nextgenerationmarvel | A Little Revenge, Justly Earned (Marcelo)

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[character] marcelo alencar da silva

A Little Revenge, Justly Earned (Marcelo)

Warning: Contains some fairly unpleasant violence.

The cancellation of all contacts with Veridian hadn't been a deathblow in and of itself, while it was a major disappointment for Shaw Industries, the fact was that the core of Shaw Industries' business was with America itself. The real damage was psychological. Whatever defeats or disappointments Sebastian Shaw had faced in his career previously, he'd led Shaw Industries to virtually uninterrupted growth and prosperity. He'd made the Board enormously wealthy and in exchange, they had given him their unstinting allegiance. There was often talk of the Board at Shaw Industries being the 'King's Men', but many of them had worn that badge with pride.

But the Brazilian setback had exposed other weaknesses in the company. It was reliant on continued contracts for heavy weaponry from the US government, but the fact was that many of those contracts were over and the government wasn't renewing all of them. Disengagement by some of Shaw Industries' partners had also played a part. It wouldn't be apparent for a month or two, but everyone knew what was coming- for the first time in over twenty years, Shaw Industries was going to post a loss for the next quarter.

It wouldn't be large loss, and in a company with a less thoroughly top-down leadership, it would probably come and go with only some mild reconstruction. But since Sebastian Shaw made all the main decisions, the loss would be pinned to him. People on the Board started talking. Some wondered if Sebastian's 'other job' had dug too far into his leadership on a corporate level.

That had been when Sebastian had contacted Crane, to reinforce his godlike leadership of the Board. It hadn't been hard, most of them would not have seriously contemplated rebellion anyway. It was precisely the sort of work Crane loathed, though. He'd found himself in dire need of some entertainment after that. Something to take his mind off of work.

The girl was a sweet young thing, obviously new to her trade- she was not a cunning enough actor to fake it. And Crane had been the picture of civility. Then she'd come home with him and he'd started. And now? Now that sweet thing was gently swaying on the end of a belt. Life is cheap, isn't it?, Crane thought as he casually sipped a glass of wine. He'd allowed her to speak her own will so she could beg, all in that sweet, innocent voice, while her hands and arms did the work. And then when the belt had cut off her breath, all she could do was stare at him. He could have cut her down if he'd wanted to, and sometimes he did, made them feel grateful. Just before he finished them another way. But he'd needed to watch someone die right then so he'd been a little hasty with her.

The man who'd given Marcelo the tip hadn't wished to be named. All he'd said was that he knew where Crane lived, and that he would be home that night.

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He hadn't mentioned exactly where he went to his wife. Just that he was going out on patrol. But the man under the Vesper mask had been stalking Reginald Crane since their return from Brazil. The tip had come when he was starting to get itchy to do something to the man.

Of all the people in Shaw's circle, this man was the one Vesper could handle.

With wings outstretched, Vesper flew high through New York City's sky to Crane's penthouse. His hearing focused ahead of his arrival to make sure there would be no unpleasant surprises for the Brazilian. There would be a reckoning. For what Crane had done to Stephanie, others Vesper had swooped in to catch, and those the vigilante had been too late to save.

There was a guard near the door of the house, armed, but solitary. Too many personnel brought attention, when Crane was supposed to keep a low profile. After all, he was supposed to be a simple lawyer. Crane poured himself a drink, continuing to watch the girl sway softly. Soon, he'd have to get his guard to cut her down and dispose of the body. But he wasn't quite ready yet.

No doubt, Sebastian will have fresh orders for me tomorrow. Crane realized he'd have to think of his options. The man's powers were clearly slipping away from him. Perhaps he could cut a deal with one of the others in Hellfire's aegis. Essex, perhaps, or Selene.

He had no idea that Vesper was coming.

The very soft yet rhythmic creak of leather filled Vesper with dread. He had to listen to it for the entire two miles until he silently alit on the roof. He folded in his wings and concentrated on how many people were breathing and where they were in relation to where he landed.

As he got a sense of locations, he moved toward the closest point ingress his armored body could get through. Panes of glass were not going to bother him much. He could put his entire body behind the momentum in.

And it would all happen silently.

The absence of sound meant that neither Crane nor his guard were aware of what happened. Neither moved from their current position. For his part, Reginald Crane was about half-finished the drink he'd poured himself and was thinking, that once he was done, he'd have to get the guard to cut the girl down.

Next time he'd take more time with the girl. She was a sweet thing, but he'd been a little hasty with her.

"Stress. It does funny things to a man." Reginald spoke in a soft voice, as if addressing her. "It wasn't your fault, though." He raised his glass in a silent toast before draining it.

If the soles of his boots weren't as thick as they were, Vesper could have felt the glass crunching under his feet. As it was, he couldn't hear it and put no thought toward the shards he was tracking across the room. He grimaced slightly. The closest window to Crane's breathing had been in another room.

He slipped out of the room and cocked his head. Verifying where the speaking was coming from, he edged toward an open door.

Vesper took in a deep breath and extended his silence field out to it's furthest limit. Six feet wasn't much, but it was what he had. He whipped around the corner of the door and ran with long, loping strides directly at Reginald Crane. Years of moving via ginga made him move from side to side as he went forward. He missed the body hanging between the door and Crane by simple rhythmic motion.

Vesper's mouth had curled into a snarl as he went right for the sadist.

There were many people in the Hellfire Club who could have stopped Marcelo then, or at least avoided his attack. Or, indeed, whom Marcelo would not have any ability to hurt. But Crane was an exception. Though his power was hideously effective against most people, as the swaying woman (who bore more than a passing resemblance to Stephanie) silently attested to.

But Crane had no superhuman speed or strength or toughness, nor did he even have the time to speak at length. All he had time to do was to shout out "Stop!" as loud as he could, in the hope that it would at least make Marcelo hesitate.

There was no hesitation. First of all, because he didn't even hear the command. Second, even if he could hear it, Crane had no effect on him due to his augmented protection on his hearing.

Vesper didn't stop. He lashed out with a fist toward Crane's jaw. Punches weren't his specialty, but this was vastly more personal, and he wanted to watch what happened when someone who had been taking boxing lessons connected.

The effect was more akin to watching a mouth explode than to what many people associated with a punch. Teeth and blood went flying as Crane went down onto his bed, sputtering and wide-eyed at the fact that his command had no effect whatsoever. He looked up at Vesper with real fear in his eyes.

"I have money, power. What do you want? I can give it to you ..." If Marcelo couldn't hear the words, he could hear that the man was begging, sputtering. However, the testimony to his evil remained right there in the room with them, swaying softly.

Vesper dropped his silence field as he looked down at Crane. He could easily get the gist of what was being begged for. He nodded toward the poor woman hanging in the room.

"Bring her back to life then." He waited, tense as a spring for Crane's next move. Because the next part wouldn't be clean or neat on his part. But vengeance never was. He tempered the desire to beat the man to death. That was not his way even if he felt he wanted to.

"She's nothing." Crane replied, spitting out more blood and a loosened tooth. His normally immaculate appearance now stained by blood and fear. "Do you know who I work for? Sebastian Shaw. One of the most powerful men on the planet. If you kill me, he'll hunt you down." He reached for a drawer, inside which was a gun. The move was quicker than might've been expected of a middle-aged lawyer, but Marcelo had time to stop him if he was swift about it.

Vesper leapt at the move. He was a magnificent grappler. His red belt in Brazilian jiu-jitsu was well-earned. The bed wasn't ground, but ground-fighting techniques would work just as well on it. With Crane trying to reach for a drawer, it was easy to get a back grab.

It was a good start to kinetic chess. This wasn't the bruising bluster of Crane's employer. This was skill and physical manipulation honed through years of practice. Vesper wrapped his legs around and hooking Crane's thighs with his heels. Crane's upper body would be controlled by arms wrapped around his neck.

"I know exactly who you work for, and I don't care. He won't be hunting me," he said almost conversationally in Crane's ear. "I'm not here to kill you. There's always worse things than death."

In truth, most of Marcelo's magnificent skills were wasted, because in the final analysis, he was grasping a pasty, middle-aged white-collar professional, who was hardly going to put up effective resistance, though he writhed as hard as he could.

"Please ..." Crane managed to choke out, but none of his struggles had any effect on Marcelo's grip.

"How much begging have you heard that you were unmoved by?" Being a weaker opponent, Marcelo could keep this submission hold up with one arm. Which let his other hand reach into one of his pouches.

"How many times did the women have no chance to beg?" He tightened his grip a little on that question. Though he quickly reined in his temper and loosened it back down to a solid grip.

Crane tried to struggle as much as possible, but he wasn't getting anywhere, even with the one hand. He took a shuddery breath and then seemed to relax, as if accepting the inevitability of what was going to happen.

"Do you really want to hear? Or are you just trying to prolong this any way you can?" Crane's strange detached manner seemed to reassert itself. "Perhaps you're not much better than I am, after all."

"I heard you liked to talk. I was giving you a chance." He pulled a gas pellet out of his pouch. Held in a condensed state in Crane's mouth, the chemicals inside the knock-out gas pellet should hopefully do some damage. Vesper was shooting for damage to the vocal cords, but tongue, mouth, and esophagus were great targets as well.

He tightened his grip on Crane's neck. One thing choked people instinctively do is open their mouths to gasp for breath. That would be the opening Vesper needed to get the pellet in.

Once in, he would shift his grip from the neck to the jaw. Using Crane's own teeth (or the ones still left in his head) to break open the pellet felt like the best option. Clapping his hand over the man's mouth and nose would keep the gas where Vesper wanted it.

Crane's eyes bugged out again as Marcelo's grip strengthed around his throat and he opened his mouth, having the pellet go inside. Once Marcelo shifted his grasp, the pellet broke inside his mouth and the gas was released. Crane started struggling again, frantically, stronger than before, but not stronger than Marcelo.

There was nothing he could do. The poison would be taking its effect, one way or the other.

Edited 2015-04-09 17:50 (UTC)

Vesper held his breath as he shifted to just having his grip over Crane's mouth for a few quick heartbeats. Just enough to make sure the knockout gas did what he wanted.

Then he quickly disengaged from the man and got off the bed. As strong as the impulse to just leave the man to his fate was, the costumed vigilante kept an eye on him. Vengeance worked better on the living.

Reginald Crane was unconscious, for certain, but he was also breathing in a fairly regular way. The indication seemed to be that whatever damage was done, wouldn't kill the man. As for the severity of the damage, it would be hard to say, but the man wasn't going to be talking anytime soon.

Vesper backed away from the bed and let the knockout gas that streamed out of Crane's mouth dissipate before he approached the bed. He made sure Crane was positioned so if he vomited, he wouldn't choke on it.

Then he turned toward the body dangling. He rubbed his eyes with one hand, feeling exhausted. He just hadn't been fast enough to save her. Vesper got up to cut her down. He ignored the grisly reality of what a body does when one dies. He gently laid the young woman's body in the bed next to Crane. It was the best he could do for her at the moment.

Vesper silently went back out the way he got in. Once airborne and away from the penthouse, he placed an anonymous call about a woman's screams for help. It would be too late for the police like it was him. He turned a wide arc in the sky and headed toward home.

Despite the victory, Vesper didn't feel the need to patrol anymore that night. Once Shaw got wind of what happened to his lackey, home might be the safest place for the man-sized bat.

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A Little Revenge, Justly Earned (Marcelo)

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If I don't catch you tonight, you'll probably have to give me some info on how this affects him ...

CATCH ME IF YOU CAN!

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