Unheroic

Chapter 2: "Dairy-Driven Destruction"

AKA: "Always Check The Tags"

Anna Baxter was in hell.

She absolutely hated dealing with this type. Everyone did, really. But the fact that she ran a very successful business meant she was practically guaranteed to meet at least one a day.

Now she had no choice but to sit there and listen to him because, like it or not, there wasn't much you could do when the person pissing you off had a gold tag. A lot of them were more than happy to wave their Factor around and a lowly iron-wearing X didn't stand a chance.

"Yeah, it's kind of a big deal. I try not to let it go to my head. I mean, I'm just another guy, just like anyone else," Meatstick said, brushing his hair back and tilting his head so his tag caught the light. "Except, you know, better."

"Right," Anna muttered. She was currently in the midst of an internal debate as to whether or not she could drown herself in her own ice-cream and if it would be a good idea to try.

Wait.

The moron was going to let her touch him anyway. He had to if he wanted his snack to have that extra kick which was, to be honest, probably the only reason people lined up for it. It'd be the easiest thing in the world to give him a little something to think about.

Her Factor was really limited. She could only affect one sense's perception of a single thing, and it wore off in around half an hour. Normally she used it to augment how a person's taste perceived her ice-cream, but…

Maybe she should warp is perception of the Sun until every bit of light felt like it was burning a hole in his brain. It might be more fun to mess with his tactile sense, though. She could easily make his clothing feel like it was made of acid-covered belt sanders. Or she could just warp his scent until it felt like the smell of his own sweat was suffocating him.

An iron tag didn't necessarily mean the person wearing it was helpless or harmless. Some people needed to be reminded of that now and then. There'd be hell to pay, but…

The terminal attached to her cart let out a soft beep. That was a bit odd, because it wasn't something it should be doing. Pretending to still be listening to Rectum Raider, she reached down and tapped the screen to bring the display to life.

Advance Purchase: 2450C

Tip: 500C

Loss and Damages: 1000C

Transaction Total: 3950C

Transaction Complete.

Sorry about the mess…

That worked too.

"That works too," she muttered. Smiling, she turned and began loading a large cone down with as much frozen cow lactation as it could reasonably hold.

"-so I wouldn't mind if you wanted to, you know- Hey! I wanted pistachio."

Anna smiled and added another extra scoop onto the teetering mound. "Oh, I know."

"That's not pistachio."

"Yeah, I know that too. Don't worry, this one isn't for you," Anna declared. "Could you do me a favor and aim for the dress shop this time? They just finished rebuilding the bistro, and I kind of like it."

A black sphere arced into the air, bouncing off a utility pole and rolling to a stop at the base. It was quickly followed by a second, this one on an extremely high trajectory. It only took Anna a split second to lose track of it in the sky.

"Dress shop?" Anal Abuser asked with a confused look on his face. "Who said anything about a dress shop?"

Someone smacked him on the back.

"Screw off. Wait your turn," he snapped. "Can't even talk to someone without some ass-"

There was another, more insistent pat.

"Goddamnit! That's it!" Trouser Snake snapped, whirling around. "What the hell do.. You… uh…"

It was fairly understandable that he lost steam and trailed off. No matter how badass you think you are, realizing someone was pointing an extremely large gun at the center of your face was enough to give you pause. The weapon was like an unholy cross between a revolver and shotgun. It had a long, heavy barrel with excessive amounts of porting and a large cylinder that definitely wasn't sporting .38 rounds. It was quite a bit beyond what you could reasonably expect someone to use.

"Want?" Dan finished with a friendly smile. "Ice-cream. Duh."

"Dude, you don't want to start-"

Smiling wider, Dan announced, "Douchebag, corner pocket," and pulled the trigger. The gun made a piercing crack loud enough to make everyone with two hundred feet reflexively flinch. It was accompanied by a loud hiss as hot gas poured out of the top and sides of the barrel.

Ramrod was launched backwards like he'd just been hit by a train. His short flight ended when he hit the utility pole, then resumed when the explosive at the base detonated. The blast launched him upwards to meet the second sphere in midair. The violent explosion drove him down into the concrete sidewalk hard enough for him to bounce. Just as he reached the top of his arc, the circular disk adhered to his back and drove him towards the storefronts.

Dan stared with wide eyes as he clipped the chunky metal security relay, skewing his trajectory. He rocketed through the air and plowed through the center of the public monitor. There was a series of screams, angry yells and exasperated shouting.

The monitor stayed alive just long enough for Xavier to declare, "That's not the first little prick I've had me," then flickered out.

Anna turned and raised an eyebrow, giving Dan an inquiring look.

"Uh… Yeah! Nailed that… uh…"

{The public works directory lists it as a coffee shop, Love.}

"Nailed that coffee shop!" he cheered. "Because fuck coffee!"

"I watched you stand in line three times last week. You got a coffee cone and a mocha cone. Oh, and a chocolate cherry," she pointed out, holding up the loaded cone. "That kind of goes without saying, though."

Dan shrugged. "I don't have anything better to do most of the time, and this is some good shit. C'mon, hit me with everything you've got."

Anna sighed and handed him his snack, then ran a finger down the back of his hand. The contact left a weird tingle that he just couldn't seem to get used to. "You realize that if you ever hit my stand you're cut off, right?"

"Oh, come on. My aim ain't that fuckin' bad."

Raising her hand, she pointed behind him and across the street to indicate a brand new sitting area at the edge of the park. "You hit the gazebo a few weeks ago. The gazebo that's behind you. I'm still not really sure how you managed that."

Dan gave her an offended look and asserted, "Hey, that had nothing to do with my aim! I forgot I moved a bunch of shit around and used the wrong explosive on accident."

{Darling, that's probably worse than missing.}

"Oh, shut up," Dan snapped, then paused as he noticed Anna staring at him. "Sorry. Not you. The fuckin' voice in my head is talking way too much."

{But darling, I'm just doing everything I can to help you. *sniff* I just want to devote every fibre of my being to the man I love, that's all!"

"You don't even have a being to devote. It's all my being to begin with!"

"Right," Anna drawled. "Look, just don't hit my stand when you shoot my customers. Actually, don't shoot-"

She was drowned out as Dan raised his gun and pulled the trigger. Cornholer, who'd just started to climb out of the hole he made in the building, caught a projectile very similar to a .50 BMG in the gut and vanished back into the shop.

"Sorry, he looked like he was about to interrupt our conversation. That's a damn shitty thing to do," Dan announced as he stared up at the shop. Intermittent flashes of light were coming from it, along with the sounds of a scuffle. "Huh. What the hell's happening up there?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe it has something to do with a guy getting thrown through the wall?"

"Kinda a silly thing to get all riled up over. Then again, I'd probably get pretty pissed if some asshole landed in my coffee," Dan decided. "This shit's probably gonna get blamed on me. Better deal with it before it gets too bad."

Anna began slowly backing away.

"Storage-"

{Darling, you don't have to say that every time. I'm not an idiot like idiotic V2. I don't need a key phrase to know when I should be doing something for you. I'm always at your beck and call!}

Dan twitched. "This is gonna get annoyin', I'm thinkin'. Fine. Gimme the I-31 driver."

{I'll do anything for you, my Love!}

Twenty-five miles away, lights flickered to life in a dark warehouse. Shadows danced crazily as the sudden luminescence played across a large collection of… stuff. Dozens of guns lined the walls, dispensers full of ominous spheres, disks and blocks covered the floor, and there was no less than four assorted vending machines.

The lights quickly built in intensity, arcing upwards to embrace a large launcher. They shot up and down the length, tearing it apart and devouring the bits. In just a fraction of a second, it was no more.

At the same time, energy flowed from Dan's open hand. The darting lights disgorged the consumed pieces of gun and rapidly began reassembling it. In a little under an instant, it had been completely reformed.

{Spatial transfer complete. Peak energy usage was 23% of my primary aether reactor's capacity. Damn it, that's way too high. I'll take a look at the drivers and see if I can reconfigure the gap generator's hardware.}

"Good enough for now," Dan muttered. Hefting the gun - something like an oversized grenade launcher - he asked Anna, "You know what Iron-31 is?"

She shook her head.

"It's an artificial element, like mithril or oricalum. I made it by mashing together palladium, iron and hydrogen in a way that I'm told is impossible. They might've been onto something. Shit's ridiculously unstable," he explained, turning the launcher towards the gaping hole in the wall. "Starts to break down 'bout as soon as it hits air."

Knobgoblin appeared in the hole, angrily clawing his way through the wreckage of the monitor. "Son of a bitch, I'll-"

There was a deep, hollow thunking sound as Dan pulled the trigger. Something flashed out from the barrel, leaving behind a trail of green particles. It slammed straight into Tallywhacker's mouth, driving him back into the building yet again. A moment later there was a violent concussive blast, followed by a noise that can only be described as 'splut.' A small fountain of green goo erupted from the hole, then proceeded to hang from the building like an enormous wad of snot.

"It blows up pretty good and covers everything with that green shit for some reason. I've got no fuckin' idea why. Don't know what the hell it is, either," Dan said with a shrug. He released the launcher, allowing it to be devoured by spatial distortions. "And believe me, I've tried to figure it out. So the crap's useless, but I keep some around because it's funny as hell. Tastes like shit, though. He's probably gonna spend the rest of the day brushing his teeth."

Anna stared up at the oozing goo. "Uh, is that really okay? I mean…"

"Nah, it's cool," Dan reassured her. "It's perfectly harmless. Of course, I've never actually been dumb enough to eat it, and people weren't exactly lining up to lick my iron rod, but… In theory, at least, it's nontoxic."

"What I meant was that I don't think that's going to help whatever is happening up there."

Dan gave her a confused look as the gears in his brain turned. Suddenly a look of realization crossed his face. "Help! That's right, I was supposed to be helpin'. Shit. I see a riot goin' on and my first impulse is to lob a grenade into it and see how many people I can get pissed off…"

"..."

"Ah, c'mon. The green stuff's not a big deal. Not dangerous at all, as long as you don't-"

There was an enormous blast as a massive pillar of flame erupted from the building. Thick, greasy smoke that taste like a cat's hairball filled the air. People scrambled away and tried to take cover, shielding their purchases from the flying splinters and shards of glass.

"-set it on fire," Dan finished belatedly. "Fuckin' figures there'd be a fire Caster up there. I'm actually pretty upset I didn't see that comin'."

Anna sighed. "You know, I really wish you wouldn't engage in acts of mass destruction around my stand. It's bad for business."

"Oh, come on. You just made a week's profit off me."

{8.21 days, actually.}

"Damn it, shut up Niss. Besides, it's not like it was that bad, right? Barely anyth-"

There was a massive, drawn-out groan. It was followed by several metallic pinging noises. The huge public monitor lurched slightly and then, with another pained groan, lost its grip on the building and plummeted to the ground. There was a few surprised shouts as everyone that'd taken cover behind the cars suddenly realized they wanted to be somewhere else.

Well, everyone but one. A middle-aged man continued meandering his way down the sidewalk, seemingly heedless of the falling screen. Without even looking up from his newspaper, he swung an arm and backhanded the descending wreckage. There was another thunderous crash as the monitor was thrown back into the air. Eventually it came back down, crushing a row of cars and making quite a few people glad they'd decided to move.

Anna stared at Dan.

"Oh, come on. You really can't blame that-"

"Bastard! That was my car!" someone screamed. An enormous bolt of electricity shot through the air, hitting the newspaper-reading man and throwing him into the bistro. He charged back out just a moment later, roaring and tearing a utility pole out of the ground. Wielding it like an oversized club, he charged down the street.

"Well, at least-"

"The fuck!?" a mostly-naked, green-coated woman screamed as she clawed her way through the now monitor-free hole in the building. "Who the hell did that!?"

She looked up and down the street, searching for the perpetrator. Her eyes briefly rested on Dan and Anna, but quickly turned towards the brawl happening down the road.

"I'll kill you bastards! This was my favorite dress!" she screamed, raising a hand and then jerking it down. There was a ripple in the air above the charging man. Five-foot-long spears of jagged ice formed and fell towards him at ballistic velocities. In response, he swung the pole and knocked them out of the air, then threw it like a javelin. It slammed into the woman end-first, knocking her back into the building. If the crashes that followed were any indication, she made it through at least a few walls.

Dan sighed. "Well, at least-"

"You son of a bitch!"

"Damn it!" Dan snapped, raising his revolver and firing without looking. There was a shout and a loud crash. "Can I finish one damn- Wait. Was that the same guy? The dude I already shot once?""

Anna nodded and corrected, "Twice, actually. Three if you count the green stuff."

"Oh. Sorry," Dan apologized. "When you shoot enough people, they all start to blend together after a while."

"That's… a little worrying, honestly."

"Nah, you're good. You know what they say: 'Don't shoot the hand that serves you ice-cream.'"

"They don't say that. No one says that."

"Oh? Well, they should. It's good advice. Anyway, I better go. He's probably good an' riled up now. Don't want you to be an involuntary participant," Dan announced, turning as he raised his cone in salute. "Enjoy your afternoon off. You deserve it."

"You're lucky I'm easily bribed with mass purchases and absurd tips. Try not to kill anyone, okay? I kind of like having a day off now and then, and you can't start riots if you're in containment."

Shrugging, Dan started walking way. Crossing the street, he headed into District 3's Central Park.

There were two major design philosophies behind the designs of the six Containment Cities.

The first was to make any damage that might be caused by rampaging Xs easily and quickly repaired. To that end, the concept of replaceable parts had been applied on an incredible scale. Every structure in the city was constructed of premade segments that were something like jigsaw pieces. The ultra-light components could be used to repair or even rebuild damaged structures in an incredibly short time. It made the buildings a bit weaker, but that didn't really matter when you're talking about people that can throw a bus through a skyscraper anyway.

It also provided the weaker factors with a considerable amount of protection. Getting hit with an eight-ounce chunk of wreckage was a lot better than getting hit with an eight-pound chunk of wreckage. Most could brush off a hit that would cripple or even kill a human anyway, but a bit more protection is always nice.

The second philosophy was to limit said damage before it happened. A great deal of thought and expense had gone into creating a number of safeguards, most of which were useless. It was the simplest of all, the parks, that was the most effective. Every district aside from District 5 - where X weren't supposed to be, anyway - was dotted with them. The theory had been that aggrieved citizens would head toward the open areas to fight, thereby limiting the damage they caused.

For the most part, it worked. No one liked slogging hip-deep through ruined building while they went on a rampage. It just wasn't civilized. So, fighting X did actually did tend to head towards the nearest open area, especially those that were at a disadvantage in confined quarters.

Of course, the street also qualified as 'open' and tended to be a lot closer. The Administrative Division was still trying to figure out a solution for that minor issue.

The aptly named central parks were located in the center of each district.

(Well, technically District 8's was about a mile and a half off-center. The Maintenance Division has been pestering A-Dive about moving it for over sixty years now, but have thus far been denied. They've also been warned that if the park 'mysteriously' burns down and they 'happen' to reconstruct it a bit to the west, they'd be up shit creek.)

So, the mostly aptly named central parks were located more or less in the middle of each district. The massive tracts of land were a good part of the reason why Containments Cities had the most wilderness per capita of any city in North America.

Not that there was a lot of competition these days.

They were less like parks and more like small microcosms of the wilderness. Fields, hills and forest went on for an average of around six square miles. In Sea Isle, the substructure of the artificial island went all the way to the ocean floor beneath them, allowing deep layers of soil and dirt to take the brunt of the damage.

Entering the park, Dan took a bite of his ice-cream.

{LKjf dsss' kfjd'lkjrtk h sfnlknsaf;dl ndk/r.n ;ljk fhnfsd ffd}

His body suddenly went limp without his permission, dropping him unceremoniously to the turf. Luckily, his right arm seemed to be working on it's own set of instructions. It thrust outward, somehow keeping the unsteady tower of lactation balanced.

"What the fuck!?"

{REBOOT COMPLETE.}

Dan sighed as feeling returned to his body. Climbing to his feet, the growled, "What the hell was that?"

{Oh, I'm sorry my Darling. My sensory relay just put out more data than I could handle. It caused a momentary system failure. Don't worry, I'm correcting the problem now.}

"You better. If I get my ass kicked because you can't handle fuckin' ice-cream…"

{Don't worry. It won't happen again. It was weird, though. I crashed for a second, but it felt really, really good.}

"...did you just cream your pants? Did you seriously just bust a nut inside my head!?"

{...uh… Oops. Incoming.}

Whirling, Dan calmly observed the car flying towards him on a high trajectory. The large vehicle spun through the air, its surface-effect coils sparking and hissing as they tried to grab onto a surface that wasn't there.

"There we go. Yagrush."

Distortions ripped through the air, forming a metal structure around his arm. Heavy steel plates formed around his forearm. A large, spike plate appeared in front of his closed fist.

"Batter up!" he yelled, shifting his weight forward and setting his feet. The metal-clad arm came around just before the car hit him. There was a deep boom as flames shot out of the weapon, driving the plate forward. Just as it hit the car, there was another blast. The unfortunate vehicle suddenly reversed direction, hurling the way it had come at high speed.

Gobble Stick threw himself into the air, easily hurdling the large projectile. Sadly, that meant there was nothing to stop it as it flew across the road. Barely clearing the cars, motorcycles, people standing on cars, and one dude riding some kind of fucke-up metal tiger thing, it missed the ice-cream stand by less than a foot and slammed through the front window of the recently rebuilt bistro.

"Woops. I hope- Oh fuck!" Dan suddenly shouted, tossing his weapon aside grabbing his arm. "Fuck! Fuckin' hell! Jesus, I forgot how bad that shit hurts," he muttered. Holding his limb out to the side, he examined it. "Please tell me I didn't just break something…"

{Pain receptors were briefly under a 54% load, but you're fine otherwise.}

"Whew. Good deal. So, uh, nice throw?" Dan muttered, shifting his attention back to Ham Roll, who was looking at him like he was insane. "The fuck does everyone look at me like that? You're pissed, remember? You're trying to kick my ass, right?"

Shaking his head, Hot Dog declared, "Nuts or not, you barked up the wrong tree. I'm-"

"You realize you used that wrong, right? That idiom's about looking for somethin' in a place you ain't gettin' it," Dan chuckled. "You might wanna look out for that. Makes you look like a fuckin' retard."

"Whatever. I'm going to kick you ass. I'm an A-Rank, prick. It's not gonna be very hard."

"It was hard when I used it on your mom," Dan declared. He raised an arm and held his hand out as if he was holding something. His hips began thrusting, accompanied by small grunts. "Unf. Unf. Unf. You know she likes it rough, right? That bitch is a fuckin' freak."

"Come forth!" Impregnator snapped, holding his hand out. The ground around him tore itself apart, breaking into fine particles. The former soil swirled and gathered. In an instant, it became a large purple lance.

"Ooh, you're a Progenitor. Been awhile since I played one of you," Dan said. "What part've your little buddy is that? Claw? Fang? Stinger?"

Meat Tube yanked it out of the ground and thrust it towards Dan menacingly. "Bet you're sorry now, huh? If you ask really nice, maybe I'll only smack you around a l-"

Dan snickered. It was quickly followed by a snort. His face began to turn red, highlighting his strained expression. Finally, he gasped, "Oh, fuckin' hell," and collapsed to the ground laughing. Luckily, his right arm still seemed to be on the "save the cow cone" mode, holding it out and carefully balancing it as his body seized up in hysterical laughter.

"What the hell is wrong with you!?"

"N- Niss. Whatever m- makes you l- laugh, turn it off for a s- sec," he gasped out. Almost immediately, his laughter died.

{Anti-hysteria protocols activated for one hour. All better!}

Climbing to his feet, he took a deep, calming breath (not that he needed it now) and look at Jizz Wizz again.

The lance was long. It was also purple. From a blunt tip, it gradually tapered outward. The metal rose up just before the handle, forming a broad shield. Two turbines hung down from the shaft.

"Dude. You know you're holding a giant dick, right?"

"It's not a dick."

"Sure it is. It's got the sack and everything."

"It's not a dick."

"And that shield-thing is all bumpy. Kind of looks like pubes."

"It's not a dick."

"And the tip is all blunt and round. It's totally a glans."

"Whe the fuck does everyone say it's a dick!?"

"Maybe… Just maybe… because it's a dick. Sorry, I would've had a better response there, but that overloaded my fuckin' sarcasm circuits."

{We don't have sarcasm circuits, my love. That's controlled by-}

"Niss, it was a… nevermind," Dan sighed. "So, uh, don't take this the wrong way, but you ain't stickin' that in me. That barrel ain't loaded, if you know what I mean. I don't judge. Your choices are your choices. I'm just saying that your choices ain't gonna invade my sphincter."

The turbines hanging from Kibble 'n' Bits' lance began to spin. A low whine filled the air, growing more and more high-pitched as they came up to speed. Purple light flared to life within them, forming glowing circles around the edges.

"You know what? I was just gonna knock you around a little. Now I'm going to kill you," Beef Straw shouted. Shifting his weight forward, he pushed off the ground as the turbines screamed. Particles of purple light were left in his wake as he shot forward at inhuman speeds.

"Well, okay. You should probably watch out for the landmine, though."

Dipstick barely had time to register the warning, let alone react to it. His foot came down next to a small, metal disc. There was a slight click as the tremor caused some internal mechanism to shift.

The violent explosion released by the directional mine popped Nut Cannon into the air like he was some kind of nut being fired out of a cannon. It did nothing to halt his forward momentum, however. This resulted in him flying over Dan's head at high speed. A moment later there was a terrible crash as he touched down in a copse of trees.

"Why don't they ever watch out for the land mine? Ain't that kind of an important thing?" Dan inquired. Carefully watching the trees, he took a bite of his snack.

{Oh~. Oh god, yes~!}

He paused, staring at the frozen moo-juice.

"Y~eah, because that's not disturbing at all…"

There was another crash as Ol' One-Eye came charging out of it. His lance cut a purple trail through the air, dribbling light as it went."

"You gotta be kiddin' me. Yo! Watch your feet!" Dan warned

The charging X stopped short, digging a small trench as he dug his feet in. The sudden stop cause the energy to rush down his lance. It flowed down to the tip and exploded outward, leaving glowing spatters all over the turf.

{I'm reinforcing the anti-hysteria protocols beyond my system-defined upper limit. You almost broke through them right there, Love.}

"Dude, you know-"

"It did not fucking jizz!" Trouser Snake screamed.

Dan giggled. "Well, that too. But I was gonna tell you there's no landmine there. I was just fuckin' with your sorry ass."

"...you're dead."

There was another whine as Sir Lanced A Lot hurtled towards his target. Dan, for his part, tried very hard to ignore the voice in his head as he ate his ice-cream. He watched with interest as his assailant approached, casually nomming his noms.

Picksticker was only twenty feet away when something shifted under his foot.

Click.

Dan's gaze followed the explosive-driven man as he arced through the air. His body slammed into the roof of a passing car, clipped a utility pole and flew into the bistro.

"Why the hell do they always fall for that? If someone tells you there's no landmine, you should probably assume there's a fuckin' landmine. Add one to the count," Dan ordered

{57 out of 62.}

"Not bad. I- Woops."

Rectal Raider hurtled out of the poor, abused bistro. Instead of launching himself at Dan, he held his lance at an angle. The howling turbines carried him high into the air.

"Let's see you do that up here, asshole," he screamed as he launched himself high above Dan.

"Oh, you like bein' on top, huh? Sorry, I'm not really the sub type."

{I'm pretty sure you're a sadist, Love. Oh! Oh! Should I defy you to the very end and eventually break, or should I quietly accept and hope for rescue?}

"I'm gonna fuckin' kill Liss."

"I'm gonna fuckin kill you!" Piston Rod screamed, twisting around. His turbines fired, launching him down at an angle."

Dan hopped backwards, easily evading the simple charge. Polished Pine hammered into the ground like it was a $2 hooker. There was a blast, the violent impact throwing hunks of soil and grass into the air. They quickly fell, scattering themselves across and around the shallow crater Dan's playmate had made.

"I-"

"Yeah, yeah. I know. You got on the A list on power alone, right?" Dan asked. "Linear acceleration via sustained high-intensity aether burst terminating in a focused aether blast. Somewhere around 100mph, right? There's brief cooldown, so you can't chain it. Bummer."

"...how did-"

"I ain't a moron and I pay attention. That shit'd be great on a big-ass Outsider, assumin' you got close enough. 'Gainst somethin' that can actually move, not so much. Dude, what a blowhard," Dan lamented. "An' here I thought this was gonna be fun."

"I'll show you-"

There was a click as Red Rocket stepped forward.

"Son of a-"

Dan took another bite, trying very hard to ignore the extremely happy artificial personality in his head. He winced as his victim slammed into the grove of trees again.

"Bet that hurt,"

{More, plea~se.. Please, I need more!}

"Don't make me get the spoon. I swear, I'll do it. I'll dig you out if I have to," he muttered as he watched Swinging Scepter come stomping out of the cluster of trees. "You know, I'm supposed to be puttin' on a show here. You ain't makin' that real easy."

"You want a show, bastard? I'll show you the gates of hell!"

Dan looked back at him with just the slightest bit of respect. "Hey, that was actually pretty good!"

"Embrace me!" One-Eyed Snake shouted. The ground around him erupted into a whirling maelstrom of matter, concealing him from sight.

"Dude! That's exactly what your mom said last night!" Dan exclaimed. "I mean, that's not exactly what she said and I wasn't technically embracing her, but… but… Hey, uh, anyone ever tell you you look like a really flamboyant gay knight?"

The whirling matter had gathered and formed around Yogurt Slinger, plastering purple and dark pink plates across his chest. The armor continued up his shoulders and down his arms. A low strip of metal curved around his collar, rising just high enough to conceal his neck and lower face. Thin, grilled slots - much like exhaust ports - were scattered around his metal-clad torso.

In each hand he held a lance. They were noticeably smaller than the original, and the turbines were slung behind his hands instead of in front.

"'Cuz, uh, you look like a really flamboyant gay knight. It probably doesn't help that it looks like you're givin' a couple a' big, purple dudes handjobs. Must not be real good at it either, considerin' how it got smaller all of a- Urk!"
A massive impact against his chest lifted Dan off the ground. He covered the distance to the edge of the park in a flash. The gazebo didn't even slow him down as he plowed through it, but the moving car he hit fared a little better. The vehicle actually managed to stop him, but not until they'd both hit the back wall of the bistro.

"Oh~, yeah. That hurt," he moaned. Wiggling back and forth revealed that he was rather uncomfortably restricted. There was a series of metallic shrieks and groans as he fought against the warped vehicle partially enclosing him like a half-finished cocoon. Unfortunately, without any kind of leverage all he could do was wiggle around. "Yo, little help?" he called hopefully.

A massive vortex erupted beneath him. It was like someone had managed to catch a hurricane and somehow shove it into the ruined vehicle. It obviously resented that, because it tore Dan's metallic prison apart like tissue paper. Another pained groan escaped Dan as he hit the side wall.

"Jesus, what the hell was that?" a graying man demanded. Fragments of former car rained down around him as he scanned the area in confusion. He quickly caught sight of Dan's crumpled form. "Oh, shit. Are you alright?"

"Oh yeah. Fuckin' fantastic."

The older man quickly came over to inspect him. "Hey, I'm sorry about that. I thought a bus hit me or something."

"Funny, I thought a me hit a bus… wait. Wouldn't there be, like, a lot more people on a fuckin' bus?"

The man gave him a blank look for several seconds, considering that. "Hey, you're right. I should probably keep that in mind next time something hits me. Is it Tuesday or Wednesday?"

"The fuck should I know? I just got drugged, tied down, had shit stuck in me and was just generally violated. The day of the week ain't high on my goddamn priority list."

{I've extensively examined avery nook, cranny and cell of your delightful body, and am happy to report no serious injuries. Oh, and it's Thursday.}

"The voice in my head says it's Thursday. Jesus man, you okay? That one didn't sneak by your damage reduction, did it?" Dan asked with genuine concern. "You have a concussion or something? How many fingers am I holding up?"

"You're not holding any up…"

Dan looked down at his limp right arm with an expression of supreme annoyance. "Niss, why the hell ain't my arm holdin' up fingers? Hell, why ain't it holdin' up an arm?"

{Sorry! I overloaded the gap generator on that side saving the ice-cream. It knocked everything from the shoulder down out. Just a second.}

Frowning, Dan raised his left hand. There was a crackle as a half-eaten ice-cream cone reassembled it. Stumbling as he tried to take a bite and climb to his feet at the same time, he uttered a muffled, "Good save."

{Thanks! I had to shunt whatever was there out into a random spatial coordinate, though...}

"I'm already hatin' the answer, but which cell did you shove it into?"

{Well… F-29…}

"That's where I was keeping the unstable Mercury composite they told me to get rid of last year."

{Yeah. Sorry.}

"Eh, whatever. It'll be fine as long as no one touches it. Or breathes on it. Or looks at it too hard," Dan said dismissively. "That's the nice thing about mile-wide craters. They don't leave a lot of evidence."

The older gentleman gave him an uncertain look. "Should I be hearing this?"

"Hearin' what? All the security hubs are outside. That makes it my word against yours, and I'm willin' to bet mine scream 'legalized bribery' a lot louder. Most people that make that mistake just end up wishin' they'd pissed in a Hetrodyne's face. They're a lot quicker and less creative than me," Dan declared. He paused, then shuddered. "All but one a' them, anyway. Fuckin' whackjob."

It took a few aborted attempts and a running start, but Dan managed to make it over the low pile of broken glass and metal without surrendering his food. Once outside he discovered that, unsurprisingly, a crowd had gathered. X tended to run towards mass destruction and violence a lot more often than humans did. It was probably a good thing it took a normally crippling hit to bruise most of them, because the species would've died out long ago if they broke as easy as their parent species.

Handfucker was waiting outside, lances jabbed into the ground and arms folded across his chest. He gave Dan a smug smirk and began, "Bet you're sorry now, aren't-"

"Dude. Have you seriously been waiting like that the whole time? It's been like, ten minutes," Dan interrupted.

"Yeah he has!" someone in the crowd shouted.

"Loser!" someone else added.

"Who said that!?" Handy Harry demanded, scanning the crowd. "Get out here so I can kick your ass!"

"Yeah, you tell him, Gay Knight!"

"I'm not a gay knight!"

Dan sighed and took a bite of his snack. Frowning, he looked up at the man and scowled. "Look, this is fun and all, but my ice-cream's gettin' all fuckin' melty and I'm getting bored. So just pretend I'm flipping you off and-"

{Arm's good again.}

"Oh, good timing," Dan happily. He raised his free hand and extended his pinky. "Fuck you and the horse that rode in in you. Why don't- Niss, why the fuck am I flippin' someone off with my pinky?"

{Oops. Sorry.}

Dan's finger dropped and was immediately replaced by a sufficiently rude gesture.

"Let's just call it good so I can finish-"

Dan's ice-cream exploded, stinging his hand and splattering him with boiling cream. Ivory Shaft grinned at him. The lance in his hand was crackling and sizzling with residual energy from the aether blast it had released.

Dan twitched.

The second reason X managed to survive, in addition to their durability, was that most were fairly good at telling the difference between an entertaining ruckus and a get-the-fuck-outta-Dodge disaster. Even the weakest in the crowd shivered as malicious intent flooded the area. The group quickly evaporated, leaving a frozen A-Rank standing in the street alone.

"...that was dumb," Dan muttered. "You think you're special because you're wearin' a little gold, huh? So what th' fuck does that make me?" he asked, tilting his head and brushing him messy mop of brown hair aside.

The other man's eyes widened as his gaze fixed on Dan's ear.

"O- oricalum…" he observed weakly.

"What's your name, buddy?"

"B- Blake. I'm B-Blake," Blake answered. He was very, very slowly backing away, as if he thought Dan wouldn't notice if he moved slow enough. "Look man, I'm sorry. It's not a big deal, right? I'll buy you as much of that shit as you want…"

Dan giggled quietly. There was just the slightest manic edge to it.

{Oh dear. I'll be taking a little nap for a bit, so call me when you're all done. Good night, love. Shifting to passive mode…}

"There's 2,631 S-Rank X in the city. The way you're waving your junk around, you were pretty much guaranteed to meet one of us eventually," Dan sighed sadly. His attempt at looking regretful was ruined by the slight smile he was sporting. "This ain't your lucky day, is it?"

Blake was no longer even trying to hide his retreat. "Look… Look, I'm sorry, okay? Just-"

"You're an A-Rank Progenitor. That means you can use your Avatar full-on, right?"

Blake nodded hesitantly.

"Good. Call it."

"What?"
"I said call it," Dan repeated, raising a hand. "Cerberus."

A massive something assembled itself. Presumably it was some sort of firearm, though it looked like a tank would have trouble wielding it, let alone a person. Even as Blake watched, the barrels began to turn. Three groups of of six black black protrusions - wide enough to stick a thumb in - released a horrible metal-on-metal scream as they spun up to speed.

Dan dropped to one knee, bracing the weapon against his bent leg and holding it across his body.

"Or don't. Your choice," he giggled.

"Come forth!"

The ground around Blake exploded just as the first projectile left the gun. There are really no words to accurately describe what followed. A deafening series of violent cracks filled the air. The muzzle flash of eighteen barrels quickly forced all still watching to look away. A veritable torrent of pain poured out, the large projectiles hammering into the side of a large form that appeared just in time to intercept them.

In 12.2 seconds the gun chewed through more ammunition than some small armies.

In the end, Blake was flat on his ass, shuddering as he stared at his Child. The creature was so torn up that it was all but unrecognizable. It made a slight mewling sound, tried to twist around and finally laid still. A ripple went through it, turning it into a pile of concrete, warped steel and broken glass.

"Oh, bet that hurt. He ain't comin' out again for a while," Dan declared happily.

Blake look up towards the voice, then froze. Dan stood upon the pile of ruined scrap, holding a gun with three long barrels. Arcs of red light danced and wove around them. It may have been the angle, the dust in the air or the light from the gun, but laughing man looked like little more than a silhouette. All Blake could see was his eyes and wide grin. They were almost glowing red in the crimson glow of his gun.

"Do you know what this is?" Dan chortled and raised the weapon. His grin widened as he lovingly stroked it.

Blake hesitantly shook his head.

"Oh~, too bad. I was hopin' you'd know. I don't know either. Don't even have a clue," Dan announced in a pleasant, but slightly hysterical voice. "I built it in my sleep, you see. At least, I think I built it in my sleep. I know fuck-all about electronics when I'm awake, and this looks like a railgun. I must have built it in my sleep, because railguns are all magnets and shit. Doesn't it look like a railgun?"

Blake nodded.

"I knew it!" Dan shouted triumphantly. "I knew it looked like a railgun! It's got the… rails? And coils of… I don't know. But they're coils. And it glows! Everything's better when it glows!"

"P- please, gimme a break, huh?" Blake begged.

"Oh no. No, no, no. Can't do that. That's not how this works. You've gotta do it like it works, or else it doesn't work…" Dan trailed off and examined the gun. "You know, I think I know how to figure out what it is!"
"Oh, for the love of god…"

"Don't worry! It's nonlethal. I think. There was a sticky note on it that said it was nonlethal. I think. I'm not 100% on that… My handwriting's really bad when I'm asleep. Almost impossible to read," he giggled. The light bouncing around in the gun intensified. "I'm pretty sure it'll just hurt you. A lot. That's okay, I'm sure the Medical Division'll fix you up. M-Div is good at that. You'll probably only be disabled for a week or six."

"P- please. I'm begging you, man."

"Can't do that. Can't do that at all. I told you, it doesn't work like that. You haven't learned your lesson yet."

"What lesson?" Blake asked weakly.

Dan grinned even wider and leveled the gun at him.

"Don't fuck with a Spark."

Surprisin' no one, the human race completely fucked itself over. Surprisin' pretty much everyone, it wasn't greed, hatred or petty resentment that did us in. It was sheer, selfless fuckin' altruism. It figures the first time they manage to do somethin' nice, they just opened up the damn doors to hell.

Alex Hetrodyne is the first Hetrodyne to appear in our history books. At the end of 2029 he discovered aetheric energy. "Energy from nothin'," he called it. But it went way beyond mere energy. Aetheric power could be twisted into all kindsa shapes that electricity couldn't. Suddenly the stuff of fiction became reality. Forcefields, basic matter transmission, true genetic modification and accelerated food growth were now possible, along with a thousand other little things.

Being the sort of old-school scientist that just wanted to help the world, he immediately shared his discovery.

Seriously Alex, what the fuck? You couldn't just be another greedy asshole, could you? You just had to go and give fuckin' aether to everyone. Dumbass.

Within a decade humans had seized up aetheric power as the answer to all the world's problems. Another decade after that and it had all but replaced borin' old electricity. I like to think they briefly achieved some sort of lovin' utopia, but the dumb shitheads were probably just shootin' each other in the face for aether instead of money.

So aether saved the world, however briefly. See, as anyone who's watched pretty much any movie ever can tell you, shit that seems too good to be true probably is. Hell, anyone who's been alive for more than a week could tell you that. But mankind just kind of put on the blinders and said, "Hur. Hur. Now we don't have to work for anythin'!"

That was a bad move.

See, aetheric generators don't exactly draw energy from nothin'. No, they draw energy from a fucki' lack of anything. I know that probably sounds like the same thing, but it's really not. "Nothin'," as we perceive it, is a simple absence of something. But aether generators feed off nothin' nothin'. They're fueled by a nothin' that has never been anythin' and never will be anythin'. It's not the "absence" of anythin', because that implies something exists that could actually be there.

It's the sort of nothin' that a person can't fuckin' understand. I know I sure as hell can't.

It's like this: an aether generator works by poking a little pinhole in the fabric of our universe. It draws power from the fuckin' void between realities. All those worlds shiftin' around and rubbin' against each other fuels them like a river does a water wheel. So with every aether generator they fired up, they jabbed another fuckin' hole in the borders of reality.

If you think that sounds bad, congratulations. You're smarter than the dipshits that came before us.

One hole wasn't a real big deal. Neither was ten, a hundred or a thousand. But when you start gettin' to the millions, that's a lotta fuckin' holes. Not real great, 'cuz we ain't exactly the only ones takin' a piss in the void. All those little holes? They were like pinpricks in the wall of a pitch black room, lettin' little shafts of light in. It was only a matter a' time before someone looked up and said, "The fuck is that?"

Enter the Outsiders. Literally.

Even two centuries later we don't know what the fuckers are. They just popped up one day, taking our pinholes and rippin' 'em wide open, lettin' all kindsa shit in. They come in all kindsa shapes and sizes, and they don't seem to follow any particularly consistent evolutionary path. What we do know is that they come in three different varieties: things that wanna kill you, things that wanna eat you, and things that wanna eat you while killing you.

I hear that last one ain't a whole lot of fun.

Before people even knew what was happening, they were turning into snack food. The Outsiders drove us out of our own cities and dug in, spawning nests left and right. Nasty fuckin' things, nests. When a queen sets up shop she can make new Outsiders, hold a gate open and start terraforming the area all at the same time. At one point, most of North America was covered in nasty-ass outsider meat.

We would've been fucked, but Outsiders ain't the only thing that came through. Humans've always been pretty adaptable, and some of us took to that shit like a fish to water. Then next generation started showin' all kinds of weird characteristics, and eventually grew up and started pushin' those nasty shits back.

We created the six nations - and eventually the containment cities within them - over the rotting bones of the old world. That ain't a whole lot, considerin' the Outsiders still have 'bout a third of the good land. Those nests are dug in way too deep for us. They repelled a dozen attacks, costing us lives and resources everytime - before we settled for keepin' them contained.

Black Zones - usually called the Ash Fields - do a lot of the work for us. They're areas where the nastiest fights went on. The Outsiders and humanity both threw around some nasty shit. It fucked up the dimensional barrier real good. Nothing can survive there, and the Outsiders can't terraform it. They're a mixed blessing, I guess.

Red Zones run across the borders between Outsider and human territory. A lotta people call 'em the Firewalls, and for good reason. They're regularly hit with heavy artillery fire. The massive incendiary shells burn back the Outsider rot, makin' sure the shit don't sneak up on us. They're supplemented by the CraterMakers. Those fuckers fire a HE shell as big as me, and pound any adventurous queens before they can nest.

I made that shit, by the way.

The six nations run independantly, but they're closer than fuckin' siamese twins. I guess even humans can put all the other shit aside if they have a good reason.

Plus, they have us to hate and fear.

A/N:

So, I was going to work on the next chapter of Something Familiar, but I ended up writing this instead. If you read SF, sorry about that. It just kind of happened. I guess the only thing of real note here is that many of the characters in this are based on characters from various pen and paper games I played over the years. They've been revamped to fit, but I've kept the true to the original as much as possible. That's why Dan swears so much, by the way.

There's probably going to be a few Dan-driven infodumps. I'm trying to make them as painless and natural as possible.

Anyway, hope you enjoyed this.