I told myself that I was supremely confident when I left the Watcher. I’d saved the world and annihilated the monsters who’d invaded my home. What challenge was possibly beyond me?
Vincent considered the best course of action as he walked through what was once the Financial District, now the uncontested territory of Dollar Bill. He enjoyed the feeling of smallness that came with being surrounded by the enormous buildings rising up to either side of him, sunlight reflecting off the endless walls of glass. Broadway had supposedly been restored to its pre-Invasion glory, but Vincent thought only of the imposing feeling of a sky nearly lost to the towering buildings.
The road was in better shape than most in NTC, but there were no cars, so he and Robert could walk down its center. While some parts of the city were fairly populated, DB territory was as dangerous as it came, and the streets gave the appearance of being deserted. As the pair walked purposefully toward their goal, Vincent continually felt like he was being watched, and he’d often spot a shadow disappearing into the ruined subway stations, or ducking away from the countless windows.
Dollar Bill’s base was across from an ancient building called Trinity Church, which had been miraculously spared from the Invasion. Religion still existed, of course, and people did occasionally brave the pilgrimage to the old temple, but an alien invasion followed by the appearance of people with god-like powers had pushed it to the periphery of society in many places. Besides, NGG didn’t like anything that drew worship away from their own empire.
Vincent could see the Church now, its steeple rising up defiantly in the sea of skyscrapers. It was dwarfed by so many of the buildings in this part of the city, but stood out for its unique, ancient architecture. Nothing was so much a contrast as K-Tower, which stood near the water on the other side of the district, barely visible through the light fog of the endless radstorm. Its mix of human and Invader technology, glass, black walls, and the eerie green of Gamma pumping through the twisting pipes made it look like the future warring with the past when viewed alongside the church.
Emi would be there now, having taken the K-Tech shuttle to work, rather than walking through gang territory with Vincent and Robert. Those shuttles were so reinforced that they looked like enormous gray bullets speeding through the streets, and the gangs had learned the hard way how much defensive K-Tech was housed inside. Emi had commented that the shuttles could drive through a warzone and arrive on time, and intact.
Finally they arrived at the relatively plain building that the Dollar Bills had chosen as their headquarters. It was tall, and gray, like so many of the structures nearby, and Vincent suspected the wily Villain had chosen this particular location specifically to avoid drawing attention. Ostensibly the NGG was always hunting the Villains, and most made it relatively easy as they tried to create their own opulent little Kingdoms.
Dollar Bill was older, and more cunning, and he’d survived as long he had by avoiding the foolishness and pitfalls of lesser Villains.
As they neared the unremarkable black doors, the pair halted, knowing the routine after several visits. While they waited, Vincent checked the time on his father’s watch against the old, frozen clocks on the church, wondering if there had been a significant moment when they’d stopped. Did the old house of worship forever mark the moment the Invasion had reached New York City, or was he giving in to a rare moment of emotional indulgence?
After only a few minutes, movement began from all around them, and the truth of the facade was revealed. The sour air was kicked up as dozens of Dollar Bill’s henchmen appeared seemingly from nowhere and everywhere all at once. Once again minimalism was key as each one could have passed for a harmless citizen were it not for the circumstances. Here though, a green band was visible around the upper left arm of each person–green like old money, Vincent had learned.
His ocular KD confirmed that these people were anything but civilians, of course. Most of the city’s gangs were made up of Basics, the dead end rank being the fate for more than three quarters of all potential supers, many of whom struggled to feed their Gamma addictions after leaving the Farms. The Dollar Bills were different, however, as more than half of the dangerous people surrounding them were Initiate rank, and a familiar Reactive rank woman had inserted herself between Vincent and the entrance.
“Maria,” Vincent said in greeting. The tall woman nodded down at him, her short, spikey blond hair and strong jaw giving her an androgynous appearance.
“Dollar Bill is expecting you,” she said, her slight southern drawl making ‘dollar’ sound more like ‘dollah’.
Vincent nodded in return, not surprised. He hadn’t announced that he was coming, or even that he’d recovered enough to do so, but he suspected the Villain’s spies would have warned him the second Vincent started walking the streets again. “We have much to discuss,” he said.
“Your muscle stays out here,” Maria replied with a gesture to the towering Berserker.
“Sure,” Vincent replied. “If you can keep him here, you’re welcome to.” A menacing growl rumbled from within Robert’s immense chest, and several of the gang members took involuntary steps back.
Maria smiled, however. “Your public embarrassment hasn’t taught you any lessons, has it?” she asked, but she also moved aside to create a path to the door.
“You wouldn’t like what it taught me,” Vincent said quietly as he strode past her, his looming bodyguard only a step behind. As they walked through a nondescript lobby and entered an elevator occupied by four armed guards, Vincent reflected that Arthur’s intel had once again proved its value.
Maria respected shows of strength, whatever she might claim, and likely would have killed him outright if she truly thought he’d been cowed by his injuries and recent loss. Unfortunately, Arthur had found far less information on Dollar Bill himself. The man valued his privacy to the extreme, and few outside his own gang had seen him and lived. Vincent would have to rely on his own ability to read people, which was unfortunate.
The elevator lurched as Robert stepped on, and he made a show of making direct, aggressive eye contact with each of the armed men. Maria squeezed in last and pressed the button for the eighth floor, interestingly a different one from Vincent’s last meeting with the gang leader. Speakers let out some brief, screeching static that had once been music, and then the doors were opening again.
They followed Maria down a wide, dark hallway, with only a few of the lights still working. They passed into a larger office area, where several more gang members were lounging around, playing cards with weapons nearby. At last they came to an office against the corner of the building where sunlight streamed through the windows, and Maria held the door for Vincent.
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This time, not only did she not object to Robert accompanying him, but she didn’t even bother entering herself. It was an important gesture that Vincent didn’t miss: Dollar Bill didn’t require any real protection.
The pair walked it, and Robert immediately moved to the side and crossed his massive arms. The office was as plain as the building. A few empty shelves, a single desk, and some old pictures hanging on the wall. Vincent’s eyes were drawn to the single object this new office had in common with the one he’d seen on his last visit. A single American dollar was framed, and sitting on the desk. Specks of blood had dried on one side, and Vincent noted that once again it was facing away from its owner.
Dollar Bill himself was in a comfortable chair, facing the floor to ceiling window. There was another possibility for why the man chose a plain building and an even more plain office, as Dollar Bill himself was all the decoration anyone could ever ask for. That fact was undeniable as the man turned in his chair, revealing a body made entirely of sparkling gemstones.
Dollar bill was wearing a gray business suit, all the better for showing off his diamond skin with its slashes of ruby and sapphire. The patterns were so distinctive that Vincent wondered if the Villain created them himself, especially as the slashes and highlights appeared slightly different from their first meeting. A KD blocker was preventing his class and other information from being shown, but Vincent could feel the man’s power.
“Young Master Villari,” he said in a pleasant, salesman’s voice. “Please, won’t you sit? Business should be comfortable when possible.”
Vincent sat in one of the two brown chairs in front of the desk, then waited, looking into the surprisingly human eyes set in the glittering, hairless face.
“Do you understand the problem we have, Master Villari?” Dollar Bill asked after a long, tense moment.
“Our arrangement was predicated, not only my ability to control and dominate the smaller gangs, but also the reputation that I, and my benefactor have been building by doing so.”
“That is part of the problem, Master Villari, but not all, and certainly not what concerns me.” Vincent nodded, noticing the use of ‘Master’ as a way of drawing attention to his youth–the gang leader was playing power games.
“The other part of the problem is that I’m operating with your approval, Mr. Williams, and my actions reflect on you.” Dollar Bill’s calm and superior expression broke for just an instant at hearing his real name. Arthur’s current intel on the man might be minimal, but Peter Williams had been a registered adept once. Vincent could play games too.
“Indeed,” he said, his salesman’s tone slipping slightly. “You’ve been going around NTC saying that Dollar Bill endorses your actions, and now your reputation affects my own. Worse, some people think you’re my personal agent, as that fool Veridicus is hard to believe as a real power and not just a madman with a camera.” If only he knew, Vincent thought.
“Which is why I’ve come here before resuming my efforts. We had an arrangement, and I acknowledge I’m the one who put it in jeopardy. I believe that our arrangement still benefits us both, but I understand that you may be reconsidering.”
“Reconsidering?” Dollar Bill echoed, before standing up and turning to look out the window, as if lost in thought. “I don’t think you understand the scope of the trouble you’ve caused, Villari. Those same gangs you gathered behind Veridicus are now ready to be united against me. They’ll lose, of course, but open war in NTC is not something that will be tolerated.” Vincent noticed the man was staring toward the water when he spoke, maybe even at K-Tower.
“So how can I make this right?”
Dollar bill turned back, a smile on his unusual face. “That is certainly the question, isn’t it? Well, you have two options. The first is what your large friend is waiting for: I kill you both, showing him how futile it is to punch diamonds.”
“I’d throw you in the bay,” Berserker Bob said without hesitation, not even uncrossing his arms. Dollar Bill looked surprised at that, and even glanced back at the water, appearing somewhat conflicted. Robert grinned wickedly at the reaction.
“Hopefully we won’t need to test that particular tactic,” the Villain said. “I think we’d both prefer an alternative where you can resume your efforts, Villari, and continue as before.”
Vincent nodded, confident he knew what the man wanted, but now how he planned to get it. “We need to repair the damage to our reputations,” he said. “I have some suggestions–”
“That I’m sure are as brilliant as they are safe, and not good enough. First of all, I need to be the one in charge of this little endeavor; the other gangs need to see that this comes from me, so the message is clear. Second, this little bit of theater must be a genuine challenge to you, enough so that the masses are suitably afraid of you, and respectful of my agents in the future.”
Vincent’s eyebrows rose, seeing where this was going, which was precisely the opposite to his promise to himself to be more prepared and better informed going forward. “You’re talking about the Pit,” he said.
“I am talking about the pit,” Dollar Bill confirmed, his salesman’s voice and smile back as he reasserted control over the encounter. “I have some awareness of what you’re capable of, and the fact that a Reactive ranked Berserker follows your lead is more telling than I think you realize.” He shifted his gaze to Bob. “Did you know that in all my years I’ve only seen one other of your kind that hadn’t been put down by the NGG? He tore through the city like a force of nature. It was remarkable.”
Vincent turned to look at Robert, recognizing the threat in his friend’s gaze. “So the pit,” he prompted quickly, hoping to change the subject.
Dollar Bill nodded, seemingly unconcerned by the living monument of rage fuming in the corner. “As I was saying, I may know what you’re capable of, but the rest of the gangs do not. The ones you’ve already dealt with are in no hurry to explain how you did so, and the Berserker receives most of the credit. You need a reputation of your own.”
“So how would it work?”
“Likely how you’d imagine it, if you’re familiar with the Pit. You’ll face a series of opponents from the other gangs, and you’ll kill them, or they’ll kill you.” Bob finally uncrossed his arms then, moving away from the wall. Dollar Bill raised his hands in a warding gesture. “Relax, my large friend. I have full confidence in Master Villari, and I’m not without influence in this arrangement, myself.”
Bob glanced at Vincent, who didn’t call him off immediately. “How much influence? I’m confident in my skills, but I can’t hide that I’m still an initiate.”
Dollar Bill tapped a finger against his lips, causing the sound of two small stones colliding to fill the room. “Most of the gangs in question won’t be willing to lose anyone beyond Initiate–too much of a wasted Gamma investment. Just to be safe though, I’ll make sure that no one beyond the lower end of Reactive can be chosen.”
“That’s still a significant power gap,” Vincent said, considering.
“It must be. That’s the point,” the gang leader replied. “I can be seen to protect a favored agent, but not one too weak to have earned my favor.”
Vincent sighed, knowing the man was right. His mind raced as he weighed the advantages and disadvantages of the proposal. They needed the gangs under the banner of Veridicus, and more than that, they needed to be in Dollar Bill’s good graces for other parts of the plan. A series of fights against unknown opponents, however, was exactly the kind of risk he shouldn’t be taking.
There would be no Bob or explosive Remnant to save him this time, and no intel to help him adjust his tactics ahead of time. Just unknown dangers, threatening to undo everything he’d worked for. Still, the alternative was seeing if Bob could really throw Dollar Bill all the way to the bay, and giving up on the plan regardless. There really wasn’t a choice at all.
“Then we go to the Pit,” he said, finality in his voice.