Interlude 3.5

Late Evening

February 5, 2011

Coil’s steel-like grip on his cheap black burner phone threatened to turn the device into plastic scrap, but the self-titled mastermind couldn’t find it in himself to care all that much.

How could he, when the subject of his current circadian rhythm dereliction was being displayed proudly in 4k definition on his television screen, the absolutely massive golden form of a decapitated, monstrous Lung resting right beside him in all of its resplendent and unsettling beauty. The entire beach was cordoned off with bright yellow caution tape and PRT blockades, and for good reason - although the ocean had calmed down after Avalon’s… informative battle with the former ABB gang leader, the sands of the beach still shone black beneath the headlights of PRT vans. 

The boy of the hour himself stood on the pier surrounded by both heroes and officers, a large, vaguely alien-like dragon head gripped in his right hand. That was all in the background of the news report, however, and he couldn’t hear what was being said by either him or Armsmaster, who seemed to be leading the questioning. With the sound of rain still falling across the night sky and the parka-wearing news reporter talking loudly into the microphone, Coil was bereft of crucial information. 

Crucial information like: What the hell just happened?

Just how dangerous of a player was this ‘Avalon’?

Was he merely a Trump 8, as dictated in his PRT case files?

… Did he really just summon a concentrated lightning storm and shift the weather above the entire damned city?

Text messages were pinging his phone, the annoying little ‘dings’ exacerbating the headache he was already feeling, and Coil tossed the device across his desk. Now was simply not the time - there was too much here, too much information that he needed to adjust to and parse, and playing word games and sharing gossip with his little Tattletale could and would wait.

Fingers steepling beneath his pointy chin, Coil focused his full attention back to the news reporter. She seemed oddly invigorated despite the downpour of rain, cheeks flushed from both the cold and the excitement as she gestured animatedly with both the microphone and her hands.

“I’ve received word that the wind speeds here are averaging at a moderate 24 miles per hour! As you can see, it’s definitely fast enough to make me fight for my spot here - whatever weather power Avalon has shown tonight in his epic and bloody victory against Lung, it is potent.” 

The woman had to basically yell to be heard over the rain, so her voice was hoarse and strained - yet that didn’t seem to rob her of her enthusiasm. Now that he paid more attention, though, Coil could see it now; mainly in the eyes and the cheekbones. She was a woman of Chinese descent.

“What this means for the future of Brockton Bay remains to be seen, but I hope to get a word in with our hero after he finishes with his, um, debriefing with the Protectorate heroes. Though lethal force is not generally authorized under normal circumstances, witnesses have reported that Avalon was attacked while unmasked and out on a date here at Fugly Bob’s, which also received major damage during Lung’s unprovoked attack. We at Channel 8 believe in-”

Coil’s attention drifted - not out of boredom or an inability to focus, but because something was happening in the background; Avalon was moving, the fifteen foot statue of headless Lung floating softly behind him as he made his way towards the edge of the blockade - and, coincidentally, the news crew.

Even from a distance, and with the rain turning the lens of the video camera somewhat blurry and dilated, you would have to be blind to not spot the pure, unadulterated frustration in Armsmaster’s body language. Oh, he played a decent ‘stoic straight-man’ angle, but Coil was nothing if not exceedingly perceptive. The things he learned in between realities could fill many people’s closets, and Colin Wallis’ inferiority complex was a loud ‘elephant in the room’ that none of his colleagues, for some reason, saw fit to comment on.

The man was jealous, that much was clear - made especially so with the tongue lashing he received from the Director only a short couple days ago, after intentionally antagonizing Avalon. Yet, he was put between a rock and a hard place now, unable to detain the boy for any reason after the massive display of power he just showed to the world - and what a horrid display it was indeed. Channel 8 arrived after the storm was called forth, but earlier clips of the battle were already floating around the internet from normal civilians who were watching from a distance. 

The PRT couldn’t restrict modern technology, after all.

None of this was anything Coil could use. Armsmaster’s inferiority complex was amusing, in a sad way, but the man was no match for Avalon. The PRT as a whole was a nonfactor, considering the Chief Director’s hands-off approach in regards to the new cape, so that left his only remaining assets. The Undersiders were no match for him, as small-time as they were, and neither were his looser tools like Circus and Chariot. Avalon was simply proving to be too big of a headache to deal with, and that made Coil want him gone even more. 

How would he take over the city proper if a reckless idiot like that was out on the loose?

Coil needed leverage - leverage that Tattletale was supposed to be finding, but had made no progress with. Leverage and information that was quickly becoming more and more essential the more he saw of this wildcard. Next to nothing was known about Avalon, and for a man as paranoid as Coil, that was possibly the most dangerous power the boy possessed.

It was… irksome, to put it lightly.

“And speaking of temperature, it’s been getting progressively- huh?”

The news reporter was cut off by a hurried whispering from behind the camera, and her rain-slicked face glowed as clear excitement formed in her eyes. It wasn’t just the look of a reporter excited to get their next scoop, either - no, it was the fervent light of someone getting ready to meet their savior. She turned around on an axis, the mic picking up an almost silent gasp when she saw Avalon and his ‘spoils of war’.

Why the boy was lugging around the bedazzled corpse, Coil had no idea, though he idly marked in his notes the scale of his telekinesis - at fifteen feet and made of solid gold, Lung’s body had to weigh an exorbitant amount. Yet another ability to plan around. 

“A-Avalon!” 

The boy paused mid-stride, his head turning slightly to scan the vigorously waving news reporter. There was a second where his one visible eye - an unnaturally bright silver - lingered hard on the camera before he turned his attention back to the woman. His face was stoic, maybe even a little frustrated, but that minor emotion bled away into an easy, crooked smile.

In the span of one breath to the next, he was suddenly standing right beside the drenched reporter, who let out a high-pitched yelp and leaped backwards, almost tripping over her feet. The statue floated along behind him, falling to the concrete much too quietly to be normal, though Avalon still held the decapitated head in his left hand. 

The camera turned upwards slightly, blocking the grizzly sight from view.

“Yo.” He offered a simple two-finger salute to the camera, looking completely at ease in spite of the heavy atmosphere, and the news reporter struggled to regain her composure.

“Hello- um, Avalon, thank you so much for giving me the time of day! I-I am Li Brooks with Channel 8 News, and I was h-hoping to ask you a few questions after your battle here today. If that’s okay?” 

The unprofessionalism was grating. 

His stomach turning, Coil leaned back in his seat and crossed his thin arms over his chest. Regardless of the obvious bias being put on display, he needed information like a dog needed water. Anything would help him further his plans of getting Avalon out of his city, whether that be in a body bag or a private jet to some other crime-ridden cesspool.

“... Sure, that’s fine. You sure you wanna be out in the rain like this, though? It’s flu season, Li Brooks.” The boy’s voice was a low baritone, stoic and dry in its delivery, but that smirk on his face shifted slightly at the end of his sentence, and something in the air changed.

Li’s face, previously rosy from the rain and excitement, burned. She opened her mouth, fighting to rebuttal with wit or grace, but it was clear that nothing of the sort was coming out. “I- uh, yes, but we- I…”

Avalon raised his right hand, palm facing upwards, and a furrow tilted his brow. He began murmuring quietly beneath his breath, the camera unable to pick up the words beneath the sound of rain, wind, and background voices. 

It was clear that he was activating another one of his powers, and that observation was a slight balm to Coil’s current frustration. Avalon required the use of his mouth to accomplish most of his feats, and that was something that stayed consistent throughout all of his recorded fights. Information that he could use.

“Avalon?”

The boy didn’t respond to Li’s unspoken question. He glanced up at the sky, a small, crystal-like orb of some sort of energy grasped lightly at the tip of his fingers. 

With a flick of the wrist, the orb went skyward instantaneously - one moment it was in his hand, and the next it was piercing the angry clouds lurking above. The camera went to follow the movement, but it all happened too fast. There was a roar of what sounded like thunder, loud enough to vibrate the speakers on Coil’s desk, and then…

Blissful silence.

Like a bowl cutting an even, smooth circle out of a slide of bread, the stormy clouds directly above the news crew simply faded away as if it had never been there, leaving behind twinkling stars that shone light down upon the concrete. Rain still fell across the Market, but as far as Coil could see through the screen, in a rough circle around the area where the ‘interview’ was taking place, the sky was clear and pacified.

Murmurs and voiced picked up in the background, shocked gazes turning towards Avalon and Li, but the boy ignored them with ease. He only had eyes for the woman beside him. “There we go; that should make it easier to talk, yeah?”

Li hesitated, mouth still gaping wide open in awe. “...Um, yes. Thank you!”

“It’s cool. I’m guessin’ you want a first-hand rendition of what happened tonight?” 

In spite of the news reporter’s unprofessionalism, Avalon seemed to be taking everything in stride. Such unflappable confidence after what had to be the most dangerous fight of his fledgling cape career was unnatural. It sent alarm bells ringing through Coil’s head.

Li glanced back at the camera, and her face tightened with determination. “Do you mind if I restart this, sir?”

“Heh, go for it.”

“Thank you. Ahem - I am Li Brooks with Channel 8 News, and I am here today with Avalon, mere minutes after his hair-raising battle with the terrifying leader of the Azn Bad Boyz, Lung. The fight was fierce, waging over both land and water, but our hero came out victorious. Avalon, do you mind telling us what started this blood-filled feud, and what your thoughts were during the fight?” 

The 180 was impressive, and even Avalon was watching ‘Li Brooks’ with a bemused grin on his face. At the mention of how it all started, however, the smile flagged, a frown taking over.

For some reason, that filled Coil with dread.

“The second part of that question’s a bit easier to answer, so I’ll do this a lil’ backwards,” Avalon began, the lines between his brow deepening. “Throughout the fight, I was just thinkin’ to myself… ‘Damn, Lung’s weaker than I thought he’d be’. He pushed me quite a bit, don’t get me wrong, but… at the end of the day, he’s not an Endbringer.”

That seemed to throw Li off of her game a little bit, but she recovered quickly, latching onto his words with hunger. “Are you saying that you’re as strong as Leviathan?”

“As strong?” Avalon repeated, a small snort escaping him. “Not even close.”

“... So you’re weaker than it. The Leviathan has sunk entire cities with its powers, and is just as feared as the other two. Would you lose?” Li hesitated, glancing back at the camera anxiously.

A smirk pulled at his lips, then. “Nah, I’d win.”

“Wait, so-”

“I’m not stronger than Leviathan, but I don’t need to be.” Avalon pressed on, cutting Li off before she could dig deeper into the statement. “Strength isn’t everything - not really. And neither is pure power. There’s other people in Brockton Bay that could have defeated Lung, given more training, more resources, and more balls. He was never infallible - the main issue was the fact that he was too strong to keep restrained.”

Coil’s fingers clenched around the spandex-like fabric of his costume. Perhaps it was the paranoia that constantly plagued his mind, but he was beginning to read between the lines here, and he did not necessarily like what he was parsing. 

“Who-”

“To return to your first question; he attacked me, unmasked, in a populated restaurant, while I was out on a date with two very beautiful, very kind women. Two of the only people I truly care about, and an entire restaurant of innocent civilians, were put in mortal danger tonight because a psychotic cape wanted to protect their rep and their human-trafficking business line.”

Avalon’s voice continued, unrepentant, and the cameraman zoomed in slightly on the dark-skinned cape as he stepped forward. The dryness in his voice had already flaked away, replaced by a sort of smoldering, burning charisma that simply drew you in.

Coil’s left arm, long and bony, reached across the desk for his phone. He didn’t like this. He didn’t like this one bit.

“So...” Avalon pushed on quietly, now completely zoning out a transfixed Li Brooks. He stared intensely at the camera, his face now taking up the majority of the shot. Behind him, like a silent guardian made of gold, Lung’s dragonoid corpse glinted beneath the moonlight.

“I’m a little pissed off right now, forgive my language. Me becoming a cape was originally a selfish decision made on the spot - I wanted to fight off the Empire ‘cause me and my girlfriend are hated by them, and I figured taking them out would help both us and my people living beneath fear in this city. That’s why I scattered those neo-nazi assholes. Screw ‘em.”

There was a pause, and distantly, Coil could hear the cameraman muttering aggressively on the phone. Whatever it was, he didn’t seem happy to hear it.

But the camera kept recording.

“But tonight has shown me that I’ve been struck by tunnel vision. I’ve always known that the Empire’s not the only disease infecting this city, but because of their personal link to who and what I am, I was ignoring the rest of the bullshit. But no longer. Blame it on Lung, you fake ass bogeymen of Brockton Bay, but I’m cutting the infection out at the core tonight.”

Eyes wide, Li Brooks stepped fully out of the shot, allowing the cameraman to focus the camera fully on Avalon’s glaring visage. Coil’s heart pounded in his ears as he punched in Tattletale’s number and called her.

… 

…

…

It went straight to voicemail.

“Max Anders, CEO of the Medhall Corporation - otherwise known as the Leader of the Empire Eighty-Eight, Kaiser…”

Gasps ripped through the background, and voices rose with both aggression and shock. Coil couldn’t see anyone actively moving to stop the boy, but neither was he necessarily trying to look. He knew what was coming next, he fucking knew it, and he needed to make sure that all of his affairs were in order-

“And Thomas Calvert, consultant for the Brockton Bay PRT - otherwise known as Coil, supervillain and psychotic megalomaniac.”

His head swam. His chest squeezed.

Ice. Hoarfrost. Complete and overwhelming dread.

He split realities instinctively, Coil One immediately turning the television off and rushing to rally his mercenaries while Coil Two continued to try and get Tattletale on the phone, his heart damn near bursting out of his chest as he watched the TV with trepidation. 

Avalon continued, his countenance both burning hot and freezing cold as he spoke - not to the television or the cameraman or even to the public, but directly to them.

To him.

“One hour. Sixty minutes. Thirty-six hundred seconds. That’s how long you two have to fully surrender yourselves to the PRT for immediate Bird Cage imprisonment. I’ll fly your asses there myself if I have to, express delivery. If you are even a minute off, then I can’t be blamed for what happens to you. I’m only telling you ahead of time to cover my own ass. Otherwise this’d be over with already.” 

One hour was not enough time to uproot everything essential and leave the city for his safehouse in Boston. One hour was barely enough time to even gather all of his mercenaries together and secure defenses. There were still so many things he needed to accomplish within the coming months, and he didn’t have time to waste hiding away in fear because of some overtuned, arrogant brat!

Avalon’s lips twitched up into a smirk - one that lacked any genuine amusement or warmth.

“You can try to hide or run away. Matter fact, I’m guessin’ that’s what the two of you cockroaches are gonna try and do. It won’t work, but you’ll try it anyway. This’ll be my first and last warning: You run, you hide, you fight back… and you die. Straight. Up.”

As Coil One struggled to call in all of his mercenary forces, making phone call after phone call and practically running his throat ragged with commands and thinly-veiled threats, Coil Two played the news stream on his personal phone as he quickly started to throw important documents and assets into heavy-duty duffel bags stored in the back of his office. 

There were only two real options that he saw here, if he was being realistic with himself - either he could call in all of the capes and mercs on his payroll, fight back against the siege in an hour, and hopefully overwhelm and kill Avalon in the closed off spaces of his cramped bunker… or he could escape the city beneath the rain and darkness, hoping that the boy’s threat was seventy five percent grandstanding to appear cool on national television.

Either way, he hadn’t prepared for this sudden power play. It was taking everything in him to keep a level head with so many dominoes falling around him.

Coil Two’s news stream was interrupted by a phone call - Director Emily Piggot.

He blocked the number, and then, thinking more on it, crushed it beneath his boot. The TV was turned back on just in time to hear Avalon’s last taunting words:

“Coil and Kaiser. The same way you take away others’ free will, I’m doin’ the same to you. Karma really is a bitch, ain’t she? ... I’ll see y’all soon.”

With a snarl, he ripped the miniature television off of the desk and threw it against the wall, but the screen didn’t shatter, and neither did the ultra-long cord come unplugged. Though the picture was upside down, he could see Avalon give one final nod at the camera before grabbing the statue by one of the wings and… flying away, as if it weighed no more than a few pounds. The fucked-up dragon head in his other hand seemed as if it was grinning down at them.

The camera turned, focusing back on a shell shocked Li Brooks as agents stared in the background, murmuring to themselves. “You… you heard it here first, folks. I- we are on the cusp of something big, and-”

He tuned the besotted news reporter out. Armsmaster, Assault, and Battery were no longer there, but that didn’t matter.

They wouldn’t save him. No one would, except for himself and his own power and genius.

Another burst of adrenaline and despair filling his body, Coil Two turned back around and resumed his frantic, hurried packing.

He had fifty six minutes left, and he would make every single second count.

__________________________________________

A/N:

So... that happened.

Avalon's not the best with his emotions, but he was clearly frustrated by Lung attacking when he was out on a date. You could see that there. So, he decided to make a statement on live TV, seeing it as the opportunity it was.

The Unwritten Rules are something most villains don't even bother with. Sure, they use it when convenient to save their own asses, but it's a fucking crutch that mainly only affects heroes. It's fucking silly. And Avalon isn't here to please the government or the PRT - he plans to kill the S9 and leave.

So he called the villains out - more specifically, in this instance, Coil and Kaiser. Their downfalls are coming soon, and it is what it is. He doesn't have shit to worry about now, as far as most capes. His fight with Lung has solidified that in his heart. It's not arrogance, it's self-assured confidence. He's only really wary of people like the Triumvirate and the Slaughterhouse Nine, and obviously the Endbringers - although he's sure he can defeat one if he brought it into his RM.

I know some people will be upset at him for giving them an hour warning, but let's be real - what can they really do in sixty minutes? An hour moves fucking fast, and the most they can do is gather their closest allies and try to escape, or hunker down and try to fight when he comes. 'Cause they have no real reason to believe a Trump who beat Lung doesn't have a Thinker power, especially if he knew their identities.

Avalon made the announcement, as I said before, to make a statement. He was only somewhat aware of his popularity online because of Cassie, but seeing the news reporter made it even more clear to him. He has been making waves, and he has strong influence, especially amongst POCs and younger heroes.

By laying out his morals clear as day, with a heavy dose of Force of Spirit, he plans to swing public favor decidedly in his direction. Invictus will need willing and passionate members, both super and mundane, while he's away after all, and what way to stoke the hearts of heroes than announcing villains' demise while simultaneously giving them an olive branch to not die? That shit would make anyone at home get hype, if they're not Batman of course.

Anyways, hope you all enjoy. See you soon!