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See No Evil: Existential Answers (ch. 23)
🕑 Added 2020-12-09 15:28:34 +0000 UTCWhen people talked about finding god, I don't think this is what they meant. My jaw just about hit the floor as Snowflame, with his eyes burning with white fire, touched the ground. There was a moment of silence as everyone seemed to pause to acknowledge that the god of cocaine was, in fact, real, and we were also standing in his presence. Or, in my case, cowering behind a few crates.
"OhOh, LordMost, grantFaithful meYour thePrayer strengthShall toBe defeatAnswered these ignorant heathens," Snowflame and the god of cocaine spoke as one, their voices overlapping. In response to his words, the white fire around Snowflame surged. The ninjas around him cautiously circled him, but none dared attack until the white fire moved towards them. Two ninjas backed off while the other three moved in, each throwing a punch or a kick.
The white fire washed over them like a tidal wave -- with the heat, I thought they would be burnt away, but the fire just rolled over them with physical force because they were blasted back.
"This Is My Gift To You -- Contact High!" The god of cocaine spoke, his words reverberating through the hangar. The ninjas that were hit by the white fire all shot to their feet, all seeming to vibrate on the spot. One went in for another attack, only to be attacked by another when they kicked them in the gut. The two started to exchange blows, but something was weird -- the fighting was faster, more urgent, and sloppier. They could still kick my ass though.
The third, however, just started swinging his sword back and forth, the sound of air splitting seemed to fascinate him.
The other two backed off, uncertain what was going on. But it was too late. The moment for hesitation had passed and Revy resumed the fight by shooting one of the ninjas in the head. With the bang that rang out, the rest of the forces in the fight resumed, but I only had eyes on Snowflame. The other ninja tried to launch an attack, only for his fist to touch the flames. Then he just started running. As in he started to run laps around the hangar.
Snowflame only had eyes for me as well. He walked towards me, white fire shaped footprints marking his trail with each step. Every muscle went taut, ready to spring into action. I… I just meddled with forces beyond my understanding. I hadn't meant to, but I did and now a god was approaching me.
"Deliverer, You Have My Thanks. My Chosen Believer Has Been Rewarded For His Faith Due To Your Actions," the god of Cocaine said. "For This, You Shall Have A Boon." I…
What in the actual fuck was going on here? I just wanted to give Snowflame a power-up so he could kill the Ninjas. Now I was-
"Very Well. You Seek Protection From Forces Beyond You. But They Are Not Beyond Me," The god of cocaine spoke, turning around to face the ninjas as I dimly realized what had just happened. How he spoke… I didn't have to say what I wanted. The… god had read my mind.
I swallowed thickly as white fire gathered in his hands. This… I'm not going to lie, I was struggling a bit to accept what I was watching before my very eyes. It didn't feel real, in a way. I knew this was the DC universe, and there were all kinds of wacky shit that would make my head spin -- aliens, magic… gods. But… it was different actually seeing it. Knowing it was real and seeing it was real were two very different things.
The god of cocaine held out a hand aimed towards the ninjas that were sparring and this time when the white flames washed over them… there was nothing left. Not even the stench of burnt flesh or hair. It was like they had never been there in the first place. And with the action, the god made himself the enemy of all of the ninjas.
"Retreat, there will be another day," David Cain said, sounding like he was in complete control of the situation. He stood across from Cassandra, standing tall, but I saw that he would be sporting a black eye. Cass, on the other hand, seemed fine. That was good. Great. I hadn't noticed that they had started to fight.
The ninjas started to back off from Revy, who also looked fine minus a cut above her eye that dripped blood down her face. She snarled when the ninjas tried to run, but when she pulled the trigger, her guns clicked empty. But she wasn't the only one with a gun.
Mine was in hand, the safety was off and I had a decent shot. Even still, I didn't pull the trigger. I didn't need to. And pulling the trigger right now… I might kill a ninja or two, but I would be shooting myself in the foot. My contacts were recording, and Cassandra's confidence in me was already shaken.
"You Have Slain My Faithful, And You Wish To Live? Such Hubris," the god of cocaine spoke before he snapped his fingers and the hangar became fire. White fire crawled over the walls, the heat of it singing my back before I threw myself into the other side of the crates. Within a split second, the hangar was covered in dancing white flames. Any path of escape was cut off.
David frowned as he looked at the god of cocaine, turning his body to the side to make a smaller target. Cassandra stood not far away, looking between her father and Snowflame. Before she settled on looking at Snowflame, her hands curled into fists.
God damn it.
I looked at Revy, who snarled at the ninjas that were retreating back to David's side. She saw me out of the corner of her eye, glancing at me, and it was because of that she caught the gun I tossed at her while I pressed a finger on the earpiece in my mask. "Wait until he makes his move," I told her.
The god of cocaine had to kill David and the ninjas. For a multitude of reasons.
"There Is No Escape For You Are In A Hell Of Your Own Making. So Says I," the god of cocaine uttered. The ninjas retreated to David's side, some forming around him while others moved into position to attack the god of cocaine. I didn’t hear Snowflame's voice anymore, and I was really starting to worry that the transformation was permanent. Meaning I more or less accidentally created the cocaine version of Jesus, and I wasn’t ready emotionally to make fuck up on that level.
David Cain didn’t respond, but based on his grim expression, he realized exactly how screwed he was. But, he spared a glance at his daughter and the edges of his lips rose into a tight lip smile. “Blood calls to blood, my daughter,” he said to Cassandra, though she couldn’t understand a single word. And… that was just another reason to kill him.
He made her unable to understand words. Any words. Cassandra’s childhood would make the devil jump out of his seat, and he was proud of the torture he inflicted on her to create the perfect assassin. And he had the fucking balls to consider himself her father. No. No, that shit would not fly.
I needed him dead for my own safety. I wanted him dead for what he did to Cassandra.
Cassandra didn’t react, but she edged away from David while her focus remained on the god of cocaine. I slowed as I neared, eyeing the ninjas that eyed me right back. I summoned up another gun, the rifle looted from a corpse back when the Blackgater mess began. I took aim, Revy doing the same, but we didn’t fire. Not yet. God was calling the shots at the moment.
“He Who Would Call Me An Enemy, He Who Would Slay The Faithful -- Begone,” the god uttered, making a sweeping gesture to the ninjas and Cassandra. White flames surged towards the group, the words making my heart jump to my throat. The latter didn’t apply to her, but the former sure did. That was enough to make me certain that Cassandra was about to die. She reacted to the flames, only for them to grow -- she wasn’t going to outrun them or-
My finger pulled the trigger. Not at the Avatar of the Cocaine God, but at Cassandra. A quick burst of fire that, against all odds, hit their mark. Bullets tore through her legs, making her drop to the floor. In that same moment, I ran forward -- making a gamble as I dove for her. Heat washed over my body, an incredible heat that felt like I had just been stuck in an oven, only it passed in a moment when I tackled Cassandra to the ground.
Cassandra squirmed underneath me, pushing me off not a second later. I got off of her, looking down at myself to find that I was still fine. The same couldn’t be said for David and the ninjas. They were gone. Vanished without a trace. I let out a relieved breath as the white flames on the walls and ceiling faded into nothing, though I wasn’t quite sure what I was relieved about.
That me and Cass were alive or that David wasn’t.
I turned around to look at the god of cocaine to see that he wore a smile on his face, “My Time In This World Is Nearing The End. Oh, Deliverer, Share In The Bounty That Is My Love. Spread Word Of The Gospel, Thus The World Shall Accept Me In Their Noses And Hearts.” As the god spoke, his voice humming with power, the white fire dimmed in his eyes. Then it vanished entirely before Snowflame dropped to his knees, his chest heaving as he greedily gulped down air.
I… was I just given a literal god-given mission? I wasn’t sure how I was feeling about this. I wasn’t sure at all.
“What the fuck just happened?” Revy demanded, waving the gun at Snowflame while I turned my attention to Cassandra. She looked at me with narrowed eyed -- and that was fair. I did shoot her -- but, I quickly unsealed some bandages I had in my cards. I was prepared to get shot, so I was prepared.
A tube of paste appeared from a card, as did C-Rank bandages. Squirting the paste onto the bandages, I looked at Cassandra and tried to convey that I wanted to help her. Her expression didn’t betray the pain that she must be feeling. She kept a blank look on her face,but she nodded, showing that I had permission. I looked down at the damage and saw that each leg had been hit, with her right leg being hit twice. I had been aiming for the calves to avoid any arteries, but one bullet had come dangerously close to kneecapping her.
I wrapped the bandage around her legs, making sure that the paste was directly over the wounds. It wasn’t miracle paste, not yet, but it had a shit ton of healing agents in it. Painkillers, medicine, and the like -- things that would stimulate the healing process.
“Vergil, what the fuck?” Revy demanded to know, sounding about as lost as I felt. Before I could answer, I heard Snowflame let out a breathy laugh as he got himself under control. He looked up at me and I saw that there were tears streaming down his face. His expression was hard to describe because words fell short. Joyous was probably the closest, but…
It was the expression of a man that had been proven right. Of a man that had been chosen by his god, touched by his god, and had his god speak to him. And I did not like how he was looking at me.
“I… how can… how can I ever thank you?” Snowflame asked me, on his hands and knees, tears streaming down his face in rivers that rapidly formed a small puddle on the ground. Even Cassandra looked a bit put out by the sheer reverence Snowflame looked at me with. I didn’t answer because I had no idea how to answer.
The god of cocaine just showed up and erased my problems. David Cain was dead, as were his ninjas. I was in the clear. If anyone had survived, like a man on the outside to act as reinforcements, then they would learn that Snowflame was the threat and my role would be overshadowed by an actual god showing up. After all, I was just a two bit thug. And since David was dead, Cassandra was also in the clear.
There was just one small issue.
“I… the deal with my employer… I had to use about half of what you gave me to-”
“To grant me communion with God,” Snowflame finished for me, his eyes shining and I could practically hear the capital G. I couldn’t blame him for that. That had been… I saw a hint of the totem pole. In Gotham, you have small gangs, then organized crime like Mr. Cobblepot, then major villains… Here, I saw the hierarchy. Thugs lost to ninjas and ninjas lost to… a god. An actual god. “The deal will stand -- I...I I’ll refund what I took as a gesture of good faith and you can have the remaining half. The next delivery will be in full, Deliverer!”
This was the issue. I...I think I just became the equivalent to… fucking Moses or something in a new cocaine based religion. And I don’t think literal god-given missions were something that I could blow off. I mean, I could but when actual divine retribution was on the table, I didn’t think I wanted to.
“Would it be possible for… for me to…” Snowflame couldn’t even finish the words. This was weirding me out, but I had to think. The goal of wiping my hands clean of the dirty business took a small hit with literal divine intervention. Mostly because I could see it on Snowflame’s face that there was a snowball’s chance in hell that he would just leave me alone. Not when I was the only one that could open up a direct connection to his god.
I… this was a real mess, and I needed to make the most of it.
“I don’t see why not, but it looks like it takes about fifty million to open up a direct line for a few minutes. If you ever get into a situation where you can spare that much, then sure. But, uh, spreading the word comes first. And all of that,” I added somewhat awkwardly. Snowflame nodded, eating the words up. It was then that it clicked into the place. This guy, Snowflame -- he was on my side. Completely and utterly.
How could I use a loyal connection to a religious drug lord in Brazil?
It said a lot about me that I could think of quite a number of things. I could ask for the other fifty million. Hell, I could probably ask for the hundred million and he'd give it to me without a second thought. But… with the contacts, it would look bad on me to do that, and… it wasn't the smart play. Upward to a hundred million was one hell of a payday for a quick and easy solution, but the smart play was to bide my time.
The Batfamily was circling in. I was building my case against Mr. Cobblepot to break away from the criminal elements. I was also given a task by an actual god.
I wanted to win this. All of this. Everything. I wanted to come out at the very top of all of my problems.
I hadn't forgotten what had nearly happened in that alley with the cops. Or the promise I made myself when I had walked down Crime Alley.
So, I would find a way to put myself on top.
"For now, just do that," I told him, seeing that he was waiting for further instruction. My contacts were recording everything, and it would look pretty suspicious if I cut the recording now. The thing was -- I could always give the guy a call. "We'll be in touch," I told him, earning a desperate nod as I turned to look at Cassandra. Her expression was blank, no trace of pain to be seen. That… I had been shot before so I knew exactly how much it hurt.
What do you have to do to a person to make them unable to react to getting shot?
I made the sign for A, placed my fist at my chest, and moved it into a circle -- the ASL sign for sorry or regret. I put both on my expression, trying to convey the meaning. "Sorry," I spoke the word. In comics, Cass' ability to speak had been caused by a wizard or something. Sign language seemed to help bridge that gap, but I wasn't sure how much Cass really understood. Gesturing to her, I waited for a small curt nod before I picked her up.
Her head twisted to where David had been killed, watching the spot like she expected him to appear from thin air. Given that he was a literal ninja, that… was probably fair. But, he was dead and I could only hope that getting killed by a god was enough to put him down for good.
I glanced at Snowflame and saw that he was still on his hands and knees, silently crying out of pure joy. Looking to Revy, she seemed like she still had no clue what was going on. "Uh, Snowflame? Would it be possible to get her a passport? With her legs like this, I think it's probably best if she-" I started, only for Snowflame to shoot to his feet.
"Of course, anything you need Deliverer," Snowflame said, saying the word with awe and love.
Right.
It was time to go home.
…
There wasn't a sudden hurricane on the way back, so the three of us arrived in Gotham airport with no trouble. There was a line of taxis waiting for customers. I looked at them, before I glanced at Revy as I pushed Cassandra's wheelchair. "Could you bring her to Dr. Thompkins? I have to report in-"
"What the hell was all of that?" Revy cut me off, her eyes narrowing to slits. But she took the bars of Cassandra's wheelchair all the same.
I considered how to answer -- the flight had been a long one. Long enough for me to replay everything that had happened in my head and to consider all possibilities and outcomes.
"It was nothing out of the ordinary, Revy," I told her, an edge in my voice. She shot me a sharp look in response to that.
"You said to expect the Justice League or whatever, not…" Revy started before she blew out a breath and shook her head. "Never mind. It was nothing out of the ordinary. And you owe me another fucking LMG, dickhead."
That got a small huff from me as my lips quirked up into a grin. "I'll fix it up for you. And add something special as an apology," I added when Revy seemed unappeased.
"Better. You don't want any help with the Penguin?" She asked, flagging down a taxi.
"I'm good. I can handle the Penguin," I told her before I looked down at Cassandra, who seemed to be looking around with interest. Reaching down, I gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze, making her look up at me for a brief moment. It was impossible to tell, but I think she got the message. Glancing back up at Revy, I said, "She was shot during a shootout and you found her, patched her up some, then came to the Clinic for a second opinion. I'll see you there if you don't beat me back home."
Revy nodded, "Yeah, yeah," she dismissed before we helped Cassandra into a taxi before she and Revy drove off. I flagged one for myself and got in. The taxi drove me to the Lounge, allowing me to gather my thoughts. And to get my story straight.
In no time at all, I arrived at my destination. Paying my fair, I stepped out of the taxi. After everything, I half expected it to look a bit different. Only everything was the exact same. Shaking my head free of the thoughts, I started to walk forward and entered the Lounge. The doorman straightened when he saw me, "Mr. Cobblepot said to take you to him."
I nodded, having expected that, before I turned on the recording device. As I was led up the stairs, I straightened out my suit and brushed a few strands of hair into place before I reached out to open the doors. As they swung open, I saw Mr. Cobblepot and Mr. Wake, with the former sitting behind his desk while the latter stood before it. Behind them were Candy and Tracey.
"Ah, Saint Vergil, do you have a gift for me?" Mr. Cobblepot asked, a smile on his face. I offered a small smile in return -- this was the moment of truth. The start to building up some serious, irrefutable evidence against Mr. Cobblepot. Fucking up was not an option.
"I have half of a gift -- there was an issue on the job," I said, making the smile slip as I pulled out my deck of cards. Mr. Wake looked furious as his eyes narrowed into slits, but before he could begin, I continued. "We were attacked at the exchange after you transferred the money-"
Mr. Wake shot forward, "After I sent a hundred mill? That fucking-" he started, only to be cut off in turn when Mr. Cobblepot slammed his cane against his desk to shut him up. Mr. Wake glared at me, before looking behind him to meet Mr. Cobblepot's glare.
"Who attacked?" Mr. Cobblepot asked, looking directly into my eyes. His glare was as sharp as a knife and twice as deadly. Even still, I met it evenly.
"A rival drug lord. Small-time. Snowflame believes that they heard about the deal and planned to hit it, steal the cocaine and the money, and make off to use them to fund an ongoing drug war that's been going on for a while now," I lied to him, keeping myself calm. My heart rate was steady, I avoided the common tells -- I had practiced this story for hours.
I wanted to leave the League of Shadows out of the story. Because bringing them up would lead to questions of why the League of Shadows had attacked a drug deal, which would have been an odd choice for a league of assassins. That train of thought could lead Mr. Cobblepot to Cassandra, or the fact that the League had tried to kidnap me. Which would, in turn, end with him making an offer of protection for me and Cassandra. An offer that I wouldn't be able to refuse.
His men would be on me like glue and any wiggle room I had left would be tightened up. I wouldn't be able to combine cards, plot to break away from the mob, or anything else without Mr. Cobblepot finding out.
Mr. Cobblepot let out a small breath, "A familiar story," he remarked. That was the reason I picked it. It was close enough to a truth that it didn't feel like I was lying.
"Yeah… but we repelled the attackers this time instead of losing everything. I have two pallets worth fifty million, and Snowflame, as a gesture of good faith, refunded fifty million of what you sent over for the full amount. If the trade deal is still on, he promises to have the full amount next time," I told them, glancing at the two of them before I pulled out three cards.
Mr. Cobblepot made a gesture off to the side, so that's where I tossed the cards. And there three pallets appeared. Two were cocaine and one was money. And fifty million dollars looked exactly as I thought it would. It was several feet of neatly stacked cash of various denominations.
"What happened to the other two pallets?" Mr. Wake asked, a foot bouncing in place. He seemed… nervous. I thought that bringing fifty million back would smooth things over, but that didn't seem to be the case with Mr. Wake. I'm guessing he had something riding on this deal.
I shifted a bit, "Uh… well, Snowflame kinda… snorted them?" I told them, telling the truth. Technically. I got blank stares in response, prompting me to continue, "I'm serious. When we were getting hit, his guys got hit the hardest. Most of them that were there died. Snowflame needed a power-up because his powers -- pyrokinesis -- are fueled by cocaine. And there doesn't seem to be an upper limit on how much he can take, because the guy just did two pallets worth of coke like it was a normal line."
That gave them a distraction, "How powerful was he?" Mr. Cobblepot asked, sounding interested.
"Very. His fire can either give you a contact high, or they can burn you into nothing. Not even ash or slag is left," I answered, leaving out the whole god business. That was best left under my hat for now. "But that's not something he can do on the fly. I can't say for certain, but he would need to snort several millions worth of coke to reach those levels." To that, Mr. Cobblepot nodded while Mr. Wake dragged a hand over his face.
"The bastard snorted it," he muttered to himself. I sent him a glance, really starting to wonder what his deal was. But, if Mr. Cobblepot wasn’t going to say anything, then I wasn’t going to ask.
I nodded, confirming the story. “Also… if you do intend to continue working with him, then treat him like you would a bible thumper. Cocaine is his religion. That’s not an exaggeration -- cocaine is literally his god.”
Mr. Cobblepot let out a chuckle, “So, kid gloves and nodding your head when they talk about their imaginary friend.” He said before he leaned forward a bit. “Good. Sounds like it was a mess, but it all worked out in the end. Wake, pay the man for services rendered.” He ordered, and Mr. Wake shot me a look. There was a very telling moment of hesitation before he walked over to the pallet of money and grabbed a few stacks.
I counted as he picked it up. I wasn’t the only one, I learned when he stopped at half of the agreed-upon amount. “Pay the man in full for services rendered. He fulfilled his end of the bargain -- the cocaine was delivered without the hassle of normal trade routes,” Mr. Cobblepot said, his tone every bit as sharp as his glare.
Mr. Wake paused for another telling second before he grabbed the money and brought it over to me. Stacks of bills. He handed them over to me, and I sealed them within my money card. “For services rendered. We’ll need to talk it out with Snowflame, but it is likely that I will need your services again.” He didn’t mean a single word, but that was fine.
“Happy to be of service,” I told him, earning a very tightlipped smile. “I’ll be back home when you need me,” I said, glancing at Mr. Cobblepot to see him nod. I took my cue as a dismissal, only to stop when Mr. Cobblepot started talking.
“When did you start wearing contacts?” He asked suddenly, and it was hard to fight off that jolt of panic that I felt, but I did fight it off. It was an incredible thing that he could scare the hell out of me more than standing in the presence of a cocaine-fueled deity.
Turning to look at him, I answered. “I stopped by the clinic before I went to Brazil to make sure that I didn’t catch any diseases like malaria. Dr. Thompkins did an eye exam just to be thorough, and we found out that I have astigmatism in both my eyes. I’ve spent most of my life blind as a bat. Didn’t have a clue. I thought blurs were just how things looked to everyone,” I said, speaking the truth with a twist. I did go to the clinic, I did have astigmatism in both my eyes, but I learned that in high school when I tried to get my learners permit. Nothing too bad, just not 20/20.
Mr. Cobblepot let out a small huff before he made a dismissive gesture, clearly amused, and I could only hope that he bought the story. I nodded and started walking away, leaving the drugs and people behind me. And as the doors closed, I let out a breath I had been holding since I entered the building.
That had gone as well as it could have. The recording would be a good start, but it wasn’t as ironclad as I would like. I would need more, but I was in a good spot. A great spot, really.
The League of Shadows was off my trail. Snowflame… he was an ace in my pocket. I asked him to keep quiet about my involvement, and the League of Shadows -- basically giving him the same story I had just recited. Because now, I had a drug lord with superpowers in Brazil at my back. Serious money, serious connections, and if it came right down to it, he had some serious firepower to bring to the table.
Snowflame was also my ticket out if worse came to worst. If 7th Heaven failed, if the Batfamily circled in like vultures, if I had to abandon Gotham, then Snowflame was my safe harbor. He would take me in, along with whoever else wanted to jump ship with me, and all I had to do was ask. He was the plan B.
I was adding cards to my hand to play, and I could feel it in my bones that I would need every single one of them and more when it came time to play my hand. So, I had to bide my time. Gather my allies, build up my base of strength, establish my reputation and when that time came, I would be ready.
For now, though? Now it was time to go home.
Comments
Denis Safiev
Just means that Cassandra won't blame him even by proxy.
Artillery
So, do you want to bet David Cain and his ninjas are trapped in the Cocaine Dimension rather then dead? Or would Purgatory for the god of Cocaine be a place where you are constantly in withdraw with nothing to stop it?
Lucas Thompson
Vergil is falling for the old trope! If there is no body, expect that the person isn't really dead.
