Chapter 305 You.

Chapter 305: 305 You.

It was an incredibly sober, heavy group gathered around the polished obsidian of the World Domination Table by the time I finally finished my debriefing.

Glacia’s pale hands were clenched. The freezing perimeter expanded rapidly toward Rhea’s ceramic mug, forcing the dog-girl to urgently snatch her coffee up and huddle deeper into her coat collar to preserve her body heat.

"That absolute bastard!" Glacia growled, her icy blue eyes flashing with aristocratic fury. "Accursed, dirty demon! To think he would dare participate in such a cowardly, dishonorable frame-up against this league. He should have been honored to die for you on the spot, sir!"

Well, that was probably taking the loyalty angle a little far.

"Er, right," I said, leaning back in my heavy leather chair. "But to be completely objective, I don’t really blame Belial for this. He’s magically bound to a sadistic summoner. He didn’t have a choice in the matter."

"I still blame him," Rhea grumbled fiercely, glowering over the rising steam of her drink, her fuzzy ears pinned flat against her head. "Give me the word, Miles, and I will personally write a localized, high-yield malware worm to aggressively fry whatever remains of those occult servers. I’ll hack his summoner’s offshore bank accounts, leak his grimoires to the dark web, and digitally Rick-Roll the bastard into the stone age."

"I absolutely appreciate the enthusiasm, Rhea, but I highly doubt you’ll find the projection sitting on a hard drive," I said gently. "Even if it is cached somewhere in the code, Jester will have hidden it behind layers of encryption. And it completely fails to solve our primary issue anyway. Which is that Jester is still actively maneuvering to put us in a corner."

"I say we just let the creepy clown come to us!" Psyren declared, flashing a vicious, bloodthirsty grin. Neon pink energy crackled across her knuckles. "I’ll scramble his painted brains and fuck him right up!"

I had to admit, I was genuinely touched by their absolute, ride-or-die willingness to throw down. But I was also deeply terrified for them.

The girls were incredibly lethal, but Jester was an entirely different class of monster. Given the option, I’d vastly prefer they never cross swords with that specific psychopath.

But things being what they currently were, avoiding him was looking like less and less of a viable option every single day.

If it ultimately came down to a violent confrontation, then I was going to damn well stack the deck heavily in my favor.

"I appreciate the lethal feelings, everyone. But we are absolutely not going to run headfirst into a war with a seated member of the Council of Nine like a bunch of brainless berserkers. We desperately need a concrete plan to take him down."

Glacia grimaced, forcing herself to calm down a fraction. Or, at the very least, the creeping ice stopped expanding across the mahogany. "It will not be an easy feat, sir. There have been countless heavily armed syndicates who have aggressively tried to kill him before. He has not lived as long as he has by being a tactical fool."

"Normally, I’d completely agree with you," I said, resting my forearms on the table. "Jester isn’t like any villain out there. But that absolutely does not mean he hasn’t been successfully beaten before."

Glacia cocked her head at me, "Sir?"

I settled back in my chair, interlacing my fingers as I looked down the length of the table at her.

"Glacia, Jester is a universally known, tier-one threat to the global public. But he hasn’t successfully conquered the world yet for one extremely simple, glaringly obvious reason. He is a colossal, unapologetic dick."

"Well, yes, sir. I am fully aware of his lack of manners. But—"

"No, no," I interrupted, waving a hand. "I don’t just mean because there are other rival villains and A-list heroes who would actively team up to thwart his expansion. See, Jester is a very particular, highly specialized breed of cape. He’s a vindictive, obsessive bastard. He actively collects personal enemies.

"I’ve been surviving in this business for a long time, and I’ve meticulously studied the greats. Jester is undeniably one of them. He’s fought dozens of heroes over the decades.

"He practically goes out of his way to aggressively piss people off. And why? Because fundamentally, Jester is a pathological Archvillain."

"Like, a really great villain?" Rhea asked, tilting her head.

I nodded. "That too. But in this specific industry, an Archvillain explicitly means a villain who obsessively arches a very specific protagonist. A pathological, dedicated hater.

"He’s the exact sort of villain who finds one specific hero—or one specific person—that they really, really don’t like, and spends every single waking moment plotting how to meticulously make that person’s life a living, breathing hell.

"He hates someone so incredibly much that he’s basically made a lucrative, lifelong career out of being a massive dick to them.

"And for Jester, his ultimate, defining protagonist is Dr. Bradburn Thaumaturge."

Glacia tilted her head thoughtfully, her icy eyes narrowing as she accessed her memories. "This is remarkably true, sir," she said slowly. "My father absolutely despised conversing with Jester at the annual galas, primarily because the clown would talk endlessly, for hours on end, about his burning hatred for Bradburn.

"Oh!" Psyren gasped, grinning broadly and enthusiastically punching a fist into her open palm. "So we’re going to recruit this Bradburn guy to fight Jester for us? Enemy of my enemy style?"

"It’s a solid thought," I said cautiously. "But it’s far from a guaranteed. It’s certainly our best option, given the absolute shit-show currently going on with the federal warrants. Glacia?" I asked, looking her way.

She straightened sharply in her chair. "Sir?"

"Do you happen to know anything actionable about Dr. Bradburn? Anything at all we can tactically use as leverage?"

"Forgive me, sir," she said, bowing her head in genuine shame. "I absolutely do not. I took very little academic interest in Jester’s mortal nemesis."

"It’s totally fine," I told her smoothly, waving off the apology. "You had absolutely no reason to actively track him. Rhea?"

"Mmmm, lemme see what I can dig up on the fly," Rhea hummed. Her fingers became a furious blur as they danced across the keyboard of her laptop.

"Here we go! Accessing his public and classified files now. Dr. Bradburn Thaumaturge. High-end mechanical engineer, theoretical astrophysicist...

"He formally owns and operates Thaumaturge Industries, and holds massive controlling interests in a number of global businesses and philanthropic shell companies."

He was deeply middle-aged, ruggedly handsome, with sharply cut, expensive hair and a pair of tinted designer glasses.

"Highly interesting," I murmured, stroking my chin. "I don’t suppose a guy with that kind of net worth takes unannounced walk-in visitors very easily, does he?"

Rhea shook her head, her dog ears flopping as she aggressively scrolled through his social calendar. "Mmm. Nope, doesn’t look like it at all. Although... looks like he actively attends a massive lot of high-society parties.

"Big-name, red-carpet stuff. Usually massive corporate fundraisers and charity galas. Twenty-thousand-dollars-a-plate kind of VIP deals.

"Mmm. Yes! Looks like he’s actually hosting one in exactly two days. Some generic ’feed the orphans’ tax write-off crap. Strictly invitation only, though."

"Dammit," I cursed heavily, slamming a hand down on the armrest of my chair.

Well, that entirely ruled me out of a direct approach.

Considering my face was currently sitting at the very top of the federal Most Wanted list thanks to No Whey’s publicized murder, I was definitely not on the VIP guest list this weekend.

"So much for that angle."

"Pfffft—AHAHAHAHA!"

A sudden, bright peal of melodic, bubbling laughter violently shattered the grim tension in the room.

"Oh, Milesyyyyyy~!" Lilith crowed in absolute, giddy delight.

I looked her way. The succubus demoness was currently floating cross-legged two feet above her chair, kicking her boots in the air.

Her spade-tipped tail was wagging back and forth with frantic, hyperactive joy, and she was radiating a bright, aggressively bubbly energy that felt like a sugar rush.

"You poor, gloomy little things!" Lilith giggled, clapping her hands together. "You’re all sitting around frowning like someone stole your favorite plushies! Surely you don’t actually think a silly little VIP list needs to be the end of our super-duper fun plan?"

I blinked, momentarily thrown by the energy radiating off a creature of the hell. "What exactly do you mean by that, Lilith?"

Lilith flashed a wicked, heart-stopping smirk. She leaned forward, resting her chin adorably in her hands, her glowing golden eyes half-lidded with playful amusement.

"I simply mean that even though you, my precious, heavily armored darling, may not be formally invited to such exclusive festivities... some of the absolute VIPs sitting in this very room most assuredly are!"

I stared at the floating, grinning succubus. "You?"