3.25

“And, unfortunately, the enemy of my enemy is still my enemy.”

— Vincent Hall, Encoded Notebook; Section 17, page 21

“So, who’d we get?” I ask, boots clunking against the hard tiled floor as I stalk down the hallway.

Chloe snorts, almost jogging to keep up with my pace. I catch a wince out of the corner of my eye as her bolt gun jostles against her back, and I slow down a little. “Well, we got your nemesis, and his pet gang leader tagged along too.”

I roll my eyes. She means Crush, and, I assume, the leader of Gutter Coffin.

“Then, ah, Highlander showed up, somehow before we got confirmation that his invitation was delivered. He’s got Runick and Construct with him, and two other supers that I’m not sure if they’re affiliated. Remember those two in the alley? With Gordon?” Chloe tilts her head.

I nod. Competent, I remember, but conflict-averse. It’s interesting they’d decide to throw their weight in now.

Hopefully less knives are involved, this time.

“Yeah — Kickback and Jumpcut. Some kind of time manipulation for both of them, apparently. They’re all waiting in the barroom — you’re welcome for finding this stupid place, by the way, it was a huge pain — but what’s the play, here?”

I come to a stop in front of a pair of double doors leading out into the bar area. The place is a little grimy, likely because it’s been abandoned for a couple months now, I think, but it’s workable. Chloe and a couple volunteers spent a day sorting it out a little, so even if it’s not cozy, really, it’s at least vaguely dignified.

As I take a moment to review the guests at play, I find myself leaning towards a similar approach for the meeting itself.

“…We’ve already made an impression with Cook, and it was enough to pull them in this far. There’s no reason to draw any more attention,” I mutter. Chloe nods, shrugging.

“It’d be a pain if we had to deal with them and whatever’s left of Cook by the time they’re done with him,” she points out.

I grunt. “We’ll… facilitate. Try to be unobtrusive. I’ll present our findings, maybe push for an offensive motion, but otherwise…”

“Gotcha. Don’t worry, Carrie, I’m as unobtrusive as they come,” Chloe chirps, and I try not to snort.

The nickname’s new, as is the complete name it comes from. I’d had to pick something that wasn’t as… clinical as ‘Doctor’ — something related to my relatively feeble image, that’d help me inject some presence into Westpoint’s newest — well, supervillain, I guess.

I chose Carrion. Blood and viscera, discarded corpses. It seemed fitting.

I physically shake myself out of brooding, take a deep breath, and step through the double doors.

Immediately, my ears are assaulted. Really, you’d think these people would have a little tact.

…Maybe not, actually.

“Shut the hell up, funny man!” A high-pitched shriek pierces the air.

“Aw come on, kid, can’t take a joke? Crush, tell her to live a little, yeah?”

A crunch, the sound of splintered wood. “Don’t antagonize the boss.”

“She practically antagonizes herself!”

“You — !”

The scene I walk in on is nothing short of ridiculous, even given how much I should have expected it. On one side of the table, Crush grips the edge hard enough to splinter, seeming as though he’s only barely able to restrain himself from doing something drastic, while next to him a short girl in an oversized leather jacket points viciously across the table. I forget her moniker, but if I remember correctly, it’s something ostentatious.

On the other side, a scruffy man in a black and white coat idly flips a coin, seemingly unconcerned with the situation he’s been put in. His two lackies, standing tense at either side, are more bothered than he is. Highlander isn’t the most intimidating gang leader, but his career suggests an uncanny amount of luck. That, plus the startling amount of supers in his employ — Runick and Construct are just the tip of the iceberg.

Standing awkwardly next to the table are the two… teenagers? I remember encountering in the alley. Both of them look absurdly uncomfortable.

Kickback and Jumpcut. I’m still not quite sure I understand why they’re here.

I suppress a sigh, ignore the incessant shrieking, and plop myself down at the table. Chloe comes to a stop beside me, putting a hand on her hip and wearing her most ‘this is very boring’ expression.

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Surprisingly, the fight immediately breaks up. The kid turns her attention my way, and I catch Highlander’s lips quirk up slightly at my plight.

“Hey! What took so long, weirdo?!” The kid’s frizzy hair bounces as she swivels, extended finger waving around in front of her like a weapon.

It’s an effort to keep my calm smile from fracturing at that. Weirdo? That’s… a new one.

“Sorry about that, had to grab a bite to eat. You know how it is,” I chirp, relaxing my posture and resting my head on a hand. “So, about Cook.”

The kid — who I really have to learn the name of, honestly — scowls. “That miserable worm and his dumb, stupid drinks! I wanna squish ‘im!”

Highlander shrugs. “Hey, he’s good for business.”

“Squish! Like a grape! I’ll do it to you, too, if you don’t be quiet!”

I shrug as I interject. “It seems we agree on this, at least. Cook needs to be dealt with. I can point you in the right direction.”

The kid narrows her eyes. “How do I know this isn’t some trick! You look like a liar, anyway!”

Ouch, kid. “I have my own reasons, obviously, but we all want Cook gone. We only need to cooperate long enough for that to happen. From there, well… I can’t stop you.”

I cast a meaningful glance at Crush, hoping to see some spark of understanding not present in the child across from me. It’s difficult to discern his intention under that cowl, but his body language shifts, and he seems… displeased? Is he actually expecting me to defer to the literal baby over him?

I think I’ve misread the situation with those two. Thankfully, Highlander seems to be amenable — or maybe that’s just because of the ever-present smug grin pasted to his face. Kind of hard to tell.

Interestingly, Kickback and Jumpcut look reluctant to cut in. Instead, their eyes dart over to Highlander, as if waiting for his reaction.

The child scoffs, and plops back down in her seat. “Well, obviously.” Crush gives her a pat on the back while Highlander leans in.

I take note of their interaction. It’s certainly not an expected one.

Highlander sets his elbows on the table, palms a coin, and flips it. He idly catches it without looking, slaps it on the back of his hand, and takes a look.

It’s heads. I have no idea what that means, and the lack of knowledge sends a spike of anxiety through me. Is he using his power?

How would I be able to tell if he was? It’s not like anyone else has figured it out, and he’s been active in Westpoint for years.

Highlander smiles. “Alright, missy, I like your style. Hit ‘em hard and fast, right? My kind of gig. Just point me when and where, gotcha?”

My eyes narrow. He shouldn’t know most of that. Actually, his wording implies he really shouldn’t know any of that — he already has an extremely detailed understanding of the purpose of this meeting, and I’ve barely said twenty words to him. Is this…?

I force my own smile to widen, and pull a sheaf of papers from my coat. A bit faux-professional, maybe, but sue me for not trusting the wackjobs with remembering dates, times, or locations.

“In here is a record of a number of Cook’s supply houses. He uses these as drop-off points for a majority of his product, as well as storage for a large amount of very expensive equipment,” I drawl. “There are three copies. Do with that information what you will.”

Highlander snatches a sheet, glancing at it with a bored expression. The kid across from him scowls and makes a harsh motion with her fingers.

The sheet is ripped from his grasp, and the child catches it deftly mid-air. She grins, and wipes a drop of blood from under her nose.

Jumpcut quietly and discretely takes a sheet while the others are distracted.

I suppress a sigh, and draw myself up when I see Highlander refocus his attention.

“Well, that’s not nothing. How’d you come by all this, anyway?”

I dip my smile into a smirk. “Same way I’ll get you the man’s direct location if you coordinate with me the day-of.”

Highlander, while unsurprised, is receptive. “Good deal,” he smiles. He pauses, smoothly palming his coin and popping it into the air with a ping.

“Tell you what,” he announces, glancing down at the result. “You call this number,” he says, whipping out a small notecard and scribbling a small line near the top, “the day before, give the guy on the other end a time and location, and me and my buddies here,” he waves behind him, “will humor you. We go in, we cut down Cook, deal’s done. Make sense.”

I nod. “More than workable.

Highlander’s smug expression sharpens. “I’m glad we could come to an agreement, Carrion. C’mon, you four, let’s blow this shitty place.” I blink as Highlander lazily rocks himself to his feet, and both his underlings, as well as Kickback and Jumpcut, begin to follow him out of the bar.

They’re affiliated? Reluctantly, if the look on Kickback’s face is anything to go by.

Interesting. I turn to the kid. “And you?”

She scoffs. “As if I’d let that two-bit gambler show me up! You’re gonna remember the name Girl Of Death!”

…Really? Crush shoots me a glare, and I manage to suppress a sigh. “Any way for me to contact you?”

“Crushy, give her the thing!”

Crush tosses me a burner phone, which I pocket with a nod. I’m about to muster up some pleasantries when she hops off her chair and marches towards the door.

The bar door creaks, and then slams shut with a bang.

I take a deep breath, and let out a loud sigh, head slumping against the table.

“Uuugghh. Why, pray tell, are all the supers around here absolutely fucking insane?”

Chloe laughs, dropping into the seat next to me and slapping me hard on the shoulder. “It builds character! Literally! No one wants to fuck with the crazies!”

“I’m learning that,” I grunt. Chloe laughs.

“Don’t be dramatic, I think that went well!”

“Highlander’s gonna be a pain,” I mutter. “I don’t know how he’s getting his information, and he specified pretty clearly he’s only on board until Cook is out of the picture. We’d better be ready to cut and run quickly near the end.”

Chloe slings an arm around my shoulder, and I haphazardly try to throw her off with a squawk. “Stop worrying! Seriously, you’re gonna get yourself all worked up, and I’m pretty sure you haven’t found a way to upgrade yourself out of sleeping, right?” Her eyes narrow. “…Right?”

I sigh. “Right. Fine.”

Her expression softens. “Why don’t we go visit an actual bar? There’s this really cozy one near the residential district, we can swing by my place and pick up your hat n’ stuff on the way?”

I hesitate. Seems like all the bad stuff in my life recently happens in a bar.

Well. Maybe this’ll be a way to kill that streak. I huff, and nod.

Chloe’s grin is practically blinding as she drags me out of the building, filling the empty city air with gentle ribbing and mindless chatter.