Winslow High school,
Taylor Hebert was waiting for the other shoe to drop. For a week now, Sophia and Emma had both been gone, Emma disappearing a day after Sophia suddenly stopped showing up, leaving only Madison to torment her - and she was barely phoning it in, seemingly not that into it without the other two around to push her.
It was admittedly freaking Taylor out.
Although she'd still get snide comments in the hallways from the pretty girls that flocked around Emma, there were no attacks, no petty destruction of her homework, no shoves, or trips or elbows into her ribs 'accidentally'.
There were no precisely formed insults from a former sister/best friend that ripped her heart out with inside knowledge and then spilled it out on the dirty floor of Winslow for all to see and laugh at.
Nothing.
It was almost… Normal. She couldn't trust it, it was too suspicious. It must be a trap of some kind! This was a new trick, to make her drop her guard! That's the only thing that made any sense.
Taylor scurried from one class to another, shoulders hunched low, eyes madly flickering around, searching for the threats. Any day now… Any day.
Because things never went this well. Whatever was going on with Sophia and Emma… Would be ten times as bad if she was caught unawares when they returned.
For God's sake, even the teachers were suddenly paying attention, yesterday one of the girls got called out for calling Taylor a name. A name! That small almost nonexistent slight was called out by a teacher!? Granted Gladly was still exactly the same, but still, a girl had been called out for insulting her.
For Taylor!?
It was getting harder and harder to go to school in the morning, she had started having issues with her breathing, falling into panic attacks when she'd see someone that could be Sophia or Emma from a distance, even her dad was beginning to notice her behavior.
Why was it that the two of them being gone was making this worse!?
Where was the threat?
When was it starting again?
What was going on!?
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The Rig, Brockton Bay.
"So you have nothing?" Director Emily Piggot said shortly, eyes flickering away from the report she was reading, glancing over the masked visages of Armsmaster and Miss Militia, the two top capes in Brockton Bay's Protectorate.
"As stated in the report, the amount of gun residue on Jin Kentacho's hand does not match the amount of shots fired." Armsmaster declared stiffly, before bobbing his head slightly, "Other than that small fact, the scene is pretty clear and with no obvious sign of Parahuman intervention."
In other words, he had nothing. But of course he couldn't just come out and say that, Emily thought disparagingly. Too proud by far, that one.
Emily clenched her teeth as she read over the report again. Capes in general were an untrustworthy sort, as likely to deal massive collateral damage and civilian death tolls as they were to capture a villain. Shadow Stalker however had really come close to screwing Emily and the domain trusted to her with this stunt!
A newly revealed Ward had been involved in this disaster - her press conference reveal had been literally less than a week before she was now found dead, with lethal bolts in her possession, having killed two men. No matter how you spun that if it got out, shit would have hit the fan, with Emily poised to bend over and take it all without lube.
Shadow Stalker had been an unstable vigilante before being drafted into the Wards, prone to excessive use of force, but with a powerset that had been interesting and potentially useful enough to give her a slim chance to turn things around. Now Emily wished they'd just carted the girl off to juvie or an even deeper hole, because they had obviously failed somewhere in the process if she could go out on a solo patrol with lethal weapons - a week after she was revealed as a PR friendly non-lethal Ward.
"How did she manage to escape notice?" She asked bitterly, tapping at one particular point on the report. Shadow Stalker having gotten out of the building, alone, in uniform - which shouldn't have happened. They kept track of their Wards, precisely to keep them from disappearing off on their lonesome. They had enough problems with Vista trying to sneak off to patrol that they'd had to institute changes to the Ward program specifically for Brockton Bay.
Brockton Bay, already the outlier in the Ward programme, continued to push the boundaries even further - what did they expect when they drafted child soldiers? And Emily would be the one at fault, tch!
Shadow Stalker was new and on probation, so she was not allowed to keep a uniform outside of PRT hands. So she walked in, donned her uniform, and got out… It was a failure and a black eye for her command every step of the way. And if she was going to get reamed for it, she'd ensure the shit cascaded downwards.
Emily sullenly glared down at the report she was reading, knowing that even more changes would likely be forced upon them now that a Ward was dead - even if not known to the general public. Even if it wasn't much of a loss in Emily's opinion.
A lot of things shouldn't have happened in this entire sequence of events. Including the fool girl somehow managing to get herself shot and killed against three ABB rookie gangers - when she could dodge bullet fire with her incorporeal state. Had the arrogant little bitch really been that confident that she didn't even take basic precautions? She used a crossbow anyway, why was she in goddamn melee in the first place?
Parahumans frustrated Emily, especially the young and dumb ones. At least the adults sometimes had learned discretion. She'd trade out her entire Wards program for a solid adult cape or two, just for the resultant lack of headaches.
Well, slightly less headaches, she amended tiredly, eying the two capes in front of her.
"Well? Am I speaking to myself? How did this happen?" Emily growled out, inwardly seething, the ever present anger and disgust warring with her exhaustion, only exacerbated by seeing the two capes eyeing each other silently, waiting for the other to take the question.
They could kill her without an iota of effort, yet they quailed before her… Emily just couldn't understand why they pretended so hard that they were human, in times like these…
Although she supposed it was for the better.
Miss Militia straightened up slightly upon seeing Armsmaster holding his tongue, answering Emily's question with a steady voice, "At this point we only have speculation, none of the cameras caught her exfiltration of the premises, neither was she signed in or out or seen at all by any of the guards, the other Wards staying at the building confirmed they had seen her briefly in the common room, but that she told them she was going to go to the gym, her access card records show she never actually swiped in."
"I thought she was specifically wearing a bracelet to prevent her from going into a breaker state in the building for the moment, considering her very new status." Emily said irritably, this whole matter was a black mark on all of them. A Ward dying was bad enough, said Ward dying while in the process of killing two men, was beyond the pale. "For that matter, she shouldn't be able to pass through the building easily, due to her weakness to electricity either… Which begs the question… How did she get out or in, unseen?"
At least in dying and getting caught, the stupid child had made them aware that their policies and defenses were outdated or too easily bypassed - how else could she so easily pull this stunt off if someone wasn't slacking at their job?
Only the fact this was swept up so quickly by PRT friendly members of the BBPD was saving their bacon. A brief press release was rushed out in the days after, clarifying that although Shadow Stalker had been introduced in Brockton Bay, she'd always been destined for a transfer - and it had surprised all of them when it was so quickly approved shortly after her introduction. For all that the public now knew, Shadow Stalker was cooling her heels on the other side of the country doing her heroic duty, not resting six feet under due to hubris and general cape idiocy.
The Chief Director had agreed to fake some sightings at some point in the near future to keep anyone too nosy for their own good off the trail, and then they could just let her fade away - the PRT's reputation intact.
They were even getting a ward transfer in - which was supposed to further sell the idea that there was always going to be a trade in regards to Shadow Stalker. So as far as Emily was concerned, she was coming out ahead in this mess, and she now just wanted this whole thing put behind her ASAP.
Which meant clearing up all the how's of the situation first, so it wouldn't happen again…
Shadow Stalker was supposed to be wearing a bracelet to both track her inside the building and prevent her from utilizing her powers around the other Wards until she was deemed safe - which was a problem, because it, like everything else in this whole situation, apparently failed. With the difference inherent in most parahuman powers, and no breakers on staff, they hadn't had anything immediately on hand for her, and Armsmaster had cobbled together something for the situation - which obviously failed.
Which neatly explained why Armsmaster was being even more withdrawn than usual - he was sulking over the failure of his tech… Children, everyone she was working with were literal children!
Although if Shadow Stalker somehow had undersold her weakness to electricity and could pass through the walls, getting out of the bracelet wasn't impossible…
A Ward lying about their abilities, how surprising, Emily thought sarcastically. They'd never be able to tell for sure now, so she'd operate under the suspicion their people or equipment failed.
"At this point we have to assume she found a way to utilize her breaker state despite the technology, and then used her ability to evade cameras and personnel on her way out of the building." Miss Militia said apologetically, her eyes slightly pinched as she side eyed Armsmaster, the woman taking it quite personally that they lost a Ward.
Emily inwardly scoffed, she should take a more pragmatic approach, like her and Armsmaster, both of which weren't exactly heartbroken to see the girl gone. Speaking of said tinker, she turned to Armsmaster, eyes narrowed in accusation, "How did she break your technology?" She demanded to know. She didn't care how sulky he was, she needed to know the particulars to prevent a repeat if they ever had a similar situation.
Armsmaster frowned minutely, "It was a prototype," He admitted, sounding chagrined, "It was specifically made for her, but it's likely she undersold her capabilities somehow, or at least her weaknesses, because to my knowledge she should not have been able to break out of it." He paused for a moment, before adding, "Although there is of course a small chance that as a prototype it was not functioning correctly." His voice was mild, but Emily could read the tone, Armsmaster did not want that to be put in the report.
Which is why she'd had to drag it out of him in the first place instead of reading about it…
Privately Emily added a ten to twenty percent chance Shadow Stalker escaped due to defective equipment. The absolute surety of capes was more often than not a load of bull. And although she had decent experiences with Armsmaster so far, she wasn't going to take his word for it. "I see the school has been notified of her 'transfer', did the parents sign the NDA?"
Miss Militia frowned noticeably underneath her scarf. "She only had a mother, and she signed without hesitation in exchange for the money promised to Shadow Stalkers college fund that she had earmarked for working in the Wards, the money was transferred to her account instead, at which time she signed the NDA."
Emily wanted to surreptitiously roll her eyes, parental issues, join half the world, at least the mother will keep her mouth shut… "What is this about a best friend?" She noted a short comment on the withdrawal from Winslow of one Emma Barnes. This is why she held these meetings, the things they found unimportant to expand on in a report - usually was important.
"Before the NDA had been signed, Sophia Hess' mother had received a call from Emma Barnes, the girl apparently worried due to having lost contact during the night before, and Sophia's fate was accidentally released to Ms Barnes at that time." Miss Militia explained, she shook her head with a small sigh right after, "She did not take it well, her family signed an NDA eventually, having been read in by then by Ms Barnes while we were en route. She is not currently able to sign one herself."
Armsmaster interjected at that point, disapproval apparent in his body language. "A search of Shadow Stalkers possessions allowed us to note that her personal phone had numerous points of contact with Emma Barnes during the hours of her previously documented vigilante work, including mentions of taking said civilian girl alongside at some point in the past."
Emily felt a migraine coming in, "Why wasn't that in the report?" She barked out, glaring at the normally pedantic tinker. This was important information when this whole house of cards rested on no one finding out the fool girl was dead. The report simply had one line mentioning the girl off handedly!
Armsmaster paused, shifting his body slightly, appearing to be surprised at her anger, "The girl suffered a psychotic break, as of 24 hours ago her family has hospitalized her in a psychiatric institution. I saw no need in adding her to the official report as the situation is resolved."
Emily grit her teeth, forcibly calming herself down so she didn't snap at the man. He wasn't completely wrong in that the situation had resolved itself, for now. But if he omitted this from his reports, what else was he omitting because it wasn't needed. "In the future, everything to do with a case shall be in the report to myself, is that clear?" She snapped out.
It shouldn't even have to be said. Especially to Armsmaster who was usually overly pedantic about procedures. She was beginning to suspect he was covering his ass over something…
Armsmaster nodded stiffly at her reprimand, Miss Militia doing the same, even if it hadn't been directed to her. Emily rarely had problems with her, which made her an oddity amongst capes, so few of them understood how to follow orders properly.
"Moving on, what is the situation with the Wards like?" Emily asked, already working on something else as she kept half an ear on the other two.
A Ward going out on her own was already enough of a headache, even if thankfully she'd sorted it out by dying before she could make it worse.
She didn't really care to hear about what the others felt about it, but in her position she had to ask, to at least make an effort to show a semblance of care for their emotional states.
Fucking capes… She grumbled internally, Never can do anything simple when they can instead fuck it up twenty times instead…
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Jordan had not been doing well. As in - hadn't left his apartment for a week - not doing well.
It's not the killings, he had no issues with that, for the most part. He had already decided that the trio of goons needed to die, he wasn't even all that broken up at Shadow Stalkers death in the end. Yeah she was a kid, which he hated himself a tiny smidge for killing. But he also knew she was a complete psychopath so he didn't feel all that shitty about it, other than the age factor, especially as she would have likely killed him when she was done with the others.
No, what made him feel out of sorts was the whole thing with suddenly gaining a power and the ramifications that lay in how he'd gained it…
Shadow Stalkers power. He had another cape's power. Through murder…
Because not only did he gain her power upon killing her. He instinctively knew how to use it after. How broken was that? He knew how to travel through solid matter, how to turn incorporeal, how to use it to basically float in the air, which would allow him to jump off fucking buildings! How to make a weapon go incorporeal and shadowy with him or when he'd fire one, and then how to leave it inside something, or someone, when he/it went corporeal again - which was a scary as fuck ability.
It basically said fuck off invulnerability, I'll just leave this shit inside you, unless someone's brute ability specifically stopped all breaker powers - which was not a common thing at all with brutes. They weren't all Alexandrias or had a fuck off shield like Glory Girl.
And for all he knew his ability bypassed the shield as well, he had no idea, it was possible but unlikely, she'd survived a direct hit from Scion with that shield after all.
…Either way,
All of it. He knew it, all of the skills inherent to the power, he hadn't needed to work for it, he didn't need to get acclimated to it. He had it all, in an instant.
And it scared him, because he knew he'd use it. That this power… Was exactly what he needed. He'd wanted it so bad, and yet, it also terrified him, because of what lay ahead of him…
To save Jana, to find a power capable of leaving this plane of existence, to travel back home, or at the very least to another earth that survives Scion without almost total annihilation - that was his goal.
Because why stay here if there was literally any other option - Jana wouldn't be safe as long as Scion would still kill everything.
The entire week, he'd forced himself to control the impulse to outright murder Amy Dallon. Panacea would give him exactly what he needed to actually heal his sister after all. Plus he could make her harder to kill, using Panacea's power to make her a low level brute at minimum, protecting his sister even further.
Not to mention everything else he could do, Panacea was actually rather shit at her own power all things considered.
Yet… He'd had to sit on that impulse. He wasn't a murder hobo, not even now with basically a power made for someone destined for the Slaughterhouse Nine, a power that fed off killing. He could only thank whatever deity that wasn't an absolute shithole - that his power only worked on Parahumans. He didn't want to imagine what kind of serial killer he'd become if killing a programmer for example - gave him that skill.
Obviously it was something shard related, and for once he thanked those alien parasites for not taking it to the very extreme capabilities of a power. Killing Parahumans for their power had its own issues. If Oni Lee came after him for example… He didn't think he could choose not to get a power, and he did not want that power in any manner.
Oni Lee literally killed his own mind piece by piece while utilizing his power, and Jordan did not want that shit! Oni Lee wasn't the only Parahuman around who's power he definitely did not want. What would happen if he killed a Case 53 while defending himself?
Or if he killed someone like Night from the Empire 88…
No, he needed to be smart, he didn't have any clue as of now how many powers he could collect, but he doubted it was infinite, because Scion would not have allowed for a shard that could grow so rapidly to potentially threaten him. Or maybe he would, the alien parasite was fucking stupid, even if also stupidly powerful.
He needed to find powers that synergize well together, covered his weaknesses, without being bogged down with powers that would turn him monstrous or fuck up his mind…
Panacea would have to wait… Jana would have to wait…
Killing Panacea was not something he could so easily do and get away with, and that was the unfortunate truth of the situation. Right now, he was basically a non-entity, no one knew about him. It gave him an edge because he knew so much about everyone else…
He'd seen on the news about Shadow Stalker's 'transfer', so the PRT had covered things up like he thought they would. Killing Panacea would not have the same reaction. She wasn't the international big shot that fanon liked to make it out to be, but she was an incredibly effective healer - one that healed Protectorate and Ward capes with no questions asked.
Her death would not be a minor thing. Even if he was 100 percent confident he could kill her in her sleep without any issues, that wasn't good enough.
They would investigate, they would put their thinkers on it. People like Coil would use his power to find Jordan and make use of him. And that was if wrecking ball Barbie didn't find out who he was through someone and killed him very dead immediately.
They'd look for people that had a problem with Panacea… The gangs wouldn't have touched her, she healed their capes in PRT custody too - if badly damaged. So when they broke out, they'd be back in business right away. The gangs wouldn't kill her and lose out on free healing before their breakouts.
If they began looking… If Coil and the PRT thinkers started searching… They'd easily find the person with no papers that threw a hissy fit at Panacea - he had made himself memorable unfortunately… They'd find that despite his age he was not in school, that he was a ghost, not in the system at all. He'd be a suspect on that alone and the thinkers would find him if they tried, simply by extrapolating what pharmacies in what areas sold a lot extra of the basic drugs needed for a catatonic young girl…
If he wanted to get Panacea's powers and use them without either dying or being captured - or having his sister kidnapped to be used against him… He needed to be stronger first. He needed support.
He needed to be in similar straits to the Slaughterhouse Nine, the Butcher, or in the case of not quite as openly evil - like Lung. He needed to be a cape no one would go after. And if they did force themselves to do so due to public demand - to be a cape with enough power behind him to win.
Which meant a gang. Which meant other capes and unpowered members. Coil had shown how useful those without powers could still be if trained and geared properly. Even the PRT sometimes took down Parahumans with just their troopers - even if they weren't of any use against the true monsters.
One of the reasons he was so angry with the heroes in the first place lay in this fact. Without the PRT artificially inflating villains, the army alone could kill a large percent of villainous Parahumans, leaving the Protectorate to field against only those like Lung or the Butcher - those too hard to stop by normal means.
They needed Endbringer fodder is why, but considering Jordan knew why they were getting whammied by said Endbringers… They should have spent more time looking for other solutions other than letting all the villains go because maybe they'd be useful one day.
Most villains only fought if they happened to be in the city being hit, so it was a shit deal anyway.
Since they had such a shit world, it was only fair that Jordan took advantage of their dumbass rules to make sure he was safe, so that he could ensure his sister was safe - that she'd wake up in a situation where she wouldn't immediately die or be kidnapped.
He needed a powerful infrastructure behind him capable of taking the heat of killing Panacea is what it all boiled down to.
Sure he could get her power and then threaten to unleash plagues or something if anyone came near him, if his power was going to make hers as intuitive as it made Shadow Stalkers it wouldn't even be that hard.
But if he made too much of a stink, became too dangerous on a world safety level, (Like say with the threat of plagues…) Then it was likely he would have Contessa show up to blow his brains out before he could even make one to threaten the heroes with. Another reason why he believed he couldn't just instantly kill Panacea.
That's what a week of brooding while obsessively thinking of murder plots had gotten him to.
He tentatively believed he was on the right track, because Cauldron hadn't interceded to wag a finger for messing with the all important path to victory bullshit. He refused to believe he was lucky enough to be a thinker blindspot that everyone and their mothers somehow always was in the stories he'd read.
This was real, and he obviously wasn't that lucky. So whatever he planned for now. It didn't run contrary to Contessa and her bullshit path… For now.
Perhaps if he kept thinking on all the good information he could give Cauldron… They'd let him craft a gang and grow powerful in peace, let him take Panacea's power…
Especially if he offered to continue to use it, to heal for the Endbringer fights, to perhaps even offer upgrades to certain Cauldron chosen people, or hell, help them stop Endbringers from showing up again… Looking at you Eidolon, you ego filled bag of cats!
It was another avenue to think about…
"Stop brooding!" Mai shouted through the walls, giving it a thump for good measure, a decent chunk of filthy something fell down from the corner of the ceiling. These buildings would be beyond condemned in his world, here, they were standard. Honestly they were lucky half the time if the heat or water actually worked.
He was being generous, calling it half.
"Yes ma'am!" He shouted back with some snark. Receiving an answering thump as Mai hit the wall again, could you read a thump as - don't make me come over there? Because that thump sounded like it to him.
Mai was way too scary for her age. Teenagers on this planet were nuts.
He still wasn't 100 percent sure if the water in this building wasn't toxic somehow, because it sure as fuck wasn't clear and sparkly. Hence why so much of his food money was spent on bottled water for Jana… The other half on meal replacement shakes… Nutrient bag IVs and the like was out of his budget, not that the bottled water or ensure was that much cheaper in the end.
At least now… He should be able to make some more money while he figured out the next steps, the power he now held was particularly useful in theft and robberies to the creative villain. And Jordan, if he was set on the path of villainy, definitely needed to be creative above all else.
Jordan sighed wearily, getting up, stretching out his tired muscles, having spent way too much time sitting and brooding. Endeavoring to find some cleaning supplies first of all, he moved towards the tiny cleaning cupboard that also held his small stash of cash. He didn't need to live in total filth, he could put in some effort, it wasn't good for Jana to be surrounded by mold and dirt.
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
And maybe getting up and doing something would spark something out of him, it was time to stop sitting in a corner to obsessively plan and worry - and instead go out and try and make some things happen.
He eyed the strange lump of maybe mold with distaste as he opened the cleaning cupboard. After he's cleaned up he'll see about going out, he needed to make some money anyway so he could continue to pay Mai to look after Jana.
Once he got on his feet properly, he could offer her the job full time, and get her out of here as well. Away from the sleazeball landlord.
If he was going to be a villain anyway…
Maybe one civilian death wouldn't be the end of the world…
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After he was done cleaning up, he begged Mai to look after Jana, bribing her with promises of bringing back some Amanatto from her favorite little dessert shop. It worked even better than money in getting Mai to do what he wanted, so he used it sparingly.
Especially as they were pretty expensive, especially bought from the little old lady owned tea shop that Mai loved.
Soon enough he was out and on his way to get up to no good, his thoughts were on his power and what to do next.
A uniform was out of the question this early, he neither had the funds, the material, or the wish to be recognized as a cape at this time. Funds could be dealt with soon enough, but he didn't want to be known as a cape as of yet.
So when Jordan headed towards the trainyards and the derelict warehouse district perpendicular to the docks, he wore his shabby hoodie, and kept a simple black scarf in his pocket for when he'd need to hide his features - something he'd stolen off a brain-dead tourist he'd found half beaten to death in an alley two blocks from his apartment.
Why exactly the idiot had a black scarf in his fanny pack he wasn't sure, but it said something about how ridiculous the pack was because the muggers had left the fanny pack behind - and they usually took everything. Jordan had left it behind too after searching the man for anything else useful, because no fucking way was he going to be seen with it. He'd never live it down if Mai saw it.
Jordan had also taken the tourists boots, because they were almost his size and much better than his own ratty pair - he could live with half a size too small even if it was uncomfortable. In probability the only reason the tourist still had them was because of the size. The ABB goons that likely beat his ass probably left them behind due to not having any use for them. Most Asians weren't his size, and those that were had better jobs than running through alleyways mugging tourists.
This kind of shit still happened regularly, the airheads that came to gawk at capes and shop at the hideously expensive boardwalk started looking for cheap thrills - convincing themselves to go looking around the docks or the trainyards, thinking daylight made it safe. Despite the very clear warnings from the BBPD, the PRT and the boardwalk Enforcers - to not do that.
The lucky ones were only beaten half to death and had their money and possessions taken. And only because they were mostly men were they that lucky…
Jordan didn't very often see 'lucky' ones. Perhaps it's why he was so desensitized to killing when it was necessary - because he'd already seen so many corpses in the last year, he'd become numb to it all.
After all, the killing wasn't really what his problem was with his power. Albeit it had thrown him for a loop of worrying for a bit there. The issue was how much his ability would make people want to kill him!
It's why he needed to keep it on the down low for now.
That's why he was heading for the tiny slice of Merchant territory, if it could be called that. Which really it shouldn't, but it was the easiest way to explain the area where most of the junkies and homeless hung out and where you could sometimes find Skidmark's operations in full swing.
When he wasn't too fucked up to do anything at all.
Jordan had absolutely no intention of tangling with Skidmark or Squealer, neither did he want their powers, he wanted to pick particularly useful ones for himself that would synergize well in the future. Also, he wanted to stay under the radar, which meant not killing capes that people would ask too many questions about - or where they would be too curious about their disappearance.
He already had his first target, decided upon during his brooding. Independents disappeared all the time after all… Nothing to see there.
No, his presence in Merchant territory was for money, not capes. Skidmark was small potatoes as far as gangs in Brockton Bay were concerned, but he did provide a significant amount of drugs through the various dealers that either worked for him (a minority) or those that bought their products from him.
Jordan couldn't remember much about the Merchants, but if he were to guess, Skidmark could get more product in, more easily - due to Squealer. He thought he could remember invisible cars, or perhaps that was from other stories… But it made a certain amount of sense.
The derelict and empty warehouses were perfect to hide different facets of drug production and drug money collection in. Which also meant plenty of cash for Jordan to find, potentially quite a lot of it if he's lucky.
If he really wanted to start up his own gang, he'd need to deal with Skidmark and Squealer eventually, without killing them personally, and to gain subordinates he needed money - so weakening the weakest gang in Brockton Bay while enriching himself was a good start.
So that's what he'd go with, the gathering of resources.
It would also give him a chance to practice his power. He couldn't do it at home, one bad trip through a floor or wall and his neighbors would sell him out in a heartbeat. He somewhat trusted Mai, but he couldn't say for sure that she wouldn't sell him out if it was worth enough for her. That's the kind of people Brockton Bay creates and he couldn't even hold it against her.
If he could sell out a neighbor for money and protection for Jana… He would too. He'd feel bad, but he would do it. So he didn't hold it against Mai if she did, but therefore it was better to not risk that in the first place.
Not that he really wanted to use the power overly much to get through buildings, because he remembered Shadow Stalker had some issues with electricity and going through a wall seemed a good way to get shocked by some wiring at some point, and he wasn't sure how much damage she took for that shit. He'd have to practice carefully. He didn't have any crossbows, but he'd stolen Jin's gun when he'd left him his, so he was curious if the phasing power would allow him to fire the gun through walls, and have the bullet unphase on the other side or if the bullet would be too fast compared to a crossbow bolt.
It wouldn't be too useful inside, because he couldn't see through walls and most importantly walls could be shot through normally, but out in a fight, with people hiding behind cars or other barriers, being able to fire right through them, or right through a brutes invulnerable skin before the bullet came back into reality - would be one hell of a boon.
Especially as he'd be pretty hard to damage when he was incorporeal, so he could shoot at them and phase out and move around a battlefield pretty much unhindered. Most capes had issues with guns, but to Jordan, he couldn't give less of a crap about cape etiquette, he'd use a fucking gun if it gave him an edge.
So hopefully firing one while phased would actually work out.
He started seeing more homeless around, the people studiously avoiding him due to his size. He was close enough now to where he was going.
He ducked into an alley, taking a deep breath, okay, I can do this! He thought, psyching himself up as he tied the scarf over the lower part of his face, just in case someone did spot him.
Test number one, can I get up to the roof?
He bent his knees, preparing to jump, taking another deep breath before he settled his nerves and then… He jumped up, turning into his breaker state immediately after take off. Whereas he'd normally not get close to the roof as a normal human, his lightweight shadowy state allowed him to get much farther than he thought, not only going over the ledge of the roof, but almost going too far, as he almost floated to the other side of it and down the edge, turning corporeal again at the last second, boots and knees slamming into the small railing at the end of the roof.
"Alright… Not too bad, got all fingers and toes still at least…" Jordan breathed out, leaning against the railing, feeling a slight shakiness in his body, coming down from an adrenaline high at the successful test.
He felt pretty damn powerful right now, a feeling he immediately tamped down on, crushing it. He wasn't sure whether that was shard bullshit or his own bullshit - but he couldn't afford to get cocky. As he was, a lucky shot could still kill him, it had for Shadow Stalker…
He breathed out huffily through his nose, letting out a small soundless laugh, walking quietly over the roof, eyeing the next warehouse over. Flying power… I need to get one of those. He thought, just the feel of soaring up within the shadow state had been exhilarating, if somewhat scary for a moment.
He bit his lip, shaking his head. He had power testing to do, cash to find, now was not the time to think of looking up Kayden Anders in the phonebook and murder her in her sleep.
No matter how tempting that was, the same problem of retaliation still existed - and he wasn't strong enough yet - Kaiser wouldn't take Kaydens murder lying down. Concentrate on the now, Padawan, Jordan told himself, letting out a self deprecating chuckle.
He eyed the distance between the two rooftops, it was much too far of a jump as a normal human being. He eyed the distance to the ground, he'd definitely hurt himself if he fucked up, if he was normal. With his breaker state however, it should let him float down without injury if he missed his jump.
Not wanting to waste time second guessing himself, he jumped, switching to his shadowy breaker state as he did, grinning like a loon as he flew across the rooftop, over the divide and onto the other roof, only slightly dipping in altitude as he floated over at a decent speed.
Alright, this wasn't that hard… He thought, eyeing the roof beneath him, he noticed it had a small skylight, more metal than glass and filthy enough it was difficult to see through. He walked over and peeked inside, seeing nothing but disused and broken apart machinery. So not a warehouse then, a disused factory of some kind, everything but the heaviest machinery already scavenged or broken apart.
He doubted this place still had power, which was the most important consideration for him right now. He flexed his hand, he'd have to try it, and if there were live wires, he needed to know what the damage was from doing it outside of a battle. He turned into shadows, slowly sinking his hand and arm through the roof near where the skylight was, even though his entire being was in a breaker state, he hoped he could choose what part to push forward. He wiggled his fingers, able to see the shadowy form through the dirty window, a grin on his face at the absurdity of it all.
He'd confirmed, to his pleasure, that as long as he focused on only sticking his arm through, the rest of him, even in an incorporeal state, did not just fall through the roof, which was nice to have confirmed.
Time to change that partial effect, he took a deep breath, preparing for the plunge, before he forced himself through the roof, his sight momentarily blocked, the movement through the material much more sluggish and not nearly as quick as moving around in air, but still, he passed through in seconds, so not too shabby.
Finding himself inside the dark warehouse/factory, he slowly floated down, none worse for wear, proving he definitely could move through solid matter, although the fact that the factory was likely no longer hooked up to the grid prevented proper testing, like how electricity impacted him.
Well… He had a big empty space, he'd have to check to make sure no one was squatting in it currently, but after that…
Some live fire testing was due!
----------------------------------------
Fortress industries Endbringer shelter,
Coil had been doing some general business work in his secret underground lair, ensuring his finances continued to be unassailable and secreted away under so many covers and false trails that no one would ever find it, let alone connect any of it to him or his civilian identity.
Said civilian identity was busy doing paperwork at PRT headquarters in another timeline, Commander Calvert putting in the hours, being very diligent indeed. What he observed in that timeline had however changed what he was doing in his base.
For the last hour Coil had switched from a business focus to instead work on copying the paperwork that he was doing in the other timeline, since he'd have to dump that one soon, and at least this way, he could continue to show off his excellent work ethic by turning in the paperwork, despite not even having been at work today.
Commander Calvert was a consummate professional after all. Coil smirked underneath his mask, everyone knew that…
Being able to move in two timelines ensured he always had work done ahead of time, ensured he and his team never flubbed an arrest or made a mistake - constantly eclipsing his rivals within the PRT. In another year he'd be the only name to replace Emily as Director of the PRT in Brockton.
Having her hand him the metaphorical keys to her office as he replaced her, would please him in immeasurable ways and become one of the absolute highlights of his life.
He'd even been the one who had brought Shadow Stalker in, after spending a few timelines figuring out how she operated and where she'd roam, ironically nailing her right after she'd nailed a criminal to the wall. It had been quite the feather in his cap, bringing the vigilante in without Parahuman assistance, well, as far as they knew…. He'd even quietly recommended her for Ward conversion as a possible plot whose thread he could pull on in the future.
Of course, with recent events… He'd also quietly replaced the part where he'd recommended it, to instead note caution against it in the reports. Just another strike against Emily one day when he used it, as the ultimate decision of course fell on the Director.
In the Thomas Calvert timeline, he noted through his bugs that Armsmaster and Miss Militia were leaving Emily's office. He activated the hidden worm on her personal computer system, immediately cloning the report she'd received and any comments added after their discussion.
This is why a disposable timeline was such a boon. With Dragon in charge of electronic countermeasures, his worm would be immediately noticed on activation, even now the report was likely being sent and within minutes a PRT squad would be on its way. Calvert had written the SOP on these situations for Brockton Bay; he knew exactly how long he had before his office was invaded. Likewise his bugs would soon be noticed as well now that they'd been put in use and would be disabled with prejudice.
It was so useful having inactivated bugs and backdoors that couldn't be traced because in the kept timeline - they were never activated.
Yet he still retained what he'd learnt. There wasn't even any question on who had the best power in town, Coil was without a doubt the most powerful Parahuman around, brains beat brutes any day. He felt he had good reason to feel smug about it considering how easy it all was.
He read the report, having no issue speed reading through it, a smile growing on his gaunt face even as he did. Oh, this is just delicious… He thought, chuckling to himself even as his door was broken down, a mass of PRT troopers rushing in.
Coil let the other timeline end, mind whirling with what he'd found out, he immediately split again, so that the other timeline could continue working on paperwork while he thought things through.
He rubbed his thin lips through his mask, seeing only opportunity ahead.
Shadow Stalker had been a long shot really. Someone he'd pushed into the Wards to create dysfunction and to break up the teamwork of the other more stable Wards.
He'd been well aware of just how unsuited to becoming a hero Sophia Hess really was, but that had suited him just fine. If she succeeded he'd take the credit for her 'recruitment' and as had now happened - he erased the part where he recommended her - from the official report, when it turned out she'd failed instead. Something he could quite easily do without drawing Dragon's attention as he didn't need a hidden program for it, Thomas Calvert had access to that much. Now her recruitment lay squarely in the lap of Emily Piggot, an even better outcome than his wildest dreams, something Shadow Stalker had managed so easily with her moronic death.
Thank you, Shadow Stalker, he toasted amusedly, the angry little girl doing more for the city by dying and eventually delivering it to Coil, then she could have ever achieved being a hero.
Coil now had the perfect piece of information to squash Emily's career at the precise moment she screwed up just enough, the Shadow Stalker debacle just waiting to be released to the media to give her the final push out of the door.
A psychopath Ward had been recruited on her say so… A killer. A Ward that ended up dead, with the entire matter covered up from the public. It was deliciously juicy! The little cherry on top was the civilian girl in psychiatric care that had been involved as well, just furthering how unaware and clueless Emily would look once Coil released this.
Shadow Stalkers school chums knew about her vigilantism and extrajudicial killings before Emily Piggot! He could see the headline now.
This was way ahead of his planned timeline, how thoughtful of Emily to cover it all up, to give him the perfect justification to take her down with it, once the time was right for his ascension.
To think, he'd only surreptitiously had a key delivered to the girl for her tracking bracelet on a whim… To ensure she didn't explode on the Wards too soon, giving her the usual outlet in the city, hunting down petty criminals. And it had ended with such a perfect outcome for him.
He hadn't even risked any of his moles in the PRT, the girl had found her own way in and out.
It was not often he acted on a whim, perhaps some whimsy once in a while would add an unpredictability to his plans that would be hard to counter?
Coil scoffed to himself, amused at the thought, nothing beat a perfectly executed plan, whimsy had no part in it. Although he hadn't planned for Sophia Hess' death, his plan for her eventual success or disintegration inside the Ward program is what led to this outcome, so either way, he thought smugly, it was all down to his planning. Both outcomes would have led to a win only for him.
He turned to other matters, this summer was turning out to be very productive for him and his plans, but he needed to slot in some expendable Parahuman muscle…
Someone he could use from a distance, without drawing attention to his operations or his name.
His mercenaries were not enough for the culmination of his plans. There was only so much even a well prepared and well armed man could do against capes, even with precognition behind them.
He was already tracking two capes, loners with certain sociopathic mentalities that could do well for him, they weren't the leadership type however, which is why he hadn't bothered to approach them yet. Coil did not perform actions until they were laid out just perfectly so in his favor.
He didn't need to rush ahead, not with his power, the perfect accompaniment to his superior intellect.
He'd had his eye on a bruiser named Grue for a few weeks now, figuring out the petty criminal's motivations… The young man was much calmer and certainly more level-headed than the other two potential recruits. He also had an easily controllable factor in regards to his eventual loyalty. The situation in regards to his younger sister - his weakness. He was possibly worth a closer look to see if he could lead Coils team of undesirables.
Hmm, undesirables… Undersiders… Good enough a name for Brockton Bay, he supposed. They weren't meant to be more than his muscle anyway, and the more the teens were seen as their own entity, the less focus others would have on Coil's plots.
Until it was too late for them, and Coil owned everything in his sights.
Now… Where was that report… He had just the kind of person to add to the team to make it a cohesive unit. He had the potential muscle, the hidden ace, the leader… Now he needed the brains.
Pity that she was trying so hard to elude him, he'd have to take a stronger stance with this one than the others…
It would be an enjoyable timeline or two to test her limits…
Everything is going exactly as planned, he thought with satisfaction.
----------------------------------------
Jordan moved silently over the rooftops, having long since finished testing most aspects of his power - except sticking his hand through live wires, something he wasn't ecstatic about trying, even if he knew he had to at some point.
Now he was slinking from roof to roof near the trainyards, tracking Merchant dealers as night was falling, the limited 'day staff' that hung around for those purchasing during daylight hours heading back towards wherever they drop off money. At the same time, the more vast amount of night time dealers moved out into the streets, to ply their wares to the much more lively night crowd.
Even if the police presence was practically nonexistent in this area, homeless people and junkies still didn't move too much during the day, as if completely against the notion of being seen. Because of this, it had taken Jordan half an hour after his training finished to even find a dealer, one he'd watched since, and was now silently following. He was keeping in his shadow state except for a second here and there, just enough to have the power of a corporeal form to give enough juice to jump across rooftops in his incorporeal one.
Even if the people now moving about with some alaricy across the streets looked up - they wouldn't see anything with how his breaker state made him look like a dark shadow, and with night falling, that made him pretty indistinguishable in the dark, especially from a distance and with the backdrop of the night sky behind him.
He'd been able to fire a gun and pull off the trick of having it be incorporeal and then turn corporal while in use, although it took him a long time to get the timing right, with how fast a bullet moved. As in it took him several hours and more ammo then he had been comfortable wasting.
It definitely would be harder to pull off in real time in a battle as he needed to focus for it to work so far, especially as Shadow Stalkers power, like most breaker powers, did not work as anything but a full on change.
So he could fire a bullet while incorporeal, to shoot it through walls or car wrecks or a brutes skin, but to turn the bullet corporeal again he'd have to turn corporeal - it was all or nothing. So that was definitely a weakness to look out for, especially in battle. Even if it literally only required him to spend a second in-between switching states.
He'd have to practice a lot more to get the timing down, he didn't need to return to corporeal form for long, a second at the most - so if he got the timing down, it would limit his vulnerability while shooting someone through cover or their power.
Jordan peered over the roof of the building he was on, noticing where the dealer was headed, it wasn't a hard guess from where he was, the sight of actual working power in the small two storey warehouse down the street confirmed it. It wouldn't be noticeable from street level, but from his vantage point he could see the slight shine of lighting through the dilapidated roof. The windows were all boarded up, hiding any sight of light from street level.
It was a good place to use as a stash house, as despite having power, it looked more dilapidated and trashy then the buildings around it, keeping it low key and undesirable to squatters. Jordan didn't even want to chance the roof, with how many holes he could see light out of even from a distance, and the likely rust factor on the metal slats, it was just not worth the risk. His corporeal form would crash right through, and his incorporeal form risked being seen in the light to any discerning eye staring up.
It was time to get to street level, and investigate closer. He checked the street and could find no one else around except the dealer he'd been following, who was almost at the warehouse. He peered suspiciously at the adjacent buildings, trying to see if any of the second story windows had a potential lookout keeping watch for the stash house.
"Jackpot!" He muttered, feeling pleased with himself for his caution, catching the glint of something in one of the second storey windows in the building just before the stash house.
The street wasn't well lit, so he backed off and floated down the side of the building he was on, remaining in his shadow state as he peered out of the alleyway to ensure the street was still empty, the Merchant having reached and entered the powered up warehouse.
Must be using generators, or the power sap on the grid in this shithole of an area would tell the cops or anyone plugged into them - exactly where to find the stash house. He thought, looking both ways before he hurried across the street, ensuring he came up right next to the wall of the building the lookout was in.
With his shadowy state and the angle, the lookout wouldn't catch him unless he was particularly paranoid and attentive and sweeping all directions, including straight down.
Somehow he doubted a Merchant lookout was that attentive. He was probably being way too paranoid as it was - the guy was probably tweaked out of his brain and barely there, let alone keeping a proper watch.
He hesitated for a second, should I leave him… Before he immediately scolded himself, no chances! If he left the lookout and hit the stash house, someone might manage to run out, or the lookout would spot or hear a commotion. Jordan didn't know if he had the ability to call Skidmark or not. But why take the chance when he could end the lookout right now?
He was already a killer, so why was he hesitating? It was only a Merchant… He shook his head wildly, repeating the mantra - For Jana, it's to save Jana! As he moved forward slowly, looking for a door to enter the building.
He couldn't chance that this building as well had live power just like the stash house - and was just not actively using it to stay hidden. He had a work around though… Doors generally didn't have wires through them, so he was fine to phase right through those.
He soon found one, a somewhat broken corrugated metal door, that had a simple padlock through a set of chains that kept it secure, the chains wrapped through literal fist sized holes in the concrete wall next to it and through the door itself. Jordan scratched his head, or tried to, momentarily forgetting he was incorporeal. How do they get out if it's chained and locked on the outside? He wondered. He didn't see another exit, although perhaps there was a backdoor on the other side or a fire escape or something.
Either way, he supposed it didn't matter, and if this was their way in, it was only better for him if this lookout couldn't be replaced in a speedy manner. Looking up and noting that the window he'd spied something through was far enough away from the door, he decided the risk was worth it. The lookout was watching the outside, it was unlikely he'd be paying attention to this entrance, and Jordan wasn't very visible in the dark anyway.
With a simple movement forward he phased through the door, his gun in his hand ready to fire if he came upon a threat. But as he thought, there was nothing there, only debris and filth, and someone humming lowly in the distance… He looked up and noted the mezzanine above him, eyes searching until he found the stairs up. Good thing I'm practically weightless, that rusty shit isn't going to be quiet if I'd had to walk up it. He thought, eyeing the rusted to hell mezzanine and attached stairs.
He holstered his gun, all his equipment working to move around in this shadowy state, even if he couldn't affect his own body, like when he tried to scratch his head. Instead he grabbed the simple kitchen knife he kept taped to his pant leg with duct tape, lacking anything better at the moment. Firing a gun was too loud this close to the stash house, a knife would have to be the way to go.
He felt slightly ill at the idea of what he was about to do, but he steeled himself. He needed to do this, he needed money for Jana, he needed it to move forward with his plans, which would eventually protect Jana, he couldn't falter, not out of squeamishness.
This was another world. They were from a story, they're not even people. Not really.
What about Mai? His treacherous mind immediately supplied, forcing him to shove the thought away. He couldn't afford to debate himself now, he could only move forward.
He slowly moved up the stairs, knowing that the darkness in here wouldn't completely hide him if someone were to see him moving up the stairs or across the mezzanine, it would be too visible a motion in a confined space. Floating weightlessly was the only reason he could even move up, they didn't have a bad setup here… Anyone trying to get to the lookout would be heard from the get go with the rusty metal announcing their arrival.
When he reached close to the top, he slowly got on all fours, poking just his head out onto the mezzanine floor to look around the corner. He immediately spotted the lookout, the man sitting and humming on top of a pair of wooden boxes, looking out the window with a rifle and a radio next to him on the second box.
Good news, he was watching the window, not the mezzanine. Bad news, he must be the first Merchant in their short history to not be tweaking out of his mind on the job. Jordan couldn't even see any drug paraphernalia.
He slowly sank back out of sight, pondering the situation, rushing across the mezzanine was an option, but he didn't want the guy to possibly get a shot off or grab the radio before he could get him. The shot wouldn't do shit to Jordan, he was almost invulnerable in his incorporeal state, but the noise would ruin his plan to hit the stash house.
He was sitting in a mezzanine though, so no chance for live wires… It was all just rusted steel…
Jordan slowly floated back down the stairs, keeping an ear out for any change in the humming of the lookout, any possibility he'd noticed anything odd. Once he got back on the ground floor, he moved towards the lookout until he was almost right beneath him, still no sign of him being made.
He held his knife out, wanting to close his eyes and breathe out, but he didn't want to risk even that, closing your eyes in a possible combat situation was foolhardy. He turned corporeal, jumping up for the speed boost, immediately returning to his shadowy state, the push floating him up and through the mezzanine as he swooped through the metal as an avenging dark angel.
The guy never got a chance to even see what killed him, as Jordan flashed up behind him, sliding his knife into his back, aimed for his heart, and then he turned corporeal again, the lookout letting out a shocked death rattle as he stiffened, before sliding off his box, the knife firmly lodged into his heart.
Jordan himself was too busy to pay too much attention to the death, having rushed and been sloppy - going corporeal while a third of him had still been going through the mezzanine, in his haste to strike.
It was a supremely uncomfortable feeling to get pushed out of the mezzanine, painful to an extent, but more like a mental ache than a physical one. He thanked God that powers were bullshit and rarely harmed its own user - pushing him out of the material instead of leaving him half in half out, or worse, cut in half.
As he laid on the mezzanine patting down his legs to make sure they were there, he eyed the corpse, having mixed feelings about how easy it had been.
He should feel something, he was sure, but he just… Didn't. Compared to Jana, what was the lives of all these fuckers on this shithole Earth Bet worth?
Nothing, nothing at all…
----------------------------------------
Merchant stash house D, Brockton Bay.
Ricardo Iberra really couldn't stand most of these merchant freaks, a bunch of useless junkies and trash who could barely qualify as sapient beings on most days.
He'd met dogs smarter than some of these people. Fuck, he'd trust a dog at his back more then these jokers…
He idly looked around the main floor of the stash house, taking in all the trash spread around in between ratty couches and tables filled with drugs. They certainly live down to their reputation, he thought with scorn, not bothering to hide his expression.
Not like the dumbfucks were coherent enough to understand it.
Yet here he was, because despite everything, the idiots were profitable. Which is why he was paid a premium by the top shitstain himself, Skidmark, to guard the cash and product. Not from rival gangs, because they barely noticed their existence, but from their own people. The druggies and the homeless garbage people were more likely to knock over Skidmark's stash than an enemy.
That's why he'd been hired, why he stood here, bored out of his fucking mind, wondering if you could get high from proximity to druggies, an assault rifle in his hands. He was guarding the cases of cash, only allowing one man at a time to approach to deposit his shit, letting no one as much as stiff him a single dollar bill.
He could get better mercenary work elsewhere, Coil, several of the larger businesses in and around the area, even the Empire sometimes hired 'outside contractors' for deniable operations, not that they ever admitted it.
Even if he hated working for those pricks, money was in the end, money. And the only color that mattered was green.
Skidmark let him have ten percent of anything that came in to this stash house as long as he kept it safe and kept his people from fucking him. And Ricardo couldn't turn down that kind of fucking money. No one could. Although for that reason as well Ricardo was the only mercenary for the entire stash house.
It was amazing how much money could flow through a place like this.
The Merchants were small-time, but their drug trade wasn't. Ricardo had counted over 50k so far, and they still had the entire night to go. Looking around, his nose wrinkled as he saw Gutty - so named for his fat gut, standing out amongst a bunch of emaciated junkies - stand up and piss against the wall. Disgusting fucking freaks…
"Oy, the walls are yellow enough without you adding to it you fat fuck!" He barked out, not giving a shit about the decor, but he needed to uphold some standards, last thing he wanted to see was everyone becoming comfortable whipping their fucking cocks out all over the place.
Before he could get more than confused mumbling as an answer, the lights cut out, leaving the area lit only by the few candles around the room that were used to theoretically cover up the stench, keeping fucking candles around any drugs was dumb as fuck, but for the moment, at least it gave some light.
Fucking generator on the fritz again. Probably…
Ricardo swept the room with the muzzle of his assault rifle, squinting through the darkness, seeing nothing but the same junkie dealers, all crowded around the table with their meth and coke, except for Gutty, he couldn't see the fat man. He snorted quietly, probably the first time the guy has been hard to spot.
Seeing nothing amiss, he grabbed his radio anyway, just in case, keeping a casual eye on the junkies in case this was some ploy to steal some drugs or cash. "Ey, we lost power, you see something?" He called out to Rick, the only guy other than him that was dependable enough for lookout duty.
He waited for thirty seconds, growing grimmer the longer there was no answer. "Rick… Fucking answer me, man!" He barked into the radio, holding onto his rifle tightly, sweeping the room again.
"Gutty… Where the fuck are you? Say something you fat fuck!" He called out, growing suspicious, wondering if the fucker had set this up, detached from the pack to try and sneak around behind him when the power cut out.
"That's not a very nice thing to say to your friend." A deep masculine voice rumbled out of the darkness, Ricardo cursing as he turned the assault rifle in the direction of the voice, because that was definitely not anyone from the Merchants.
Who the fuck was hitting them? "I'll fucking murder you if you don't get out of here right now!" He threatened, holding tightly to his assault rifle.
"Guns are dangerous." The voice said reprovingly, a shadowy specter appearing right in front of Ricardo, a large smoky and shadow covered man, hands grasping his rifle, and suddenly, before Ricardo could fire, his rifle turned into fucking smoke and shadow and slipped out of his hands, the shadowy apparation in front of him tossing it away, out of sight before the thing disappeared into the darkness of the room again.
"Cape!" Ricardo screamed, tossing himself backwards, rolling over a couch, hoping the junkies would rally. Because what else could that fucking be?
"Huzzah? Whzzit?" Donald said, sitting stoned out of his tree on the couch Ricardo had just thrown himself over. The guy would be useless, he had been hitting the drugs hard for hours now. Fucking shit, shit, shit, what the fuck am I supposed to do!?
He could see movements in the lighter shadows, a swish of something there, a slight movement here, always just out of the corner of his eyes.
The only person that seemed coherent enough to listen to him, straight up ran - to Ricardo's frustration. The newly arrived dealer, who hadn't had the time to get as high as these other useless fucks just legged it, screaming in fright. Normally he was glad for it, for these people being wasted, glad for the fact that it made the stash easy to guard, even as he despised the useless druggies - but right now he fucking needed bodies, he reached for the knife he had in his boot, licking his lips nervously.
A cry from the door had him turn around, sweeping out with his knife in front of him, expecting an ambush, but cutting only air. The death gurgle of someone choking on his blood froze his own. Capes aren't supposed to kill. He thought numbly.
There were exceptions, like Hookwolf. But fucking hell, what was this monster? Was it Night? He'd heard that cape was something with shadows or darkness or something.
"Running away isn't very nice either, I thought we were having a good time?" The deep voice asked, the shadowy cape sounded more amused now, mocking them. Ricardo could just barely make out a shadow flickering away from the door in the candlelight. A body slumped against the door.
Why weren't any of the others moving? Why were they all just sitting there?
"You're all going to die you fuckers! Someone move or better yet, fucking call Skidmark!" He bellowed, feeling sweat running down his face, his fingers twitching nervously. He made another swipe with his knife, finding nothing, before slinking back next to Donald, wanting a body between himself and the threat, especially after announcing his presence like that.
A candle at the table closest to him suddenly was extinguished, making him lash out in that direction, hitting nothing again, a mocking chuckle following him.
He thought he could just barely make out a smile, before the shadowy figure sunk back into the darkness again.
"Why the fuck are you doing this? You want the money, the drugs? Just fucking take it!" Ricardo yelled, his heart beating rapidly as he blinked sweat out of his eyes.
"Oh, I'll take the money, don't worry." The shadowy specter said, appearing close enough to see for a moment, the dark eyes hard and unfeeling, making fear curl in Ricardo's gut.
"But you see… I don't like tattletales… So you all have to go…"
Ricardo cursed, turning around and madly shaking Donald's shoulders, trying to wake the fool up, only to jump back and shriek as he noticed the bloody smile cut into his throat.
"Emilio? Dennis? Nat? Anyone? Gutty? Someone fucking answer me!?" He babbled, backing away from Donald, stumbling over a foot, falling with a terrified gasp as he fell over into a pile of meth and coke, smashing right through the table, scrambling away on all fours, his hair and face covered in powder.
"Oh, shit, oh, shit, oh shit!" He cried even as another candle was extinguished to his right, only barely recognizing that he was crawling over bodies. The others having been so still because they had already been taken care of!
They're all dead! I'm next! Oh, god no! Please no! He thought, swinging his knife ahead of him even as he continued crawling madly towards the door, his legs too weak to bother with standing up.
He started crying as he stumbled into Gutty's body, recognizing it because of its bulk.
"He bit off more than he could chew, one could say." The shadow said, calmly walking up next to the body shadows curling around him/it whatever it was, it wasn't even hiding itself, pointing at Gutty's mouth, a knife sticking right through his jaw. "Get it?"
"Please, please, I'm just hired to guard the place, I'm not with the Merchants, please!" Ricardo begged, he couldn't do anything against a cape, he knew it, he just didn't want to die. "I have a younger sister!" He screamed in terror, tears and snot trailing down his face as the shadow squatted in front of him, another knife in its hands. "Please, without me she won't survive!" He begged.
It was even true, hopefully his sincerity would shine through and save him, some capes, even the murderous ones, had the weirdest hang ups and left people alive over the tiniest things.
Ricardo prayed honestly and true for the first time in his life, looking into the dark smoky eyes of the apparition before him, seeing the unfeeling disregard in them.
The shadow seemed to pause at his statement, looking almost human as it hummed and tilted his head, examining him, giving Ricardo some hope.
"You know, I almost cared, really. But then I had a thought." The shadow mused out loud, leaning forward, tapping the knife against Ricardo's cheek it sinking in slowly, Ricardo's own knife slipping out of numb fingers as fear took over everything, his bladder releasing as he saw the end of all things in the eyes of the monster.
"You see… Only my sister matters."
….
Jordan stood in the dark room, dead bodies surrounding him, the smell of voided bowels impugning the air, the junkies having not even put up a fight. He idly looked down at the only one that had given him pause, the man even in the dark, looked terrified, even with one eye destroyed as Jordan's knife was stuck through it.
Why had he done that? He looked around him, suddenly feeling a bit out of sorts. He had planned to kill them all… But….
Shit, he thought, feeling dread building in his gut, was Shadow Stalker a sadistic bitch because of her own issues, or because of her shard?
Because why had he made the choice to do that as he had done, he'd just planned on killing them quickly, why had he suddenly decided to play with them? To scare them, to haunt them, reminiscent of Shadow Stalkers play with the ABB goons.
Sure enough, after he took the assault rifle away from that one guy there was no threat anymore, so then why fuck with the guy instead of putting him out of his misery? Why show himself at all, he could have cut the power from the generator and knocked them all out without them having a clue on who had done it…
Was he so nonchalant about killing because of his own motivations? Or because his killing for power shard - liked killing?
And how can I even tell…?
Standing amongst the bodies Jordan wasn't sure of what to think.
But he needed to figure this out, before he added more powers to the mix…
Or would he even be himself? Or just a bundle of shard impulses?
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