Wretched Joy 10 (Patreon)

A/N: decided to nap. Slept for 7 hours. “Where does time go…?”

-VB-

Commissioned by Southmonk

Wretched Joy

Chapter 10

-VB-

October 20, 2010

With an entire faction within the Empire Eighty-Eight killed and their minions scattered or left to be picked up by the soon to be bloated other factions of said white supremacy gang, I expected the PRT to do something.

To be better.

To show that they cared! 

Even if I had already become a cynical, murderous monster, I wanted to believe in my friends from before all of this. 

But days passed. 

A week passed. 

Even more days passed. 

Nothing. 

I stared at the TV. I stared at the computer. I even had a HAM radio I stole from the E88 with police radio channels tapped into. 

Nothing. 

I gave them an opportunity of the year if not the decade but they did nothing with it. They holed up in their headquarters and Downtown while delegating the rich town’s defense to New Wave and independents. 

They did nothing.

I stared down at my criminal detection compass as I gave it the day’s charge to it.

‘I guess if I want something, then I have to do it myself,’ I thought with disgust. It was such a cliche and overused phrase, but in this case, it really was the case. 

But as I started putting on my gear one at a time, I began to wonder. 

If the PRT wasn’t going to help, then was PRT also part of the problem? I didn’t know what PRT was like outside of Brockton Bay. I may have been part of PRT before I died but I never worked for them outside of my home city, and it wasn’t as if PRT liked to gossip beyond loudly banging out good news to the public with their access to news channels. There were simply too many events ongoing at the same time for any rumor to stick for more than a few hours. 

But even if I didn’t know what the rest of PRT was like, I knew first hand what this PRT was like. 

The very same PRT that got me and my coworkers killed and will continue to get people killed with its ineffective operations. 

I, who had less eyes and hands than they did, got more done in a few months than the decades that they have been around. 

‘... Perhaps the PRT itself is a problem,’ I thought as I tightened the belt around my waist. ‘And if they are a problem, then I need to get rid of them, too…’ 

… If they really were a problem, then I wanted to end them last. Give them time to change. To be better. 

Right now, though, I needed to hunt. 

I pulled out my compass again.

“Find me Krieg.”

-VB-

Max stared out into the city from the windows of his personal office at the top of the Medhall Tower. 

First, it was Cricket. Then it was Stormtiger.

And finally, Hookwolf. 

All three fell to Everyday Joe.

What a fucking name… 

Max walked over to his office desk and sat. 

He needed to get rid of that thorn in his side, but how was he going to get rid of him? That cape couldn’t be found, struck whenever they were isolated, and overwhelmed his enemies so thoroughly that no one survived the experience. 

Only the heroes lived to see him, and that’s because Joe wasn’t out to kill them.

Worse, Everyday Joe seemed to know exactly where his people operated. He didn’t care if you were a cape or a regular person. If he suspected that you were a member of the E88, then you were dead. 

The problem was that Max couldn’t even go looking for the bastard. Oh, everyone knew where he hung around. His little “fear field” made that very clear. 

The problem was the fear field itself. It was … designed. It wasn’t indiscriminate as most powers were. Everyday Joe specifically targetted criminals and their associates, even if the associates weren’t criminals themselves. Anyone who entered the field as a criminal ended up screaming in fear. Everyone now knew who was a criminal simply by looking for who screamed in fear and who didn’t. 

This limited a huge part of the Downtown and the Downtown Coast from everyone except the civilians. 

Hell, even civilians weren’t safe from the fear field because Joe’s definition of “criminal” was pretty strict. He won’t make someone scream and piss in daylight nightmare for jaywalking but even a little bit of embezzlement? Even stealing a fifty cent candy? 

A lot of kids and soft white-collar workers got traumatized.

Actually, that’s how he found out that some of his own managers have been embezzling from him. For that alone, he could forgive Joe for giving him one nightmare. It won’t change the fact that he would skewer the bastard if he ever met him in person but it also didn’t mean that he wouldn’t give credit where it’s due.

But he really needed to find and kill that bastard as soon as possible -.

Trrinnngg.

He picked up his personal phone. “This is Max-.”

“Good afternoon, Kaiser.”

He froze. 

“Who is this? This is Max Anders, not -.”

The voice on the other side laughed. 

“It’s okay. You don’t have to pretend. It’s not like either of us truly care about the Unwritten Rules, right? You, when it suits you. Me, I just don’t care. Speaking of which, Krieg, do you want to say hi to Kaiser?”

Max felt his stomach drop when he heard his lieutenant’s wheezing breaths in the background and then closer as this man brought it closer to him.

“K-Kaiser, he can track us by name…!”

Then there was a loud squelch and a scream.

“Idiot. Shouldn’t have said that. Now, you get to die painfully.”

“Everyday Joe,” he muttered, realizing the only person this could be. Who else had tracked down and killed their capes in the city? 

“Bingo, you Neo-Nazi,” Joe smiled. Max could almost hear that smile in his tone. “Any last words you want to say to Krieg?”

Max gritted his teeth. Anger, fear, worry, nerves, and even a bit of glee. “You will bring everyone down on your head, you dumb motherfucker,” he hissed. “You think the villains of the city will let you go after this? Other villains and heroes in other cities?!”

“Then let them come,” Everyday Joe hissed with surprisingly toxic vehemence. “If they want to fuck around, then I’ll give them a fight they’ll never walk away from. I’ll end this wretched status quo where capes can do whatever the fuck they want and get away with it!”

“Isn’t that exactly what you’re doing?”

“Villains broke the Unwritten Rules first. I’m just retaliating to ensure it doesn’t happen again.”

That was bullshit and both of them knew it. 

Then there was a slice. A gurgle.

A slump.

Max’s hands curled up into white-knuckled fists, and his phone creaked in his hand. 

“I’ll enjoy killing you,” he hissed. 

“I can’t say the same. Pests aren’t that enjoyable to remove. Just tiresome.” And then hung up.

Max resisted the urge to throw his phone. Instead, he set it down and took a deep breath in.

Then he called Victor. 

“Victor. Go and contact everyone. ABB, Merchants, independent heroes, and even New Wave. Get me everyone.”