In the Midst of Callousness 3 (Patreon)

Commissioned by Definitely Not Dio

In the Midst of Callousness
Chapter 3

-VB-

PRT Agent William Shakerton (nicknamed “Our Shakespeare” by his coworkers) stared trepidatiously at the entrance.

Just a few minutes ago, he had received a call from the Protectorate branch leader Amago that the Bastard was coming to the headquarters to turn in bounties.

Bounties on who?

Apparently, he killed the Slaughterhouse Nine.

“{We have eyes on him,}” radio chittered next to him from one of the fully armored and armed coworkers. Unlike them, he was not fully armored and armed because he was needed to

Getting that Bachelor in Accounting before he applied to the PRT was a mistake, because he was chosen among his coworkers because of his ability to file most of the bounty paperworks properly on the spot.

Because he really really didn’t want to be near the Bastard.

The Bastard was a known killer. He was a known irreverent destabilizer. He was a known villain who harassed New York City for a whole year before coming to New England and terrorizing the … Well, he never bothered the “people,” so much as he singled out the corrupt, toxic, and criminal.

Will knew that he was pretty safe. Hell, even the PRT agents with him in the headquarters lobby were safe because all of them had been vetted and specifically forbidden from carrying any kind of gun, because “shooting any police officer who pull out their gun in front of him” was one of the Bastard’s strict but predictable behavior.

That and the fact that …

He jolted in place as he saw him.

Through the glass front doors, William saw the cape in question slowly walking up towards the headquarter. He dragged something behind him, and as he drew closer to the lobby doors, the object in question became clearer for William to see.

His jaws nearly dropped when he realized that the Bastard was dragging Crawler’s head like it was a tire tied to a rope.

“What the fuck…?” he muttered.

Hanging from the same rope dragging Crawler’s heavy head, William also saw other heads tied to it by their hairs. He noticed Jack Slash pretty quickly, though half of his face was burnt. Chuckles, Hatchet Face, Crimson, and Winter were there, too. Screamer and Psychosoma’s heads hung by twain died to Crawler’s head. What confused William was the unknown face of a middle aged man.

The Bastard walked through the door, dropping the heads by the front of the lobby. When the PRT agents shuffled about at his presence, the Bastard mistook the tension.

“Oh. Sorry. I didn’t want to dirty the lobby floor with blood. Is it alright if I leave the heads outside…?” he asked politely.

William knew that the Bastard always started off his talks politely, but it was different actually being at the receiving end of it. Hopefully, he could keep it that way.

“Yes, sir,” he replied quickly. “Thank you for your consideration.”

The Bastard chuckled, his scuffed leather jacket shoulders rising up and down with his laughter. It was a common way for fully masked capes to show their mirth and other expressions; by exaggerating their body languages, they made up for the loss of a face for other people to communicate subconsciously through.

(William had a minors in Cape Behavioral Psychology, a new emerging field.)

“I’m glad! Now, let’s discuss how I will be receiving that money, shall we?” he asked as he stepped forward until he was right in front of the lobby desk.

William sat down (when did he stand up?) and quickly pulled up the documents on his computer. Then he printed them out. As soon as they came out, he turned to the printer and lifted those printed documents off. He slid them across the desk to the Bastard.

“While the PRT frowns upon your action against a willing participant of the Truce,” he began slowly. “We are willing to overlook this in light of your victory over the Nine. The deputy directors thanks you for that, by the way. Due to policies, he can’t meet with you, but he wanted you to know that his son-in-law died to the Nine.”

The Bastard nodded.

“But there are complications. Namely, you hold no account with Numberman, who is a known banker for villains, and also hold no account with any known banks.”

It went unsaid that normal banks didn’t serve villains due to some of the clauses of the recently passed NEPEA-5 that specifically targeted villainous relationships.

“You also can’t withdraw fund from the PRT like a bank because you are a villain.”

The Bastard hummed but didn’t dispute the claim that he was a villain. Rather, he was known to ignore lawful classifications.

“Which really leaves us with one option, which is for you to take the entirety of the federal and state bounties in one-go.”

“How about this?” the Bastard spoke up. “Have the feds and the states use those bounties to fund, I don’t know, orphanages or people who suffered at the hands of the Nine? I’ll be happy to keep the private bounties people pinned on the Nine.”

“Are you… sure about that? The federal bounty is not small.”

“Sure, but can you help me with making an account with Numberman? I know that the PRT helps with that.”

“Of course. That’s what the documents in front of you are for.”

While it was true that the federal and state bounties on the Nine were not small, it was nothing compared to private bounties the people have put on the Nine. On a rough estimate, William put the fed and state-to-private bounties at a 1:3 ratio.

“Oh, and I want to make some kind of address change? How do I do that as a cape?”

“... Address change, sir?”

“Yes. I decided that I’m going to be staying in the bay. Permanently.”

… Fuck.

"I can help with that, sir, but may I ask why? You are a known nomadic cape..."

Left unsaid was the fact that he had run out of politicians, villains, heroes, and other people smack around for their corruption, which was usually when he left a location. 

The Bastard sighed ... dramatically.

"I fell in love."

... William prayed for the soul who was now the Bastard's romantic interest. She/he/they will need it.