Chaotic Clusterfuck 31 (Patreon)

Commissioned by Definitely Not Dio

Chaotic Clusterfuck

Chapter 31

-VB-

Roy put his phone down and breathed out a steady stream of frustration from his nose. 

Most lawyers weren’t keen on challenging the PRT, and those that would advised him that there wasn’t a case for him. He knew that Alan was also trying his hand at suing the PRT, but as it was, he probably wasn’t having any luck, either. 

He hated the fact that he was powerless even though his city’s prosperity - and thus he and his family’s prosperity - was being threatened. 

“Hon?”

He looked up and saw Adriana, his wife.

“Ah, is it already time for dinner?” he asked with an apologetic smile. 

She looked at him with a worried look before sighing. “Problems?”

“N-nothing that needs your old folks,” he replied quickly. “I can solve this.”

“Then at least tell me so I can understand if it is something you don’t need help with.”

“You’re going to get the in-laws involved if it looks even slightly unfavorable to me.”

She smiled. “Of course. I want my husband to win.”

He stared at her for a long time before he sighed. “Fine. The PRT is picking a fight with one of my … friends, so to speak.”

She blinked. “The PRT is picking a fight…?”

“They assaulted him on his own property without any warrant and cause for arrest.”

Her eyes widened. Then her eyes widened again. “It’s Mister Marris, isn’t it?” she asked. “They were after whatever he made off from the downed alien planes.”

“Yes,” he sighed as he leaned back. “If he didn’t have cape guards in the first place, then they would have arrested him, too.”

“... And why are you angry on his behalf?” she asked him after getting her poker face back under control. 

Roy Christener paused and looked at Adriana Christener nee Rockefeller. If he had to describe her, then it was that she was perhaps the least ambitious member of her family who was the most like her most well-known member of her family. People often forgot that John D. Rockefeller and his brother, co-founder of Standard Oil, had a lot of children, 5 and 6 respectively. People also often forgot that the Rockefellers only gained more wealth after J.D. Rockefeller’s death, not less. 

Even through the First and Second Impact, they maintained that wealth and, despite having over a hundred members in the family, they never squandered their wealth.

‘How I got her to fall in love with me, I’ll never understand,’ he thought. 

Adriana was the person her relatives came to when they wanted actual advice. 

“Because he is the person who has brought a sliver of prosperity back to the city,” he replied honestly. “Not only that, he has finally stabilized the city’s water management, which has been under trouble for over a decade. His actions further enriched our family by offering information on what he was going to do when he didn’t have to. Currently, he is one of my most important financial supporters if not the most important because unlike the rest of the my backers, he has over fifty capes at his back and call.”

“I see,” she hummed as she walked in and sat down in his favorite armchair. “Even if they are weak, fifty capes represent not just a significant military force but also a level of connection that no one in the city has.”

“Exactly,” he said even though he hadn’t thought about that. 

“You always have been lucky with people,” she hummed while crossing her legs.

“Yeah, well, I have you, don’t I?” he grinned.

She leveled him a deadpan. “How did I ever fall in love with you…” she sighed.

“I know, right?”

“Don’t test me, Roy.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She hummed silently in his favorite armchair, which he bought for over six thousand dollars. Genuine leather was a given, but it was ornate and handcrafted by an expert craftsman whose works was highly prized among his peers. It was also very comfortable. 

“Are you sure the PRT didn’t barge in knowing that the man had that kind of connection?” she asked. 

He blinked. 

She rolled her eyes. “Roy, people do not act without cause. PRT and the Protectorate, more so. This is the kind of incidence they want to avoid at all cost but for some reason they go against their established policies to go after this one man, even if publicly it was because of alien plane parts?” she asked. “That doesn’t sound right to me at all. There’s at least one more reason to do so, and it would have to be a good one. Otherwise, this feels less like a policing action gone wrong but a political action from within the PRT specifically against your friend.”

He blinked as he tried to wrap her words around. 

“Wait…”

Adriana smirked. “I see. I see. Brockton Bay is already an unstable city where foreign and local elements of all levels of society mingle most openly. At the very least, this will shine a light on the city. Pirates alone will make the city look like a hive of scums, but the heavy cape population will only make the problem stand out.”

“P-Problem?”

She sighed and looked at him dead in the eyes. 

“The perceived problem of city-level mismanagement,” she drawled. 

“Wait, but that’s not -.”

“It depends on how the media plays it out.” Because as she always stated, not believed or thought but knew, national level media were not independent entities. “If they target you and the civilian authorities, then they are specifically targeting to screw Mister Marris by forcing you and others to lose your jobs. By doing so, they would put their cronies in your position and start pressuring Mister Marris. This could just be a long term play to get those alien plane parts, but I’m not so sure this kind of long term plan is necessary for that.”

“R-Right. I heard from Alan that he’s holding an auction with some of the … capes from the south.”

She tilted her head. “Ah. I did hear from my nephew that he was taking part in some kind of ‘super dope’ auction in Boston. Could that be it?” 

Scary scary scary. She was aware of events that he never would have learned about if he hadn’t been Alan’s, uh, “friend.” 

Adriana cleared her throat and straightened herself. “But there is another potential target. If the national media locks in on the local PRT, then you and Mister Marris were never targets, just means to an end. They would point to the city’s population of villains, gangsters, crooks, and pirates and force a resignation or dismissal of Director Piggot. Then they would put their crony in her place. Cousin Erica does complain about her deputy director friend’s PRT problems.” Then she paused. “But you would have to watch out if the media goes after both you and the director.” 

“Why’s that?”

She sighed. “I’m thankful at least one of our children got my brains.”

“Rory is a good boy!” 

“He is my sweetest boy, but he is as bullheaded as you, husband,” she deadpanned. “I’m talking about Pamela.”

It was his turn to sigh. “She’s too good at manipulation.”

“Better she be good at it than be manipulated,” Adriana hummed. “Well, back on track. If they target both of you, then their aim is chaos. Discrediting both the civilian and PRT authorities? People will clamor for people to be replaced. All sorts of political upheavals, and if they can get the media to do that, then they can fund any sort of campaign against you or the fat and sour director. While you are too busy defending yourself and the PRT is frozen with infighting at the highest level, they can send in their agents for whatever their true purpose is.”

He wanted to burp. Just listening to her about potential schemes of other people out there made him feel full. 

“If their aim is control, then that’s where it will end. Brief chaos that ends with their people in charge. Even if some third party gets involved, it won’t mean much. If their aim is something more … debased, then you expect anything from a few murders here and there to riots and martial law.”

“Ugh.”

And the reason why he didn’t dismiss her words was because she accurately predicted the dockworker riot, never mind smaller plots and fallouts. 

“So whatever the case, I’m in the way.”

“We are in their way,” she corrected. “... Well, it is time for dinner. We’ll talk more about this later. Oh, and maybe talk to my relatives after that.”

A storm was brewing, and Roy Christener hated that.