Working on a CS.
canaryrose
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tbh a death threat was not on my 2023 bingo
2 yrs ago
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Hitman,
sassy1085,
Izurich,
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Rabidporcupine,
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2 yrs ago
Current
tbh a death threat was not on my 2023 bingo
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like
2 yrs ago
man if you’re just gonna fucking admit it what’s the point. go touch grass. don’t kill your roommate.
2 yrs ago
ANOTHER ONE?!?!
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2 yrs ago
holy shit roommate murder guy went off
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like
2 yrs ago
announcing intent to murder is pretty juicy, tbh
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Most Recent Posts
In
Kingmakers: The Throne Alone (A Medieval Fantasy Succession Crisis)
→
3 yrs ago
Forum: Advanced Roleplay
In
Kingmakers: The Throne Alone (A Medieval Fantasy Succession Crisis)
→
3 yrs ago
Forum: Advanced Roleplay
I’ve had a character in progress for the archduke of the Wildwoods for a few days now, but I don’t know if the GM considers that to be a reservation?
September 24th, 2064
Brookside
Rainy Day Nightclub
The Rainy Day club is infamous among the Castleburg underworld for its wild atmosphere. Here, the music blares loud while garish neon lights flash overhead. All sorts of substances pass freely among the patrons of this club, and it’s common knowledge that an extra five slipped to the bartender will guarantee that your ID is always valid. The club is packed tonight- more so than usual.
The line to get into the club snakes all the way down the block. By the time our heroes get to the front of the line, an hour has already passed. It’s pitch dark along the dingy Brookside alleyway. The bouncer, a tall, heavily tattooed man takes down his sunglasses to stare at the group. “IDs, plea-” Then, his eyes land on a certain someone in the group. “Yooo! Nevermind, broskis, go on ahead.” When someone tries to hand him the fee, he shakes his head. “Nah, nah. Free admission. Enjoy yourselves.” He winks, and opens the door into the club.
Inside, the club is pumping. There are two visible levels. The first, where you stand, is a typical nightclub. There’s a large bar, a dance floor, and speakers. It’s packed shoulder to shoulder on the first level. The second level, however, looks to be less crowded. There are several buff-looking guys standing at the sheet metal staircases leading up to the second floor. The second floor seems to have been installed after the building was built. The supports hang down to the bottom floor, along with what seems to be the main draw of the club- a plexiglass pit that hangs down from the second floor with a flat bottom. If anyone has ever been inside, they would know that the plexiglass is in reality a two-way mirror.
Access to the second floor seems to be regulated- the bouncers at the entrances are only letting in certain people- but you might notice that bills are frequently exchanging hands.
There’s not a fight going on right now, but there’s a holographic list of future fights near the bar. The next one, between Katastrophe and The Gorgon, occurs in fifteen minutes. There’s a QR code for betting next to the leaderboard.
Alisa ran her hand over her diving suit with a frown. It was blue- her favorite color- and somewhat sturdier than the others. “I… don’t know,” she said to Viktor, still investigating the diving suit. Her eyebrow quirked when he called her ‘Alisa’, but she elected not to say anything. “My mom assured me I was totally waterproof, but she also put a fingerprint-coded lock on the pool gate and the bathroom, so I’m not exactly confident in that aspect of my engineering. I’ll be fine, though- I’m gonna go back up in a minute, and I asked Red to make my new model a few inches taller if my current one needs to be replaced!”
It somewhat eased her nerves that they had souped up her suit like they had. And it excited her that they were going to a place as exotic as Atlantis. They hadn’t gotten to go anywhere very new yet, and traveling to an underwater kingdom was certainly new. Her mom would for sure hate it. That at least made her happy.
A few hours later, Alisa sat in the submarine next to Daphne, staring out the window. The underwater world was fascinating. And it was interesting to think about Kassy growing up here. Alisa had asked questions about it before, but this mission would definitely raise some way better questions.
But for now, she had some more pressing matters on her mind. Like… “Why didn’t we just Zeta there?” she wondered aloud.
In
Kingmakers - The Throne Alone (GoT/ASOIF-like) (Noble Politics)
→
3 yrs ago
Forum: General Interest Checks
Ooh, this is interesting. Might just join.
Hopefully there aren't any glaring lore inconsistencies here.
Really enjoy the concept. She's scary! Accepted, go ahead and post in the character tab.
(P.S: no more ageless characters after this one. three is enough)
The building was dilapidated and abandoned, windows shattered years before Stacy ever owned the place. Graffiti lined the outside and stood proud for at least a decade, and just looking at the structure could cause someone to start sweating and hurrying to pass it by.
Within, however, things were clean and orderly - a small oak desk and several office chairs adorned the ‘office’, with a dozen or so similar chairs right outside the barely intact door in the ‘waiting area’. All things considered, it seemed like the person behind this moved in only a day before.
And that’s exactly what happened - this was one of Stacy’s more rundown properties, one she had bought in Watervale purely for the land, only for it to turn into a terrible business investment. Far from the roads, out of sight, and already have destroyed - not exactly the best place for a business.
Perfect place for criminal activities though.
Outside her office door were at least a dozen applicants for her ‘Villain Team’ - the group that would assist her in world domination, or whatever cliche goal she sets her mind on. She hadn’t even thought of a name yet, so that would probably need to come first though...
“Next applicant please!”
Outside of the office, Abby rose from her hard plastic chair and brushed the dust off of her dress slacks. Finally. She had been waiting here forever, it seemed like, although it had really only been an hour. The grande mocha frappuccino she had bought that morning had long since been finished, and she was itching for a puff off her vape. If it was her turn, that meant that she could leave soon enough. And hopefully get a job, but whatever. If this didn’t work, she could always rob another liquor store to pay her rent. That usually worked.
It certainly seemed to be her turn, because nobody else was standing. Abby could barely hold back a smirk. Good. They probably couldn’t match her anyways. With that, Abby opened the door and entered the office room.
The door swung shut quietly, and Abby appraised the room- and her potential employer. Simple. Basic… underwhelming. Nothing to turn her nose up at, though. She grinned and pulled up a seat, adjusting her domino mask as she did so. It wasn’t something she’d usually wear, but she had replaced her usual ski mask with it today to be presentable. Other than that, she wore black dress slacks, a polka-dot collared shirt, and flats, with a purse by her side. Interviews were supposed to be business casual, right?
Abby held out a hand to Stacy and put her elbow on the table, still smirking. “I call myself Duplica. It’s nice to meet you.” She then leaned back in her chair, acting with all the fake swagger of an insecure teenager. “If it isn’t obvious, I can self-duplicate. Any other questions?”
Stacy frowned slightly beneath her own mask, although the papercraft blocked her mouth enough to cover the movement. She’d need to work on Duplica’s manners… but without a doubt, a duplicator would be more than useful in the future. Besides, villains weren’t exactly known for their workplace etiquette - Stacy could learn to adjust, if she needed to. She shuffled some papers around on her desk, more so to fill the silence and give herself time to think than to actually organize anything.
“Impressive - duplication is always a useful ability. I have several questions, such as your upper limit of Duplicates and level of control, but those can be saved for when you are actually hired.”
No sense lying to the girl - most of the respondents to the interview had been quite… inadequate. Hair manipulation, slow healing factors, and even some strange-looking fellow calling himself ‘The Shocker,’ who just seemed to be pretty tall and strong before Stacy dismissed him. Even if she was inexperienced, Duplica offered versatility that the others did not.
“Rather, I am more curious about how you’ve prepared yourself for this meeting - do you have any weapons on you? Have you mapped out your points of escape? If I was really some Hero who laid a trap, how would you avoid capture?”
Stacy leaned back in her chair and coughed slightly, realizing that her last question might make Abby uncomfortable.
“Hypothetically, of course. As long as you are in this building, I guarantee your anonymity and security.”
At Stacy’s surprisingly detailed questions, Abby sat up a bit straighter in her seat and began to think. She hadn’t been expecting questions of this detail from a villain, but just from the woman’s mannerisms and her compliment on her power, she knew she wanted to impress her.
“Of course I have contingencies. Who wouldn’t have contingencies?” Abby scoffed, although she sounded the tiniest bit nervous underneath. I have a gun in my purse,” she started, slowly. It wasn’t a lie, but it was something she hadn’t been planning on revealing. “There’s one clone in the waiting room, and two outside. That’s how I’d escape. I told them to come running if I scream, and three people together are more than enough to take your average person down. I…” She hadn’t really thought about escape routes. Shit. “There are a couple windows I could jump out of. Clones could cushion my fall.”
Stacy nodded as she listened, the colored slips of paper on her mask shifting slowly. It was good that Duplica had a gun, although Stacy doubted that the young girl was especially skilled in its use. At close ranges, even a complete novice could horribly injure a person with no Durability enhancing powers. And thanks to her clones, she had covered back up fairly well - she was right in her statement that three people could take down most.
At the very least, Stacy had no doubt that three people could take her down, even if she could reach her own gun in her desk before she was attacked.
“Smart choice - you should always carry a weapon on you, even if you feel safe. I learned that before I even entered the criminal world.”
“And, while I wouldn’t describe your escape plan as safe, I have no doubt that you’d succeed. As long as you’re not running from someone with a vehicle or movement power, of course. But even in that case, screaming and alerting the others in the waiting room would ruin any advantage a trap would have.”
Stacy gently raised her hand from the desk, as if to punctuate what she was about to say.
“However, you’ve revealed information to me that you would want to keep hidden from others. I know you can create at least three clones, and that you do not have any direct line of communication - you need to scream to get their attention. You can also generate them fast enough that you can break a fall from a second-story window - enough to dissuade a direct approach.”
“Of course, telling me this was not really a fault of your own. I asked you, and you were in the right to tell me - this is an interview, after all. But in the future, keep your plans close to yourself, and anyone you are involved with. People are far more cautious of an opponent that is armed, and even more so when they know they have a plan.“
Stacy reached into one of the drawers in her desk, and grabbed a plain, white business card inside. It lacked any insignia, phone number, name, and anything else one would expect of a similar card - instead, there was simply an address, which led to one of Stacy’s Laundromats in Watervale. She then handed it off to Abby, as if their 5-minute interview was enough to come to a final decision.
“Congratulations - I would be more than pleased to accept you into my operations.”
“You could stay here if you like and wait for me to finish the other interviews - it would be a good chance to meet your future coworkers. Otherwise, please go to that address in three hours, and you will be able to meet them there.”
Abby’s mouth twitched with badly-concealed surprise. That was it? Just 5 minutes, and she was in? Weird. It sounded almost suspicious.
Or maybe she just nailed the interview that hard! Her look of surprise morphed into a victorious grin, and Abby took the card and pocketed it. “Awesome!” She stood from the chair and smoothed her slacks. “I’m gonna go. No offense… but I don’t really wanna stick around. See you then, boss.”
A few moments later, Mallory Doyle lumbered into the room. Standing at a staggering 6 feet, 4 inches, the woman was hard not to notice. Disheveled brown hair hung down in front of her face, which was shadowed by the hood of her hoodie. She took a seat, but it was a little too small. Frowning, Mallory hovered over the chair, holding it by the handles and trying to adjust. This quickly grew frustrated by this process and shot back up to her feet, crossing her arms and leaning against the wall. She glanced over at her potential new employer.
“...’sup?”
Stacy leaned forward in her own seat, frowning beneath her mask - she had chosen to bring foldable chairs due to convenience, but it seemed like that had bit her back when it came to some of the larger applicants. That ‘Shocker’ fellow from earlier had the same problem as Mallory.
At the very least, she wasn’t making a big deal about the lack of seating. Agreeability was a plus for an operation like this...
“Not much. May I please have your name, Ma’am? And while I’m asking - I would also be pleased if you could let me know about your power, before we continue.”
“Pfft,” the interviewee began. “Wasn’t expectin’ you to say ‘not much.’ You seem pretty busy to me.” She rolled her shoulders.
“Uh, yeah, anyway, my name is Mallory Doyle. And I’m made of strings. You can just call me Mal, or whatever.” She added with a shrug, clearly impartial to the subject. Seemingly glazing over her oversimplified explanation of her powers.
Stacy attempted to refrain from sighing - she didn’t expect to be given this person’s actual name. Perhaps they simply didn’t think of a villain name yet, or it wasn’t very important to share their real name - whatever the case, Stacy now needed to be sure not to spread that information around. If she was lucky, it was just an alias and it would be cleared up at a later point in time.
“Looks can be… deceiving, Miss Doyle. Really, this is more of formality rather than an actual interview - not to mention paperwork is pretty easy when no one is turning in resumes.”
“And while I’d prefer to be more informed of your powers, keeping that information close to your chest is a habit that is good to get into - I don’t need much more than you’ve given, anyways.”
Turning into string - obviously some form of transformative or shapeshifting ability. While Stacy knew nothing about it’s limitations or capabilities, it could prove especially useful for traversal and reconnaissance…
Stacy turned to her computer, one of the few things that actually sat on top of the desk other than the various sheets of copy paper. Opening a Word document, she was prepared to begin typing.
“Do you have any preferences for this kind of work, Miss Doyle? Robbery, Assault, or something else that you have experience in?”
“I don’t need references, of course, but I’d like to know what you’re used to.”
Miss Doyle scratched the back of her head, reaching her hand under her hoodie. She took another glance around the room and then focused back on the woman sitting behind the desk.
“Yeah.” She said.
This time, Stacy did not repress her sigh. Normally, she was a fan of people with few words - they didn’t put up much of a fuss and were great conversationalists. It was quite difficult to learn more about someone like this, however…
Stacy spared a glance at the metal chair folding chair in front of her - it was fairly small, but if this woman was unwilling to talk…
“Miss Doyle, could you please break that chair in front of you? I don’t mind how, so long as you don’t damage my desk in the process.”
Doyle furrowed her brow, looking between the interviewer and the chair. She stood up straight from her leaning position and glanced to the door she had entered from.
“Uh, sure.” She said. She took a step forward and extended out her palm. From the center of her hand emerged a loop of string. Miss Doyle closed one eye, lining it up. Then, her entire left hand came away, becoming a bundle of white strings. They lashed out and latched onto the chair. Wrapping around every leg and support, Mal brought her elbow in and “clenched her fist”, as it were. The chair was crushed as the strings squeezed tight, a few bolts coming loose, some metal bending under the pressure. Once she was sure the chair was no longer usable, Miss Doyle reached her arm out and the string receded into the hole where her wrist used to be. Her hand reformed and she held it briefly.
“...I’m not payin’ for that.” She added, but it might have been an attempt at humor.
Stacy nodded, any hint of possible amusement hidden behind her mask.
“Of course - I do not have much use for these chairs after today, so it is fine if a few are ruined.”
It was not like Stacy had expected - rather than rely on her brute strength and working against the weak points of the chair, like Stacy expected she might, Mallory relied on her power in order to crush it using the pressure of her ‘strings’.
Seeing how her power operated directly, Stacy felt much more comfortable in assessing the woman before her. Stacy just needed to put her questions into actions, rather than words.
“One more question before we end the interview, Miss Doyle - If I asked you to do the same thing you did to that chair on a person’s arm or leg, would you?”
Stacy stared at Mallory directly, her expression hidden behind the darkened lenses of her mask.
“Yeah.” Mallory replied simply, checking her hand for holes. She looked back at the mask, raising an eyebrow and thinking for a moment. “I mean…” She hesitated. “No, yeah. Yes.” She jabbed an affirmative finger at the woman behind the desk.
This time, Stacy’s amusement was easier to notice - just a small chuckle, but considering the last time she really laughed was over a year ago, that was pretty impressive.
“I appreciate the enthusiasm, but I doubt we will be in a situation like I suggested for quite some time. I was asking just to see if you would be willing to do some of the other things I would ask of you while working with me.”
Just like with the previous applicant, Stacy reached into one of her Desk drawers and pulled out one of the same, near featureless cards.
“This address leads to another, more secure location - please come there in around three hours, and you will be able to meet your coworkers and discuss your pay. Alternatively, you could stay here until I am done, and I can drive you there.”
Stacy looked at the crumpled folding chair next to Mallory, and grimaced slightly at the thought of moving it later.
“If you do go, however, please take that chair with you - there should be a dumpster in the alley to the right of the building.”
“Sweet,” Mallory said. “Uh, to be clear, I’m not, like, a sicko or anything. I’m not excited to cut people’s arms off. But, y’know, I’ll do it.” She looked down at the broken chair, poking at it with the tip of her sneaker.
“...Yeah, I really don’t have anywhere better to be in the next three hours. I’ll stick around.” She unfurled her hand and used the strings to gather the broken chair, and then slung it over her shoulder like a backpack.
Once the discussion was over Mallory left the room, carrying the broken chair. That was easier than she had expected. She knew this whole little scenario was legit thanks to her sources, but it was not what she thought it would be like. She was expecting at least a couple of goons.
Stacy didn’t say anything to Mallory in response, simply nodding her head in acknowledgment. She could say that amputations weren’t on the table, and as long as Stacy was leading operations they wouldn’t be, but the reassurance wasn’t what was important. Mallory’s insistence that she’d be willing, albeit reluctant, was preferable to Stacy rather than a cold-blooded monster who’d do it without a second thought.
There was a trait that mattered far more than any power or experience - Obedience. And unlike Duplica, Mallory seemed to have that in spades. Stacy didn’t have the first clue why, whether it be some inborn trait or just desperation, but it didn’t really matter in the end.
Villains in the shows and movies were always missing a crucial factor in their hiring process - Loyalty. Stacy wouldn’t make that mistake.
Unfortunately, the next few hours had been fairly fruitless when it came to applicants. More of the same - goons from other gangs looking for a big break, debtors trying to find a nice source of income, and delusional people trying to send some kind of message. Some of them even had decent (although in Stacy’s opinion, somewhat generic) powers… but they weren’t what Stacy needed.
It seemed like Abby and Mallory had been a coincidental hot streak. Stacy organized her papers and began packing up - she’d been hoping to hire at least three members, but she could always hold auditions at some later date. Maybe scoop someone up from the Bruisers - she heard they were having some difficulties recently, and she felt that Midas knew a thing about aesthetics.
“Well Miss Doyle, we shouldn’t keep our coworker waiting too long. Let’s leave-”
As she was talking, Stacy heard some sound coming from the waiting room. Almost like a… scurrying. All the applicants had already left for the day, so Stacy had no clue what could have caused the noise, other than a rat or some other animal…
“Fuck was that?” Mallory asked, taking a couple steps towards the door frame. She pushed the door open and peaked into the waiting room.
Alright, this was it. He’d been waiting hours for this moment, but it was finally time for his badass entrance! Carefully, silently, he removed one of the panels of the roof and peaked his head out. They were looking towards the waiting room, perfect! Right below him was his target, the chair. Thankfully, the one string lady had obliterated had been replaced, so he wasn’t aiming for a sharp, shrapnelly mess. Everything had lined up, and now it was time to put all his planning to work.
And so, he dropped down from his spot in the roof, planning to fall perfectly into a seated position in the chair. Upon contact with the chair, his perfect form immediately fell apart because metal chairs hurt apparently, his limbs sprawling across the dented seat before he slid down to the ground in a writhing lump.
All in all, far from the worst way to meet Marco Shaw for the first time.
"Oh! Oh jesus! Oh it hurts! I-it’s bad!"
After a few more seconds of rolling around and regretting his poor decisions, he eventually managed to collect himself enough to get back up, grabbing the desk and leaning on it for support.
"Ok, so I’ve been listening to the interviews for the last few hours, and I’m interested. So I’m in! You’re welcome!"
He paused briefly as he shakily managed to stand without the table, turning to face Stacy and Mallory.
"Ok that’s not necessarily true actually, ‘listening’ might be a little too strong a word. I’ve been hearing the interviews. I might’ve been a bit too distracted to pay attention to a good chunk of them."
Mallory didn’t outwardly react. She turned back into the room to look at her new potential employer. “Some guy just fell outta the ceiling.”
Stacy nodded at Mallory’s statement, before turning back to the strange man that just appeared. She had heard about dynamic entrances before, but the only impression this guy managed to leave was a strange one. Seriously, who hides in ceiling panels, other than stalkers?
...Well, the robbers and gentlemen thieves in the movies sometimes hid in air vents, but that was different.
Stacy reached into her desk, this time pulling out the gun that she had been eyeing every time a scarier applicant came into the room. Of course, compared to a trained professional, she would be quite a poor shot - but she had a few months practice, and at this close range, she could shoot this mysterious person.
Stacy raised her voice a few decibels, but it had the same monotone as her normal speaking voice. As she did so, the pistol was immediately pointed towards the new arrival.
“Please state your name, any powers or skills you may have, and what you were doing in my ceiling.”
She felt a lot more comfortable with this situation, now that she had a weapon. It helped that Mallory was there as well - Stacy didn’t feel like killing some homeless person, so she could drag him out if he didn’t pass the interview.
"Ok, first off, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t yell at me." Marco said. "Not sure if you noticed, but I just went through a bit of a rough experience there, could really do without the extra stress. Also you should probably actually work on that if you didn’t, seems like pretty poor form for an employer to not notice when their employees are havin’ a rough time."
He grabbed the chair as he spoke, moving it back into its normal upright position he’d just knocked it out of, and sat on it backwards, leaning forwards onto the back.
"So, let’s get started." He said, tilting his head up as he thought through Stacy’s questions. "My name is Marco. I can teleport when no one’s looking, to any other spot no one’s looking, and people forget about me after a day. Sometimes two if you’ve got a good enough brain. Don’t worry though, I’ll introduce myself again tomorrow. And I was up there because you said I could live there last time we met. Which might I just say, I’m hurt you’ve already forgotten..."
Stacy kept her gun trained on the guy that just appeared, not wavering through his response. If Abby was rude, then this guy was just annoying as hell… Luckily, Stacy didn’t really care about that. What mattered more was what he said.
The teleportation was fine - she’d seen a speedster during the interviews, and he would have been able to fill a similar niche if she called him back. What intrigued Stacy was the second part of his power. If he was telling the truth, then he would be a great addition - someone people can’t remember, committing a crime? That would be great for robberies...
But he was also living in her property for who knows how long, and was saying that she had talked to him before - which Stacy really doubted.
…Well, it didn’t really matter. His power was useful, and if she did agree to let him live in this abandoned building, then it was no skin off her back. She kept the gun locked on him, but began moving closer.
“I’m going to pat you down for weapons, and you can’t take anything with you other than your clothes - I don’t want the police to come to my place of business. If you can keep still and quiet, then we can see if you’ll get that job.”
“And if this doesn’t work out, here’s a tip for your next job interview: Don’t drop from the ceiling after interviews are over.”
"Still and quiet? Hell of a lot you’re askin’ of me, don’tcha think?" Marco said, reluctantly allowing himself to be searched. "But hey, if you do decide you don’t wanna hire me today, I’ll keep your advice in mind when I apply again tomorrow."
Stacy finished the search as quickly as she could, before retreating back behind Mallory. At the very least, her gun was no longer pointed at Marco. If he had a wire or tracker of some kind, it would have to be in a particularly… intimate location, and Stacy doubted Marco was the kind of person to do that. He was, in all likelihood, just not very bright.
“Alright, my car is parked nearby - I don’t want this distraction to make us late.”
The thought of just ignoring this guy crossed Stacy’s mind. But if he really could alter memories or something similar, he’d just apply again the next day like he said he would - dealing with him while she could remember his behavior was the smart thing to do.
And besides - she was desperate to get this started as soon as she could.
While the abandoned building was decrepit and clearly been out of use for years, the laundromat they had just entered was clearly well-used and taken care of. Even though they were still in Watervale, the difference a few miles made to the quality of the buildings in this city was staggering. Hell, the building could almost be described as pretty by comparison
Almost being the keyword. After all, it was still a laundromat - Washers and Dryers lined most of the walls, and the smell of detergent and bleach hung in the air like a vapor. Dry Cleaners in the back rooms weren’t much better, like kerosene… Clearly, the employee didn’t clean up when Stacy said he could leave early today.
Stacy flicked on the lights, leading the others to the basement. It was primarily used for storage, but there wasn’t exactly much to keep around. A few containers of cleaning solution, a bench and some chairs, the odd tool or battery - really, it was just a big empty room that was only used by her employees to sleep or make out, or whatever else they do when they should be working.
Stacy motioned for the three to take a seat and began speaking, the slips of paper on her mask growing more animated as she did so.
“I’m pleased to have you all here - As I’ve yet to introduce myself, I will do so now. You may refer to me as ‘Confetti’.”
“As you are aware, I have gathered you all to act as enforcers. Your job will entail robberies, Crimes against the public order, and hindering operations of both HERO and ICOSA.”
“In exchange for your services, you will be paid in cash, in amounts depending on the difficulty and danger of the task I assign you. Typically, this will range in the thousands. Alternatively, either for convenience or if you are worried about unreported income, I could provide you with a card and private account.”
Marco raised his hand.
Stacy eye’d Marco from beneath her mask, speaking as she did so.
“I am also willing to provide housing, if you lack that at the moment.”
Marco lowered his hand.
“If the dangers of the tasks I’ve mentioned are too great for any of you, you may leave now - your privacy and safety is guaranteed, so long as you do not report anything you’ve heard to the authorities.”
Stacy paused briefly, and when no one got up, she continued her long-winded monologue.
“Excellent. If any of you have any questions or requests to make of me, please let me know now.”
Abby leaned on a wall in the back, a Juul in hand and her skateboard leaning on the wall beside her. She (and the room- she had been smoking in there) reeked of a sickly sweet blue raspberry scent. She had been waiting here for about 20 minutes. She was a bit annoyed that she had- time was always a strange thing with villains- but now that she had seen her new coworkers… well, she was still annoyed. Freakishly tall girl and malnourished-looking, bad-smelling man seemed like they would be a drag to work with. Somehow, Abby guessed that housing comment was directed towards him. Really? Confetti had just hired a random homeless guy? How desperate.
Abby made a grimace at the word “enforcers”. Seriously?
“I didn’t sign up to be somebody’s goon,” Abby remarked. “I thought this was going to be… some sort of team thing. Something more equal. Not like a gang boss and his enforcers, y’know?” She tossed her vape idly in the air and caught it. “Doesn’t a team need a name or something? We’ve got some good material here. Freakishly tall girl, homeless boy, and me. Hm. What could it be?” She put her fingers to her chin almost as in thought, sounding sarcastic, almost, like she really didn’t care. Or she was just making fun of everyone.
Mallory turned over her shoulder, furrowing her brows at Abby. “Hey, fuck you.” She said from the chair she was sitting in.
Abby made a very fake giggling noise at that, and shook her head. “Oh, you’re so funny, aren’t you? We’re gonna have so much fun.”
Mallory felt a spike of anger stab into her spine, but she suppressed it. She instead made a confused gesture. “The fuck?” She glanced back at Confetti, then to Abby.
“Like, fun? You know what fun is? It’s that thing when you do something you like and you like it and it’s fun? Yeah, that. We’re totally gonna have it, if you know what I mean.”
"Well, before you two rip each other in half, I’d just like to say it’s so nice to finally meet you in person." Marco said, the expression on his face clearly showing how hard he was trying to keep himself from laughing. "I’m gonna go ahead and guess that you are who I’m thinking of when I say that. Replica, right?"
He gestured back to Mallory.
"Don’t worry about Mallet there, it sounds like her anger gets the best of her sometimes. You should’ve seen what she did to that poor chair, just because Stac-, Confetti asked her a simple question! It was terrible!"
“It’s Duplica. But it’s alright, I forgive you.” Abby’s voice dripped with venom. It was clear she didn’t. She hated it when people got her name wrong.
Mallory glanced back and forth between the two, looking genuinely baffled for a moment. The anger made itself apparent, though, and she shot up to her feet, knocking the chair on its side with a crash. “Do you two have a fucking problem with me or some shit!?” She asked, rising to her full height and taking a step forward.
"Good god, she did it again!" Marco shouted, a mixture of poorly faked horror and sadness on his face as he pointed at the chair she’d knocked over. "Will nothing stop her in her rampage against all of Chairkind?!"
His face quickly returned to a smirk again after a second though.
"But yeah nah, I’m pretty sure Replicant has a problem with everyone. I, on the other hand, am merely a lovable scamp. No problems with any of you! Mostly.”
Despite fear shooting visibly through her face (Jesus, this woman looked tall and angry), Abby laughed high and loud. She smacked her knee. “Oh god, you’re taking this so seriously! I’m just poking fun at you, you know ribbing you. There’s some banter going on here. Just roll with it, Amazon. Nothing to get angwy about here.”
“And again, it’s Duplica. I didn’t catch your name, though. Any chance I could get it wrong, too?”
"Well, if you’re really so interested, sure! I, my miserable, vapid friend, am the amazing Mar-”
”Shut the fuck up!” Mallory shouted, her voice echoing. “Holy shit! You’re so fucking annoying!” It wasn’t clear exactly who she was talking to. Probably everyone. She grabbed the sides of her head. She looked between the girl and the boy with wide eyes. Whoever talked next was in trouble. Her fists were clenched and she was grinding her teeth together. Even worse, it looked like she was literally coming apart at the seams, the skin of her face becoming disconnected and loose in a few places as the white strings that made up her form began to lose tension. The string loops writhed in the air like worms beneath dirt.
Abby eyed Mallory nervously. It belatedly occurred to her that she didn’t know what this girl’s power was, which could be concerning. But, still… she got that rush that one gets when meanness hits in the exact right spot. Abby definitely wasn’t going to give up now- she couldn’t back off and seem weak. Instead, she giggled, high and nervous and mocking. “Chill out! Jeez, you’re really overreacting. I hope you’re not like this on the battlefield, for all of our sakes!” Abby laughed again and ran a hand through her blonde hair. “Sorry that I’m annoying you. Didn’t realize you got so easily annoyed. Maybe you should work on that? You know, on your anger issues? Looks like you have them. Or maybe that’s good in this business, I wouldn’t know. I don’t have ‘em.”
Mallory locked eyes with Abby. “Okay.” She said, eerily. With that she began to storm over the girl with long, fast strides. She reached her hand out, and it dissolved into a mess of grasping, cloying, thin white tendrils.
The loud ringing sound of a gunshot pierced through the room. Stacy was standing calmly, arm pointed up and at the roof, although beneath her mask she cringed slightly. She had to remember to wear earplugs next time she planned on using her gun.
“We should probably calm down - after all, it is like Ms. Duplica said earlier - we’re a team. And I’d prefer it if we could have our first meeting, without it dissolving into bickering among each other and hurling insults.”
Lowering her hand and holstering her gun, Stacy continued. Normally she’d be more reluctant to shoot a firearm in a residential area, but she’d soundproofed the basement when it was first built… And to be honest, gunshots probably weren’t too uncommon in Watervale.
”Now… Can we all apologize to each other and act with some professionalism? We are coworkers, after all - and the last thing I’d want is for workplace… complications. Especially before we finish our introductions.”
While Abby did start the conflict, and Marco helped, Stacy didn’t excuse Mallory from what was happening - if she hadn’t stepped in to stop them, Stacy might have been reduced to 2 villains instead of 3.
And to be honest, she’d rather have Mallory get rid of Marco instead of Abby.
Mallory paused, a few feet from Abby. Her hand reconnected into its normal state. She was shaking, but quietly she exhaled and turned back. She trudged over to her seat, flipped it back onto four legs and sat down, crossing her arms.
Abby rolled her eyes, although her heart was thumping from that extremely close encounter. What the hell even was that power? “I… apologize. I was just joking, though! But I’m sorry.”
"I’m not and I wasn’t. I’ll give you a break for now though, because when it all comes down to it, I’ve gotta admit I’m really liking this team. Great dynamic."
He turned to Stacy.
"You’ve got a good eye for fun people Stacy! Talented, a little more questionable, but definitely fun!"
Mallory’s eyes widened, and she began tapping her foot. “...You’re gonna have to help me out, here, boss.” She begged quietly. Maybe she should just leave. Mallory felt wound up, and she was barely keeping herself under control. And this fucker just wouldn’t shut up.
“Mr. Marco, I’d appreciate it if you could act with more tact. Purposefully egging on your coworkers is an easy way to earn a bad reputation.”
Stacy spared a glance in Mallory’s direction.
”And if you do not feel like you are capable of that, silence will work just as well.”
Stacy suddenly felt the veracity of Marco’s powers were finally revealed - she had never told him her name. Or, more specifically, she didn’t remember telling him her name. She must have told him when she (apparently) agreed to let him live in the roof of her building… Suddenly, she felt much more threatened than annoyed. If he knew her identity, she needed to keep him on a much shorter leash - at least, until she had managed to win some loyalty. Plus, it’d be easier to tell if he’d turn traitor and if she needed to put a bullet in his skull.
Stacy sighed.
“Alright, where were we? Ms. Duplica, you asked about team names? Unfortunately, I have yet to decide on one - I felt it would be more appropriate if we chose one after interacting and getting to know each other...”
‘But now, I’m having second thoughts.’ Stacy thought. If they nearly got into a fight after just a few minutes of talking, who knew what would happen in a debate over their name. Really, Stacy didn’t have the creativity to come up with a name on her own - if she didn’t think it would piss them off, she’d have just looked up a name on one of those silly online generators.
“Any other questions? ...Maybe an introduction?”
Mallory shot her hand up. While Confetti talked, she seemed to have calmed down a little. “My name’s Mallory. And, holy shit, yeah, I have anger issues, okay? Fuck. I mean- I mean- it’s not like I was planning on hiding it. I just didn’t even get a fucking chance to even say one word before-” Mallory cut herself off, making a frustrated hand gesture and groaned.
She swore again. “Sorry.” She grumbled, rubbing her face.
”Thank you, Miss Doyle. I’m glad you are informing us about this topic, and I am sure that our coworkers will be both receptive, as well as accommodating.”
Stacy didn’t really believe this - however, maybe by saying it, Abby and Marco would feel motivated to avoid stepping on toes.
“This is a good time to share information that may cause issues in the future, if anyone has something to say. Or anything you may think is nice to know - medical information, perhaps?”
Stacy had planned to just let them fill out a survey with their blood type and medical conditions at a later point in time, but getting that out of the way now would save her the effort. She thought about mentioning Marco’s Memory Manipulation, but that would probably be better coming from him. She didn’t really know much about it in the first place, so talking about it would just end up causing unneeded confusion.
”I’ll do the same - Many of my associates have described me as ‘distant’ or ‘cold’. I prefer ‘professional’, but apologize in advance if my actions may upset any of you.”
“Ah, I get it. Hopin’ to figure out my weakness and get me outta the picture straight away, huh? Well, can’t say I blame you.” He said, grinning at his employer/landlord. “Oh well, I’ll tell you what I can. Like I was trying to say before I was so rudely interrupted, my name’s Marco Shaw! I can teleport anywhere as long as nobody’s looking at me or the spot I’m teleporting to, and people forget who I am after a day or two. Here’s the bit you were hoping for though Boss, people knowing who I am is the only thing that keeps me anchored to the real world. If nobody remembers me, odds are I’ll end up slipping into the void with no way back. So that’s why I have to make people feel strongly about me, and unless any of you have some tips for how to make someone fall in love with me in a day, rilin’ all of you up is my only option.”
His grin grew a little wider as he rocked back and forth on his chair.
“Of course, I also do it because it’s really fun. Not starving to death in the space between spaces is just a nice little bonus.”
Abby stared, dumbfounded, at Marco for a moment. Then, she laughed. “That is an insane power, dude! So what, I’m just gonna think you’re a stranger in a couple days? How can I be on a team with someone I forget? Should I what, set a reminder in my phone? Not like that face’ll stick out to me again, no offense.” Abby thought this was hilarious, for she was laughing with her head thrown back now.
Eventually, she stopped laughing and wiped tears from her eyes. “Alright, alright, I’ll stop. I’m Duplica. Although since I know all your real names… Stacy, Mallory, and Marco, I guess I should share mine. It’s Abby. Spelled A-B-B-Y, for any illiterates present. But that’s not what’s important. What’s important is my power. Basically, I duplicate myself.” Abby stopped talking to make a sharp whistling sound. At the sound, three exact replicas of herself, masks, clothes, gun and all, emerged from the corners of the laundromat- two even came out of the washers and dryers.
“I got here early and hid them for some dramatic effect. Sorry not sorry.” Abby grinned shamelessly. “I can create up to 18 of these bad boys- sorry, girls, at a time. Any more gets a bit… well, messy, but I find that 18 works just fine for my purposes. Basically, they do whatever I want. They’re all dumb as a rock, though. No free will of any sort. I’ve never actually taken one apart because I’m uninterested in doing surgery on an exact version of myself, but I suspect they have very minimal organs. If any at all. They’re just… well, puppets. My little brainless me-slaves, I guess you could call them. They only live for a few days at most, but they’re just as strong and durable as another human.” Abby waved one of the duplicates over to her. “You! Come here!” she barked.
The duplicated walked over dutifully, without a single expression on its face. Abby smiled. “Kneel.” It did. “Now stand.” It did. “Now do the Renegade dance.” It started dancing, still emotionless, although its dancing was very good.
“Good, good! You’re awesome at that.” Abby patted her clone on the head, almost motherly-like. Then, she pulled the gun out of its holster on her waist. She handed it to the clone. “Now shoot yourself in the forehead.”
The clone raised the gun to its forehead, its expression still blank, and pressed the trigger without hesitation. It went off with a resounding bang, and even Abby winced as she was sprayed with blue goo as the clone turned back to goo. The other two clones stood stock still in the background.
“Woo! That was a fun demonstration!” Abby plucked her gun off the floor and holstered it again, a wolfish smile on her face. She bowed to her shell-shocked audience. “See. Total control. Cool, huh?” She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms.
Mallory’s eyes widened, she scoffed slightly in disbelief.
Stacy nodded her head in response, wiping a small amount of blue goo that had splattered on her mask from the suicidal clone. It left a stain on her paper mache mask, but her clothes were at least untouched - and those were honestly harder to clean than it was to make a new mask.
“Well, I’m glad that we could all get to know each other better, even if it was a bit… messier than I would have preferred. I’ve prepared dossiers for each of you, containing some of the materials and information you will all need for our next meeting.”
Stacy passed out the cheap clasp envelopes to everyone in the room, before returning to her position in the front of the room. Inside each were a burner phone, several addresses to abandoned buildings and laundromats that Stacy owned, and a questionnaire, asking various medical questions.
“Please keep the phone on you at all times - that will be our primary means of communication, and they have all of your numbers in the event you wish to talk to each other. If you need a safe house or lack a place to sleep, please visit any of the addresses I have provided.”
Stacy paused for several seconds, checking her own burner phone to make sure that she had saved each of the numbers. Verifying this, she turned up again.
“I will text you all with our first job within the week - if you need a costume, or have any further questions, you can contact me and we will be able to meet before then. I will be leaving now - if any of you wish to stay here, please leave a note for the night shift employees. There is a couch in the break room if any of you are sleeping here.”
And like that, Stacy simply left. She didn’t even lock the store up behind her - it wasn’t like she cared about a robbery, especially when she was doing much worse, legally speaking.
“Haha, that was horrific.” Marco said, the smile still wide even on his now notably bluer face.
Within, however, things were clean and orderly - a small oak desk and several office chairs adorned the ‘office’, with a dozen or so similar chairs right outside the barely intact door in the ‘waiting area’. All things considered, it seemed like the person behind this moved in only a day before.
And that’s exactly what happened - this was one of Stacy’s more rundown properties, one she had bought in Watervale purely for the land, only for it to turn into a terrible business investment. Far from the roads, out of sight, and already have destroyed - not exactly the best place for a business.
Perfect place for criminal activities though.
Outside her office door were at least a dozen applicants for her ‘Villain Team’ - the group that would assist her in world domination, or whatever cliche goal she sets her mind on. She hadn’t even thought of a name yet, so that would probably need to come first though...
“Next applicant please!”
Outside of the office, Abby rose from her hard plastic chair and brushed the dust off of her dress slacks. Finally. She had been waiting here forever, it seemed like, although it had really only been an hour. The grande mocha frappuccino she had bought that morning had long since been finished, and she was itching for a puff off her vape. If it was her turn, that meant that she could leave soon enough. And hopefully get a job, but whatever. If this didn’t work, she could always rob another liquor store to pay her rent. That usually worked.
It certainly seemed to be her turn, because nobody else was standing. Abby could barely hold back a smirk. Good. They probably couldn’t match her anyways. With that, Abby opened the door and entered the office room.
The door swung shut quietly, and Abby appraised the room- and her potential employer. Simple. Basic… underwhelming. Nothing to turn her nose up at, though. She grinned and pulled up a seat, adjusting her domino mask as she did so. It wasn’t something she’d usually wear, but she had replaced her usual ski mask with it today to be presentable. Other than that, she wore black dress slacks, a polka-dot collared shirt, and flats, with a purse by her side. Interviews were supposed to be business casual, right?
Abby held out a hand to Stacy and put her elbow on the table, still smirking. “I call myself Duplica. It’s nice to meet you.” She then leaned back in her chair, acting with all the fake swagger of an insecure teenager. “If it isn’t obvious, I can self-duplicate. Any other questions?”
Stacy frowned slightly beneath her own mask, although the papercraft blocked her mouth enough to cover the movement. She’d need to work on Duplica’s manners… but without a doubt, a duplicator would be more than useful in the future. Besides, villains weren’t exactly known for their workplace etiquette - Stacy could learn to adjust, if she needed to. She shuffled some papers around on her desk, more so to fill the silence and give herself time to think than to actually organize anything.
“Impressive - duplication is always a useful ability. I have several questions, such as your upper limit of Duplicates and level of control, but those can be saved for when you are actually hired.”
No sense lying to the girl - most of the respondents to the interview had been quite… inadequate. Hair manipulation, slow healing factors, and even some strange-looking fellow calling himself ‘The Shocker,’ who just seemed to be pretty tall and strong before Stacy dismissed him. Even if she was inexperienced, Duplica offered versatility that the others did not.
“Rather, I am more curious about how you’ve prepared yourself for this meeting - do you have any weapons on you? Have you mapped out your points of escape? If I was really some Hero who laid a trap, how would you avoid capture?”
Stacy leaned back in her chair and coughed slightly, realizing that her last question might make Abby uncomfortable.
“Hypothetically, of course. As long as you are in this building, I guarantee your anonymity and security.”
At Stacy’s surprisingly detailed questions, Abby sat up a bit straighter in her seat and began to think. She hadn’t been expecting questions of this detail from a villain, but just from the woman’s mannerisms and her compliment on her power, she knew she wanted to impress her.
“Of course I have contingencies. Who wouldn’t have contingencies?” Abby scoffed, although she sounded the tiniest bit nervous underneath. I have a gun in my purse,” she started, slowly. It wasn’t a lie, but it was something she hadn’t been planning on revealing. “There’s one clone in the waiting room, and two outside. That’s how I’d escape. I told them to come running if I scream, and three people together are more than enough to take your average person down. I…” She hadn’t really thought about escape routes. Shit. “There are a couple windows I could jump out of. Clones could cushion my fall.”
Stacy nodded as she listened, the colored slips of paper on her mask shifting slowly. It was good that Duplica had a gun, although Stacy doubted that the young girl was especially skilled in its use. At close ranges, even a complete novice could horribly injure a person with no Durability enhancing powers. And thanks to her clones, she had covered back up fairly well - she was right in her statement that three people could take down most.
At the very least, Stacy had no doubt that three people could take her down, even if she could reach her own gun in her desk before she was attacked.
“Smart choice - you should always carry a weapon on you, even if you feel safe. I learned that before I even entered the criminal world.”
“And, while I wouldn’t describe your escape plan as safe, I have no doubt that you’d succeed. As long as you’re not running from someone with a vehicle or movement power, of course. But even in that case, screaming and alerting the others in the waiting room would ruin any advantage a trap would have.”
Stacy gently raised her hand from the desk, as if to punctuate what she was about to say.
“However, you’ve revealed information to me that you would want to keep hidden from others. I know you can create at least three clones, and that you do not have any direct line of communication - you need to scream to get their attention. You can also generate them fast enough that you can break a fall from a second-story window - enough to dissuade a direct approach.”
“Of course, telling me this was not really a fault of your own. I asked you, and you were in the right to tell me - this is an interview, after all. But in the future, keep your plans close to yourself, and anyone you are involved with. People are far more cautious of an opponent that is armed, and even more so when they know they have a plan.“
Stacy reached into one of the drawers in her desk, and grabbed a plain, white business card inside. It lacked any insignia, phone number, name, and anything else one would expect of a similar card - instead, there was simply an address, which led to one of Stacy’s Laundromats in Watervale. She then handed it off to Abby, as if their 5-minute interview was enough to come to a final decision.
“Congratulations - I would be more than pleased to accept you into my operations.”
“You could stay here if you like and wait for me to finish the other interviews - it would be a good chance to meet your future coworkers. Otherwise, please go to that address in three hours, and you will be able to meet them there.”
Abby’s mouth twitched with badly-concealed surprise. That was it? Just 5 minutes, and she was in? Weird. It sounded almost suspicious.
Or maybe she just nailed the interview that hard! Her look of surprise morphed into a victorious grin, and Abby took the card and pocketed it. “Awesome!” She stood from the chair and smoothed her slacks. “I’m gonna go. No offense… but I don’t really wanna stick around. See you then, boss.”
A few moments later, Mallory Doyle lumbered into the room. Standing at a staggering 6 feet, 4 inches, the woman was hard not to notice. Disheveled brown hair hung down in front of her face, which was shadowed by the hood of her hoodie. She took a seat, but it was a little too small. Frowning, Mallory hovered over the chair, holding it by the handles and trying to adjust. This quickly grew frustrated by this process and shot back up to her feet, crossing her arms and leaning against the wall. She glanced over at her potential new employer.
“...’sup?”
Stacy leaned forward in her own seat, frowning beneath her mask - she had chosen to bring foldable chairs due to convenience, but it seemed like that had bit her back when it came to some of the larger applicants. That ‘Shocker’ fellow from earlier had the same problem as Mallory.
At the very least, she wasn’t making a big deal about the lack of seating. Agreeability was a plus for an operation like this...
“Not much. May I please have your name, Ma’am? And while I’m asking - I would also be pleased if you could let me know about your power, before we continue.”
“Pfft,” the interviewee began. “Wasn’t expectin’ you to say ‘not much.’ You seem pretty busy to me.” She rolled her shoulders.
“Uh, yeah, anyway, my name is Mallory Doyle. And I’m made of strings. You can just call me Mal, or whatever.” She added with a shrug, clearly impartial to the subject. Seemingly glazing over her oversimplified explanation of her powers.
Stacy attempted to refrain from sighing - she didn’t expect to be given this person’s actual name. Perhaps they simply didn’t think of a villain name yet, or it wasn’t very important to share their real name - whatever the case, Stacy now needed to be sure not to spread that information around. If she was lucky, it was just an alias and it would be cleared up at a later point in time.
“Looks can be… deceiving, Miss Doyle. Really, this is more of formality rather than an actual interview - not to mention paperwork is pretty easy when no one is turning in resumes.”
“And while I’d prefer to be more informed of your powers, keeping that information close to your chest is a habit that is good to get into - I don’t need much more than you’ve given, anyways.”
Turning into string - obviously some form of transformative or shapeshifting ability. While Stacy knew nothing about it’s limitations or capabilities, it could prove especially useful for traversal and reconnaissance…
Stacy turned to her computer, one of the few things that actually sat on top of the desk other than the various sheets of copy paper. Opening a Word document, she was prepared to begin typing.
“Do you have any preferences for this kind of work, Miss Doyle? Robbery, Assault, or something else that you have experience in?”
“I don’t need references, of course, but I’d like to know what you’re used to.”
Miss Doyle scratched the back of her head, reaching her hand under her hoodie. She took another glance around the room and then focused back on the woman sitting behind the desk.
“Yeah.” She said.
This time, Stacy did not repress her sigh. Normally, she was a fan of people with few words - they didn’t put up much of a fuss and were great conversationalists. It was quite difficult to learn more about someone like this, however…
Stacy spared a glance at the metal chair folding chair in front of her - it was fairly small, but if this woman was unwilling to talk…
“Miss Doyle, could you please break that chair in front of you? I don’t mind how, so long as you don’t damage my desk in the process.”
Doyle furrowed her brow, looking between the interviewer and the chair. She stood up straight from her leaning position and glanced to the door she had entered from.
“Uh, sure.” She said. She took a step forward and extended out her palm. From the center of her hand emerged a loop of string. Miss Doyle closed one eye, lining it up. Then, her entire left hand came away, becoming a bundle of white strings. They lashed out and latched onto the chair. Wrapping around every leg and support, Mal brought her elbow in and “clenched her fist”, as it were. The chair was crushed as the strings squeezed tight, a few bolts coming loose, some metal bending under the pressure. Once she was sure the chair was no longer usable, Miss Doyle reached her arm out and the string receded into the hole where her wrist used to be. Her hand reformed and she held it briefly.
“...I’m not payin’ for that.” She added, but it might have been an attempt at humor.
Stacy nodded, any hint of possible amusement hidden behind her mask.
“Of course - I do not have much use for these chairs after today, so it is fine if a few are ruined.”
It was not like Stacy had expected - rather than rely on her brute strength and working against the weak points of the chair, like Stacy expected she might, Mallory relied on her power in order to crush it using the pressure of her ‘strings’.
Seeing how her power operated directly, Stacy felt much more comfortable in assessing the woman before her. Stacy just needed to put her questions into actions, rather than words.
“One more question before we end the interview, Miss Doyle - If I asked you to do the same thing you did to that chair on a person’s arm or leg, would you?”
Stacy stared at Mallory directly, her expression hidden behind the darkened lenses of her mask.
“Yeah.” Mallory replied simply, checking her hand for holes. She looked back at the mask, raising an eyebrow and thinking for a moment. “I mean…” She hesitated. “No, yeah. Yes.” She jabbed an affirmative finger at the woman behind the desk.
This time, Stacy’s amusement was easier to notice - just a small chuckle, but considering the last time she really laughed was over a year ago, that was pretty impressive.
“I appreciate the enthusiasm, but I doubt we will be in a situation like I suggested for quite some time. I was asking just to see if you would be willing to do some of the other things I would ask of you while working with me.”
Just like with the previous applicant, Stacy reached into one of her Desk drawers and pulled out one of the same, near featureless cards.
“This address leads to another, more secure location - please come there in around three hours, and you will be able to meet your coworkers and discuss your pay. Alternatively, you could stay here until I am done, and I can drive you there.”
Stacy looked at the crumpled folding chair next to Mallory, and grimaced slightly at the thought of moving it later.
“If you do go, however, please take that chair with you - there should be a dumpster in the alley to the right of the building.”
“Sweet,” Mallory said. “Uh, to be clear, I’m not, like, a sicko or anything. I’m not excited to cut people’s arms off. But, y’know, I’ll do it.” She looked down at the broken chair, poking at it with the tip of her sneaker.
“...Yeah, I really don’t have anywhere better to be in the next three hours. I’ll stick around.” She unfurled her hand and used the strings to gather the broken chair, and then slung it over her shoulder like a backpack.
Once the discussion was over Mallory left the room, carrying the broken chair. That was easier than she had expected. She knew this whole little scenario was legit thanks to her sources, but it was not what she thought it would be like. She was expecting at least a couple of goons.
Stacy didn’t say anything to Mallory in response, simply nodding her head in acknowledgment. She could say that amputations weren’t on the table, and as long as Stacy was leading operations they wouldn’t be, but the reassurance wasn’t what was important. Mallory’s insistence that she’d be willing, albeit reluctant, was preferable to Stacy rather than a cold-blooded monster who’d do it without a second thought.
There was a trait that mattered far more than any power or experience - Obedience. And unlike Duplica, Mallory seemed to have that in spades. Stacy didn’t have the first clue why, whether it be some inborn trait or just desperation, but it didn’t really matter in the end.
Villains in the shows and movies were always missing a crucial factor in their hiring process - Loyalty. Stacy wouldn’t make that mistake.
Unfortunately, the next few hours had been fairly fruitless when it came to applicants. More of the same - goons from other gangs looking for a big break, debtors trying to find a nice source of income, and delusional people trying to send some kind of message. Some of them even had decent (although in Stacy’s opinion, somewhat generic) powers… but they weren’t what Stacy needed.
It seemed like Abby and Mallory had been a coincidental hot streak. Stacy organized her papers and began packing up - she’d been hoping to hire at least three members, but she could always hold auditions at some later date. Maybe scoop someone up from the Bruisers - she heard they were having some difficulties recently, and she felt that Midas knew a thing about aesthetics.
“Well Miss Doyle, we shouldn’t keep our coworker waiting too long. Let’s leave-”
As she was talking, Stacy heard some sound coming from the waiting room. Almost like a… scurrying. All the applicants had already left for the day, so Stacy had no clue what could have caused the noise, other than a rat or some other animal…
“Fuck was that?” Mallory asked, taking a couple steps towards the door frame. She pushed the door open and peaked into the waiting room.
Alright, this was it. He’d been waiting hours for this moment, but it was finally time for his badass entrance! Carefully, silently, he removed one of the panels of the roof and peaked his head out. They were looking towards the waiting room, perfect! Right below him was his target, the chair. Thankfully, the one string lady had obliterated had been replaced, so he wasn’t aiming for a sharp, shrapnelly mess. Everything had lined up, and now it was time to put all his planning to work.
And so, he dropped down from his spot in the roof, planning to fall perfectly into a seated position in the chair. Upon contact with the chair, his perfect form immediately fell apart because metal chairs hurt apparently, his limbs sprawling across the dented seat before he slid down to the ground in a writhing lump.
All in all, far from the worst way to meet Marco Shaw for the first time.
"Oh! Oh jesus! Oh it hurts! I-it’s bad!"
After a few more seconds of rolling around and regretting his poor decisions, he eventually managed to collect himself enough to get back up, grabbing the desk and leaning on it for support.
"Ok, so I’ve been listening to the interviews for the last few hours, and I’m interested. So I’m in! You’re welcome!"
He paused briefly as he shakily managed to stand without the table, turning to face Stacy and Mallory.
"Ok that’s not necessarily true actually, ‘listening’ might be a little too strong a word. I’ve been hearing the interviews. I might’ve been a bit too distracted to pay attention to a good chunk of them."
Mallory didn’t outwardly react. She turned back into the room to look at her new potential employer. “Some guy just fell outta the ceiling.”
Stacy nodded at Mallory’s statement, before turning back to the strange man that just appeared. She had heard about dynamic entrances before, but the only impression this guy managed to leave was a strange one. Seriously, who hides in ceiling panels, other than stalkers?
...Well, the robbers and gentlemen thieves in the movies sometimes hid in air vents, but that was different.
Stacy reached into her desk, this time pulling out the gun that she had been eyeing every time a scarier applicant came into the room. Of course, compared to a trained professional, she would be quite a poor shot - but she had a few months practice, and at this close range, she could shoot this mysterious person.
Stacy raised her voice a few decibels, but it had the same monotone as her normal speaking voice. As she did so, the pistol was immediately pointed towards the new arrival.
“Please state your name, any powers or skills you may have, and what you were doing in my ceiling.”
She felt a lot more comfortable with this situation, now that she had a weapon. It helped that Mallory was there as well - Stacy didn’t feel like killing some homeless person, so she could drag him out if he didn’t pass the interview.
"Ok, first off, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t yell at me." Marco said. "Not sure if you noticed, but I just went through a bit of a rough experience there, could really do without the extra stress. Also you should probably actually work on that if you didn’t, seems like pretty poor form for an employer to not notice when their employees are havin’ a rough time."
He grabbed the chair as he spoke, moving it back into its normal upright position he’d just knocked it out of, and sat on it backwards, leaning forwards onto the back.
"So, let’s get started." He said, tilting his head up as he thought through Stacy’s questions. "My name is Marco. I can teleport when no one’s looking, to any other spot no one’s looking, and people forget about me after a day. Sometimes two if you’ve got a good enough brain. Don’t worry though, I’ll introduce myself again tomorrow. And I was up there because you said I could live there last time we met. Which might I just say, I’m hurt you’ve already forgotten..."
Stacy kept her gun trained on the guy that just appeared, not wavering through his response. If Abby was rude, then this guy was just annoying as hell… Luckily, Stacy didn’t really care about that. What mattered more was what he said.
The teleportation was fine - she’d seen a speedster during the interviews, and he would have been able to fill a similar niche if she called him back. What intrigued Stacy was the second part of his power. If he was telling the truth, then he would be a great addition - someone people can’t remember, committing a crime? That would be great for robberies...
But he was also living in her property for who knows how long, and was saying that she had talked to him before - which Stacy really doubted.
…Well, it didn’t really matter. His power was useful, and if she did agree to let him live in this abandoned building, then it was no skin off her back. She kept the gun locked on him, but began moving closer.
“I’m going to pat you down for weapons, and you can’t take anything with you other than your clothes - I don’t want the police to come to my place of business. If you can keep still and quiet, then we can see if you’ll get that job.”
“And if this doesn’t work out, here’s a tip for your next job interview: Don’t drop from the ceiling after interviews are over.”
"Still and quiet? Hell of a lot you’re askin’ of me, don’tcha think?" Marco said, reluctantly allowing himself to be searched. "But hey, if you do decide you don’t wanna hire me today, I’ll keep your advice in mind when I apply again tomorrow."
Stacy finished the search as quickly as she could, before retreating back behind Mallory. At the very least, her gun was no longer pointed at Marco. If he had a wire or tracker of some kind, it would have to be in a particularly… intimate location, and Stacy doubted Marco was the kind of person to do that. He was, in all likelihood, just not very bright.
“Alright, my car is parked nearby - I don’t want this distraction to make us late.”
The thought of just ignoring this guy crossed Stacy’s mind. But if he really could alter memories or something similar, he’d just apply again the next day like he said he would - dealing with him while she could remember his behavior was the smart thing to do.
And besides - she was desperate to get this started as soon as she could.
While the abandoned building was decrepit and clearly been out of use for years, the laundromat they had just entered was clearly well-used and taken care of. Even though they were still in Watervale, the difference a few miles made to the quality of the buildings in this city was staggering. Hell, the building could almost be described as pretty by comparison
Almost being the keyword. After all, it was still a laundromat - Washers and Dryers lined most of the walls, and the smell of detergent and bleach hung in the air like a vapor. Dry Cleaners in the back rooms weren’t much better, like kerosene… Clearly, the employee didn’t clean up when Stacy said he could leave early today.
Stacy flicked on the lights, leading the others to the basement. It was primarily used for storage, but there wasn’t exactly much to keep around. A few containers of cleaning solution, a bench and some chairs, the odd tool or battery - really, it was just a big empty room that was only used by her employees to sleep or make out, or whatever else they do when they should be working.
Stacy motioned for the three to take a seat and began speaking, the slips of paper on her mask growing more animated as she did so.
“I’m pleased to have you all here - As I’ve yet to introduce myself, I will do so now. You may refer to me as ‘Confetti’.”
“As you are aware, I have gathered you all to act as enforcers. Your job will entail robberies, Crimes against the public order, and hindering operations of both HERO and ICOSA.”
“In exchange for your services, you will be paid in cash, in amounts depending on the difficulty and danger of the task I assign you. Typically, this will range in the thousands. Alternatively, either for convenience or if you are worried about unreported income, I could provide you with a card and private account.”
Marco raised his hand.
Stacy eye’d Marco from beneath her mask, speaking as she did so.
“I am also willing to provide housing, if you lack that at the moment.”
Marco lowered his hand.
“If the dangers of the tasks I’ve mentioned are too great for any of you, you may leave now - your privacy and safety is guaranteed, so long as you do not report anything you’ve heard to the authorities.”
Stacy paused briefly, and when no one got up, she continued her long-winded monologue.
“Excellent. If any of you have any questions or requests to make of me, please let me know now.”
Abby leaned on a wall in the back, a Juul in hand and her skateboard leaning on the wall beside her. She (and the room- she had been smoking in there) reeked of a sickly sweet blue raspberry scent. She had been waiting here for about 20 minutes. She was a bit annoyed that she had- time was always a strange thing with villains- but now that she had seen her new coworkers… well, she was still annoyed. Freakishly tall girl and malnourished-looking, bad-smelling man seemed like they would be a drag to work with. Somehow, Abby guessed that housing comment was directed towards him. Really? Confetti had just hired a random homeless guy? How desperate.
Abby made a grimace at the word “enforcers”. Seriously?
“I didn’t sign up to be somebody’s goon,” Abby remarked. “I thought this was going to be… some sort of team thing. Something more equal. Not like a gang boss and his enforcers, y’know?” She tossed her vape idly in the air and caught it. “Doesn’t a team need a name or something? We’ve got some good material here. Freakishly tall girl, homeless boy, and me. Hm. What could it be?” She put her fingers to her chin almost as in thought, sounding sarcastic, almost, like she really didn’t care. Or she was just making fun of everyone.
Mallory turned over her shoulder, furrowing her brows at Abby. “Hey, fuck you.” She said from the chair she was sitting in.
Abby made a very fake giggling noise at that, and shook her head. “Oh, you’re so funny, aren’t you? We’re gonna have so much fun.”
Mallory felt a spike of anger stab into her spine, but she suppressed it. She instead made a confused gesture. “The fuck?” She glanced back at Confetti, then to Abby.
“Like, fun? You know what fun is? It’s that thing when you do something you like and you like it and it’s fun? Yeah, that. We’re totally gonna have it, if you know what I mean.”
"Well, before you two rip each other in half, I’d just like to say it’s so nice to finally meet you in person." Marco said, the expression on his face clearly showing how hard he was trying to keep himself from laughing. "I’m gonna go ahead and guess that you are who I’m thinking of when I say that. Replica, right?"
He gestured back to Mallory.
"Don’t worry about Mallet there, it sounds like her anger gets the best of her sometimes. You should’ve seen what she did to that poor chair, just because Stac-, Confetti asked her a simple question! It was terrible!"
“It’s Duplica. But it’s alright, I forgive you.” Abby’s voice dripped with venom. It was clear she didn’t. She hated it when people got her name wrong.
Mallory glanced back and forth between the two, looking genuinely baffled for a moment. The anger made itself apparent, though, and she shot up to her feet, knocking the chair on its side with a crash. “Do you two have a fucking problem with me or some shit!?” She asked, rising to her full height and taking a step forward.
"Good god, she did it again!" Marco shouted, a mixture of poorly faked horror and sadness on his face as he pointed at the chair she’d knocked over. "Will nothing stop her in her rampage against all of Chairkind?!"
His face quickly returned to a smirk again after a second though.
"But yeah nah, I’m pretty sure Replicant has a problem with everyone. I, on the other hand, am merely a lovable scamp. No problems with any of you! Mostly.”
Despite fear shooting visibly through her face (Jesus, this woman looked tall and angry), Abby laughed high and loud. She smacked her knee. “Oh god, you’re taking this so seriously! I’m just poking fun at you, you know ribbing you. There’s some banter going on here. Just roll with it, Amazon. Nothing to get angwy about here.”
“And again, it’s Duplica. I didn’t catch your name, though. Any chance I could get it wrong, too?”
"Well, if you’re really so interested, sure! I, my miserable, vapid friend, am the amazing Mar-”
”Shut the fuck up!” Mallory shouted, her voice echoing. “Holy shit! You’re so fucking annoying!” It wasn’t clear exactly who she was talking to. Probably everyone. She grabbed the sides of her head. She looked between the girl and the boy with wide eyes. Whoever talked next was in trouble. Her fists were clenched and she was grinding her teeth together. Even worse, it looked like she was literally coming apart at the seams, the skin of her face becoming disconnected and loose in a few places as the white strings that made up her form began to lose tension. The string loops writhed in the air like worms beneath dirt.
Abby eyed Mallory nervously. It belatedly occurred to her that she didn’t know what this girl’s power was, which could be concerning. But, still… she got that rush that one gets when meanness hits in the exact right spot. Abby definitely wasn’t going to give up now- she couldn’t back off and seem weak. Instead, she giggled, high and nervous and mocking. “Chill out! Jeez, you’re really overreacting. I hope you’re not like this on the battlefield, for all of our sakes!” Abby laughed again and ran a hand through her blonde hair. “Sorry that I’m annoying you. Didn’t realize you got so easily annoyed. Maybe you should work on that? You know, on your anger issues? Looks like you have them. Or maybe that’s good in this business, I wouldn’t know. I don’t have ‘em.”
Mallory locked eyes with Abby. “Okay.” She said, eerily. With that she began to storm over the girl with long, fast strides. She reached her hand out, and it dissolved into a mess of grasping, cloying, thin white tendrils.
The loud ringing sound of a gunshot pierced through the room. Stacy was standing calmly, arm pointed up and at the roof, although beneath her mask she cringed slightly. She had to remember to wear earplugs next time she planned on using her gun.
“We should probably calm down - after all, it is like Ms. Duplica said earlier - we’re a team. And I’d prefer it if we could have our first meeting, without it dissolving into bickering among each other and hurling insults.”
Lowering her hand and holstering her gun, Stacy continued. Normally she’d be more reluctant to shoot a firearm in a residential area, but she’d soundproofed the basement when it was first built… And to be honest, gunshots probably weren’t too uncommon in Watervale.
”Now… Can we all apologize to each other and act with some professionalism? We are coworkers, after all - and the last thing I’d want is for workplace… complications. Especially before we finish our introductions.”
While Abby did start the conflict, and Marco helped, Stacy didn’t excuse Mallory from what was happening - if she hadn’t stepped in to stop them, Stacy might have been reduced to 2 villains instead of 3.
And to be honest, she’d rather have Mallory get rid of Marco instead of Abby.
Mallory paused, a few feet from Abby. Her hand reconnected into its normal state. She was shaking, but quietly she exhaled and turned back. She trudged over to her seat, flipped it back onto four legs and sat down, crossing her arms.
Abby rolled her eyes, although her heart was thumping from that extremely close encounter. What the hell even was that power? “I… apologize. I was just joking, though! But I’m sorry.”
"I’m not and I wasn’t. I’ll give you a break for now though, because when it all comes down to it, I’ve gotta admit I’m really liking this team. Great dynamic."
He turned to Stacy.
"You’ve got a good eye for fun people Stacy! Talented, a little more questionable, but definitely fun!"
Mallory’s eyes widened, and she began tapping her foot. “...You’re gonna have to help me out, here, boss.” She begged quietly. Maybe she should just leave. Mallory felt wound up, and she was barely keeping herself under control. And this fucker just wouldn’t shut up.
“Mr. Marco, I’d appreciate it if you could act with more tact. Purposefully egging on your coworkers is an easy way to earn a bad reputation.”
Stacy spared a glance in Mallory’s direction.
”And if you do not feel like you are capable of that, silence will work just as well.”
Stacy suddenly felt the veracity of Marco’s powers were finally revealed - she had never told him her name. Or, more specifically, she didn’t remember telling him her name. She must have told him when she (apparently) agreed to let him live in the roof of her building… Suddenly, she felt much more threatened than annoyed. If he knew her identity, she needed to keep him on a much shorter leash - at least, until she had managed to win some loyalty. Plus, it’d be easier to tell if he’d turn traitor and if she needed to put a bullet in his skull.
Stacy sighed.
“Alright, where were we? Ms. Duplica, you asked about team names? Unfortunately, I have yet to decide on one - I felt it would be more appropriate if we chose one after interacting and getting to know each other...”
‘But now, I’m having second thoughts.’ Stacy thought. If they nearly got into a fight after just a few minutes of talking, who knew what would happen in a debate over their name. Really, Stacy didn’t have the creativity to come up with a name on her own - if she didn’t think it would piss them off, she’d have just looked up a name on one of those silly online generators.
“Any other questions? ...Maybe an introduction?”
Mallory shot her hand up. While Confetti talked, she seemed to have calmed down a little. “My name’s Mallory. And, holy shit, yeah, I have anger issues, okay? Fuck. I mean- I mean- it’s not like I was planning on hiding it. I just didn’t even get a fucking chance to even say one word before-” Mallory cut herself off, making a frustrated hand gesture and groaned.
She swore again. “Sorry.” She grumbled, rubbing her face.
”Thank you, Miss Doyle. I’m glad you are informing us about this topic, and I am sure that our coworkers will be both receptive, as well as accommodating.”
Stacy didn’t really believe this - however, maybe by saying it, Abby and Marco would feel motivated to avoid stepping on toes.
“This is a good time to share information that may cause issues in the future, if anyone has something to say. Or anything you may think is nice to know - medical information, perhaps?”
Stacy had planned to just let them fill out a survey with their blood type and medical conditions at a later point in time, but getting that out of the way now would save her the effort. She thought about mentioning Marco’s Memory Manipulation, but that would probably be better coming from him. She didn’t really know much about it in the first place, so talking about it would just end up causing unneeded confusion.
”I’ll do the same - Many of my associates have described me as ‘distant’ or ‘cold’. I prefer ‘professional’, but apologize in advance if my actions may upset any of you.”
“Ah, I get it. Hopin’ to figure out my weakness and get me outta the picture straight away, huh? Well, can’t say I blame you.” He said, grinning at his employer/landlord. “Oh well, I’ll tell you what I can. Like I was trying to say before I was so rudely interrupted, my name’s Marco Shaw! I can teleport anywhere as long as nobody’s looking at me or the spot I’m teleporting to, and people forget who I am after a day or two. Here’s the bit you were hoping for though Boss, people knowing who I am is the only thing that keeps me anchored to the real world. If nobody remembers me, odds are I’ll end up slipping into the void with no way back. So that’s why I have to make people feel strongly about me, and unless any of you have some tips for how to make someone fall in love with me in a day, rilin’ all of you up is my only option.”
His grin grew a little wider as he rocked back and forth on his chair.
“Of course, I also do it because it’s really fun. Not starving to death in the space between spaces is just a nice little bonus.”
Abby stared, dumbfounded, at Marco for a moment. Then, she laughed. “That is an insane power, dude! So what, I’m just gonna think you’re a stranger in a couple days? How can I be on a team with someone I forget? Should I what, set a reminder in my phone? Not like that face’ll stick out to me again, no offense.” Abby thought this was hilarious, for she was laughing with her head thrown back now.
Eventually, she stopped laughing and wiped tears from her eyes. “Alright, alright, I’ll stop. I’m Duplica. Although since I know all your real names… Stacy, Mallory, and Marco, I guess I should share mine. It’s Abby. Spelled A-B-B-Y, for any illiterates present. But that’s not what’s important. What’s important is my power. Basically, I duplicate myself.” Abby stopped talking to make a sharp whistling sound. At the sound, three exact replicas of herself, masks, clothes, gun and all, emerged from the corners of the laundromat- two even came out of the washers and dryers.
“I got here early and hid them for some dramatic effect. Sorry not sorry.” Abby grinned shamelessly. “I can create up to 18 of these bad boys- sorry, girls, at a time. Any more gets a bit… well, messy, but I find that 18 works just fine for my purposes. Basically, they do whatever I want. They’re all dumb as a rock, though. No free will of any sort. I’ve never actually taken one apart because I’m uninterested in doing surgery on an exact version of myself, but I suspect they have very minimal organs. If any at all. They’re just… well, puppets. My little brainless me-slaves, I guess you could call them. They only live for a few days at most, but they’re just as strong and durable as another human.” Abby waved one of the duplicates over to her. “You! Come here!” she barked.
The duplicated walked over dutifully, without a single expression on its face. Abby smiled. “Kneel.” It did. “Now stand.” It did. “Now do the Renegade dance.” It started dancing, still emotionless, although its dancing was very good.
“Good, good! You’re awesome at that.” Abby patted her clone on the head, almost motherly-like. Then, she pulled the gun out of its holster on her waist. She handed it to the clone. “Now shoot yourself in the forehead.”
The clone raised the gun to its forehead, its expression still blank, and pressed the trigger without hesitation. It went off with a resounding bang, and even Abby winced as she was sprayed with blue goo as the clone turned back to goo. The other two clones stood stock still in the background.
“Woo! That was a fun demonstration!” Abby plucked her gun off the floor and holstered it again, a wolfish smile on her face. She bowed to her shell-shocked audience. “See. Total control. Cool, huh?” She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms.
Mallory’s eyes widened, she scoffed slightly in disbelief.
Stacy nodded her head in response, wiping a small amount of blue goo that had splattered on her mask from the suicidal clone. It left a stain on her paper mache mask, but her clothes were at least untouched - and those were honestly harder to clean than it was to make a new mask.
“Well, I’m glad that we could all get to know each other better, even if it was a bit… messier than I would have preferred. I’ve prepared dossiers for each of you, containing some of the materials and information you will all need for our next meeting.”
Stacy passed out the cheap clasp envelopes to everyone in the room, before returning to her position in the front of the room. Inside each were a burner phone, several addresses to abandoned buildings and laundromats that Stacy owned, and a questionnaire, asking various medical questions.
“Please keep the phone on you at all times - that will be our primary means of communication, and they have all of your numbers in the event you wish to talk to each other. If you need a safe house or lack a place to sleep, please visit any of the addresses I have provided.”
Stacy paused for several seconds, checking her own burner phone to make sure that she had saved each of the numbers. Verifying this, she turned up again.
“I will text you all with our first job within the week - if you need a costume, or have any further questions, you can contact me and we will be able to meet before then. I will be leaving now - if any of you wish to stay here, please leave a note for the night shift employees. There is a couch in the break room if any of you are sleeping here.”
And like that, Stacy simply left. She didn’t even lock the store up behind her - it wasn’t like she cared about a robbery, especially when she was doing much worse, legally speaking.
“Haha, that was horrific.” Marco said, the smile still wide even on his now notably bluer face.
Mmm, I'll bite.
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