Paris glared across the street. He was hidden in an alley, waiting for Manifest's signal. Scattershot was hiding in a different alley. Mist would be off somewhere as well, keeping an eye on things. Because Jase thought they needed a babysitter.
Perhaps the most insulting part was the fact that he'd chosen Mist, that flaky kid who lived with her head in the clouds. Paris, Manifest and Scattershot were more than capable of taking care of themselves.
Paris held back a groan as he thought back to Jase's last orders, given yesterday. Paris had been bugging him for the entire week to let the Phalanx break loose. After that stunt Cold Snap and Shell had pulled, everyone was talking about them instead of the Phalanx.
It wasn't fair. The Phalanx was the Legion's number one enemy. Those twerps weren't even worth mentioning. And yet they'd gotten all the media coverage. Just because they'd killed someone. Well, Paris and his crew would show them! They'd make an even bigger spectacle so everyone would be talking about them.
Cold Snap and Shell had even showed up again a couple days ago. No one had died, but the reminder that they existed was clear. Meanwhile, the Phalanx had stayed silent for a while on Jase's orders.
Who was Jase anyway? Why should he get to pull all the strings? He'd told them to lay low for a bit after that last incident, but that would only lead to people forgetting about Paris and his Phalanx. Then suddenly yesterday, they're ordered to cause a kerfuffle. Why should an idiot like that get to call the shots? It'd be far better if Paris was truly in charge.
As it was, the Phalanx was stuck being someone else's mook. If he'd known things would turn out like this, Paris would have never stuck with them. He would have continued working independently, forming his own team beholden to no one.
Maybe it wasn't too late. Surely if he found a place to go, Manifest, Itera and Scattershot would follow him. He didn't need Mist. He didn't need Jase.
A large yellow ball flew through the air, signaling that it was time to strike. Paris grinned and leaped out of the alley, spewing poisonous gasses from his hands. He saw Scattershot out of the corner of his eye. More importantly, people were scared. Some screamed and scattered. Others froze where they stood.
A few of Scattershot's projectiles flew through the air. They didn't cause any major damage, but it was enough to spook people. Paris frowned. He was sure she had better aim than that.
He thickened the toxic gas, spreading it as far as he could. When was the last time he pushed himself this hard? Maybe back when the military had attacked his house. Speaking of, what ever happened to his place? It wasn't like he could go back and check on it.
A young woman struggled to run from him, but Paris caught up easily and held her down. If the Phalanx was going to be seen as a real threat, they had to do more than Cold Snap and Shell had. Naturally, that meant the Phalanx had to cause at least as many deaths. Paris would start with this girl.
He forced the poison into her, watching as she slowly grew pale and collapsed. A stomp to the neck for good measure later, Paris moved onto his next victim - a thirty-something woman.
"Quit it," Mist said firmly, glaring at him. Paris barely spared her a glance.
"Shut it and get out. I'm working."
"No. No killing."
"Too late." Paris squeezed the neck of his third victim. The flesh felt strange beneath his hand - both sturdy and soft. Maybe stomping on them was the better option.
"Stop. Now." Mist's eyes held emotion for perhaps the first time since he'd met her.
"What? Too scared to get your hands dirty?" Paris asked mockingly.
"They didn't do anything."
"So what? We've got to spread our names."
"Paris!" Manifest ran up to them, a gas mask over his face. "What are you doing? We were told to cause a ruckus, not kill anyone!"
"I'm calling the shots. This is my team in case you forgot."
"Bad Fartbreath." Mist floated up. "Evacuate! Move it people." Paris growled at her actions.
"You really willing to sit back while those Chaos creeps outdo us?" he asked, glancing at Manifest. He couldn't read the expression behind the gas mask, so he ignored him and kept moving.
Then the unthinkable. Manifest actually put Paris in a cage.
"You're out of control. Just because someone else stoops to a certain level doesn't mean we have to." Manifest was holding his hand over his face, as if trying to hold back the gasses. Paris generated more, but the cubic prison had no ventilation.
"Get out of there!" Scattershot called to him. Manifest nodded and stepped back, coughing.
Paris clenched his fists. Fine. If that was how it was going to be. Not only Jase undermined him, now even his own minions were.
A collection of people lay on the ground around him. Manifest hadn't been able to do anything about that. Some of them were probably dead. The others were probably dying. Now Paris would be remembered. The Phalanx would be remembered. They wouldn't be overshadowed by anyone else.
Mist was by Manifest, whispering something to him. Scattershot ran up to them, then spoke with them for a bit. Mist looked back at Paris as the other two nodded. Whatever they were saying, it didn't matter. Manifest had to let him go eventually. And when he did, Paris would just start work again.
He was Achilles' number-one rival. No one else could take that spot from him.
"We're cutting him off."
June's quite words made Ryder nod. Meadow as well. Ryder wasn't sure how much longer he could hold Paris, but the man was unhinged and needed to be stopped.
"What's the plan?" Meadow asked. "I can put a shot in his head right now."
June thought for a moment.
"Sure. That might be our best bet. I was thinking we'd just leave him and ditch the hideout, but your idea might be better."
Ryder sighed and looked at Paris. He used to think the guy would be a good friend. Those were few and far between in his world. In fact, Ryder didn't think he had any real friends. Just people who hadn't backstabbed him yet.
He thought back to a conversation they'd had with Jase a while ago.
"Paris seems like a good pawn to keep in our toolkit," Jase had said. "He can be a public face for us, and we can use his attacks as cover for thefts."
"What if he's more trouble than he's worth?" Aubrey had asked.
"Then I guess we get rid of him. Cut out the rot before it infects the whole system."
Jase hadn't flinched when he said it. Ryder hadn't been in the group for that long, but from what he understood, Jase had once done just that. Cut someone off and ruined them. It was why Ryder was so nervous about being useful.
Was today the day they cut out Paris? As Ryder looked at the deranged man in his cage, he found himself hoping that was the case. He was away from the gas for now, but he felt a pain in his chest every time he breathed from being too close. That was nothing compared to the stabbing pain from watching the life drain out of these people.
This was a line he didn't want to cross. A line they could never come back from. And June and Meadow seemed to feel the same way.
Paris banged against the inside of the cage. How long could Manifest keep this up? Maybe he should have sent more poison into him.
They were all useless.
The military began to arrive on scene and Manifest and the others scattered. Still, Paris was stuck in his cage. Cowards.
More poison gas spread around him, obscuring the military's vision. By the time the cage finally vanished, Paris was ready to run. It didn't matter if he was exhausted. Paris would not die here. He would not be caught here.
For Phantasma's sake. And for the sake of the role he'd chosen.
