A/N Slow descent. Pt. 1
Alt Title: An exploration into what happens with the mice, when the fox is away.
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FFN is fucky again!
No notifications, AGAIN!
FML
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Anyway this chapter explores some of those snippets from the previous chapters in more depth. A bit more world building so that the eventual fallout is all that more rewarding and doesn't feel rushed.
And I'm splitting it between chapters because there is A LOT going on. Heck, I might extend it to three chapters depending.
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DancingLeaf: Yeah, only difference here is that, to explain her behavior, Kitsu doesn't know the world is burning. Kitsu has the bad habit of forgetting what her presence at large does. She's aware of immediate effects, but it's been stated that Kitsu lacks in the long term thinking. So, yes, she is sitting still and letting The Travelers baste in their frustration, all the while being oblivious to what her absence is doing. It's not even that she can't comprehend it, it's just that she lives in the moment.
But yeah, if she were aware of what was happening in the city, she'd have busted out already and just 'fuck you guys!' to The Travelers.
Oh I can't wait for the next two to three chapters!
Deathchill: I like buildup.
Kaykaykaykayan: They're not really on the case, seeing as there's nothing they can do. Just wait as none of them have any real tracking abilities.
Thank you.
Gogmazios: You're welcome!
And thank you.
Grimnosh: He's so caught up in trying to reach the end goal, he hasn't even stopped to realize Kitsu hasn't even tried to escape. When he's aware she could do so.
RadChaos897: WHAZZZUP! I'd write more, but I'm on the emotional equivalent of energy reserves.
Fun fact! I do such a good Dr. Doofenshmirtz impression that I will have some coworkers come up and say "A platypus?" just to hear it.
I also love your speculation on what Kitsu might do.
Redburndragon: Krouse is horribly tunnel visioned, as are all of The Travelers due to Ziz's song. He believes she needs to see to use her illusions accurately. Which is true, just not as true as he's hoping. She just needs to be able to picture her illusions.
SonicTundra: Breathing fire would be energy extensive, but more than that, it'd be boring. Kitsu's waiting for just the right moment. That, and they don't know that. Kitsu has shown the ability to ignite a total of 2, technically 3, times. Once in one of Coil's throwaway's, once when she learned Rachel was arrested and she was being extra about how upset she was, and once in the school to set off the sprinkler system and short circuit Vergil.
So her ability to ignite isn't well known. The PRT haven't even gotten around to properly cataloguing it.
Natelord28: You're welcome!
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-Date, Time-
'Thoughts'
"Speech"
[Shard]
(Text)
*Sounds/Actions*
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-Friday, August 6th, Ferry Station South, 9am-
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Carol "Brandish" Dallon POV
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As soon as Mark parks the car, I step out and stretch. Getting ready for a day of patrol and possibly, most likely, violence near the docks.
Looking around the empty parking lot, I reflect on how the state of the city is being reflected even here. Word travels fast, and word of violence travels faster. Just a few days ago, this parking lot would've been packed with visitors. Which oddly enough, would've been just as empty as it is now a few months ago.
*Clunk* The car doors shut.
Turning to Mark as he locks the car. He gives a small smile accompanied by a nod. I return the nod and we head towards the station where Firebreather and Triumph are waiting for us inside.
Passing the teal willow tree and approaching the entrance of the station plaza, reveals the inside to be similarly barren. Save for a few cart vendors, a couple of visitors and the two heroes in question, sitting on a bench in front of Kitsu's Gildeglow tree. A cherry blossom tree with lines of golden wood woven into the bark. One of her tamer creations, as compare to the Crying Willow out front in the foyer that glows at night and sways its leafs to imitate wind going through it.
"There they are!" Triumph calls out with a wave, getting Firebreather to look up.
Firebreather gives us a wave as Mark returns the gesture. The two guys get up from the bench and start walking towards us. We meet each other halfway.
"Ready for a day out on the town?" The Golden Greek lion themed hero asks, his age and youthful demeanor evident in his voice. Reminding me that not long ago, only a few months, he was a Ward.
"Ready as we'll ever be." I say in response. "You know where we'll be patrolling?"
Triumph gives a nod while Firebreather gives a so-so gesture with his hand. Prompting me to give him a raised brow in response.
"I know the names of the locations." He explains gingerly. "But not where they actually are."
'That makes sense.' I think to myself. He's still relatively new to the bay. And navigating a city is a lot different to navigating a desert I'd imagine.
"We'll be patrolling from here to bay central." Mark says as he joins the conversation. "Zigzagging the streets to increase our coverage. Overall, should take us about four hours for a single trip back and forth along the route."
"Assuming, that nothing happens." Triumph adds as he leans to his side. "And trust me, something bad's gonna happen."
He's not wrong. Like I said, word travels fast. And Kitsu's kidnapping traveled faster than sound. The very next day, Stormfront and Hookwolf went on rampages. With Hookwolf causing as much destruction as possible while Stormfront is solidifying her territory and operations.
Now that her whole slave trafficking ring's been exposed, we fear she's going to stop hiding it, and escalate. Open attacks, daylight kidnappings, rallies, underground auctions. That sort of thing.
"What do you want us to do if something goes down?" Firebreather asks.
"You and Triumph are the faster two, so if something happens you'll be running evac or pursuit while me and Flashbang handle interception." I say automatically, years of hero work kicking in to take over.
"Other than that, we'll have to play it by ear." Mark finishes for me. "Now come on, we can cut the trip down to an hour and a half if we take the car."
He starts to walk away before I grab his collar and stop him.
"And we already agreed that we weren't taking the car." I remind him. "We're walking, there's more than enough capes on patrol and being stuck in a car is a death sentence if Hookwolf charges down the street."
That's the logical reason. The selfish reason is that I am not ruining the mileage or paying for that gas. Three dollars and ninety cents a gallon is absurd. And it's only going to get worse.
'Maybe Kitsu can come up with a plant that makes oil when she gets back.' I think sarcastically before my mood sours at the reminder. 'Just, get through the day Carol. Nothing you can do for now.'
The walk through the city is uneventful for the most part. With Firebreather taking the skies and keeping us up to date with a bird's eye view. While Triumph dashes through the alleyways, using his sound waves to propel him in rapid bursts. Me and Mark maintain a main level street presence. After all, the presence of an authority figure, does more to prevent crime than any other security measure.
*Ring* My phone starts going off.
"Gimme a sec." I say as I grab my phone from the pocket in my leg armor's padding. "It's, Pinky?"
Why would she be calling me?
"Why would Pinky be calling you?" Mark asks.
"I was just wondering the same thing." I say as I answer the phone. "Hello?"
*Krrrrrr!* I hear an explosion on the other side of the line.
"Mrs. Dallon? Carol? Oh thank god!" Pinky's voice sounds out desperately. "Me and Gully were on patrol when-"
*Krrr* "Suck it bitches! Get high on the smoke of my balls!" I hear her get interrupted in the background.
"The point Pinky!" I say urgently. "What's happening!?"
"Merchants, ABB, North Docks, Gully's hurt! No one's answering their phones!" Pinky says in a panic. "Help me!"
"Fuck." I hiss under my breath. "Stay put, I'll try and see if I can't get anyone over to you."
"What's going on?" Mark asks in concern.
*Krrrr* "Whooo!"
"I'll try!" Pinky says before hanging up.
"Hey!" Firebreather says as he flies down. "Something the matter? You stopped patrolling."
"The North Station is under attack from the Merchants and the ABB." I say as I go through my contacts and call Sarah. "Pinky and Gully are stuck in the crossfire."
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Rex "Ginobog" Sloan POV
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"Whoo!" I shout as I bullseye a druggy with my slingshot.
Gotta say, when the boss man said keep an eye on this place in case anyone ignored his orders to leave it alone. My first thought was, why? It ain't like there was any point. That thought was quickly followed by me calmly removing myself from the crisis of getting him to relax his grip on my throat, while certainly not pissing myself in the process of questioning his orders.
Nope, cool, calm and collected. That's me and whatever that bitch Allie says otherwise is a lie. She's just jealous I won't let her ride the Rex train explosive pleasure town.
Anyway. My boredom was cured when a couple of dickbags in Merchant colors strolled down the street with some canisters. And now?
*Krrr!*
"Hot dayumn! I'll never get tired of that!" I say as I shoot another guy in the chest with a marble, and watch him turn into a red mist.
Just gotta make sure I don't wreck the station. Boss man put his word on the place, and takes his reputation seriously. I honestly think it's his kink. I don't see the point, it isn't making us money, and does nothing for the gang. But, eh, I got nothing.
I see another jackass in blue pull out a gun and aim it at me. And I smirk as I go to my bag of marbles. Only for my blood to run cold as my hand scrounges around an empty pouch. I'm out.
"Shit!" I think as I jump behind a concrete divider. One of the tall, triangular grey ones.
"Shit! Fuck! Bitch monkeys!" I curse as I smack my forehead for being stupid enough to forget to bring extra marbles!
How was I suppose to know some chode smokers would actually try shit on the Endstopper's pet project! Even I'm not that dumb! Maybe, most likely. Okay, it'd depend how drunk or tired I was.
"Hoooooo." I breathe out to relax myself as bullets fly past and hit chunks of concrete off the block I'm behind. "Okay then, what to do?"
I grab some gravel and, after charging it, toss some of the debris from the side of the block and move. Using the momentary smoke screen to duck behind a different block while scooping up a few pieces of rubble and rock.
'Okay, that bought a few seconds.' I think to myself as I wait for the gun fire to start back up.
*Tat, tat, tat-tat*
'Ah, that didn't take long.' I think to myself. 'Bastards are off their pills today. Odd. Oh well!'
I lean over the side of the of block I'm behind and, loading a rock into my wrist mounted slingshot, take aim. I'm only getting one decent shot before they hone in on me, might as well make it worth something! So, I ignore the fuckwits firing at the wrong parking block, and fire the charged rock under one of their cars and duck back behind the block.
I hold up my fingers and begin the count down.
"Three, two, one… one and a-"
*KRRRR!*
'Eh, late's better than premature.' I shrug.
Peeking around the parking block, I see the fiery destruction I made. Bodies all over the place, moaning and groaning. Fiery bits of rubber, metal, gravel, and people littering the immediate area.
Yeah, I'm awesome.
Getting up and stretching, I decide I'm done here and walk off before I'm tempted to make any more noise. Where am I going you may ask? Towards one of the brothels we have hidden around. Gotta work off some steam, and the ladies love it when I stop by.
Just another great day in the life Mr. Explosion!
That's me.
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-Saturday, August 7th, Southwest Commercial District, 1pm-
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Reginald "A-Train" Franklin POV
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"I got that for ya Mr. Mustain." I tell the older black folk gently as I carry his bags.
"Thank ya kindly Reggie." He says in a hoarse, dry voice as we walk to his car. His cane making soft clacks as we walk. "Wish ya didn't hafta do this."
"Think nothin of it old man." I say with a smile. "We gotta look out for each other. If that means carrying yer bags, so be it."
Stormfront's been ruthless. Everyday more folks go missing. And her guys patrol the streets in groups at all times looking for easy marks. Whether that be a lone black guy, or a little Hispanic girl. It's aking it damn near impossible to step out without either a group of brothers, or a piece for our own safety. Both preferably.
Course that's also led to more gang activity as everyone is banding together. Taking things into their own hands because the cops are too busy elsewhere. It's just a fucking spiral of chaos. Doesn't help that Alan, my guy from track, is spearheading the whole thing.
"Still ain't right." He says as he we reach his car. "Put'em in the back seat."
"You wanna hand me the keys so I can-"
"Not on your life boy!" The old man chuckles. "I'm old and weak, not invalid."
The drive to his apartment complex was pretty uneventful, If a bit long due to the detours we had to take. Half because the streets are get'n torn up, half because of Stormfronts hunts. It's why I volunteered to help Old Man Mustain. No one else was really willing, and I have powers. And Mr. Mustain doesn't have anyone. His son ditched him, and he was left to raise his grandson when his son went missing. Then, his grandson got into hard drugs and ditched him as well.
Few months back, he got the news that his grandson died in the hospital. I lost Nathan, but I still had my mom their for me. He has no one. I can't imagine what that's like.
"Alright old man, I'll get the stuff while you go get your apartment unlocked." I say as I hop out of the passenger seat.
"Keep calling me old man and I bend ya over my knee like the welp you are!" He says threateningly. I know he doesn't mean it. He's the kind of guy that's kind to strangers, and rude to people he knows.
"Assumin you can lift your arm up without it popping!" I shout back as he walks to the stairs of the parking lot.
"I'll pop you!" He says as he disappears, securing his last word in.
I gather up the groceries in my hands, wrapping the bags around my fingers and wrists to get them all and avoid having to come back. I shut the trunk and hear the automatic locks click shut as I head in to follow Mr. Mustain. Jogging up the stairs I find him pretty easily, his old age keeping him from moving too fast.
"Ha, I thought you weren't old?" I tease the man.
"I never said I ain't old." He replies. "Just that you'd get beat if you kept reminding me."
"I'll stop." I say with false innocence. "Wouldn't want you hurting yourself after all."
"I still have a cane, boy." He says. "The only thing keeping me from beating you blue is the fact that you have my food."
"Whatever you say old man." I chuckle at his words.
We make it to the third floor where his apartment is. And I stop as I see a group of three skinheads at the end of the hall. White, with SS tattoos made to look like lightning bolts on their shoulders.
'Aryan Empire.' I realize with a growing sense of dread. 'If I just play this calm, we can both-'
My thoughts are cut off as Mr. Mustain walks right past me, uncaring for the goons at the end of the hall as he heads for his apartment.
Sure enough, the goons take notice and start walking our way as the old man makes it to his door.
"Well, what've we got here?" One of them says with a smile. "Back from a grocery run?"
I go to speak, to interject and put myself in focus and keep their attention. But-
"Yep!" Mr. Mustain says with a false smile. "Me and Reggie here just got back from the store."
"Nice, nice." He says as he puts his thumbs in his belt. "Funny thing is, I don't recall you being given permission to leave the building."
"And I don't recall asking." Mr. Mustain says.
"Watch your mouth old man." The thug says as he steps forward. "You don't want to get off on the wrong foot with us."
"Look, he's just old." I say as I step forward. "He's slow to learn how things are and change."
I can take'em easy. But this ain't about me. This's about keeping the people safe. If I hurt these guys, they'll just bring more next time.
"Alright, I see how it is." The thug says. "The N*****'s too old. Can't remember the shit stain that is his own color."
He's trying to start a fight.
"Well I wouldn't say I'm too old. I still remember plenty." Mr. Mustain says.
'Shit!' I think in a panic. 'Stop talking!'
"Oh yeah? And what's that you remember old man?" The thug asks.
Looking back, I see Mr. Mustain scratching his chin thoughtfully. And I know there is no way he's unaware of what's happening.
"Well, I remember I like fried chicken, Kool-Aid, playing basketball was always fun when I was younger." He says. "Now I just drink Hennessey in my free time."
The Empire goons start laughing at his words. Seeming to find his likes comical. Then I realize he's listing off stereotypes.
"Man, you really are just a regular old cotton picker huh?" He asks with a casual smile.
"Well, never picked cotton before." He says as he strokes his chin in thought.
"Really?" The second goon pipes up. "With how old you are, I'm surprised you don't remember the fields."
"Oh! I do remember some fields." Mr. Mustain says with that familiar, mischievous gleam in his eye.
"I bet you do old man." The lead thug says with a sneer as he leans forward. "What do you remember about the fields?"
"I do, I do." He nods sagely. "I remember the taste of watermelon."
That gets another round of chuckles from the group. Seeming to find the old man reinforcing stereotypes to be hilarious.
"Yeah, it was nice and juicy as I ate it out of your mother's ass." Mr. Mustain continues, getting the white boys to stop chuckling. "Though that doesn't surprise you! You already know all about how we n****'s get them bitches. And your women can't seem to get enough of us. Must be our massive cocks. Why you think so many black kids ain't got daddies? We drownin in so much pussy, it's hard to keep track."
The lead thug pulls out a gun from his waistband and puts it to Mr. Mustain's forehead.
"You must think you're a funny n***** huh?" He says.
"No, but I am looking at a sad joke." He says
I prepare my speed. This is going too far too fast! Fuck! I'll deal with the fallout later. Figure something out.
"I'm about to end you!" The thug says.
"Then you should take the safety off." Mr. Mustain says.
*Bang* All of my thoughts halt as I hear the sound of a gun go off.
The thug goes wide eyed for a bit. Before dropping to the ground and clutching his thigh. Screaming in pain as he rocks on the ground.
Looking over, I see Mr. Mustain has a gun out as well.
"You're a bit too young and fresh to be threatening me, boy." He says as uses his cane to knock the thug's gun away while keeping his own trained on the other two. "And I'm too old to care much. Now scram, and take your whitey tighty shit stain with you."
He bends down and pockets the thug's gun as the other two carry their bleeding friend in a hurry. While I stand here in a mix of disbelief, and relief.
"Man what were you thinking?!" I hiss at the guy as he unlocks his apartment.
"Thinking I was done with their bullshit." He says plainly as he opens the door. "Set the bags wherever. I'll get to'em eventually."
"Mr. Mustain, those guys-"
"Were kids high on power." He cuts me off. "Trust me, I know. With any hope, one or two of them will wisen up. A bullet to the calf ain't nothing like one to the head."
I stare at him as he sits in his dusty brown recliner and takes out a cigarette.
"They'll just send more guys now." I say, trying to, I don't know. Warn him?
"Let them." He says without looking at me. "Let them send a few guys to kill off an old man with nothing left. They'll be doing the social security pensions a favor."
"They'll target your fri-"
He cuts me off by holding up a finger as he takes a drag of his cigarette. Puffing out the smoke, he opens his eyes and looks to me, with the most soul crushed expression I've seen. It's not the look of someone who's seen or experienced tragedy. No, instead it's the look of someone who expects it, and is just waiting.
"Before you bite yer own foot, I ain't got no friends or family left." He says calmly as he lays back. "Even when I did, they wouldn't've missed me."
"You don't mean that." I say softly. "No one is ever really alone."
"That's where, you're wrong boy." He says between drags. "Some of us, we're meant to die alone."
He stares off into the distance as he says that. A sullen look on his face as he does.
"Go home Reginald." He says. "You keep staring at me like that and I'll start thinking you wanna fuck me."
I look away at his comment. Before slowly turning around and heading towards the counter and setting his bags down. I look up to him again, seeing him continue to stare off into space. I decide that I'd rather not scrounge around his shit and just leave the stuff here.
"Reggie, before you go." I hear as I head to the door.
I turn around to see the old man looking me dead in the eye. His eyes still holding that same, sullen acceptance from before.
"Don't be too hard on yourself." He says slowly. "We all make mistakes, and not all mistakes are avoidable. Take it from someone who's lived a life full of'em."
I stare at the old man in anew light. This isn't just a guy with no one left. It's a guy who outlived everyone who was there for him.
"I'll uh, I'll keep that in mind Mr. Mustain." I say as I hold the edge of the door. Staring at the brown stained carpet of his apartment.
"Yer makin me feel like an old kook." He says after a drag of his cigarette. "Call me Archer."
"Sure thing, old man." I say with a smirk.
He stares at me with a piercing glare before picking up his cane and pointing it at me.
"Get the fuck out before I shoot you too." He says with a smirk.
I hold my hands up in mock surrender as I step out and close the door behind me. Staring at the door as I think about everything that's happened. I don't know what it is. Maybe it's him, maybe it's just me. But, it's like he looked at me. And saw right through me. Saw, everything. I, I'm not sure. But-
"I don't hear no feet moving!" Mr. Mustain shouts.
I turn on my heels and hurry out the hallway and out to the streets.
There's also a weird authority about that man. Something that draws you in and makes you underestimate him before he shows how perceptive he really is.
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Archer Mustain Sr. POV
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I stare at the door a bit longer as I zone out. Going to that all too familiar nothingness. An emptiness where I don't think, I'm nothing. And I don't remember.
That's my favorite part. The lack of memories. If only I had Alzheimer's instead of Arthritis. I could comfortably forget. Forget my long line of fuck ups. Forget the old gang, forget The Marquis, forget Junior, forget Alan. Go back to just me and Jamila. Working out asses off to start a family. Me in the trainyards, Jamila working at the diner even while pregnant. We'd have married if could've afforded it. Then Junior was born, and Jamila died on the table. And I-
I regret so much. Maybe, maybe if I never treated Junior like it was his fault, maybe he'd still be here. Great, I'm remembering again.
I wish I could forget.
Then maybe, it wouldn't hurt so much.
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-Sunday, August 8th, Southwest Commercial District, 2pm-
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Reginald "A-Train" Franklin POV
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I'm jogging down the street towards Mr. Mustain's apartment complex. Momma said he wouldn't answer the phone and no one can get ahold of him. So she's got a bad feeling. And after what happened in the hall, I can only fear the worst.
I round the block when my heart stops at the sight. Two police cars and an ambulance outside his apartment. Two EMT's pushing a gurney with a black body bag on it. My fears confirmed.
I'm too late.
'No! There's a chance it ain't him!' I think as I jog to the scene. Once I get close however, an officer holds his arm out and stops me.
"This is an active investigation. I'm afraid I can't let any civilians pass any further, sir." He says.
"I got info though!" I say with a foreign desperation in my voice. "If that's Mr. Mustain, I know who did it!"
The officer gently pushes me back further. "Any and all additional information is appreciated, but please report them to the proper channels at your nearest police station."
"At least let me see damnit!" I try and push through, feeling my adrenaline rush and pump my power. Before I squish it forcefully when I feel a hand on my shoulder.
Turning around, I see the masked red face of Velocity. The bottom of his face being all that's visible. He looks me up and down before turning to the officer.
"I got this." He says, and the officer nods before backing off. "You said you have info? Did you know him?"
I pause at his questioning and realized something. I didn't know him. I knew of him, and interacted with him once. Aside from that, I only know his name, and that he has, had no family left.
Why do I care so much?
"Mr. Mustain? Yeah, well, kinda, not really." I admit. "I, I helped'em get his groceries yesterday. Side's from that, we knew each other existed, I guess. My Mom knew him better."
"That's fine." He says in an attempt to comfort me. "You said you know who did this?"
I swallow the lump in my throat as I watch the ambulance drive off. And I think back to my brother. Is that what it looked like as he was carried away? If I tell the hero what I know, will it just be another Blue Hawk? Where the bad guy keeps getting away because the heroes are too busy? Will it be worse because it was just some unpowered thugs?
"No, no I, I was just in a panic." I say as I stare at the disappearing ambulance. "I'm sorry."
"It's alright." Velocity says forgivingly. "I understand."
'You really don't.' I think solemnly, as I know what I gotta do.
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-Sunday, August 8th, The Rig, Pigott's Office 3pm-
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Missy "Vista" Biron POV
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I enter Piggy's office with Miss Militia behind me. Closing the door as we enter into the minimalist room. With a lack of any decorations or even any pictures. Utilitarian, I think Chris called it.
"I'll spare the pleasantries." Ms. Piggy says. "Have a seat."
"I'll stand." I say as I cross my arms.
"Very well, can you explain to me why you're considering breaking away from the team." She asks, not breaking stride in her words.
"Um, because the team is incompetent?" I point out. "And nothing is getting done?"
Piggy stares at me with an unreadable expression as I stand my ground. Unable to tear away from her gaze.
"This is about Kitsu, isn't it?" She says, more than asks.
"She's been missing for days!" I stress. "And meanwhile, the gangs have taken it as initiative to go wild! Not only that, but despite our best, we have no clue where she is! And the people who can help, are being kept from doing so!"
"People like you?" Piggy says with a raised brow as she sees almost right through me. Though, my frustration at being treated like a fragile mascot as opposed to the most senior Ward isn't a secret.
And neither is my relationship with Kitsu for that matter.
"Among others! Why not have Lyra help?" I stress. "Her sense of smell and her dogs are perfect for tracking!"
This would be the perfect time to debut her! She's been calm and collected for a week straight. Hasn't hit anyone, and her dogs have stopped marking The Rig!
"Because Lyra's situation is more, delicate, than many have been led to believe." Pigott says evenly.
I can read between the lines. Even when I'm upset, I'm not stupid. The way she said that implies there's classified info on her.
"There's got to be something more you can do!" I accuse.
She splays her hands out to show there's nothing in them. All the while never taking her eyes away from mine.
"My hands are tied, Vista." She says placatingly. "There's little more I can do. I've already called in outside assistance and requested the Triumvirate's help."
"This is bullshit!" I shout.
"Watch your tone Vista I am-"
I ignore her as I stomp out, using my power to expand the crack of the door and stomp through it before letting it return to normal. I've been here long enough to recognize when I'm being railroaded. Not sure if that's the right word, but I don't care! I'm being treated like a sic year old again and any concern I raise is being talked around. Rather than actually addressed.
"Yo! Vista, what's up?" Dennis asks with a hand out for a fist bump.
"Not now!" I say as I stomp past him.
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-Sunday, August 8th, Merchant Warehouse Hideout, 6pm-
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Joseph "Scarecrow" Crane POV
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"And uh, he got us." The goon says nervously as he finishes explaining what happened.
I stare at the goon's reflection in the glass beaker of my, well I like to call it my apothecary. It's one of my smaller workstations. This one is a less dedicated one in my office, for whenever I get a hit of inspiration. Regardless, he's scared and sweating bullets.
"That is, quite the unfortunate news." I say with a sigh as I turn around to face him. "Do we at least know if the canisters work?"
He paces in place nervously as he looks to the texts on his phone and then back to me. Clearly contemplating how to phrase his words, less he say the wrong thing.
"We um, the green ones worked as intended." He says as he swallows the lump in his throat. "The guys were able to calm down immediately, and yeah, they worked."
I stare at him passively as he doesn't continue. Clearly, either the other two didn't work, or they didn't get a chance to test them.
"Keep going Jimmy." I say simply, watching him flinch at the sound of my voice.
"The, well, the other two, Ginobog blew up before they could be used." He says quickly.
"Unfortunate." I say as I pinch the bridge of my nose. "I'll have to remake them and test in a more controlled environment."
As soon as I say that, Jimmy's eyes go wide. Clearly fearful of what that might entail.
"Calm down, Jimmy boy." I say with a small smile. "I'm just thinking to myself. You're not in trouble or anything."
He relaxes slightly at my words. His shoulders untensing as he steals glances towards the door. Clearly wanting to get away from me.
"Why so tense?" I ask him as I lean back on my desk. "I'm not going to hurt you or anything."
He swallows another lump in his throat as he seems to be torn over whether or not to speak.
"Y-you're just intimidating is all, b-boss." He finally says.
I know, I've carefully crafted my image to be just that. A strong organization needs three things, a foundation, infrastructure, and a goal. Right now, that foundation is a place for people with nowhere to go. It's why I've the warehouses for the homeless running. As opposed to repurposing them. Keeps the masses content.
Our infrastructure? A joke. These idiots listen to the ones could who kill them, or give them their next high. In my case, I'm both of those things to them.
Our goal? Whatever I say it is. And I need a strong presence to maintain that order.
"Hmm, and why do you suppose that is?" I ask as I walk to the sink and grab a glass.
"W-well, after what happened t-to Ron, and Fredric, and Sally, a-and Henry." He stutters as I fill the glass with water. "It's just, um, yeah."
I hum noncommittally as I turn around. Staring him down as I walk towards him with the glass.
"Well, it's not like they died for no reason." I explain as I hold out the glass. "Hold this."
He does so immediately, if tentatively. That's good, his fear stems from the knowledge of what I could do to him, alongside the uncertainty of whether or not I'll actually do it.
"They all died, because they disobeyed me." I say simply. "Now, drink."
"I-is it s-safe to-"
"I won't repeat myself." I say, never losing my soft smile.
Jimmy shakily puts the glass to his lips, clenching his eyes shut tightly as a tear rolls out. With a deep breath to steady himself, he gulps the water down. Waiting for an agony that won't come.
"You seemed thirsty." I say calmly as I take the glass from him. "Calm down Jimmy, you're acting like I was forcing you to drink poison. Now go on, I have some things I need to do."
He wastes no time in hurrying out the door. The sounds of his rapid foot steps on the metal grating of the catwalk ringing in his retreat. Eventually leaving me in silence to think.
"Hmm." I hum as I look to my workstation.
So, the ABB are protecting New Wave? Or could it just be the ferry station? Or is it just because it's the north station, and close to their territory? I'm aware that the fox and the dragon have some connection to each other, but I'm not sure just how deep that connection goes. Just that she won't actively fight him, and he stays out of Ward and New Wave territory.
It could just be a case of Ginobog being bored and my men being their at the wrong time. He's known to be abrasive and ready to throw the first punch at the smallest slight. But that seems unlikely. If it was a case of boredom, he wouldn't have stopped until after the PRT showed up. Not before.
"Hmm, with the brewing storm, perhaps it's time to slow down." I say to myself. "Let the others kill each other off, prepare to strike when it looks like their at their lowest. For now…"
I look over to my cork board with pins and wires. Connecting the events and happenings of the last fifteen years. A new one being the forefront of my plans.
Pinky, a new recruit to New Wave, and avid streamer. She let out in her streams just how she came into contact with New Wave, and her life before that. Taken in from the streets by a reporter in Seattle. One who unfortunately became collateral in to the Underminer in the endless game of cops and robbers. A single, Tracy Burke.
The same bitch who outed my father all those years ago! Oh how fortunate it is that the pet project of the woman who helped drive my father to suicide, is now with the rest of the people responsible for his death!
"It may be too late to get to you Miss Burke." I say as a smile creeps its way onto my face. "But I can still go after those you left behind."
All the pieces are falling into place. For now, I just need to wait.
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-Sunday, August 8th, Biron House, 7pm-
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Missy "Vista" Biron POV
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I hide my head under my pillow as best I can. Intent on drowning out as much of the noise as possible.
"You are not taking my daughter out of the city!" Dad shouts.
"Um, legally she's my daughter five days of the week!" Mom shouts back. "And there isn't jackshit you can tell me to do!"
There's a bit of silence followed by the statement. Whether that means they stopped arguing, or are just doing so quieter now, I don't know. I'm just glad they-
"You just want to take her away from me!" Dad starts shouting again.
"I'm just trying to get her away from any bad influences!" Mom shouts back.
'Please!' I beg internally. 'Just stop! Or at least wait until I'm not here!'
"Oh, you mean like me?" Dad accuses.
"You and all the other freaks she hangs out with!" Mom yells back. "You know she got put on mandatory leave because of her behavior today?"
My heart stops in fear of what she might mean by that. The F word making me believe it to be the worst.
"How is that my influence!?" Dad asks.
"Maybe if you weren't such a loose cannon, she wouldn't be mouthing off to adults!" Mom shouts back.
'Oh thank god.' I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding in.
"Oh, you wanna talk about loose?" Dad starts. "If it weren't MY influence, she'd be pregnant by now! Or at least cheated on her girlfriend by now!"
'I really don't want to hear this!' I think miserably.
"There you go! Making it all about you!" Mom shouts back.
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-Sunday, August 8th, Dallon House, 9pm-
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Carol "Brandish" Dallon POV
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"Alright, Kratos is fed and I put a rock on his tote." I say as I enter the kitchen to find Mark cleaning the dishes.
Ever since Kitsu stopped playing with the damn bug, on account of her being gone, it's been getting rowdier and rowdier. When we got home from patrol after making sure Gully was going to be okay, we found the damn thing trying to climb a windowsill in the living room and get out.
"How big of a rock?" Mark asks.
"What does it fucking matter?" I ask, tired after a day of patrol.
"Because-"
*Knock* *Knock* *Knock*
"I'll get it." I say as I get up, thankful for another distraction.
Walking through the house and making my way to the door, I prepare to call on my power just in case. Opening the door, I have to immediately look down to see Missy, in the black and purple hoodie Kitsu gave her. Her head down with the hood covering her face.
"Missy, what are you doing here?" I ask the girl.
She shuffles on her feet before looking up to me through purple sunglasses.
"I, was wondering if I could, stay the night?" She asks in a quiet voice.
I haven't seen or heard from her since Kitsu was declared missing. She sort of shut down a little once the news broke. According to Vicky she just started acting like she did before she met Kitsu. Whatever that was suppose to mean.
"You know I can't say yes, Missy." I tell the pint sized Shaker. "Not without hearing from your parents."
She chuckles almost morosely at that. Finding something I said funny.
"You can try, you have their numbers." She says as she looks back down at her feet. "I don't think they'll answer though."
Oh.
It's that again. Her parents are fighting and she's come here for an escape. She does this often enough, but, it's just weird to see it happen when Kitsu isn't here.
I stare at the girl a bit longer before sighing. Stepping aside, I hold the door open for her.
"Fine, just for tonight." I say.
"Thank you." She says curtly as she shuffles past me.
Looking down, I notice she doesn't even have shoes on. Meaning she fled her house as soon as she got the chance. A tell tale sign of a toxic household.
"Just so you know, you're leaving first thing in the morning." I say as she wordlessly sits on the couch.
"That's fine." She says quietly.
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Missy "Vista" Biron POV
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How did this happen? Why did I come here?
My parents fighting is nothing new. Heck, what they were fighting about was nothing new either. I just, I couldn't take it this time. I know there's nothing I can do to stop them, so I shouldn't worry about what they say. But, I just don't want to be around for it. Out of sight, out of mind and all that jazz.
Does that make me immature? Is it childish to not want to have to do with problems you can't solve? The thing is, do I want it solved? The longer it goes on, the less I remember when we were happy. And the more I just want to get away.
I, I think, maybe, I don't. No, never mind.
"You can sleep on the couch, or in Kitsu's room." Mrs. Dallon says as she stands in front of me, arms crossed. "Your choice, just let me know now so I can get the spare sheets."
"I, um, can, can I sleep in her room?" I ask nervously. "Is that okay?"
"I highly doubt she'd mind." Mrs. Dallon says. "If anything you might know how to care for her plants, so any advice would be helpful in that regard."
"What, do you mean?" I ask tentatively.
"I have no clue how to care for her plants, and all I know about Kratos is that he apparently has the intelligence of a dog." She admits. "And that he likes bananas."
Oh! That's what she means. I can help with that! I listen to all of Kitsu's rants. Or at least, I hear them. Sometimes I just zone out and pet her tail while she's distracted. She's so cute, when she gets into a rant. So long as you're careful about it, you can do virtually anything and she won't stop you.
"Um, Kratos eats rotting plant matter, fruits and vegetables mostly." I answer. "As for the plants? They're self sufficient, they don't need any care."
"Weight off of my shoulders." She says softly with a shrug. "Amy and Vicky should be back from the hospital sometime soon, so just, do, whatever."
"Okay." I say curtly as she walks away.
I sit here, staring at the TV for an unknown amount of time. Just, calming down. Before I eventually get up and head to Kitsu's room.
The sweet scent of the flowers adorning her room hit me before I even make it to the door. And stepping inside onto the soft moss reminds me that in my rush I left my shoes at home.
Walking to her bed, I crawl under the heavy blanket she uses and bring the stuffed teal narwhal up to my face and snuggle into it.
'It still smells like her.' I think as I let myself drift to sleep.
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-Thursday, August 12th, 11am, Sewer Hideout-
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Francis "Trickster" Krouse POV
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I entered this room expecting an annoyed little girl. Some snark, rude comments. A little back and forth. You know, the works.
As I stare at the unresponsive girl. I conclude that this is, in fact, not, what I was expecting.
"Helloooo?" I say as I walk towards her cautiously. "You in there?"
She gives no response to my questioning, and just remains stock still as the water slowly drips onto her head. Further dampening her hair as small droplets occasionally slide down her forehead and soak into the blindfold.
"Okay." I say slowly as I stare at her. "Is this another one of your attempts to fuck with me? Because let me just say, it's kinda working."
I wait a few moments for a response, and get nothing. No indication she heard me, no twitching, nothing.
"Um, okay?" I say awkwardly as I rest my hands on my hips and think.
I'm not sure what to do here. Jess suggested Chinese water torture. It's one of the most successful torture methods in history. Despite her not agreeing with the whole thing, Jess still understands the position we're in. At this point we can't afford to just, not try everything.
What I didn't anticipate, is Kitsu completely stonewalling! Nothing! If we give her food, she eats and then says nothing!
"Okay look, we can't keep doing this." I say to the girl, hoping for some form of response. "The cities devolving into chaos the longer you're away, and I think we both know it's because you're away that it is. Soooo, come on!"
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Kitsu POV
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I wake up in my mind space again.
'Anything?' I ask [Conduit]
[Negative]
'Alright, wake me up when something interesting happens, or in three days.' I say as I force myself back asleep to pass the time. 'Whichever, comes, fiiirrrrsst.'
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Bonus
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Mike "Lightstar" Freeman POV
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I walk into my house, already on guard, a frown setting on my face as I notice the welcome mat is crooked.
It sounds paranoid, but there's a small blue paint stain just under the mat's corner. Me and Amanda worked out a system that if we ever invite someone in without the other home, we nudge the mat to uncover the dot before opening the door. That way if something happens, only a master would get away with walking in and one of us not noticing. It's water base paint too, so if the worst happened and they cleaned up the mess, they'd remove the dot.
"Amanda!? Honey!?" I call as I feel the hair trigger on my powers tremble.
"Yes Darling!?" She calls back inside the house.
That means she's fine. I never call her honey, she may call me that. But not the other way around. And we don't call each other darling. If she's mastered, then the mastering is a subtle one.
It may seem a bit extra, but I don't trust anything to chance. Chance is what got Jess a closed casket.
"We have some, special guests honey!" Amanda calls back.
That makes my blood run cold. There are only two possibilities with that answer. And neither set me at ease.
So, it's with that caution that I carefully walk past the entrance of the house and to the living room. My blood pumping in my ears, thankfully the kids aren't home yet, so they won't be here and have to see anything in case something happens.
Taking a breath, I walk into the living room to see my fears realized. Their, across from my wife-
"Hello there Michael." She says.
"I go by Mike." I grit out towards the woman. "You should know that by now."
"Very well Mike." She says easily enough. "I have some rather, interesting news for you."
"And what could the Chief Director possibly have that would require a personal visit?" I ask her.
Chief Director Costa-Brown merely hums before bringing out a briefcase.
"A Class twelve secret, one that directly involves you." She says as she unlatches the briefcase.
"Amanda leave." I say immediately, and immediately she gets up.
"She can stay." Costa-Brown says easily as the briefcase opens to reveal a series of documents.
"I'll not risk her by having her involved in this!" I say, my blood boiling at such a casual dismissal of endangerment to my wife.
"She's already involved by being married to you." Director Costa-Brown says. "And this is information that may very well impact her regardless of whether or not she's informed. Besides, even if she decides to let the information slip, no one would believe her."
'Fuck. It's one of those secrets.' I realize.
A secret so outlandish, you'd look like a loon if you talked about it.
"Fine, what is it?" I begrudgingly ask as Amanda tentatively sits back down.
"You may want to sit down as well for this, it involves Fleur." Costa-Brown says as my heart stops. "Or at least, a version of her."
…
What?
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A/N
Yes, I looked up the gas prices for Massachusetts 2010.
And then accounted for the Endbringer's shenanigans.
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Rex's cape name, Ginobog, is a heavily bastardized form of the Filipino words for Mister and Explosion.
Mister = Ginoo
Explosion = Pagsabog
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No questions to answer this time around.
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As always comment and speculate! I love reading what you guys think might happen, and helps me write as I do use it. And if you read these you'll know I do credit ideas.