Magnetic Attraction 22 (Patreon)

Commissioned by Kejmur

-VB-

Magnetic Attraction
Chapter 22

-VB-

Despite the grim tidings of the mass media questioning me and the PRT, today was a good day for me. I even raised a toast to the sunny if somewhat cloudy skies of New England summer in celebration of the Teeth’s removal from the bay once more.

Obviously, my execution of the remaining Teeth hit the news as did the photos of the slaughter I intentionally left behind. My sister, Jessica, did not question me on that. She knew that I must have had a reason to leave the battle like that, and I did have a reason.

It was said that what made a king great was not in his ability to manage a nation in times of peace and war but rather how effectively he used the power granted to him.

A great king would use cruelty once at the start of his reign to remind everyone of his power and to not cause trouble for him in the future.

Lest that power turned to them.

That’s what I did.

As the new de facto sovereign of Brockton Bay (being a Triumvirate-tier cape with four former capes under me and another team of four seemingly in alliance with me), I established myself as someone not to be messed with.

Woe to those who ignored that.

The PRT, in particular, saw what my action was for what it was: a PR move. Being a public relations organization themselves (it’s in their name) but wanting to not show themselves as moving out of my way, they requested a meeting with me. Now, how did I get their request?

They came to me.

“You do realize that this could be taken as a declaration of war, right?”

Sitting across from me in the living room of my home was the Acting Director Richard Renick.

The gray and grandfatherly man with a bushy beard, moustache, and hair didn’t say anything immediately. He never broke eye contact with me either.

“I am aware that this is a violation of the Unwritten Rules, especially in the face of your efforts in battling Leviathan in Brockton Bay,” he spoke after a while. “However, what happened in the north Docks has forced my hands.”

“Then explain and say what you want. We can get down to the negotiations afterwards.”

I wasn’t unreasonable. I expected something like this, so I wasn’t even upset.

It was all according to plan, after all.

“... While the Teeth are villains through and through - some of the worst in the nation in fact - and have killed so many innocent civilians, it doesn’t change the fact that you have publicly upturned the authority and stability of the Parahuman Response Team and in turn the federal government of the United States of America.

“It is the mandate of the PRT - I will not bullshit you here - to control the parahumans who are unwilling to work with their community and wider society. While I will not say that the PRT has been completely successful, on a national scale there is nothing better than the PRT. This is not an opinion but a fact. Asia is a continent of totalitarian regimes on the precipice of supremacy or anarchy. Those who aren’t totalitarian possess no central government to speak of and what governments that do exist are nominal. Africa is a continent of parahuman warlords. Europe suffers racist fascism once more like the dogs that can’t learn a new trick. South and Central America are paradoxically stable yet not because their stability is bought with power built upon wealth made with narcotics, and just like Asia, their central governments are nominal at best as they are nothing but puppets for the cartels. That’s if the cartels even bother with keeping up appearances.

“The United States of America is the only stable superpower democracy in existence, and little bloodbaths like the one you intentionally left for everyone to see do not help with our agenda of keeping this nation stable and alive.”

He finally paused.

“What I personally want does not matter-”

“Say it.”

He stopped.

“Legally speaking, you’ve done nothing wrong so I would have you do the next best thing: join the Protectorate.”

I was half-tempted to tell him about the corruption of the PRT and Protectorate but opted to not do so. The man was an honest to God patriot who just wanted to do his best even at his age. There was no need to needlessly and cruelly end that idealism by shoving reality down his throat.

… But I also didn’t think that he was naive enough to think that there wasn't any corruption.

“Very close to impossible.”

He just grunted at that.

“Then what the PRT wants. The PRT allows large organizations of criminal parahumans to exist because a national campaign to purge any surface threat may lead to a situation that is worse in the long term, which has been confirmed multiple times by both regular think tanks and parahuman Thinkers alike. However, this allowance lasts as long as the damage caused by those organizations does not exceed the consequence of their removal. So what the PRT wants is simple: keep your head low and do not make waves until the next Endbringer fight. Everyone knows it's impossible for parahumans to not make a mess, but this shouldn’t be too hard.”

It was not an ultimatum but it was close.

“And what do I get in exchange?”

“W-What?”

“What do I get in exchange?”

“What do you mean ‘what do I get in exchange?’ This is not something you can negotiate-”

“I have proven myself to be near or at Triumvirate level last fight in strictly combative terms,” I replied. “I have done more damage to an Endbringer than all non-Triumvirates and more than Legend has ever done so. I am not dumb enough to think that you are incapable of negotiating. No, I know that your superiors expect you to negotiate because if you are here, then they have already done their homework on me.”

I leaned forward from my couch, and he instinctively leaned backwards.

“I claim the entirety of the Docks as mine. The PRT and the Protectorate will not patrol there.”

“That is preposterous!”

“I can always toss some ten thousand ton rods at the Rig to see how long it’ll last.”

He glared at me.

“And what does that get us?” he asked.

I grinned.

It was time to really get to negotiating.