Broker-Side Story: Vigilantes 2
Adrien Moreau hadn’t wanted to become a villain. It wasn’t a matter of principles, however, it was more a matter of practicality. The flash had come with the kind of trouble that Adrien believed was better left avoided. Monsters were terrifying even if he was acutely aware that he could handle them himself if he wanted to. He was not a man built for combat but one to spend his time relaxing whenever he could. Selling homes was a relaxing business as far as he was concerned, meeting people, having dinners, negotiating simple deals. When the flash came and his powers awakened, his agency had pushed him out without a second thought.
He didn’t begrudge them to the point that he wished vengeance on the individuals of the group. He understood their perspective, his abilities were frightening even compared to other light-touched. He would have fired himself if he had been in that position. Even so, the fact that they had fired him because of something so involuntary had planted a seed of resentment towards the agency as a whole. He wished the people in it no ill will, but he reveled in the idea of crippling the group.
Was it tenuous logic? Perhaps. Did he care? Not in the least.
His first few capers had taken the form of thefts of goods and valuables from a variety of homes across Paris. He knew their interiors like the back of his hand and knew the people he had sold them to. It was not a challenge to figure out where they would likely keep their most precious valuables and secrets. Those capers had inevitably led to him encountering a strange black taxi-cab parked along a planned escape route. It was in that cab that he went from a petty criminal to a villain. It was there that he met one of the countless avatars of Charon and learned he had more support than he had initially thought. Support that he used, raising his status in the villain underworld one successful scheme at a time.
He took a drag on his cigarette and narrowed his eyes at the building across from him, exhaling as two men walked up behind him. “Is it done?” Adrien asked, not turning to look at them.
“Yes sir, Mister Perch,” one of the men said, “The boys are ready.”
Adrien flicked the remains of the cigarette to the ground and hunched his shoulders. His body tensed as his muscles grew dense and hard. His skin turned gray before becoming thick and craggy. With a sound somewhere between ripping flesh and grating rock wings erupted from his shoulderblades that spread out over him. A luminous gleam burned in his eyes turning from his natural hazel to a deep crimson. His fingers grew long and claw-like as he flexed his wings. “Then let's go,” he growled, stepping off the side of the building and letting his heavy body fall. His wings spread out and arrested his descent, his body pivoting up before shooting into the air and towards his target.
Down below, lights went out down the street. Vans filled with men swarmed the building, doors opening and disgorging armed footsoldiers. Tonight was the night he ruined the agency that had spurned him permanently. Their reputation had collapsed as people began to suspect their connection to his capers and they were holding on for dear life. The building before him had been one of their single largest deals and one of his proudest achievements. Now he fully intended to despoil it and let the agency suffer the blowback.
People need someone to blame, even if it's the wrong person, he thought wryly, alighting atop the building as his men breached the rear doors and poured inside.
“Adrien Moreau,” a gruff voice called out.
Adrien spun, surprised, but he didn’t let it show on his malformed face. He bore his granite teeth at the intruder, a man in a tan coat with his hands in his pockets. The man was grizzled and had the look of an American about him, something out of a bad cop drama. His hair was a disheveled mess and his eyes bore dark rings. “That was a mistake, stranger,” Adrien snarled and launched himself forward. He had no interest in talking to this man, whoever he was, any amount of time he was alive was an opportunity for someone else to overhear what he had just said. He stretched out his claws, aiming for the man’s heart as he crossed the distance between them in less than a second.
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That was when something very hard and very heavy collided with the side of Adrien’s head. Adrien was sent tumbling, clattering across the ground as his stony skin absorbed most of the impact. His head swam as he staggered to his feet, turning to face his attacker. He froze, taking in the old man at a glance. The elderly gentleman before him wore a simple bowler cap and a neat suit tailored to fit just right. His eyes sparkled with a dark mirth that would have fit in well at the Styx. Even so, Adrien knew better than to think of this man as a proper villain. He knew that face. The others in the Styx had talked about him when telling stories of the time before the flash.
“Maximilian the Man-Hunter,” Adrien snarled, “What are you doing here?”
With the sound of a steel cord retracting a cane that lay on the ground near where Adrien had been standing leaped from the ground to land in Maximilian’s outstretched hand. He raised it up to tip his hat slightly, “Just doing some cleaning, sir, seems there is a vermin infestation at this location.”
Adrien glanced at the rough looking man who hadn’t moved a muscle since the encounter began, “I heard you worked alone.”
“I’m an old man now, boy,” Maximilian said, “Bounty hunting is difficult when you get to my age.”
“Still up for hire?” Adrien asked.
Maximilian’s eerily perfect white teeth shone a bit when he grinned a predatory grin, “Afraid not. This is volunteer work.”
“You’re no hero,” Adrien chuckled, “You might break a hip if you-” He was cut off as that cane collided with the bridge of his nose. In less than the time it took Adrien to think Maximilian was already in his face. He seemed to float for a heartbeat even as the weapon in his hand felt like it weighed as much as a truck. Adrien was thrown back once again, tumbling across the ground. He reached up and cupped his face, groaning as the old man alighted above him.
“That’s right, boy, I’m not a hero,” Maximilian said with a tone that sent a frantic chill snaking up Adrien’s spine. His eyes shot open in time to see the cane descending towards his head once again. He rolled out of the way and flapped his wings, pulling himself into the air just in time to see the cane leave a small crater in the roof of the building where his head had been. Maximilian stared at the spot for a moment before looking up at him with a lazy expression, “Looks like I am getting old,” he grumbled, “Come on down boy and take your beating like a man.”
Adrien flicked his gaze between the old man and the silent cop just as something rumbled down beneath him. Adrien flapped his wings again to get a bit more distance, gunfire was starting to sound inside the building as he brought a talon to his ear, “What’s happening down there?”
“No idea! These things just started showing up and then some chick with green- AAH!”
The line went dead. Adrien frowned, “I won’t forget this, Maximilian,” he snarled, “You as well stranger-” It was Adriens turn to be cut off mid sentence as something heavy collided with his back and threw him onto the roof of the building. He gasped as his head bounced against concrete surface, his vision going foggy.
“Mimir!” Maximilian shouted somewhere nearby.
“I know!” The silent one called back. Adrien heard a gunshot ring out followed by several more. Adrien tried to shift himself out from under whatever it was that had pinned him, only to manage rolling over and looking up into a pair of glowing red eyes, not unlike his own. The body attached to them, however, filled him with dread. He saw a lupine head with no fur, rows of teeth, and a forked tongue. Then he saw nothing ever again.
–
The crunch of the demon biting down around the villain’s head sent Martin’s stomach churning. Even so, he kept himself calm as he took slow steps to the left, firing his weapon at the creature in order to get its attention. The post-pandora ammunition was sufficient to pierce its skin but seemed to have little more effect than a bee-sting. It released its prey and looked up at him, showing off those razor sharp teeth as it assessed him. It’s head twitched, tilting to the right at a disturbing angle before its eyes grew brighter.
“The vigilante I’ve heard about,” it croaked, a gutteral sound that barely came across as words.
“Astaroth,” Martin snarled.
“You know me?” it gurgled, its head tilting again with a bone crunching snap.
“Let’s meet face to face and I’ll tell you all about it,” Martin said flatly.
The creature narrowed its eyes, its shoulders hunched and ready to spring into action, “I don’t think I will.”
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