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A Darker Path [Worm Fanfic]
- Thread starter Ack
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Shadow of doubt
(Verified Forumite) (Verified Procrastinator)
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I fucking love this!
Super curious as to how lung will be dealt with!
Super curious as to how lung will be dealt with!
GasperVladi0
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Tattles dearest, you should've prepped your "get the fuck out of dodge" the second you saw that post, just in case. Taylor continues to be terrifying, and sometimes accidentally more terrifying than normal. Everyone else continuing to pretend to not almost shit their pants is hilarious as usual.
FictionPack
Getting sticky.
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Dr. Atropos is making house calls. Lung is going to get an acidic enema.
Ack
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Anor
Know what you're doing yet?
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Ack
(Verified Ratbag) (Unverified Great Old One)
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Well, since when do cops ever call out, "Okay, we'll have the place surrounded in the next five minutes, so unless you make a run for it right now you won't get away."Lisa: "Well, apparently we can!"
They're hoping to bluff people into surrendering.
Part Eight: End of an Era
Ack
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A Darker Path
Part Eight: End of an Era
[A/N: This chapter beta-read by Lady Columbine of Mystal.]
Tattletale
"I think we lost them." Alec turned from the peephole in the boarded-up window and leaned against the wall, sliding down to rest against the floor.
Exerting her power just a smidge, Lisa nodded. "Yeah, we have. They will keep looking, though."
"Why?" Rachel had pulled three bowls from her backpack and was pouring water into them for her dogs. "They never came after us this hard before."
Lisa didn't want to push her power again—the headache was lingering more now—but she wanted to know, too. It cost her a brief burst of pain, but she had her answer. "Coil was involved somehow with the PRT. He would've had access to some extremely sensitive information. They can't afford to assume that he didn't share any of it with us."
"But he didn't." Alec peered at Lisa. "Did he?"
"No." She frowned. "But it's impossible to prove a negative. They must be turning Brian inside out now, trying to find out what he knows."
Alec shivered. "Poor bastard."
Grue
Brian Laborn sat in the interrogation room. The cuffs on his wrists were threaded through the ring-bolt in the table, and the guard in the corner of the room looked ready and willing to fill his half of the room with containment foam at the slightest provocation. It was extremely clear that he wasn't walking out of here without the express permission of the PRT.
While he did his best to maintain a calm façade, internally he wasn't doing nearly as well. His bank account with the Number Man was quite healthy (that was if the PRT hadn't somehow frozen those funds), but he needed more than money to get custody of Aisha. The apartment had been part of it, and a steady job (or appearance of one) the other part.
And now, it was all for nothing. Everything he had worked for, gone. There would be no last-minute escape, no death-defying chase. The PRT had gotten an access key (he guessed) and entered the apartment silently; he'd woken up when they foamed him to the bed. Surrender had been the only viable option.
He glared at the broad mirror covering most of one wall. There'd been rules, damn it! The cops weren't supposed to pull this shit!
The door opened and a tall, spare man walked in, carrying a Manila folder. Instead of a uniform, he was wearing a suit and moved like a bureaucrat, not a soldier. Placing the folder on the table, he sat down opposite Brian and pushed his glasses slightly farther up his nose.
"Good morning, Mr Laborn," he said politely. "My name is Paul Renick. I'm the Deputy Director of the local PRT. How have they been treating you?"
Brian eyed him warily. He didn't even know if 'Renick' was telling the truth; the Deputy Director never made the news. Besides, all this bullshit was just fluff and nonsense leading up to whatever they wanted to do to him. "You ought to know," he said bluntly. "You're the man in charge. Anyway, why am I talking to you instead of the Director?"
The raw hostility in his tone may as well have been sunshine and rainbows, for all the effect that it had on Renick. "My apologies. There's a slight misunderstanding here. I only came on duty half an hour ago. Director Piggot would have been, but she was pulled out of bed at oh-dark-thirty to oversee the operation in which you were captured, and has had to return to rest due to health issues. There's another reason I'm talking to you, but we'll get to that in a moment. Right now, I honestly do want to know; have you been treated fairly? I've skimmed the reports, but we both know that what is done isn't always reported."
"Given that the unspoken rules seem to have been tossed out the window, I suppose I'm lucky I didn't get beaten up or thrown down the stairs," Brian snarked. "But what I want to know is, how did you know it was me you were after? I've gone out of my way to keep the apartment separate from my cape identity." That one of the team could've dropped a dime on him wasn't even a possibility.
Renick shook his head. "Oh, no, we didn't have the slightest suspicion. However, your boss had extensive files on all of you, including faces, names and addresses. When he died, we got access to them. We are, of course, permitted to act on such information, the 'unwritten rules' notwithstanding."
"Fucking Coil." Brian had had time to absorb the new information, but this didn't mean he was any happier about it. However, curiosity trumped his unhappiness at this cavalier dismissal of the rules. "How'd he die, anyway?" He tried to hold up his hand, and the chain jingled. "Wait, are the others here too? Are they okay?"
"As far as I'm aware, the rest of the Undersiders are alive and well," Renick said. "They managed to escape before we had a proper cordon around their building. As for Coil, he met his end last night at the hands of the cape called Atropos."
"Atropos?" Brian tilted his head, trying to figure that out. "What's going on with that. How'd she get to him?" He recalled how Atropos had killed Oni Lee and called out the big gang bosses. There'd been a team meeting due to talk about the situation, but events had overtaken it.
"That's a good question." Renick's voice was matter-of-fact, not gloating or even self-satisfied. "Don't be surprised about not knowing about it; the man apparently made a habit of keeping a lot of plates in the air, and never letting either hand know what the other was doing. With his level of institutional paranoia and backup plans, I am actually somewhat surprised that he was killed so easily."
"But he is dead now, and I'm sitting in here." Brian decided to bring the discussion back to the matter at hand. "If you've got his files on me, you probably have chapter and verse on everything I've done since I started working for him. So why am I here?" He gestured at the Manila folder. "Is that a confession for me to sign, to make it easy for when the trial rolls around?"
"Hardly." Renick opened the folder to reveal a single letter-sized photo, of Aisha laughing at something, from a couple of years ago. "I'm fully aware of why you went to work for Coil in the first place. You care deeply for your sister, do you not?"
Brian clenched his fists. "I'm her only real family. Dad … doesn't really know how to be a dad to a problem kid like her, and Mom …" He grimaced and shook his head.
"… has a history of drug abuse, yes." Renick's tone was sympathetic. "I've seen situations like that go from bad to worse in a heartbeat. For her to have a fighting chance of growing up outside the juvenile detention system, you need to be able to both have a stable household and prove to child services that it's going to remain that way."
"You can stop rubbing it in now," growled Brian. "I get it. I failed her."
"Not necessarily." Renick slid Aisha's photo out onto the table and turned it to face Brian. There was a single sheet of paper under it. "You've been going out as Grue for a couple of years now, as I understand things. While there are many instances of assault and battery, there are none of grievous bodily harm, manslaughter or murder. When you've gone in as parahuman muscle, you've gotten the job done but you've never gone over the top. Everyone you've faced has walked away with minimal injury."
"Wait." Brian shook his head. "You're not suggesting what I think you're suggesting, are you? Because it sounds like you're trying to flip me."
"And is that so bad?" Renick even had the hide to make the question sound reasonable. "If you'd tried out for the Wards as soon as you got your powers, you would've been in with a very strong chance. And we have actually flipped … problematic individuals … in the past, with moderate levels of success."
"So why isn't Armsmaster in here, making the pitch?" Brian sat back in his seat. "What's going on? Politics?" He already knew that it wasn't going to happen, no matter how the subsequent conversation went. There was no way in hell he was going to be a Ward in Brockton Bay.
"Armsmaster isn't in charge of the Brockton Bay Wards," Deputy Director Renick stated. "That duty has fallen to me. And yes, I am making the offer. Also yes, there would be a pro forma trial, but with your history of restraint, a sincere expression of remorse, your evident utility to the team, and a description of your family situation for those of a sentimental bent, you would end up on probation, effectively performing community service via the Wards."
It sounded goddamn tempting, but Brian knew it was never going to happen. Still, he couldn't help asking, like probing a sore tooth with his tongue. "And what about Aisha? If I sign up to be a Ward, what happens to her?"
Renick closed the folder. "We explain to child services that there are special circumstances at play, and she goes into PRT housing along with you. There would a nominal caretaker to watch you both, but we both know that would be a mere formality. You turn eighteen in June, thus ending your time in the Wards and your probation at the same time. At this point, if you opt to go straight into the Protectorate, your pay increases commensurately and you can start taking care of Aisha on your own dime."
"That sounds all very nice," Brian admitted. "But there's no way it's going to work. Sorry."
The Deputy Director frowned, for the first time on the back foot. "Is there a problem I've missed here? You're being offered a free ride out of trouble, young man."
Brian took a deep breath. "Reading between the lines, this is a Brockton Bay only offer. And I can't be a Ward in Brockton Bay, because I don't trust Shadow Stalker not to try to kill me. She's attempted it too many times before." That they'd take her side over his in a he-said-she-said, he assumed by definition. After all, she was already a Ward.
"Ah." Renick blinked. "Well, then, allow me to put your fears at rest. The reason I am pushing this harder than I might otherwise be doing is that Shadow Stalker is no longer among us, and there is more than a little pressure from above to fill that gap. Thus, you and I, in this room."
"No longer … what does that mean?" Brian frowned. "Left the Wards? Transferred to another city?"
Renick grimaced. "She was murdered two days ago. We've been keeping it on the quiet until we could get someone else in."
"Murdered? Who by?" Brian knew better than most just how slippery the crossbow-happy vigilante-turned-Ward could be.
"We suspect Empire involvement, but that's beyond your purview." Once more in charge of the situation, Renick folded his hands in front of him. "So, with that out of the way, what do you say, young man?"
Well, shit. Brian felt all his carefully mustered arguments fading away. Without Shadow Stalker to complicate matters … how could he not take the offer? He looked again at the photo. Aisha was depending on him, after all.
Taking a deep breath, he held out one hand as best he could. "Sir, give that to me in writing and you've got yourself a Ward."
Renick smiled. Leaning across the table, he grasped Brian's hand and shook it firmly. "Excellent."
Observation Room
Armsmaster
Colin glanced across at Gallant. He'd had his voice-analysis software running while Grue was talking, but it was still only about sixty to seventy percent accurate. Gallant, on the other hand, could literally see emotions. "Your read on that?"
"I didn't pick up any deception or smugness, sir," the lad replied. "He's still coming to terms with the fact that he's been working for Coil, and he's extremely concerned about his sister. If you want my opinion, he doesn't know anything he shouldn't, and he's going to try his best to make this work."
"Good, good." Colin nodded. "That's what I got, too."
Tattletale
"So, what now?" asked Alec. "No more boss, Brian's behind bars, and you said they'll be hunting us."
"Well, there's nothing keeping me in this shithole of a city anymore," Rachel declared. "Just a few more things to do, then I'm out of here."
"Wait, wait." Lisa felt the last of her old life slipping through her fingers. "Maybe we can spring him loose? I mean, all three of us ..."
Alec shook his head. "Nah, screw that. Even if you could pinpoint which cell he's in, we're on their radar now. They're hunting us specifically, and thanks to that asshole Coil, they've probably got all the details on our powers. Worse, if we get captured and a certain someone finds out, I'm fucked nine ways from Sunday. So, I'm with Rachel. See ya, don't wanna be ya."
"But ..." Lisa sighed, aware that trying to argue with Alec at his most passive-aggressive was about as fruitful as arguing with Rachel at her most stubborn. That is: not very. "Okay, fine, I'm going too. You said you wanted to do something first, Rachel?" Maybe if she assisted her erstwhile teammate, they could stick together until Lisa got her feet under herself somewhere else.
"Yeah." Rachel set her jaw. "Gonna kill Hookwolf before I go. Fucker wants to fight dogs, let's see how he likes it."
"Ah." All of a sudden, solidarity seemed a lot less attractive.
Kaiser
They convened in his office, at the top of the Medhall building. Even up here, the problems with the breaker boards and fuses were evident; several of the inset fluorescent tubes flickered intermittently, and a few stayed stubbornly dark. Once this Atropos nonsense was dealt with, he decided, he would bring a maintenance crew in to go over the building and fix all the lingering issues. Not until then, of course. It would be all too easy for a stranger to slip into a building that way.
"So, how are we going to do this?" asked Bradley. "Everyone on the inside looking out, or some inside and some outside?"
Krieg rubbed his chin with forefinger and thumb. "We cannot discount the idea that Atropos has Mover, Breaker or Stranger powers. The assassin may be among us before we know it."
"Exactly," agreed Victor. "So, some of us stay with Max and provide personal support, while the rest of us patrol the perimeter." He nodded to Othala. "You stay close to Max, honey, just in case something does get through."
"Should I make him invulnerable?" she asked. "So even if they do get him, it doesn't do anything."
Max fielded that one. "No," he decided. "I'll be in armour, and as skilful as this Atropos has shown themselves to be, they would be able to pick the interval between the effect dropping and you renewing it. Better if you hold back, then apply it if anything unusual seems to be happening."
"Quick question," Stormtiger offered. "Do we want them dead or alive?"
"Dead," Max decided with no hesitation at all. "If they're willing to go into my house and steal my property, they're just as likely to come back and cut my throat if we go easy on them."
Cricket just grinned and cracked her knuckles. Though no words were spoken, the gesture was easy to understand.
There would be no mercy.
That Afternoon
PRT ENE Building
Director Emily Piggot
Thomas Calvert's body lay on the chilly metal table, his secrets open to the world. The medical examiner had placed a block under his neck so that his head lolled back, exposing the vicious gash that had opened his throat almost to the bone. It might have been Emily's imagination, but it seemed some of the surprise at his sudden death still remained in his expression, even after death.
"As you can undoubtedly understand, the primary cause of death was exsanguination via the wound in the neck," the examiner said in a professorial tone. "All the major blood vessels were severed, along with the windpipe. Even if an ambulance had been waiting outside, he wouldn't have made it to the hospital. In fact, I doubt he would've made it to the sidewalk."
"Yes, yes, it was a spectacularly fatal wound," Emily interrupted, irritated. For all that the medics said it was psychosomatic, she had a vague headache from the interrupted dialysis, and she wasn't about to take any more time-wasting bullshit than she had to. "Why am I here, exactly?"
"The weapon Atropos used to cut his throat had two blades," the examiner explained. "Both sharp, cutting in parallel. It was unusual enough for me to go looking up weird weapons with that kind of damage profile. But even that wouldn't have been enough to talk to you directly … except that I found it."
"What, the type of weapon?" asked Emily, mildly irritated. This could've been handled with an email to her office.
"No." The examiner smiled. "I found the actual weapon. I know what she used, and I know where she got it from."
Emily's eyebrows climbed toward her hairline. You're shitting me, she barely avoided saying. "Explain," she invited instead.
The examiner picked up a tablet and tapped it to wake the screen up. "Medieval bodice shears," she said, showing an image of something that looked like the offspring of a fighting dagger and a pair of scissors on steroids. "Weapon and tool in one. Cut cloth one day; cut your enemy's throat the next. And a pair of these was stolen from a private collection in Brockton Bay yesterday."
"Yesterday?" Emily blinked. "Not that I'm doubting your word, but how did this theft report work its way through the police system in time for us to get access to it today?"
"Well, for one thing, it's down on the report as a parahuman crime." He tapped a few icons and showed her the report. "It came straight to us. Apparently, the thief waltzed straight through a top-of-the-line security system, danced between the security cameras so cleanly that no real details were gained, opened a code-locked display case, and took exactly two items. Some old sword, and that pair of bodice shears. The owner is reportedly livid."
"No surprise there, and I can see why it was reported as a cape heist," Emily said thoughtfully, calling up the image of the weapon again. Atropos … shears … yeah, that definitely fits. Out of curiosity, she flicked back through the report to find the name of the owner, and hid a smirk.
She'd met Max Anders more than once, at high-society functions. It wasn't her cup of tea, although she could wheel and deal with the best of them. On the other hand, it absolutely was Max Anders' chosen element, and he excelled in it.
The first time they met, he'd given her the impression of a spoiled rich kid making it big on inherited money, and she'd never seen fit to revise it. It was unfair of her to draw a certain amount of schadenfreude from his reaction to the theft, and so she didn't. Much.
"Well done," she said warmly. "Be sure to leave a note regarding the sword so we'll be able to identify it if Atropos also uses it in a crime." It wouldn't help the victims, certainly, but as Atropos seemed to be focusing on gang leaders at the moment, her sympathy was somewhat minimal.
Not that she would shirk her duty in trying to catch Atropos. Criminals were criminals, whether they wore costumes or not. Anyone who thought the presence of super-powers changed that particular equation was just deluding themselves.
Taylor
I'd told Dad I was going to bed early because I was tired, and in fact I did take a nap once I got upstairs. When my phone alarm woke me at ten, the house was dark and silent aside from his gentle snoring, audible from the hallway. I dressed in my costume, all except the hat and mask, and double-checked my special cargo. Both containers were intact—I was pretty sure I would've known if they weren't—and the bag of capsules was present and correct.
When I left the house, armed with the Screwdriver of Car Opening, I went in a different direction, not wanting to use the same car too often. It would be unfair on the poor guy to keep refilling the tank when he hadn't even driven it anywhere. Fortunately, leaving spare keys in the car seemed to be a prevailing habit; in the car I tried this time, they were in the ashtray.
I was fully aware that I could break into any of the houses here and take their actual car keys with nobody being the wiser, but that would be more time-consuming, and I preferred to have as much wiggle room with my Paths as possible.
It appeared Kaiser had something to do with the Medhall building, which meant that Max Anders was probably covering for him. The preparations I'd taken in that building the previous night had been on the elaborate side, but that was the whole point of a magic trick. It was all about deception and misdirection, and my power seemed to be really good at those. Idly, I wondered if the guy who kept fishing gear in his desk would ever notice he was missing a few yards of line. Or the guy whose hobby seemed to be rock climbing.
I pulled up a block away from Medhall, in a quiet side-street where nobody would notice the car for the time being. Then, once I got out, I put on the mask and the hat. It was time to go to work.
Medhall Building
CEO's Office
Krieg
James Fliescher frowned, wondering if they were missing a bet. He turned to look up at the large clock on the wall of Max's office. It read two minutes to midnight. Outside the windows, Rune swooped past on her latest orbit of the building. If anyone was climbing up the outside, she'd spot them.
"Do you see anything?" he asked Crusader, who was reclining at his ease in one of the padded visitor chairs.
"Nada," the young man replied. "I've got ghosts in every elevator, in every stairwell, and outside with Rune. Nobody's here who shouldn't be. Atropos is probably going after Lung."
"In which case," Max declared, "they will cease to be our problem after tonight. Killing Oni Lee and Coil is considerably less problematic than putting an end to Lung, I think you'll all agree."
Seated at his desk, covered in metal armour from head to toe, he took a bottle from his desk drawer. From the same drawer, he took several glasses.
"Wait, boss," Fenja objected from where she stood alongside the desk. "Where did you get that bottle from?"
"My personal stock, downstairs. Why?" He uncapped the bottle and poured some into a glass. "This is for the toast, after."
"Because the easiest way to kill you right now would be to make you kill yourself." James stepped up to the desk. "Fenja is right. We can't trust anything right now." He glanced over to the clock on the wall; it showed thirty seconds to midnight. "Alabaster?"
"Right here." The white-skinned man left his post at the main door to the office and came on over. Cricket moved to replace him without being told. "Food tasting duty? Let's see how we go."
"Be my guest." Kaiser handed the glass over. "I think you're being a little paranoid, but better safe than sorry, I suppose."
"Down the hatch." Alabaster tossed the drink back, then set the glass down on the desk. "Whoa, that's got some … ugghhh … urgh …" Clutching his throat, he fell to the carpet and writhed for a moment.
Then he reset and sat up. "Wow, that was unpleas—urrghhh …" He grabbed the metal wastepaper basket beside the desk, and threw up copiously into it. Everyone around him stepped back instinctively from the horrible smell. Then he fell over again.
Sitting up for a second time, he swayed woozily, then threw up some more. James could see, to his consternation, how some of the vomit had eaten its way through the side of the receptacle and was busily attacking the carpet.
On the fourth go-around, Alabaster struggled to his feet. "Son of a bitch," he groused, shaking his head and pointing at the bottle. "That stuff is beyond lethal. It's some kind of battery acid. It has to be. Every time I reset, it started attacking me again."
Othala's face was pale. "If you'd drunk that, Max, I doubt I could've saved you."
Kaiser nodded. "You're right." Carefully, he replaced the cap on the bottle. "Take that for analysis. I want to know exactly what Atropos put in it, and where it came from."
"On the upside," James observed, checking the clock once more, "it's ten minutes past midnight. We've dodged the bullet, so to speak. Atropos was clearly depending on a remote kill via the bourbon." He looked at Fenja and inclined his head slightly. "Well done."
"Absolutely well done," agreed Kaiser, retracting his helmet into the rest of his armour. "In fact, well done to everyone. If Atropos was depending on acid to do the job, it means they don't have the wherewithal to fight their way through you to get to me. Call everyone in. We're going downstairs."
"Well, that was easier than I thought." Crusader stood up from his chair and stretched as his ghosts flooded back into the room and re-merged with him. "Think Atropos will try again?"
"Not until word gets out that Max is still alive," James decided. "And if we hold that off for a while, we can contradict word of his death and make Atropos look like a fool."
The window at the side of the room opened and Rune floated in on her manhole cover. "And another win to the Empire Eighty-Eight," she declared. "Imma go on PHO and tell Atropos to go get wrecked." Reaching inside her robes, she pulled her phone out.
"Not until later," Othala said. "We're going to let Atropos make the announcement first."
"Oh, okay." Rune glanced at her phone as she paused with her tapping. "Hey, wait a minute. My phone clock says it's not midnight yet."
Instinctively, James looked across at the office clock. Clear as day, it read eleven minutes past midnight. Nobody there was wearing a watch, of course; supervillain costumes tended to be hard-wearing, and wristwatches were notoriously fragile. Scheißkerl! Atropos set the clock forward—!
That was when the lights went out.
Krieg heard a thump, followed by a more pronounced thud. He turned, eyes straining in the darkness, only to be driven to the ground by a tremendous blow. The lights went out for him again, this time in a far more personal way.
Alabaster
When the lights came back on, Cricket and Krieg were both sprawled on the floor, and a dark-costumed cape was standing in their midst, just at the point where nobody could reach her immediately. She pointed her finger at Kaiser in a parody of a gun, and said, "Bang."
Then, as everyone began to move, the lights went out again.
Taylor
The first remote button I pressed triggered the breakers again, deep in the building, turning the lights out. As darkness fell, I was already moving, twisting away from the two Crusader ghosts I knew were lunging for me. Then I threw the paperweight I'd stolen from a lower floor right through one of the ghosts. It slammed into his groin, and he slumped to the floor, his ghosts losing all interest in stopping me. As a continuation of the move, I performed a flawless shoulder-roll past Alabaster and threw a decorative snow-globe to hit Rune in the temple, not quite hard enough to kill her. Then I pressed the second remote button.
Up in the ceiling, the tiny mechanism released one end of the hundred-pound fishing-line it had been gripping in its spring-loaded jaws. The sword dropped down out of the 'malfunctioning' light fitting, popping the cover off, then swung down point-first, suspended on two other lengths of fishing-line. The ceiling was high-set, as befitted a penthouse office, and it had the room to build up quite a bit of forward speed.
As I headed for the open window, I heard the sibilant whistle of nylon line cutting through air, followed by the meaty thud that told me I'd scored my latest kill. It was, of course, exactly midnight.
I pulled out my shears and tossed them up, handles first, to dislodge the ceiling panel next to the window just far enough to allow the rope (that I'd tied up there the previous night) to fall down into my hands. Catching them again, I re-sheathed them and leaped out the window, all in the same motion.
Two floors down, I'd left a window fractionally ajar before I interrupted the self-congratulation party on the top floor; arresting my downward slide, I hit the window with my heels and swung in. Then I tossed the rope back out and closed the window, securing it properly. If anyone wanted to follow me, they'd have to take the long way around, down the stairs.
Reaching into my pocket again, I pressed the two remote buttons that would release and retract the lengths of fishing-line that the sword had swung down on, then the one that would turn the lights on again. The second button on each of those remotes set off the self-destructs, overloading the batteries and demolishing the devices.
There were two more things I needed to do before I went home. Stopping at a cubicle, I picked up the phone and pressed the button to dial out of the building, then called 9-1-1. Ten seconds later, I was speaking to an operator, who wanted to know what I needed.
"Police and, and PRT, I think. I'm, I'm working late in the Medhall building, and I heard some shouting from upstairs. I think Max Anders has been murdered by a cape. You better come quick."
Putting the phone down again, I hummed gently to myself as I made my way down the stairs to the basement-level laboratory. The process I'd set in motion before I came upstairs should've just about finished by now, and I needed to pick up the end result before the PRT arrived and ruined everyone's night.
Lung wouldn't kill himself, after all.
Fenja
The lights came back on.
"What's going on? Where is she?" Grown to ten feet tall, Jessica Biermann held her shield and sword in front of her while she scanned the room. What she saw wasn't promising; Cricket, Rune, Krieg and Crusader were all down, while Alabaster and Othala were staring around as wildly as she was. How had Atropos done all this in the few seconds of darkness?
Victor and Hookwolf burst in through the office door, with Stormtiger and Nessa right behind them. "What happened?" barked Victor. "What's going on?" Then he stopped and stared at something behind Jessica. "Oh, FUCK."
Slowly, Jessica turned. Beside her, she heard Othala let out an almost soundless whimper.
Kaiser sat bolt upright in his office chair, left eye staring sightlessly, accusingly. From his right eyesocket trickled a line of blood. This was because a sword was sticking into the eyesocket, nailing his head to the back of his chair. He was irretrievably, unequivocally, dead.
How Atropos had done it, Jessica had no idea. But in a sudden epiphany, she realised the truth. They'd been played, the whole time.
We thought we knew what we were doing. But she moved us all into position like chess pieces, then went for the kill.
Well, shit.
End of Part Eight
[A/N: I'm going to be slowing down my output after this chapter, as I have other writing to do. But A Darker Path will be back!]
Relevant Side Story.
Part Eight: End of an Era
[A/N: This chapter beta-read by Lady Columbine of Mystal.]
Tattletale
"I think we lost them." Alec turned from the peephole in the boarded-up window and leaned against the wall, sliding down to rest against the floor.
Exerting her power just a smidge, Lisa nodded. "Yeah, we have. They will keep looking, though."
"Why?" Rachel had pulled three bowls from her backpack and was pouring water into them for her dogs. "They never came after us this hard before."
Lisa didn't want to push her power again—the headache was lingering more now—but she wanted to know, too. It cost her a brief burst of pain, but she had her answer. "Coil was involved somehow with the PRT. He would've had access to some extremely sensitive information. They can't afford to assume that he didn't share any of it with us."
"But he didn't." Alec peered at Lisa. "Did he?"
"No." She frowned. "But it's impossible to prove a negative. They must be turning Brian inside out now, trying to find out what he knows."
Alec shivered. "Poor bastard."
<><>
Grue
Brian Laborn sat in the interrogation room. The cuffs on his wrists were threaded through the ring-bolt in the table, and the guard in the corner of the room looked ready and willing to fill his half of the room with containment foam at the slightest provocation. It was extremely clear that he wasn't walking out of here without the express permission of the PRT.
While he did his best to maintain a calm façade, internally he wasn't doing nearly as well. His bank account with the Number Man was quite healthy (that was if the PRT hadn't somehow frozen those funds), but he needed more than money to get custody of Aisha. The apartment had been part of it, and a steady job (or appearance of one) the other part.
And now, it was all for nothing. Everything he had worked for, gone. There would be no last-minute escape, no death-defying chase. The PRT had gotten an access key (he guessed) and entered the apartment silently; he'd woken up when they foamed him to the bed. Surrender had been the only viable option.
He glared at the broad mirror covering most of one wall. There'd been rules, damn it! The cops weren't supposed to pull this shit!
The door opened and a tall, spare man walked in, carrying a Manila folder. Instead of a uniform, he was wearing a suit and moved like a bureaucrat, not a soldier. Placing the folder on the table, he sat down opposite Brian and pushed his glasses slightly farther up his nose.
"Good morning, Mr Laborn," he said politely. "My name is Paul Renick. I'm the Deputy Director of the local PRT. How have they been treating you?"
Brian eyed him warily. He didn't even know if 'Renick' was telling the truth; the Deputy Director never made the news. Besides, all this bullshit was just fluff and nonsense leading up to whatever they wanted to do to him. "You ought to know," he said bluntly. "You're the man in charge. Anyway, why am I talking to you instead of the Director?"
The raw hostility in his tone may as well have been sunshine and rainbows, for all the effect that it had on Renick. "My apologies. There's a slight misunderstanding here. I only came on duty half an hour ago. Director Piggot would have been, but she was pulled out of bed at oh-dark-thirty to oversee the operation in which you were captured, and has had to return to rest due to health issues. There's another reason I'm talking to you, but we'll get to that in a moment. Right now, I honestly do want to know; have you been treated fairly? I've skimmed the reports, but we both know that what is done isn't always reported."
"Given that the unspoken rules seem to have been tossed out the window, I suppose I'm lucky I didn't get beaten up or thrown down the stairs," Brian snarked. "But what I want to know is, how did you know it was me you were after? I've gone out of my way to keep the apartment separate from my cape identity." That one of the team could've dropped a dime on him wasn't even a possibility.
Renick shook his head. "Oh, no, we didn't have the slightest suspicion. However, your boss had extensive files on all of you, including faces, names and addresses. When he died, we got access to them. We are, of course, permitted to act on such information, the 'unwritten rules' notwithstanding."
"Fucking Coil." Brian had had time to absorb the new information, but this didn't mean he was any happier about it. However, curiosity trumped his unhappiness at this cavalier dismissal of the rules. "How'd he die, anyway?" He tried to hold up his hand, and the chain jingled. "Wait, are the others here too? Are they okay?"
"As far as I'm aware, the rest of the Undersiders are alive and well," Renick said. "They managed to escape before we had a proper cordon around their building. As for Coil, he met his end last night at the hands of the cape called Atropos."
"Atropos?" Brian tilted his head, trying to figure that out. "What's going on with that. How'd she get to him?" He recalled how Atropos had killed Oni Lee and called out the big gang bosses. There'd been a team meeting due to talk about the situation, but events had overtaken it.
"That's a good question." Renick's voice was matter-of-fact, not gloating or even self-satisfied. "Don't be surprised about not knowing about it; the man apparently made a habit of keeping a lot of plates in the air, and never letting either hand know what the other was doing. With his level of institutional paranoia and backup plans, I am actually somewhat surprised that he was killed so easily."
"But he is dead now, and I'm sitting in here." Brian decided to bring the discussion back to the matter at hand. "If you've got his files on me, you probably have chapter and verse on everything I've done since I started working for him. So why am I here?" He gestured at the Manila folder. "Is that a confession for me to sign, to make it easy for when the trial rolls around?"
"Hardly." Renick opened the folder to reveal a single letter-sized photo, of Aisha laughing at something, from a couple of years ago. "I'm fully aware of why you went to work for Coil in the first place. You care deeply for your sister, do you not?"
Brian clenched his fists. "I'm her only real family. Dad … doesn't really know how to be a dad to a problem kid like her, and Mom …" He grimaced and shook his head.
"… has a history of drug abuse, yes." Renick's tone was sympathetic. "I've seen situations like that go from bad to worse in a heartbeat. For her to have a fighting chance of growing up outside the juvenile detention system, you need to be able to both have a stable household and prove to child services that it's going to remain that way."
"You can stop rubbing it in now," growled Brian. "I get it. I failed her."
"Not necessarily." Renick slid Aisha's photo out onto the table and turned it to face Brian. There was a single sheet of paper under it. "You've been going out as Grue for a couple of years now, as I understand things. While there are many instances of assault and battery, there are none of grievous bodily harm, manslaughter or murder. When you've gone in as parahuman muscle, you've gotten the job done but you've never gone over the top. Everyone you've faced has walked away with minimal injury."
"Wait." Brian shook his head. "You're not suggesting what I think you're suggesting, are you? Because it sounds like you're trying to flip me."
"And is that so bad?" Renick even had the hide to make the question sound reasonable. "If you'd tried out for the Wards as soon as you got your powers, you would've been in with a very strong chance. And we have actually flipped … problematic individuals … in the past, with moderate levels of success."
"So why isn't Armsmaster in here, making the pitch?" Brian sat back in his seat. "What's going on? Politics?" He already knew that it wasn't going to happen, no matter how the subsequent conversation went. There was no way in hell he was going to be a Ward in Brockton Bay.
"Armsmaster isn't in charge of the Brockton Bay Wards," Deputy Director Renick stated. "That duty has fallen to me. And yes, I am making the offer. Also yes, there would be a pro forma trial, but with your history of restraint, a sincere expression of remorse, your evident utility to the team, and a description of your family situation for those of a sentimental bent, you would end up on probation, effectively performing community service via the Wards."
It sounded goddamn tempting, but Brian knew it was never going to happen. Still, he couldn't help asking, like probing a sore tooth with his tongue. "And what about Aisha? If I sign up to be a Ward, what happens to her?"
Renick closed the folder. "We explain to child services that there are special circumstances at play, and she goes into PRT housing along with you. There would a nominal caretaker to watch you both, but we both know that would be a mere formality. You turn eighteen in June, thus ending your time in the Wards and your probation at the same time. At this point, if you opt to go straight into the Protectorate, your pay increases commensurately and you can start taking care of Aisha on your own dime."
"That sounds all very nice," Brian admitted. "But there's no way it's going to work. Sorry."
The Deputy Director frowned, for the first time on the back foot. "Is there a problem I've missed here? You're being offered a free ride out of trouble, young man."
Brian took a deep breath. "Reading between the lines, this is a Brockton Bay only offer. And I can't be a Ward in Brockton Bay, because I don't trust Shadow Stalker not to try to kill me. She's attempted it too many times before." That they'd take her side over his in a he-said-she-said, he assumed by definition. After all, she was already a Ward.
"Ah." Renick blinked. "Well, then, allow me to put your fears at rest. The reason I am pushing this harder than I might otherwise be doing is that Shadow Stalker is no longer among us, and there is more than a little pressure from above to fill that gap. Thus, you and I, in this room."
"No longer … what does that mean?" Brian frowned. "Left the Wards? Transferred to another city?"
Renick grimaced. "She was murdered two days ago. We've been keeping it on the quiet until we could get someone else in."
"Murdered? Who by?" Brian knew better than most just how slippery the crossbow-happy vigilante-turned-Ward could be.
"We suspect Empire involvement, but that's beyond your purview." Once more in charge of the situation, Renick folded his hands in front of him. "So, with that out of the way, what do you say, young man?"
Well, shit. Brian felt all his carefully mustered arguments fading away. Without Shadow Stalker to complicate matters … how could he not take the offer? He looked again at the photo. Aisha was depending on him, after all.
Taking a deep breath, he held out one hand as best he could. "Sir, give that to me in writing and you've got yourself a Ward."
Renick smiled. Leaning across the table, he grasped Brian's hand and shook it firmly. "Excellent."
<><>
Observation Room
Armsmaster
Colin glanced across at Gallant. He'd had his voice-analysis software running while Grue was talking, but it was still only about sixty to seventy percent accurate. Gallant, on the other hand, could literally see emotions. "Your read on that?"
"I didn't pick up any deception or smugness, sir," the lad replied. "He's still coming to terms with the fact that he's been working for Coil, and he's extremely concerned about his sister. If you want my opinion, he doesn't know anything he shouldn't, and he's going to try his best to make this work."
"Good, good." Colin nodded. "That's what I got, too."
<><>
Tattletale
"So, what now?" asked Alec. "No more boss, Brian's behind bars, and you said they'll be hunting us."
"Well, there's nothing keeping me in this shithole of a city anymore," Rachel declared. "Just a few more things to do, then I'm out of here."
"Wait, wait." Lisa felt the last of her old life slipping through her fingers. "Maybe we can spring him loose? I mean, all three of us ..."
Alec shook his head. "Nah, screw that. Even if you could pinpoint which cell he's in, we're on their radar now. They're hunting us specifically, and thanks to that asshole Coil, they've probably got all the details on our powers. Worse, if we get captured and a certain someone finds out, I'm fucked nine ways from Sunday. So, I'm with Rachel. See ya, don't wanna be ya."
"But ..." Lisa sighed, aware that trying to argue with Alec at his most passive-aggressive was about as fruitful as arguing with Rachel at her most stubborn. That is: not very. "Okay, fine, I'm going too. You said you wanted to do something first, Rachel?" Maybe if she assisted her erstwhile teammate, they could stick together until Lisa got her feet under herself somewhere else.
"Yeah." Rachel set her jaw. "Gonna kill Hookwolf before I go. Fucker wants to fight dogs, let's see how he likes it."
"Ah." All of a sudden, solidarity seemed a lot less attractive.
<><>
Kaiser
They convened in his office, at the top of the Medhall building. Even up here, the problems with the breaker boards and fuses were evident; several of the inset fluorescent tubes flickered intermittently, and a few stayed stubbornly dark. Once this Atropos nonsense was dealt with, he decided, he would bring a maintenance crew in to go over the building and fix all the lingering issues. Not until then, of course. It would be all too easy for a stranger to slip into a building that way.
"So, how are we going to do this?" asked Bradley. "Everyone on the inside looking out, or some inside and some outside?"
Krieg rubbed his chin with forefinger and thumb. "We cannot discount the idea that Atropos has Mover, Breaker or Stranger powers. The assassin may be among us before we know it."
"Exactly," agreed Victor. "So, some of us stay with Max and provide personal support, while the rest of us patrol the perimeter." He nodded to Othala. "You stay close to Max, honey, just in case something does get through."
"Should I make him invulnerable?" she asked. "So even if they do get him, it doesn't do anything."
Max fielded that one. "No," he decided. "I'll be in armour, and as skilful as this Atropos has shown themselves to be, they would be able to pick the interval between the effect dropping and you renewing it. Better if you hold back, then apply it if anything unusual seems to be happening."
"Quick question," Stormtiger offered. "Do we want them dead or alive?"
"Dead," Max decided with no hesitation at all. "If they're willing to go into my house and steal my property, they're just as likely to come back and cut my throat if we go easy on them."
Cricket just grinned and cracked her knuckles. Though no words were spoken, the gesture was easy to understand.
There would be no mercy.
<><>
That Afternoon
PRT ENE Building
Director Emily Piggot
Thomas Calvert's body lay on the chilly metal table, his secrets open to the world. The medical examiner had placed a block under his neck so that his head lolled back, exposing the vicious gash that had opened his throat almost to the bone. It might have been Emily's imagination, but it seemed some of the surprise at his sudden death still remained in his expression, even after death.
"As you can undoubtedly understand, the primary cause of death was exsanguination via the wound in the neck," the examiner said in a professorial tone. "All the major blood vessels were severed, along with the windpipe. Even if an ambulance had been waiting outside, he wouldn't have made it to the hospital. In fact, I doubt he would've made it to the sidewalk."
"Yes, yes, it was a spectacularly fatal wound," Emily interrupted, irritated. For all that the medics said it was psychosomatic, she had a vague headache from the interrupted dialysis, and she wasn't about to take any more time-wasting bullshit than she had to. "Why am I here, exactly?"
"The weapon Atropos used to cut his throat had two blades," the examiner explained. "Both sharp, cutting in parallel. It was unusual enough for me to go looking up weird weapons with that kind of damage profile. But even that wouldn't have been enough to talk to you directly … except that I found it."
"What, the type of weapon?" asked Emily, mildly irritated. This could've been handled with an email to her office.
"No." The examiner smiled. "I found the actual weapon. I know what she used, and I know where she got it from."
Emily's eyebrows climbed toward her hairline. You're shitting me, she barely avoided saying. "Explain," she invited instead.
The examiner picked up a tablet and tapped it to wake the screen up. "Medieval bodice shears," she said, showing an image of something that looked like the offspring of a fighting dagger and a pair of scissors on steroids. "Weapon and tool in one. Cut cloth one day; cut your enemy's throat the next. And a pair of these was stolen from a private collection in Brockton Bay yesterday."
"Yesterday?" Emily blinked. "Not that I'm doubting your word, but how did this theft report work its way through the police system in time for us to get access to it today?"
"Well, for one thing, it's down on the report as a parahuman crime." He tapped a few icons and showed her the report. "It came straight to us. Apparently, the thief waltzed straight through a top-of-the-line security system, danced between the security cameras so cleanly that no real details were gained, opened a code-locked display case, and took exactly two items. Some old sword, and that pair of bodice shears. The owner is reportedly livid."
"No surprise there, and I can see why it was reported as a cape heist," Emily said thoughtfully, calling up the image of the weapon again. Atropos … shears … yeah, that definitely fits. Out of curiosity, she flicked back through the report to find the name of the owner, and hid a smirk.
She'd met Max Anders more than once, at high-society functions. It wasn't her cup of tea, although she could wheel and deal with the best of them. On the other hand, it absolutely was Max Anders' chosen element, and he excelled in it.
The first time they met, he'd given her the impression of a spoiled rich kid making it big on inherited money, and she'd never seen fit to revise it. It was unfair of her to draw a certain amount of schadenfreude from his reaction to the theft, and so she didn't. Much.
"Well done," she said warmly. "Be sure to leave a note regarding the sword so we'll be able to identify it if Atropos also uses it in a crime." It wouldn't help the victims, certainly, but as Atropos seemed to be focusing on gang leaders at the moment, her sympathy was somewhat minimal.
Not that she would shirk her duty in trying to catch Atropos. Criminals were criminals, whether they wore costumes or not. Anyone who thought the presence of super-powers changed that particular equation was just deluding themselves.
<><>
Taylor
I'd told Dad I was going to bed early because I was tired, and in fact I did take a nap once I got upstairs. When my phone alarm woke me at ten, the house was dark and silent aside from his gentle snoring, audible from the hallway. I dressed in my costume, all except the hat and mask, and double-checked my special cargo. Both containers were intact—I was pretty sure I would've known if they weren't—and the bag of capsules was present and correct.
When I left the house, armed with the Screwdriver of Car Opening, I went in a different direction, not wanting to use the same car too often. It would be unfair on the poor guy to keep refilling the tank when he hadn't even driven it anywhere. Fortunately, leaving spare keys in the car seemed to be a prevailing habit; in the car I tried this time, they were in the ashtray.
I was fully aware that I could break into any of the houses here and take their actual car keys with nobody being the wiser, but that would be more time-consuming, and I preferred to have as much wiggle room with my Paths as possible.
It appeared Kaiser had something to do with the Medhall building, which meant that Max Anders was probably covering for him. The preparations I'd taken in that building the previous night had been on the elaborate side, but that was the whole point of a magic trick. It was all about deception and misdirection, and my power seemed to be really good at those. Idly, I wondered if the guy who kept fishing gear in his desk would ever notice he was missing a few yards of line. Or the guy whose hobby seemed to be rock climbing.
I pulled up a block away from Medhall, in a quiet side-street where nobody would notice the car for the time being. Then, once I got out, I put on the mask and the hat. It was time to go to work.
<><>
Medhall Building
CEO's Office
Krieg
James Fliescher frowned, wondering if they were missing a bet. He turned to look up at the large clock on the wall of Max's office. It read two minutes to midnight. Outside the windows, Rune swooped past on her latest orbit of the building. If anyone was climbing up the outside, she'd spot them.
"Do you see anything?" he asked Crusader, who was reclining at his ease in one of the padded visitor chairs.
"Nada," the young man replied. "I've got ghosts in every elevator, in every stairwell, and outside with Rune. Nobody's here who shouldn't be. Atropos is probably going after Lung."
"In which case," Max declared, "they will cease to be our problem after tonight. Killing Oni Lee and Coil is considerably less problematic than putting an end to Lung, I think you'll all agree."
Seated at his desk, covered in metal armour from head to toe, he took a bottle from his desk drawer. From the same drawer, he took several glasses.
"Wait, boss," Fenja objected from where she stood alongside the desk. "Where did you get that bottle from?"
"My personal stock, downstairs. Why?" He uncapped the bottle and poured some into a glass. "This is for the toast, after."
"Because the easiest way to kill you right now would be to make you kill yourself." James stepped up to the desk. "Fenja is right. We can't trust anything right now." He glanced over to the clock on the wall; it showed thirty seconds to midnight. "Alabaster?"
"Right here." The white-skinned man left his post at the main door to the office and came on over. Cricket moved to replace him without being told. "Food tasting duty? Let's see how we go."
"Be my guest." Kaiser handed the glass over. "I think you're being a little paranoid, but better safe than sorry, I suppose."
"Down the hatch." Alabaster tossed the drink back, then set the glass down on the desk. "Whoa, that's got some … ugghhh … urgh …" Clutching his throat, he fell to the carpet and writhed for a moment.
Then he reset and sat up. "Wow, that was unpleas—urrghhh …" He grabbed the metal wastepaper basket beside the desk, and threw up copiously into it. Everyone around him stepped back instinctively from the horrible smell. Then he fell over again.
Sitting up for a second time, he swayed woozily, then threw up some more. James could see, to his consternation, how some of the vomit had eaten its way through the side of the receptacle and was busily attacking the carpet.
On the fourth go-around, Alabaster struggled to his feet. "Son of a bitch," he groused, shaking his head and pointing at the bottle. "That stuff is beyond lethal. It's some kind of battery acid. It has to be. Every time I reset, it started attacking me again."
Othala's face was pale. "If you'd drunk that, Max, I doubt I could've saved you."
Kaiser nodded. "You're right." Carefully, he replaced the cap on the bottle. "Take that for analysis. I want to know exactly what Atropos put in it, and where it came from."
"On the upside," James observed, checking the clock once more, "it's ten minutes past midnight. We've dodged the bullet, so to speak. Atropos was clearly depending on a remote kill via the bourbon." He looked at Fenja and inclined his head slightly. "Well done."
"Absolutely well done," agreed Kaiser, retracting his helmet into the rest of his armour. "In fact, well done to everyone. If Atropos was depending on acid to do the job, it means they don't have the wherewithal to fight their way through you to get to me. Call everyone in. We're going downstairs."
"Well, that was easier than I thought." Crusader stood up from his chair and stretched as his ghosts flooded back into the room and re-merged with him. "Think Atropos will try again?"
"Not until word gets out that Max is still alive," James decided. "And if we hold that off for a while, we can contradict word of his death and make Atropos look like a fool."
The window at the side of the room opened and Rune floated in on her manhole cover. "And another win to the Empire Eighty-Eight," she declared. "Imma go on PHO and tell Atropos to go get wrecked." Reaching inside her robes, she pulled her phone out.
"Not until later," Othala said. "We're going to let Atropos make the announcement first."
"Oh, okay." Rune glanced at her phone as she paused with her tapping. "Hey, wait a minute. My phone clock says it's not midnight yet."
Instinctively, James looked across at the office clock. Clear as day, it read eleven minutes past midnight. Nobody there was wearing a watch, of course; supervillain costumes tended to be hard-wearing, and wristwatches were notoriously fragile. Scheißkerl! Atropos set the clock forward—!
That was when the lights went out.
Krieg heard a thump, followed by a more pronounced thud. He turned, eyes straining in the darkness, only to be driven to the ground by a tremendous blow. The lights went out for him again, this time in a far more personal way.
<><>
Alabaster
When the lights came back on, Cricket and Krieg were both sprawled on the floor, and a dark-costumed cape was standing in their midst, just at the point where nobody could reach her immediately. She pointed her finger at Kaiser in a parody of a gun, and said, "Bang."
Then, as everyone began to move, the lights went out again.
<><>
Taylor
The first remote button I pressed triggered the breakers again, deep in the building, turning the lights out. As darkness fell, I was already moving, twisting away from the two Crusader ghosts I knew were lunging for me. Then I threw the paperweight I'd stolen from a lower floor right through one of the ghosts. It slammed into his groin, and he slumped to the floor, his ghosts losing all interest in stopping me. As a continuation of the move, I performed a flawless shoulder-roll past Alabaster and threw a decorative snow-globe to hit Rune in the temple, not quite hard enough to kill her. Then I pressed the second remote button.
Up in the ceiling, the tiny mechanism released one end of the hundred-pound fishing-line it had been gripping in its spring-loaded jaws. The sword dropped down out of the 'malfunctioning' light fitting, popping the cover off, then swung down point-first, suspended on two other lengths of fishing-line. The ceiling was high-set, as befitted a penthouse office, and it had the room to build up quite a bit of forward speed.
As I headed for the open window, I heard the sibilant whistle of nylon line cutting through air, followed by the meaty thud that told me I'd scored my latest kill. It was, of course, exactly midnight.
I pulled out my shears and tossed them up, handles first, to dislodge the ceiling panel next to the window just far enough to allow the rope (that I'd tied up there the previous night) to fall down into my hands. Catching them again, I re-sheathed them and leaped out the window, all in the same motion.
Two floors down, I'd left a window fractionally ajar before I interrupted the self-congratulation party on the top floor; arresting my downward slide, I hit the window with my heels and swung in. Then I tossed the rope back out and closed the window, securing it properly. If anyone wanted to follow me, they'd have to take the long way around, down the stairs.
Reaching into my pocket again, I pressed the two remote buttons that would release and retract the lengths of fishing-line that the sword had swung down on, then the one that would turn the lights on again. The second button on each of those remotes set off the self-destructs, overloading the batteries and demolishing the devices.
There were two more things I needed to do before I went home. Stopping at a cubicle, I picked up the phone and pressed the button to dial out of the building, then called 9-1-1. Ten seconds later, I was speaking to an operator, who wanted to know what I needed.
"Police and, and PRT, I think. I'm, I'm working late in the Medhall building, and I heard some shouting from upstairs. I think Max Anders has been murdered by a cape. You better come quick."
Putting the phone down again, I hummed gently to myself as I made my way down the stairs to the basement-level laboratory. The process I'd set in motion before I came upstairs should've just about finished by now, and I needed to pick up the end result before the PRT arrived and ruined everyone's night.
Lung wouldn't kill himself, after all.
<><>
Fenja
The lights came back on.
"What's going on? Where is she?" Grown to ten feet tall, Jessica Biermann held her shield and sword in front of her while she scanned the room. What she saw wasn't promising; Cricket, Rune, Krieg and Crusader were all down, while Alabaster and Othala were staring around as wildly as she was. How had Atropos done all this in the few seconds of darkness?
Victor and Hookwolf burst in through the office door, with Stormtiger and Nessa right behind them. "What happened?" barked Victor. "What's going on?" Then he stopped and stared at something behind Jessica. "Oh, FUCK."
Slowly, Jessica turned. Beside her, she heard Othala let out an almost soundless whimper.
Kaiser sat bolt upright in his office chair, left eye staring sightlessly, accusingly. From his right eyesocket trickled a line of blood. This was because a sword was sticking into the eyesocket, nailing his head to the back of his chair. He was irretrievably, unequivocally, dead.
How Atropos had done it, Jessica had no idea. But in a sudden epiphany, she realised the truth. They'd been played, the whole time.
We thought we knew what we were doing. But she moved us all into position like chess pieces, then went for the kill.
Well, shit.
End of Part Eight
[A/N: I'm going to be slowing down my output after this chapter, as I have other writing to do. But A Darker Path will be back!]
Relevant Side Story.
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Kaiserfrost
Know what you're doing yet?
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Holy Shit!!! That was a boss move, bro.
Ack
(Verified Ratbag) (Unverified Great Old One)
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Username checks out
But thank you. It took a little working out.
space turtle
Not too sore, are you?
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Y Eight
Well, theoretically they could continue on as still a strong force in the bay.
But with the imminent collapse of medhall and release of identities. Things are not looking good.
I expect gesselschaft to sweep in, extract the choice picks, then get out of dodge.
Ack
(Verified Ratbag) (Unverified Great Old One)
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Plus, he's kind of nailed to the chair.
Yes, yes, it was (hydrofluoric acid, if you were wondering).
And yes, he did.
Yeah, funny thing, that. They don't even know she's made the call. They won't all be captured, but it won't be a good time for them.
GasperVladi0
(Confirmed Nurgle Cultist)
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Every chapter this gets better and more satisfying.
Gaemnomut
Well worn.
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Aaaamazing.
Just one note, hydroflouride acid disolves glass afaik. If Kaiser stored his celebratory drinks in plastic bottles he does indeed deserve everything he's gotten XD
Ack
(Verified Ratbag) (Unverified Great Old One)
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Hmm. Maybe it was antimony trifluoride instead. Whichever of those doesn't eat glass.
FictionPack
Getting sticky.
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How do you kill a kaiser? Poison or stab them, ofcourse!
So has anyone bothered to tell Skidmark yet? Lung is next in line and he needs to know before the last day starts.
So has anyone bothered to tell Skidmark yet? Lung is next in line and he needs to know before the last day starts.
Impartial Panic
I trust you know where the happy button is?
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you know either he's still out cold, tripping balls or he actually left town and no one knows yet.
Hell I'd laugh if Skidmark proved to be the smart one of the gang leaders.
Fuck this shit Imma going to move shop to detroit where it's safe for honest drug dealers.
Drkonecharlie
A person probably
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You know what would be funnier than that if he doesn't find out but still leaves just "I've got a bad feeling the drugs they speak to me we gotta go to Detroit" bonus laughs if he left before the first post
space turtle
Not too sore, are you?
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Or Skid picks an inopportune time to die from an OD at midnight and even ziz is like "how tf did she even do that one?!"
Part Nine: Killing Time
Ack
(Verified Ratbag) (Unverified Great Old One)
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A Darker Path
Part Nine: Killing Time
[A/N: this chapter beta-read by Lady Columbine of Mystal.]
Thursday, January 6, 2011
Just After Midnight
Medhall Building
Taylor
Down in the sub-level laboratory, I collected the finished capsules, sliding them into the padded slots in the container I'd prepped. Far more than anything else I'd stolen, these required careful handling. If they hadn't been part of the path for killing Lung and ending the influence of the ABB in Brockton Bay, I wouldn't have gone near them.
Fortunately, it was, so I could proceed.
There was one more capsule than spaces in the container, but that was all part of the plan. Quite a bit of the laboratory equipment was already damaged from the uses I'd put it through; it really wasn't rated for this sort of work, but it had been just good enough to get it done. On my way out, I tossed a cup of water over the equipment that hadn't suffered so badly, then threw the last capsule across the room at it.
With a WHOOMPH, flames and toxic smoke billowed. I didn't stop to savour the destruction; the exit was right there, and I went out through it.
Thanks to my prior sabotage, the alarm went out via an automated 9-1-1 call, but didn't actually trigger the building alarms. I wanted the authorities on the way before anyone could act to cover anything up. And if I made this laboratory unusable for the next few months due to chemical contamination? So totally not my problem.
With the container securely in hand and the fireproof (and airtight) door shut firmly behind me, I hustled up the fire exit stairwell to ground level. I had to wait a few seconds until a bunch of PRT vans roared past to pull up with a screech just around the corner, but while someone was still yelling about setting up a perimeter, I was able to duck out through the door and across the narrow street to the shadows opposite. Two blocks of brisk walking got me back to the car without being intercepted; I unlocked it and climbed in.
But I didn't head home just yet. I had one more visit to make tonight.
PRT ENE
Director Emily Piggot
Emily's phone rang. She snatched it up, trying to ignore the slight ache behind her eyeballs that was an indicator of pushing herself too hard. The caller ID said ARMSMASTER.
"Talk to me," she ordered.
"Ma'am, it's a mess here. We've had to direct emergency services to that chemical fire in the sub-basement lab—that isn't on the official plans, by the way—and Max Anders is definitely deceased. Wearing a set of Kaiser's usual armour. Right now, I'm giving it an eighty percent chance that he's actually Kaiser, contingent on what we get out of his computer files. When we get into his files. The encryption is ... stubborn."
"Wait, go back." Emily rubbed her eyes. She was going to crash hard after this. Renick would have to take most of her workload for the day. But she wasn't going to allow the outcome of this operation to rest on anyone's shoulders but hers. "Deceased? How?"
Somehow, she heard the grimace in his voice. "Stabbed in the eye by a sword. Looks like an antique. In through his right eye with enough force to punch out through the back of his head and into the headrest of his chair."
"A sword, you say ..." Emily turned to her computer, and pulled up an image she'd emailed to herself. "Something like this one?" With a few more keystrokes, she sent the image on to him.
He paused for more than the few seconds it would've taken to download the image and look it over. "Not just like that one. It is that one. Where did you get that from, ma'am?"
Emily smiled in sour triumph. Called it. "It's a katzbalger. German infantry sword from a few centuries back. That specific one was once owned by Kaiser Wilhelm the First ... and was stolen from Max Anders' private collection, thirty-six hours ago, along with the bodice shears she used to murder Coil."
"So Atropos knew who Kaiser was all along, and stole his sword specifically to kill him with it."
"That's what it looks like, yes." Emily shuddered. That was far too cold and calculated for her liking. "Did she leave anything we can identify her by?"
"Not that we've found so far. The phone call was almost certainly placed by her—there was nobody working on that floor at that time—and I'm reasonably sure she set the fire in the sub-basement lab. She cut it so close that we've got security footage of her slipping out through a side door less than a minute before we established a cordon around the building."
Emily gritted her teeth. God damn it. So close. Though in honesty, Atropos had probably planned for that as well. "Keep me posted if anything else pops up."
"Copy that, ma'am."
Purity
It was the middle of the night, and Aster was fussing and crying.
Even though Kayden had had trouble getting to sleep the previous evening—the news about this Atropos cape having percolated through the parahuman community with almost supernatural speed—she dragged herself back to a semblance of wakefulness anyway. Forcing herself to sit up and swing her feet onto the floor, she rubbed her eyes and stared across the darkened bedroom at the crib where Aster lay. "Sshhh," she mumbled. "Shush, darling. Go back to sleep. Mommy's tired."
The distressed noises continued unabated.
She'd known there would be nights like this, and in fact she'd spent more time with less sleep before now rocking Aster back to slumber, but right now felt the worst of all. It always did. With the groan of someone who felt fifty years older than she really was, she levered herself to her feet and stumbled forward. Turning on the light was never in the plan; she knew where the crib was, and she could always find Aster by sound and touch.
When she reached the crib, she leaned in and gathered up Aster with the ease of long practice … but there was something wrong. Far from the wakeful, fussy wriggling infant she expected, Aster was sleeping peacefully, burbling gently in Kayden's arms. The noise of a fitfully crying baby went on … but it wasn't coming from Aster.
A shadow by the bedroom door that Kayden hadn't so much as glanced at now moved, and the light switch clicked. Illumination flooded the room, revealing a dark-clad figure, taller than Kayden. A broad-brimmed black hat shaded the black morph mask, making it even harder to make out any features through it, while a black long-coat hung partly open to show a suit and tie.
"Easy, Purity," said the intruder, the voice revealing her to be a teenage girl. Her black-gloved hands were out to her sides. "Not here to fight. Just to talk."
Kayden tightened her hold on Aster and moved back, sidling around the bed to put her back to the wall and as much distance as possible between herself and the girl. "Who are you and what do you want?"
She was fully aware that her position right now was exceedingly vulnerable. Even if she freed one hand to fire a blast at the intruder, she'd need to power up first, something that was the exact opposite of subtle. And even then, once she was powered up, she'd need a moment to charge the blast. Somehow, she didn't think she'd get that moment. Especially since she could see both an ornately designed dagger sheathed at the intruder's side and leather straps that said 'shoulder holster' to her.
Slowly, the girl twitched the fingers on her left hand. Between one instant and the next, she held a small electronic device with a green button on it. Her thumb pressed down, and the crying noise ceased. Another flick of the fingers and it was gone again. At no time did her attention leave Kayden while she was doing this.
"You can call me Atropos," the girl said, lowering her arms to her sides. "I'm here to give you notice that you've got exactly thirty minutes to be packed and heading for the city limits."
Kayden's head was awhirl. "What do you mean? Why do I need to do that?"
Atropos' tone became crisp and no-nonsense. "Fourteen and a half minutes ago, I killed Kaiser in the Medhall building. The Empire Eighty-Eight is crumbling as we speak. Its capes are leaving town. You'd best be one of them."
Kayden blinked. "I … you … what? Why?" Max is dead? This girl killed him? She supposed she should be outraged at this, though some small part of her pointed out that the hold he'd had over her via Aster was no longer in existence.
"Because in the next few minutes, the PRT is going to decide that yes, Max Anders was indeed Kaiser," the girl said patiently. "At which point, some bright spark is going to say, oh, hey, how about we bring in his ex-wife and see if she can fill in any blanks." She glanced meaningfully at Kayden's alarm clock. "About forty minutes from now, your front door is going to be kicked in."
"And I'll deny everything," Kayden said automatically. "Being married to the man doesn't by definition make me a supervillain, or even an accomplice."
"No, but the files they'll find once they crack his computer system will tell them all about you." Atropos sounded as though she had no doubt in the world. "You don't want to be in their custody when that happens."
No, I don't. Because they'll try to take Aster away from me, and I won't let them. She's saying that if I stay, she'll have to kill me. She began glancing around the bedroom, deciding what to take and what to leave. "Why are you warning me?"
"Because I gave Kaiser the chance to leave town before I killed him." The tone of absolute surety in the girl's voice chilled Kayden to the bone. "It would be unfair not to do the same with you."
"But—I was trying to be a hero!"
Atropos' shrug communicated pure unconcern. "Then go be a hero somewhere else. Reinvent yourself from scratch this time. Your welcome's run out in Brockton Bay. You now have twenty-five minutes. I'd say, 'good luck', but that's up to you." With that, the girl slipped out of the room and melted into the darkness of the living room outside.
By the time Kayden made her feet move, she rushed to the door to find no one in the apartment.
Returning to the bedroom and setting Aster back down in the crib, she began to feverishly pack.
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♦ Topic: And Another One Bites the Dust
In: Boards ► Brockton Bay ► New Capes ► Atropos
Atropos (Original Poster) (Banned) (You Wish) (UnVerified Cape) (Can Actually Kill Anything) (Yes, Really) (Watch Me)
Posted On Jan 6th 2011:
Good morning once more to you wonderful people of Brockton Bay. It's a lovely morning, or it will be once the sun rises and the seagulls stop squinting. I'm here to inform you that number two on my list, the one and only Kaiser, has been removed from said list, on account of being dead. He's dead because I stuck a sword through his head.
Why, yes, the purveyor of metal spikes has been killed with a pointy metal thing. The irony is intense.
You want to know what makes it even more ironic than that? I did it with his own sword. A blade that was owned by a Kaiser has been used to kill its current owner, another Kaiser.
Well, I guess there's more than one way to skin a cat.
Heh.
Trust me, you'll get the joke eventually.
Anyways, that's two down and two to go. Skidmark and Lung, Lung and Skidmark. Do I go for the low-hanging fruit, or do I kill Skidmark first?
Decisions, decisions.
Medhall Building
Armsmaster
The alert buzzed in Colin's helmet, and he accepted the incoming phone call. "Armsmaster. What is it, Dragon?"
The Canadian Tinker sounded as though she wasn't quite sure about what she was saying, which was a first for her. "Colin, have you been keeping an eye on PHO? Specifically, Atropos' thread?"
He frowned. From the tone of her voice, he'd missed something important. "No. Why?"
"She just posted a list of what she claims to be his computer passwords, in the clear."
"Jesus. Thanks." He opened a new window immediately, and tabbed into PHO. Seconds later, he was reading off the passwords. "If these work, this'll be gold." The standalone systems were proving tough to crack.
She chuckled. "You're welcome."
Taylor
I awoke the next morning and stretched mightily, feeling my back pop in several places. It was looking like a great day, for all that it was the middle of winter.
Just killing Kaiser on his own would've been easy, but I'd wanted to end the Empire Eighty-Eight's hold on the city at the same time. I'd also wanted to make Kaiser's death a fitting one; he'd been a power in the city since I was five or six, after all. People needed to know he was dead.
The elaborate way I'd killed him had thus served a secondary purpose. All the other capes, the ones who I would've had to hunt down and kill one after another as they ascended to the leadership of the Empire Eighty-Eight or successor teams, were now thoroughly demoralised. It didn't matter that the PRT techs currently going through the building with a fine-tooth comb would eventually figure out how I'd done it; they weren't my targets. In one fell swoop, I'd taken eleven capes off the board.
Not that I couldn't have killed the other ten; that was a given. But merely murdering them would've been tedious and time-consuming. In addition, once the PRT took Aster away from Purity and she started demolishing the city block by block looking for her daughter, that would've reflected badly on my efforts. Much better for all concerned if I directed her away and gave the authorities no excuse to stand in my way.
They'd lose, of course. But see above about 'tedious'.
I got up and showered, then strolled downstairs to breakfast. If I killed Lung tonight and Skidmark on Friday night—or even in reverse order—that would allow me the weekend to consider my next list and plan proper kills on whoever continued to hold out. There was no sense in rushing matters.
It wasn't as though I got any kind of sick pleasure out of killing people, or that I was even compelled to. However, these people were indisputably a blight on Brockton Bay, and the cops and PRT were doing nothing about it. I could. It was simple as that.
As I accepted eggs and bacon from Dad, I considered how I'd killed Sophia. Had she been a blight on Brockton Bay? Well, apart from being a really shitty Ward, probably not. But she'd been a personal blight on my life, and that was close enough for me. I'd given her the same chance I gave Emma and Madison. They'd taken it; she hadn't. That was on her.
"Still thinking about that girl from Winslow, the one who bullied you?" asked Dad, looking at me with a little concern. "Or are some of the others still bothering you?"
I snorted. "No. I think they're in shock. It was all going so well for them, y'know? They had nice safe targets to pick on, and then something like this happened, and Sophia's not there to be their point, uh, person anymore. Nobody else wants to step up unless they make a bad call too." I rolled my eyes. "Welcome to the real world."
It was slightly more complicated than that. Madison was utterly convinced that I could kill her at any moment (which was true), and I was pretty sure I'd accomplished much the same with Emma. Between them, they'd spread the word that I was not to be messed with. Sophia had set out to mess with me, and was now dead.
From what I could gather from eavesdropping on gossip, opinions were split between the idea that Sophia had taken on someone else in my place and gotten killed, or she'd attacked me personally and I'd accidentally killed her and walked away without a scratch. What I did know was that nobody was seriously considering turning me in for killing her.
Either way, the 'do not mess with Taylor' mutual agreement was solidly in place, which was convenient. More mysterious deaths at Winslow would seriously cramp my cover as an innocent student there.
"I suppose you're right," he said in the way that adults do when they're not sure how to address a sensitive topic anymore. "The police haven't called back, so I'm guessing they're satisfied with what they got from us."
I nodded. "Sounds like it. Maybe they'll catch whoever did it, and maybe not." The answer, of course, was 'not'.
I applied myself to my breakfast. Soon I'd have to go catch the bus to school, but that was okay. I knew many ways to kill boredom now, some of which didn't involve drawing untoward attention.
And a few hours after that, I could set about making Brockton Bay a better place.
One drop of blood at a time.
End of Part Nine
Relevant Side Story
Part Nine: Killing Time
[A/N: this chapter beta-read by Lady Columbine of Mystal.]
Thursday, January 6, 2011
Just After Midnight
Medhall Building
Taylor
Down in the sub-level laboratory, I collected the finished capsules, sliding them into the padded slots in the container I'd prepped. Far more than anything else I'd stolen, these required careful handling. If they hadn't been part of the path for killing Lung and ending the influence of the ABB in Brockton Bay, I wouldn't have gone near them.
Fortunately, it was, so I could proceed.
There was one more capsule than spaces in the container, but that was all part of the plan. Quite a bit of the laboratory equipment was already damaged from the uses I'd put it through; it really wasn't rated for this sort of work, but it had been just good enough to get it done. On my way out, I tossed a cup of water over the equipment that hadn't suffered so badly, then threw the last capsule across the room at it.
With a WHOOMPH, flames and toxic smoke billowed. I didn't stop to savour the destruction; the exit was right there, and I went out through it.
Thanks to my prior sabotage, the alarm went out via an automated 9-1-1 call, but didn't actually trigger the building alarms. I wanted the authorities on the way before anyone could act to cover anything up. And if I made this laboratory unusable for the next few months due to chemical contamination? So totally not my problem.
With the container securely in hand and the fireproof (and airtight) door shut firmly behind me, I hustled up the fire exit stairwell to ground level. I had to wait a few seconds until a bunch of PRT vans roared past to pull up with a screech just around the corner, but while someone was still yelling about setting up a perimeter, I was able to duck out through the door and across the narrow street to the shadows opposite. Two blocks of brisk walking got me back to the car without being intercepted; I unlocked it and climbed in.
But I didn't head home just yet. I had one more visit to make tonight.
<><>
PRT ENE
Director Emily Piggot
Emily's phone rang. She snatched it up, trying to ignore the slight ache behind her eyeballs that was an indicator of pushing herself too hard. The caller ID said ARMSMASTER.
"Talk to me," she ordered.
"Ma'am, it's a mess here. We've had to direct emergency services to that chemical fire in the sub-basement lab—that isn't on the official plans, by the way—and Max Anders is definitely deceased. Wearing a set of Kaiser's usual armour. Right now, I'm giving it an eighty percent chance that he's actually Kaiser, contingent on what we get out of his computer files. When we get into his files. The encryption is ... stubborn."
"Wait, go back." Emily rubbed her eyes. She was going to crash hard after this. Renick would have to take most of her workload for the day. But she wasn't going to allow the outcome of this operation to rest on anyone's shoulders but hers. "Deceased? How?"
Somehow, she heard the grimace in his voice. "Stabbed in the eye by a sword. Looks like an antique. In through his right eye with enough force to punch out through the back of his head and into the headrest of his chair."
"A sword, you say ..." Emily turned to her computer, and pulled up an image she'd emailed to herself. "Something like this one?" With a few more keystrokes, she sent the image on to him.
He paused for more than the few seconds it would've taken to download the image and look it over. "Not just like that one. It is that one. Where did you get that from, ma'am?"
Emily smiled in sour triumph. Called it. "It's a katzbalger. German infantry sword from a few centuries back. That specific one was once owned by Kaiser Wilhelm the First ... and was stolen from Max Anders' private collection, thirty-six hours ago, along with the bodice shears she used to murder Coil."
"So Atropos knew who Kaiser was all along, and stole his sword specifically to kill him with it."
"That's what it looks like, yes." Emily shuddered. That was far too cold and calculated for her liking. "Did she leave anything we can identify her by?"
"Not that we've found so far. The phone call was almost certainly placed by her—there was nobody working on that floor at that time—and I'm reasonably sure she set the fire in the sub-basement lab. She cut it so close that we've got security footage of her slipping out through a side door less than a minute before we established a cordon around the building."
Emily gritted her teeth. God damn it. So close. Though in honesty, Atropos had probably planned for that as well. "Keep me posted if anything else pops up."
"Copy that, ma'am."
<><>
Purity
It was the middle of the night, and Aster was fussing and crying.
Even though Kayden had had trouble getting to sleep the previous evening—the news about this Atropos cape having percolated through the parahuman community with almost supernatural speed—she dragged herself back to a semblance of wakefulness anyway. Forcing herself to sit up and swing her feet onto the floor, she rubbed her eyes and stared across the darkened bedroom at the crib where Aster lay. "Sshhh," she mumbled. "Shush, darling. Go back to sleep. Mommy's tired."
The distressed noises continued unabated.
She'd known there would be nights like this, and in fact she'd spent more time with less sleep before now rocking Aster back to slumber, but right now felt the worst of all. It always did. With the groan of someone who felt fifty years older than she really was, she levered herself to her feet and stumbled forward. Turning on the light was never in the plan; she knew where the crib was, and she could always find Aster by sound and touch.
When she reached the crib, she leaned in and gathered up Aster with the ease of long practice … but there was something wrong. Far from the wakeful, fussy wriggling infant she expected, Aster was sleeping peacefully, burbling gently in Kayden's arms. The noise of a fitfully crying baby went on … but it wasn't coming from Aster.
A shadow by the bedroom door that Kayden hadn't so much as glanced at now moved, and the light switch clicked. Illumination flooded the room, revealing a dark-clad figure, taller than Kayden. A broad-brimmed black hat shaded the black morph mask, making it even harder to make out any features through it, while a black long-coat hung partly open to show a suit and tie.
"Easy, Purity," said the intruder, the voice revealing her to be a teenage girl. Her black-gloved hands were out to her sides. "Not here to fight. Just to talk."
Kayden tightened her hold on Aster and moved back, sidling around the bed to put her back to the wall and as much distance as possible between herself and the girl. "Who are you and what do you want?"
She was fully aware that her position right now was exceedingly vulnerable. Even if she freed one hand to fire a blast at the intruder, she'd need to power up first, something that was the exact opposite of subtle. And even then, once she was powered up, she'd need a moment to charge the blast. Somehow, she didn't think she'd get that moment. Especially since she could see both an ornately designed dagger sheathed at the intruder's side and leather straps that said 'shoulder holster' to her.
Slowly, the girl twitched the fingers on her left hand. Between one instant and the next, she held a small electronic device with a green button on it. Her thumb pressed down, and the crying noise ceased. Another flick of the fingers and it was gone again. At no time did her attention leave Kayden while she was doing this.
"You can call me Atropos," the girl said, lowering her arms to her sides. "I'm here to give you notice that you've got exactly thirty minutes to be packed and heading for the city limits."
Kayden's head was awhirl. "What do you mean? Why do I need to do that?"
Atropos' tone became crisp and no-nonsense. "Fourteen and a half minutes ago, I killed Kaiser in the Medhall building. The Empire Eighty-Eight is crumbling as we speak. Its capes are leaving town. You'd best be one of them."
Kayden blinked. "I … you … what? Why?" Max is dead? This girl killed him? She supposed she should be outraged at this, though some small part of her pointed out that the hold he'd had over her via Aster was no longer in existence.
"Because in the next few minutes, the PRT is going to decide that yes, Max Anders was indeed Kaiser," the girl said patiently. "At which point, some bright spark is going to say, oh, hey, how about we bring in his ex-wife and see if she can fill in any blanks." She glanced meaningfully at Kayden's alarm clock. "About forty minutes from now, your front door is going to be kicked in."
"And I'll deny everything," Kayden said automatically. "Being married to the man doesn't by definition make me a supervillain, or even an accomplice."
"No, but the files they'll find once they crack his computer system will tell them all about you." Atropos sounded as though she had no doubt in the world. "You don't want to be in their custody when that happens."
No, I don't. Because they'll try to take Aster away from me, and I won't let them. She's saying that if I stay, she'll have to kill me. She began glancing around the bedroom, deciding what to take and what to leave. "Why are you warning me?"
"Because I gave Kaiser the chance to leave town before I killed him." The tone of absolute surety in the girl's voice chilled Kayden to the bone. "It would be unfair not to do the same with you."
"But—I was trying to be a hero!"
Atropos' shrug communicated pure unconcern. "Then go be a hero somewhere else. Reinvent yourself from scratch this time. Your welcome's run out in Brockton Bay. You now have twenty-five minutes. I'd say, 'good luck', but that's up to you." With that, the girl slipped out of the room and melted into the darkness of the living room outside.
By the time Kayden made her feet move, she rushed to the door to find no one in the apartment.
Returning to the bedroom and setting Aster back down in the crib, she began to feverishly pack.
<><>
■
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■
♦ Topic: And Another One Bites the Dust
In: Boards ► Brockton Bay ► New Capes ► Atropos
Atropos (Original Poster) (
Posted On Jan 6th 2011:
Good morning once more to you wonderful people of Brockton Bay. It's a lovely morning, or it will be once the sun rises and the seagulls stop squinting. I'm here to inform you that number two on my list, the one and only Kaiser, has been removed from said list, on account of being dead. He's dead because I stuck a sword through his head.
Why, yes, the purveyor of metal spikes has been killed with a pointy metal thing. The irony is intense.
You want to know what makes it even more ironic than that? I did it with his own sword. A blade that was owned by a Kaiser has been used to kill its current owner, another Kaiser.
Well, I guess there's more than one way to skin a cat.
Heh.
Trust me, you'll get the joke eventually.
Anyways, that's two down and two to go. Skidmark and Lung, Lung and Skidmark. Do I go for the low-hanging fruit, or do I kill Skidmark first?
Decisions, decisions.
(Showing page 1 of 10)►Wherewolf (Temp Banned)
Replied On Jan 6th 2011:
Yes! I just won twenty bucks, baby!
Anyone want to take odds on Lung being the next one?
►TeamMom (Senior Moderator)
Replied On Jan 6th 2011:
@Wherewolf - have a temp ban. No gambling allowed regarding actual human lives.
►Pureblood01011000 (Empire88Bootlicker)
Replied On Jan 6th 2011:
No. I refuse to believe it. There is no way Kaiser can be taken down by a pretender in a long-coat. You'll see. You'll all see.
►Reave (Verified PRT Agent)
Replied On Jan 6th 2011:
Okay, to get this out of the way and deal with the he-said-she-said before it starts:
It appears that Kaiser may indeed be deceased. The PRT was notified by a phone call to attend a specific address at midnight, where we found someone dressed in Kaiser's trademark armor. As per Atropos' description, this person had indeed been killed with a sword.
We are currently following up on other leads to determine whether or not this is truly Kaiser, but current indications show a good chance of it actually being the case.
More information will be released if and when we deem it necessary.
►Atropos (Original Poster) (Banned) (You Wish) (UnVerified Cape) (Can Actually Kill Anything) (Yes, Really) (Watch Me)
Replied On Jan 6th 2011:
Oh, it's Kaiser alright. Have you found the secret elevator behind his desk yet? Goes all the way down to a sub-basement he wouldn't have wanted you to know about. Also, his main four computer passwords are 7653jWxz, fGg6d54p, 49zKr73q and 37zG8sTc. Just so you know.
(What did you expect? 'Hitler for President 2012'?)
Anyways, the rest of the 88 capes are bugging out for parts unknown. Smart. They know that once I finish running through the current list, they're next.
Toodles!
►Flagwaver
Replied On Jan 6th 2011:
So that's two down, and two more to go. I wonder how Atropos is going to kill Lung?
►LockupLad
Replied On Jan 6th 2011:
This is getting good. Goddamn.
►AlexandriaFan
Replied On Jan 6th 2011:
Well, that's Oni Lee, Coil and Kaiser terminated.
Wonder who's next?
►Doomlord
Replied On Jan 6th 2011:
That's damn cool.
Nazis have screwed this city up so hard, it's nice to see when one goes down.
End of Page. 1, 2, 3 ... 8, 9, 10Replied On Jan 6th 2011:
Yes! I just won twenty bucks, baby!
Anyone want to take odds on Lung being the next one?
►TeamMom (Senior Moderator)
Replied On Jan 6th 2011:
@Wherewolf - have a temp ban. No gambling allowed regarding actual human lives.
►Pureblood01011000 (Empire88Bootlicker)
Replied On Jan 6th 2011:
No. I refuse to believe it. There is no way Kaiser can be taken down by a pretender in a long-coat. You'll see. You'll all see.
►Reave (Verified PRT Agent)
Replied On Jan 6th 2011:
Okay, to get this out of the way and deal with the he-said-she-said before it starts:
It appears that Kaiser may indeed be deceased. The PRT was notified by a phone call to attend a specific address at midnight, where we found someone dressed in Kaiser's trademark armor. As per Atropos' description, this person had indeed been killed with a sword.
We are currently following up on other leads to determine whether or not this is truly Kaiser, but current indications show a good chance of it actually being the case.
More information will be released if and when we deem it necessary.
►Atropos (Original Poster) (
Replied On Jan 6th 2011:
Oh, it's Kaiser alright. Have you found the secret elevator behind his desk yet? Goes all the way down to a sub-basement he wouldn't have wanted you to know about. Also, his main four computer passwords are 7653jWxz, fGg6d54p, 49zKr73q and 37zG8sTc. Just so you know.
(What did you expect? 'Hitler for President 2012'?)
Anyways, the rest of the 88 capes are bugging out for parts unknown. Smart. They know that once I finish running through the current list, they're next.
Toodles!
►Flagwaver
Replied On Jan 6th 2011:
So that's two down, and two more to go. I wonder how Atropos is going to kill Lung?
►LockupLad
Replied On Jan 6th 2011:
This is getting good. Goddamn.
►AlexandriaFan
Replied On Jan 6th 2011:
Well, that's Oni Lee, Coil and Kaiser terminated.
Wonder who's next?
►Doomlord
Replied On Jan 6th 2011:
That's damn cool.
Nazis have screwed this city up so hard, it's nice to see when one goes down.
(Showing page 2 of 10)►Pureblood01011000 (Empire88Bootlicker)
Replied On Jan 6th 2011:
Watch your mouth! Kaiser's alive! You'll see!
►LaughingZander
Replied On Jan 6th 2011:
A Nazi is dead, and nothing of value is lost.
@PureBlood01011000 - keep licking that boot.
►Yan (Lung's Other Special Little Friend)
Replied On Jan 6th 2011:
@Flagwaver - keep dissing Lung and see what you get.
►Yan (Lung's Other Special Little Friend)
Replied On Jan 6th 2011:
No! No! Remove that tag at once! He'll KILL me!
►Atropos (Original Poster) (Banned) (You Wish) (UnVerified Cape) (Can Actually Kill Anything) (Yes, Really) (Watch Me)
Replied On Jan 6th 2011:
Whoopsie ...
►Pureblood01011000 (Empire88Bootlicker)
Replied On Jan 6th 2011:
@LaughingZander - there's something you don't understand. Something none of you understand. The Empire Eighty-Eight is the largest and longest-lasting cape team in the city. We've been here longer than New Wave, longer than the Asian Bum Boys, longer than the PRT and Protectorate. We outlasted Galvanate, Marquis, the Teeth and Coil. And we'll outlast everyone else. Keep pushing and you'll find out why.
►LaughingZander
Replied On Jan 6th 2011:
@PureBlood01011000 - Big words for someone who'll never have to actually do anything about them.
►UnconcernedFox
Replied On Jan 6th 2011:
<reaches for more popcorn>
►GrandMeister (Verified Cape) (Verified Empire 88 Member) (Actually Victor)
Replied on Jan 6th 2011:
(sigh)
I didn't want to have to do this.
To the unpowered members of the Empire Eighty-Eight:
Kaiser is dead.
I saw his corpse.
We thank you for your loyalty through thick and thin, but the Empire Eighty-Eight is hereby dissolved. The capes are leaving town before we end up on Atropos' list.
Why, you ask? Surely you're strong enough to stand up before one person?
I thought so. I was certain my grasp of strategy and tactics would allow me to outmaneuver a single cape. We made our plans and carried them out ... and played straight into her hands.
The building was secure, or so we thought. A flicker of the lights, and she stood among the capes guarding him, two of our number down already. She pointed her finger at Kaiser. Another flicker of the lights, and she had vanished. Two more of us were unconscious, and I came in to find Kaiser dead with a sword rammed through his eye and out the back of his head.
Not one of us could do a damn thing about it.
So yes, we are leaving before we are faced with the unpalatable (and inevitable) choice of dying or surrendering to the PRT. You may carry on, or not, as you wish.
To the other villains of Brockton Bay:
If you are on her list, leave. If you are not on her list, make preparations to leave.
Except for Lung. You can take her. I have faith in you.
Empire Eighty-Eight ... out.
►RunawayTwin
Replied On Jan 6th 2011:
Dang. A sword through the eye? Looks like he did Nazi that coming.
(I regret nothing).
End of Page. 1, 2, 3, 4 ... 8, 9, 10Replied On Jan 6th 2011:
Watch your mouth! Kaiser's alive! You'll see!
►LaughingZander
Replied On Jan 6th 2011:
A Nazi is dead, and nothing of value is lost.
@PureBlood01011000 - keep licking that boot.
►Yan (Lung's Other Special Little Friend)
Replied On Jan 6th 2011:
@Flagwaver - keep dissing Lung and see what you get.
►Yan (Lung's Other Special Little Friend)
Replied On Jan 6th 2011:
No! No! Remove that tag at once! He'll KILL me!
►Atropos (Original Poster) (
Replied On Jan 6th 2011:
Whoopsie ...
►Pureblood01011000 (Empire88Bootlicker)
Replied On Jan 6th 2011:
@LaughingZander - there's something you don't understand. Something none of you understand. The Empire Eighty-Eight is the largest and longest-lasting cape team in the city. We've been here longer than New Wave, longer than the Asian Bum Boys, longer than the PRT and Protectorate. We outlasted Galvanate, Marquis, the Teeth and Coil. And we'll outlast everyone else. Keep pushing and you'll find out why.
►LaughingZander
Replied On Jan 6th 2011:
@PureBlood01011000 - Big words for someone who'll never have to actually do anything about them.
►UnconcernedFox
Replied On Jan 6th 2011:
<reaches for more popcorn>
►GrandMeister (Verified Cape) (Verified Empire 88 Member) (Actually Victor)
Replied on Jan 6th 2011:
(sigh)
I didn't want to have to do this.
To the unpowered members of the Empire Eighty-Eight:
Kaiser is dead.
I saw his corpse.
We thank you for your loyalty through thick and thin, but the Empire Eighty-Eight is hereby dissolved. The capes are leaving town before we end up on Atropos' list.
Why, you ask? Surely you're strong enough to stand up before one person?
I thought so. I was certain my grasp of strategy and tactics would allow me to outmaneuver a single cape. We made our plans and carried them out ... and played straight into her hands.
The building was secure, or so we thought. A flicker of the lights, and she stood among the capes guarding him, two of our number down already. She pointed her finger at Kaiser. Another flicker of the lights, and she had vanished. Two more of us were unconscious, and I came in to find Kaiser dead with a sword rammed through his eye and out the back of his head.
Not one of us could do a damn thing about it.
So yes, we are leaving before we are faced with the unpalatable (and inevitable) choice of dying or surrendering to the PRT. You may carry on, or not, as you wish.
To the other villains of Brockton Bay:
If you are on her list, leave. If you are not on her list, make preparations to leave.
Except for Lung. You can take her. I have faith in you.
Empire Eighty-Eight ... out.
►RunawayTwin
Replied On Jan 6th 2011:
Dang. A sword through the eye? Looks like he did Nazi that coming.
(I regret nothing).
■
<><>
<><>
Medhall Building
Armsmaster
The alert buzzed in Colin's helmet, and he accepted the incoming phone call. "Armsmaster. What is it, Dragon?"
The Canadian Tinker sounded as though she wasn't quite sure about what she was saying, which was a first for her. "Colin, have you been keeping an eye on PHO? Specifically, Atropos' thread?"
He frowned. From the tone of her voice, he'd missed something important. "No. Why?"
"She just posted a list of what she claims to be his computer passwords, in the clear."
"Jesus. Thanks." He opened a new window immediately, and tabbed into PHO. Seconds later, he was reading off the passwords. "If these work, this'll be gold." The standalone systems were proving tough to crack.
She chuckled. "You're welcome."
<><>
Taylor
I awoke the next morning and stretched mightily, feeling my back pop in several places. It was looking like a great day, for all that it was the middle of winter.
Just killing Kaiser on his own would've been easy, but I'd wanted to end the Empire Eighty-Eight's hold on the city at the same time. I'd also wanted to make Kaiser's death a fitting one; he'd been a power in the city since I was five or six, after all. People needed to know he was dead.
The elaborate way I'd killed him had thus served a secondary purpose. All the other capes, the ones who I would've had to hunt down and kill one after another as they ascended to the leadership of the Empire Eighty-Eight or successor teams, were now thoroughly demoralised. It didn't matter that the PRT techs currently going through the building with a fine-tooth comb would eventually figure out how I'd done it; they weren't my targets. In one fell swoop, I'd taken eleven capes off the board.
Not that I couldn't have killed the other ten; that was a given. But merely murdering them would've been tedious and time-consuming. In addition, once the PRT took Aster away from Purity and she started demolishing the city block by block looking for her daughter, that would've reflected badly on my efforts. Much better for all concerned if I directed her away and gave the authorities no excuse to stand in my way.
They'd lose, of course. But see above about 'tedious'.
I got up and showered, then strolled downstairs to breakfast. If I killed Lung tonight and Skidmark on Friday night—or even in reverse order—that would allow me the weekend to consider my next list and plan proper kills on whoever continued to hold out. There was no sense in rushing matters.
It wasn't as though I got any kind of sick pleasure out of killing people, or that I was even compelled to. However, these people were indisputably a blight on Brockton Bay, and the cops and PRT were doing nothing about it. I could. It was simple as that.
As I accepted eggs and bacon from Dad, I considered how I'd killed Sophia. Had she been a blight on Brockton Bay? Well, apart from being a really shitty Ward, probably not. But she'd been a personal blight on my life, and that was close enough for me. I'd given her the same chance I gave Emma and Madison. They'd taken it; she hadn't. That was on her.
"Still thinking about that girl from Winslow, the one who bullied you?" asked Dad, looking at me with a little concern. "Or are some of the others still bothering you?"
I snorted. "No. I think they're in shock. It was all going so well for them, y'know? They had nice safe targets to pick on, and then something like this happened, and Sophia's not there to be their point, uh, person anymore. Nobody else wants to step up unless they make a bad call too." I rolled my eyes. "Welcome to the real world."
It was slightly more complicated than that. Madison was utterly convinced that I could kill her at any moment (which was true), and I was pretty sure I'd accomplished much the same with Emma. Between them, they'd spread the word that I was not to be messed with. Sophia had set out to mess with me, and was now dead.
From what I could gather from eavesdropping on gossip, opinions were split between the idea that Sophia had taken on someone else in my place and gotten killed, or she'd attacked me personally and I'd accidentally killed her and walked away without a scratch. What I did know was that nobody was seriously considering turning me in for killing her.
Either way, the 'do not mess with Taylor' mutual agreement was solidly in place, which was convenient. More mysterious deaths at Winslow would seriously cramp my cover as an innocent student there.
"I suppose you're right," he said in the way that adults do when they're not sure how to address a sensitive topic anymore. "The police haven't called back, so I'm guessing they're satisfied with what they got from us."
I nodded. "Sounds like it. Maybe they'll catch whoever did it, and maybe not." The answer, of course, was 'not'.
I applied myself to my breakfast. Soon I'd have to go catch the bus to school, but that was okay. I knew many ways to kill boredom now, some of which didn't involve drawing untoward attention.
And a few hours after that, I could set about making Brockton Bay a better place.
One drop of blood at a time.
End of Part Nine
Relevant Side Story
Last edited:
GasperVladi0
(Confirmed Nurgle Cultist)
- Joined
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- 1,770
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- 25,537
Wunderbar! Simply wonderful! This and Snek is a Good Boy have firmly cemeted themselves in my Top 10. Snek is funny and charming and this is just sooo satisfying.
FictionPack
Getting sticky.
- Joined
- Nov 29, 2021
- Messages
- 60
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She should probably pick up a voice changer for her mask soon, just so people don't immediately identify her age. Kill vocal identification.
It's a touch surprising even Hookwolf is fleeing.
Eenie, Meenie, Miney, Moe, Catch A Dragon By Its Toe. If He Hollers Melt Him Slow, Eenie, Meenie, Miney, Moe.
Skidmark still has no idea what's going on...
I wonder if he's just been unconscious for the past few days.
I wonder if anyone will peg Shadowstalker as Atropos' first kill, and not Oni Lee? There won't be any files of an E88 hit on her.
It's a touch surprising even Hookwolf is fleeing.
Eenie, Meenie, Miney, Moe, Catch A Dragon By Its Toe. If He Hollers Melt Him Slow, Eenie, Meenie, Miney, Moe.
Skidmark still has no idea what's going on...
I wonder if he's just been unconscious for the past few days.
I wonder if anyone will peg Shadowstalker as Atropos' first kill, and not Oni Lee? There won't be any files of an E88 hit on her.
ConsiderableHat
Hot glue beard disaster.
- Joined
- Jan 9, 2019
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- 87
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- 596
"Of course there aren't, Dragon," Armsmaster said, efficiently*, "They know that killing a Ward would bring the Triumvirate down on them, so they were careful not to record it anywhere. The lack of evidence is evidence in itself! Truly I am a master of crimefighting and everyone should recognise that."
*Some fanon character traits exaggerated for comic effect.
Ack
(Verified Ratbag) (Unverified Great Old One)
- Joined
- Feb 12, 2014
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- 7,131
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- 78,631
She can mimic voices at will.
Victor has already pointed out that she can nail him with an AP round from a sniper rifle at any time. She knows where he sleeps, and she doesn't adhere to the rules.
Even if he hung around, he wouldn't after he sees what's going to happen to Lung.
Skidmark is awake and aware of what's going on. Has no idea what to do about it.
"I guess we'll never prove that Cricket killed Shadow Stalker now."
Sto Odin
Only a very distant relation
- Joined
- Jun 9, 2022
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- 346
And after all, Atropos' M.O. is pretty clear: she doesn't hide her kills, she proclaims them.