"Hey, Dad."
"Hey, yourself. What's up, Taylor? Did you need me to come pick you up?"
"No, I'm just letting you know I'm going to be staying at a friend's house tonight."
"Not one of the boys, I hope?"
I rolled my eyes. "Oh, please, I know you'd never let me stay at a boy's place unless it was somebody you knew and approved of."
"In that case, you should invite your friends over one of these days."
"I'll keep that in mind."
"Try not to stay out too late, okay Taylor?"
"I won't. Love you, dad."
"Love you too, kiddo."
I waited until the call disconnected before I closed it shut. I sighed and leaned against the countertop table. "I really hate doing that…"
"You could always tell him what you've been up to," Boss suggested.
I snorted. If Dad knew I was hunting monsters for a living, he would never let me hear the end of it. I want to believe he would support my decision to be a cape, but at the same time, I knew he would make his displeasure known. He nearly lost me to the Trio and that fucking locker. I did not want to make him go through that again, not when things were finally starting to get better. Dad was acting like his old self again after all this time.
Boss set a glass cup filled with ice in front of me along with a can of soda. "How'd the pest extermination from this morning go? You had any trouble?"
"They were annoying and kept jumping around, but I finally managed to get rid of them," I said as I thanked him for the soda, popping it open and dunking its contents into the glass. "I didn't find any bodies, though. Are you sure those things were responsible for a bunch of Merchant bodies dropping in the Commercial District?"
Boss nodded. "The suckers were possessing scarecrows, right?" I nodded in affirmation. "The demons infesting the things are called Trypoxylus—a race of beetle demons native to the Underworld. They tend to slip through the cracks every now and then, and they're pretty harmless by themselves. It's only when they start to group up things get dangerous, though even then, they're cannon fodder as far as lesser-ranking demons are concerned. The problem with those suckers, though, is that they have a pack mentality."
I frowned. "You mean they're following something stronger."
Boss took a quick puff of his cigar, taking out a manila folder from his jacket and setting it down on the counter. "Got this from a contact of mine over in San Diego. A while back, a bunch of scarecrows started slaughtering a bunch of homeless folks in shelters. PRT thought they were projections or the work of cape bullshit, and for the most part, they're right." I opened the folder and saw what looked like police reports and documents with photographs attached.
My stomach started swirling in disgust. I pressed my hand over my mouth, looking away from the grizzly sight depicted in the photographs.
I never thought I would feel bad for the Merchants, but if
this was among the fates they suffered…
"A Protectorate hero showed up to kill the suckers, only to end up losing his arms and legs," Boss continued as he pointed to a photograph. It was a man wearing a tattered longcoat with a hood, face hidden behind a white mask made of rotted wood. The left eyehole was cracked, revealing a trailing light of dark purple flame. I couldn't see the rest of him since his back was facing the camera, but I saw what looked like a scythe in his grasp. "They've got no idea who this asshole is, except for the fact that he's working for a bunch of assholes."
It was then I noticed the insignia branded on the coat shoulder.
"…the Fallen?" Dread started to seep through me. "Wait, don't tell me those psychos are working with
demons?!"
The Fallen were a lot worse than the gangs of Brockton Bay were. The Protectorate constantly kept an eye on them and its members, waiting for any signs of chaos to rear its ugly head. The ordinary members committed petty, normal crimes often dealt by the police. The higher-ranking members on the other hand, the capes… They were why people feared the Fallen.
Forums about Valefor were rife with nightmare fuel, from speculation to maybe-true stories. If there were ever a reason people feared Masters, he would be the poster boy of the "evil" they could embody.
The reason why people were so scared of the Fallen was because they were not a gang. They were
worse. They were a fucking cult, worshipping the Endbringers and the destruction they left behind in their wake. They spouted things like "humanity must be punished for their sins" or "this is what we deserve for our hubris".
I did not want to imagine what the Fallen could do if they had access to demons.
Boss' face was stern. I could not tell what he was thinking in his head, but his stare was telling. "I hope you're up for double-duty, sister. Something tells me this job is gonna be a real pain in the ass."
I returned to the outskirts of the Commercial District, back to where I fought the demon-infested scarecrows. The warehouse was untouched, and any traces of the demons I killed here were long gone. All that was left were black scorch marks; the only proof demons were ever here in the first place. If the Fallen were using demons, I needed to retrace my steps. Boss said the scarecrows were following someone strong enough to lead them. If they were wandering around someplace like this, that meant the one in charge was nearby.
"Okay, let's check the office first," I muttered to myself.
I jumped up to the catwalk above me, flipping onto the handrail and onto the walkway next to the door leading to the office. I gave another quick glance around the warehouse to see if there was anyone around, then slipped on inside. The office was empty for the most part, tables and cabinets caked in dust. The warehouse had not been used in recent years, and unless I was mistaken, it was slated to be torn down for an apartment complex.
I started with the cabinets, opening every drawer. When I found nothing, I moved on to the desks. It was here that I found something off. There wasn't any dust on the tables, and there were faint indentations on the surface. "The hell…?" I muttered to myself. I took out my phone and took a picture of the indent, sending it to Boss in the hopes he found something. I stashed my phone away and resumed my search.
To my joy, I found wrinkled papers inside the desk. My joy faded when I saw the contents of the paper and irately threw them on the table. They were shipping manifests dating back to 2003.
"They were definitely here, but why?" I muttered as I stared at the indent on the desk's surface. Looking more closely, it looked like it may have been a symbol. "And what even is this?"
I shook my head and sighed. That was one lead busted.
I left the office and jumped down to ground level, about to leave when I saw two people standing in front of me.
"Yo," Antares greeted with a grin. "What's up?"
"Wha—you?" I balked. What the heck was she doing here? "W-what are you doing here?"
"Patrol, mostly," Antares shrugged before pouting. "And on babysitting duty to boot."
"Hey!" her partner said in offense.
Her fellow Ward was easily recognizable by the glowing translucent blue shield on his arm. His outfit was similar to Antares', albeit with more white than gray. Silver-blue armor covered his knees and elbows while a breastplate was strapped over his chest. The upper half of his face was hidden behind a metallic black visor, not too different from my own.
"Sorry, but you know it's true."
"If anyone's babysitting here, it's me," Barricade huffed as he crossed his arms. "Need I remind you you're still on thin ice after the whole Bloody Cape affair?"
The blonde heroine spluttered, cheeks tinted red while glaring at her partner.
Barricade, alongside Vista, was one of the more 'popular' Wards due to his young age. He was also the poster-boy of the Wards due to his abilities and his overall friendly demeanor. There were some rumors he was related to the defunct New Wave, given how similar his powers were to Laserdream and Lady Photon, but those talks were often debunked due to the rules over on PHO, not to mention the unwritten rules.
If I am being honest, Barricade is one of my favorite Wards. Actually, seeing him up close, he was rather hand—
No, stop. Focus Taylor, you have a job to do!
I coughed into my hand, stopping the bickering Wards and turning their attention to me. "As funny as it is to see two Wards bicker, I'm sure we have questions for each other?" Antares huffed and turned her head while Barricade sheepishly rubbed the back of his head. I smiled and offered a hand in greeting. "Nice to meet you, Barricade. I'm Vergil."
"I know," Barricade returned the gesture and wrapped his hands around mine. They were surprisingly soft. "I think everyone knows who you are. The Bloody Cape's dead thanks to you and Antares. I—
we owe you a lot."
He switched words at the last second. I did not think much of it. Odds were he was one of the many families who lost someone they cared about to the Fury.
"Speaking of, I'm supposed to give this to you," Antares said as she dug into her pocket, taking out what looked like an envelope. "A gift from the higher-ups over at the Protectorate."
"For me?" Curiously, I took the envelope from the mini-Alexandria and opened it—
I spat blood.
"W-wha-wha-wha-wha-wha-wha…"
She smirked at my reaction, looking at Barricade smugly. "Told you that's how she would react."
"Anyone would react that way to a check that big."
"Is-is this for real? This—no, this can't be right. That's way too many zeroes!"
"I know, right? Even the Wards' salary isn't that huge!" Barricade cried. "And all that's just for killing the Bloody Cape. Imagine how much money you'd make if you killed the Slaughterhouse Nine."
My mind nearly broke down at the thought. I could feel the neurons in my brain starting to fry. I shook my head, prying myself away from such ideas. "Um, thank you…" I said in a strangled voice, carefully putting the envelope into my pocket. "I'm, uh, not sure how I'm going to spend all of it."
"Just go for a vacation or someplace like Hawaii," Antares suggested with a grin. "I hear the weather's lovely in the summer." Her smile faded mere moments afterwards. I knew then the time for pleasantries was over. "As fun as it is seeing you again, what are you doing here? This place is abandoned is gonna be torn down by like next week."
"I was looking into a lead," I said honestly. "Boss gave me a new job. Actually, do you know anything about this guy?" I took out the photograph Boss gave me. It was a shot in the dark, hoping they saw him, but it was better than nothing. Who knows? Maybe I could…
…okay, scratch that. Maybe I struck gold if they way they froze up is any indication.
"…I take it you know him."
Barricade nodded grimly. "Yeah. Actually, he's the reason we came out to the Commercial District. We were notified about him a few weeks ago when he attacked Arbalest."
"The San Diego cape?"
"Yes. The Protectorate has been looking for as much information as they can about him. No one's seen him since he surfaced in San Diego, and there's been a lot of speculation as to who he is."
"They gave him a moniker recently," Antares grimaced. "They call him Strix. So far, all we know is that he's a brute who uses a scythe in combat, and he was sighted here in Brockton Bay three days ago."
My eyes narrow. "He's here in town?"
"Yeah, and if the rumors are true, he's in talks with the ABB."
"Bullshit. Lung doesn't work with
anyone," I said. "Not unless an Endbringer is knocking at his front door. Remember what happened when Kaiser tried to convince him to work under him when he showed up? Also, this guy is working with the Fallen. Unless he's started worshipping the damn thing, Lung would sooner kill himself than work with the psychos who think Leviathan is a god."
"Preaching to the quire, Vergil," Antares sighed. "But, there were eye-witness accounts saying he saw him with Oni Lee."
"Why would he—"
"Oh, I was with Oni Lee, but who said I was there to speak with him?"
In a split second, all three of us whirled around. Orthrus erupted into crimson flames while Antares took a fighting stance, Barricade raising his shield and taking up a rear position.
When the hell did he get here?! I thought in dismay.
There, up on the railing of the catwalk, was the man of the hour, clad in a tattered purple rain coat with a half-rotted wooden mask, bandages dangling from his hands while a pitch-black scythe sat on his shoulder. The purple flame pouring out from the eyehole of his mask was more eerie in person than in the photograph.
He jumped down from his perch, landing on his feet. He was barefoot, revealing blackened toes and cuts along his calves. His jeans were torn to shreds and barely held together while his shirt was in tatters.
"Hello," Strix said in the most polite voice I ever heard from a villain. "I believe you all were looking for me?"
Ladies and gentlemen, meet Strix, the first OC of the story, and all-around nutjob in charge of making sure a certain demon shows up in Brockton Bay. Don't worry, he won't be sticking around for long.
And in other news, Eric finally makes his debut here as Ward Barricade. He won't be a permanent part of Taylor's team like Antares will be, but he's certainly up for the task of dealing with a deranged psychopath.
Anyways, two down, three more to go!
Side note: in classical mythology of antiquity, a "Strix" is a bird of ill-omen, feeding on human flesh and blood and is tied to witches and malevolent fokloric beings. Make of that what you will.
