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Snek is a Good Boy

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Part Ten: Gotta Catch Them All
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    • Snek is a Good Boy

    Part Ten: Gotta Catch Them All

    [A/N: This chapter commissioned by @Fizzfaldt and beta-read by Lady Columbine of Mystal.]


    Kaiser

    Max Anders drew a deep breath as he looked at the assembled group of capes that made up the Empire Eighty-Eight's muscle. "Congratulations, everyone," he declared. "We've won. Lung is gone, Oni Lee and Bakuda have managed to kill each other, and even Coil's been captured. There's nobody standing between us and total control of the Brockton Bay underground."

    Justin raised one finger briefly. "The Merchants are still out there, and we've still got the PRT to worry about."

    Cricket snorted and elbowed the young man in the ribs. Similar eye-rolls and expressions of exasperation spread through the rest of the group. With a slight smile on his face, Max waited for the interruptions to die down before he continued.

    "Yes, the Merchants still exist, but if you honestly think a bunch of subhuman degenerates and drug addicts stand any chance of opposing us, then you're hitting the hard stuff more than they ever will. And as for the PRT … well, they have their rules and regulations. More to the point, if they were hesitant to come after us when we weren't the only significant group in town, what makes you think they'll change their ways now that we are?"

    There was a pause of a few seconds, then Rune cleared her throat. "Uh … what about the snake?"

    An awkward silence followed. Nobody wanted to talk about the snake. It was a mystery wrapped in an enigma, and the word on the street was that it had eaten Lung. Another story suggested that it was also responsible for eating Hatchet Face, abducting Bonesaw, and killing Jack Slash, and thus precipitating the dissolution of the Slaughterhouse Nine.

    Max had no idea what to think about it. Certainly, it had appeared in Brockton Bay more than once—the viral footage aside, Fugly Bob's was now proudly displaying a framed picture of the snake itself proceeding peacefully through their drive-through—but beyond being seen with various capes, it had yet to establish any kind of allegiance. Where it came from, what it wanted and who it answered to, nobody knew.

    On the one hand, it had attacked criminals in the act of committing crimes, and nothing they'd been able to do had even dented it. On the other, it had yet to bother the Empire. Perhaps it was a sympathiser, or was cautious of their power? They could, after all, muster more capes in the same place than any other group in Brockton Bay.

    The most important aspect, he knew, was to show zero concern about it. If the others got even the slightest idea that he was worried, it would poke large holes in his façade of confidence. His father had drummed into him over and over that no matter what the actual situation was, he must always act like he knew what was going on and how to fix it.

    "What about the snake?" he replied rhetorically. "At worst, it's a loose cannon. We know it isn't working with the PRT. Even if it was inclined to, they're not about to ally themselves with something that eats people whole. And if it did look our way, there's nobody here who isn't either fast enough to get out of its way or tough enough to make it back off." He almost said kill it, but that felt like pushing matters a little too far. It had taken on several powerful capes so far, and survived them all.

    "Like to see it fuckin' try," boasted Hookwolf. "Stupid thing won't know who it's fuckin' with 'til it's too late."

    A low murmur of agreement arose from the Brute-rated members of the Empire. Fenja and Menja both flexed, growing six inches taller before reducing to their base heights.

    Max nodded. "Exactly. Keep an eye out for it and call it in if you see it, but otherwise; business as normal."

    That should do it.

    <><>​

    That Evening
    Aisha Laborn

    Motherfucking cock-gargling ass-munching turd-jugglers. Panting, Aisha darted around the corner and wriggled behind a dumpster. It was narrow and cramped, and stank like Skidmark's underwear—because skidmarks, geddit?—but it had the advantage of putting her out of sight of the Empire assholes chasing her.

    She didn't even know why they were up in her grille all of a sudden. This wasn't Empire territory, or at least it hadn't been until recently, so they'd sung low when passing through. But now, she'd only given them the finger just once from across the street, and half a dozen of them had come running after her.

    Pounding footsteps became audible and she paused, trying to breathe slowly and silently. Nobody ran unless they were chasing someone or being chased, at least in this area of Brockton Bay, so she figured they had to be the same racist pricks she'd been trying to evade for the last fifteen minutes. Why couldn't they just give up and go home already, she groused silently.

    "Where is she?" That had to be the leader. Aisha hadn't gotten a good look at him, but he had a deeper voice than the others, and the faint clinking of chains suggested that he wore them as an accessory. Because nothing says 'I've got a tiny dick' better than a bunch of chains hanging off you.

    "Dunno," another one replied. "She couldn't have gotten far."

    "Fuck," said a third one, breathing heavily. "That little bitch can run."

    Damn right I can.

    "She has to be around here somewhere," the leader growled, and she heard the sound of clinking chains coming closer to the dumpster. "You and you, look in there."

    "What, inside?" It was more like a yelp than a protest. "It smells like shit in there!"

    Chain guy had apparently had enough. "Open the fucking lid and start looking, or I'll shove you in there myself."

    "Okay, okay, sorry. I didn't mean it that way. Couldn't you maybe make the smell go away or something?"

    "I'm Stormtiger, not your personal fucking servant." The leader's tone was low and deadly.

    Oh, shit. Aisha knew who Stormtiger was. Her personal threat awareness was now so far off the scale it was out of sight. Among those that the Empire Eighty-Eight had a beef with (ie, anyone with an ethnic background other than pure whitey-white) it was well-known that there were the bad ones and then there were the really bad ones. Stormtiger was one of the latter.

    She heard the lid creaking open, and the dumpster was shoved a couple of inches into her ribs. Although she did her best to muffle it, she let out a pained grunt.

    Stormtiger was still talking. "I don't— what was that?"

    Aisha froze. Nope. Nope. Nope. You heard nothing.

    "What?"

    "I didn't hear anything."

    "Me neither."

    "All I heard was the dumpster."

    "Same here."

    "Step back." That was Stormtiger. "Unless one of you is wearing Dove deodorant, she's behind the damn dumpster."

    Aisha's eyes opened wide. Shit fuck crap dammit—

    A massive gust of wind smashed into the metal container, sending it flying down the alleyway. Aisha tried to grab hold, but it was gone before she could get a grip. Suddenly bereft of her hiding place, she stared up at the five Empire Eighty-Eight followers—and the one cape—standing there.

    Some would've frozen on the spot. Aisha had no such reflex. Scrambling to her feet, she dived for the shadows in the full understanding that if she didn't get away, she was going to regret everything that happened next for the rest of her life. However short that might be.

    One man cursed and reached for her, but she fended him off as though her life depended on it … which it essentially did. Another jumped in the way, arms and legs spread wide as though to body-block her; she dived between his legs, delivering an elbow to his groin on the way past. On her feet again, she dug her sneakers into the grimy, cracked concrete as she bolted toward the sanctuary of the darkness.

    The whistling wind picked her up and spun her around. Losing all her footing, she flailed wildly as Stormtiger gestured. "Hey!" she yelled. "Let me go, assmunch! What'd I ever do to you?"

    "Nothing," he admitted, with what she thought was a smirk under the mask. "But you're black, and you're in my city. That's enough for me. We were looking for someone to initiate the guys with, and you just volunteered."

    If Aisha thought her eyes couldn't get any wider, she'd just proven herself wrong. She'd heard about Empire initiations, and none of it was good. "You-you don't want me," she blustered. "I've started my rag today. Talk about red tsunami, it's fuckin' gross."

    Stormtiger turned his head to the other men. "Little cooch thinks a bit of blood's going to put us off. Anyone got a problem with that?"

    "Nope."

    "Hah, no way."

    "Not likely."

    "I'm good."

    "No."

    "Yess."

    Stormtiger paused at the unfamiliar hiss. Now, the movement of his facial muscles behind his mask suggested a frown. "Who said that?"

    "Ssnek ssaid that." The voice came from the darkness in the alleyway where Aisha had been trying to seek refuge. And then, a moment later, the speaker slithered into view.

    While Aisha had never exactly afraid of snakes, her view of them had been very much 'pass'. They could do the wriggly hissy bitey thing somewhere else where she wasn't, and she'd be just fine with that. But right now, she was aware of exactly what (or rather who) this snake was, and she knew that it had eaten Lung and Hatchet Face. If it could do the same for her with Stormtiger, she was willing to review every bad thought she'd ever had about any snake anywhere.

    "Snek!" she yelled. "Help!"

    The gigantic python, or anaconda, or whatever Snek was, slithered closer, his massive head lifting off the ground until it was at Aisha's height. Despite the wind still blowing around, the fedora it was wearing (Aisha had no idea what that was about) stayed in place. "Ssnek help?" it asked. "Bad men?"

    "No, we're not bad men," Stormtiger scoffed.

    "Yes, bad men!" yelled Aisha. "They're going to hurt me!"

    Stormtiger shook his head. "This is a bad girl. She's a thief. She stole from us."

    Suddenly, the snake's enormous head—it had to be at least as long as Aisha was tall—darted forward until it was right in front of Stormtiger. "Ssnek thinkss blue massk man iss lying."

    "Well, yeah, he's lying!" Aisha wasn't going to stand back idly for this. "He's Stormtiger! He's a supervillain! He works for the Empire Eighty-Eight! They're all bad people! They hurt people like me all the time!"

    "She's lying!" blurted Stormtiger. "She's nothing but a little thief!"

    Snek turned his head so that one enormous gold-rimmed eye was looking at Stormtiger, and one at Aisha. "Ssnek thinkss purple hair girl iss telling truth and blue massk man iss lying. Blue massk man wantss to hurt purple hair girl. Ssnek doess not like people hurting children."

    Quicker than the eye could follow, the great mouth opened and a long tongue darted out. Instead of the simple fork that snakes tended to have, this one separated out into many prehensile tendrils that wrapped around Aisha and dragged her out of the whirlwind effect Stormtiger had trapped her in. With a flip of his head, Snek deposited Aisha astride his neck, then turned his attention back to Stormtiger.

    "You're making a bad mistake," the villain averred, bringing up a barrier of wind between them. "The Empire Eighty-Eight would make a bad enemy for you. There's just one of you, and many of us."

    "Ssnek hass fought many enemiess before," the snake said cheerfully. "Mouss ssayss iss called 'target rich envi-ron-ment'. Iss fun."

    "Wait, is that Mouse Protector?" Aisha grinned widely. Girl was her kind of hero. "I've seen her pictures with you."

    "Yess." Snek sounded pleased. "Mouss is good friend. Have adventuress together." He leaned toward Stormtiger. "Tell where other bad men who would hurt purple hair girl, and Ssnek will not eat blue massk man."

    Stormtiger glanced to the left and right, and Aisha suddenly realised that his unpowered cohorts were deserting the scene at speed. She suspected that they also knew what had happened to Lung and Hatchet Face. "Looks like you're all alone, Stormy," she taunted. "You want to maybe tell the Snekmeister here what he wants to know, before he goes all om-nom-nom on your pasty-white ass?"

    "I'm loyal to the Empire Eighty-Eight," snarled Stormtiger, "and I refuse to bow down to man, beast or ni—"

    "Get 'im, Snek!"

    CHOMP

    <><>​

    Hookwolf

    The motorbike rumbled slowly down the road. Brad didn't bother with anything so pussy as a helmet or leathers; if he fell on the road, he knew what would give way first, and it wasn't him. Behind the bike, there was a pickup truck full of the party faithful; shaven heads as far as the eye could see. They were armed with pistols and assault rifles, based on how good they were at the makeshift target ranges the Empire had set up here and there.

    There'd been no word from Stormtiger since one of the idiots who'd been with him had called for backup in a panic. Brad had been skeptical about the report—if his buddy had any idea what was coming for him, he could kick ass with the best of them—but the fact remained that Stormtiger was still radio silent. The long and the short of it was that he intended to find out—or find Stormtiger himself—and kick the ass of whatever had gotten to him.

    He was fully aware that the guy's babbling added up to that stupid snake coming out of nowhere, but idiots lied all the time so they didn't look bad, or so they looked good. Brad had no tolerance for lying—well, they could lie to anyone else, but not to him—so he was going to go and find out exactly what had happened. If someone's ass needed kicking, Brad would kick it. And if it did turn out to be that goddamn snake, Brad was going to be wearing new snakeskin boots.

    Nobody fucked with the Empire like this. Nobody.

    Up ahead was the alley where the guy had said Stormtiger was facing off the snake. Smoothly, Brad pulled over to the side of the road and parked the bike. He didn't bother looking back at the others as he stalked into the dimness. They knew what to do.

    When he got to the wider section where the action had supposedly taken place, he frowned. There wasn't any blood, or really anything else. He could see marks where a dumpster had stood and then been moved sideways, but that was about it.

    "… the fuck?" he asked out loud.

    "Sir?" called one of the trigger-men from outside. "Did you want us?"

    "Stay the fuck out there!" he yelled back. He was no detective, but surely there were clues here about where Stormtiger had gotten to, and he didn't want the morons walking everywhere before he found them.

    And then he saw it. Off in a corner, partially hidden under a newspaper, something patterned in white and blue. Exactly the same colour as Stormtiger's mask.

    Moving in that direction with fast strides, he whipped the paper aside and picked up the mask that had been revealed. It was definitely Stormtiger's, alright. He'd know that paint job anywhere. The question was, who or what had cut clear through the tough leather strap and left it there? And more to the point, if it had only been lying there for half an hour, how did an old newspaper get draped over it?

    That was when every hair on the back of his neck raised, all at once. Fuck. It's a trap. And I walked right into it.

    In the next instant he let the blades out of his body in all directions, assuming his preferred wolf-shape as he spun around. His eyes searched the alley in both directions for the ambush he knew was coming. It was too neat a snare for there not to be one.

    "Hello, pointy-blade man." The voice, redolent with a deep hissing undertone, came from above. As he turned his eyes in that direction, he saw the snake slithering over the edge of the roof three floors above and down toward the ground. Its eyes were bright with interest and curiosity, and there was a young black teenager with a purple streak in her hair riding astride its neck. Also, a normal-sized fedora on its broad head, but that wasn't important.

    "Where's Stormtiger?" he demanded, then held up the discarded mask. "The man who was wearing this mask! Where is he?"

    "Snek chomped him," the black girl said gleefully. "It was amazeballs. He was right in the middle of telling Snek where to go, too. Perfect timing."

    "Ssnek not like bad men hurt children," the snake explained. "Blue massk man wass going to hurt purple hair girl. Ssnek wantss to know where other bad men are. Pointy-blade man tellss Ssnek where to find bad men, Ssnek not eat pointy-blade man."

    Brad held up a hand. "Wait, wait. You're interrogating me? About the Empire Eighty-Eight? Is that what you're trying to do?" It was so stupid it was hilarious. Nobody interrogated him. Who the fuck even had the stones to try?

    All of a sudden, the rest of the snake had slithered over the edge of the roof and joined him in the alleyway. There was an absolute fuck-ton of it, all wriggling and curling so fast he barely had time to react when two massive coils fell around him and started squeezing. "Yess. Ssnek needss to know where bad men are. Pointy-blade man knowss. Ssnek iss assking."

    "What the … fuck …" Brad grunted, trying to loosen the grasp around him. Blades speared out of his skin, seeking to slice and dice the importunate reptile. It wasn't happening; the scaly hide seemed impervious to his keenest edge, and there was more muscle than he could stand up against. Inch by inch, foot by foot, he felt the steel he'd extruded being forced to either bend or be forced back into his body.

    "Iss pointy-blade man ready to tell Ssnek where bad men are?" The snake's snout was mere feet from his. Even now, it didn't seem to exhibit any level of menace or anger. Just an innocent determination to do what it had to do. "Ssnek needss to know." A coil tightened, and metal snapped. "Pleasse."

    "Hey!" yelled a voice from a little further down the alley. "What's going on?"

    "Whoa," the girl said, looking over her shoulder. "Snek, they've got guns."

    "That's right," grunted Brad, forcing the words out past the constriction. "They might not hurt you, but they'll fuckin' Swiss-cheese her."

    "Ssnek not like bang-ouch weaponss," the snake replied. "Purple hair girl hide behind Ssnek." As he spoke, a section of its body rose up to shield the girl.

    "Hey, Hookworm, you know Snek will just run these morons over or eat them too," the girl said. "Tell 'em to get lost and go fetch reinforcements. You know you want to."

    As much as he hated to be told what to do, and as much as he loathed being helpless, Brad had to admit that the girl was correct on both points. "Go!" he yelled with what felt like the last of his breath. "Get Kaiser! Bring everyone! Kill this fuckin' thing!"

    "Pointy-blade man not tell Ssnek where bad men are?" asked the snake almost plaintively, after the sound of running footsteps had died away.

    "Not a chance," gritted Brad.

    The snake nodded. "Ssnek undersstandss." Between one instant and the next, its coils opened up, leaving him free on the ground. Then the gigantic head blurred forward, jaws agape. He didn't even have time to scream.

    CHOMP

    <><>​

    The Same Alleyway
    Half An Hour Later

    Kaiser

    Max trod carefully through the muck and the grime, flanked by Fenja and Menja, along with an army of Crusader's ghosts. He wasn't taking any chances; Rune was providing aerial overwatch, Victor with a sniper rifle on her platform. Cricket, Alabaster and Krieg were coming in over the rooftops from different directions. Finally, Othala had personally made him invulnerable before he'd walked in, so no matter what happened, the snake was going down.

    He wished Purity, Night and Fog had chosen to stay with the team, but he figured he could handle this without them.

    The section of alleyway was empty, both of any people and of an oversized snake. A couple of gleaming pieces of metal caught his eye, and he toed them with his boot. "Hookwolf's blades," he said out loud. "Broken off. Look alive, people."

    Fenja pointed with her sword. "What's that over there?" In the corner, where she'd indicated, was Hookwolf's metal mask, overlaying something coloured blue and white.

    "Eyes all around," ordered Max over the radio net they were using, and strode over to investigate. Hookwolf's mask was a little bent and twisted, as though it had been subjected to impressive stress, while Stormtiger's was undamaged. As he turned them over in his hands, the fingertips uncovered to better feel what he was doing, he sucked in his breath in a sudden hiss of pain. Looking to see what had happened, he realised that he'd cut himself on a sharp edge of Hookwolf's mask …

    … wait.

    Cut myself?

    "Othala," he said urgently. "Come in, Othala." The invulnerability she granted invariably lasted longer than that.

    There was no reply.

    "Kaiser to all points," he snapped. "Can anyone see Othala?"

    "Victor here. That's a neg—"

    "Kaiser to Victor. Repeat your last?"

    Only dead air answered him.

    "Kaiser to Rune! Where's Victor?"

    "Look out!" yelled Menja, shoving him aside. At the same time, Fenja grew to twenty feet tall and put her shield over her head. Something shattered on it, pieces of concrete going everywhere.

    Somehow, without even looking, Max knew it was the chunk of pavement Rune had been using as her personal flying carpet. "Everyone, sound off!"

    "Crusader!"

    "Krieg!"

    "Cricket!"

    "Fenja!"

    "Alabaster!"

    He looked around, confused. "Where's Menja?"

    The milling Crusader ghosts suddenly vanished. Kaiser was starting to understand how the victims in a horror movie felt. "Menja! Crusader! Report!"

    "We've got to get out of here," Fenja said urgently. "I can't get too big in this alley. But if we can get out on the street …"

    "Good idea," Max said grimly. "Everyone, we're regrouping out on the street. Meet me there." Moving at his best speed, he hustled from the alleyway, secure in the knowledge that Fenja was covering his back. When he got to the car, where Alabaster, Krieg and Cricket were already waiting, he turned …

    … and she was gone.

    And that was when the music started.

    <><>​

    Uber

    "Dude! We've got to kill the show!"

    Leet stared at him. "We can't kill the show. You already told me we couldn't—"

    "No! Look!" Uber pointed.

    As the music drifted to his ears, Leet stared. "We're killing the show."

    Uber started the car. "Got the Snitch ready?"

    "Ooh yeah."

    <><>​

    Deputy Director Renick's Office
    PRT ENE Building

    The phone rang.

    "Yes?"

    "Uh, sir, you're not going to believe this …"

    "Trust me, you have no idea what I would believe right now."

    "Well, sir, we seem to have most of the Empire Eighty-Eight in custody. They just keep appearing in our holding cells."

    "I'm not actually surprised. But thank you for informing me."

    There was a pause.

    "Uh, sir?"

    "Yes?"

    "Why are you not surprised?"

    Deputy Director Renick sighed. "Because I'm watching a live feed of Kaiser, Alabaster, Cricket and Krieg being chased through the streets of Brockton Bay by a giant snake. There is a girl on the snake's back playing 'Yackety Sax' on her phone and cackling her head off. That's why."

    There was an even longer pause.

    "Okay, yeah, that's fair enough."

    The call ended. Renick went back to watching the show.



    End of Part Ten
     
  • Threadmarks
    • Vherstinae said:
    It's the chase theme from the Benny Hill show, so it was quite literally written for a comedic chase. Also, it's always funny hearing it in clear quality rather than the original compressed, popping version from the show that originated in the 50s.
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...
    When it finishes, Aisha switches to the Imperial March out of Star Wars. Somewhat slower, but a lot more ominous.
     
    I created an account here because it matches the nice SpaceBattles account I already had. This story is golden.

    Honestly, aside from some dialect mismatch stuff in the dialogue, it's damn near perfect.
     
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