ACL: 42. Brian is sad. No puns, just facts.

Chapter 42: Brian is sad. No puns, just facts.

Brockton Bay, NH, USA
Friday, February 11, 2011
Type: Dragon

I bailed.

As far as I was concerned, my job ended when I dropped Lung off with the heroes. I had no desire to stick around for whatever lecture Armsmaster had in mind. Or worse, go with him to PRT HQ to give a report.

Besides, Photon Mom was more than qualified to brief the heroes. She and her daughter not only took out Oni Lee, faring much better against him than they had a month ago, they also tailed me out of the city. They’d spectated much of my fight with Lung and could answer any questions the heroes had.

And if they couldn’t, odds were, I wouldn’t want to tell them, either.

In any case, the ABB was pretty much finished as a faction now. Even gangs had to make money somehow and I’d just gutted much of their brothels and a few casinos that doubled as the former.

Theoretically, their unpowered leadership could try to rebuild, but that would be made harder by their lack of caped muscle. I’d also made it clear that I didn’t mind hitting their money-makers. Without any capes of their own they had no hope of deterring me and so would have to resort to a distributed organizational model, not unlike terrorist cells.

That was all well and good for avoiding detection, but working in relatively isolated cells also meant they couldn’t consolidate wealth and power effectively either. The same trait that made terrorist cells like Teams in my old world so hard to root out also prevented them from ever truly rivalling the Leagues in conventional power.

Men like Cyrus and Giovanni didn’t go for Legends because they were nutcases… Well, not just because they were nutcases. They made risky gambits because such gambits were ultimately their best bet at beating the local Champion and Elite Four.

I was no true expert, but doubted the situation was any different here. Lung’s old captains were in a similar boat, except there was no Legend they could use for a Hail Mary. I suspected that many would splinter off from the ABB banner, choosing to be petty kings rather than lords of a larger confederation.

That was something I’d learned from Mark. My roommate was Chinese. He liked to joke that the only thing the different flavors of Asians could agree on was steamed rice. Lung’s overwhelming power had been the one thing that unified them, and I’d thoroughly uprooted that.

My thoughts turned to something future-Faultline told me: Bakuda. She was Asian, at least partially, and could theoretically take over the gang. But she’d also been sure that Bakuda wasn’t in the city, if she’d triggered at all.

No, she wasn’t here. If she was, I couldn’t imagine someone with her ego staying out of a fight like this. No matter how much she feared Lung, no matter that my victory would free her from her pressganging, she’d have felt obligated to challenge me, if only to prove that she could.

A bomb tinker sounded scary, especially with the esoteric effects I’d been warned about. I’d already made too many shifts today. Had I been forced to face her as well, there was a good chance that I’d have been overwhelmed and forced to rely on Victini.

I made a mental note to check on her. With the ABB done for, there was a reasonable chance that she’d seek out another city, maybe Boston or New York. If nothing else, they ought to be warned. And if she hadn’t triggered yet, I couldn’t think of a more humane thing to do than to prevent it altogether.

No Coil. No Empire. And now, no ABB. That left just the Archer’s Bridge Merchants.

I ran through a mental checklist of the Merchant capes. There was Skidmark, of course, and his lover, Squealer. They also had a second tinker named Trainwreck and a changer named Mush. They each had relatively weak powers and were mostly content to peddle drugs and get high.

No, that wasn’t right. They didn’t have Trainwreck. Photon Mom said I’d incidentally taken him out when I fought Lung in the trainyard. That meant that with just three capes, Skidmark was officially the strongest criminal warlord in Brockton Bay at the moment.

The thought made me chuckle. He wasn't exactly warlord material.

But then again, maybe that was the problem. Before, when Lung had remained free, people both in and out of Brockton assumed he'd take over the underworld fully. There was a vacuum caused by the fall of the Empire, but it was assumed that it'd be filled in short order.

No one had any such expectations of Skidmark. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if he chose to ditch the city altogether now that he couldn't use bigger gangs as a smokescreen for his operations.

That was what I’d do, were I a morally bankrupt drug dealer in his position. It would be the smart decision. Three capes didn’t sound like much, but gangs had started with less. It was enough to carve out a small territory at any rate. And with Squealer’s invisible trucks, they could quickly gain an edge over any local suppliers.

Somehow I suspected that wouldn’t be his choice, however. Skidmark was notorious for being an arrogant man, albeit with a certain, low cunning. One way or another, he’d show up again.

For now, Brockton Bay was more peaceful than it had ever been.

The Boat Graveyard had been cleared of debris, and not just from my own efforts. My initial feat of strength had rekindled the pride of the locals. I knew of at least two community cleanup initiatives that toured the area each weekend.

Recently, redevelopment initiatives had begun as well. The city was taking bids from construction and property management companies, each vying for land before it could appreciate.

And if Lisa was right, that was exactly why gangs from outside the city would see the fall of the Empire and ABB as an opportunity.

I could only hope that my actions today would be taken as the message it was supposed to be. Brockton Bay was mine now. I refused to let the city devolve because of another powerful criminal warlord.

X

I flew outside the city again after dropping Lung off, leaving even Laserdream in my metaphorical dust. There, I vanished into the woods and switched back before collapsing against a tree in exhaustion.

I didn’t ditch the heroes because I was too lazy to clean up after myself or give a debrief. Fighting Lung had taken a lot more out of me than I’d let on, especially after forcing myself to transform right away from tyrantrum to salamence.

It was a major breakthrough, no doubt about it, but a dangerous one. Arceus’ gift placed a sizable strain on me.

How could it not? It altered my very aura to perfectly mirror that of a pokemon’s. It was a shift not merely of the body and mind, but of the soul. Souls weren’t Play-Doh, no matter what Giratina thought.

The minute of cooldown I had existed because my fragile, human soul needed a moment to recover from a god’s blessing literally remaking it. I had a slightly different personality when I switched forms because everything about me, down to the most basic aspect of my existence, had shifted.

Forcing that shift from tyrantrum to salamence had been like intentionally removing the safety brakes off a car and stomping on the gas. I felt like that initial switch had done more to wear me down than the actual fight with Lung.

‘I don’t recommend you do that often,’ Victini said. ‘You might be dad’s special human, but even you’re not malleable enough to make that a regular thing. No one is.’

‘Mew is,’ I pointed out with a wry smile. Victim’s older sister embodied the concept of evolution. She was a genetic hodgepodge, even more so than an eevee. I wouldn’t have been surprised to hear that the cancer-cat could twist her soul like taffy.

‘And are you Mew? Are you the First Ancestor? Stop being contrarian, dummy. You know what I’m saying.’

‘Yeah, I hear you. I couldn’t do anything like this even in my old life.’

‘Exactly. For that matter, I can’t either. If you’re using my big sister as your example, you’re intentionally being silly. She’s the exception that proves every rule. She’s how we know daddy does play favorites.’

‘Oof. Sore spot? Do I smell Legendary family drama?’

‘No way. We’re all one, big, happy family that love each other… Except Groudon and Kyogre… and Rayquaza and all those deoxys that keep invading his atmospheric bachelor pad… and Yveltal and Xerneas… and Dialga and Palkia…’

‘And Giratina. I’m pretty sure that guy hates everyone equally.’

‘I choose to believe he loves everyone equally.’

‘A real “glass half full” kinda girl, aren’t you?’

‘Yup! Well, maybe except a certain human that keeps calling him “Centipede-Satan.” He might hate you specifically,’ she teased.

‘Ah, but what a way to go. Eaten by a floating ratatouille roll because I hurt his feelings,’ I joked back.

‘Anyway, don’t force a shift more than once a day or so. Trust me, repairing a soul is hard and you really won’t enjoy the experience.’

‘I won’t,’ I promised. When a Legend gave advice about souls, smart people took it to heart.

‘Good. Let’s go home, Blake.’

‘I can’t. I want to, but I need to go visit the Undersiders,’ I told her. ‘I promised Lisa that I’d talk to them, maybe help work out a way to give them what they want without the whole “teenage criminal” thing.’

‘Is that time-sensitive though? You’re exhausted.’

‘It is. I took down Coil on February first. It’s been ten days already. That’s a long time to expect a bunch of teenage villains to sit around.’

‘Is it? I don’t get it. Ten days isn’t long even by human standards.’

‘You’re underestimating how impatient humans can be. Besides, they know Lisa joined me. They probably know she’s working with Sabah by now.’

‘You think they feel betrayed? Would they hate her? For taking an opportunity to jump ship while leaving them behind?’

‘That’s a possibility. It’ll get worse if I make them wait. They might even do something stupid, like attacking Lisa and Sabah at the college.’

‘That’s… a fair concern.’

‘Yup. So I should take care of this as soon as possible.’

I stood and began to make my way back. It was evening now. I’d be missing dinner at the orphanage again, and after Mrs. Wells said she’d make beef ragu.

Still, needs must.

X

Brian Laborn

I clicked through yet another job post with a frustrated growl. No, I didn’t have a bachelor’s degree. No, I didn’t have three years of work experience. No, I didn’t know what that program or hardware you used was. This was what I’d been reduced to, applying for any and every job I could on Indeed.

It wasn’t about money. I still had about fifteen grand saved up from our jobs. It wasn’t much, but I could live off that for several months if I had to.

It was about legitimacy. I couldn’t just show off my suitcase full of small bills and stolen jewelry to Aisha’s caseworker and say, “See? I can feed her. Can I have my sister now?”

She’d want to know where I got my money, what my future financial prospects looked like, and whether I could be considered a good role model for my baby sister. At the most basic level, that all boiled down to being able to provide a legitimate place of employment. Somehow, I doubted that “leader of a small gang of parahumans” would fly with her.

Right now, the best job I could reasonably expect to get on short notice was as a line cook at Fugly Bob’s. It paid virtually nothing, just a buck above minimum wage. I could maybe live alone in a city like Brockton if I was frugal. It sure as shit wouldn’t let me provide for a growing teenager. 

I wanted to tear my hair out. This wasn’t a problem I could punch into a bloody pulp or intimidate with my power. This was the real world, the world of grown-ups and responsibilities, and I hated how ill-prepared I felt.

I kicked back my chair and stood. I needed a drink to clear my head. Not alcohol, the last thing I wanted was another black mark on my custody application.

I looked around and saw the rest of my team.

Well, we weren’t much of a team anymore. Alec was on the couch, and online, as always. I could barely see him; he’d all but made a fort out of old pizza boxes.

Rachel had just come back from walking her dogs. She didn’t say anything, but I could see the tenseness in her muscles. She knew something was wrong, but didn’t know how to fix it. That made two of us.

At this point, the three of us gathered in our old base because we had nothing better to do. Social inertia, or something like that.

We hadn’t been a team for almost two weeks now, not since Menagerie took down Coil. It hadn’t been until after the fact that Lisa told us who our boss had been. That was a few days before she officially dissolved the team and told us she was going her own way.

I felt a pang of bitterness at that. She’d fucking bailed on us like we didn’t matter. She knew she had the most desirable power out of all of us and chose to leap from the sinking ship as soon as she could. And not even a week after Coil’s arrest, she’d completely flipped sides to join Menagerie. She left behind a folder and some emails with “last minute advice,” as if that made it all better.

Then again, did I have the right to complain? It wasn’t like we really knew each other. The boss, Coil, had cobbled the team together last July. Hell, even our title, the “Masters of Escape,” was just PR bullshit that he’d pushed to make us seem bigger than we were.

What did I really know about Lisa? For that matter, what did I really know about Alec or Rachel?

I was the leader of the Undersiders, on paper. That notion made me chuckle humorlessly. It was only after we’d disbanded that I realized just how little control I really had.

Maybe Lisa had been right to leave. Maybe it was every man for himself right now. Maybe we were the idiots for sticking around, for not having a backup plan.

Downing my cup of water, I reopened the email Lisa had left behind. I wasn’t sure what the others contained, but mine included a guide to navigating the custody process. She’d included a checklist of forms I’d need to file along with their relevant deadlines. She’d even added the names of specific people I should look for at the county courthouse, people she claimed were more likely to be sympathetic.

The last thing in her gift to me was a resume. According to it, I was an “apprentice electrical technician” for Fortress Construction. I found another file from Lisa that explained:

Apparently, Fortress had been Coil’s shell company, something he used to pay me and a few of his other pawns. Though he’d been the CEO and one of its primary shareholders, it wasn’t like the company was purely made of cardboard. It did take on actual construction projects and employed something like two hundred normal people.

That was why, though the company would be investigated, it likely wouldn’t be closed right away. It wasn’t like the PRT could charge every single employee with aiding a criminal. Thanks to that, my alibi as a legitimate apprentice electrician would probably hold water. It was also why the Redmond Welding building, our hideout, remained safe to use, at least for the moment.

That made me feel a little better, but there was a problem with using the resume: I wasn’t an electrician. I’d never done anything more complicated than screw on a light bulb. If I applied for a job with this, I’d crash and burn at any serious interview. It was better than nothing, but…

I grunted in frustration. Lisa said that my best bet would be to use the resume to get my foot in the door. I could try for a different career, claim that electrical work just wasn’t for me and I wanted to change tracks.

If nothing else, I was proud of my body. I was strong and my stamina was pretty good, too. Maybe I could become a carpenter or something. It couldn’t be too hard.

That took time though. Even with the Boat Graveyard being redeveloped, construction companies weren’t quite desperate enough to hire any old bozo who stepped through their door. Interview processes could take months. At the very least, it’d take a week for a hiring manager to get back to me.

So until then, Fugly Bob’s it was.

“Yo,” Alec called. He hadn’t talked much all week, preferring to drown himself in junk food and videogames. “Brian, have you checked PHO?”

“No, has Menagerie pulled another bullshit miracle out of his ass?” I asked sarcastically. Of course he did. He seemed to have a miracle for everyone, everyone except Aisha.

“He beat Lung. As in, he ripped Lung limb from limb.”

“Good for him, but we have bigger worries.”

“Do we? Because I’m pretty sure this makes us the biggest gang in Brockton Bay right now.”

“Merchants,” Rachel grunted.

“I’m not counting them,” Alec said with a dismissive wave. “I mean, what if Menagerie comes after us? Decides he wants a full sweep of the city?”

“Then I guess we’re fucked,” I replied with a defeated sigh. We couldn’t take him on his worst day.

“Come on, dude. You’re always saying keeping up with what’s happening is important. Who knows? Maybe it’ll give you some ideas beyond ‘sandwich artist’ at Subway.”

I grumbled but gave in. This was Alec’s attempt at empathy. It wasn’t much, but it was the best I’d get.

I kicked down his pizza fort and took a seat next to him. “Move over. Let’s see what our new overlord’s been up to.”

Author’s Note

Short chapter. We’ll do a PHO interlude next, and then have that chat with the Undersiders.

Coil’s endbringer shelter construction company is never named in canon. We actually don’t know if he owns it or merely invested in it.