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The Good Life: Making Friends (ch. 16)
🕑 Added 2023-09-08 15:03:17 +0000 UTC"Big talk," Stormfront responded to my declaration, "let's see if you can actually back it up." She added, and that… seemed so fake to me now. So utterly fake. The heroic speeches that I’d heard from so many heroes that I admired… now I could only hear some overworked unpaid intern typing them up. Stormfront was acting tough for the cameras. To look good for them. To seem heroic. She took in a sharp breath before lightning gathered around her arms, crackling and sparking as the air seemed to tremble.
I marched forward, completely undeterred with my hands in my pockets. I could feel the change taking root inside of me. Something dark and spiteful welling in my chest that demanded to be unleashed. Being a supervillain was my dream, and it had always been motivated by something pure -- I just wanted to have fun. Sure, that fun frequently came at other people's expense, but that was hardly my problem. Now… now it was personal. Tearing the heroes down wasn't just about exposing the lies. It was about destroying them completely and utterly.
Stormfront snarled before she unleashed her lightning directly at me. I pinched the air currents and had them glow around me, and I found myself surrounded by a torrent of white lightning that sparked around my feet with every step that I took. Lightning was pretty easy to handle. But, as I looked at it through the eyes of my Room, I saw how it functioned. Sorta. My awareness was sharper than usual, and an unending tide of lightning was one hell of an example to work with. I could feel the friction giving way to static -- the electrons buzzing with energy that was unleashed in the form of lightning.
After a long ten seconds, the tide of lightning came to an end, and Stormfront looked… heh… shocked to see that I was not only fine, but completely untouched. The asphalt around me was scorched, if not outright bubbling from millions of volts of electricity that had been pounding down upon it. My gait didn't change as I continued to approach, but I took a single hand out of my pocket.
Then I snapped.
The friction of my middle finger and thumb generated a charge -- it was faint. Hardly any at all. Not even enough to form a static shock. However, it was enough to trigger a start. I shook the electrons, energizing them until a thin thread of electricity cackled around my hand. The charge grew in intensity. It was a little shaky at first, I will admit. I wasn't used to touching something as small as atoms, but it was easier to just intensify the friction until I had a full electric charge. Then, with a point of my finger, I shaped its trajectory and shot it at her.
Stormfront's eyes went wide as a blast of lightning caught her in the chest, knocking her back and sending her to the ground as a clap of thunder echoed out along the streets. "Neat trick. I think I'll borrow it," I said, coming to a stop. Stormfront wasn't hurt. I wasn't surprised by that. Most supes had the durability necessary to endure using their powers and, easy to handle or not, a bolt of lightning could contain up to five hundred million volts. That was a lot of oomph to be slinging around. Her costume was singed and smoking, but she stood up fine.
I had pissed her off, though.
"Moving shit around was all you were supposed to be capable of!" She snapped, the thin veneer of civility vanishing like smoke in the wind. Her eyes narrowed into slits when more lightning cackled around my hands. I was getting the hang of it and it opened up a lot of doors for me, I think. So, in a way, I really had to thank her. It would have taken me a lot longer to reach this point without that great example.
"No. That's just the only ability you've seen," I corrected. Friction built up an electric charge but it could also be used to generate heat. Fire. I could guide the air currents, shape them to my will. I think concentrating oxygen might be a little beyond me at the moment, mostly because I needed to experiment to learn what nitrogen, oxygen, carbon dioxide, and water vapor felt like to differentiate between them. Still, what I had was usable enough. With a snap of my fingers, fire shot away from me, aimed directly at Stormfront.
She jumped into the air, escaping my Room. I couldn't easily attack without revealing the edge of my range, so I simply looked up at her. There was an edge of uncertainty in her gaze now. A confidence that was shaken by the fact that I could fight back and I wasn't just rolling over for an easy win.
"Cindy. Do me a favor and bring her back down for me?" I asked and Cindy made a move. They had followed my lead, waiting for an opportunity, and now that it was here, she jumped on it. Cindy snarled before grabbing hold of Stormfront with a telekinetic grip, reaching out with her hand as if she physically held her. With a scream of rage and frustration, Cindy flung her hand down, sending Stormfront through the asphalt in a plume of dust and rubble.
That broke the spell on everyone. A bright flash of light caught my attention, forcing me to switch places with a piece of rock to avoid getting sniped by a light blast. Starlight's attacks… they felt weird, honestly. They almost felt like light, but a weirdly condensed version of it. I didn't even try copying that. Instead, I lightly landed on the ground and I felt Black Noir falling from above, a sword poised to skewer me. Naturally, I switched places with Starlight and I felt Black Noir abandon the attack.
They were somewhat prepared for me, I would give them that much. An explosive was waiting for me upon my arrival, but it was a simple thing to send that right back to them. An explosion of heat and fire rocked the street, blasting Black Noir and Starlight back. Kimiko was already on the move while Popclaw was fleeing for her life. That wouldn't do. So, I gave her heart a small squeeze, bringing her to her knees and whispered into her ear despite the distance between us. "No running. Heroes don't run from danger. They run towards it."
I didn't bother with carrying her response to my ears, turning my attention away in favor of teleporting Black Noir and Kimiko off to the side, pitting them against each other. And, I had to admit, it was a fucking gnarly fight. Black Noir was good. I could acknowledge that much. He was extensively trained and he wielded the katana with the grace and mastery that weebs claimed samurai were capable of. He completely dominated the fight -- catching Kimiko at the collarbone and cutting all the way through her ribs and spine, as the blade left at her hip. The only issue being that Kimiko healed faster than Black Noir could cut her.
He tried to cut off an arm, and even before he was done cutting, the flesh, muscle and bone mended. The only damage he was doing was to her clothing and Kimiko didn't seem to mind that any as she found herself half naked, covered with scraps of clothing as she absolutely punished Black Noir for every swing that he took. She punched him with enough force that her dense bones shattered under the impact, pulverizing Black Noir. He didn't seem to feel the pain, even if he did show signs of injuries, because they kept destroying each other with mounting damage in a gruesome display of violence.
Cindy and Stormfront required my attention, however. Stormfront shot lightning at Cindy, enough to kill her, and it would have if I hadn’t diverted the attack. Which became somewhat of a problem when Starlight took another shot at me. I kept things simple and simply switched places with her, making her eat her own attack, to keep my focus on Stormfront. Lightning crackled around my fingers before I snapped it in her direction, catching Stormfront unaware before Cindy followed up by throwing a telekinetic punch that sent her flying.
Not so much as a bloody nose to show for it, frustratingly enough. Recentering my Room, I teleported both Black Noir and Kimiko to our new position to keep them and Stormfront inside it. I genuinely don't think either of them so much as noticed.
"Stop right there!" Starlight commanded, trying to sound authoritative as her eyes glowed, drawing in light from the streets around us. Before, I would have thought the sight was rather imposing. Heroic even. Kind of difficult to think that when I had seen her naked and begging to get fucked by me. "I'm… I'm going to stop you," Starlight said, seemingly saying the words more to herself than to me. There was fear in her eyes as she looked at me, but she clenched her jaw and swallowed that fear.
I laughed, "There it is. There's the expression of a hero," I told her, turning to her. Cindy was throwing everything that she had at Stormfront -- throwing her into builds, slamming her into the ground, trying to crush her with sheer telekinetic might. Stormfront was just too durable, sadly enough. But, with the overwhelming onslaught, I had a moment to spare. I approached Starlight, whose hands glowed ominously, finding myself pleased that she did have a spine.
She had just found it too late.
"But," I said, undeterred by her warnings, "I think I like it a lot better when you have whore written on your forehead." The remark had an instant effect. After all, it was the photo I had received this morning. I watched as the blood just drained right out of her face, the resolve and determination vanishing like smoke in the wind. That was disappointing. Just a little bit, but I didn't have any expectations now. "I had to say, I was surprised that one of the Seven would beg to be my little cumslut. Pleased, of course, but also surprised. Well, Starlight? Is meeting me everything you hoped it'd be?"
The confidence crumbled like a sand castle. Her expression was bloodless and the look in her eyes was borderline terror. "I- I don't- you- she-!" She gasped out, half rambling and half hyperventilating. She seemed to be on the verge of a full blown panic attack, stumbling back a half step when I stopped in front of her.
"Don't worry," I told her in a low voice. "Your secret is safe with me. I won't tell a soul. Well… so long as you do one thing for me," I told her, pinching her chin to force her to look into my eyes. She was trembling ever so slightly and when her baby blues met my gaze, I saw nothing but pure defeat looking back at me. That was kind of thrilling in its own way -- I never thought that I would have it in me to destroy someone with a few words, but look at me now.
Starlight just closed her eyes in acceptance when I told her what I wanted, a single tear dripping down her cheek. That was… a little dramatic, but I wasn't surprised. Fakes and actors. That's all heroes were.
"Enough!" I heard Stormfront scream at the top of her lungs, finally tired of getting ragdolled. She was covered in dust and water -- I think she took a trip through the sewer. "I've had enough of you, you subhuman piece of filth!" She raged at Cindy, who stood strong, smashing a car over Stormfront's head before Stormfront rushed forward to close in. She was trying to reduce the distance so she could hit her with lightning or a fist. Reacting on instinct, I swapped myself with Cindy, putting me in the crosshairs. More importantly, throwing her off balance when the resistance she expected to feel wasn't there.
I snapped my fingers, replacing myself with Stormfront and she sailed forward, completely missing me and crashing into the ground as she was washed in flames. I-
I felt something. For the briefest of moments, I felt it and I was familiar enough with it to know that it was a bullet. Just a higher caliber than I was used to. It moved too quickly, it slipped between my fingers… and I just barely registered it before Cindy's head exploded in a splash of gore, splattering all over Starlight who flinched back.
My gaze snapped in the direction of the sniper -- that was a supe killing gun. And the target hadn't been Cindy. That bullet was meant for me. The loss of Cindy was a bit of a downer, but better her than me. The sniper was on a building about two blocks outside of my range. They had given themselves a generous estimate, but not generous enough.
However, with the death of Cindy, it was a clear indication that we had better beat feat. "Remember what I said," I told Starlight, carrying my words to her as she fought to not dry heave at the sight of Cindy's missing head. I looked to Stormfront, who smiled savagely at me covered in soot and dust. "Be seeing you Stormfront," I told her before I grabbed Kimiko, who was still beating the shit out of Black Noir, and Popclaw before I bounced. I took us to the edge of my Room, Popclaw still on her hands and knees as she softly sobbed.
Our new cover was a townhouse. We replaced a pair of chairs around a dinner table. Kimiko paused mid swing, and I saw that she was covered from head to toe in blood. Her hair was shorter, telling me she had been beheaded at least once. The only scrap of clothing she had left on her were her socks. "Room," I intoned, recentering the room around myself.
Vought would call that a win, but I made out like a bandit with this. Cindy's loss stung, but I went into this knowing damn well that people were going to die. It was a price I was willing to pay. Not to mention, Cindy hadn't exactly been stable. She was a wild card and I was enough of one in this deck of cards. Kimiko looked at me, signing something with her hands -- I still didn't speak whatever version of sign language she was using, so I just tossed my jacket at her. That didn't seem to be what she wanted, but she shrugged it on all the same as I approached Popclaw.
She only just now seemed to notice that we were indoors now because she screamed when she heard my approach. She crawled away from me until her back hit a wall. "D-don't come any closer. A-Train will stop you. He'll save me! S-so let me go!" She tried to threaten, and that caught my attention. That was a uniquely interesting threat, I decided, crouching down in front of her and Popclaw's bottom lip quivered.
At the same time, I scoped out the sniper's position. A team of three were making their way out in a scramble, thinking that I was coming right for them. I felt one of them was a white guy, one was black… the third was mixed. White and… some kind of Asian. Not really sure. They were doing their best to seem casual, and it did seem that they had a very rough idea of how my power worked. If they tried this a month ago, they would have slipped my notice. They didn't. And it also didn't slip my notice that none of them seemed to be military.
"Now why," I began, "would A-Train save you?" I asked her, dividing my attention. The team of three were getting in a car. I got the license plate.
Popclaw licked her lips, realizing that she had fucked up, but she latched onto the lifeline with white knuckles. "Because I-I'm his girl. His one and only. We've been in love for years -- o-our tenth anniversary is coming up," Popclaw told me, and while I did doubt that she was his one and only, I could see that she believed it at least. "He won't stop at anything to save me, so give me my heart back and let me go. If you know what's good for you. He'll kill you before you even realize your fucking dead!" She continued, her confidence swelling when she mistook my silence as fear.
I swapped us with a set of chairs in another building at the edge of my Room, following along the team that killed Cindy, putting Stormfront, Starlight, and Black Noir out of my range. Popclaw flinched at the transition, suddenly finding herself with no wall to lean on. We were in an office building that seemed to have been evacuated on account of the violence filling the air outside on the streets. "So, you're telling me… that I have A-Train's girl?" I asked her, and I could see the confidence crumbled to be replaced with dread.
A-Train. I couldn't tell who was more disappointing -- him, or the Deep. The Deep was little more than a frat boy. A-Train was an incompetent hack that lucked out with his super power, which he wasted. Super speed was hard to beat. It's why I targeted the supes that I did. I wasn't in a position to punish the Deep -- not yet, at least -- but it did seem that a golden opportunity had fallen directly into my lap. The world taketh and the world giveth, it would seem
"Oh, you should not have told me that, Popclaw. You should not have told me that," I told her, and she just wilted. "Room," I intoned, making another room to keep pace with the team of three, following them all the way to a basement of a building in midtown. From a cursory look inside, I saw that it was likely their base given the amount of tools that were located within. The presence of what seemed to be a prototype of the gun that killed Cindy sealed the deal.
I stood up, looking down at Popclaw and weighed my options. Before reality reared its ugly head, I don't think I would do this. I had wanted to take down the heroes and while I didn't particularly care about collateral damage one way or the other, it hadn't ever been a goal. Unfortunately for the heroes and Vought, the goal post had moved. It was about destroying them completely and utterly now. It was about breaking them.
And few things drove men wild like touching their pussy.
"Kimiko," I spoke up, looking at the girl, who looked down at Popclaw with a hard-to-read expression before looking back up at me. “I’m calling a car. Take her whereever Devil’s Child takes her. Keep her honest,” I said, continuing to look down at Popclaw, who hid her face in the palms of her hands. I shot a text over to Robin, who gave an affirmative. With that, I kicked my feet up and went to the kitchen and turned the TV on while I made myself a sandwich. My awareness came in handy there, letting me maneuver around the middle-to-high-income apartment like I had lived there all my life.
“-pure chaos on the streets with Heartless deliberately targeting known heroes. As of this time, it is unknown what his intentions are-... what was that?” The new reporter got a live update while I grabbed the works from the fridge -- ham, lettuce, tomato, and I got a thing of bacon cooking while I was at it. “This just in -- Heartless has been rebuffed due to the combined efforts of Starlight, Black Noir, and a hero named Stormfront. They laid an ambush for the villain and succeeded in killing one of his co-conspirators, chasing him off.” The lies were already pouring forth.
Kimiko helped herself to the shower, and by the time she washed off all the blood, she reentered the living room wearing some stolen clothing, I had a sandwich ready for her. None for Popclaw, though. I wasn’t willing to skimp out on sandwich meat to make a third. The news played Vought’s version of the story, painting the heroes in the best light possible. A silver lining in the river of shit that they found themselves neck deep in.
Popclaw went with Kimiko with relative ease, too afraid to do anything but what we said. Robin drove them off after I teleported them into the car as it drove by, leaving me to focus on the interlopers. I wasn’t just making myself a sandwich or listening to the news -- I was trying to pluck at the soundwaves from the basement. They were a jumbled mess, and worse, they were severely weakened on the trek over to me, but I could start listening in on the conversation that they were having.
“We need to burn this place,” A man with a french accent exclaimed, and it would seem that they were having bit of a fight after their failure to kill me. “We don’t know how his power works exactly. Better safe than sorry.”
“Now, Frenchie,” the black guy said, his voice calm but firm, “I don’t know if you noticed, but it’s an absolute shit show out there. Any place we could duck down into is getting raided by Homeland security and we don’t want to get tangled up in that even by accident. I say we park our asses here until this blows over.”
Frenchie. That name was a little on the nose.
“And we missed our fuckin’ shot at him. Raynor is going to be furious with us,” he added. That… name sounded familiar. I think. I might need to refresh myself on the info that Cinder had been feeding us.
“Shut it, both you,” The third man interjected with a distinct British accent. “Nuthin’ to be done about it -- we’re stuck here for now, for better or worse. We popped the head of Heartless’ sweetheart… that's a win, yeah?” Hmm… right… right -- Raynor was the deputy director of the CIA, huh? Neat. And this was a black ops team then? Didn’t really seem like it. They were clever enough based on the odds and ends I was seeing, but I expected a black ops team to be… professional.
“A win. That’s what you called Translucent. Fuck me. The timing on that, huh?” Frenchie muttered, sounding stressed and strung out. That caught my attention. I was about to leave it be, pass the info over to Robin to see if she could do anything with it. Now, they had my undivided attention. “We-”
“Hello,” I announced myself, finding a bolt that was on a chair before swapping places with it. I sat down, seeing the men with my eyes for the first time. Frenchie and the black guy responded first, their hands going down to their belts for their guns, only to find them replaced with dildos. Some middle-aged ladies would be very confused when they reached for their best friend tonight. I didn’t pay them much mind, my gaze going to the British one.
“Fuck! Fuck you, Milk! I fucking told you. I told you,” Frenchie half snarled at Milk, the words vindictive. Milk just looked on in disgust at the dildo that he had been holding before he wiped his hand on Frenchie’s jacket.
“Well, if it ain’t the cunt of the hour,” the British one said, a wide smile on his face. Hate shone in his eyes as he regarded me with nothing but the utmost contempt. “We’s was just talking about you.”
“I know. I overheard. So, you’re the ones that killed Translucent, then?” I asked, glancing around the room. I took notice where the hidden guns were. The same hidden guns that Milk was slowly inching to, doing his best to make it look casual.
“That we be,” the British one confirmed and there was a proud vindictive glee in his voice. My gaze never wavered from him. He was… “We would have popped your noggin' open like a grape too if ya hadn’t switched places with that girl. Here to avenge your friend?” He asked me, confidently striding forward.
I think I like him. “Wasn’t my friend,” I corrected. “Why go after Translucent? I do appreciate getting the credit for that, even if I would have preferred to earn it, by the way.” I remarked, and something in my tone caught his attention. I could see it. He saw it too, in that moment, if I had to be all poetic about it.
We were cut from the same cloth.
I’m not sure what his motive was. I didn’t particularly care either. In the brief exchange, I knew everything that I needed to know about him. He was a man on a mission and he didn’t care about the costs of seeing through. He didn’t care about the collateral damage. He didn’t care about the sacrifices. He didn’t even care about living to see his work completed, so long as it got done.
“I believe that,” he said, taking a seat across from me while the other two looked on with conflicted expressions, “is part of a much longer story.” He masked what he was with British charm and cheeky smiles, but I could smell it on him. I found myself smiling right back at him.
“I have time to hear it…” I trailed off, and his smile grew a fraction.
“William. William Butcher.”
