Sabah Ahsan Wayafar-
Even as she counted the stack of dollar bills she'd just been handed, Sabah didn't allow the trenchcoat-wearing man who'd handed it over to her out of her line of sight.
The act of caution seemed to not in no way bother the man, who'd taken a seat on a wooden crate while watching her count the money in what seemed like amusement, completely unconcerned by the three 8-foot-tall stuffed bears standing close to her in a vaguely triangular formation
"Three-thousand five-hundred dollars," He spoke up at the very moment she'd flicked the corner of the last bill, his Spanish accent as pronounced as ever, "Just as agreed upon, Señorita. Now is your time to uphold your side of the deal, no?"
She paused at that, before asking a question that was niggling at the back of her mind.
"Why would you hand over the money without even seeing the product? Aren't you afraid that I might've scammed you?"
"You certainly had the ability to try," He spoke, his tone as light and easy as ever, "But, not the incentive. You're a rogue who deals in goods rather than violence. Reputation is what your business lives and dies by. Being known to not be as good as your word would kill your ability to do business, at least with the less… Criminally-inclined members of our little masked community.
"Plus, in a world already plagued by callousness, apathy, and mistrust-"
The half-masked man smiled.
"-Sometimes, I like to make the choice to trust."
If the expression 'bright smile' was supposed to be a metaphor, Sabah felt her client didn't get the memo. It took a considerable amount of effort on her part to keep from flinching and covering her eyes, that's how pearlescent his teeth were at that moment.
A flick of her wrist - performative, as her power didn't require her to move at all - had one of the oversized teddies picking up a sealed parcel and marching it over to the trenchcoat-clad man before holding it out for him.
He took the parcel from the bear before it seemed to just… Fall apart in his hands. Before Sabah could've done more than blink in surprise, the man suddenly spun in place, a blur of movement and the swishing of cloth becoming the only noticeable things for an instant, before they resolved into a figure that left Sabah staring dumbly.
"Superb craftsmanship," The man spoke while eyeing his own figure, "Commendable, yet not unexpected."
Setting his left leg slightly behind him and giving his knee a light bend, the man went into a theatrical bow one would expect from a period piece, left hand folded behind his back and right one over his stomach while giving the Rogue seamstress a nod.
That done, he snapped his fingers, resulting in a flash of light that had Sabah immediately drawing her teddies around her in preparation for an attack of some sort. When the light faded and her sight returned to her, however, what she was met with was a sole rose resting on the spot her customer had previously occupied.
She stared at the rose as if it were a snake ready to bite her, only for the sound of paper crinkling paper to reach her as she took half a step away from it. Looking down allowed her to notice the fact that she'd just stepped on an envelope that had previously not been there.
She froze, tensely waiting for something, anything to happen, but after a full minute of nothing, she mustered up the courage to pick it up. Reasoning that the guy could've hurt her already if he wanted to, Sabah took a steadying, fortifying breath before breaking what looked like a full-on wax seal with a purple lotus stamp, her gaze falling upon a letter written in beautiful, flowing cursive.
Spoiler: purple lotus stamp
"Senõrita," The letter read, "You must be surprised by my abrupt departure. I noticed the fact that you seemed rather discomfited in my presence-"
She couldn't help but grimace at that, chagrined at the fact that the person who'd just done business with her in nothing but absolute good faith, had not hesitated to trust her to hold up to her end of the deal, and was nothing but friendly and courteous towards her noticed her discomfort around him, but kept on reading.
"-Something I do not begrudge you for, as it is the wisest thing one can do in this world we live in, as sad a state of affairs it may be. Anyhow, the purpose behind this letter, other than reiterating my appreciation for the piece you've made for me, is to keep an open line of communication for the possible eventuality that I might find myself needing your services once more. That was no reason to knowingly cause you discomfort in your own territory, however, so here we are.
"Best wishes to you, Señorita.
"Signed,-"
Sabah's slightly ashamed grimace faded as her eyes fell upon the signature, incredulous goggling taking its place for a moment before her face went through myriad different expressions ranging from amusement to embarrassment, only to ultimately land on exasperation.
Silently shaking her head, the young woman folded the letter and carefully slipped it back into the envelope, a minor flex of her power causing a thread to wrap around it and carry it away for storage before she decided to turn her focus toward her creations.
With no more commissions active, she could only turn her attention back to her puppet shows, after all, and those required preparation and variety for continued popularity. The raw novelty of 'show held by cape using powers' would eventually fade, after all, so securing a loyal audience before then was paramount.
An image of her latest customer in full ensemble flashed through her mind right as her materials floated their way to her, prompting her to start crafting.
-Miss Militia-
The last couple of weeks had been burdensome.
Before, seeing medium or large-scale conflict between the gangs was something rare, with most clashes between them being more symbolic than anything else, small parties poking at prodding at each other in areas where gang territories shared borders as a means to dissuade the others from trying to extend their activities into 'foreign land'.
The rare occasions of major conflict, be it for business or territory, were primarily fought by the gang's capes rather than their foot soldiers - though enough of those were occasionally implicated and involved enough for the death toll to break double digits - and were most often than not inconclusive due to the interference of third parties.
With the deaths of E88 members at the hands of the latest cape to join the Brockton scene, though, the city had turned into a powder keg ready to blow up.
The Empire had sufficient numbers and resources that the loss of their unpowered members bore no consequence to them other than a small hit to their image, but the recent deaths of two of their capes, Cricket and Crusader, put them in a position where projecting power and force were a necessity.
The Merchants were knocked about a bit when some of their 'recruitment drives' skirted far too close to Empire turf, but Skidmark seemed to have gotten the memo, and outside of the occasional stubborn, oblivious, or stoned-off-their-gourd member who went on trying to do shit where they shouldn't, his people managed to stay off the sights of the new cape by staying out of his preferred area of operation.
The ABB were the ones laughing all the way to the bank under the current circumstances, though. Since they were not as insignificant in the long term as the merchants, they couldn't really get away with trying to discreetly do business in the fringes of Empire territory, and that might've been the only reason they were unscathed so far.
Brutal, bloodthirsty, and violent as he may be, stupid wasn't an adjective one could easily attach to the list of Lung's descriptions. His only response to these circumstances, outside of strengthening the defense of ABB borders, was to keep an eye on the situation's developments while building up his people's strength for the brewing territory push that everybody knew would eventually come.
To heroes, like Hana, and to the authorities in general, what this meant was an increase in working hours.
While an inconvenience to most other Protectorate heroes on account of possible disruptions to their personal lives and sleep schedules, Hana didn't really have much of a problem with the extra late-night patrols she was assigned.
She didn't really need sleep anyways and already made a habit of volunteering for late night and extra hours to a degree that was outmatched only by Armsmaster, so the added work time wasn't too big a change for her.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
RATATATATATATATATATAT-
CRACKCRACKCRACK-
The sound of gunshots in the distance pulled Hana from her introspective thoughts, her lips firming up into a stern frown under her American flag scarf as she redirected her bike in that direction.
"Miss Militia to console, I was driving through Milton and St. Andrew's when I heard gunfire coming from the east, probably from around the East Slums. Currently en route to the scene."
"Copy that, Miss Militia," Triumph, who was on console duty for the night, answered, "Assault is free so he'll head down your way, but he was running a route through Royal Station so it'll take a while for him to get there, probably around 15 minutes. Battery is closer, around Ferry North, but she's engaging some Empire goons right now, so-"
"Battery to console," The very heroine interjected, "Empire guys are down and being collected by the police. I'm heading up to Militia's location, be there in five."
"Copy that, Battery," Triumph responded, "Miss Militia, you probably know this better than me but-"
"Follow SOP for engagement as a non-brute, I know."
"...Yeah. Be careful, Miss Militia. Console out."
The call ended after that, allowing Hana to turn her full focus back toward the situation she was heading toward.
The tinker tech built into her bike - courtesy of Armsmaster - meant that her journey toward the scene was as quiet as it was swift, yet despite her speed, the gunshots stopped before she could get sight of the scuffle. She stopped her bike around the corner of an old, dilapidated brick house, something not particularly uncommon at the edges of merchant turf as she was, setting it up on its kickstand before slowly, and crouching as low to the ground as she could, making her way to the edge of the brick wall.
Hugging the wall tightly, she took a moment to focus, calling upon the mental image of an Earth Aleph gun she'd researched that while cumbersome, very hard to aim properly, and unwieldy in most circumstances, made it possible for one to look and even shoot around corners, allowing her to see the situation around the wall she was using as cover.
Spoiler: Aleph weapon
The sight she was ultimately met with was that of purple cloth swishing about as an agile figure maneuvered their way past a throng of downed bodies and toward a Tec-9-wielding merchant.
The merchant, who'd been fumbling in his attempts at sticking a mag into the empty mag well, managed to stick it in at about the same time as the purple-clad figure reached him. A large, gloved hand clamped around the pistol's frame from above, blocking the charging handle and preventing the merchant from chambering a round.
A quick tug had the gun landing among the throng of downed bodies before the now unarmed merchant folded around a palm strike to the gut, which was followed up by one to the chin, rendering him unconscious.
The last standing merchant - a new member, if the clean state of his clothing and the lack of rot in his chattering teeth were to be believed - slowly backed away from the purple-clad figure whose back was the only part Miss Militia could see, body trembling in fear as he tried to reach for his waistband.
The merchant's backpedaling sped up as the cape (?) approached him until his back hit a wall, at which point he gritted his teeth before pulling an old, rusty, and very much crusty Beretta 70 from his waistband, which he raised at the cape with a trembling grip.
"D-DON'T COME OVER, OR I'LL… I'LL SHOOT! I SWEAR I'LL DO IT!"
Seemingly deaf to the merchant's words, the purple-clad figure kept walking, but while the druggie's breathing sped up, teeth gritted and his grip on the pistol tightened, he didn't even try to pull the trigger all the way to the moment when the cape got close enough to him to place a hand over his and softly push it down, a Spanish-accented voice filling the air.
"Cálmate, Chico. You're no killer like these pendejos around us."
The figure addressed the obviously panicking merchant, who, now that Hana could properly focus on, looked like a young teen, someone who should be worried about homework and girls rather than pointing a gun at Capes.
"I don't know your story." The purple-clad man continued, still unaware of the fact that she, and a newly arrived battery, were observing from right around the corner, "You could be someone who tried something 'for fun', lost yourself for a few steps, and suddenly found yourself here. You could be a desperate young man trying to find a way to put food on your plate. Heck, you might even be a victim of these cabrónes, who got a needle stuck in him against his will and is now chasing a better high.
"What you are not, is built for this. So leave before the cops show up and your future is ruined, get cleaned up, and turn your life around. You still have time."
The young man - boy, really - choked up, tears building up in his eyes before he let the gun drop from his nerveless fingers.
The boy's eyes suddenly widened in shock at about the same time as Miss Militia was about to open fire and Battery was about to move in, the reason for these three reactions being one of the previously downed merchants pointing the previously discarded Tec 9 at the back of the cape-
Woosh-
-only for something to slip through what Hana could now recognize as a cape and smack into the criminal's face with a meaty thwack before he could've pulled the trigger, knocking him fully unconscious.
"Go now, Chico."
The boy seemed to not need any more incentive as he booked it out of the scene like a bat out of hell.
"If you hide from a man like this, Señoras," The man spoke as the thing that smacked the grounded merchant unconscious, a cane, rose slowly rose from the ground, flipping around so that the end of it pointed at them for a moment, before slowly floating toward him, "You might hurt his feelings."
Knowing that they were well and truly made, Miss Militia and Battery walked into view, the two moving in a seemingly casual manner, but always keeping Battery in front and slightly to the side of Miss Militia, allowing her to at any time step in front of the gun-wielding cape to tank for her if needed, while giving Militia an angle on the other cape.
The man turned around, and neither woman managed to keep a straight face when faced with the full view of the man's ensemble.
At first sight, his getup of a shin-length cape over a tuxedo, dress shoes, hat, and cape was reminiscent of a stage magician - if in purple, a color uncommon to the profession - with the only thing breaking the theme being the masquerade mask that left the bottom part of his face exposed, but it took only a second look to start seeing the… Thematic Deviations.
Spoiler: first sight but in purple
What at first sight looked like a top hat was actually a velvet fedora, which bore a band with white leopard-print patterns, and a large, white feather.
Spoiler: this but leopard print and white feather
The tuxedo, too, had white leopard-print patterns on the lapels, cuffs, and pants hem, as did the interior lining of his cape; even his shoes looked like something a pimp in a 1970s blaxploitation flick would wear, a pair of loafers with 2-inch platform heels, and covered in, once again, white leopard-print.
Spoiler: this but velvet and fitted and with an inner shirt
And to finish his ensemble was the cane floating right into his hand, which he then leaned his weight upon.
Spoiler: cane
"Battery and Senõrita Militia…" The cape trailed off for a moment before an amiable smile split his lips, "To meet with two members of the famed Brockton Bay Protectorate, and a couple of lovely ladies at that… It is an honor."
A red blur suddenly made its way onto the scene, resolving onto an athletic man clad in a red suit who settled to Hana's left the same way Battery had settled slightly to the right as to discreetly cover her while still allowing her a line of fire.
"Three members of the Protectorate, actually," Assault's voice joined the conversation, his tone as light and friendly as his smile as he addressed the unknown cape, "Though I'd understand if you weren't as excited about meeting me as you were about Miss Militia, and the lovely, enthralling, enchanting, entrancing-"
"Assault!"
The red-clad man gave an exaggerated clear of the throat in response to the embarrassed squeak from the heroine in the black suit with circuit pattern motifs, before finishing in a less intense tone. "-Battery."
"Do not sell yourself short, Señor Battery," The cape said with a teasing smile, drawing a grin from Assault and a mild groan from Battery which carried to it an undercurrent of smug satisfaction, "Meeting you is as interesting a prospect as is meeting your lovely companions. Your sense of humor and your lighthearted demeanor are rather famous locally. But, ah, where are my manners? It is impolite to converse without even giving an introduction, no?"
He knocked his cane on the ground once, the sound of metal on concrete resounding throughout the area in a manner that felt somewhat unnatural, before he started speaking.
"Purveyor of Pleasure, Sultan of Satisfaction, Admirer of Beauty, Savior of the Helpless, and protector of the weak and innocent," A quick flick of his wrist had his cane shifted to his left hand, while his cape flared out under a non-existent wind, "I am a man who abhors the faked pleasure and forced satisfaction.
"I am what every dissatisfied wife wishes for. The man who the loveless woman yearn for, and the repressed woman need.
"I am…"
He knocked the bottom of his cane against the ground once more before removing the hat from his head, revealing a lustrous, glossy mane of wavy black hair reaching his shoulders, and bowing politely, with the hat held to his chest.
"The… Magnificent… Orgasmo."
Miss Militia and Battery could only stare at the self-professed 'savior of the helpless' in stunned silence, incredulous at the thought that anyone could fall within the same ballpark of corniness as Mouse Protector with such great ease-
"Bravo! Bravo!"
-While Assault cheered and clapped at the man's introduction, a wide grin spread across his face as he did.
Orgasmo stood back up to full height, lips opening as he seemed ready to address the three before his head turned to a different direction, his expression serious as the grave.
This sudden change had the three Protectorate heroes, who despite their friendly demeanor had not at all dropped their vigilance in the face of the new cape, tense and ready to go, before Miss Militia spoke up, her tone all business.
"What is it, Orgasmo?"
"...The nocturnal gales flow, carrying with them the disappointed sighs of dissatisfied women," The man spoke, his voice full of feeling, "It is my duty to journey into the night, and redress such ill."
He then surprised the three by turning into a blur of purple with as little as a rustle of cloth, a single leap landing him 8 feet up one of the surrounding buildings' walls, before he chained two more, resulting in him landing on the lip of the roof.
The angle he stood at in relation to a bright lightbulb on the top floor of the said building resulted in a grandiose shadow being cast upon the three protectorate heroes, before Orgasmo, his back turned toward them, spoke.
"We shall meet again, fellow heroes."
He then ran out into the night, leap after leap taking him across buildings until his figure became little more than a purple dot in the distance.
The three stared at the retreating figure with little more than silent incredulity-
"What in the fuck was that?"
Before Triumph, who'd been in line and watching through Battery's helmet camera since she first arrived at the scene, couldn't help but cry out in shocked confusion.
-Chapter, End!-