Published at 16th of October 2026 8:15 am

Chapter 57 Ambush (I)

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Isaiah POV.

T-minus sixty minutes until the theater rejects reset to arrive. Given Nobody's plan to frame Virtue, I'm going to brutalize these attention-seeking fucks. I've been so amped up the past week or so. I disappointed him. I failed him. I let him down. The gearshift crumples under my hand as I nearly destroy it in anger. First, Tuesday lumps me in with herself, as if I have anything in common with that fucking freak; then Kai wont stop running his mouth. Ill show them. Ill prove my worth. Ill earn back my place by his side. I pull around to the back of the abandoned meat packing plant and shut the box truck off. Couldnt they have chosen a nicer place? I take a single look at the mangled gearshift and wince. Damn it.

I throw on a baseball cap as I hop out of the truck. Keeping the brim down, I walk the perimeter of the parking lot as I look for anyone sneaking around. Trust but verify. The geezer may have said he was fine with us offing his old team, but he could've tipped them off about the ambush. I'm not getting killed over believing the old heads word. Once my lap is finished, I knock three times against the back of the truck. The vehicle shakes, the bed of it tilting to one side from the weight of whats inside. The back of it scrapes the ground as the roll-up door opens, and my partner for the night gets out.

Subject Thirteen, aka The Butcher. A hyper-violent, sadistic serial killer who Kai turned into a bioweapon. He doesnt have any powers, and he doesnt know about Nobody or our groups goals. But Ive seen the video footage of Kais debut; not having powers doesnt prevent him from being very dangerous. The Doctors experiments have transformed him into a murder machine. The big ol sunuva bitch steps out onto the pavement. Hes a giant, taller than me by a few inches, at least. But Ive got him beat for inches where it matters. The ginger meathead has his long hair tied up in a ponytail that's just asking to be grabbed in a fight. That's why I keep my head shaved. Makes me more aerodynamic too. The left side of his ugly face is covered in some material similar to white porcelain. He looks like a cybernetic freak show. Its my job to keep him in line and make sure Nobodys plan goes off without a hitch. He shoots me a grin that promises trouble. Something about his cocky smile aggravates me.

You know what youre supposed to do? I asked.

Yes. Artificer was thorough in his instructions. Were here to ambush and abduct seven Cowls belonging to the Cowl group, the Villains Syndicate. They do not know we are here or that it is a trap, and it is extremely important that none be allowed to escape. Ill follow your lead, dont worry, lil guy, Thirteen answered.

All the stress and problems of the last few days bubble beneath the surface. He thinks hes better than me. My dash surprises him, but whatever augments Kai gave him allows him to avoid getting punched in the face. Not fast enough. Exploding into smoke, I surround him and rematerialize my right hand on the back of his neck, squeezing hard. He grunts in pain, then his whole body shakes as I force him to the ground. I am better than you. I am more than you will ever be. The shaking continues, and I finally realize hes laughing at me. He doesnt have powers. Nobody wont be mad if I rough him up a bit. From gripping his neck with peak human ability to ramping it up to superhuman strength, the laughing shifts to choking.

You dont matter. Youre a number, not a person. I could kill you here, right now, and nothing would change. Youre no one. You arent clever or useful. Youre nothing but a blunt object to swing around to scare off rabid animals, I growled in his ear.

He turns himself around, twisting within my grasp until the human side of his face is staring back at me. I expect to see hate or rage or even a bit of anger in his eye. But theres nothing like that visible. Instead, his hazel eye looks happy. What the fuck? The pressure Im applying to his neck is more than what I would need to crush a normal persons windpipe. God damn it, Kai. That motherfucker cant do anything in half measures, can he?

I-if Im a blunt object, he managed to sputter out. What d-does that m-make y-you?

Im a precision weapon aimed at his enemies, I answered.

I let go, shoving him onto the ground.

You will follow my exact directions, or I will kill you. You will not kill any of the Cowls, or I will kill you. You will call me Smolder, or I will kill you. Are we clear?

Crystal, Smolder. Just swing me at whatever needs smashing, he replied with a genuine grin.

The fact that hes not holding a grudge actually speaks to his quality. Most men cant handle being put in their place. They dont like being put under another mans thumb. It makes them feel inferior, weak, and emasculated. A mans most base desire is to prove himself an ideal mate, an exceptional predator. Even I, the pinnacle of masculinity and virility, have faltered in the past. That was when I was young, before I learned that true men dont need to prove anything. Theres more to this psycho than meets the eye. Smoke pours out of the side of my mouth, pooling into a cloud covering my face. My gold hockey mask materializes over my face.

Find somewhere to hide and wait for my signal. Dont let anyone escape. If even a single one of them gets away, this plan is a failure, I said.

T-minus ten minutes until the circus starts and all the clowns get a casket. They should all be arriving soon. The McNamara Meat Packing Plant is large, about the size of our factory before Kai brought it into the twenty-third century. Steel walls, hundreds of meat hooks hanging from chains attached to a system on the ceiling, twisting conveyor belts throughout the ground floor, and thousands of packages of wasted product with holes ripped in them from the local wildlife scavenging here. The insulated walls have trapped the smell of rotting meat and concentrated it. The buzzing of flies is loud; countless generations of insects must have been born and died here.

They built this place to last. Its been over a decade since it closed, and besides rust and rot, it isnt that bad. I boarded up every entrance and exit except for a single side door. Theyll be forced to enter or exit one at a time. Makes it easier for me to make sure no one leaves. Theres a bunch of catwalks above that connect to some offices, by the look of the furniture inside. Those rooms are the only ones that arent infected by the awful scent. Why the fuck did it have to be here? Without any lights, no one will see my smoke spread out over the ceiling. I conjured every item Ive attuned myself to and transformed all of them and my body into a black layer that covers everything above.

The door opens, and two of the targets enter. One is the seven-foot-tall juggalo Reverso, and the other is the ren faire reject Rotshot. Shes got a belt of knives on, and her bow and quiver are on her back. Shes not wearing her usual wolf skull mask, and I can see her real face. Damn, shortys a cutie. She looks tiny compared to the clown, like a gnome archer next to a giant barbarian. The freakazoids hips are shaking like an exotic dancer as he walks, swaying side to side. Probably an effect of his power. Still makes him look dumb as hell.

This place stinks like shit, piss, and dead raccoons, Rotshot complained, kicking over a box full of black meat sludge.

Agreed. Why the fuck did the producer want us to meet here? Reverso added.

Beats the hell out of me. The others better not be late. I swear to God, Ill mount A.K.s head on my wall like a fucking stag trophy if the smell of this place soaks into my boots, she complained.

Three people show up just in time to hear her whine. One is a Latino man with what can only be described as ironic facial hair. A red mustahe that splits on both ends, curling up and down. Hes wearing a leopard-print leotard, white furry knee-high boots, and a fur collat coat that goes down to the floor. Worst of all, he has on an aviator winter hat with fucking cat ears on it. We really need to bring back bullying. The world has gone too soft if this ecstasy-addicted furry hasnt been skinned alive. This is why house music needs to be made illegal.

Did I perchance hear a damsel in distress that requires saving? Oh, to hear your voice calling out my name stirs the beast inside me. Dont worry, kitten, your Alphas here to protect you, Animal King purred.

This guy has to die.

Kill yourself, A.K., and spare the world the pain of suffering your continued existence, Rotshot shot back.

Next in, right behind him, is Street Shark. Wearing a dumb ass gray costume with black knee pads, shoulder pads, and elbow pads that have metal fins coming off them. Hes got a motorcycle helmet on with another fin on it and painted to look like a sharks head. It doesnt matter how many fins you slap on that fattys chunky frame; he wont look cool. Having superpowers doesnt mean you can let yourself go like that. Our bodies are temples, and we need to treat them as such. Its clear that despite Chubby being able to swim through solid matter, hes never done a lap in his life.

Following him is a normal-looking guy wrapped in a winter coat. He reminds me of what Null looked like under the mask, a regular ass guy. Based on the fact that HiJack is a black male and Snare is a goth baddie, this must be Revenant when hes not in his Shifter form. He needs to be taken down first. I brought enough ketamine to fuel a British parade. Seriously, I could kill a herd of elephants. I float above them all, watching the five of them carefully. Only two more and our waltz can begin.

Damn it, I thought Id be late enough that I wouldnt have to wait around in this place, Revenant whined.

You bastard! Reverso jokingly yelled.

If weve gotta sit in the shit, then sure as hell you do too, Revvie Baby, Rotshot said.

Dont call me that, Revenant said in that whiny voice of his.

I must oppose your bullying of our poor fellow. He does not deserve this wicked treatment, Animal King interjected.

Thats the one about the witch, isnt it? Street Shark asked.

For fucks sake, its like a group of Tuesdays. They keep up their theater group bit for the next ten minutes. Somehow the smell doesnt stop them from talking. Then the door swings open, revealing the final two actors in tonights performance. A surprisingly buff black man enters first, carrying a backpack, and wearing a trench coat with an LED mask that keeps switching from a smiley face emoji back to the word HiJack. I know branding is important, but that feels tacky. He looks like an off-brand Kai. Off-brand Kai is already a discount bargain-bin wannabe supervillain from a kids cartoon. Hot on his heels and smoking hot in heels, Snare comes in. Shes wearing a leather number that would make a dominatrix blush. Her incredible rack is fighting a battle against the straps trying to contain it. Shortys still pale as a ghost, and Id be lying if I said I wasnt tryna get a taste of some ectopussy. But alas, youre meeting your end here.

The moment the door shuts behind her, I make my move. Fifteen flash bangs appear amongst the group, and I pull the pins simultaneously. The room lights up like its the Fourth of July, and I dash down at Revenant. They all shout in shock, but these idiots arent well-trained career criminals; theyre stupid kids acting out edgy fantasies. Its overkill, but I jab four syringes full of ketamine into the Shifter and knock the air out of his lungs. I charge Street Shark, yanking him off his feet by the throat. He lets out a gurgle, spitting on himself as I hoist him up into the air. Shifting my lower half into smoke, I fly up, carrying the loser, and pierce a meat hook through his left shoulder. His power allows him to move through solid matter, but not vice versa. Now you can't escape. He cries out in pain, and I dissipate myself back up to the ceiling to wait. Get ready, theater kids, the show is just about to start.

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