Mob 5.16
– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –
April 21, 2011
12:42 AM
The Downtown Coast was silent.
Too silent.
If he had been in a better mood, that same thought wouldn't have passed through his mind without eliciting at least a snicker at his own humor. At worst, a full-blown belly laugh.
Unfortunately – or very fortunately, depending on who you asked – Greg Veder wasn't really in any mood to joke right now, especially not without an audience watching or a criminal to mock. Still, the silence was attention-grabbing, simply for the fact that there was nothing to distract his mind from going to places he'd rather it wouldn't.
"Sweetie..."
The teenager shook his head, the slight scowl on his face wavering as he took a moment to catch his bearings on an uneven rooftop, his feet nearly skidding on loose siding before Greg was able to bound off into the air once more. Even when leaping tens of yards at a time and bursting across rooftops at roughly thirty-something miles an hour, he barely made any noise.
If only Greg had been making noise as he moved, it would have proved a distraction from the distinct lack of loud. Distant and muffled as the explosions, screaming and sirens were, they had faded into indistinguishable noise in the backdrop nearly two hours ago after Greg had crossed over into what was firmly considered ABB territory. The rumble of explosions, panicked civilians, and buildings finally crumbling under the assault of esoteric explosion effects and simple fire were left far behind in the mainly Empire-held Commercial District.
All of that was almost completely absent along the Downtown Coast: miles of relatively quiet streets and seemingly empty buildings given what little activity Greg had witnessed so far in the area. Having grown used to the constant din of a city on teetering over the edge these last three days, he couldn't help but feel somewhat unsettled with the simple lack of it over the last hour or so. Police officers in heavy armor and heavy vans filled the streets in nearly every area of the coast Greg had been through, breaking down doors and dragging out whatever remnants of the ABB they could find.
Mostly, they just arrested every Asian male that the BBPD ever suspected of gang-ties to the ABB, regardless of whether they had reasonable proof or not. That meant arresting maybe a third of the area's Asian males between the ages of 14 and 50. But on this stretch of the Coast, there was none of that: this district was quiet. It was distinctly different from the mass chaos Greg had grown comfortable with.
That wasn't to imply that he missed it in the slightest, though. If anything, the entire city remaining this silent and relatively untouched would be a dream come true. What irked him was how distinct it felt from everything else he had been through.
It was almost like…
No, no. It was...
Greg Veder let out a frustrated breath, descriptions escaping him as he leapt into the air once more. He shook his head furiously as he touched down on another rooftop with almost as silent a landing as when he had first jumped. Greg couldn't allow these thoughts to slow him down. There was still a lot of work to be done.
But...
It was that same silence that prickled at him and prompted another sigh, the sound coming out as more of an irritated scoff as he ran across the rooftops of the Downtown Coast. This whole thing just feels... off.
It had been long enough since he had left the Commercial District proper behind; long enough that the sky had shifted its coloring from a smoke-tinted orange to the distinct darkness of night – a darkness only assisted further by the entire districts of Brockton Bay still without power in the wake of the fighting. Behind both his silver helm and mask, his eyes flit across the buildings around him, searching in the dark. Greg grit his teeth, the boy letting out a slight grunt as he hit yet another rooftop with a particularly hard landing.
He remembered the threats Lung had made, the news replaying that moment over and over again. Without a doubt, that video clip would send their rating sky high whenever they featured it, and would continue to provoke debate and conversations for a good while.
Still recognizable as mostly human at the time, tattooed chest bared and dragon-mask snarling, Lung had unexpectedly intruded on a reporter's broadcast, tearing the microphone from the man's hand at the same time as an open palm sent the unsuspecting journalist flying with a lazy strike. The reporter had died on impact with the ceiling, and his fallen body cast a macabre backdrop for Lung's following declaration and demands. Without so much as a word in return, the utterly silent cameramen had followed Lung's gravely spoken order to keep filming, likely frozen into place by both mind-numbing fear and the simple shock of seeing a murder carried out in front of them so casually.
It was with that casual disregard for human life that the dragon-masked gang leader made it known that he had indeed broken free from incarceration and would make those who put him there suffer. And so – with a voice that was oddly calm and measured, considering the circumstances – the Dragon of Kyushu declared that the entirety of Brockton Bay was now at his mercy, and if any of his demands were denied, the city would pay the price in blood.
In exchange for the halting of the perioding bombings that terrorized the city, Lung demanded the presence of the parahuman responsible for his incarceration, and the acceptance of a duel to a death. On Live TV, Lung issued his challenge to the "White Knight" who called himself "Prodigy", and to all that would assist the vigilante in denying the demands of the head of one of Brockton Bay's largest gangs.
If Prodigy refused to face him within 24 hours, the city would be annihilated.
The challenge had captured Greg's immediate attention at the time; the thought that Lung considered him a rival worthy of such grand and horrific measures provoked a mixed response. Part of him was horrified at the lengths Lung was willing to go to, part of his was flattered that Lung considered him so dangerous that all of this was warranted, but the vast majority of his being was consumed with righteous fury and the overwhelming desire to inflict pain upon the dragon-man twice that Greg had experienced at the hands of the ABB. Greg wanted Lung to suffer.
Of course, in his rush to meet the challenge (mostly consumed by the thoughts of 'Lung!' and 'Fight-Fight-Fight'), Greg allowed himself to get too riled up to make a proper plan for the other details Lung had divulged during his proclamations. To his credit, Greg remembered that critical point about five minutes before he barged into Coventree Plaza to fight Lung that second time.
The ABB Superbomb.
While Lung hadn't used that exact term – simply describing the supposed weapon as "powerful enough to sink half the city into the bay", implying a warhead on par with nuclear weaponry and an EMP that could wipe out the entire North-Eastern seaboard – the news had been kind enough to dub it such. With such an ominous name, it was enough to send a chill down anyone's spine and the relative silence from the ABB after the fight with Lung hadn't helped the tension the city felt at all.
Lung had threatened to have his people set off the monstrosity of a bomb if Prodigy hadn't shown up to face him… which was just…
Suicidal, really.
Rumors had been thrown around that half the heroes in the city had been hunting down said bomb but rumors were rumors and Greg knew he'd have to be the world's biggest idiot to think the ABB wouldn't set it off for whatever reason before the capes pounced on them. It was just a matter of time before the chuckleheads felt threatened enough to blow the entire city up with themselves in it.
So Greg decided he'd find it first, and then take out Bakuda before she could detonate it out of spite.
Freaking psychos… Greg grit his teeth as his legs pumped across another rooftop, barely even touching the ground for more than a few seconds before he was in the air again, tattered blue cape flaring out behind him. Still can't believe they went this far.
Images from the last few days flitted through his thoughts; the mass destruction, his own pain and suffering... the horror stories of so many others... all of them overwhelming proof that the ABB were nothing but monsters that had finally gone off the deep end. He had seen evidence of unconscionable malice and evil; tinkertech bombs being shoved inside the heads of civilians, hiding them amongst other people and then…
The blond grimaced again as a memory from the night before surfaced unbidden. He had been perched on a ledge near Downtown, taking a short moment to watch as police officers did their best to herd a small crowd of directionless and half-panicked people into large shuttles to bus them out of the Commercial District as Lung's announcement had caused a new wave of panic. The buses were an uncommon sight for Brockton Bay; they were intended for mass emergencies like Endbringer attacks where large amounts of traffic would be detrimental to an effective evacuation plan. Content that no one had been in danger and he didn't need to wait any longer, Greg had turned back to keep rushing towards Lung, hopeful that at least some people would be kept safe from the chaos.
Said hope had been quickly ripped away from him as a sound like screaming wind and tearing flesh magnified through a loudspeaker drove itself into his ears amid renewed panic, screaming, and the clamor of a human stampede. Greg had been spared the worst of it, thankfully, having not actually been looking down the moment it happened.
Still, the aftermath was… haunting. What that bomb had done was just unnaturalin every sense of the word. Everyone on the bus where the bomb had gone off had started convulsing, flesh warping as they turned into hideous monstrosities before attacking each other in maddened frenzy, tearing each other apart in consumptive fury until there was only one left… and then the sole monstrous survivor exploded, splattering the street with flesh that began to decay in a matter of seconds.
A few minutes later, all that gore that had drenched the scene was gone, and all that was left was a ruined bus stop, and the scattered remnants of people's belongings. Just looking at it from a distance was enough to turn his stomach and Greg didn't doubt that if he had been closer, he'd be among those unable to hold back the contents of their stomach. He found it extremely doubtful that what he'd witnessed was in any way an isolated case.
Greg Veder fought the urge to shudder, quickly pushing the memory back and away as he bounded off again. Still… why now? That was a good question, really, and one that had been on his mind for a bit. It hadn't made sense to Greg even on the very first day. Why now, especially? The ABB had been around for over a literal decade and while they had done plenty of bad shit, terrorism on this scale wasn't something anyone would ever have expected from them. Oni Lee was one thing but… Even Oni Lee would never have done something like this without Lung telling him to.
If there was something obvious about Oni Lee from the beginning, he was clearly Lung's right-hand man. Silent as the grave and a far better fighter than he was a thinker, the guy was definitely not one to make any steps on his own. Especially not with Lung gone… Fuck.
Greg couldn't help but suddenly wince, his current line of thought already beginning to bother him. He had entertained the idea before but now he had to face it head-on and he didn't like it at all. With Lung in charge… Bakuda took over. He winced again as he landed atop the roof of a warehouse that had seen better days, eyes flicking off to the right as he scanned his environment for a specific landmark. With Lung in charge, the ABB had no reason to ever use any Tinker bombs. At least, not like this. If I'd never have fought Lung in the first place, none of this would have ever happened. Nobody else would have taken over and…
Still paused on the warehouse rooftop, Greg unclenched his gauntleted hands and stared up into the smoky night sky. He did his best to breathe as evenly as possible, not at all helping himself by keeping his teeth gritted but he kept on regardless. Get your head together, man, drawled a voice in his head that sounded far too much like Sparky. Feel sad for yourself on your own time.
Greg shook his head again, fighting the urge to retort at the voice in his own head for several reasons; least of all that he wasn't quite that crazy yet. The blond glanced over his shoulder to scope out the area again.
He nodded to himself as his eyes flicked across both sides of the empty street, raising a hand in front of himself with a single word already on his lips. "Property." It left his mouth in a barely vocalized mutter, the last syllable barely out before a translucent blue window flickered to life in the air. The information it displayed was little, several words that Greg had already seen several times before within the last hour.
> ABB Holdings (Owned)
>
> [General Storage]
>
> [Safe Houses]
>
> [Residential]
>
> [Garages]
Yeah.
Apparently, that was a thing.
He had holdings now.
Holdings that once belonged directly to Lung. Either that or close enough that they were considered the man's property, regardless. Looking at the panel again, Greg tilted his palm until the screen resting on it hung right side up and pushed outwards, the blue box hanging in the air with nothing to support it. didn't even blink as his eyes scanned the list in front of him.
[General Storage]
His finger tapped the keyword, screen rippling as the pointer digit disturbed it's surface before everything on it flickered and vanished only for a longer list to take its place, roughly two dozen names contained within the box of text. Greg's expression didn't change as he read down the list again, the box of text scrolling down automatically every time his eyes neared the bottom of the screen's borders.
There. The screen stopped it's automatic scroll jarringly quickly as it's sole reader's eyes focused on a single line of text.
"Inventory." Glittering blue light coalesced in the center of his gauntleted palm, a scrap of wrinkled paper appearing as the motes faded away. Sparing it a glance before glancing back at the line on the screen in front of him, the teenager's eyes narrowed for a second before he finally seemed to accept what he saw. Dismissing the text-filled sheet of printer paper with another dismissive "Inventory", Greg took another moment to scope out his surroundings, wanting to be sure he had come to the right place.
Nothing but older buildings and warehouses that had seen better days surrounded him, this side of the Downtown Coast not exactly known for being a thriving business center. Still, that didn't really mean much to him, Greg still taking time to glance at the street signs he could make out from the meager illumination provided by street lights. Arch Row and… Kings Route…
He glanced back at the building on the other side of the street and fixed his gaze on the large green and white "Super Dollar" sign lit brightly from behind, the black-lettered "Self-Storage" just below it.
> Discovered
>
> Super Dollar Self Storage
>
> [ 56/65 Locations Undiscovered ]
The new screen flickered to life in front of him, not even eliciting a surprised blink from Greg as he stared up at it. After all, this was the fourth time he had seen the thing. The good news was that he could now be sure he knew where he was – or at least, where he was supposed to be. He couldn't afford to waste time searching the wrong buildings.
The bad news... well, if this wasn't the place, he still had loads of other properties to look through. Not quite as many as sixty, though. The papers that Lung's former restaurant manager had handed off to him had come in handy there, allowing Greg to cross-reference what buildings were still in regular use by the ABB – specifically which ones were basically paper-thin fronts for heavy gang activity.
This one, this Super Dollar, wasn't anywhere near the heaviest but it was close enough to another place Greg had just finished scouring that he didn't consider it a waste of time to search through it the only way he could.
In fact…
He stepped forward calmly, straightening his body as he walked off the roof without a moment's hesitation. All two hundred pounds of him dropped onto the sidewalk below as straight as an arrow, Greg barely even flinching from the slight jarring pain in his lower body that was the impact. Ignoring the red numbers popping up in the edges of his vision – magnitudes so small that he'd recover them in under half a minute, if that – he began to stride across the street, almost daring anyone who was on the lookout to react to the obvious cape in semi-mangled armor making their way over to the ABB property. Just try it, the armored cape thought to himself, staring up at the few windows the building possessed, hoping to spot someone looking out. Make it easy for me, why don't you?
Unfortunately, no one bothered to speed the process up and, in no time at all, Greg found himself coming to a stop in front of a set of locked glass double doors. He allowed himself a moment to gaze inside, blue eyes narrowing as he spotted nothing of note inside the somewhat unkempt lobby; the area was dark and empty. It's never easy, he grumbled to himself, a muttered "Inventory" on his lips again. Well… He raised a hand up, the large red-and-green key with a silver dragon serving as the key ring sat on his palm. I guess I can't say 'never'.
> ABB Master Key
> A special item representing Lung's ironclad control over what some would term his Hoard, this key allows access to all properties once belonging to or controlled by the dragon himself, or any considered under the actual ownership of the ABB.
Despite not looking at all like it should fit – the ABB Master Key was at least twice as large as the lock's regular-sized keyhole, maybe more – the key somehow slid in without a problem as it had done eight times before. Quickly pocketing the skeleton key, Greg pulled open one of the double doors and stepped inside, a smile appearing on his face as his eyes began to adjust to the dim lighting of the lobby.
The lobby-space being rather unkempt was obvious enough: there was an accumulation of dust on the floor and across several surfaces that would not have been there if this place had actually been any kind of reputable or regularly-used business. But that was understandable for a storage business - Greg figured people don't visit storage facilities too often, so the employees likely got lazy with the cleaning. But what made him smile had little to do with the dust itself but far more to do with what the dust showed him. Footsteps.
Footsteps breaking up large areas of the dusty floor and leaving their own trails, leading past the front desk and deeper into the building. People had been here recently. A bunch of footsteps. Different shapes, sizes, depths, so a lot of people have been through here. They look recent too... Please let this be the right place. He wasn't sure who he was begging, exactly, but he hoped they were listening.
Eyes glinting with barely restrained eagerness, Greg strode forward again, following the path of footsteps as they led towards a set of doors on the other side of the wall just behind the front desk. His eyes flickered across each one, noting that the majority of the trail led to the largest and thickest door, which also had a security camera trained on it and the hallway leading up to it, the red light signaling it was on and still working. A metal grate blocked the only window firmly in the middle of the heavy door with dual keypads on either side, the devices looking well-kept and brand new compared to the rest of the building.
Keypads? Two keypads? Greg paused in front of the door, smile fading quickly as an unrestrained grimace warped his expression from a violent eagerness to simple annoyance. Really? Was one not enough security for this place? What could be that important they'd need two of 'em for a single door in a place this out of the way?
Intellectually, Greg realized the keypads were no real obstacle to him. Not really, at least.
After all, he had aerokinesis at his disposal, after all, and there was very little a pressurized blast of air couldn't bust through, given enough tries. He also had his pyrokinesis recently enhanced by his bout with Lung and melting the door might have been easier, really, than trying to blast it open with pressurized air. He even had a sword that made cutting through metal doable as long as you had the strength and momentum to keep the blade going. Hell, the Master Key might have even managed to work on the keypad… somehow.
There were several options at his disposal and a great many that flickered through his thoughts as he glared at the dual backlit keypads and the heavily locked door and it's metal bracings. Several options, each one better than the last…
"Sweetie…"
One blue eye twitched. Of course, there's a keypad.
Another twitch. Two of them! Why wouldn't there be?
His hands tightened into fists. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
His chest rose as he took in a deep breath through his nose, rational thought and higher problem-solving functions giving way to teenage emotional reactions and simple petulance mixed with an already heightened level of anger. Fuck it. Fuck them. Fuck this.
In a moment of annoyance and a deep-seated feeling of something that could only be described as the emotional equivalent of the word "Fuck!", Greg Veder let out a scream at the very top of his lungs and drop-kicked the primary obstacle in his way with as much force as his now-brightly glowing body could muster in a singular moment of rage…
A sudden rattling impact seemed to rock the entire building's first floor as a deafening metal screech accompanied it, Greg Veder's body a battering ram of frustration as the soles of his feet met the door. The steel door gave in almost immediately under the sudden attack, reinforced couplings and hinges giving way to allow the once-door to become a missile.
Panting somewhat as he dropped to the ground, more from frustration than actual exhaustion, the blond glanced up just in time to see the hefty door embed itself into a lime-green, steel roll-up door, denting it and the wall around it from the force of its crash after nearly clipping several men in its path as they dove out of the way of the massive flying door.
"Shit!" Several simultaneous screams rang out, along with other curses of other types and from other languages hitting Greg's ears as he strode into the large warehouse-like space, identical steel roll-up doors – all painted the same ugly lime color – lining the blocks of concrete that filled the room. Several pairs of eyes traced back to the direction the door had flown from, before those eyes grew wide as they spotted a pair of blue orbs staring at them with a reignited eagerness.
Greg knew he still looked a mess; his costume was still on the mend from the incredible amount of damage Lung had put it through. It had been far worse several hours ago – barely in one piece as it fed on Greg's Willpower to put itself back together after the battle. Every inch of him had been marred with soot and blood before he had showered in the buff with a busted fire hydrant before washing the gunk off his armor. Well, that was after he had taken the time to retrieve the people from the wreck of a car that had crashed into said hydrant and called for an ambulance to help them out. His costume had only gotten stained again minutes later when a keyed-up police officer managed to wing his shoulder with several nervous shots, the idiot.
He wasn't much better now as the metal bits of his armor seemed to take priority in their recovery when repairing itself with the [Dragon Blood's Gift] Perk. With how sporadically Greg had used his Will, not viewing the expenditure as necessary as his own physical ability along with his aerokinesis did the job just fine, the barely present cloth parts of his costume were still marred with the stains of battle. Yet blood-stained, blackened metal and all, he likely posed a threatening image to the gathered ABB.
When they caught sight of him, a few froze in shock, and those who had narrowly evaded getting crushed by the flying metal door quailed at the presence of the vigilante. The rest – a number quickly began to increase as several more ABB suddenly began to trickle in from around the corner and the rest of the maze-like space of the storage facility – only stood ready and waiting, a scant few already armed with guns. Others handed out different weapons from an open janitor's closet that appeared to be nothing but an armory for melee weapons; nailed bats, machetes, hatchets, knives, swords…
He let them arm themselves, reveling in the fact that none of them panicked and did something stupid like attacking him on their own, and that none of their eyes left Greg as he waited for the gangsters to grip their weapons tight in trembling hands. The fear felt good, that he couldn't deny, but he wasn't here for them, only what they knew. For some reason, this part of the city was almost empty of ABB by now and for so many of them to be here, in an out-of-the-way storage facility, and so heavily armed...
Greg stood there, the picture of a smiling knight in his argent armor, gauntleted hands at his side as he stared down a mob of ABB, men armed with enough weapons to make them intimidating to almost any cape all on their own.
Interestingly enough, very few guns.
And here I was thinking this would be hard. The small smile that rose on Greg's face wasn't from any real happiness, simply an inability to repress his eagerness when he realized he was finally on the right track after eight false leads across this part of the city. "Anyone of you mind telling me where I can find a Bakuda? I've got some important news to deliver. Someone's hunting him down. That someone, if you couldn't guess... is me."
The crowd went oddly still, several of the men taking great pains not to even twitch as they kept their attention focused on Greg. Not all of them managed the same, though. Greg's eyes narrowed as he spotted several of the more nervous men's gazes flit far down the hall, looking at one of the very last storage units from them for a second before quickly shifting back to him, sweat already forming on their brows despite the AC running full blast within the storage facility.
Unit 54, huh? Greg put that out of his mind for a moment as he stared back at the mob of ABB guarding the facility. No matter what was behind that door, he still had something to take care of first. The quicker he got that over with, the sooner he could deal with everything else.
Fight time. Fun.
His gauntlets creaked as he formed both hands into fists, shifting into a pose as he took a step forward. "I'm only gonna say this once so listen close; the first one that runs away, will not get a beating. I won't break your arm, I won't shatter your jaw, I won't crack your ribs and I certainly won't use your own weapon on you. We clear?"
> Intimidation Lvl Up!
> 8→10
He saw one of the gangbangers flinch almost immediately; the reedy-looking guy was likely not even in his twenties and almost dropped his bat as he made to move. But another grabbed hold of him, gripping his arm tight and forcing him to stay put as the crowd reasserted their positions, and arrayed themselves against the knight-like Cape.
A moment later, someone else made to run.
Only, it was towards Greg, with the entire mob either beside or behind the vanguard as they charged. The rush was pathetic and pitiful; a third of the men nearly fell over themselves in the uncoordinated stampede. Their voices were raised; nearly all of them screaming to give themselves whatever encouragement they needed or in the hopes that it would intimidate him somehow. While the first objective may have been successful, the latter certainly wasn't.
Greg shrugged and surged into the crowd, his arms and legs already a blur. He was a whirlwind of brutality darting from target to target, several of them going down within the span of a few seconds; a tangled, screaming heap of limbs. Most of the mob broke apart as the first ten went down in as many seconds, shattering the resolve of those few who weren't pressing the attack with berserker-like desperation. He didn't let them get far, launching himself at their open backs as they tried to scramble away, and threw punches and kicks that sent them sprawling with sprained limbs, if not shattered bones, from the sheer force of them. There was very little hesitation in his moves despite Greg pulling his punches.
> + 400 XP (4)
>
> + 300 XP (5)
>
> + 375 XP (3)
>
> + 425 XP (2)
> Beginner Combat Lvl Up!
> 17 → 18
Even holding back, Greg knew for a fact that he was slower than he could have been. The twinges of pain in his torso with every movement he made reminded him that the cracked ribs beneath his armor had yet to fully heal. Despite that, he was still nigh-untouchable compared to the panicked, terrified gangsters swinging wildly at him.
Weak. He did his best to avoid their heads, out of simple preference to not kill any more gangbangers by accident with his superhuman strength. Instead, he settled for attacking their limbs and center mass where he could hit them a bit harder without risk of an unintended kill, even when pulling his punches.
> + 375 XP (4)
> + 275 XP (5)
That didn't mean a few noses, teeth and lips didn't end up as unintended casualties in the process, though. All he could do was try when it came down to it and it wasn't his fault when criminals made his job much harder than it needed to be. Groans of pain only urged Greg to move faster through the crowd, stifling the unpleasantness even as his ribs made their fragile state clear to him with every movement. The blows that did manage to land on him were almost negligible coming from the frightened and undisciplined gang members. Greg barely even felt their blows as he countered with as much force as he felt was necessary.
> + 250 XP
> + 300 XP (4)
> + 425 XP (2)
A kick to his side was met with a thrusting elbow to the kneecap, snapping the leg back with a glorious splintering noise accompanied by a screaming crescendo as the attacker smashed his head against a wall in his thrashing. Another was introduced to the sight of his own bones as fragments of them escaped his hand when Greg smashed his fist into the hand clenched around a spiked baseball bat. Hands fumbling to reload guns had their fingers snapped and heads smashed into one another. A man swinging a hatchet so wildly he almost took out his ally's head with the backswing keeled over and emptied his stomach on the ground as a fist buried into his gut. On and on they came. Still, he felt like he did enough at the end of it all – enough to keep them from moving, whether from pain, unconsciousness, or a lack of functioning extremities; the end result was the same.
> + 500 XP (3)
> + 425 XP (2)
> + 375 XP (5)
> + 300 XP (4)
Two minutes passed and Greg eventually found himself facing a lone ABB as all the others lay crumpled around him. He was that same reedy, young man from before. The gangbanger looked a little older than Greg but was nearly of the same height, wielding a bat in trembling arms. Greg blinked at the guy, actual confusion flickering across his face, before he finally spoke up. "What are you still doing here?"
Said confusion was mirrored and magnified on the face of the gangster. "I… I-I-I… wha…?"
"I said the first person that runs away, not the first person that escapes," Greg took another step closer, cloth starting to form around his torso as his costume continued its recovery. "Why are you still here?"
The man dropped the bat and immediately tried to dash away, only to freeze as cold metal gripped his shoulder tight, eliciting a whimper as it seemed to grind at his bones. Inhuman strength held him back and turned him around to stare into eyes that were far too intense for the gangster's will to bear meeting. But he could do nothing but stare into Greg's eyes, and quiver in terror.
"When you get where you're going… tell your friends. Tell everyone you meet. Everyone that was ever part of this. The ABB is dead. If not right now, then tonight for sure. Tell them when they see me coming? When they hear I'm around?" Greg leaned in slightly. The man flinched at his approach but making no other move, trying not to meet Greg's eyes but unable to look away.
"RUN. Otherwise..." Greg tilted his head towards the groaning or unconscious men surrounding them. "Clear?"
> Intimidation Lvl Up!
> 10→11
"C-c-clear."
"Good." He tilted his head in the direction of the door, gesturing with a nod as he let go of the man's shoulder. "Go."
The man was shaking, but nodded anyways and began to bolt, but paused half-way down the hall, stopping before the end of the hold in the wall. From his body language, Greg could tell that he wanted to be anywhere but here, but something kept him rooted to the spot, emotions warring over the mans' face. Frowning, Greg tightened his fist, just in case the gangbanger thought to attack again, but instead the man met his eyes. Terror mixed with resolve flashed through the man's muddy brown eyes, confusing Greg before they glanced at a door several yards down from where they stood. Greg followed his gaze to identify the door – it was different from where the others had glanced before, but the gangbanger nodded at it intently. Greg turned back to him, a question on his lips, but he never got the chance.
The man didn't hesitate for a second more, quickly booking it with a speed many track coaches would have applauded. Greg watched him run out the hole in the wall that had once been a door, not even entertaining the thought of stopping him. Even if he needed to catch the guy, he doubted someone that looked like he was on the verge of passing out would get all that far in the first place. Instead, the blond glanced down at the men on the floor, several of them clearly still conscious but unable or unwilling to move as he stared them down. He stepped closer to those who felt confident enough to not even bother to faking unconsciousness in favor of bawling in pain or spewing profanities at him in a multitude of languages, kneeling down next to each one, who immediately pled for mercy at the look in his eyes, and delivered quick strikes to their faces, leaving them insensate and unconscious.
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Standing as the last of them was knocked out, red liquid dripping from his fists, the young cape suddenly paused with confusion clear on his face. Without the noises coming from the gangbangers, he could hear other odd sounds within the facility. Are those… rats?
An odd shuffling sound that seemed to come from within the walls and a few stilted, high-pitched noises drew his mind to the idea but even as he thought it, he knew that it couldn't be something like that. He turned his gaze to the nearest storage unit and took a few steps closer to it, a familiar frown settling over his face. It didn't take long before he paused mid-step, almost frozen in place as he heard noises that certainly did not fit what he had been expecting; shuddering breaths, frightened whispers, trembling sobs. All noises that had managed to go unheard under the chaos from before, but now…
Greg took an unconscious step back, somewhat confused despite himself the longer he stared at the door to Unit 011. A moment later, he steeled himself and crouched down next to the door, grabbing the simple padlock. His hand lit up with the distinct brightness of his Willpower applied as [Reinforcement], sloppy as it was in his hastiness, and with a harsh twist the lock broke apart in Greg's hands. Tossing the mangled metal aside, the teenager gripped the door handle again and yanked it upwards, exposing the contents of the storage unit and forcing Greg to stumble back as he was faced with something totally unexpected.
He found himself, once again, with multiple pairs of shocked and frightened eyes on him. This time, however, his expression was much the same as theirs; Greg was unable to do much more than stare back at the small crowd of frightened women with his mouth half-open, gaping like a fish.
The entire storage unit was packed, over a dozen women and young girls huddled along the back wall of the cramped room and several more clutching each other as they sat atop worn, stained mattresses resting on the bare floor. All of them were dressed in the barest of clothing – barely anything more than a thin, white t-shirt in addition to panties and for a few, a pair of threadbare socks – that were rather heavily stained. The state of these womens' attire likely wasn't even worth a thought to their captors but told Greg plenty about how long these women had been here. All of them drew tighter into themselves as they took in the sight of him, his stained armor and ratty cloth seemed to inspire far more fear in them than their appearance inspired horror in him.
It was like a knife to the heart as he watched some women try to scramble away from him even with the wall preventing them from going any further. Others sobbed louder, the younger ones bawling like the teenage girls and children that they were, while a third group – this one composed mostly of young women likely in their twenties – did nothing more than shut their eyes tightly before opening them again, these ones only shrinking in on themselves as if resigned to what they were expecting.
All of them looked at him with nothing but the utmost fear in their eyes.
> Intimidation Lvl Up!
> 11→12
No. No. No... He felt like throwing up, his eyes widening even further as he stared down at his clenched fists as if just now realizing what he was wearing. The blood on his gauntlets was fresh, adding a grim cherry on top of the ghoulish image he likely cut to the already traumatised girls, caged like rats… Noooo...
Another odd pain passed through his chest – something like nausea, sadness and anger, all mixed together in a confusing cocktail that throbbed in his heart – as Greg took it all in with a rapidly paling face, the sobs and fearful whispers suddenly seeming to come from all sides. Wide blue eyes flickered from side to side, panic and disgust warring with the oppressive calm that he was used to, and Greg suddenly realized that the other sounds were not simply his imagination.
His mouth still hung half-open, bottom lip trembling somewhat as he stared around the hallway, the number of storage units on this floor alone filling him with deep dread and loathing, both in equal parts. Even more, he could feel his blood boiling, the desire to break something or hurt someone in retribution warring with the pit of disgust he felt in his stomach. God, no. He glanced down at his now open palms, argent metal splattered with smeared red. I… No, I… I…
He couldn't help the thought that came next, the boiling anger suddenly tamped down by his Gamer's Mind and shifted into something far colder. Lung… this is all Lung. He did this. They did this… His blood ran cold as he stared at the poorly dressed girls huddled together. His hands clenched into fists before loosening again as he forced himself to breathe under the imagined weight of dozens upon dozens of kidnapped girls in this building alone. They've been doing this for years even…
An unintended gasp of air left him as he realized just how many years the ABB had been around and just how many reports of missing girls he could remember this year alone. Reports and news updates that he'd always overlooked because he had other things on his mind. But when faced with the sight of all these women, and knowing there were more in the other storage units, and remembering how callously he'd ignored all those missing person reports and promptly forgot he'd ever seen them because they were so common in this city, but never his problem before... I should have killed him. I… I… I...
[Acute Stress Disorder negated by Gamer's Mind]
Greg shuddered, the teenager feeling another wave of calm wash over him as he found his thoughts suddenly making sense again. He closed his eyes, letting out a long exhale as he felt his emotions center themselves. Unclenching both hands from where they hung at his sides, Greg raised them up to his chest, palms open and facing outwards in an attempt to look as harmless as he could.
… It didn't seem to work.
The blond gulped, unsure of what to do in a situation quite like this. What could he do? What could he say? What do you say to people who were kidnapped by gangsters to be used and treated like property? Come on, dummy. You're a hero. Say something a hero would say. Make them feel better, genius! That voice again; the one that sounded so much like Sparky rattled off advice that Greg couldn't help but agree nodded to himself, and said the first thing that came to mind.
"...How we doing?"
He couldn't help the wince that left him the instant the words left his lips, the tiny voice that was his common sense suddenly given a microphone to berate him for such a dumb statement. He closed both eyes and let out a long breath, opening them a moment later to face the girls again, a few of them starting to look more confused than scared. Granted, the fear hadn't exactly disappeared but at least they looked less likely to scream if he stepped closer. Progress. Let's keep this going.
"I mean… Greetings, citizens," he began again, dropping to one knee with a hand over his heart and the other stretched out with an open palm. The fearful flinches and audible whimper from the young girls nearest him sent another pang of dismay through him but he managed to soldier on without letting the smile fall from his face. "I am known throughout the land as Sir Prodigy, and I… I mean, I..."
He swallowed thickly, the sounds of fearful whimpers constantly chipping away at the false bravado he tried to keep up. "Sorry, I… uh.." His fake accent slipped as he spoke again, words coming out in a rushed stumble. "Look, sorry it took me so long to find you but umm… I'm…"
His words didn't seem to help the situation in the slightest, the sides of his mouth twitching from trying to maintain a cheerful smile, but feigning sincerity was growing ever harder by the second. "I… um…" He cleared his throat, suddenly feeling a dip in the confidence that had allowed him to get the words out earlier. "I know that it took me a while to get here but don't worry. Seriously, don't worry, I'm one of the good-"
Greg blinked suddenly, the words on his tongue vanishing entirely as he felt a soft pressure suddenly impact his midsection, and press on his injured ribs. He blinked again as he glanced down to the sight of a girl at most eleven years old hugging him tightly. Her face was pressed tight against his chestplate, but Greg could tell by the shaking of her shoulders alone that she was in tears.
Oh.
He glanced up at the rest of the huddled girls, unsure of what to do as they continued to watch him fearfully. Okay… Greg raised a single hand, to the visible trepidation of the captive women and girls around him, only to cautiously lower it down again, softly patting the back of the girl still crying into his chest.
"Okay. It's oka-" The words once again died on his tongue, Greg blinking in surprise as he spotted another young-looking girl slowly begin to approach him. He tried not to flinch as he watched the preteen make her way over to him. The pit in his stomach grew as the implications of her apparent age, the bruises visible on her skin and limp in her step told a story he'd rather not think about but couldn't stop his heart from realizing. Watery brown eyes stared at him from a face that was shedding most of its baby fat and Greg found himself desperately hoping that she didn't mimic the actions of the first girl. One crying little girl was already more than he felt comfortable with. Two was asking far too much.
Thankfully, she didn't burst into tears or rush in to bury her face into his chest, not that there was space. Instead, she made her way over to him in a series of cautious, uncertain steps, simply for the purpose of grabbing hold of his unoccupied hand. Greg simply stared as she held onto it tight as she could with her feeble fingers, barely showing discomfort from the sensation of the cold, hard material against her bare skin. After a few seconds of uncertain stares between the both of them, Greg felt a different sort of queasiness as she gave him a weak smile.
"Ar… are you a hero?"
The smile that slowly pulled at the sides of his mouth was far more sincere than Greg expected himself capable of, but he didn't fight it in the slightest. The laugh on his lips was more genuine than he had felt in a while. "...What gave it away?"
> CHA + 1
– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –
So many…
Greg couldn't help that simple thought as he made his way down the hallway, breaking apart lock after lock and opening one door after another. The hallway was long, Greg noted, and ran nearly the entire length of the building on its own. The doors numbered well into the double digits and behind each one wasn't anything he'd realistically call a welcome sight.
So many…
The girls numbered over a hundred now and that number grew each time he opened another lime green door. While some were empty of people – guns, weapons, food, exotic herbs, various spices, medicine, some furniture, and other supplies were more plentiful, and one unit had a surprising collection of Asian antiques; all of which Greg claimed and put into his Inventory – most storage units held at least four or five of them, a collection of terrified women and girls ranging from young women to preteens and a (thankfully) very small number even younger than that, along with the occasional older woman whose presence here baffled him. He didn't question it, though, not having the time nor the inclination. Each time he opened those doors, he was faced with fearful gazes and watery eyes but, thankfully, the ever-growing crowd of girls behind him did a great deal in easing their fears as the girls reassured one another.
> CHA + 2
Still, there were some that couldn't be won over by smiles. A few of them, mainly from the later units, had been better dressed – with actual bottoms and shoes, for one – and all of them distinctly older than most of the ones that Greg had rescued earlier on; the fear in their eyes was almost nonexistent compared to the unhesitant suspicion Greg couldn't help but notice.
There had been a few grateful enough or trusting to offer Greg a smile or a thank you but none of them bothered to get within ten feet of him, content with hiding within the crowd or at the very back of the pack and away from his gaze.
Looking at them gave Greg the feeling that they were hardened by some horror… grizzled, almost, with an edge to them that he could only compare to the ABB members that had tried to intimidate him with their gazes at the beginning of this whole mess. They seemed like the ones who had been kept prisoner the longest, and had suffered the greatest, but hadn't broken somehow. Even so, from the few sparse glances he got from them, Greg couldn't help but feel that with the distinct hate toward him in their eyes, he doubted they saw much difference between him and the ABB that had abused them for so long. He was a man, after all.
He couldn't blame them.
Not really.
After what they had been through, he couldn't imagine begrudging them their cautiousness nor their suspicion simply because their glares made him feel uncomfortable. All he needed to worry about was how he was going to get all of them to the hospital or the police or… or… anyone at all who could help them.
That's gonna be the hardest part of all of this. He glanced over at the crowd at his back, hundreds of feminine faces ranging from the late single digits to older twenties crowding the space within the hallway. Some kept to the very back, all the way over by the hole in the wall that once sported a door, and others not even leaving the enclosure of their storage unit; still filled with fear at the sight of the ABB unconscious on the ground. Ughh… what am I gonna do with those?
Greg shook his head to push the thought away from him andturned his gaze toward the unit marked Unit 54, the last one in this long stretch of hallway. His fingers twitched as he stared at the faded white lettering on the lime green door, hoping that this one would actually give him a decent lead towards finding this "Bakuda". After all, this door was the same one that several ABB had unintentionally glanced toward when he had mentioned Bakuda by name earlier.
If that hadn't been suspicious enough, the fact that, unlike all the other practically identical sliding-doors Greg could see around him, the door to Unit 54 was the only one not locked from the outside warranted his attentions. He stretched out his arm toward the door handle, already in the middle of crouching downwards before he found himself pausing. He drew his hand back a bit, disquiet tugging his mouth down into a slight frown. There it was again – the faint tingle down his spine: Danger Sense telling him to be careful.
The only other door that had made him feel a similar tingle had been Unit 31, the same one that the last ABB had glanced towards before taking off like the devil was after him. The look in his eyes had been odd enough for someone so clearly terrified, that Greg hadn't understood why the man had done so. At first, he'd suspected that the door that man had nodded to was just his way to hint that Greg should open the storage units, and that Unit 31 was not any different from the other units keeping these women captive. But when his instincts made him cautious about opening the door, Greg had been secretly elated, thinking he had found another danger to overcome, one that might lead to more clues on how to find Bakuda. Instead, he had to keep the disappointment off his face when he finally did open the door, and instead found it was just another storage unit full of cautious, suspicious women – no Tinker psycho in sight.
That had been disappointing, yes, but Greg couldn't help but hope that this would be somewhat different. Still… he doubted that this would really be what he was looking for. He had made plenty of noise before now and over a hundred people, no matter how well they tried, couldn't exactly keep quiet without express instruction to do so – especially when a good chunk of them were definitely younger than him. So if there was someone behind this door, or some danger and threat that his Danger Sense was warning him about, then he'd have to be very careful about how he handled it. So he requested the women to give him plenty of room, just in case, before he had reached down again, and gripped the handle to Unit 54's sliding door.
There it was again. The tingle down his spine...
Greg frowned again, steeling himself to go through with it, about to jerk the door open only to freeze as he felt a sharp shudder of trepidation make its way down his back; the origin point being the base of his neck. Blue eyes widened as he heard multiple frightened screams from behind him along with something else that hung on the edge of familiarity, an inaudible voice at the back of his mind screaming at him to move.
The blond spun around, freezing in mid-dodge as he stared at one of the older women he had saved – one wearing nothing but a camo bikini as a top along with more tattoos than he could count – pointing a gun at him at point-blank range as several dozen girls screamed their lungs out, scrambling for safety. His eyes widened even further as the physical slap of sound that was a gunshot rang out and Greg felt far too slow in that single moment.
> –178 [Critical Hit]
>
> Debuff: Bleeding (Critical) – 2 Hours
>
> Debuff: Cervical Mutilation (Severe) - 3 Hours
> + 475 XP
> VIT + 1
Fu- He stumbled back as a shock of pain rippled through his system, one hand clutching at the sucking wound at the side of his neck as the other swung instinctively. A compressed blast of air caught the shooter in the chest, launching her back with the force of a professional football player's tackle, gun skittering from her hand onto the concrete floor. Forcing himself to keep his teeth gritted as a mob of screaming women and girls parted like the Red Sea, Greg reacted before his shooter hit the wall, irises flashing blue as he did his best not to bite his tongue in the wake of fresh pain. F-fuck! [Observe!] [Observe!] Fuckin' [Observe] already!
> Veronika Lee Lv 13
> ABB Big Sister
> HP: 95/180
>
> Veronika was born into shit so she never expected much else. The youngest of four children, her earliest memories were of screaming. It wasn't too long before she joined the ABB alongside two of her older brothers, beating the shit out of any thug boy who thought they could touch her. Veronika worked her way up within the ABB to a relatively trusted position using her uncanny marksmanship skills.
>
> Veronika has broken wrists, shattered jaws and put more bullets in people's heads than she could bother to count. She's done enough for the ABB to consider it her family, and she'd rather die than let it go under without a fight.
ABB Big Sister? F- Greg hissed in pain as his eyes flitted across the frightened crowd, searching for another possible attacker as he spammed the one skill he had for getting said information.
> Courtney Finch Lv 6
> Student
>
> Kinsey Lewis Lv 7
> Student
>
> Gracelyn March Lv 7
> College Student
>
> Heidi Lee Lv 6
>
> Lisa Mei Lv 7
>
> Amy Shen Lv 6
The names began to blur into each other, as he spammed the Skill. He didn't bother reading the details, just dismissing each blue pop-up, one after another. He ignored the girls around his age or below as he searched the crowd of panicking women for another name in blood red hiding within the sea of blue.
> Sakura Aihara Lv 7
>
> Sarah Payne Lv 6
>
> Katelyn Ware Lv–
>
> Alice Lawburton Lv–
>
> Haruka I–
>
> Chin Soo-Ky–
>
> Cai Shu–
>
> Tao Z–
>
> Mei Sa–
>
> Lisa Osa–
>
> Dana P–
>
> Jasmine Em–
>
> Kaeja B–
>
> Grace Sto–
>
> Caitlyn B–
>
> Khiev C–
>
> Jen Srey–
>
> Emilynn B–
>
> Cecilia T–
>
> Ayako O–
>
> Tiffany Kim Lvl 10
> ABB Little Sister
Greg froze, eyes narrowing as he spotted one; a woman on the cusp of her twenties in a ratty leather jacket and a ripped-up short skirt doing her very best to ignore Greg's gaze. The cape didn't make a move yet even as he stared daggers at the woman, his eyes already flicking past her as he tried to scope out more potential threats hidden within the crowd.
> Amber Baker
>
> Sammie Chun Lvl 9
> ABB Stalker
Another? He felt himself tense at the sight, blood suddenly spurting in greater amounts from around the vice grip he kept on his bullet wound. The red numbers and names in his vision filling him with nearly as much rage as the pain he felt with every heartbeat.
> Reina Nakamura
>
> Amanda Jiang
> ABB Little Sister
>
> Janie Burton
>
> Yuka Kasen
> ABB Little Sister
>
> Akiko Sakai
> ABB Big Sister
>
> Jennifer Sato Lvl 25
> Queen Explosion Murder
Almost every other enemy he had locked onto seemed to vanish from his sight as his mind connected the dots almost immediately, the figure's title and oddly high level leaving him with only one conclusion to draw. Greg had been wrong: Bakuda was not a man.
"Y-Y-You…" Greg couldn't help the stammer in his voice, choking a little from the blood in his throat as he raised a finger at the pretty, young woman in accusation, almost unsure of what he was about to say. "Y-You're Bakuda?"
Over a hundred fearful faces stared at him in distinct confusion, the name not ringing a bell to most of them. All the while, the college-age girl leaning up against the wall with folded arms glanced over at him, pale blue eyes narrowed in his direction as she stared over him like he was nothing but dirt under her boots…
Her oddly heavy boots.
How did he miss those boots!? No one else had boots!
"W-w-w-w-what gave it away?" She replied mockingly, raising an eyebrow as she spoke. Her Bostonian accent was thick, far heavier than Greg would have expected simply from looking at her. Almost like a female John F. Kennedy; A female Asian Kennedy.
In any other situation, Greg knew he'd have probably cracked a joke by now or said something just annoying enough about her wicked smaht accent to do the job of pissing her off, but he couldn't seem to make the words appear in his head. Oddly enough, it seemed to be taking all of his effort not to turn the entire hallway into an oven. But there were too many other girls here – innocent, panicking and cowed into silence as the ABB women who had been hiding among the other girls drew weapons, keeping them from running away: hostages to prevent Greg from acting upon his boiling desire for vengeance.
"No, seriously," she continued speaking, a smarmy smirk on her face as she brushed some imaginary dirt off her white tee, "What the fuck gave it away?"
Greg said nothing, simply staring at her intently with shock and a burning, hateful glare.
"Was it the bitch that shot you?" She jabbed a thumb over at the still-insensate shooter, not once taking her eyes off Greg, seeming to take enjoyment in his dumbstruck state. "I told her not to pull any stupid shit till we were out of here but some people…" Bakuda let out a mock sigh, shaking her head slightly, "... just fahckin' retahded, y'know."
Do it. Greg simply stared as she continued to speak, the voices in his head loud enough to relegate most of what Bakuda had to say to simple background noise. Draw your sword. Cut her.
"But seriously, though…" Her eyes gained a glint to them as she locked gazes with Greg, the smile on her face gaining life as Greg looked on with a lifeless expression. "How the fahck did you know it was me?"
"... I guessed." His own voice was quiet. Quiet and angry; the words struggled to escape him through gritted teeth as he felt his state of shock begin to be replaced by a powerful wave of anger.
The psychotic parahuman let out a loud snort of laughter, continuing to chuckle for a few seconds more as Greg trembled with rage. "Come on, kid. If I wanted to be fed a load of shit, I'd go to fuckin' Fugly's."
"...You sure you didn't blow that up too?" Greg spat back.
"Nope, actually. I left that place alone. You never know when you're hungry for some greasy shit in the middle of the aftern–"
"You're a monster!"
The blue-eyed Asian-American girl blinked, shooting Greg a look of confusion that the blond knew was not at all real, judging by the glint of enjoyment in her eyes. "What was that?"
"You heard me! You're a fucking monster!" Greg stepped forward only to let out a hiss of pain, his hand jostling the wound around his neck as his fingers shifted position, reminding Greg of the blood held back by his hand that continued to spurt from his neck. The red numbers in his vision jumped up ever so slightly in magnitude before settling down again to normal as Greg kept himself still, eyes burning with anger as he glared at Bakuda with malicious intent written all over his face. Speaking was difficult, painful, and required a little bit of his previous aerokinesis trick, but he couldn't help but lash out with words, rather than the fists he wished he could use if not for the hostages. "You blew up half the city for no fucking reason! You killed people! Innocent people!"
Bakuda shrugged at his words, letting out a slight hum as she paced a few steps, left and right, as the girls around her who weren't ABB parted to give her leeway. "Yeah… well, that's just like… your opinion, man."
Greg felt his eye twitch, his teeth making an audible noise as he responded with a single, terse syllable, "...What."
"I mean, sure, I did some shit you didn't like," she tapped a finger to her chest, before gesturing over at Greg. "You did some shit I didn't like. Lemme guess, you're the same idiot in black that fought Lee, right?"
She didn't let him answer, waving off whatever his stammered attempt at a response would have been as she continued: "I'm pretty sure you ahre. That also makes you the same guy who put a shitload of my men in the hospital... and a few in the morgue. Third, that means you're the same stupid, little fahck who's been hoarding all my bombs too?"
"Better me than you."
She laughed again, the sound grating at Greg's ears. "... Funny. You got balls, kid. I mean, you fought Lung so that's a given. Twice, even. Double balls! Medical condition or not, still impressive. Pretty goddamn retahded, though, considering one fahcking bullet can almost drop you." One of her lackeys, a Korean-looking girl with bright blue highlights striping throughout her short hair, handed Bakuda another gun; the psychopath raised it lazily in Greg's direction. "Pretty sure a second would make another pretty, little hole. And maybe a third, if I feel like it."
Greg didn't need the reminder. Blood was still spurting from between his fingertips.
"So, lemme make you a deal. Tell me where the fahck you put my bombs and I'll let you leave here alive…" She paused, tilting her head to the side as she stuck a finger in her mouth and started to work at a nail. "Well, I mean, as fah as you can get with a hole in your neck. That shit looks bad, by the way. I'd get it checked out."
"Fuck you."
"I don't do minors. Kinda gross, you know."
This wasn't working; just standing here trading barbs with a psychopath. Greg knew he was gonna have to put her down eventually. He just needed to cover his bases first and that included finding out what he needed to know and making sure he could keep Bakuda and the other ABB women from harming the hostages before making a move. "You're not gonna win this, you goddamn psycho. I'm not gonna let you leave here alive and you know it."
"Wow…" Her eyes actually widened slightly, a patronizing smile replacing the smug smirk she wore from the beginning of their exchange. "I don't know how to tell you this, little boy, but you're already bleeding out. You look like you can bahely stand up and you're pretty damn pale. You gotta understand... I'm already winning this just by keeping you here talking. 'Kay, little buddy?"
"...Fuck you, Ah'm fine." He couldn't help his retort to the condescension, purposely slurring his words as his face twisted into a grimace. He eased his grip on his neck a little, allowing slightly more blood to flow out and stumbled forwards a good bit more dramatically than was really necessary. She was wrong, of course. Greg knew he wasn't losing enough health to be in danger of dying any time soon. But Bakuda wasn't aware of that at all. She didn't know about Gamer's Body, and would think he would bleed out in a manner of minutes."I'm gonna cut you down for everything you did. I could do it right now."
She smiled again, her condescending expression turning into a full on sneer. "Okay. Let's say you could. Let's say that you're not already dead on your feet from all the blood not in your body right now. Here's the deal... You cut me down and the whole city goes sky-high." She tilted her heat to the side and let out a low whistle. "You go, I go, we all go… together."
"The hell're you talkin' about?" he slurred.
"It's called a fahckin' dead man's switch, you little retahd," she snapped, emotions finally taking a step toward impatience or annoyance; Greg really wasn't sure which. "Not even that. Anytime I want, I could set off the bombs in the unit right behind you. Just like that… boom, nothing but a blond smoothie all ovah the walls."
"I don't buy it." Greg didn't buy it, not entirely. He couldn't discount the possibility that she could actually do what she said: Bakuda was clearly a Tinker with a specialty in explosive devices. Her expertise with bombs likely allowed her to be so confident in the ability to detonate whatever explosive she had placed in the Unit right behind him, killing him and avoiding getting caught in the blast herself. There must have been other safeguards in place to ensure she could control the bombs with that kind of precision, discounting the dead man's switch. So if that was the case, that only left one question; where the hell was the detonator?
Bakuda frowned again, her admittedly pretty face twisting with her bitter expression as the gun trembled in her angry grip. "Who the fahck says you gotta buy shit? I'm telling you 'xactly what's gonna go down if you get stupid all of a sudden."
"Doubt it." Greg shook his head slightly, hissing at the motion for a second, until he once more locked eyes with Bakuda. "Really doubt it." Nothing in her hands and her clothes… Bakuda had stripped down to match the look of the other captured girls, leaving her in nothing but a white tee, some short-shorts and a pair of boots heavy enough to work as makeshift dumbbells. There's no way she could be hiding anything under that.
"'Fack does that mean?"
No earpiece either and I couldn't list all the reasons why she wouldn't have an implant in her head. "What I'm saying is… you're a fucking psycho but you're not crazy enough to kill yourself. You probably have a dead man's switch, sure, but I'm not buying that you'd set off a bomb in a crowded hallway so close to you. It's a pretty retahded plan." He watched as the Tinker's eyes narrowed, her hands tightening into fists.
Bakuda stared at him, composure cracking just that little bit more as Greg shot her a bloody-toothed smile. "... You think you're pretty smaht, huh?"
"Wicked smaht, yeah." There's not a lot of places she could hide something like that, right? Her pants were too tiny to reach into with ease, and her white tee was so translucent as to almost be see-through. No device on her hands or arms, not even anything disguised in the form of rings, watches, or any other accessory Bakuda could conceal her detonator in. His eyes dipped down downwards to the thick boots the woman wore, his frown deepening for a second before the tingle ran down his spine. Greg winced to pass it off as pain. Right.
"You think I'm bluffin'?" Bakuda shot back, jaw tight as she glared daggers at Greg. "You think I give a shit about these people?" She gestured around at the crowd of blue names around her with the gun, screams arising as all the girls tried to drop to the ground with the exception of the ABB who brandished their weapons to keep them cowed.
"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" was her response to that, annoyance shifting into actual rage before she glanced back to Greg, her voice and tone easing back to smug superiority as she waved the pistol wildly. "All of them are fuckin' shields. So… tell me where you hid my fahckin' bombs, or my girls here are gonna kill these lovely little hostages, one by one. I get an answer I don't like, they die. You try anything stupid, they die. Then I blow you up, and you die. Give me what I want, and everyone walks out of here alive… until you bleed out in the next, oh, three, maybe four minutes, tops."
Frightened faces stared back at him, each one of them pleading in their own way. I gotta do this. I can't let her just…
"Feel like talking, kid?" The smile on her face edged a bit too close to manic as she aimed the gun at his heart and Greg was faced with the frustration of how he had missed such an obvious supervillain amid a crowd of innocent victims as he stared back into that wide-toothed grin.
He simply blinked at the woman, suddenly far more focused than he expected as the boiling rage and oppressive worry clouding his thoughts dissipated like drops of water on a hot stove. All of that anger, self-defeating frustration, and righteous fury in the pursuit of bloody vengeance for all the pain Bakuda had caused to this city and to Greg himself was immediately replaced by a calm decisiveness and a cold anger that he was somehow certain Gamer's Mind had absolutely nothing to do with.
"You're making this real easy for me, y'know." He muttered the words under his breath as he stared back defiantly, hand twitching at his side as he held it away from the rest of his body.
She frowned, expression darkening as she tried to parse what little she managed to hear.
"The fahck did you say?"
"I said… [Burst]."
The world lit up in a flash of red.
– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –