The following morning was pleasant, if a bit confusing. Delilah, when she'd glomped onto Sherrel, had done it from behind. At some point during the night, they'd shifted, winding up facing each other. Normally, even with how close they were, it wouldn't have been a problem.

But both blondes were of the particularly busty variety, and so with Delilah's arms refusing to do anything but pull in her as tightly as possible, some… friction was inevitably going to occur.

At least it answered her question about whether Sherrel was into women as well or not - the feeling of their generous breasts mashing together, nipples incidentally occasionally rubbing against one another, sent violent shivers through her body, a familiar heat from the same experience with Asteroth pooling throughout her stomach and abdomen.

Delilah had a grip of iron. As much as Sherrel appreciated the cuddles when she was sleeping, things were now a bit uncomfortable. Much as she also appreciated the sensations crawling down her spine, setting her body aflame, she had been serious when she'd told Asteroth about her body issues.

For all that there were many things she was now completely numb to, that lack of sensation was built upon a structure of abuse and trauma. Being numb wasn't the same as being healthy, and the idea of doing something with somebody based on the love and care they felt when Sherrel felt… nothing, caused so much dissonance that nothing would be enjoyable. Quite the opposite, in fact.

It was an incredibly odd dichotomy of feelings for her - the brand new sensations of casual physical intimacy, kissing because she felt like it, holding hands, some real basic shit most people should be aware of and used to. Those things she was painfully aware of and so physically sensitive to it was almost painful.

In comparison, the idea of sucking off Asteroth just left her feeling… nothing. The idea of him forcibly bending her over his office table and just taking her was similar. Void. Null.

Theoretically, she knew what she was supposed to feel, but the reality left her head spinning and hurting. Which is why the young tinker was so incredibly grateful that the pair of insane lover's she'd wound up with were so intent on her knowing she could move at her own pace.

A soft sigh shook her from her depressing train of thoughts, as Delilah slowly unfurled her arms and her leg from their positions surrounding Sherrel and stretched. A pair of gorgeous crystal blue eyes cracked open, peering at Delilah with a hint of confusion before a massive smile broke across her face.

Without warning, the arms that Sherrel had just recently been freed from reconvened and locked her into a crushing hug. She would be the worst kind of liar if she said it wasn't appreciated, though breathing was getting a little difficult.

"Ah, I won't complain about the free hug, but to what do I owe the pleasure?"

Delilah simply let out a soft sigh into her neck, where she'd shoved her face, before slowly pulling away and finally releasing her once again. "I'm just so happy to have you here. When I first learned about all this, I really worried about how I would feel about another bondmate. But every time I see you, I feel nothing but exultation at having another person who understands."

Sherrel let out a short laugh. "I would be lying if I said I thought things were going to go this smoothly after… after he kissed me. I certainly don't know how I would've felt if I'd been in your position."

A cold hand came up to stroke her hair, gently moving a few errant strands that had wandered onto her face. "Oh, for a long time I was sure I was going to have some issues as well. But… I've been with Asteroth for years now. I've seen first hand the changes that take place when he isn't satiating his draconic pride. Once our bond was finalized… things got much better."

She shook her head, straight blond hair shadowing her movements. "But before that, to put it bluntly, he had to fuck a LOT of people to keep himself in check. It wasn't that I felt inadequate, he made sure I knew that, but no matter how accepting I am of the unique relationship I found myself in, by far I would prefer to see him sleeping with me or somebody else who is part of the family."

Sherrel nodded for a moment. "I think I understand. If your lover is forced to sleep around, it's better to be with someone you already know and trust, because they passed the same criteria you did to be… bonded?"

"You got it! Which is why I'm so happy you're here. Even with the finalized bond we share, it is technically possible to… keep his other side satiated. I just can't walk or leave the house during that time. At all." She shivered, whether it was dramatically or not Sherrel couldn't tell.

"So he still has to sleep with other women, just not as much?" Delilah nodded.

"Yup. Luckily for us, the number is low enough now that he basically has a couple women who stay around here on retainer, essentially. We certainly know and trust them more than the randoms who come through here, looking for help with something just because they want to be fucked by a 'gang leader'."

Sherrel couldn't help but scoff in disbelief. "People actually do that? Not because they actually need help with something?"

"You wouldn't believe the types that come around here. Luckily, he does have a standard, and very, very few of those that come looking for those reasons get accepted."

The young tinker couldn't help but snort. "Well, I don't know how much help I'll be right away… and I don't know how I feel yet, but this is a good place. I don't think I'd find anything better if I was to leave, so…"

And wasn't that the painful truth. She'd left her home; the world had been her oyster.

Except, it turned out the oyster was rotten and she'd been stuck shitting out her brains instead of living the high life she'd expected.

Delilah, lovely woman that she was, cooed and pulled her in yet again for a hug. "Oh, you're just the sweetest Sherrel. Trust me, you'll love it here, but if you find the world has a greater draw

than our humble little family, then you know you're welcome to leave."

Sherrel smiled into the embrace. "I know."

They sat there for a time, just enjoying the warmth and comfort of their embrace. But as it all too often does, the real world and nature called, pulling them apart. Delilah had promised a trip outside today, and that's what they were going to do.

A quick discussion later and they were both preparing for the day. Sherrel left her bondmate behind (that felt a hell of a lot better to say then sister-wife ever would) to go shower and get dressed, taking her pillow with her.

Later, once both ladies had freshened up and dressed appropriately, they departed for the boardwalk.

The unimaginative naming of the streets meant The Dragon's territory was easily classified as stretching from 1st to 6th street, and was immediately adjacent to the boardwalk itself, much to the chagrin of the PRT.

Seemingly in defiance of their fears, the territory owned as actually safer to travel through for late night workers or drinkers, as any criminals dumb enough to try something never lasted long. These days, only the truly desperate even tried, and they were more likely to be stopped, given

a hot meal, and sat down for a good talk.

The others, who weren't desperate, who were either gang related or just plain cruel, weren't typically seen again.

It seemed Asteroth and Delilah ran a tight ship, but they weren't mindless when it came to dispensing justice.

Due to the short distance, it took no time at all for them to arrive at the boardwalk, the water of the bay stretching into the distance with the sun still beaming into their eyes, glinting off the surface of the water, only further adding to the blinding light.

At first, Sherrel couldn't help but stare at everyone around her - it wasn't exactly early, but the press of people that was usually present hadn't built up yet. Still, she watched, waiting to see if anyone she recognized from her time in the Merchants was about to pop out and eke out some form of revenge.

Mostly for herself, Delilah seemed like the sort that could take care of herself, if her story was true.

After stopping by a couple stands hawking their wares and several stores of varying types, nothing occurred, and she felt her wariness settle down to more manageable levels.

The next couple hours were spent doing perhaps one of the most pedestrian and mundane of civilian activities - something most defined as a 'shopping spree'. The young tinker was confident they bought things they didn't need, but Delilah insisted they were of vital importance.

Sherrel wasn't sure how a collection of over 25 bath bombs, bath oils, and various accoutrements designed to turn a basic bath into a smelly, ritzy mess was 'necessary' but she wasn't in a place to complain. From the looks of things, Asteroth and Delilah were anything but short on money.

Thus, their day continued. Delilah would squeal in delight over some random thing displayed in a window, they would enter and spend 20 minutes looking over everything the store had to offer, and undoubtedly buying at least one thing from the shop.

Eventually, even the seemingly endless energy pouring from the older blonde waned, and they decided to call it a day. Sherrel had her fun getting to see the outside world again, she'd purchased several things she'd forgotten even existed and some new clothes she preferred.

Delilah was, as always, a delight to be around. The only reason the young tinker could even remember the serious face and set of her body from the first night they met was because that day in its entirety was something that would stick with her for the rest of her life. The extreme disparity between how she felt at the beginning, and most of the day, versus how she felt at the end, as she passed out in the softest of sheets and most comfortable of beds.

If that wasn't for that being etched into her memory, she would have sworn she was looking at two different people.

But now, watching as Delilah playfully blew bubbles from a little device that shot them out at a rapid pace, Sherrel was happier to have this bubbly woman than some overly serious one.

They began their trek home, and Sherrel was forced to stand in between the other blonde woman and the stall vendors to prevent them from being further delayed from getting home, not that they could carry anything else even if they tried.

That measly factoid wouldn't have stopped the exuberant woman beside her, thus she was forced to physically intervene.

Their journey towards their territory continued in the same manner; Delilah would see something shiny, like a dog spotting a squirrel, and immediately attempt to divert towards it. Sherrel would stop this from happening by grabbing her arm with a bag-laden hand, or simply standing in her way.

Finally the rows of shops faded into the distance and they approached the end of the Bulwark. A crowd was built up for some reason, which was odd, since it was a thoroughfare, and nothing should have been blocking it.

A Dragon of Ends and Beginnings

Asteroth was wondering how long it would take someone to muster up the funds to convince him his time was worth spending on mopping up what was left of the Slaughterhouse 9.

Their challenge had been quaint, when they thought the Siberian would be a force strong enough to topple him. Physics, regardless of the impossible way they were deployed in her case, were paltry in the face of his magic, or his Voice.

He'd left her alive, if only on a technicality - murdering the image but not the man who created her. The Siberian hadn't interfered after that.

The others… were less easy to dissuade. Perhaps it was arrogance - thinking that, perhaps, his power had only worked because the Siberian wasn't actually a 'real person'.

Hatchet Face had been the first to die. Thinking his power nullification would save him, in addition to his brute rating. Asteroth had torn off his arms and bludgeoned him to death with them, as a lesson that mindless strength will always be surpassed by an even greater strength. While he didn't remain alive long to learn it, it was always a healthy reminder for oneself.

Crimson and Winter perished together, holding each other in their arms, as they'd had fear induced heart attacks, dying without laying a finger on him.

Crawler had simply been blown out of the city with an errant shout.

Chuckles broke his limbs upon Asteroth's armored form, rendering the task of dispatching him simple.

When dawn broke the next day, the Slaughterhouse 9 limped out of Brockton Bay, and never returned. Losing five of their members, and proving that even their supposed strongest stood no chance against him, had served to severely demoralize the members, though Jack Slash managed to keep them together so they could recruit once more, and continue the cycle.

In the time since their 'slaughter' they'd only managed to get a couple more members, not quite returning to their full roster. In that time, it seemed someone had learned of exactly who fought the 9, and now wanted the problem gone for good.

Well, who was he to complain with that many 0's being thrown his way? It was a simple enough task after all.

Prying Jack Slash's head from his body with a casual slash of his sword, he looked back over their chosen battlefield - a lot on the outskirts of a city he didn't care to remember.

He repeated his task for the remaining members, including one Doctor Manton. Thrown into a sack, he hefted his bounty over his shoulder like Krampus himself and prepared to depart.

Before he had the opportunity to, a terrifying sensation ripped through the link of his bondmate. He'd had a long time to learn what the faint feelings he got meant in their time spent together, and currently it seemed her and Sherrel were in just enough danger to start as trickles of worry before solidifying into resignation, followed by the will and determination to succeed that he so loved about her.

If their lives were in serious danger, they had plans, safeties, things they could do, but whatever was occurring was just toeing the line between life-threatening to manageable.

But those insurances, those risk-reducing tools they'd made, they were all pointless. Not in their specific task, no, but in his reassurance.

Somebody had dared to threaten HIS women.

Dragon's have always been prideful creatures, protective of their territory and treasures. What few know is that protective streak was like comparing a candlelight to the sun in response to threats to their bondmates.

Few beings in existence threatened a dragon and lived to tell the tale.

Nothing threatened a dragon's bondmate and lived to regret the hell their existence was to become.

With a decidedly inhuman roar, his arms exploded into blackened wings, darker than the night itself, as he continued to grow in size as the rest of his body followed suit.

His legs became clawed and multi-jointed, scales erupting from his skin. Teeth elongated until they were as long as daggers, and remarkably sharper.

The furious red glow in his eyes blazed to life, becoming a bonfire of hate and vengeance.

When the transformation was completed, the old parking lot was bathed in shadow as his wings spread out - covering the grounds entirely, and then some.

He released another roar of fury, this one shaking the very ground itself as he made his presence known.

With a great gust of air as his wings carried his massive bulk into the sky, Asteroth rose like an inverse meteor, rapidly transforming from a terrifying dragon to a mere black dot in the afternoon sky.

A Dragon of Ends and Beginnings

They'd gotten one of her vehicles working.

Dammit all to hell, she really should have expected this. Things were just going too well. Now, Asteroth's bondmate and her new best friend was going to die because of her baggage.

Fuck, fuck, FUCK!

Although she might not live through it, maybe if she gave herself up they would let Delilah go, and undoubtedly Asteroth would come through and rescue her. She had no doubt about that, at least, it was more about the state she would be in once she was found.

Delilah's face was grim, but it seemed… off. It was the difference between being faced down by a hostile tank (like they were) and the idle realization that someone had left the stove on and their house probably burned down while they were gone.

The slowly dawning horror as they thought about the money, insurance forms, and sheer loss was much closer than the raw panic Sherrel had expected to see.

Skidmark himself, the fucking asshole, popped out of the tank and gave her his twisted grin. "Hey there, cumdumpster, long time no see."

Her reaction was immediate. "Fuck off, Skidmark, this won't end well for you." She was bluffing, but probably not really based on what she knew about Asteroth. Really, she just wanted to make sure Delilah was safe.

Instead of panic though, a look of resignation was now bearing down on her. Her fellow blonde turned and urgently whispered to her. "Listen, Aster's going to be here soon. There's no way he didn't feel that, so I need you to get ready to get down."

Sherrel rapidly looked back at her. "What? How is he going to get here? And what the hell is he going to do?"

Skidmark, the impatient asshole that he was, interrupted their moment of 'planning'. "Now now, there's no need to get all pissy with me, Squealer. All I need for you to do, is bring your plump little ass over here and hop on in. On the way back I can drop off a few kids in your fuckhole, just about the only thing you're good for it seems you fuckin skank."

It was only the iron grip of Delilah that kept Sherrel from running up the tank just to strangle the fucker with his own balls.

Through the pounding of her heart, that odd silence that fell over the entire area as bystanders simply watched the altercation, those few that hadn't fled the damn tank, and a faint roaring sound from off in the distance.

Wait, what the hell was that?

Delilah's face fell even further, before turning to her and whispering one last thing. "30 seconds. Get ready to run."

What did she mean? What could they possibly do -

Another roar sounded over the collection of pedestrians and druggies. It was both louder and sounded much closer this time. The prior one could have been compared to a trick of the ears - something one thought they heard, but it was just a misinterpreted signal by the brain.

This one was clearly not. It vibrated her bones and sent tremors down her body. Something big and angry was getting closer.

That was hardly the only oddity - a slight flicker caught her attention, bringing her back to the present.

She looked back at the group of druggies and her damned tank they'd hijacked, only to not see anything out of the ordinary. Staring intently ahead, the Merchants seemed like they were waiting to see if the thing that made that noise was getting closer or not, Skidmark himself peering off into the distance.

He lost interest quickly, turning back to them. "Fuck'em, shoot'em in the legs so we can still get some work out of their bodies." His patience seemingly at an end.

Another flicker of motion caught her eye, this time she was facing the correct way to actually see where it came from, and she nearly gaped in awe at the sight.

Floating above the mass of Merchant scum were several long metallic objects that appeared to be spears. As she watched, a couple more flickering into existence, springing forth from nothing.

The druggies raised their guns and prepared to follow their leaders orders. Sherrel simply watched the brewing storm of iron in awe.

Just as suddenly as the spears materialized, they dropped.

With pinpoint precision, Merchants were skewered through the arms, wrists, chests, and legs, rendering every single one immobile. There was one spear, larger than the rest, that Sherrel had failed to see through the barrier the others formed, that plunged into the main cannon of the tank, failing to pierce completely through the vehicle, but easily mangling the turret into inoperability.

Just as quickly as the screaming started, Delilah grabbed her wrist and began to pull her unresisting body as fast as possible. Obviously running away was important, but Sherrel almost asked just why Delilah seemed so frantic beyond the obvious.

This time, there was no roar to warn of its arrival.

A massive shadow covered the entirety of the boardwalk that Sherrel could see. What happened next must have taken less than a second, but Sherrel swore she could feel what transpired, millisecond by millisecond.

First, came its Voice.

"YOL"

Immediately, the temperature of her surrounding area rose to blistering heights, sweat forming and evaporating just as quickly. It called, and the world answered.

"TOOR"

What was once blistering became an inferno. The casual makeup Delilah insisted on Sherrel wearing immediately began to melt, driving dark streaks down her face. Whatever was coming, it was going to be massive.

"SHUL!"

With a final resounding word, Sherrel's hearing blanked out as a stream of blazing white fury rained down upon the Merchants, and her world became fire.