144 The Palanquin

Brockton Bay, New Jersey, September 11th, 14:57.

The rumble of my car echoes down the street as we come to a screeching halt. The heroes are clearly already aware that I'm here, so there's no real point in subtlety.

I doubt they'll send anyone after me though, since I told mister police officer that I was just passing by, but who knows? Maybe there will be a fun surprise for me before I'm gone.

Either way, when I pull up to the Palanquin, situated on top of a small hill, I don't bother shapeshifting my face. I'm egoistic enough that I prefer wearing my own face and body instead of any others.

Turning to my side, I see Mimi looking up from the lighter she's been staring at, noticing with anticipation that we've stopped.

"Did we make it?" She asks, more lucid than usual now that I've allowed her to have a small fire present.

She's going to be meeting a friend after all, it'd probably be best if she can actually string together more than one sentence, and with only a lighter's fire, she's basically normal. Anymore and she'd probably start snowballing into her, shall we say, Slaughterhouse mindset.

Which would probably not make for a very productive first meeting.

"Yup!~ You ready?"

She gains a hesitant smile. "Yeah."

When we get out of the car, I reflexively raise an arm to block out the glare of the sun shining down on the street, only to realise that the light isn't actually hurting my eyes like it should. Even when I turn to stare directly at the sun, when I look away, there are no spots in my vision, no burning in my eyes.

"Huh, that's new," I say, before noticing a man standing between my the Palanquin and us. Not in a threatening manner mind you, he was clearly just walking by when we stopped and is now just staring curiously. So naturally I match his stare and flash my eyes crimson, "fuck off."

He does. Scurrying away like a rat.

Funny.

Moving on, I double check that the car is locked and move to the front door, fully planning on keeping an ear out to make sure no one steals my car. It's expensive.

The Palanquin only opened around two weeks ago, if my memory serves, and you can tell just from looking at it. The black paint still fresh, not showing any signs of weathering. The sign, glowing yellow letters spelling out 'Palanquin', written in a script that seems intentionally plain.

Since it's so early, for a nightclub at least, there aren't any bouncers outside, but I'd imagine that would change when they're actually in business.

Shrugging to myself, I try to open the door, only to find that it's locked. How lame, I wanted to just walk in.

Oh well.

Raising both hands, I start knocking to the tune of Flash Gordon's theme this time, only to soon find out that it doesn't translate very well to door knocks.

Not that I stop mind you, and after a half minute of knocking, I just start knocking louder, until I'm basically just punching the door.

How fucking long does it take to open a motherfu- oh hey, it's open.

The door swings wide to reveal an absolute blob of a man.

Seriously, the dude is obscenely obese, I don't think I've seen anyone with so much fat on their bones in my life, and speaking of bones, I can 𝘴𝘦𝘦 his, because his skin is translucent for some fucking reason. He is also completely lacking in hair of any kind, completely bald, lacking even eyelashes.

He also has these weird shell-like things seemingly growing from his skin all over his body, like if you mixed a really bad case of acne with the underside of an old ship. Even his fingers are kind of gross, what with his finger nails being all brown and rotten-looking.

I don't have to look up too much to meet his eyes, so he's probably only around 5'10, even though his width makes his figure a lot more imposing anyway.

But when he pull the door open all the way, I catch a glimpse of his upper arm as his sleeve rides up, letting me barely make out the upside-down Greek 'omega' symbol before the sleeve hides it again.

Ah, I see. A Case 53.

Heh, that rhymed.

Still, being a monster cape explains why he's so fuck ugly. Though, I can't help but wonder what he'd taste like after a long grill. Fatty meat is best after a slow cooking after all, though I prefer leaner meat, like calves, biceps and even the Achilles heel, the last one being less like a full meal and more like a small snack, maybe breakfast.

As if understanding my thoughts, Pudgy's face twists momentarily, and he falls back a pace, keeping one hand on the door. I just give him an innocent smile that has him flinching.

Guess he recognises me then. How boring.

"Heya!~ My name's Lusia, and this is Mimi. I'd like to see Miss Faultline please.~" It's not a question, because he obviously doesn't have choice, but to his credit, he doesn't simply cave in immediately.

"Might I ask why you wish to see Faultline, Miss Abel?" His voice is rich and thick, and his words spoken carefully, heavy with an accent that I can't place. It's actually quite a nice sound, his voice.

"Sure thing Mista!~ I just wanna have a chat with her, part business and part personal.~ I'm not going to kill her, or any of you, if that's what you're worried about.~ Hell, out of everyone present, I'm most likely to kill Mimi here.~"

Finishing my cheerful words, I put a hand on Mimi's head and ruffle her hair, even though she's only like, three years younger than me. But that does make her seventeen, which means she's a minor, which means it's perfectly natural for me, a certified adult, to treat her like a child.

She bats my hand away with a light scowl at my treatment of her, not reacting at all to my mention of being most likely to kill her. I explained on the drive that if she starts spreading fire and causing too much of a scene, that I'd just rip her head off.

Obviously I won't actually kill her, even if she burned this shitty city down I wouldn't care, and I don't know if anyone else would. Seriously, I've seen so much trash on the streets just driving here, including a good number of druggies hitting themselves up.

Fatso also chooses to ignore my threat to Mimi's life, and moves on, speaking with a light smile, one that does not make him any less fugly looking than before. "Faultline does not usually do walk ins, but I feel she will not mind making an exception to that rule for you, Miss Abel."

Man, despite all appearances, I actually kind of like this guy. He's very well spoken and polite. Not very fun, but if you close your eyes you can almost imagine that he's just a professional butler.

Of course, that's when you remember what his face looks like and then all of a sudden the magic is lost.

"Lead the way, Mister...?" I say, dragging out the 'R' in question.

"Gregor, Miss Abel. They call me Gregor the Snail."

"Pleasure to make your acquaintance Mr Snail," I say, voice carefully pleasant as he leads us through the empty club, the only people we pass by being a pair of bartenders and a bouncer, "and might I say, for someone so freakishly horrific to look at, you have quite possibly the nicest voice I've had the pleasure to listen to."

I carefully study his face as I speak and, unsurprisingly, his face scrinches ever so slightly at the insult, only to immediately smooth out at the compliment.

I'm not just being a dick to be a dick see, I'm gathering intelligence. I don't know much about them after all, since they're too new to really have a lot of information out there. All I really know is that Faultline dropped a building on Chevalier before she left Philly. don't even know what her power is to allow that.

But from my little greeting just now, I've learnt some things. For one, Gregor has clearly not been around too long. Because since all Case 53's don't have any memories, so they basically start out the same, and due to their deformities, they are often belittled, such with them being called 'monster' capes.

But the fact that he reacted to my insult to his appearance, despite being so clearly coolheaded a person, simply means that he hasn't been around long enough to be desensitised to the prospect of being insulted regularly, ergo he is new, ergo less experienced.

"I thank you for the compliment, Miss Abel," Gregor says, maintaining his politeness as we reach the top of the stairs he led us to, "Faultline's office is just this way."

Following further without a word, I notice Mimi put away her lighter, though she keeps the tips of her hair on fire in it's stead, something that I actually recommended her to do, since it's not like fire can burn her, even if the cigarette scars might give the impression of otherwise.

He knocks twice and turns back to us once we hear a muffled 'Enter' from inside. "Might you wait here just a moment so I may inform Faultline of your visit?"

Since he's so polite, I don't bother giving him a hard time about it and just nod my head with a smile. He enters the room without wasting any more time, closing the door behind him.

But just because there's a wall between us, that doesn't mean I can't hear everything being said clear as if he was still right in front of me.

"Gregor, what is it? You wouldn't normally knock?" A voice, female, probably Faultline, says.

"We have a guest here to see you. I thought it prudent to ensure that you are wearing your mask before I let them in."

"Wait a minute, you just let them in? Without an appointment or anything? Isn't that, like, a bad idea?" A third voice chimes in, the pitch making me think that they're a child, younger than Mimi.

"Yes, as Newter says, we can't just let anyone in whenever they feel like it. It sends the wrong image. If they want to see me, they can wait." Faultline's voice sounds out again, presumably naming the kid as Newter.

"I understand that, but given the nature of our guest, I felt it best to not refuse her."

"I see," Faultline says, sounding contemplative enough that I'm mildly impressed. Clearly she's smart enough to read between the lines of what Gregor is saying and understand what he is actually saying. Which is that the guest, me, is more powerful and or important than she is. It's like way back when, when I first met Uppercrust. Ah, memories. "In that case, who exactly is our guest? A Hero? Kaiser?"

Who the fuck is Kaiser?

"Neither. Our guest is Lusia Abel, otherwise known as Tear. She is here with the one formerly known as Burnscar, though I believe her name to be Mimi."

The sudden silence is so tense that I can feel it through the wall, and while I can't actually see her, I get the impression that Faultline's face is going through some interesting expressions right now.

"I see. Now I understand why you felt the need to bring them straight to me, good job. Risking a fight here is not something we can do. I suppose it's best not to keep them waiting any longer then. If you would, Gregor."

With the sound of what I assume to be Faultline putting on a mask, as well as footsteps approaching, I quickly take out a deck of cards from my pocket and start playing with them, shuffling the deck in as complex a way as I can, which is only possible thanks to my incredible dexterity.

The door clicks open to the site of me playing with my cards, and I quickly gather them together as if I wasn't eavesdropping this entire time.

"Faultline is ready to see you now."

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A/N: He~llo! Dear readers!

In this chapter, I wanted to impress the fact that most case 53's are gonna be ugly as fuck. Like, this isn't an anime, like mha, where the 'monsterous' people are like Mezo, or Ashido and still relatively normal looking even with their deformities.

Nah, this is real life (you know what I mean) baby, and the simple fact is that gregor is terribly ugly, and newter is not going to be incredibly hot, especially since he's 13 rn lol, but just like an 'exotic' 4/10

It's kinda like Lusia's hair, it's natural white now, but that's due to marie antoinette syndrome, so it's not some beautiful snow white masterpiece. it's just white, nothing more. Though it looks worse under the lens of lusia's perception, because it's not how her hair is supposed to look

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