Headspace 1

“*Everyone reaches a breaking point eventually. It’s that tiny straw that breaks the camel’s back and sends you off the deep end. Every cape has gone through one of those. But what no one wants to admit is that even at rock bottom things can get worse.*”
—Waylay, Vigilantee of Brockton Bay. *(March 23rd, 1995)*

**__April, 15th, 1995__**

All eyes turned on me and I shoved the teen forward so he couldn’t slink away.

He looked out of place in the room, his black oversized hoodie a contrast to the assorted armor that the watching, silent crowd wore. They were sizing him up, taking note of his short height and posture. Murmurs spread through the crowd as they sized up the newest member of the Teeth.

The teen fidgeted under the intensity of their gaze, shifting back a bit. His fists were clenched tight, his eyes downcast, his head bowed. His feet twitched and he positioned himself to run. I stepped to the side, blocking his route.

Just as the first few people started to peel away from the crowd, I spoke, “As you all have noticed, we have new blood here tonight. Look at him, for he’s going to be one of you.” I paused for a moment, letting my Teeth look him over again, “He looks weak, doesn’t he?”

A slight choking noise came from the newest recruit’s throat. He head shifted slightly, eyes still downcast but now pointed towards me. I stayed silent as the pins and needles sensation raced down one arm. I couldn’t move it. This wouldn’t do.

I lunged forward, forcing the teen in a headlock. I shifted, adjusting things so I was out of the teen’s sight. The pins and needles sensation started to fade. I lowered my voice to a barely audible growl, “Only pick fights you can win.” I released my grip on him and even with the negligible thrum of enhanced strength, I still threw him to the ground. I planted a foot on his neck, keeping him down. I spoke again, this time so the crowd could hear, “He is weak. He’s  better suited to fleeing then fighting, he’s never made a proper fist in his life. He has powers and yet any of you could take him in a fight. He doesn’t deserve to join us.”

I applied more pressure to his neck, “But he has something the rest of you don’t. He has drive, he has that killer instinct. That instinct is what pushes us, it’s what makes us who we are and it can’t be taught. This kid is a wolf in sheep’s clothing who needs training. Combat training. Feel free to give him his first lesson. You all remember the rules.”

There weren’t any.

I took my foot off the teen’s neck. He took a deep breath, and started to roll over to look at me. Before he could use his power, I kicked him in the jaw and sent a wave of agony to run through his body. He writhed in pain, pathetic sounds falling from his lips. The unpowered members of the Teeth surrounded him, eager for blood.

Three were dead by the end of the night.

 **__July 2nd, 1995__**

Somer’s Rock hadn’t aged well over the years. It was dirtier then I remembered it being. The stains were a part of the tables, splotchy sticky looking patches that were too numerous to avoid. Despite being known as a neutral meeting place there were gang tags carved into the tables, along with the initials of random people. A single table was covered in carvings, not an inch of space untouched. One of the floorboards was broken, another one squeaky.

Capes sat at a cluster of tables in the center of the room, their allies waiting in the booths as a show of force. Marquis, the Empire, and the Shades were here tonight. Attention shifted towards me as my Teeth entered the room. We had six capes, excluding me,  here tonight. Each of us had a bandolier of skulls, the amount ranging from three to twelve. The skulls were fresh.

Omega stepped ahead of me, reaching for the chair. A knife flew through the air, slamming into the chair with enough force to send it toppling to the ground. He froze, staring down at it for a moment before snapping his eyes up to lock Allfather’s singular good eye. The room was silent, the tension palpable.

Allfather’s voice was gravely and rich, with the faintest hint of an accent, “The Butcher, and only the Butcher, will sit.”

I knocked Omega to the ground as I moved forward. I glared down at him and sent out a wave of pain. Omega writhed on the floor as the sensation of unspeakable agony rushed through him. His teeth were clenched to keep him from screaming. I smiled, satisfied. A public punishment for a public wrongdoing. “I’d rather stand.”

Yellow Belly sneered at me from his seat across the table. His voice was nasally and wasn’t what you would expect from such an imposing man. “Keep your idiots under control, Butcher.”

“Natural selection is the only cure for idiocy. His actions don’t reflect my intentions.” Yet. It would be a pyrrhic victory at best to fight now. I knelt down, forcing a trickle of strength to pour through me as I tore the knife from the chair. I turned it over in my hand. Polished. “Odd that you’re here, Yellow Belly. Purple Heart running scared?”

He shook his head with such ferocity that I hoped his neck might snap, “As if. Purple Heart’s out of the picture. The Shades are mine.”

Allfather cleared his throat, “We’re all here finally. Good. You all know what the issue is and what will happen if we let it hover over the bay. We all agree that Waylay needs to die. The question that remains is the how.”

Everyone at the table sat in silence. This whole truce was a laughable irony and we all knew it. Marquis had limits and rules, intangible shackles that would force him to fight and to die against Waylay. I would almost miss him.

Allfather’s Empire was similar. They had a simultaneously more and less restricting code then Marquis. It bound it’s members to an ideal and I hated that fact. Their ideals and codes created ‘acceptable’ and ‘unacceptable’ targets. Unacceptable targets weren’t something that should exist. Much like Marquis, the Empire would fight Waylay because of their codes.

The Shades were harder to predict, but they were scared. Waylay’s explosion device was threatening and it was loud. His drones were worse because they were the equivalent of metallic wasps; tiny, but fierce. He made for a terrifying enemy that was equally unassailable and impossible to stop. The Shades’ fear made them unpredictable and they were as likely to fight as they were to run.

Yellow Belly broke the silence, “How the fuck are we supposed to kill him exactly? Seriously, I’m not seeing a way. You fly, you die. You stay grounded, you die.”

The poorly made chair squeaked as Marquis leaned forward, “You will help us.” His eyes locked onto Yellow Belly’s and the newest leader of the Shades seemed to slid back in his chair. Marquis settled back into his chair somewhat, satisfied. His bone armor was an off yellow in the poor light.

I sighed loudly. This meeting was a waste of time. Still, it would be pointless to walk out without contributing. “Allfather, your Empire is expansive. You’re even stronger now that you’ve snatched fragments of Marquis’ territory. With all your might and *unity*,” I spat the last word out like the distasteful concept that it was, “are you telling me that you can’t defend yourself against a single tinker?”

Allfather’s good eye snapped onto me, “I can protect myself, Butcher. My men can too. I can’t say the same about your rats.”

“If you think you can eliminate me then go ahead. I won’t stop you from trying. You just said you can protect yourself after all. I think I’ll let your empire handle this situation by its lonesome.”

Yellow Belly scoffed, “So what, you’re just going to let Waylay blow us all to hell? What the fuck, Butcher! Seriously I get you have your ‘blah blah anarchy blah blah’ shtick and all but come on man this some serious shit!”

I gave a smile and a shrug, “Apparently I’m a rat who can’t protect myself. A rat wouldn’t be useful against Waylay.  You said as much, didn’t you, Allfather?”

To his credit, Allfather had experience with  being put on the spot. He didn’t fidget and ajust his costume, which was reminiscent of a sharp looking SS uniform, nor did he try to avoid the question. “Even if you could make yourself useful I would not want you, Butcher.”

Yellow Belly stood up, “No! What the actual fuck Allfather! You’re just going to dismiss the Teeth like that?” He turned towards me, “Butcher, give us your crystal explosion cape at least. He’s literally the only valuable member you have. Do it or else, damnit.”

I glanced at the rest of the table. They were watching and they were impassive. They wouldn’t get in my way. I casually flipped the Allfather’s knife in my hand and made eye contact with Yellow Belly. He stiffened slightly and a tiny ball of yellow energy formed in his palm. Slowly it seemed to pulse with energy and grow larger. His other hand clenched into a fist as I let more pain trickle into his body. I let the trickle slowly grow into something stronger, letting it become a stinging, biting pain that couldn’t be ignored. A low noise came from his throat.

I let the stream of pain turn into a flood of liquid agony and Yellow Belly started to convulse. A terrified, pained scream tore from his throat as he collapsed on the ground out of sight. Yellow Belly’s arm twitched and the golden ball of energy in his hand shot outward, slamming into a booth. A shimmering golden field spread over it. The booth’s occupants began clawing at and shoving past each other in a scramble to get out of the field.

“Don’t threaten me.”

One of the Shades rushes out from the booth to check on Yellow Belly, glaring at me the whole time.

Marquis spoke out in his unflappably calm voice, “You’ve made your point, Butcher. I don’t think it would be wise to pretend like you aren’t effected by this threat. Waylay will target you first, it’s a matter of proximity. Your reputation doesn’t do you any favors with him, it only made things worse. There will be fallout into your territory, it is inevitable.”

“You mistake me for an idiot Marquis. I know all these things.”

“I’m just letting you know the position that you are in. The amount of aid that you give ties directly into how much of a territory you have left. Waylay has an annoying penchant for collateral damage,” Marquis explained.

And if I don’t help out then ‘accidents’ might happen in my territory. I couldn’t outright refuse, my Teeth were oriented to the attack rather then the defense. It would benefit me more if there was an illusion of cooperation. “I’ll consider sending support if I deem it necessary.”

Marquis gave a slight nod, “That’s all I’m asking for.”

Allfather turned his head, staring down at where Yellow Belly was. “Once he stops being a pathetic mess,” his intense one-eyed gaze slipped towards me for a moment, “then we can create a plan of attack.” Allfather created knives in the air next to him. They plunged downwards, the table blocking my view of where they hit. The yelps from Yellow Belly were telling enough, however.

**__July 4th, 1995__**

Omega sat on the ground, occupying himself with some game involving throwing rocks. Every now and then he would make a noise of dissatisfaction and a wave of telekinesis would bring the rocks back to him. He barely looked like a member of the Teeth in his Kevlar vest and motorcycle helmet. The helmet’s jagged white lines of painted on fangs were the only real indicator of allegiance. Omega liked it that way.

My costume wasn’t much better in that regard. A bloodsoaked jacket that had once been white and a bandanna were all I had. It felt incredibly bland without our sets of skulls and bones, but we couldn’t wear our trophies if we ended up fighting Marquis. Better to be prepared then skewered.

I had brought the knife that Allfather had used during the meeting, however.

Waylay’s weapon platform hovered out in the bay. It was visible above the highest point of the cargo ships that were trapped in a blockade. It wasn’t a thing of beauty but rather one of brutal efficiency. Two metal spheres balanced on each other, a massive cannon pointed at the city protruding from them. A second cannon poked out from the bottom of the sphere. This one was in use, a constant bright explosion being launched out of it. It was the only thing keeping the weapon platform aerial. It’s low roar could be heard everywhere in the city, but it was practically deafening in our Dockside territory.

The volume of the explosion’s roar quoted for a brief instant and it seemed to dim. Out from the first cannon came a bright roiling explosion that slowly shot across the sky. The explosion beam connected with the top of a cargo ship and seemed to slow as it met resistance. After a few moments the explosion tore through the ship.

A wall of metal slowly rose over the rooftops. It rose to block my view of the explosion. Moments passed and the metal wall teetered back violently. Light peaked over and illuminated the metal, scorching through it. Slowly, the conflagration died out, leaving only a brief glimpse of scorched metal before darkness returned.

I gestured at Omega as I made my way down the fire escape to the street. He shot me a glare, but followed me regardless. Kaiser’s group was occupied, it would be easy to take them out.

His group was very mobile, but they wasn’t hard to track. They were trying to block the explosions with Kaiser’s power as best they could. Each shot Kaiser blocked left behind a mangled, scorched set of metal columns. Some had faired worse then others and had toppled, crushing the buildings they fell into.

Kaiser stood still, watching Waylay’s weapon platform to see what the next target would be. His armor was worn, with tiny pockmarks gouged into the metal. Beside him stood another Empire cape. Jormun’s posture was relaxed compared to Kaiser’s rigidness. His arms seemed to dangle as if they were too heavy to lift and he stood with a perpetual slouch. Kaiser had given him some degree of armor, but had left enough of his hooded black and gold costume exposed for him to be distinctive. A long, serpentine length of magma and charred rock was draped over Jormun’s shoulders. Spikes of hard black rock slowly rotated around the snake’s body.

Two members of the Shades were here too. Pink Slip was a tall, muscular man with slicked back hair and a pink and white bodysuit. He seemed to be playing with a tear in his costume. By contrast, Whitelist was a stick thin gangly teen, with limbs that looked longer then they had any right to be. His hair hung down over his eyes, effectively obscuring the upper half of his face. A wall of transparent grey energy separated them from the Empire’s capes and Knave.

Knave was one of ours and his costume was bland enough that it hardly stood out. He wore a dark poncho, with jagged white lines resembling fangs drawn on. Chains were wrapped around his hands, which were clenched into fists. Knave stood a ways off to the side, unwilling to associate with the other villains.

My ears rang as Waylay’s platform fired another explosion beam further down the coast. It wouldn’t hit us. Kaiser tracked the beam and started to move to intercept it. I glanced at Omega and gave him a brief blast of pain, then gestured at Kaiser. It was too loud to talk, so I hoped he got the the message.

The cannon rumbled as it fired an explosive beam on a point blocks away. Pink Slip shot off like a rocket, tagging the rest of the group as he ran past them. The people he tagged began to match his breakneck pace.

I shifted my eyes to Omega, shooting him with a burst of pain. He jerked and glared at me for a long moment. He was working himself up to crush my heart. I shot him with another burst of pain, then grabbed his head and turned it so that it so that Kaiser’s group was in his sight.

Whitelist staggered, stumbling to the ground. His hands gripped at his throat, trying to pry off fingers that didn’t exist. Pink Slip doubled back, pulling Whitelist into his arms. The light of the distant explosion had cast us in shadow, hiding us from their sight. Regardless, Whitelist began creating grey disintegration fields where he could, blocking the road with them.

I didn’t hold back as I poured pain into Pink Slip. My power felt sluggish and unresponsive as it passed through Whitelist’s fields, as if it was being diluted. I searched for more power to convert into agony and found none.

Pink Slip’s scream was louder then the ambient noise of the explosion as he fell to the ground. He thrashed on the ground, muscles moving and spasming senselessly as pure agony poured through him.

Jormun’s molten snake rose into the air as the nazi bolted for cover. I wasn’t done with Pink Slip yet, he wasn’t even unconscious, but I couldn’t afford to let Jormun get away. I couldn’t let anyone get away. He collapsed to the ground violently as his snake rose over the top of Whitelist’s disintegration field.

Knave wasn’t doing anything. He was staring at the snake as it hovered towards us. He was *attuning* to it. His power didn’t work fast in the first place and it worked slower on power created materials. I’d given him Allfather’s dagger to attune to in the hopes that Kaiser used the same metal, but Kaiser wasn’t doing anything.

Knave wasn’t going to be helping us in time.

I didn’t know if Jormun’s snake could see us or not, but I didn’t want to stand around and find out. I grabbed Omega’s wrist, dragging him a step or two before he began to run on his own. The snake readjusted its course as we stepped out of cover to run. The spikes that orbited it detached, shooting through the air towards me.

Omega’s telekinesis pushed the jagged row of nails out of the way before I stepped on them. The street before me erupted into a sea of nails and jagged metal barbs. The sea twisted a moment later, the metal bending and merging together into a solid platform. Knave was finally doing something.

I looked back over my shoulder to see a spike of black rock hurtling towards me. I dove to the side and the spike started to curve to chase after me. It aborted the movement halfway through, instead continuing onward to lodge itself in the metal platform. I risked another glance back to look a the remaining spike flying towards me. Jormun’s molten snake was getting dangerously close, but Knave was occupied fighting Kaiser and Pink Slip. He wouldn’t be able to manipulate the snake anytime soon.

I pushed myself up, nearly running into one of Whitelist’s disintegration fields as I did. The side of my arm brushed the field and part of my jacket’s sleeve crumbled to dust. I sent a wave of crippling pain Whitelist’s way before ducking around the field.

One of the spikes that Jormun’s snake had sent out crumbled into dust as it passed through the field. The snake wasn’t as dumb, rising over the top of the field instead. I kept my eyes on the snake and Whitelist as I fled. Whitelist was going down, that much I would make sure of.

“Omega! Hold the snake back!” I wasn’t sure he heard me. I barely heard me. But the snake slowed slightly. His telekinesis was too weak to stop the snake at this range, but it would buy me a few seconds. I used those to focus on Whitelist.

The snake pushed against the telekinesis, slowing considerably but not stopping. I kept Whitelist in agony for a few more seconds, then turned and bolted. I could feel the scorching ambient heat of the molten snake. I dashed onto another street, leaving Omega to fend the snake off. His telekinesis was line of sight only, the best he could do was frantically backpedal. I wasn’t going to carry him and get us both caught. If he died it was his own fault.

I tore down the street and took another corner. I couldn’t brute force this, my power wasn’t good on groups, so I would have to be mobile. Take one person out, move, and take another one out. I stopped at an intersection, poking my head down it. The view was limited and people were missing, but I saw enough.

Kaiser laid unmoving on the ground, something wrong with the lower half of his armor. His arm was exposed, the metal of his armor instead going through his arm. Out of commission and no longer a threat.

A sharp spear of iron seemed to have lodged itself in Knave’s shoulder. The metal thinned as it elongated, appearing out towards Pink Slip. He moved to attack, but I intercepted by sending excruciating pain through his system. Momentum carried him and his punch still connected, albeit sloppily. Knave still went down, his head slamming against the road. It wouldn’t be good if he died, Knave was one of our better capes.

Pink Slip went down screaming.

That wasn’t a good sign, screamers took far too much time to kill. I focused on him, cautiously getting closer as I did so. Surely someone would notice his screams, even if they were barely audible over the dull background explosions.

Agonizing pain shot through my shoulder and I stumbled. A shout tore its way from my throat.

A second bullet whizzed past my ear. I ducked, trying not to focus on how much the bullet in my shoulder hurt. It was a burning sort of pain, the kind that you couldn’t distract yourself from that only got worse. I hissed and tears pushed themselves from my eyes as my shoulder rammed roughly into a trash can I had failed to dive behind. I crawled behind it. Bullets whizzed by, one or two pinging loudly off of my bulky metal cover.

I kicked my leg out of cover for a split second to draw attention, then poked my head out of the other side. Pink Slip started to struggle up from the ground. I blasted him with another wave of pain. No one else was out there.

I ducked back behind the trash can. I couldn’t use my power if I couldn’t see someone and I couldn’t see someone if they refused to come out of cover. I considered waiting for whoever the fuck was shooting to run out of bullets, but surely they weren’t dumb enough to waste them all.

An inkling of a plan formed in my head. I pulled on that constant feeling of strength that hid under my skin, bringing it to the forefront. The pain in my shoulder dimmed slightly as my strength fed off of it. I felt it surge through my body. It didn’t change the fact that my arm was out of commission, but every little bit helped. I wrapped my hand around Allfather’s knife. It was awkward, my dominant arm had been the one taken out of commission. I tried to fit the knife into the screws holding down, but it was too big to fit into the slots.

I ducked my head out again. Pink Slip had started to pick himself up, so I filled him with more pain to put him down again. Still, the shooter didn’t reveal himself. A bullet whizzed by me as I pulled myself back in.

I adjusted myself so that I laid on my good shoulder with my feet towards the the trash can. I curled my legs back and kicked hard against the trash can’s base. It tore off of its base, landing on its side. I rolled over to it, my shoulder crying out in pain as it slammed against the road. Bullets flew through the air, a few hitting the space I just occupied. I grabbed the rim, pulling the trash can so it was upside down. I pushed it back down so it clanged to the ground with the bottom facing the intersection. I took a brief moment of care to avoid the pile of trash that had been dumped out as I slid legs first into the trash can.

It was a tight fit for me. I wasn’t fat in any way, but I wasn’t rail thin either. The trashcan was meant for trash, which I most decidedly was not. I kept my arms out, both so my shoulder wouldn’t get further injured in the cramped trashcan and because it would let me move. I dragged myself down the road in a weird mixture of hops and crawling. It was slow and I was only able to do it because of the strength surging through my veins, but it was cover.

Bullets pinged off the trashcan but fortunately didn’t penetrate it. I hated this. I was running, *fleeing* like a coward. I was stronger then this, I shouldn’t be forced to hide in a trash can and crawl just to survive. I was a fighter. Whoever had the gun, whether it be Whitelist or Jormun, was going to die. Come hell, high water, or an explosion, they were going to die.

The whole world lit up in a shifting orange glow. Lights flickered along the walls of buildings, illuminating the whole street like it was daytime. Odd shadowed spots speckled everything the light touched, like an orange sky with black stars. I risked a bullet to look at the source.

I pulled myself out of the trash can and ran.

Dull throbs of pain echoed in my arm with every step, but I didn’t matter. The pain didn’t matter. I hadn’t noticed the rumbling, I’d been too focused on the bullets. The gunman had distracted me from Waylay. I could feel the heat even from here. With every passing second it got noticeably hotter. Sweat poured down my face from the heat, matting my hair.

The explosion moved faster then I could, I wouldn’t be able to outrun it.

A figure raced past me, his body practically a blur. Pink Slip. He wasn’t getting out of this if I wasn’t. I sent a short stabbing burst of pain at him and he stumbled. Momentum carried him, and he face planted. I shot him with burst after burst of pain until I caught up.

I knelt, putting my good hand on his forehead. “Give me speed.”

Pink Slip. groaned, his lips silently moving as he searched for the words. His foot kicked out impossibly fast, knocking me off my feet. My shoulder and skull screamed in agony as I hit the ground. I didn’t let Pink Slip get off the ground, sending another blast of crippling pain at him. His hands were shaking.

“Do it. Or we both die,” I growled.

Pink Slip’s response was unusually sluggish. He twitched as if just existing brought him pain. He found the words, “You aren’t serious.” He paused, valuable seconds ticking by. “Fuck you,” he spat.

I felt a rush of energy flow through my body. It tingled pleasantly, humming electrically under my skin. I sprinted down the street, calling on the tingling sensation of energy to add more speed to my steps. The unbearable heat cooled slightly as I gained distance on the explosion beam.

Despite the speed Pink Slip gave me, he still managed to blow past me. His strides were long but stumbling, as if he would fall down at any moment. I had to resist the urge to send a pain beam at him. Pink Slip was a speed thief, he could make snails move faster then me if he chose. I would die if he did that.

I followed him the best I could as he tore down through the street. Pink Slip didn’t turn, rather he seemed to slow down at a corner and use the wall to steady himself before accelerating in a different direction.

The rumble of the explosion had faded into the background as I gained distance. The sound as it crashed into the street and obliterated entire blocks was still deafening. I had escaped it by a block, maybe two. The explosion sat there, obliterating everything it touched. The intensity of the explosion’s glare made me look away.

I nearly missed the drones.

The light had cast them in shadow. They were tiny, as long as a finger and as big as two. The explosion flung them out, scattered them everywhere. They hit the ground and rolled. I didn’t hold out hope that the ground would blunt their saw blades.

And then all at once the drones rose in the air. Large swathes of the explosion were blotted out by the sheer amount of the drones. The collective buzz drowned out the roar of the explosion.

I ran again. Pink Slip was slumped against a wall. He started to weekly push himself off it as I tore past him. I spun mid-stride, nearly falling as I fought to maintain my balance and momentum. I sent pain through his system, enough to kill if I held it on him long enough. Better the drones kill him then me.

I rounded the corner and lost sight of the drone swarm and Pink Slip. I could feel the energy thrumming under my skin fade, growing weaker with each step. I couldn’t stop running. My legs felt like heavy slabs of lead and if I stopped for an instant I would never get started again. Had to keep moving. Had to get to the safe house and deal with this bullet wound and kill the fucker who shot me and do damage control on my territory and defend my territory and-

One step at a time, Wilson. One step at a time.

Safehouse. I needed to get to a safe house. From there I could hire some out of towner to heal me. But first I had to get there. I turned sharply, stumbling from the momentum. Our base was a few blocks away. I turned around almost the instant I stepped on the street. We’d moved our base. There had been too much risk that Waylay would destroy it, so we’d split up. I glanced at the street sign. Closest safehouse was too close to the coastline and Waylay. Couldn’t afford to backtrack, couldn’t risk running into a drone swarm.

Pink Slip’s acceleration boost ran out before I made it to the safehouse. The world slowed down, the buildings no longer blurred slightly. I tried to push myself, to keep running, but my foot caught on something for a brief moment. I stumbled and my pace slowed to a walk.

Just get to the safehouse. It’s not safe out here. Just get to the safehouse. I took four steps and forcefully exhaled. Three more, then inhale. Then another four and exhale. I forced myself into the rhythm. I couldn’t think about the distance. If I thought them I wouldn’t make it.

“Butcher.”

The single, inflectionless word grabbed my attention. I turned to look at the source. Exile stood there guarding the door to an inconspicuous apartment building. The safehouse.

Exile wasn’t one to wear a costume. The only thing that hinted she was a cape were the fingerless gloves she wore. Razor sharp curved talons of bone extending from the glove, sliding smoothly over her finger and curving downwards slightly to become vicious nails. Exile pushed the door open with ease. “You’re hurt.”

I nodded, making my into the apartment building. It had been part of a large scale development project before the port was blockaded. We’d taken over the fanciful entranceway yesterday, leaving scattered boxes and sleeping bags everywhere. I collapsed on a couch stolen from one of the apartments and pressed a wound to my hand. It stung from the pressure.

Exile cleared her throat. She had the receiver in one hand, dialing a written down number. Her eyes caught mine. “The others?”

I shook my head, “Omega and Knave. Dead I think. Waylay targeted us. We got Kaiser though.” The thought wasn’t as cheerful as it should have been. Kaiser was dead. Pink slip was dead. The asshole who shot me was dead. The victory felt hollow.

I’d seen something of myself in Omega. Not a lot, but just enough. We’d both hit a point and told society’s standards to fuck off. Omega hadn’t fully committed to that.

Exile frowned, “Dead. Knave was useful. Omega less so.”

I sat on the couch for a few more minutes as Exile called a healer for hire. There was so much space here and so much of it was empty.

I set down my knife and stepped outside for fresh air.

I got to the safehouse. Exile was calling a healer. Now what? Kill the shooter? Waylay did that for me. Defend my territory? Couldn’t do it until my shoulder got fixed. I had men, but they would need healing too. We were immobilized and weak right now. Frail. Our territory was perfect for the taking if anyone was inclined. I hated this. I hated feeling weak, feeling immobile. I was a predator, a killer. Not a house cat.

Everything was quiet. Too quiet. Did someone take out Waylay’s device?

I looked up to see a hobbling figure approach. The figure wore a motorcycle helmet with drawn on fangs. Omega.

Details about him became apparent as he approached. Dark splotches covered his pants. Bloodstains. His clothes were riddled with puncture wounds. Omega clutched his left arm in his right, pressing the fabric tight to it. The bottom of the leg leg of his pants was gone, exposing a bloody mess of flesh. Something metal seemed to have lodged itself in his leg.

I couldn’t keep surprise out of my voice, “Omega! You survived.”

He stared unresponsively at me for a long moment. The moment dragged on. As I started to turn away he shouted, “Fuck you Butcher! You fucking left me! Don’t act like you’re happy to see me! You let me for dead!”

I considered sending a pain beam at him to shut him up. I didn’t; it might complicate the healer’s work. “But you survived. You were strong enough to survive and you did. You should be proud. Did Knave...?”

Omega hobbled closer, dragging his bloodied foot behind him somewhat. His voice was hoarse and raspy, “Fuck Knave! You don’t care about him! You don’t care about any of us! We’re just tools to you, aren’t we? Tools that you take in, care for, give shelter to just so they do what you want. I don’t want a part of this, Butcher. I’m getting healing and then I’m out.”

Every one of us words was true.

I took a few steps back. “You don’t mean that Omega. You don’t. We’re family. The Teeth is family. I care about family,” I lied, “I care about what happens to you. You’re valuable.”

He tore his helmet off and weakly tossed it to the side. It barely went anywhere. A wave of telekinesis sent it off out of sight, “Valuable! I’m not some sort of object, damnit. I’m-“

I sent him to the ground with a wave of pain. He screamed, tears flowing from his eyes.

I stared down at him, disappointed. “Yes, valuable.” I spoke the words that would hurt him and help me the most, “You don’t see it but you could be like me one day. Leading the Teeth. Wealth, power, a reputation, peers. Everything you want, Omega. Don’t throw it away. I didn’t hurt you. Waylay did. The nazis did. The Shades did. Not me.” I let up on the pain.

Omega whimpered for a bit on the ground before regaining control over himself. “I- I’ll never... fuck it. Fuck it all. I‘ll...” he trailed off. Something seemed to shift in Omega. The tears stopped flowing and a sort of resignation came over him. He raised his good arm up.

It was awkward grabbing his wrist with my bad arm and I had to call on my strength to pull him up. He swayed on his feet and leaned into me. I made a slight shuffling motion towards the door. Omega leaned on my shoulder as we approached it, his head tucked in the crook of my neck.

I felt my heart flutter. A heavy pressure rose up in my chest, pressing against me and weighing me down. It was constricting and crushing. I pushed Omega aside and turned to face him. His eyes snapped shut as he hit the ground and I felt the pressure abate. I pumped him full of agony. He flailed below me, screaming.

He forced his eyes open the tiniest degree. Tears streaked down them. I feel the pressure return in my chest. My heart fluttered as the pressure caressed and enraptured it in its grasp.

I knelt to punch Omega in the face.

I felt something crunch inside me before I could.

The blood pounded in my ears as I stumbled back. Pain tore through me and I rushed to convert it to strength. The right side of my chest felt warm and empty. My vision went out of focus for a moment.

The pounding of blood started to fade as my chest heated up even more. My vision went back out of focus and stayed that way. My eyelids felt heavy. Everything felt heavy. My eyelids slipped shut. I fought the blackness and the urge to give in. I couldn’t die. I was the Butcher. I couldn’t die, I refused to die. The warm sensation in my chest and the cold ache of my body called  me. They were irresistible and incessant. I couldn’t give in, I couldn’t let myself die. Not like this.

The urge called again and this time I couldn’t fight it off.