Mod Superhero

Chapter 4.11 - Venture 9 / Clara 9

He'd wanted to do good.

It was an innocent, maybe even naive sentiment—especially in a world as corrupt and stagnant as their own. Even the Binary Brotherhood, an organization of artificers that should have been focused on moving humanity forward, were powerless. They were sworn to the same neutrality, stagnation, and stalemates like all other superhero organizations. Truly remarkable tech was not to be shared.

But Emmett's prosthetic nerve integration. That was harmless enough to fly under the radar.

Venture had been proud to share the news with Emmett, and Emmett had been just as proud to hear it. It was one of the things that endeared the boy to him.

"Emmett still needs debriefing after last night's events."

TINA's voice broke Venture out of his thoughts and brought him back to stark reality. TINA was right, of course. Emmett had been instrumental in the deaths of The Freakshow... every member but one. Havoc... Tatianna... Lou... Marie...

At some point—soon—they would have to discuss that.

Venture scoffed a laugh. "He was instrumental in the deaths of four people, and now he wants a fusion weapon."

"You should talk to him about it."

"I was hoping you'd do it. You're more than capable."

"It should come from a human who's dealt with the same feelings."

"...That would be best, wouldn't it?"

Venture hung his head. TINA was right—again. It would mean more coming from him, not because TINA hadn't killed anyone, but because Venture was human. And because he had killed someone.

He knew exactly how it felt.

Venture might've been a little further away, might not have used his hands to do it... but he knew. Just because it was easier to kill by pulling a trigger, didn't make it any different. The bullets took little pieces of you with them when they left the chamber. Left holes in you, just like the people you...

"You also need to talk to Clara about what happened to Torque."

Venture waved away the concern. "Torque was my call. Clara didn't do anything."

"Clara doesn't see it that way."

An image of Clara appeared on the screen. It was the middle of the night—last night—and she was walking through the living room to get a glass of water. She shivered violently and wrapped her arms around her chest. Her face was wet with tears.

Venture couldn't remember the last time she looked so cold and vulnerable. Maybe the day after her mother...

Venture felt like he'd been punched in the stomach. He walked over to the lone chair in the room and sat down. Bile swirled in his throat, and Venture forced himself to breathe slowly and steadily.

There hadn't been any other way.

There hadn't been...

Somehow, Emmett killing four people mattered far less than his own daughter being even partially responsible for one. She wasn't responsible—Clara had to know that. She had to.

Venture leaned forward, propping his elbows up and resting his head in his hands.

"What can I say? What can I even say to her? I shouldn't have..."

Venture remembered how utterly hollow he'd felt after that first time, and now he'd made his daughter feel the same way.

Tears welled up behind his glasses. "What can I say to her, TINA? Tell me what to say."