Book 1: Chapter 10 (Interlude)
Author's Note: I can't say I am happy about this chapter, so I'll come back at some point and rewrite this interlude. Still, it gets the job done, I guess, so it's not that important.
Wednesday, 08. December 2010
"Are you sure you want to get dropped off here, girl? This ain't a good area. Not at this hour, and not for a pretty lady like you are," the bus driver said, frowning. He was a little overweight, with a shaggy greying chin beard and more wrinkles on his face than someone his apparent age should have. "Unless you belong to 'dem of course… not that I want to imply anything, Missus. It's just, this is almost–"
"Yes," the girl interrupted him, stepping out of the bus before the driver could change his mind and lock the door. "I'm fine, and just because I'm a fucking Jap doesn't mean I'm ABB. Got it?"
"Yeah, yeah. Say, you really don't want me to bring you to a hospital? My shift's over and that eye of yours looks really nasty."
"No, bye," the girl muttered, before walking away at a fast pace. The guy had been unbearable for the whole ride from downtown to this lovely dump in the docks. Fucking kuso.
Why was he so nosy… why did he care? Did he see a pretty face and think that being considerate got him that much closer to getting a suck-off for free? No, he looked genuine, which was even worse. She didn't know how to deal with that.
It had been so long since someone had been nice to her just for the sake of it. It was usually either fear, or they wanted something. They always wanted something from her. When was the last time it hadn't been like that? She couldn't even remember anymore.
Wasn't that pathetic? Lost to the fog of the years, and the black pit she refused to look into.
The girl sighed. At least the quick hump she'd treated herself to had been good. The nerd had been oddly off tonight when she'd knocked at his window, but she hadn't bothered to care enough to ask what was on his mind, and he hadn't protested when she'd bound his wrists to the frame of his bed.
Now, with the icy wind tugging at her hair and clothes, stinging uncomfortably where it pierced bruised skin, it made her feel a little more anxious than her pride allowed for. Was she making a mistake? Maybe, but there was no going back now.
Maybe I should have asked fatso where I could find this Somers Rock, the girl thought. She stopped and frowned, looking around and using the opportunity to fix the scrunchie and the set of Kanzashi decorating her ponytail, after a moment putting both hands behind the effort.
They clattered in the wind, a soft jingle that accompanied her with every step. The girl hesitated, before pulling them free and looking at them. Two ornate hair pins, long and with small inscribed tablets dangling from delicate silver chains. They were resilient, but eventually, they succumbed to the strength of her fingers as she maimed them in her grip, crunching and splintering them into scrap.
She threw them onto the ground. Fake, even though they weren't. Like the student pass in her pocket or the old pack of gum in the other. Then, she reached into her satchel bag and retrieved a cheap hockey mask, spray painted in black, and secured it over her face.
The place she found herself in at this late – or perhaps early – hour was nondescript. Everything was run down, but she was pretty sure that for being in the 'docks' area of the city, it was still a decent enough place to live or work, close enough to the parts of the city that actually mattered that the police might just show up if you called them.
There were stores and restaurants, little more than hole-in-the-wall businesses with closed shutters and drawn curtains behind iron-barred windows. But for an area like this, she'd have been surprised if it were different.
It took the girl a while to find the nondescript pub, and after checking herself with a tiny hand mirror, she stepped inside. She was met by a wave of warm air as soon as she opened the door, and quickly shed her winter jacket and the garish Christmas mittens she'd bought earlier before she ventured further into the… establishment.
She wasn't picky, hardly so, but it was safe to say that she was used to higher standards. It didn't matter if it was Boston, New York, or one of the other large cities along the northern east coast, but usually, establishments like this – as secret as they had to be, given what kind of clientele they catered to – had at least some class. Shit, even the fucking moots on the Dorchester Beaches had at least some kind of rustic vibe to them… but this?
Somers Rock was as shit from the inside as it had looked from the outside. Dim, dingy, and depressing, with a grayish stained floor illuminated by lightbulbs that could have been shat out by Hitler's grandfather for how old they looked. It was awful, but given the kind of people who met here, she was surprised that the dark green tablecloths and curtains didn't have swastikas embroidered on them.
There were a few people already present when she arrived: a young and sullen-looking server chick wandering around and what seemed to be her brother behind the bar, dressed formally with a white dress shirt and apron. The server glanced at her as she made her way into the room. The dour look never left her face.
The girl couldn't help but ponder about what this said, both about her and this location. She wasn't used to not being treated with respect, especially not from mere staff, and if this were another place and another time, she'd have taught that respect with a dagger.
It grated on her pride, more than she'd thought it would, but she swallowed it and remained calm and dignified in the way that came so easy to her.
There were a few others already present. Two capes she didn't know were busy pulling together a bunch of tables and chairs in the center of the room, and she could spot that stupid gamer duo tucked away in a booth at the rear end of the room. She didn't care about them. They were beneath her.
A woman in a cheap mask and huddled in a ratty trenchcoat sat alone, sipping at a steaming cup. She had brown hair cut in a trendy sidecut. She did look young, but there was nothing special about her that caught the girl's interest. A solo perhaps?
Despite her initial worries, the girl found herself intrigued by the upcoming meeting. There was always something about such events that fascinated her. Seeing all the different players assemble had something to it that reminded her of the old mafia movies she'd enjoyed watching back in the day.
It seemed like she was early, but her contact was already there, sitting alone at a table around halfway between the back wall of the room and the bar. He was alone and without any visible backup, which was intriguing given who he was. And she knew exactly who he was. Not a little snake by any means. One of the biggest fishes in this city. His costume was odd though, and for someone with his body type, a bit unflattering. He looked like a skeleton wrapped in a black full-body condom, but she didn't say that to his face as she approached him.
Instead, the girl bowed slightly, extending her hand. "You must be Coil, right? Good evening."
"Headhunter, I presume?"
"Yes," she replied. They shook hands, and she slipped into the booth opposite of him, waving away the approaching server in the same movement. "I believe we don't have long until the rest arrives, so let's get to business. You have something I want, and I have what you want with me. Let's get this over with."
"Of course," Coil replied smoothly. "I can respect that."
The girl reached into her satchel, pulled out three brown paper folders, and spread them on the table between them. Coil's hand fished for them immediately, but without missing a beat, the girl slammed her closed fist like a hammer onto the envelope Coil had reached towards. She missed his gloved fingers by half an inch.
"I want proof first," she said with an icy undertone. "I am willing to bargain, but if you cross me, you know what you'll reap."
Coil slowly retracted his fingers, before speaking up. "Of course." He slowly reached below the table and produced a white envelope. "You'll find any information I managed to scrounge up in the past few days here. Unfortunately, I was only able to locate three of her… friends. I've also included some voluntary findings of mine, Miss Headhunter. Consider it a show of good faith."
"Acceptable. She'll be satisfied with that." The girl removed the dagger and gestured towards the envelopes. "They are yours. I am a good artist if you are worried about quality. We saw three of them, and you'll find that one of them is sitting here in this room with us."
She had the impression the Coil froze for the beat of a moment. "I… see," he slowly spoke. "Thank you."
"I shit on your thanks, and your games, little snake," the girl said icily. "Keep your word, and we'll be out of your hair soon enough."
She stood up without another word, and beelined to a booth on the opposite side of the room, flopping down and putting her heels up on the table. She ignored the glare the barkeeper shot her, and the impulse to flip him off.
It didn't take long for the rest to arrive. The Undersiders were first. She'd heard of them before. A newer team, not even half a year old, consisting of 4 capes that did harmless robberies. A twink with a Renaissance frilly shirt wielding a funny scepter thing, a butch girl that looked like she could throw a punch, and an attractive blonde in a purple Illuminati bodysuit. Their leader looked impressive enough that even she had to admit it; tall and broad-shouldered, clad in black leather. Fluid smoke that was blacker than black pooled around him, constantly emanating from below his motorbike helmet with a painted skull face.
The local nazis were next. Kaiser, clad head to toe in his elaborate knight armor topped with a crown of blades. He had a twin Valkyrie on each arm; blonde, and built like playboy models. They were dressed in elaborate but revealing armor. There were others too, pooling in behind him.
And then, right after the group had settled down, they came in. The ABB. A tall man, over six feet tall, with every exposed inch of his torso covered in colorful dragon tattoos. The girl noted that he came alone. Oni Lee wasn't with him.
She knew that there was another group in the city; Faultline, and her mercenary crew, but they had been out of town for a good few weeks now. They were busy somewhere in California if the rumors were to be believed.
The leaders of the gangs - Kaiser, Lung, Coil, and Motorbike Stud - moved to sit at the central table. The other capes didn't join them there, content with staying in their booths or at nearby tables. The girl too kept back. For now. She'd have to wait and see how this evening played out.
The server girl went around with her notepad to get orders before she discreetly disappeared behind the bar.
"Good evening, gentlemen, ladies," a smooth voice spoke from the door. The voice of a woman. "I hope we are not too late."
Almost all heads turned toward the entrance, where a trio of capes stepped in. Two young women and an exceedingly large man, all with masks and winter jackets. The girl couldn't claim she knew about everyone in this city but those three were complete strangers, and based on the reaction of the other capes present, not only to her.
"No, we haven't started yet," Coil spoke up, steepling his fingers. "And who might you be?"
The woman who seemed to be the speaker for the newcomers shed her coat before answering. She was pretty and petite, with brown skin and clad in a dress that – despite being simple – seemed more fit for a gala than a meeting with the most dangerous people in Brockton Bay.
"My name is Entourage, and my companions are Upperhand and Speaker of the House," she gestured first toward the massive man, then towards the fair-skinned woman at her side. "We'd like to request a seat at this table of yours."
"That depends on what you want," Kaiser spoke up. "If it's not of great importance, feel free to take a booth."
"I think it is," Entourage smiled.
"And what do you want?" Lung growled.
"I admit, I've never liked words on their own. It's very easy for anything we say to sound empty or artificial. I prefer action," Entourage smiled. "To get to the point, me and my team will claim territory in this city. We wish to do so on amicable terms with the local powers. That would be all of you who hold territory, of course."
The room fell into stunned silence. For a split moment, the girl had the impression – more of a gut feeling actually – that the three big leaders were shooting each other a contemplating glance beneath their helmets and masks.
"Well, then please do have a seat at the table," Coil finally said, his voice as even as if he was talking about the weather. "You know the rules of this place, I assume?"
She also had the impression that Entourage seemed to enjoy her little entry stunt and the attention she garnered with it because she practically beamed as she stepped forward and sat beside Lung, who seemed to be side-eyeing her given how the head behind his mask had shifted subtly in her direction. Her companions moved to a nearby table, and the server girl stepped forward with her notepad again.
"Of course. We are familiar with establishments such as these. In our metier, it's important to have neutral places for civilized discussions," Entourage said.
"You come here unannounced, barge in, and demand territory," Lung growled. "Who do you think you are?"
"We are not demanding territory, we are taking it. There's a difference. We are willing to negotiate, of course, but if civility doesn't work with you, that is fine by us too. Here is the deal we are offering. We'll claim territory in the industrial areas of the city, places you have no uses for, and we will offer a monthly ten percent friendship tax of our earnings to the Empire and the ABB as a gesture of goodwill."
Lung seemed like he wanted to speak up again, but Coil interjected. "You mean the slums around Archer's Bridge?"
"More or less," Entourage replied confidently. "I and my coworkers–"
"Did I just hear fucking Archer's Bridge?" A voice shouted from the entrance, and again everyone turned to look at another set of newcomers. Three capes, but ugly ones, more akin to vagrants, led by a dark-skinned man in a mask that showed off his badly chapped lips and teeth that looked like he'd coated them in vomit.
"And who might you be?" Kaiser replied dryly.
"Who am I? Who am I??" The man all but snarled. "I am mother-fucking Skidmark, leader of the Merchants. The fuck do you mean who am I?"
"I never heard of you before," the leader of the Undersiders spoke.
"Neither have I," Kaiser said. "Go and sit in a booth, silently, if you must, but if you–"
"I am the new drug lord of fucking Archer's Bridge, and if you think you can shill away my own fucking territory over my head then I'll fucking peg you with a rusty can you nazi disphit!" Skidmark spat.
"Lovely," Entourage remarked. "Would you rather collaborate with us, or these fine gentlemen here?"
"Bitch, are you mocking me, you puckered–"
"Go. Sit. In a booth. Or leave, but one more word and we'll have you removed," Kaiser's voice was calm, but every carefully enunciated syllable felt like it was hammered in steel.
"I agree," Coil said. "This is a place for civil discussion, not for immature blathering. Either behave like an adult or excuse yourself."
Skidmark growled, and for a moment he looked like he would snap. A part of the girl hoped he would. Even though she'd never heard of him, this individual disgusted her already. A filthy drug-addict and lowlife thug who thought he had grandeur just because he got some powers from his life falling apart around him after he shot up one too many times.
Pathetic.
Yet…It was quite baffling. The way he spoke with Lung and Kaiser, either he was an idiot or had a fatal lack of common sense. She had no clue what kind of powers he had, but even if he was speaking to just one of them, alone, common sense said that it would be suicide to run your mouth that bad unless you had something like the whole fucking Elite at your back. Yet here he was, mouthing off at two people who could probably snuff him out with a twitch of their fingers, acting like he was screaming down at some underpaid intern at Walmart.
"Fine," Skidmark spat, fists clenched. "You fuckers think you're so fancy and civilized, but just watch your backs! One day we will be the ones who call the shots around here."
The girl couldn't help but catch the subtle gaze Skidmark tried to shoot the brown-haired trenchcoat cape as he shuffled to a booth. Was there a connection there? Unlikely, given how she just straight-up ignored his…whatever he tried to do.
The girl noticed Tattletale's lingering gaze on her as she mused, but when she looked back, the blonde Illuminati cape broke eye contact and turned towards the butch girl next to her. Hellhound, she thought? Perhaps they were thinking the same thing she was. Two new players on the same day? She'd have to look into Entourage and these "Merchants" later.
"Well, now that that's settled, is there anyone else who wants to interrupt this meeting, or can we continue?" Coil asked. "I would like to make this quick. The Protectorate is on the warpath tonight, and the heroes noticing our little meeting here would be inconvenient."
The girl stood up and approached the table in the center. "Me," she said.
"Another? Who are you?" Kaiser asked.
"Headhunter," she replied. "I am… let's call it pest control. I go from city to city and deal with problematic cases. For the betterment of society."
"Are you talking about Crucify?" Lung asked.
"Yes, and in fact, I know where she is tonight."
"I believe I speak for everyone present when I say that we would be more than happy to have her removed," Coil said, steepling his hands. "What do you want, and what do you propose?"
The girl allowed a small smile to spread on her lips, hidden behind her mask. She clapped her hands together, addressing the whole room. "I just want her to stop stirring up nasty trouble no one needs, and I think I have managed to figure out her pattern. You see, due to some personal issues I have a rather strong distaste for serial killers, but I can't act against her myself…"
By the time the girl made it to the abandoned warehouse near the waterfront, sirens were filling the night sky with their howling whine. A helicopter flew overhead, and she remained in the shadow of the alley until it was gone. Something in the distance exploded. She didn't know what that was about, but it was safe to assume that her plan had been a success.
She'd left the meeting early. Her limited time was too precious to waste on political bickering, veiled threats, and open backstabbing, and there was already a hint of crimson on the horizon. She woke up early, and so the girl had to hurry. She didn't have much time left.
Her arms were aching, and so was her still-bruised eye, but that didn't impact her mood. The tunnel was almost finished, and if Coil kept his word, there were many things she wouldn't have to worry about anymore. Two weeks left, and then…
She didn't know what, if she was honest with herself, but that was a problem for another day.
The warehouse was empty when she entered, so she didn't waste any time trying to be stealthy, instead heading straight toward the rope that allowed her to climb onto the rafters of the large industrial hall. Even in the darkness, balancing on the narrow metal beams was nearly effortless for her. She'd always been graceful, with a knack for acrobatics.
She easily found the hidden stash she'd set up months in advance, and after finding a secure stand, she sat down her backpack, carefully balancing it so it wouldn't fall the twenty feet or so down to the hard concrete-poured ground.
She carefully retrieved the cloth-wrapped rapier she'd strapped to the side of the backpack and stowed it away, followed by the foldable compound bow and a bunch of small cloth bags in various sizes. It was risky to store everything important to her in one location, but she had to cut her ties before it was too late.
She wasn't a chess master by any means - it wasn't her style - but she'd done what she could, and if she was lucky, the Crucify issue would be solved tonight. If not, she'd have to replan. Now, there was only one more thing to do.
The girl doused the rope in gasoline, before climbing down to the ground – carefully as to not slip on the now-slick surface – and setting it aflame with a lighter from her pocket, before shrugging out of her gas-stained jacket and gloves, and offering them to the flames as well. The remaining ash was scooped away, and the bits she couldn't reach anymore would be handled by the wind. The roof was full of holes anyway, so it should suffice.
After disposing of the ash, and checking whether she'd forgotten anything, she stepped to the center of the large room, pulled her phone out, and made a call.
It didn't take long for someone to frantically bang against the door from the outside.
"Aki? Aki?" Someone shouted in a shaken voice. "Are you there? Let me in."
"Layla? Yeah, hang on," the girl replied, unlocking the door so the other girl could storm in. She looked awful. A trembling, shocked mess with eyes like a deer in headlights. "What happened? What's wrong?"
"T-they killed her. The heroes, this suicide villain, they…they," Layla sobbed, but her words turned more and more into raged screaming as she pounced on the girl, lashing out with her fists at her chest. "They fucking killed her. You said it's just a prank, and they…they…."
"Oh shit."
"Oh shit… OH SHIT?" Layla screamed, lashing out, but the girl blocked her flailing hand, twisted her arm, and forced her into a police grip in one smooth motion. "She couldn't even speak before he killed her – blew himself up right behind her. They're fighting in the streets, destroying everything. ARE YOU HAPPY NOW?"
"Yeah," the girl flatly replied, dropping all pretense of caring. With her free hand, she pulled the handgun from her pocket, and without hesitation, she put three bullets into the back of Layla's head.
Each shot echoed like a thunder strike through the empty warehouse.
That ties up the last of my issues, she thought as she stepped over the corpse of the homeless girl on the ground. She'd been useful in setting up the ambush a few days prior, a good proxy to approach Trainwreck, but she knew too much – was unreliable and bitchy. She couldn't risk it. Not now, when they were so close…and in danger.
Now I just have to–
The girl froze, both in body and thought as she felt it. A mental tug at the invisible, unrelenting leash that kept her chained. The only reminder that she was as fake as the Kanzashis she'd thrown away earlier. With a curse, she lifted the gun to her temple. There was no time to dispose of the corpse tonight.
She hesitated and lowered the gun. Right, the phones. She retrieved her phone, and after a quick pocket search, that of her victim as well. If someone were to find the corpse, she hoped they'd just think of it as a normal gang hit. Some junkie who couldn't pay their dealer turned into an example.
Her eyes found a high spot above on the rafters, and then she hurled the phones with all her might, watching as they sailed through the air, looping around obstacles as if they were homing missiles and finally disappearing.
The girl couldn't help but contemplate idly as she raised the gun to her temple again, that despite how the villains had acted, she somehow didn't have the impression that Lung, Kaiser, and Coil had been particularly surprised about Entourage and her team showing up.
She dreaded what came next, but she pulled the trigger without hesitation, her thoughts cutting out as her brain splattered across the floor. Her body collapsed immediately, the handgun slipping from her fingers. Yet, by the time it clattered to the ground, the blood and her body were gone as if they had never existed in the first place.
Wednesday, 08. December 2010
"Are you sure you want to get dropped off here, girl? This ain't a good area. Not at this hour, and not for a pretty lady like you are," the bus driver said, frowning. He was a little overweight, with a shaggy greying chin beard and more wrinkles on his face than someone his apparent age should have. "Unless you belong to 'dem of course… not that I want to imply anything, Missus. It's just, this is almost–"
"Yes," the girl interrupted him, stepping out of the bus before the driver could change his mind and lock the door. "I'm fine, and just because I'm a fucking Jap doesn't mean I'm ABB. Got it?"
"Yeah, yeah. Say, you really don't want me to bring you to a hospital? My shift's over and that eye of yours looks really nasty."
"No, bye," the girl muttered, before walking away at a fast pace. The guy had been unbearable for the whole ride from downtown to this lovely dump in the docks. Fucking kuso.
Why was he so nosy… why did he care? Did he see a pretty face and think that being considerate got him that much closer to getting a suck-off for free? No, he looked genuine, which was even worse. She didn't know how to deal with that.
It had been so long since someone had been nice to her just for the sake of it. It was usually either fear, or they wanted something. They always wanted something from her. When was the last time it hadn't been like that? She couldn't even remember anymore.
Wasn't that pathetic? Lost to the fog of the years, and the black pit she refused to look into.
The girl sighed. At least the quick hump she'd treated herself to had been good. The nerd had been oddly off tonight when she'd knocked at his window, but she hadn't bothered to care enough to ask what was on his mind, and he hadn't protested when she'd bound his wrists to the frame of his bed.
Now, with the icy wind tugging at her hair and clothes, stinging uncomfortably where it pierced bruised skin, it made her feel a little more anxious than her pride allowed for. Was she making a mistake? Maybe, but there was no going back now.
Maybe I should have asked fatso where I could find this Somers Rock, the girl thought. She stopped and frowned, looking around and using the opportunity to fix the scrunchie and the set of Kanzashi decorating her ponytail, after a moment putting both hands behind the effort.
They clattered in the wind, a soft jingle that accompanied her with every step. The girl hesitated, before pulling them free and looking at them. Two ornate hair pins, long and with small inscribed tablets dangling from delicate silver chains. They were resilient, but eventually, they succumbed to the strength of her fingers as she maimed them in her grip, crunching and splintering them into scrap.
She threw them onto the ground. Fake, even though they weren't. Like the student pass in her pocket or the old pack of gum in the other. Then, she reached into her satchel bag and retrieved a cheap hockey mask, spray painted in black, and secured it over her face.
The place she found herself in at this late – or perhaps early – hour was nondescript. Everything was run down, but she was pretty sure that for being in the 'docks' area of the city, it was still a decent enough place to live or work, close enough to the parts of the city that actually mattered that the police might just show up if you called them.
There were stores and restaurants, little more than hole-in-the-wall businesses with closed shutters and drawn curtains behind iron-barred windows. But for an area like this, she'd have been surprised if it were different.
It took the girl a while to find the nondescript pub, and after checking herself with a tiny hand mirror, she stepped inside. She was met by a wave of warm air as soon as she opened the door, and quickly shed her winter jacket and the garish Christmas mittens she'd bought earlier before she ventured further into the… establishment.
She wasn't picky, hardly so, but it was safe to say that she was used to higher standards. It didn't matter if it was Boston, New York, or one of the other large cities along the northern east coast, but usually, establishments like this – as secret as they had to be, given what kind of clientele they catered to – had at least some class. Shit, even the fucking moots on the Dorchester Beaches had at least some kind of rustic vibe to them… but this?
Somers Rock was as shit from the inside as it had looked from the outside. Dim, dingy, and depressing, with a grayish stained floor illuminated by lightbulbs that could have been shat out by Hitler's grandfather for how old they looked. It was awful, but given the kind of people who met here, she was surprised that the dark green tablecloths and curtains didn't have swastikas embroidered on them.
There were a few people already present when she arrived: a young and sullen-looking server chick wandering around and what seemed to be her brother behind the bar, dressed formally with a white dress shirt and apron. The server glanced at her as she made her way into the room. The dour look never left her face.
The girl couldn't help but ponder about what this said, both about her and this location. She wasn't used to not being treated with respect, especially not from mere staff, and if this were another place and another time, she'd have taught that respect with a dagger.
It grated on her pride, more than she'd thought it would, but she swallowed it and remained calm and dignified in the way that came so easy to her.
There were a few others already present. Two capes she didn't know were busy pulling together a bunch of tables and chairs in the center of the room, and she could spot that stupid gamer duo tucked away in a booth at the rear end of the room. She didn't care about them. They were beneath her.
A woman in a cheap mask and huddled in a ratty trenchcoat sat alone, sipping at a steaming cup. She had brown hair cut in a trendy sidecut. She did look young, but there was nothing special about her that caught the girl's interest. A solo perhaps?
Despite her initial worries, the girl found herself intrigued by the upcoming meeting. There was always something about such events that fascinated her. Seeing all the different players assemble had something to it that reminded her of the old mafia movies she'd enjoyed watching back in the day.
It seemed like she was early, but her contact was already there, sitting alone at a table around halfway between the back wall of the room and the bar. He was alone and without any visible backup, which was intriguing given who he was. And she knew exactly who he was. Not a little snake by any means. One of the biggest fishes in this city. His costume was odd though, and for someone with his body type, a bit unflattering. He looked like a skeleton wrapped in a black full-body condom, but she didn't say that to his face as she approached him.
Instead, the girl bowed slightly, extending her hand. "You must be Coil, right? Good evening."
"Headhunter, I presume?"
"Yes," she replied. They shook hands, and she slipped into the booth opposite of him, waving away the approaching server in the same movement. "I believe we don't have long until the rest arrives, so let's get to business. You have something I want, and I have what you want with me. Let's get this over with."
"Of course," Coil replied smoothly. "I can respect that."
The girl reached into her satchel, pulled out three brown paper folders, and spread them on the table between them. Coil's hand fished for them immediately, but without missing a beat, the girl slammed her closed fist like a hammer onto the envelope Coil had reached towards. She missed his gloved fingers by half an inch.
"I want proof first," she said with an icy undertone. "I am willing to bargain, but if you cross me, you know what you'll reap."
Coil slowly retracted his fingers, before speaking up. "Of course." He slowly reached below the table and produced a white envelope. "You'll find any information I managed to scrounge up in the past few days here. Unfortunately, I was only able to locate three of her… friends. I've also included some voluntary findings of mine, Miss Headhunter. Consider it a show of good faith."
"Acceptable. She'll be satisfied with that." The girl removed the dagger and gestured towards the envelopes. "They are yours. I am a good artist if you are worried about quality. We saw three of them, and you'll find that one of them is sitting here in this room with us."
She had the impression the Coil froze for the beat of a moment. "I… see," he slowly spoke. "Thank you."
"I shit on your thanks, and your games, little snake," the girl said icily. "Keep your word, and we'll be out of your hair soon enough."
She stood up without another word, and beelined to a booth on the opposite side of the room, flopping down and putting her heels up on the table. She ignored the glare the barkeeper shot her, and the impulse to flip him off.
It didn't take long for the rest to arrive. The Undersiders were first. She'd heard of them before. A newer team, not even half a year old, consisting of 4 capes that did harmless robberies. A twink with a Renaissance frilly shirt wielding a funny scepter thing, a butch girl that looked like she could throw a punch, and an attractive blonde in a purple Illuminati bodysuit. Their leader looked impressive enough that even she had to admit it; tall and broad-shouldered, clad in black leather. Fluid smoke that was blacker than black pooled around him, constantly emanating from below his motorbike helmet with a painted skull face.
The local nazis were next. Kaiser, clad head to toe in his elaborate knight armor topped with a crown of blades. He had a twin Valkyrie on each arm; blonde, and built like playboy models. They were dressed in elaborate but revealing armor. There were others too, pooling in behind him.
And then, right after the group had settled down, they came in. The ABB. A tall man, over six feet tall, with every exposed inch of his torso covered in colorful dragon tattoos. The girl noted that he came alone. Oni Lee wasn't with him.
She knew that there was another group in the city; Faultline, and her mercenary crew, but they had been out of town for a good few weeks now. They were busy somewhere in California if the rumors were to be believed.
The leaders of the gangs - Kaiser, Lung, Coil, and Motorbike Stud - moved to sit at the central table. The other capes didn't join them there, content with staying in their booths or at nearby tables. The girl too kept back. For now. She'd have to wait and see how this evening played out.
The server girl went around with her notepad to get orders before she discreetly disappeared behind the bar.
"Good evening, gentlemen, ladies," a smooth voice spoke from the door. The voice of a woman. "I hope we are not too late."
Almost all heads turned toward the entrance, where a trio of capes stepped in. Two young women and an exceedingly large man, all with masks and winter jackets. The girl couldn't claim she knew about everyone in this city but those three were complete strangers, and based on the reaction of the other capes present, not only to her.
"No, we haven't started yet," Coil spoke up, steepling his fingers. "And who might you be?"
The woman who seemed to be the speaker for the newcomers shed her coat before answering. She was pretty and petite, with brown skin and clad in a dress that – despite being simple – seemed more fit for a gala than a meeting with the most dangerous people in Brockton Bay.
"My name is Entourage, and my companions are Upperhand and Speaker of the House," she gestured first toward the massive man, then towards the fair-skinned woman at her side. "We'd like to request a seat at this table of yours."
"That depends on what you want," Kaiser spoke up. "If it's not of great importance, feel free to take a booth."
"I think it is," Entourage smiled.
"And what do you want?" Lung growled.
"I admit, I've never liked words on their own. It's very easy for anything we say to sound empty or artificial. I prefer action," Entourage smiled. "To get to the point, me and my team will claim territory in this city. We wish to do so on amicable terms with the local powers. That would be all of you who hold territory, of course."
The room fell into stunned silence. For a split moment, the girl had the impression – more of a gut feeling actually – that the three big leaders were shooting each other a contemplating glance beneath their helmets and masks.
"Well, then please do have a seat at the table," Coil finally said, his voice as even as if he was talking about the weather. "You know the rules of this place, I assume?"
She also had the impression that Entourage seemed to enjoy her little entry stunt and the attention she garnered with it because she practically beamed as she stepped forward and sat beside Lung, who seemed to be side-eyeing her given how the head behind his mask had shifted subtly in her direction. Her companions moved to a nearby table, and the server girl stepped forward with her notepad again.
"Of course. We are familiar with establishments such as these. In our metier, it's important to have neutral places for civilized discussions," Entourage said.
"You come here unannounced, barge in, and demand territory," Lung growled. "Who do you think you are?"
"We are not demanding territory, we are taking it. There's a difference. We are willing to negotiate, of course, but if civility doesn't work with you, that is fine by us too. Here is the deal we are offering. We'll claim territory in the industrial areas of the city, places you have no uses for, and we will offer a monthly ten percent friendship tax of our earnings to the Empire and the ABB as a gesture of goodwill."
Lung seemed like he wanted to speak up again, but Coil interjected. "You mean the slums around Archer's Bridge?"
"More or less," Entourage replied confidently. "I and my coworkers–"
"Did I just hear fucking Archer's Bridge?" A voice shouted from the entrance, and again everyone turned to look at another set of newcomers. Three capes, but ugly ones, more akin to vagrants, led by a dark-skinned man in a mask that showed off his badly chapped lips and teeth that looked like he'd coated them in vomit.
"And who might you be?" Kaiser replied dryly.
"Who am I? Who am I??" The man all but snarled. "I am mother-fucking Skidmark, leader of the Merchants. The fuck do you mean who am I?"
"I never heard of you before," the leader of the Undersiders spoke.
"Neither have I," Kaiser said. "Go and sit in a booth, silently, if you must, but if you–"
"I am the new drug lord of fucking Archer's Bridge, and if you think you can shill away my own fucking territory over my head then I'll fucking peg you with a rusty can you nazi disphit!" Skidmark spat.
"Lovely," Entourage remarked. "Would you rather collaborate with us, or these fine gentlemen here?"
"Bitch, are you mocking me, you puckered–"
"Go. Sit. In a booth. Or leave, but one more word and we'll have you removed," Kaiser's voice was calm, but every carefully enunciated syllable felt like it was hammered in steel.
"I agree," Coil said. "This is a place for civil discussion, not for immature blathering. Either behave like an adult or excuse yourself."
Skidmark growled, and for a moment he looked like he would snap. A part of the girl hoped he would. Even though she'd never heard of him, this individual disgusted her already. A filthy drug-addict and lowlife thug who thought he had grandeur just because he got some powers from his life falling apart around him after he shot up one too many times.
Pathetic.
Yet…It was quite baffling. The way he spoke with Lung and Kaiser, either he was an idiot or had a fatal lack of common sense. She had no clue what kind of powers he had, but even if he was speaking to just one of them, alone, common sense said that it would be suicide to run your mouth that bad unless you had something like the whole fucking Elite at your back. Yet here he was, mouthing off at two people who could probably snuff him out with a twitch of their fingers, acting like he was screaming down at some underpaid intern at Walmart.
"Fine," Skidmark spat, fists clenched. "You fuckers think you're so fancy and civilized, but just watch your backs! One day we will be the ones who call the shots around here."
The girl couldn't help but catch the subtle gaze Skidmark tried to shoot the brown-haired trenchcoat cape as he shuffled to a booth. Was there a connection there? Unlikely, given how she just straight-up ignored his…whatever he tried to do.
The girl noticed Tattletale's lingering gaze on her as she mused, but when she looked back, the blonde Illuminati cape broke eye contact and turned towards the butch girl next to her. Hellhound, she thought? Perhaps they were thinking the same thing she was. Two new players on the same day? She'd have to look into Entourage and these "Merchants" later.
"Well, now that that's settled, is there anyone else who wants to interrupt this meeting, or can we continue?" Coil asked. "I would like to make this quick. The Protectorate is on the warpath tonight, and the heroes noticing our little meeting here would be inconvenient."
The girl stood up and approached the table in the center. "Me," she said.
"Another? Who are you?" Kaiser asked.
"Headhunter," she replied. "I am… let's call it pest control. I go from city to city and deal with problematic cases. For the betterment of society."
"Are you talking about Crucify?" Lung asked.
"Yes, and in fact, I know where she is tonight."
"I believe I speak for everyone present when I say that we would be more than happy to have her removed," Coil said, steepling his hands. "What do you want, and what do you propose?"
The girl allowed a small smile to spread on her lips, hidden behind her mask. She clapped her hands together, addressing the whole room. "I just want her to stop stirring up nasty trouble no one needs, and I think I have managed to figure out her pattern. You see, due to some personal issues I have a rather strong distaste for serial killers, but I can't act against her myself…"
By the time the girl made it to the abandoned warehouse near the waterfront, sirens were filling the night sky with their howling whine. A helicopter flew overhead, and she remained in the shadow of the alley until it was gone. Something in the distance exploded. She didn't know what that was about, but it was safe to assume that her plan had been a success.
She'd left the meeting early. Her limited time was too precious to waste on political bickering, veiled threats, and open backstabbing, and there was already a hint of crimson on the horizon. She woke up early, and so the girl had to hurry. She didn't have much time left.
Her arms were aching, and so was her still-bruised eye, but that didn't impact her mood. The tunnel was almost finished, and if Coil kept his word, there were many things she wouldn't have to worry about anymore. Two weeks left, and then…
She didn't know what, if she was honest with herself, but that was a problem for another day.
The warehouse was empty when she entered, so she didn't waste any time trying to be stealthy, instead heading straight toward the rope that allowed her to climb onto the rafters of the large industrial hall. Even in the darkness, balancing on the narrow metal beams was nearly effortless for her. She'd always been graceful, with a knack for acrobatics.
She easily found the hidden stash she'd set up months in advance, and after finding a secure stand, she sat down her backpack, carefully balancing it so it wouldn't fall the twenty feet or so down to the hard concrete-poured ground.
She carefully retrieved the cloth-wrapped rapier she'd strapped to the side of the backpack and stowed it away, followed by the foldable compound bow and a bunch of small cloth bags in various sizes. It was risky to store everything important to her in one location, but she had to cut her ties before it was too late.
She wasn't a chess master by any means - it wasn't her style - but she'd done what she could, and if she was lucky, the Crucify issue would be solved tonight. If not, she'd have to replan. Now, there was only one more thing to do.
The girl doused the rope in gasoline, before climbing down to the ground – carefully as to not slip on the now-slick surface – and setting it aflame with a lighter from her pocket, before shrugging out of her gas-stained jacket and gloves, and offering them to the flames as well. The remaining ash was scooped away, and the bits she couldn't reach anymore would be handled by the wind. The roof was full of holes anyway, so it should suffice.
After disposing of the ash, and checking whether she'd forgotten anything, she stepped to the center of the large room, pulled her phone out, and made a call.
It didn't take long for someone to frantically bang against the door from the outside.
"Aki? Aki?" Someone shouted in a shaken voice. "Are you there? Let me in."
"Layla? Yeah, hang on," the girl replied, unlocking the door so the other girl could storm in. She looked awful. A trembling, shocked mess with eyes like a deer in headlights. "What happened? What's wrong?"
"T-they killed her. The heroes, this suicide villain, they…they," Layla sobbed, but her words turned more and more into raged screaming as she pounced on the girl, lashing out with her fists at her chest. "They fucking killed her. You said it's just a prank, and they…they…."
"Oh shit."
"Oh shit… OH SHIT?" Layla screamed, lashing out, but the girl blocked her flailing hand, twisted her arm, and forced her into a police grip in one smooth motion. "She couldn't even speak before he killed her – blew himself up right behind her. They're fighting in the streets, destroying everything. ARE YOU HAPPY NOW?"
"Yeah," the girl flatly replied, dropping all pretense of caring. With her free hand, she pulled the handgun from her pocket, and without hesitation, she put three bullets into the back of Layla's head.
Each shot echoed like a thunder strike through the empty warehouse.
That ties up the last of my issues, she thought as she stepped over the corpse of the homeless girl on the ground. She'd been useful in setting up the ambush a few days prior, a good proxy to approach Trainwreck, but she knew too much – was unreliable and bitchy. She couldn't risk it. Not now, when they were so close…and in danger.
Now I just have to–
The girl froze, both in body and thought as she felt it. A mental tug at the invisible, unrelenting leash that kept her chained. The only reminder that she was as fake as the Kanzashis she'd thrown away earlier. With a curse, she lifted the gun to her temple. There was no time to dispose of the corpse tonight.
She hesitated and lowered the gun. Right, the phones. She retrieved her phone, and after a quick pocket search, that of her victim as well. If someone were to find the corpse, she hoped they'd just think of it as a normal gang hit. Some junkie who couldn't pay their dealer turned into an example.
Her eyes found a high spot above on the rafters, and then she hurled the phones with all her might, watching as they sailed through the air, looping around obstacles as if they were homing missiles and finally disappearing.
The girl couldn't help but contemplate idly as she raised the gun to her temple again, that despite how the villains had acted, she somehow didn't have the impression that Lung, Kaiser, and Coil had been particularly surprised about Entourage and her team showing up.
She dreaded what came next, but she pulled the trigger without hesitation, her thoughts cutting out as her brain splattered across the floor. Her body collapsed immediately, the handgun slipping from her fingers. Yet, by the time it clattered to the ground, the blood and her body were gone as if they had never existed in the first place.
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