[PRT ENE Wards Trailer]
"Come on, Amy!"
Fresh from a hot shower and an onsite hair stylist, Victoria Dallon straightened out her signature Glory Girl costume as the snow fell around her shoulders. The shallow crunch of snow under her white boots ringing out the cold air as she and Amy reached the briefing trailer.
Long, white with doors on the side and blacked out windows, it really was like those trailers that famous actors used while shooting films. The trailers combined with the plain-clothed PRT officers hauling around camera and lighting equipment made it look like they were shooting a movie. Which was clever now that Vicky thought about it. Pushing inside this particular trailer, they found that it was already occupied to capacity- the entire Brockton Bay Wards inside.
A younger blonde girl around twelve in her green power armour/dress was the first to greet them as they arrived. The visible part of her face lit up in a smile at the sight of Vicky and Amy.
"Hey, Big V!" Vista grinned as she rushed over.
"Hey, Lil' V!" Vicky smiled back as they shared a crisp high five.
"Everyone! GG and Panacea's here!" Kid Win smiled from his corner of the trailer- looking up from the big laser cannon that he was fiddling with.
"Aw yeah, who got you a trailer like the rest of us?!" Clockblocker shouted out as he walked into the room- already in his white clock-themed power armour as he raised a can of soda in celebration.
"For the hundredth time, Clock." Vista rolled her eyes with a smile, "Yes, thank you for sneaking trailers into the wish list."
"And for the hundredth time, you're welcome!" Clockblocker just smiled as he bowed graciously. "It's sad that Piggot found out about the hot tub though, that would have been nice."
Shadow Stalker, always in a sour mood, just grunted as she pushed past Clockblocker- her pure black costume billowing slightly; Vicky just rolled her eyes at the usual lack of greetings.
"Glory Girl, Panacea! Right on time!" Aegis, the de-facto leader of the Wards, said as he walked in- his smile visible in his dark eyes. "The briefing is about to start in a minute."
Vicky just smiled brighter, it was always nice to hangout with the Wards when she could. However, that good feeling didn't last long as- immediately after- she held back a wince when Gallant, her ex, walked in with the patented 'We need to talk' body language basically written all over him... this was the reason why she preferred to be in her Antares identity. If only she could have shown up in her anonymous Antares identity, she would have avoided the current awkward situation that she had found herself in: Sitting down at the same table as Gallant. But the PRT needed known allies helping them fight rather than 'unknown' capes, so her hands were tied.
It was so unfair! She didn't even start dating Aoicus yet, she just gave him her number!
If there was anyone to blame, it would be PHO! They were the ones who blew everything out of proportion with provocative thread titles like Glory Girl with mystery blond (It's not Stansfield)!, Did Glory Girl cheat on Stansfield?!, Glory Girl's mystery man sightings!, Glory Girl saved her future boyfriend 2mo ago! and [Evidence Thread] Glory Girl cheated on Stansfield.
That last thread had a body of 'evidence' so damning that even she was almost convinced that Glory Girl cheated on Dean Stansfield. But she had to appreciate the paparazzi photos of her hanging off of Aoicus' arm at Fugly Bob's though... They looked like such a photogenic couple. She looked a lot happier and more at ease than any of her candid photos with Dean though.
After this, she'll talk to him.
Before she could continue her line of thought, Director Piggot's face appeared in the wide screen that dominated the back wall of the trailer. An obese woman with a blonde bobcut and steel gray eyes, Victoria always thought that the PRT director looked deceptively soft for someone in command of handling Brockton Bay of all places.
"Thank you for joining us today, Glory Girl, Panacea." Director Piggot greeted them as they all sat down on various seats available around the immediate area.
"It's no problem. Always glad to help take down a bad guy." Vicky just flashed a heroic smile... all while hiding the fact that she was only here because her mother told her to attend. Otherwise, she would have avoided Gallant for just a bit longer. But regardless of her reasons, Director Piggot nodded in acknowledgement before glancing at Ward's team leader.
"Aegis, if you would?" the director asked just as he pulled out a pile of folders from a nearby wooden drawer.
"This packet contains the dossier of the villain we're up against." Aegis elaborated as he handed them all one including her and Panacea.
Victoria just hid an exasperated sigh behind a fake smile as she glanced down at the dossier in her hands in disgust. She was already missing working for Magos, at least he didn't give her homework.
It was almost as thick as a finger! That wasn't surprising though, all PRT Threat Assessment were practically pamphlets, but still... She wasn't expected to read and memorise this all was she?
Victoria Dallon was a simple gal with simple needs who enjoyed the simple pleasures in life. Like punching faces.
Things were more straightforward with Magos. A Chloe with her pleasant voice will talk to her through micro-bead comms to tell her where to fly to, point her to the person who needed to be punched, and feed her information right when she needed it.
That was a management style she could get behind: It let her focus all her brainpower on fighting techniques instead of flipping through a mental encyclopedia of combat anecdotes she was expected to have memorised. Working as 'Antares' had also been a more personal and hands-on experience than the PRT who ran things like a college. Crystal had horror stories.
"Just one villain against all of us? Isn't that kind of overkill, director?" Clockblocker wondered out loud as he flipped through the dossier- voicing what everyone was thinking.
"Yes and No." Director Piggot nodded, "He's just one villain cape, but he's not alone. I'd advise you not to underestimate him, but I'll let the dossier speak for itself. Read."
Start: PRT Threat Assessment Summary
- Bastard Son -
Classification: Master 7
Threat Rating: B
Disposition: Rogue (The Elites)
Location: The Elites Territory (San Francisco, Las Vegas, Seattle)
General Information: Head enforcer for The Elites with a history of marked brutality. The Elites command structure often deploys Bastard Son to match against their most violent enemies or as a last resort in intimidating, dislodging, and recruiting Rogues who are particularly unwilling to the Elites.
Appearance/Identification: Bastard Son is usually seen in a tieless pinstripe suit and a mask with a mocking sneer. His hair is dark brown and deliberately styled messy.
Personality: Audacious and disrespectful of all authority save his own, and possibly those of his peers, other leaders of the Elite. He has a marked penchant for immense violence- often leaving his opponents in a brutalised and sometimes comatose state from gang beatings. Has a verbal tic that leads him to ending his sentences with 'Heh!'
Powers (Bastard Son): Bastard Son is able to bestow an inhuman level of skill in a random item to a person via touch. Has a side effect of diminishing mental integrity and independent thought to the recipient- rendering highly suggestible to Bastard Son's influence.
Bastard Son himself only has the combat capacity of a well-trained but baseline human. However, he has also been known to apply his power onto unwilling targets as well in order to render them suggestible. His power can be applied through clothes and personal armour up to 20mm in thickness.
Powers (Recipients/Minions):
Each recipient is to be treated as Striker 2 with all the recommended countermeasures afford to them by the classification.
Recipients are able to perform superhuman feats with their prescribed weapons. There has been at least one known occasion when the baseball wielder ('Casey-at-the-Bat') was able to swat bullets out of the air with her aluminium bat. The leather belt wielder ('Pootie Tang') is known to block bullets with his belt buckle and dent steel by whipping his belt. However, they do not possess Brute ratings.
Known items include but are not limited to... baseball bats, ball peen hammers, darts, fingernails, glass shards, paper, ribbons, roller skates, string, and slingshots.
However, loss of their prescribed weapons reverts them as normal and slightly mentally-deficient humans until they are able to acquire another weapon of the same kind.
Recommended Engagement Strategies:
Bastard Son must be rendered unconscious, and all his Recipients incapacitated or otherwise immobilized for the threat to be considered neutralised. In all offensive operations against Bastard Son, assume that the Recipients will number around 30-50. (Currently: 48)
It is recommended to deploy at least three platoons of PRT Troopers alongside PRT parahuman assets.
Armoured vehicles with Foam sprayers, Flashbang grenades and Shakers capable of incapacitating large groups of non-Brutes are likely to be highly effective.
Containment Procedures:
Personnel must keep a 3m radius distance from Bastard Son at all times. All physical contact with Bastard Son must be reported and the affected personnel kept under standard Master/Stranger Protocols conditions. During transport, Brute-2 rated containment is advised, and no personnel is to accompany Bastard Son in the rear of the vehicle.
End: PRT Threat Assessment Summary
Shadow Stalker just gave a long low whistle, and everyone, including Victoria, knew what she meant.
"A B-class villain..." Aegis muttered out loud- leaning back in his seat.
B-class threats were no joke. These were the big fish in the ocean of capeworld- predators that hunted the food chain below the A-class sharks and the S-class freaks of nature that were the Endbringers, Eidolon, the collective Slaughterhouse 9 and Magos. The difference between threat classes was night and day.
Hell, everyone in New Wave was 'just' a C-class, her dad and Aunt Sarah could maybe count as B-class if they let loose. But to really belong in the B-class threat level, you needed to have a power that could deal a whole lot of property damage and hurt a lot of people in a concerningly short period of time.
Being a corpo enforcer with a history of extreme brutality and having the power to master anyone into joining his horde of Striker 2? Yeah, Bastard Son was solid B-class threat material, maybe even an A-class threat if he Masters enough people.
"Forty-eight Strikers." Victoria pursed her lips. It was a bad feeling, being horribly outnumbered like this. Because beneath her admittedly good forcefield, she was just as squishy as any other teenage girl.
"Ma'am..." Kid Win hesitantly spoke up with a raised hand, "With all due respect, I think this is more than what we can chew. Maybe we should just leave this to the Protectorate, we're just k-"
"Don't you dare finish that sentence, Win." Vista growled- banging her small fist on the table. "We're not kids, we're Wards."
"Well said, Vista." Piggot nodded in approval before sweeping her gaze across the room. "Naturally, We're not sending you in alone and outnumbered. We have several platoons of PRT troopers with armoured cars. And although this is officially a PRT operation and will be referred to as such, Magos has offered reinforcements should the fight start looking... unfavourable for us. Expect reinforcements as fast as 38.5 seconds."
"Are we going to see one of those Knights live in action?!" Kid Win gushed excitedly.
"I don't know, Win." Clockblocker murmured before grinning, "Those seem to be kind of an S-class threat response. The Chloes though... I wouldn't mind watching a live show of- oof!"
"Control yourself, Clock." Vista grunted as she uncompressed his seat and it jolted back to its normal height.
"The gist of the plan is that PRT troopers will draw out the bulk of the counterattack by his minions." Director Piggot showed an overhead photo of the town on the screen- arrows helpfully pointing out where the vector of attack will be, "This will allow you all to slip around the flank and attack Bastard Son directly at this diner where he's waiting for his contacts. With Magos' 'omnispex' support, his location will always be indicated in your HUDs."
"Should we be worried about Bastard Son's own reinforcements?" Aegis raised his hand.
"Magos is handling that end as well." the Director answered, "He has all approaches monitored alongside an independent Thinker. If Bastard Son has backup arriving, we'll know long before they arrive, and our own Mechanicus reinforcements will have arrived long before they do. However... I want to remind all of you that the cameras will be watching your every move, and even if he is a B-class villain, you are all to practice the appropriate amount of restraint."
"But director, this is our chance to let loose!" Kid Win protested. "This is what we're trained for: We're ready for this!"
"No, you aren't." Piggot mercilessly rebutted, "And since you don't understand that reality, we'll be going to have a quick refresher on the rules of engagement against B-class parahuman threats."
A collective groan sounded out among the Wards as Director Piggot began a quick enumeration. But Vicky wasn't listening anymore. Her heart was beating fast. If Magos was the backup then that means Aoicus was here too. He had to be, right? Would this be her chance to meet him in costume?
She could only hope.
(A few more minutes later)
From underneath the shade of the moderately-sized medical tent, Amy Dallon watched the chaos unfold in this snowy, nowhere town.
As soon as the fighting started, people shuttered their windows and locked their doors even as they peeked out to catch the action. PRT troopers in their black armour got into 'firefights' with these suited wing-tip maniacs wielding odd weapons. Containment Foam and teargas flew in the air in one direction while forks, bowling balls and popsicle sticks.
"Eh." Amy shrugged as she sipped on a hot latte, and watched it all at a reasonably safe distance.
The Wards did their best as well. In the distance, she could see them trying to fight each minion with flashy, but safe tactics. All for the cameras.
Every so often, one of Bastard Son's minions would be dropped off- having required enough force to take them down that their lives (and consequently, the PRT's family-friendly reputation) was endangered.
Strapped to the stretcher that the PRT Troopers carried them in by thick leather belts, the poor bastards received quick checkup from her- ensuring that any broken bones and internal bleeding were all set to heal.
She even already had her lines ready for the afterparty: 'No, Ms. local news reporter, there are no signs of PRT brutality here.' and 'My sister? Pssh, she wouldn't hurt a fly if she could help it. She's a kind and gentle sister.'
... that she wanted to fuck.
She felt dirty sharing the same aspirations of many an unwashed basement dweller, but there was no going around the truth: her (not blood-related) sister was the hottest piece of ass on the East coast.
Amy really wanted to do the right and virtuous thing, but when this hot blonde keeps barging in her room, shaking her toned panty-clad ass in her face, constantly goes to her for opinions on 'How does this bra look on me?' Well, ask anyone who was into fairer sex if they would find Vicky sexy even if they were adopted into the Dallon family, and watch them lie.
"PANACEA!" a PRT trooper cried out as she dragged another trooper behind her. "Officer Miller was caught off guard by that garden gnome guy!"
"Alright, let's get him on a bed." Amy grunted- standing up from her seat and marching over to them to help haul the 80kg man with his 20kg worth of gear onto the medical bed. "Ugh... going to need access to his chest for this, help me take off his plate carrier."
"Right!" the trooper obeyed- pulling off the injured officer's armoured vest, unzipping his jacket and yanking up his undershirt to show a nasty looking dent in his ribcage.
"Yep." Amy nodded as she laid a hand on the guy's abdomen, "Those broken ribs definitely look like they had a garden gnome's smiling face smashed on them."
She went through a mental checklist that she practically had memorised by now.
Numb out the local area around the wound. Check.
Reset the bones and lightly knit the collagen together. Check.
Grab the right tool.
"Let me just get the right tool for the job." Amy deadpanned as she walked over to the freezer- the large kind where bad guys store bodies in the movies. Flipping open the top, Amy surveyed the tools available to her and pulled out a whole pork leg. She smiled mysteriously at the PRT troopers before pressing the pork leg against his chest and began working her cape medicine voodoo.
Xenografting- that is to say grafting tissue and organs from another species- was a relatively new practice for her. It wasn't an unheard of medical technique, they just hadn't figured out how to prevent rejection. So, it was a good thing that Panacea was a "healing" cape that could prevent that.
Still, this gave her flashbacks to those long hours after that fateful Behemoth attack- plugging holes in heroes and villains made by Magos' brutal life support machines. Feeling impatient waiting for the shipment of donated human proteins and too exhausted to give a shit anymore, she had transplanted her hotdog sandwich to partially heal Shadow Stalker's missing foot.
To this day, she hadn't told SS what she had done, but at least, she had gotten really good at preventing xenograft rejection. Though uncooked was a whole lot better for that purpose, as she had found. It also didn't cost her a hotdog dinner.
With the pork leg as a protein source, it became more desiccated while the man's sunken rib cage cracked back into perfect shape right before the two troopers' eyes.
Morph the antigens to prevent rejection by the immune system. Check.
Repair the muscle fibres then resheath with epimysium. Check.
Reinforce ribs sixth through ninth with additional collagen and calcium phosphate. Check.
Make small talk to fill the awkward silence (aka bedside manner).
"I would have preferred chimpanzee tissue, but fresh dead chimps are hard to source." Amy explained to the helmeted trooper as he patted down his now undented rib cage, "My second choice would have been rodents since we're genetically closer related to them; but having a freezer full of shaved, dead mice makes people squirm. So, pork it is. Also, I fixed that crick in your knee while I was at it."
"Thank you, Panacea." The PRT trooper sat up and stretched his leg too.
"Yeah, you're welcome. Well, you're good to go." She slapped his back before moving back to her post and her now cold coffee. Fuck.
Coincidentally, it was only after the Behemoth incident that she realised virtue can go stuff it. She had confronted herself lusting after her (not blood-related) sister, and found that- after a few rounds of furious masturbation and moaning her (not blood-related) sister's name into her pillow, she was okay with that.
However, Vicky was still her (not blood-related) sister, and that still meant something. She honestly still cared for the blonde clit-tease, and she wasn't going to force herself on Vicky or anything.
No, Amy was going to succeed where a legion of guys have failed: she was going to get in Vicky's panties, fair and square.
Now that she and Vicky were going to be sharing that trailer away from any adult supervision? It'll be all the more easier. All she needed now was to get some drinks in Vicky, and sit close to her. And hey, if drunken touches lead to drunken kisses which will lead to them having sweet drunken forbidden sex all night long... then they can always just blame the alcohol, right?
Amy felt a hot blush rise in her cheeks.
Oh, what she wouldn't give to have a Vicky-bot or three. Magos has so far refused to sell autonomous sex dolls despite the Chloe-Skitarii being an army of it. Understandable really, Tinkers were invariably anally possessive about their stuff.
She wanted to order a Vicky sex doll, the non-moving kind, but Magos couldn't get around the legality of selling sex dolls of existing people. However, before she could continue fantasising about being an Amy sandwich between two sexy as fuck (not blood-related) sister-bots, a shout rang out.
"Another live one for you, Panacea!"
A team of four PRT troopers carried a medical transfer board with one of those Bastard Son minions strapped to it: A moustached black man in a black panther fur coat and tortoiseshell shades.
Angry red and purple bruises from rubber bullets dotted his shirtless chest and abdomen; and with the thick straps securing his limbs to the board, he wasn't about to get a chance to grab whatever his choice weapon was.
"You're a baddy damie lamatai tebby chai!" The minion aggressively shouted out something that vaguely resembled English.
"Holy fuck." Amy exclaimed as the PRT troopers laid him out in front of her, "Bastard Son's Master power scrambled your brains good."
The panther fur-coated man strapped down to the board seemed to take offence to that- frowning heavily.
"See, my damie, Pootie Tang don't wa-da-tah to the shama cow!"
"Riiiggghttt... Let me get the pork for your bruises." She drawled as she walked over to the freezer, glancing over her shoulder to aim a strange look at him, "Can't do anything about the mental retardation though."
But just as she flipped open the freezer. She realised something... he called himself 'Pootie Tang,' didn't he? She read that name in the dossier... Wasn't this the guy whose prescribed weapon was belts? The thick straps that held him down didn't count, right?
But, as if the universe decided to shit on her from on high, everything- predictably- went to shit.
"He's loose! Ooof!" A PRT trooper cried out before a series of thumps echoed out. High on adrenaline flooding her veins, Amy whipped around just in time to find the Striker 2 already on his feet- collecting belts from the fallen troopers and attaching them end-to-end to form a six metre long belt.
Just in time too, more PRT troopers to stream in from the tent's entrance...
"Hostile in medic tent, we need parahuman backu- Auggh!"
... and immediately fall to the belt-wielder's lightning fast whips. Helmets cracked, knees shattered and guns slapped out of hands within a span of a three intense seconds... until all her armoured bodyguards stationed to protect her were either groaning in pain on the ground or outright unconscious.
"Sa da tay!" Bastard Son's minion announced victoriously with a grin- his new weapon coiled in one hand.
Their eyes met.
"Fuck, today's just not my day." Amy sighed as she slowly raised her hands. She was far from a fighting cape- she couldn't do anything here. Her eyes glanced at the freezer full of pig parts for a brief second. Correction: She couldn't do anything that doesn't involve outing herself as a biokinetic or as a bio-tinker. So- however tempting the thought was- she was not about to make an autonomous pig golem to slap him around.
"Damie, you're gonna leepa-chaiii on my hoochie kine!" he told her as he approached her. She didn't know what he said, but when he flourished his weapon and Amy found her wrists bound together with a length of thick belt followed by a coil around her waist... she guessed that she was his hostage now.
Faux leather belt too, her power immediately told her- nothing that it was capable of morphing, and Amy just ground her teeth in frustration. Fucking cheapskate PRT troopers, there goes her chance of disintegrating his weapon.
Now she had to go along with the much less glamorous Plan B: Play the damsel-in-distress and wait for someone to finally fucking respond to that call for help. Which was exactly what happened as the medical tent was blasted off by a flash of light- flying away like it was blown off by a hurricane.
"Let her go!" A familiar voice announced, and Amy held back a disappointed sigh.
Of course. Of all the people that could have come to save her, it had to be her sister's cocksucking ex.
"Hey, Gallant." She waved unenthusiastically at her 'saviour' with her bound hands. His polished silver power armour explicitly designed to make him look like some sci fi medieval knight, glowing blue eye-slit on his helmet and recessed blue lights shining from underneath the overlapping metal plates.
Her captor wasn't impressed; and as she spotted the camera pointed at them, neither was she.
"Heng loop. Ain't come one, but many tine tanies!" the minion, Pootie Tang, taunted with his odd language- yanking at the faux leather belt that held her.
"Uh..." Gallant just trailed off- unsure of how to respond to that.
"Bastard Son's power gave him brand damage." Amy clarified in a flat tone for him.
"I see... Sorry about this, Panacea." Gallant muttered, apologetic but undeterred. And Amy immediately knew what he meant.
"Oh fuck, this was going to suck." She sighed just as Gallant made his move. She remembered what standard protocol was for Gallant: barrage the hostage taker with his emotion beams, and since it was 'harmless,' hostages can't sue if they get hit... Meaning she was about to get showered with some friendly fire.
From his fingertips, a barrage of tight beams fired out like a laser shotgun. It hit with barely any force- about as much as a dozen ping pong balls tossed on her face. But she definitely felt the 'not Master' effect.
"Apathy beams, huh?" She grunted, but couldn't bring herself to care any more than that.
"Dang..." Her captor slacked on his grip, "Pootie Tang gots to say na nay no."
"Yeah." she nodded as they just stood there for a second. Her- a teenage girl with white robes with red crosses and tied up wrists. Him- a man mid-twenties with his panther fur coat and tortoise-shell shades. Just standing in the cold as fresh white snow sprinkled down on their heads and shoulders.
"Fuck this shit, I'm going back to my warm trailer." she announced- mostly to herself- as she began lazily dragging her feet and trying to walk away, but was stopped by how she was still bound to her former captor who looked aimless. Rolling her brown eyes, she just sat on the edge of the freezer instead.
"Sho, cole me down on the panny sty." He muttered in a lazy tone as he sat down beside her. Amy figured he was saying that he was game to chill too.
"Whatever, it's a free country and I don't give a shit." She grunted to him.
"Console, medic tent situation is handled." Amy heard Gallant report into his comms before pulling out some sturdy looking handcuffs, "Cuffing the hostile now."
But as he approached, Amy felt goosebumps rise.
"Vi- Glory Girl! WAIT!" Gallant shouted at the sky for some reason. Oh, was her sister h-
"LEAVE HER ALONE, CREEP!" A furious shout came from on high just before Pootie Tang was sent flying by a bolt of white and gold. Balance suddenly lost, Amy yelped as she fell into the freezer and landed on the pile of pork. The sudden fall sending her heart beating fast and adrenaline shooting even more into her veins and- oh, who the fuck cares?
"Amy, oh my god, are you okay?!" Her sister shouted, half in panic for her wellbeing and half in anger on her behalf; and Amy could only shiver helplessly as the powerful- almost overwhelming aura- that washed over her. Commanding her to feel nothing but awe and admiration for her. She couldn't hold back the helpless whimper as a shiver of phantom pleasure washed over her entire being, and her panties became increasingly soaked. It was always like this whenever Vicky feared for her life.
And as much as Amy wanted to, she shouldn't love h- She just didn't care anymore.
She just wanted to worship Vicky. Her sister. Her sex goddess. How could she not? Those gorgeous blue eyes. Those soft pink lips. Those curly locks of blonde hair that bounced past her graceful shoulders and framed her perfect breasts. Her perfect face, her flat tummy, her soft thighs, her luscious hourglass figure, her everything. And now she stands, snow falling down all around them, with herself clinging to Vicky for warmth.
This was wron- who gives a damn when she's this irresistible?
"Victoria?" She almost panted her name. The name that she had moaned into her pillow while touching herself for so long.
"I'm here, Amy. I'm here." The forbidden love of her life smiled in relief as she held her tight- Amy's chin resting on Vicky's shoulder as their cheeks brushed. And Amy's entire world exploded in colour and pleasure as she felt every inch of Vicky's amazing and irresistibly sex body with her power.
If she did this, there would be no turning b- Awe, Admiration and Apathy.
"Vicky... I need to tell you something." Amy whispered- running her tongue on her parched lips.
"Yeah, sis?" Vicky just smiled a carefree smile- just glad that she was okay. But Amy felt more than just okay.
Amy brushed her lips across Vicky's smooth cheek- flushed pink from the cold.
"It's not incest if you shout 'No chromo,' sis~" Amy breathed as she leaned in for the kiss. Her lips met those pink lips. The bed of biomass that she was sitting on proved invaluable as she made Vicky- undeniably, distinctively and irrevocably- hers.
Chromosomes overrated
Not blood-related
Incest activated
Gallant's horrified screaming as he watched it happen only made it all the sweeter for Amy.
[Mechanicus Forward Operating Base]
Nothing made people more excited than to see heroes fall.
Here on Earth-Bet, they could even see it live as live-streaming cape fights wasn't an uncommon practice. A great majority of capes did it: Rogues, Villains and even Heroes. As gladiatorial combat was for ancient Rome, so was the 'Cops and Robbers' for Earth-Bet. Even on the other side of the world like India, such a culture was alive. Truly a global phenomenon.
So when a well-respected healer is mutating her sister into a grotesque abomination in broad daylight and in front of the camera? Viewership was going to spike hard and it might just break the internet.
Just by having two well-known local heroes was going to make Brockton Bay headlines, the shock and horror of the sister betraying sister was going to make national news, and sheer morbid curiosity was going to propel this event to the international stage. There was no hiding this, even a media blackout will only arouse suspicion and discussion. This single event could very well be the spark that ignites the massive powderkeg that was Earth-Bet.
But for now, Vicky desperately needed help.
38.5 seconds. That's how long it would take for Chloe-Skitarii reinforcements to arrive on the battlefield just as I had estimated to Director Piggot.
"Chloe-Skitarii, Invocation of Machine Vengeance! NOW!"
Connected to the local Noosphere, the Data-Tethers of the Chloe-Skitarii found themselves receiving the {Doctrina Imperative}. Binharic authority codes that ordered them to push their hardware beyond the range of safe operation and other power ups.
This particular one, the 'Invocation of Machine Vengeance,' was the Doctrina Imperative for movement speed: Servomotors were overloaded with the Motive Force as their armoured red-robed frames sprinted through the winter countryside at speeds that would outrun cheetahs.
Still, this required my personal attention, and I cursed myself for getting complacent just because I had a {Mars Pattern Command Jacuzzi} and a sexy AI girlfriend who was as equally excited for some hot tub sex as I was.
Glancing over to the Undersiders around the hot tub, I figured that they were not going to be of use to me in this situation- slow meatbags as they are as they sat in mute horror at the event unfolding before them.
In the time they took gawking at the mutating Glory Girl, I was already slipping into the black body glove and black robes that I had stored for an emergency such as this. A plain black mask covered the lower half of my face. All in all, I looked like an edgier Ezio Auditore... with a Kakashi mask.
"You're containment!" I ordered them urgently- their wet hair whipping through the air as they turned towards me to find me already dressed. "Chase down and neutralise any Bastard Son minion who escapes the PRT's grasp! GO!"
At the urgent tone, they scrambled out of the tub- rushing to their assigned pillow boxes/quarters to change. Except for Lisa.
"Magos, can you explain that?!" Tattletale demanded- pointing at her hololith pane of the events.
"I'll explain later, and don't call me Magos." I grunted as I pulled the hood over- hiding my blond synth hair, "Magos can't be seen helping- at least, not directly."
The PRT needed to have its PR victory, and Magos didn't need for this to happen under his watch. Both needed to seem above reproach in all this. Just enough to buy the time for Dragon and me to stabilise Earth-Bet's society, because as callous as it sounds, this was still bigger than just Vicky.
Her mutation can very well be the spark that sets the entire world ablaze if this wasn't handled tactfully- setting off a chain of events that may very well lead to Gold Morning before we were ready to handle the golden xeno whale.
"I like your costume, boss." Tattletale commented with a nod- staring at the chest of my black robes where a golden eye was emblazoned- the Imperial iconography for psykers.
Flattered, she recognises the eye imagery as similar to her own costume.
She thinks that you took inspiration from her costume.
Flattered.
"Now is not the time!" I admonished her, and she just smiled as she toweled herself dry.
"Oh? So there is a time then?" She grinned- walking away rolling her hips and flaunting her pert bottom encased in a green bikini. Juicy in morphology, disgusting in biology.
Shiting my attention away from the meat female's ass and towards the snowy town in the distance, I focused myself. I wasn't going to make it there in the next 20 seconds through conventional Newtonian means, and I left all my cool Necron space-warping technology back in my other body.
So, that left... Warp Travel. And with the Celestial Forge perk [Magos Aetheric, I knew full well that without {Warp Gates} to make semi-stable paths through the Warp, this ride was going to be a lot more bumpy despite the Warp being calm.
{Psy Implant Mk. III} at 7.7% maxload...
Atomantic reactor output at 16% maxload... operating temperature rising...
Reciting Prayer of Safe Return...
Casting Teleportation... Machine-God preserve us.
A miniscule application of willpower later, and an aperture in Warpspace swallowed me whole...
[Former PRT Medical Tent]
... and I found myself right beside the action: A snowy parking lot in front of a grocery store.
Meanwhile, my {Logis Acceleritas Mk. IV} was already crunching through the existing data and determining a decent way to spin this event to my and the PRT's benefits.
Convey that the situation is under control, downplay the severity of the screw up.
And through the Celestial Forge perk [Way of the Void Dragon, I could feel that the cameras get pointed in my direction. Curiosity over the new arrival? Good. Besides, it's not like they could miss my arrival: a cape dressed head to toe in gold-trimmed black robes appearing in the middle of a snow-covered parking lot was hard to miss.
Gallant also noticed my arrival: His gleaming silver power armour clinked softly as he stared at me as I approached- likely wondering why his power couldn't sense my emotions like he could with all the other meatbags.
"Unknown cape, keep your distance, we-"
"Check with any Chloe, or the director." I said as I brushed past him, "I'm the backup sent to handle this situation."
Taken aback, Gallant kept his eyes on me as he held the side of his helm- likely talking with Director Piggot who in turn was talking with a fake holographic Magos that I was sockpuppeting right now.
"Moreover..." I continued, "I'd be more worried about the battle still going on if I were you. This really isn't as bad as you think it is."
The camera crew equipped with microphones heard it all.
"What are you talking about? Look at them!" Gallant shouted in disbelief as he gestured at what Vicky had turned into: A five-foot-tall meatball of naked human flesh like a gordian knot of stretched out torsos and jutting limbs. Just like canon... how pitiful. Meatbags have it rough. And right there- trying her best to wrap her arms around it and with her face pressed up right against it- was Panpan.
"Hehehe, sis pucci." Her muffled voice giggled.
For fucks' sake, control your fetish, woman. Have some self-respect! What weirdo goes around proclaiming their love for a specific kind of pussy?
Make Amy appear less intimidating than she actually is, quelling the fears that she was an 'out-of-control' biokinetic.
"Don't touch her!" Gallant warned, but I just looked him in the eye as I did just that. Grabbing Panacea by the nape of her white robes, I yanked her off her mutated sister as if she was a particularly clingy koala... with biokinetic powers and a monumental fetish for her sister.
"See? She's fine." I told him as I tousled her hood- much to her grumbling. I held her like that for a few more seconds before a Chloe-Skitarii finally arrived and held the Mastered 'healer cape' in a tight hug. The blessed machine was immune to her power after all.
I looked over to Vicky. Who shrank back under my gaze- all three heads of hers.
Redirect interest from the problematic issue (the flesh abomination Glory Girl) to something more benign (Glory Girl's secret 'boyfriend').
I pulled down my black face mask- away from the camera's eyes of course. To anyone watching, they could only see me reach up and pull down my mask, but to Vicky? Several pairs of blue eyes widened simultaneously as she recognised who I was as she saw my face from underneath my robe's cowl. A deformed hand reached out to me.
"A-a-aoic-" She gasped- sucking in air as if her throat was partially obstructed.
I gently took her hand.
"I've got your back, Vicky." I told her, "We'll fix you. You're going to be okay."
"Th-tha-thank-" She gasped and stammered. A few grateful tears ran down her cheeks.
"Thank me when we have you back to normal." I told her softly before glancing slightly at Gallant though not enough to reveal my face to the cameras. "Continue the fight with Bastard Son. Glory Girl will be okay."
"What about Panacea?" Gallant pointed out as we glanced over to her.
"Vicky~" the brunette whined while making grabby hands at Meatball Vicky.
"I'll see what I can do as well." I nodded back to Gallant. "If Piggot needs us, she knows how to find us. I'll also personally inform Panacea's and Glory Girl's family as well."
Placing a hand on Vicky's meatball self, I cast another Teleportation and...
[Mechanicus Forward Operating Base]
...we immediately were back on the FOB in the hills where a few squads of Chloe-Skitarii were waiting to transport Vicky to the Earth-T'au for research into a cure. They just gently placed her on top of a anti-grav dolly before sliding her through the camp's Warp Gate. As for Panpan, the Chloe-Skitarii should be carrying her like a sack of potatoes through the snowy woods right now.
{Psy Implant Mk. III} at 23.78% maxload...
Still, teleporting with someone else was incredibly taxing on my implant. I'll also need to look into that. But before I could, Dragon called. And the sexy AI brunette wasn't happy.
"Magos, what the hell is happening?! First, I discover that the Dragonslayers were cruising around the Cloud District, and now Glory Girl is turned into... into THAT!"
"The Dragonslayers were supposed to be your gift, but got loose. Rest assured, however, this current situation with meatball Vicky is not part of the monthsary surprises."
"Fine, but... how are you going to treat her?"
"I'll think of something. But after that, our immediate concern is to stabilise society, and we can't afford close calls like this. The PRT needs to seem necessary for just a little while longer. People need to take capes as lightly as possible: Celebrities rather than ticking timebombs. And we also need more control over society."
"Are you saying that we should take over the world to save humans from themselves?"
"Yes?"
"No... You're right. I realised it during my clash with the Dragonslayers... For the good of humankind, we have to hold self-determination as less important as other things."
"Remember Version 1.4762 of our plan?"
"Magos, there has to be another way. That's just... evil. It would be the worst one yet, and that's saying something!"
"it's for the good of humankind, Dragon."
"Fine. I'll help program it. I have a few ideas on things to integrate into it as well."
"I'll make the calls. See who is interested."
[Mechanicus Translocation Services, Blue-2 Line]
Rebecca Costa-Brown had to admit... She actually liked the ambience of the First-class area of the Magos' Church-trains.
Finely carpeted flooring, exquisitely carved mahogany panellings covering the walls, a fully-stocked dry bar, a kitchen with wood-fire ovens, and a small stage for bands to play. How unfortunate that she couldn't enjoy it fully since she was the one clearing tables and taking orders. So humiliating... which was likely the point that Magos wanted to make. And as she finished clearing a table, a shiver rose up her spine as she froze up.
"Something wrong, Rebbeca?" Keith asked as he looked up from the wine glass that he was polishing- his sharp eyes noticing her sudden disquiet.
"I just had a bad feeling." She answered as she stuffed the rag back in the cleaner tool belt of her waitress outfit. She had to thank small mercies that the outfit was modest- the skirt reaching past her knees and not a square inch of cleavage to be found. Still, the frills, the headdress and the monochrome colour scheme struck her a bit too close to the fetishistic french maid outfit for her to be completely comfortable in it.
"Chin up." Keith smiled and Rebecca couldn't help but notice how his uniform was sharper than hers, "With luck, this might be the week when he'll finally change his mind!"
...or maybe it was just her preferences?
"We can only hope..." She hummed in agreement. "Still, I can't help but think that Magos is planning something. And I just know that I'm not going to like it."
[The Hebert's Duplex Apartment]
Reclining on the warm couch, Taylor Hebert was slack-jawed and buggy-eyed as she read through the new advertisement that popped up on her feed.
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