Chapter 34: A Visitor's Guide to Brockton Bay - The Heroes Live Outside the City
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LazyAutumnMoon
We all need Sundancer in our life.
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Chapter 34: A Visitor's Guide to Brockton Bay - The Heroes Live Outside the City
The doors to Somer's Rock closed behind the final member of the E88 with a slam that rattled the frame, a last petty show of anger to those still inside. In their wake, a palpable sense of alarm, of worry prepared to boil over into outright panic, and thoughts along the line of oh crap oh crap we messed up.
The most vocal among the villains just a minute prior now sat in funeral quiet, their fervor doused. With the E88 gone, the empty side of the pub that they used to occupy sure looked empty, and that hadn't even been all of the capes the gang could muster. They formed a sizable contingent that could well have become the backbone of the coalition against Bakuda and the ABB, decreasing the risk to others by dint of the enmity between the two gangs. Little wonder, then, that Jaune soon found himself at the center of attention, the bulk of it decidedly hostile.
It's amazing how emotive some of the capes could be despite their coverings. Coil, for example, tapped a finger on the table, a simple tock-tock cadence that remained steady and even as he gazed at Jaune with disapproval; it lent him the air of a schoolteacher. Faultline feigned disinterest, easily overlooked right up until one noticed she was limbering up in minute increments. Grue, of Tattletale's old team, emitted a wispy not-quite-smoke layer over his clothes that gave his form a distorted, ghostly quality as he loomed. Meanwhile, Trickster gnashed on an unlit cigarette.
The villains had their tics, and displayed them in full to deliver a message: Jaune was walking on thin ice. So thin, it was cracking.
And he was all out of beer. Tragic.
"The departure of the E88 puts us in a tough position, I hope you understand," Coil remarked. Tock-tock. "Every day, the ABB launches more raids on our holdings. Their territory expands by the hour. The damages to our enterprises are compounding one atop the next, and a united front was our best chance to bring this situation to an early close. You've cost us hundreds of thousands in revenue with your actions tonight."
What a great way to put things in perspective, illustrating how screwed Jaune was.
He placed the empty mug on a coaster. Water beaded along the glass, just as it did upon his brow. Without the motion of drinking to steady his nerves, his hand shook ever so slightly.
The calculations began running in his head. Distance to the door. Potential obstacles in between. His speed and what he could accomplish within the split second before the villains reacted. It's nothing so exhaustive as a simulation, just a best guess on where people would end up as a result of his opening move. The ridiculous variety of superpowers he might encounter threw a wrench in the works, but a flashbang grenade was pretty much a superpower if he thought about it. Cracking one of those open could waylay them long enough for him to get Tattletale and Escha out of here.
Hold up. Wait a minute. That might hurt Sundancer.
The tentative plan stalled out as he considered this new conundrum. Not for long. He soon came to the conclusion that, since she was able to stare into the suns she summons without batting an eye, a flashbang shouldn't even make her blink. Which rather presented a different problem, namely that she would be in position to kick his butt for attacking her teammates.
Not that he was afraid of facing the girl who in another life burned Leviathan, obviously. He was… he was concerned. Yes, that's the real reason.
Visions of a blazing hot fireball frying him to a crisp, Rathalos armor and all, flashed through his mind.
New plan it was. One involving no combat whatsoever. And while he wouldn't dare call rhetoric his forte, there was a certain fast-talking girl by his side to shore up that front.
Not the one seething on his left. The other side.
If Tattletale was nervous, she played it off well. He doubted anybody beside the girl herself could tell. Lounging back in her seat, she affected a cool demeanor, one hand petting the white cat in her lap.
"You accuse us of costing you money," she replied to Coil. "I say that we just kicked out the biggest ball and chain around the neck of this alliance. Did any of you here actually want to work with the nazis? Truly?" She looked around the room. "You should thank us."
Of course, fast-talking did not equate to good diplomacy.
"Tattletale," he muttered in worry.
"Shh. I got this."
Under the table, a flashbang grenade appeared in his hand. Looks like 'Plan A' was back on again.
…Man, fighting the sun was not on his bingo card for today.
Raising her voice, Tattletale continued, "See, here's the thing. Kaiser walked out before getting the full picture. That means he has zero claim to a slice of the pie I'm offering, as far I'm concerned, and I know for a fact his group would have insisted on the biggest bite had they stayed to listen. That's the perk of owning a lot of capes—they get their way over the rest of us. Now, they won't."
"Pretty words. Typical of you," said Faultline. "How about you tell us straight what it is that you're offering, hm?" To contrast the mild tone of the question, the woman kept a hand inside a pocket on her costume, a strange part-military armor, part-dress ensemble. Jaune watched it carefully. She seemed to subscribe to the same idea as him, prepared for the meeting to go bad, and fast.
Tattletale had picked up on it, too, and she cut to chase. "Bakuda's location. No runaround. No bullshit. I know where her workshops are and I can lead you to her. I know where she left caches for her people to rearm, how to disable the bombs she set up. I know what her big play is, and I have a strategy to take her down without the entire East Coast getting sent back to the Stone Age. And once the ABB is gone, that's the entirety of their territory for you to split among yourselves, no sharing with E88 needed."
Tock—silence. Coil leaned forward in his chair. Faultline had gone still; Grue, same. Trickster was glancing over at Coil.
"Does that sound like something you'd be interested in, ladies and gentlemen?" Tattletale asked sweetly. In her lap, Escha purred.
The skintight costume Coil wore allowed Jaune to spot him swallowing his spit. "Those are very bold claims you're making," the villain said.
"The East Coast?" Grue added, keeping it terse.
Tattletale nodded. "She's working on an EMP bomb to take out every piece of electronics within range, which measures in the hundreds of miles. Considering the city's tech sector is one of its sole bright spots… without interference, it's bye-bye Brockton Bay."
"Hang on," Faultline interrupted. "How would you even know this? And what makes you think you can promise any of that?"
On Tattletale's face grew a smirk. She sat straighter, making eye contact with the villains one by one.
"Because I'm Tattletale."
The assembled villains shared glances, followed by a collective exhalation of breath. Then came a scoff here, a derisive wave of the hand there.
The negative reception did nothing to faze Tattletale, and she pressed on. "Thinker 7. Take a moment to appreciate what the rating means. A mind that would make you weep if you realize the difference between us. I saw the signs and connected the dots. The rest was child's play."
Jaune resisted the urge to pull a face. Not because he didn't believe her, though let it be stated for the records that he had witnessed her lose her mind over simple matters of physics. No, if asked, he'd argue the so-called 'Thinker 7' rating undersold her current capabilities. After all, she was cheating hard.
"That's only if you're real, which you're not," said Tattletale.
"More real than you, sweetie," said Tattletale.
"Your disguise is flawed, and badly so. The details are wrong," said Tattletale.
"You mean how I'm in the peak of my health? Yeah, I work out. You can look like this too, with a bit of effort. Plus maybe some fresh air and better company," said Tattletale.
"I'm fine where I am, thanks," said Tattletale.
"That's the problem," said Tattletale.
Said. Said. Said. Said. Said. And on it went. The people listening in were soon developing nasty cricks in their necks as they tried to follow the ping-ponging conversation, the twin voices overlapping to make it difficult to tell when one girl stopped talking and the other began. The neon-orange villain and the capes sitting with Skitter have checked out altogether, expressions vacant.
It was Grue that put an end to the back and forth. "Tattletale, enough," he ordered the local counterpart, slapping a palm on the table for emphasis.
"But—"
"We've already discussed this. I'm handling things. Go sit with our team."
To Jaune's frank surprise, she did. Reluctantly, but she did.
Tattletale had told him little about her band of teenage ne'er-do-wells, touching on the broadest strokes whenever he asked. He always assumed she led them. The hierarchy on display, however, pointed to Grue as the leader of the team.
With the way the remaining Tattletale glared at Grue, she harbored some disagreement with that state of affairs, and appreciated neither the reminder nor his interference.
"You never could resist a power play, can you, Grue?"
The young man growled, "Tattletale…"
"Oh, please. Save it for someone who cares," Tattletale simpered. Leaning over, she rested her head on Jaune's shoulder. "My partner's a lot more reliable than you will ever be. You ran from a fire-breathing lizard. He killed two."
There was a beat of silence in response to that. The glances sent his way became more calculating, first impressions being revised with new information, albeit with a fair amount of skepticism. Then, Faultline spoke up.
"Please don't tell me there are clones of Lung running around."
Tattletale snickered. "There aren't, and still I haven't told a single lie. He"—she patted him on the arm, before sitting up—"brings a certain skill set to the table that you will find very valuable." She stressed the last word.
Jaune recognized the signal. The game plan had gone topsy-turvy within the first minute, but it looked like Tattletale saw an opening to steady their course. Trusting her, he turned his palm resting on the chair's arm upward. The casual gesture went beneath notice at first, until…
Clink. Clink-clink.
There's something about the sound of coins that commands one's attention. The glint of gold held an allure to the human eye. An empty palm now brandished a stack of gold coins, rising and falling in a rhythm that had Trickster leaning around Tattletale for a closer look, and prompted spectators in the background to crane their necks.
"Ta-da~" Tattletale made jazz hands, motioning to him. "Say hello to my mobile bomb disposal squad. With a single touch, he can whisk a bomb to another dimension. You've also witnessed the speed and agility he can bring to bear, worthy of a Mover rating in my humble estimation. His fearlessness is certainly not in question, for who can forget how he called out the E88 to their face."
His mistakes sure sounded impressive when she put it like that. Tattletale could find good work as a hype man.
"And that's not all! Show them!"
The coins vanished, replaced by a crowbar. It garnered a bit of confusion, which turned to outcry as he took the crowbar and whacked his opposite arm without so much as a flinch. Aura shimmered over unblemished flesh.
"A forcefield protects him from blades, bullets, bombs, probably bees, and whatever else you care to throw at him!"
"I reserve the right to retaliate against anybody who tries," Jaune quickly tacked on a disclaimer, as every good salesman should.
"He's the best hope of Brockton Bay to survive the week. Give him a round of applause!"
He didn't even get cricket noises. Sadness.
Still, the message found an audience. As they've done in Dunwall, Tattletale was advertising their services, highlighting something more substantial than a smattering of information that could be pried out of them. By making their party valuable, they would ensure the villains couldn't touch a hair on their heads. The removal of the E88 hadn't been one of the steps, although he supposed it worked to their advantage in the end.
Was there a name for that? Causing a problem and then selling the solution?
"An interesting mix of powers," Coil said as the pitch wound down. "It changes little. Grab-bag cape he may be, he is a single person to replace the E88's current roster of fifteen or so capes that you've lost us. We no longer have the numbers to mount an attack on the ABB, and your information is likewise of no use as a result. I'm afraid you remain deep in debt to us."
'To me,' Coil meant, Jaune was sure. The man saw value, but now came the haggling.
Tattletale pursed her lips. "Yes, that is an issue, huh? How many people had the ABB recruited by this point… Grue?"
Grue regarded Tattletale for a long moment, thoughts inscrutable behind his helmet. He hesitated, then plunged a hand into his jacket to retrieve a package. Inside contained a stack of those old-timey CDs people used to play music on.
"Bakuda videotaped her ambush of my team a week ago. We found the equipment after she ran, and I made copies. Some of the things she said may be of interest to you." His words were spoken in a practiced cadence, as if he had drilled them beforehand. "One big thing is that Lung can be considered a leader in name only, even if he doesn't realize it. The existence of the ABB depends on Bakuda. She's replenishing their ranks by abducting people in the night and putting bombs in their heads. If they want to stay alive, they serve as her soldiers to grab more victims. Tattletale"—he indicated his teammate in the booth—"estimates that there are at least three hundred of them by now. They either fight for Bakuda, or die. Worse, she rigged them to go off if her heart stops, so assassinating her isn't exactly a simple thing to do."
Jaune winced at the reminder, and reached over to offer Escha a comforting pat on her little shoulder. However this meeting ends, pretending the problem belonged to other people really wouldn't cut it. Bakuda had to go down.
"Thank you for the contribution, Grue. I'm glad to hear it matches what I already know." Tattletale nodded in satisfaction. "Three hundred ABB members minimum. A daunting figure when we add Lung, Oni Lee, and Bakuda into the mix. Although… is anyone else even more glad the E88 isn't here? I can see Kaiser killing Bakuda on purpose to set off those bombs. He's made his position clear multiple times on the worth of Asian lives, as I recall."
"Doing so would earn him a Birdcage sentence," Coil said. His light tone hinted that the villain wouldn't mourn removing two rival gangs, instead of just one.
Tattletale flicked her hand. "Please. People see us working with nazis, we get tarred in the same brush. It'd earn us all a Birdcage sentence."
Grudging nods passed among the onlookers, plus a few worried whispers along the line of 'oh god, would they really?'
"You're making this op sound less attractive by the second," Trickster said.
"Exactly!" Tattletale agreed. "The ABB territory comes with great opportunities and great risks, so you have to put more care into it. What you need aren't just capes, but capes that could be trusted to play it by the books and won't blow everybody up. Capes we can give you."
Jaune turned to stare at Tattletale.
We can?
She motioned him to stay quiet, and waited for someone to take the bait.
"Who?"
Tattletale broke out in a grin, and turned to answer Skitter. "Who else? The E88 aren't the only group in Brockton Bay with a lot of capes. Hint, hint, they have a clubhouse on the bay."
"Are you talking about the Protectorate?" Grue guessed. It was immediately followed by outcry from all corners of the pub.
Coil shook his head. "Did you expect they'd agree to this? The heroes might be incentivized to keep out of our way, but they won't accept working with villains."
"Due to optics," Tattletale pointed out. "A big part of that stems from the problematic image of being seen as colluding with the E88, a problem we've now solved. That gives them wiggle room to compromise. Also, who says they're going to do anything with villains? They'll be working with an independent hero, one offering Bakuda to them on a silver plate, and may or may not have a line of communications to villains. See? Nicely vague and deniable."
Jaune wondered who would be the poor sap saddled with that job. Then he realized Tattletale was looking at him.
"Me?"
"Him?" Coil asked at the same time as Grue.
"They'd never buy it," Faultline followed up at once. "They'll think it's a trick."
Tattletale jabbed a finger at her. "And that's where you're wrong, Faultline, because my friend here is going to give them a reason to trust him!"
"Really. How?"
"He will unmask."
Dead silence. Not even a lone dissenting laugh. Jaune turned from one side of the room to the other, and every villain was staring at him like, well, like Sundancer did earlier. With absolute bewilderment. More than one shook their head, unwilling to believe Tattletale.
Their shock held a certain level of sense. In the comics, taking off a mask meant revealing a secret identity. A thing never to be done lightly.
Of course, he possessed no secret identity in this universe. But they wouldn't know that. In their view, he had just volunteered (or got voluntold, anyway) to make a significant sacrifice for their cause. He could practically see the thoughts swirling behind their eyes.
This brave, brave hero. Why, we should give him half the kingdom and a princess to go with it!
Yep. Definitely that, rather than unkind remarks about his intelligence or lack thereof.
Slowly, Jaune reached up, and he took no small pleasure at how they tracked his hand with rapt attention. Whispers broke the silence as he pinched the edge of the domino mask, it dawning on them that he was entirely serious.
With a flourish, he whipped off the mask, revealing to the world that the mysterious stranger before them had been Jaune Arc all along!
…Not that they had a clue who Jaune Arc was. Damn. What a waste of a dramatic moment. He'd have to try this again sometimes with people he knew.
Jaune tossed the mask over his shoulder, letting it land on the floor. He held still as Tattletale showed him off to the crowd.
"Look at this face!" She gently turned his chin to one side, then the other. "Doesn't it just scream 'good boy' to you? The heroes won't know what hit them!"
Her boast received evaluating hums from the onlookers, with the occasional nod of respect for what was thought to be an act of conviction—moral fiber, even. The important thing to note, was that they stayed. Whether out of common greed, or the pure fascination of seeing where this performance goes next, the villains were willing to listen for a little bit further.
And that little bit was Tattletale's way in.
-o-
Jaune rested his arms on the boardwalk railings, enjoying the night air as he stared out to sea.
The boardwalk of Brockton Bay, as Tattletale told it, was one of the more popular places to hang out. After the city fell into decline and the beach tourism trade dried up, the stores turned inward, gearing their wares with an eye towards the locals rather than the out-of-towners. It helped them survive the tumultuous years that followed, and nowadays people come out to the boardwalk at all hours, seeking entertainment, shopping deals, and so on.
Due to the curfew in effect, he had the place to himself. A moment to just be, without life getting in the way.
The rain has stopped, and it's peaceful here. Lonely, but the sort of lonely he didn't mind, where there's this sense that a thousand other people were gazing at the sky, same as him, to create a connection more real than mere faces and names.
Some of them would be just over there, a half-mile out onto the bay.
The Protectorate East-North-East Headquarters was retrofitted from a previous installation, something called an oil rig. Originally meant for industrial work, the place fell under the hand of an architect who took it in an artsier bent. Now, swooping arches and spires replaced steel scaffolding, and a great edifice loomed tall in the night, surrounded by a forcefield whose ever-shimmering colors danced upon the waters.
Near an hour, and he has yet to tire of the sight. This world did not lack for beauty, though he supposed he already learned that the first go-round. There's wonder to be found, overlooked amidst the banality and the selfish evils.
At ten minutes to the appointed time, a path opened from the base to the mainland, appearing from thin air. The bridge was formed from the same material as the forcefield, translucent in a half-there, half-not way. On closer look, it reminded him of Hardlight technology. Felt like Hardlight, too, as he put a tentative foot atop the end located on his side of the bay, connected to a pier.
It held his weight fine. No shakiness or worrisome cracking noises. Reassured, he began making his way across.
The experience rather grew on him. Journeying on a rainbow bridge hanging above the vast sea, leaving the city lights behind. No railings on either side, and everything at a distance so that it's just him on a long, long road. There's a romance to it.
A shame that he couldn't linger. Tattletale hashed out a number of compromises from the meeting at Somer's Rock, among them a truce between the villains (aided somewhat by Coil paying Faultline's group to cooperate), an agreement that gave Jaune's team leeway to pursue their own goals unimpeded (and wasn't Coil curious of what those may be), and a defensive pact for the next few weeks against the E88 should they cause trouble (a condition Coil threw his support behind).
Which pretty much all hinged on him bringing the heroes aboard. No heroes, no deal, everybody gangs up to deal with Jaune, Tattletale and Escha. 'Permanently' implied.
He'd say no pressure, but that would be a complete lie.
Soon, he passed the midpoint, then half that again. The details inside the forcefield began to grow clearer, letting him pick out the roster of people fanned out in a loose half-circle. He could (probably) name most of them; Tattletale had gone over the list an hour earlier. Like him, they were dressed in colorful costumes, although where his consisted of stuff taken from the backstage of a theater on the way over here, meant for a play called The Three Musketeers, theirs ranged toward modern, even futuristic, gear built for function as well as form.
Seeing them helped to hit home the surreal circumstances he was in—both the superhero thing, and the time thing. Some, like Battery and Vista, he recognized from their merch. Pictures on a T-shirt, and not much of an impression beyond that. Others brought forth more complicated feelings. Miss Militia in her red, white, and blue bandana. Clockblocker, with white armor covered in clocks. He remembered one by how she died, and the other as the boy choked on lungfuls of water.
None were so complicated as the sight of the man standing front and center.
Armsmaster looked immaculate in his armor, the blue metal gleaming in the light. Tall and powerfully-built, he stood a head above his peers. His halberd rested in one hand, the heel of it driven against the ground—posed, rather than brandished, though Jaune doubted not one bit of its capabilities. A silver visor obscured his eyes, leaving the bearded lower face exposed. The firm set of the jaw and thinned lips conveyed a stoic demeanor, until Jaune got closer, and it was replaced by a warm smile, one containing the barest trace—deliberately done—of a confident smirk. A greeting, and a warning. The man was here for peace, but prepared beforehand for violence, so Jaune had better not try any tricks.
He appeared a man that one would gladly follow into war. The very image of a hero.
Right away, Jaune wanted to punch him. He knew that the smirk went further than simple confidence. Ruthless arrogance, cruelty even, lurked behind it.
Which made it such a mind screw when the man gave a welcoming wave just as Jaune reached the forcefield.
"Hello there!"
You're a monster, a backstabber, a dead man walking and I swear I will—wait, no, the guy hasn't done any of that yet, and Tattletale might just lose it if he screwed up a second meeting with potential allies. So, instead of drawing his sword, Jaune raised his hand to return the greeting.
"Hi?"
Evidently, hesitance and bewilderment were the right answers, because Armsmaster adjusted his grip on the halberd to a more casual stance. Jaune took it as an invitation to advance forward, flowing cape swirling in the wind behind him.
The barrier blinked off for him to pass, reactivating right after.
Now, if he was a villain, he could see how that would have been utterly terrifying, being trapped inside a bubble with a ton of potential enemies and no backup, to explain why none of them had entertained a parley with the Protectorate before Tattletale brought it up. As he hadn't committed any crimes around these parts worth mentioning, Jaune continued on without a backward glance. It earned him further points judging by the visible shift in postures. Fists unclenched. A couple of the younger heroes exhaled in relief. The troopers in black riot gear flanking the heroes from a distance allowed their guns to point a little lower than previous.
By and large, the first impression seemed to be going well, though there was still a fair amount of scrutiny among the heroes regarding him. He didn't think it was all due to the lack of a mask, since one of their numbers also forwent hers, a teenage girl floating above her allies. Glory Girl, his memory provided; the first superhero he had ever seen when she cratered the road in front of his face. Today, she was less 'scared teenager put in the fight of her life' and more 'beauty pageant contestant smiling for the judges,' complete with a tiara, bobbing up and down as she watched him approach.
As soon as he came to a stop, Glory Girl blurted out, "Ooh, he's hot! Gallant, look. Your dream guy does exist!"
Near everybody did a double-take. None exhibited a greater reaction than the person below her, a man armored in silver robo-knight aesthetic. "V–Glory Girl?" Gallant asked, the confusion ringing clear in his voice. He didn't sound any older than Jaune.
"What? Come on, he's like a male version of me!"
Were they? He supposed her face did have that Remnant quality, the symmetry thing Tattletale kept harping on about, but besides that they're not much alike in his view.
It must differ for people from Earth, because Gallant took a second, longer look. After a beat, something clicked and the hero rubbed his chin in consideration.
"Oh~."
The flirtatious tone sounded off. Stilted. Jaune chalked it down as shyness on Gallant's part. Chuckling, he replied, "I'm, ah, I'm flattered? But that's not what I'm looking for here, sorry."
Rather than being sad, the other boy accepted the rejection with a carefree shrug. The dullness of the response hinted to Jaune that he was missing critical context.
Glory Girl, meanwhile, brightened. "Oh, good. He's not a nazi." She caught his uncomprehending expression. " Sorry about that. I figured it was best to clear matters up, what with the costume and the hair and all. Not that I pegged you for one," she hastily added. "It's just this city, you know?"
Not the first time he heard that sentiment.
In disappointment, Jaune dialed back his ego a few notches. They weren't checking him out for his face, but for the potential of him being part of E88, the group with an apparent fetish for his hair color. From the clues it seemed like he would have taken offense to the notion of relationships between men had he been in the gang.
Although, what about relationships between women? Mixed throuples? What if a person was propositioned by twins? Hot twins? Many, many questions. Few answers.
Speaking of hair color, he couldn't help but notice a small detail. "Excuse me, aren't you…?" He trailed off, his eyes flicking up to the tiara atop Glory Girl's head, and the long golden locks on which it rests.
In a blink, she crossed the distance between them. Hands on her hips, she glared down at him from the air.
"Hey! I'm a New Wave girl, thanks very much! My family's the other bunch of blondes with powers, and if there's one thing people know about us Dallons and Pelhams, it's that we don't hold any truck with nazis." She pounded her fist into her palm, and gave an emphatic nod.
Backing up half a step, he raised his hands in a placating gesture. "My bad. I'm not from around here, and I didn't know. You're fighting them? Hey, then you're doing us blondes a great service," he complimented, as he too wasn't really enjoying the way a group with such bad reputations have laid claim to a pretty damn common trait. Tarring him with the same brush, Tattletale would say, like how the superstition of black cats being bad luck came about. (Adorable fellas couldn't catch a break just because they shared vague characteristics with the Grimm.)
The stern expression cracked. "Thank you, I try," Glory Girl said with a grin. "And don't worry. You're in my good books as a fellow appreciator of the classics." She spun in the air for emphasis, the cape attached to her shoulders flaring out.
He glanced down at a similar white cape that had replaced his poncho, a costume choice he held misgivings about back when the people tasked with helping him put together an outfit first suggested it. Yes, the accessory screamed quintessential superhero fashion, but there was such a thing as too ostentatious to his mind. Except it had been harder to argue the point while looking at this world's Sundancer from up close as she wrapped the cape around his shoulders, trying to keep cool as he fell in the rabbit hole of wondering whether the girl he knew shared the same tastes in costume colors and effects as her counterpart.
Good tastes they were. The end result resembled something out of the pages of a fairy tale, all hero-like with the cape swishing in a manner very suitably dramatic.
And if it gave him an in with at least one of the heroes, then hey, why not.
As for the rest of the people present, the show and dance had done a fair bit to break the ice, with the heroes behaving in a less guarded manner now that they've had a chance to evaluate his responses. He even caught a couple of brief smiles, plus some whispered ribbing between the younger heroes and Gallant.
The boy that got eviscerated by Leviathan waved to him. He waved back, trying not to grimace.
"That's Kid Win," Glory Girl said for his benefit, repositioning next to him so he could get an unobstructed view of the Protectorate. "The resident teenage tinker."
"A Tinker's one of those guys that build stuff, right?"
She laughed. "Wow, what an understatement. I'm gonna guess you're not one, or you wouldn't put it like that. What's your power, then? Oh, wait! What's your cape name?"
Many ears turned to listen carefully.
Jaune himself straightened up. He had been waiting for this chance. Resting one hand on the pommel of his sword, he flicked his cape with the other to let it billow in the sea breeze.
"You can call me… the HuntsMan!"
Who could ever imagine that a passing daydream would at last be realized. He may now die happy.
Glory Girl cocked her head. "The Huntsman?"
"Capitalize the M." Very important. They wouldn't want to confuse people, after all. One was a calling. The other, destiny.
Of course, that was all lost on the locals.
"Right, well, it's… not bad. And if you need help spitballing a different name, I'd be glad to help!" Glory Girl said with forced cheer. "You can also try asking the Protectorate, they have a PR department that's pretty experienced with coordinating names and costumes."
"We'll provide you with a number to call," Armsmaster segued in, thus ensuring that Jaune will throw the number in the ocean. "For now—"
"Powers!" Glory Girl said, pumping a fist.
"Yes." Oho, that clipped tone. Someone didn't enjoy getting interrupted. "We would like confirmation that you are a parahuman."
Jaune almost scowled, managing to smooth out his expression at the last second. "I don't mind, but why is that necessary?"
"We need verifiable information before we can trust anything else you say."
He spotted multiple people wincing the moment those words left Armsmaster, and he couldn't blame them. The brusqueness of the comment had thrown him off, too. Did he somehow give the impression that he was a liar?
"Okay, so, I hadn't minded showing you, but now I kind of do," he said, returning blunt honesty with blunt honesty. "I mean, it's not like I don't understand. Look." He pointed at his bare face. "I came here without a mask because I figure you guys deserve a bit of trust. You plain haven't returned that, and now you're asking for more. Is that fair?"
Could he have kept a rein on his composure? Be the better man? Maybe. If it had been someone other than this 'hero' who raised the matter.
Armsmaster opened his mouth to reply. Glory Girl got there ahead of him, zooming between Jaune and the other man. She had a panicky look on her face, hands waving for everyone to calm down.
"Hey, how about I show my powers first, just to be polite? Yeah?" She spun around to face Jaune. "Sounds good?"
"N—"
"Good!"
Her interruptions weren't so funny once it was turned around on him. Jaune shot Glory Girl a glare, receiving from her a faux-innocent flutter of the eyelashes.
He scoffed. She took it as agreement, and flew closer.
"Alright, so I can fly, obviously." Glory Girl pointed below at her legs hovering inches away from the ground. "But it's not all I'm capable of. Here, try punching me. Don't worry and give it a—ow, you dick!" She held her arm, more from surprise than any actual pain. "You didn't even hesitate!"
"What? You said to punch!" Meaning, she can probably handle it, and maybe punch him harder. One did not survive combat classes without learning that lesson. "Besides, I'm pretty sure I didn't manage to even do anything."
The blow landed, no doubt about it. Only, it felt like he struck a rock.
"Well, yeah, but haven't you heard of chivalry?" Glory Girl said with a pout.
Sure he did. It died in Beacon.
Nowadays, he reserved gentleness for those he knew wasn't as sturdy as him, civilians and other squishy people. This superhero definitely fell outside the list. Assuming he was right, then invulnerability was Glory Girl's other power, which explained why she took point in approaching him for the meeting. Had he intended ill, she stood a better chance of surviving an ambush than her colleagues might. And despite her grumblings, Glory Girl shrugged off the punch with an ease that made Jaune jealous. In seconds, she had forgotten it altogether, becoming chirpy and hale as previous.
"Sooo?" she hinted, flying next to him to prop an elbow on his shoulder. Jaune couldn't shake the feeling that the gesture was another test to make doubly, triply certain he was no threat. "Your turn, mister."
Fair enough. He thought of using the crowbar demonstration again, before deciding on an easier method.
"Ahaha… punch me."
With a laugh of her own, she obliged his request. Thus, Aura lit him aglow for the world to see, and it was Glory Girl's turn to gawk.
"Wait. Wait a minute. Are we related?"
Although, that's not what he expected her to ask.
"What makes you think we're related? I'm not from around here, remember?"
"You have a forcefield! That's, like, a New Wave specialty, a-and I have an uncle who moved out west we lost contact with!" Her eyes had grown wide, and she looked at him with an open-mouthed smile. "Can you shoot lasers, too?"
He shook his head. "No lasers, sorry. You might be seeing too much into it."
"But your looks! And you specifically chose to wear a cape like mine!" Before he could correct her on that, she seized him by the shoulders, and Jaune's feet left the ground. Holy, she's strong. "What's your name?" Glory Girl pressed. "Your real name?"
"Glory Girl! That's enough!"
The girl released Jaune, twirling around. "But Dauntless—"
"He gave us a cape name for a reason. Please, respect it." The man, dressed in armor reminiscent of Pyrrha's style, nodded his head at Armsmaster. "We've already asked a lot from him."
The insinuation that she was doing the same thing she rebuked Armsmaster for struck Glory Girl dumb, and she wilted with a chagrined expression.
Jaune sort of felt bad about that, not least because he didn't mind giving his name, in truth. It wouldn't mean much to Glory Girl, in any case. Might even put to rest the misunderstanding of him being some long-lost cousin coming back to meet the family.
"I apologize for that mishap, HuntsMan," Dauntless said. "If…" He glanced between the two blondes. "If you wish to discuss this matter in private later, I'd understand."
What he wished was for the guy to stop making assumptions, since the tacit agreement with Glory Girl's wild theories seemed to have only emboldened the younger heroine further. Boy, was Glory Girl going to be disappointed when he never shows up to that conversation.
Oblivious to his thoughts, Dauntless continued. "On behalf of the Protectorate, I thank you for the trust you've placed in us." He paused to let his colleagues chime in with various nods and grunts of acknowledgment. "Now, in the phone call, you claim to have news on the current situation within the city?"
Finally getting to it, huh?
"News, and an offer." He vaguely gestured at Brockton Bay. "I know where to find Bakuda."
With that, he seized their whole-hearted attention. From the oldest to the youngest, the heroes stared at him with unnerving focus. One, Clockblocker, took a half-step forward.
"Are you serious!? Where?" he asked.
Jaune motioned for him to wait. "Hold on, now. Let's not go running off just yet. Finding Bakuda is one thing, taking her down another. There's a lot of people standing between us and her. Gangsters. Press-ganged civilians. Lung. Oni Lee. You need help."
Lips curled down, and knuckles cracked. Some of them hadn't enjoyed hearing that. Others, like Dauntless, were nodding, recognizing what they already knew.
"That's why I've been in contact with a number of capes, and they proposed—"
"Who?" Miss Militia didn't snap at him, but she wasn't nice about it, either.
And, oh my, was that a big shotgun she's holding. Green, mean, and half-raised in his direction to boot.
"Well, they're… locals." A nice, safe word to use, because he got a nasty suspicion of what was setting Miss Militia on edge. "Capes who are very concerned about the state of the city, since, you know, they're also living here. They don't want to die, like any of us. This is, I think, a time where banding together—"
The barrel of the gun rose a little higher. In a matter-of-fact tone, Miss Militia declared, "He's working with villains."
"Not the nazis!" Jaune quickly said, hands raised to ward off Glory Girl.
A look around, it became clear that in the span of a breath, the goodwill he garnered had vanished with the wind. The heroes have taken up guarded stances, the troopers further back following suit to aim their rifles in his direction. Violence wasn't imminent yet, but it's close.
The heroes to worry him most were those with hands splayed wide. Somehow, he didn't think they're signaling for peace. Powers were in play, locked and loaded.
With the forcefield at his back, he couldn't run. The only course forward was to seek victory. "The city's burning down," he reminded them. "The people are scared. Dying. I have a solution. Are you really unable to listen for a little longer?"
The ensuing silence spoke volumes. He was ready to start blasting with a gunlance when Dauntless signaled for his side to wait.
"Let's hear him out."
Jaune smiled.
"There's only one of him," Dauntless added. "We can subdue him afterward with almost no effort."
Jaune frowned. "Hey now, I'm pretty confident I can beat up a few of you."
Dauntless slapped a hand over his eyes.
"That's not helping your case, bud."
"Yeah, I, ah, I realized that right after I said it." Jaune glanced away, mildly embarrassed. A hand came up to rub the back of his head. Surprisingly, it made a number of people relax, perhaps because they recognized his good nature and intentions.
The whispers of 'He's an idiot!' and similar were not appreciated.
"Just… get on with it," said Dauntless.
"Right." Jaune cleared his throat. "You don't want to work with villains. I understand. I don't like most of them either." He winced, as Miss Militia seemed to have latched onto the 'most' part. Her glowing-green gun shifted to the shape of an assault rifle. Useful power, scary lady. "All except two, really." Four, if he counted Tattletale and Sundancer twice. "But, here's the thing, I don't think they're lying when they said they want to stop Bakuda. Criminal doesn't mean you're okay with seeing somebody's head explode into tiny chunks, you know?"
Dauntless sighed. "Yes, but that doesn't mean we can accept their help. They're as much a problem to Brockton Bay as—"
"As much?" Jaune asked. "Are you sure?" He mimed his head exploding. The image drew a shudder from Dauntless. From Glory Girl, too.
"They're still a problem," Dauntless amended. "And the laws governing our conduct do not allow for it, in any case. Agreements with criminal elements beyond the Endbringer truce are grounds for corruption charges, among other things."
"Even when the people you're supposed to protect are dying?"
"..."
Jaune ran a hand through his hair, trying to come to grips with the crazy new layer he had discovered about Earth Bet.
The city was in danger. The city was in danger. In such circumstances, corruption charges—consequences in general, really—were for afterward, if ever. This moment called for people to man the barricades.
"You're more familiar with the villains than I am. I know that," Jaune said to the crowd. They accepted it as the obvious. "And, yes, I get it's a hard ask for you to trust your back to those who are on the other side of the law. I probably would have raised a stink if my teammate asked me to ally with the E88, even if I hadn't driven them to ditch the villains' meeting by accident."
"Hang on, you did what?" Clockblocker half-asked, half-laughed in surprise.
"Shush. We don't talk about that."
Tattletale had summed up the organization in one simple word for him: traitors. Whatever else they were, the E88 believed in killing their fellow man. Reveled in it, with not just a string but a whole thick rope of murders in Brockton Bay that stretched back decades. Then there were the preceding events on the opposite side of the world.
In short, not all that different from demon worshipers. Or Grimm.
Truly, Tattletale had a way with words.
A brief smile, and he refocused on Dauntless. "Point is, ask yourself what your values are. Would the villains be impossible to trust at all, no matter who they are, or are they simply unpleasant? There's unforgivable, and there's distasteful. One is a non-starter, the other I can accommodate you."
Dauntless made to speak, paused, and tilted his head. "What do you mean by that?"
Welp, time to see if Tattletale's idea was the right one. "You aren't working with villains. I'm not a villain." He gave a theatrical bow. "The HuntsMan is an independent hero, thank you very much. I don't have a criminal record to muddle the waters." No record, period, but that was beside the point. "Go ahead on this with me, and it's possible you'll meet faces from the other side while you're in the field. It's also possible they'd ignore you completely to focus on the ABB. But you're definitely not working together, because the only person you would be in contact with is me."
He had Dauntless. The hero with the 'V' on his chest, too—Velocity. The one snickering in the back, Assault. The younger heroes, except for Vista and the tall one in red.
Glory Girl was iffy—scratch that, she was braced to punch him, fist cocked back.
Not Miss Militia. Not Triumph, with the lion helmet. Not Battery.
Not Armsmaster, who was shaking his head and striding forward, halberd brandished in a stance filled with aggressive intent. His decision carried behind it weight. The moment they saw the man taking action, the heroes on Jaune's side of the fence started to tip back the opposite way, falling in line. The encirclement around Jaune tightened, the course of the immediate future clear.
Alright, that failed, and negotiations were breaking down fast. Time for Plan B.
Thank you, Tattletale.
"Did I mention," he said in a cheery voice, tapping his chin as he glanced upward in feigned thought, "that I can provide you with the identities of the E88 capes?"
After, he could have heard a pin drop. The heroes stood frozen in their tracks, their leader Armsmaster slack-jawed with the edge of his halberd pointed at Jaune's throat.
Jaune grinned like a Tattletale. "No, I don't think I did." He peered from face to face. "That's right, ladies and gentlemen, this isn't just you cooperating with me to take out one gang, but you paving a path towards putting a second gang on the chopping block. It'd be the biggest win of your careers."
Bribing officers of the law. What was the sentence for that? Tattletale had told him the surprising answer.
Just don't call it bribery, and they were golden so long as everybody played ball. It's for a good cause, after all.
"Of course, I hear that you guys have certain rules to this sort of thing." He placed a finger in front of his lips, and winked. "So we'll have to keep it quiet, yeah?"
-o-
Jaune ducked into the alley whilst keeping his eyes locked on the sky. Back and forth he looked, but he didn't see any flying figure that may be searching for him. Still, she has proven persistent. Best bet was to wait for a few more minutes.
Time passed with Jaune not daring to move, or even breathe hard.
Once assured that he had gotten away, he withdrew a phone, and placed a call. On the third ring, Tattletale picked up.
"Hi, hi! Who this?"
He blinked, nonplussed. "We're the only two people in the world on this line."
"So we are. That must make you… Jaune Arc!"
Something has her in a good mood, if she was joking around like this.
"Are you and Escha still at that late-night cafe?"
"Nope."
"Huh. I thought you said you were going to wait for me there. Where did you go?"
"Oh, off for a night on the town. Doing a little of this, a little of that~," she replied coyly.
"Moving against Coil?"
She giggled over the phone. "Yeah."
Tattletale once had a boss, a person she hated. And she didn't like Coil very much, did she? It took him not long at all to realize over the course of the meeting at Somer's Rock. From there, the story emerged.
Coil held control over the Travelers. Faultline's mercenary group was in his pocket, their price paid. Undersiders, same. The budding alliance of villains was, in reality, Coil's coalition. The man stood to gain quite a lot during the days ahead, a scenario Tattletale could not abide.
He didn't know much of her plans, only that it boded ill for this version of her former employer. Maybe he should feel sympathy. The stories Tattletale recounted of the snake-themed villain had put an early end to that. The man would love nothing more than to collect their team, or failing that, to kill them since they're the reason his powers were malfunctioning.
"Be careful not to overwork yourself. You've done a lot today without taking a single Remedy. How bad is the headache now?"
"Heheheh…"
"What?"
"I don't have headaches anymore! Not since [Blank] activated. I should have done this weeks ago! Whoo!"
Well. Life seemed to be coming up aces on her end. Good for her.
"That's great! The meeting with the heroes worked out for me, too."
"Seriously?"
"...Why so surprised?"
"Whaaat? I'm not. You're imagining it. So, they're on board?"
"Yeah."
"Sweet. Good job, Jaune. I'm guessing you had to spill on the E88."
"Armsmaster."
"Knew it~."
She did. Swore up and down about it before he left for the boardwalk.
"I can see some of the signs of how he was in the future. Will be."
"I wouldn't worry about it. We'll change the future for this world, Jaune."
"Let's hope so." He scanned the sky. The coast seemed clear. "Want to meet back at the cafe?"
"Hell yes! That coffee's to die for."
"Alright. Meet you there, Tattletale."
"'Kay."
Hanging up the call, Jaune tucked the phone back in a pocket, and set off into the Brockton Bay night.
Author's Notes: ( ˶°ㅁ°) ! !
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