With Great Power: Business as Usual

Business as Usual

The world worked a certain way. It was unfortunate, but it was true.

People liked to think that their morals controlled them, that they had a duty to be better just because they had a big enough brain to differentiate right from wrong. But when you got down to it, all humans, and any living creature on the planet, were controlled by a cocktail of chemicals and a little notion of desire.

It was what got people out of bed in the morning – a desire to make money, to not be poor. It was what drove the homeless to abandon their dignity and dig through trash for scraps or CEOs to lay off another branch of employees just for a few extra cents. It was all just biology. Need, want, take.

Everyone wanted something at the end of the day. But most would never get it because they held themselves back, toeing the line between empathy and morality, hiding behind the veil of ‘humanity.’

They were weak. They let their own brains cockblock them out of what they really wanted. And that's why they would never really live

A faint, wet whimpering drew Yan back into the present, and she sighed, the smoke curling from her lips tasting like cheap tobacco. She kicked off the brick wall of the warehouse, the heel of her boot scuffing against the grimy floor, and tossed the cigarette away. It landed in a puddle of questionable liquid, hissing as it died.

She approached the figure strung up in front of her. He was a mess. Bruised, bloody, and barely clinging to life, the crooked cop hung from a rusted chain looped around his ankles. He flinched violently as she squatted down in front of him, resting her chin on her palm cutely, though the grin on her ruined face was anything but.

“Well, officer,” she chirped, her voice a sugary contrast to the copper tang of blood in the air. “Looks like our fun is over.”

"I gave you what you wanted!" the man croaked, his eyes wide and bloodshot, tears cutting tracks through the grime on his face. “I told you everything!”

Yan nodded, rocking back and forth on her heels. “Yeah, you sure did! You were such a good little songbird.” She reached out, patting him on the side of his face, smearing the blood there. He tried to pull away, but all he succeeded in doing was rattling his chains. “But now you're all out of tales to tell and you're not singing nearly as pretty. You're just kinda gurgling and shit now. Gotta be the broken ribs, right? Shoulda waited to give you the pipe treatment, I guess”

She stood up, stretching her arms over her head with a groan, her spine popping. “I'm getting bored, and it smells like shit in here. So it's time to wrap things up.”

“You're... you're gonna let me go, right?” The man’s voice was paper-thin, trembling in the air.

Yan paused, tilting her head, perplexed. Then, she threw her head back and laughed, the sound echoing off of the corrugated steel walls around her.

“Why in the world would I do that?” she wheezed, wiping a tear from her eye. Before the last syllable had even left her lips, she had already unholstered the pistol at her hip, drawing a horrified whimper from her captive.

“Please,” he begged, his voice cracking into a high-pitched keen. “I have a family. I have kids! Please!”

“Bo-ring!” Yan sang, rolling her eyes. “These days, everybody has a sob story. If I had a nickel for every time some asshole mentioned his family right before the lights went out, I’d be rich enough to buy the PRT and outlaw whining. Pfft, could you imagine?”

“NO! WAIT PLEASE–!”

BANG

The cop went slack as the bullet tore through his skull, painting the wall behind him, and Yan took a moment to admire her work. A post-modern piece on the consequences of incompetence and the price of bad business decisions.

“Pretty,” she muttered to herself, giving a satisfied nod.

She holstered her gun, the leather creaking in the sudden silence of the warehouse, and turned on her heel. The smell was getting to her now; the metallic tang was losing its appeal and mixing unpleasantly with the smell of a full bladder and a voided bowel. She wrinkled her nose as she pulled her mask back up, pushing the heavy metal door open and stepping out into the cool afternoon air.

Brockton Bay’s grey sky looked like a bruised thumb, overcast and threatening rain that probably wouldn't even bother to fall. Yan stood in the alleyway, taking a deep breath of the fresh air, trying to decide how she wanted to spend the rest of her afternoon.

Murder really worked up an appetite.

She pulled a fresh pack of cigarettes from her pocket, thumbing the cardboard open and tapping one out into her hand. She was just about to light it when she felt a prickle on the back of her neck, alongside a subtle shift in the air that usually signaled something bad was about to happen.

Knowing better than to ignore her instincts, Yan slowly turned around.

Standing there, amidst the trash and the grime of the alleyway, was the man himself. He wore a mask that looked like a demon, red and jagged, and a set of distinctive, dark clothes covered in bandoliers filled with grenades and knives.

Oni Lee.

Yan reacted to her man's presence by raising a single eyebrow, though one of her hands did stray down towards her hip. “You're quiet,” she noted, tilting her head to study the mask. “Or I'm deaf from the gunshot. Probably the gunshot. I gotta stop shooting that thing indoors.”

Oni Lee didn't move a muscle. He stood there like a statue, his hands resting loosely at his sides.

“So what brings you to my neck of the woods?” Yan drawled, pulling down her mask and sticking the unlit cigarette between her lips. Or whatever was left of them, at least. She nodded toward the warehouse, “If you're here to finish the cop off, I saved you the trouble. He was a messy crier, if you're curious.”

Silence stretched between them for a long, uncomfortable moment. Yan tapped her foot, getting a bit impatient, until the Oni finally spoke.

“I am not here for him,” the demon said. Yan paused.

“Ah. Here to punch my ticket then?” She smiled sardonically, “Figured I earned myself a bit of favor spilling the beans on Jin's little side hustle. Not good enough for ya?”

Most people would've been pissing their pants at the prospect of meeting their demise at the hands of Lung's little pet demon. Yan was just worried she wouldn't get to finish her cigarette.

“Your dedication to the ABB has been noted,” Oni Lee intoned. That's all this guy did, Yan noticed. It felt like she was talking to a cardboard cutout of a person instead of the real deal. “You will be rewarded for your loyalty.”

Yan blinked, genuinely surprised. She reached up and pulled the cigarette from her mouth, twirling it between her fingers. “Rewarded? For doing my job? Shit, I know the ABB is a little desperate these days, but that’s a new low bar.”

Oni Lee remained impassive, the red mask staring her down. “You have shown initiative. You have handled the loss of our goods with competence and have eliminated liabilities. You are being promoted to the rank of Lieutenant.”

The words hung in the air between them.

Yan froze, trying to process what had been said before she let out a short laugh, shaking her head in disbelief. “Wow. And here I thought my next promotion would be to merchandise. Gotta say, this is a nice change of pace.”

Oni Lee didn't laugh, not that she really expected him to. He just stared at her with those empty, painted eyes.

“Serve well, and you will stay in his favor. Fail, and you will suffer the consequences.”

Then, before Yan could even think of a retort, he crumbled. His body collapsed in on itself, turning into a cloud of grey ash that drifted lazily to the ground.

“So business as usual then,” she muttered, coughing as she waved the cloud away from her face. “Creepy fuck.”

Still, Lieutenant. That was only a few ranks below the big bad demon himself. She’d be able to get away with a lot more shit now. She’d have more muscle, a better cut of the profits, and – if she played her cards right – maybe even get her hands on some of the heavier hardware the ABB kept locked up.

Oh, the amount of fun she could have with that stuff.

Yan lit her cigarette with a flick of her lighter, the flame dancing to life before she inhaled deeply, the burn in her lungs making her sigh. Still, as nice as the rank was, it didn't change the fact that her afternoon was wide open and devoid of entertainment. The cop had been fun for about twenty minutes, but once he started spilling the beans, it just got repetitive. She expected him to last a bit longer.

She pulled her phone from her pocket, the screen lighting up her face in the gloom of the alley. She scrolled through her contacts with a practiced thumb until she found the name she was looking for.

It rang twice before he picked up. “Hello? Yan?”

“Hey, dipshit,” she greeted him, exhaling a plume of smoke that drifted over the phone screen. “Give me an update on the shipment. I’m in a mood, so it better be good news.”

“Uh... well, we’re en route,” the voice on the other end said, cracking slightly in a way that made Yan want to roll her eyes. “But we hit a snag near the edge of town. There’s a Protectorate checkpoint set up, random inspections or some bullshit.”

Yan groaned, letting her head tip back until it thumped against the brick wall of the alley.. She should have known. It was always something.

“Listen to me closely,” she said, her voice dropping into a low hiss. “I don’t give a flying fuck about the Protectorate–hell, don’t give a fuck if Legend himself is down there signing autographs. If that product doesn’t hit the streets in the next hour, that little girl of yours is gonna make up the difference, got it?”

The man on the other end of the line sputtered, the sound of plastic rustling violently as he presumably panicked. “W-wait! No! Look, we’re moving! We’re taking the other route! Just... please, Yan, she’s got nothing to do with this! We’ll get your money, I swear!”

“You better be,” Yan drawled, tapping ash onto the ground. “Because next time I call, I’m gonna be using your phone to take pictures of her new home. Tick tock, asshole.”

She didn’t wait for a response before she hung up, shoving the phone back into her pocket.

Honestly, how hard was it to break into a new market with the quality of their shit? It was like pulling teeth getting simple tasks accomplished without someone fucking it up at some point along the way.

She needed a distraction. Something to scratch that itch at the base of her skull that was currently whispering in her ear before the world turned grey again.

Her little hang out with the cop was fun but it didn't last nearly as long as she wished it would and now she was itching for more. She could go grab some random idiot off the street, lure them into an alley stick 'em, and watch them bleed out then and there, but she'd done that whole song and dance before. She needed something new, something worth her time.

She unlocked her phone again, thumbing aimlessly through her media feeds. She swiped past a video of a cape fight in San Francisco, skipped a post from some wannabe villain bragging about his latest heist, before pausing on as something caught her eye.

It was an advertisement for some trashy television, romance sitcom. The kind that you sat through and never once actually remembered the names of any of the characters by the time it was over. Dime-a-dozen slop, but it wasn't the premise that got her attention, no... It was the lead actress.

The woman on the screen had hair the color of dried leaves, a mane of vibrant red curls that tumbled over her shoulders. She was smiling, laughing at something the male lead said, looking completely at ease with the world around her.

It reminded Yan of a certain someone. Made her think of the last time she had any kind of real fun, and a grotesque smile slowly spread across her face as her mind flashed back to just a few months ago – crimson spreading across baby blue, and green eyes wide in shock and fear.

“I wonder how Red is doing…”