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Quirky Row Chapter 5
🕑 Added 2024-05-20 17:03:01 +0000 UTCChapter 5: The Fog rolls in
(Friday, August 27th, 2123)
Getting things ready before the Back To School pep rally at the Culex Stadium was tricky, and the Third Street Saints didn’t have a lot of time, or manpower. With less than a week to prepare, it was a race against the clock.
But Playa and his gang pulled it off, and were ready to go in the end, just in the nick of time.
“And you’ll be able to hack into the dome’s various systems, right?” Playa inquired as he drove to the Culex Stadium, looking nervously at a young woman whose Quirk had given her the appearance of a monkey, right down to the tail and hand-like feet. They were in a blue car that belonged to a different member of the gang, but who was letting them borrow it so they could get to the site in order to set up.
“Hacking into something isn’t like it is in the movies or comics,” the Saints member who was in charge of taking over the broadcasts in the Culex Stadium said with a roll of her eyes.
“Ah, right, fair enough,” Playa muttered. “But still. Will you be able to do it and not get caught?”
“Of course I can, boss,” she snorted. “The dome’s internal systems are both robust but also simple, so even drunk college kids can use ‘em.”
“I see,” Playa said with a nod. He then craned his neck over to look into the back seat. “You alright back there?”
“Yeah, I’m good,” Piece said, giving a nod, while Shaundi was in the other seat next to him.
“Better than Johnny,” the green-haired woman said with a snort, eyes flicking to a delivery truck that was a lane over.
“Well, he can’t exactly show his face in the open, so he has to ride in the truck with the other stuff,” Pierce pointed out.
“He better not break anything,” Playa muttered, before looking straight ahead. Traffic was tight around the university campus, even several hours before the big pep rally, and he drummed his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel.
“This light has been red for ages!” he grumbled.
“Yeah, this one always sucks,” the hacker girl agreed. “Oh, wait, look, it just turned green! Floor it!”
Playa didn’t floor it, obviously, as there was another car in front of him, but he did speed up and go around it when he got the chance.
Fifteen minutes later they approached the Culex Stadium, going in the back way to the loading bay. It was empty and only a single lamp was working, bathing the area in darkness that was perfect for their needs.
“Well, here we are,” Playa said, parking the car in the shadow of a dumpster. “Let’s get out and get things ready.”
The truck pulled up shortly after they did, and Johnny jumped out from the back as soon as the hatch opened.
“Cramped as shit in there,” he grumbled, dragging a box out with him. There were several other brown cardboard boxes in the back of the truck with him, and Playa, Pierce, and the truck driver – who was also a Saint – helped Johnny bring them out.
“This all the pieces of the smoke machine?” Playa asked.
“Yup. Some assembly required,” Johnny joked as he loaded it all up onto a utility dolly.
Pierce then got a pair of duffel bags out of the trunk of the car, and checked them. One was full of tasers and pepper spray. The other full of disguises.
“Weapons and clothes are here,” he said, giving Playa a nod.
“Alright, suit up, and get ready to go,” Playa instructed his Saints as he pulled a janitor’s uniform over his t-shirt.
The rest gussied up in their own disguises as electricians, plumbers, and college students, and then snuck into the Culex Stadium through the back. Playa’s janitor disguise came with a keyring that included real copies of the building’s keys, and he opened it up for his crew.
The six of them entered quietly, looking and acting like they belonged. Johnny, Pierce, and the truck driver took the fog machine to set it up, while Playa followed Shaundi and the hacker towards the control booth.
It was empty when they arrived, and she quickly set up shop within.
“Switch a few of these alarms off, disable ad-blocker, put in the password for the administrative controls, and voila, we’re in,” the girl said cheerfully. “Now, I’ll just spoof the wi-fi access so I can send instructions from my laptop into the booth, and bam! We’re done. All I need now is to find a place to lay low before the show to set it all up.”
“That was quick,” Playa murmured.
“I told ya, simple and easy to use!” she grinned. “Plus, admins didn’t bother to change the passwords from when I was here. It’s still ‘Waterstil1.’”
“Alright, then. Thanks and good luck,” Playa said to her. As she prepared to leave, he stopped her, and she looked at him curiously.
“Stay safe and don’t come to the base tomorrow,” he told her. He then gave her a handful of crumpled hundred-dollar bills. “Lay low.”
“Th-thanks, boss!” she stammered, before running off, cheeks red.
“What was that about?” Playa asked Shaundi, and she laughed.
“Couldn’t you tell? Total hero worship!” the green-haired lieutenant laughed. “A lot of kids and teens grew up hearing tales about how much better things were when the Saints were in charge. Sure, it was only for like, a year, but that one year was the safest Stilwater has ever been. And after all the gang activity while you were in a coma? A lot of people are going to be hoping you can live up to the hype.”
“I will clean up the city or die trying,” Playa vowed solemnly. “When I decided to join up and do this after Julius saved me, I’d made up my mind. I believe in his vision of a crime free Stilwater.”
“Yeah,” Shaundi said with a smile. “Now let’s get you to the locker rooms!”
They hurried down to the lockers. These weren’t the team or student changing rooms, but the ones for the staff. Smaller and less impressive, but they did connect to the ventilation and electrical systems, and that was where the smoke machine was being installed.
“Don’t come in, we’re not done yet!” Johnny shouted at them from the back when the duo stepped inside. A loud metallic clunk echoed out, and Johnny swore loudly. “Pierce, grab the thing! No, the other thing!”
“Sure, we’ll wait out here,” Shaundi told Johnny, leading Playa out to let the others work.
“So, uh, what’s your Quirk, anyways?” Playa asked Shaundi as they waited outside the locker room for the smoke machine to be set up and the rest of the prep work to be done. “Does it have something to do with your hair?”
On closer inspection, Playa could see that Shaundi’s hair wasn’t just green, it was also made of rope-like plants, sort of like vines. Tiny flower buds grew on it, and she was always accompanied by a floral scent.
“Hm? Oh, I call it Green Peace. Doesn’t really do much. I can photosynthesize, so I don’t need to eat, and it also processes toxins separately from my liver and turns ‘em into the flowers and shit you can see. Can’t really get drunk or high unless I really indulge,” she said, absently brushing some of her hair away from her face.
“Interesting, not having to eat sounds like it could be useful for a bunch of different things. Not being affect by poison also sounds nice,” Playa mused. “Heck, back in my days before the Saints I’d have envied you for having a useful Quirk like that.”
“Really? You, the Fog of War, the Reaper of the Rollerz, didn’t think you had a good Quirk?” she asked incredulously, to which Playa laughed.
“Ha! It took me many years and the help of my friends in the Saints to figure out what I could really do with my Quirk,” he admitted. “For the longest time I thought I was just smelly.”
“Huh, I had no idea,” Shaundi said. “I always thought… well, I guess with the way the stories and rumors built you up, I’d have pegged you as the kind of guy who always knew what he was doing.”
That just made Playa laugh even harder. Before they could talk further, the truck driver poked his head out from the locker room. “We’re ready, boss!”
“Smoke machine is up and running, and it’s ten minutes to show time!” Piece added from within.
“Well, time to get into costume,” Playa said, heading to where Johnny and Pierce were waiting. “Keep an eye on things out here for me, Shaundi.”
“Will do,” she said, giving him a nod, guarding the entrance to the locker room.
Stepping inside, Playa gave a nod to Pierce and Johnny, then gave his attention to a cardboard box on a bench. Opening it revealed a pile of clothing and accessories.
Playa held up the costume, feeling nostalgic. It was an odd-looking thing, consisting of a purple trench coat with a big gold Fleur d’Lys on the back, with a collar of white fur. His jacket was bullet proof thanks to the special fibers used to weave it. Lin had once called it his ‘militant pimp’ outfit, and he couldn’t disagree.
There was a pair of study black boots that came with it, purple pants with a belt that had a Fleur d’Lys buckle, and then there was his combat equipment, a pair of metal gauntlets to adorn his fists. They could deliver a powerful electric shock, strong as a police issue taser, and had the ability to store his sweat in little capsules on the sides of his gauntlets he could pluck and use as needed.
The final piece to his outfit was a modified gas mask, the lens tinted purple and with special filters to alter his voice slightly, making it deep and booming, like a discount Darth Vader. It also kept Playa safe from inhaling any of his own concoctions.
Playa put it all on, and turned to his companions, spreading his arms wide.
“How do I look?” he asked.
“Looking good, Pimp Master-General,” Johnny laughed, slapping his back fondly.
“You look like someone trying to be threatening and intimidating, but failing,” Pierce said.
“It’s like you’re one of those weird teens who tries to look all edgy but doesn’t have an eye for fashion,” the truck driver added.
“About as non-threatening as a really bad Halloween costume,” Shaundi chimed in from the doorway, a hand over her mouth to stop her laughter from slipping out.
“Perfect, just as intended,” Playa said with a chuckle.
Nothing threw heroes off their game like a villain who looked stupid. They always tended to underestimate him because of that. Sure, his rep as the ruthless and murderous Fog of War had changed that somewhat in the final days of the first iteration of the Saints, but five years was enough time for people to forget about that, and all they’d see was a seemingly harmless person trying too hard to be edgy and cool looking.
By the time they realized their mistake, Playa would have already beaten them.
“Show time in five minutes!” Pierce announced, checking his watch. “Everyone, get into positions!”
“Don’t forget the radios and microphone,” Johnny added, putting an ear piece in. Playa did the same, slipping it and the mic into his mask.
Johnny and Playa walked out of the locker room, while Pierce stayed behind to work the pipes and smoke machine, and Shaundi ran off to guard the hacker girl and ensure our getaway vehicles remained safe.
“Ready?” Playa asked over the radio as he strode towards a pair of doors that led out into the stadium.
“Ready!” everyone confirmed.
“It’s show time, folks,” Playa said with a grin as he could hear the muffled sounds of music coming from the stadium.
‘And to get things nice and heated, a little pre-game snack,’ Playa chuckled to himself, pulling out a dried pepper from a plastic baggy he’d tucked away on his person.
It was a Tongue Shredder, a Quirk grown chili pepper that was twice as hot as a Carolina Reaper, and could cause a person to die of dehydration as they ended up sweating profusely.
Playa lifted his gasmask and licked the dried Tongue Shredder, and quickly put it away as he felt his tongue scream out in pain. Sweat started to bead up along his body, and his costume channeled his perspiration around. Some went to the gauntlets, others went to other places within his outfit.
Like flipping a mental switch, Playa activated his Quirk, causing his sweat to transmute into a cloudy, smoke-like substance that poured off of him, shrouding his body in an ethereal cloak.
He walked forward, Johnny at his back, guns in hand in case of a hero popping up and causing problems. At the same time, the speakers that had been playing Stilwater U’s theme song sputtered and started playing a different one, and the big screens in the stadium flickered into static before a purple Fleur d’Lys replaced what had previously been visible.
Playa kicked the doors in front of him open, striding confidently out onto the field as the smoke machines activated and flooded the stadium with their grey gas. The cheerleaders screamed and ran for the sidelines while the football players retreated. All the while the people in the stadium seats stared in confusion as he appeared, wondering if this was part of the show.
“Really? You’re using Aisha’s ‘Purple, Black, and Blue’ as my theme song?” Playa muttered under his breath.
“It was this, or ‘Purple Rain’ by Prince,” Johnny chuckled.
“Hey, I like that song,” Playa said, before shaking his head. “Whatever, time for the real show to start.”
“It’s been a while, Stilwater!” Playa shouted, his voice carried by the mic tucked away in his mask. “How have you been?!”
Murmurs rang out as the jumbotron screen flickered, and showed him off from different angles.
“Five years ago, I… no, we, were betrayed,” Playa said, looking around the stadium, watching the people. Some recognized him, eyes flickering with emotions. Others were just confused.
“Alderman Richards, Chief of Police Monroe, and Kane Arlos, aka the ‘hero’ known as Monorail, concocted a series of schemes and plans that were meant to take over the residential neighborhood known as Saint’s Row. Corruption ran rampant, and city officials were more concerned with filling their pockets than tackling the crime that was ruling the streets. And that is when the Third Street Saints were born.”
Playa raised a fist to the sky. “As the old saying goes, ‘Fight fire with fire.’ The Third Street Saints did the same, taking over the criminal organizations in the city and making Stilwater the safest its been in decades! But all that changed when Alderman Richards, in a bid to defeat his mayoral opponent Alderman Marshall Winslow, came up with a plot to have him assassinated! His goons, Monorail and Police Chief Monroe, arrested Julius Little, leader of the Saints. And then, they threatened us! Told us to murder Winslow, and that if we refused, not only would Julius have an ‘accident’ before any trial, but the whole city would come down on us!”
“So I, the villain Skunk, the Fog of War, took over the Third Street Saints. And we did their dirty deeds.”
As Playa spoke, the hacker girl was uploading all of the evidence to the jumbotron as well as the internet, flooding it with the truth behind the events of five years ago.
“Murder after murder! Crime after crime! All done at the behest of the ones holding our chains! But you cannot chain a monster! And in the end, we broke free! I killed Police Chief Monroe! I killed Monorail!” Playa announced, take full credit for the deeds, even though the former had been done with Dex, and Johnny had helped with Monorail.
“And when I confronted Alderman Richard Hughes on his yacht, I was betrayed from within! A bomb was placed on the boat, in the hopes of taking the both of us out! Why? I do not know. Nor do I care,” Playa said with a growl. “Five years! I lost five years of my life to cowardly antics! But now? Now I have returned, and I find the future I am in… wanting.”
People were now talking amongst themselves, debating about whether or not this was real, or some kind of act. And quite a few civilians had phones out. Some were recording, others were placing calls to the police.
Out of the corner of his eye, Playa could see a dozen different people recovering from their shock and reacting to his announcement on the sidelines. They were security guards for the campus and a handful of heroes who’d been hired on as security, or who’d been at the Pep Rally for their own enjoyment. Regardless of why they were here, though, they couldn’t just let a villain monologue right in front of them, so Playa decided to finish up before they got their act together.
“We, the Saints, cleaned up the streets once, only to have the ‘authorities’ fail to stop new gangs from plundering Stilwater!” Playa shouted, even as heroes and security guards began to close in on him.
“Well, here me now, Stilwater! The Saints are back! And we’re going to clean up the mess, street by bloody street! Consider this a warning to all criminals, villains, and ne’er-do-wells! The Saints have returned! AND WE WILL HUNT YOU DOWN LIKE THE RABID DOGS YOU ARE! TO HUNT A MONSTER, ONE MUST BECOME A MONSTER!”
The fireworks that were supposed to be for the end of the event went off prematurely at Playa’s words, dazzling the stadium and the various forces coming to apprehend him, and allowing Playa to slip away into the fog he’d created.
“Smell ya later, Stilwater!” Playa said with a laugh as a final set of parting words. Saying his old catchphrase felt right. Like it really nailed in the fact that he was, in fact, back in the game.
“Let’s go,” he then whispered to Johnny, turning off his mic.
“Got it, boss,” Johnny smirked, even as a few heroes began to fling Quirks at them. They ran off, dodging fireballs, jets of water, and even a couple throwing knives made out of leaves.
Playa itched to turn around and fight, but that was not the goal of the day. Today was just to remind Stilwater the Saints existed, and that he was back.
“Come on, come on!” Shaunti shouted, waving at the two from the stadium’s loading bay. Pierce and the rest were already at the cars, waiting for them to arrive.
They did so, Playa diving into the passenger’s seat of the car while Johnny threw himself into the back of the truck.
“Drive, drive, drive!” he shouted, and Shaundi slid into the driver’s seat. There was an explosion behind them, and the loading bay doors were blown apart, a hero stepping out of the smoke. Only to duck away a moment later as a barrage of bullets courtesy of Johnny rattled against the wall.
“Hold on to your pants, we’re getting out of here!” Shaundi exclaimed, slamming her foot down onto the pedal and blasting off through the parking lot, the truck following behind.
A couple of heroes began to pursue them, because there was no way they were going to let a bunch of villains grandstand like that and get away with it.
“I don’t recognize any of ‘em,” Playa muttered as he peeked in the rearview mirror at the heroes chasing them. He could see two of them who had jumped into vehicles of their own. One was in a bright banana yellow convertible while wearing a yellow costume with green highlights, along with a ridiculous Carmen Miranda style fruit hat on their head. The other hero was on a motorcycle, and was dressed in a shiny, amber hued motorcycle suit and a mirrored helmet.
“Yeah, not a lot of old heroes left from when you were awake these days,” Shaundi said with a smile as she swerved past a parked car. “Those that aren’t dead or disgraced left town for greener pastures.”
“Cool, cool. Who’s the one with that ugly hat?” Playa asked, peering at the one with the fruit hat. “And what’s with the fruit theme?”
“That’s Stilwater’s Number Twelve hero, Banana Loco. He’s, uh, weird,” Shaundi replied. “He can telekinetically control anything that’s a fruit. Ever been hit by a pineapple going over seventy miles an hour? It hurts. A lot!”
“Speaking from experience?” Playa chortled.
“Yup,” Shaundi muttered. “Oh, shit! HOLD ON!”
Playa braced himself, and just in time, too, as a Shaundi yanked the steering wheel to the side, and a coconut went flying past them, smashing the passenger side mirror clean off.
“Yikes,” Playa muttered. “That would have gone clean through the rear windshield if it’d hit!”
“Right?” Shaundi snorted. “Banana Loco embodies the phrase ‘it’s not stupid if it works.’”
“Um, the other guy is getting closer,” Playa noted, hearing the whir of the motorcycle. The second hero was going after the truck, and was creating an opaque, amber-colored barrier in front of him which blocked all of the bullets Johnny was shooting.
“That’s not a guy, that’s a girl. Amber,” Shaundi explained. “Number Seven heroine. She can make and freely shape this amber-like resin that’s harder than the real stuff.”
“Oh. Neat,” Playa hummed. “She can deflect bullets with it, huh?”
“Yeah,” Shaundi nodded. “Unless Johnny’s packing something heavier than that automatic rifle he won’t be able to get through Amber’s defenses.”
“No, he decided to travel light today,” Playa replied. “So, no grenades, no armor piercing rounds, and nothing ‘exotic’ like his beloved incendiary rounds.”
He then began to roll down the window. “I’m gonna do something reckless,” he informed Shaundi, channeling sweat into his suit.
Playa then turned on his radio. “Oi, Pierce? You there?”
“Little busy, boss!” the muscular black man replied. “We’ve got a hero on our tail!”
“I saw!” Playa said. “Get ready to get one lane over, I’m about to do something to get both of them off our ass!”
“Oh, thank God!” Pierce gasped out with relief.
“Okay… now!” Playa shouted, and he plucked a few capsules off of his gauntlet, and tossed them out the window.
They burst apart upon contact with the road, spilling out a slick, slippery goo. Pierce had gotten the truck over out of the way, while Amber had not managed to do so in time. Her bike hit the patch of slime, causing it to go crazy and then crash in a concrete barrier on the side of the road. Banana Loco had to stop chasing the Saints as well, as the gunk had spread over the rest of the road’s lanes, sending Banana Loco’s Banana-mobile tail spinning into a traffic barricade along the side.
“WOOO! Go boss!” Shaundi cheered, pumping her fist.
“That was amazing!” hacker girl gushed.
“We made it!” Pierce exclaimed.
“I hear sirens,” Playa muttered. And he wasn’t wrong, as the air was filled with the ‘weee-wooo’ of police cars.
“Don’t worry, we can get to a hide away before any piggies catch up to us,” Johnny assured him over the radio. “Tell Shaundi to head left at the next light!”
Playa relayed his friend’s instructions, and they weaved their way through the city, before coming to a stop at a garage they were able to stash their cars.
“How many of these garages do you have, Johnny?” Playa asked, admiring the other cars hidden in it.
“Like, a dozen?” Johnny shrugged. “I had to do something with the money when you got knocked out, and it was better spent on businesses that could turn a profit than being stolen by another gang. Of course, most of the garages, dealerships and parking lots in Stilwater got snatched away and are now owned by the Brotherhood. They really take their cars seriously.”
“Wait, is this… a Brotherhood owned place?” Pierce asked nervously.
“On paper it is,” Johnny admitted. “Brotherhood thinks they still own this garage, and while it does pay protection to ‘em, the people here are some of ours.”
“Sounds like a good place to lay low,” Playa mused. “Alright, everyone, change clothes and head back to your own hideouts. Let’s not get caught after our successful debut.”
“Of course, boss!” everyone exclaimed before scattering.
“Come on, Playa, I’ll have Aisha make up the couch for you tonight,” Johnny said. “Plus, tonight she’s making this wicked brisket.”
“You are a true G, bro,” Playa said with a grin, bumping fists with his friend.
