Chapter 24
A Darker Path
Part Twenty-Four: Broken Hearts
[A/N 1: This chapter beta-read by Lady Columbine of Mystal.]
[A/N 2: The two side stories have been included to clarify certain elements within the main story.]
Relevant Side Story 1 – New York (by YuffieK)
Rebecca shut down the conference call and shuddered for just a moment, taking advantage of the privacy to allow the mask of the implacable Chief Director of the PRT to slip.
She knew the layout of the New York Director's office. It was a good twenty feet from the door to the desk, with nothing blocking line of sight. The emergency escape trapdoor in the back of the room could only be opened via the biometric scanner under the desk. It had no method of access from the other side and the slide it opened up into had a diamond-hard, near frictionless Tinkertech ceramic coating. It was even slightly grooved to defeat suction cups and was supposedly unclimbable without actual flight.
Barring that, teleportation, invisibility or intangibility, it shouldn't have been possible for Atropos to get behind Wilkins like that. It explained her initial dismissal of Atropos' appearance as a computer hack.
Which led to the obvious question: Did Atropos have an unknown Mover, Stranger or Breaker power in addition to a Thinker power that could beat Contessa? For that matter, did Atropos have a power that could somehow kill her? Cauldron, and thus Alexandria, had been warned.
Rebecca's hand went to the side of her face. The Siberian had been the only thing to ever do lasting damage to her. The only sort of attack that could possibly bypass her invulnerability would be something like that, or Fletchette's... or Shadow Stalker's. It was one of the reasons why Rebecca had pushed Stalker into the Wards over Piggot's protests, on the premise that the girl's power was of potential use against an Endbringer. Having an impromptu lobotomy from a phased crossbow bolt though...
And Atropos claimed Hess was her first victim.
Rebecca thought over the various capes Atropos had killed. More importantly, she considered the other capes on her 'Attempt to fuck with me and you die' list.
Atropos had no fear of the Butcher.
VERY few people wanted to risk becoming host to fourteen insane capes in their head.
That led to a truly horrifying possibility, that Atropos took the powers of those she killed.
Even if those powers were in a weaker form, the concept of Atropos being a Power stealing Trump on top of a Thinker of her caliber would make her practically unstoppable already.
At that realization, Rebecca truly hated the fact that her power made it impossible to get drunk.
Relevant Side Story 2 - Greg (by YuffieK)
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Atropos' thread had legitimately exploded after Skidmark's death was confirmed, but he was kind of surprised that TeamMom had tried to drop a banhammer on him and missed. Why was she being such a bitch? The Truth needed to be Known!
Greg looked at a new notification popup.
* You have ONE (1) new private message *
* You may NOT reply to this message *
Oh, great. The mods are going to yell at him again for some reason. He sighed as he opened the new tab.
Atropos (Original Poster) (Banned) (You Wish) (UnVerified Cape) (Can Actually Kill Anything) (Yes, Really) (Watch Me)
Posted On Jan 8th 2011:
Hello, Greg.
Yes, I'm aware of who you really are.
It isn't hard, every BB moderator has to figure that out as part of getting local mod status.
Your reputation precedes you.
Much like mine.
That said, it occurs to me that you may be getting ideas regarding me.
Others have just commented that it would be unwise to air those thoughts publicly in a forum such as this.
I sort of feel bad for those who see fit to try and silence you for the sake of your own safety.
Well, not really.
Because I know what would happen if you shouted what you think you know to the masses from the top of Captains Hill.
NO ONE WOULD BELIEVE YOU.
It's true.
Everyone in town has accepted the fact that I'm the scariest motherfucker on the East Coast now.
Except for Glory Girl.
I'll be dealing with that soon though.
So what possible insights could a renowned Internet tinfoil hatter in need of their ADHD meds like XxVoid_CowboyxX have regarding me?
Next you'll be saying I'm really the Siberian in disguise or Jack Slash's illegitimate daughter.
They will ignore your rants and crackpot theories and generally dismiss you.
Or they'll just get sick and tired of seeing your spiel and ban you.
Again.
This is just a friendly reminder that you should weigh the consequences of your words or actions before saying or doing something stupid.
Consider what's happened to the others who've done so around me in the past week.
Toodles.
And Now, Back to the Actual Narrative ...
Monday Morning, January 10, 2011
Hebert Household
Taylor
I browsed over my mental map of enemies and other looming threats as I ate a leisurely breakfast with Dad. The fact that so many people sought my downfall fazed me not at all, mainly because my power positively thrived on the challenge of ending threats before they ended me. The main difference was that the vast majority of these were outside Brockton Bay, rather than inside it. I was looking forward to kicking their butts as well.
Dad smothered a yawn as he picked up some bacon with his fork. Even though I'd done the majority of the driving on the way back (via a Path to Ending This Journey Safely at Home) it had still been a long night for the both of us. I seemed to be handling it better than he was, but that was probably due to me being a teenager. If I were to believe pop culture, long nights were what we did.
"I still can't believe you said that thing about seeing things eye to eye," he said, shaking his head. I'd given him the basic rundown on the encounter, of course. "Was that just to mess with Wilkins?"
"Mostly, yeah." If I hadn't been running that precise Path, Wilkins would've more than likely become my latest kill through sheer pigheaded stubbornness. My power had thrown that phrase in there to screw with her head, but there was more to it than that. "I think it meant something to the Chief Director too; she almost flinched. Not sure why, though."
"God knows what skeletons are lurking in her closet," he said cynically. "She talks a good game, but people like her know where all the bodies are buried. And usually have a few of their own." He yawned again, and stretched. "I'm definitely going to be giving the coffee machine a serious workout once I get to my desk." He paused. "Which reminds me."
"Yeah?" I asked, then took a drink of orange juice.
"You said you walked into frame behind Wilkins, but how'd you get into her office without opening the door?"
I smirked. "They're going to be asking themselves that for a long time. My hack essentially made me invisible to their security cameras, and the number of personnel in that building is pretty low on a Sunday night. It wasn't even a challenge to keep out of sight of everyone."
"Okay, with you so far," he said. "Did you pick the lock to her office door or something?"
"Didn't have to." I grinned. "Waited around the corner until she walked past and tucked in behind her. She never heard or saw me. When we got to her office, I ducked into her ensuite while she went to her desk, always keeping just out of her peripheral vision. Then it was just a matter of waiting for my cue."
"Hah!" He chuckled for a few moments, then raised his coffee cup to me in salute. "That's beautiful. While I can't say your mom would entirely approve of all this killing, I think she would've loved that." He tilted his head in thought. "Then again, I'm pretty sure she'd secretly approve of the city being cleaned up, however it was done. So, there's that."
"I like to think she'd at least understand why it has to be done." I leaned back in my chair, taking another drink of juice. As my Paths curled and wove through the probabilities of the days ahead, I spotted something new and raised an eyebrow. "Huh. Looks like it's going to be an interesting day."
Dad chuckled again. "You've somewhat redefined that word over the last few days. So, what do you consider 'interesting' right now? Is it that thing you've done with Bonesaw? Has it gone wrong?"
"No, as far as I can tell, Riley's right on track." I took a bite of egg while I was thinking about what to say next. "There's some new capes in town. One showed up yesterday afternoon; I already knew about her. The other two must've come into town in the early hours of the morning. They're not even looking to have a beef with me, which makes them marginal for my radar. But they are using Master-type powers to mess with people, which is what puts them on my radar at all."
"Maybe they're just passing through?" he hazarded. "Step aside and wave them by?"
I shook my head. "It's more complicated than that. As far as I can tell, they're Heartbreaker's kids. One's running from him, the other two are chasing her. And she wants to stay in town."
"Heartbreaker. Shit." Now, he looked concerned. "That man is bad news from start to finish. I've heard stories."
"The reality is probably worse. It usually is." Once I noticed the intruders, I'd started a Path to End the threat and legacy of Heartbreaker, then gently steered my power away from 'kill them all' toward more information-gathering options. I was curious as to what was going on, and while going to the source and beating answers out of them was always an option, it was usually easier to just get my power to fill in the blanks.
Kicking over the Path gave me more details about the three kids who'd just hit Brockton Bay. I already knew about Cherie Vasil, but her brothers Guillaume and Nicholas were new to me. Each had Master-style powers, but in a different way. Cherie could detect emotions from all the way across the city and control emotions from much closer, Guillaume could see through a person's eyes and mess with their senses once he touched them, and Nicholas could just inspire fear.
And all three were right at that second using their powers to take advantage of the citizens of Brockton Bay. The capes might have had their unwritten rules, but I had one of my own: no more villains in Brockton Bay. I hadn't actually said as much on PHO, but it should've been made plain by context.
With their actions, they were (however subtly) disrupting the orderly operation of my city and delaying its revival. That pissed me off. And so, they were now on my radar.
But before I could deal with that, I had another obligation to meet. If I wanted to maintain even a fig-leaf of my cover as Taylor Hebert, I had to go to school. Winslow High awaited.
Fortunately, at least one of my problems would come to me.
Madison
Emma had refused to watch the playback of the deaths of the Nine after the first go-around, but Madison had been through it at least half a dozen times. In a way, she was able to glean a certain bleak pride from watching Taylor's deadly grace against America's most terrifying supervillain gang. They had come to Brockton Bay, and one teenage girl had killed them all before they could even take a single victim. You had no idea what you were up against.
Madison knew.
She'd strongly suspected that Taylor had killed Sophia after the incident in the cafeteria, but the absolute proof had arrived when Atropos paralysed Hatchet Face's diaphragm with his own axe and left him to suffocate. Her words to him left no doubt in her mind: 'I've only had to do this once before. She was an annoying little bitch, too. But she was on her second warning, so she got a pass. You're all out.'
The incessant online speculation about who the other 'annoying little bitch' was would've amused her, except for that fact that every time she watched that part of the clip, she could hear Taylor's voice murmuring in her ear: "That's two." Nothing seemed funny after that.
She knew beyond any shred of a doubt that Taylor could've left her to die, just as she had Hatchet Face. It hadn't been anything resembling compassion or pity that stayed Taylor's hand; Madison was pretty sure that even if Taylor felt those emotions, they didn't have much to do with her decisions.
No, Taylor had simply chosen not to bother with killing her or Emma. She'd arbitrarily decided that they had one last chance to mend their ways, along with Sophia. Madison and Emma had taken the warning to heart. Sophia had not, and Taylor had killed her.
But she hadn't stopped there. On that same night, Oni Lee had died, shot in the face with his own pistol. The next night, some villain called Coil. After that; Kaiser, then Lung, then Skidmark, in increasingly thorough ways.
All Taylor. Even before the Nine, Madison had seen the images of Atropos and watched the meagre footage, and she knew. The killer's stance was tall and proud, entirely unlike Taylor of before; but over the last week, she had walked with an assured stride that had people instinctively stepping out of her way. Some of this, Madison was sure, was down to the extremely intense whispering campaign that she and Emma had carried out to pass the word that Taylor was not to be bullied under any circumstances, but most of it was down to Taylor herself.
Neither she nor Emma had breathed a word that might suggest Taylor was Atropos, but combined with Sophia's death and Taylor's change in attitude, the 'hands off' order had more or less accidentally suggested it anyway. She was reasonably sure that most of the school (those who were aware of Taylor, anyway) had half a suspicion of Atropos's true identity by now, but the events of Sunday afternoon had sealed any and all lips when it came to voicing such suspicions. Even if they didn't specifically believe it, nobody wanted to be the one who drew her ire by accidentally outing her. Especially considering how horribly fucking lethal she'd shown herself to be in both physical and social combat (Madison wasn't bad with the occasional cutting quip, but she'd never seen someone talked to death before) when up against the various members of the Nine.
And there came Taylor herself. Backpack slung over her shoulder, head up, moving with that same confident stride. Madison belatedly realised that her hair—the one feature Atropos showed to the outside world—was also the same as in the footage she'd seen of the Sunday massacre.
Stopping at her own locker, Taylor opened it briefly to get her books out, then closed it again and kept moving. Madison took half a step back, just to make sure that she wasn't in Taylor's way. At her side, Emma shrank back against the locker. Taylor passed them by with barely the flicker of an eye and the ghost of a nod to acknowledge their presence, then kept going.
Madison breathed again. She was reasonably sure she'd never need to actually do cardio again for as long as she attended Winslow, from the accelerated heartrate she got every time she knew Taylor was in the vicinity. Terror-fuelled adrenaline had a way of doing that.
And then, disaster loomed. As Taylor made her way along the corridor toward (Madison presumed) her home room, Greg Veder approached her, hand up to get her attention. No, Greg, no! Madison screamed silently. One did not simply delay a force of nature from going where she wished.
Beside her, Emma sucked in a breath. "Does he want to die?" she whispered.
"No idea." Madison checked around for escape routes. She didn't think whatever Greg had to say would cause Taylor to go berserk on the school; but then again, Greg had been known to say some remarkably moronic things.
Madison had no idea what Greg was saying, but it didn't seem to be setting Taylor off. Whatever it was, he finished quickly enough, then stood there nervously awaiting a reply. She spoke a few words and slapped him lightly on the shoulder then moved on, leaving Madison wondering what had just happened. At least she didn't look angry, and Greg was still upright and alive, so there was that.
"What did he say?" hissed Emma. "What did she say?" She eyed Madison, as if about to mention that Taylor and Greg shared a World Affairs class with her.
"You know what?" Madison decided. "I really don't want to know that badly." Taylor Hebert's business was Taylor Hebert's business. Madison liked living.
Emma drew in a shaky breath. "Yeah, good point. Let's get to home room. See you at lunch." They would eat far away from Taylor's table; that was a given. If they didn't interact with her, they would not offend her, and thus the stay of execution would be maintained. It was a plan.
"See you there." Madison gave her friend a smile and encouraging nod—stay strong—and headed off toward the Art classroom, which was her own home room.
There were many villains in the world. So long as Taylor had them to focus on, Madison and Emma would survive.
Cherish
Cherie pushed open the doors of the school and walked on in as if she belonged, even though she'd never been there before in her life. All around her sang a chorus of music only she could hear, emanating from the students and staff of Winslow High School. Overtones merged with undertones; nobody was truly happy to be there, but some were more content than others.
Interestingly enough, a significant fraction of the students in the school shared an underlying tension born of fear, though in some it made the transition to respect. With a very few, that fear was sharp and jagged, the musical tones jangled, while for most it was more of a background thing. The fear notes peaked at a certain point within the school, a point which moved at a steady walking pace.
And from that point came an entirely different set of tones, harsh and dark. The kind of music she imagined would come from an immense predatory beast prowling through the jungle darkness, knowing full-well it was the baddest motherfucker in the valley of the shadow of death. The sort of hunting creature that had no fucks to give.
In that instant, as she registered the tone and analysed it, the music changed. It became more insistent, more dangerous, as the moving student stopped. A thrill of notes ran through it that told her one thing. The monster was aware of her presence. It had her scent.
And it had just growled.
Well, shit.
Taylor
I'd just passed by Madison and Emma, who by all appearances were trying to pretend to not even be there, when Greg came up to me. "Uh, Taylor?"
"Yeah, Greg, what is it?" He wasn't intruding on my threat landscape, so I didn't have to worry about danger from him.
He grimaced briefly. "That PHO thing … I was being a fucking idiot and I just want to say I'm sorry and it'll never happen again. Okay?"
Huh. That had actually been a well-thought-out apology. I nodded to acknowledge it, and gave him a brief half-smile. "Apology accepted, Greg. We're good." Giving him a light slap on the shoulder, I moved on.
It appeared the Path to End any bullying of me had definitely borne fruit. Even the girls who'd casually passed comments about me were significantly silent when I walked by. I doubted Greg, or either of Emma or Madison, had deliberately passed word about who I was; they would've shown up as enemies if they had. But it seemed enough people were wary of me that they knew something was up, just not quite what.
I was perfectly fine with that.
Nobody hassled me as I headed for the Computer Studies classroom. I was a little early, but I figured I could do some checking on PHO to see if there was anything I could pick up on the Vasil kids. Even if there wasn't, it would serve the pass the time until one of them made their next move.
Just as I got to the doorway of the classroom, that was exactly what happened. I felt a ping, and saw in my mental landscape that Cherie had arrived at the school—exactly as predicted—and was now actively scanning for me. The ping itself announced that she'd found me. I focused on the dot representing her, getting her exact location in the school and what she intended to do from here on in, and allowed some of my irritation at her being in my city to bleed through. From the way she twitched, she'd gotten the message loud and clear.
Good.
Cherish
She hadn't realised that Atropos would be able to counter-sense her. This put a whole new urgency on the matter. She had to get a name, a face, something she could work with. Going directly at Atropos, focusing specifically on her, would be a mistake. She'd made mistakes before, but she'd always recovered from them. And getting Atropos on side as her protector, whatever the cost, would be worth it. I'm not going back. I'm never going back.
Taking her focus away from the source of the dark, sharp music, she turned it instead toward one of the two people who had exhibited such a strong fear response. This person, beyond a doubt, knew who Atropos was. And once I have a name, I have leverage.
That person was also moving with purpose, toward a destination somewhat distant from the source of the menacing melody (who seemed, thank fuck, to have lost interest in her for the moment). Cherie hurried her footsteps; while she could do what she needed to with others around, having witnesses usually made things a ton more difficult. So, it was better to grab her before she reached whichever classroom she was going toward.
Climbing a short flight of stairs, she hustled along a corridor and turned a corner to see the focus of the fear ahead of her. Petite, with long brown hair, the girl was walking away from her and not keeping pace with anyone else. That meant there was nobody to pay direct attention to what she needed to do.
Perfect.
She had to break into a half-run to catch up with the girl, but she managed it. Just before her quarry would've gotten to a classroom full of her peers, Cherie slapped a hand onto her shoulder. "Not so fast."
The girl's underlying fear peaked into heart-stopping terror, and she whirled around. "I didn't do anything, I swear!" A couple of moments passed by, while she apparently processed the fact that she wasn't looking at Atropos, before her fear dropped away. "Uh, who are you?"
"Not something you need to worry about." Cherie took the girl's curiosity and anger at being scared, and minimised them. She didn't have time for arguments or stupid questions right now. "I just want to know something."
"Listen, I don't know you, and I need to get to class, so—" The girl went to pull away.
Cherie muted that impulse, too. "My name's Cherie. There, now you know me. What's your name?"
With her wariness dialled back—god, this girl was a mass of worries—she blurted, "Madison. Madison Clements. What do you want to know?"
Well, that was a good start. "What I want to know, Madison, is who is Atropos? I know you're aware of who she is. I just want to know her name."
It was like she'd tossed a match into a mass of tinder. The fear roared up again, glaring out of Madison like a nuclear furnace. "N-no. I can't tell you. She-she'll kill me."
Cherie rolled her eyes. "No, she won't. There's nothing to be scared of. You can tell me." As she spoke, she damped down the fear reaction to a fraction of its normal effect.
Madison shook her head frantically. "No! She will totally kill me!" She seemed to be taking an effort to breathe, her eyes wide and staring. "You don't know her! You haven't looked in her eyes!"
Jesus, it's like Nicholas went to town on her. Whatever Atropos had done to put a scare into Madison, it had worked. The terror went bone-deep.
Again, she damped down the fear. "It's okay. I'll protect you. You can tell me. I'm not scared of her." Leaning in, she whispered, "Who is Atropos?"
This was getting irritating. No matter how hard she forced the fear response down, it flared up over and over again. "You should be scared of her!" Madison's tone wasn't defiant; she was terrified. No matter what other emotional reactions Cherie elicited in her, the fear of Atropos overwhelmed everything.
Vaguely, as she concentrated on getting Madison to cooperate, she became aware of someone coming up behind her. She sent them 'disinterest, ignore me', then turned her full attention back to the girl in front of her.
Fine. I'll fight fear with fear. Let's see how she goes when I divert some of that toward me, and she ends up more scared of me than of Atropos.
Something smashed into the side of her head, and the hallway spun around her. Knocked off her feet, she landed heavily on her side, sprawling untidily. She shook her head in an attempt to get rid of the ringing from the impact, then looked around to see what had just happened. Just then, a foot hammered into her ribs and she was jolted sideways, breath driven from her lungs.
Cherie cursed her own inattention; she'd been concentrating so hard on trying to interrogate Madison that she'd totally missed Atropos' musical accompaniment approaching her from behind.
As she slumped onto her side, a tall slender brunette stood over her. "I hear you've been looking for me."
Taylor
I gave the girl at my feet a dispassionate glance, then looked over at Madison.
"I didn't say a word, I swear!" she babbled. "She wanted to know who you were, but I didn't tell her!"
"I know," I reassured her. "You've done well. Get to class."
She blinked at the unexpected praise. "Uh … okay." Turning in the direction of the Art classroom, she scuttled off without looking back.
I got the very distinct impression that not only did she not want to know what I was going to do, but she didn't even want to acknowledge that something might happen. Which worked just fine for me.
Slinging my backpack over my shoulder, I leaned down and grabbed the groaning girl by the scruff of the neck. "Come on," I told her as I hoisted her to her feet. "There's some things I've got to say and you need to hear." With dark amusement, I noted that they hadn't actually locked the classroom that I'd ended Sophia's career in, so I opened the door and shoved her in there.
Cherish
It had been a while since Cherie had been manhandled like that. Her torments were normally of the mental and emotional variety, at the hands of her family. Only when her father had rented her to outsiders for an evening of (their) pleasure had she had to deal with the physical type.
This was different. Those men didn't care what she wanted or thought. They just wanted her body, not her attention. Atropos absolutely wanted her attention, and wasn't taking 'no' for an answer.
As her head cleared, Cherie wondered if it would be easier just to go that route. While she wasn't stupid enough to think that being Atropos' lover would exempt her from all 'discipline', it would make things a lot smoother all around. Tentatively, she reached out to Atropos' musical melange, seeking any sort of tendency toward same-sex attraction. The vast majority of people had some level of it, she knew from personal experience; however, most either didn't notice it or subsumed it into 'acceptable' social contact. No matter how feeble it was, if she could bring it out …
Her inquiry hit a brick wall at about the same time she felt the same brick wall explode on the side of her face. Reeling sideways, she landed on the floor. A warm trickle across her face told her that she had a nosebleed.
"Rule number one." A sneaker-clad foot rolled her over onto her back, then settled across her neck; not hard enough to impede her breathing, but the awareness of it was right there. "You don't use your powers on me. I will know, and I will kill you. Do you understand?"
She blinked her eyes clear and stared up at Atropos. There was as little mercy in those eyes as in the musical accompaniment. "Y-yes," she managed. "I-I understand."
"Good. Rule number two. You don't use your powers on my family or friends. I will know, and I will kill you. Do you understand?"
Cherie wasn't actually stupid, just the victim of a terrible upbringing. She was perfectly capable of spotting the trend here. "I understand," she said again.
Atropos must have had some level of emotional sensing herself, because she evidently picked up on Cherie's sincerity. "Excellent. Rule number three. When I tell you to use your power, you will use it only on the people I tell you to use it on, you will use it exactly how I tell you to use it, and you will stop using it when I say so. Vary from any of these, and you'll wish I had only killed you. Do you understand?"
To describe the Vasil family as 'dysfunctional' was to invent entire new vistas for that word to explore. Cherie had undergone many experiences under her father's 'protection' that she would rather die than revisit. However, listening to the sheer menace in the music surrounding Atropos, in stark contrast to the matter-of-fact way the words were spoken, filled her with the burning determination to never find out what Atropos considered a fate worse than death.
"I understand," she managed, while at the same time suppressing her bladder's urgent desire to empty itself. "I'll do what you tell me. I promise."
Atropos beamed and took her foot off Cherie's neck. "Good." Leaning down, she offered a hand up. "I'm so glad we could reach an understanding."
Cautiously, Cherie accepted it and allowed Atropos to help her up. No more surprise attacks seemed to be forthcoming, which was a nice change of pace. "So, you'll protect me from my dad?"
"I'll do better than that," Atropos said, as though suggesting that she would pay for Cherie's lunch tomorrow. "I've already told him not to come here, so when he does, I'll kill him. He's an infected pustule on the ass-end of society, and someone should've put an end to him long ago."
"When he—what?" Cherie stared at Atropos, near panic. "No, you can't face him! People who face him become his."
Atropos raised an eyebrow. "Really. Jack Slash thought the same thing."
Cherie knew damn well what had happened to Jack Slash. Also, what had happened to Mannequin. "I … okay." She would wait and see what happened. And if Atropos lost to her father, she'd find some way to put a bullet in her own brain, because right then the world would be fucked.
Atropos smiled breezily. Cherie wasn't sure how she managed to insert the undertone of menace. "Excellent. Go, do something. Don't break any rules. I'll find you after school."
And she would; Cherie had no doubt. Though the word 'find' triggered a problematic memory. "Oh … just by the way? My dad sent two of my brothers after me, and they're in town right now." Even from halfway across town, she could pick up their distinctive emotional signatures.
"I know."
Cherie stared at her new boss (because that was totally what Atropos was, now), eyes widening. "You already know?"
"Guillaume and Nicholas, yes." Atropos' musical accompaniment never changed. She knew who it was, and she just didn't give a shit. "I'll deal with them after school. Go hang out at the Boardwalk or something. Just follow the rules and we'll be fine."
The dismissal was clear. Cherie wiped the blood off her face and headed out of the room. She wasn't quite sure what Atropos wanted her for, but she also knew damn well that if she hadn't smartened up real fast, she'd be lying dead in that room right now.
On the upside, she was now under Atropos' protection. A little nosebleed and a few basic rules were definitely fucking worth that.
World Affairs Classroom, Winslow High
11.45 AM
Taylor
I was first out of my seat as the bell rang for the beginning of lunch break. Not because I wanted to elude my tormentors anymore; these days, they were careful to stay out of my way. But I had a phone call to make, and I'd still need time to eat lunch after that. Hasty eating can really mess up digestion.
"Taylor? Can you stay back a moment, please?"
Just for a moment, I considered pretending I hadn't heard Mr Gladly's voice, but it would probably draw more attention than it was worth. Whatever; I'd give him two minutes, then kill the conversation if he looked like taking too long to get to the point.
"Sure thing, Mr Gladly." I made my way through the stream of outgoing students to stand next to his desk. Fortunately—for them—they gave me a politely wide berth, nobody so much as jostling me on the way past. "What's on your mind?"
He waited until the last of them had trailed out the door, then turned to me. "Taylor, I'm not blind."
I refrained from rolling my eyes. Could've fooled me. "I get that. There's the whole lack of a seeing-eye dog and all." Okay, so I'd be a bit sarcastic.
"Um, okay, yes." He floundered for a few seconds. I kept the countdown going in my head. "I, uh, I've heard a rumour being passed around. People are whispering that you're this new cape called Atropos, or you know her."
I stared at him, deadpan. "And …?" What people thought of me mattered not in the slightest. It was quite liberating, really.
"And aren't you concerned? Atropos kills people!" His whole attitude shouted that I should be cowering under his desk.
"Atropos kills supervillains." I shrugged. "I doubt she'd take time off her busy schedule to come after someone who poses no threat to her. Was that it?"
"Uh … yes." He had the expression of someone who has just poised for a leap across a bottomless pit, and found it was painted in place. "So … you're okay with the rumours?"
"If it makes people leave me alone?" I gave him a carefree grin. "I really couldn't give a damn."
His two minutes were up; I headed out the door, leaving him staring at my back.
Office of the Mayor, Brockton Bay
11:50 AM
Roy Christner
Just as Roy was considering going for an early lunch, his phone rang. Not his regular-business phone, but the urgent one. The number of people who had access to that phone could be counted on his fingers and have some left over. When he got a call on that phone, he answered it as soon as humanly possible.
Snatching it up, he scanned the screen for the caller's name, only to see UNKNOWN NUMBER. That should've been impossible, because everyone he'd given the number to was in the phone's contact list. Still, maybe someone was calling from a secondary number.
Swiping to accept the call, he held the phone to his ear. "You've got Christner. Who is this?"
"Hello, Mr Mayor." The voice was not one he knew. "This is Atropos. I suspect you've heard of me."
Brockton Bay's most effective serial killer or the saviour of the city; she'd been called both in his hearing. Of course he'd heard of her. Especially since, every time she posted on PHO, the hardcopy hit his desk within five minutes. He'd had several intense discussions with Emily Piggot about what was to be done about her, and none of the answers they'd come up with had been both acceptable and possible.
"I have," he answered cautiously. "To what do I owe this call?"
She chuckled. "Don't worry. You're not in trouble yet. I'm just giving you a heads-up for something you need to have done by Wednesday."
He didn't like the sound of that 'yet', but it also implied there was a chance he wouldn't end up in Atropos' crosshairs, so he took a deep breath and tried to calm himself. "What do I need to have done by Wednesday?"
"Like I said on PHO, I'm donating the bounty for the Nine toward revitalising Brockton Bay." Her voice was calm and even, as though she spoke about giving away nearly a hundred million dollars every day. "A plan will be arriving at your office on Wednesday. This plan needs to be followed in every regard. Your job is to assemble a committee between now and Wednesday, so that when the plan arrives and the money shows up in the correct account, they can get straight to work."
"A committee?" This call was not going the way he'd expected when he heard Atropos' name.
"Yeah. You know, a bunch of people with a specific job, who work together to achieve it? I'm pretty sure you've got those in government." There was a touch of mockery in her answer.
"I know what a committee is!" he snapped, already angry at himself for letting her bait him. "What sort of committee?"
"One that's got the power to enforce the directives of the plan," she stated crisply. "Composed of people who can follow directions, and won't try to redirect funds into personal projects or their own pockets. And headed by someone of proven integrity, who can oversee it all and make sure the plan gets followed."
Roy ran his hand through his thinning hair. "Something like this would normally take weeks or months to determine."
"You've got two days. And just something you might want to impress on your people. If anyone tries to change the plan or abscond with funds—and I mean anyone—I will know, and their colleagues will be dissuaded from attempting the same thing."
And there was the looming threat. He didn't think she'd limit herself to a slap on the wrist. Which raised another problem; as much as he liked to think he ran a tight ship, ninety-seven million dollars raised a lot of questions about exactly how much integrity some of his people had. "But I … I don't think we've got enough people who have the free time to sit on a committee like that."
She chuckled, as though she'd heard what he didn't say. "Or rather, enough people who wouldn't try to skim some off the top? I understand. However, you're missing a bet. I didn't say the committee had to be made up entirely of people from the city council. In fact, I strongly urge you to look outward to the wider community, to local businesses and organisations. This also reduces the chances of collusion."
"Ah. Right. Okay, I'll do what I can."
"Yes. You will. Toodles." The call ended, leaving him staring at the phone.
The chances of that call not having come from Atropos was minimal to zero. She hadn't asked for anything for herself, and she'd set about making plans for the money that was undoubtedly incoming for the destruction of the Nine. So, it was in his best interest to take her order and make it a reality.
He really, really didn't want to think of the consequences for screwing this up.
Getting up, he went into his ensuite and used the facilities, then splashed water on his face. He came back into the office and picked up his other phone. One name for the 'outside' people had come to mind while he was refreshing himself. He dialled the number and leaned back in his chair.
"Dockworkers' Association, Danny Hebert speaking."
"Ah, Danny," he said, trying to sound relaxed and confident. "Roy Christner here. Something has come up, and I thought of your name in relation to it. How would you feel about sitting on a committee to help revitalise the city, maybe even heading it?"
There was a long pause before Danny Hebert spoke again. "You have my attention."
"Good. So, this is what's happened …"
A Few Hours Later
Hillside Mall
Guillaume
"Hey, excuse me. Can you guys help me out?" While Nicholas stood back, Guillaume approached the eighth or ninth bunch of obvious schoolkids hanging out in the mall.
One of the guys turned to look at him. "Yeah, whaddaya want?"
"It's my sister," Guillaume said, holding out the photocopied picture of Cherie. "She's gone missing. Have you seen her?"
"Buddy," said another guy. "This is Brockton Bay. Bad shit happens here. Maybe you should go back to Canuck-land and look there."
"No, let me see." The first guy took the picture, and Guillaume managed to brush fingertips with him at the same time. "When did she go missing?"
"A couple of weeks ago," Guillaume said. "We think whoever took her might be heading in this direction." Which was all true, except for the 'whoever took her' aspect.
"Shit, that's rough." One of the girls came up to look over her friend's shoulder at the picture, and Guillaume casually brushed against her as well.
The more eyes he could see through, the better. As it was, he already had dozens of viewpoints all over Brockton Bay, but not one had picked her up. Either she'd found a hole to hide in or she'd already left town, but that would be against the pattern she'd been showing.
"Thanks, I appreciate it." He moved into the rest of the group, seeking contact with all of them while trying to make it appear accidental. However, this wasn't easy to do, and sometimes people took offense. Especially in America, for some reason.
"Hey!" It was the guy who'd told him to go back to Canada. "You grab-assing there? You some kinda perv, you little dick?"
"No, I'm just showing you guys the picture." He waved the stack of sheets still in his hand.
"Bullshit! You're just a fuckin' pervert!" The guy grabbed for him, and he ducked, assisted by the fact that he had four different viewpoints telling him exactly which way to move.
"Back the fuck off." It was Nicholas, who had approached when things had started going sideways. Guillaume knew waves of fear would be emanating from him, catching the aggressive asshole off guard.
"Whoa, shit, shit, capes!" The schoolkids all scrambled to get away, leaving Guillaume standing there unscathed. "I thought there weren't villains anymore!"
"Yeah, as if." Guillaume moved to join Nicholas and they headed for an exit. "I had it covered."
"Bullshit." Nicholas snorted in derision. "You were about to get your pasty-white ass pummelled, is what was happening. What'd they mean about no villains anymore, anyway?"
They emerged into the open air, Guillaume breathing deeply from the close call. "It's a thing. Local cape called Atropos is making a play for the top spot or something. Killing off the competition. Lots of bullshit on PHO."
"Right." Nicholas looked around. "So, where to next?"
Guillaume stopped as a familiar face showed up on one of the many viewpoints in his head. Even better, it was nearby. "Over that way," he said urgently, pointing. "Just around that corner. Someone saw her."
"Awesome." Nicholas rolled his eyes. "About fucking time something went right around here."
They hustled across the street and around the corner, to see Cherie just about to enter an alleyway. She looked around and saw them, and her eyes widened. One step, and she was out of sight.
"No, no, no, fuck, no!" Nicholas broke into a sprint, with Guillaume not far behind. He could see what his brother could, of course, so he wasn't missing anything.
Nicholas entered the alley first, Guillaume hot on his heels. They didn't know enough about the local layout to try a pincer movement, so pursuit it was. Where Cherie ran, they would follow, until they caught up with her and dragged her back to their father for whatever punishment awaited her.
But she wasn't running. Nicholas—and thus Guillaume—saw that she was standing a little way down the alley, waiting for them. And with her was another figure, this one in all black, including a morph mask and a broad-brimmed hat. She had a certain edgy style about her, but they weren't here for some local cape, however stylish. They were here for their sister.
"That's far enough," the cape said. She had a pair of … scissors? Shears? Whatever they were, she was twirling them around her finger. "Nicholas, Guillaume, I've got a message for you to take back to your father. Cherie is under my protection now. Think you can remember that for me?"
Nicholas shook his head. "Oh, bullshit. I don't know who you are—"
"Atropos," she said, timing the word perfectly to knock him off his stride. "And I've got rules. You're Heartbreaker's kids, and I've already told him to stay the fuck out of my city. That goes for you too. So, you've got three options here."
"I don't give a good fucking goddamn who you think you are," Nicholas snapped. "Or about your three options. You've got two options. One, Cherie comes with us. Two, Cherie comes with us and you get left in a puddle of your own piss and shit and puke. I don't care which."
"You might want to think twice about threatening her like that." Cherie sounded a lot less scared than she should've. "If you haven't been paying attention over the last few days, the Nine came to town, and Atropos killed 'em all. Murdered the shit out of them."
Guillaume twitched. He thought he'd heard something about that, but it hadn't been enough to get his attention. His whole focus had been on finding Cherie. Nothing else mattered. But now … he pulled out his phone and thumbed it on.
"Okay, that's just pure bullshit with extra bullshit on top." Nicholas was getting off his game with the insults, but he was under a lot of stress, so Guillaume decided to cut him some slack. "If some newcomer cape could take down the fuckin' Nine, then someone would've done it years ago."
"And yet, they're dead." Atropos didn't sound boastful. She could've been saying, 'And yet, the sky is blue'. "As I was saying, you've got three options. One, you go back to your daddy without Cherie. Two, you end up in PRT custody, get extradited to Canada, and spend time in juvey for your various crimes. Or three, I kill you here and now. The one thing that's not happening is Cherie going anywhere with you. Do I make myself totally understood?"
"Fine," sneered Nicholas. "A puddle of piss and shit and puke it is." He pretended to crack his knuckles. "Sis, you better stand aside. This is gonna get messy." He concentrated; Guillaume knew that Atropos was now bearing the full brunt of his powers.
Nothing happened.
For someone who should've been running in terror or soiling themselves from multiple orifices at once, Atropos seemed remarkably unbothered by the emotional onslaught.
And then she spoke. "You think to inflict fear on me?" The voice that came from behind the morph mask was both unearthly and deeply unsettling. "I am fear. I am Death. I am Ending."
She stepped forward, going from near-motionless to attack mode without anything in between. Nicholas, caught off-guard, barely resisted when she picked him up and pile-drove him face-first into an overfull trash can.
At the same time, the search Guillaume had been making on his phone popped up a result. Nicholas swore violently, then scrambled to his feet and tried to shoulder-charge Atropos; she seemed to melt out of the way, leaving him to crash-tackle the wall of the alleyway. Predictably, it failed to budge.
"Last warning." Atropos was speaking normally once more; she had the shears back in her hand. They glittered in the dim light that filtered down into the alley. "Leave, surrender, or die."
Guillaume only caught the flicker of Nicholas' eye because he was tapped into his brother's vision. Cherie. Normally he couldn't affect her because she could moderate her own emotions as a defence. But he only needed a split-second opening.
Cherie cried out as the fear hit her. At the same time, Nicholas pulled the pistol he'd taken off a gangbanger two towns back. She was only six feet away. He'd be able to hit her easily.
Except, she didn't turn to look at Cherie. There was no distraction at all. As though they'd practiced the move for hours, she knocked the pistol aside with the shears. Then the blades flashed back across, followed by a gush of red. Nicholas gagged, blood on his lips, then fell to his knees. As inevitably as the march of the years he would never now experience, he toppled forward onto his face. His lifeblood pooled around his head on the grimy alley floor.
Atropos turned toward Guillaume; with a flick of her wrist, she shook the blood from the blade. "And you?"
He looked down at the phone in his hand. On the screen, there was a picture of Atropos, an axe in one hand and Jack Slash's severed head in the other. He didn't really need it, after what he'd just seen. He believed.
This only left him with one good option. Slowly, he put his hands up. "I'd like to surrender now, please."
There was no way in hell he could go back to his father, having lost both Nicholas and Cherie, and hope to keep his sanity. It was, as they said, a no-brainer.
He couldn't see her face, but he could hear her smile when she spoke. "Good choice."
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Topic: Just Another Manic Monday
In: Boards ► Brockton Bay ► New Capes ► Atropos
Atropos (Original Poster) (Banned) (You Wish) (UnVerified Cape) (Can Actually Kill Anything) (Yes, Really) (Watch Me)
Posted On Jan 10th 2011:
Good afternoon to you wonderful people of Brockton Bay!
Today has been a restful day; by which I mean I barely had to kill anyone (though the day's not over yet, whee).
Would you believe, I encountered a couple of people today who hadn't heard about how the Nine went down in an ignominious heap just yesterday? I educated them, of course, and afterward they were much more understanding of the matter.
Oh, and Mayor Christner assures me that the committee to revitalize Brockton Bay (using the funds from the bounties on the Nine) will be up and running by Wednesday, ready to discharge their duties with full integrity and honesty. I have faith in you, Mr Christner!
I'll be watching.
(Mwahahaha.)
Also, I promised you news about the drug trade today, and here it is. There are two more major staging points within Brockton Bay, one on the Docks and one to the northwest of the city. The people manning them (and in some cases womaning them; can't be sexist now) know where they are ... and so do I. Remember that mushroom cloud we enjoyed on Saturday afternoon? Expect something similar tonight, times two. I'll be sure to alert the fire department before it happens so they can be on the way. Bring your breathing gear, guys. The air is gonna be *funky*.
Oh, and those of you who are invested in those drugs staying where they are? This is your only warning. I won't be pulling punches. So, if you figure tonight's a good night to go visit your sick aunt in Florida, or have a deep and meaningful chat with your local desk sergeant, I'm not gonna blame you. In fact, such behavior is thoroughly encouraged.
And one more thing. Hey, Heartbreaker? That makes four of your kids you're not getting back. Take a hint, loser. Or, you know, come face me yourself. But make your will out first. Just saying.
To the rest of you lovely people, have a great Monday night, and see you tomorrow.
Toodles!
[A/N: This is the last for another two weeks or so.]
End of Part Twenty-Four