A Lewd Cultivator in Brockton Bay 69 (Patreon)

A Lewd Cultivator in Brockton Bay

Chapter 69 (YEEEEEEEEEEE~~~~~~!!!!!! nice)

-VB-

Alan Marris

“Yeah, well, why don’t you come in here and talk to me yourself?” I asked him. “I find it weird that you’re not here. Shouldn’t the new ENE director be more open with one of the strongest capes in the city … who is not his employee or subordinate?” I drawled at the end. “What will the public think when they learn that the new director is too scared to meet his own ally?”

There was a pause and finally, he spoke up again.

“Very well. I will see you in the briefing room soon.”

A click and then silence.

“Why are you antagonistic with Director Tagg?”

I looked toward Armsmaster and raised an eyebrow.

“I wasn’t being antagonistic,” I replied as if I hadn’t just goaded his nominal boss. “If I was really being antagonistic while acting within the law, then I would have just stood up, left, and posted online that I will never work with PRT ENE as long as Tagg was in power.”

“Is that what you want?” he asked me tersely.

“Hell no. Personally, I like Tagg,” I grinned. “I just didn’t expect Piggot to be out.”

“I see.”

See, in my eyes, James Tagg wasn’t … a bad guy. He acted as most people should in this kind environment: to dish out as much as you took. As far as I was concerned, someone like Tagg being in Brockton Bay earlier would have meant that Amy wouldn’t have been shot, I wouldn’t have to get stronger, and Leviathan would have never come because there would be no reason to come to a city where there’s no conflict.

So I didn’t dislike Tagg. Hell, I imagined that once we made sure we understood exactly where we stood and set some boundaries, then we might even get along!

… was a lie.

What I did was challenge the man’s authority inside his own headquarters in front of his employees. He was a strict military man through and through, and the fact that he had to accept what I did because I was “special” for killing half of the Nine?

I knew that it had to gall him if not in fury that it was not the PRT who couldn’t do it before I did than the fact that I came to rub it in his face.

So why did I do that?

The answer was very simple.

‘Respect me or you’re getting nothing.’

And this wasn’t about the kind of respect mafia bosses got, who had power and influence over others. No, I was a “fickle” dragon not unlike Lung, but I just happened to be more civilized and open to discourse about the bureaucratic bullshit I did not want in my way.

… I may be still feeling the high of drawing and quartering so many of the Nine on my lonesome.

Finally, the door of the briefing room opened, and Tagg walked in PRT military uniform instead of the PRT office worker business suit. He was already distinguishing himself from the regular PRT office by wearing his statement: “I am a military man and you are not.”

Armsmaster rose up and waited for Tagg to come and sit across from me… assuming he intended to sit at all.

I might have been a little bit more generous with my mental comment but I’ve seen - or rather, the original Bet Alan saw - how Tagg, in any media he appears in, always wore military uniform instead of the business suits that every other PRT Directors including the Chief Director wore.

‘It’s a statement, not something he wears for his comfort,’ I thought to myself as Tagg sat down across from me, and Armsmaster remained standing.

Did they already establish an internal hierarchy? I only came back from my reconnaissance turned Nine Hunting mere days ago, which meant that Tagg couldn’t have been here more than a few days at most. Considering how much of a military man he was, he might have forced the issue on day one by making threats.

Which might mean that he wasn’t liked right now with anyone in the PRT right now except for a few hardhard members who think like him.

Something to be on the lookout for.

“It’s nice to meet you face to face, director,” I started off with an “amicable” smile. “Now that you’ve had me wait here for an hour for your little powerplay, you have the floor. What’s the matter with you?”

He didn’t quite glare at me but the stern stare was probably meant to be a message of disappointment or something like that.

I didn’t care. He made me wait an hour for a bullshit reason, and if he refused to give me my money very soon, PHO was going to have a statement about how the PRT refused to pay up the Slaughterhouse Nine bounty.

Because at this rate, I didn’t even know what Tagg might do.

He didn’t say anything for another ten seconds…

He was really going to do this, huh?

“... Aight. Good talk,” I said as I stood up.

“Sit.”

“Fuck you,” I replied as I walked away. I pushed the door open and walked down the hallway.

Then I stopped at the lobby, where some people turned to look at me as I walked out. I walked up to the receptionist.

“I would like to file a formal complaint against the Parahuman Response Team East-North-East Director of Operation, James Tagg, for withholding Slaughterhouse Nine bounty,” I said very loudly. The receptionist’s jaws dropped at what I was pulling, and more than a few of the people in the lobby - employees, tourists, agents, and more - were quick to pull out their phones. Before the receptionist could speak up, I continued. “I find the power play the director tried to engage me in to be childish, unbefitting someone of his station, and not conducive to cooperation. If he wants to play games, then he should stick to the parahuman gangs that likes to play politics just like he does.” I paused. “Now, where is the complaint form?”