A Darker Path Pt 48 (Patreon)

Devil in the Details

[A/N: This chapter beta-read by Lady Columbine of Mystal.]

Relevant Side Story: Orthodox Atroposism

Danny

Looking at each member of the Committee in turn, Danny placed his hands flat on the table. "Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. Thank you for attending this early meeting on this most auspicious of days. I have it on impeccable authority that the bounty Atropos negotiated with Alexandria will be disbursed to our care within the next twenty-four hours. After a slight hiccup in the House of Representatives, the bill passed through the Senate so fast I suspect it left scorch marks."

Dawson Stansfield frowned and lifted his chin slightly. "Did I hear correctly? Is the amount two billion dollars?"

"That's what I understand, yes." Danny had pretty well gotten over the shakes after hearing about that … and exactly how Taylor had acquired it. Then he'd suffered a whole new series of jitters when Taylor had explained the ongoing bounties for the other two Endbringers. If he had his figures correct, there was going to be another hundred billion dollars dropping into the account over the next ten years.

At its most prosperous, the Dockworkers' Association had never even handled one percent of that much cash. He hadn't been tempted to dip into the till then, and he didn't feel tempted now. But he did feel remarkably inadequate for the task of responsibly handling amounts of cash with so many zeroes attached.

One of the two newbies—if Danny recalled correctly, he was attached to the Harbor Board—cleared his throat. "Does that mean there'll be a surplus after we carry out the current plans?" The other one murmured in agreement.

What. The. Fuck. We just got past this shit. Danny stared at the two men in disbelief. "Who brought you two clowns on board?" Flicking his eyes away from them, he looked around the table. "Come on, who did this?"

The mood in the room, originally upbeat—two billion dollars made for a nice addition to any budget—screeched to a sudden halt. James Alcott, the Mayor's brother-in-law, and Peter Hanson, from the City Works department, raised their hands like recalcitrant schoolboys.

Danny eyed them disfavourably. "What the hell did you two tell them?"

Alcott glanced at Hanson, evidently suggesting that he would speak for the both of them. Hanson nodded.

"We told them that the plans would be followed to the full," Alcott ventured. "No deviation, no diversion to private projects."

"And nothing else?" Danny hoped he was hearing incorrectly.

Alcott finally figured out where they'd gone wrong, and shook his head. "Sorry. No. Nothing else."

Danny glared at him, then clenched his fist and smashed it down on the table. Everyone in the room jumped. "You fucking idiots. Fine. I'll fix your mess." He turned his attention to the two new members. "The plans we are given will be followed exactly. We don't divert funds, we don't hold anything back to artificially create a surplus, we don't skip any part of the plan just because we don't think it's necessary. When we get more money, like now, we will be supplied with an updated plan that covers the new funding. All of it. There will never be a surplus. Am I making myself clear?"

One of them nodded, but the other one looked dubious. "Are you trying to tell me that none of this money is being diverted? You're the project head. How much is going into your … private projects?" Danny knew he meant 'pockets', but was being too polite to say so.

"Not. One. Red. Cent." Danny leaned forward over the table. "Here's the detail you weren't told about. We are overseen by Atropos. She knows all the details of everything that goes on here. I speak with her regularly. When the two people you are replacing tried to divert some of the money to their own ends, I managed to convince her that it wasn't a crime worthy of death. So instead, this happened." His briefcase sat beside his chair. Lifting it onto the table, he snapped the catches and took out the Manila envelope that sat on top, where Taylor had suggested he put it. The photos slid out onto the table as he shook it. They stared, turning pale.

"Jesus fucking Christ," muttered Alcott, turning his head away. "We've already seen those."

"Then pay attention," Danny snarled. "Maybe I should put them up on the bulletin board. We've been given a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to get this city back up off its knees and make it a powerhouse in the region. If you don't think you've got the chops to do it, then back the fuck off and let someone who can, do it. But be aware: this is probably the first and last time you will ever get the chance to see a project like this through without any corruption or kickbacks fucking it up for everyone. One hundred percent transparency. One hundred percent accountability. One hundred percent results. Is there any part of this you do not understand?"

Slowly, one after the other, each of the men and women seated around the table shook their heads. Alcott spoke for them all. "We've got it. You don't have to keep hammering on that point."

"Apparently I do, if the new people you bring in aren't fully up to speed on all the important information." Danny shook his head. "If we let another Janice Templeton or Paul King slip through, that's on us. I've been told directly by Atropos that what happened to them were our two warnings; the next one who tries any shit like that will die. Probably by having dollar coins shoved down their throat until they choke to death, or something equally ironic."

Stansfield nodded grimly. "I can totally see that, yes."

Danny grinned mirthlessly. "On the upside, as I was about to say before I was interrupted, the upgraded plan for the two billion will involve a stipend for each of us, coming to one hundred dollars per day." As the voices started up, he raised his hand. They subsided again, and he continued. "Yes, I know that's basically chicken feed to some of you. You earn more than that in passive income. The reason it isn't more for you is that you don't need the money. Some of us do. You're getting it because we're all getting it."

"What if we … didn't want it?" asked Stansfield. "What if we gave it back?"

"You're totally welcome to do so." Danny glanced at him, then at the rest of the Committee. "Every dollar that goes into our funds will be used responsibly, not frittered away. Infrastructure will be going into high gear. The drug relief clinics will be expanded into general taxpayer-funded medical centres. And once we've given Brockton Bay all the improvements we can—that'll be a few more billion down the track, especially with the boost in population numbers we're anticipating—we'll start expanding outward, funding improvements in the surrounding area."

"A few more billion?" asked Alcott. "Where's that going to be coming from?"

Danny grinned. "There are two more Endbringers out there, remember?"

<><>

Taylor

So, there I was.

Ellisburg was currently in competition with Eagleton for the title of 'most hostile location in the USA'. I'd invaded the Goblin Kingdom, teleporting in so I could murder one of its inhabitants and grab the body, but I'd done it from Brockton Bay so I had a few minutes before I could portal out again. That was fine, too. I'd factored it into my plans.

Nilbog—Jamie Rinke—was the creator of all the things that shambled, crawled and perambulated across the pseudo-medieval townscape of Ellisburg. As such, he was clairvoyantly aware of them at all times, which meant he'd known instantly when I'd shot the little snaggletooth in the brainstem.

In other words, this was not a town where murder could go unnoticed.

I could've gotten closer before teleporting in, but there were certain factors that limited my options. First, the PRT were watching the outside of the wall like hawks only wished they could. I couldn't have gotten within a hundred yards without being spotted, even on a moonless night. My power was good, but actual invisibility was beyond its capabilities.

The reason I didn't want to be spotted by the PRT was simple: Director Piggot was due to ask me a question, and knowledge of my visit would change a few important factors. I preferred my interactions with the PRT to go unsullied by little things like awareness of everything I was up to behind the scenes. Performing magic tricks is so much easier when the audience has no idea of the very existence of an extra card, much less which sleeve it's hidden up.

Already, I could hear the growls, screams, shrieks and gibberings of the various citizens of the Goblin Kingdom as their master converged them on my location. As the first one dashed up to the mouth of the alley, I pulled my shears and slashed its throat, then kicked its companion right where a piece of bone would go through its heart-analogue and then its brain-analogue. They fell at my feet; I avoided the blood-spray then headed back along the alleyway. Halfway along, there was a gap above where the two sets of eaves separated. I started climbing, knowing full-well they'd bring in sniffers to follow my scent.

The next set of pursuers were almost to the alley, and I was nearly at the top of the wall, when the first teleport jump I'd programmed in activated. I only went a hundred yards, but that meant I was outside the converging ring of frothingly angry goblinoids. Being on top of a roof meant that the critters swarming along the streets and through the alleyways couldn't see me; while my power couldn't turn me invisible, it could certainly point me at places where I wouldn't be spotted.

Still, I wasn't out of the woods quite yet. Some little distance away was a ramshackle tower, not unlike a bell-tower or the minaret attached to a mosque. Scrambling up the steps attached to the outside was a squat, misshapen creature with oversized eyes, carrying a long, twisted horn of some kind. It seemed Nilbog was awake to the concept of people invading his little kingdom and staying above street level.

While I could've picked him off with the pistol, I didn't want to announce my location too early. There weren't many of the things in the streets below me, but it would only take one to register the suppressed shot. I had another reason as well: I wanted to impress Nilbog.

While invading his domain and killing his subjects might have sounded like a remarkably unintuitive way to get on the Goblin King's good side, there was method in my madness. Jamie Rinke was, as Kurt may have described it, 'nutty as squirrel shit'. The only way to get him to stop trying to kill invaders long enough to listen to them was to convince him that they were as powerful and influential as he was; that is, to con him into thinking that he was speaking to an equal. Sniping a critter from hundreds of yards way, as difficult as that might be for the average person, would be seen as cowardly and unworthy of his attention. I had to prove, via multiple close-up kills, that I was as good as my reputation.

Of course, at the same time, I had to avoid being swarmed from all sides by a mob of enraged monsters. Against Bastard Son's minions, I'd been dealing with people who had human reflexes and human vulnerabilities. Nilbog could create monsters that suffered from neither of those weaknesses, or at least avoid exposing them to me long enough to get close.

So, my strategy was to never teleport while in a creature's sight, and kill anything that saw me—but only after it saw me. I wanted him to see me as a terrifying ghost, a monster to frighten the monster. Only if I could intimidate him would he listen to me, when I chose to speak to him.

I started across the rooftops toward the tower, ducking behind cover when the big-eyed sentry looked in my direction. Far behind me, I could hear the frustrated howls and squalls of those who had converged on my last known position and found nothing. I knew Nilbog would be birthing scent-followers and sending them to the site, which meant my time window was narrowing even more. Once they started spreading out across the Kingdom, they would quickly pick up my scent if they passed nearby.

The creature reached the top; again, I ducked behind a roofline while it scanned my general area. It turned and began surveying another part of the town, which was my cue to pop up and start sprinting. Fortunately, they didn't go for wide alleys in this town, or even wide streets; a classic rooftop-running vigilante could've gone from one side of the Goblin Kingdom to the other without setting foot to ground.

There was no more cover worthy of the name, and I knew I couldn't reach it in time, but I didn't intend to. It had to see me. Nilbog had to see me.

Finally, it turned and looked again. I didn't falter in my running, directly toward it in its perch. Evidently surprised, it nevertheless wasted no time in drawing a deep breath. Deeper than I could've drawn, in any case; its entire body inflated like a bullfrog's. I reached the side of the tower and started upward, locating handholds and footholds without so much as looking.

The blast of the horn was loud. It blatted out over the Goblin Kingdom, a series of spaced notes telling all within earshot that 'the intruder is here'. Just as it drew breath for a second alarm call, I got to the top of the tower.

It stared at me, evidently unprepared for something that could climb faster than it. A clawed hand swiped at me, but I knocked it aside. "I'm coming for you," I snarled, then drew my shears and plunged them hilt-deep into the creature's oversized eyes; first one, then the other.

It fell to the platform it had been standing on, twitching and quivering in the throes of death. Catching the horn before it could fall, I vaulted up into its little crow's nest, then rested the horn on the body while I cleaned the shears off and re-sheathed them. I still had a little time to go—the timer on the teleporter was still counting down—so I wiped off the mouthpiece of the horn, faced out over the Kingdom, and pulled up my morph mask.

While I didn't have the lung capacity of the sentry, I could still employ some tricks to get volume and tone out of the horn. And so, for the next thirty seconds, until the teleporter beeped to let me know it had recharged, I treated the Goblin Kingdom to a free-form rendition of the Imperial March.

By then, they knew where I was and were well on the way. I could've played cat and mouse with them for awhile longer, but I'd made my point. As I put the horn down and pulled my mask back into place, the portal formed in front of me; I stepped through.

Cherie, wearing her mask, was waiting at the bus stop, right where I'd told her to be. She looked around as I stepped out of thin air, and stared at me. "Okay," she said. "That was just rude. What did you need to do that took ten minutes? And why are you wearing a backpack in costume?"

I grinned behind my mask, knowing that Cherie could easily read my emotions but not much else. "Had to collect something."

She wrinkled her nose. "You suck when you're being all inscrutable. I know that you're being sneaky, but not what you're being sneaky about. It's very irritating."

"Thank you." I took out my phone and sent a text. Amy would be just about getting home by now; timing was everything. Then I gestured down the street. "Shall we walk? We have a little time to kill."

She snorted at that. "The great Atropos, reduced to killing time."

"Hey, when I kill it, it stays killed."

"You do realise, that also goes for everyone else, right?"

"True, but the next Endbringer would've used time manipulation to fuck everyone over. I stopped it from showing up, so you think anyone can beat that for killing time?"

Cherie didn't speak for a few moments. When she did, she picked her words carefully. "Every now and again, I forget just how terrifying your power really is. And then you go ahead and say something like that, and I know you're being totally serious."

I glanced over at her. "I'm not meaning to scare you, just so you know. But it is what it is."

"I know you're not. But I didn't even consider that there might've been more Endbringers on the way. Do I want to know how many? Was there even going to be a limit, or just an infinite conga line of destruction and mayhem?"

"Twenty, in total," I said, knowing there was no real way to soften that blow. "But they're all neutralised now. And if anyone ever figures out a way to un-neutralise them, I will be introducing him to the sharpest part of my shears. That shit should stay dead."

"Good." She shuddered. "I still can't believe how we considered it was just … normal … to exist with monsters like that hanging over our heads."

I shrugged. "There are some people who wanted the Endbringers to kill us all. Others that wanted the Endbringers to kill everyone else, so they could be the last people on Earth Bet. But most people are thrilled right now. They'll be having nightmares for years to come about how the Endbringers are back, then waking up to find it's not true, but I can't really do anything about that."

"Just between you and me," Cherie confided, "I've had a few dreams like that about my father not being dead, and dragging me back to Canada. The sheer goddamn relief when I woke up and remembered that he was actually dead got me every time."

"Mm," I agreed, and put my hand on her arm. "I'm happy you're away from him. Without his influence, you're a much better person than he ever was." I stopped walking. "Okay, enough time's been killed. Let's go make a difference."

Cherie grinned. "Right with you."

<><>

Cherish

Abandoned City Morgue

The robed figures standing around in the dusty building could have been praying in Latin, but Cherie could tell that they were actually conversing in low tones, sounding a little worried; this was helped by her power filling in their emotional state. When she looked more closely from the doorway, she realised that the robes were of many different cuts and fashions, and some appeared to have been hastily dyed.

"And what, exactly, is going on here?" Atropos' voice cut across the chatter like a shark slicing through a school of minnows. All eyes turned to her as she strode across the room, long-coat flaring behind her.

"Dark Mistress, you have come!" gasped the first of the robed teenagers—shit, they were all teens, weren't they?—to react. "Forgive us, we do not know what to do." She dropped to her knees, then bowed low. From her, Cherie saw a mix of terror and relief. This was someone who was far out of her depth, but had no idea how to even start fixing matters.

"So I see." Atropos stopped by one of the morgue drawers and pulled it out with a single long rumble. Within, Cherie saw, was another teenager, this one a redhead; that had to be Emma. There was also a distinct lack of clothing. Considering how chilly metal could get, that had to be damn uncomfortable.

She was at the wrong angle to see Emma's eyes open, but relief flared all the same. "You came," the girl gasped. "I feared I was unworthy."

"Oh, get up," Atropos said irritably. "And the rest of you, stop kneeling and bowing to me. I don't do that shit. Emma, put your damn clothes back on. Somebody get her something to eat and drink." Belying the harsh tone of her voice, she helped Emma down from the drawer, and steadied her when she stumbled.

"I put myself into darkness, to burn out my unworthiness—" Emma began uncertainly.

"I know exactly why you did what you did." Atropos didn't sound angry anymore, but she wasn't happy either. "I get it; you're lost, and you think I'm your way forward. If you're gonna do this, there's gonna be a few rules in place, and I will enforce them."

One of the teens brought a bottle of water and what looked like a banana, and Emma carefully ate and drank after putting on a robe that another gave her. "Guide us, Dark Mistress," she said, once she had finished the bottle. "Show us the way."

"I guess I can't stop you from calling me Dark Mistress, but none of that bowing shit." Atropos took out her shears and started spinning them on her finger, the dim light flickering off the metal. "You can lose the robes, too. I wear black; you can wear street clothing. Now, the rules. First, no killing. That's my job. Even if you really think they deserve it. If it's that bad, contact me. I'll deal with it. Second, don't just do good stuff to make you feel good. That's just charity theatre. Do good that actually fixes problems. Solve more problems than you cause. Third, don't ever say you're doing something in my name. Only I'm allowed to do that. Dilute my brand, and I will get annoyed. Think you can remember that?"

Emma nodded reverently. Cherie could tell it wasn't an act; the girl was almost worshipful toward Atropos. Which was really weird, considering what she knew of Emma's shared history with Taylor.

"Yes, Dark Mistress," Emma responded. "Tell me; what is my name to be, now that I have passed through my trial of darkness and fear?"

Atropos seemed to growl at the back of her throat, but it was more exasperation than anger. "Fine," she said eventually. "If you want a name, you can call yourself Emma the Twice-Warned."

"Thank you, Dark Mistress." Emma clasped Atropos' hand in both of hers. "Thank you."

"Whatever," Atropos grumped. "Just don't cause any problems that would make me yell at you." She flicked her hand free of Emma's, and strode toward the door. Once she got there, she turned back. "And no preaching in my name! Got it?"

"We understand, Dark Mistress," Emma replied. "What do we do if we encounter others who pretend to follow your teachings?"

"If they're a problem, I'll deal with them. If they're not, share your rules with them and keep on … doing what you do." Atropos shook her head slightly, disbelief radiating off her, and headed out through the doorway.

Cherie fell into step with her as they left the old building. "So, how's it feel to accidentally build a cult? And wasn't Emma one of the ones who was piss-scared of you just a while ago?"

"Yeah," Atropos muttered. "At one time, she was my best friend. Then my worst enemy. Now, my high priestess. One of these days, the world is going to start making sense."

"You're hopeful." Cherie chuckled. "Besides, I think it's kinda funny."

Atropos blew a raspberry.

Part 49