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Chapter Text

The rooftops were ablaze. Bullets, energy blasts, and explosions crisscrossed in a free-for-all firefight. It was a nasty little square dance with four participants in the center-- Butcher, Oni Lee, Skinwalker and a very unhappy Bakuda-- doing their damnedest to dance between the raindrops, take out their foes, and not get killed themselves.

As the one saddled with an angry struggling bomb-tinker over his shoulder, and the only dance couple on the floor who could not flash teleport, Skinwalker was having an interesting time of it. He fired off moon strikes and sun strikes and bursts of solar wrath as he raced around the rooftops, trying to keep both Oni Lee and the Butcher hopping as much as he was. The only thing working to his advantage was that Oni Lee seemed reluctant to close distance with him…

It's Bakuda, he realized. He can't use his 'serial suicide bomber' shtick so long as I'm carrying her.

In fact, he's having to run interference for me with Butcher, keeping her from blasting me-- and Bakuda-- to pieces. It was confirmed a moment later when Butcher appeared in front of him in a blast of flame, leveled her minigun on him and his squalling hostage, and was immediately dogpiled by a half-dozen Oni Lee clones.

So his brilliant plan was working. Or it would be, if he'd actually planned for that… oh well, gift horses, etc. a tiny portion of Adrian's mind thought as he dove out of the way of another badly-aimed hail of bullets. He hustled and leapt from cover to cover, trying to keep out of sight behind the rooftop vents and air conditioner units, zigzagging back and forth randomly to throw off both homicidal teleporters. Judging by the screams and swearing coming from his passenger Bakuda wasn't particularly happy with this strategy.

Oni Lee and Burnscar!Butcher were in a hell of a stalemate; As fast as Butcher moved through flame or explosions, Oni Lee's teleport-clones were on her latest position just as fast, five, six, seven at a time. But as fast as the demon-masked assassin ported in, grenades and blades at the ready, Butcher mowed them down with bullets and flame and lashes of flesh-corrupting power and then ported out before their grenades could go off. There was more smoke and ash on the wind than a chain smokers' convention.

Adrian leapt from the roof of the studio roof down to the next building over, trying to get some distance from the deadly duel. Out of the corner of his eye he saw ButcherScar step up on the ledge, leveling her chaingun at him...

The clouds of ash and smoke suddenly grew darker and thicker and began moving with purpose. Grue was in the fight. Smoky arms and fists formed from the smoke, lashing out at the villain. To Adrian's surprise Grue's punches actually caught flesh; he must have been phasing in and out of his own darkness cloud, his fists going solid long enough to land.

Grue's attack didn't persist long. Snarling, ButcherScar flailed at the darkness with one hand, sweeping gestures in every direction. Adrian staggered in midstride as his world exploded in pain. It felt like his skin had begun to tear itself into strips-- Butcher's pain aura, he realized even as he fell flailing to the roof. When he'd heard of the power he'd discounted it. He'd been really, really stupid, he decided. He hit the rooftop in a tumbling roll, yelping and squalling in agony. Grue was no more immune to it; his cloud recoiled from ButcherScar in writhing tendrils, roiling and boiling like a pot of ink.

Another half-score of Oni Lee clones swarmed her. She slashed her hand at their necks; they fell backwards with ugly festering wounds spreading across their throats even as they crumbled to ash. Oni Lee seemed to take this as his cue to switch partners. His next teleport was right on top of Bayleaf; he grappled with him for Bakuda. Even with a quick half-dozen port-clones the outcome was predictable. Ninja or not, he was a baseline human grappling with a seven-plus foot tall werewolf. That was what Adrian had been waiting for. ButcherScar was lost in her flames and killing frenzy; Oni Lee's destructive-teleportation depleted mind was so focused on retrieving Bakuda for his master he was starting to make deadly tactical errors. "You want her? Go get her!" the worgen snarled-- and threw the bomb Tinker one-armed straight at the Butcher.

At that exact moment the last of Grue's darkness around ButcherScar dispersed. Bakuda landed sprawling at her feet. The flaming psychopath's scarred face lit up. The barrels of her gun swung around to level on Bakuda...

Just as ButcherScar sprouted the point of a katana from her chest. For a brief moment, the rage and madness slid from her face. Then she slumped down in a boneless heap, her weapons clattering on the broken roof. Behind her stood Oni Lee, scorched, bleeding and unmoving.

Adrian dropped to all fours and lunged for Bakuda like a panther, snatching her up from where she lay sprawled at Oni Lee's feet and tore ass away from the assassin cape and his victim with Bakuda tucked under one arm. He didn't stop at the edge of the roof; he leapt into the void, his glider cloak snapping out and catching the air, carrying them to the next rooftop. They landed roughly in the middle of a group of PRT troops who quickly pulled them to cover. "Oh what now?" Bakua screeched.

"Now the shit hits the fan," Skinwalker said, his ears laid flat.

The scattered PRT agents and heroes got a clear view as Bayleaf's half-formed plan took effect. Oni Lee stood stock still atop the battered TV station building for several seconds before he began to shudder violently. Another Oni Lee appeared next to him, shaking and trembling. Then there were three of him. Then there were eight. Then twenty. In less than three seconds the rooftop of the scorched and crumbing building was filled with shaking, trembling, demon-masked men.

Then they started killing each other.

Screaming in unimaginable rage, the army of Oni Lees drew their blades and began hacking and slashing at one another. There was no skill to it, no martial artistry-- it was nothing but caveman-like butchery. Even Bakuda was taken aback. She knelt behind a PRT vehicle, watching in awe as the ABB's deadlest cape hacked himself to pieces. The homicidal bomber breathed out an oath in her native tongue. "What the hell is this??"

"Self-hatred, brought to life," the wolfman crouching next to her said. The large furry hand pinning her arm behind her never wavered even as he watched the carnage. "Think about it. Every Butcher ends up with all the previous Butchers trapped in their head, screaming at them, trying to control them. And the suffering doesn't end with dying; now they're trapped in the body with all those other voices, fighting the new host for control like the others had fought them..... Every Butcher hates every other Butcher with a searing passion, hell, they must hate each other more than any creatures on earth have ever hated."

"Yeah, but they never go that crazy that fast," Bakuda protested, so flabbergasted by the turn of events she'd forgotten her own circumstances.

"They never had free rein before," Skinwalker said. "Maybe you didn't know, but your ninja-wannabe coworker's power isn't teleportation, it's destructive replication." Judging by the way her head whipped around to stare at him, she hadn't. "Exactly," Adrian continued as if she'd spoken. "And the copying is flawed, degenerative. After all these years? His mind is gone. Every new clone is practically free real estate.... and now all those Butchers are right there ready to jump in and stake their claim."

"You knew this would happen?" A nearby PRT agent blurted out.

"When I goaded Oni Lee into killing the Butcher, I figured one of two things would happen," Bayleaf said. "One, and worst case scenario: Oni Lee could become the new Butcher. Which would at least reduce the number of teleporting, exploding psychos we had to deal with by one. Two, Oni Lee's flawed power would eventually erase his mind completely, along with the Butcher voices, turning him into a Cape potato. But this..." He trailed off.

"So what's happening?" Bakuda yelled.

"The voices in his head hate each other more than anything else in the world. With Oni Lee's mind gone, they all jumped at the opportunity to take the reins. But the clones are temporary. So they're taking the chance...and trying to kill each other." Detonations tore across the station roof; one of the Oni Lees had finally remembered the bandolier of explosives across his chest. Everyone scrambled as shattered concrete rained down. The first explosion was followed by a chain of them, a staccato roar like something out of a war movie. The top of the building disappeared in smoke and fire.

As suddenly as they began, the explosions stopped. The smoke parted; the top floor of the building was simply gone. Oni Lee and his final clone stood in the shattered remains of the second highest story, impaled on one another's swords. The tableau held for and endless second, then Oni Lee-- the real Oni Lee, who did not dissolve into a cloud of ash-- slid off the end of his duplicate's sword and fell to the street far below. The replicant clutched his head and screamed in anguish... then crumbled to ash in mid scream, drifting down in a silent grey cloud.

"Holy shit," the PRT agent from before said, his voice low in awe.

Over at the PRT command center, a bloody and bandaged Piggot watched everything with grim satisfaction. "And that's Burnscar, Oni Lee and the Butcher accounted for," she said. "Let's see if we get a clean sweep."