Sixth Sin: The Blooming Beasts (Pt. 5): Speaking With A Floral Father

  --- Mercer ---

  Silence reigned for a moment, until at last the other masked man said, “What.”

  “Look, it’s a whole thing… but yes or no, are you a sex demon?” Mercer asked once more, a smile on his hidden face as he reveled in the sheer confusion pouring off of the other man.

  “Why would you ask that?” The suited man audibly frowned.

  (Because it’s funny.) “Because your minions have tentacles that are currently pinning me in place and… my wife is into some stuff. Some stuff that makes me very wary of tentacles.” He explained, forcing himself not to laugh. “So I’ll reiterate, are you or are you not a sex demon that is about to do unspeakable things to my innocent body? Things that my wife would absolutely steal my helmet to watch later while providing commentary that neither you nor I want to hear. Most notably about how vanilla you are for a tentacle sex demon while insulting the acting I’m using. Which would mostly be because she thinks I’m cute when annoyed, which mutual, but still.”

  The flower masked man simply stared at him again, the sheer level of ‘what the fuck’ the villain gave off more than enough to refuel Mercer’s forbidden power of trolling.

  Eventually the floral villain shook his head and waved a hand towards Mercer, “I-I am not going to do this…”

  He let out an affronted gasp. “Why the fuck not? I am a fucking catch thank you very much. I’ve got a six pack of muscles and degrees. You’d be lucky to score a stud like me, you limp stamen fucker.

  “You… you do realize I’m holding you captive, don’t you?” The floral mask checked, clearly nearing a breaking point. “That I can kill you with but a snap of my fingers, right?”

  “No, I didn’t realize that…” He sarcastically confessed, while making a show of his bindings, mostly to test and see if the plants had loosened their grip at all. (Nope, need to keep the distraction going.) “What I did realize however is that the only pollination you do is with your own pistil, verbascum!”

  He wasn’t sure if it was wishful thinking -or is undeniable if mild psychosis- but he could’ve sworn that several of the blooming beasts around him let out a wide eyed gasp at that. (At least the plants that aren’t asexual anyway… Then again, I did bring race into it too.)

  The Mask stared at him for a moment before slowly telling him that, “I was expecting a Vigil to be a little more… serious than this.

  “Well, I am an ex-Vigil.” He explained with a shrug. “Don’t feel bad, everyone makes that mistake… before I shoot them. Which I will be doing by the way.”

  Rather than being intimidated by his double tap skull, the villain simply noted that, “So what you’re saying is that once I kill you I don’t have to worry about the other Vigils coming to stop things.”

  “Possibly, then again they are just as nosy as me…” He paused to consider that. “Actually, they’re worse than me. I at least respect the boundaries of the Way and stay inside while they stay outside of it.” Then he remembered that he was technically outside of the Way for the third time that month. “Until it inconveniences me anyway.”

  “And you are such an inconvenience.” The mask told him.

  “That I am.” He nodded, using the exaggerated motion to check on Kur’silo’s position. (I’ve been stalling for a good minute now, why hasn’t he set this fucker on fire yet?)

  He knew for a fact that Kur’silo would not hesitate to douse him in accelerant if it completed their goal, that very strategy having won them at least two separate fights. (And no matter what Tris says, a plan isn’t insane if two out of three people think it’s a good idea.)

  Unfortunately, when he looked up he couldn’t find the Inferni Hunter. (Where the fuck did he go?!)

  If he was on his own, or worse Kur’silo had gotten himself captured, then he needed to flip the script quickly. (Don’t react and survive, adapt and thrive.)

  Thinking quickly he put on his usual devil may care attitude and doubled down, pretending that he was still in complete control of the situation. “So, before I make my daring escape, shoot you, and burn your army alive, what exactly is the point of all this? Like is there an evil corporation in the city that wronged you, are you simply planning on conquering the city, selling minions for profit, or what? I like to know what level of crazy I’m dealing with so I know whether to put that bullet in your leg or your head.”

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  “I’d say I’m not crazy, but I am self-aware enough to know that all of this is not the work of a sane man.” The mask confessed with a gesture towards his gruesome garden.

  “Yeah, the moment you think putting on a mask and solving your problems with violence is the solution you’re legally crazy by society’s standards.” He sighed with a sympathetic nod as he began to subtly undo the straps on his grapplers. “I mean, there are certain problems that deserve violence, what with the whole paradox of tolerance, but hey I get it. Can’t have the guy who carried around a duffle bag full of decapitated crime lords ruining christmas… even if Santa invites me on the Holiday Run every year.”

  The masked man stared at him for a moment. (A pattern is forming.) “I… increasingly feel like I’m not the crazy one between us.”

  “Fair.” He admitted while vaguely shifting his hips to try and loosen the dead flower’s death grasp on his waist. “Though speaking of the scale of crazy, have you gotten to the point of giving yourself a punfully punny name yet?”

  “No, I didn’t see the point in bothering.” The floral villain answered with a shrug. “After all, fame and infamy hold no value to me.”

  “Then what does hold value?” He wondered, adjusting his footing in the hopes of getting some kind of leverage, in both senses of the word.

  Withdrawing a small locket the man solemnly answered, “My wife and child…” before snapping the locket shut and shaking his head. “Unfortunately, dreams of that life have since passed.”

  “Ah, vengeance.” He realized with a grimace. (So not one of the ‘shoot ‘em in the head’ villans…)

  “In a sense…” The floral villain sighed almost wistfully. “Though I doubt things will stop at that point.”

  He… was almost glad Kur’silo hadn’t set everything on fire.

  “And what if… I kidnapped whoever is responsible for the death of your wife and child?” Child killers were very firmly on his ‘don’t care if they die’ list.

  “If this was just two months ago I think that offer might’ve worked.” The man admitted. “Unfortunately, things have progressed a bit too far to be able to stop here.”

  “Never too late to do the right thing.” He reminded the other man, as cheesy as it was.

  “Unless you believe you are doing the right thing.” The floral villain pointed out, adjusting his flower mask. “That’s why you’re trying to kill me, isn’t it? Because it’s the right thing to do?”

  “Eh, stopping you is the right thing to do. Killing you… is just the easiest way to do it, not necessarily the best.” He explained, because people always mixed that up with him. (If I could save the Way without killing I would, but… it isn’t that easy.)

  The floral villain let out a huff, somewhere between amusement and resignation. “I suppose I should hope you still feel like that in a few hours.”

  His eyes narrowed at that red flag. “What’s happening in a few hours?”

  The masked man stared at him for a moment, this time more considering his question than questioning his sanity, before eventually telling Mercer. “The Way was a testing ground of sorts. Similar plants to these have been sent throughout the city. In a few hours they’ll all be waking up.”

  (Unless Tris’s ritual kills them all before they can wake up.) No matter how much he might sympathize with the widower, he had no intention of pointing that out until after the fact.

  “After that’s done… I’ve no idea.” The floral villain confessed. “We’ll probably end up with a pair of kill warrants, a life on the run, but… I don’t know…”

  He froze for a moment, briefly glancing towards where Kur’silo should’ve been, before asking, “We?”

  “Yes, me and my wife.” The masked man nodded. “She’s currently out dealing with… another obstacle.”

  (Shit! She must be after Tris, and if his sister SOS’d him…) Well he wouldn’t blame Kur’silo for doing the exact same thing he would if it was his sister.

  That did confirm Mercer was on his own however. (Meaning I can’t waste anymore time.)

  Not wasting another moment, he dropped his gun and threw his knife at his hip, the blade faintly piercing his own flesh as it dug through the dead vines holding him in place. Then after blindly firing his grapplers, uncaring of what they hit, as he used their new found momentum to pull his arms free of them and in turn buying himself enough space to free his arms.

  With his hands free, Mercer quickly grabbed his knife and severed the vines tightening around his throat, vaguely nicking his own neck as he broke free. With nothing restricting his movements, he quickly crouched to the ground to grab his fallen gun before just as quickly taking three steps forward and putting it beneath the masked man’s chin.

  All around him the various blooming beasts froze, half-way through lunging at him, somehow aware that if they followed through they’d be attacking their own master. (Was fifty-fifty on that step of the plan.)

  Now sure that he wasn’t going to have to make a mad scramble to recollect his grapplers while under siege from all sides, he proceeded to wrap an arm around his new meatshield, making sure the floral villain couldn’t escape. “Alright, here’s what’s going to happen. You are going to walk me out of here, and you’re going to help me to stop your wife from killing a lot of people. Otherwise, I’m going to have to shoot you and hope for the best.”

  “Actually, I’d rather you not do that last part.” A (way too familiar) voice interrupted, drawing both his and the masked villain’s attention down the garden path.

  Standing in front of them and blocking arguably Mercer’s easiest exit was a masked man with his hands on his hips. The black and blue suit, and vague V insignia on both the man’s chest and the large shield strapped to his forearm left little doubt about who this was.

  Which is why Mercer couldn’t help but think, (Ah, fuck it’s the himbo.)

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  So surrounded by an army of blooming beasts while holding their master hostage, and the city’s number 2 hero in front of you… How are you going to get out of this?

  []-Write-In.

  (Note: Remember that Mercer wants to avoid mentioning that he’s working with the Hunters and has to get to them to back them up.)