Chương 42: Chapter 41

Tori was curious how this was going to work. Her little sister didn't have the most outgoing personality, but she had big presence when she wanted to. Combined with this wacky dress and her dominating aura? Tori knew Tiff was about to antagonize the shit out of somebody. The gang plant picked his jaw off the floor once the shop was empty and he realized everybody was waiting on him. He passed right next to Tori, flinching as he had to look up at her, and hurried toward a backroom door.

Tori took a step in front of Tiff just in case they were walking into a trap, but she paused before going through.

"Hey, Sandwich Guy," she called out to the worker behind the counter. Normally she'd have more grace for a clerk, but Tiff made it abundantly clear that they were playing bad guys—time to be a rough cuss and body some fools. The man winced at her voice but nodded.

"Lock the door, yeah? You're closed right now." Hopefully that wouldn't hurt their bottom line too badly… though depending on how this meeting went, Tori might not care by the end of it. Hurried footsteps behind her told Tori that her command was being obeyed. She nodded to Tiff and walked through the door. In a strange twist of business economics, the back room was larger than the shop itself. Immediately, that sent up flags for Tori: this place had to be a front for something.

Nobody needed a break room this size for a shop with 4 or 5 people on staff; it could comfortably seat 20-30 men. It wasn't even an actual warehouse with extra boxes of goods, nor was it a walk-in freezer for the kitchen. There was a mini-bar with a rack full of bottles, a dartboard, what looked like a broken-down basketball arcade, an old plasma TV with a bent pair of rabbit ears, and a couch that had certainly seen better days.

That was all Tori could see of the furniture, because as soon as she stepped fully into the room, all 20 to 30 of the people inside froze, turning to stare at her. She slowed her confident walk to a crawl and eventually stopped when she was dead center in the spotlight. Her eyes zipped from man to man, her visor glowing in certain places as it highlighted heat zones and potential weapons. Guns. Every person had guns.

From the security of her helmet, she could see the individual sweat droplets as the gangsters tried sizing her up, suddenly not so sure of their chances. They may have expected the new boss to come with muscle, and they might have even guessed there'd be a Meta, but they never expected her. The guys behind the bar shifted nervously, inching their hands closer to their belts. Tori could tell one of them had a gun and the other didn't.

If things really went to shit, she could disarm the one before he could react, but that was a single guy in a room full of hostiles. Fortunately, nobody could see her frown. Tiff, however, had none of this information… and didn't even care. She waltzed brazenly into the middle of the room, stepping past Tori, and froze. But not because she was intimidated. Seating was mostly comprised of wooden chairs, folding chairs, and that couch, spread around the perimeter of the room.

In the middle, where it was obvious the "new boss" was supposed to sit as if he were under intense investigation, stood a solitary, rickety old stool. Tiff glanced at it, gripped one of the ruffles on her dress, and sighed. She walked past the stool, knocking it over with the excess fluff of her dress, and marched defiantly up to the couch. Two men were lounging on it, one guy leaning so far back that his leg was hanging over the armrest. They looked at her, eyebrows raised, and said nothing.

Tiff tilted her chin up, tapped her foot impatiently, crossed her arms, and huffed. She quickly pointed at each of the men before tossing her thumb over her shoulder in a "get out" gesture. One had the audacity to guffaw.

"Champion, evict them," Tiff said ruthlessly. Tori sighed, glad that the suit seemed to know what to transmit and what to keep silent. She stomped up to the couch, made a point of bowing to Tiff, and looked over the men. Their eyes bulged. Before they could do anything, before they could reach for weapons or try to defend themselves, Tori reached down, grabbed them by the front of their shirts, and yanked them off the couch.

They yelped, flailed as she held them up in the air, turned around, and dumped them unceremoniously next to the stool. Tiff nodded curtly, glared at the men on the floor, and eased herself down into the couch. … that thing was a three-seater. But with the dress, Tiff filled it up like a secondhand throne.

"When I say move, you move," she said condescendingly. Technically, Tiff didn't say anything, but Tori wasn't going to correct her.

"I expect better out of potential underlings." Some of the men tensed up and a few growled; it was clear they didn't appreciate Tiff's words. One of the guys by the mini-bar slapped his palm on the counter and leaned forward aggressively.

"The hell you say?" He spat.

"Bitch, this ain't a playground. We ain't playin' no Capes n' Cowls. You wanna find out the hard way what happens when a pretty girl runs her pretty mouth to a real gang?" He puffed out his chest in a show of threatening dominance, taking a step forward full of swagger. Tori calmed her breathing, just in case she needed to step in, but Tiff couldn't care less. She tilted her head lazily to the side with an expression of utmost boredom on her face.

"You're about to be my bitch," she sighed grandly with a sorrowful shake of her head.

"Unless you want my Champion to break you." Anger flushed the man's face, but Tori calmly stepped in front of him before he could rush the couch. He took one look at her towering form and wisely shrank back. That didn't mean his wrath was in any way lessened.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" He seethed.

"Comin' into our turf, actin' like you own the place?"

"There's no 'think' about it," Tiff declared.

"I am." She waved her hand, and her Status screen materialized for everyone to see. [Dark Queen Theophania] Supervillain Or for no one to see. It was clear Tiff didn't care. The screen only lasted several seconds, barely enough time for the blood-red letters to be burned into the men's eyes, and it vanished before the accompanying rose effects had the chance to hit the floor. Several people gulped and Tori could see a few of them go white as a sheet.

The man in front of Tori deflated, all will to fight drained from him. One person in the back dared to comment out loud.

"You're just a kid," he said, his shaky voice mixed with disbelief and awe.

"What in the world have you done to become a Supervillain?"

"I don't have to explain myself to anybody," Tiff scoffed scornfully.

"Least of all you." Tiff cast her gaze around the room and found everyone…wanting. She shook her head in disgust.

"What a waste," she drawled.

"None of you has anything of value to offer me. The only reason I'm here in the first place is because word reached me that somebody was thinking about causing trouble…in my organization. What was it you said?" Tiff asked the man next to Tori.

"A 'playground'? Yes. That comparison seems rather apt. I've seen nothing so far but childish bickering and posturing. As if one of you could possibly run my organization better than me. You bore me. Where are Mr. Bob, Mr. Bean, and Mr. Morelli? The only reason you're in my good graces right now is because they beseeched me in a moment of goodwill to intervene." Some general muttering broke out around the room, but at least half of the thugs looked like they were questioning their chances at things going their way.

Suddenly, calling this meeting didn't seem so much in their favor. A few stubborn idiots looked like they wanted to fight, probably the more violent members of the gang. Tori watched a few men glance at each other, possibly sending silent signals. A move that wasn't lost on Tiff.

"Yes, please, make a move," Tiff challenged a man who was slowly dipping his hands into his pants.

"I invite you to step forward. See how well you stack up against an S-rank Meta. Champion, do your worst… but try to leave some of them alive." Tori had to admit, fighting 20 dudes with guns might actually pose a challenge. Not that she planned to kill anybody. In fact, she'd probably wait until they threw the first punch, just to see how much she needed to hold back. This wasn't nearly as risky as fighting those 2 [Enforcers] she had to deal with at the corner shop… but numbers had to count for something.

At any rate, Tiff was doing an admirable job at not letting these thugs get to her. A normal 16-year-old would have wet themselves upon entering this back room, let alone grab them by the balls. Heck, there were good odds Tori would be nervous walking into a meeting like this before her class upgrade, but she'd had enough practice by now to hide it. Somebody, one of the guys who wasn't looking to get his face rearranged, which showed he might have a few brain cells in his head, glanced at a phone.

"It's early," he observed, kind of making Tori retract that brain cell compliment." We've got another 10 minutes." Fortunately, Tiff didn't take too much offense to it.

"Hmph," Tiff said, crossing her arms.

"Wisdom dictates that I'm here now; therefore, everyone else is late. It's something for you to learn, I suppose. And if you're going to attempt to, ah, assert your dominance, your window is rapidly closing. Once your final representatives arrive, we will begin discussing the dissolution of the entity formerly known as the 5th Street Gang and interruptions will not be tolerated."

A rather beefy guy wearing a wife-beater and a bandana over his head stood up, ran his finger across his nose dramatically, and stepped forward. He was standing over by the television, so he was closer to Tiff than he was to Tori, but he approached who he thought was the bigger threat. He squared his shoulders as he stood about 6 feet away from Tori, and she could see that not every ounce of his considerable bulk was useless fat.

But he wasn't flexing his muscles for show; instead, he made a point of slowly turning to the side so Tori could see the handgun sticking out of the back of his pants. … Along with his boxers. Thug-life dictated that if one was to be a genuine gangster, one must sag. He pulled the gun out, held it up in a show sort of way, before letting his arm fall to a natural rest, pointing it at the floor. Tori's breathing slowed further. The room almost seemed to move in slow motion as she started taking everything in.

As much as she wanted to play the part of badass Champion, a guy waving a gun at her little sister was unacceptable. He needed to be disarmed, now. The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

"You talk awfully big for a kid in a poofy dress relying on some quack in armor to protect you," he said, but his attention was directed entirely at Tori. He raised his gun, holding it sideways in his hand as he pointed it straight at Tori's face. Better at her than Tiff, she thought, bracing herself. After the attack on the 24-Heaven, when Tori had to visit the hospital, they'd crunched some numbers. The impact of Vinny's blast hit her with roughly 200, 000 Joules of kinetic energy.

That was roughly equivalent to a 12-pound shot from a 19th-century field cannon… at point-blank range. Tori was reasonably certain she could shrug off a 9mm bullet, but this wasn't the way she wanted to test that theory.

"What's to stop me from putting a bullet in between your girl's eyes?" The man had his swagger; Tori could give him that. She let his words hang in the air for a moment as she studied his posture. Just from how he was holding the gun, it was incredibly unlikely that he'd be able to deliver on that promise, though that didn't mean a stray bullet fired inaccurately couldn't hit a soft target. She let the atmosphere stew, let him feel like he had one up on her, before she eventually scoffed.

"Because you still need to get through me," she challenged.

"I'm an unknown Meta. You don't know my powers. You could pull that trigger and I might step in front of the Queen before the bullet leaves the barrel. I might teleport in front of you and crush your hand before you can react. And worst of all… you have no idea if that bullet is just gonna bounce right off my skin. So let's chill out a moment and let that sink in. Oh, and while that's processing? Consider this. Do you like breathing? I'm guessing you do.

But if you pull that trigger, you're going to find out real fast what happened to Vinny when I put his head through concrete." The man froze and several other people gasped.

"Yo, did that dude just say, Vinny?" One guy muttered.

"Nah, brah, that ain't right. I heard it took a whole team to take Vinny out."

"Yeah, but Vinny still got got." Tori wanted to roll her eyes…and since the visor on her helmet obscured her face completely, she did. It figured that violence was a language these thugs spoke, so the fact that they were suddenly more cautious and respectful of her wasn't a surprise. Even the guy in front of her was wavering, his arm slowly lowering as the risk of failure outweighed his chances of success. Thankfully, before anything truly stupid could happen, the door opened up again.

"Is she here?" A somewhat familiar voice asked in a strained tone.

"She said she'd be here. If she's not here, I don't know what we're going to-" The man stopped dead upon entering the back room. Tori finally took her eyes off the guy with the gun as soon as he put it away and looked over. Three men were stuck in the doorway like deer caught in headlights, the same gentlemen from the pizza party. The guy in front, Frank Bean if Tori remembered rightly, was staring at Tiff in abject horror.

"Oh God, she's real," he gasped, and Tori had to admit, better to be pissing himself than to be pissed off. The other two men who'd approached Tiff in her street clothes looked like they'd seen a ghost and were taking the presence of a real-life Supervillain about as well as expected for a Citizen.

"Very good," Tiff said, nodding to the men.

"Please, come in and have a seat." Tori glanced around at all the available seating…seats that were very much still filled. It was clear Tiff valued these 3 men more than any random thug in the room, and the thugs themselves seemed to understand this, so before Tiff could so much as frown, several people stood up in a hurry and offered up their chairs. Tiff gave a small smile, which made a couple of people shiver. Once the men were…decidedly not comfortable, but they were sitting anyway, Tiff spoke up.

"Good," Tiff repeated.

"The important parties are now here." Bodies bristled at Tiff's words, and there was a chance she said them deliberately.

"Most of you are irrelevant. A few of you might serve my needs. I haven't decided if your names are worth remembering, so there's no need for introductions. Mr. Bean, so good to see you again. When you approached me at the party, you saw my relaxed side. I caution you against taking advantage of such… softness. This is business. For those that have the memory of a newt, I am Dark Queen Theophania, overlord of the southern Los Angeles area.

You will refer to me as Dark Queen or not at all, speaking only of my presence in hushed whispers." Tiff looked around to make sure all eyes were on her.

"You are the remnants of the 5th Street Gang," she continued, "Whatever remains of its leadership. I was told that there was a dispute of authority and the roles you will all play now that Don Lorenzo is no longer in the picture." Tori gauged the men's reactions and found them mixed. A few people, truly the grunts who were little more than extra muscle, didn't seem to care. Some, possibly the middle management, looked nervous.

And then there were a few, likely those with big aspirations who had their sights set on the top dog spot themselves; they looked furious. Tiff, again pausing for dramatic effect, nodded. She sighed and closed her eyes.

"You are all mistaken." A few murmurs broke out alongside scattered muttering. Tiff didn't leave them in suspense for long.

"There is no more 5th Street Gang. You are no longer lieutenants. Whatever hierarchy you thought existed no longer does. You were wrong." The muttering grew louder and Tori could see the newcomers pale further as they looked like they were about to faint, while some of the rival big shots looked close to their boiling point.

"You will comply under my rule, or you will be removed. Rule number one: no drugs. I do not tolerate drugs and there are no exceptions to this rule. Before any of you idiots try to argue back about things like aspirin or painkillers, do not test my patience, either. You know what I mean, and if you don't, ask your parents to explain it to you." Tori wondered if Tiff said that because she was trying to belittle these thugs, or if she was offering genuine advice because that's exactly what she'd do.

"Rule number two. No killing. Mindless violence makes us little better than wild dogs. Make no mistake-" A slight disturbance in a corner of the room made Tori whip her head in that direction. Her heart leaped into her throat as she watched a guy pull his piece from his belt, mutter something like, "To hell with this," quickly take aim… and shoot. Tori moved faster than she ever had, faster than she thought possible… but she was no match for the speed of a bullet.

The crack of gunfire echoed throughout the room like an explosion, making everybody cry out in alarm and panic. But since Tori had seen it coming, she was already trying to dash in front of Tiff… she barely made it into a forward lurch, with her right leg lifting off the ground before the whole world froze. Just like it had back at the football stadium… but this time, Tori got to see what it was like on the other side.

Every person in the room stopped in their tracks, some with their hands reaching toward their ears, some with their mouths falling open. A few drinks were spilling to the floor, the liquid suspended in midair as it left a glass or can. Across the room, Tori could see the hot brass casing ejected from the gun, stuck in place in the middle of a spin as it was about to careen away.

And, now that she wasn't stuck on a toilet, she could see the bright blue forcefield materialize from Tiff's chest, forming a protective bubble around her, filling the entire room. Reality ripped open in front of Tori as a portal formed, and she was compelled to step through it. As soon as she did, she felt a slight, numbing sting as the bullet impacted with her lower abs… but instead of shredding through her armor, tearing up her insides and leaving a messy exit wound, it compressed into a flat nickel of slag.

It fell to the ground impotently, all its momentum arrested, no longer retaining the velocity to ricochet around and hurt somebody else. Tori felt the bubble's work allowing people to move again, but before anyone could come to their senses, she was already tackling the shooter. She slammed him into the wall, grabbed his hand with the gun, squeezed, snapped his wrist, and wrenched the weapon from his now-limp grip.

She crushed the barrel as hard as she could, at least rendering it unable to fire, and she was about to turn her wrath upon the shooter. Tori was seeing red. This man was a threat, a danger to her well-being. A danger to her little sister. He needed to be put down; he needed to be crushed….

"Victoria, that will be enough." Tori froze, her fist hovering in midair as it was poised to smash down into the man's face. For his part, the guy suddenly seemed to realize what a predicament he'd gotten himself into and crapped himself. But that wasn't enough to make Tori let him go, as if he was somehow no longer a threat. Behind her, still sitting calmly on the couch, Tiff sighed.

"The next person who tries to shoot me will suffer greatly."

"And how does that mesh with your rule of no killing?" Somebody called out. Tiff deemed it necessary to answer them.

"Oh, they'll wish that they were dead," Tiff said, nodding.

"I will not stop my Champion in her zeal to protect me. By the way, you can release him now." Tori opened the fist clenched around his shirt and the man slumped to the floor, shaken.

"She'll break every bone in your body if she has to," Tiff continued, "In order to eliminate a threat. I'll leave it up to her discretion as to what that looks like. Perhaps you might recover. Perhaps you won't. Just know that you brought this on yourselves and anything from this point forward is a direct response to your actions." Tiff turned to the man who questioned her decision on killing. Personally, Tori was beyond relieved that Tiff took a fast, firm line in that direction.

Killing wasn't a road she wanted either of them to travel down, preferably not even for self-defense. It was a slippery slope that quickly turned into an avalanche of pain and misery.

"For the moment, you may continue operating as you have been, so long as you work under the constraints of those two rules. How you made your money, what 'services' you sold, and what your 'stock' was…for the moment, I do not care. It was requested that I bring you under heel before anyone could revolt, and now I have. Oh," Tiff paused, raising an eyebrow. She raised a hand to her ear, as if listening for something.

"I can already hear it now.

'We'll just wait until she's gone,' you might be thinking.

'There's no way she can catch what she can't see.' Wrong. This is my Territory. My domain. I see all and I hear all. As far as you're concerned, I know all. And, lest you doubt again, consider the demonstration Mr. Poopypants kindly provided for us. That barrier? Summoning my Champion to defend me? But a fraction of my power. So then the choice is this: do well, and be rewarded. Attempt to cross me…and be cut down." She glared around the room, making sure to leave several people quaking in their boots.

"I am not unmerciful," Tiff said grandly.

"Those who serve under me are not slaves. Deliver for me…and I will treat you well." She looked around, patted the weathered cushion on the couch, and frowned as some of the stuffing poked out.

"Starting with this…meeting room," she said to herself.

"This place is in dire need of upgrades."

"Upgrades?" Somebody asked, clearly confused. Tiff slowly shut her eyes, looking like she had a headache.

"I do not ask you to understand," she groaned, "Only to obey. Do not be surprised, however, to enter this room and find it completely changed. My remodeling crew is extremely efficient. Now…I believe that just about wraps up my business here," Tiff said grandly, but it was clear nobody else was satisfied with that.

"Wait!" Somebody called out. Tiff leveled a glare his way and he gulped.

"So we just…what? We can't kill and we can't sell drugs…what's the point of having a gang? If you're supposed to be a Supervillain, why are we actin' like heroes?"

"If those were your reasons for signing up, I don't think you have anything to worry about," Tiff said wryly.

"But do not confuse organizational structure for a particular moral bent. Some of the most evil people in the world sit in boardrooms, condemning thousands of people with a signature. I'm laying the groundwork for you to make more money without destroying your communities." Tiff looked over at the three men who dragged her into all of this.

"Mr. Bob, Mr. Bean, Mr. Morelli. I'm appointing you chief executive officers of the 5th Street… House of Commons. You will answer to my court. For now, I'll leave the task of day-to-day administration in your hands. We will meet again soon; notify me then of any… complications. Now, it is time for me to leave. Champion." Tiff held out her hand and Tori resisted the urge to chuckle. She bent forward slightly and pulled Tiff off the couch, the small girl dusting herself off as far as her short arms would reach.

She held her head high and strutted confidently toward the exit. The two men who were guarding it looked like they thought briefly about not getting out of her way, but with an irate glare (and an ominous loom from Tori), they scrambled to the side. Tiff thanked the men behind the restaurant counter for their time, and walked back into the parking lot. As soon as Tori stuffed her sister and that ridiculous dress into the back seat of her car, her phone started ringing.

She knew exactly who it was without even having to look. But Dad could wait a few more minutes, until they were safely out of potentially enemy territory. Tori squeezed herself behind the driver's seat, slid up her visor, and gave Tiff a fond look in the rear-view mirror.

"How are you holding up, Munch?" She asked. Tiff looked up and fidgeted nervously, rubbing her silk-gloved hands together. If she didn't know any better, she'd never guess the girl sitting back there was the same one as the dominating queen inside.

"I'm not sure," Tiff said. She looked at Tori hopefully, as if seeking her approval.

"I think we did okay. I don't think they'll try anything fishy with Mr. Bob, Bean, or Morelli anymore." With how big a target Tiff painted on her own back? Probably not. But thankfully, they'd have a real hard time tracking Tiff down with how effective her Dark Queen act was. Tori never thought a little dress could put in so much work. …She took another look in the mirror, seeing how much room her sister took up. Then again, it was a rather large dress. Tori shook her head.

"Hey, nobody died today. I think, for a job like this? That's about as much as we can ask."