Wretched Joy 16

Commissioned by southmonk

Wretched Joy

Chapter 16

-VB-

Justin sat by his lonesome at home on his favorite armchair. 

And he held his head between his hands. 

He knew that he was going to die if he stayed. Hookwolf was stronger than him. Victor was better than him. Fucking Krieg, the wannabe German despite being Irish, was better than him. 

All he had was a bunch of ghosts who couldn’t be hit by normal people’s guns, bats, knives, and foam.

But Everyday Joe was anything but normal. 

Justin shuddered as he remembered the nightmares that he had to experience while his ghosts explored the Nightmare Circle. Kaiser didn’t give two shits about him suffering nightmares when his ghosts operated just fine.

Fucking fine while he spasmed and screamed himself hoarse on his bed for every single second his ghosts stood within that circle. 

And then that happened yesterday. 

“I’m coming for you next, Justin!”

He knew his name.

He’d always known their names. 

Either he was once one of them or … one of the enemies. And since Joe was white, there was only one group who he could have belonged to. 

The Parahuman Response Team.

Did this mean that the PRT had always known who they were? That the Unwritten Rules Kaiser and Hookwolf so casually dismissed at times was the only thing keeping them safe from the wrath of the American judiciary system? 

‘I mean… of course, they knew. How many of us go to jail and get our photos taken? How many of us have medical profiles on the federal database?’

All of it felt so stupid. 

The game felt so stupid.

He felt so stupid. 

He was gambling with his life because of … what? So that he could crush some fucktards who go around groping innocent women? Or retards who doesn’t seem to know who their betters were? The government did that, too! 

Sure, the Empire was quick about it…

But was that “quickness” worth risking his life for? 

Justice needed to be delivered, and he participated because he had the power, and with power comes responsibility, right? 

Right?

He stewed in his thoughts. 

Maybe… Maybe he should go and talk to Kaiser. Max will know what to do, right? He’d always known, even if it sounded dubious at the start. 

Justin took in a deep breath and stood up.

-VB-

“Max?”

Max looked up from where he was behind the Medhall CEO’s office desk. 

“Justin, what brings you here today?” he asked. “Didn’t I tell you to go and get some rest?” 

They’d met yesterday, and Kaiser, while he raged, had told him to go and rest. Because trying to go out and find Joe was impossible. 

“I-I know. It’s just …” He took in a deep breath. “I’m scared, Max.”

Max’s hands stopped. The scribbling of his pen stopped. 

The office became silent. It felt oppressive. It felt wrathful.

But then Max sighed and it didn’t feel so weighty anymore.

“Justin… Come, sit over there.”

He did at one of the sofas in the room. 

“Joe has been hammering us, hasn’t he?” Max hummed as he went back to work.

“Yeah…”

“And it doesn’t seem like we can do anything right now.”

“... Yeah.”

“Then don’t.”

“...What?”

“We cannot control everything. We cannot control when or where he appears. If he go out looking for him, all it’ll do is show him where we are together and ready to be taken down.”

“So you just want me to … be by myself?” he asked incredulously. 

“Is there anything we can do right now?”

Justin opened his mouth and closed it. “So what? You’ll sit here and wait for him to show up…?”

“Yes,” he replied. “Sometimes, that is the only thing we can do.”

Oh… Oh God. 

Max didn’t have a plan at all. There was nothing they could do, so Max wasn’t even doning on his armor anymore. It just made him a target. 

But he still expected Justin to.

“Do you have a plan at least?”

“I do.”

And said nothing. Didn’t look up. 

Scribble scribble scribble. 

“... Okay,” Justin sighed as he stood up. “Okay. I’ll trust you.”

“... Thank you, Justin.”

Justin left Medhall, went back home, packed his bags, and then left Brockton Bay. 

He drove out of the city through the highway and headed inland and away from the coasts. 

As the sun began to set, he wondered where he was going to go from here. He’d just abandoned the Empire Eighty-Eight, the focal point of all white protectionism movement along the East Coast. His abandonment wouldn’t be accepted by most focals out there. 

He parked the car at a gas station. He needed to put in some more gas.

… He just needed to lay low. Yeah, that was -.

“Did you think you can just drive away from it all?”

He nearly jumped out of the car but the door stopped him. He pressed himself against the glass window and looked at someone who hadn’t been there in his assistant driver’s seat for the past four hours. 

“J-J-J-Joe-!” 

Calmly and casually, Joe turned to look at him with his white-painted motorcycle helmet. 

“Did you think I would just let you go?”

Justin acted. 

Joe lunged. 

The car shook side to side. Screams rung out. Red blood splattered the windows. 

And then silence.

-VB-

Max put his pen down and put his head between his hands. 

He knew that Justin probably left after an answer like that. 

But the boy deserved an honest answer. A lie at this stage, after so many of them had died, would just lead to a overdramatic showdown.

He let Justin go.

‘Everyone is running away, bit by bit,’ he thought forlornly. 

“No.”

His head snapped up and froze. 

Standing in the middle of his office was a blood splattered Everyday Joe. 

And in his left hand, clutching by the hairs, was Justin’s head. A terrified and pained mein.

“YOU -!” 

Then he was gone.

The head dropped to the floor, splattering the rich Persian carpet with Justin’s blood. 

Max stood there and realized something. 

There was no escape. Joe will chase them down even if they run.

Max slowly collapsed back into his chair. 

He sat there for hours. 

And then he had an epiphany. 

He picked up his phone and called PRT.