Victor took in the fresh scents of the sea breeze, May having come at last and brought the pleasantness of Spring with it.
The Empire had suffered losses, but came out all the stronger for it. Bradley was a loose cannon one mistake away from a kill order, his death was mourned solely for the publicity of it all given his popularity with the masses, they would of course eat it up no matter how truthful their spin on things was.
James was a deeper loss, having taken a bullet meant for Max, that however, was easy to spin. A proper Norse funeral for their warriors was to be held for the public benefit, and with his hand at planning it, the public would clamor for the Empire to take up the blade against the filth that dared to strike at them.
The mess surrounding Tammi was harder to deal with. She had clearly gone to the accursed Major seeking escape from Justin. He warned Max it was a bad idea, she wasn’t even fourteen yet and he offered her up to someone in their twenties. It would have been one thing if she was willing like his own wife had been at a similar age, but the girl clearly wasn’t. He had warned them and the Empire lost face for it.
Things like that took time, and he had recommended a lengthy courtship, but Justin had been impatient. Victor had courted his dear Ethel for a year before he wed her, if only Justin had been willing to do the same. They lost a good soldier as a result and worse, they lost a future mother of the cause.
Tammi was somewhere, he had no idea where, but the story hit the net complete with video of her emotional breakdown and spread like wildfire. Justin’s death was seen as justified, and the retaliation took a considerable amount of spin to turn into a positive. He had the skills for it however, and they were put to great use.
Things had settled, following the death of Coil. His ordered assassination of Taylor Hebert was made public, and the Empire capitalized upon it when it was revealed the man was a nigger. How easy the masses were to manipulate when they had a target deserving of their wrath, especially when it was easily proven that he tried to frame them. Empire membership rose following that going public, but the death of Miss Militia was a different matter.
The bullet was linked to one of their own, and Max was forced to execute a loyal man on a live broadcast to prevent a reckoning. It was Fleur all over again, a woman of unsavory origins who did everything that was expected of them. They weren’t the kind of filth you killed without good reason, they were seen favorably by the average person after all. The good immigrant who discarded their heritage to fit in with other Americans of proper stock.
He was admittedly tired following all of that, so he had taken a day to rest. Ethel would be cooking a lovely dinner for just the two of them. No posturing, no power plays like the dinner they hosted for Kayden, Geoff, and Dorothy just days prior in a bid to bring them back into the fold in the face of losses incurred. Just him and his wife for once and he was looking forward to it.
Downtown was enjoying a relative calm, with people in Empire colors patrolling casually, keeping the peace. A passing police patrol nodded to their men on the corner and he had to fight down a smile. The easiest way to gain control was to get your people in positions of power, and the police were such an easy grab. Convince them the filth was dangerous and they would do your work without further prompting, bringing themselves under your banner in time.
“Excuse me, sir?”
Victor turned, finding a young blonde girl with curls and a lovely blue dress with a backpack slung over her shoulders waiting for him. She reminded him a bit of Ethel on their honeymoon to be honest, but he had practice suppressing those desires. His wife would be waiting for him at home and he could act on them there.
“Yes dearie?”
The girl smiled bashfully. “I can’t find my mom.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said genuinely. He tasted the skills coming off of her, and was pleasantly surprised to find a genuine skill to cook. So similar was the taste of it to his own little Ethel. Her parents were raising her well it seemed. “Why come to me? Did your parents not teach you about strangers?”
She nodded. “They did, but said that people in red and black or with the right tattoos could be trusted to help.”
He looked off to the side and pointed at the nearby Empire members. “Why not go to them then?”
“Mommy said that people might talk if we did, but that people being subtle about it were always near.” She then pointed to his arm where he had a tattoo of an eagle holding the Empire’s symbol. “I don’t know why she said that, but she’s never been wrong before.”
“Your mother seems quite smart,” he said with a genuine smile. He detected no malice, and only a hint of anxiety from her. Understandable in the circumstances. “Why don’t you show me where you last saw her and we can start looking for her there?”
“Okay!” she said, smiling.
He followed after the now much more animated girl, glad to be doing something so mundane but genuinely good. Her parents were no doubt supporters, likely in a position of sufficient influence that they were careful about showing their allegiance. They were raising her to trust the Empire and she would no doubt make a good wife for someone in time. Who knows, maybe she could be entrusted to Stormtiger if her parents were agreeable to an arrangement.
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“What of your father?” he asked, more to learn more about her than to actually make conversation.
“He didn’t come home from work one night,” she said softly. “He said the bad people with drugs were getting too close to home, said he was going to help stop them.”
Ah, her father had been Empire and died for the cause. Regrettable, but it seemed he left behind a fine legacy all the same. He would have to find out the man’s name and ensure that his remaining family was being cared for properly. She stopped a block later and pointed down an alley.
“She was down there, a mean man with squinty eyes wanted to talk to her,” the girl said.
Victor frowned. That made the situation precarious if one of the ABB filth had come to their territory seeking those under the Empire’s protection. In a moment of caution, Victor signaled one of the nearby groups of men, the youngest among them breaking off to approach him.
“Soldier,” he said, immediately snapping the young man to attention. “This girl’s mother is missing, I am entrusting her to your care while I investigate. Guard her with your life.”
The boy swallowed heavily but nodded. He looked to still be in high school, and lacked any skills of note. Probably one of their recruits from Winslow that had yet to be blooded. Perhaps he would get his chance before the day was done.
Victor stepped into the alley, drawing his concealed side arm. German made with his own personal touches. Something about the situation bothered him, but he couldn’t show weakness or doubt. Only Empire capes were allowed to get the particular tattoo he bore, the rank and file were well familiar with it and the PRT didn’t dare act on it.
He was barely ten feet into the alley when he caught sight of a foot poking out from behind a dumpster. Already he feared the worst for the girl at his back, for she likely lost her last remaining parent. Coming up on her, he found an attractive woman, laying in a pool of darkening crimson. A knife lay in the spreading pool.
Absently, he saw the girl approach. He would reprimand the boy later, but he wouldn’t dare do it in front of a grieving child. “What was her name?”
“Melissa,” the poor child said, then after a moment added. “Butcher.”
Yes, that was an apt description of what happened. The woman’s mind was silent to his power, and it was doubtful any life remained within her. The child would no doubt be in shock at seeing someone she loved her whole life laid out before her like that.
“She was always the dramatic one,” the girl said, then chuckled.
Frowning, he turned to regard the girl. She now bore a white apron over her dress, which had unmistakable patterns of crimson staining it. Fresh, as if someone had been impaled by multiple blades at once. Looking closer, several things about the girl made more sense, and it crystallized in a moment of clear dread.
“Bonesaw,” he said, already moving the gun towards her. His arm was halted by something implacable, the woman lying in blood had risen, a feral grin on her face and the second word clicked. It hadn’t been a description, it had been a name. “Butcher.”
“Right on both,” the abomination said cheerfully as she unslung her backpack. “We weren’t sure the ruse would work, you see. I knew your power wouldn’t read me since it couldn’t read Cyber, so I had to get creative.”
She pulled a jar of sorts from her bag, a brain suspended in liquid with limited machinery attached rested within. He frowned, feeling the skills wafting off of it, so familiar that it made his heart ache.
“Ethel.”
“Right again!” she answered. “I was afraid you would recognize her right away, but Tay knew you would be too arrogant to even think it was possible, and a creep besides. She was my age when you married her, yet people call me a monster.”
“So rude,” the Butcher added. “Shall we, before we draw more attention?”
“Right right,” Bonesaw said, then the wall rippled. Spiders with similar jars suspended in their frames came forth from the fissure and he knew what awaited him. He spun forcefully, and let his shoulder dislocate even as the Butcher crushed his arm, bone and all. Such pain he could ignore, all so he could draw a second concealed gun and level it upon the sin against God.
He thought he knew pain, but what washed over him was overwhelming and indescribable. He dropped like a puppet with strings cut, a soundless scream tearing from his throat as Bonesaw stood over top of him.
“That wasn’t very nice,” she said, then stuck him with a needle and the pain blissfully faded along with the world.
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Victor woke slowly, his perception marred by something he couldn’t put to words. The world was tinged red, static filling his mind. He couldn’t move, none of his limbs answered him. He remembered what had transpired and swore internally. Bonesaw had him, and there was nothing he could do. He couldn’t even warn the Empire that the Nine were back.
He’d heard the stories, he knew the horror that was to come. He would likely become some abomination, probably fused with his wife. He could only hope death came for him first, let him avoid being aware of what he was, but Bonesaw wasn’t known for her mercy.
One of the monster’s accursed spiders skittered past him, and he felt a ghost of a whisper from it, cooking. If he had eyes they would have widened. Ethel, she was reduced to a mere machine being driven by a human brain.
He followed, completely out of his own control, a body on a table that he would always recognize looked back. His own. Several others were gathered around and he recognized many of them. Bonesaw was known, as was the Butcher from his recent encounter. Panacea was a surprise as was Cyber.
So much about the situation was wrong, and he watched them working on some device within his skull where his brain should have been. They were discussing things, but he heard none of it, whatever audio processors were connected didn’t reach his conscious mind. What he didn’t miss was when his body’s eyes opened of their own accord.
He watched himself sit up, checking fine motor control before the little monster pointed at where he was, in the spider frame. His body turned and waved even as it spoke. His skill at lip-reading was intact and if he were capable of it, Victor had little doubt a chill would have gone down his spine.
The impostor wearing his skin was replicating his exact speech inflections. It wouldn’t be enough to fool him, but it would fool the others. He wanted to swear, but could do nothing as Panacea made it look like there had never been an incision on his skull. The Nine had turned him into a living puppet, and with a stark realization, he knew exactly what they intended to use it for.