44

Pre-A/N:

This wasn't explicitly mentioned in the chapter, but Amy was taken home by New Wave after the Lung fiasco. They tried to interrogate Cassie, but Sherrel and Trainwreck picked her up at the Docks and basically did the whole 'overprotective guardians' thing as they took her back home. She changed, got her gear, and went back to the factory with them.

That's where they've been working on shit. The 'war machine' got too big for the cargo container, so Sherrel, remembering how they cleared that one factory like a dozen or so chapters ago, moved everything over to the factory. In the meanwhile, Iris had hit up the interested parties - Thatdude, ImpishDelight, and Deadman - from the PHO thread and sent them invites to meet up at the factory on very short notice, leaving it up to them on if they wanted to help Invictus tonight.

Leaving this here for context, though a lot of it will be explained in the following chapter.

Anyways, now onto the story!

_______________________________________

The Docks

Undisclosed Factory

40 Minutes Before Midnight

Cassie was proud.

Oh, she was also exhausted, worried, anxious, nervous, angry, and horny because her boyfriend looked way too good on national television, but ultimately, pride was the strongest emotion that shone over each and every other nauseating feeling that fermented in her belly.

Avalon wasn’t just some reckless vigilante with incredible power anymore, after all. It had practically happened overnight, spurned on by unfortunate circumstances that shouldn’t have occurred in the first place, but now…

Now, he truly was a symbol. A symbol for actual change and progress in a world as shitty as Earth Bet - a world beaten down and held hostage by psychopathic supervillains, oversized monsters, and God only knew what else. It was displayed all over the internet, the hashtags ‘#AvalonSupremacy’ and ‘#RISE’ trending #1 internationally on PHO, and her VI was working overtime trying to parse and compartmentalize the hundreds of messages she was getting from so many different sources.

Official PRT agents, independent and dependent heroes from all over the East Coast, concerned citizens, angry citizens, journalists and news agencies-

There was a lot going on, and she honestly felt completely overwhelmed by how fast things were going, but she’d had a feeling that Jason Black was a shooting star the moment he decided to lay his life on the line for her, a complete stranger, all those weeks ago. What was a bit of stress and overstimulation if it meant helping the absolute love of her life?

That was why she was in some cold grungy abandoned oil factory at 11:20 PM, wearing her Iris costume beneath a fuzzy, oversized pink sweater, sitting cross-legged on a ratty couch that smelled slightly of cat piss and mildew. Her laptop was opened on the cushion beside her, stealing wifi from her phone’s high-speed hotspot, which was currently combing the internet for any sign of nazi-aligned news in Downtown Brockton Bay.

They only had forty minutes before Jason acted, after all, and they needed to be ready for anything. Something was telling her that her boyfriend would be cutting the head off of the snake first, and if the Empire decided to do something stupid at midnight instead of surrendering or running away…

She wanted to, at the very least, slow them down and minimize the collateral damage. Give Jason time to show up and do what needed to be done.

Murder that motherfucker Kaiser.

“I told ye’ - I ain’t paintin’ myself gold, bitch! Boy Wonder can glimmer all fancy-like if he wants, I ain’t doin’ that gay shit.” 

Trainwreck’s guttural, stone-grinding voice was loud and unrepentant as he towered over the comparatively tiny Sherrel, burnished steel gauntlets crossed over the steampunk-like chestpiece of his power armor. He was one of Avalon’s pick-ups that Cass still hadn’t gotten to know very well, but there was a natural feeling of respect between them - her boyfriend and their leader was his meal-ticket, and he refused to fuck that up.

The same couldn’t be said about Sherrel.

“See… here we are, gettin’ ready to kick nazi ass in front of everyone and you’re still refusin’ my generous offer. I’ll make ya look like a hotrod!” 

The big-boobied boobmaster of boobs practically screamed back, waving a can of Krylon Metallic spray paint with one hand while pointing an oversized wrench at the Case-53 with the other. She’d already tagged the side of her ‘baby’ with a large golden crown skewered by a fancy-looking I, and honestly, the ‘logo’ didn’t look that bad. A bit presumptuous, maybe, but there were worst things to think about when looking at the members of their ragtag band of killers and cutthroats than ‘royalty’.

The ‘brooding dark prince Avalon’ bit was bearing fruit. She was such a fucking genius.

“I ain’t yer’ fuckin’ truck, ho’. Stop wastin’ my time.” Trainwreck huffed like an overgrown baby, turning around and stalking away towards one of the grimy corners of the abandoned factory. Some sort of large, scrappy-looking warhammer - all rusted metal, refurbished exhaust pipes, and spare parts - rested against the wall, and it was clear that he only had eyes for it right now and definitely not the pouting Sherrel. 

He called over his shoulder to no one in particular, but Cassie instinctively knew who it was aimed at. “Lemme know when ya need me. Needa finish this shit up.”

She wanted to shoot him a couple of cheeky finger-guns purely on instinct, but his back was effectively facing her. This forced her to abandon the initial gesture and awkwardly transition it into a half-wave that he couldn’t even see, Cass raising her voice to be heard over Sherrel’s grumbles and subsequent banging as she returned to maintaining her truck. 

“Uh, yeah - for sure,” she stumbled on her words for a moment, fighting through her awkwardness and searching for the confidence that had her flirting with Amy so easily throughout the night. Now that was a bad bitch. “I spoke to Deadman, Imp, and Thatdude in their little group chat again. Only some of them can head over on such short notice, but…”

 BANG!

Cassie flinched, her shoulders tensing at the ear-splitting sound of metal crashing against metal, but the other two occupants of the building didn’t even seem to notice. This was… not necessarily new to her, considering she had been a part of the ABB for a while, but it was unsettling. Her hideout, her home, it was… cozy. Hidden away and locked behind advanced security measures that no one but maybe fucking Dragon could crack. 

This abandoned factory that Sherrel and Trainwreck had cleared out and turned into a pseudo-workshop? It was unguarded, unsafe, and completely off the grid - no electricity, no water, no fucking toilets.

It made Cassie feel paranoid and antsy. She had no idea how the other two were so fucking calm. She’d only come here because inviting a bunch of strangers to her safe haven was Top 5 worst ideas on the planet, but maybe she should’ve brought Pod with her instead of keeping him back at home…

“And you’re sayin’ they’re cool just showin’ up and goin’ to war against the rest of the Empire?” Sherrel prodded, sanding over the big ass dent she just smacked out of the driver side door. The woman turned her head to look back at Cassie as she did so, one blond eyebrow raised in calloused doubt. “Ain’t buyin’ it, kitty cat. Even with all that cute hashtag shit I was seein’ online. Hard to believe there’s still people like that out there, even with boss man bein’ so fuckin’ badass.”

Cassie worried her bottom lip between her teeth, that familiar coil of doubt, worry, and anxiety tightening her stomach something fierce. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe they won’t show up. But I know and you know that Jason’s too frickin’ stubborn to fail at the finish line. Even if we can’t do anything, Kaiser still gets screwed.”

“Oh, whether or not he’s dyin’ tonight ain’t a worry on my mind sweetheart,” Sherrel snickered, turning back to the gleaming black metal of her war machine - because calling it a simple truck at this point was just straight up false. She leaned forward, breathing on the tinted window, and wiped at it with the elbow of her oil-stained coverall. “I saw the fight happenin’ from the Trainyard. That man… there’s still shit he ain’t tellin’ me. Tellin’ us. Shit, I really do think he can fuck up an Endbringer if it came down to it.”

Cass found herself nodding along, even as her brows scrunched up in confusion. “So what’s your point?”

“The point I’m makin’,” she replied, placing her hands on her flared, shapely hips, and peering back at the small hacker with a considering frown on her plush lips. “Is we’re gonna have to account for less manpower if they ain’t showin’ up. Trainwreck’s tough, and that rocket hammer he’s been jerkin’ himself off about is gonna pack a fuckin’ punch, and I made my baby here better than an actual tank. Legit. Blast-proof, bulletproof, auxiliary power units for the laser cannons-”

“... Laser cannons?!”

“-And a shit ton of other sexy kit. You could tell me I was fightin’ Legend himself and I’d feel at least kinda safe in this bad boy, if only for a few minutes…” Sherrel smacked the hood of the truck proudly, but that severe frown on her face - it didn’t twitch into a smile or smirk. She looked deadly serious. “But even with a lotta their heavy hitters taken out, they got some scary fuckers, kitty cat, and I don’t know if you’re ready for that kinda scrap right now. If these people don’t show up in the next five minutes, you needa use that lil’ mirror and head on home. I… don’t want ya gettin’ hurt.”

… 

It stung.

Admittedly, Cassie knew that she wasn’t some super awesome combat specialist that could go toe to toe with other capes and come out on top. She knew that, in the last fight with the Empire, she’d done nothing but gaslight the PRT on comms and piss off Director Piggot. She also knew that, even with the confidence she’d gained from actually being able to use the power Jason had given her during the training with Pod 84, fighting in direct combat was fucking terrifying to her. Being on scene when things went down meant being a liability, and that wouldn’t really change even if help arrived. 

At this rate, standing beside Jason as he continued to rise higher and higher… it was looking more and more like a pipedream. Even Amy had incredible powers, able to shift and change people and things on a biological level with only a touch of the finger. She was so strong that she actively scared herself with the breadth of shit she could do with her abilities. And Cass liked her… a lot, so she couldn’t even be jealous of her. Amy would be able to support Jason on the frontlines with a power like that, while Cass was, what… overwatch? The girl in the chair, forever?

She loved hacking and programming, she really did… but she wasn’t satisfied with just that. She couldn’t be satisfied with just that. It was immature of her, but Cassie wanted to be that power throuple. She wanted to be able to rush into danger with her lovers and not feel like she needed to be carried or protected all the time. Even if she couldn’t match up to what Jason and Amy was capable of, selfishly, she wanted to be able to contribute in more ways than being their fucking Navi.

It fucking stung, and it didn’t help that her hacking capabilities wouldn’t be very helpful in the upcoming conflict. She really would be baggage at that point.

“... Maybe-”

“Well, shit, guess I’m just chopped liver,” a girl’s voice - low, feminine, tired - piped up from one of the cracked and boarded up windows. “I zoned out with my powers for, like, a second and y’all already forgot about me? C’mooon.”

It was like someone suddenly sprayed her brain with ice cold water, the way that her mind suddenly realized who was sitting on the couch beside her, prodding at the array of data flitting down her laptop’s screen.

Imp - that’s who she referred to herself as when she showed up about ten minutes ago and introduced herself. ‘ImpishDelight’ on PHO. Cassie had forgotten she was even there, and that they had just had a full-fledged conversation about their favorite candies.

Stranger powers were fucking scary.

The girl was younger than Cassie, that much was obvious, but it didn’t help that she was otherwise built more mature in functionally every single way. 5’5”, give or take an inch, with shapely hips, a lean and athletic-looking body beneath her form fitting black sweatpants and hoodie combo, and short black hair that was streaked in the front with bright strands of royal purple. She hadn’t taken the spooky-scary horned mask off ever since she’d arrived - or, at least, Cassie didn’t think she did - so the face card was still in limbo.

Going off of everything else, though? It was probably valid as hell too. ‘Imp’ was a certified heartstopper.

Too bad her powers were so fucking trippy.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, kid,” Sherrel gaped, one hand clenching the soft titty flesh over her heart and the other slowly lowering from the sawed-off holstered to the small of her back. “We needa get you a fuckin’ cow bell or somethin’?” 

Her eyes drifted past them for a second, into the corner, and the mechanic grimaced. “Put the arm cannon away, Trainwreck!”

“... Feh. Wouldn’ta shot with boss’ bi- girl in th’ way.”

“Firearm safety, dumbass. Don’t flag your teammates.”

Cassie side-eyed the dour-faced man with caution as he lowered his right arm from where it’d been held up in their direction, steam drifting from the circular opening where a fist or a gauntlet would normally be attached. “...Ooookay, how about we don’t do that again?”

The smacking of gum, muffled only slightly by the mask, brought her attention back to Imp. The girl was lounging back against the roughshod couch, seemingly completely at ease with the fact that the eight foot tall street-robot almost peppered her body with dozens of pieces of red-hot shrapnel. 

“Gonna have to get used to jump-scares with me around, old man. I’m still getting the hang of being Brockton Bay’s first ever ninja. Minus, uh, Oni Lee - but fuck that guy! Me and my homies hate Oni Lee.”

Oddly enough, the cheekiness was comforting. In a very distant way, it almost reminded Cassie of Jason, only less confident and smooth. She found herself smiling, idly tapping a couple keys on her laptop to return the window back to her Downtown news scans.

“Heh, I think we’ve got you beat on the whole ‘hating Oni Lee’ thing,” Cass piped in before the grumbling Trainwreck could rebuttal with something sexist or demeaning, the freaking incel. “Considering Ja- er, Avalon sorta… killed him. And his boss. Annnd we’re probably sitting in what used to be one of their bases, judging by the bullet casings scattered around and the bloodstains on the floor…” she trailed off, glancing back over to the resident mechanic.

Sherrel clicked her tongue, a smirk forming on her oil-stained face. “Guilty. Boss and I cleared those pussies outta here a few days ago. Guess they didn’t bother tryna come back, and whoever took their bodies left shit behind. More loot for momma!”

“... Huh. Fair enough,” Cass blinked, returning her attention back to Imp. “Anyways, you’re among like-minded haters now! I’m… I’m just hoping Deadman and Thatdude pull through. Like Overdrive said, I’m not the best at a straight up brawl, and something’s telling me that the Empire’s not going down quietly. I’m not getting anything from my backdoor, either… Kaiser probably made them get rid of their phones.”

Imp crossed her ankles over each other, reaching down with her gloved hands to pull her feet closer to her ass and transition into a somewhat uncomfortable looking cross-legged position. There was a flash of something long and metal attached to her belt loop - some sort of sharp looking dagger - but it quickly disappeared behind her leg. 

When she looked back up to Cass, it was with a tilted head, silky purple locks spilling over the front of her light gray mask. “Pretty sure ‘Thatdude’ got into some legal shit with the PRT, dumbass trespassed on the beach and resisted arrest last I heard. Deadman and I spoke in private DMs, though.”

Cassie perked up, latching tightly onto the potential lead. “Yeah? And?”

Imp shrugged, fingers dancing upon the frayed hem of her hoodie. It wasn’t mere anxiety, though - she was fidgeting. Stimming. ADHD, maybe? Whatever it was, she didn’t even seem like she was aware that she was doing it. “Psh, get this: The guy’s actually former Marines. Got dishonorably discharged, wouldn’t say why, but he became a mercenary - did work with Faultline’s crew at some point. Last I heard from him, he was getting some jughead buddies together to meet up with you. Here.”

The sound of Sherrel starting up a blowtorch in the background battled with the heavy rain that continued to batter against the factory, pitter-pattering over the rooftop and windows. Cassie snuggled deeper into her oversized sweater, gliding her tongue over her swollen bottom lip as she absorbed this new information.

“... That’s fucking sweet, actually. I didn’t know he dealt with Faultline’s Crew before.” He’d mentioned ‘handling’ capes before, on his public PHO post, but there was a stark difference between actively doing missions alongside and against capes and just shooting some super-powered druggie after he wandered onto your property. It was looking more and more like there was actual weight behind these declarations.

Imp nodded twice, leaning forward over her own crossed ankles. “Fucking badass, right? He treated me like a kid - weird, ‘cuz I don’t got my age on my PHO profile. That shit attracts freaks. But he seemed cool. Depressing as fuck, but chill.”

A wry smile twisted Cassie’s lips, and she raised her voice to be heard over the white noise of rain and Sherrel adding yet another contraption to her modded-out war machine. “Can’t be any worse than ol’ grumpy nuts over there. I think I’d take chill and depressed over sexist and mean any day of the week.”

An unamused, phlegm-filled snort immediately followed the theatrical stage-whisper.

“Fuck you too, dollface.”

Eyes twinkling, Cass tossed the grumpy metal giant a two-fingered salute. “Hehe.”

“Helping out my hero by stabbing the fuck outta nazis, running around in a cool ass mask, hanging out with actual people and not a buncha loser meatsacks who already lost hope…” Imp shook her head rapidly, and Cassie could practically feel the restless, aimless energy in the younger girl’s body double in quantity. She definitely had some sort of ADHD. “I’d take this any day of the week. Just let me know where you need me, princess”

Cassie paused. “Princess?”

“You and Avalon - you’re datin’, right? At least, that’s what the threads were saying. You, him, and Panacea got some kinda… poly thing going on?”

God, she hated the way her stomach filled with butterflies thinking about those two and their date together. Not ‘hated’ in a bad way, but ‘hated’ in a ‘why the fuck can I tease this girl all night but get so flustered thinking about all of us smooching together’. It was unbecoming! Wasn’t she supposed to be the ‘first wife’ and make all the other girls feel welcomed and taken care of?!

It was doomed. Cassie was a fucking bottom and she absolutely knew it. The slightest peak at her internet search history would prove it a thousand times over.

“... Hah! Holy shit, your face is so fucking red. It’s true, then - Avalon gets hella bitches. That’s wild - not unexpected, since he’s, like, the hottest guy I’ve ever seen, but still.”

“Alright, listen- that’s… not untrue, but it sounds all slutty when you say it like that. We’re not whores, we’re just… young adults who like each other very much,” Cassie complained, leaning back into the stinky couch and crossing her arms over her chest. There was absolutely no way in Hell she was pouting at a fourteen year old girl, either - of course not. She was just frowning disappointedly, like an older sister.

… For sure.

Somehow, Imp’s demon-like mask deadpanned. Either that, or her blank stare and body language made it clear just how unamused she was at that statement. 

“Y’all have a threesome yet or nah?”

COUGH.

Cassie inhaled sharply, swallowing the saliva that had managed to slide itself down the completely wrong pipe. Trainwreck shifted at the noise, peering suspiciously over at them while hammering something into the back end of his chaotic mess of a warhammer, but he didn’t say a word.

He probably heard everything, though. They weren’t necessarily being quiet.

“H-hem!” Cass cleared her throat, feeling much too overdressed for the suddenly warm room. “No, you frickin’ perv, n-not that it’s any of your business in the first place. Stop asking about my sex life!” 

Imp’s deep, throaty chuckles felt distinctively too seductive for her age.

“Whatever,” she snorted, that shit-eating grin still audible in her voice. “Your ‘sex life’ aside - Avalon said he’s taking Kaiser and Coil out at midnight, right?”

The sudden reminder was sobering. Cassie deflated, feeling her metaphorical ears flatten to her head as she remembered Sherrel’s previous statement. You needa use that lil’ mirror and head on home.

She felt it in the pocket of her sweater. Jason had given it to her before following Lung out into the parking lot. It was basically an instant ‘get outta jail free’ card, and one that she would probably have to use soon, no matter how much it bothered her.

“Yeah…” 

Imp leaned in again at the morose confirmation, her muffled voice heightening slightly with excitement. “Bet! Hear me out though; it’s 11:28 - we got like, uh… five, ten…”

“Thirty two-”

“Thirty two minutes ‘till shit pops off and he starts hunting them down, right? So I was thinking - if we’re trying to contain the Empire just in case they decide to crash out, what if I head over to Medhall with some of your, uh, super spy Tinker shit,” Imp waved lackadaisicaly at the high-tech laptop still scrolling green data down the screen, “And get us intel on what’s going on? ‘Cuz pardon me if I’m wrong, but we’re just sitting here with our thumbs up our asses, and I’m not good at that.”

Cassie narrowed her eyes, giving the ‘plan’ a mental once-over. “That’s…”

“Ballsy,” Imp cut her off, nodding her head like she was in agreement, “But that’s what Avalon said we’d need. Balls. I stole my mom’s ex-boyfriend’s motorcycle to get over here - it won’t take me long to get back Downtown. We need to know what’s goin’ on, though.”

The girl was right, and that was the only reason why Cassie was even thinking about it. Kaiser wasn’t a complete dummy, so whatever backdoor she had into his comms with his capes had already dried up and closed off - meaning he got paranoid and had everyone trash their phones and either go native or purchase burners. Without that backdoor, they were flying blind, and although Jason most likely had some magical, Trump-powered way to track him down… they didn’t have that privilege.

And the fucker wasn’t answering his texts, so it wasn’t like she could easily trade information with him. Only the very real realization that no one in Brockton Bay really posed a threat to him kept her anxiety from bubbling over into abject fear and worry. 

This would have to be something she decided on her own. The thought sent another wave of nervousness through her chest, but this time, Cassie pushed back against the emotion, bringing forth memories of how she felt all those days ago when Jason pitted her against that golden wolf and made her realize just how much he believed in her.

Cassie knew that she could become stronger. Even if she had to beg on her knees and suck the everlasting soul out of his cosmic-powered dick, she would make Jason train her, teach her, and elevate her to that sorceress she’d envisioned herself to be weeks ago, supporting and fighting beside her knight and hero. As long as they got past this night, she knew that it could happen. That it would happen. So, for now, she simply had to get the fuck over it like a big girl and accept her Navi role.

Or Cortana? Oracle from Aleph’s DC comics? Minus the wheelchair, of course.

It stung still, but less this time. She could do this.

“Okay,” Cassie breathed, smacking her cheeks softly with the tips of her fingers. “Okay!”

“... You good?” Imp paused, tilting her head.

“Shush, this is how I get myself hype! So, ahem, here’s what we’re gonna do…”

Five minutes later, watched by a bemused Sherrel and a grimly determined Cassie, Imp exited the factory and stole off into the night with a bevy of small surveillance and communication gadgets freely gifted by one plucky hacker chick. Ten seconds later, it was like an illusionairy veil was placed over their brains, and the two women wandered back to their previous spots after trying to figure out exactly why they decided to stand up and approach the door in the first place.

That veil lifted for Cassie after she got back to her laptop and noticed the fish-eyed camera feed playing on the screen, originating from a tiny, microscopic camera attached to the forehead of Imp’s mask.

Imp, the girl who’d just left to pry into the Empire’s plans. That Imp.

Seeing her body from a camera’s POV made her powers dampen to the point where Cassie could still remember and perceive her and her actions, if only barely. It made her feel useful, having something to do other than sitting all cute on the couch and watching Sherrel and Trainwreck prepare for war. She wasn’t fighting, but there was time for that later. At least now she had a role to play.

So she explained the plan to them, too, handing them comm devices so that they could all stay linked up once shit finally hit the fan. Trainwreck and Sherrel practically jumped out of their skins whenever Imp said anything through hers(which wasn’t helped by the fact that the girl decided to yell ‘boo’ at the top of her lungs at random intervals), but it was better than nothing. Things were finally advancing.

And, when two unmarked black SUVs rolled up to the factory’s garage entrance, honking the first fifteen seconds of the Mission Impossible theme song, Cassie also fit Deadman and his four vet buddies with the same communicators. They came with pistols and assault rifles, kitted out with body-armor and ammo cans, and watching Trainwreck stare them down with his big ass rocket hammer slung over his freakish metal shoulders was almost a picture-worthy moment.

Before long, five minutes before the clock struck midnight, Cassie had returned back to the Sanctum, where she carefully ignored Rune’s unconscious, tightly restrained body, and proceeded to gamer-squat in front of her PC setup in preparation with a bag of nacho-cheese Doritos and a two liter of chilled Sprite. On her monitors, the video feed from multiple cameras was splayed across the screens, showing her the different POVs of the people beneath her… guidance? Leadership?

To be honest, Sherrel and Deadman were the ones giving out actual orders. She was sorta just… the angel on their shoulders?

The Invictus Caravan was on the move, led by Sherrel’s big, fuck-off armored truck and flanked by Deadman and his crew as they made a swift and efficient beeline for Downtown, and Imp…

Well-

“They’re definitely not here,” the black girl sighed, lounging back in Kaiser’s ridiculously soft-looking office chair. “Comfy chair, though. White people get all the good shit.”

Though the camera’s field of vision was zoomed out and spotty, the downsides of scavenging lenses from old cellphones, Cassie leaned forward and stared hard at the screen, searching for any obvious signs or clues that could give hints as to where the Empire had gone. The HUD on her visor flickered, pinging off of Imp’s camera and highlighting the different accessible device nodes spread throughout the office space.

A printer, a fax machine, an array of lights installed directly above the space in front of his desk, a coffee machine…

No hidden cameras, no computers, no cleverly hidden deadman switch or suspicious red buttons.

The rest of the building had been empty, too. Imp actually had to bust open a window on the first floor to get in since Medhall had been locked down completely, lights off and everything. This didn’t bode well at all.

Cassie frowned.

“Fuck. Okay, just meet back up with the others. It’s about to be midnight - we might just need to wait it out and see what they-”

BEEP.

BEEP.

BEEP.

‘Warning: High levels of thermal energy gathering nearby.’

“What in the world,” Sherrel began, turning the radio down until Roscoe Flatts’ voice was nothing more than a near silent whisper. “Shit, that’s the Racist Cunt Alarm System! Eyes up, y’all, we got-”

But her warning was too late, and on the truck’s rooftop camera, all Cassie saw was a blinding streak of white-

VWOOP!

And then an explosion of light and force blasted through the connection, loud and overpowering and leaving her ears and head ringing with noise.

“It’s fuckin’ Purity! She-”

“Overdrive, are you guys okay? People are- fuck, there’s a fucking flash mob!”

“She clipped my baby’s hood, that fuckin’ slut! Light ‘em up!”

VWOOP!

Two more blasts of light - except, this time, Cassie knew where they originated from. Purity couldn’t hide in the darkness, being as luminescent as she was. She floated at least a hundred or so feet above the back street the Caravan had taken, more energy building up in her glowing white hands as she aimed them down at the three vehicles. That was all Cassie could see on the truck camera-

That is, until Sherrel lunged for the console above the gear shift and started slamming on buttons. There was a whirring sound that originated from above the truck, along with servos moving and metal extending, before a familiar, alien-like sound erupted from the roof.

Purity released her blast a moment too late.

A golden glow lit up the darkness, shining in the reflection of nearby apartment windows, and the white beam of light that blasted from Purity’s hands was eaten up and devoured by the truck’s laser beam. The nazi woman tried to fly out of the way, but the golden light clipped the side of her midsection, sending her sprawling through the air like a helicopter with its propellers broken off. Firefly-like motes of energy trailed behind her spinning form as she struggled to regain velocity.

Sherrel whooped, slamming her hand hard on the steering wheel. “That’s right, you dumb cunt! Take my laser piss!”

Combat wasn’t one-dimensional, however, and skirmishes were happening all across the street. It was almost impossible to keep track.

The ‘flash mob’ Deadman, the mercenary having refused to give his real name, had shouted about earlier were, in fact, a bunch of Empire goons wearing… white robes and body armor. There were dozens of them, swarming the vans with a random assortment of weapons ranging from baseball bats to sledgehammers to God-honest claymores. Only a few had automatic weapons like AKs, firing off shots from the cover of alleyways and fire escapes.

Those were the ones who died first when Deadman and his crew started firing controlled bursts from the back of their van.

They could’ve been overwhelmed through sheer numbers once the neo-nazis with the melee weapons made it to the vehicles and started beating on the doors and windows - which, thankfully were bulletproof - but…

BOOOOOM!

Bodies, crushed and broken and screaming, went flying when Trainwreck came crashing into the middle of their white-robed numbers wielding a warhammer bigger than he was. The air warped around its massive head, the trio of miniature rockets on the back blazing with blue flame, and the titan roared as he swung it down into the blacktop, shaking the street they stood on and sending fully grown men flying off of their feet. They were like an endless wave of white, spitting and climbing over each other in an attempt to bring the man down, but Trainwreck was multiple tons of burning steel and angry blob-man. He refused to fall.

Within mere moments, the street - thankfully a mostly unpopulated one on the outskirts of Downtown - turned into an all-out war. A war that Cassie could do nothing to assist with, save calling out opponents or sneak attacks that got lost in the sauce. As Sherrel cackled madly, going laser for laser with a wounded Purity, and Trainwreck ‘pacified’ the waves of fanatic Empire loyalists with hammer and fist, Deadman and his goons moved to taking pot shots at the flying Blaster whilst being on the lookout for enemy reinforcements.

The odds of that happening was low, however.

Midnight had already passed, and it was obvious to Cassie that this ‘ambush’ was premeditated - possibly to draw Jason away from Kaiser’s trail and get him hemmed up with this mess. Only, they had attacked Sherrel’s truck instead of Jason himself, possibly thinking that he was planning to do the same thing he did during Hookwolf’s transport and attack as a team.

It wasn’t a stupid plan - just an uninformed one, and that lack of information would cost Kaiser his life, that much Cassie was 100 percent certain of. But that was Jason’s job - right now, she could only focus on what was happening right in front of her.

And speaking of…

“Guys,” she spoke into her headset, loud enough to be heard over the din of laser beams, gunfire, and metal slamming against bone and concrete. “Fog, coming in at, er - six o’ clock! I think I see Night inside. Trainwreck, they’re-”

“Eyup!”

The man grunted, pushing through the swing of a baseball bat, letting it crack and splinter across his barrel-like chest, as he brought his left arm up and aimed it directly at the mass of dark gray smog. His fist clamored to the blood-slicked ground with a loud clang, revealing the smooth opening of his shrapnel arm cannon. Sweat, thick and cloying, drifted down his pock-marked face, bursts of steam jetting into the air from the exhaust pipes on his back.

Up above, another golden laser blast jettisoned through the sky. A scream followed, pain-filled and furious, and an off-white blur fell through the darkness like a shooting star.

The fog began moving even quicker, as if in a hurry.

BANG!

BANG!

BANG!

BOOOM!

A cacophony of semi-automatic fire from the vans - Deadman’s men - was swiftly followed by a much louder ‘boom’ as Trainwreck’s arm cannon went off and shredded red-hot shrapnel through Fog’s cloying form. Trainwreck twisted with the recoil of his arm cannon, letting out a labored roar as he clonked the steaming arm cannon against another thug’s face, breaking his jaw into bits and forever branding him with the burning metal.

Skin and flesh sizzled as half of the man’s face peeled off on contact, and Cassie felt her guts clench with nausea. Still, however, she didn’t look away. She couldn’t.

“They’re still coming, Trainwreck!”

“Fuckin’-!”

Another trio of gunshots barked out, but whatever monstrous form Night had within the obscuring fog was clearly bulletproof, because they did absolutely nothing to halt their advancing. Trainwreck ambled backwards, tripping over a fallen, broken body, and swore viciously as he lost grip on what Cassie was starting to mentally refer to as his ‘rocket hammer’. It sparked on contact with the ground, and he scrambled to pick it up.

Night and Fog were closer now, almost close enough to touch, and Trainwreck’s face turned ashen as something long and sharp stabbed into the tip of his boots like a knife piercing a canned good, bodily wrenching him a few more inches towards the smog-

“BEEP BEEP, MOTHERFUCKERS!”

And that was when, of course, Sherrel’s ridiculously overtuned war truck crashed into the husband and wife duo with all the force of an actual train wreck, sending Night careening out of Fog like a pebble skipping across water - only, it was the tall, slender form of a black-cloaked woman skidding across the wet blacktop. Displaced from the tail-end of Sherrel’s unwieldy vehicle, Fog’s fog coalesced into a broad-shouldered man in a gray cloak who rushed to overwhelm the prone Trainwreck…

BANG!

Only for another gunshot to ring out. Blood and viscera flew through the air, adding onto the messy display that already stained the street red, and Fog collapsed bonelessly to the ground. Somewhere in front of Sherrel’s truck, a woman’s voice - pained, labored, and struggling - yelled out in anguish.

And, out of nowhere, a masked girl - no, Imp - seemed to almost fade into view, a bloodied stiletto knife gripped tightly in her right hand. Beneath her, shrouded by a pool of gray fabric, Night slowly bled out onto the rain-slicked street.

A tense, almost otherworldly silence descended. Imp stared down at the bloodied knife in her hand, though her body didn’t shake or tremor. Trainwreck climbed to his bulky feet, panting and inhaling gulps of air as he collapsed back against the back of Sherrel’s truck. The rain made his greasy hair stick wetly to the sides of his shaved head, leaving him looking like a particularly large half-drowned skunk. At least twenty unconscious bodies, broken and bleeding, littered the ground around him. He didn’t seem to care.

The sound of doors slamming echoed through the street as Deadman, his men, and Sherrel all hopped out of their respective vehicles. The mercenaries immediately peeled off to secure the perimeter, chin held to the butt stock of their rifles as they did so, while Deadman himself - tall, lanky, plain, with limp brown hair and sunken, exhausted eyes - made his way over to Imp. Cassie muted their comms on instinct, recognizing his approach for what it was.

“Ah shit, here we go. C’mere you annoying fuckin’ rat!” Sherrel crowed victoriously, and Cass’s head swiveled over to her camera footage. The woman was gripping Purity by her wet, limp brown hair, bodily dragging the mousy woman across the wet blacktop with the overwhelming ease of a muscular mechanic… well, dragging a mousy woman. Purity wasn’t even fighting it at this point, her screams having morphed into hysterical hiccups and sobs.

She didn’t even sound scared, just desperate and heartbroken. It felt… icky.

“Protectorate’s…” Cassie trailed off, eyes narrowing when she realized that they weren’t, actually, on their way. “Not coming. Huh. Still, um - I don’t think I’m fine with just straight up-”

“I’m not executing the bitch. Even though she fuckin’ deserves it,” Sherrel cut her off, callously tossing the quivering woman at Trainwreck’s feet. 

The man looked at her, curled his lip down, and spat to the side. “What?”

“Heavy duty chain in the back of the truck. Tie her up good, make sure she can’t move a single muscle.”

He didn’t bother responding, simply pushing himself up and popping the trunk open to do what she asked. Now that Cass could properly see him from Sherrel’s POV, she could see the vicious bruising and lacerations on his skin - clearly he didn’t come out of that massive brawl unscathed, and the sight made her feel guilty.

She couldn’t do much in the fight, so she knew, logically, that she had nothing to feel guilty about… but emotions weren’t logical. She wasn’t logical all the time.

This night was fucking hell.

“I figured boss man could do whatever the fuck he wants with her,” Sherrel continued, crossing her arms beneath her chest as she watched Imp and Deadman slowly make their way back towards the truck. One of the mercs swept by to grab Night’s corpse, and notably, Imp didn’t give him or the dead body a second glance. Cassie wasn’t really sure if that was good or bad.

Still, she turned their comms back on.

“He’ll probably take her to the Birdcage personally, knowing him.” Cassie sighed, leaning back in her gaming chair. Her spine ached and her stomach growled, hungry for chips, but she just couldn’t find it in her to eat anything after what she’d just witnessed. “You guys down for a trip to Canada? Pretty sure we don’t gotta pay for tickets.”

It was a weak attempt to lighten the mood, she knew, but Sherrel at least exhaled out of her nose in appreciation. “Boss man better give me a lot more than a trip to freakin’ British Columbia after this shit. I 1v1’d motherfucking Purity.”

“I watched, like, half of your fight,” Imp smirked, shimmying out of the way as another merc, carrying Fog’s body, made his way to one of their vans. “You were chillin' in the AC the whole time! Tinkerers are fucking bullshit.”

“Tinkers,” Deadman sighed, rubbing the messy 5 o’ clock shadow on his face. “Not ‘Tinkerers’. Anyways- listen, Iris; my boys and I are gonna head out, take care of the… evidence before the PRT gets on your asses for killing terrorists on American soil for some reason. The rest of these fuckers…” He tilted his head down, examining the spread of neo-nazis bleeding and leaking all over the street.

“Unless they’re iced, just leave ‘em here. Call the cops or something. They ain’t capes.”

“Will do, as soon as the rest of Team Invictus leaves the frickin’ crime scene.” The PRT was almost one-hundred percent distracted by whatever Jason was getting up to with Coil and Kaiser. That, combined with the fact that Purity decided to ambush them in a non-residential back street on the borders of Downtown, meant that they had a decently long grace period to get the fuck out of Dodge and make like thieves in the night before any heat was on them.

Not that she thought the PRT would threaten Avalon’s teammates, as shitty as that sounded. It just wouldn’t make sense.

“Fine, fine, I get it.” Sherrel yawned, smacking her lips tiredly. “Rain makes me tired as hell. Deadman - thanks for ya help tonight. You and yer’ boys decide to join up with the dream team, yeah?” A lazy grin forming on her lips, she offered the lanky mercenary a handshake.

Deadman gripped her hand firmly, shaking it once. “I’d need to meet Avalon personally to discuss more permanent business arrangements,” he replied stoically. “I ain’t cheap.”

Imp placed her hands on her hips. “The fuck? What the heck happened to ‘ohh, muh justice. ohh, muh liberty-’”

“I was gonna say,” he continued, shooting the girl a dirty look, “He can ‘pay me in liberty, justice, and booze’, but you already fucked up the joke, brat.” 

“Ohhh! Hehe, my bad bro. Gotta work on that dry ass delivery.”

“Yeah. Riiight.” Clicking his tongue, Deadman turned on his heel and began making his way back to his van. The other mercenaries were fully loaded up and ready to leave, as disciplined and efficient as ever. “I’ll be in contact.”

It was only after they were back on the road, en route to the factory with Purity tied up and restrained in the back of the truck, did Trainwreck come to a bleak realization.

Packed up like a sardine in front of the bound and gagged Purity, his arm cannon coincidentally angled directly at her very fleshy, very fragile face, the metal giant suddenly scowled.

“Th’ fucker didn’t say ‘bye’ to me.”

“‘Cause you were mean-mugging him the entire time he was with us, you fuckin’ donut.” Sherrel snorted from the driver’s seat, dry amusement clear in her voice. 

“Gotta smile to make friends,” Imp added helpfully, zooming past them on her stolen motorcycle. “Not that it’d help you, what with your… everything, but y’know-”

“Fuck off. Cunts.”

Laughter burbled through the comms like water drifting over pebbles, lighthearted and relieving and maybe even a little hysterical - all coming from Sherrel, Cassie, and Imp, of course. Trainwreck was too much of a sour asshole to engage in moments of levity and happiness.

Just like everyone else, however, he didn’t say a word when Imp’s communicator picked up the quiet, almost ghostly silent sound of her sniffling. It was brief, almost alarmingly so, but at least it happened. Cassie honestly thought she would’ve been more concerned if the teenager didn’t show any sort of emotion about what had happened that night.

It had been an eventful evening. Too eventful. But the night still wasn’t over.

Cassie could only hope that Jason had successfully done what he sought out to do at midnight, because if he did…

Then that meant Invictus single-handedly cleared out every major villain organization in the entirety of Brockton Bay.

She honestly couldn’t imagine a better way to start out 2011.

_________________________________________

A/N:

I swear I had planned on this being an Avalon POV chapter where he got ready to invade Coil's asshole repeatedly, but I was dissatisfied with it and decided to try a Cass POV and...

It turned into this. I loved it, though, holy shit. Been wanting some Invictus team-building combat.

So... a few things:

Yes, Aisha's a part of Invictus now. Not officially, she hasn't talked to Jason or anything yet, but she helped and wants to continue to help. No, she won't be in the harem. I see it being more of an older brother/younger sister thing with her and Jason. Eat your fucking heart out Brian, sucks to suck.

Yes, we will be going back in time a bit next chapter to get Jason's POV. We know Kaiser used Purity, Night, and Fog, as diversions as he escaped... only, it didn't work out the way he planned it. Purity didn't think Avalon was moving separate to his crew, since last time he attacked with Sherrel's truck.

Yes, Deadman's an OC. Ngl, COMPLETELY made him up on the spot because I fucked with the vibe heavy. Think of one of those badass ex-military anime characters with dead, sleep-deprived eyes, plain faces, and killer fucking instincts. He loves justice, liberty, and beer. Not necessarily in that order. He may or may not join up with Invictus later, adding loyal and hardworking mercs to the ranks. If Avalon can afford them. (After this, he absolutely can.)

Yes, Trainwreck's hammer is based off Reinhardt's from Overwatch. And yes, his future progression will be built around that big ass hammer. We need a big, fuck-off tank on the team.

And finally, yes: We earned two perks this chapter. I rolled them at 3k and 6k words. They are:

Standing Stones and Dimensional Inventory. You'll read about what they are/can do next chapter. :P