Lag 6.7 (Unbeta-ed) (Patreon)

Lag 6.7

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Every concentration of power creates its own opposition, whether that power is military, political, monetary, or social. Opposition groups may or may not be violent, largely depending upon their aims and whether or not they believe the political environment favors them. More than any hero or PRT resistance, the greatest opposition villain groups face is more often than not from other villains. Allowing them to whittle each other away is not necessarily an approved tactic but is a preferred one, especially when outnumbered and outgunned.

— Parahuman Response Team, Threat Assessment 10.4, Summary

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May 11, 2011

2:42 AM

Pap.

Pap.

It was turning out to be something of a slow night, at least by Greg’s standards.

Pap.

Pap.

No random gunfights. No unexpected arson. No undiscovered bomb reaching the end of it’s arbitrarily-and-unnecessarily-long timer.

Pap.

Pap.

Apart from some random thug literal seconds away from committing an execution on two parents in front of their young son for some cash, the entire night had actually been downright freaking peaceful. Apart from taking time for that three-second detour and giving a quick salute to the terrified parents and awed kid, he might as well have spent the rest of his patrol time just dicking around. [+300 XP, + Colt 1911, + Newsboy Cap]

Pap.

Pap.

Honestly, he was finding it hard to believe it himself. Not even a hint of the Empire 88 trying to stick their unwashed dicks into his territory, and wasn’t that rare as hell?

Or… The blond tilted his head back, sparing a glance at the rapidly spinning ceiling fan above him. Even in the dim light of the office, he found it far too easy to catch sight of dirt and dust buildup on each individual blade. Maybe there actually was and the Game just didn’t think it was that important to let me know?

Pap.

Pap.

The dull thudding in the room came to a stop as his fingers closed themselves tightly around the yellow tennis ball he had been bouncing against the ceiling for the last quarter-hour. Greg Veder’s eyes narrowed to curious slits as he continued staring up at the dusty ceiling fan. Is that what’s going on, Mr. Game? A half-second later, he gave a mental shrug and decided to hedge his bets, following up his thoughts with a questioning, Ms. Game?

For a few moments, there was no response and then…

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Firefly Hill — Secure

Imperial Yard — Secure

Little China — Secure

Okinawa Heights — Secure

Osaka Plaza — Secure

Seoul Square — Secure

Taipei Town — Secure

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No enemy intrusions or attacks of note on your captured territory.

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Blue eyes gleamed as the screen flickered into place, the curiosity in his gaze not bothering to fade even as the translucent window blinked away, the blond already having committed the words it displayed to memory.

Interesting.

Greg’s eyes remained slitted as he filed away that particular tidbit of information in the back of his mind, deciding to address something that stood out as far more important than anything else at the moment. “So, you’re a Ms. Game, huh?”

“What?”

“Huh?” The blond’s expression turned down into a slight frown, eyes widening as he brought his gaze down from the ceiling to somewhere around his actual eye level from where he sat in the (rather comfortable) office chair that had been provided for him. The awareness that he wasn’t entirely alone in the dim office returned to him and the blond let out a quiet sigh behind his mask as he prepared to deal with the work that came with being a boss.

His attention flicked from the Japanese man sitting on the opposite side of his big wooden desk, to the two bulkier figures standing guard on both sides of his door. While those two wore nothing but a matching set of white tank tops, blue jeans, and dull looks, the young man sitting across from the teenage cape wore a far more aware expression — albeit a rather tired one —  in addition to a well-fitting black suit over a white t-shirt.

An unlit cigarette hanging precariously from the edge of his mouth, Seo Asada simply raised an eyebrow at the person who kept his family fed and allowed him to maintain, if not upgrade, his current lifestyle. “You said something, boss?”

Adjusting his posture in his chair, Hardkour leaned back even further and dropped both of his booted feet rather heavily on the desk, the noise echoing slightly in the bare-bones penthouse room Seo had his men turn into a private office. Letting out a slight sigh, he fixed his current number two with a focused stare from behind his red face-mask. “Did I?”

The gangster’s brow furrowed heavily, a slight tremble passing over his expression. A moment later, his eyes darted up to meet those of his current employer as if seeking a clue for how to proceed. “I…”

A pair of already gleaming blue eyes brightened, the sight causing Seo to tremble again in a way that the only cape in the room had gotten rather familiar with.

Seo Asada Lvl 14

AGB Senior

HP: 310/310

A former Big Brother in charge of some of the many smaller groups within the ABB, Seo was only a lieutenant in name only and had none of the real power that the older men still surviving from the old ABB had maintained. While not the most ambitious or the most educated, Seo is undeniably smart, willing to learn and has a great sense of timing. Turning the ABB to your side and disposing of the old lieutenants who managed to avoid arrest was how he pledged his loyalty to you and your plans, well aware that he needs you more than you need him. He is unaware that you don’t have much, if anything, of a plan.

“...Must be confused. My fault, boss,” Seo replied carefully, the man clearly taking effort to keep his usual detached tone as he inclined his head in something that was almost-but-not-quite a bow.

“No problem, Seo.”

“Thank you… sir.” The current AGB administrator lowered his gaze and Greg followed his eyes to zero in on the pile of several manila folders lying in front of where he sat at the desk. “If you got time, there are some things I gotta let you know.”

Oh, greaaat.

The mask on his face was a blessing, sometimes, and Greg knew that from the bottom of his heart. He knew his face was easy to read, from what both Sparky and his mom had told him often enough, and he couldn’t hide his initial reaction to almost anything if he tried.

At least not without something obscuring his expression.

Although, he doubted anyone would find it easy to read the odd combination of expressions that his face had formed at Seo’s words even without the mask right now.

Something like the gratification of a former gang boss tip-toeing around his words and deferring to him combined with the disgust and simple displeasure that came from having to do actual work related to said gang.

“...uh-huh.” His face smoothed itself into a tight smile underneath his mask, teeth almost grinding against each other as he tried his best not to groan in annoyance. “Sure, let’s see what you got.”

Seo nodded and turned to face the two by the door, barking out terse orders that Greg didn’t bother paying any attention to in the slightest. Behind his mask, his expression dulled slightly as the teenager turned in his chair, feet still resting on the desk, to face the TV mounted on the far left wall of the office.

It took him about ten seconds to situate himself comfortably in his seat, lean back against the chair properly, and focus his attention properly on the muted television broadcast.

In an amazing feat of absolutely no effort, it only took Greg twice that long to become rather irritated with the late-night/early-morning local news broadcast, especially when he wasn’t the topic of discussion. It’s like they haven’t mentioned me at all this week. That by itself was almost as suspicious as the lack of Empire presence on his turf, if he had to be honest. While Hardkour had been a topic of some discussion on PHO, neither of his personas had received any notable attention on the news for almost a week now. Seriously, I beat Lung like... what? Two weeks ago? For the second time even, a voice in the back of his head groused petulantly. I outran Assault & Battery. I’m still fighting the fricking Empire.

Hardkour spun in his chair, turning away from the 24-hour local news channel as his mood edged closer and closer to a fit of annoyance. I saved little girls, like a hundred of them. And I’m just old news now? His legs dropped to the floor and he sat forward in his chair, fingers interlocking as he laid both hands on the table. Staring straight ahead, he did his best to ignore the possibly sleep-deprived anchors as they rambled on about local ‘events of importance’.

Unfortunately, his best wasn’t the best.

Hm, who even cares about a stupid frickin’ fundraiser party? Shaking his head as if to dislodge the annoying line of thought from his mind, Hardkour let out a long breath. You would think the fact that I cut a woman’s legs off would get me more attention, but noooo? What does a guy have to do to get some respect around h-

“Boss?”

The blond let out another tired sigh, the interruption serving as another annoyance, and shifted his gaze towards his head minion. Huh. He raised an eyebrow at the sight of the former gang member standing in front of a whiteboard, the thing barely having any white left on it due to all of the writing that covered the surface of it. Both of the guards had left the room to handle whatever busywork Seo had given out, granting both of them the privacy they would need to talk about things they had no real business knowing about.

With a relaxed sigh, Greg unclasped his red face mask and placed it on the table to the side of him, leaving him with only a black domino mask hiding his identity. “Yeah, I’m ready, Seo. Let’s hear what you’ve got.”

The young man standing by the board straightened his collar and loosened his expression, relaxing enough that he seemed to deflate slightly. One hand stretched out to the whiteboard just to the right of him, and his pointer finger specifically directed Greg’s attention to the portion on the far left of the whiteboard, which just so happened to be a rather hastily-drawn — but still accurate — depiction of the ABB’s seven major neighborhoods. At the same time, Seo’s gaze aimed downwards as his other hand rose up, allowing the teenager to catch sight of the thick stack of flashcards in the man’s grip.

It took much more effort than it should have for him to avoid letting out a groan of frustration at the sight, suddenly well aware of what he was getting into. Oh, great. Exposition.

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“-ooking at the damage done to part of our territory because of Bakuda, I have already had to rework our old routes. The thing is, I cannot be sure that these gaps can’t be taken advantage of. The Empire is already working on…”

The teenager sat behind the desk, his gloved hands clasped tightly in front of his face as he held Seo’s gaze as the man spoke. Nodding slowly every few minutes, he seemed to be the perfect picture of a stoic leader as he listened intently to the words of the man he assigned as administrator.

Seemed.

The reality was a bit different.

Oh. My. God. It’s been thirty goddamn minutes. I get it. Here is map. Map of territory. Need send people to place on map to keep territory safe. Perfect caveman impression completed, Greg gave himself a mental pat on the back for being so succinct. Boom. Done. Not that hard, Seo. Granted, that wasn’t all the man had been speaking about the whole time, the first ten to fifteen minutes taken up with issues of the money-handling side of what had been the ABB needing to be restructured somewhat, considering nearly a third of them had been arrested. Apparently, Big Ken’s evidence had been a bit more far-reaching than Greg had realized, while also at the same time strangely shallow. Either way, Greg had quieted Seo’s worry of potential money issues

“It’s these points here,” Seo continued as he faced the board and circled certain areas on his map with red marker, unaware to the fact that his self-appointed leader was glaring death beams at him, “that present the most trouble in my opinion. You’ve had to deal with most of the intrusions around these areas often and it seems that the E88 have focused their efforts on destroying buildings around these points to prevent our people from scouting out their entry.”

Hardkour nodded his head slowly, a few moments of silence following after he responded.

“I see.”

He did see.

That much was true.

What was left unsaid was that he was also finding it frustratingly hard to listen to his number two rattle on about things that didn’t do much at all to hold his interest. Patrol movements were cool and all, but patrolling was enough of a chore when it was just him running around randomly from neighborhood to neighborhood by way of the rooftop highway. Seriously, I’m the boss and the muscle. Just tell me where to go and I’ll do my thing, he thought with a scoff. Actually, Greg raised an eyebrow as he recalled how the system often informed him of said intrusions before his informant network could even call him. You don’t even need to tell me half the time. Really, with all that in mind, having to hear about ways to better plan to have people that he was pretty much hand-holding do something he barely even needed them to do was just…
God, this is torture.

Yeah, that.

“-ese patrol routes are something I am working on revising. Like I just mentioned, the neighborhoods towards the south and leaning into downtown are the biggest issu-”

“Seo.”

The newly-appointed administrator froze mid-sentence as Hardkour’s voice reverberated throughout the room, deep and echoing in a way that fell just short of physical. His free hand twitched at his side for a gun that wasn’t there, visibly shaken by the sudden feeling that passed over him as he openly shuddered.

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Intimidation

17→18

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The young cape watched silently as Seo swallowed for a second, face as controlled as he could manage as he replied with an almost-casual, “Yeah, boss?”

Confident that he had grabbed the man’s attention, Greg relaxed his hands and laid them flat on the desk in front of him, while at the same time letting go of his Aerokinesis and letting it dissipate from around him. After a few seconds of tense silence, the blond raised one hand to tap the side of his mouth. “Let’s skip past this. We’ll come back to it, okay?”

Before Seo could even say anything, his mouth half-open in an attempt to reply, Greg cut in again, impatience and boredom driving him. “In fact, how about this?” The blond jabbed his index finger in the gangster’s direction. “I made you my number two for a reason. You decide whatever you feel is best for patrol. I’ll look over your notes later. That sound good to you?”

“I...” Said number-two blinked as if unsure as to how to proceed, before simply nodding to himself. “If you say so, I g-”

“You guessed right. Good that we’re on the same page,” Greg cut in again, a smile spreading beneath the domino mask. “Let’s just get to other business. What else do you have for me?”

Seo’s mouth formed a thin line for a moment before opening as he seemed ready to say something. Halfway through a single word, the man stopped and turned back to face the whiteboard, quickly turning the entire board to show the other side.

As Seo stepped away from the flipped board, the first thing that Greg noticed was that this side of the whiteboard was far less cluttered than the other. The second thing he noticed was the marker-drawn map and it’s accompanying small essay of notes had been replaced by two images taped to the board, each paper with two words in large print below both of them.

“Huh.” Greg blinked in slight confusion. His gaze flicked over to the left side of the board where the image of a three-headed dragon in the shape of a shuriken hung. That’s the Sky Triad, based out of Boston. An instant later, his eyes darted to the right where a similar tribal image of a dragon was, this one half bodied and with two vague lines that implied wings. Flying Dragons, these guys are from New York. “These guys...”

“Yeah, boss.” Seo’s expression eased slightly, becoming less grim, but his frown didn’t quite disappear as he continued. “I’m thinkin’ you know ‘em.”

Know them?

“Well…” Greg tilted his head to the side, expression tilting downwards to match Seo’s slight frown as he tried to think back. I can’t really say that, honestly. Know of them, I guess. Even then, it’d be kinda hard not to hear about them. They’re like right next door. “They’re the Sky Triad and the Flying Dragons, one from Boston and the other from New York.”

Seo nodded silently, allowing him to continue.

Adjusting his posture in the chair, the teenager tilted his head to the other side, staring out through the large windows that took up almost an entire wall of the office. The city lights kept the darkness of the night from being overwhelming, but Greg liked to imagine that with them gone, he might be able to catch sight of New York from where he sat.

“They kinda sprung up a few years after Lung moved the ABB to the Bay,” he continued after a few seconds of silent thought, gaze turning back to Seo. “Except for their cape bosses, most of them are old ABB that left when Lung took over the original gang way back when. They’re pretty much followers. Even down to their branding,” Greg added on, the corner of his mouth curling up in a private smirk as he glanced back at their logos. “Especially the Flying Dragons. Their boss even calls himself Ryu,” the blond snorted at that, unable to help himself. “Talk about a copycat.”

Greg’s attitude towards both gangs wasn’t an uncommon one, even to those living in the cities where they made their homes. Both organizations were blatant chameleons, absorbing old members of the gang Lung used to be a part of, even cribbing off the names of old Asian gangs that fell apart in the cities they made their homes in.

While each gang had at least twice the number of capes as the ABB — even counting Bakuda — neither of them had the power or skill to stand in the same league as Lung or Oni Lee. In fact, every time Lung had poked his head out of the cave that was Brockton Bay, both gangs had set world records with how quickly they had gone to ground, staying quiet until the big bad dragon was deeeeep within his lair again. 

Ryu, especially, Greg thought with an unbidden smirk. Considering he was the only one who had ever tried to fight Lung. While most people had never seen how it went down, witness testimony had described it as going poorly for the guy whose power was not turning into a kaiju.

Like, dude, come on. Greg snorted again, barely holding back actual laughter as he recalled how badly PHO had roasted the guy back then. It was the highlight of his twelfth birthday, after all. Your power was pyrokinesis and Lung is literally fireproof.

Literally a joke.

Even besides all that, it wasn’t like either of the copycat gangs had the space to get as big or cause as much mayhem as the ABB did. With the size of both the Boston and New York Protectorate and Ward teams compared to Brockton Bay, they were lucky they didn’t get their shit pushed in if they even hinted at trying to act as blatantly as the now-dead Azn Bad Boys.

If Greg had to be honest, he’d have to say that both those cities’ hero teams were also a good bit more powerful on average compared to Brockton Bay, and he doubted anyone in their right mind could or would disagree with him on that. It was definitely something of an undeniable fact when it came to their leaders, considering as great of a Tinker as Armsmaster was, the man was no Hero. Still, I gotta give it to him. Greg hedged to himself, Bastion’s pretty much racist, and odds are good Legend’s probably a cannibal or something — no one’s that squeaky clean — so I’m still on Armsmaster’s side for coolest Protectorate boss.

Nodding to himself at his own reasoning, Greg glanced back at Seo with a questioning glance, blue eyes brimming with visible confusion. “But yeah, apart from that guy and like the boss from Boston, nobody cares about these guys. They’re not complete jokes but they’ve never really done much but kinda look scary. Actually… Why are we even talking about these two? They’re all literal wannabes.”

The AGB administrator straightened and shifted his expression into another of his various interchangeable displays of general reticence, face not showing much more than a wall of vague displeasure. “Some of my boys in Boston — a few guys I ask to keep an ear out for me, just in case — heard talk that the Sky Triad’s been looking to step up and step out…” Seo raised a closed fist to his mouth, clearing his throat before continuing, “Apparently, they’ve heard that there’s some territory up for grabs.”

The confusion vanished in an instant, replaced with a gleam of something else.

“~Oh.”

The focused interest in Greg’s simple response went seemingly unnoticed by Seo as the man continued speaking. “Exactly. I’m thinking, what with Lung gone thanks to… you know…” The cape in the room let out a warning hum, prompting Seo to abandon that statement as a drop of nervous sweat eased down his brow. “Anyway, it’s looking like they might be leaving Boston for Brockton B-.”

“Hold up,” Greg cut in, unable to hide his interest. “Just to be clear you’re sure about this?”

“Uh...” Indecision flashed across Seo’s face, the man clearly not sure. “That’s where it gets tricky.”

“Seo?”

“L-look, boss. I can’t say for sure that they’ll make a move. It’s looking gridlocked with their bosses on this,” the unlit cigarette still at the side of his mouth struggled to stay in place as the man shook his head. “From what I know, it’s two-to-one, attack vs stay in place. Thing is though, the one is the big boss.”

Greg nodded. Raijin.

The guy was a high-level Blaster, nothing like Legend or even Purity, but anything short of a bunker wasn’t going to be in one piece after taking a bunch of his “lightning” barrages. The other members of the Triad were a Shaker and a Brute, but they couldn’t bring the same level of power to the table like Raijin did.

“I know they’re recruiting more capes but after that,” Seo shook his head again, “it’s looking more like guesswork to me and it’s kinda stupid to roll out the guns off false intel.”

Damn it. There goes my fun, I guess. Rolling his eyes, Greg let out a long sigh, only to cut the noise short as he recalled there was more on the table. “Wait… the Flying Dragons. You mentioned them for a reason. They’re looking like they’re gonna attack m-us?” This better be good.

“...well.”

“Seo.” I swear to god, man.

The tired-looking gangster gave his boss something of a shrug, one hand raised to scratch his forehead. “That’s still to be seen, boss.”

“Then why are they even on the board?”

“That…” Seo’s expression rose slightly, looking far more at ease than just seconds before. “That is something I got an answer for. Yesterday…” a hand entered the jacket pocket of his suit and the man pulled out a phone. A quick tap on the screen later and the man turned the device around to show off a somewhat blurry image of an Asian man in a simple white T-shirt mid-stride. A tribal tattoo of a thin winged dragon was visible on his upper bicep. “Scouts caught several people we think are Sky Triad scoping out the territory.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Specifically, your safehouses and private spots. This fucker here,” Seo tapped his phone screen with a single digit, “almost tried to break into one of them, the small storage house on the edge of Downtown.”

Greg let out another hum, this one without any real undertone to it. “Wouldn’t have worked anyway.”

“I know that,” Seo nodded, agreeing immediately. “but the boys sure fuckin’ don’t.”

The blond’s head tilted forward in acceptance, glad that the secret he had shared with Seo had remained that way. His thoughts drifted towards the dragon-shaped key in his inventory that did much more than unlock doors. He wondered when, if ever, anyone else would discover that to break into any of Lung’s old spots, you’d have to break the place itself. Probably no time soon.

“Okay.” Greg nodded again. “So we’ve got some guys who may or not be planning to fight me and a bunch of shitty thieves.” The blond sighed out loud, expecting a bit more excitement than this. “That about cover it?”

“Well…”

Whatever Seo had been about to say was interrupted by the sudden ringing of his phone, the man’s expression shifting towards apologetic as he silently requested permission to take the call. At the blond’s lazy gesture, Seo picked up the call and began conversing in rapid Japanese, Greg not paying any attention as his focus was suddenly captured by something else.

Pip.

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Your territory is under attack: Little China

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Quest Gained!

Klash of Klans VIII: Road Rage

If the Empire's grunts know how to do one thing right, it's living down the ideal of the racist skinhead. A vehicle belonging to the Empire seems to be racing through your territory, a van specifically, firing on any ABB that tries to chase after it.

Stop the van and secure the cargo inside.

Objectives

- Stop the white Empire van. [ ]

- Secure the cargo safely. [ ]

Rewards: 3000 XP, $2500, + 2 Stat Point

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Seo hung up the phone and Greg turned away from the quest screen, the translucent blue squares popping out of existence at the edge of his vision. The Japanese man glanced at his boss with an expression even more serious than usual. “Boss…”

“I know.” Greg grinned back, one hand on his red mask as he rose to his feet. “Time for work.”