Pick Your Poison
Heat 5.6
[Sunday, December 12, 2010]
I woke from my nap to a baffled and bemused gang. We figured we could put the invitation off until tomorrow, but safe to say it was obvious that every Parahuman of the gang would go, including our affiliates such as Uber and Leet and the Undersiders. Since it also affected them, New Wave, Mouse Protector, Parian, Hive, and Overseer would be coming as well. Thus far, this meant we had a total of 25 Parahumans in total all going by Skiff. Only Emma wasn't going with us. Holy shit. Why does Brockton Bay have so many damn Capes Per Capita?
Regardless, Squealer and Leet felt it prudent to finally field the new and improved Skiff model, which actually looked quite sleek, like one of those 'bullet' train engines that Japan used to have running before Leviathan sunk Kyushu and crippled their infrastructure from the tectonic shift caused by such a massive landmass sinking in such an unstable region causing massive earthquakes. That aside, it actually looked like a bullet that could shoot through the sky like a rocket rather than the boxy and clunky ones we've been using since we got Haven in order.
I mean, it was even painted properly, unlike the graffiti-covered originals. So it felt rather surreal to step up the hatch steps of what felt like the flying bus of the future only with sideways benches, in full costume, all clean and nice smelling. I even made the effort of putting on one of those black halter tops so I wasn't shirtless under my coat. Oh, and these weird sandals Parian insisted I wear. It was a bit annoying to have to loop straps over my razor-sharp talons, but all the same it was nice to not have my bare -if incredibly resilient- feet stepping on rocks.
"If I wasn't so sure this was legit, I'd say we're idiots for falling for such an obvious trap." Tats commented as she sat next to me on the right, wearing a dark charcoal pantsuit over her bodysuit, her long blonde hair done up in a professional bun and her domino mask in place. Nodding, I looked over at the door to see the rest of my crew's capes get on as well as Uber and Leet with the rest of the Undersiders. "The Heroes and Rogues are taking a second Skiff. Better for them if they don't show up on the same ride, even if they are coming with us."
"Politics. Ugh. That's something I'm going to have to deal with a lot now, isn't it?" I rhetorically asked my brainy blond friend as Bitch plopped into the seat next to me on the left, sharing space with my tail. She was not even bothering with a costume, just wearing her preferred casual clothes of a set of my jeans and a white halter top as she leaned into me and wrapped an arm around my shoulders. The way she squeezed me told me she's been working out more with Surge too. I should probably do the same, but Balcoat-treated scales, so no.
"They're not gonna fight us, are they?" Bitch asked with irritation as she looked at both Tats and I. I guess she might feel a bit insecure, since she wasn't bringing Rebel or any of the mutts she's been training along. I guess because they weren't trained up enough yet.
"For the last time Rachel, relax. This is actually happening. So long as we can still stay in Haven, Coil doesn't have any more agency against us than usual." Tats insisted, which made Bitch lean into me and huff as she rubbed her snout into the crook of my neck.
"Don't worry Rach, I'll be there too." I reached up behind her and rubbed her neck, which made her hum and nuzzle me more. She loved massages and scratchies so much. Such a dog.
"Makes it worse, idiot." Bitch grumbled, licking my head just below my earhole and making me shiver and withhold a chuckle. She knows i'm ticklish there damn it! "If it was just me, I wouldn't be so worried." Oh. Right. I mean a lot to Bitch. I feel warm at her saying it, rather than trying to interpret her body language like she tries so hard to project.
"You two are so cute, it's almost enough to give me diabetes." Tats teased, and Bitch leered at her which got her smirking even more. "Hey, dogs are cute as it is Rach, you're just even cuter."
"Stop hitting on me." Bitch firmly demanded, getting Tats to pout petulantly.
"I'm not against it Rach, but Tats. I thought you were asexual." I teased with a face-splitting grin.
"Deal. I can't be asexual anymore. Surge fucks up the body so well it makes girls hormonally Bi and men so macho they could explode from their masculinity. Took a while to adjust, but I'm able to get past all the icky things my power tells me about people through sheer force of physical urges." Tat's admission reminded me I had planned to ask around if Surge changed girl's preferences. "For instance, I know for fact you've got a deep-seated fetish for big, strong, curvy women. You may not have intended to be surrounded by amazons, but your power basically granted a selfish teenage fantasy."
I exploded with warmth so bad I thought my milky scales might actually flush, my quills all flared so hard my coat billowed up, and I had to cross my legs and clutch my knees at her pointing out something I'd been casually accepting, but was suddenly forced to acknowledge. Fuck. I'm such a disgusting pervert! Thanks a lot power! You've made me a degenerate scumbag!
"Lisa…." Bitch literally growled, and Tats huffed unapologetically.
"He's been denying his libido so much, I'm surprised he isn't exploding from sexual frustration. A normal guy his age would've been fapping every night to any one of us, but he hasn't even beat his meat in-." I slapped a hand over Tat's mouth, and was twitching enough that I felt like I might extend my claws and do something drastic, which got her eyes to widen and jump a seat away. "Sorry! Sorry! I mean, you've helped me out with my sexuality, even if indirectly. Just figured I'd drop some bombs on you to get you on a healthy track."
"It's called self-restraint and prioritizing Tats. Besides...Pan made masturbation seem kinda...not enough." I admitted weakly and quietly, leaning into Bitch who squeezed my shoulder more.
"Oh. That's...rough. There's uh, toys, for that." Tats weakly replied to my personal problem, only for Squealer to plop down between my blond friend and I. The nominal leader of the Merchants was wearing an updated version of her original pink and black full-body motorcycle suit with a tiger-head shaped helmet. She reminds me of a Power Ranger with her new look to be honest.
"Kid. Man up. Buy some toys for the bedroom. Also, jaws set, eyes forward. We're touching down in a few moments." Squealer slapped my back and got back up, a movement the rest of us followed her lead. I looked over our group, noting that Skidmark was wearing a more professional blue 2-piece suit and black loafers. Of course, he had his temporary prosthetic left arm clamped on over the suit.
Mush wore a similar grey suit, but had a duffle bag filled with his cans. Trainwreck was still slimmed down from his former bulky frame, but seemed to have taken an acid bath and polished his body to the point the myriad metals shined like a piece of modern art. Lastly, both Whirlygig and Purity were wearing simple pantsuits and domino masks. That was our gang.
Uber and Leet had gone for matching white tuxedos with top hats and canes to go with ballroom half-masks. Grue wore a simple dress shirt and trousers with a small skull mask while Regent just wore his usual renfaire costume, his missing arm still obvious as he'd rolled the empty sleeve over his forearm, almost as if to bare his stump with pride. All in all, besides Bitch and I, we were really snazzy. "I feel underdressed." I grumbled, only to get a boisterous pat on the back from Skidmark.
"Naw kid, you're fine. You're the biggest man in the room here. You don't have to dress up for anything." Skidmark declared as he fidgeted with his tie a bit. "Unlike us, you don't have a rep before we turned around. Well, you and Whirly. Don't get why she dressed up."
"Fuck off Skid. I wanted to dress nice." Whirlygig huffed as she straightened out her blue jacket.
"Time to smile for the cameras." Tats commented as we lowered down in front of the PRT building. I took a cleansing breath, looking over at Uber and Leet, who nodded at me. So the plan is still good to go. Alright then. I looked out the sleek window, and blinked. Why were there so many reporters? We haven't announced we were even going to show up.
The hatch opened, and camera flashes exploded as we began to step out. The yard in front of the PRT building was crowded by dozens of eager reporters. They must've been camping out in anticipation of us showing up, judging by the chairs and folding tables. I kept my eyes down and feebly waved as Trainwreck and Mush, the biggest of us, led the way and parted the crowd. I looked behind us to see the rogues and heroes following closely from their own Skiff. Said Skiffs were remaining visible, parked as they were on the street parking spaces.
Soon enough, we were inside the PRT lobby, which had several PRT troopers all at attention, but not aggressively. Miss Militia was the only hero here to greet us. Was she bigger? "We've been expecting you. We'll be leading you up to the main third floor conference room. Would you prefer going up in groups by the elevators, or taking the stairs?"
"The elevators are fine. You're not about to foam us when we came in willingly, at your invitation." Skidmark stated as he followed Militia towards the fancy tinkertech elevators. Always wanted to ride one of these, I hear they're practically silent. "Finally using that Surge you got?" So it isn't my perverse nature, she really is bigger all around, but just a bit.
"Yes. It's impressive. I've never seen or felt such physical prowess gain so quickly without a power being directly involved." Militia turned her hazel gaze to me. "I'm so glad that things have turned out this way. I hope this is the beginning of a bright future." I felt warm again, but this time it was likely to do with being complimented by one of my favorite heroes. I still got all giddy when MP approved of me. "Oh, damn it. Mouse! I told you to think on it for a while!"
"Oh hush Missy, you know I look good!" MP winked at who I knew had to be her oldest friend, and the way Militia huffed and just averted her gaze told me this wasn't a new scenario, aside from MP being a literal mouse. She still didn't have a new costume yet though.
"Can you two put off foreplay for a bit? We're here on serious business." Squealer interjected, before looking to me. "We'll head up first Dealer." She jerked her head towards the elevator, and I followed her with Bitch and Leet close on my tail. Literally with the former, she grabbed it and held it up over her shoulder, which felt really intimate with it going up her abs and between her breasts before drooping over her shoulder, but I withheld any comment since with us four large people, the average-sized elevator would be a tight enough squeeze without my tail being a trip hazard.
The doors interleaved closed all fancy, and within seconds opened up the same way. I didn't even feel us move. We stepped out, and followed a waiting trooper who took us to a door labeled Conference Room A. Inside at the head of the table sat that bitch, Costa-Brown, with Piggot to her side and Armsmaster mirroring the local Director. Oddly, there were no other heroes in the room. I expected a bigger showing. "Welcome. Sit wherever you feel the most comfortable." The Chief Director stated, so I quickly made my way to the seat at the opposite end of the very long plain black table. Yeah, I don't trust you bitch. Any space is welcome.
After I took my seat, the others sat around me with Bitch begrudgingly letting Squealer sit between her and I as I had Leet on my left. The others trickled in, and soon enough the long table was filled with the independent heroes and Parian between us former villains and the government officials. The fact that nobody was under 6 feet tall and were all buff as hell and curvy if of the feminine persuasion made the huge room feel much smaller than it was.
"I trust everyone is in attendance?" Armsmaster's question got a unanimous nod from us. "Very good, let's begin. Today, you all have been invited to discuss your decision on whether or not to join MIRIS and the conditions and benefits involved." Squealer quickly raised a hand. "Yes?"
"Before we continue, first things first. Will MIRIS curb our Tinkering?" Squealer interjected, gesturing to herself, Leet, Trainwreck and I. "It's the basis of our operations. Those Skiffs outside aren't something we just whipped up out of nothing." Technically, might as well be.
"It depends on what you're intending to build. If it is, say, a biological plague or other rampant and violent creation without restraint, then yes; MIRIS will stop it, or get Us to stop it for them. Otherwise, MIRIS has no say or oversight in your Tinkering." Armsmaster answered, before looking to the Chief Director, who nodded.
"Needless to say, your Tinkering will not be funded by MIRIS like it would be by the Protectorate if you were to join them instead. You can use MIRIS to sell your products if they're deemed safe, but otherwise they will not aid you in your personal endeavors, those are up to you. MIRIS is simply a platform from which you can ply your trades." Costa-Brown added, which got us looking to each other, and I nodded in agreement. I had no problem with such an arrangement.
"So if the Protectorate and PRT want my rigs?" Squealer probed, to which Costa-Brown smiled.
"We'll have to buy them from you through MIRIS, like anyone you may sell to." Costa-Brown's answer helped paint a picture that while it may seem costly to her organization/s, they would still ultimately be benefitting, since we would get no funding from MIRIS, selling through MIRIS was likely the best or only way to really make any money. Sneaky. "But that's only one facet of these discussions. Allow us to continue, but first." Costa-Brown looked between Panacea and I. "I'll pay Panacea 10,000 dollars right now to heal up Director Piggot here, or buy some wares from Dealer to do so ourselves."
I blinked, everyone looked a bit surprised, but Piggot suddenly went red in the face. "Chief-Director! You know-!"
"Either accept, or resign where you sit." Costa-Brown sharply snapped, and the overweight woman flinched as if struck despite her pride. "I will not have one of my staff become useless. You're a single stressful instance away from dying at this point." Costa-Brown looked down her nose at Piggot, and the woman simmered before grumbling and nodding in assent. "Well?"
I looked to Panacea, and she looked to her mother, who looked between us all, and huffed, before nodding. "Go ahead Amy, if you want to." Brandish's words were measured and filled with meaning I couldn't grasp, but Panacea seemed comforted and stood before moving to Director Piggot, who reluctantly offered a hand, which Panacea took and hissed.
"You have no kidneys. You're dying, even with dialysis. Thankfully you have plenty of fat for me to use to heal you, but if I may, I suggest letting me introduce Stim and Surge so you continue to heal after I'm done growing you new kidneys and stabilizing you. Do I have your Permission to Heal you? And do I have your Permission to Modify you?" Panacea stated with dead seriousness, and I perked up at her mentioning using my own creations.
"...Yes. To both." Piggot grumbled. "Only reason I'm saying yes to the mods is because I've seen them in action with Militia." Piggot stated, which I found bemusing. Why bother saying why she agreed?
"It's about time you got the help you needed." Came a woman's voice from the TV behind Costa-Brown, which turned itself on and displayed the 3D avatar of an unusually plain woman. "I was even petitioning you be ordered to get help at the rate things were developing."
"The sentiment is appreciated, Dragon." Piggot huffed as her skin became a more healthy pink from her previous grey-ish tint, and her belly fat visibly shrank in on itself, leaving her thinner. "Oh, thank god...why was I so damn stubborn about this before?" Piggot sighed and leaned back before Panacea let her hand go, and Costa-Brown lifted a small briefcase onto the table.
"N-no. That's fine. She needed to be healed." Panacea meekly tried to protest, only for Costa-Brown to slide the case down to Brandish, who caught it, and casually opened it to reveal the small case was filled with stacks of cold hard cash, which made Brandish blink.
"You rendered a service, you get compensated. That is how MIRIS is meant to work." Costa-Brown peered around the table, and I realized this was yet another clever and well-played demonstration of what we're getting into. "That said, for those of you without marketable abilities or wares, you can still work alongside the Protectorate and PRT with MIRIS as your official liaison, and you will be compensated for your time as if you were a Protectorate hero."
"So we can basically be Protectorate without being Protectorate?" Purity asked with surprise. "But what's the catch? The cost? You mentioned community service in your announcement."
"Indeed Purity. For people like you who have a less-than-legal background can submit to MIRIS as an employee for a probationary period decided by your crimes. You'll still be paid though at the base minimum for your time, but you'll be expected to show for duty without fail." Costa-Brown's words got the crew muttering a bit. "That won't interfere too much with your personal lives however. MIRIS is not the Protectorate. You will be able to choose schedules, though limited, depending on your needs. For those underage however, you'll be expected to devote your weekends or afternoons depending on the severity of your crimes."
"Well this is all well and good, but some of us have done some seriously bad sh-stuff. Am I going to be your whipping boy for years to make up for my mistakes?" Skidmark questioned, which I was interested to hear Costa-Brown's response to.
"Normally, yes. This is a better alternative to prison. But since your group has provided such boons to society so far, we're willing to give you leeway." Ew. Her smile. Those teeth are too white, too perfect. It's like the smile of satan or something. "That's the gist of it. I have the new information pamphlets and other documents on hand for you to take home and think on."
"Hold up." I called, standing. The bitch was completely unfazed. "Big picture time. Will MIRIS interfere with the Merchants' goal of cleaning up this city and maybe beyond?"
"Not at all. If anything, MIRIS will allow it to become easier with much of the red tape being cut away." Costa Brown replied, so I nodded to Leet, who stood, and pressed a switch on the knob of his cane, which summoned a small skeletal robot nearly 4-feet tall with simple eyes and construction. So simple in fact, you'd think it a product of a modern university robotics lab rather than a Tinker. Especially with the way it just statically stood slightly slumped over atop the table.
"This, is just a Tinpet. It's the skeleton, or base, of a robot called a Medabot. It's from a really old Japanese game series. Anyway, the reason it's here is to demonstrate a sample of what our next phase is at this point." Leet stated, before opening the knob of his cane and revealing a golden hexagon coin with an aqua sphere in the center. "This, is a Medal. It's the central processor so to speak." He opened the hatch on the back of the Tinpet, and inserted the coin.
"Just what are you getting at? Robots have been done before." Armsmaster huffed, but Dragon seemed anxious, or horrified if her expression and the sudden artifacts on the screen interrupting her broadcast meant anything.
"None like these. Activate!" Leet called into his cane, and the lights of the eyes suddenly lit up blue, before the robot shuddered, and raised its head, peering around the room. "Good morning Rokusho." Leet's shit-eating smile was followed by Uber cheering. "How are you?"
"I am doing fine Mr. Leet. No different than the last time I was awoken. Greetings to you all. I am Rokusho, a Medabot. Or, rather, the self-aware entity controlling this mobile platform called a Medabot." The Tinpet spoke with a deep resonating tinny voice and bowed quite fluidly, but then Dragon began screaming in fear or agony, her voice distorting and the screen scattered before going quiet, and Dragon's avatar was suddenly on her knees, panting and shuddering.
"Dragon! What just happened?!" Armsmaster demanded frantically, but Dragon just shook her head and disconnected. What was that about? "Dragon! Answer me!" Armsmaster demanded as he moved a hand to his helmet, and then ran from the room like a man on a mission. And in her seat, unnoticed by everyone but me, sat Alexandria, unfazed, and smiling victoriously.