Adam Torus Worm Chapter 6: 6, a 17776 fanfic

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Worm

Crusader (RWBY/Worm)

Thread starter MasterDuplicator Start date Apr 30, 2022 Tags rwby worm (parahumans)

Which story idea should I focus on next?

The eleventh hour(An AU where Beacon and Haven go differently, and humanity is dying off in Vacuo).

Votes: 77 4.3%

Punchclock(A chronicling of Lung's rise in Brockton Bay. Oni Lee will also become a person here).

Votes: 125 6.9%

Bark & Bite(The Hound and Arya Stark get comfortable in Thedas just as the Blight begins anew).

Votes: 182 10.1%

InFamous: An unofficial novelization(What it says on the tin).

Votes: 102 5.7%

Wanderlust(Artyom and Sam (From Metro/Metro Exodus) leave for America in the world of TLOU.)

Votes: 153 8.5%

Defender(Adam's continued adventures in Earth Bet.)

Votes: 1,162 64.6%

Total voters 1,800

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MasterDuplicator

Big Fan of a Mad Cow

Super Awesome Happy Funtime

Jan 13, 2024

#1,875

First 'Big' fight scene. Split into two due to being on call for work despite the snow. The second part will be here later today for sure. Let me know what you think.

Oh, and also, Go play Trepang2. It's why you had to wait a week and change for this chapter(s).

Adam lounged around in the elevator almost leisurely, fingers rattling atop the hilt of his newly pilfered sword. The bronze and gold engravings and figures of men at sea had caught his eye, and he'd felt like tweaking Victor's nose just a little further by claiming it and his holdout pistol for his own, for both practical and petty reasons. Having more than one blade would be useful in case he was disarmed of Wilt, and due to Blush's lack of spare magazines, fifteen extra rounds of firepower would come in handy as a distraction, and with his mind flashing back to the day he met Dai, be a good way to give himself a little boost when his foes were unwilling.

The blade was razor sharp, its edge ground down to a fine enough point that Wilt had healthy competition when it came to individual sharpness, and whilst he doubted the blade would hold up at all for very long without his aura boosting it, it was a testament to Victor's (Stolen) skills that he'd turned such a ridiculous ceremonial weapon into such a fine instrument.

The elevator chimed, and Adam readied himself for action, then ground his teeth with a sigh when the elevator stopped four floors below his targets.

The doors opened to a rather beleaguered-looking man with bloodshot eyes who wore a ragged suit, a pair of foreign-looking women on each hip.

They gasped when they saw him, more in surprise than recognition, but the man only stared at him blankly, head darting between his mask, Wilt, his mask, then back again.

Adam smirked. "Going up?"

The man stared at him, content to choose his drug-addled words carefully. They locked 'eyes', and the man mumbled something to himself, rubbing his nose and sniffing. "We're good."

With that, he turned away and gently pulled his 'lovers' aside, marching in the direction of the stairwell. One gave a final curious glance at him before the elevator doors shut.

Adam huffed to himself. Maybe I should have taken the stairs.

The elevator chimed once more and resumed its ascent, and Adam released his grip on Wilt. Though the idea of killing the Empire's two most powerful capes with a piece of Nazi memorabilia amused him, the blade wouldn't survive more than a few instances of his semblances activation before it lost its edge, and only a few dozen before the tang was ruined altogether.

Not worth it.

His ride dinged one final time, and Adam was greeted by the ugliest yellow-painted hallway he'd ever seen.

Grimacing in disgust, he stepped out into the hallway and tugged Wilt a half-inch free. Across the sides of the hallway there hung fake potted plants and nonsensical paintings.

The appetites of the rich had always confused him. He did his best to shrug it off and made his way down the left side, toward the place where his quarry lay.

He didn't have to walk very long before he made his way to room 919. Their own presidential suite to call home, free of charge.

Being an emperor's concubine had its benefits, he supposed.

He tuned his hearing, listening for any telltale signs of life.

He found two heartbeats, and he noted with a raise of a brow that one was beating a lot harder than the other.

He shrugged it off and let his aura surge into Wilts's blade, gritting his teeth as he strained to keep the world from bleeding away around him.

Half of his aura was ludicrous. Half of his aura was excess, overkill such that even the likes of Alexandria or Legend would be helpless against.

Half of his aura was the only way to be completely and utterly sure they would be dead in his mind. Whilst he had no doubt he could and would kill them in a fair fight, why fight that fight in the first place and take the risk?

His hand moved-

And there wasn't a warning.

Something slammed into his chest with a force that would have knocked Yang Xiao-Long on her ass.

He coughed, ears ringing, and something above him shattered atop his horns, and ceramic and soil tousled his hair and slid down his back.

His ribs creaked in protest, and he looked down in disbelief at the TV Remote that had him pinned to the edge of the wall, a TV remote ten feet too long and six feet too wide.

He pushed forward weakly, more out of reflex than any conscious thought, and was surprised when instead of moving aside, the remote pushed him further in, crushing him against the drywall hard enough for it to splinter and crack.

He grabbed on with both hands, intent on crushing it, when he felt the air leave his lungs in a whoosh as the remote veered sharply to the side, sending him crashing through the walls to the other side of the suite.

The force broke his grip on it, and Adam rolled through the kitchen island, drywall and dust and quartz rolling off his body, shattered tiling cutting into his limbs.

Adam felt adrenaline spike his heart rate in a shocked panic for the first time in since Argus.

He rolled to the side, pre-empting another thrust of the remote, and hopped to his feet, palms out to intercept the next swing.

Intercept it he did, and Adam felt his arms nearly buckle with the force, skidding on his feet, heels dug into the ceramic.

He looked up for the first time to eye his attacker. Blonde hair, blue eyes, already eight or nine feet tall, head scraping the ceiling, arms half as thick as the weapon she wielded, wearing a simple t-shirt and jeans that Adam knew were already thicker than the toughest of kevlar vests, hair cut an inch above her collarbone, the only identifier to denote the siblings. She was reaching for a prop spear on the floor with her free hand.

Menja.

This means it must have been Fenja who was desperately scrambling over the wreckage of the doorframe, trying to get away.

Retreating, not fighting me, pressing the advantage. Why?

He didn't have time to think about it. His fists clenched, fingers digging furrows down to the knuckle into the plastic before the remote splintered into a thousand pieces. Menja reared back, and Wilt rasped free, roaring to life with an ethereal scream as Adams's shadow grew and enveloped the room.

Adam burst forward with a thrust aimed right at her heart, aura roiling across the blade in crimson sparks that exploded like supernovas in the dark.

Adam felt the blade sink down, deep, before an otherwordly resistance stopped the blade cold, only a quarter of the way in.

Rubble and dust almost instantaneously crashed down atop his head, a great big metallic groan ringing in his ears, and he swore through the pain and made to rip Wilt away, only to realize it was stuck.

Stuck a quarter of the Way into Menja's waist, just above the bowels.

Adam frowned.

A fist the size of a watermelon came down and crashed into his jaw hard enough to loosen a few teeth, sending him and Wilt careening off to the side. Hot fire lanced up and down his face and set his nerves ablaze, and he heard a groan in a voice deeper than his own as blood poured out of the headless giant in front of him, her whole upper body spirited away up to the higher floors.

Adam grunted, half in anger, half in disbelief, as he realized Menja had grown twice as tall indoors, vision and destruction be damned.

He heard screams and crashes up above him, and saw Menja's body begin to bend downward to his level.

Adam worked his jaw, probing the loose teeth with his tongue. They both needed to take this somewhere else.

Shadow stole the world again, and he felt his aura protest as he flooded as much he could into his blade as he could, caution be damned.

It could have been a fourth, it could have been a third. He didn't know.

But it was enough to utterly annihilate the room they were in, along with half the rooms behind it, and send Menja careening off the side of the building into the street.

He took a moment to rub his jaw with a gloved hand, using his tongue to push his teeth back into place as his aura worked to fit them back into their sockets.

Adam heard an almighty boom, and heard several car alarms go off at once. Had the fall killed her?

When he relaxed the healing in his mouth to bring aura up to his ears, he sighed, and a little bit of blood dribbled out of his mouth. He could hear her feet grinding through the street. She must have fallen through it, and was dredging herself free, sewers and rock and piping be damned.

This was going to be annoying.

With a burst of speed, he ran through the path of destruction she'd left behind, hesitating a moment when he made his way to the hole she had left on the other side of the building, and he looked down to find her.

He didn't have to look hard. She was finding her balance on the ground, as her impact had buckled the street like an earthquake had run through it. Forty-odd feet tall, her clothes were all but destroyed, her shirt little more than tattered webbing that did little for her modesty, but it seemed they'd taken the brunt of the damage, for her skin was only superficially covered in bruises and small burns, with none of the necrosis Moonslice usually caused in place outside of a few red marks peppered here and there.

Adam sighed again.

Very annoying.

Then he jumped down to meet her.

Adam's first 'challenge', especially because everyone and their mother is gonna show up to the fight wondering what the fuck is going on with all the racket.

Last edited: Aug 14, 2024

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MasterDuplicator

Jan 13, 2024

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MasterDuplicator

Big Fan of a Mad Cow

Super Awesome Happy Funtime

Jan 13, 2024

#1,882

The wind slashed through his hair and whipped his hood back, and he had to squint to stop the gale from hurting his eyes.

Menja was steadily turning around, evidently expecting some sort of interruption or counterattack. He angled his descent as best he could, but he was at his most vulnerable mid-air.

Something Menja capitalized on, when she reached out towards a nearby light pole that had been upended by her harsh landing.

Adam nearly groaned aloud. He twisted mid-air as best he could, but he knew wasting a few shots with Blush to dodge would only hurt him in the long run.

Sometimes, all you can do is take it.

Menja picked it up, and it seemed to shimmer ever so slightly, so slightly it almost seemed a trick of the sunlight, before it transformed between blinks to a size reminiscent of a smaller version of a Mistralian Redoak tree.

Adam burned bright in the skyline as he plunged toward her. An easy target.

Intentionally so.

Menjas swung it like a bat, and Adam soared through the air, for an instant glowing brighter than the sun.

The pain was indescribable. He felt half of his ribs dislodge in an instant, and that was with his semblance absorbing every scrap of kinetic energy it could.

His semblance further activated without his say-so when he got to the ground, his soul desperate to protect his broken body, burning away all the energy he'd taken in to burn through the furrow he carved into the ground as he skid through the street, leaving a veritable fog of rose petals behind, concealing his position and softening the impact.

Adam groaned, the feeling in his limbs slowly returning, and it took him a moment to realize he was even on the ground, for his stomach still felt like it was floating through the air.

The ground shook, and he heard a pounding like a drum, a boom boom doom boom, and he looked up just in time to see an angry Menja sprinting towards him, the top half of the light pole clumsily crimped, the tip angled like a speartip.

Menja cleared a few hundred feet in a few steps and burst through the cloud of petals with a roar, thrusting that improvised spear down at him.

Adam poured every scrap of aura he could into his hands, unchaining his semblance entirely, and reached out to catch it.

It wasn't enough.

Adam remembered the pain of Xiao-Long's motorcycle slamming into him. With his adrenaline fading, his guard down, feeling 700 pounds of pure steel ram into you at eighty or more miles an hour hurt.

It had nothing on this.

A scream tore free of his throat without his allowance, his eyes clenched shut, his lungs emptied of all air, and he felt those dislodged ribs whistle as however many hundred thousand newtons of force buckled into him, cratering the ground and pushing forward, ever so slowly.

His aura flared, sparking and sputtering in protest as he groaned, and he felt a wracking numbness race down his arms as he desperately pushed and pushed with all his might at the speartip. Licks and lashes of energy raced over the speartip, chipping away at pole's paint and melting and Wilting the nearby asphalt away.

Menja grunted in surprise, and in more than a little exertion, and noticing his resistance, tried pushing just a little bit harder.

His hands slid upward, and he felt the spear drive him backward, grinding him down through the street and dragging him over rocks and rubble.

A howl of pain died in his throat without the air to propel it forward when he felt one of those dislodged ribs snap.

His eyes opened. His aura flared again, flickering in warning.

Adam shoved backward as hard as he possibly could, and he felt nothing but pure and utter relief when he felt his lungs suck in a desperate breath, the speartip a whole foot away from his chest. Menja grunted again, tried pushing further down.

Adam's white-knuckled grip stopped her.

Then he pushed the speartip to the side and let go, limply rolling to the side as he went.

The spear, suddenly unresisted, ripped clean through the ground, plowing through who knew how many dozens of feet before stopping.

Adam reared back, flooding every last ounce of aura to his limbs until every part of his body lay unprotected but them, and thrust an open palm at it.

He felt something in his palm crunch, but the pain was muted, his adrenaline out in full force.

The spear snapped in two at the point it was hit, and Menja made to pull it away and reposition it.

Adam rolled again, this time closer to the spear, and wrapped both legs around its side.

With a strength he didn't know he had, he ripped the spear clean from Menja's shocked hands and sent it careening off behind him.

He felt two muscles he couldn't remember the name of tear in both of his thighs, but all that mattered to him was that his foe was disarmed. He hopped to his feet, and he felt something in his hip pull.

He'd pushed himself too far, stressed his body too much.

Menja didn't push her advantage, seemingly too flabbergasted by what he'd just done to react, her eyes wide, her brows furround, mouth parted just a touch.

Adam normally would have pressed the advantage and used his foe's shock to act.

Adam could barely breathe right now.

So he'd use every second she gave him to try and heal, to strategize.

His body burned. There was a shake in both of his hands he did nothing to cover up.

But despite it all, he smiled, and took a step forward, making an intentional show of himself popping his neck.

Menja bristled.

Show no weakness. Act unaffected. If you appear unflappable, act invincible, your foes will begin to think you are.

Menja ground her teeth down at the sound of sirens, making to rush him.

He couldn't allow that yet.

"How did you know I was coming?" His voice came out raspier than he intended, but it served only to unnerve her more.

He saw her eyes narrow, her pupils dilate slightly. "You speak?"

Adam grinned through the aching pain of his grinding ribs, his aura slowly pushing them back into place. "Only to the dead."

He heard her heart skip a beat.

That was the only warning he received before her foot raced out to meet him.

He was already a black blur fifty feet behind her before her foot even hit the ground. It plowed straight through the crater he'd made, and she ripped it free and spun in a sort of roundhouse kick, clipping a building on the way as that foot came back at him.

He appeared behind her again, and just as Wilt slid back into its sheath, a neatly glowing line cut itself across her big toe.

His lungs burned. Menja hissed, whirling around to face him.

He'd put barely an inkling of his aura into the cut. It showed, considering he would only call the wound a papercut if he was feeling generous.

Blood slowly dribbled free, and he saw her fingers tentatively twitch toward the minuscule stab wound by her stomach, the one he could only make out by his semblance making the blood glow.

Heat up, too, judging by the discomfort on her face.

It still bled.

He let his aura recede out of the wounds, and the glow faded.

Still, they bled.

He eyed her in concentration, she at him, in caution.

It seems he had a giant to topple.

The feet. The legs. The fingers. Ignore the rest.

The weight of the gun in his belt comforted him. It was a miracle it had not been destroyed by the impacts. A force multiplier, even if a small one.

Less than half of his aura remained. He was vulnerable.

If he toppled her, it was over. They both knew it.

The sirens around him wailed, closer now.

Menja found her nerve again, eyes scanning left and right for objects she could use as weapons. Adam would deny her them every way he could.

She glared at him and spat, tongue the size of a small truck darting out to wet her lips. "It'll take more than a few papercuts to bring me down."

"If it's death by a thousand cuts you want, it's death by a thousand cuts you'll get."

Her response was a fist aimed at his face.

It missed all four of him, his shadows just a half step behind, and they raced between her legs, glowing blades whipping through her toes and ankles in a delayed sequence.

She stomped and stomped, flailed and flailed, but he was just too quick, and he left nicks and scratches all up and down her ankles.

For every new cut he made, his doppelgangers repeated the motion in an already existing wound, exacerbating them.

Hardly notable damage, and it was extremely delicate work besides. A single lapse in concentration, and all those clones would evaporate, his aura wasted.

But every cut bled.

Menjas frustration was palpable. Every time she tried reaching for a nearby car or pole to use as a weapon, Adam was there, destroying the item in question or slicing neat little lines into her fingertips and through her nails with both blades in hand to make her back off. Hardly incapacitating wounds, but they were the kind that stung. It was a delicate dance, one that favored neither side. It would come down to whoever had the most endurance.

As he slashed and swung and bobbed and weaved, sweat ran down his brow and his heart hammered in his chest, Adam wondered if he had enough to pull this off.

The sirens and roaring engines came closer, and with it, both a blessing and a curse followed.

The curse was a stream of bullets that whistled through the air that peppered Menja's skin and slammed into his back hard enough to bring him to his knees and break his concentration, his clones fading away, courtesy of the armored Humvee at the head of a column of National Guard and PRT transports.

The blessing was that the convoy included a PRT truck with a foam cannon atop it, and an APC with an automatic cannon of unknown caliber.

Time slowed, his aura flooded back into his limbs and eyes, and he whirled around to block and swat aside the bullets that whistled between Menja's legs.

The impact of the first bullet he blocked snapped back his wrist before he adjusted himself for the next impact. .50 caliber rounds.

His grin came back, despite the loss of aura. He absorbed as much energy as he greedily could before he was deafened by the APC's opening salvo.

A burst of automatic fire slammed into Menjas's chest, and she reared back with a yell of pain, grabbing onto a nearby building for support. Already he could see deep purple bruises begin forming where the explosive rounds had impacted. Twenty or thirty-millimeter munitions most likely. He chanced a glance behind him and saw more Humvees approaching, coming to box them both in.

Strangely though, the response seemed to mostly consist of National Guard.

Interesting.

Content to let all three factions slug it out so he could recover, Adam raced towards a nearby storefront and leapt through the window, diving down to hide behind a countertop.

His breath came out in harsh pants and wheezed coughs, his limbs and lungs on fire. When the adrenaline faded, he'd be feeling this for days. His broken hand had healed quickly, but he undid every bit of progress his aura tried making when it came to his ribs every time he boosted his speed. The pain would have driven any other man to madness.

Adam ignored it.

It was what he was good at.

Fighting through the pain.

He'd learned long ago, swinging a pick in the mines and taking bruises from the other street rats.

You fight or you die. There is no middle ground, and there can be no distractions in the meantime.

Screams and gunshots filled the air as he caught his breath, and one particularly loud impact made the building shake and caused him to duck for cover.

When no collapse occurred, he relaxed slightly, but the chaos outside seemed to intensify. After maybe a minute or two had gone by and two of his ribs had gone back to their proper place, Adam crept out from his cover and glanced out the shattered window.

The street was a warzone. Bloodied and broken bodies littered the shattered street, buildings had been knocked down and upended, some by Menja, some by missed shots, dozens of infantrymen were opening fire upon Menja, and he saw the bullets bounce off of her skin like pebbles. Smartly though, most of the grunts aimed at Menjas's wounds, and those bullets dug deep. The APC he'd seen at the start was turretless and in Menja's hands, and she was using it as a giant malformed shield.

Menja herself was covered in too many bleeding wounds to count, small holes and crisscrossing cuts covering her frame, and blood poured down and dyed the road red by the modest buckets worth.

Worst than that though, Menja was stuck.

A strange white foam had pinned her left leg and most of her upper chest in place to the side of an apartment complex, and despite her twisting and protestations, it had her completely pinned in. Her free leg and arms kicked out and whipped through the air wherever they could to strike at her attackers, but her right leg and most of her waist remained stubbornly locked in place.

The truck that had fired at her had paid a dear price however, for it was completely smashed flat.

Despite himself, Adam felt himself blanch slightly. If that foam could pin her in place, what would it do to him?

Adam shook his head, The truck was disabled. That didn't matter now.

He glanced further, surveying the situation. Dozens of grunts still remained, and he could hear more coming in the distance. He heard men cry out for the 'Forty-Mike-Mikes' and he raised a brow when several men pulled grenade launches free from most of the overturned Humves.

The explosions pounded at Menja, and the APC she held expanded until it was half as big as the building she was stuck to.

Adam hummed. They had her dialed in. They would kill on their own, eventually. It would just take time.

An isolated and overturned Humvee that had a man pinned beneath it caught his eye, and Adam clicked his tongue at the man's screams.

Perhaps he could buy some goodwill and help them kill her faster.

He jumped through the broken window and blitzed toward the humvee, digging his heels in to kill his momentum. He caught himself at the last second with a free hand, and it impacted it hard enough to make the Humvee shake.

The man pinned beneath it paled, and not from the blood loss. "Oh fuck." His nose was bleeding and his pupils were dilated. Adam glanced down at his knees, or the place they should have been, anyway. The Humvee had crushed his legs utterly. The bones were probably powder by now.

Adam pushed upward, leaving a handprint in the truck's armored plate, and pushed it free back onto its wheels with a crash. The grunt coughed.

Adam grunted. "Do you have PRT support incoming?"

The man stared at him in suspicion for a moment. "Why? You gonna go after them next?"

Adam raised a brow. "What have they told you about me?"

The man paused a moment, words coming out in harsh gasps. "Not much. You whoop ass like no other. Killed a lotta Nazi's. Not so bad in my book. But the brass don't know who you gonna kill next when they're all gone. Makes them nervous."

"When the Empire is gone, I'm gone."

"You mean that?"

Adam nodded his head.

The grunt stared at him a moment, then relented. "They said no one would be coming for a hot minute. New Waves is the only bunch close by, and they're busy with their own little problem."

"What problem?" Bakuda?

"The other twin. Fenja. They caught her out on patrol all geared up, headed this way. They're duking it out right now with our help."

Adam hummed. "Why don't we hurry this up then?"

The grunt shrugged as best he could. "I'm game."

Adam gestured to his hip. "Your sidearm."

The man only hesitated a moment before handing it over. Adam emptied the magazine atop Wilt, then reached down to fish out his holdout pistol and emptied that too.

Then he emptied half of Blush's magazine.

The adrenaline came back in full force now. The grunt's noseblood glimmered slightly.

Adam sucked in a deep breath, then something to his left caught his eye.

The discarded light pole.

He grabbed the grunt by his plate carrier and dragged him across the ground to lay him across the building. "Radio your fellows. Tell them to hold their fire."

Before the man could say anything, Adam had already trudged off toward the pole. It hadn't shrunk in size a bit, and half of it was still buried in the ground.

The free half would do.

He could barely lift it over his head, and when he wrapped his aura around it, it left the rest of his body dangerously vulnerable.

He gave it a few test swings, then trudged in the direction of Menja.

He didn't have to march very far before she was in swinging distance. The PRT troopers and guardsmen held their fire, in respect, in shock, in confusion, he didn't know.

Menja turned around just in time to see the pole slam into her cheek.

There was a loud crack, and Adam saw and felt her head whip to the side hard enough to nearly snap her neck. Her cheekbone caved in, and he saw more than a few teeth fly out of her mouth.

By the time her head came back around, Adam caught her temple with the backswing.

There was another loud crunch, and Adam felt her skull crack with the force of the blow.

Menja's head lolled, but when Adam pulled the pole back and made to thrust it through her face, she caught it, her grip weak.

Adam let her have it and let go, and when she thrust it back at him, he backflipped out of the way and let it sink into the ground. He ran forward this time, up and across the pole's length to the crowd's disbelief, and he jumped forward to kickflip off of her nose. While he didn't ram it into her brain like he'd been trying to, it did break with a satisfying crunch.

When Adam landed, Menja went limp, and the building she was stuck to collapsed under her weight until her back was supported by the frame and she was half sat, half collapsed against its side.

Adam put a hand on Wilt. To his disbelief, most of the Guardsmen cheered.

Their cries were silenced when Adam closed his eyes and a red ring burned around his feet.

Darkness shuttered the sun, and the moon's silver rays guided his blade as Wilt swung in an arc.

The world collapsed into Black and Red, and Adams's blade cut it twain.

Along with Menja's neck.

When the color came back and the storm of petals receded, Menja's headless body was half Wilted away, the rest of her remains charred and rotted, her severed heads eyes glassy and unfocused.

There was a whoosh of air to his right, and most of the guardsmen turned that way. After taking a moment to sheath Wilt and catch his breath, Adam turned to face it, feeling just the strangest dread.

A golden fist smashed into his face.

Adam sailed blindly through the air, and he ripped Wilt free and threw it hard enough it spun like a saw through the air. It sank hilt deep into the side of the building he was about to impact.

Adam crashed into its face, and dug his fingertips into its sides, slowing his descent, until his feet landed atop Wilts hilt. Balancing atop it, he ripped Blush free of his belt and had two rounds squeezed out to force Xiao-Long to dodge or disengage-

Except it wasn't Xiao-Long.

Adam blinked. His ears were ringing. He could taste blood and salt in his mouth and smelt Beacon's ashes in the air.

The waterfall's spray upon his cheek was ice cold.

Y-G-V-XYang-

Glory Girl stared at him, eyes wide, head titled just to the side. Her hair was cut unevenly, and there was a nasty cut that ran across her cheek.

Adam felt goosebumps crawl over his skin. He blinked and saw her wide blue violet eyes.

Those two bullets.

One through her hair, one across the cheek.

So much for the invincible girl.

He'd just about blown her head off.

His throat was dry. "Turn it off, Dallon."

The girl was staring at him strangely. Two fingers came up to touch the cut across her cheek. How quaint it must have been, to be reminded of your mortality.

Her arm was oddly metallic. His spine tingled.

He could see someone, Laserdream maybe, flying closer in the distance.

His next words came out as a warning roar.

"Turn. It. Off."

Dallon blinked again, and their gazes met.

Then just like that, the ringing in his ears subsided.

Last edited: Aug 14, 2024

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MasterDuplicator

Jan 13, 2024

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MasterDuplicator

Big Fan of a Mad Cow

Super Awesome Happy Funtime

Jan 25, 2024

#1,904

Or, Victoria Dallon isn't as stupid as people make her out to be.

Work again, another two-part. Second comes tomorrow.

Gunsmoke wafted through the air, twisting and coiling in the breeze, his trigger finger already halfway into squeezing out a third shot square between the center of Glory Girl's eyes.

A strangled breath hissed through his pinched lips. Adam relaxed his finger, but didn't take it off the trigger.

Dallon blinked at him stupidly, left eye quickly flicking astride to stare at the blood that was slowly streaming down her neck and cheek. Her head dipped slightly in acknowledgment of her predicament, and the tiara in her hair slipped downward a half inch, suddenly unsupported by half the hair it had been sitting atop of.

Adam shifted his feet, attempting to find a more comfortable balance atop Wilt's hilt, his legs contorted at an odd angle and his back bent slightly, giving him a hunch that rendered him a few inches shorter than the woman floating in front of him.

He saw the men on the ground raise their rifles again, the National Guardsmen noticeably more hesitant to do so, and a colored indistinct streak blurring through the sky fast enough to make his eyes hurt when he focussed on it that didn't exactly look very friendly. Laserdream or Shielder?

Adam clicked his tongue and tasted more copper. He disguised his shudder as a shrug when he took a mental inventory of his aura. Barely into the double digits. Not enough to take more than a few punches or a few bullets safely, and definitely not enough to stop a blast from Laserdream. Each energy-capable member of New Wave was able to down houses and small buildings by their lonesome, if given sufficient motivation.

I could die here, he realized with a start. The possibility had seemed so far away, so elusive in his time here with his capabilities, that the idea had hardly entered his mind at all.

His hands shook slightly. His own fear surprised him.

I'm not ready yet.

A single wrong move and it could be over. He had to find a way to salvage this before the fight came upon him.

Adam started at Dallon, almost equally as transfixed by her wound as she was.

By her blonde hair and blue eyes that could have appeared lilac in the right light, by the scuff of blood on her gloved knuckles. She and Xiao-Long looked so alike Adam half wondered if Yang's father had visited this world before him.

Dallon blinked again, shaking her head slightly, then a grin that appeared only tentatively forced stretched itself on her face as she gave Wilt an appreciative glance.

"Not gonna lie: That's pretty fuckin cool."

Despite himself, Adam huffed in amusement. Dallon must have noticed, because her smile shifted a touch, becoming more natural and showing a bit more teeth. She cocked a hand to her hip and gestured with lazily another. "I think I saw a guy do that in a cartoon once." She gave his horns a meaningful look. "Was just as bullshit then as it is now."

Adam saw a few PRT rifles snap up at him through the gap her canted arm created, saw a few men out of the corner of his eye begin creeping forward to encircle him across the building's face.

Adam shifted on his feet again until he was standing atop Wilt horizontally, then he pressed a foot into the building's side until he'd pushed down hard enough to create a foothold, tilting his body so that Dallon was his human shield again.

His finger tensed on the trigger again in warning.

Her smile didn't change, but he saw her eyebrows pinch down slightly in annoyance. She kicked her left foot backward through the air in a way that would have looked lazy and meaningless, were it not for the fact that the closing soldiers halted their advance.

He took a moment to mentally bump her up a rung or two on his threat assessment.

The girl's smarter than she looks.

But you can't hustle a hustler.

The blur accelerated further, approaching speeds that could have possibly equaled his own. Whilst he knew he could outspeed almost anyone in the world here in short bursts, that kind of sustained speed was something he wasn't capable of. "Friend of yours?" He inquired, not taking his eyes off Dallon.

Dallon shrugged. "Cousin. We split off from Fenja to see what the fuss over here was about."

"And how is she faring against the rest of your cohort?"

Dallon flicked one eye in the direction of Menja's headless corpse and he saw her cheeks color slightly. "She isn't doing so hot. We caught her with her pants literally down when she drove through a bunch of roadblocks trying to get to a safe house to retrieve her gear. We'll have her wrapped up in a bow any minute."

"Awful kind of you to volunteer this information to me."

Dallon shrugged again with a swagger that almost exceeded Xiao-Long's in the festival footage he'd watched. "I'm magnanimous like that. I want you to know just how fucked you are when the rest of my family gets here."

Which explained why she was so willing to indulge in this idle chat. She was attempting to stall him.

Adam's tongue probed his cheek. Four shots remaining in Blush. Two to kill Dallon, one to control his fall, one spare, Wilt at his feet, awkward to retrieve, two dozen or more grunts with grenade launchers and automatic rifles below him, possibly able to be wiped out with the remnants of his stored energy, unknown assailant approaching with destructive capabilities currently capable of rivaling his own.

Already not good odds. New Wave arriving in full with reduced said chances from low to below zero. "You sound rather arrogant."

"Confident. You're not looking so hot."

"I beg to differ."

Dallon scoffed. "The dry blood on your lips and the rips in your little DnD cloak say otherwise, pal. They're gonna fuck you up."

Adam gave her a polite nod. "You might be right about that. But the first one to die would be you. Then Manpower if one of your family brings him along, he's too slow. Shielder or Laserdream if not, and I know I'll get most if not all of the soldiers down there. Maybe even your mother too, before one of your cousins or a stray bullet gets me."

Glory Girl wasn't smiling anymore. Her eyes were cold, and she eyed the gun pointed at her head in scathing contempt. "You say all that like there's a 'but' being left out."

Adam reeled his hook back in. "But, that's if there has to be a fight at all."

"Oh, yeah, sure thing Mr. Terrorist Man, I'll happily let you go so you can't follow through on your threats to slaughter my family like the fucking lunatic your pretending you aren't acting like."

Adam smiled. "Insulting me doesn't seem like the wisest course of action after what I just explained."

Dallon reared her head back and spat.

Adam tilted his head to the side to avoid the spittle and very nearly blew her head off right then and there for the disrespect alone.

The fury in her gaze had a very presence in the air, because he felt a buzzing, slimy sensation, a wrongness, a prenatural fear, begin clawing free of his belly and traveling up towards his brain.

His hair standing straight on its ends, a hysteria in his voice that didn't belong, Adam laughed. "You remind me of someone I knew once. Someone I respected. You've got the same hair, the same face, and the same damn right hook."

Dallon glowered at him. "And?"

"And I maimed her in front of the love of her life as I helped burn her world down around her. I took off her arm at the elbow and left her girlfriend to rot in a burning school. You have no idea the things I'm capable of. The graveyards I've filled. Do you think I could be bluffing? You and Menja are childs play compared to half the men and women I've killed. You should turn around right now, ward off your cousin, and go back to helping your family with Fenja before I take your arm too."

Dallon was all but vibrating in place, utterly incandescent with rage.

Rage, and fear.

But still, she didn't back down. Her face smoothed out into a blank, empty mask. She turned her head around to look at the men below them both, at the streak in the distance that froze in place and began glowing red. Laserdream.

Wilt's blade, hidden from sight and buried into the brickwork, began to glow red.

She started at them in a pensive silence. Judging. Weighing their lives on a scale.

Adam tapped his foot and waited for her to make her choice.

Dallon sighed.

She turned back to face him, lips thinned. "I can't let you go."

Adam noted the emphasis on let.

Laserdreams glow became blinding.

"I understand."

Dallon lunged forward with a punch that was so painfully telegraphed anyone could have seen it coming.

Adam weaved to the side, balancing on one foot and letting Dallon's fist sail past him and get stuck elbow-deep into the brickwork.

She gave him an unreadable look before tearing her arm free and making to strike him again.

Adam stomped on Wilt's hilt, hard.

The blade ground down through the building in a straight line downwards and Adam surfed atop it as a crimson blast obliterated the top half of the building and sent Glory Girl careening off to the side, rubble raining down atop him and the soldiers at ground level.

Adam grimaced to himself as he felt the rocks plink and roll off his back, taking another sliver of his aura away.

A farce it may be, it was one that could still cost him his life.

All he could do was hope Dallon would get her cousin to play her part in it correctly.

Or more would have to die.

Edit just now

I'm going to kill you all and then myself. How the fuck did I not notice the typo in my story synopsis till today that I just fixed? HOW?! For two years??? WHY DID NO ONE TELL ME! I am so embarrassed you can't even imagine oh my god. I saw a reddit comment recommending this fic and noticed that the copy-pasted synopsis had two 'News' in it. I thought it was their mistake.

It wasn't.

Last edited: Jan 31, 2024

229

MasterDuplicator

Jan 25, 2024

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Threadmarks Negotiation(II)

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MasterDuplicator

Big Fan of a Mad Cow

Super Awesome Happy Funtime

Jan 31, 2024

#1,929

If you want a good idea of how Adam's clones look and move so abstractly, practically half-melded into him, or just aren't as familiar with RWBY's actual fight choreography and wanna see how Adam actually fights in 3d instead of my pages, watch this beautiful little fan animation. It's probably the greatest RWBY fan animation I've ever seen now these days, and not even for Adam. It made Raven so fucking cool and the way Adam's motions are repeated in delayed sequence with his clones just looks fucking dope.

Everyone in this thread should honestly give it a view if only to support the creator.

Mid-air was the worst possible place to be in the middle of a fight.

At least if you couldn't fly.

Right now, Adam was starting to wish he could.

Time slowed to the most minute fraction of a second he could drag his battered body and exhausted aura through, the debris in the air nearly frozen in place.

Adam leaned forward and let himself fall forward ahead of Wilt, locking the sides of his heels against its hilt.

Time resumed its forward momentum as Adam corkscrewed mid-air and swung Wilt out with his feet, the blade's glow dim.

The energy he put into the Moonslice that followed wouldn't have been enough to carry it even ten feet forward, let alone the hundred-plus foot distance he was away from Laserdream.

But she had no way of knowing that.

Adam was counting on that.

He thrust his hands forward toward the ground and slowed his perception of time again, twisting his body in a vain attempt at dodging the bullets streaming through the air toward him. He felt one, two, three bullets impact him, one outright bypassing the aura near his thigh and grazing the skin, before he landed palm-first on the shattered street.

Adam pushed himself up off the ground from his awkward handstand and kicked his legs upward to throw Wilt up toward eye level. Adam caught it, flipped it into a reverse grip, and thrust it into the ground just as he landed back to solid earth and Laserdream dispelled her summoned forcefield with a wave of her hand, his feinted Moonslice imploding after having only a traveled distance roughly equal to his own height.

He took a millisecond to himself to applaud her reaction time before dumping all his summoned energy and a fraction of his aura into the ground.

The street buckled upward, ebony lightning tearing through the underground power lines and sewer systems and basements before crimson plumes of energy erupted out from the ground in indistinct bursts and spikes.

The ground shook and rumbled for a few seconds as he poured the energy into the ground before Adam and everyone on the street level lost their footing as a cavernous sinkhole appeared and swallowed everything within a fifty by fifty-foot wide area around him.

Wilt, anchored deeply into the concrete, was the only thing that kept him standing.

A flash out the corner of his eye, and he ducked under a punch from Glory Girl. She sailed over his head and Adam spun on his heels and made to grab at her cape before she could get away.

Then she did something that surprised him.

She stopped.

Mid-air, his hands just out of reach of the white cloth that swam gently in the breeze just ahead of him.

Without any of her momentum carrying her further forward.

Adam heard Dallon's voice echo in his head.

Bullshit.

Then that cape dragged over his face and blinded him for a half second before the heel of her boot crashed into the side of his jaw.

Spittle flew free as he reared back with a yell. He wrenched Wilt free from the ground and backflipped past her follow-up punch.

Wilt whooshed clean through the empty space her body once occupied, only succeding in carving through the bottom of her cape.

The severed parchment fell over his head, coiling around his horns and blinding him again. Adam ducked down again on instinct and felt something scorching hot blitz past the space his head had been only a second prior.

Adam ripped the white cloth free of his face with a snarl and balled it up into his fist, jumping forward and whirling around to make space before blindly throwing it in Dallon's direction as hard as he possibly could.

It hit a very bewildered-looking Victoria Dallon in the head and fanned out over her face and upper body. Her head snapped back, more out of reflex than pain.

Wilt shot out from Blush with a fiery roar, but before its pommel could occupy the same space, a crimson forcefield appeared and very nearly shattered in the same moment as Wilt rocketed into it hard enough to make it shake before spinning in a lazy circle mid-air as it rebounded off.

Adam caught it before it could fall and ran through that forcefield, breaking it apart and shoulder-checking a wide-eyed Glory Girl out of his way just as she disposed of her ruined cape, and he sprinted away full tilt in the opposite direction of the carnage.

Ten steps in, his shadow came to life, lurching upward to its feet from behind him and running to match his pace, its afterimage only a few inches separated from his skin, its burning footfalls melting the concrete below them.

Melting the concrete, and wilting enough of it enough away that he had a smokescreen of wilting petals to zig-zag through.

Flashes of crimson light and the sounds of booming explosions confirmed Laserdream and Glory Girl were giving chase, but when Adam funneled a fraction more of his aura into his semblance and darkened the world enough each petal bloomed like the burst of a firework at midnight, it disguised his body enough that most of their attacks were quite wide off.

Adam grimaced as one soared particularly close to him, the crimson splash of energy racing over the outermost edges of his aura and fraying another little sliver of it away.

Most being the keyword.

But it wasn't a race he could run forever. Laserdream was keeping it light, harrying him with short blasts and small globules of energy, not concentrated beams or the large splashes she was known for, splashes that could atomize a human being or knock down half of a building. If she escalated any further, forgoing any potential collateral damage, it would only take one good shot.

So Adam cut the hare chase short.

He dug his heels deep into the ground, slowing his momentum somewhat, letting his clone phase through his aura and reform just ahead of him. Adam dragged Wilts's tip into the ground, generating yet more darkness and glowing petals, and he let his clone outspeed him by a country mile.

The clone, indistinguishable from himself in the dark, kept charging forward faster and faster until it passed around a corner and he could only guide it by the vaguest of sensations and mental commands.

Adam didn't see the blast of light that blew it and the car it veered past to high hell, but he sure felt the shock of the lost aura drive the breath from his lungs.

What a waste.

He took a half-second to catch his breath then veered off toward the nearest building at his left, that being a sandwich shop with an already broken window and shattered that must have already been looted and destroyed prior.

Thanking the gods for his luck that this part of the city was now so depopulated, he hopped through the broken window and dove behind the low counter, using an opened cash register to hide his horns as he crouched down.

Adam sucked in a deep breath, and exhaled sharply through his nose.

He tried taking in another calm breath.

Then another.

And another.

And another after that, until he had to keep a glove over his mouth to muffle the sounds of his exhausted heaving. His aura glimmered across his body for a moment, impotently sparkling and flashing, before it receded into the depths of his soul,

He very nearly passed out then and there when the energy and power his aura had given him receded along with it.

Every nerve was alight. Every muscle sore. His lungs were empty, his throat hoarse, his jaw numb.

He slumped further against the countertop, eyelids drooping. This was going to put him out of action for tomorrow. Maybe even a few days.

Adam sat there for a length of time his mind was too far gone to keep track of. When he felt he could trust himself to stand again, he did so, and he had to drag his aura back out kicking and screaming.

Seven or eight percent likely, ten at the most, five at the lowest. A stiff breeze away from shattering.

Adam doubted he would be able to take the shock of it. Just keeping conscious from the shock of an aura breakage was a challenge for even veteran Huntsmen. Most Hunstmen-in-training passed out almost immediately, and he had even read some reported cases of younger people being disqualified from the academies because the stressors an aura break put upon their body shut down their hearts or put them into comas.

Wilt rasped free, and Adam half walked, half staggered towards the back wall, past the shop's backroom and cold storage, whereupon he sacrificed another percent of his aura to clumsily slash a diagonal line across its back wall. The paint and drywall wilted away with no issue, but his semblance stalled at the brickwork on the other side that led to the inside of an alleyway, and he had to physically tear the wall apart piece by piece so as not to damage his aura further by trying to break it down.

When he had finally finished doing so, he forced his way through the wreckage and took another moment to catch his breath.

Then he heard her laugh.

"Gotcha motherfucker!"

He turned right, hands outstretched.

The dumpster sailing at him at highway speeds had the imprint of a boot on its side, courtesy of the teenager floating mid-air at the other end of the alleyway.

Adam caught the dumpster and dug in his heels, trying to resist. It pushed him all the way along to the other side of the alleyway until his back hit something red and warm and rigid. A forcefield.

He nearly swore. His eyes were so wide behind his mask that he was willing to bet Dallon could make out his good one.

How did they know?

He cursed himself for even having to think about it. There wasn't a body, blood, or any of his equipment lying around after they had disposed of his clone. Of course they would have doubled back to search for him again.

Dallon shot forward like a bullet, one first outstretched. She probably expected him to try and dodge or get out of the way. She definitely wasn't pulling her punches anymore, without the Guardsmen and PRT troopers to worry about.

Adam was too tired for that.

So he let his aura slowly creep over the outer edges of the dumpster.

Glory girl hit it again, but instead of shattering, it 'merely' skid back again, pushing him back on his heels and through that forefield.

Adam skidded back into the open street and looked upwards and to his left, eyeing Laserdream, who was idly floating above him, one glowing hand outstretched.

Adam lifted the dumpster over his head with a grunt and threw it at her.

Laserdream let out a shocked scream and raised another forcefield in front of her.

The dumpster smashed into it and crumpled apart into too many odd pieces to count. The forcefield shattered, and the impact sent her careening into a second-story window. She smashed halfway through it before coming to a stop with her legs dangling out from the windowsill, unconscious or worse.

Glory Girl screamed.

Adam sighed.

Then there was a hand at his throat, squeezing, and Adam realized he was being ground down into the side of a building, lifted halfway off the ground, Dallon's furious snarl right up in his face, their noses practically touching.

When did that happen?

She cocked a fist back, ready to smash his head into a bloody pulp.

It froze just past her shoulder when she felt Blush tickle her chin through her 'aura.'

Dallon's breath came out in short, controlled puffs. Her eyes were wide and her pupils dilated. She was looking at him, through him, searching for something he knew he didn't have.

She swallowed, eyeing the gun. The grip on his throat slackened. "You wouldn't."

Adam let Wilt fall to the ground with a clatter. He reached out and ran a finger across the drying blood below her scalp as Dallon shuddered in helpless rage and disgust.

He spoke like he would have to a child. "I already did."

Dallon flinched. "What..are you?"

It was a multifaceted question. Adam didn't have any answers for her.

He tapped her cheek in a gesture that was more mocking than comforting, despite his intent. "Go get your cousin. Go home. You did the best you could with what you had. No one will ever begrudge you for that." His lips twisted in an unfamiliar way. "You were brave."

Dallon reared back, then took a step back, her hands brought down to her sides. She looked between him and her cousin a few times before she floated up toward her and gently pulled her free from the broken window frame, careful to avoid the shattered glass.

She turned around one final time, glancing down at the rose decal on Blush's receiver.

When she was satisfied he wasn't going to shoot her in the back, she flew off toward the rapidly setting sun.

(X)

It took him four hours to get back home. Sneaking past patrol after patrol of soldiers, armed convoy after armed convoy, and even groups of rioting civilians and refuge convoys headed towards the multitude of locked-down exits and camps around the city.

It took him less than half a minute to fall asleep once he'd carelessly tugged off his belts and left Wilt & Blush on the ground.

He slept for eleven hours.

It took him ten seconds upon waking up to realize he wasn't alone.

Another four to peel off the blankets covering him that he didn't remember owning or even seeing. One more to realize he wasn't wearing his mask, despite the fact he had no memory of taking it off.

Another two to recognize the dark-skinned girl covered in blood sitting Indian style across from him on the other side of his apartment, Wilt & Blush strewn over her lap.

When Adam leaned on his elbows and turned to face his doorway, he spent another five seconds staring uncomprehendingly at the five corpses strewn about his entryway.

His brain finally turned on when he recognized the Massachusetts National Guard patches on their shoulders.

Sophia spoke softly. "They were on a patrol. First to come by this neighborhood. They saw me come up here. I heard them too late. Covered you up with some stuff I brought, tried hiding your weapons. I tried bullshiting them that I was squatting here. They took one look at all your decorations and knew better."

She rolled one shoulder in a parody of a shrug. "One started creping towards where you were sleeping. I knew then I had to..."

She trailed off a moment, humming. "Do something, I guess." She shifted in place uncomfortably. "First guys in a uniform I've ever iced. Felt weird."

Adan rubbed his eyes with one hand, taking an extra moment to dig the crust out from the letters seared into his skin.

Sophia watched him impassively. "I don't know what I was expecting when I took that mask off you. I just know it wasn't that."

The rage that should have been boiling in his blood was strangely absent. He should have already stood up and torn off her head for violating his privacy like that, for bearing witness to his greatest humiliation.

But all he felt was tired.

Sophia mouthed out the letters, then shrugged at him. "You don't look so bad even with it bare, but I digress. I'm sure you wanna know why I came by."

Adam didn't trust himself at the moment to do anything other than nod.

"My mom's dead."

Adam flinched.

"Brothers too. Found my fuckin baby brother half-liquid. Eyeballs floating in this puddle of what looked like god damn melted wax or playdough. Had a chat with the PRT about my options."

"Your...options." He echoed.

Sophia nodded. "Yeah. I gave it a day to think. Then I wanted to talk to you about it. But now?"

Sophia lifted a long, languid finger, and pointed it directly at his brand.

"Now? Now, I think I wanna talk about that."

Last edited: Aug 14, 2024

233

MasterDuplicator

Jan 31, 2024

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Threadmarks Sophia VIII

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MasterDuplicator

Big Fan of a Mad Cow

Super Awesome Happy Funtime

Feb 17, 2024 Awarded 1

#1,954

I am currently in the process of getting artwork commissioned for this story. I'm very excited to share it with you. It'll be a short series of stills from my personal favorite points of the story, and perhaps a wallpaper shot as a 'cover' for this fic. The artist has also agreed to collaborate on works for my other ongoing fic, Salt & Rock.

The first piece will be a still of Adam in his new outfit during his fight with Menja, sans his mask for dramatic effect.

It was a sort of whimsy, the same kind of unthinking wanderlust that Taurus had cautioned her against, that had her lift that mask free of his face. She'd been curious since the first day that they met, what lay underneath that painted porcelain. She'd refrained from peeking out of a combination of fear, respect, and a strange sense of worry. Like putting a face to the name, to the man, to the monster, might take its power, its beauty, away.

But after offing five people who'd done nothing but be in the wrong place at the wrong time, after her family was destroyed, after Piggot made her stance clear, after her whole fucking world erupted into flames, she felt like he owed it to her. She'd lied for him for weeks, and now had killed for him, and she didn't even know his name.

He'd told her to think it through.

She had.

And he still made no sense. None, not a single part of him.

Not his powers, not his experience, not even his fucking game plan. How was he in a place to judge her for fucking up and not having the right sense of goddamn old man gumption and forthrightness to make the right choice at the right time at every fucking juncture, when it looked like he didn't even have a plan himself besides 'Stab these fuckin goons'.

Why does he get to sleep peacefully at night, all his secrets intact, when all mine are laid bare before him?

It was petty. Suicidal even.

But she'd done it anyway.

Quick. Like ripping off a band-aid.

All her illusions, of his youth, of his beauty, of his mystery, had wilted away like the petals he made the second she glanced up at the red and black burnt-crusted webbing of scar tissue that ran across his nose towards his right eye.

Up across his soft cheeks, his brown eyebrow, past the melted flesh where the skin had peeled away and bubbled up like grease in a pan before resettling across his face in a manner that resembled less human scar tissue and more melted candlewax, past the indents and weeping sores and scabs where traces of softened iron had melted into his skin, to read the three heinous letters seared into the mans fucking face, across his god damn eyelid, like he was chattel.

S. D. C.

Now that he lie awake, now that he could look her in the face with that blood-eye half crusted open, burst blood vessels and pale grey iris and white pupil bisecting that letter C and its gaze into some half-assed asian squint, she could understand her prior fears.

Taurus blinked at her, and she blinked with him, the branded eye lagging a few milliseconds behind, eyelid dragging, and she felt part of her awe, his luster and her lust, fade away.

Suddenly, he was human, just like everyone else.

Three letters were all it took for her to understand him.

For him to make sense.

She wanted to hate it. She wanted to find it beautiful.

But the truth was...

"That's ugly as fuck."

Taurus twitched. It surprised her how emotive he was, bare-faced. With the mask on, he seemed so robotic, so purposeful, so in control.

Now she could see the mask was just that. Not the man.

He was an open book, even more so than her. She could see every twitch of his cheek, a few scattered veins pulse in his forehead, his tongue push against the roof of his mouth, his lips peel back into a sort of confused snarl, and she saw that blood-eye narrow at her in a way that made her feel sick to her stomach.

She forced herself to shrug, fighting back the urge to shrink before him. "What? It's true."

Taurus's face smoothed into something approaching deadpan, but she could see through it.

Already trying to put on another mask.

"Why?" He ground out the words like they were being forced out of the barrel of a gun.

"I don't even know your name." She blurted. That realization burned her.

The mask cracked slightly. "Why?"

"Why the hell not!" The vehemence in her voice surprised them both. "I earned it. I deserved it, and I'm goddamn disappointed."

The blood-eye narrowed, its core molten. "Disappointed?"

"Not at the scar, dummy. At you. You think I'd be afraid of or be grossed out by some ugly burn?" She growled. "All those questions I never asked, all the opportunities to fuck you over I never took, the time with my friends and family I sacrificed to hang with out with you, and you don't even have the courtesy to give me your name. I was an idiot to seek you out, but you're a goddamn asshole for taking advantage. You told me to think about it. Life, combat shit, everything. Well, I've thought you over. You're a fucking conundrum. Nothing makes sense. Not your horns, not your memories, not your skills, not your goddamn face. And I want answers. I wanna know what all those Empire guys, all those people In Bakuda's bombings, what my family, died for."

He looked like he wanted to choke the life out of her. "Are you insinuating it is my fault Bakuda started her rampage?"

"The Empire was the only thing holding the ABB back from expanding besides the PRT. You fuckin neutered them, and I bet she realized what that meant. Ain't nobody to stand in their way. I've heard lots of shit in the grapevine. Some of her bombs wilted stuff away. Sound familiar?"

His one good eye went wide, like he'd remembered something, a few words, a face.

Then his face dropped. "Oh."

"Yeah. Oh."

Taurus chewed on whatever memory he'd dredged up for a moment before swallowing it down with a grimace. "You want answers? About..?"

"Everything. Anything. Whatever I ask about. And I want you to be honest with me. I've been nothing but honest with you. I've trusted you. I want.." She trailed off, and abruptly choked up for a second. "I want to know that you trust me too. That whatever we wanna call...this is mutual. That we both care."

Taurus glanced off to the side, looking away from her. The glow in his eye dimmed, and the color she hadn't realized was draining away returned to its full vibrancy.

He was quiet for a long, long time before he grunted. "Ask then. You are..right. You have earned my trust."

She didn't miss a beat. "The brand. Who gave you it?"

Taurus worked his jaw. "Roman Viola Gelé. He liked going by Indigo because of the color of his eyes and the scarf he always wore. It..differentiated him from the rest of his family, who took another name in a political marriage."

Sounds french. "Why'd he do it?"

Taurus was quiet another long, long moment, before he spoke again, idly rubbing a finger against that brand in thought. "The explanation needs context. He worked for a mining company his cousin had inherited. The Schnee Dust Company. His outlandish and erratic behavior had ostracized him from the rest of his family, so he was granted control of a rapidly drying up mine in Mantle's northern wastes and left to his own devices. There was a small town a few miles out from it on the only reasonably settable soil in the area. It was subsidized, constructed, and run by officials from the company since its inception, effectively rendering it a work camp. Workers were paid either Lien or given credit at the company store in the center of town. Given Lien wasn't taken at the store and your only other option for goods and services was ten miles of frozen waste away in Mantle, virtually everyone who lived there was a de-facto debt slave. Every household had to have their entire family working in order to pay off their debts and afford their rent. I started working in the mine when I was eight. Roman came by once every six months to inspect the mine, the town, check on the profit margins, then he would leave."

Taurus swallowed. "He took a special interest in me and my family, though I didn't find out why until the..." Taurus shifted his jaw. Then he shook his head. "I've rambled enough, that part doesn't matter. By the time I turned twelve, the mine was drying up, the town was dying out, and Indigo was getting colder and colder with each visit. He knew he wouldn't be getting another appointment if and when the mine failed, so he did all he could do to keep it afloat. He'd ranted about it to me a few times, and twelve-year-old me had gotten a brilliant idea. There was an abandoned and only half-dug shaft at the last level of the mine, deemed too unstable to be worked upon, and no one had gone deep enough into it to survey its contents. I went down there, after already filling my quota for the day to check it out."

Taurus's eyes were beginning to glaze over. "For my family. For Lagertod. Even for Indigo. I wanted to be the hero that would save the day. I took a pick and a lantern with me and started digging. I was down there for three hours until I found it. An intact vein of gravity dust. I mined around it until my hands blistered, my knuckles were bloody, and my arms went numb until all those beautiful purple crystals were illuminating the darkness around me. With them lighting my way better than the lantern could, I saw all the other dust deposits around me. I'd done it."

She didn't know what dust was, but the implication it could fuck with gravity certainly implied its value. "But then?"

"It collapsed. I'd barely made it back to the surface. People on the upper levels had heard the collapse. Questioned me. When I told them about the dust, everyone understood all at once that I had doomed them all. Indigo as well. I'd branded him with something hotter than the iron he put upon my face, I'd branded him a failure. That scarred him in its own way."

Adam shrugged, the movement conveying feigned casualness and acceptance. "So he'd branded me in return. He wanted me to never forget who I worked for, who sheltered me, fed me, housed me, and thought for me. He wanted to make sure an independent thought never entered my head again. So he put that Iron to my face and made everyone in town watch."

She started at him. It felt like something was being left out, something important, but there was so much she didn't understand already that she put it out of her mind. "And Mantle? Lagertod? The..SDC?"

Taurus nodded. "I wasn't lying to you, about being a Case-53, in the general sense. I just left out an important detail. I remembered the world I came from."

"Everything?"

Adam nodded. "There wasn't a transition, a vision, nothing. One second I was drowning in the ocean, passing off into blissful oblivion, and between blinks I had awoken to Brockton Bay, with my old gear and my broken body intact."

"Drowning? So all those little parables you told me, about the fight you lost, the way you learned to fight..?"

Adam nodded. "All true."

"And the fight you lost brought you here?"

"It was a close run thing. It was between me and Blake, my former partner, and her new one. We fought to a death I forced."

Sophia blanched. "Hard to believe anyone could beat you in a fight."

"Well, in a world where there are thousands of people who can move like me and fight like me, being a prodigy can only get you so far. I was perhaps one of the best still living, but by the time I'd cornered them both, I was starved, exhausted, and mentally unraveling. Were I of sound mind, I would have killed them both easily. But I wanted to drag it out. Play with them. That cost me."

"People like you?" She gave his horns a meaningful look. He made an 'Ah' sound. "I was a Faunus. A minority. A person with extra traits often found in animals."

She snorted. "That explains the cat ears."

His smile was not quite a smile. "Yes."

She took a moment to breathe. To think. I'm talking to a fucking alien. "What's your name?"

"I gave it already. Half of it, anyway. Taurus. Adam Taurus."

Man-Bull?

She snorted again. 'Adam' stared at her impassively.

The impassivity did not last. "Why fight the Empire?"

He scoffed. "Why wouldn't I? They're a disgusting blight on civilization. An up-jumped gang of hoodlums who worship at the feet of their mad god who died almost eighty years ago now, whom plunged this world into its most destructive conflict in history."

It made sense. Just like earlier, it also did not feel like the whole truth. That feeling of disappointment panged in her chest all the more. "Fair enough. So, what's your plan after the Empire's gone?"

Adam clamped his jaw shut. His eyes rolled back, perhaps in search of a lie.

"You don't have one, do you, you fuckin hypocrite?"

Adam was quiet.

"Were you just going to leave me? The city?"

Adam shook his head. "I-"

"Are you planning to die?"

He stopped.

"It's already fuckin familiar to you, isn't it? Death? The end? I bet it was cathartic, in a way. Maybe it even makes sense. You kill the bad guys and the heroes kill the worst guy. It's karmic. Even satisfies your ego."

Adam scowled, but she interrupted him. "Well, whatever it is, I think it's retarded. What about me? What about whoever the hell the mystery person is who gives you all your fancy stuff? You think about how you dying or leaving or whatever it is you were gonna do would affect us?"

His silence was telling. Sophia turned away from him, fists clenched. "You wanted me to live on without you? Well now, your all I've got. No way are you dyin' on my watch, you asshole. We're in it now, you and me. You wanted me to figure out my life? I'll make a counteroffer."

She turned back around and extended a hand. "How's about we chat like grownups, you, me, maybe even bring in the mystery man, and figure it all out."

She narrowed her eyes. "Together."

Adam stared at her, eyes wide, an unidentifiable emotion swirling around with the blood that free-floated in his shattered sclera. His good eye looked almost watery.

He stood up. Stepped forward.

Took her hand like a lifeline.

"Okay."

Last edited: Feb 17, 2024

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Super Awesome Happy Funtime

Apr 14, 2024

#2,004

Okay, just this one for tonight actually because tomorrow is in an hour and I need to be up early, but I'm serious about the commitment or thread ban. I am deranged, I am a lunatic, I am ready to get all this out there.

"And again, please." The words were punctuated by the sound of a scribbling pen. Cole heard it as if she were right next to him, the same way he heard the couple talking privately to themselves forty feet away in perfect clarity, the same way he could hear the girl he'd been blindsided by in line earlier mutter empty platitudes to herself as she adjusted the new pair of sunglasses that hid her eyes.

Cole lifted the weights again, five hundred pounds moving in his arms like fifty, feeling like a bodybuilder without the diet or physique.

Disbelief, despair, and doubt assailed him, even with the proof right before his lying eyes.

Five hundred pounds at fifty-two.

If he even was fifty-two anymore.

He didn't feel it.

Didn't look it anymore either.

The woman coughed vaguely politely. "Now bring them down." She repeated, for maybe the twentieth or thirtieth time.

He did as he was bid and brought the weights back down, one in each hand, and placed them on the impromptu racks at his sides. He stood up in his seat, barely sweating, and rolled his shoulders, noting with unease the pop that echoed outward.

The woman scribbled and scribbled and scribbled some more on that fucking clipboard, the microtears of the paper and the scraping of the ink on parchment so loud he had to put both palms on his ears.

After a few seconds of waiting, eyes clenched shut, he opened them again once he couldn't hear it anymore.

After watching the woman silently mouth and mime words at him like he was Special ED Fred for maybe half a minute, he realized with a start he couldn't hear anything.

He took a deep breath, closing his eyes again and-

"-And if you are still struggling to hear or understand me, I can find an interpreter fluent in-"

"I can hear you just fine." He interrupted her.

The dead-eyed fuckin government lizard woman didn't even blink or change her tone at the brusqueness in his voice, still keeping to that same nasally and smiley faux-pleasantness that'd toiled in his head like a bell the last fifteen or twenty minutes he'd been with her following her damned instructions. She just clicked her pen again and went back to asking her questions. "When did the fluctuations in your hearing begin appearing?"

Cole grunted. "When I first started lifting those weights. I was so zoned in that I kinda just...tuned everything out. And once I realized that, I got a little scared, kinda tried...willing it back, and it surged back into focus so loud it sounded like you were grinding that pen on my eardrum instead of that paper."

She gave out her tenth 'mhm' in a row and nodded to herself. Cole tapped his fingers against his thighs anxiously as he waited, running his now uncalloused hands against the wedding ring that hardly fit him anymore. He had to adjust it to keep it from slipping off, and not for the first time.

When she was done, she gave him one final nod and tucked the pen back up in her ear, reaching inside her pocket to fish out one of those little tiny makeup hand mirrors he'd seen Anna carry around once or twice when they'd first started dating. She flipped it open and held it out to him. "Do you have your driver's license or some other form of ID with you? I want to compare and contrast the changes in your appearance you've described to me."

He fished out his ID clumsily, unused to being the one actually asked that question, and handed it over, glancing in that mirror.

He reared back on reflex, the words on the tip of his tongue. That's not me.

It was a stranger he saw staring wide-eyed at him, in shock, of fear or disgust, he didn't know. A young man, a lean man, a handsome man, a man he hadn't been for over half his life. A man with no scars on his face and no wrinkles under his eyes, no grey in his hair.

The man she should have married instead.

He traced a finger across his face, from cheek to cheek, eye to eye, feeling the smoothness and softness of his skin. He looked good. Felt good.

He stretched in place, rolling his shoulders again and kicking his legs out. No pain, no soreness, no delays.

The easy was unfamiliar to him. He'd nearly forgotten what it felt like to move so freely and unencumbered.

He chuckled to himself, more than a little bitterly. He felt like a movie star, hell, even looked the damn part, and it was ten years too late for it to matter.

God, if you were gonna make me a fuckin freak, why couldn't you have done it before the crazy goddamn Asian lady blew up half my fuckin town, before I could make a lick of difference?

A voice that-probably-wasn't-god responded back to him mockingly. And what difference would that have been? She was dead the moment that man or woman or whoever they were walked in the door. So was everyone else who didn't make it.

Maybe so, he replied back. But at least like this, I woulda heard them before they tripped the bell.

But that didn't matter now. All he'd done these past few years was wallow about the past and could-haves and should-have-beens.

He clenched his fits tight, and felt his muscles burn as he squeezed and squeezed and squeezed, no varicose veins to get in the way.

The woman finished jotting her malarky down and held out a silent open palm, expectant. He handed the mirror back, and she his ID.

"This can conclude your formal assessment. Normally the procedures and questions would be much longer, more intensive, and stringent, but due to the main PRT headquarters's...condition, that isn't possible at this time."

"So what does that mean for me?" He asked.

"It means that once this document is submitted, you will be legally recognized as a Parahuman by all state, federal, and civilian agencies."

"Yes, but what does that actually mean for me?" He repeated.

The lizard woman showed the first real sign she was capable of human emotion since he'd first met her with the sudden twitch of her lips he caught, her eyes crinkling in amusement. "Well, normally I'd have a pamphlet to give you for you to read over and ask me questions about, but those were all destroyed for the most part in the initial bombings, and the PRT hasn't exactly been in a hurry to bring us more, with them so busy asking for reinforcements and butting heads with the Army. If you want me to be honest?" She queried him, raising a brow, and he nodded his head. "It won't mean a god damn thing to you or anyone else for a long, long time. Just look around you. Our bureaucracy is totaled. People are here homeless and starving like we're in Hati, not Brockton Bay. It's not going to change much of anything for you unless you decide to try your luck moving out of the city or joining the PRT. I assume you won't be taking either of those risks?"

His resulting scoff was answer enough for her. The slight chuckle she let out unnerved him, though he'd never admit it aloud. "Then we're done here. You're free to go."

He nodded back to her, turning on his heel and staggering a few steps in the opposite direction before stopping, shuffling his feet, and displacing the grass.

Not for any real reason. He just couldn't think of anywhere to go.

Home wasn't home without Anna, and during his hospital stay it had probably been destroyed and burglarized anyway. It wasn't like most people were unaware a cop lived there anyway. It'd be a prime target for scumbags. He was on a permanent leave of absence due to his 'injuries', though they'd healed themselves in a time that yellow guy from the old vintage X-Man comics he remembered reading as a kid woulda been jealous of during his hospital stay, though he did not wanna find out if that was a fluke or not. Mike was off somewhere, alive or dead, he didn't know, and with the way things were, his status could change any second anyhow.

So he decided to keep it simple, and trundled off towards the least busy-looking hastily constructed bench he could find. There was only one other person on it, some young-looking and beaten down Hadji girl with a bad scrape on her chin and bloodied cotton balls stuffed in her ears. He sat off as far from her as he could so as not to disturb her, but she noticed him anyway, giving him a small smile and gentle wave, only a little forced, tinged with the slightest hint of melancholy.

"Sorry for disturbing you." He said, and he leaned back in surprise when she fuckin jolted upward like a startled rabbit, blinking at him rapidly in disbelief.

He scrambled back slightly in a panic. "What? What is it?"

The girl was seemingly lost for words a moment, before shrugging helplessly to herself with a light little laugh. "I heard you." She said.

"Yeah?" He replied.

The girl laughed again, a touch hysterically this time. "I heard you in my bad ear. The one with the eardrum that's gone."

"Oh." He said.

That was.

Something.

The girl laughed at the expression on his face, but he could hear the undercurrent of relief in her voice at simply being able to clearly hear again. "How is that possible? Are you a...?" She trailed off, idly adjusting the cotton as if would make more of a difference.

"Parahuman?"

She nodded.

"Un-fuckin-fortunately." He groused.

She laughed again.

The sound vibrated in him pleasantly.

Last edited: Apr 14, 2024

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MasterDuplicator

Big Fan of a Mad Cow

Super Awesome Happy Funtime

Aug 16, 2024

#2,010

Like the Goonies, Crusader never dies.

"Are you fucking dying over there or what?"

Adam tried laughing.

He wheezed instead.

Sophia raised one delicate eyebrow as she tiptoed over the blood trails and spatters and waded through the sacks and sacks of garbage he'd yet to dispose of.

"Like..." She trailed off with a genuinely concerned-looking frown. "You weren't doing that when you woke up."

"You didn't think..." He paused to cough. "After all the injuries I sustained yesterday, that I wasn't in absolute profound agony upon waking?"

Sophia shrugged. "You seemed fine."

"I could have been." Adam replied. "Had I not tried lifting those bodies before activating my Aura."

His leg and arm muscles, already worn and frayed and only tenuously healed, had torn and snapped like frayed cotton strings the second he tried lifting two of those dead men over his shoulders. His scream of agony was loud enough he bet people a block away would have heard it, had there been any living human beings within a block anyway.

She'd taken care of the others. He hadn't had the words to thank her for it at the time, so busy he was trying to catch his breath and not black out from the pain.

Sophia mouthed the word 'Aura'. "Your power?"

He huffed. "I don't have one singular power."

"No shit. But is whatever aura you have their source?"

Adam hummed, shifting so he could sit further upright, Wilt & Blush sliding out of his lap somewhat, since they'd landed awkwardly after Sophia had tossed him them. He reached out to catch them and ran his fingers across their length as he settled them back into place. "Sort of. Aura comes from the soul-"

And that was about as far as he got before Sophia laughed. "The Soul? Horseshit. Didn't think you'd be the spiritual type. And ain't the body supposed to protect the soul anyway?"

"Not on Remnant. And it's not spiritualism, it's fact. It may sound absurd to you, but so too does the idea of a flying golden man lifting puppies out of trees to me."

Sophia shrugged again and muttered 'touche' as he leaned against the opposite wall, slouching down into a crouch. She drummed her fingers atop her knees with a sigh, glancing around the room in a hybrid mixture of exhaustion and boredom.

She locked eyes with the doll mask he'd partially painted, and her glancing stopped.

"Parian, huh?" She queried, popping the 'p'. Adam flinched slightly, but she didn't wait for him to reply, her next words tumbling out of her mouth in a hurry. "I was wondering why I thought that dumb mask on your wall looked familiar. Thought about it while I was ditching those uniforms. I didn't really know much about her except that she existed, and made costumes. Didn't even know what she looked like."

"She's a good person." Adam said.

"Yeah?" Sophia challenged, chuckling. "Then what the fuck is she doing being friends with you?"

He prodded his cheek with his tongue, Wilts glimmering confined to the darkness of the sheath encasing it. "I'm still unsure myself. She was lonely. I was lonely. I paid her for her time and help and I offered her several things she was in need of. We started talking. Bonding."

Hess glanced at him in askance, waiting for him to continue, but he left it there until the awkward silence grew too long in the teeth.

Sophia pursed her lips, visibly choking down her first choice of words as she considered him. "Should I go find her then? Since we agreed-"

"-No." The word was growled.

Sophia reared back, surprised, and Adam coughed, took back control of his tongue, and went back to picking and choosing his words.

"She isn't like us. She's kind. Empathetic. Not fond of bloodshed."

"She's weak?"

Adam shook his head, pursed his lips and thought of Ghira's smiling face, and the way it had looked so crestfallen when Sienna had proclaimed her intent to strike back at humanity during that meeting, so long ago. "A different kind of strong."

Sophia scoffed. "Strength of character ain't ever gonna save you from the people with strength of arms."

She sounded just like he had.

"That's why they surround themselves with people who have that in abundance. Bodyguards, armies, the police."

Sophia tilted her chin up. "Until the strong get impatient."

Adam flinched.

Sophia sighed tiredly, blowing a raspberry with her lips. "Or they get bought out. Or just want out." She smiled slightly, glancing back at him. "You know, I can't remember the last time I actually got to talking about this kinda shit with someone."

"Most people don't believe in the things we do."

"Because most people are good?"

It was his turn to chuckle nastily. "We both know better than that."

She went quiet again for a moment, turning back away from him to glance at the sky. It was only a few hours into the morning, but the sky was already greying, a storm brewing on the horizon as dark grey and black clouds began to float over the city.

In the very very far off distance, Adam saw a violet flash, could smell the ozone from here, purple and crimson lightning snapping out towards the skyline.

Bakuda was still busy.

"How long do you think she's got?"

Adam's bad eye slowly flicked towards her in askance.

"Bakuda." Sophia clarified, resting one hand on her knee to cradle her chin.

"Ah." Adam hummed, mentally tallying the days. "Coil has called a truce meeting. I'm to attend as of tomorrow morning at a Bar & Grill called 'Somer's Rock'. With every villain in the city plus the PRT and National Guard soon to go door-to-door smashing through every single possible safe haven for her and Lung, I'd give her four days. A week at the most."

Sophia nodded, momentarily taken aback by the mention of Coil, eyes still locked in on the explosion in the distance. The lightning was still visible snapping and snarling, traveling through the air at a speed of a few miles per week than a few million per second. Likely a secondary effect of the explosive. Whatever it seemed to touch disintegrated into swirling multicolored stain-glassed petals and fragments in a grotesque and unflattering parody of Moonslice's own byproducts.

He jolted slightly when regular lightning flashed off in the darkened distance, thunder rumbling and accompanying it a few seconds later.

"So are you bodyguarding her then? Was that part of your 'deal', or..." Sophia left it there, and it took him a moment to understand what she was referring to.

"No. She was never in any danger."

Not before you met her, a voice reminded him.

"Who invited you to the tea party then?"

Adam shrugged. "Coil."

Sophia blinked, and Adam fought the urge to smirk as he watched her stare at him in befuddlement. "Wait, really? He doesn't even have powers, does he?"

"I wouldn't know."

"You know he's probably gonna sell you out as soon as you ain't useful anymore, right?"

"I wouldn't put it past him."

"And you don't have a problem with that?"

"I never expected anything less."

Sophia's voice climbed up an octave. "So you don't have any issue with being his useful idiot? His attack dog?"

The laugh he let out started him more than it startled her. It was laden and laced with so much bitterness, amusement, and self-loathing he could taste it on his tongue. "That's all I've ever been, Sophia. From the day I was born to the day I died. When I finally cast off my chains, it was only to face the last enemy I had left I knew was weak enough to be destroyed: Myself."

Indigo. Ghira. Sienna. Cinder. Salem, whoever she really was, Parian, and now Coil.

Always living in service of others' goals. Never his own.

He thought about the Mall he'd gone to with Sabah, his almost realization there.

What had he ever done purely for himself, that did not end in disaster, that was his idea and his alone?

Even this...purging of Brockton Bay. It was the obvious choice. The easy choice.

But had it been my only choice?

Obviously not. But the only other thing he'd considered at the time was death, when for the first time, he had an opportunity to direct his own life.

Oh well, Adam thought.

It's too late now.

He-

Plap*

Something hit him in the face.

Adam glanced down at his lap to see the balled-up piece of wrapping paper that had ricocheted off his nose roll listlessly off of it down to the floor.

He looked back up at Sophia.

"What?" She said, without a hint of remorse or regret or seriousness the situation called for. "You were fucking moping again. Getting lost in your head. I've been there. Knock it off."

He wanted to be angry. He wanted to sputter out his indictments and lurch upward and stomp over to her and flick her on the nose back in petty retaliation.

Instead, he forced out his next words out of his like they were heavier than the invisible stones currently weighing his body down. "Thank you."

Sophia preened. Thunder rumbled again, nearer, and the first few raindrops began to fall.

They both relaxed into his abode's half-finished walls and watched it pool in the street, listening to it softly pound against the rooftop above them.

Adam took comfort in the sights and sounds and scents, but just as he reached a sort of equilibrium enough he could ignore the pain in his limbs and chest and heart, Sophia bulldozed through all the walls he'd so delicately put back together by speaking to him again. "So what were you planning on doing today without your newfound gimpiness getting in the way?"

The temptation to hamstring her rose up for a moment.

Only a moment, before he hesitantly shoved it back down. "Kill Alabaster."

"That it?"

Adam shrugged. "Now It'll have to wait. Until I'm better healed, for nightfall, and for this rain to stop."

Sophia nodded.

Adam closed his eyes and pulled Wilt & Blush closer up to his chest. Their weight was more of a comfort than any heated or quilted blanket could ever be.

After a few more minutes of quiet, Sophia finally cracked, blowing another raspberry. "I'm bored."

"Is that my problem?"

"I'll make it your problem."

"Then I'd solve it like I solve every other conundrum or challenge that comes my way."

"How so?"

Adam thumbed Wilt an inch free.

Sophia snorted, childlike.

Not to be outdone by said child, his bad eye cracked half(More like a quarter)open to glare at her. "If you're that bored, then you can go kill him for me."

"Nah." She said. "I'll wait for you."

"Then you'll be waiting a long time." Adam groused. "The entire day, to be specific."

"Then why don't we liven things up a bit? Play a game? Twenty Questions?"

"Or we could rest. I'm rather partial to that idea myself."

"Or," Sophia stressed. "We could at last chit-chat about that whole 'life-plan' deal? Ya'know, like you said we would?"

Adam sighed, opening both eyes and twisting his body so he faced her fully. "I suppose we could."

"Could we play Twenty Questions still?" She ventured.

Adam narrowed his eyes in disdain. "I'll answer twenty questions you have about me, or my home, but I won't make a game of it."

Sophia laughed. "Whatever, I'll take it."

She glanced around the room a moment, taking in his paintings, vistas, carvings, murals, even the rough map of Brockton Bay he'd carved into the floor so long ago almost entirely covered by bags and trash and money and guns and junk.

She started off simple. "Who was the toughest dude you ever fought?"

Adam's lips peeled back in disgust out of pure reflexive hatred as soon as he pictured them in his mind. "It was a woman. A woman by the name of Cinder Fall."

Sophia leaned forward, interest fully piqued. "What could she do?"

Adam almost growled.

What couldn't she do?

His voice was cold, his words clipped, his tone analytical. "She was fast, fast like me, but I was a touch faster. She was strong, but I was stronger. She was taught adequately in swordplay. no doubt about it, but I was better. She was arrogant, always smiling, laughing, and though I ensured my dramatics were at least practical, she was all showmanship and burst displays of power. Her common weapons, twin blades, her bow, were made out of glass from the sand she carried on her and had woven into her dress and sleeves, alongside differing kinds of dust. She could superheat it and shape it at will thanks to her Semblance. Her weapons were fragile, but limited only by her creativity."

"How was she the toughest person you ever fought if you were better than her like you say?"

Adam grimaced. "Our skirmish was brief. My reliance on swordplay is blatantly obvious at a glance, but she carried no arms, no armor, only a smile and confident attitude. I was cautious at first, too cautious, but she revealed all of her tricks rather quickly. She laid herself bare before me swing by swing, laugh by laugh, riposte by riposte. I knew all there was to know about her before the fight had gone longer than a minute. She wanted me to know what she could do, to doubt, to despair, the fool that she was. She wanted me to be in awe of her 'fearsome' power, but I'd seen true power by then, fought against the world's most preeminent military sometimes by myself, and taken home with me victory at almost every turn. This woman? She was nothing to fear. Merely an object to destroy."

"But?"

Adam sighed, found himself looking away. "But she was also the bearer of a higher power. One I am still mostly ignorant of, even now. One that allowed her to bend the elements, the weather, and the very molecules of the world around us to her will. After a thrust that split one of her sleeves open, after half the sand and dust she had on her had spilled to the ground, now rendered useless, after I had made her bleed, she chose to display that power before me. She savaged my men and camp, and I knew to spare the rest of their lives and save my own, I would have to bend my knee."

Lightning flashed out of the corner of his eye. He could smell the heat, feel the embers and ash get caught in his nose and taste the blood in his mouth that wasn't his own.

He closed his eyes, and he remembered a smile made of fire and the burning amber gaze of the devil he'd made his fateful pact with.

Adam hummed, fingers drumming atop Blush. "So I did."

He took a deep breath in, then let it out, then repeated the pattern, in, then out, in, then out, opening his eyes to see Sophia eyeing him curiously.

Adam cleared his throat and found his voice. "Nineteen questions left."

Sophia jolted slightly, then repositioned herself so she was sitting criss-crossed. "What's a Semblance?"

"A unique ability Aura can grant that is representative of your soul, your life, your experiences, your personality. Of...you, I suppose. Some can share attributes, but no one Semblance is identically to another. Each and every one is specially tailored and molded by your life, attitude, and experiences, As I said, and Semblances can evolve or change with time as you grow older and evolve, change as a person, yourself. A Semblance can tell you a lot about a someone if you don't know their name, where they are from, and what they've done. There are many people I avoided, wouldn't do business with, or actively sought out just based on what I knew about their Semblance."

Shadow Stalker leaned forward, utterly fascinated. "So what would my Semblance be?"

Adam frowned and studied her, her figure, her posture, thought about her attitude, what little he knew of her history. "I'm not sure honestly. We would never know unless you unlocked it yourself."

There was something in her eyes, a glimmer of greed he caught, paired with the subtle longing in her voice, that had him frowning further.

"How would we do that? Could you give me some of your 'Aura' or whatever, and let me try and find out?"

"I can't." Adam lied. He held her gaze confidently, straightened up unconsciously to project strength, truth.

After a moment of eye contact, Sophia tore her eyes away from his own with a disappointed huff. "Oh well. I've got Sixteen questions left, right?"

Adam smiled. "Fourteen now."

Sophia narrowed her eyes a fraction, opened her mouth, closed it, and then scoffed in amusement. "Fuck you. Fine, if we're gonna play it like that, I'm going for the jugular. What's the worst thing you've ever done?"

He...

He had to think about that for a moment.

A moment too long for Sophia's levity to last. In its place was a cold, calculated desire for truth. The grim reality, unfiltered. Not what she wanted to hear, but what he really was.

Of his innumerable sins, there was only one he could not couch in half-truths or contrived retroactive justifications or twist to make someone else's fault, no reasonable excuse he could use to claim that he had no choice, that it wasn't his burden to bear, that he didn't have to do it-

A girl's voice, smooth, quiet, somber, resigned.

Are you going to kill me?

"I killed someone." Adam said.

Sophia's stare was deadpan.

"It was someone who didn't deserve it."

Sophia tilted her head, voice as soft as the one in his memories. "I think you've done that plenty."

Adam shook his head rapidly, heart pounding, scar itching, burning. "None like this. Not before, not since after."

Sophia's voice dropped to a low, low, whisper. "Who was it?"

"A girl." Adam whispered back. "A young one."

"How young? My age?"

He shook his head. "Younger." He rasped.

"Ten?"

"Younger." He said, voice almost inaudible. He reached up to itch his eye and felt the searing heat, hot enough to tingle his palm through his gloves, the letters glowing brightly enough they shined through all the microfibers of the cotton, searing the skin below. "Nine questions left."

Sophia didn't say anything for a long, long time. She looked around his apartment again, all the decorations, the reminders he'd given himself, the memories to treasure and dread most of all, and closed her own eyes, leaning back against the wall, "If you could be anywhere right now, where would you be?"

He opened his mouth, but she kept talking, words tumbling out in a flustered, tired, weary hurry. "Not here. At your home planet or dimension or whatever the hell, Remnant, you called it. Anywhere, any time, any place, any year."

He thought of many things. Places and times and could-have-been's.

He imagined himself with Blake in that rawhide tent, their first time together, a magical time.

He imagined himself sitting on a lesser throne by Sienna's side, finally her right hand, loved, adored, respected.

He imagined himself standing amidst a pile of burning rubble and swirling ashes, Cinder's corpse at his feet, by its side Yang's, Blake's, Sienna's, Hazel's, and General Ironwood's.

He imagined himself on hand and knee prostrating himself before Ghira and Kali, begging for forgiveness, guidance, imagined himself high up in the sky, setting foot inside Atlas for the very first time, Blake at his side, fighting with her, for her, with her friends against the monsters and devils of the world, the monsters like himself.

Adam pictured himself inside one of Vacuo's bazaars, felt the sand shift beneath his toes sitting on one of Meragerie's many beaches at sunset, the winter sun in Mantle, the snow glimmering, reflecting its golden rays in every direction as the dust around him cast multicolored rainbows into the sky as it filtered the light, Vale's bustling cityscape, the ancient castles and fortresses that dotted its wilderness, the ancient Jade City in Mistral, glimmering green from miles away.

But in the end, there was only one place he'd ever felt at peace, at home.

"I'm in the Forever Fall." He told her, his own eyes shut just as tightly. "If I could be anywhere, right now, in this moment, with you, that's where I'd be."

"Tell me about it." She demanded.

"It's Vale's largest continuous forest. It covers an area perhaps larger than the five states surrounding us combined. It's full of ancient ruins, cities, and tens of thousands of years of ancient history left to nature for the Gods alone to know. Castles taller than any skyscraper, fortresses the size of this city, bones of long forgotten creatures and weapons more ancient than the oldest civilizations on record dotting the myriad caves and cliffs and valleys and mesa's nestled deep inside the forest. The trees are special there. Their leaves are a bloody red all year round, and they shed them weekly and grow them back in the same amount of time. There's a comforting breeze, always, always, and it hardly ever rains, though the trees never seme to mind. Rose petals and red leaves are always drifting in the air, carried aloft by the wind. The cicadas chirp quietly, the fireflies dance even in the daylight, and it would be the greatest paradise man could conquer if not for the Grimm. They crowd the caves and hide in the trees and travel in packs through it that number in the thousands. No man has ever braved it in full it, save the mysterious Kings and Queens and Kingdoms more ancient than perhaps every language spoken on Remnant that died so long ago. There's only one concurrent railway that runs through it, and its construction was one of the costliest endeavors humanity in my world ever saw through, so vast was the territory and so great was the danger. In a world forever under siege, trying to take back from nature was often a fruitless endeavor. Even life on its frontier was hard and cruel, but no man could ever find you there, if you traversed deep enough. Men called me mad when I chose it for my headquarters, but I made it work better than any man before me. We were untouchable, and so quiet were the days that you could convince yourself you and your men were the only people in the world."

He licked his lips, savoured the memory.

"There were days I would leave camp and venture out into the wilds by myself. Sometimes armed, sometimes not. I picked a direction at random and ventured forth. I would stay for hours, at the latest three days, deep in the woods, in the caves, climbing mountains and thorny vines and great walls, and if one was at peace enough, no Grimm would dare challenge them. Sometimes Blake would come with me and sketch what she saw, an old ruin, a skeleton, me, facing the rising sun. Sometimes she'd write poetry, or just enjoy the sights and sounds with me, I brought a brush and an easel with me once. I painted a waterfall I'd found running down the face of a mountain. There were three natural land bridges ahead of it, massive ones, with their own little mini waterfalls, each dripping down its water from the streams running through them into the small lake below. I've no idea how deep it was, but the scene looked much like the one in Argus I painted here. I finished it there, and-"

-And-

He stopped, eyes wide.

Sophia's eyes flew open, and teetered forward, for some reason so agitated. "What? What?!"

"I don't know." He said, only now remembering, realizing. "I don't know what happened to it. I couldn't carry it back with me to camp until the paint dried, so I left it sitting on the easel. I tried going back for it a few days later, but I got lost and was harried by Grimm all the while, thanks to a mission that had gone wrong that day that'd rendered my temperament...poor. When I returned, CInder had attacked not long after. I never went back for it after. Never got to see it once more."

And you never will again, that same voice said again. Not in this hell, or the next.

The rain intensified. The winds gale picked up, loud enough to be heard, harsh enough to lash most of the rain into a fine rolling, foggy mist, a mist that crept up towards the edges of his balcony, close enough to barely tickle his skin.

"I'm tired." Was his dismissal. "We should both rest. Alabaster is nothing. He can wait."

Hess raised a single brow, face a little raw, open, feeling. "I've still got eight questions, don't I? And our plan-

"We'll save them for tomorrow." He said, laying down, grabbing the nearest blanket Hess had brought for him and clumsily pulling it over his prone body, Wilt & Blush nestled between the crook of his elbow.

He shut his eyes, regardless of Hess's protestations, and waited, and waited, but sleep never came for him.

After a while, she spoke up, voice low enough that he barely caught it even with his enhanced hearing.

"That painting..."

"Hmm?" That was all he conceded.

"I bet it's still there."

He said nothing to that, at least out loud.

But deep in the most private of private recesses in his mind, he whispered back I hope so.

It would be the only thing on Remnant that wasn't discolored by the rivers of blood he'd spilt.

Hi.

I'm back.

I won't be leaving you again.

As you can see, I'm emphasizing the ancient and apocalyptic implied nature of Remnant. The way I have canon set, the Grimm are an actual threat Humanity and is endangered by every day and every year, which is why the world's countries spend so much time on bread and Circuses like the Vytal festival.

It's to distract everyone from the fact that they're losing, and that the four continents of the 'world' are just what man's barely been able to scratch the surface of thanks to the everpresent endlessly respawning monsters.

Next chapter is Hookwolf, then Somer's Rock, and then a private chat between Adam and Kaiser before we get to facing Oni Lee, Lung, and Bakuda, alongside a few 'surprise' guests invited by Mr. Meadows.

Last edited: Aug 17, 2024

172

MasterDuplicator

Aug 16, 2024

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Threadmarks Bradley VI

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MasterDuplicator

Big Fan of a Mad Cow

Super Awesome Happy Funtime

Aug 18, 2024

#2,046

I'm retconning Cole's appearance a little bit, but I liked the hybrid young and old look Soratou gave him so much that I'm sticking with it.

Brad's still so much fun to write. I've missed this.

Also am uncensoring the Slurs, since we all know they're bad, ain't to be repeated, and the * looks kinda ridiculous on the page.

Just warning everyone.

Mel's eyes widened slightly as yet another fucking pig walked in through the door, a happy ding accompanying the sounds of his fat fucking labored breathing Brad could hear from all the way over here.

The table of Guardsmen to his right snickered amongst themselves at the sight until one of them, likely some sort of CO, put a halt to it with a series of harsh whispers.

Mel looked between them, the cop, the other cops milling about, and the literal goddamn army encamped outside this little diner nervously, dozens of refugees milling about, filling in the blanks and crowding the door in a long line, most waiting for someone inside to finish their meal so they could eat real food too, not that stupid fucking FEMA rice and MRE bullshit the army was giving out.

"Relax," Brad told her. He gestured to her face, then prodded his serrated lip ring with his tongue. "They know Cricket and Hookwolf's faces, their names, but who the hell are the two jokers sitting inside this little diner here?"

Melody pursed her lips, lipstick already partially smudged. She'd never worn it before, just like she'd obviously never tried concealer before, and the dress she was wearing looked straight out of an old Playboy magazine, the kind his dad used to collect and then ruin. All her scars were sloppily covered up save for the one running across her carotid, with fake rosy cheeks and an award-winning smile full of fucked up teeth accompanying it, her half-shaved and buzzed hair combed downward and middle-parted in a vain and ugly attempt to extract every single possible ounce of girliness out from her pores.

"The disguises'll hold, I promise. You look like a three-dollar whore, and I look like I just crawled out of a homeless shelter in Portland. We're fine."

She reached over and slapped him across the face for his insult with an almost silent, exhaled laugh, and of course, naturally, that was the moment their exhausted-looking waitress chose to approach their table for the first time, with said waitress immediately freezing and clearing her throat at the sight, staring at Mel in concern. "Are you alright miss?"

Mel's eyes flicked between her and him deliberately slowly, and he about reached over and throttled her for making this his problem by not bringing her goddamn voice box with her.

"She's fine. Just got mad at me for calling her a whore."

The waitress blinked.

"A three-dollar one." He added helpfully.

"Oh." The waitress said, backing away slowly. Melody's jaw clacked as she let out another one of her cute little not-laughs, lifting a hand to spread all five fingers out as if to bedazzle him.

She then proceeded to close them around an invisible cock and proceeded to jack it off, maintaining eye contact with the poor waitress all the while, who looked just so adorably confused and put off.

Brad added fuel to the fire. "I know babe, I know. It's five bucks a pop, not three. You've got standards."

Mel turned back to him and winked, flourishing that invisible-crust-stained hand and bowing her head like some kind of magnanimous, stuffy royal.

Their waitress looked between them, her other tables, and the pen and paper in her hands as if she was debating whether or not to refuse them service. Brad decided to nip that in the bud before she could decide herself.

"You can just bring us a pot of coffee. Black." Mel narrowed her eyes, and he preempted the next slap before she could reach out to him again. "And a shitload of those little sugar packets."

The girl nodded, and he looked her uniform over, both to search for a nametag and to have an excuse to stare at her tits, but she just stalked off without a word right away, headed for the kitchen.

Mel snapped her fingers in his face, grabbing his attention, and signed the words Are you sure he'll be coming? in a tense flourish. The door chimed again, and Brad leaned over to the side to check out the newest interlopers, some tiny muzzy girl with bandages over one ear walking in with some fuckin weirdo in a burgundy trenchcoat, face young and unweathered save for a few little grey hairs that snuck onto his cheeks, with the weirdest fucking dye job he'd seen in a minute, ginger and fucking grey combined together, tying it all together. One of the other serving girls came over and told them about the wait, and the girl turned to the guy, gums flapping, but she wasn't saying nothing. Just mouthing words, too fast for him to keep up.

Then the fucking guy started doing it too, at a speed Brad knew no one who actually knew how to read lips would be able to keep up with, but they were still able to have their weird little silent conversation regardless, able to perfectly understand one another.

He looked back at Mel, and saw she was sitting rigid.

Brad tensed. "What is it?"

I hear something. She signed. Words, from a frequency you cannot hear.

From who? He signed back.

She hiked a thumb towards the people up front. The man is the source. They're debating with each other if it would be worth to ask if they could split a table with someone here. They're starving.

Fuck 'em, Brad thought. Then, he thought about it more, an obviously brand new Parahuman no doubt lost, confused, desperate, hungry.

They started shuffling down the aisle, going table by table, weaving past bar stools and workers and uniforms, rejected at every turn.

Brad motioned for her to scoot further right, and Mel complied with a confused tilt of the head.

That confusion only lasted a few seconds more till he leaned out of the booth and waved the two forward. They saw him, the girl smiled, laughed softly, and started approaching. Brad proffered them a welcoming smile back, doing his level best to ignore the boot that was rabidly and rapidly ramming itself into his shin as Cricket furiously shook her head, right hand abuzz. What are you doing? What if he's still coming!?

"He's already fifteen minutes late." Brad whispered. "If he shows up now, he can be a good boy and keep his impolite thoughts to himself while we eat, until they leave and we can discuss business."

Mel kicked him one last time, then smoothed her face over as the two approached their table, the hadji girl in the lead, her smile now somewhat stilted smile.

"Hi." She said shyly, trying and failing to hide her bewilderment and distaste as she looked to his hair, combed out almost all the way straight, tied into a messy bun, the stupid as fuck piercing he'd grown through, and stupid ass band shirt he was wearing. Her distaste seemed to him to be more for his choice of partner, who they no doubt figured as a hooker, but the other kid she was with looked patently put off by the piercing alone, his subtle scowl strange.

It looked as though it belonged face much older.

"We saw you were looking for people to sit with. We've got a third coming, but you can hang with us till he gets here. They'll probably have a table free for you guys then, and if not, we can make it work."

"Rather polite of you." The boy said, for some reason suspiciously.

Brad raised a surreptitious brow. "I mean, you can just go if you don't wanna take me up on that offer, or go wait outside with the rest of the plebs."

The boy opened his mouth again, but the hadji stood up on her tippy toes to whisper something in his ear, and after visibly chewing on whatever it was she said for a moment, he sighed, shouldering past her to sit down by Melody, who dutifully scooted even further away on cue.

Brad shifted right himself, and the girl sat next to him.

There was an awkward silence that lasted a good few seconds as they all considered each other until the girl cleared her throat and broke first, her accent surprisingly thin. She sounded passable American. "Thanks for letting us sit, we appreciate it a lot."

Brad hummed, waving his hand in dismissal, still not able to get over her voice.

That's way more fuckin effort than most of your kind put in.

The effort was appreciated.

The boy grunted either his assent or disagreement, Brad couldn't tell which, and left it at that.

"I'm Sabah." She said, and Brad tested the name on his tongue, found it rolled off of it rather smoothly, and introduced himself right back. "I'm Max, and the lovely lady across from you is Kayden."

Melody flashed a peace sign at the both of them and yawned, stretching exaggeratedly and throwing her head back so they got a good long look at the scar over her throat, and Brad watched the both of them flinch.

"She don't talk much." Brad chuckled.

The boy-who's-name-he-still-didn't know drummed his fingers atop the table as he considered Melody, him, and Sabah until he finally found his fuck it button, pressed it, and slouched in place, leaning into the booth's cushions with a sigh. "Cole." He said flatly, finally able to unwind and relax.

Mel extended a hand out over his lap, and Cole stared at it like it was some kind of viper that was about to rear up and sink its fangs into his neck for a few seconds, face unreadable, before he finally shook it.

As if following a script, their waitress returned, and she just looked so fucking thrilled to see more people at his table it was all he could do not cackle out loud. She dropped their coffee pot in the middle of the table, divided up his and Mel's cups, dropped down two more menus, and curtly asked what the two new interlopers wanted.

The girl just asked for water, and Cole a coffee cup.

Brad filled his up with that sweet ebony nectar, lifted it up to his face so he could inhale the wafting steam, and watched in horrified, disgusted disbelief as Mel emptied eight different sugar packets into her coffee without a single spot of creamer or anything else.

Sabah and Cole were just as horrified, and everyone shared a little laugh over it.

They got to talking pretty fast after that, mostly at Sabah's insistence. The girl was an open book, hurt, tired, lonely. She was pretty goddamn put off by all the Bakuda shit, no doubt about it, and was grasping for every bit of normalcy, every bit of before, as much as she could.

Brad was happy to indulge her, because the more she opened up, the more her little buddy, the new Parahuman, did too.

He was standoffish, gruff, and carried himself with a strange cynicism that seemed so at odds with his age. The fucker couldn't have been over twenty and talked about things and lowered his voice like sorta dime novel pulp schlock detective in his middle age. It wasn't performative, it was natural, the way he was already used to speaking, which was about as interesting to Brad as whatever his power was.

Something with sound a thinker power? Changes to frequencies, like Cricket? Was he able to interpret different sounds of create noise on differing frequencies and wavelengths?

His mind raced as he considered the possibilities, the hopes.

Until said hopes were utterly fucking dashed when he finally opened up enough to answer a moderately serious question.

After Mel had gotten done teaching the girl some sign language(He didn't have the heart to tell her she'd learned to say I love cock instead of I love cake)He'd bullshitted a bit about his own fake job he'd concocted on the spot, then asked Cole what he did for work.

He'd harrumphed, hemmed and hawed, put the question off, deflected it, over and over until the girl began expressing her own interest.

That was when he'd finally bit the bullet, shotgunned the rest of the coffee, and told them all "I used to be a cop."

Sabah had blinked.

Mel had scowled.

And Brad had just sighed.

"How?" He'd questioned. "You're a little too full of baby fat for me to believe that bucko."

The kid had scowled at him, and it was the girl he answered this time, voice hesitant. "Actually, he, uh, isn't."

"What-"

"I'm forty-seven." Cole groused.

Brad said, "What?" again.

Cole pursed his lips as he refilled his coffee cup. "Been on the force since I was nineteen. I was born in '64. Graduated in 1980. Was a cop for two years till the Golden Man came. Dad had me late, and I first married even later. Found a girl, met her at a crime scene. A domestic. She was a witness. She was, uh, not very shy. About what happened or what she wanted. That was back in '07. I made detective at twenty-nine and never bothered moving up. I looked my age until..." He trailed off, and everyone there understood what he'd gone through. "I left. I mean, I woulda been let go anyway. Parahuman's can't serve. I'm, uh, technically kinda AWOL right now. Didn't turn in my gun or badge. Force has bigger things to worry about, and both are pretty god damn useful in times like this."

Brad shrugged. He wasn't gonna judge him for it. Being a fucking Fed was bad enough already.

But they all chit-chatted some more, ate their shitty out-of-a-bag breakfast food, and by Brad almost found himself enjoying it, even if he knew he'd never see either of them again, or that if he did, it would be while he was guttin 'em.

He ran with it though, but like all good(Or at least moderately entertaining)things, it had to end. By all finished their food, the door chimed, and in walked a pretty goddamn pissed-off-looking Justin.

Brad sighed. "There's our third."

The good mood died off pretty quickly. Sabah looked pretty crestfallen at the announcement, and even the not-old-man worked his jaw a moment before nodding. Brad promised to pay their tab, and he shook both of their hands and wished them well as they got up and left, sidestepping Justin, who looked between him, Mel, the girl, and The Pig in absolute disbelief.

Mel stood up out of the booth and beckoned him forward, and Justin narrowed his eyes at the not-so-subtle trap they were luring him into.

But the idiot sprang it anyway, and fell right into Brad's web.

He sat down opposite them, worked his jaw a moment, and said "Brad, I know I didn't just see you shake hands with that Sandnigger there."

"I'm afraid you did."

Justin scowled. "Then we got nothing to talk about." He made to stand up, but Melody yawned again, stretched out, and kicked her feet forward, sliding them beneath the table and resting them on the Justin's side of the booth. She idly clicked her heels together, and a small two-inch blade shot out from her right boot, and she angled it towards Justin's midsection, towards his liver.

Brad arched a brow. "You sure?"

Justin ground his jaw a bit more and relaxed into the side of the booth. "Fine. Tell me what you want me in, then."

"We won't be talking long." Brad said, leaning toward, pounding the table with two fingers. "I want you to subordinate yourself to me in my new gang, and bring Rune, Alabaster, Purity, whoever you can, whoever you think you can convince, in with you."

"And why the hell would I do that?"

"To keep living. Simple as."

Justin narrowed his eyes. "I ain't afraid to die for the cause."

Brad rolled his eyes. "Well yeah, but that ain't what you'd be dying for in the first place. You'd be dying in your sleep or out in the street or on the shitter being cut down by some freak with bull horns. He knew where Victor lived. I'd reckon he knows where you live too. And if he can find Vic..." Brad trailed off, let the implication do its work as Justin looked away, a brief flash of sadness visible.

"You heard about the twins." He said.

Justin twisted guiltily.

"That's why you worked up the nerve to finally show up. Menja dead, Fenja in PRT custody missing a leg. One of them killed, both attacked in their homes, just like I said."

Justin didn't say anything for a while. Couldn't look him in the eye.

Brad let him stew. Let his faith in the cause duel with his desire for life, liberty, and the pursuit of cheap tail.

"I know it feels like you're betraying them, but you ain't. Max can't protect you anymore. You go dark with me, I can. We can keep the cause alive when they're gone, and trust me, they'll be gone very soon. You, me, we'll be running the city, the only native gang left outside of Coil's group, Bitch's brats, and Fauntline's Crew."

"What about Taurus?" Just demanded. "What about The Army?"

"The Taurus problem solves itself. He can't stay here, if he does he dies. It'll come to a head eventually, between him, The Guard, and the PRT. He'll thin out the competition for us, cause a lotta damage, take a lotta life, but at the end of the day, he's just one man. One who'll die like any other. He's paving the path for our success for us. We've just gotta stay low and consolidate."

"But what about The Army?" Justin stressed. "What if they stick around after he's gone?"

Brad shrugged. "They can't. That'd open Pandora's fucking Box, we all know it. They've already cracked the lid. Them coming in here in the first place, after Taurus's rampages, after the initial bombings, after the ones we've still got going right now, it's unprecedented. People are talking about this city all over America, all over the world. This is the first and only time The National Guard has been mobilized to deal with a Parahuman terrorist threat. If they still occupy the city to clean house after that threat is gone, it sets a dangerous, dangerous fucking precedent. They'll leave. Realpolitik, The PRT, the whole Parahuman system, it all demands it. It's too dangerous."

Justin thought that over, looking between him, Mel, and the waitress serving tables, trying in vain to distract himself from the truth.

"I noticed you said native gang." Justin ventured cautiously.

"When I went dark and left town, I heard from some old friends I still keep up with in New York." Brad lied. "They told me that The Elite was sniffing around Brockton Bay, and that Alex wanted to give me a courtesy call saying he was gonna knock on Brockton Bay's door soon-"

"-Wait, wait wait, Alex?" Justin paled.

Brad nodded. "Bastard Son, yeah. He wanted to know if I was still with The Empire. Said he would feel bad for icing me after all the money I made for him in the ring. And that ain't the worst of it."

Justin whistled, raising his head up the the sky, silently shaking his head for a few seconds. "Jesus H." He whispered. "Bastard fucking Son. And he somehow ain't the worst part?"

Brad shook his head. "No. I got word The Teeth are coming too. You know what that means."

Justin looked down and away from them both.

"The city's gonna be the host to the next set of fucking Boston Games, and unless we band together, get as many as we can on our side, they'll run roughshod over us and trample you and yours along the way. The Empire is finished, but we're just getting started."

Brad stood up, gave Justin his hand. "Can I count you in?"

Justin gazed upward at him, grimacing, face pinched.

Then he folded, just like Brad knew he would.

He stood up and mumbled something under his breath with a huff. "I'll talk to Tammi."

Brad shrugged and put his arm down. If that was all he was gonna get, he'd take it.

Justin looked between him and Mel, face raw, then turned on his heel and walked out.

Brad sat back down just as he left, turned and saw Mel's forlorn face.

"What?"

She idly swirled a spoon in her sugary as fuck coffee, and he heard her rasp, her throat rumble, and then he knew it was about to get serious.

"he..." She could barely force out the word. Her voice was nearly inaudible, laced with pain and effort and the littlest dash of despair. "...doesn't know..."

Brad shook his head. "And he won't. Not till it's too late."

Her jaw clacked once more as she laughed, silent and bitter. "..you are...one.." She coughed. "...mean son...of a bitch..." She wheezed out the last words with the very last of her strength.

Hookwolf put a hand on her shoulder.

I'm what every man should aspire to be.

Next, Somer's Rock and an introduction to The Bay's newest visitors.

Whataya think Brad wants to use Justin for?

Last edited: Aug 19, 2024

139

MasterDuplicator

Aug 18, 2024

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MasterDuplicator

Big Fan of a Mad Cow

Super Awesome Happy Funtime

Jan 29, 2025

#2,072

The day I was about to post this I got into the worst car accident of my life, back in August. I don't like talking about it and thinking about it even less, but I was in a pretty bad way, had to press pause on just about everything in my life. Everything.

Sorry about that.

I say like it's even my fault.

But I digress, I mean it. I'd like to apologize by finishing this story here soon.

Pretty grand promise. one I've already broken. But y'all have put up with me this long.

Please enjoy.

The quarrel landed southward, sinking deep into their board. Adam clicked his tongue, aim just a few degrees off.

"Mexico," Hess said flatly. "Could do worse."

"What's the climate like there?"

She gave him a look. "Hot."

He gave her a harder look, and she made an 'ah' sound, idly kicking a corpse at her feet as she broke an already thoroughly broken nose even more as she considered the location. "Lawless. Central Government wise, anyway. It and most of South-Central America don't have an organized, federal government left. Gangs, Human and Parahuman, pretty much run shit on a county-by-county basis. The few 'legitimate' pockets of land are run about as harshly. The whole cotinent's basically a narco-state, just with a few provinces that don't run drugs, all fighting their own little wars with each other while the president sips tequila in what's left of Mexico City after Kinich Ahau melted half of it. We'd be able to disappear pretty easy, but we'd have a whooole lotta problems with the local capes. The kind that don't play by any rules."

Adam hummed. "It's an option we can look into further."

"A non-committal response." Sophia deadpanned. "My favorite kind."

"Just throw your 'dart'." Adam groused. The whole idea was a little sick and juvenile, even for her, but ultimately, it wasn't anything truly out there compared to what'd he'd done.

Sophia tossed another bolt. It landed high, sinking into an eyeball that this time didn't flicker. It just burst, and a thin stream of blood leaked out as it shriveled up and dried instead.

"Canada." She said. "Not gonna work."

He internally raised a brow. "Then why aim for it?"

Sophia shrugged and handed him another quarrel.

Adam threw again, aim true. The quarrel sank into what had been his still sluggishly beating heart. It shuddered and died on the spot. "Colorado?" She mumbled to herself. "Plenty of mountains, mines, small towns to hide in. But there's lots of creepy shit that goes on in 'em, what with The Fallen and all sorts of other weird cults. Same PRT issues crop up too."

Her turn to throw, a bolt severing his right pinky. "Siberia." She hummed. "I mean, not like there's a whole lot going on there. But we'd die of boredom, if we didn't die cause the Russian Feds sicced their Parahuman Army on us. Or just dropped a nuke and called it a day."

Adam shrugged his shoulders and threw again.

They argued past France, Wales, Morrocco, Spain, Italy, what was left of Jerusalem and Baghdad, Khorasan and Korea, the ruinous splinter islands that used to be a part of Kyushu, Algeria and Afghanistan, Serbia and Sarajevo, until by the twenty-fourth quarrel, Adam turned towards her with an irritated sigh.

"I have a feeling this exercise isn't genuine."

Sophia snorted as she tossed another dart at their pale pincushion. 'Whatever do you mean?"

Adam clicked his tongue again, whipping Wilt to the side in an arc. Sophia jumped back as a spray of still-drying blood caked the ground in front of her.

"Jeez, okay, fine, I just wanted to kill a bit more time with you before that idiotic truce meeting."

"It isn't idiotic. It's a necessary coalition. We won't find Bakuda without their help."

It was her turn to shrug. "I still think you should just kill everyone in there and call it a day."

Adam pursed his lips. The temptation...

He shook his head. "Satisfying as that would be, it still defeats our current higher purpose. The subjugation of The ABB. Kaiser's head can wait a few more days."

Especially now that he knew where to go to collect it.

Hess rolled her eyes. "Fine. I'll try and scrounge up our shit from back home, find somewhere to stash it, whatever isn't right away perishable. A car too, maybe. Wire down that bitch and stash it with the rest. Quick getaway." She was nodding to herself as she said it. "Good way to kill a few hours, finding the right car, the right shit to let us go incognito."

Adam nodded, a little impressed with her forethought. "Find some burner phones while we're at it. We need a way to reliably communicate whilst separated."

She straightened out, tossed her hair back and gave him a mock salute. "Aye-aye, Captain." She looked back down at the smashed-in face of the goon below her. "Is it kinda fucked up I've always wanted to do that?"

Adam tilted his head, uncomprehending. The last few drops of blood on Wilt's tip plip plopped to the ground.

"Play darts on a guy." She finally said, after a lengthy pause.

Adam raised both brows this time.

"Saw it in a movie once, I just can't remember which one. The dude gets pinned to a wall by a punch of crossbow bolts or knives or whatever. Tried it on a bunch of guys in my solo days. The one that died was the one that fucked me."

He'd caught Yuma doing that once, to an Atlesian soldier, just with rocks. Adam had split his belly wide open with Wilt, and Yuma had been tossing little pebbles and stones into the man's shorn-open intestines to see if the leftover acid would start dissolving them or not.

"Maybe." He conceded.

Sophia chortled, reaching up to scratch her chin, sans mask for this outing. No one would be left alive to describe her anyway. "'Maybe' he says. Jesus Christ." She chortled again, looking back between him, the goon, and Alabaster's corpse, pinned to the basement wall. Her good humor seemed to vanish. "We can-" She started, then immediately stopped, looking at him strangely.

Then she said something stranger.

"We can just go." The words were mumbled, almost like they weren't meant to be heard.

Adam sheathed Wilt, confused. "What do you mean?"

She looked down. Scuffed her feet on the dusty unfinished basement foundation. "I mean you and me. Right now. We find a car, pack up our shit, and just...drive outta here."

"We're under a martial law cordon." He reminded her, even more confused.

Just leaving? His work left unfinished? The city still in ruins?

"Then we'd walk through the woods, fucked if I know. Just.." She was grappling with something, clearly, looking at the corpses. "I mean none of it's your problem anyway, you know? You ain't even from here. None of it's your fault, none of it's your responsibility. We can just..go. Pick a direction, dress down, and start hiking."

"And go live normal lives?" Adam said, more than a little sarcastically.

Sophia just shrugged helplessly. "I 'unno. Dumb idea."

Adam opened his mouth, ready to probe her, ask where these thoughts were coming from, but something in him said to hold off, keep his mouth shut as she turned to stare at Alabaster's corpse in thought, eyes hooded.

He walked a few paces closer to her and put a hand on her shoulder as she stared. He noticed her spine straighten out, her shoulder leaning into the touch.

After a minute or two, she chuckled again, a little lowly. "We're kinda fucked up, huh?"

Adam-

Adam didn't know what to say to that. Couldn't think of the words to comfort or console her that wouldn't be the most blatant of lies.

"We don't have to be," He tried, echoing a Ghira'ism, and Sophia shrugged off his shoulder and took a step closer to the corpse, repeating his words to herself. She laughed again, and the cynicism bit.

A pit formed in his stomach, quickly flooded and coated in vertigo as he remembered Sabah at the mall, that same face, and he wondered if he'd said the same wrong words, and he made to reach for her again but she turned back to face him, and he pulled his arm back at the last second.

"How much time do you have?" She asked.

Adam did the mental math in his head and frowned. "Not much."

Sophia shrugged again, and the casualness was genuine, a little unnervingly so. "You can go ahead and go then. I'll be out in a few."

Adam didn't want to think about what that meant.

So he whirled around on his heels and gingerly stepped over all the corpses by his feet, careful to not get any blood on his boots as he ascended the basement stairs.

As he made his way out the flophouse's front door, he heard the soft thunk of another quarrel impact.

(X)

The place was strange.

A hole-in-the-wall bar surrounded by a series of hole-in-the-wall businesses, Check Cash vendors, Massage Parlours, a generic-looking Pharmacy, bars on the windows, paint peeled away like he'd gone over it with Moonslice, bare, rotting old brick laid bare for the world to marvel at.

He walked across the pock-marked, pot-hole-covered street, and didn't bother hiding from the civilians watching from shattered houses and makeshift bungalows. They eyed him tiredly, almost bored, and one man even walked past him without a word crossing the empty street. Another man seemingly living out of his parked car honked at him, and that was the extent of his interaction with the civilian populace.

He made his way to the front door, her what sounded like vicious arguing in a foreign language, similar or identical to Krieg's German, and the raucous laughter of Hookwolf, and he twisted the knob with an annoyed grunt and stepped inside.

His Scar burnt itself to life at the sight of Kaiser, seated at the head of a table, illuminating his scowl in jagged red. At his side were two men dressed in identical black bodysuits shouting at a booth in the corner, where Hookwolf had poked his head out. The pale, eerily thin man sitting at the bar must have been Coil, and he was seemingly as far from the others as humanly possible.

Hookwolf's face lit up as he saw him.

The Germans inhaled sharply, and Adam could almost smell their fear.

But Kaiser-

Kaiser just stared at him, hands folded in his lap idly. He was as relaxed as anyone could be in the armor he was wearing, spikes dug deep into the wood of his chair. Adam couldn't even detect a noticeable jump in his heart rate. Perhaps by a beat or two at the most.

The man seemingly just...wasn't afraid of him.

Adam scowled further.

Coil cleared his throat and spoke, and it immediately sounded...off to him. Adam couldn't place, whether it be the intonation or pronunciation or tenor of his words, but his gut told him that the Coil he was looking at wasn't the same Coil he'd spoken to over the phone. "Ah, Taurus, welcome."

He could just barely make out the sound of Kaiser huffing under his breath in amusement.

Coil continued. "I'm glad you're as early as I told you would be. The others, and there will be many others, won't be joining us for an hour or more. I thought it prudent for them to see you already settled in to arrive, to assuage their worries about betrayal."

Kaiser huffed again. The Germans next to him began speaking again, to him.

Hookwolf rolled his irritating eyes. "Ignore them, they're just pissy."

Kaiser languidly raised his head up to rest on his chairs headrest, spikes carving furrows across it. "To be fair Bradley-" He said softly. "-You did kill their brothers." And Kaiser sounded strangely, remarkably unbothered by that, by the deaths of his ostensible allies, didn't seem all that bothered that his best lieutenant whom had betrayed him was just a few feet away, unpunished.

The Germans were chattering more animatedly, and Adam caught of flash of cerulean that matched his own as Kaiser looked him in the 'eyes'. "They're angry that you're here as part of a truce when they'd been shipped here to kill you. They don't believe you're truly going to abide by the terms, that you'll kill us all in one fell swoop-"

An echoing shout drowned out his words as the room's single ambient, functioning light dimmed.

Ebony lightning danced in sheets across his face as Wilt began to burn.

Coil rose up out of his seat, an arm outstretched, the German twins, yelling, howling, Hookwolf's eyes wide-

Adam sheathed Wilt.

The ceiling fan above Kaiser's head wilted away, wires rotting, lightbulb dimming and disappearing. The room's prenatural darkness reversed as a few slivers of sunlight slipped through the cracks and bars.

Petals gently floated down atop Kaiser's table, the twins jumping back away from them cursing, their hearts pounding, Coil's heart pounding as he sat back down, Hookwolf's heart pounding as he chuckled in hysteria-

But not Kaiser's.

Kaiser was still deathly calm.

A few more alive petals speared themselves upon the points of his armor. Adam heard him inhale and make an appreciative sound.

"There," Adam said tiredly. "You're all dead." He tilted his head, scanning the dining room as he looked for the least offensive place for him to sit.

Kaiser surprised him by nudging the chair to his left in his direction.

Adam considered the gesture, then spat at the man's feet and resolved to stand instead.

(Short. Establishing, don't worry, there's more coming. Remember when I said, so long ago, that the only reason I'd stop completely updating a story was if I was dead? I meant it then, and still do now.)

Next chapter is the truce meeting and a long overdue talk between Adam and Kaiser.

Last edited: Jan 29, 2025

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MasterDuplicator

Jan 29, 2025

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MasterDuplicator

Big Fan of a Mad Cow

Super Awesome Happy Funtime

Feb 7, 2025

#2,107

Behold, the first real threats to Adam.

The bar's employees were the first to arrive, and he heard a pair of waitresses sighing when the keys they inserted into the front door turned freely with the lock that had already been unlatched. They proffered tired nods to Kaiser and Probably-Not-Coil as they walked inside and studiously ignored him and Hookwolf as one went up to the bar and the other fetched a set of pens and pads and began passing them out. Kaiser signed something to the bartender that made her exhale breezily, lips quirking, and Probably-Not-Coil politely wrote something down on a provided pad to the other.

Adam crossed his arms and shook his head when the bartender waved one in his direction, and he signed at them a dismissal.

The deaf bartender asked him if he was sure, looking a little but relieved she wouldn't be having to deal with him.

He just shook his head at her again and leaned further against the back wall, a little too close to Hookwoflf for comfort but far enough away from everyone else. Kaiser was sitting almost inhumanly still, staring straight ahead at the front door, Hookwolf was leaning back against his booth's headrest with both eyes shut, and Probably-Not-Coil was facing forward towards the bar, hands folded underneath his chin, like he was deep in thought.

Adam rested a leg against the wall, ready to push himself;f forward if need be. An hour, hour and a half wasn't long to wait.

At least by himself, Adam conceded, as Hookwolf began restlessly tapping his knees against the table. Adam did his best to put the noise out of his mind as he closed his eyes and concentrated on his breathing.

In and out, in and out, and a few minutes went by as he practiced several deep breathing techniques.

Hookwolf ordered a beer and began drawing from it. Another man walked in the door and sat at the bar in plain clothes, and began commiserating with Probably-Not-Coil. The owner, perhaps?

Adam didn't really care, and apparently neither did Kaiser, who was studiously ignoring the whispers of his German comrades as he leaned back in his chair, finally beginning to succumb to boredom as well.

He caught a few odd glances Hookwolf was giving him out of the corner of his eye, and Adam refused to return them out of principle. Instead, he thumbed Wilt free an inch, the soft click momentarily freezing everyone in the room, and Adam drew the blade fully free, brought it up to his face, and began studying it, searching for spots of rust, leftover dried blood, or any hairline cracks or stress fractures in the steel and dust.

Everyone watched him, half warily, half interestedly as he gave the blade a once over, and Adam frowned slightly as he examined it. It was due to be oiled. He hadn't for days now, and thought his semblance scoured the blade clean every time he activated it, it was still a discipline he needed to keep up.

He set Wilt down next to him and pulled Blush from his belt, detaching the magazine and stuffing it into his pocket, idly twirling the sheath in his hands by the trigger guard. Even Probably-Not-Coil was watching now, he noticed with a bemused smirk. Adam flicked the thumbswitch and Blush shifted into its rifle form, to the fascination of even the Germans. and he put his finger up against the groove of the bolt and lightly pulled it back to eject the round in the chamber. He caught it without looking and inspected the internals, noting they were as immaculate as ever, if only a little dirty from his fight with Glory Girl and Menja.

"How much that cost ya?" Hookwolf lazily drawled, yanking Adam out of his equilibrium. He weighed the pros and cons of indulging the creature's whims, internally sighed, and answered him without looking. "Nothing." He said flatly. "I made it." He neglected to mention Sienna had financed its construction. They didn't need to know that.

"Then I'm curious how you got such a fine patina finish on the blade," Kaiser asked politely.

Adam didn't look at him either. "Not with copper, like you're thinking. I used a unique mineral that likely won't be reproduced anytime soon. It can generate and store heat. A blade made of just it would be almost as fragile as obsidian, but after several days of testing out different material compositions, I found the right ratio between it and the tempered steel."

Kaiser made an 'ah' sound and looked like he wanted to say more, but then the door opened again, and inside stepped a pale boy in a dress shirt and masquerade ball mask. They were very early, Adam noted.

He glanced around the room, and Adam noticed his eyes lingering on him slightly, eyes crinkling in the way they would with a smile, like he already knew something everyone else didn't. He took a step further and backed off to the side, sarcastically bowing and flourishing his arms as if to bid his compatriots welcome to some great function or rehearsal. Inside stepped a man in Motorcycle leathers, a girl in a paper dog mask he recognized as Bitch, a thin, reedy-looking girl who reminded him of Trifa in appearance, and a blonde girl whose only thin veneer of disguise was a purple domino mask to match her skin-tight lavender outfit. She glanced around the room as if to make some quip, then her eyes fell on him, and Adam watched them scrunch up in absolute bewilderment.

Tattletale sputtered, mouth working soundlessly. Everyone in the room looked at her with more than a touch of concern as her brows knitted themselves together, mouth opening and closing like a fish.

After a few moments, she scowled in confusion, brows subtly twitching. "Dude, how the fuck are you even alive?"

Adam raised a brow. "Pardon?"

She scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Don't act like you don't know, you were there. Getting stabbed, crushed, and drowned in seawater mixed with your own blood isn't generally something you walk away from with the same skip in your step you have now."

Adam pushed himself off the wall with a glower, resting his palm on Wilt's pommel.

"Something to share with the class, Tattletale?" Hookwolf queried.

He could see Probably-Not-Coil shaking his head at her to be silent, but her mouth was already running a mile a minute.

"He's got two recently healed puncture wounds, one through the right kidney, the other just below his heart at an angle that would have sheared through half of it and killed him within a minute or two, without even factoring in the fact his spine was just also recently shattered in fourteen different fucking places along with four ribs, one puncturing his left lung, and that he was somehow put back together in a way that should only even let him feel the absolute agony he should still be in, let alone have him be walking around or cartwheeling through bullets, either at the same time or just after."

Adam blanched slightly. The sound he'd made, hitting the rocks, that crunch, and the words echoed in his ears, broken in fourteen different places. "Fourteen places?" He echoed, spine itching.

"Hard stone, probably from a cliff face, yeah?" He didn't even need to nod. "Majorly bad. You never even had time to feel it, just hear it. You're spinal cord snapped halfway up through the thoracic, which is why it itches and throbs randomly whenever you think about it or your heart or kidney. It's the same sympathetic nervous response you get feeling a tingle in your jaw after seeing someone get operated on by the dentist."

Kaiser tilted his head in confusion. "And he's walking right now? After that?"

Tattletale scoffed, turning to him. "Even as of two days ago, he broke three more ribs, took a swing from Menja that had enough force in it to launch a rocket, had one rib snap entirely, tore six different muscles in his arms, legs, and waist, pulled a dozen more everywhere else, and two days after, he's walking around just fine. We're not even at the dozens of healed and scarred up first and second-degree burns, stab wounds, cuts, bullet wounds, grazes, furrows in his back from flogging-" Her eyes opened even wider as she made to focus on his mask. "Or even the fucking third-degree burn over his eye-"

Wilt flashed like a stop light, but she was too worked up to notice.

"-With bits of molten iron still floating around in it, scabs freshly formed and torn open, damaged muscle, muscle exposed to the open air, the cataracts that should be there but aren't, his iris that somehow isn't melted, his eyeball that somehow isn't just dried out jelly, with no trace of the infection that should have necrotized what little tissue was left and eaten the rest of his face before killing him. Something's preventing what little his body could heal by itself from doing so, likely the same energy field that's the source of his powers, like hard light but also not, and I've got zero clue where that's from, which is a first, and no clue how he figures into it, which is a second, or any idea how it even works, which is a third."

Adam snarled, gripping Wilt tighter. "Enough." His secrets were his to keep, not hers to blabber.

She didn't quit, just looked down at the blade, switching gears seamlessly, voice getting flatter and flatter and less emotive with each word. "And his sword which is composed of approximately forty-three point-six point-five-point-eight percent high carbon, high tensile steel with the remainder a bizarre element not on any periodic table in Earth Bet or Aleph catalogs, the bonding of which should be chemically impossible, not even including the sheath/gun, which achieves miniaturization and efficiency to an engineering degree even Armsmaster and most other Tinkers couldn't match, all whilst constructed in a way that is currently fundamentally impossible considering our current tech and knowledge base. There are bacteria and gut flora inside him that don't currently exist anywhere else on the planet and all signs point to him being from another dimension ala Case-53's, but he has all current memories of his past time in that other world, whereupon he was just as violent and-"

"Tattletale!" The reedy girl yelled, and Tattletale rolled her eyes without even turning to look at her. Her eyes were still on him, narrowed thinly. "What? He's just as curious, he just doesn't want to admit it. I mean, let's start with something I can explain. Don't you wanna know how your power works?"

The impudence of this stupid girl. "I know how my Semblance works." He rasped.

She mouthed the words Semblance, and pointed toward an errant petal on the floor. "What's that?"

Everyone began studying it like it was painting up for interpretation until Hookwolf belched and shrugged. "A flower."

"Nooooo." She said. "It's impossible. Really, truly, impossible."

"It's a flower." Hookwolf stressed.

"Nope." She shook her head. "It's that ceiling fan. Or, what's left of it." She amended.

"Yeah, he turned it into 'em." The man rolled his eyes.

"Uh, no. He destroyed that ceiling fan. And when I say destroyed, I don't mean he broke it, smashed it, sliced it, or diced it. He destroyed it down to the last atom, proton, neutron, and fucking quark. There is functionally nothing left of it in the universe."

Adam glanced down at Blush, its emblem, shaking his head. "I transmutate matter, not destroy it."

"I wish you did. That kind of nonsense would make sense. You only transmute energy into radiation, and, by the way, break just allll the rules of the conservation of energy while doing it. That radiation is what decays whatever it touches. That chemical process however, like all processes, leaves something behind, leftover energy, leftover particles, I still really don't fucking know, not even my power knows and it's trying like hell to find out right now, but whatever your leftovers are, they get turned into those without your 'Semblance's input."

The greatest scientists of his world couldn't explain even the most basic of Semblances like this girl had his. "Why flowers?" He asked.

She stared at him like he'd grown a third head and sputtered out of a second ass. "How should I know? Magic?"

Regent snorted.

"You act like you have all the answers." Adam demurred. "Can you not bring yourself to find more?"

She shrugged slightly. "I can't answer that the same way I can't answer as to how you came back from the dead."

Adam paused.

The room collectively inhaled at the absurdity of that statement.

"I was dead?" Adam barked, stepping forward. "For sure? You know this?"

"Pardon me for interrupting, Tattletale, but how can this man have been dead? You've already discussed his natural healing abilities, is there no way he merely-"

"He shouldn't be here." She insisted, cutting Kaiser off. "He shouldn't be alive. Brain death via oxygen deprivation was beginning to set in. He was halfway done drowning in his own blood and saltwater. He still has a small pulmonary edema in his lungs right now. His heart had stopped and was two inches away from being two separate pieces. His liver and gallbladder had burst with whatever impact shattered his spine. Renal failure would have begun in a few short hours, and none of this even is counting the blood loss. He was functionally dead the moment his eyes shut."

"Dead?" Adam barked, stepping forward.

"Dead." Tattletale repeated, looking him dead in the eyes through his mask. "You were dead. There was no coming back."

He stepped forward again, head spinning, temple throbbing as hazy memories he couldn't define clawed behind the fringe bars of the recesses of his mind, trying to break free and resurface themselves. "How am I here then?"

The reedy girl opened her mouth again, addressing him for some reason. "I don't think you should-"

"None of those fatal wounds healed the way your other natural ones have. They're too perfect. Way too perfect. Someone had to have found you, healed, you, probably the same someone who brought you here-"

The world flashed black, then red, then white as the sun resurfaced in the sky. "Who?" Adam hissed.

Tattletale stepped back, frowning strangely. "I don't know." She stressed the last word bizarrely, like she was just as in the dark as him.

"You will tell me." Adam demanded. His face was as smooth as the porcelain of his mask, voice deceptively light, dangerous.

"Taurus-" Not-Coil began-

Adam marched forward and the entire room stood up at once. A wall of iron spears rose up in front of him to impede his path as everyone began shouting, at him, at Tattletale, for calm-

Adam backhanded the spears out of his way, and Kaiser's entourage alongside a few others including Not-Coil had to leap out of the way as they spun through the air and impacted the walls, some impaling into them. A swarm of insects began massing into the room through the vents and his arm began to tingle strangely as the boy in the dress shirt looked at it.

"Who, how, why?!" Adam roared, mind racing, what does she know, what can she tell me, a hand on Wilt, almost within swinging distance, a cacophony of sounds, Hookwolf transforming, Wilt glowing, and Tattletale rearing back, mouthing words he couldn't read, just as confused and terrified as him-

The door clanged.

Everyone turned to it at once, ready to pounce. Most went paler than when they'd seen him for the first time.

A woman in the most garishly mismatched set of armor he'd ever walked in through the door and most of the upper front doorway, destroying it in a shower of crumbling drywall and rock as she made her way inside, face unreadable, expressionless. There was a bow and arrow about as long and as wide as he was tall strapped to her back alongside a chaingun that looked like it weighed about as much as a car paired with it.

Butcher XIV grunted. "Already a fight." Her voice was strange, half a dozen or more different accents sharing one voice, annunciating vowels strangely. She turned towards him, sparing a single glance for Hookwolf.

She purred something in a foreign language. Then she chuckled low. "We want you. Both of you."

Hookwolf, already halfway made of steel, kept transforming, voice echoing, layered a dozen times overtop itself, rasping metallically. "You got it backwards lady. I'm after you and your little entourage."

The woman laughed. She spread her arms wide as if inviting a hug. "Come." She made no move to defend herself as spinning barbed wire curled and snaked across the floor, carving gouges and digging into skin as it began wrapping itself around her ankles, up her legs and thighs, and around the exposed edges of her throat.

Adam tugged Wilt out half-free, deliberating. He had no idea who this was, but he knew if everyone here was more afraid of her than him, she was bad news.

Kaiser yelled, and finally, Adam could hear an undercurrent of panic in his voice. "Bradley, Taurus, that is not going to go the way you think it will!" He was out of his seat, hands shaking, the German brothers speaking in unison, their now interlinked arms beginning to glow purple, the insects were buzzing and buzzing and buzzing, and Whoever-That-Was-Instead-Of-Coil screamed out at the top of his lungs to be heard over it all. "I concur! This will not end well and isn't the time or place besides!"

The white-shirted boy, Regent he finally remembered, had his focus on the woman now, the leathered-up boy had smoke eminating from his palms, and Tattletale was being pulled away from the mess by her reedy friend whose name escaped him.

Adam tensed, Wilt glowing brighter as he looked between Hookwolf and the woman. He would back the man up, if only to shut down the source of a fear that somehow eclipsed the kind he could generate with a blade drawn.

There was a long, drawn-out moment where it looked like Hookwolf, or Bradley, was going to try it. The Germans were glowing brighter and brighter, and Bradley looked between them, him, and the woman one final time before the chainsaw wire retraced violently, stained with blood and coated in thin patches of skin.

The woman sighed in disappointment as Adam sheathed Wilt. "Shame." She grumbled. Then she walked toward the wall opposite him and leaned against it.

Or, Well, her chaingun did, and the ceiling and wall creaked ominously.

"Butcher XIV." Kaiser said, seizing what little control of the situation he had left by the reins as Probably-Not-Coil seemed lost for words as he eyed her. "What brings you here?"

"Competition." The words came out languid. "Death. Home."

Everyone there blanched whiter. Kaiser nodded politely as could be, like this was an expected occurrence. "So in this chaos, you saw fit to return home and re-take your seat at the table you lost thanks to The Slaughterhouse 9."

"And you." She said flatly.

Adam could hear the smile in the man's voice, even if he couldn't see it. "And me, yes. Who made you aware of this meeting?"

The 'Butcher' hiked a thumb back out towards the shattered entryway. A man in a suit nicer than any he'd seen in his life casually waded through the rubble, kicking it aside and smiling below a sneering mask that covered up his upper face as he leered at the waitresses who were hiding behind the bar. Adam dimly noted the man who'd been talking to Not-Coil was dead, one of the backhanded spears impaling him through the heart, affixing him in place to his chair as the other end stabbed through one of the bar shelves to slot tightly into the wall.

Everyone stared at the man in mute, silent horror.

If Adam scared them, and The Butcher terrified them, then this man horrified them.

"Bastard Son." Kaiser coughed out. He was back in his chair, shoulders slumped.

"Heh." The man chuckled, lingering on the laugh just a moment too long to be natural. "There we are." He waltzed up to the front end of the table and sat opposite Kaiser, kicking his feet up on top of it.

Hookwolf grunted. "No bodyguards, Alex?" And Adam noticed with a start that Hookwolf was the only man here unafraid of them both, of anyone here.

Bastard Son didn't even blink at the blatant usage of his apparent real name. "Nah." He gestured with his head towards The Butcher. "Her and I are tight enough for now. I bought her the ticket here, after all."

Kaiser hissed. "And you aren't at all concerned about what a pain in the ass she's going to be for your organization when they try and dislodge her in the coming months, or even years?"

Bastard Son shrugged again, idly fiddling with a ring in his ear. "Hey, it's my job just to take this shithole over. I ain't got shit to do with holding it. That's the suits's job."

"Says the man wearing one." Hookwolf chuckled.

Bastard Son chuckled with him exaggeratedly, patting the chair next to him fondly. "God Damn I missed your ugly face, Brad." He sighed. "Still saving that spot for you. Always open."

Hookwolf shook his head. "Nah, I've got my own thing going on. But we could still do business, Alex." And Adam noticed a touch of hopefulness in the man's voice.

'Alex' idly flicked his nails. "Well, you know me. But I can't speak for the guys coming by to run things. Or Her," he said, nodding towards the stoic and silent Butcher.

Adam was more than a little unnerved by the man's simple confidence. How whatever organization he represented's future rule over this city was so seemingly set in stone. He was even more unnerved by Kaiser's posture, and Not-Coil's silence.

The two men, to Adam at least, had seemingly already admitted defeat no matter what ended up happening to them or the ABB.

"Are we waiting on anyone else?" Bastard Son asked. The Undersiders looked to Not-Coil in askance, and the man actually sighed. "One more. The only hero receptive to our invite, a member of New Wave."

"Who?" Hookwolf asked, just as a shape floated down in front of the doorway, peering inside.

Glory Girl's mouth flew open almost unconsciously. "Oh fuck."

'Yes." Kaiser said dryly. "That about sums it up."

The last third is coming tonight in the wee odd late hours. Then we have the hunt for Lung, the fight with Lung, Purity, then our climax. There are only seven chapters left after that, five before. It's really happening.

Last edited: Feb 8, 2025

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MasterDuplicator

Feb 7, 2025

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