Broker-Chapter 201

Graff stalked through the trees towards their destination. Apparently Ishtar had gotten them as close as she was able to, given that there was some guy interfering with her ability to make portals. He was kind of interested in that. Someone who could actually interfere with her powers was worth noticing. She still punched through but given how pissed she sounded on that announcement, he had to assume it wasn’t easy. Still. She’d made arrangements for him, somehow, ensured that the guards did as he said and he had a nice nest egg waiting for him once all this was done. With compliments from the head bitch in charge, of course.

“Man its nice to be out!” Wicker said next to him, stretching his arms over his head and laughing, “I knew she’d come through,” Wicker was barely a man, two years in prison had given him some light muscle but otherwise he still looked like a kid to Graff. Messy brown hair and round cheeks didn’t help his case much. He got singled out a lot.

“Weren’t you complaining about waiting yesterday?” Rampage said, the big dark-skinned man crossing his arms and shooting Wicker an amused look. “Somethin’ about ‘oh she forgot about us! I knew it!’ or something?” he asked. Rampage was a huge man who used to go by Franklin Lorde before he fully accepted being a villain. Apparently he’d gotten his powers from some kind of contract with Ishtar.

“Ah shut up!” Wicker shot back, “I don’t want to hear it from the guy who took almost two years to figure out a half-decent villain name.”

“Don’t be a dick, Wicker,” Graff grunted as Rampage shrank a little under the smaller man’s glare. Wicker turned an exasperated look on him only to get a cold stare back.

Wicker tensed before nodding, “Sorry boss.”

“You’re still planning on working for me once this is done?” Graff asked.

“I think I’m past the gang life,” Wicker said as he flexed his fingers, they grew long and spindly for a moment before stretching out and condensing. Fibers weaving together before taking the shape of a man that looked a lot like its creator. The false Wicker darted off in the direction they were going. “Thanks to you I’ve had a long time to practice my powers without being bothered or putting myself in front of heroes. Bare minimum Henching if I don’t strike off on my own eventually.”

“At least your mind grew up,” Graff muttered, shoving his hands into his pockets as they stepped out of the trees and into a large clearing dominated by a dome of ice riddled with holes. He frowned at the battlefield in front of him. There were pillars of ice and shards and broken chunks of glacier everywhere. He also smelled blood. He lazily turned his head towards the rest of the treeline and saw more villains stepping out, some looking more eager than others. “Nobody wants to owe Ishtar,” he said thoughtfully, “Finish this job and it's a clean slate, even a bonus if we do some damage to this Liberty chick or her people.”

“Not everybody showed,” Wicker commented, “I don’t see that vampire guy.”

Graff snorted, “Not surprising,” he said as an enormous woman stepped out through one of the larger holes in the side of the dome. She wore full plate armor and carried a sword in one hand. He raised an eyebrow and looked her up and down, “...nice,” Wicker gave him a sidelong look that he responded to with a sharp glare of his own.

The woman raised her sword and pointed it at the gathered Villains.

“I am Liberty. State your business, heretics!” she bellowed.

Graff sighed and scratched his head, “Well damn it,” he muttered, “And here I was hoping she was just an enforcer or something. Oh well,” he rolled up his sleeves, “Let's get this over with,” he said before glancing at the other villains that were streaming out of the trees. All of them heard her voice and none of them made any move to approach her.

He clicked his tongue, Bitches, he thought and shot Wicker and Rampage a look, “Cool your heels,” he said and stalked away, making a beeline across the ice savaged field towards the enormous woman. She narrowed her eyes at him and he returned her stare with a lazy smile, shrugging his shoulders as if to say ‘nothing personal’.

Then, just like that his body became as light as a feather and he vanished from where he was standing. When he reappeared he was reaching for the woman’s exposed face, that lazy smile still dominating his expression. In the instant it took him to traverse the distance between him and his target she had moved in kind. Her eyes met his and her frown turned into a nose-wrinkled sneer of disgust. Her hand snapped out towards his throat. Just let it happen, he thought before going limp in her grip.

“You were told to state your business,” she growled and he felt a little bit of pressure on his throat. He let his body become malleable for a moment, let her feel his skin flexing beneath her armored fingers.

His lazy smile faded and he titled his head, staring back at her coldly. Got you. He snapped his hand up and gripped her wrist, feeling for the- he frowned, Not steel, what is this? Interesting. He changed tactics without so much of a flicker in his expression.

“Was that your plan?” she asked, “I suggest you explain yourself before I lay waste to the rest of this pathetic army you’ve brought with you,” she said, “Who even are you anyway?”

Man she likes hearing herself talk, he thought, Works for me.

“I know you are not mute, little man, I heard you tell your allies to remain where they were, I-” she blinked and reeled back, coughing once before letting go of him to pull her hand up to her mouth. In the same movement she snapped a kick out towards his chest, he took it, spiking his body’s mass enough to only be thrown back a few feet. He landed with a thud that sent a cloud of snow up around him. “Gas? You coward!”

He looked down at the indentation in his chest. His skin had turned jet black for a moment during his mass change. He flexed and it popped back into place before his skin tone returned to its usual state. He looked up at her, mildly impressed as the snow that was kicked up by his landing settled. She dented me! He thought before his smile widened slightly. He raised his chin a little, “Wick! Rampage! Go on ahead!” he shouted, “Same goes for the rest of you?”

One of the villains in the crowd raised his voice in answer, “You just want the credit and reward for dealing with Liberty for yourself!”

He lowered his chin and looked her in the eyes, “If you guys wanna try fighting her be my guest,” he said.

She narrowed her eyes, “Ishtar. You’re one of her lackeys?”

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He snorted out a laugh, his calm finally breaking, “Work for her? You’re joking. I’m just settling up on a debt here,” he said.

“I can pay you more, Villain,” Liberty offered, holding out her armored hand. “If you just walk away. What is this debt of yours worth to you? Money, Land? You are strong. In this world I am creating, power is freedom, liberty.”

He held her gaze as she spoke, his smile fading more and more with each word. His lip twitched and his fingers flexed. None of the villains behind him moved. All waiting to see what the outcome would be before deciding whether to commit. He canted his head to the right and looked her up and down, “I might be one of the bad guys,” he said, “But I’m a professional,” he growled.

“So we are at an impasse,” Liberty said, her tone filnty.

“Seems like it,” he said.

She stood up straight, “That’s a shame,” she said as she looked down on him, “Do it.”

The sole downside to his ability, as far as he was concerned, was that he lost his sense of touch in the parts of his body that he altered. Carbon was not a good replacement for an epidermus, after all. So when he made to move towards her, he found his feet stuck to the ground. He looked down and saw dark, glittering ice spreading over his feet and across the ground. He was about to pull himself free when the edge of her sword collided with him with the force of a freight train. He was sent hurtling backwards, skipping across the ground once before colliding with a tree which fell on him with a thunderous bang. It didn’t hurt but it definitely wasn’t his favorite way to travel.

He yanked himself out of the ground and pushed the tree off himself, he sat up and grumbled before he caught sight of her turning away to walk back into the building. In her place, two figures stood. A woman with a sword and a dude in his twenties with his hands outstretched. Wicker was at his side in an instant, “You good?” the young man asked.

He gave Wicker a deadpan look, “You think that could hurt me? We were just feeling eachother out for the next dance,” he growled and got to his feet, brushing himself off. He glanced at the other villains, “We outnumber them a hundred to one and those chicken-shits still haven’t moved a muscle. What are they waiting for?’

“She’s an internationally wanted mythic who’s in a feud with Ishtar,” Wicker explained, “Seems pretty sensible to me.”

Graff squinted at him, “How do you know this shit?”

“I don’t spend every waking moment in solitary or trying to get into solitary,” he hesitated, “No offense, boss.”

Graff shrugged, the guy had a point. He shook his head and looked back at the dome. There, through the massive crack in the wall, he could see what he guessed was a portal into a dungeon. He’d never seen one before, but a swirling mass of energy was a pretty dead ringer for his imagination. He watched Liberty walk through it without looking back. Off to the side, one of the villains raised his voice, “She’s gone! Went through the portal!”

“That just leaves her henchmen!” Another barked out a laugh, “Easy money!”

“GET EM!”

A roar rose up among the gathered villains who finally broke from their standby and charged. Wicker turned towards the stampede of light-touched as Rampage hurried over to join them. “Let’s go! They’re gonna get ahead of us if we don’t-”

Graff held up a hand to stop Rampage. He jerked his chin towards the duo standing as the sole line of defense for Liberty. “You think they’re that calm for no reason?” he said, “Get going, you guys can settle up with Ishtar another way. I’ll talk to her,” he started walking forward as he spoke, his eyes on the portal behind the pair guarding it. “You know where we planned on meeting up after the break-out. Head there.”

“What? What about you? Couldn’t you talk it out with Ishtar too?” Wicker shouted as the front line of the villains clashed, with the pair. To no surprise for Graff at all, a wall of ice spikes spread out across the throng and skewered dozens in a flash as the woman took a sharp step forward and swung, a purple-black crescent cutting down another chunk before she leaped into the fray with a howl of maddened fury that sounded more like a cackle to him.

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Graff turned away from the melee, his flesh turning dark and then jet-black as his body became light and flexible. He shrugged and waved a hand without looking back, “She pissed me off! See you there!”

Without waiting for the two men to acknowledge, he launched himself like a rocket up and above the duo guarding the opening. As he hit the zenith of his leap he checked out the fighting. The woman was mowing her way through the gathered villains like they were chattel while a small group of the villains pulled back from the rear to watch as well. Guessing only ten or so of those guys are worth half a damn, the rest are just fodder. He thought before landing at the opening in the side of the dome. He altered his body again and stepped into the ruined livingspace just in time for ten needle-like fingers to glance off the side of his head with a clink of metal against metal.

On instinct he whipped his fist out and felt a ribcage crumple beneath it followed by the sound of a crash and a groan of pain. He turned and scowled at the crazed looking guy who was doubled over in pain, coughing up blood onto the icy floor. “I was thinking, asshole,” he growled and turned to see two more people standing in the entryway along with a crew of masked people in hoods. Of the two, one a huge man and the other a slight woman with severe features. They exchanged a look and shrugged, “Don’t mind us,” the big guy said.

Finally someone with half a brain, he thought irritably before turning back to the prick who had disrupted his train of thought. Graff stalked towards him and reached down, grabbing the guy by the face and lifting him off the ground. The man gurgled once before coughing again and glaring daggers at him. He whipped his hands out again but this time when they struck Graff’s body they immediately began to break down, his hands crumbling into nothing but iron powder. The guy let out a scream of pain and whipped his arm only for it to suddenly turn black when it struck Graff, portions of it crumbling to the ground as more dust.

“What the fuck!” the man snarled, “Fuck you!” Graff dug his fingers into the man’s skin and the man screamed again, “God damn it! Do something you assholes!”

Graff glanced back at the big man and the severe woman. They shook their heads in disappointment before walking towards the opening and the battlefield beyond. The woman started to glow with a sickly green light while the man drew a knife from a bandolier across his chest. They paid Graff and his victim no mind. He looked back at the man, “So much for loyalty,” Graff said and met the man’s gaze with a bloodcurdling stare.

The guy shrieked and large needles of metal ripped out of the icy floor, breaking as soon as they struck Graff. Shame, he’s a Steel user, he thought before tilting his head, “Don’t suppose you’d be willing to jump ship?” Graff asked.

The guy was too far gone in his own rage, though, “This is all because of those fucking hero trainees! Damn it Ito! You told them to do this to me!” he roared, struggling again against Graff’s grip. He slammed the stumps of his hands against Graff’s arms which only caused his skin to carbonize and fall off, causing him more pain.

Changed my mind, he’d be more trouble than he’s worth, he thought and with a flex of his power nothing but a pile of black dust remained at his feet. He tapped his shoe on the ground to get some of it off before making his way towards the portal. There were chunks of ice around that looked similar to the stuff that had managed to lock his feet down. He shot the small gathering of masked people a look before shifting his body chemistry again and stepping through.

WHAM!

What Graff guessed was a sword collided with his side at a speed and force far outstripping the earlier attack as soon as he stepped through the portal. His expression fell, unamused, as his crumpled form collided and passed through one tree after another before he even got a chance to get his first look at his very first dungeon. He hit a boulder at some point and it was rendered down into powder when he struck it. It thankfully arrested his momentum, though. He sat up immediately and stared through the path of destruction his body had left behind. It looked a little funny given that his head was at a ninety degree angle with his neck.

He molded the carbon that his body was entirely composed of and he yanked his head back into position, getting to his feet. He launched himself back along the path he’d come and landed near the portal before looking up into the face of a ten foot tall suit of armor astride a horse that was just as big. His lip twitched.

You’re getting in my way.