir on that one," said Cleo, hands coming up, "but he loved her and wasn't willing or able to acknowledge how much of a bitch she was. Half the time I'm astounded he was even a functional human being instead of a goose-stepping little-"
She was interrupted by the grinding of metal against metal. Anyone in Brockton Bay knew to get down and look around for a source, and these two were no exception- both of them dropped their ice cream and moved, with Kenta's head swiveling around to the blades rising up to block off the food court's exit in contrast to Cleo all but hurling herself to cover David.
There was a deep, thrumming boom, and a flash of blinding light, and part of the roof caved in, spilling rubble all across the foyer of the movie theater appended to the food court and revealing the incandescent form of Purity, hovering in the sky like an avenging angel.
"People of Brockton Bay," came the hollow, booming voice of Kaiser as he planted himself in front of the blocked-off exit. "For too long has this city been menaced by the so-called 'community service organization' that is the Azn Bad Boys. I come here, today, to put an end to this villainous organization myself, by slaying the dragon whose cupidity and avarice demands no less than the complete rule over this fair city." Disdain fairly dripped off of his voice, somehow harmonizing with the sound of his armor creaking as he took an imperious stance that gave the impression that he was looking down his nose at them like so many disobedient children. "Kenta Tatsuma," he said, weightily, "come to your death with dignity and spare the people of this city the damage that another of your rampages will cause.
Instead of the dismay that she was expecting to feel at realizing that she'd let Lung within reach of her child, Cleo was filled with fury- not at Kenta, but at Kaiser, for putting her baby's life in danger.
"Kick his ass," she snarled, unbuckling David from the stroller so she could take him and run.
Kenta startled, heat rising from his body, almost as if he'd forgotten she was there, then turned to a boy no older than fifteen at another table. "Get her and her child out of here. If the little emperor wishes to court death, I can oblige him."
The boy nodded, then gestured, sweeping up Cleo in his wake as they melted into the crowd.
The last she saw of Kenta before the boy guided her out of the room was the man glaring at Kaiser, eyes glowing and shirt ripping off of his scale-studded torso.
And that's that!
It is, finally, Nazi squishening time. You may now rejoice.
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