Interlude 2-Waves
Kalzky
The Patron Saint Of Thowing Stuff In The Sun
- Location
- MI
As far as days Kaiser has had in his rather eventful life, this ranked as one of the worst. He had expected this.. this pretender to his throne to be an issue. Of course, changes like that always were. But, he took steps to correct it. He took nearly half of his goddamn capes, in fact, and they were sent back broken. Not just physically, oh no, it couldn't be that simple. No, his men, his leaders were whimpering in the dark and jumping at every shadow they saw. The fear they spread was tearing his empire open, and his throne, his power was growing unsteady. Unknown factors like this made his blood boil, and more importantly, caused his control to slip.,
The time for half measured responses was clearly over, and it was time to utterly crush this unknown factor, at any cost. If this delusional cult leader wanted to judge his Empire, then he should be prepared wages of his self-righteous crusade. With a few well-placed calls and a fine speech, he would bring war upon this stain blemishing his city. Soon, there would be little more than a sour memory of this so-called Brotherhood.
He took a deep breath. Rage did little. Control bred power, and he was ensuring his control remained in place. Calm. He would have his vengeance, he merely needed time and resources. The parts would fall in place, and that brute would rot in the ground, or maybe torn into the sea he so clearly crawled from. All he needed was time, and if there was one good thing the savage gave him, it was time. All he needed was to scale back his efforts, rile up the dragon, and let them tear each other apart, all to leave the victor too weak to fight back. Another deep breath, and then, a smile. Even such chaos could breed a chance for his Empire to stand triumphant.
Across the city, in an apartment, a teen sat alone. Brian was having troubles of his own. He had just started to settle into his new team, odd as the idea was to him. He was used, preferred, working solo, the money he was getting from some anonymous benefactor just barely swaying him over. The fact that he could cut ties with ease helped him the rest of the way. Things were just starting to get routine, and then a crazy cult shows up. He had no lost love for the Merchants, but it still caused problems, the sheer waves this cult made. It didn't help that that said anonymous benefactor had been pretty damn quiet lately. Still, if he didn't have jobs to do, laying low was made all the easier. Best to wait for the new player to burn themselves out or stop reaching so hard.
Yeah. He could wait. He would just bid his time. He had goals, and they didn't need cash right away, not with the regular paycheck. At least, not for now. Time. He had time. He had the power to just stay put, and he just needed to keep doing so. This would pass, this would have to, eventually.
Meanwhile, a dragon grew restless. Lung cared little for the new player, at first. He would fall in line, or he would be broken, as minor as the so-called Judge seemed. Breaking the Merchants was not exactly the height of power. Yet, Tanninim, as he so dubbed himself now, didn't just break the merchants. They remodeled them into an effective weapon in a matter of weeks. This was cause for further notice, but there was another galling factor. This newcomer threw around fear, even among the people Lung ruled over. This clash with the Empire they had only intensified this problem.
Lung knew this was unacceptable. He knew what exactly, the costs of letting some other monster spread fear in the Bay were. He could afford to rest on his power no longer. It was time to show why fearing the dragon was the proper course of action. Getting to immolate a pretentious upstart was merely a highly enjoyable bonus.
Across the bay, in the sea, Miss Milta rubbed her eyes. She wasn't physically tired. She was simply incapable of that and had been for some time. But what was happening right now? That was taxing on a mental level. Brockton Bay was troubled in the best of times, and right now was...she couldn't even tell. This was just incredibly strange, on so many levels.
A new gang overthrowing an old one in a night, and becoming a power player in weeks. This was cause for great concern, even more with the fact that it was run by an unknown parahuman, a probable Master. Piggot's initial reaction was not pretty, to say the least. Yet, this gang, this Brotherhood, they were playing softball with everyone except for other gangs. Even in their own turf, they acted more as violent police and civic workers then gang lords. Any clash with actual police, or even her fellow heroes, was met with a swift retreat or a quick fight with no lethal intent.
This restraint was not apparent when they clashed with the Empire or the ABB. There was blood, and there were bodies. Brutality was their by word, or so it seemed. Their cape leader, Tanninim he called himself, according to new reports, wasn't much better on that front. Yet, they held true to their professed ideals. They brought order, even as they brought the tensions in the Bay to a boiling point with what had so recently happened with the Empire. There wasn't an easy answer to the problems they were fixing, what chaos they could reap, or perhaps worst of all, what they would do if their efforts for order were opposed only by the legal authorities. Miss Milta rubbed her temples, now. A headache was coming on.
Juliet James, or Jojo, as some of her friendlier peers dubbed her, was feeling, for once, safe. She was never homeless, and her 'Pa made sure she didn't go to bed hungry most nights. She even managed to make it to school, as much as her status marked her outcast, even in a place like Winslow. Yet, she saw things. She lived in the bad part of a bad town. She'd been offered drugs more times than she could count, and she too many close calls of nearly being forced into the habit to take em up on the soft pitch.
Yet, like a miracle from up above, a man came bringing law, safety. The merchants were gone, and she didn't see dealers no more. In their place, grim-looking people, but grim looking people who didn't cause no trouble with her. Who helped her. Who even fixed that leaky sink, as standoffish as 'Pa had been. The city might not have been looking out for her, he 'Pa might have been lecturing and lecturing, but she was pretty damn sure this Brotherhood was a gift from the Man Upstairs, and she was glad He had finally listened to her prayers.
AN-AKA, welll holy shit, guess beating up half the empire capes does cause a reaction.
The time for half measured responses was clearly over, and it was time to utterly crush this unknown factor, at any cost. If this delusional cult leader wanted to judge his Empire, then he should be prepared wages of his self-righteous crusade. With a few well-placed calls and a fine speech, he would bring war upon this stain blemishing his city. Soon, there would be little more than a sour memory of this so-called Brotherhood.
He took a deep breath. Rage did little. Control bred power, and he was ensuring his control remained in place. Calm. He would have his vengeance, he merely needed time and resources. The parts would fall in place, and that brute would rot in the ground, or maybe torn into the sea he so clearly crawled from. All he needed was time, and if there was one good thing the savage gave him, it was time. All he needed was to scale back his efforts, rile up the dragon, and let them tear each other apart, all to leave the victor too weak to fight back. Another deep breath, and then, a smile. Even such chaos could breed a chance for his Empire to stand triumphant.
Across the city, in an apartment, a teen sat alone. Brian was having troubles of his own. He had just started to settle into his new team, odd as the idea was to him. He was used, preferred, working solo, the money he was getting from some anonymous benefactor just barely swaying him over. The fact that he could cut ties with ease helped him the rest of the way. Things were just starting to get routine, and then a crazy cult shows up. He had no lost love for the Merchants, but it still caused problems, the sheer waves this cult made. It didn't help that that said anonymous benefactor had been pretty damn quiet lately. Still, if he didn't have jobs to do, laying low was made all the easier. Best to wait for the new player to burn themselves out or stop reaching so hard.
Yeah. He could wait. He would just bid his time. He had goals, and they didn't need cash right away, not with the regular paycheck. At least, not for now. Time. He had time. He had the power to just stay put, and he just needed to keep doing so. This would pass, this would have to, eventually.
Meanwhile, a dragon grew restless. Lung cared little for the new player, at first. He would fall in line, or he would be broken, as minor as the so-called Judge seemed. Breaking the Merchants was not exactly the height of power. Yet, Tanninim, as he so dubbed himself now, didn't just break the merchants. They remodeled them into an effective weapon in a matter of weeks. This was cause for further notice, but there was another galling factor. This newcomer threw around fear, even among the people Lung ruled over. This clash with the Empire they had only intensified this problem.
Lung knew this was unacceptable. He knew what exactly, the costs of letting some other monster spread fear in the Bay were. He could afford to rest on his power no longer. It was time to show why fearing the dragon was the proper course of action. Getting to immolate a pretentious upstart was merely a highly enjoyable bonus.
Across the bay, in the sea, Miss Milta rubbed her eyes. She wasn't physically tired. She was simply incapable of that and had been for some time. But what was happening right now? That was taxing on a mental level. Brockton Bay was troubled in the best of times, and right now was...she couldn't even tell. This was just incredibly strange, on so many levels.
A new gang overthrowing an old one in a night, and becoming a power player in weeks. This was cause for great concern, even more with the fact that it was run by an unknown parahuman, a probable Master. Piggot's initial reaction was not pretty, to say the least. Yet, this gang, this Brotherhood, they were playing softball with everyone except for other gangs. Even in their own turf, they acted more as violent police and civic workers then gang lords. Any clash with actual police, or even her fellow heroes, was met with a swift retreat or a quick fight with no lethal intent.
This restraint was not apparent when they clashed with the Empire or the ABB. There was blood, and there were bodies. Brutality was their by word, or so it seemed. Their cape leader, Tanninim he called himself, according to new reports, wasn't much better on that front. Yet, they held true to their professed ideals. They brought order, even as they brought the tensions in the Bay to a boiling point with what had so recently happened with the Empire. There wasn't an easy answer to the problems they were fixing, what chaos they could reap, or perhaps worst of all, what they would do if their efforts for order were opposed only by the legal authorities. Miss Milta rubbed her temples, now. A headache was coming on.
Juliet James, or Jojo, as some of her friendlier peers dubbed her, was feeling, for once, safe. She was never homeless, and her 'Pa made sure she didn't go to bed hungry most nights. She even managed to make it to school, as much as her status marked her outcast, even in a place like Winslow. Yet, she saw things. She lived in the bad part of a bad town. She'd been offered drugs more times than she could count, and she too many close calls of nearly being forced into the habit to take em up on the soft pitch.
Yet, like a miracle from up above, a man came bringing law, safety. The merchants were gone, and she didn't see dealers no more. In their place, grim-looking people, but grim looking people who didn't cause no trouble with her. Who helped her. Who even fixed that leaky sink, as standoffish as 'Pa had been. The city might not have been looking out for her, he 'Pa might have been lecturing and lecturing, but she was pretty damn sure this Brotherhood was a gift from the Man Upstairs, and she was glad He had finally listened to her prayers.
AN-AKA, welll holy shit, guess beating up half the empire capes does cause a reaction.