Super Necromancer System

434  Suspicion Feather trudged through the forests, grimacing as his fine Italian leather boots got wild muck all over them. The two soldiers leading him by implied gunpoint basically speed-walked their way into the forestlands, giving no time for poor old Feather to catch his breath.

Figures. The soldiers did not want to keep Nico waiting. Even if Feather was a capo, the soldiers only respected him. They feared Nico, and fear held a clutch over a man's heart far tighter than respect did most times.

"How long are we gonna walk? We're way past perimeter - there might be variants out right behind that tree trunk you're walking past," said Feather, pausing for a moment to rest.

He might have been classified as a B-rank combat threat, but that was almost entirely because he was so damn hard to kill, not because he was some marvelous physical specimen or murder-hardened fighter. If even a little smear of him was around, he would grow back. Even if said smear was, as was the case now, stored back in a vat in a creepy-ass laboratory in Haven.

It was why, he noted begrudgingly, he was such a useful mobile bomb.

"We're almost here, sir. Nico is waiting for you in the clearing up ahead," said a soldier.

"Don't worry about variants. Nico and Adriana have made sure that they've been cleared out or repelled significantly past perimeter boundaries," said the other.

The soldiers waved their guns, beckoning Feather to speed up. n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

"A capo forced to do shitty cardio, I'll be damned…" Feather muttered under his breath before he picked up his pace again, stepping past a tree and into a clearing. Before he could scan his surroundings, he stepped into something disgustingly squishy and reeled back.

"This is why I hate camping-," he began before his eyes widened, His boot had stepped into fresh, raw viscera that clung to his soles like bloody roadkill. "Damn!"

Feather hopped back, tapping his heel on the grass to kick off whatever it was that got stuck on his precious leather.

"Feather. Nice to see you're as shallow as you've always been. Always concerned about the credits over sweat. What is that, Brunello?" said Nico. His voice was curt, cutting in its critical intonation.

"Yeah, I missed you too," said Feather, sarcasm oozing out of him. "And Brunello? They've been out of vogue for a decade at least. Nowadays, American-made's the best for boots, and Stronghide's the best of the best. Of course, that's what I'm packing right now. Anyways- woah."

Feather stepped back, his neck craning up to see Nico sitting atop a pile of dead variants that reached over a dozen meters high.

"Enough chat about boots," said Nico.

"Hey, you're the one that brought it up," said Feather, recovering from his surprise quickly.

Nico's brow twitched. He pointed away and the two soldiers immediately left, very evidently not wanting to spend another second there. Feather could not blame them. He was putting up a confident act, something he had been trained to do, but in the end, it was still an act.

He could see the raw danger emanating off Nico like heat waves under a high noon sun. Maybe literally, too. There was a sort of golden aura about him that shimmered in waves that barely clung to his skin and clothes.

Feather did not actually know much about Nico's power. It was standard policy to keep the Sword Capos' combat capabilities under tight wraps to preserve their efficacy. Plus, Shield Capos planned business, not battle, so in the end, there was not too much overlap between the two anyway.

All Feather knew was that Nico was dangerous as hell. By reputation, he did not have as much infamy as the other two Sword Capos. Adriana was known as the Cape Ripper and the Mad Dog of the Trident for her ferocity and willingness to fight and kill the toughest of A-rank heroes. Orlando was the personal bodyguard of the Don and that alone made his strength indisputable.

But the fact that Nico could keep such a low profile in such a high position meant he probably liked to kill a little more discreetly. Before his victims even knew what hit them.

Nico dropped down from his throne of death, landing neatly with his hands in his coat pocket. He took a single step towards Feather, his eyes turning bright gold to match his aura, contrasting well with the silver of his hair.

Feather's neck tingled. Gooseflesh erupted on his limbs. His throat felt tight. His instincts told him danger was imminent. He briefly glanced up, making sure the Evileye was still there and that Nico did not spot it.

The Evileye looked straight at Nico with its lidless gaze.

"What? Did a bird catch your eye?" said Nico, immediately catching Feather's shift in stare.

"No. Just think it's too hot out to be working out like this, yeah? In a full suit, too." Feather nodded at Nico. Nico could not tell that the Evileye was there. Knowing that, he breathed an internal sigh of relief. "Alright, tell me what this is really about."

"I've been thinking about this whole civil war," said Nico. "About how quickly things went wrong. An entire criminal empire the likes of which is only rivaled by the Imperials in China, one that's withstood the test of time for over half a century, falling apart so quickly so soon."

"You know why. The Machineheart went active. Ivan saw a chance to take the world for himself, so he takes the Russian Prong and turns it against us. Speaking of, do we have a suitable replacement for Mad Jack to synch with the damn thing? Or is he still yelling nonsense in his cell?"

Feather thought about the current situation.

When the Machineheart went active a few weeks ago, it came as a surprise to everyone. It was collecting dust in a Trident vault as a cool cube-shaped antique from the Altering. Nobody thought it had any real value other than its age, so it was stored alongside paintings and jewelry, and other goods that accrued value over time and history.

The moment the Machineheart activated, though, red, blue, and green lights flowed through its seams like blood through veins, Trident technos could confirm it contained a tremendous amount of power within it.

Mad Jack confirmed its true identity as the Machineheart. But before the Trident could get Mad Jack, the only techno in its service capable of fusing with the artifact, he went mad.

Not his usual brand of mad, the kooky, quirky, high-functioning madness, but full-on ranting and raving insanity. About random numbers and visions and a 'games'.

Deemed a security threat, Mad Jack was thrown into a secret cell. Afterward, the Russian Prong, led under its head Ivan, withdrew from the Trident and waged war, aiming to snatch the Machineheart away.

Now, the Italian and Japanese Prongs gathered to keep the Machineheart safe until they could spit out a techno as capable as Mad Jack to synch with the damned thing.

I've been thinking," began Nico.

"Yeah, you already said that." Feather shrunk back when he saw Nico's expression darken. "Go on."

"Ivan and his new army of machines wouldn't have been able to do the damage they've done unless there was a traitor in our ranks. Knowing our supply lines, where our soldiers are stationed, etcetera. At first, I thought maybe our tech's not up to date. Maybe Ivan's siphoning data from us.

If Ivan could crack the Judicata, he could crack us, right?

But no. Mad Jack's defense network is still in our systems. And before he went even madder, uncooperative, he assured us it could stand against Ivan. Mad Jack might not have all the screws in his head fastened, but he never lied about what he could do."

Feather shrugged. "We've known this for a while, though. Isn't that also why we're gathering the capos? To set a trap for the rats to crawl into? If informants are what you're worried about, you should be more concerned with getting me meeting-ready for the other Shield Capos to arrive."

"You see, Feather, I heard something interesting the other day." Nico took out a coin from his pocket. It shone gold, infused with a light that could only be explained by his power. "Mad Jack isn't in his cell anymore."

"What the hell!?" said Feather. "He's not!? Did he escape?"

"No. Something broke him out. Something invisible that could evade all our sensors."

"Ivan's bots…"

"Yes. And you know the odd thing is, the only people who knew where Mad Jack's location was were the capos."

"The capos…" Feather stepped back, but Nico made a face that made it clear that if he took another back, another to retreat, to even think about escaping, he would sorely regret it. "You're accusing me of leaking Mad Jack's cell location!?

That's fucking crazy!

You know that only one Sword Capo and one Shield Capo got to know, right!? Don made sure not even all of us knew. Just the ones he trusted.  And I'll tell you right now that Shield Capo - it ain't me!"

Nico shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe not. What I do know is that you and the other Shield Capos are soft. Easily dazzled by luxury. None of you have shed blood for a cause. You've only made others bleed for you.

If a shiny enough offer was made, you would take it. All of you would.

So, all of you are a liability.

And that's why in this meeting, I'm going to be getting rid of every single one of you. Starting with you."