Interlude
Her legs cramped with spasms, her breathing was ragged, a thousand tiny needles stabbed at her chest, and her left arm hung limp and completely unresponsive. But all of this was trivial, all of it was nothing compared to the situation they'd found themselves in. She shifted her gaze to Regent, who was barely standing.
Ruptured shoulder joint capsule, cracks in two ribs, accumulated fatigue and stress. Fear. But not of death. He's not afraid of dying—he's afraid of leaving without completing his mission. He's liable to do something reckless now. Can't let him provoke Bakuda.
"Regent. Don't," she said, trying to rein Alec in. "It's not worth it. We... she was playing with us. She's been playing with us this whole time. That's why her people didn't shoot."
"You're absolutely right," came Bakuda's voice as she raised her finger and slowly wagged it side to side, like a stern teacher from a Sunday morning children's TV show.
She's gloating. Genuinely believes she's smarter than everyone here. She wants to demonstrate her power? No, not just power—her superiority. This is all a game, theater with one actor and a thousand spectators. That's why she needed Uber and Leet. She's performing. Image matters to her. Being strong isn't enough. She wants to demonstrate intellectual superiority. Successful planning. Poker face no matter how the game goes? However things turn out, she'll pretend that's how she planned it. If I play along...
Tattletale started to open her mouth, but Bakuda shook her head. "Now I think you're the one who needs to shut up. Boys?"
She placed her hand on the head of the thug standing in front of her jeep with a pistol in his hands, as if he were her pet. As if she owned him. He flinched at her touch.
Fear. He's afraid of being killed. No, afraid she'll kill him in some particularly cruel way. No, not even that. Afraid she'll kill his family members and all his loved ones in particularly cruel ways while forcing him to watch. Then kill him too. This has happened before. Today. He witnessed it. He'll do anything to prevent that. Unable to think critically due to fear.
"If the blonde opens her mouth again, gun them all down. I don't care what the rest say, but she stays silent," Bakuda said, and her men immediately readjusted their grips on their weapons.
Attack grip, for burst fire. They really will open fire the moment I open my mouth. Even if I just stick out my tongue or sneeze. They're terrorized and will do anything. She terrorized them. She needs fear—she's the new ABB leader, needs to grow out of Lung's shadow. Lung was a real threat to the entire country, a world-class cape villain, the Dragon of Kyushu, a parahuman who could fight Leviathan on equal terms. To outgrow Lung, you need to inspire fear.
"Yeah," Bakuda straightened up, put her foot on the jeep's roof and rested her hands on her knee, leaning forward and surveying the Undersiders standing before her. "You're the only one I don't understand. Don't know what abilities you have. But seeing how you and the skinny guy ran circles around my useless mercenaries, I decided to avoid a lot of potential problems and make you shut up. Maybe you can influence mood with your voice, maybe it's something else. I don't know. But you're going to stay quiet. Okay?"
Agree! Don't argue! She's ready to demonstrate what happens for disobedience right now! Keep mouth shut and nod! Must nod!
Tattletale nodded. It was incredibly difficult for her to stay silent—her power, her ability demanded she speak up, make jokes, needle Bakuda—but right now that would be a very, very stupid idea. Nearly a dozen of Bakuda's fighters had guns trained on them, with about twenty more civilians standing nearby holding improvised weapons—pipe segments, baseball bats, kitchen knives, and wrenches.
"Now I'm in a difficult position," Bakuda said in a bored tone, examining her own fingernails on her right hand as if she were a fashionista fresh from a beauty salon. "You see, Lung taught me many things, but the one lesson I really took to heart is that real power over people comes only through fear. Such is the career we've chosen—we can only make people loyal by terrorizing them. Fear is necessary to make them stop worrying about their own interests, stop wondering if they can overcome you, and devote themselves entirely to fulfilling your wishes. Or at least doing everything to avoid your displeasure."
She jumped down from the jeep and grabbed the hair of a tall, long-haired Japanese man from the group of twenty-somethings. Holding his hair, she forced him to bend down until his right ear was directly in front of her face.
"Isn't that right?"
He mumbled something in response, and she released him.
"But let's continue. You see, even though I inherited the ABB..."
Lie. There was no inheritance—this was a power grab. Lung would never have entrusted his creation to anyone else, and if he had, never to a woman. Lung considered women inferior—hence all those underground brothels in ABB territory and the sex trafficking, practically slavery. He thought women were weak and stupid. It's vital for Bakuda to prove to herself and the other ABB members, especially Oni Lee, that this isn't true. That she's strong and smart. Hence the drive to not just demonstrate strength by winning. Not just demonstrate toughness and even cruelty, but to show she's smarter. That's the reason we're still alive.
"But I also inherited Lung's enemies. So I'm faced with a choice. What should I do to you that would convince them not to mess with me? What gesture would be effective enough that their people would run in fear at the sight of me?" Bakuda pretended to think, even raising her head and folding her arms across her chest.
"You!" Bakuda shouted, making everyone jump. She pointed into the crowd. A young Korean-American boy in a private school uniform—Immaculata High School, from the best part of town—cringed before her. The crowd slowly backed away, leaving empty space around the two of them.
"Y-yes?" the teenager answered.
"Park Jihu, right? Have you ever held a weapon before?"
"No."
"Have you ever hit anyone?"
"Please, I never... no."
"Have you ever fought? I mean really fought—bit, scratched, grabbed whatever was handy to use as weapons?"
"N-no, Ms. Bakuda."
"Then you're perfect for my little demonstration." Bakuda shoved a pistol into his hands. "Shoot one of them."
The boy took the weapon as if it were a live scorpion, holding it with two fingers at arm's length.
"Please, I can't."
"I'll make it easier for you," Bakuda said, possibly trying to coo the words or comfort him, but the mask didn't allow it. "You don't even need to kill. You can aim for a kneecap, elbow, shoulder. Good? Hold on a second."
She left the weapon in the boy's hands and stepped back, pointing to one of her thugs:
"Get the camera and start recording."
As ordered, he went to the jeep and pulled out a small portable video camera. He fiddled with it for a few seconds, then raised it high so the crowd wouldn't block the view, watching the flip-out screen on its side to check that the camera was recording what was needed.
"Thanks for waiting, Park Jihu," Bakuda turned her attention to the boy with the weapon. "Now you can shoot someone. Blow that blonde's tits off. Haven't you ever wanted to kill a pretty girl, just once in your life? Hell, I'll even let you fuck her corpse. Or that big guy over there. You don't like big guys like that, do you?"
He said something in Korean.
He's begging her to stop. Pleading for her to change her mind. Says he'll do anything else but this. Ready for many things, but can't pull the trigger. Would rather die.
Tattletale had time to think that such people were a rarity in this city, though... good school, elite neighborhood, private security... the kid just hadn't encountered reality.
"Really? They're bad people, if you're worried about morality." Bakuda tilted her head to the side. The young Korean tried to hold back tears, looking up at the sky. The weapon fell from his hands and clattered on the sidewalk.
"No. Pathetic. As a soldier, he's useless," Bakuda kicked him in the stomach so hard he collapsed to the ground.
"No! No, no, no!" the boy looked up at her. "Please!"
Bakuda half-stepped, half-jumped back several paces. People standing nearby took this as a cue to get away from him.
She's planning to make an example of him! Activating... a bomb?!
She did nothing, said nothing, gave no signal. There was a sound like a cell phone vibrating on a table, and Park Jihu was transformed into bloody pulp in a split second.
Tattletale stared at the bloody mess, at the human hamburger that had been a young man just a second ago, and barely suppressed her gag reflex.
Tinkertech. A bomb was implanted in the boy's head. No. Bombs are implanted in all these people's heads—that's why they obey her. Bakuda's had a busy week, operation after operation. She didn't expect this effect herself, doesn't remember who got which bomb implanted, works on intuition, on inspiration, keeps no records.
Out of the corner of her eye, Tattletale saw Regent's widened eyes and his hand twitching.
He's decided to act. He's going to provoke Bakuda into aggression, draw fire to himself, wants to "play Tattletale," do the old push-and-pull. He can't do it, he won't manage! Need to warn him!
She couldn't speak—she was forbidden to open her mouth—so she threw a pleading look at Regent. Stay quiet, Alec! Stay quiet, you won't be able to handle this!
Bakuda laughed, hands on her hips, towering over them as she stood on the jeep's roof.
"That was pretty cool," Regent said, folding his arms and speaking in a voice that sounded indifferent and even slightly bored. The kind of voice you'd use to talk about a cup of tea or a new t-shirt. Nobody talks like that standing over a pile of meat that had just been a living person. You'd have to be a complete psychopath for that.
"I know." Bakuda turned to him and tilted her head to the side. "I used an idea from Tesla's work on oscillations. He theorized that if you found the right frequency, you could destroy any matter. Essentially, all matter is oscillation—heard of String Theory? At its core..."
"No offense," Regent said, "actually, let me put it differently: I really don't give a shit if you're offended or not. Just don't shoot me—I just want to stop your rambling because I'm not interested in scientific bullshit and brainy explanations. It's boring. I just thought it was cool to see what a human turned to mush looks like. Crude, horrifying, a real clusterfuck, and yet—elegant."
He's posturing with cynicism and indifference, trying to build a line of mutual understanding—artist to talent appreciator. First stage: express admiration. Give compliments, but the kind the artist gives herself. "Crude, horrifying, but elegant"—she wanted to hear that kind of praise. Good start. Next stage: casual conversation. If Bakuda responds and starts talking, half the battle's won. We need to hold out just a few more minutes, just a little bit longer and Lady Bug will come to help. She'll definitely come—she has a thing about mutual aid and decency in long-term relationships. Doesn't believe in "hero-villain" labels, prefers to judge people herself.
"Yes!" Bakuda exulted in the attention. "It's like an answer to a question you didn't even realize you were asking!"
"How'd you do it? Stick bombs in these civilians to make them obedient?" Regent drawled with deliberate casualness, hands in his pockets, affecting casual conversation. Tattletale could see it was costing him—his ribs hurt, his arm hurt, his shoulder joint barely moved—but he looked like a dandy strolling past Buckingham Palace.
"In all of them!" Bakuda answered, her eyes blazing—visible even through the mask. She jumped down from the jeep roof and walked forward with a skip, like a schoolgirl running home with good grades. She was relaxed and pleased. Bouncing slightly and spinning, she moved through the crowd and pressed against one of her thugs, stroking his cheek.
"Even the most loyal ones. God, so much work. And it's not the procedure of placing devices in their heads. After the first twenty operations, I could do it with my eyes closed. Literally. In fact, I did some of them that way." She ran her fingertips over her fighter's head and pouted like a spoiled little girl.
She's showing her power. Showing ownership. Showing that she owns each of them. Can kill each of them with barely a finger twitch. Showing that in this entire crowd, only she is human—all the rest are just her property. She likes when people feel fear before her. Lung! Yes, Lung is the source of her fear. He... initiation ritual! When joining the ABB, Lung humiliated and trampled Bakuda's dignity and honor, hurt her physically... rape? No, the gang doesn't tolerate sexual violence against their own. Everyone who gets raped becomes prostitutes in his underground brothels. Just a beating? No, that's not enough. Something involving physical and moral suffering, humiliation and torture. He broke her. Now she's taking revenge. Revenge on everyone.
"Had to drug the first dozen and operate on them while they were unconscious, so I had working hands to bring me all the rest. One by one. Once the novelty wore off, it became extremely tedious." Bakuda casually pushed her fighter away, and he immediately stepped back.
She frightens her own people. Now I need to keep talking with her about neutral topics, then express criticism so it doesn't seem like we're agreeing with everything just to survive. This needs to be a conversation between equals, and then maybe we can steer it in the right direction. Regent can't do it. He'll overdo it.
Tattletale gritted her teeth. Where are you, Taylor? A few more minutes and we'll all be corpses. Regent can't handle conversation—he's socially disabled, confuses politeness with fear, too hung up on independence to play the whole game correctly.
"Yeah, I'd be too lazy to do that even if I had your abilities," Regent noted. "Can I go look at the body? To get a better look."
He wants to get closer. Tuning into Bakuda's body's frequency to influence her. Can control multiple people at once, but after that he'll be useless. Calculating escape options.
"No. Don't think I don't understand what you're trying to do. I'm a real genius, got it? I can think twelve moves ahead before you think through your first move. That's why you're standing there and I'm here." Bakuda replied, shifting her grenade launcher from her back to her chest and gripping it more securely.
Tattletale watched Regent open his mouth and tensed in anticipation of inevitable catastrophe. She'd give her right arm right now for the chance to warn Alec! Stay quiet, you fool! Don't argue with her! Play along a bit more, sit on the ground, show that you respect her, but not as a woman—as an equal. As a creator, artist, parahuman, specialist. That you value a fellow cape for her abilities, recognize her as equal and acknowledge the degree of her danger, and then... maybe then... but now, Alec—shut your mouth.
"I don't give a shit," Regent said. "Honestly—don't give a shit at all. I was just asking." Bakuda frowned under her mask. Tattletale rolled her eyes. That's it for all of us, you stupid idiot, she thought. Don't you understand she was just waiting for this? An excuse. Now she'll raise her hand, command "fire!" and we'll all be turned into swiss cheese. Taylor, you were supposed to make it in time!
Tattletale surveyed the crowd of ABB fighters and civilians, and her eyes widened. Could it be...
A deep buzzing struck their ears as black masses of insects slammed into the ground, immediately forming humanoid figures rising here and there. One, two, three... five, ten! More and more!
People looked around, first in bewilderment, then in panic. Someone squeezed their trigger in fright—a shot rang out, but the dark figure of buzzing insects didn't even notice the hit. Really, what could a bullet do to thousands of wasps and ants? Kill a couple?
"What the hell is this?!" Bakuda raised her voice, bringing up her grenade launcher. "Who are you, bitch? Show yourself! Who are you?!"