image [https://i.imgur.com/b98uZB5.png]
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The thugs exchanged confused glances, taken aback by the stranger's nonchalant demeanor. Finally, the gang leader stepped forward, gesturing to the pistol on Virgil's hip.
"Oi, mister. You wanna die today, eh? You're outnumbered, dipshit. This ain't the metropolis. The city rules don't apply here, but you know what does? Ours. Tune your antenna, don't go treading on cracked glass. Either give us the doc or get out of the way. Stitch before the tear, you hear?"
Edith felt a bead of sweat trickle down her face.
This was not good.
The thugs weren't the brightest, but they had the numbers. If Virgil started shooting, she wouldn't be fast enough to evade bullets. Her eyes darted around the room to find the closest spot to dive for cover.
To her astonishment, Virgil remained undaunted. He regarded the Reaper Posse thugs with a bored expression. "Interesting speech. Though, I've heard better from toddlers with diapers full of shit."
The gang leader's face twisted with fury. He opened his mouth to speak, but without warning, Virgil snapped his revolver out of its holster and fired a single shot at the thug's head.
The deafening blast echoed throughout the room. The bullet tore through the leader's mouth, blowing out the back of his head. He crumpled to the ground in a lifeless heap. Blood and chunks of flesh sprayed across the floor.
The remaining gangsters' eyes widened with horror as they froze, momentarily paralyzed.
As Edith dove behind the reception desk for shelter, the gangsters scrambled to draw their weapons, cursing and shouting.
Shots rang out as the Reaper Posse fired wildly, bullets striking the walls and floor around her. Several rounds pierced the countertop above her, sending fragments of splintered wood flying in all directions.
She covered her ears, cowering on the floor. There was nothing she could do now. Her fate rested in Virgil's hands.
Edith tried peeking through the gaps in the wooden boards, catching a glimpse of him in the heat of combat.
As bullets whizzed past him, Virgil calmly strode across the room, his coat flapping behind him like a cape. Without flinching, he fired his revolver again, hitting a thug in the chest. The gangster toppled over, dead.
Another shot, and another Reaper Posse member fell.
Bullets ripped through the air, with one striking Virgil's worn hat. It flew off, but he grabbed it mid-air and placed it back atop his head with one fluid motion, not breaking stride as he weaved around a wall for cover.
One thug rolled across the floor, trying to get a clear angle on Virgil from a different cover position. The gangster poked his pipe rifle around the corner and fired wildly, trying to pin Virgil down. The bullets struck the opposite side of the wall, forcing Virgil to duck his head to avoid being hit.
But as the thug got back into cover to reload, Virgil rose to his feet. His eyes shimmered with a faint blue light. "No hiding from me. You're mine," he muttered.
With a quick flourish, Virgil cocked his revolver and fired.
A trail of ethereal light streaked through the air, piercing through the wall without leaving a mark. A splatter of blood erupted from the other side, followed by a thud.
Edith stared, wide-eyed.
She had read his dossier when researching him earlier, but seeing his powers in action left her awestruck. Ethereal Arsenal—the ability to manipulate etheric particles, allowing him to summon unique bullets with diverse effects. His revolver held a seemingly endless variety of ammo. It was an incredibly rare metahuman ability that made him famous in the metropolis as a vigilante.
Her mind couldn't wrap itself around how unscientific his power was, yet the proof was right before her eyes.
Gunshots boomed from the other side of the wall, and the area around Edith shook as bullets continued striking the counter, raining fragments of debris upon her. She ducked her head, covering it with her arms as bits of wood pelted her from above.
She hazarded another peek, her heart racing as she waited anxiously for the fighting to end.
Virgil turned his head, his gaze locking onto his next target. He aimed his revolver at the gangster and fired. An ethereal bullet blazed forth, whistling through the air. But instead of striking the thug, the bullet veered away at a sharp angle, looping around a corner before slamming into the back of another gangster. The unfortunate victim let out a surprised cry as he collapsed to the floor, a smoking hole in his back. The smell of burnt flesh filled the air, causing Edith's nostrils to wrinkle in disgust.
Meanwhile, the thug who'd been Virgil's intended target had moved from his previous spot. Now pinned behind a pillar, the gangster peeked out from the side and fired blindly in Virgil's general direction.
The errant bullets missed, chipping pieces off the wooden floorboards. A few shots grazed the edge of the counter, spraying debris everywhere, forcing Edith to flatten herself against the ground to avoid being struck. She pressed her palms against her ears, wincing as the barrage continued.
Virgil emerged from his cover and fired a volley of shots, each round impacting one of the thug's bullets, deflecting them away harmlessly. The thug panicked and ran for cover, but Virgil fired one more ethereal bullet, which phased through the wall and struck him in the back. The gangster fell, gasping for air as blood pooled around his body.
Two gang members tried to flank him on the left, brandishing their pipes and machetes. One charged at him, swinging his machete wildly, while the other waited for an opening to strike.
Virgil pivoted to the side, avoiding the strike with ease. With his free hand, he pulled out a bowie knife from his belt and parried another blow. A flurry of sparks burst forth as metal clashed against metal.
He aimed his revolver at the thug's face, causing the gangster to recoil. But instead of shooting, Virgil plunged the knife into the thug's throat.
As the other assailant raised his steel pipe high overhead, Virgil pulled out the knife, and with a flick of his wrist, cleanly slit the other man's throat.
Both bodies collapsed to the ground, leaving only two more of the Reaper Posse members left standing. One panicked, firing blindly over the top of the cabinet he hid behind. Bullets ricocheted through the lobby, chipping away at the ceiling. Dust and plaster rained down around Edith's head.
A sharp pain flared from her thigh, and she cried out, clutching at her leg. A bullet had grazed her, drawing blood.
Augh! Fuck, that's gonna leave a mark.
Virgil glanced in her direction, his eyes narrowing. The shimmering blue aura in his eyes intensified, and he fired another ethereal bullet that pierced through the corner wall the shooter hid behind.
More blood spurted into the air, followed by the sound of a body hitting the ground.
The last thug, trapped between Virgil and the main entrance, desperately looked from side to side, searching for a way out. He fired another shot at Virgil that wildly missed its mark, and went to fire again. But nothing happened.
A low click echoed through the room, followed by a curse from the gangster. He fumbled with the gun, trying to figure out the problem.
Virgil calmly walked forward while holstering his revolver, ignoring the thug's cries of protest.
As the thug went for a punch, Virgil swatted his arm away, then pinned him to the wall with his shoulder while he wrestled the thug's pistol out of his grasp.
With practiced ease, he began disassembling the weapon, ignoring the thug's attempts to break free.
A punch managed to land solidly on Virgil's gut, but he didn't budge, still working on the gun.
"Stay put. I'm fixing it," Virgil grunted, reassembling the pistol. With a flick of the wrist, he ejected the magazine and slammed a fresh one in place before tossing the pistol back to the thug, who caught it clumsily.
"There. Try again."
The gangster stared at it for a moment before pointing it at Virgil's face.
Edith blinked, and a shot rang out. She flinched, expecting Virgil's lifeless body to fall to the ground. But when she opened her eyes, Virgil stood unharmed. The thug lay dead at his feet, a gaping hole in his head.
Virgil twirled his revolver theatrically before returning it to its holster. Then he stooped to pick up the various pistols and scattered about the floor, inspecting each one. He tossed a few to the side in a pile, while others he slid into his belt or coat.
She exhaled a sigh of relief, clutching at her chest. She couldn't believe what had just happened. It felt like she'd just watched a scene out of an action movie.
She watched Virgil rifle through the thugs' pockets, searching for loose cash or valuables. He didn't appear fazed by the violence at all. He wore an expression of mild annoyance, as if this was nothing more than a minor inconvenience to him.
He then walked over the the other bodies and started looting them as well.
Edith pushed herself up from the floor, wincing at the throbbing pain in her leg. Blood soaked through the torn fabric of her pants, but it didn't look too serious. She'd live. She limped toward the exit, wanting to put as much distance as she could between her and the grisly scene.
"Not so fast, Doc," Virgil called after her, stashing a few items in his trenchcoat. "I'll check if the coast is clear outside. Stay put and wait for a few minutes."
Edith gritted her teeth, frustration rising within her.
"Seriously?" she huffed, limping over to him. "I have an injury here, and you want me to wait for your approval to leave?"
Virgil smirked, tipping his hat at her. "These streets ain't safe, darlin'. You should know that by now. But don't worry, the nurse is on the way."
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Without waiting for a response, he pushed past her, leaving Edith alone in the ruined lobby. She slumped against a wall, closing her eyes.
Things just had to end up with a shootout. For fuck's sake!
Virgil returned a few minutes later and walked over to the nearest corpse. He crouched beside the body and started dragging it through the front door.
"What are you doing?" Edith asked, aghast.
"Cleaning up the mess, obviously." He grabbed a second body and pulled it outside. "It'll be easier for the Pallbearers to dispose of them this way. Besides, I don't want them stinking up the place more than it already does."
He came back inside and retrieved the remaining six corpses, making multiple trips. By the time he finished, the ground outside was littered with bodies, the Reaper Posse emblem on the backs of the jackets emblazoned in blood.
Edith turned away from the grotesque sight, and Virgil returned to the building to collect his belongings. She remained where she was, struggling to comprehend the magnitude of what had transpired. Virgil had killed eight men without breaking a sweat. Not even a single scratch or bruise. Just a stray bullet to his hat, which he caught.
Virgil carried his bag and whiskey bottle outside, his revolver in its holster. "Come on, let's not keep her waiting." He gestured to Edith to follow as he whistled a cheerful tune, kicking a gang member's head to the side.
Edith bit her lip, pushing down the urge to tell him off for treating this like a casual stroll.
She winced as she trudged along, hobbling on her injured leg. She half expected Virgil to be a gentleman and offer her his shoulder to lean on, or carry her, but he kept a few paces ahead, leading the way.
"Didn't you say a nurse was on the way?" Edith asked, trying to hide her irritation.
"Oh, that? Just bluffing, sorry. Besides, we're supposed to head to your clinic, remember? I'm sure you have supplies to tend to that wound."
Edith frowned, suppressing the desire to slap the smug grin off his face. She sighed and trailed behind him, trying to keep pace.
Damn bullets. Damn gangs. Damn slums!
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Over the past few weeks, Virgil watched Fii train with Edith at the old abandoned warehouse. He stayed in the shadows, watching and observing.
As the days went by, he was amazed at her progress. She was a natural, picking up skills quickly. He'd also noted her stubborn nature; she never backed down from a challenge, even when the task was difficult. She kept at it, pushing through her discomfort and exhaustion. She was resilient, tenacious.
Virgil frowned.
He knew she wasn't ready for what lay ahead. He'd seen her slip and trip during the agility exercises, and he'd witnessed her frustration when she failed to deflect the bullets in time. He'd also seen Edith's disappointment when Fii had failed to maintain her gravitational fields. And yet, in those failures, he saw potential. A willingness to improve and a refusal to give up. Those were traits that couldn't be taught. Only time and experience would hone them.
Diamond in the rough, indeed. She was definitely showing a lot of promise, but there was still a long way to go.
His eyes followed Fii as she went through the obstacle course again, noting how she used her powers to make the movements easier. She wasn't consciously aware of how she'd adjusted her abilities, but it was evident to him. It was an intuitive adaptation.
"Still here, are you?" Edith's voice called out to him as she walked into the dark corner he'd taken refuge in.
She studied him with an inquisitive gaze.
Virgil crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against the wall. "What of it?" he asked, his tone gruff.
Edith arched a brow. "Just curious. Thought you would have already left after the first couple of hours. Why stick around so long?"
Virgil glanced at Fii. She was approaching the end of the obstacle course, her movements more fluid than the previous attempts. "She's improving," he admitted grudgingly. "At first, I thought you were wasting my time, but... she's doing well."
"For someone with no formal training, you mean?" Edith offered, a wry smile on her face. "Like I said, she has potential."
"She does," he conceded, pushing himself off the wall. "But she's not ready. Growing up in the slums may have honed her instincts, but they won't help her when it comes to combat. It's one thing to dodge and weave. It's another to be able to predict your opponent's movements and act accordingly. She's tough, but she needs to learn how to use her powers more effectively. Right now, they're more of a crutch than a tool."
"Oh, I agree," Edith replied, nodding. "She's got a long way to go, but I trust that she'll get there. Like I said, she's a diamond in the rough."
He grunted, shoving his hands in his pockets as he turned to leave. "We'll see," he murmured, stepping out into the light. "We'll see."
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Virgil watched as Fii, in her superhero get-up rushed into the building, heading inside to help the people trapped within. The market had mostly emptied, leaving behind a smattering of shell-shocked vendors and shoppers. Virgil stood near the far end of the market, near a narrow alleyway.
His eyes narrowed. "Of course you'd charge in without a second thought."
He walked calmly and purposefully, navigating through the chaotic scene. Debris was scattered everywhere, and a thin layer of dust covered everything in a dull gray film. A few people noticed Virgil as he made his way through the area, but he paid them no mind.
"You're a reckless fool, and that's a damn problem," Virgil muttered to himself as he stalked toward the collapsing building. "But, dammit, you've got heart. You're not half bad for someone with no experience."
As he approached the ruined building, it finally collapsed in on itself, sending a shower of rubble and dust flying outwards. The people around him screamed and fled, but Virgil remained unmoving, his gaze fixated on the building. He knew she had gone in there, but whether she'd come out alive...
Fii emerged carrying a woman in her arms, and Virgil's eyes widened with surprise. A pile of rubble had fallen over her, but she must have somehow used her power to avoid getting crushed while also shielding the woman from the brunt of the impact.
"Well, I'll be damned..." Virgil muttered, shaking his head.
The people around them rushed over to help her. She seemed disoriented and in pain, but she got back to her feet and carried the injured woman out of the wreckage, laying her gently on the ground. Then, after surveying the damage, she set about helping as many people as she could, lifting heavy debris, and aiding the wounded.
The crowd seemed to gravitate towards her, eager to receive assistance.
She'd shown incredible resourcefulness, ingenuity, and courage in her rescue, but her recklessness in leaping into a dangerous situation without any backup or proper training irritated him.
"I have to admit, you've got some grit to you." A ghost of a smile crept onto his lips. "Alright, kid, you've shown that you've got the heart for the job. Now, we have to work on the head. Your recklessness will only get you so far."
Virgil rubbed his chin thoughtfully, his eyes following Fii's movements as she continued helping others. "All things considered, she's not half bad." He snorted, but there was no malice in his voice. "Though, she needs to be better. Much better."
"Why are you talking to yourself, mister?"
The question snapped him out of his musings. A kid was standing right beside him, watching him intently. She tilted her head, frowning. "Are you okay, mister?"
"Huh? Er..." Virgil blinked, unsure how to respond. "Yeah. I'm alright. Fine, actually."
The kid seemed satisfied with his answer. "Okay, good! Don't wanna go crazy or anything. Bye, mister!" She waved before scampering away, disappearing into the crowd.
Virgil sighed, grabbing his flask. He unscrewed the lid and took a long swig from it. His flask was empty. "Dammit."
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The muffled cry of the Gully Rat member who had fled from the scene was cut short as Virgil plunged his knife through the captive's windpipe. Blood spurted onto the dirt beneath them, forming a thick, crimson pool that stained the soil. Virgil let the lifeless body crumple to the ground in a heap.
"Pathetic." He wiped his knife on the sleeve of the corpse, cleaning off the excess blood. Then he flicked his wrist, sheathing the blade back into its hidden sheath on his hip. "Scum like you don't deserve mercy." He knelt and rummaged through the pockets of the fallen gangster. The man carried only a few Tinks and a half-empty packet of cigarettes.
Virgil dragged the body back to the alley where the rest of the Gully Rats lay unconscious on the ground. He placed it beside the others, careful to keep the fresh wound hidden.
He gazed down at the scene in front of him. The members of the Gully Rat gang lay scattered among the piles of trash and debris. Their injuries varied in severity. Some had broken bones. Others suffered severe internal damage. All had sustained blunt force trauma to their heads and faces. None would ever walk away from this unscathed.
Fii really did a number on them, though she didn't realize just how much. These guys may have been lowlife punks, but they put up a good fight. Not bad. But she didn't finish the job.
He didn't know what sort of ideology Edith had been drumming into the girl's head about superheroes and "fighting for the people" and such, but it was obvious that Fii couldn't kill. The kid was too soft. She wasn't suited to a life of vigilantism.
But she also didn't know how to assess the damage she'd inflicted, other than seeing them knocked out cold. Which, to be fair, wasn't an inaccurate assessment. But he could already tell that a few of them were better off dead. A few quick stabs, and he'd be saving them from a lifetime of being a cripple. The poor bastards would never amount to anything worthwhile in the slums, anyway.
Better to just end them now.
That's what he should have done from the start a decade ago, when he decided to try and establish a police force here in the slums. His naivete back then, thinking he could change this place, blinded him from realizing that you couldn't make lawmen from people born and raised in places like this. It was never going to work, not without some extreme measures.
The slums bred criminals. It bred monsters. There was no room for the weak, the helpless, the downtrodden. If they weren't strong enough to protect themselves, they were destined to be preyed upon. No amount of moralizing or preaching would ever change that. The only language these animals understood was violence. And sometimes, you had to be cruel to be kind.
Virgil drew his knife once more. He walked over to the nearest unconscious thug, placing the blade against his neck. One quick motion, and he'd be rid of at least one more gang member who would otherwise terrorize the neighborhood. There were others, too, that had suffered only minor injuries. With a few stabs here and there, he could easily finish all of them off without too much trouble. It was almost like picking flowers in the garden. Simple, clean, and efficient.
The problem, of course, would be the aftermath. Sure, killing these goons might make things easier in the short term, but in the long term, there would be repercussions. They had families, friends, connections. Revenge killings were commonplace in the slums. It was the nature of the beast. Kill a gang member, and there would be hell to pay.
But they could only assume that these vermin were killed by another gang. They couldn't possibly imagine a random civilian taking them out, but they could sure as hell imagine a masked Super going around offing their comrades. It wouldn't matter that Fii had intervened on behalf of the local citizenry; all that mattered was that a Super had attacked the Gully Rats, and in their minds, the only Super in the area was Axion.
Which meant she'd be the target for their wrath. And they'd be right, if only partially.
So, should he just let these Gully Rats live?
No.
Turf wars were nothing new in the slums. It was easy enough to shift the blame to another gang and point them in the right direction. He had collected enough insignias and weaponry from all sorts of gangs over the years, and he knew exactly how to set them at each other's throats. This time would be no different.
Virgil made his choice, and he raised the knife above the thug's throat. His grip tightened. "Sleep well, you worthless piece of shit."
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Virgil entered Edith's office quietly, careful not to disturb her work. The doctor sat hunched over her desk, studying her research notes intently. She seemed oblivious to the fact that someone else was in the room with her. He cleared his throat, and she glanced up briefly, acknowledging his presence.
"How did it go?" she asked, returning to her typing.
"About as well as I expected. The Gully Rats got into a tussle with Axion." He shrugged nonchalantly. "I cleaned up the mess."
Edith stopped her typing and looked up. "Wait...did you kill them? You didn't have to go that far—"
"Relax," he interrupted, shaking his head. "I'm not an idiot. I made it look like another gang hit. Nobody's gonna come poking around." He folded his arms across his chest. "Anyway, what's the status with the kid? You talked to her yet?"
"Yeah, she's resting now. I managed to patch her up. She took quite a beating."
"Good. Hopefully she's learned something from all this." Virgil sighed heavily, leaning against the doorway.
Edith turned in her chair, facing him. "So, are you ready to actually meet her now?" She quirked her eyebrow, giving him a wry smile. "Or do you still intend to hide in the shadows?"
"I'm not hiding," he countered sharply. "I'm keeping my distance, giving her space."
Edith rolled her eyes, smirking. "Sure. Whatever you say, cowboy." She paused, chewing on her lower lip thoughtfully. "Come on, Virgil. It's already been over a month since I asked you to train her. Isn't it about time already?"
He rubbed the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on. "Fine. When she's fully recovered, you can introduce me to her."
"Perfect. Thanks."
"Just remember one thing," he added sternly as he headed back out the door. "I'm not doing this for your sake. I’m doing this for hers."