2:42 pm, 2nd December 2010, Minneapolis, Minnesota.
Cherie strolled through the mall, carrying bags of clothing and cosmetic items that she had been 'gifted'. Sure, she could've paid for them, she certainly had saved up enough cash, but why bother when people fell over themselves to pay for her.
Cherie loved her power. It was all so convenient. People loved her, fought for her, were even willing to die for her. She felt like a proper Helen of Troy, sending men off to war for her favour. She felt like she could topple nations with a fluttering glance and a soft word. She smiled brightly. The future was looking good, now that she no longer had to toil under her petty, unfocused, and pathetic seed donor.
She felt her stomach rumble so she walked into the food court and coyly smiled at the cashier while ordering what she wanted. A discount just for her, for being the 45th customer? How lovely! Today really was her day, wasn't it?
She took the receipt with her order number on it- paid in cash, of course- and turned around to look for a table.
At first, her eyes passed over the armoured figure sitting alone at a table. Then her head snapped back at the figure and her heart leapt in her chest in a way that almost hurt.
No…
She stumbled back, a scream nearly on her lips. The cashier gave her a questioning glance.
'What the fuck is wrong with you?!' Is what Cherie wanted to ask the guy. There was clearly a superpowered serial killer sitting at a table. Wait a sec- why the hell was everyone not freaking the fuck out?! One of the most dangerous men in the country was sitting right there!
To Cherie's disbelief, no one gave a shit. She felt like she was on the cusp of insanity. Then she realised that it was probably some Stranger bullshit and felt a little saner.
She stood there for a while, trying not to let more than three drops of pee escape. It was a hard task, seeing as Nemesis hadn't moved from his place and was still staring at her. He didn't even wave to say 'hi'.
She was frantically wavering between legging it while screaming her lungs out or just accepting her fate and sitting down at the table. There was no way this bastard was here in full regalia to shop and enjoy the fast food. He was here to kill her, Cherie was certain. There could be no other explanation. She was going to die, running away made no difference against this demon. She had heard what they said about him on the radio and she saw the videos. She barely kept herself from dry heaving or just breaking down and weeping.
Why was this happening to her? She lamented as she sat down at the table, unwilling to look up at the villain. She didn't kill or rape anyone. She was definitely an accessory to sexual assault but what was she supposed to do? Tell daddy dearest that making a bimbo out of hot people was bad? That rape was wrong? Fuck off. Nikos Vasil was cruel and vicious when it came to disciplining his children and Cherie had no desire to be a part of his sadistic games any more than she had to.
Nemesis suddenly leaned forward and clasped his hands over the table. Cherie was not ashamed to admit that she squeaked like a mouse and clenched her asshole so hard she cramped a muscle or two. The sharp pain kept her from outright fainting.
Tears came unbidden to her eyes. She finally broke down and began sobbing into her hands. "I don't wanna die! Please don't kill me!" was probably what she wanted to say but between the violent hiccups and ugly crying it came out as- "Ah ohh wana aiii, eez don eel eeh!"
If Nemesis didn't kill her on the spot she'd probably kill herself later out of shame. And even though she'd never admit that it ever happened, she found it a bit cathartic to just let it all out. Yes, surprise surprise, sociopaths could cry. The amount of misinformation on the internet about neurological disorders was just mind-boggling. Sociopaths could cry for themselves, and sometimes for other people, though she never felt much for anyone other than herself. It sucked to be born broken but this was how it was for her.
After a few more hiccups, she looked up in fear at the man whose time she had likely wasted. She was instead surprised to find herself being offered a handkerchief. It was blue and white, and smelt freshly laundered. She hesitated at first but then thought, "fuck it" and accepted the soft cloth.
After a quick snot wiping, she put down the handkerchief and squared her shoulders. "Are you here to kill me?" She did something no sane person would dare do and tried to feel for the edges of the Faery King's emotions. Dumb, yes, but she wouldn't just lay down and die. Now that she had gotten past some of her more annoying emotions, it was time to plot her way out of this. She was alright at plotting, Cherie thought to herself. She got out from under Heartbreaker's hooked nose and the baguette gobbler didn't even notice for a week- that must count for something, right?
So she let her power seep into the edges of Nem- wait, what the fuck? Her eyes grew wide and her stomach sank. She tried to grasp wildly for any emotion but was sent reeling back into her chair. Nemesis had no emotions, she thought with horror. He was a golem construct! It made perfect sens-
"Are you done?" The villain rumbled. "I sympathise with your sudden bout of anxiety and emotional upheaval. However, if I have to sit a moment more through your pathetic, incessant inner rambling, I'll cut you up and stitch you back up again as a Nilbog kobold."
Cherie let out a trembling laugh. "I'm sorry! Won't happen again, sir." He can read minds. Yay.
Nemesis leaned back. "I think you already know the answer to your question, Cherie. I wouldn't spend so much time here if I was here to off you. If I was, it would be quick and violent."
That did make sense, so, why was he here?
"Your father is a terrible man. Not one person would grieve if he perished," Nemesis spoke so casually that Cherie almost thought that the man was talking about the weather.
"That's true," Cherie replied with a poker face. Inside she was dancing a wild jig. Her happiness knew no bounds. She was elated! Her father was going to die! Then a thought made her sober up- what if Nemesis fell under her father's sway? That would be a disaster of epic proportions!
Then she chided herself for such a silly thought. If Nemesis could nullify her empathic manipulation, it was a given that he'd completely no-sell Nikos' just as easily. Her power was simply a wider and more refined manifestation of his.
So Cherie asked the most important question of all, "What can I do to help?"
Cherie felt that if she could see his face, Nemesis would be grinning widely. "For one, you could tell me, for example, how Heartbreaker operates. Better yet, you could lead me through his safehouses, his secret stashes and help me gather any and all evidence of his crimes and those of his cult. Nikos would still die but the evidence would go a long way to help the Canadian government and the Guild clean up his mess."
Cherie nodded, she could do that, but deep down, she doubted that Nemesis actually needed her to trash the pedostache twirler. When she made her doubts known, Nemesis chuckled.
"Why, it would be a good team bonding exercise, Cherie," he responded, sounding more amused than anything.
"Team bonding?" This took her entirely by surprise. "You wish to team up with me? To take down Heartbreaker? May I ask why?"
"Your powers are very useful for my purposes- crowd control, specifically. And while I could take them away and use them myself, you haven't done as much yet to justify such. Well… nothing worse than I would've done." Cherie gulped.
"I wish to give you a chance to change your ways, my dear. Take it and you'll never have to fear for your life ever again. Agree and I'll make sure no one mindfucks you, depowers you or throws the book at you." That- that was exactly what Cherie wanted. In fact, that was more than what she would've asked for. Immunity to Masters, Strangers, and Trumps was something she never thought was possible, but despite her disbelief, Cherie would never look a gift horse in the mouth.
One of her greatest fears was ending up like Bad Canary if the Protectorate caught a single whiff of her presence. She was more afraid of ending up in the Birdcage than she was of her father.
All in all, Cherie loved her freedom and she would do anything to keep it. Yes, even if it meant allying herself with an unpredictable cape killer. However, doing so also meant that she was betting it all on Nemesis. If he fell- she cringed at the thought, looking up fearfully at the villain, hoping he didn't take offense to the thought. She sighed in relief when he didn't move.
"I accept," Cherie nodded as enthusiastically as she could. "When do we start?"
Nemesis held out his hand and Cherie swallowed drily. Fuck. Fuck it! She was in, and she wasn't going to chicken out now.
She placed her hand in his cold gauntlet and a strange sensation overtook her. It lasted barely a moment before fading like a formless dream. She felt no different than before but trusted Nemesis when he told her what he had changed.
To Cherie's shock, her new leader could modify and give away powers he had taken away to any person of his choosing.
That was insane! What bullsh- okay. Cherie decided she didn't want to torture her braincells over the sheer absurdity of such a power.
Satisfied with his handiwork, Nemesis rose from his chair and motioned for her to follow. A burning blue archway opened up in the centre of the food court and he walked through.
"Oh fuck me," Cherie grit her teeth, closed her eyes and walked in behind him.
When she opened her eyes, she found herself in an extremely well designed, and clean complex. The ceiling was not too high so as to oppress any visitors, and the lighting was just right- neither too bright nor too dark. It was futuristic without bashing her over the head with it. There was no nauseating surplus of pure white and blue tones. There was plenty of grey, black, red, yellow and other colours tastefully mixed into the walls in strange lines.
The doors slid open when one walked up to them, though to her disappointment, there were no eye or facial scans required to gain access. There were sleek computers, holograms and other tech that she honestly had no name for. She walked behind Nemesis, following him through unique corridors and strange rooms whose purpose eluded her.
She was in a villain's lair, Cherie giggled to herself. How cool was that? Her seed donor had no class, honestly. What kind of a villain lived in rundown safehouses and abandoned apartments? A squatting hobo, that's who.
Now this? This was a proper villain's hideout. Where were they anyway?
When asked, Nemesis informed her that they were under Brockton Bay and said no more, quietly leading her through halls and corridors. There were no people here nor could she hear the hum of any machinery. There was an eerie silence, which slightly discomfited her.
They finally ended up in a conference room, with a coloured hologram being projected from the wall.
Nemesis motioned her to sit down on any chair.
He snapped his fingers and the hologram shifted into three 3D images. One of them was a bird's eye view of a sizable compound with people in pure white clothing going about their business.
The next image was of a thin androgynous- person- wearing a white, grey and gold costume, pure white feathers crowned their shoulders peeking out from under polished steel pauldrons. A slashed victorian skirt was cinched around their waist, held in by a fancy pure white, embroidered corset. Steel vambraces and greaves were all the armour they wore aside from the pauldrons. They were pretty, she could admit. Shoulder length silver hair framed their angular sharp cheekbones. A pure white domino mask framed their effeminate face.
~~~~~~~
Elijah Mathers/Valefor
Age: 16
Master/Stranger (10)
Parahuman Power: Hypnotism- requires eye contact and verbally articulated commands to affect the target. Can command the target to forget ever meeting him or receiving his commands.
Affiliation: Christine Mathers, The Fallen.
Remarks: Dangerous, arrogant, prone to theatrics, self-assured, fanatically loyal to Christine Mathers (see: Mama Mathers) and her cause. Believes in the supremacy of the Endbringers and that they exist to cleanse the world of illness. Has successfully hypnotised select senators, businessmen, PRT employees, Guild employees, Canadian politicians and various parahumans. His voice is not as hypnotic or powerful as his eyes, however, it should not be underestimated. Remove eyes and destroy vocal cords to eliminate threat.
~~~~~~~
Cherie was utterly flabbergasted at what she was seeing. Her shock would only mount as the second figure was revealed. She jumped in her seat. Holy fuck, what a nasty-looking old bitch.
Her hair was matted, limp and grey, falling down to her back. Some of it covered half of her crazed-looking face- a ghostly pale and gaunt one that peeked out from under the other half. A dull blue eye stared right into her soul. There was nothing behind those eyes but pure, cold malice. Cherie shuddered in disgust.
~~~~~~~
Christine Mathers/Mama Mathers
Age: 30
Master/Stranger (12+)
….
~~~~~~~
Nemesis calmly waited for her to finish reading the brief. When she did, he pushed a white trash can under her. She dry heaved and once done, took in a deep breath. A glass of water appeared out of thin air and she gulped it down without any hesitation.
"Feel any foreign compulsions? Any violent hallucinations?" He asked.
"I don't feel like I'm being taken over by images of that woman. I feel fully in control." She was relieved but also pissed off. What the fuck? Did he want to test if she'd get mastered?
Nemesis shook his head. "I was certain you wouldn't be hijacked and the tech in this base has measures against her brand of corruption. Look at the bright side- now you know for a fact that you'll be fine and dandy."
Gee thanks. But Cherie didn't say that and only nodded with a shaky smile. "Of course." He was definitely messing with her.
"Why… why did you show this to me?" She asked, a bit morbidly curious.
"You want to see Heartbreaker dead and crushed." She nodded eagerly. "You want to watch the life drain out of his eyes, his horror and pain as he realises that his deadman's switches are worthless and that he's got nowhere to go." Cherie imagined it, her heart beat excitedly, she subtly rubbed her thighs together. Mhm.
"For that, you need practice. Some practical experience taking down brainwashed cults." He pointed at the compound. "What better practice than going against the Fallen? Look at it like this- Valefor is more insidious than your father, though a bit showy, and Mama Mathers is on a level of her own. None of their powers work on you, whereas they have no such immunity against yours." Nemesis rocked back and forth in his chair nonchalantly, as if he just hadn't uttered the most insane plan she had ever heard.
"If that is the case, wouldn't it be better to deal with my father first? He is the weaker one, after all." She countered.
Nemesis shook his helmed head. "No, your father is almost equally dangerous. And going after him first would put you on everyone's radar. The Fallen would hear of your deeds before the day has passed, making any infiltration useless. Mathers and Valefor would be more wary, if not downright violent when they see you.
"No, it would be better to send you to the Fallen before you face your father." She chewed her lips nervously, "Don't worry, you'll be fine. For the next four days, I'll help you train your power and if anything goes south, I'll be there." He patted her hand and got up.
She sighed. Honestly? She felt like a tool in his hands. But then again, wasn't this what she had signed up for?
"Better mine than Jack Slash's, dear Cherie," Nemesis drawled. "That would've ended terribly for you." She paled. He knew. And he also knew what would've happened if she had gone through with her plan.
"Of course I did." Cherie could hear the smirk. "Come on now," he waved, "chop chop, time to meet your practice dummies. My drones have done their best to clean them and make them presentable but you can't take the stench of rot out of rapists and pedophiles."
Cherie followed Nemesis into a large room. A pane of clear glass separated her and her 'practice dummies' and the room cells were partitioned so neither of them could see the other. The glass was one way so the four men and the woman didn't see them.
"Do you have something specific in mind?" She asked.
Nemesis nodded, "Subtlety is something you dearly lack." Cherie felt a bit offended but didn't argue. "We'll start with a target of my choosing. Him." He pointed out a bald man with a neck tattoo. "Prod him, find out what he feels right now. Make him feel some anxiety. That's a natural response to being held in a strange cell. Then up the ante. Panic, paranoia, and the like. Leave him alone after a while and move on to the next. Cycle through them. Talk to them if you need to. The cells will take care of any sudden aggression." He turned around to leave. "I'll leave you to it. I expect some interesting results, Cherie."
"Um, sir?" She called after him. Nemesis looked back. "Can I have some food delivered here? I suck when I work on an empty stomach."
Nemesis nodded, he pointed to a crystalline control panel near the wall. "Speak to it and let the Caretaker know. It'll have it sent here." With that he left.
Cherie sighed once she heard the door seal itself shut.
She pinched the bridge of her nose. Fucking hell, Cherie. Fuck! Okay, it's alright. It's fine. Probably much better than what she had planned. At least Nemesis wasn't putting her through awful entry tests and cutting her open.
It's going to be fine, Cherie. The path to freedom is hardly an easy one. She was ready to pay a price like this one. The man even offered to help her kill her father. How cool was that? Pretty darn cool if you asked her. And hot. Fuck! Now that's a focused and ambitious villain if she has ever seen one. Mm mm, she wondered what he was like under all that armour. No, bad Cherie, bad! Work first, fantasise later.
Cherie hopped over to the control panel and ordered more than she knew was good for her figure. Eh, fuck it. She was starving and her big brain would burn it all away anyways.