Ink-stained Pages
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Chapter 31
🕑 Added 2024-03-14 05:28:35 +0000 UTCA Few Minutes Prior…
“Miss Militia, duck!”
The urgency in the young girl’s voice was twofold, emanating from both her earpiece and the blood-flecked truck skidding to a sharp stop behind the stranded trio of vans. It was only the earnestness of the plea - because it certainly wasn’t a command - that caused Hannah to instinctively listen and drop down into a gut-wrenching kneel. Her fractured ribcage groaned, protesting against the movement, but she fought down the agony with stone-cold determination.
She’d learned long ago that pain was, quite literally, just a figment of the weak part of the mind.
This close to Krieg, attacking him from behind as Triumph tried - and failed - to overwhelm him with concussive blasts of sound, Hannah felt like she was moving through molasses. She wasn’t, not really, but the constant Shaker effect that made every movement much slower than what it would otherwise be certainly made her feel like it. The weight on her chest, pressing down against her lungs and her wounded midsection only limited her agility even more.
Krieg was infuriating to fight, more so with the vehicles too close for her to bring out the big guns. The ones that went boom.
He knew it too - it’s why he was refusing to move away from the containment van.
ZAP!
As soon as her knees touched the ground, something white, fast, and electrifying shot overhead, not at all impeded by Krieg’s shaker effect. She could see them in the corner of her vision, even as Krieg let out a muffled scream of pain and staggered forward - Avalon’s team. What looked like a little robot was hovering over the top of the armored vehicle, its ‘head’ looking directly at them - directly at Krieg.
“Proposal: Stand still and die like a man, dirty nazi scum.”
It could speak?!
WOOSH.
Krieg’s shiny leather boots only barely whizzed by the side of her face, a jerked and instinctive kick in response to the robot’s laser beam, and Hannah saw opportunity. He was strong within the range of his kinetic field, with the smallest of movements capable of causing incredible damage, but he wasn’t trained. Trained in some form of boxing, for sure - her rib cage knew that better than anyone - but his movements weren’t honed to a fine point. His punches hurt, his kicks were violent, but they weren’t sharp.
She was Miss Militia, the woman with the guns, but this asshole would not beat her in hand-to-hand combat.
Hannah hissed away the pain and lunged for his ankle, breath coming out in harsh, restrained gasps as her arms wrapped around Krieg’s lower leg. Her body flipped up immediately, legs clamping around his extended thigh like a snake constricting its prey. From one moment to the next, she went from crouching and on the defensive to trapping Krieg into a knee bar, and Hannah wasted no time in clenching her ankles and twisting her body.
Power was one thing, but balance and weight distribution was another.
They went to the ground, Krieg letting out a grunt of discomfort.
Hannah jerked his trapped leg to the side in one sharp, aggressive motion. With the rest of her body keeping everything else stubbornly in place, his knee wasn’t supposed to twist.
But it did.
CRACK!
“AGHHH Y-you fucking whore!”
Grim vindictiveness cooled her veins, and Hannah managed a humorless, pain-tinged smirk through her scarf. ‘That’s for Collin you bastard.’
“This Pod is helping. Proposal: Move.”
She was already barrel-rolling to the side before the… ‘Pod’ could finish its ‘proposal’. The little robot flew forward at a speed that felt closer to an arrow than a human, slowing noticeably the closer it got to Krieg, and alighting itself over the nazi’s kneeling form. He was trying to get up, the task infinitely more difficult with a snapped knee, and Miss Militia’s left hand went for the last containment foam grenade mag-locked to her belt. The right lightly gripped her newly-formed grenade launcher.
She was tired of getting punched by Brutes.
“Zap.” The robot uttered in that cold, robotic voice, right before exploding.
Correction - it didn’t explode, but it certainly released a ridiculous amount of bright, buzzing electricity. Triumph, who was carefully moving around the circumference of Krieg’s supposed power radius, flinched back as the darkness was suddenly lit up by God knew how many volts of electricity. Krieg screamed, but only for a few seconds - almost right after, he simply collapsed into the street, body spasming.
The electricity didn’t stop.
Hannah’s eyes widened, bringing her grenade launcher up to aim at the so-called ‘Pod’. Halfway up, it shifted into an M16 rifle with an IR laser - the red beam trained directly on the middle of the robot’s body.
“Okay, that’s enough! Step away from the body or-”
Her skin tingled.
A massive howl of wind tore through the tense atmosphere like a knife through butter, sending chills down Hannah’s spine. Triumph outright flinched, turning around to check their six, but she kept her eyes solely trained on the robot. Whatever Avalon was doing - whatever that man was releasing, they would have to deal with it in due time. For now, she was supposed to be securing the containment van and subduing Krieg, not allowing Avalon’s pet Tinker project to electrocute him to death.
Another heartbeat passed, and Hannah exhaled a whispered sigh. Her finger pressed down on the trigger.
BAM!
Triumph’s golden helmet jerked back at the crack of her rifle, his mouth instinctively opening to scream. Hanna raised her hand to stop him.
Glowing gray letters floated outwards from the machine, intermingling with the glow of silvery-white fractals that floated around its body like a shield. The bullet rattled to the ground some feet away, leaving the robot completely unharmed, but the electricity was gone. It was simply watching them now.
“Uh, what’s the plan ma’am? Do we need to take it out too?” The former Ward asked, his voice doing its utmost to feign an even tone of confidence. She knew better; he had only been sworn into the Protectorate last month. These were a lot of unknown factors that he, quite frankly, wasn’t prepared or ready for.
Before she could respond, Iris’ voice came through her earpiece. Both of theirs, judging by the way Triumph suddenly glanced at the truck.
“84 won’t attack any of you if you don’t attack him first, and he listens to me. To us. He - We’re not a threat to you guys. The fucking nazis are.” The girl’s voice was a little frustrated, Hannah noticed. She and Triumph shared a cautious glance.
“Krieg’s already incapacitated. The Director said it before, Iris - nonlethal force only. We do not want to fight you and your team, but we have to do our duty as heroes. None of us are the judge, the jury, and the executioner. You know this. Krieg does not have a Kill Order, Crusader doesn’t have a kill order, and neither did Alabaster. We take them in, we contain them.” The words felt… odd, coming out of her mouth. Forced and rubbery. But Hannah still got them out, and did a damn good job at it too, because this was her job and what she ultimately fought for.
America was a different place than what she knew before, but it was her home. America wasn’t a small, no-name Kurdish village in Turkey. America wasn’t a jungle filled with landmines, barbed wire, and the corpses of her people. America wasn’t perfect, but it was controlled, it was structured, and God damn it she did not want to see the streets run red with blood because new capes couldn’t follow the fucking rules.
It was clear, now, that she had misjudged Avalon. Assumed him to be a kid doing what he could with powers that he didn’t fully understand, all for the good of the city and himself.
But this? Killing these capes, nazis or not - and damn did she hate nazis - was not the answer. It spat in the face of democracy. Of rules, and regulations, and order.
They were in place for a reason - to avoid even more bloodshed.
She explicitly ignored the voice that whispered how killing nazis was the epitome of the American way.
The robot, 84, suddenly stirred.
Hannah kept it in her scope as it twisted its body to the right and zoomed back to Squealer’s truck. They didn’t let the window down or open the door to let it in; instead, it flew to the top, where a sunroof slid open, and dropped down inside. She avoided flagging the truck with her M16 and instead made her way over to Krieg’s body. Triumph quickly moved to follow, pulling a pair of reinforced handcuffs off of his belt..
As she crouched and placed two fingers against the man’s neck, duly noting the steam rising from his skin, her earpiece buzzed with Iris’ voice again.
“... I can’t sit here and pretend that I have the same experience or charisma that Avalon does. He’s the party leader, the overpowered DPS, and I’m just the boring backline support. But, experience or not… I’m calling bullshit! No way you’re drinking that kool-aid.”
Hannah paused, noticing that Triumph wasn’t reacting to the girl’s words - Iris was broadcasting it solely to her. For a second she debated calling it in before shaking her head. Any information she received, even off record, was valuable. “He’s alive, but his pulse is weak. Move him to the blockade and get him properly contained and evaluated.”
“Got it, Miss Militia. I’ll be right back, stay safe.”
The lion-themed cape grabbed Krieg’s unconscious body, lugging it over his shoulder with ease, before jogging back towards the flashing lights of the PRT blockade. Hannah stood and briskly made her way back to where she’d placed Armsmaster’s unconscious body, propped up behind the leftmost foam turret van. The rifle in her arms shivered, vibrated, before smoothly transitioning into a gleaming Colt .45 that she holstered at her side.
Iris’ voice shot through her head again.
“Hookwolf’s one J-Walk away from a frickin’ kill order, Alabaster literally got broken out of prison four weeks ago after hanging a black couple in their own home, and Krieg is actively wearing Hitler cosplay. Like, medals and all! You’re telling me that keeping monsters like that alive and on the streets is ‘fair’ and ‘just’? To who?”
The bite and disgust in the young girl’s voice stung.
It stung because she wasn’t wrong, but the truth wasn’t simply black and white. She wanted to raise her voice, lash back with the evidence of cape engagement SOP going to shit and the fallout of it all - the deaths and chaos that happened as a response to unnecessary escalation of force and lethality - but it felt hollow, even to her. Damned if you do, damned if you don’t - but doing, at the very least, got you results if you were strong enough. Sometimes, if you had the jump, if you had the initiative and the strength, taking out your enemies permanently was the right move. Saved lives.
She knew this from personal experience. But that wasn’t the way here, in this place. In this society. Especially not with the villains outnumbering the heroes two to one, and threats like the Endbringers looming overhead.
Even then, ultimately, that sounded like an excuse in the face of lynching, hate crimes, and sex trafficking. An excuse from the weak.
Hannah bit back a retort of subdued anger that was threatening to leak out and tossed Armsmaster’s arm over her shoulder. She had to bite her lip to contain the groan of pain that wanted to escape her mouth as she lifted with her legs, slowly pulling him up alongside her. He was heavy, nothing but dead weight, but she’d dealt with worse. There was always worse.
She needed him awake again, ready and happy to lead, because she did not enjoy arguing with herself and a teenage girl about moral ethics.
“... I’m just following-”
Hannah’s voice trailed off into a choked silence as a golden light suddenly lit up Lord Street.
Again.
She turned, Armsmaster groaning beneath his breath, and felt her heart almost stop at the scene before her. She barely even registered the eight-foot-tall man in scratched power armor jogging toward Squealer’s truck - her eyes were only for the eerie sight further down the road, where Avalon and his teammate had been fighting the other Empire capes.
Despite the distance, she could see them quite clearly - partially due to her excellent vision, and mostly due to the bright, gleaming rows of spears hovering in the air above a battered and broken Stormtiger. Avalon was flying - no, standing on thin air, looking down at him like some sort of fairy tale prince staring down from his throne, and he was speaking. She couldn’t hear him - they were too far away and the sound of rain and wind drowned out all the noise.
With her wet hair plastered to her forehead, fractured ribs broken from her fight with Krieg, and her brain’s equilibrium broken from the hissed words of a frustrated young cape, Hannah… found herself too tired to unholster her Colt. Too done to threaten and scream herself hoarse at a Trump powerful enough to summon what seemed like a hundred energy constructs, each one notably capable of ending a human being with one stab.
She couldn’t even fathom the amount of internal energy, if he had some sort of internal energy supply, necessary to perform such a feat and still look so… unfettered. Confident. Casual, even.
She was powerless in the face of that much power, at least without going lethal and sniping him - Avalon, as far as she was aware, showed no signs of durability capable of withstanding .50 caliber rounds. At that point, however, it would be saving a nazi’s life in exchange for a teenager’s. A teenager breaking the law, certainly, but also one who only wanted to be a hero.
There was neither liberty nor justice there. Just bullshit.
Hannah turned away from the golden light and slowly made her way back to the spot where they’d fought Krieg, flexing her jaw against the pain in her stomach. She didn’t watch as Stormtiger died, and neither did she stop it, though she knew it was happening behind her. Heard the man in the power armor whistle, heard the ‘woosh’ of air as over a hundred glowing spears descended at high speeds. She just focused on moving, one foot in front of the other.
Her earpiece buzzed, and surprisingly, it wasn’t Iris - it was Director Piggot, the woman’s voice hoarse and angry.
“Miss Militia? Miss Militia, what is your status? Report.”
She swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. “I am safe, currently bringing an unconscious and possibly concussed Armsmaster closer to the perimeter for pickup.”
There was a pause, and then: “Status on the other capes?”
Hannah paused.
“Miss Militia, I need-”
“Stormtiger and Crusader are both dead, killed in battle… by Avalon. Rune’s status is unknown, but I did not see a body. She is most likely still alive.”
Silence.
“... And Hookwolf?”
“He is still restrained-”
THUD.
The sound of footsteps landing lightly on the main transport van froze both her blood and her body.
“Miss Militia, finish your report.”
‘Not fucking now!’ Hannah hissed in her mind, turning warily to regard a silent Avalon. He had his finger up to his ear, where she could see a black bluetooth earpiece glowing blue, and though it was approaching midnight and the night was dark, she could still see him - still see the cool indifference of his face, the barely visible gash on the side of his head, the way that his costume was bone-dry and spotless, as if the rain itself was afraid to touch him.
‘No’, she realized as nearly invisible steam drifted off of his body, disappearing into thin air, ‘It’s evaporating. From what…?’
The mysteries kept piling, his powers kept piling, and her nerves were about ready to pop. She adjusted her hold on Armsmaster, hand hovering - but not drawing - her pistol.
“Ava-”
“Hold on,” he murmured, tilting his head, and Hannah found herself reflexively closing her mouth. His eyes - much brighter than before, she noticed - narrowed at her, and Hannah’s hackles immediately raised. Her hand twitched, flinching towards the handle of the pistol, but she couldn’t actively move to grab it because something suddenly flitted through her stomach. Something warm, and amazing, and slightly discomforting, but it felt so fucking good-
His eyes were glowing golden, visible even in the dark.
“Sorry ‘bout the mess,” he said idly, waving a hand vaguely towards the debris-strewn street behind him. “We had something to accomplish, and we did it. Your ribs feelin’ better?”
As he stared, another burst of warmth flooded her body, and something shifted. Her spine straightened as Armsmaster’s weight became easier to manage, and Hannah’s eyes widened. The headache, the fractured ribs, the scrapes and bruises from rolling and falling on the concrete - it was all gone. It felt… different from Panacea’s healing - or, the little bit that she’d gotten in the past. There were no pangs of hunger or nausea or dizziness. There was only pure vitality.
Avalon’s glowing, half-lidded gaze lazily shifted to Armsmaster. “He got pretty fucked up too, right? Krieg hit him with a spine-buster?”
His voice snapped her out of her inner reverie. Hannah shifted Armsmaster’s arm over her shoulder, attempting to regain control over the situation. “Krieg,” she began evenly, glancing behind her. Triumph was jogging back up the road to them, and some unease faded at his urgency. “Krieg injured the both of us; Armsmaster shows signs of a concussion and possibly internal damage, and I…- I feel better. Listen, Avalon…”
Hannah trailed off, internally grasping for what to say. Did she do what her instincts wanted to do and say thanks for healing her? Unfairly condemn him for them getting injured in the first place? A lecture, like he was an unruly Ward who went a little overboard with dealing with a supervillain? These were neo-nazis who ritualistically murdered and assaulted his people, and he wasn’t a Ward - he was a powerful Trump that has shown more than enough ‘tricks’ in the past ten minutes to take her out before she could draw her gun.
She twitched her finger, purposefully this time, and watched his eyes closely.
It was blindingly fast, almost too quick to catch, but her reflexes weren’t only good for shooting.
He glanced down, regarded her gun and the potentially threatening physical movement, looked back to her face, and dismissed her. All in a fraction of a second. He didn’t seem even the least perturbed.
A dull, almost distant Something built in her chest. She just didn’t know if it was fear, anger, loathing, or something more primal - more instinctive to a human being meeting something higher on the totem pole.
“You-“
Warm, golden light pulsated to her left
“Ughhh…”
A low, relieved groan escaped Armsmaster, and the weight pressing on her left shoulder eased up. Hannah was both relieved and, selfishly, happy when he staggered off of her and straightened himself on his own two feet. His hand clenched, raising towards the side of the van, and there was a metallic hum that shot through the darkness before his glinting Halberd tore through the air, finding purchase in his grip. His visor never turned away from Avalon.
“Miss Militia,” he said hoarsely, a steel-like edge to his voice. “Sitrep.”
Triumph slowed to a brisk, unsure walk as he came around to Armsmaster’s other side, glancing up towards Avalon with a visible grimace on his face. “Here and ready for anything, sir.”
“Miss Militia.”
Hannah answered automatically. “Stormtiger and Crusader are both dead, Rune is missing, and Krieg has been incapacitated and detained with help from Iris’… Pod. There are no hostiles in the immediate area.”
Avalon’s lips twitched at the mention of the ‘Pod’, but his overall expression remained relaxed. The sight was confusing, because it brought her attention to his actual face, not just his aura. He looked different now. Breathtaking. Another power?
She hated it on principle. She should not be ogling a teenage boy on a bloodstained cape battlefield.
“… Understood.” There was grit in Armsmaster’s voice and a brittleness that alerted her. Something flimsier than ‘anger at needless death’, and much more ugly. Hannah tore her gaze away from Avalon, turning to Armsmaster, but he was already stepping forward with a clenched jaw.
“Sir-“
“Avalon, you are to return with us to Protectorate HQ pending the unlawful and unsanctioned murder of two individuals lacking the prerequisite Kill Order documentation.”
“Armsmaster, do not instigate a battle with Avalon right now.”
The bearded man scowled. “You won’t be physically forced-“
Avalon snorted.
“-But cooperation would do nothing but help your case. These men are dead, kid. They’re bad people, but laws and regulations are in place for a reason. Do yourself a favor and come quietly.” Armsmaster finished without preamble, his Halberd clenched tightly in both hands. He wasn’t wielding it threateningly, but combined with Triumph’s squared shoulders, the language being spoken was clear.
Come with us or else you’ll be in trouble. Legal trouble.
Piggot didn’t say anything, and Hannah uncomfortably shifted as she kept a wary eye on the proceedings. This… this wasn’t how she would’ve handled the situation, but she wasn’t the leader here for a reason. It wasn’t her call to make.
Avalon watched silently for a moment, his eyes drifting past them - to Squealer’s truck. The man in power armor was still there, bulky metal arms crossed as he watched, but he seemed distracted. Hannah had a sneaking feeling that words were flying through comms.
After a second, Avalon moved, and Triumph flinched, his hands raising.
But he simply moved into a casual squat, forearms resting on his thighs and hands dangling off. He seemed completely at ease amidst the lightening rain drops and the cool wind.
“That somethin’ your boss told you to tell me, big man? Or is your wounded pride telling you to get some kinda win outta this situation?”
Armsmaster’s fists clenched. “I’m the leader here, and I follow the rules and standard operating procedures instilled in me. You’re wanted for questioning, Avalon.”
Avalon’s teeth - white and gleaming - showed when he grinned. It wasn’t a kind one. “Then come get me.”
Heat flashed through Armsmaster’s face, and his brittle countenance cracked. “Do you not understand your situation right now? The trouble you’re in? You killed two-“
“Neo-nazi murderer garbage cans, yeah - I know. Me sayin’ that wasn’t me stroking my dick, it was me making a point. You can’t make me do anything I don’t want to do, but I’m actively tryna work with you here. I healed you and Miss Militia with a look.”
His eyes glinted again, this time coldly, and his crooked grin turned chilling. “I can do a lot more if I use my hands. Don’t do something stupid over the lives of actual human waste. There’s better walls to slam your head against.” The weight in his words, as if in direct contest with his casual and cool tone, was heavy, almost physically.
Armsmaster looked like he wanted to say something more, maybe even move forward to challenge what he thought to be a bluff, but the Director’s tightly wound voice interrupted him. “Armsmaster, that’s enough! …Miss Militia, take Avalon your spare radio. Let me speak to him.”
Iris’ voice, notably restrained, piped up immediately. “No need, patching Avalon throuuuuugh… now. Good luck! And, uh, maybe retire Armsbeard from negotiation duty.”
“… Right. Iris. You should not be able to crack our security so easily.”
Noticeably, she didn’t even sound surprised at this point, just deadpan. It would’ve been amusing if not for the fact that Hannah was standing beneath an atmosphere charged with more than just tenseness. Armsmaster seemed almost ready to bite at the bit, which was extremely out of character for him, and Triumph genuinely didn’t seem like he knew what to do. Avalon was a unique case for them; he was a Trump 8, and outside of specific missions, he was not meant to just be engaged willy-nilly. That wasn’t even accounting for the others he had with him.
“True, but I wouldn't be Iris if I let this measly- Oho, what’s this? … There was some shady asshole listening in from a backport not affiliated with any PRT-based IP address I could see. Gross. I just booted him out.”
The Director’s voice came a few seconds later, even more clipped and annoyed, but with a nugget of genuine intrigue. “A mole?” she muttered, only to call out to someone in the background, “You. Get IT off their ass; I want this supposedly ‘encrypted channel’ checked bottom to top. Our jobs are hard enough without some conniving bastard gathering our live intel.”
“Have them check for IPv4 address: 192.168.100.1,” Iris helpfully supplied, sounding awfully at ease with exposing a potential PRT mole, “Looks like it came from somewhere Downtown, just not near the PRT Headquarters.”
Piggot’s voice was dry when she replied. “Thank you. I’m sure your familiarity with our security system is wholly benevolent and not at all suspicious either, correct?”
“... I plead the fifth?”
Avalon tilted his head, eyes brushing over the silent Armsmaster before he pressed his finger against his earbud again and interrupted the interrogation before it started. “Miss Piggot,” he said coolly, standing upright with all the ease of a lion stretching its limbs, “Nice to finally speak to the woman in charge. You sure you want your men here instead of helpin’ with the shitshow in the Docks?”
“It’s Director Piggot, Avalon,” the Director coldly replied, her tone business-like and flat once again, “And my agents cannot leave without securing the prisoner. Even still, the situation is being taken care of. My biggest problem right now, ironically enough, is you. What exactly are you playing at?”
His index finger tapped once, twice, against his thigh, and a smile formed on his face. Hannah noted that it held no real emotion. “Right, my bad - Southern habits. I’m not playing at anything, though - life and death isn’t a game, and I’m not treating this like one. I already told Miss Militia; we had something to accomplish here, and that was eliminating the capes participating in this ambush. The next step is doing the same to ol’ Hookwolf, who just so happens to be your prisoner.” He tapped the toes of his boots against the roof of the van, and it made a dull ringing noise.
“You want us to surrender our prisoner over to you so that you can commit an execution.” Piggot surmised blankly, and a snort rippled through the comms. “Out of the question, Avalon. You’ve committed three counts of extrajudicial killings tonight alone, and are actively declaring your intent to commit another. You have no right.”
“That a morals thing or a lawful thing?” Avalon queried, his deep voice cool in the face of the Director’s vehemence.
“... On record? Both.”
It was his turn to snort.
“Off record, I enjoy the presence of super powered neo-nazi domestic terrorists in my city as much as the next patriotic American, but that does not give me carte blanche to do whatever the hell I want. There’s a chain of command for a reason, methods and procedures for handling threats the way we handle them. All things that you would be privy to if you work with us.”
There wasn’t desperation in the Director’s voice, per se, but there was a certain amount of passion there - not one formed by force of personality or charisma, but a more raw and angry energy that laid everything out to bare; the fact that she was just one woman in charge doing what she could with a significant lack of resources. Hannah felt her respect for the Director grow, if only slightly, and she already held a decent amount for the surly woman.
“I don’t mind working with you,” Avalon admitted freely, turning his gaze down towards them again - Hannah, Armsmaster, and Triumph. “But that’s not what you want, not really. I can tell. You want me to work for you, get bogged down by the same red-tape bullshit and procedures and rules and PR ass-kissing that you do, and that simply isn’t happening.”
The passion dulled, turning to a razor-sharp point. “You’re powerful, Avalon, but a lot of capes are. A lot of capes are also arrogant, short-sighted, and selfish, and you are showing these exact same traits. That sort of recklessness gets people killed. You are not-”
“Powerful enough to ‘take on the world’? To handle the fallout of escalating against the Empire?”
She didn’t respond, and Avalon continued unimpeded, his voice rising from a dark, smooth murmur to a louder, more resonant bass that vibrated her ears, sent chills down her spine that had nothing to do with the lingering drizzle of cool rain. “If I can’t take on the world tonight, give me a few more months, but the Empire? Kaiser and the remnants of his cowardly ‘army’? It’s already over for them, and neither you nor them realize it yet. It’s barely been two weeks since I’ve triggered and I have more power in my pinky and a wink than the leader of the Empire Eighty-Eight has in his whole body, and I grow every single day. I’m growing right now, even as I’m forced to speak politics with you instead of hunting down Purity and the others. They can’t stop me, and neither can you. You're wasting time.”
…
And there it was - the line in the sand. An uneasy silence stilled the air, and Avalon’s gaze didn’t stray away.
Hannah glanced back at his entourage, noting that the man in power armor was no longer standing outside of the truck - at some point during the conversation he had disappeared, possibly moving back into the boot of the vehicle. She couldn’t see through the tinted windows, but the truck was still on, rumbling and vibrating softly. If push came to shove, she felt that she would be able to get multiple shots off on the windshield - she would just need a stronger gun.
In a shimmering of green energy, the Colt in her holster turned into a Smith and Wesson Model 500. In the corner of her eye, Hannah saw her two comrades subtly preparing themselves for a confrontation as well.
Honestly, she just hoped that push would not come to shove.
“... Do I take that as a threat to my personnel? Is that where you plan to take this?” Director Piggot’s voice was level again, almost dead in its inflection. Hannah could imagine that she’d muted her headset to shout orders at a whole squad of agents, preparing them for the worst-case scenario in this stand-off.
His eyes drifted towards her own, meeting them completely. Hannah didn’t know what he saw in her gaze - she was just tired and utterly spent even though he healed her injuries. It was more mental fatigue than anything physical - she needed time to adjust to everything she’d seen tonight.
They held eye contact for only a moment before Avalon nodded, as if to himself. His voice lowered again, and he turned away, showing them his back.
“You can take it however you want to, Piggot. I’ll say it like this - the Empire crumbles, if not tonight then over the next couple of days. That’s non-negotiable. I got no beef with the PRT, whatsoever, but if you move to actively bar me from doing what should’ve been done a long ass time ago, then I will put your operatives on their ass and send ‘em packing. You get me?”
Armsmaster started forward, his eyes visibly bloodshot beneath his visor, and Hannah moved without thinking. In a blur of movement, she stood directly in front of the man, one hand holding him back against the chest and the other facing an agitated Triumph. Her dark gaze narrowed. “Hold.” she hissed, giving her leader a disappointed glare. “Trust the Director.”
She knew he could barrel past her in an instant, especially with his armor, but her interference seemed to settle something in his mind. Armsmaster stilled, shoulders tense, and Hannah lowered her hands.
Avalon hadn’t even turned back to look.
A sudden dull ringing suddenly cut through the thick silence, and it took Hannah palming her pocket to realize that it was coming from her earpiece, from the Director’s side.
Her tone was bitter when she spoke. “... Transport team, keep an eye on Avalon and his partners. No one leaves the area. I’ve got to take a call.” Before they could say anything, there was an abrupt ‘click’ and the ambient noise from Piggot’s headset became silent.
Triumph, predictably enough, was the first one to speak up. The boy crossed his arms over his chest, glancing from the silent Armsmaster up to the relaxed Avalon. “So what’s the point in all this? To show that you’re all big and bad? Above the law?” Despite his word choice, there was a genuine curiosity in Triumph’s voice, as well as a healthy amount of caution.
He visibly tensed when Avalon turned to look at him.
“Sorta,” he replied, taking a step forward. Only, he didn’t just take a step forward. From one second to the next, Avalon disappeared from the back end of the van and faded into existence at the very front, looking down at them. His hands were in the pockets of his fashionable black coat.
“Don’t really care ‘bout showing off for the sake of it, but sometimes you gotta make people realize that they just don’t want the smoke. Empire’s done for, I am the executioner there, and the people in this city who've lost family and friends to their violent and sadistic ways? Saw their brothers gettin' lynched, burned, tortured? Well, they’re gonna be the judge and jury.”
Hannah frowned, but it was a heavy and considering one. “You’re saying that the public’s going to be on your side if this becomes a PRT vs you scenario,” she stated, resting her hand on her Smith and Wesson. It was more for comfort than anything else.
He shrugged. “Probably. They don’t know me, don’t know everything I can do. I wouldn’t be surprised if they doubt whether I can back up what I’ve done here.”
“And that doesn’t make you nervous at all?” Hannah pried. In the case of the Director pressing things and declaring Avalon a potential villain, PR would be his bargaining chip and lifeline. She wasn’t the greatest when it came to politics - honestly, Hannah outright hated them - but she knew that much.
Avalon’s response was simple. “I know myself and what I can achieve more than anyone else. Thankless or not, fake ass PRT scapegoat or not, I’m gonna keep doing me.” He smiled a devil-may-cry smile, his entire countenance relaxed in the face of potential adversity. “I’m just tryna keep your priorities straight.”
Triumph shook his head as the tension in the atmosphere slowly, but surely, lowered. “You are insane, man… but for what it’s worth, thank you for your assistance here. And, I guess, healing Miss Militia and Armsmaster.” The former Ward glanced over to them, brow furrowed, and Hannah felt a wave of embarrassment. “Don’t know if they said it.”
“It’s chill,” Avalon waved his hand dismissively. “I should’ve kept an eye on-”
“Avalon.” There was something different in Piggot’s voice now; an icy, steel-like frigidity that held absolutely no yield or flexibility.
The man paused, and Hannah saw his smile flicker with a new emotion for only a second. Smugness? Victory?
“Yo.”
“... Legally and publicly, we cannot endorse or approve of the unlawful killing of Empire capes lacking a kill-order. For a multitude of reasons, the biggest of which pertains to the fragile balance between the major gangs in the city, we also cannot freely issue kill-orders to every cape under Kaiser’s payroll.” Every word sounded stilted, as if it was taking an inordinate amount of will to keep her voice neutral.
Avalon made a noise in between a grunt and a hum, tilting his head up towards the night sky.
Distantly, Hannah heard the sound of vehicles moving, voices shouting out commands. She looked back and saw the half a dozen or so PRT vans pulling away from the perimeter and driving away from Lord Street. They kept the traffic cones and metal barricades up, halting anyone stupid enough to drive into a battle zone, but they were definitely leaving. Only a few seemed to stay behind - possibly back-up for the convoy, and the drivers who’d retreated once it was obvious that the foam turrets weren’t effective.
The others noticed it too. Armsmaster’s frown turned into a scowl.
“New directives have come in from the Chief Director-”
“Director, this is not fair-”
“Shut up, Armsmaster, nothing in this damn city is fair! Ahem. New directives have come in from the Chief Director, ordering the PRT to take a defensive role in the next few days - starting with cleaning up after Purity’s mess in the Docks. That will be our main priority. Lung will not accept his territory being so brazenly assaulted, and the ABB will be hankering for blood.”
“And the Empire?” Avalon ventured, giving the incensed Armsmaster a bemused look.
“... The PRT will be taking on a defensive role in the next few days. The lives of the Empire’s parahuman force are not a priority in the case of a non-PRT affiliated cape attacking them in costume, as long as the non-powered members are properly apprehended and civilians are not harmed in any way.” It almost sounded like she was reading off of a piece of paper.
Hannah’s eyes widened. In other words, the PRT would leave Avalon alone as long as he did what he claimed he could do in the next three or four days. After that, they would no longer be able to play defense mode in the Docks - reasonably, it wouldn’t take more than a few days for them to calm down. Lung was the definition of a sleeping dragon - when angered he often acted recklessly in bursts, with his gang acting accordingly to their boss’s mood.
The PRT was giving ground, and placing a lot of trust in one new cape and his team. Hannah doubted she could come up with anything better. She didn’t even know if she would’ve wanted to.
Kaiser and his ilk were a scourge upon everything about the American way, and if Avalon could do what he said and take them out completely, all without pulling the citizens of Brockton Bay in his path… then why stop him? Especially with the Chief Director green-lighting it. If he could do what they could not, if he had that sort of power...
Avalon breathed out a low sigh. “Fine, I hear you. And Hookwolf?”
“The Chief Director emphasized that the Empire capes already in custody are not to be touched. Krieg will be investigated for suspected close ties to a… certain organization and is likely to be sentenced to the Birdcage, and Victor is a non-issue.”
He paused at that, his neutral lips pulling down into a frown, before he shrugged. One moment he was standing on the containment van, and the next he was on the ground, standing before the three haggard heroes. “I’m not unreasonable… I can agree on that.”
Piggot’s frigid voice gained a trace of sardonism. “No more refusals or caveats?”
Avalon chuckled in amusement, casually making his way back towards Squealer’s truck. He didn’t even spare the glowering Armsmaster a sideways glance. “Nah. Not like they’re gonna have anyone to bust ‘em out after I’m done.”
“... Right. Transport team, report back to HQ immediately for further assignment. The convoy will continue with additional security.”
Hannah could have shouted in relief if she was a more emotionally charged woman. Instead, she shared a wry smile with Triumph and moved to grab her motorcycle from where it had been discarded on the side of the road once shots went off.
“Understood, Director.”
“Heard!”
“... Affirmative.”
VROOOM!
Wheels squealed as Squealer peeled off down the street, and Hannah fought the urge to look back. Instead, she straddled the rain-slicked leather of her seat and gestured for Triumph to hop on back. “Let’s get outta here. Don’t know about you, but I’m looking forward to changing clothes.”
The teenager snorted, offering a half-amused smile at her attempt at humor. “I get the feeling-”
A much quieter squeal of rubber on blacktop cut him off, and they both watched as Armsmaster’s dark blue motorcycle sped away, narrowly twisting around the bumper of one of the new vans. The PRT agents moving up to take over the convoy paused and watched him make his exit, and a couple of them began muttering to each other even as they brought new tires out the trunk to replace the ones Victor shot.
Triumph hesitantly continued, “I get the feeling that Armsmaster isn’t too happy with how things went…”
Hannah smiled, but it was a grim one - humorless.
“He’ll get over it. Things in the city are changing, and you either adapt and roll with the punches or get left behind. Armsmaster’s a good man. Talented tinker, too.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
And as she switched the engine on and maneuvered through the barricade, ignoring the splattering of rain that soaked into the bottom of her pants and ceaselessly fell against her head, Hannah allowed a nugget of doubt to peek into her mind.
There was a reason why she hadn’t included ‘skilled leader’.
She could only hope that he could resolve whatever ugliness he held in his heart, because the battlefield wasn’t a place for grudges and envy.
Avalon wasn’t the type of man to entertain it, either.
It was only halfway back to the Rig did Triumph suddenly yell a question into her ear, pure confusion coating his voice.
“Uhh, what did he do with Rune?! We never asked!”
Hannah nearly swerved out of the left lane.
“... Bring that up in the AAR meeting!”
______________________________________
OOC:
Sorry for the wait, was worrying over this chapter for a while. I know some people are not going to be happy with choices made or whatever, but Avalon wasn't backing down, and Piggot is fucking stubborn too. It ended when the Chief Director got involved.
Cauldron is willing to play ball, but to what end? Keep reading to find out. It's pretty obvious though, I think - why protect the group of neo-nazis with pretty strong capes and lose a powerful and quickly-growing Trump when you can just... keep the Trump?
They can't publicly endorse him or even make it seem as if they're okay with what he's doing, so they're using the E88 pissing off Lung to 'focus' their attentions and give him the space to do what he needs to do.
I think it was a realistic compromise that doesn't bash the PRT or anything, but let me know what you think!
The Empire's Fall continues.
400 CP remaining, two perks declined due to lack of CP.
Comments
Wasted Ink
MM is very stressed and just wants a hot shower and maybe a massage.
Wasted Ink
Sophia would definitely be interested in joining Invictus, prolly, but Jason wouldn’t let her in without significant conditioning. He doesn’t mind a bitch, that’s just another flavor of hot to him, but she’s a neurotic, sadistic, ‘prey on the weak’ bitch. I’ll put it this way: Sophia is a bully that feels pleasure from hurting people weaker than her, and focuses that on criminals because the public uplifts her for it. Jason is a wildcard that just loves magic and letting loose, but he wouldn’t hurt someone unless they deserved it. Weak, strong - if he feels like they need their ass beat, he’ll do it. He and Sophia are only similar in skin color and a lack of ‘give a fuck’ when it comes to brutalizing people. Her wanting to join up is an interesting plot point though, it holds potential hehe… We’re getting a Coil and Kaiser perspective soon perhaps. The Empire Culling Train don’t stop, and Avalon doesn’t want to stop the momentum and give Kaiser time to call in favors with Gesselschaft. I’m not sure if his Trump rating gets updated here or not. I’m leaning towards no - he’s already Trump 8, which basically means “do not engage unless you have a team and we have a plan.” The next level is like full evacuation unless absolutely not possible, lol.
fireball77
Definitely satisfied, it seems like a reasonable outcome Both parties are similarly dissatisfied but can agree with the terms set, that sounds like a good compromise Hannah could use some R and R, and some dick too probably Edit: lmao they're gonna have to update his rating to Trump: Yes Btwww, what's Jason's opinion on Shadow Stalker? Because (based on what I see in fanon, never read canon Worm) his actions so far are pretty much in line with her philosophy? I could totally see her going rogue and trying to join up with him Cauldron's playing ball, the Path is probably broken due to Jason being a blindspot, but Invictus crushing all the gangs in the city is still pretty much in line with their "Cape Rule" experiment I'm also interested in seeing Coils perspective, since he's probably the one that got booted out of the conversation. Can't wait for that fucker to die
Bishop7053
Definitely satisfied. Glad to see character development on MM and not just stereotypical good soldier follows orders. Also got a chuckle at her ogling our boy. His statement regarding his growth will also give their analysts nightmares. Trump:Get fucked rating. MM could use a destresser, preferably by getting railed
