Chaotic Clusterfuck 9 (Patreon)

Chaotic Clusterfuck

Chapter 9

-VB-

Chakra was the most versatile tool that I had in my arsenal, and one that, thanks to the perks I took in the CYOA, had been easy to develop. I highly doubted that a new chakra user could have summoned shadow clones and pull off techniques after techniques like I had in my brief fight with the pirates. 

Between that and the shared experiences of my permanent clones, I was gaining experience and knowledge on how to use chakra way too quickly. 

So quickly that I was beginning to fear it would become my primary source of combat method outside of Ajins, which were broken as fuck. Like… right now, I had almost forty ajins roaming the city! And no one could interact or defend from them because no one else in this world had an ajin of their own! 

Still, when it came to fighting other capes, chakra was the way to go. Otherwise, I would never improve and people dropping dead from invisible attacks might give away something about said invisible assailants, no?

And -.

… Oh.

Oh, hello Coil.

One of my ajins just found a way into Coil’s underground base. 

… I could just kill him right now. He was probably plotting something against someone and eventually I would be pulled into it. 

Or I could spy on him for as long as I need to find out all of his secrets and then I could go and kill him. There were a lot of ways I could go about ending him, so why end it so quickly without gaining anything? 

… Actually, why end him when I can fuck him up? 

Mentally, of course.

-VB-

Thomas stared at his desk.

It was his desk at his house, and it looked off. 

He didn’t understand what was bothering him, though.

He walked around the room and then around the desk itself. He stopped when he noticed the indents on his carpet right next to where the legs of the desk were and realized what had been bothering him: the desk was out of place. 

After only a shrug, he pushed the desk back into place. 

‘I must have pushed it out of place somehow,’ he thought. There wasn’t any bug in his room; he already checked, so unless some random person broke into his house without breaking anything just to push his desk out of place, only he would have touched his own desk.

Ergo, he pushed it out of place somehow.

It wasn’t a big deal.

---

“What do you mean there must be an infiltrator because ‘all of the guns have been swapped around?’” Coil asked the mercenary captain who was in charge of the company he hired. 

“All of the guns have been swapped in the armory. They aren’t in the place they are supposed to be, and all of my boys and I know that we weren’t the ones to do it,” the gruff man with a scar over his left cheek replied. “M4s in AK racks. AKs in M4 racks. That sort of thing.”

“... And you are sure none of your men did it? That they didn’t get drunk and decided to have some fun?”

“If it was one of mine, then you’ll see them crawling everywhere on their fours for the next month.”

Humiliation. Coil liked that, even if it meant that there would be an idiot alive and on the loose. 

“I will check with the other captains.”

---

Coil held his head in his hands after he closed a timeline. 

His mercenaries… failed to carry out a simple operation. 

It was supposed to an operation to increase the tension between the smaller periphery gangs so that the Empire or the ABB will have to come out to deal with the issue. 

But instead, something went wrong with where and what his mercenaries were doing and they were discovered way too early. Instead of his targeted gangs attacking each other, they teamed up to attack his mercenaries when they realized his men were about to trick them.

He closed the timeline when it looked like his men were about to lose. 

But the problem was that this didn’t happen once but multiple times, sometimes in ways he didn’t see but other times in ways that were just … stupid.

Like one of his men tripping on a rock and making loud enough noises to alert everyone in the block.

He sighed before making a new timeline.

Time to go again.

---

Thomas wanted to shout.

He wanted to rage.

He wanted to shoot someone (preferably the smug bitch “Lisa”) but he couldn’t.

Because he was in PRT’s containment tank on one of the rare timelines that he didn’t have a extra simulation active. 

“What is your name?” the PRT goon sitting across the table from him asked. For the fourteenth time in the last twenty-four hours.

“Thomas Calvert,” he ground out. 

“What is your position in relation to the PRT ENE branch?”

“Consultant.” Was he being curt and snapping off at the goon? Why yes. He had been stuck in containment tank for the last twenty-four fucking hours! 

“And why are you here?”

“Because I mouthed off Piggot after she mouthed me off.”

“And do you not think that it was unusual of you to do so?”

“I have had a very stressful few days.”

Everything from desk out of place, dumb mercenary minions, more than half of his operations going awry with no chance of recovery, and, finally, fucking Piggot being her usual bitch self.

“I see.”

‘No, you don’t see, you fucker! The moment I get my hands on a gun, I’m going to blow your fucking -!’

---

Thomas … was tired. 

After a full week of dumb shenanigans… he was just done.

“Why am I here?” he muttered to himself while staring up at his bedroom ceiling. “What am I doing?”

It’s been only a short time since he got his power, but it had been such a boon in his life as a tool that a lot of the trivialities of life were solved with it. Whether it was his own indulgences or actually critical matters, it solved it all.

And yet, this week felt like life spitting on him for daring to have such a convenient tool. Something seemed to go wrong all of the time.

All of the time, regardless of the timeline. 

… All of the time.

All of the time?

His brows furrowed. 

All of the time? 

He sat up with his eyes wide.

“All of the time,” he muttered and felt himself go pale. “But that’s impossible.”

Someone was fucking with him. Literally. There was a Stranger that no one could detect fucking with him and his operations. 

He jumped out of his bed and immediately stopped. 

The door to his bedroom was closed.

He never closed that door.

Then the light in the room flickered.

Thomas slowly turned around. His heart started thundering in his ears. 

He looked up at the ceiling light that was flickering before he looked back down and around the room in a slow, methodical manner. He couldn’t afford to lose a single iota of detail.

As his eyes roamed across the glass windows and the furniture…

He spotted a doll he never owned before.

“Ah, hell no,” he muttered when he saw a Good Guys Doll sitting in his armchair. He drew his gun and fired.

When he stopped firing, the doll was missing and the bullets had riddled only the armchair. 

“Why so serious?”

His eyes slowly drifted down, and standing next to him was the same doll. Instead of the placid smile, it was now scowling at him with a sadistic grin. Its unmoving face was painted in white, green, and purple. It stood there without support and tugged at his pants leg.

With a kitchen knife in the other hand.

“Why so serious?”

He screamed. 

-VB-

On the other side of the city, I was howling with laughter.