1.10
My Parahumans Online account had actually been banned! This injustice couldn't stand, mostly because it was an abstract nonphysical idea and all, but probably so was I and that had never stopped me from standing.
What do you mean posting pictures of tasered high school students isn't okay!? I didn't taser the middle-schoolers, I only smacked them upside the head. I had also gotten into a flaming war with multiple people over whether or not the Slaughterhouse Nine were actually dead. It was totally worth it.
So I packed my bags, and by bags I mean my new gun of course, and set off to a certain individual. The same poster who flamed me pointed out Bastard Son, a certain member of the Elite, who was supposedly just as bad. He questioned why I didn't just go and kill him, and I thought about it for all of one seconds, and wondered why I didn't do just that.
I mean the guy had gone far past "potential nine recruit," to more "Slaughterhouse nine member that accepts orders." He however, like most parahumans I had ended thus far, was not a brute. Granted I would probably pelt them with grenades non-stop if they were, but still, it was awfully easy thus far.
"Surprise!" I said shooting him in the head three times. Just to make sure of course. I didn't really have too much of an issue with the rest of the elite considering how much they stabilized their own turf. I grabbed my nice camera, and snapped a picture of his still pretty recognizable face. Reloading pistol, I moved to ending the so-called "attack dogs," that he employed.
Speaking of the Slaughterhouse Nine, it was time to check up with the fragments of the group. First up was Burnscar, the least bad out of all the nine before I sort of ended the group. Cherish definitely wasn't, considering shevoluntarilymoved towards them.
The hopefully former serial killer was enjoying a camp in the wilderness. I wondered where she got the backpack tent and supplies from. Hopefully the former owner was still alive, otherwise…
I looked at the burn marks over the edges of the tent. There was no campfire, but the smell of burntsomethingstill remained. I sighed, and pulled out my gun.
The still sleeping parahuman turned over, trapped within some nightmare. Weren't we all.
I unloaded the last three bullets on her, and snapped a picture.
It felt bad, but that just proved how sexist I was. I probably wouldn't hesitate to shoot some crazy pyromaniac guy if such a situation occurred. She had a kill order for a reason, and I would enforce it.
The next member of the formerly Slaughterhouse compunction was Cherish. The girl was still bomb-collared, though whoever controlled the thing, probably Mannequin, hadn't detonated it for whatever reason. I say probably Mannequin because he was nearby, tinkering with something.
Well at least I could cross one stop off my list. I had no convenient way to kill off Mannequin at the moment. Not without stealing a hefty amount of tinkertech or stopping Bakuda and the other tinkers working on the payload in another dimension.
Mannequin rather obviously put defences in his workshop as one expect, as I found my head forcibly detached by a swinging blade. Why Mannequin would use blades as a trap eluded me, but it was best not to wonder about the intricacies of a madman.
I left the two to whatever the hell they were doing. I wasn't stupid enough to visit Crawler, for the same reasons as not killing mannequin.
What was I doing again? Oh, that's right, getting my PHO account unbanned.
In the binary landscape of the virtual world, I materialized. Hell, this entire situation should be utterly impossible. I suppose "everywhere and nowhere" really did apply here. I thought appearing next dragon would probably be popping up next to Armsmaster, not inside Dragon's coding. I popped out, because I did not understand or speak the language of computers. I mean my metaphysical brain probably would have popped if I was in there any longer.
I popped up next to Armsmaster, another tinker in the middle of tinkering.
"Can you tell Dragon to unban me?" I said, vanishing before he could react.
I appeared in a darkened room, eyes taking a second to adjust. I was just trying to annoy Piggot but... projected on the wall was a picture of me. Well not other-me, me.
"Don't mind me," I said to the gathered PRT employees, opening my laptop and logging into the PRT guest wireless again. There was an awkward silence, that just made my day. It seemed I had come at just the right time.
"Could we ask you some questions?" asked one woman. I continued to type on my screen. I liked my laptop too, it'd be a shame if someone were to destroy it. On the back, I had placed a sticker reading "this machine kills fascists," as a tribute and for general irony.
"Sure," I said, making a new account on PHO to post the latest images on my thread in the photography forum. I was surprised it hadn't been moved off that forum, but I did take pictures of other things occasionally I supposed.
Plugging in the SD card, my ears wiggled as the woman began to speak. "How old are you?"
"I don't know," I responded, navigating the forums.
"While you are doing what you believe what is right, could you please consider listening to others?" she said moderately pleadingly.
"I am, as you can see I'm doing so right now," I said. And posted!
"I believe you've made a few questionable decisions, such as threatening minors or intruding on government property," she said.
"But zey zreatened ozer minors, I jusht zreatened zem back," I said, looking over the new pages of discussion. "And I can't be tresspasing if I was zere to begin vith."
The table lapsed back into silence. I closed my laptop, and wrote a line on a slip of paper. It read "Mover rating : yes."
"Vell I'll be off," I said to the people probably discussing me. "Auf Wiedersehen!"
Thinking about it, I really only used german to say goodbye. That seemed like a waste, especially since I had the entire spoken and written language uploaded into my mind.
"Guten abend, kann ich Ihre unterschrift haben?" I asked the sleeping man I popped up next to. I let him wake up, look at me and see the pistol in my hand. I smiled and shot him right in the eye.
I remembered why I didn't use guns again. They're really loud, as in "everyone in the underground bunker knows even with soundproofing" loud. The permenantly borrowed weapon I was using was a Desert Eagle for maximum irony of course.
Soon the Gesellschaft bunker was filled with the sound of shouts. I had just a few more visits to make though, so it wasn't really too bad.
I was going to give them heil.