Wretched Joy 11 (Patreon)

Commissioned by Southmonk

Wretched Joy

Chapter 11

-VB-

Kaiser’s call went out. 

His reasoning was simple and there was an existential threat to all capes in the city now. Everyday Joe killed Krieg, and his cape used his last words to warn him about how Joe was tracking them.

By name.

This was enough for the many of the criminal elements of the city to come to the table at Somer’s Rock. Lung and lieutenant showed up. Skidmark and his ilk showed up. A bunch of independent villains and rogues showed up.

This didn’t apply to the heroes, of course. New Wave chose not to attend. PRT also chose not to attend. None of the other independent heroes showed up.

And I? 

I was right along side them, observing them while unseen. 

It was funny, actually. They didn’t have any high-rated Thinkers who could see me, so they were giving out their plans and details without even realizing it. Then I would hold this information over their heads and make them think that the other sides sold them out. Make them loathe each other. Distrust each other. And soon, knives will come out the moment I lay low for even a week or two.

“As the one who gathered us all for this meeting, I will head this discussion,” Kaiser began.

“No.” We all turned to look at Lung. “You may have called the meeting, but it is clear why you did it; you cannot handle the problem plaguing you. I refuse to let you weaklings take the leadership role when it is clear that you can’t even handle your problem.”

“The fuck did you say?” Victor snapped as he rose up from his seat. 

“Yeah, what the chink said!” Skidmark cackled. “You shits can’t keep your cunt closed so you’re all getting railed like a whore! Get yo magot-filled cunts in order, bitches!” 

I sighed. 

So much for information. They were right off to arguing with each other.

I sat in one of the empty stalls and watched them dick wave at each other. In Skidmark’s case, that was becoming closer to literal than figurative with how low his pants hung and how many times he’s already fiddled with his boxers. 

Finally, someone had enough.

Lung slammed his hand down on the table. 

Everyone quieted down, though the tension rocked up.

“You there.”

One of the independent villains froze as everyone turned to look at him. I didn’t recognize them. Were they new?

“M-Me?”

“Yes. You will head the meeting. Your job is to prevent any single party from speaking for long. Got it?”

He nodded frantically. 

“Good. Come here to the table and start with me.”

I snorted. Of course, Lung would start with himself. 

“Um. So I’m Frendal, and I’ve been nominated to chair this meeting…? Yeah, okay. Mr. Lung can start first.”

Lung didn’t say anything at first, but he eventually did after Kaiser looked like he wanted to spit. “From what I see, Everyday Joe disregards the Unwritten Rules.”

“Yes,” Kaiser started but got himself cut off by Lung.

“But that’s because most of the big names also disregard the Unwritten Rules to a certain extent. So why are you complaining about someone else doing what you are doing, Kaiser?” 

Oof, that was a good question. 

“Is it not obvious?” Kaiser asked rhetorically. 

“No. All I see is a man too weak to keep his empire going. If a single variable is enough to rock your foundation, then you are just a weakling coming to your competitors for help, aren’t you?” 

I started to see other villains look toward the Empire’s capes. 

It seemed that the balance had finally tilted, and the underworld was starting to realize this, too. 

Everyone knew that I went after the Empire and no one else. They were … curious. 

Curious enough to start poking if it looked like they might not be harmed for it. 

Should I make the Empire’s lives even more miserable? 

I hummed. I did intend to eventually go after the other gangs and villains, but if I could obfuscate myself just briefly enough to make everyone else think that the end of the Empire was my only goal?

I pulled out my phone, opened up PHO, and started typing. 

And if these indies and rivals failed to do much, the Empire 88 would still be weakened by their efforts and thus that much easier for me to kill off. 

Yes… 

It was time to execute the E88 a bit more methodically than before. Random and opportunistic attacks had their limits, after all. 

Maybe, just maybe, I should transcribe their actions and words here, too. Make them think that someone was reporting back to me or leaking information to me to hurt the Empire. If I “knew” that the Empire was hurting, then I would “obviously” attack them more, right? Make them think that for all of my homicidal tendencies, I might be working for someone else. 

Was this how I usually went about my business? No. 

Did I just want to pull out my weapons, break Stranger stealth, and bury my blades into racist dogs’ throats and heads? Very much yes.

Did I know that it might just be too much for me to handle once everyone here came for my head? Yes. 

So. Even though the murderous rage was … high… I held back. 

I typed away with the fury of a keyboard warrior, and maybe a few days from now when the villains were busy killing each other instead of looking for me, I will sneak in and kill them all.

I’ll make it … special. I have to, right? I will make it the end of organized Neo-Nazis in Brockton Bay after its two decade run. That had be special. 

But it made me wonder. Yes, I wanted to kill the Empire, its capes, and all of their hate-filled idiots. 

But would the final mass slaughter make for a good message?