Chapter 128 (Patreon)

Sonya stepped out of her office, the metallic door hissing shut behind her as she traipsed over the cushy floor of her dojo. She’d finished reading over the write up that Blackrazor had sent her, it was shorter than she had hoped, but that was to be expected. Liberty may have a very public presence but actual detail was hard to come by. She was apparently wearing new armor recently and had been equipping her men well. She rubbed her chin thoughtfully, I should have told Blackrazor to push for one of his men to get into Liberty’s headquarters yesterday, she thought and then scratched at her head, No, if it could have been done by now it would have. Ah, how is she vetting people? She grumbled before letting out a groan and turning left towards one of the other doors leading out of her dojo.

The doors opened with a hiss and she smirked, Kind of a shame those punks didn’t make it in here before I caught them. Poor Ollie, he would have been so excited, She chuckled inwardly.

She stepped into the trophy hall, yawning a little. She’d had to find a place to put the rewards from the various dungeons that she and her guild had managed to clear. Some of them weren’t items that were of any use to her people, yet, so she wanted them safe. She passed by the odd doll from the goblin dungeon and the mace, the real one, not the one that was on display at the ASTA Guild Headquarters. She reached over and touched the glass around it, “Hey Nick,” She said with a smile, “Miss you buddy,” She rapped her knuckles on the glass before walking towards the next case, no label was on it, just like the others. 

She turned to the glass and stared at it for a moment, the bone knife inside gleamed oddly in the artificial light above her. It brought back memories, she watched Feng Hyunh fall to her death all over again and exhaled as a call came in. She glanced at her HUD, Mephisto? This should be good.

<”Hey girl hey!”> She answered with a cheeky grin.

<”Got somethin’ for ya, ma’am,”> Mephisto chirped back at her, a small chuckle in his voice, <”I’m with the Spice King, he wants a word,”>

She pursed her lips and raised her eyebrows, <”Oho, business call? Alright, put me on,”> She cleared her throat as she activated the voice filter for the call. She heard the phone on the other end shift to speaker mode and she relaxed. A part of her wanted to pull the mask on, but, maybe this time she could do it herself. <”Spice King! What a pleasant surprise,”> She said, leaning against the case that held the Vegas knife, <”What can I do for you?”>

–

The silence was a balm, like a cool towel on the neck during a heat wave. It wasn’t a complete silence, he could hear his own faint breathing, the sounds of the shifting in the walls, the faint adjustments to the ventilation to push air into the room. Those little sounds didn’t bother him, it was like a symphony atop the blessed silence that soothed his soul even more. He rested his head against the hard wall behind him and closed his eyes, a small smile playing on his face. He savored it, the deafening silence that would not last forever. 

This is nice, I should kill the other inmates more often. 

He let out a pleasant sigh as the mild thought passed through him. He tapped his fingers against his thumbs, powerful, dense, taught muscle in his lithe arms tensed and flexed. He wanted to doze off, take a nap, he wasn’t exactly sure how long he had been in this room. Not that he cared. Every second was a treasure. If only there was a way to make it permanent. After all, all good things came to an end. He opened his eyes, a blue the color of glacial ice; almost white, glowed from his irises. The sole illumination in the room from his eyes was bright enough to reflect off the heavy metal door in front of him.

The door shuddered and a panel slid on it. A pair of human eyes stared at him through the opening, they met his and quickly averted.

“Graff.” The guard grunted. “Time’s up.”

Graff clicked his tongue. He rolled his neck and looked away from the door, “How many inmates do I need to kill to stay?” He asked.

“Kill too many and they’ll put you in a hospital,” The guard chuckled, “Then you’ll have to do therapy and talk about your feelings.”

Graff’s nose wrinkled with disgust and he stared at the wall a bit longer. He rose slowly to his feet and walked over to the door, resting his head against it, “Having trouble with a new kid?” He asked, tilting his head and slowly sliding his head down the metal till he was eye level with the guard. His gaze bored into the guard’s, sweat immediately beading on the man’s forehead. His smile curled up just a little bit, “Well? Fill me in,” Graff mumbled, the volume of his voice never changing.

The guard pulled away a bit, blinking a few times, “Yeah, came in last week,” The guard mumbled, “He’s trying to rally the others for a break.”

Graff frowned, “It’s not time for a break,” He said cooly, the door creaked and shuddered, the concrete beneath his feet rippled, the air grew tenser, heavier, every particle in the air seemed to stop for a moment before he let out another breath, “Alright, put me in, coach.”

The guard swallowed audibly before he moved to tap away at a keypad next to the door. He took a step back afterwards, the door hissing before it slid aside and exposed Graff to the light of the hall outside his solitary cell. He narrowed his eyes against the bright artificial lighting and stepped out slowly, reaching up to rub his neck and pop his shoulders a few more times. He looked up to the ceiling for a moment before sighing, “It was nice while it lasted,” He muttered before looking down at the guard who was standing in front of him, shaking like a leaf, a metal suit case in his hands. He narrowed his eyes, “Is that necessary?” He asked.

The guard swallowed louder than before, “While I’m moving you back to your cell, I need to put these on you. You have a reputation for good behavior and what you did was technically in self-defense so-” He trailed off.

Graff leaned forward, “Say what you mean,” He growled, “You need to look good in front of the inmates by having me in cuffs,” He held out his hands and looked the guard in the eye. His glowing pupils shrank a little as he spoke, “Do it,” He growled, “But if you turn them on, when they come off-and they will come off eventually-I will atomize every living thing in this building.”

The guard shrank back an inch and nodded, wide eyed, before quickly opening the suitcase and pulling out the mana-restraining cuffs. He put them on Graff’s wrists and spoke quickly, half-stumbling over his words, “Suh-Special Category V-villain, Graff,” He cleared his throat, “Y-you are being transported to your personal cell after your solitary confinement stay for good be-behavior,” He managed and turned his head to look down the hall. Graff followed his gaze and snorted, a pair of men carrying assault weapons were standing at the other end, eyeing him like a wild animal.

“Special Category, that something new?” Graff asked, lazily turning towards the armed guards and walking ahead of the man behind him. He was pretty sure the guy was a leader of some kind but he couldn’t care less about getting to know him.

“The Pandora Committee established a list of Supervillains who are considered extreme threats to society and the world,” The man said behind him, hurrying to follow, “The special category was reserved for one person originally until some idiot leaked that you exist.”

Graff raised his eyebrows and stopped in the path. He slowly turned his head and stared at the guard for several seconds. The man shrank again before he turned back towards the hallway and slowly made his way towards the door. His expression slipped back into a thin line. He turned without waiting for the guards and walked past them, out through the open door as they scrambled to move and flank him. He rolled his jaw left and right, staring forward as they moved through the secondary security hallway for the solitary confinement portion of the prison. A small platoon of guards stood at the other end this time, weapons trained on him.

He clicked his tongue and glanced over his shoulder, “Trying to make warden?” He rumbled.

The man frowned, squaring his shoulders a little as he put on his best act, “Not your problem, inmate.”

Graff chuckled and looked back at the guards, “Open up, I’m going back to my cell. Wanna get caught up on my ‘clips account,” He said, not stopping in his walk. 

The guards looked at one another hesitantly for a moment as the wanna-be warden waved his hands at them, hurrying to Graff’s side and nodding briskly. They got the message and quickly moved to release the various locks on the large door ahead of him. He didn’t stop walking and they barely managed to get it open when he reached it. He walked through and out into the hall where a half dozen inmates were walking past, heading to the common area. They froze as he walked past, the armed guards moving to take up positions around him. He didn’t give them a second look, keeping his eyes fixed forward.

The guards paraded him through the halls, taking a slightly round-about route all the way to his own cell in F-block, more popularly known as the VIP Block. Unlike the ordinary cells in the rest of the building, these had reinforced post-pandora glass for walls and were filled with the trappings of home. He even had a television with enough internet access to watch his shows. His lip twitched as they stopped in front of his cell and he glanced towards the cell to the left of his, a man in the cell had his face pressed against the glass and was staring at him. The guy was thin, gaunt even, with sunken eyes that burned with a faint red glow.

“Connor,” Graff said.

“Graff,” the man snickered, “How ya been?”

The guards started to remove his cuffs, “Was enjoying the quiet till someone noisy showed up.”

Connor laughed, “Yeah, figured they’d let you out when the new guy started slappin’ tables with his dick,” He paused and met Graff’s eyes, “Calls himself an Elementalist.”

Graff paused and raised his eyebrow, “Actual elementalist?” He asked as the cuffs finished coming off. He rubbed his wrists and glanced at the guards who quickly got out of arm's reach. One of them opened his cell and he stared at the door while waiting for Connor’s response.

Connor’s expression went wild for a moment, his eyes bulging as he showed his teeth that had been shaved down into points, “Wind user. Calls himself Gale Force,”

Graff pressed his tongue against the inside of his lip and looked up at the ceiling, he huffed through his nostrils, “And here I was almost looking forward to some TV,” Graff said with a small chuckle and turned on his heel. He looked straight down at the wanna-be warden, “Where?”

The warden’s expression bounced between terror and delight, “Enrichment Field A.”

Graff pushed past him, “Keep my cell in solitary open.”

–

Graff stalked past the other inmates who took a moment to recognize him. Some of them were pulled out of the way by their friends and allies, whispers of warning spreading through the crowd. Everyone took note of his bare wrists, everyone knew, he didn’t care. All he cared about was the son-of-a-bitch arrogant enough to call himself an elementalist. He couldn’t care less if the guy was trying to make himself a big man on campus. The dick-measuring contest was beneath Graff. He didn’t care if the guy wanted to cause a little trouble. He was even willing to overlook this idiot trying to break the schedule.

“A wind user calling themselves an elementalist,” He scoffed as an inmate raced to the doors and pushed one open for him to step through. He felt the sun against his skin for the first time in a long time and his flat expression turned into a frown, “Let’s get this over with.”

He stepped out and spotted a pair of familiar faces sitting at a table close to the doors and far away from the majority of the inmates. He turned in that direction, walking over with his hands in his pockets and stopped behind an enormous man who was hunched forward. “Frankie,” Graff rumbled, reaching out and flicking the big man in the back.

The big man jolted and sat up straight, turning around and pulling his fist back as if ready to flatten Graff. He blinked when he saw him and broke into a smile, “It’s Graff! Hey!” He laughed and turned on his seat, planting his feet. He was at least twice Graff’s size. The ability he’d awakened in a contract with Ishtar was some sort of growth related power or something. Graff really wasn’t sure, but it’d made him crazy strong. 

“Hear we got a new guy,” Graff said, “They brought me out to say hello.”

Frankie frowned and glanced to his right towards a large gathering of men on the other side of the enrichment field. Graff glanced that way and spotted a black-haired guy sitting on a table. He was beefy but not overly so from what Graff could see. He shrugged and looked back at Frankie, before glancing around, “Where’s Wicker?” He asked.

Frankie shifted on his feet and stepped to the right, revealing another inmate who was sitting at the table, hiding behind the bigger Frankie with his hands over his head. Graff narrowed his eyes and walked over, grabbing the guy by the scruff of his shirt and pulling his head out from under his hands. The kid’s face was a fucking mess. Black eye, cuts, scars, and from the look of it his jaw was all messed up. Graff narrowed his eyes, “Wick. The fuck happened to your face?”

Wicker looked away sullenly, “Nuffin.”

Graff lifted him to his feet, spun him around and grabbed him by the shirt, “I asked you a question, Wick,” Graff growled, “The fuck happened to your face?” Wick turned his eyes slowly to look at Graff then shot his gaze towards the upstart standing on the table. Graff stood up a bit straighter and raised an eyebrow, “Tried to stop him from rallying for a riot?” Graff asked. The kid shrugged and Graff dropped him back on his seat. He licked his lips and turned towards the guy in the distance. A massive hand landed on his shoulder and he glanced at it, frowning. “What?”

“Charon’s got a bounty on high-tier powers, living is worth more,” Frankie said quickly. “Ishtar askin’ for ‘em specifically. Just heard about it today.”

Graff narrowed his eyes, “She doesn’t give me orders,” he growled and pulled his shoulder away, “Besides, it sounds like Charon will pay for corpses too.”

He stalked across the field, the sun was starting to annoy him more and more. His temper rising as he shoved his hands into his pockets and stared flatly at the man who was now fully standing on the table. He was shouting something that Graff had no patience to even listen to. He grumbled and made his way forward, stopping in front of the crew of men that were all looking up at their new ringleader. One of them glanced back and went wide-eyed. He quickly shook the guy next to him and soon everyone was staring at Graff, the last to take notice was the ringleader himself.

“You Gale Force?” He called.

A whip of wind slapped against his skin. He glanced down at his chest and then up at the guy who had already turned away. The others were still staring at him and one reached up to grab Gale Force’s attention. The man frowned and looked back at Graff, his expression souring a bit. “Get lost,” Gale Force said, “I’m busy.”

“Gale, that’s Graff,” One of them hissed quickly.

Gale raised an eyebrow and grinned, hopping off the table and pushing through his men. He spread his arms out, “Well if it isn’t the so-called ‘monster’ Graff! You’re shorter than I expected. I half figured you’d be as big as that punk-ass Frankie, given how much everyone sucks your-”

“Hey,” Graff said and strode forward, fixing the guy with a stare.

“I was talking you-” Gale bit out, a gust of wind pressing against Graff. Graff just walked through it, unblinking, his ice-blue eyes glowing a little brighter as he drew nearer and nearer to the man. Gale concentrated and pushed harder, several of the men around him getting pushed away by the wind that was now bearing down on Graff. Graff just kept walking until he was standing over Gale. 

Graff’s eyes were wide, his pupils small, his expression stony, he tilted his head, “Here’s what’s about to happen,” He bit out, “I’m going to turn every other cell in your lungs into a razor sharp diamond. You’re going to get to take one last breath. Then you’re going to die,” He said and his arm whipped out without another word. His fingers pressed against the man’s chest and he pushed him back a full step. The man held his ground, glaring at Graff before he took a breath and his eyes went wide, blood poured from his mouth in a gout and he dropped like a heavy sack. Graff swept his gaze over the others, not even looking at the fresh corpse, “The break happens when the call goes out, no sooner,” He growled. “Don’t bother me with this bullshit again or I’ll kill everyone involved.”

He turned away and walked towards the exit, the guards already coming out. The wanna-be warden stopping in front of him, pale-faced. Graff smirked at the guy, “Apparently Charon’s paying for high-tier corpses,” He murmured, “Get your money’s worth,” He said and stalked past, holding his wrists out and waiting to be cuffed before getting dragged back off to Solitary. He tilted his head and glanced over at Frankie and Wick who were staring at him surprised. He grinned at them and looked up at the sky, “Lookin’ forward to my next nap, I have a feeling my next stint in solitary won’t nearly be as long.”