What is Happiness? 5.4 (Patreon)

Commissioned by Kejmur

What is Happiness?
Arc 5 Chapter 4: Association 2

-VB-

I sat across from a man. Neither the man nor I knew each other’s cape identities (allegedly) and we kept it that way.

“You said you have information?”

I wasn’t here on behalf of the new “Butcher” or someone else. No, I was here as a very concerned citizen. After all, not all members of the Teeth had their true loyalties with the Teeth.

“Yes,” I replied as I slid over a manila folder.

In this secluded cafe spot, no one but I saw him take the folder and pull the paper within it out.

His eyes scanned it, and slowly grew wider.

“... How accurate is this information?”

I looked around even as I had my own powers scan for people and equipment that may be listening in on us. There were none. “Very. The previous Butcher contacted the Nine to clear out the competition.” This was a lie, but they couldn’t know that, not until they manage to confirm it with any members of the Nine.

The man swore as he grasped his head with his hands.

“The current Butcher… is not like the other Butchers. Whatever the guy did, he fucked up how the Butcher works. He ain’t the Butcher, not really.” This was the truth.

The man stared into my eyes.

Then he dipped down and began to massage his temples.

“This … we can’t act on this.”

“I know, but it’s better to let you know than to leave you all high and dry, right? Remember that the current Butcher has … okay, he has some issues with the PRT, but as long as the PRT leaves him mostly alone from this point on, he will do the same.”

“And you can make promises on his behalf? This is the fucking Butcher we are talking about. The Butcher.”

“Yes.”

He looked up.

And grimaced.

“... right. Well, if you do make the ‘Butcher’ keep to the promise you just made, then that’s that.”

He moved to stand up and leave but I held up a hand.

“I have, however, additional information I must give you that I have not mentioned before.”

He slowly sat back down.

“What is it?”

“It is in regards to your PRT’s internal corruption,” I replied as I slid a second folder from where I have been hiding it on my back between the jacket I wore and my t-shirt.

He took it.

Slowly, he opened it warily.

The document sat on the table at five pages long, but that was because I had to go out of my way to gather the most convincing evidence, even if most of it were circumstantial.

Evidence linking the civilian identity of Alexandria to the Chief-Director Rebecaa Costa-Brown.

The man slammed it down.

“You are -!”

“Sshh…” I hissed. “You don’t want people to get a hint of what you just read, do you?”

He quieted and looked around. There were a few patrons in the cafe, but they were on the other side of the establishment.

He turned to me with a glare.

“You are speculating on the identity of a federally recognized hero,” he hissed right back at me. “That’s a felony!”

“Speculation is not,” I replied easily. “I get it. You’re upset. I haven’t released this information, but don’t you think that corruption so high up in the PRT… Isn’t that the very thing the PRT was made to fight?”

“Alexandria wrote the PRT into existence!”

“Exactly. You’re nothing but a cape’s puppet.”

His face turned red. “Then why bother showing me this?”

“Because, Robin,” I drawled, making him freeze with wide eyes. “It’ll be interesting how the PRT ENE branch deals with this,” I answered as I stood up. “Have fun.”

I relished in his impotent glare.

-VB-

Having spent the last half week moving pieces of the board like an aspiring chestmaster, I spent the next week preparing for the inevitable.

There were really only two preparations that I could do: supply stocking and area fortification. Supply stocking was just me and my girls going out to buy preserved food in bulk.

Area fortification was me using my “Nest” Shaker effect. It involved me staying in one small location (Taylor’s house) and waiting as my effect increased in area, though the rate of expansion decreased as the area became bigger.

So what did I do?

I fucked my girls, constantly. An unending orgy of flesh clapping thrusts, bodily fluid dripping kisses, back arching ecstasies, and fatigue inducing numbers.

It was the better half of the week.