Stretching your full mass and shaking out your fur, you take a moment to appreciate the way your ability to become a giant wolf works; one may think that all it does is increasing the size of your body without any further changes, but that would actually be quite wrong.
Whole groups of muscles shifting and repositioning as they grow larger, your legs stretching proportionally further than the rest of your body would for a part of the transition, your head subtly being reformed to better suit a creature of your size... Lots of small, but significant changes that effect a significant improvement overall.
Not that you really have all that much time to indulge in feeling smug about your powers inherently working like this, considering Rachel is still waiting for you, her equally canine, but considerably smaller form patiently sitting before you.
Huffing out a breath of chilly air, you hunch downwards a little, giving her head a lick that covers half her snout from bottom to top easily enough. Time to go out and have a look at her by now very sizeable pack.
You wouldn't believe it, but apparently, some of the smarter dogs around have started listening in on conversations where they can, later on simply 'repeating' what they heard to Rachel, using the power you gave her to understand what it was they were eavesdropping in on.
This initially led to a lot of 'stupid yapping', as the girl in question conveys to you as she leads you through the more abandoned parts of town, both of you in the form of wolves that seem ordinary at first glance (even if uncommonly clean and well-fed), using that same power to communicate as you go, but sooner or later they learned how to differentiate between important information being exchanged and idle gossip and the like.
Mostly through reading body language and tones of voice, which is something dogs are fairly good at to begin with.
What all of this comes down to is that the dogs have found out about the location a delivery of heavy machine guns is supposed to arrive soon-ish, Rachel calling on you for support as she was unwilling to risk attacking by herself, judging she would rather ask just in case you can take the time and avoid possible wounds to any dogs involved.
Which is quite fortituous, as you did, in fact, have some time.
Continuing to move through the area, now that you've made sure nobody is around to see anything happening, the both of you grow quite a bit, Rachel able to match you in overall size increase, if not quite in size, yourself larger than her even at base, and take to the roofs, jumping across rooftops with ease thanks to the speed and strength of your forms.
It doesn't take long before you catch sight of your sentries, lone dogs 'coincidentally' near your target area. Looking down at them, you throw a questioning glance, being told they didn't see any movement yet.
Good enough. For now, you and Rachel circle the place the exchange is supposed to take place, an old warehouse sometimes used as a depot for the E88's less legal 'merchandise', the nazis one of the bigger buyers and sellers in this patch of the east coast anyways.
Well, as of yet. It isn't like you aren't planning to replace them once you're done with their people, after all.
The strike, when it comes, is sudden, brutal and complete, every single member of the E88 within the building permanently neutralized and either eaten or carried off to be eaten elsewhere.
Turns out very few people are really prepared for giant mutant lizard dogs crashing through the doors and proceeding to fuck up their days.
Still, that leaves the delivery you're actually here for, no matter how amusing it is to gnaw at the odd limb you have decided to take for yourself, 'graciously' allowing the rest of the pack to divide all other spoils between themselves. You do make special mention, though, of the suitcase full of what smells a lot like cash you found while you left the dogs to tearing into the bodies they were eating right away.
And yes, in this form, your already pretty acute sense of smell is even stronger, you can literally sniff out money easily enough like this so long as it's a significant amount, thanks to its fairly distinct scent.
Which is why, when a fairly nondescript truck comes to a halt outside the broken door and a pair of shifty dudes disembarks, you are ready.
"You sure this is the right place?" One of them asks, taking a suspicious look around under the beanie he's wearing.
"Oh shaddup and watch my back, you idiot," the other one responds, coming closer and knocking on the doorframe. "Hello? Anyone home?"
What he didn't expect was you in your wolf form to step into the crappy light of the streetlights drifting in, the suitcase carried inside your mouth.
"Rfh," is all you make as you walk towards him.
The two morons stand there for a second, stunned by the sight of a wolf with bloodied fur (clearly not its own blood) coming literally out of nowhere from their perspective, but for some reason, they don't actually do the smart thing and run away at full speed.
"H-hey there, we're here with the delivery...?" The guy that seems to be in the lead says, only to be interrupted by a harsh whisper from his compatriot.
"The fuck are you doing, man?"
"Just shut up and follow my lead," the first one whispers back, both of them easily audible for a normal dog, not to mention your empowered hearing.
Nevertheless, you proceed to put the suitcase down, gesturing towards the truck with your head.
"Uh? A-ah, yes, I'm sure you want to inspect the goods before we go on. Same as this usually goes, right? Hahaha," Mister Prospective Chewtoy laughs, his nerves obviously hitting him hard.
("No, seriously, the fuck are you doing?")
("I said shut up, or do you want to explain to the giant dog we won't sell to him, huh?")
Huffing, you growl for a moment, making these two jokers shut up. More importantly, though, whom you actually were addressing responds appropriately, a dozen dogs of various breeds making a show of coming out of the ransacked warehouse.
They're even walking like gangsters, somehow.
Leaving the intimidation and staring to your subordinates, you forge on, giving the driver that kept sitting inside the driver's cabin a literally wolfish grin as you make your way around and behind the truck, waiting for the pair of smalltimers to come and unload the crates you can already see- they did remember to actually open up the vehicle's loading ramp, at least.
"Okay," the one idiot taking charge says, more to himself than anything else, "so, uh... I'll just go ahead and, uh, show you these...?"
"Ruff!" You agree, sitting down on your hindlegs as you do your best to hide your amusement at this whole situation, the other dogs including Bitch surrounding you.
Dog POV
Morty was a good dog.
Doing as the Doge and the Bitch said, Morty and the rest of the pack attacked, using the blessing of the Bitch to tear down the Enemies they led them to.
They ate a lot, but still had meat left over. Everyone would eat well once they brought it back, half of them starting to gnaw the meat into pieces they could carry in shifts while the other half guarded the perimeter.
The Bitch had told them to make sure no humans saw anything out of the ordinary, and so they did.
Hearing the warning growls, Morty started, shaking his head as he readied himself for battle yet again, but the Doge motioned for them to keep calm. Picking up a thingy, the Doge sat down next to the way out, waiting patiently for the right moment.
Hearing humans approach, the Doge got up, intimidating them into doing as he said. Calling for his followers, Morty and his packmates followed, the Bitch leading their way.
"Okay, so, uh... I'll just go ahead and, uh, show you these...?" The talky human said, the Doge telling him to hurry up already. Even as Morty stared down the talky human's untalky human, the weak male trying not to look back at him for fear of being proven for what he was, he kept an ear tilted to listen to what happened next as he did something with a thing.
"H-here, perfectly good merchandise. One hundred automatic rifles, as ordered, with fitting ammunition a-and-"
The Doge told him to cease his offending prattling, a notion Morty agreed with, before using the advanced technique of the Standing Dog, his front paws resting atop the thing to let him observe the thing's insides.
Satisfied, the Doge let out a ruff, telling the pack to bring the thingy he left behind earlier. Eager to obey, two of his packmates rushed for it, dragging the thingy over towards the Doge.
The Doge, in turn, motioned for the talky human, who picked it up with trembling hands. "Th-thanks? I mean, thanks. Do you need any help with...?"
The Doge ignored the talky human, growling for the pack to come forth. Uniting their power, the Doge ordered them to pull the things, as it turned out the humans had brought many of them, outside, an order they all eagerly followed.
The blessing of the Bitch made this a lot easier, and before long they had retrieved all the things, even as the humans kept talking in high-pitched voices.
("What do you mean we're selling to dogs?!")
("S'long as they're paying, they're customers, numbnut. Now shaddup and don't look weak, they're no different from any other gangsters.")
Ruffing, the Doge praised their work, making Morty swell with happiness. Making weird gestures towards the humans, the Doge used his snout to somehow communicate with them, making them return into their big thing with the thingy, driving off with the familiar swell of stink after a short moment.
("Those are dogs, man!")
("Don't you start on it, too! It's obviously some kinda cape shit, now drive!")
Morty was a good boy.
Having successfully bought the guns, you take a moment to make sure there aren't any obvious trackers on any of them, at least, while you telepathically call on Kate, arranging for a pick-up. While you don't really technically care for the guns themselves, having better and easier ways to get at simple ballistic guns in case you want to sell any off by virtue of having invented the manufactories, they're still perfectly useable raw materials you can throw into one of those, not to mention the thought of just leaving all those weapons lying around like that.
Littering is truly one heinous crime, after all.
Nevertheless, it doesn't take all that long before Sherrel shows up with a few of the girls, loading the merchandize into the invisivan before driving off in short order.
You, on the other hand, have a lot of other shit to do...
Humming to yourself a little, you can't help but be lightly annoyed at being pressed to do the rounds tonight, though you suppose it can't be helped; telling Sarah that you took the doggy mafia out to mug the nazis and buy weapons like it was the funniest thing you did all week (it was) may not have been the best idea at the time, but alas, here you are, burdened by the tasks your love imposed on you.
And really, having your sister along to at least make this walk around the abandoned trainyard a romantic one. The business you're here for, of course, does kind of preclude that- best to come across as authentic when you're a reknown gang leader looking to recruit a new cape.
Most of the area you're searching right now is, of course, more a scrapyard than anything else, the old industrial area having been abandoned for... a long, long time now.
Actually figuring out where this new tinker made their workshop is surprisingly hard, all things considered, in the heap of scrap that parts of the trainyard have become over the last decade or so. In the end, it is, paradoxically, the uncommon cleanliness of a particular area that clues you in.
Well, calling it clean is an overstatement, with just as much random grime and trash lying around as everywhere else. But what's telling is that there are no old, abandoned cars nearby the warehouse you're approaching, nor can you even spot any dumpsters nearby, presumably having been taken for their metal or something.
Oh, and the fact you can see a weird blood signature inside, moving around. That one also helps.
Putting on your best charming smile, you knock on the door to the warehouse your target's holed up inside, three times loud and clear. Seeing the effect isn't hard for you, the clear sight you get of their position through your senses making it obvious they heard you as they start moving.
... Only to halt shortly thereafter, turning back and forth as they begin pacing. Deciding to cut that short a little, you knock again, a little louder this time- Your mystery tinker definitely heard that one, at least.
Waiting patiently for them to come to the door, you're greeted by the sight of an obviously acne-scarred round face, obscured by an improvised mask of some sort sitting over the lower half of its face, the figure as a whole sheathed inside a metallic contraption that vaguely reminds you of an iron maiden, just in dirty and built with random scrap.
Suffice to say, comparing yourself in your well-tailored suit to this guy is like comparing day and night.
"M'yes, hello?" Is how he greets you.
"Hello there," you politely greet him back, "you wouldn't happen to be the tinker that's recently put up shop around here?"
"I dunno exactly what a tinker even is, man. I've just been busy trying to somehow get some fuckin' hands going again, okay?"
Well, clearly this situation requires some more explanation to make sense.
As it turns out, your unexpected new 'friend' is actually a case 53, as he proves by wiggling his fleshy arm free of the literal metal glove he apparently made from scrap using nothing but his limbs' natural ability to shapeshift slowly (very slowly).
You, of course, immediately take the opportunity to present yourself as the helpful guy that knows about stuff, helped along by your actual knowledge on the subject. You explain to him, then, that while nobody actually knows where Case 53s come from, they are a known phenomenon, people with significant changes to their bodies just popping up with some regularity.
One thing leads to another, he calls you 'shadowface', you call him tentacle dick in return and before you know it, you're inside his workshop and telling him about powers, capes, tinkers in particular as that seems relevant to the subject at hand and, of course, how many groups are always after newer tinkers, seeing as how they tend to be weak when building up and yet quite powerful once they have established themselves, making it the obvious solution to make sure they either work for you or don't work at all.
A little conversation later and you've learned this amnesiac cape really doesn't give a fuck about anyone but himself, but is perfectly willing to work with or for anyone that can help him establish a sense of human-ness, for lack of a better word, by getting him everything he needs to build himself some better limbs to work with in the first place.
Help you offer, of course, not hiding you are, in fact, a gang leader and somewhat well-known around the city, something your unnamed ugly friend doesn't have any idea about- he naturally wouldn't, having been busy and stuck without any media access for a while now.
Speaking of which, mentally referring to him as 'that tinker' is getting pretty tiring, so you make an effort to help him figure out a name to call himself while the two of you see about packing up his actually worthwhile tinkertech, with you assuring him you can get literally any materials he's looking for with at most some time.
"Moe?"
"Nah, bit too... bland? If you geddit?"
"Gray?"
"What, do I look gay to you?"
"Hey, no offense if you are. How about... Colin?" You randomly throw out, having read Armsmaster's file thanks to Sarah.
Slowly mulling it over, your newest cape eventually shakes his head. "Doesn't really feel like 'me', I think. Whoever I used ta be, I ain't no 'Colin'."
"Fair enough. What do you think about Frank? Nice, simple and to the point."
"Hmm..." Tentative Frank takes a moment again, thinking it over. "You know what, I think that might work. Not much you can do with a name like Frank."
"Good! Frank Scrapper, then," you agree easily enough, not really caring about his choice all that much, personally. "Now if you would stand still, this should take just a moment."
"What should ta-" The newly christened Frank Scrapper is cut off as, without much of a warning, your surroundings change, the two of you suddenly situated inside the teleportation chamber you specifically set aside for uses like this.
"Surprise! As it happens, I have a teleporter. Now come on, I have to show you to the workshop and help you get a few hands going."
Your new friend Frank getting settled in easily enough, you turn your attention towards the other new recruit you're about to interact with, or old recruit, rather.
Trevor Medina, according to the data package you read through beforehand, is a somewhat lanky black teenager with a vaguely triangular face, making an amusing contrast to the Case 53 tinker you just finished dealing with. Living with his single-parent mother, the psych profile Sarah put together for you indicates him to be a very typical teenager; headstrong, prone to impulsive action, with the added caveats of his power influencing him and an aspiration to get rich before he's thirty.
Easy enough to work with, you suppose.
Luckily enough, you don't even have to leave your bunker for this one, instead just grabbing up one of the phones actually capable of connecting to the network outside even this deep beneath the earth (Coil did think of nearly everything, didn't he?).
Waiting for a moment as the receiver beeps and boops at you after you've settled into your comfortable seat, it thankfully doesn't take all that long for young Trevor to pick up, the somewhat nasal voice of a teenage boy reminding you to be thankful you managed to keep your dignity intact during your own time in high school by virtue of 'only' developing an annoyingly deep and smoky voice you still sometimes fall into instead of... this.
Well, that and the usual issues of puberty; suddenly being all muscly as you filled out and the almost permanent boners no amount of sex managed to calm down.
High school was a hard time, in many ways.
"Hello, Medina speaking?"
"Hello there, this is Cain. I am just calling to let you know Coil had a little... accident, of the permanent kind, and won't be able to uphold his end of the little arrangement you had with him. Luckily for you, however, I am intending to take over all his operations, so you'll still be getting paid on time... unless, of course, you have any objections?"
It takes the juvenile tinker a moment to compose himself at this unexpected turn of events, clearing his throat a few times so he can respond. "I-I mean, I don't particularly mind, no. C- the old boss had me working on putting together a suit of power armor with the stuff he got me to use when I infiltrated the Wards, am I still supposed to keep on doing that?"
"I think not, I have enough eyes in the PRT and Protectorate it would be risking you for nothing. I also happen to have a fully stacked out lab for any of my Tinkers to use as they wish, we can meet and I'll give you the tour at some point."
"O-oh, okay. Uh, no offense, but you seem a lot more... personable? Than the old boss."
"Well, I do make a point of personally knowing all the capes on my payroll. You wouldn't believe how many issues the Crypts as an organization can sidestep simply because I'm going out of my way to talk to my people. Anyways, I'll either call you or have someone contact you over the next few days to arrange a time for the meetup. Don't worry, it'll all be fairly casual, more a formality than anything."
Poor Trevor seems fairly overwhelmed at this whole everything, though it's not like you particularly care. He knows what to expect and all, that's all you need.
That was that, you suppose. With both of the annoying teenage boys taken care of for the time being, you turn your attention towards the (hopefully) more interesting recruit for today, none other than Parian, the rogue that's been putting on little doll shows for kids at the boardwalk. Dressing after the theme of a victorian doll of some kind, you're at least fairly certain this cape is female, though you can't be absolutely sure until you meet her in person (you remember Circus).
Sarah went ahead and arranged for a meeting over at the boardwalk, as a sort of 'neutral ground' to have talks in that won't immediately have Parian on her hackles, regradless of the realities of the situation. Question is, do you go alone, or are you taking one of your girlfriends along?
As it happens, having Aisha share her teleportation power with you and Sarah cuts down on transportation time immensely... even though both of your companions for this outing insist on sharing your lap, meaning you have to do the teleports while seated.
Still, you're perfectly capable of keeping your orientation as you zip through time and space, and so it doesn't take long for you to arrive atop a roof not far from the alley you arranged to meet inside, a quick look proving Parian to be there already.
Giving both Sarah and Aisha a quick kiss for luck before you descend, carrying both of them, of course, you simply jump off the roof's ledge, your powers negating your own impact even as your sheer strength lets you easily compensate for the force of your passenger's weight. Parian, having looked over towards you when she saw something move from the corner of her eyes, proceeds to stand there and stare for a moment, which is perfectly sufficient for you to put yourself into position.
"Hello there, Parian. How are you doing this fine evening?" You ask, holding out a hand for the doll-like cape.
"... Hello." Taking your hand on autopilot, you squeeze hers for a moment before letting go, already deeply conversing with Sarah as she starts to analyze this new cape.
"And my name is Tattletale. Nice to meet you!" Sarah, being ever the sunshine, smiles at Parian, her half-mask concealing the upper portion of her face as her costume is designed to. Aisha, meanwhile, is already busy burying her hands under Parian's clothes, seemingly having trouble getting through and under the cloth.
Maybe she's subconsciously using her power to keep her clothes in place?
"... It's nice to meet you two and all, but why did you call me out here in the middle of the night? You should know I don't intend to join any gang or group or anything. I just want to be left alone," Parian borderline begs, doing her best to make her standpoint clear.
"Oh, sure, and don't feel pressured by this whole situation one way or another. Despite how all of this may look, we are trying to make a genuine offer in good faith. Last thing the Crypts want are resentful capes with access to our resources," you explain, laying out your own approach to recruitment. "But at the same time, we figured the Empire must have been putting pressure on you as a somewhat better known independent rogue, which is why we came to extend the offer."
Or Sarah just pulled the fact she's hesitant about this because of the way the nazis have been putting pressure on her every time she's showing up on the boardwalk out of thin air. Same thing, really.
"So, here's the thing. You don't have to join us 'officially' or anything, but what we can do is leave a phone number you can call at any point. If you need help, acutely or generally, because you're attacked or need money or for whatever reason, you can call it and we'll at least try to help. If you don't, well, no harm, no foul. Is that alright with you?"
Your daily practice to speak empathically must be paying off, Parian nodding to your offer. "And if I don't run into any trouble, I won't have any reason to call. But if I do use this number, I'd be... indebted to you, yes?"
"From a certain point of view. How about this, if you use this number, we can consider you... indebted, to the Lord Street Crypts. If, at that time, you don't want to join, we can figure something out; a favor for a favor. Nothing big nor some scheme to pull you deeper into the organization, just something you can do that helps us out, but doesn't go against your personal values. That sound fair?"
Aisha, by this point, is quietly growling as she fights with Parian's skirt, buried to her upper arms as she is inside it. You're honestly more amused by her issues than anything else at this point.
"That is... fair, yes. And it gives me time to think about it."
Naturally, Sarah is the one to step forwards, whipping out a small piece of paper with a string of numbers written on it in her characteristically clean handwriting. "And remember, we have lots of membership benefits. Lots of 'em," she growls that last part, smirking at a reaction only she can really see.
Anyways, looks like you're done here, huh? "At any rate, it has been a pleasure," you nod at Parian, "but we should get a move on. I believe we've taken up enough of your sleeping time for tonight."
"Yes, I wouldn't be averse to catching a few hours of sleep. Thank you, for... you know." Parian waves the piece of paper. "And I'll think about it, honestly think."
"That's all we can ask. See you around, hopefully."
And with that, you walk out of the alley, a frustrated Aisha taking up the majority of your attention even as you keep a (figurative) eye on Parian's blood signature, the young woman staying there until you teleport out.
She's completely into younger girls, by the way, Sarah thinks at you before you can proceed to get distracted by the next random task you're taking on.
"How young are we talking? Like, Aisha young, Dinah young, you young?" You ask out loud, not seeing any reason to keep the conversation quiet.
"About me young," Sarah sighs, shaking her head. "She's also into bondage and domming the heck out of others, so that plays into it as well. Might want to keep that in mind."
"Wouldn't be the first time I negotiated from a position of weakness," you muse to yourself. "Did I ever tell you about that one woman I-"
"No, you didn't, and I'm not sure I want to know. Tell me anyways."
Aisha, as it turns out, didn't get enough of you yet; pouting and with big puppy dog eyes, she asks you to play with her a little at the dawn of friday morning, a plea you agree with immediately as doing so saves you from having to help Sarah prepare for the meeting you've already announced for later.
As in, you smother your lovely sister with kisses to distract her before you and your partner in crime teleport right out again, her wry smile proving all of these happenings to be in good fun.
"So, where are we going?" You ask in the fog surrounding you in short order, your ongoing efforts to keep the weather in your city acceptable bearing fruit.
"How 'bout... my old school? I wanna see how the old losers're doing, maybe fuck around a little."
"Sure, sure, let's go. Which way is it from here?"
"Uhm... let's try going there," Aisha says, uncertainly pointing into one direction in the expanse of white your surroundings have become beyond a few buildings' worth of distance, "and see where we get?"
Shrugging, you sigh. "Guess we're wandering around 'till we get somewhere you recognize."
Finding what turns out to be St. Bacchus Junior High takes a bit of time, but before long you manage to teleport onto the roof of the school apparently named after some christian saint, the sheer distance you can cover allowing you to brute-force the whole search easily enough.
All you really need to do is keep moving, the rest falls into place as soon as Aisha manages to remember having seen her surroundings before.
"So," you ask, slowly considering the building full of moving bodies whose blood you can see below you, "what and how are we doing, exactly? I mean, with the powers I gave you in addition to your own, there's a few things we could do to have fun now that we're here."
"Mhm, come along? I'm sure I can think of something good."
Shrugging, you nod, using your shadow transformation to follow Aisha as she teleports downwards, the two of you getting inside the school building, kids arriving and moving through the halls all over the place.
"Man, this really brings me back. Like, I used to come here all the time for no reason other than people expected it of me, so I blew it off more often than not, but it's not like I was really learning jack shit in the first place. With my bigger brains now, it really makes me thin-" Scowling, Aisha halts herself from talking at your shadowed self mutely following her, glaring over at a group of students in all her naked displeasure.
"Actually, you know what? I think I know what we're gonna do. Wait here for a sec, I'm gonna go get a few things."
When Aisha showed up with a bag full of dildos, a rope and a video camera, a rough idea of what she was planning to do next. But when she walked straight up to the blonde girl talking down to another girl and told her to go to room 118, it became immediately apparent.
Following Aisha who was following the girl, you soon make your way up the stairs, your pet carrying her equipment with her. Once your prospective victim opens the unlocked door, she comes in after her, locking said door with the key still stuck on the inside, keeping it in her hand.
"So, Gabe? This is Kassy, and she's a total fucking stupid cunt. She's also the teacher's pet and gets away with a lot of shit. How about we fuck her shit up real hard, teach her to be a better person? Figure we might as well, that''d be one person in this school that actually learned something in it, not like this classrom's in use anyways."
Tell me more, you think back at her, knowing full well that you, for one, still do have to hide from the girl now confusedly trying to open the door again.
"Eh, 's nothing complicated. You just rape the bitch out of this bitch, I make a few pics and we leave her a present or two after we're done," Aisha says, waggling her bag of dildos, "and if I ever feel like it, I remind her of this day by leaving a few copies by her bed one night. And then we go for the next stupid little cunt."
Alright then, but we can't exactly let anyone known I'm here. How do we do that?
"Don't worry, I'm just gonna block their eyes. So, you up for this?"
Do you even need to ask?
And like that, Kassy's fate is sealed, her attempts at shouting for someone to let her out cut short by Aisha's hands as she proceeds to drag her over towards the nearest table, bending her over it.
"Shut up and stop struggling," is all she orders her to begin with, the momentary halt in the girl's wild flailing more than enough for you to transform back into your usual state as you approach.
The sound of your footsteps has Kassy try to look behind herself, but Aisha presses down on her head, forcefully hanging it over the wooden surface she's lying on. Keeping quiet yourself, you simply proceed to reach over her waist, unbuttoning the pants she's wearing.
Kassy remains confused, but she does seem to be twigging on to what is going on, but you and Aisha make sure to keep her arms restrained behind her back easily enough until your pet finally deigns to use her rope, binding Kassy's wrists together even as she needs to keep a hand over her mouth to keep her from screaming.
"There you go, you stupid little slut. You've been asking for it, time you get what you deserve," Aisha mumbles at Kassy, her power meaning she can't actually be remembered, but still eager to put her dirty thoughts into words.
You, on the other hand, have been busy yourself, dragging denim fabric down a pair of legs suddenly finding it much harder to kick out.
The panties (white, with hearts printed all over it, a fact you waste no time to silently point out to Aisha) follow suit in short order, leaving the quietly struggling girl's bottoms bare to you and your inquisitive hands, which squeeze and grope at sensitive flesh for a moment before going further, her asscheeks spread easily enough despite her best attempts to squeeze them together and revealing her little pussy and asshole to you.
Flashing Aisha a grin, you roughly thrust a middle finger into the former, considering what to do about its annoying dryness. Well, you do have an easy solution for that you have yet to try out.
"Get wet, slut."
With unholy glee dancing in her eyes, Aisha gives you a nod, even as the slightest bit of moisture begins gathering in the pussy you're forcefully fingering, every thrust of your hand driving your victim's hips to bump against the desk in a hopeless attempt to move away. "Eat me out, bitch!"
All of a sudden able to open her mouth again, Kassy nevertheless unwillingly does so, her face immediately met with Aisha's crotch as her tongue slides out.
Leaving Aisha to her spot of unaware interracial oral sex, you deal with your own end of things. Specifically, unzipping your pants. Kassy whimpers at the sound, muffled by Aisha's pussy as she is, but that's nothing compared to the way she hops in place and tries to push herself over the desk when she feels the length of your shaft dropping between her cheeks, your head swollen and slowly dripping precum onto her lower back.
You don't waste any time, pulling back for a moment so you can aim yourself properly before moving back towards Kassy, the little girl shuddering and twitching at the feeling of your cockhead pressing against her labia, her grunts and shouts still muted by Aisha's own pussy, your pet taking immense amusement from this whole situation.
Slowly and firmly, you keep on pushing forwards, Kassy's body unwillingly producing the lubricant for your unwanted insertion to proceed, a barrier soon making itself felt in your progress.
You ignore it, and the unmistakeable scent of blood spreads through the air soon after, Kassy's cramping body and pained breathing making it sufficiently obvious you just took her virginity. But you keep on pressing onwards, burying inch after in of your hard dick inside as you keep on spreading the girl's inner passage, now leaning over her with one hand on her waist and another on her shoulder.
Soon (far too soon), you bump into another obstruction, Kassy's womb making it hard for you to get more than half your cock inside her. A shame, but ah well- you just pull out in a single smooth move, holding her in place as you reverse direction once only your head remains inside her.
Your forceful thrust drives the air out of Kassy's lungs, and soon you establish a steady rhythm that leaves her gasping for breath while you take your leasure from her small body, Aisha babbling on about one degrading thing or another.
Kassy's pussy, despite whatever other character traits may plague her, is hot and tight in equal measure, and so it doesn't take long before you go ahead and jackhammer into her, her instinctual response driving her to fear and dread what comes next. It is not with a mighty roar, nor a triumphant shout that you eventually release yourself, the only thing radiating from you a quiet that seems reminiscent of the grave you were reborn inside.
Pumping your thick load into Kassy's deepest depths, filling her up and plastering her womb, you look right into Aisha's dark eyes, the lidded globes speaking of pleasure and dark triumph as you defile the girl she chose for this.
Rutting into the little girl several times more, you continue to add to your first shot, her abused pussy swollen and likely quite sore by the time you relent, pulling your slimy, still immensely hard cock out of the mess you've made.
Kassy's pussy is quite red, the tissue of her vagina inflamed and dripping with the same mixture of fluids as your own organ, semen, vaginal fluids and blood slowly streaming onto the floor from her now slightly gaping opening.
You're not done, however.
Massaging her asscheeks again for a bit, you reposition your throbbing dick a little higher, the until now largely unresponsive Kassy (once you came inside her a few times, anyways) perking up at the feel of your well-lubricated dick poking at her clenching asshole.
"Oh, she's feeling this one," Aisha smirks, "was wondering if she went full dead fish on us." Continuing to gring her pussy against Kassy's face, your pet returns to using her powers to get her to eat herself out.
Back at her backside, you slowly increase the pressure of your cock, Kassy's renewed struggles not deterring you in the slightest as you slowly, torturously slowly, sink your head into her ass, producing a quiet plop as you bring it in entirely, a third of your cock following suit before you can hold your force back.
Kassy gives out a muffled shriek, but neither you nor Aisha know mercy, working her body with mechanical precision as you carefully, slowly pump yourself in and out her sphincter, careful not to rip her anal ring despite the pain you're causing.
You have to be doing something right, what with the way she stops screaming and starts moaning again after a while of this, having gotten used to anal penetration to the point you feel comfortable thrusting into her further, her widely-spread ass having no choice but to take all the dick you feed into it.
Surprisingly enough, Kassy actually comes by the time you fill her tight ass with your cum, your balls slapping against her messy pussy with every frantic thrust as you approach your first peak while ravaging her behind.
It is in the middle of your extensive stretching of Kassy's asshole that it happens, coinciding with your third time cumming inside it as you lean over your victim. One moment you're emptying your balls, pushing yourself in to the root and enjoying the sensation of Kassy convulsing around you while you fill her up and push a squeal out of her and into Aisha, the next moment you see Aisha tumble onto her ass, eyes unfocused, while Kassy's skin begins to glow with blotchy light, colors you know to be impossible emanating from it.
You've actually seen shit like this while travelling between dimensions and you're fairly sure this is some cape shit. More specifically, little Kassy here turns out to be a parahuman... more likely a fresh trigger, actually, given the way Aisha fell unconscious right there.
A breaker of some kind, then? According to trigger theory (which you still consider to make more sense than eighty percent of the pseudoscientific bullshit making up the field of parahuman science), it is quite likely Kassy triggered as you raped her, with her state of consciousness altered so much by the various powers you and Aisha have been using on her she had trouble differentiating what reality even was, hence a primary breaker-esque power, as you don't think she is a changer or anything, at least.
Also, you're still buried in her ass, her body still looking to work the same as it did before she just got powers. Both Kassy and Aisha seem to be recovering, Aisha blinking rapidly even as Kassy stirs once more.
"Whad," you hear coming from Kassy, her mumbled voice chiming like crystals crashing against each other, "whad habhened?"
Teach you to leave things to Aisha instead of applying a gag of some kind.
You, on the other hand, simply continue to thrust into Kassy from behind. "It would seem you have triggered as a parahuman while we were raping you, Kassy."
Clenching down around you, Kassy tries to stand up, but can't really straighten her posture with the way her arms are bound together behind her back, so she just flops around uselessly as she involuntarily massages your dick inside her with her movement.
"Id hurds... I thing I gan remember now..."
"Oh, good, I was wondering if I would have to recount everything that happened so far."
"Ugh!" Grunting as you hit that one spot you noticed she seems to like, Kassy shakes her head. "Get... out of me. Please?"
"Nope, not happening. I started this, I'm not stopping until you've melted into a puddle."
"Pwease... feels too goodh..."
Reinforcing your efforts, you hug Kassy from behind, using your leverage to keep her from squirming as you rail into her and simultaneously speak into her ear. "For now, why don't you tell me what your power is? You should have a feeling for it, it's an instinctual thing."
"I can be stronger... make anyone that sees me weiiird..."
Mhm, that would explain Aisha blankly staring into the air right this moment. Good thing your slew of immunities is keeping you from being affected too deeply by her power yourself. "In that case, can you turn your power off? Could you do it for me?"
Slowly, the impossible lights blink out, letting you see Kassy herself again. "Good girl."
With Aisha coming back to full consciousness, you turn her attention towards her while you keep physically dominating Kassy. "Hey sweetie, back among the living?"
"Urgh... What exactly just happened? I got this really annoying headache."
"Kassy here seems to have triggered while we were doing our thing," you say, pointing downwards at the panting girl whose body is still taking your cock. "Some kind of mental effect that seems to keep people unconscious or equivalent while active. Doesn't work on me, but it knocked you out pretty good."
Filling Kassy up one last time, her tongue by now hanging out of the corner of her mouth as her eyes go unfocused, you finally retract yourself from her insides, letting her slump down on the desk she's been lying on this entire time.
"So, what shall we do with her now?"
Unusually subdued for once, Aisha puts on her thinking face, looking around quickly. Spying her bag of dildos, she nods resolutely. "Okay, so how 'bout this. First period's in session, so we just plug her up a bit, then we sneak her out of here and bring her back to base."
"'kay, and then?"
"I don't know! We'll figure something out then, okay? This plan's a work in progress!"
Aisha actually does seem awfully stressed about this for some reason. "Hey, hey, it's all good. We can deal with this, no sweat."
Taking a few deep breaths, your pet visibly does her bets to calm down. "Yeah. Yeah, sorry, I'm just- I just realized how fucked up what we're doing is."
"What, because she triggered?" At Aisha's silence, you sigh, shrugging a little. "If it makes you feel better, it's really just another worst day in someone's life. Shit like this? Happens all the time, all over the place. This was tame compared to some of the shit I've seen around."
Groaning, Aisha shakes her head. "I know that, but it kinda feels..."
"It feels different when you you're there and can see it, I get it. It's a common thing, even. As long as you don't actually see it yourself, it just kind of feels out there, even if you intellectually know people are suffering. But as soon as you personally ascertain it, your empathy fires if you got any for a person in a given situation in the first place."
"Yeah, that's it, pretty much. Like, I remember the way I triggered, yeah? But I can totally see how it could've happened differently. There's a reason I tried to be away when mom brought her 'boyfriends' home. One of them made me take drugs once, and I was tripping balls for the whole afternoon; the way her power felt like had me right back there."
Aisha doesn't really feel the cold anymore, as you know, thanks to a combination of your thralling and simply getting used to it, but she's still shivering right now. Coming over, you give her a gentle hug, resting her head against your front.
"It's alright, it's alright." Simply muttering at her, you slowly, but surely let Aisha calm down, her shuddering breaths hitting your shirt as you stroke her hair.
"Okay. I'm... okay. This really isn't any worse than anything else we've done, is it?"
"Not really, no. So, let's see what we can do about Kassy over here, yeah? We'll bring her back home, have a talk or two with her, then we can go from there. Sound good?"
"Yeah," Aisha mumbles, "sound good."
Aisha stays a little quiet on the drive back home once you've managed to maneuver yourself through the school building as you carry Kassy out, though you do manage to ger her more or less back to normal by the time you've arrived. Actually pulling your unconscious victim's clothes on again was a little hard with the toys the two of you stuck inside her to keep her from leaking, but a bit of enthusiasm let you get the job done anyways.
Once you bring her inside, Sherrel making a joke about your taste in girls for a moment only for you to return the same (she insisted on Aisha riding on her lap during the drive), it doesn't take long for you to bring Kassy to one of the empty rooms you use for things like this, one of Coil's old prison cells, to be exact. With her tucked into the featureless room's bed, though, you find yourself having to consider what you'll do with her next- and whether or not you will do so yourself.
Well, you were planning otherwise, but you'll just have to make space in your schedule, after all. With a quiet sigh, you take a seat on the bedside and make a cut along our palm using your claws, emplyoing hemokinesis to move a steady strand of blood around and behind yourself to where you made sure Kassy's mouth is open, beginning the process of thralling her.
That said, the majority of your attention is on someone else instead.
"Hey," you stop Aisha with, the black girl in the process of getting out the door as soon as Kassy is settled in, "I'm gonna be sitting her for a while being bored until this whole thing finishes." You waggle your slowly bleeding hand. "Wanna talk to waste some time together?"
Looking conflicted for a moment, Aisha sighs and comes over, planting herself onto your lap. A shame you're actually wearing pants right now.
"'kay, let's talk then. This about my freakout?"
"A little. Don't get me wrong, I don't want to push you or anything. Just figure out what had you so spooked all of a sudden."
With another sigh, Aisha pushes her head against you, prompting you to pat it again. With the minimal cuddliness established, Aisha lets herself melt into your arms as she begins talking.
"So you want the whole, long and boring story, or do you want me to just sum it all up in a way you may or may not understand?"
"Tempting, but I'll go with long and boring. Time to waste, remember?"
"Boooring. Okay, you got me being myself and everything to start with, yeah? I know I'm kinda dumb sometimes, or even often, I got shit memory and just don't think things through all the time. Thing is, I'm not that dumb. When I actually manage to concentrate on shit, none of that thinky stuff is actually hard for me, right? I just... can't concentrate most times. Makes a girl think, right?"
You just keep stroking the almost naked girl on your lap, wordlessly telling her you're listening.
"So it wasn't hard to figure out, hey, maybe it's not all my fault. Maybe it's because of something else. And mom? Mom was always taking drugs, shooting something up or shit, I dunno. Even when she shouldn't, and even when she was pregnant with me. Ain't hard to make the connection, right?"
Stroke, pat. Stroke, pat. Aisha is tensing up, but more because she's doing her best to work through what she's telling you.
"And it was always a thing, just always... there. In my mind. And I never told anyone, because... what would it even have done? I had no idea if mom ever thought of that, too. Thought about what consequences for others her decisions and shit had, but I didn't wanna confront her over it or anythin'. When the whole thing happened, where you had one of the girls give her a bag of coke in exchange for signin' me away, that was just... the last straw, really. So when she came looking for me to hand me off because she was high and wanted to stay high, I triggered and ran away. Because when she was like that, I knew she actually knew, but didn't care."
Aisha is crying now, but her voice remains steady. You just hug her to yourself.
"Like, she wasn't always like that. Mom isn't... she was better when she was clean. She actually cared about us, paid attention. But soon as drugs entered the picture, she was like... like another person. And there was that one time, already told you about it, when one of them made me snort something up. So I kinda hated drugs, and people that give them to others. For a lotta reasons. Still do. But when you were the only person to be able to see me, when I was following Brian that one time after getting lost in this here base, I just went along with it. Few alternatives, right?"
It's a shame Kassy is lying behind you, else you could go ahead and lie down. This is looking like a longer story.
"But then the thrall thingy happened, and all of a sudden I could just fucking think. Be myself without having to worry about when I'd get on somebody's nerves because you and your sis were just so... acceptin', I guess. So I just pretended the whole drug trade thing going on in the background didn't happen, right? Not like that was hard, there's a crapload of other shit going on in here all the time. And I run around and just use my power to do what I fucking want, take anything I want from people and ram random shit up nazi asses."
"Mhm, you showed me the pictures."
"Yeah, and it was hilarious! But somehow, when Kassy triggered and I was just so... reminded. so..."
"Viscerally?"
"Yeah, when I was viscerally reminded of my own trigger and how the drugs felt that one time and just how fuckin' scared I was back then, that... kinda put everything into perspective, right? Made me see everything that's been going on with a new light."
"And what do you think, now? Has anything changed?"
"Eh, kinda, and kinda not. Like, it's not like my opinions on anything really changed, I'm just... confronting them more now? Like, I realized the drugs still really bother me, but it's not like any of the Crypts' people force anyone to take 'em, right? That's at least one good thing that happened; the Merchants and the druggies that made them up are either dead or stuffed with addictol. The stuff is apparently really good, too, I actually spent a while observin' some of the new Crypts back when I joined."
"Stealing the recipe from another dimension was completely worth it."
"Yeah, and let me re-iter-ate, the whole thrall stuff? Really helped with my ADHD. I can just... decide I'm doing a thing, and I can go on and do it instead of getting distracted all the time. That's really huge for me, right? And there's all the other shit, the added powers, the whole teleportation deal you got me. That's pretty fucking sweet."
Looking back at Kassy, Aisha sighs. "And there's us raping a girl that used to piss me off, and I have no fucking idea just why I was so pissed at her in the first place. I genuinely can't recall. And I'm sitting here and wondering, am I just a bad person or something, without ever really realizing it?"
Actually considering everything Aisha has been telling you in earnest, you look down on the girl in your lap for a long moment, before bending yourself a little to press a kiss on the top of her head.
"Honestly, I don't want to tell you what to think about this. Feels like the kind of thing everyone has to puzzle out for themselves, you know? But I also think you could stand to use some advice for this."
"No shit, Sherlock."
Huffing in amusement, you give your cute pet another kiss. "My opinion on your whole dilemma, then. Simply put? It doesn't really matter how much of a bad person you are, because everyone is, on some level. Far as I'm concerned, there's two kinds of people, those we care about and everyone else. Straightforward tribalistic thinking, but it works. So long as you're good to the people you actually care about, the only other thing that matters is how much of a bad person you can be and still be happy with yourself. That make sense?"
"Huh. Certainly explains the way you work, if nothin' else. But I think I get it." Pushing herself back against you, Aisha looks outwards, obviously deep in thought. "Not sure I really buy it, though. Sure, 'everyone else' doesn't get the same kinda compassion someone would feel for their family, but what about someone that you used to love, that you still want to love, but really, really shouldn't, because of what they've done?"
"As I said," you say warmly, knowing precisely who Aisha is talking about, "the people we care about and everyone else. If they're not someone you can bring yourself to care about anymore or even if they are but need to be handled differently, it's only a question of how bad a person you can stand to be."
"Hm." You don't bother saying anything more, just holding Aisha. Just being there for someone can be all it takes sometimes, and though you would never admit it, Aisha is someone you do care about.
"I think... I think I'm going to give up on her," Aisha finally brings out, sounding more exhausted than a girl her age should even be able to, and yet looking like the weight of the world was weighing her down for so long she couldn't remember living without it only to be taken off her shoulders. "As you said, she's just... not somebody I should care about. So I won't. Seriously, fuck her."
'Hmm'ing to herself, Aisha makes it a point to stretch herself, her joints popping and air flowing into her lungs at her deep breath. "Okay! I guess that's that, then."
And of course, you have to hold back a chuckle at Aisha being just so very herself as soon as the problem is solved.
"That still leaves Kassy, though. I'm not sure what to even do about her- do we just keep her, do we let her go or what? I don't really care about her as a person, I don't think I ever did, but she's still kind of our responsibility, isn't she?"
Hey, Sarah? I got a hypothetical question for you.
I'm getting a bad feeling about the words you are using, but please continue, Gabe.
So, uh, if I were to, hypothetically, have gone out with Aisha and raped a girl her age into triggering, then finished the job and fucked her unconscious before kidnapping her, what would you suggest I do with her by the time I'm done thralling her?
... Urgh...
Sarah? You okay?"
Yes, I'm just trying to decide whether I should make you sleep on the couch or just make sure you have enough sex to keep you distracted from running around and doing your thing without any of your minders nearby.
Oh, I have minders now?
What else do you think everyone's main job is?
;) Sending smileys purely over a telepathic connection is a trick you're especially proud of figuring out.
How did you- no, wait, don't tell me. In fact, just give me more info. What's that hypothetical new trigger's power?
Some kind of memetic hazard breaker state.
Great. Ugh. Okay, so you're thralling her-
Hypothetically!
-right now, but is she awake?
Nope, still all fucked out.
Okay, so as soon as you're done, I want you to take her and figure out wherever she lives, then teleport her home before anything else.
Really? Just like that?
What else were you going to do to her?
Slowly brainwash her into becoming an obedient pet while keeping her on base?
Gabe, there are reasons you're supposed to come talk to me about everything you do before you do it. This is one of them. Just get her home and wait a week or two, let the thralling and whatever else you want to throw her way do its work and just approach her as Cain. She'll fold like wet tissue paper the moment you whip out your cock by then, even if she makes a fuss about the whole rape thing at first.
Alright, Sarah. Also, did I mention you're the best? Because you are.
Cutting the connection before Sarah can work herself up into one of her cute rants, you focus back on your surroundings. "Okay, so we are going to go figure out where Kassy lives and just passively mindfuck her to the point she won't complain about the idea of joining us too much."
"Really? How you gonna do that?" Aisha asks, looking up at you. Well, when she's asking like this... you certainly won't mention the whole thrall deal's mental effects!
"Oh, I do have my ways. In fact, one moment."
Looking over at your victim, you smile your trademarked smirk at her (well, not actually trademarked, yet, but it's an idea for the future). "For starters, fear and anger drive your arousal up! Also, while I'm at it, disdain for heroes becomes your second nature!"
As the otherworldly sound of your chanting voice echoes off, you pat Aisha's legs, signalling her to get off your lap for a bit. "This should hopefully help her adjust her outlook. Every time she thinks back on what we did, she'll hopefully get horny, which, combined with the way I literally fucked her unconscious with pleasure, ought to do the trick of making her see our last interaction with her in a more positive light. The second one goes without saying- don't want her to run off and join the Wards or some such, and if she regularly looked down on others before, that should help get her to see heroes in the same light."
Ignoring Aisha's laughter as you explain what you're doing, you push a hand inside Kassy's pants, reaching to touch both of the dildos currently lodged inside her. "These two, on the other hand... Tempt her like nothing else! And number two... Increase obsession whenever you're used!"
Waving for Aisha to come back to cuddle some more, you smile. "These should go without saying. One to get her to masturbate with them, the other one to drive her to focus on what she's doing and thinking about... combined with the two curses on her directly, I'm willing to bet on a particular memory she's going to be repeatedly fantasizing about. Now all we have to do is wait for the rest to be finished, wouldn't want her to actually retain any damage from what we did to her."
Arranging for the teleport of Kassy into her home is a bit of a tedious process, though not for you; you mostly just had Aisha figure out the details, figuring getting her moving around would be the best way to let her digest the whole discussion you just had with her.
Anyways, as soon as that's taken care of, you shift gears. You'd really been planning on taking some time to talk to Isabel, see what the impressionable young woman has been doing over the past few weeks, but alas, what can't be, can't be.
Instead, you focus on what you can do, which means making sure you're all dressed up for your date in about half an hour.
Speaking of which, time to go ahead and scope out the place you'll be meeting. Can't ever be too prepared for things like this, after all.
Having exchanged a few texts with Vicky so far, it was somewhat of a surprise to hear it was Amy that insisted on inviting Crystal along, the sister's cousin from the Pelham side of the family being a new addition to the whole dynamic you've been building up between yourself, one of your lovers and the sisters.
But as you stand there now far from the cinema's entrance, seeking shelter under a canopy stretching from the building from the constant drizzle coming down (that may or may not be caused by you continually screwing with the air's water content, though you sure ain't admitting to anything), it doesn't take you long at all to spy the (prospective) reason Amy would make sure her cousin would come along.
That is, the pair of massive knockers she's carrying on her chest. Searching your memory, it doesn't take you long to realize there was one of your earlier pictures drawn on stream as Abel vaguely depicting her... except with approximately this cup size involved.
Yeah, something is almost certainly going on here.
Either way, you don't give voice to any of that. You have other things to do. "Hey Vicky, hey Amy. Nice to meet you, you must be Crystal," you greet the three ladies coming in your direction, umbrellas drawn and protecting them from the rain.
"Hey, Gabe."
"Hello, Gabriel."
"You must be this Gabriel I've been hearing so much about," Crystal added with a wry smirk, "and yeah, I'm Crystal. Wanna go in?"
"Hold on a sec," Vicky protests, folding up her umbrella while making sure she doesn't get anyone wet, "we still gotta figure out which of us is Gabe's date for today."
"Oh?" Crystal asks, raising an eyebrow. "Is that how this usually works with you guys?"
You do take note she doesn't clarify whom she's including in that.
"Ah, Gabriel does make it a point to bring a different girl every time we meet up, but we didn't want to make this a five-people-thing, so I asked him not to for once," Amy throws in, her smug look obvious in what she's doing.
Cheeky little bitch.
"Lies and slander, I assure you. But very well, if I have to..."
Glancing over the three assembled girls, you take in their appearances in record speed. Vicky, for one, is in what you'd guess to be one of her usual casual outfits, a skirt and top held in brighter colors topped with a hoodie she's using just in case anyone that might recognize her could disturb your outings.
Amy, on the other hand, is wearing the more goth-oriented clothing you got her, self-consciously adjusting the collar every now and then. It really does suit her, too, especially in combination with the darker lipstick she or, more likely, Vicky must have added to round the look out.
Finally, Crystal. The older girl (or young woman, really) is wearing jeans, a smart black blouse and overall putting on a pretty professional look, the kind that wouldn't be out of place anywhere from a coffee shop to an executive meeting.
All that said, you kind of have a strategy in mind for this.
"I would naturally ask our lovely Crystal to accompany me for today. I would hate to divide the lovebirds, after all... again." Melodramatically leaning forwards, you give Crystal your best stage whisper. "You would not believe just how grumpy Amy gets when away from her Vicky for too long."
Strangely enough, neither Vicky nor Amy really protest at that; though Vicky stammers around a little, Amy just blushes and takes her hand, cutting her off.
"Guys? Something I should know about you two?" Crystal asks, her voice carefully neutral.
"Nope, if you're Gabe's date, that just means Vicky's mine today," Amy smugs at her, hamming it up so obviously it's almost as painful as the way you act sometimes.
Coming into the cinema, Vicky actually holding Amy's hand the whole time (much to your and Crystal's amusement), you don't take long to get to the counter selling tickets, an eye on the big placards advertising movies running at the moment letting you actually get an idea of the movie Vicky wanted to see.
"Rise Of The Raging Rambo 3: The Reveangance?" You ask with a raised eyebrow, looking at the picture of a roided out mass of muscle holding an oversized tinkertech machinegun in each hand, barechested. "You know, I'm starting to have second thoughts about your tastes, Vicky."
"Bwah, I didn't pick the movie for the plot, I picked it for the loud explosions and constant screaming making it harder to hear us." Funnily enough, the one to blush at that is Amy.
"Are you sure you meant to invite me along? This sounds a lot like a more... intimate kinda thing," Crystal questions, only for a still blushing Amy to start pouting of all things.
"Of course you're invited! Besides, not like anything more involved than what you have me do all the time is gonna happen inside the cinema hall."
"Oh?" Vicky bends forwards, looking over at Crystal who is walking by your side. "Have you been taking advantage of my poor little Amy, Crystal? Do I need to watch out for you snatching her away from me?"
You can tell she is joking easily enough, but there's a core of earnest concern in there. "Hah, if anything, Amy's been taking advantage of me."
"Both of you shut up and wait until we're inside," Amy grumps, throwing a side glance at Crystal's expansive chest. "Just you wait, Crystal, just you wait..."
Chuckling, you take Crytsal's hand, waiting for the opportunity to tell everyone else the queue has moved and they really should take a step before people actually start paying attention to what they're saying.
Buying tickets for seats at the very back, you offer to let the girls go on in first while you go buy the snacks, an offer that's reasonably well received by the girls.
Making it a point to get three XXL bags of popcorn and the big drinks (Everyone loves cola, right?), you make your way over deeper into the cinema, following the way Vicky, Amy and Crystal went earlier.
Moving through the short, dark tunnel seperating the hall itself from the brightly-lit rest of the building, you poke your head inside, but it seems the only thing going on at the moment is the usual stream of ads blasting across the screen, so you just walk all the way into the back, where you can see your date(s) waiting.
Side note, the ability to see perfectly at any brightness is great, though it does take away from the whole cinema atmosphere.
"Hey," you whisper, despite the first few rows in front of you being empty, few people really coming around to watch movies around this time of day, "got us all the usual favorites. Sweet popcorn and coke."
"Dope," Vicky says, grabbing her and Amy's portion of the stuff. You just sit down, placing the popcorn between you and crystal and offering her her drink.
"Thanks."
It does, thankfully enough, not take all that long for the lights to go down as the last few ads roll, the loud beginnings of the movie drowning out anything else for a moment.
Casually stuffing a few pieces of popcorn into your mouth, you look over at Crystal, who gives the screen a somewhat bored, but still patient look. Best guess, she went along with this for Amy's sake, but isn't particularly invested in anything that happens.
Time to change that.
"So, those are some pretty big tits," you start the conversation, gesturing towards Crystal with your drink. "You sure they're natural?"
"Excuse you, of course they are," she hisses back, crossing her arms and only emphasizing just how huge her jugs are. Seriously, those are some huge melons.
"Sorry, sorry, it's just really hard to believe. Must've been one hell of a puberty, though, growing these things the size of your head each."
It would be hard to see in this darkness, but you can tell Crystal is blushing just fine. "Yeah, well, maybe I did have some help along the way, but they're still completely natural."
"Oh?" You ask playfully, "You want me to check on them to make sure?"
Huffing back at you, Crystal shakes her head, an amused smile winding around her lips. "Not with my cousins right there and-"
"You mean the two sisters making out already?"
Looking at her opposite side, Crystal gets a good shot of Amy and Vicky embracing each other as they lean towards one another, their lips meeting in a sweet exchange.
Crystal just facepalms. "Why'd they even bring me along when they're just here to date each other?"
"I think they're using dates with me as an excuse," you ponder, gently patting the back of Crystal's hand. "It does help I've done it with both of them. So, about that tit massage?"
"Oh, why the hell not?" Crystal says, exasperated. That's enough permission for you, so you stretch one arm over her shoulders as you begin groping Crystal's tits.
The movie has been, as expected, nothing but screams and explosions so far, with nobody in your little backrow community actually giving a fuck about what's going on with it. Now you actually put it to good use as Crystal seems unusually sensitive, shuddering under your touch almost immediately.
"Not so, Ah, hard!"
"If you think this is bad, you're in for a treat once I get those clothes off of you."
Growing bored of having to work through Crystal's clothing, you proceed to shift your focus to unbuttoning her blouse, an action that has Crystal bite her lips for a moment before actually helping you, freeing up her bra-clad chest.
A bra you soon slip upwards, her jiggling titflesh spilling out and filling up your palms in short order.
Weighing her breasts in your hands, you grin over towards Amy and Vicky as you realize Amy is looking over at you, breathing hard as she pushes her hands under Vicky's shirt.
Never one to turn down an opportunity to spread knowledge of the greatness of titties, you demonstratively stroke the mammarial wonders in your grasp from below up to their nipples, squeezing and pinching them with just the right pressure to leave her short of breath and panting.
Amy visibly does her best to imitate you, so you repeat the same action a few times, giving her a bit of a chance to learn from you... until Crystal squeezes down on her armsrests hard enough to make sounds as she clenches her teeth, her ragged breathing stopping entirely for a moment as she holds her breath.
By the time her clenching limbs let up, her legs spread wide for a few long seconds, Crystal has to take deep breaths, shaking her head with a silly grin. "That was... pretty good. You do this often?"
"Groping beautiful young women in inappropriate places or just groping women in general?" You smirk back at her. "Look over, though, Amy's putting everything she saw into practice."
And indeed, Amy is groping Vicky with concentration written plain across her face, Vicky amusedly looking down at her... until she does something and Vicky comes immediately, the only reason her surprised shout isn't heard across the whole place being that it coincides with another eardrum-shaking explosion coming from the speakers.
Looking at the twin toys in your own hands, you tilt your head, considering everything you know. How likely is it Amy has been using her power to have at least a little fun?
Maybe it shouldn't be a surprise with how much she's been drinking both before and after her slightly unexpected orgasm, but Crystal fidgets around quite a bit in the aftermath of Amy doing her power thing to Vicky, rubbing her thighs against each other for reasons other than the usual women feel in your presence.
"Sorry, but I have to go to the ladies'," she finally says when you try to move your hands again, not having taken them off of her the entire time. "Can I trust you not to cheat on your date?"
Answering the teasing question with an equally teasing smile, you give her a reassuring nod. "Why, I couldn't possibly let you go alone. Come on, I'll escort you there and all."
"What, now you're the proper gentleman and all?" Crystal asks as she packs her tits away again.
"What can I say, I have priorities."
As the two of you come out of the cinema hall, the amusing fact of Amy and Vicky following you is not lost on you, though you don't say anything as you lead the way to the toilets.
"Wait, you're really going to just come into the women's toilets, just like that?" Crystal asks as you follow her inside after opening the door for her, coming right along.
"Where else would we have sex, the men's bathroom? No, thanks, much more pleasant in here." Seriously, you've seen lots of bathrooms in your time, but the ladies' restrooms have pretty much always been infinitely less disgusting than their male counterparts.
Biting her lips again, Crystal nods. "Alright then, but, uh, I actually do need to go to the toilet?"
"Oh, don't worry, that's never stopped me before," you smile at her.
"You really didn't have to come into the stall with me, you know?" Crystal asks, looking up at you strangely as she finishes up. You just smile down at her, though.
"On the contrary, how else are we going to do this?" Fiddling with your zipper, you bring out your dick, slowly hardening at the sight of the half-dressed young woman sitting on the toilet before you.
And, therefore, right on cocksucking height if she were to bend over a little.
"You really expect me to-?" Crystal asks, looking like she's just wrangling with the idea of having sex in a cinema toilet for no reason other than she could.
What a strange concept.
"I mean, why not? This a little too... dirty for you?" You give her a saucy grin as you stroke a hand across the side of her head.
Answering with a snort and a matching smile, Crystal looks up at you, challenging. A sort of non-verbal 'bring it on'.
You do, in fact, bring it on, pressing your hardening tip against Crystal's lips. She, for her part, eagerly opens them around you to let her tongue snake out of her mouth, licking around your head for a moment or two before she takes it into her mouth, happily beginning to suck on it.
Only for the door to the bathroom to open.
Now, Crystal, panicking immediately, freezes up, looking up at you with big eyes, not even daring to take what amount of dick she's got in her mouth out for fear of making a sound. You, on the other hand, are pretty sure you know which two people just entered the bathroom, and what for.
"Are you sure they're here?" One particular blonde teenage girl whispers.
"Pretty sure they didn't go to the men's toilets," a currently gothily dressed sister answers.
Giving Crystal a smiling shake of your head, you lightly pull on her head, bucking your hips just a little. She does understand what you mean to say, and after a short, entirely wordless argument had as she suckles on your pole, she gives up, exasperated, and reaches a hand upwards to fondle your balls.
Amy and Vicky, meanwhile, have started checking one stall after another, presumably trying to find you by figuring out which one is locked. Extremely obvious, of course, with Crystal even more exasperated at how childish they are being. Still, they eventually do find you, and after a short bit of furious whispering, get into the neighboring stall.
The sight, then, that greets them when Vicky flies up while carrying Amy is Crystal deliciously fellating your cock while a free hand is buried between her spread legs as she sits there on the toilet, giving them the stink-eye the best she can from this position even as you extend a thumbs-up for them.
Both Vicky and Amy proceed to get the cutest blush spread over their cheeks as Vicky slowly lowers them again, the two of them proceeding to make their own sounds even as Crystal slurps on you until you you come inside her mouth, though she only swallows the first half before taking you out of her mouth, aiming your load at the wall instead with slow pumping motions as she finishes swallowing.
"Okay, so Amy told me about this, but it's just ridiculous," Crystal complains, not entirely seriously, as she slowly gets up, the pants nestled around her feet demanding she be careful.
"What is, specifically? I've been told that a few times, but I never really figured out why some people say it," you wonder, trying to finally figure that one out.
"How much you just came! Don't tell me you seriously don't know how much you pump out compared to other guys."
"How would I know? I'm not into guys and I generally don't watch porn, so I literally don't have any points of reference. And whenever I asked anyone what they meant, they just told me I was way better than anyone else, but that's just normal sex speak, isn't it?"
Looking at you perplexed for a few seconds, Crystal sighs, shaking her head. "You know what, forget it. Let's just give our peeping toms something to really get riled up about instead." And with that, she turns around, bending over to give you full access to her pussy as she spreads her lower lips with the one hand she doesn't need to keep herself upright.
"Okay," you shrug, giving the two sisters a smile as they get into peeking position again.
By the time you leave the bathroom (none of you actually care about the movie anyways), Crystal has been fucked until she had trouble keeping herself on her legs, poked by Amy until she recovered her consciousness, Amy told you you apparently have a habit of literally overwhelming people's brains with pleasure hormones and should probably be careful of doing so too often and, of course, Vicky complained she didn't get to 'ride the Gabriel bull' this time around, either.
You would have offered to stay and go a few rounds with her, but you kind of do have an appointment to get to soon-ish, so you're afraid you simply don't have the odd hour or two to spare.
"Haah... You know, if mom wouldn't literally kill me, I would take you home as a live-in boyfriend without a second thought," is how Crystal says goodbye as you get out of the building.
"We found him first, we get first rights!" Vicky defends her own claim, Amy just facepalming to her side.
"Happy to know all of you think so highly of me," you drawl, patting Amy's shoulder as a way of showing solidarity, "but I really do need to get going. My brother's pretty flexible about this stuff, but I don't want to miss dinner."
And with that, you're off. Next stop, time to have your weekly meeting once again!
Settling into your seat at the head of the table situated inside your by now permanent meeting room, you take a look around your round table of evil, to call it what your inner ten-year-old is defining it as.
Sarah, leaning back in her chair, is throwing a considering look of her own over at Taylor, who you have arranged to sit in on this meeting under the pretense of giving input on a few more exotic insects and whatever else she can contribute. She is entirely still, back ramrod straight, and seemingly looking into nowhere, though you're pretty sure she's just doing her power thing, as you've noticed before.
On your other side, Kate is idly playing with her custom laser pistol, polishing where she's had both of your names engraved on it in an honestly very cute gesture. Sherrel and Lea, sitting together as always, are gesturing at each other as they talk about a blueprint of some kind, most likely Lea's automatically aiming glove, from the sounds of it, whereas Henley is silently reading through a bunch of documents he brought along, piles of more just waiting to be handed out once you really begin.
Cupcake, bless her tiny heart, is just juggling a few vials of several most likely... interesting... substances.
Clearing your throat, you call everyone's attention towards yourself. "It seems everyone is present and settled in, so let us begin this weekly meeting of the Lord Street Crypts. To start us off with, how have things been going over the last week, everyone? Anything of particular importance to report?"
"Nothing much on my end this week," Kate shrugs, putting her gun down on the desk. "Pretty much everything's been going as expected, the girls have taken to beating the odd sucker we don't want to see any trouble from around our territory and the nazis have been steering clear of our operations, mostly."
"Nothing from us that's really worth mention, either." Sherrel seems to be speaking for all your tinkers in this. "Work is progressing, the doomtruck is becoming more awesome with the new ion laser shit, all the good stuff. Alice has been calming down a lot recently, too; that 'talk' you had with her musta really helped, boss."
"It better have, dealing with issues like hers is what I do around here," you mutter.
"I would like to note," Henley speaks up, his hands crossing before his face, "that the new teleporters are, in fact, allowing us to operate at beyond peak efficiency in terms of transportation. In other words, our sales of weapons and various drugs are through the roof, thanks to the fact we can use Boston as a redistribution point more or less at leisure. We have a delegation of core members stationed there whose sole job is to pretend to have transported the goods around and make the sales."
Taking your copy of the report Henley is handing out, you idly note you are apparently making nearly thrice as much money through illegal dealing of various kinds ever since the teleporters have been improved based on your new design upgrades. "I would like to note that out esteemed leader really should do things like this more often instead of playing around with vanity projects, even if I understand this is being mild compared to how some other gang leaderships tend to behave."
"Noted and promptly ignored," you chuckle at him. "We all know I'm actually doing a lot of work behind the scenes, more than I really should with how much effort I am putting into delegating everything I can."
With Henley's turn over, the room's attention falls onto the next in line, Cupcake perking up as she realizes this. "Oh, nothing much from me this week. I tried figuring out that stupid ADAM stuff, but it just doesn't really make sense, though I'm not really the dedicated biologist we'd want for more details on it."
Ignoring her grumbles about 'stupid arbitrary reality warping stem cells', the next person to report is actually Taylor.
Who hasn't moved a single inch ever since the meeting began.
"I am fairly new at this," her near monotone sounds, "but patrols have been fairly quiet these past few days. I have also been moving black widow spiders into the area for the sake of regular silk production, but keeping them in the longer term without my constant attention isn't suitable. They'll be eating each other if I keep them in close quarters."
"Alright, make sure to talk to Henley later on, describe exactly what you need and he can figure out how to get it. We can certainly arrange some space and regular food deliveries of some kind, so I imagine all that needs to be done is acquiring several terrariums in the immediate future. Also make sure to hand in a list of any kind of more exotic insect you would like to acquire so he can see what can be arranged."
And with that, Taylor simply nods. Honestly, you don't get what the big deal about leadership positions is supposed to be. All you really need to do is push all the work onto Henley regardless of how pained he looks over the fact that that's probably one of your better decisions..
Oh, also, only one last report left, which is Sarah's.
"Alright, first off? Fuck you, Gabe. Why did you have Bitch establish a dog mafia as part of the Crypts and didn't tell anyone?"
Oh yeah, Sarah actually did twig onto that, didn't she? "In my defence, that was all on Rachel. I just took credit after the fact."
"Ugh. So yeah, apparently, literally every stray dog in the whole city is currently working for us because my big brother here gave Bitch the powers to turn into a wolf and to speak to animals. I thought the massively improved shelters and healthcare would be it, but there's literally no end of ridiculousness our illustruous leader will achieve at every turn."
Sighing, Sarah shakes her head. "But anyways, apart from that spot of news, it looks like Project NaziNope is proceeding apace; Shadow Stalker is currently in 'protective custody' after the knife with Stormtiger's blood still on it was found in her possession after the murder very much looked like she did it, Hookwolf went on a rampage throughout downtown, killing a few people and very much getting the heroes on the Empire's case, or moreso than the constant fighting around the downtown coast is, anyways."
"Do note I actually went out of my way to place a few memetic hazards on both Hookwolf and Kaiser, with any luck they'll be at each other's throat fairly soon," you throw in, not having mentioned the whole curse thing to many of the people in this room.
"Yeah, over the next few days, expect the situation to spiral further and further out of control as we initiate the next phase of the project by using the coroner's report and any document we can get to rile up the Empire by making it look like they're just taking Stormtiger's death," Sarah continues. "Just to give everyone an idea of what's going on as of right now, here's a current map of the city and the territories within."
"As you can see, the PRT and the Empire have been fighting over the territory left behind after the ABB had that little 'accident', with battles spilling out into nearby areas every now and then. They're not at the point of complete warfare along all borders they have yet, but that's what they're slowly, but surely working towards. Amusingly, the entire northern part of the city has been left to us while we have been consolidating our strength while sabotaging everyone else."
And that, you suppose, concludes the initial reports.
"Alright, with everyone on the same page, let's talk about the things we should probably decide on as a group. To start with, plasmids and tonics, the twin wonders of ADAM. Simply put, we, as an organization, have the ability to produce powers in a bottle, to be administered on demand, pretty much, now that we've had some time to build up a stockpile of the most important raw ingredient for the stuff. Taylor here actually got a few of those already, even. The question is, how do we treat them? We could just add more powers to our capes and pretend we don't have the ability to fabricate as many capes as we damn well please, or we could give out weaker powers to our members with a higher rank granting access to better versions- I will explain in depth in a bit, but to keep it short, exponentionally increasing resource costs allow immensely more powerful versions of the 'simpler' powers we can crank out this way, so long as they've been researched sufficiently."
In the end, after some thorough discussion, it is agreed upon that the really good stuff, the plasmids and higher ranking tonics, should be kept in-house, so to speak, given to only verifiably loyal members of the gang along with anyone you decide needs them, of course.
Because you're the boss and what you say goes, after all.
That said, handing out the simpler tonics in their easily-fabricated forms, the ones with lesser effects, is certainly possible, so you have Kate make a note to go through the whole list of tonics you have available later and designate what you can be comfortable handing out to simple grunts regularly doing odd jobs for you.
Naturally, every cape and the core members of the gang have access to the full list, which is why she will also be sending out a few messages after the meeting informing them of such. What kinds of super(power)cancer they inject into themselves from there- is everyone's own business.
Other things mentioned and discussed during the meeting include, but are not limited to, the fact you have figured out how to just make someone else shoulder the figurative cost of keeping your undead active, allowing you to potentionally field as many undead as you want to so long as you have a matching amount of zombie wranglers to order them around.
A few brief discussions about how to best use this follow, the ultimate conclusion of which amounts to only using them via trustworthy core members as an expendable strikeforce whose only limitation is that replenishing it takes time from you.
Not that you don't bemoan this issue at length, but that's pretty much par for the course at this point. On that note, using different types of undead for different purposes is mentioned, but left entirely up to you- doing this right would involve you doing a lot of work, but would leave the Crypts capable of deploying pretty much anything you gave them.
Similar goes for using a few of your more interesting and/or powered souls, the basic idea received well enough but specifics on if and how you want to implement it left to you.
The topic of the continuing tensions aurrounding the E88, on the other hand, begets a more in-depth series of talks, with everyone that has something to contribute or just a snide comment about nazis to add participating. Ultimately, your basic plan of pretending to be a disillusioned anonymous police officer leaking certain documents with a fitting message of blaming Shadow Stalker is expanded by several economic measures that should hopefully take a chunk out of Medhall's earnings for the quarter of the year, Henley smiling malevolently at the prospect of getting to use his real superpower in the form of massive amounts of money.
Similarly, Kate mentions making sure the girls actually do something productive while surfing the internet all day, so you'll be setting up a little anti-PRT campaign on local PHO boards. It doesn't matter, after all, if the PRT tries to 'deflect blame', as long as the public already made up its mind.
Something to work towards.
On another note, the docks, having been mostly untouched by the ongoing gang warfare towards the south of the city, have been progressing according to your plans so far nicely enough, the vast majority of properties making the area up now under your more-or-less legal ownership through several layers of proxies. It cost literally more money than you have access to right now, but continuous investment has brought you to the point you (by which you mean Henley) have been working towards all this time.
By and large, the plan to completely rebuild the entirety of the abandoned area north of the boardwalk and downtown could proceed now, though it would make just as much sense to save the whole thing for after the E88 is dealt with and the only other group in town you have to contend with is the PRT. Arousing attention at this time through obvious cape shit going on as you take out the boat graveyard, renovate a third of the city and re-establish the ferry connecting what is now your territory with the currently disputed area to the south could honestly turn out either way, beneficial or... complicated.
Not disastrous or anything, but complicated. You did do well to keep the Crypts out of the fighting so far, after all.
Ultimately, consensus is to wait until the Empire is dealt with before stepping into the spotlight. Depending on how that whole thing goes, the Crypts may have to step in to take care of the cleanup, after all, and the less anyone is keeping your existence in mind until that time, the better.
With that established and a mention of the additional resources you will be diverting towards Rachel's operations in the form of a few renovations and added equipment- mostly a bunch of simple pet shop stuff, doggy blankets, toys, the like. And a few mechanisms to let the dogs operate doors.
Your mention of the idea of using your ability to change genders to add a new stream into your rotation involving you singing and dancing in a variety of outfits briefly drives Sarah to near-apoplectic rage for a short moment, though her self-control allows her to keep herself in check still.
Unfortunately, while everyone agrees that you're very pretty, they also agree that you're running a fairly full palette of streams already; while nobody wants to tell you as much upfront, they seem to think you should at least seriously consider alternating streams instead of adding a new one in if you want to add more.
Your pout is legendary and nearly has Kate and Sarah come over to pamper you in your distress, and you never even changed to female form.
Anyways, with that talked about, and Taylor already knowing what to do to start her collection of exotic killer insects or whatever she wants to get, you briefly mention you're planning to introduce yet another cure for a disease that doesn't really have one so far during your next science-themed stream, though you're thinking of splitting it up into several parts once again.
The next topic of discussion are the 'prisoners' you inherited from Coil when you took over his operations. You make it a point to steer the discussion closely during this whole part, mostly for the sake of Taylor and her sensibilities, but you still manage to make yourself look like the saviour of these people just trying to look out for them.
They're sufficiently indoctrinated and recovered by this point most of them could be let into the public, though you aren't quite sure about how useful they might be. The idea of having one of them infiltrate the Wards comes up, in a vein similar to Coil's plans for Trevor Medina, but Sarah vetoes it on account of the amount of effort required to falsify a new identity, add powers to one of the kids and have them actively undertake a mission as a mole when Sarah can just decide to call up literally any information realistically achievable through doing this with five minutes of work.
Delegating the reintegration into actual society to whoever is responsible for stuff like that (it'll most likely end up being a joint effort between Kate, Sarah and Henley, honestly), you move on to the next point of contention, that is, arranging for more locations to be converted into drastically smaller versions of the Endbringer shelter you're inside of at the moment, creating more advanced safehouses all over your actual territory as a gang as opposed to hiding under the E88's noses.
Not that you plan to move your actual operations anywhere, it's just a matter of fabricating additional safehouses using your bots and imported materials. This one's mostly a matter of logistics, so you just let Henley and Sarah hash out the rough of it before moving on, the funds required easily reallocated with your other big projects mostly halted for the moment.
A few quick mentions go to the Undersiders and their strikes against the Empire, their status as not 'officially' related to the Lord Street Crypts allowing them to get away with a few million dollars in cash and several times that in drugs and weapons, the E88's operations hit all around. They really didn't expect to be hit, assuming the Crypts would be content with splitting the city in two and no other factions left in Brockton Bay in any position to actually strike at them, it would seem.
Good thing you went ahead and sabotaged the fuck out of that whole thing. Kaiser was likely planning to get as much use out of the southern contested areas as he could before being forced to abandon them anyways, the ideological drivel he's sprouting foreclosing any possibility of long-term occupation without constant violent confrontations, and give the space over to the heroes once he was done as a sort of poisoned chalice, civil order heavily worsening day by day inside the forcefully close-knit asian communities around the place after Lung's death, but then you just had to come and all but force the fighting to become a personal thing with Stormtiger's death.
And the curses making everything worse for the naziboys, of course.
Still, there's one last thing to be mentioned; your nightclub. Or rather, nightclub-to-be. With the floorplans ready and a good idea of how it is supposed to look, you could immediately instruct your people to begin getting into the renovations, producing the necessary furniture and such even as Bobs begin repairing the building from within.
Kind of like the docks at large, just on a smaller scale. And, with the knowledge the E88 has managed to connect Kayden to it, potential attacks from them, though you don't mind the possibility of anyone they send getting fucked by your turrets. That said, quieter saboteurs, that make it a point to sneak inside as pretending to be normal customers, would be somewhat more of an issue, at least until the Empire 88 stops existing as an organization...
Well, no point in not going ahead with it. Not like you'll be done in a day; with any luck, you may even be able to have your official first opening coincide with the E88's demise as a gang.
Would be a nice gesture, you think.
That said, with all the points you had prepared talked through to your satisfaction, you take a moment to think through the gang's operations, feeling for anything else that needs to be addressed in your full assembly.
Doing her best to keep on ignoring everything she was thinking, Taylor focused on Gabriel's hands as he gesticulated, his voice the only guide to the discussions going on as they wound through her head.
The Crypts, everyone thought, were just the next big gang in the Bay. Taking the place of those they were defeating. How many people, Taylor wondered, had any idea just how far their reach was?
Their reach. It was still weird to think of herself as part of a gang, but then again, it wasn't like the Lord Street Crypts had all that much in common with other gangs, as far as Taylor knew.
Intimately knew. She was still dreaming of what the ABB did before they stopped it, and those were not pleasant dreams.
"Before we go, then, one last random idea. We have been training our people in how to fight and handle various weapons, along with the basics for most jobs our organization requires. How about we go a step... further? Crypt Trade Academy. When you graduate, you already have a job waiting with us."
A few looks were exchanged, the obviously high-ranking members and capes in charge of the gang taking the time to think the seemingly insane suggestion through.
"You know, we probably could do that, even. Be a pain to get it licensed and all official, but as long as we just need some people that can do a job, it ain't like we care about any qualifications we don't give out ourselves, right?" Kate suggested, the rough woman stretching the legs she had crossed on top of the table.
"I'll look into it," Sarah sighed in response, typing on the laptop she'd brought with her to the meeting. "For reference, Lea, Cuppie, Henley, you'd be fine with teaching people stuff until they could teach others for you, yeah?"
"Sure, no sweat."
"At least call me Cupcaaake!"
"Yes."
Staying silent as she had been ever since she reported on her silk-production efforts (she should have asked about help on doing it in the first place instead of making a half-baked effort, of course she should have), Taylor watched as Gabriel ended the meeting, giving the signal for everyone to get up, grab a few of the snacks lying on the desk in the corner next to the exit on the way out and idly chat with whomever they wanted, if they didn't just leave to continue with whatever they were doing.
Except Taylor. Because she always had to stick out.
Debating whether to just get up and forget about it, Taylor suppressed a twitch when Gabriel, instead of leaving after saying his goodbyes, gracefully swung himself onto the table, sitting on it right next to her.
"So, what's burning under your nails?" He asked, the intimidatingly handsome man she w-was... intimate with smiling at her in that way that had her insides flutter.
Somewhere nearby, a small army of houseflies began smacking itself into a wall.
"There was something I was wondering," Taylor said, feeling like she was dying inside for every word she was vomiting out. When Gabriel didn't say anything, though, just giving her an encouraging nod, she took a deep breath before continuing.
"From what I understand of the plan for the docks, y- we will be doing a lot of large-scale construction. Most of that will be handled through whatever 'Bobs' are, but I was thinking we might want to hire people to make it look legitimate, at least a little?"
"Mhm, it's a thought I've been playing with, but I didn't want to clutter the original proposal too much, and it didn't really seem to make sense to keep adding to it before we actually started on the big stuff. Why, you had any suggestions?"
Resisting the urge to swallow the lump in her throat, Taylor formulated her proposal suggestion. "Well, the old Dockworker's Association is still around without work more often than not. I'm not sure what they would think about working for villains, but as long as it was all done through a proxy of some sort and at least technically above board, I don't think most of them will look too closely at the details."
"It's a thought," Gabriel agreed to her, radiating general agreement as he so often did. "Any reason this is coming up?"
"My father is head of hiring for the union," slipped out before Taylor could keep herself in check, "so I have an idea of how these things are supposed to look. I-I don't-"
No matter how much she was using her bugs to hide what she was feeling, she was starting to hit her limits, her emotions slipping through. Mortified, Taylor resolved to disappear into a spontaneously appearing hole any second when-
When Gabriel leaned forwards to give her a one-armed hug, her wide eyes hidden by his stomach due to the awkward height difference they were sitting at. "Don't worry about it, I don't mind," was all Gabriel had to say about her outburst. "So long as it works, he could be your dad, he could be Scion in disguise, I don't mind. 'Sides, not like adding a bit of manpower costs to the whole plan will make any noticeable impact with just how much money we're moving for this."
He didn't say anything more, but didn't move either, just keeping Taylor in the crook of his stomch until she'd calmed down.
And if she was fleeing the room in sheer mortification afterwards, it was a tactical retreat, nothing else.
When Amy, Crystal and Vicky had gotten back home (in the sisters' case, anyways, Crystal accompanying her cousins to their home, technically), none of the three were sure what to say, having stayed silent on the way.
"Soo... ice cream?" Was how Vicky eventually broke the awkward silence, looking at her sister and cousin. Amy just stared back at her mutely, but Crystal sighed, drawing a hand through her hair as she nodded.
"Sure, ice cream sounds good. Give me and Amy a second?"
As Vicky happily floated off, Crystal took Amy's hand, both to express closeness and trust (due to her power) as she lead her upstairs, knowing the layout of the Dallon residence well enough to beeline straight to her introvert sister's room.
Snorting a little at the weirdly drawn posters hung up inside (what was with that weird kid in orange, he just looked way too goofy), she sighed again as she took a seat on Amy's bed, the healer following suit at her desk and turning her chair around to face Crystal.
"So," she began, wrestling with the words to give voice to what needed to be said, "finally found a boy, have you?"
Amy blushed, finally using her voice for the first time since saying goodbye to Gabriel. "I-It's not... like that. Gabriel and us aren't exactly... exclusive. He's just fun to be around with, but I wouldn't go without Vicky."
Okay, so that was... something. "Let me get this straight. You're into, Vicky, but you also like Gabriel. No shame on that, I ain't gonna judge, but you get how it looks like, yeah?"
Amy groaned, frustrated. "I know, okay? I know I'm... weird over this, you don't need to-"
"Hey, hey, I said I'm not judging, right? Hell, I've been letting you play with my tits in exchange for the perfect boob job, I'm the last girl to be in any position to," Crystal reassured Amy, moving her wonderful rack from side to side to underline her point. "It's just that the three of you seem a lot more... intimate, than what we have going. You ever done it with him, or you into girls only?"
Amy seemed marginally less annoyed at this entire conversation at this, but still plenty grumpy, something Crystal knew from long experience she was likely using as a cover for any insecurities she was feeling. Figures she would have to be the one talking to her shy cousin about this, really, but it had to be done.
"I'm... I have no idea, okay? I did it with him, once, with Vicky there, and it was really good-"
"No kidding," Crystal couldn't help herself from throwing in, knowing from firsthand experience how tumbling in the sheets with Gabriel felt like (though remarkably little tumbling or sheets had been involved).
"-but I always thought I was gay for as long as I've been thinking about sex, except I'm still not attracted to guys other than Gabriel and-"
"Down, girl, down!" Halting at Crystal's more forceful interjection, Amy held her breath, covering her reddened face with her hands.
"I'm a total fucking mess and I'm blaming you for it."
"So from what I'm taking away from this is that you're mostly into girls plus Gabriel, that right?" Crystal had to at least try to help Amy make sense of her... situation. She'd never expected to have this conversation with her, but she really should have figured from the moment she insisted on Amy laying hands on her breasts.
"Would it be weird if I said I was only ever really into Vicky, too?" A bashful Amy muttered, trying not to look at her.
"Amy, sweetie, you repeatedly groped my breasts as you used your power to make them bigger and more sensitive to make sure I got off on it. I don't know how to break this to you, but you're almost certainly not 'just' into Vicky."
Amy kept quiet at that, looking away guiltily this time. "Amy? Amy, is there anything you want to tell me? I promise I won't get angry with you." Their 'transactions' had been perfectly consensual, after all, regardless of why Amy had gone through with them.
Swallowing, Amy still refused to meet her eyes. "What if I told you I... liked... making changes to your body? Getting your tits all nice and big and needy? Because I think I might... have a thing for that. For... changing people."
Taken aback, Crystal took a moment to think through everything she knew about her shy cousin, swiftly coming to a conclusion. "I would say I'm open to playing around, so long as you make sure to be careful, take it slow and always establish informed consent. Safe, sane and consensual and all that."
At her cousin's bewildered look, Crystal snorted. "Please, I'm in college. I'm supposed to experiment and all. And hey, so long as you don't do anything you can't undo, and I expect you won't, by the way, I don't see why I can't indulge my cute cousin in her perverted incestual desires."
Amy's blush was bright enough to light up the room at that point, only to be worsened when Vicky opened the door, bringing in a tray with two tubs of ice cream on it. "Hey girls, what's going on?"
"Oh, nothing much," Crystal growled teasingly, Amy's eyes growing wide as she realized what was about to happen, but remained powerless to stop it, "we were just talking about whether Amy could make me lactate in those ice cream flavours for a while."
Gently lifting the undersides of her breasts with a hand each, Crystal held back laughter at the expressions on both of their faces... and if she ended up nursing both girls in 'recompense' for hogging Gabriel in the cinema, well, nobody had to know. Same went for just how cute both of the younger girls were as they did, or the repeated, soft orgasms her hypersensitive breasts built up in waves of slowly heating pleasure over and over again.
She, for one, certainly wasn't going to let any of their parents know.
As it turned out, your idea about setting up a trade school of some kind was received surprisingly well, to the point certain members of your organization decided to try setting up a little something as a proof-of-concept before the day was out.
That is to say, Kate and Sherrel stuck their heads together and roped a bunch of the girls into it and before you knew it, you were asked to set up a driving school, complete with certifications and such.
Suffice to say, this... was not something you(or anyone, really) would be doing over the course of a single night. That said, your resources do allow you quite a lot of leeway for this.
Simply put, choosing an appropriate building, designing an appropriate course to let prospective trainees try driving and, of course, building up an appropriate curriculum, based on national standards and put together in a way that should hopefully be easy to both teach and learn.
All of this? Required a surprising amount of paperwork, keeping you and Kate busy while Sherrel was busy ranting about the stupidity of the regulations involved in the whole thing, with no amount of gentle mentions of the fact her own driving was of questionable safety in any vehicle she didn't personally tinker up quelling her complaints.
That said, surprisingly enough, pretty much all the girls forming the core of the gang seem to like the idea, going so far as to willingly help you fill out paperwork and look things up on the net. May also be because they just don't have all that much to do on a day-to-day basis, treating the opportunity to do something interesting as just that, but you aren't going to question it when it helps you along.
"Alright, so there's a sliiight issue you could probably go deal with," Sarah says, reclining in your bed after a particularly spirited spot of lovemaking, even your continually self-indulging thought process deciding to actually go and pull your weight at some point, even if you needed a while to recover your spirits after actually doing office work.
"There's a prosecutor from out of town, sitting over in Boston right now, that's been making a stink and trying to build a case against us. We know because our moles in both the PRT and BBPD have flagged his name, so I've taken to keeping an eye on that whole thing."
Wiggling around a bit to reach her laptop where she last put it on standby mode before doing more important things (ie. you) without moving away from your happily groping hands, your little sister returns her upper body to your embrace with her back to you so as to continue cuddling while showing you a few files containing her analysis of the issue, along with several pictures showing a middle-aged man that weathered his lifetime decently well, his brown hairline only beginning to recede above his bespectacled eyes, a frown or carefully neutral expression present on seemingly all the footage Sarah has for you.
"Here you are, one Ramone Hartner. Public prosecutor for the better part of twenty years and father of one, spouse of another. Well known for being exceedingly scrupulous in the collection of evidence and winning his cases more often than not. Also kind of an ass, if workplace rumours are to be believed."
"Gotcha. If we decide to take care of him, how do we do so?" You could just read her files yourself and likely come to the exact same conclusions as she likely has, but you know just how dearly Sarah loves showing off how smart she is.
"Well, there's the obvious. Could just disappear him easily enough, not like any amount of security could realistically stop you, not to mention what he has access to in his family home. Other hand, you could just go intimidate him, give him a chance to drop the case by himself by threatening his family or something, though he does seem to have taken personal interest in seeing the Lord Street Crypts brought to 'justice', so no idea how well that might work."
Snorting at the thought of justice being applied to you, Sarah shakes her head. "Or, I suppose, you could just go and kidnap his daughter or something. I hear that's all the rage these days, and using her continued wellbeing as a bargaining chip could dissuade him from trying anything, though it'd be the most work over a long term."
Getting to Boston is, ultimately, not that hard; all you have to do is fly straight towards the north along the coast, your speed as an owl allowing you to keep up with cars easily thanks to your increased size and wingspan capable of being deployed on command.
What is a little more complicated is finding the right address, though the map of Boston you took a look before flying off and Sarah providing logistic support by way of telling you in what direction to go every now and then based on your relative position to street names and buildings you can make out as you fly along the nocturnal city streets, keeping to an actual owl's size.
Cycling above the house in the middle of a rich neighbourhood, with wide backyards and clean streets, you take a few minutes to observe, noting that the three occupants on the place you're looking at seem to be asleep, lying in what you assume to be beds and not moving all that much, two of them right next to each other.
Parents and one teenage daughter, which fits.
Moving away a bit, you land on a nearby house's roof after making sure there aren't any security systems impeding you, directly turning into your own shadow (sadly, that of your standard form, rather than of your transformed owl state) and slithering off, intent on sneaking right inside your target's home.
The inside of the Hartner family home is pretty much what you expected, your flat, shadowy self snaking through doors and past well-kept, decently tastefully furnished rooms. Nothing much in terms of surprises, it's all pretty much what you expected, though you do make note of the armchair sitting in the corner of the living room, with a good view of both the window and the TV.
It should be enough for you to work with, at any rate.
Stealthily slithering your way to the bedrooms in the second floor, it doesn't take long at all for you to find out the doors aren't locked as you try them, meaning you can literally just stroll right into the master bedroom and lift poor Ramone right out of bed as soon as you flip over the covers, keeping a keen eye on both him and his wife, but neither of them manage to rouse from their sleep.
It's as simple as heaving him up and leaving through the open door.
Walking carefully as you are, it takes you less than a full minute to arrive in the living room, depositing Ramone Hartner in the armchair without any difficulties and starting to worry about just how deep a sleeper he is, seriously. You'd have totally expected him to wake up by himself by now.
Lightly clapping his face, you are disappointed by the lack of reaction, leading to a small series of increasingly insistent attempts to get him to wake the fuck up already until you just shake your head, think it through and hold his nose closed.
His reaction is to open his mouth and start snoring.
You are fairly sure if you were still alive, you'd be absolutely seeing red right now. Thankfully, undeath protects you from losing control of yourself, so you're just absolutely livid as a second hand follows suit to block the mouth, too.
Luckily enough for you, you do not have to resort to your electrical powers to wake the man up, the lack of air eventually drawing him out of his slumber and throwing open his eyes.
Holding a finger in front of your shadowed face, you signal him to be quiet before letting go of him mouth, going by the look in his eyes to verify he's getting the message. Taking a few steps back, you take a seat on the couch's backrest, looming in the dark of the living room illuminated only by the light filtering in through the window.
"Hello there, Mr. Hartner," you say, "my name is Cain, in case you weren't sure. Pleasure to meet you."
"I was and on the contrary, respectively," he responds, his voice kept clear of emotions even as you can see the signs of someone verily, majorly pissed. "Why are you here?"
Well, isn't that the big question, hm?
"To talk about the geopolitical climate of Narnia. Why do you think?! I wanted to come have a little talk about whyever a prosecutor from Boston would be building a case against a Brockton Bay gang. Personal grievance? Someone trying to use you to put on pressure? Someone you hated had cancer and now you have to deal with them for the rest of their suddenly much longer life? The possibilities are endless on this one, really."
Ramone Hartner, for his part, just snorts, apparently figuring he doesn't even need to keep up his pokerface at this point. "That's a rather high opinion you have of yourself, isn't it? Have you ever considered that someone would simply oppose you because it is the right thing to do? Because it simply is their duty?"
"You'll have to elaborate on that one," you drawl, already knowing where this is going. "You are, after all, supposed to be responsible for the jurisdiction of Boston, unless New Hampshire got a slew of new laws that wouldn't ever realistically be passed over the last week or so."
"Because you have sent your band of thugs to this city and can therefore be investigated by the local office! It does not matter how many officers of the law or feeble pencilpushers you have in your pocket in that cesspit you call a city, but law and order will finally catch up to you!"
Well, someone's certainly spirited about this. "So, let me get this straight. You started to try and build a case that we all know isn't really going to go anywhere in the first place because you had issues with how justice is handled over in good ol' Brockton Bay?"
"Because you are a blight upon this nation, and none of your plays for greater influence will bear fruit. You may have the international community dazzled right now, but there are still those that know to feel a duty to the people we serve and the laws which we uphold. You may have gotten away with it until now, but know that even if you strike me down, others will come in my place, and they will continue where I left off! Your crimes will be brought to justice!"
"Do you know why Law Enforcement in Brockton Bay doesn't try to stop me?" You ask, your non-sequitur keeping him silent for a moment. "And I don't mean either the heroes nor the PRT. It's not because of fear, it's not because I'm bribing them. It's because I'm better than the alternative. I cut out violent crime in my territory, I removed the ABB and their human trafficking, I am destroying the neo-nazis, and I have made damn sure the entire time that no heroes, law enforcement or civilians are hurt. You want justice? Gun for the teeth, go after Accord, sue the ever living shit of the corrupt elements in the PRT and the Protectorate, and leave me the fuck alone. You are wasting your time going after me, go do something that could actually help people instead."
"And that," your interlocutor replies bitterly, "is the worst of it. That you have the audacity to point at other, equally horrific crimes, and pretend the good you do made up for your own. You, are a mass murderer, a cannibal, a vile manipulator and obstructor of justice; why else are you here, after all, unless you have changed your mind about the geopolitics of Narnia? The local authorities have to be in a position to oppose you, and it is the role of people like me to enable them to."
Looking into his eyes, you subtly make use of a particular power of yours.
Daughter, gone before her time/ Justice, shattered/ A lonely death
Interesting...
Shaking your head, you go for the kill. "You see, we could discuss in circles all day, but the ultimate truth of the matter is that none of your arguments matter. I do not particularly care about your opinion; all I care for is that I do not have to deal with the proper authorities getting desperate down the line. Because at the end of the day, the one guy with the biggest stick decides what justice is, and in this case? The government can't afford to waste the amount of stick it would take to strike me down. All of your work is built upon the presumption that I will be eventually detained, which is just not going to happen save for the triumvirate being sent in, and we both know that's never going to happen anyways."
It is immediately obvious Ramone Hartner does not like the amount of practical sense you are making. "Even so, PRT and Protectorate regulations demand-"
"It does not matter what their regulations say; all that allowing them more 'leeway' in dealing with my organization would do is increase their casualty rates. So long as me and mine can afford to hold back, I can and will be making sure they do, but the moment it's a question between risking wounds or even actual scratches on my people and simply blasting the fuck out of a crowd of heroes or PRT agents, I hope I don't need to elaborate on what choice I will make."
"Do you truly believe that your selfish approach can ultimately be sustainable? The law exists to grant guidelines to society; for any social structure to exist in the long run, its laws must be upheld!"
"And I am saying that I am perfectly capable of enforcing laws that I choose to be worthwhile while simultaneously completely ignoring any attempts by other groups to enforce their 'laws' on those I govern."
"That's treason!"
"That's reality," you counter. "Ultimately, the power of the state to impose its laws upon the citizenry is derived from its monopoly of force; not without reason does the Protectorate desperately grasp for any parahuman they can get their hands on, considering the modern approach to crime and punishment. Thus, with an amount of parahuman power greater than what local law enforcement can bring to bear, and more than any realistic action conducted by it- up to and including requesting reinforcements from other Protectorate teams and PRT bases- can match."
Shrugging, you get up. "That's really all I'm trying to say. Your work is pointless as it can never produce the result you want; I simply won't ever face trial on account of nobody available being capable of bringing me in. Think about it."
And with that, you simply walk out the door, leaving Mr. Hartner to chew on your words.
As past experience has taught you, having talks like the one you're planning to have with Jeremy are the easiest to get through when fast food is involved, both to keep things more casual and because there's just something about sitting in a grease-hell that gets people to open up easier.
Which is how it comes that the two of you are here, now, after you returned from Boston via teleportation as you didn't feel like getting back under your own power, your fancy for flight sated for the night, sitting in Fugly Bob's with a fugly burger in front of you, each, as well as a side of fries and a soft drink of choice (coke for you, sprite for Jeremy)!
Seriously, just how long did they have to torture all available employees to get them to say what you get in the damn menu every. Damn. Time?
Anyways, knowing you can't actually get sick from anything you're eating lets you strike up the conversation you consider to be at least half the reason you came here without worry as you begin eating. "So, Jeremy. You been putting any thought into what you wanted to do now, with your new living situation and all."
Looking around suspiciously in the empty restaurant (few people actually come to places like this at this time of night, though it's enough to be worth the bother, apparently), Jeremy clears his throat. "Do you mean that in a professional sense or-"
"Yes, I mean you being a cape, Jerry," you sigh exasperately. "Don't worry, nobody's close enough to hear us, I checked and all."
Jeremy, for his part, stares deeply into his burger, taking a bite out of the grease-oozing abomination to buy himself a moment to think. "It's... kind of not something I've put any thought into," he eventually says after chewing and swallowing, "so I don't really have anything to tell you, to be honest. Just been going with the flow, mostly."
"Really? No plans or ideas on what you want? I'd have figured you'd want to look into, I dunno, money, or fame or power or something. The usual things people want for one reason or another, y'know?"
"I guess... Don't get me wrong, none of those are anything to turn your nose up at, it's just that I'm not the kinda guy to want power or anything, and I have literally everything money can buy me with the Crypts... more than enough for a guy that's been on the streets, see?" Smiling self-depreciatively, Jeremy takes another bite, yourself quickly following suit.
"Well, that's alright," you say, shrugging expressively. "Everybody's got their own reasons to do what they do, or no reason when they just do whatever. Just, try to keep it in mind, 'kay? It's always nice to have something that motivates you to do your best."
Starting on his fries, Jeremy nods, slowly, turning your words over in his head. "How about you, boss? what is it that's got you doing the whole... thing?" A vague gesture outwards is all Jeremy can muster in explanation, but it's enough to give you an idea.
Why are you building up the Lord Street Crypts, huh?
Smirking, you take a sip from your coke, noting that you're nearly done eating. "Lots of things I could tell you, and most of them would be true, even," you finally say, "but if I had to put it into a simple, short explanation? I want to keep the people I love safe and happy. That's really at the core of it. So I'm amassing as much power and money as I can, and I use it for a bunch of things, but the actual reason I do so is to enable my family to live as well as it possibly can."
Crunching down on the last of your fries, you lean back in your seat. "Money can't buy love, but it can express it from time to time, if you use it right. All the other stuff is mostly just me having fun myself."
Jeremy's expression is unreadable as he follows suit, both of you done with your meals fairly soon. "I think I get it, yeah."
"Good, good. Now let's get going, the sooner we order the sooner they'll have our fourty burgers to go."
You haven't really had the time to talk to Isabel all that much, aside from the casual workshop visits and idle chatter you make sure to bring in with everyone you can as opportunities present themselves, but that's precisely why you've gone ahead and opened up some of your schedule so you can actually spend some time with her.
That plus the plushie in the form of an eyebot you made while you were at it, with little wiggly antennaea on the life-sized thing. Good thing you're intimately aware of the base design, considering you based a whole series of robots off of it, too, making it that much easier to let your fluffy abomination actually imitate the original aesthetic.
With it in one hand and one of the burgers you brought in the other, already having handed the majority out to the others, you round the corner to stretch your gifts out to where you know Isabel to be.
"Hey, Isabel, I got you a-"
Honestly, you told her to just keep a towel handy.
"-little something, but you look like you could use something else instead." Putting the gifts you brought aside on the machinery all around this place, you stride on over, Isabel's embarrassed face veering away from you.
She's still holding her shirt up, though.
"W.what are you doing?" She asks as your hands settle below her tits, lovingly caressing the hard points her nipples have become almost immediately.
"What does it look like?" You whisper into her ear, moving your entire body close to where she's bending over. "I am just doing the natural thing over here."
"S-Still..." Wiggling a little, Isabel finally turns her head towards you. "It's just a little sudden, okay?" Giving you a quick kiss on the cheek, she slowly gets up, still obediently holding up her shirt for you.
Going along with her antics, you return a kiss on the top of her head, momentarily reaching out for the plushie you brought along to press it into her hands as you keep on going. "As I said, brought you a present. Hope you like it."
"It's so cute!" Grasping her new plush eyebot with both hands, Isabel begins squeeing over it even as you continue, her breath deepened even as she makes cute sounds over her new toy. "I love it! Oh, I have to give him a name, don't I?"
Chuckling, you keep groping her, one hand veering downwards to nudge her tied-up overall open enough to slide past it, Isabel freezing again as she feels your fingers move over her privates with wide-open eyes.
"Mhm, any ideas for a name?" You ask, gently stroking her lower lips.
"I-I'm thinking, maybe call him Gearcog... or Mechanist."
Holding back laughter, you shake your head, a sly smile on your lips. "Really? I'm not about to judge, but names really aren't your strong suit, are they?"
"Hey, I think they sound cute!" Attempting to turn to the side to face you, Isabel aborts the action as you slide a finger inside her, driving her to moan by curling it up.
"Oh, he's your plushie now, you can name him whatever you want," you drawl, smiling at Isabel's lusty gasps. "I'm just saying my naming sense is better."
And with that, you silence her with a kiss, Isabel's arms never letting go of the toy you brought her. Honestly, she's wasted as an engineer with just how cute she can be sometimes.
Walking along the woman Sarah had introduced to her as Kate, Taylor did her best to concentrate on walking straight, using her bugs to keep from swaying as she went along.
"You alright there? We can go slower, if you want," her apparent watcher said, causing Taylor to shake her head.
"I'm fine, we can go on." No way was she going to balk at actually receiving training to let her make use of the gun she had been given.
Though... "Are you really sure I have to wear... this?"
"Distractions are good to get you used to actual battlefield conditions. Not to mention I'm sure you'd like to have Gabe play with you back here, hm?" Casually snaking out an arm, Kate lightly slapped Taylor's ass, the half-asian woman jostling the place where the buttplug was sticking out of Taylor's ass and distracting her with random vibrations.
"Just be happy I'm not making you wear high heels or only lingerie. Now come on, we're here!" Opening the door, Kate lead the way into what looked like some kind of shooting range, a few other women inside and shooting a wide assortment of guns. All of them were fairly well-muscled and precise in their movements, a cold glint in their eyes as they fired shot after shot.
Would she be like that, too? Not like Taylor didn't have a headcount herself.
"Alright, let's see..." Fiddling with what Taylor supposed to be the shooting range's controls, Kate made a target pop up downrange, gesturing for the tinkertech pistol strapped to Taylor's leg. "Draw your gun and we'll see how you can do."
Doing as she was asked, Taylor stepped forwards, Kate immediately grasping for her. "Okay, first of all? Never hold your gun like that. Even with one that doesn't have recoil, it's way too easy for someone to knock it out of your grip. Here, use both hands to support and hold onto it, keep your thumbs like this..."
Correcting Taylor's hand positioning, it wasn't long before Kate let her try her hands at actually shooting, physically pressing herself to her back and causing the bugs in the nearby rooms to fly around just that much faster.
Speaking of bugs, though...
"Here is the switch between safety mode, laser mode and ion laser mode. Now remember, don't pull the trigger, squeeze it, and always..." Kate stopped talking as Taylor carefully let off a shot, hitting the target consisting of concentric circles right in the bullseye.
She was keeping a pair of small flies on her weapon, along with a trio of them around the target. Like that, Taylor could accurately land her laser shot right in the middle of her targeting array, her proprioception letting her just line up her shots as she wanted.
Again. And again. Never straying from the middle of the target, Taylor kept on firing, the laser 'projectiles' of her tinkertech gun finding the same place to hit a dozen times in a row.
"Well, well, well now," Kate whispered into Taylor's ears, her breath tickling and her voice the kind of sultry she didn't think real people could actually produce, "guess I'll have to actually keep on doing this, if everyone turns out as good a shot as you."
A hand landing on Taylor's ass and starting to grope and move it, the plug resting against sensitive places stimulating her to the point Taylor didn't think anything could back there, Taylor just kept shooting.
In the end, even with a hand down her pants and whispers of how sexy her ass apparently was, she didn't miss a single shot. Though the knowing looks from the other gang members surrounding them had her want to find a hole to hide in, anyways.
Trevor Medina and Frank Scrapper, your two newest cape recruits, have been appropriately impressed with your secret underground base, the former being teleported right inside at the appointed time while the latter has had some time to get used to his own room on base.
Still, making the 'official' rounds lets you formalize things and introduce the two newcomers to each other, along with the obvious benefits of showing off the multi-stage workshop you have got going for your tinkers already.
Suffice to say, you actually had to drag them out of there. Instead, you proceeded to baffle them with tales of your incredible trump powers (What else could they be, really?), leading to you sitting in one of the side rooms in short order, twin streams of blood flowing outwards to your new members.
Talking them into it wasn't even hard, truth be told.
Nora and Sherrel are not 'just' two of the vampires you have turned, or people you have come to genuinely care about in one capacity or another (you'll leave the topic of 'love' to be discussed another day), they are also the future mothers of your children.
"Does that make us your baby mommas?" Is how Sherrel thinks about the whole topic, drawing you out of your short moment of introspection.
"Come on, it's clear he was going on about the deeper issues with this," Nora say before you have time to answer, clearly already going into her own thoughts on the matter. "College boys get like that when they realize they're going to be dads."
Clearing your throat (unnecessarily), you clarify. "To be clear, I asked the two of you to come to talk about our future kids. Stuff like what we'll name them, how we'll bring them up and all that stuff.Family planning."
Sherrel frowns. "Oh shit, are you about to go all responsible on us? Is he sick? Can he even get sick?"
"Calm down, sweetie," Nora soothes her, "I'm sure Gabriel is just worried about being a good father."
You tilt your head. "Family planning is important, duh. You have kids, you gotta take care of them properly, and we have no idea how long our kids will take to grow up and be their own people, what with our whole 'biology' issue, so I figure we really should get a head start on this."
"Aww, aren't you just the sweetest?"
Sherrel sighs. "'kay, suppose this is my life now. My own fault for getting preggers, I guess."
You shrug. "I just want to be the best dad I can be and spoil our kids rotten. I'll just leave anything that doesn't involve them being happy to one of my cute wives. Speaking of which, I think we can all agree that we'll handle their education in-house?"
"Wait a second, could you repeat that part please?" Nora asks, suddenly looking worried.
"Mhm? Of course you're all my wives. You two, Sarah and Kate. I love you, you love me back, we're all taking care of the household together and even have kids on the way."
Sherrel looks like she can barely hold something back, her face torn between horrified realization and hysterical laughter. Nora, meanwhile...
"No, not that! I mean, also that, but the other part!"
"Division of labor is, next to love, one of the fundamental building blocks of any successful relationship. So I'll take care of loving everyone, you guys can take care of the rest between yourselves."
For some reason, Nora can't seem to close her mouth, so you just lean forwards and place a kiss on her nose. Sherrel seems to finally break down into breathless laughter, hiding her face with a hand.
"This is, haha, just fuckin' priceless. Never, ha, change, Gabe."
"I'm not planning to?" You are genuinely puzzled what your wives are on about this time. Nora just sighs, hiding her eyes with a hand.
"Let's just... let's just talk baby names, I'll deal with this later."
Ultimately, the little congregation of you and two of your wives comes to the conclusion that that the names of Michael/Michelle and Vivian or something with 'V' sound the nicest among what you can come up with together.
The topic of education is also hotly discussed- you plainly state that actual schools are far too dangerous and simply not feasible to send any of your kids to; Kate counters that she is fairly sure none of your kids are ever going to be powerless against bullies or traffic accidents.
Sherrel just keeps chuckling to the side and states that you can just decide when it's time and ensure their education in anything relevant yourselves until then. Her argument that she left high school after her freshman year is summarily ignored.
Similarly, your idea to renovate a few city blocks as a sort of safe space for your kids and the concept of arming them with ion-based laser weaponry as soon as they reach the age of one is... disputed, though you can't say you don't like taking the opportunity to talk these things out ahead of time.
Though Nora's hand seems to be permanently affixed to her face at the end, something about not wanting to see this traffic accident of a parenting strategy if she can avoid it. Being told she is part of it doesn't make it better, strangely.
You just want your kids to be safe and happy! The same as you want your wives to be, really.
Alright, Nora seems to be thoroughly done with this whole discussion, while Sherrel seems a lot happier about the concept of planning forwards for the end of her pregnancy, whereas you happen to have a little appointment with a certain someone.
"Hey Sarah, does this suit look good?"
"Eh? Oh, it's alright, I guess. Sorry, I was busy listening to Nora's ranting."
"Did I go too far, after all? I could've held it in a little more and all..."
"No, no, there's an undercurrent of amusement in there. Pretty sure she's actually happy how seriously you take having kids, just telling everyone, you know?"
"Got it. Anyways, I'm up for a little date with a married woman in half an hour; can you help me pick something out?"
"Sure, sure, lemme see what we've got in the closet..." Sarah always loved to pick out clothes for you, after all, and far be it from you to deprive your dearest little sister of something she loves.
"So, married women that I know about... Are you meeting Carol Dallon, from New Wave? I remember what you did to her at the auction."
"Bingo! I want to see how far I can push her. New Wave has been kind of a side project for a while now, so I'm already looking forward to this."
Well, here you are, dressed in your fancy suit and all and the equally fancy jewelry stowed in little boxes you're carrying in a suitcase, the same place the picture of Laserdream you drew a longer time ago is stored inside.
The necklace, band of golden chain culminating in the image of a snake biting into a ring as it wraps around a large green gemstone you cursed with 'Wearer desires intimacy and affection', making for a nicely wrapped and not at all poisoned gift for your date.
The ring, on the other hand, is a much more intricate design still depicting the same snake, only this time having swallowed and fused with the precious jewel as it wraps around the wearer's finger, cursed to "Draw Wearer to love wearing'.
It isn't exactly hard to get to the restaurant in the better part of town you're using for this, and so you soon stride through the doors as you wear the face of a man you once ate, thankful to Sarah for having helped you pick out an appearance that goes well with your clothes. Naturally, while you're at it, you pretend to stumble, bracing yourself against the doorway and shooting off an embarrassed smile at the nearest greeter as you shoot off a quick mumble.
"Women who enter speak honestly." You don't really quite expect this to do much for your date, but with any luck, this whole place is going to be a madhouse for a few days, while your curse lasts; though you can't really call it all that much of a curse, can you? It's just telling the truth. The easiest thing in the world.
But if people have trouble being honest, well, Papa Gabriel is there to help, as always!
"One desk for two reserved under the name 'Brand', please? My partner should be arriving anytime soon," you explain to the woman waiting for you to regain your bearing after your 'unfortunate' accident a moment ago, smiling and keeping your body language open.
"Of course, right this way." Works every time. Now all you have to do is take a seat... and wait.
Carol Dallon checked over her makeup in her hand-mirror, feeling herself grinding her teeth at the necessity of such before smoothing out her expression. So Cain wanted to play at being a 'cultured' villain? She would show him soon enough.
Paying the taxi driver and getting out, she adjusted her purse before getting into The Dapper Fence, the same restaurant she and Mark used to go before... well, before New Wave. Before their time was taken up with Vicky, with Amy and their responsibilities piled up... and his state worsened.
Quite a blast from the past to be here again.
Announcing the name of her reservation (and if using part of her hero name for it did not irk her, nothing did), it did not take long for Carol to be led to a table for two, a surprisingly young man waiting for her, dressed appropriately for the venue.
"Go ahead, take a seat," he offered, gesturing for the chair opposite his own, "can't exactly get started until you do."
Breaking her stare, Carol did as instructed, scowling at whom she now knew to be Cain- no two people could sound so irritatingly smug. "Hello, Cain. I'm surprised you would dare to show your face like this."
"Oh, this is hardly my real face," the cowardly villain laughed, his smirk growing insufferable even as she only had to endure it for a few moments, "and I suppose we will need a name for you to refer to me, won't we?"
"Mhm, Michael, Michael will do. Pleasure to meet you, Carol."
Snapping up a menu from where it was lying on the table, the villain held it out for her, smiling all the while. "I've already chosen, but feel free to take your time. In the meanwhile..." Turning his head to the side, Cain greeted the waitress approaching their table with a gesture.
"Some red wine, whatever comes recommended, for the two of us. Unless you would like to abstain?"
Biting her tongue to keep herself from showing her true thoughts, Carol nodded. "Some wine sounds lovely." Now if only she wasn't in this situation, she could just get drunk the slightest bit tipsy and forget all about it.
As soon as the waitress was out of hearing range, however, Carol returned right to the problem at hand. "What are you even thinking, 'Michael', to ask me to come here? Do you have any idea-"
"I simply asked you out here," the incensingly calm answer came, interrupting her, "because I thought it would be nice to have a date with you. The fact you dressed up is only a bonus, though certainly not an unwelcome one."
"Do you mean to say I need to dress up for you to care?" Carol asked, holding back her anger the best she could.
"I am saying you look lovely today, Carol, and that I wouldn't mind seeing more of you."
Biting down on her first reaction to the reminder of the... humiliation she had been subjected to the last time she'd met him, Carol changed the subject instead. "You are lucky I even chose to come. You broke our deal."
Cain tilted his head. "I did? Because I can't remember doing so. Unless I have been suffering from memory malfunctions, which I doubt, I have given you one picture drawn in the vague image of your family every time you went along with what I wanted for a few hours, which happened all of once. Or could I happen to-"
"Cut the crap and get to the point," Carol hissed. "You drew more, when the intent of the deal was for me to remove the pictures from your possession in exchange for your 'favours'. You creating more goes against the spirit of our agreement."
"Let me get one thing straight," Cain replied, still irritatingly calm. "I do not actually have control over what the public demands me to draw, I simply put up polls and leave the rest to them. If you do not want pictures based on your family to be chosen, you'll just have to participate in the discussions and argue against the crowd."
Carol scowled. "What I am saying is you shouldn't have given them the option! The ultimate fault of this lies with you, you have the choice to-"
"And my choice is to follow the majority's will in this, rather than follow some vague 'spirit' of an agreement that I am still keeping to without having to explain why I won't draw someone naked all of a sudden. What would you like me to tell the internet, 'Sorry, but Brandish let me fuck her so I won't do that?"
Carol scowled.
"If it makes you feel better, I have gone out of my way to avoid sketching up a comic of the 'Recent Wave' family having incestuous orgies one after another?"
"You leave my kids out of this," Carol exploded in vitriolic spite, "or so help me god I will-"
"There, there, calm down." Nodding to the side, Cain indicated that the waitress was coming, politely making place so she could access the table without issues and pour each of them a glass of wine.
Carol certainly needed one.
She also hadn't actually read the menu, but Cain stepped in to order for both of them, presuming on her behalf and shooing off the waitress (that had the audacity to actually smil- no, she didn't know, it was not her fault).
"Before I forget it," Cain said as he took his glass, taking a deep breath as though he had the first idea about wine, "what excuse did you use to come here today? If you pass out after sex again, you might take a while to get home, after all."
Carol was glad she didn't have her wine glass in hand herself; the table was making enough creaking sounds as she gripped it hard, being reminded of... last time. "As far as my family knows, I am 'working late'," she eventually spit out, hating herself just a bit.
Most of her hate was reserved for the man before her, after all.
"Why, that's wonderful! Opens up quite a few possibilities for us." With that, Cain took a sip from his glass, even as Carol wondered whether she couldn't catch him off guard with a heavy swing of a plasma saber, after all.
Probably not. The spineless villain probably had set up a trap just in case she did.
"Right, before I forget; I actually brought more than just the picture today." Lifting a suitcase he had kept hidden under the desk until then into his lap, Cain clicked it open, its cover blocking Carol's sight on its contents.
Withdrawing a black box of some kind, the villain flipped its lid open with a casual move, revealing a tasteless necklace made of gold and centering around a large green gemstone, a snake wrapping around parts of it as the connecting element.
"What, do you expect me to wear this?" Carol asked, her voice as incredulous as she felt at this moment. "Why would I ever-"
"Because I asked nicely?" The young man Cain was pretending to be asked, tilting his head to the side to match his smirk. "Because if you don't, you don't get what you want? Because... you want to?"
At that last sentence, Carol could feel something touching her shin, a soft yet hard presence gliding along her leg as though to stroke it.
"What are you doing?" Carol asked, resisting the urge to try and kick away the foot under the table, that would only draw attention and-
"And there's this beauty, too," Cain said, repeating the same procedure with another box to show her a ring, again in the form of a snake meant to wind around the wearer's finger while his foot wandered further up her leg, making its way past her knee's side as it tickled her.
"Stop it."
"You sure? Just put these on, then." And he was still smiling that infuriating smile as his toes inched their ways up and down her thigh.
Snatching the jewelry from where it was lying, Carol put it on, fiddling with the necklace until she got it to hold on as Cain inched further and further towards her, stroking the sensitive area on the inside of her legs.
When she made for the ring, though, Cain grabbed it before she could, stretching out his other hand. "Go ahead, I'll put it on."
While coming closer to places she didn't want the despicable villain anywhere near.
Giving him her right hand, Carol bit her lips to keep her voice down as a questing big toe bumped into her outer folds through her clothes, just in time for Cain to slip his ring around her finger.
Her ring finger.
This despicable bastard-
The meal itself was fine. Better than fine, even, but Carol could not exactly enjoy it in her present company; Cain, being the dirty son of a bitch that he was, seemed to be enjoying how uncomfortable his presence made her feel, the two of them eating mostly in silence and frequent ingestion of wine.
Even so, eventually they were both done, Carol unable to take offense at Cain's impeccable table manners as he just. Kept. Smiling at her, as though this was some kind of happy occasion for him.
It wouldn't surprise her if it was; what woman would ever willingly let a villain touch her?
Paying for their food and leaving a generous tip, the scoundrel led Carol out of the restaurant, past a young woman rushing to the bathrooms in tears and several couples looking... upset, for lack of a better word. Strange; bad dates happened, but not this frequently, normally.
Then again, Cain was in the area. It wouldn't surprise Carol if he was somehow at fault for this, too.
"So then, did you happen to come here by car?" Cain asked, taking an idle look around.
"Of course not," Carol responded, "nobody recognizes me in make-up, but license plates can be tracked much easier. I came by taxi."
"Eh, still kind of by car, isn't it? But nevermind, I get what you mean. Come on then, I'm giving you a ride home, Carol."
She hated the tone of his voice. As though he wasn't planning to oppose her every step of the way. "What about the picture, 'Michael'?"
"We're not done with this date quite yet and you know it," he drawled, pulling out a set of car keys and unlocking a huge car of some kind waiting in the parking lot right next to the restaurant he'd led her to, obviously meant to show off over anything else, before opening the front seat door to let her sit next to the driver's seat. "Come on in, take a seat."
Following his beckoning against her better judgement, Carol entered the car, almost sinking into soft leather as Cain went around, taking the wheel himself once he was inside.
"Don't worry about directions, I know where to go. So, how'd you like the food? I found it decent myself, but I wouldn't want to invite you again if it didn't suit your palate," Cain said, navigating the parking lot and slowly, but surely moving them back out to the streets.
"I hated it and would prefer not to come again, especially with you," was all she said, studiously ignoring Cain to look out the window.
"Great to hear that," he cheerfully replied, "guess it's a date, then."
Carol grimaced.
It was halfway back home that it happened, the one thing Carol had been expecting to happen and even waiting for, if only to get it over with.
"Wait a moment, we still have something to take care of," was what Cain said at the time, taking a right where they needed to keep going straight and soon driving down a ramp, not taking long to find a place to park inside the fourth floor of an underground parking garage.
Carol stayed silent, her stony expression not moving an inch.
"Now then, I'm sure you're already catching on, but just to make this clear: I haven't given you the picture yet because we aren't done yet. Incidentally..." Fiddling with the car's controls up front for a moment, Cain had the seats' backs fold backwards, becoming a soft surface as they merged with the similarly moving backseats.
"... this car has a lot of gadgets to play with." Already leaning on one arm as he laid on his side, Cain gave her a smirk. "You up for trying out the 'horizontal rodeo' mode?"
Carol had to hold in her vomit for a moment. "I am not getting that damnable depiction otherwise, am I?"
"Sign point to yes, next question?"
Carol sighed. "Just, just make sure to use protection this time." Pulling out a condom, she watched his eyes grow wide before he covered his mouth with a hand, obviously wracked by laughter as he tried to hold up his other hand, alternatingly pointing at her and what she was holding.
"You're seriously... and expecting... sorry, but this is just too hilarious."
"If you're quite done," Carol scolded him, suddenly feeling just like she was dealing with her daughters' antics and quite exhausted over that fact, "would you please use it?"
"Sure, sure, I'll think about it," the detestable villain said, taking the pink wrapper from her as he started peeling his clothes off of himself, Carol following suit with a sigh.
When Cain finally was naked, his clothes discarded in a pile on his side of the car, he just took a moment to watch, amused, as Carol struggled with her pants, the lack of space along with the vertical arrangements keeping her from undressing at any appreciable speed.
"Need a hand over there?" He asked, offering one of his digits as he shifted his weight, crawling in her direction.
"You keep to yourself until you've got the condom on," Carol spit, only causing yet another bout of chuckles as she kept wriggling out of her clothing.
"You can't exactly expect me to get hard without something nice to look at," he countered as he continued. "Just hold still and accept my help, woman."
With that, he was on her, his uncomfortably muscled arms unhooking her bra in an easy movement before throwing it to the rest of her discarded clothes. Enduring his perverse enjoyment of her mammaries as Cain gave them a few gropes, Carol was relieved when he finally moved downwards, tugging and pulling until her pants were off.
The removal of her socks was barely an afterthought, though the same couldn't be said for her panties, the wicked smile Cain sent up at her doing the opposite of reassuring her as he leaned forwards once they cleared her waist, giving a long, luxurious lick along her lips, culminating in a kiss on her most vulnerable place.
Immediately, Carol hated herself for how wet she was getting, her body's natural reaction once again betraying her. Not that Cain cared, continuing to lick, kiss and even nibble at her feminine anatomy all the way until his torturously slow movement of her last covering reached her knees, whence he bluntly slid his tongue inside her, Carol's shameful gasp filling the air as her hands found themselves on his head, pushing and pressing to get him to do what she needed and wanted.
The villain was strangely skilled at this task, and so it wasn't long before Carol came, clamping down around his head with all her force even as she bit down on a hand to keep herself from screaming her lungs out.
"There, wasn't that fun?" Cain asked when she finally released him enough to let him speak, his chin glistening with spit and... oh, who was she kidding, her fluids. His chin was wet with her fluids.
That still did not change he was raping her; she was simply doing her best to get through her ordeal the best she could.
Having interpreted her breathless gasps as agreement, though, Cain came crawling up her body, lavishing licks and kisses all along her stomach before he abruptly sat up, his ramrod-straight member pointing proudly outwards.
And if Carol licked her lips, that had nothing to do with what it looked like.
In a quick motion almost too fast for her to follow, Cain had opened the condom's wrapping, withdrawing the penis covering and... putting it in her hand?
"I'm going to wear it... but if you want it that much, you have to put it on."
"O-oh... Okay." Exhaling at the reaction the positively smoldering look the disgusting villain disguised as this young man was giving her elicited, Carol looked down, unable to sit up as Cain was holding himself over her, and proceeded to press the condom against his throbbing lower head, unable to stop thinking about how closely the throbbing member was hovering over her secret place.
Roll after roll, she covered the veiny manhood in thin, elastic material, a free hand darting below to almost subconsciously fondle the freely hanging balls underneath to feel them prepare for what was to come, the appreciative sound coming from Cain not enough to make her stop preparing his penis for sex.
With her. Sex with her. Because Carol was the kind of woman that, when confronted with the prospect of whoring herself out to solve her problems, accepted with minimal fuss.
She felt dirty, but... at least she'd brought protection, right? Therefore, it didn't count as cheating.
Not that she could convince herself all that well when a stormy Cain ducked forwards, covering her rapidly breathing mouth with his own and smearing her lipstick all over his own lips, keeping her focused on his eyes boring into hers with almost hypnotic intensity.
"It's a bit tight, but it'll do," he growled when he eventually let her come up for air, rubbing his big fat cock along her privates before bearing backwards, "now prepare to get fucked into the ground and back, honey."
The shock of that last word, more than anything else, was what had her eyes open wide as his mighty dick spread her lips, the villain's strong arms embracing her as he entered her in full, her own arms returning the gesture as she threw her head backwards, doing her best to keep her voice in at the sensation of being so completely filled once again.
Biting her teeth, she began grinding out words. "I. Am. Not. Your. Honey." Contrary to her words, however, her legs slid up his slim waist, crossing behind it as he slowly began thrusting in earnest, rearranging her insides with his sheer size.
And yet still so gently the only thing she could feel about it was pleasure.
"Sweetie, then? Darling? Brandy?" Cain laughed, his face buried in the crook of her neck as he kissed and nibbled at it, the hateful villain's hold on her strong and manly.
"I am not y- ugh," Carol got out, the precise thrust along all her weakspots and gentle prod at her deepest depth driving her to exhale all air and bite her teeth lest she scream her lungs out.
"Not my what? You'll have to tell me what's wrong if you want me to change it," the abominable man whispered as he kept thrusting into her, defiling her womanhood with his foul tool.
Carol stopped talking, knowing he would just do it again if she did.
And if she didn't, as the steady repetitions proved, Cain's balls soon smacking against her raised backside as they began in earnest, the foul villain working her over almost as though to see her face as she moaned out in orgasm, her nails scratching along his back and her legs flailing for a moment, only serving to rouse him to renew his efforts despite how full and tight she felt.
Over and over again, Cain forced completion onto her, the car shaking with the force of his thrusts, until eventually, he, too, came, filling her up as deeply as he could and letting go, only to be foiled by the condom she had put on him.
Capturing her mouth in another kiss again, he withdrew... for a moment, only to begin anew. Carol hazily remembered the villain's inhuman stamina from their first encounter, but still she could hardly believe how easily he continued pumping into her, always looking at her with that unbearably loving look in his eyes.
Once, twice, thrice he came, Carol losing count amidst waves of pleasure, and yet she could clearly recall the moment it happened.
One second Cain was doing as he did for as long as Carol could remember, all thoughts beside sex washed out of her mind with constant application of dick wasted on a villain like him, the next she could feel... wetness.
Hot and slimy wetness.
"W-wait... wait! I think the... I think the condom broke..." Carol gasped out, pushing at Cain's broad chest, not making any progress until he went along with it.
"And this is why I just don't bother," he grumbled, withdrawing his manhood and the by now grotesquely swollen balloon of semen at its end, a clear and steady leak visible as she looked.
Rolling it off and tying it up despite the leak, Cain reach back to press a button, the windows opening so he could throw the used condom out before he reversed the process.
"What... what do we... there's more in my purse," Carol threw out, the implications of Cain's sperm free inside her vagina while she was at a risky time of the month overwhelming her for a moment before she decided any damage to be done was already done.
"Screw it," was all Cain had to say in response, positioning himself in front of her entrance again, spearing into her in a single move and producing a small, almost imperceptible bulge in her stomach, "let's just keep fucking. Give your kids a little sibling."
Carol Dallon, for her part, was unable to dispute this, her mouth preoccupied with more deep, deep kisses in short order... and as a man other than her husband kept on milking orgasm after orgasm out of her, filling her womb with his seed fully intending to impregnate her, it did not take very long for her vision to blacken, her mind and body unable to take the pleasure and forbidden desires coursing through her veins.
Well, there it is; one Carol Dallon, blacked out and still twitching as she lies in your arms. It took you a bit longer to replicate your by now semi-usual feat of literally fucking her unconscious, mostly on account of how you were taking it slow and conveying 'love' all throughout the time you were taking, but alas, some sacrifices must be made.
Giving her a last kiss on her forehead, you pull out, a hand pushing her hair back behind her ear where the thorough fucking you just gave her dislodged it, smiling down at her. "Fall in love with your rapist," you whisper, knowing full well what this relationship is, in the end. And while you're at it, anyways...
"Incest becomes arousing for you." There. While you don't exactly expect this to have any true effect whatsoever, your curses more a nudging of events than anything that could actually cause something like this, it doesn't hurt to cast your net wide, so to say. Worst come to worst, it doesn't amount to anything, in which case you don't actually lose anything.
Next off, though, comes the actual problem you're faced with; getting Carol back home.
Well, at least you have time, considering the seats are kind of ruined either way, you think to yourself as you pull out.
As you have found, transporting people through your shadow step spell is kind of a pain; you have to be extremely careful not to accidentally drop them, lest they emerge from a random shadow on the way to your destination, not to mention just how slippery they become as the spell transforms everything you have on you into shadows.
Still, here you are, having locked the bathroom door after scouting out the Dallon residence as a shadow and now jumping out of the dark thrown against the wall by the bathtub, carefully laying Carol into the tub. Bunching up her pants, you use them as an improvised pillow for her head, the rest of her clothes discarded nearby.
With that, you turn to the rest of the cargo you were carrying; while Carol is still wearing the jewelry you got for her, you were keeping one last thing inside your suitcase.
Carefully depositing the rolled-up picture of none other than Crystal Pelham with the giant tits she actually is sporting now under the mirror hung above the sink, you also grab a piece of paper and a pen out of your pocket (it does pay off to have everything you need to take notes and sketch things out on a moment's notice) to leave a note for Carol, together with the picture.
'Enjoyed the date a lot, looking forwards to the next one.
-Cain'
And with that, your work here is done (for today). Time to go and get everything ready for the next stream; while you enjoy drawing more, it's not like you dislike playing the role of Professor Abraham, and your long-term plans do work well with what you're doing.
After all, a healthier humanity means you have more to look forwards to once you take over the world.
"Hello everyone, and welcome! To the world of... Professor Abraham and Assistant Prometheus! Today, we're going to be delving into the mystifying world of virology, the science of viruses and how they work! Now, to begin with, viruses are the things that cause diseases. That is all that they do; everything even vaguely useful that happens on a single-cellular scale is the work of bacteria..."
"Doctor, maybe you should explain the difference between bacteria and viruses first... and what single-cell organisms are."
Riley looked up from where she was tinkering with a few bits and bobbles, leaving the small brain inside the socket to look up at the screen they were watching.
Wiping her hands on her apron, she smiled; Mister Jack looked like he was in a good mood, so she'd best be in one, too, so he wouldn't get angry.
"Hoshpot! Our watchers and listeners should already know about such simple and elementary concepts! But if you insist, we can surely find the old teaching aids..."
Of course, Ned had to start speaking at this point, his gravelly voice drowning out the broadcast and making Riley pout. "When are we finally getting to him? We're all the way in Boston, so what're we waiting for?" Nobody needed clarification on whom he meant; Ned had been asking after when they would get inside Brockton Bay and fight Cain constantly ever since the last conversation they'd had.
"We came all the way to Boston so we could wait for the perfect opportunity," Mister Jack patiently answered Ned, "wouldn't want him to just run instead of fighting back, after all. Trust me, I get that everyone wants to get on with it already, but there is a reason we've just been sitting here watching TV all week."
Mannequin waved a finger in his direction from where he was working on his own parts.
"And tinkering, in the cases of those of us that do it. We've been long overdue for a proper restocking anyways."
Riley couldn't help but nod to that; she really did need to take the time to arm up all her spider friends with her best ideas, not to mention the new tricks she was adding to herself.
Ned grumbled a bit, but eventually quieted down, as he always did when they were having this talk. Riley tried to catch what was going on again, Professor Abraham having progressed from the introduction to the middle of an experiment already, but before she could hear more than a few words, the next interruption made itself heard.
Banging against the truck's loading door, the sound overwhelming that of their streaming setup, she could see all of them exchanging looks amounting to disbelief at someone coming to bother them.
And anticipation, in some cases, the one orphanage they'd taken apart for parts before burning it down not keeping them entertained for very long.
"Don't worry, everyone, I'll take it," Mister Jack said, getting up and walking over to press the button that would open the door.
Beyond it, as she could soon see, stood a man dressed in rags and looking obviously unwashed, his unshaven face attesting to some time spent on the streets. His eyes, though, had a crazed look in them, the kind of enraged obsession that she'd seen a few times before only adding to the rough quality of his voice, as though he hadn't used it for a while... or screamed too much recently.
"Hello. You're the Slaughterhouse Nine, aren't you?"
If Mister Jack was surprised, he didn't show it. "Why yes, we are! I must say, it is quite uncommon for anyone that knows who we are to seek us out."
The mysterious newcomer grunted. "Don't care. I want to join."
"Well, you're in luck! We do happen to have a space open right now. My name is Jack Slash, but feel free to just call me Jack. So, who might you be?"
A sardonic smirk surfacing on his face, the new parahuman jumped inside the truck. "Avery Carmichael, but feel free to call me Avery. So, we happen to be coming towards Brockton Bay anytime soon?"
For a moment, just a single moment, Riley thought she could see Mister Jack's eye twitch.
She was probably just imagining it.
"... so the natural habitat of a virus is the body of other, larger organisms. Organisms who may have an issue with the way it propagates, and therefore have a wide range of ways to fight an infection; we call these the body's immune system. Though I believe it will have to be a topic for another time..."
Amy's ears pricked up, hearing a sound coming from the hallway. She looked at her phone from where she was watching the stream, but... honestly, she very much already knew much more about how this worked than the whole thing showed. She was only really watching because she watched all of these streams as a matter of course.
Sighing, she got up, resolving to watch the rest of this stuff later. Figuring out if the bathroom was really open again came first.
Coming out of her room, Amy looked to the side, seeing... mom? Walking along, supporting herself with one hand on the wall. "Mom? You doing alright?"
Carol, startled by her question, turned around, giving Amy a shaky smile. "Oh, Amy. Yes, I'm... I'm fine. A bit tired, but it'll pass."
"M-hm." And Amy certainly wasn't going to believe that. "We already thought the bathroom door's lock was stuck or something when it wouldn't open all day ever since Vicky and me came back home. You know anything about that?"
Amy did her best not to raise an eyebrow at the now open door, having had to talk Vicky down from possibly breaking the window to get inside and see if she could fix it. Beautiful and talented her sister might be, she wasn't a locksmith, nor did she want to her to break the damn window.
Seriosuly, why was it so hard to get her to just use the ground floor bath for a day or so, until their mom was back to talk to about this?
"Uh, yes, I saw that earlier and fixed it. Just took a bit force to get it open."
"And what's that you're carrying, mom?" Amy may be permanently exhausted, but she was neither blind nor dumb.
"These are just some documents from work; I'm going to have to take them back to the office again tomorrow. Why are you asking about all of this?"
Well, shit, mom was putting up her lawyer face. Whatever it was, it had to involve something important.
"Oh, nothing much," Amy said, reaching back for her finishing blow, "so why don't I give you a quick checkup, make sure you're doing alright?"
"No need, no need. Now, if you'll excuse me..." And with that, mom was all but fleeing, still keeping herself upright with a hand to her side as her legs were clearly not up to the task.
"Well fuck my life," Amy murmured once she was gone, a hand stroking through her hair, "guess I'm gonna have to get Detective Vicky on the case again."
And damn if her sister wasn't a force of nature when she decided to meddle with someone else's affairs, snooping up the most obscure of secrets and getting everyone involved to confess anything of interest. She was just also... very trying to be around once she picked up steam.
Fuck it, finish the stream first, then watch a few episodes of Naruto, then she would get on that. Vicky could be a ball of energy afterwards. Maybe grope her a bit beforehand, too; after what they did already, that really wasn't much.
Honestly, going to a bookstore after sundown isn't how you would usually spend your time- you're just far too busy, normally, whether with gang business, talking to your people or just hanging out with them, making sure nobody is about to go on a murderous rampage because they didn't get their ice cream and/or fast food.
And you wish you were joking on this one, but nope, capes have come to blows over shit like this. Turns out the seemingly random information you got conveyed as part of your education in Parahuman Studies could actually come in handy, after all.
Who knew being a gang leader profits off of higher education like that, after all?
Anyways, as it turns out, Okita wanted a few new books, the ones she currently has access to all used up and read to exhaustion. That is, she has; Priestess isn't through with even a tenth of them, but she's also spent much longer actually learning English to start with.
Thus, the bookstore. Normally, you'd just ask someone to go to the mall with her, just in case, but she actually looked up where to get new books over the internet and asked you to come with her yourself, so... well, here you are.
Holding Okita's hand (because of course you are), you get off the bus, the two of you soon entering the huge bookstore she wanted to visit. Upon coming inside, you find that it is a multi-floor library-esque building, kept fairly open with stairs, automatic stairs and glass elevators occupying the center areas of the three floors with reading nooks for visitors scattered throughout the open space in-between stairs.
Okita's eyes grow big as dinner plates as she looks around, to the point you have to hold back a chuckle as you wave a hand forwards. "Go on ahead, look through everything you can. I just brought a few thousand dollars, but aside from that, go nuts!"
Okita looks between the books and you a few times, before having one of her 'realization' moments as she claps a fist into an open palm and gives you a kiss on the cheek before happily walking off at 'happy Okita' speeds.
Ah well, may as well browse a bit yourself, too...
Well, Okita is having her fun, no reason you can't have your own. With that, you first go to have a look at what's on offer, but the sheer amount of books means you physically can't get through all the titles on display.
Thankfully, though, they are sorted by topic well enough, and so it isn't long before you have a nice assortment of parenting books before you, though you have to honestly chuckle at a lot of the content.
Honestly, most of this is common sense stuff, when it isn't just outright wrong. Of course you're going to spoil your kids rotten- you love them and they deserve all the care and attention, not to mention material objects you have to give them- but that doesn't automatically mean they're going to turn out like horrible brats.
That's what motivating them how to be the best of themselves they can be is for, and that means a lot when you're talking about vampires with all the advantages your kids are going to inherently have.
Beyond your normal efforts to prepare for actual fatherhood, you also sort through a variety of sci-fi kinds of stories; nothing like getting some inspiration for whenever you next have some time to work on your technological base.
Oh, and some instructional books for martial arts- while you don't want to brag when you say that you happen to know a thing or two about fighting, you sure aren't going to turn down a few additional tips and tricks, even from admittedly not necessarily the most trustworthy of guides.
Which is why the rest of your time is spent picking out the most interesting stories and best instructional guides you can find, adding them to your little pile of books to take home and let everyone else read.
Not like you will be able to match Okita's pile of books, anyways...
As it turned out, you actually did need to get everything inside several bags- several, more than you can carry by yourself or even with Okita's assistance.
In the end, you just carried them out 'to the car' one by one, having the girls on teleporter control bring them back to the bunker one by one. Ignoring Okita's sheepish look to ruffle her hair, you soon return to the bunker yourself, the teleporters allowing you to freely come and go from any sufficiently dark and unobserved alley.
And now? Now you'll have to go and put together a library room or two, just to have somewhere to put all of Okita's new books. And yours, you suppose, your internal library already having gained a copy of all the books you've read.
You'll have to bring more than just a few thousand dollars with you next time...
Being faster than the human eye could possibly follow is nice, really nice even, but being nigh incapable of actually steering once you enter acceleration mode is... suboptimal. Hence the practice as you demonstrate how your own superspeed works for Trevor Medina, whom has to stay up late tonight.
Not that he seems to mind, though.
"Just like that! At this rate I'll actually get a superspeed mode into my armor!"
Quod erat demonstrandum.
Luckily enough, you do manage to avoid faceplanting yourself too often while you practiced, the attempts to move in any direction other than the one you were already going towards more often throwing one side of your body out of acceleration while the other side stayed as it was, leading to more than your fair share of awkward spinning and last-minute attempts to keep your feet on the ground instead of flailing through the air.
Still, you got through that, now you're safely back in your room and talking with Sarah as both of you sit on the bed, the two of you happy as always to just be together.
"So, Sarah, you got that list I asked you for ready?"
"I do, not like it was difficult. Want the breakdown now?"
"If you would."
Snapping up her laptop, Sarah navigates to where she keeps her 'capefiles', wiggling around until she sits on your lap so you can see what she's doing, her smooth thighs feeling nice on your own legs.
"So, these ones you already know about. Dovetail, flyer with these forcefields she can drop to encumber others. One of her favorite moves is just hovering over someone and keeping on dropping them to tie them down until the PRT arrives. She's very much heroically aligned, and I've found mention of her in the PRT's communications- it looks like she's looking into signing up officially, because apparently the Crypts are big and bad enough independents are spooked."
"What, when it's the Empire that's literally having a holocaust on the south end of town?"
"Pretty sure it's mostly because her power is pretty useless against most of their capes, but she's a soft counter to Bug Girl."
You tilt your head. "Have they actually seen the sheer amounts of bugs she can call on at any given time, or did someone just think 'mildly bothersome forcefields, but they would totally work better against bugs'?"
"Probably the latter."
"The other one you know about is Sere, hydrokinetic. Manton-limited to only work on living organisms, he can draw water from his surroundings or targeted into one direction. Essentially weaponised dehydration."
"Let me guess, another potential 'counter' to Bug Girl the heroes are looking into?"
"Bingo. Turns out people are fucking pissing themselves over her, especially with the body count connected to her by now. Apparently, she's got the second-highest in the whole Crypts right now, outmatched only by you, but her power is fairly obvious and well-known, at least."
"Except she's in a gang and, as such, likely to have backup. They don't know we have more capes than literally anyone else in the city, but they suspect we have a bunch. Why do they even bother?"
"Doing what they can, I guess," Sarah shrugs. "Anyways, that's two down."
"Next off we have Blot, a striker/master that's shown up here and there. He- pretty sure it's a he, anyways- animates fluids into little minions, just balls with legs and arms growing out of them. They're pretty weak and usually not an issue, but when a lot of them pile up on someone, they can take people down pretty hard," Sarah continues, clicking past the better-researched capes.
"Big maybe on the power, but noted, yeah. Guess if we want a few middling capes, we can go after the independents left in the city?" You ask, already getting an idea of the kind of powers you're about to get a look at.
"Yeah, any really powerful or impressive capes have had to take sides or get out of Brockton one way or another early on. Next off, there's also Uber and Leet, I suppose, but they've been keeping silent for a while. Best guess, they're using some kind of tinkertech to stay hidden until the chaos in the city blows over."
"Annoying, but alright. We can always wait until they stick their necks out of their holes."
"Next off, Birdman. A changer of some sort, he can turn into a bird-monster of some kind. Nothing particularly powerful, but he can fly and take people by surprise. He's been robbing gangers on occasion, but is decidedly more the kind of guy to strike opportunistically and keep to himself otherwise."
"Gotcha," you nod along, keeping that guy in mind.
"And last but not least, we have one of the many 'Black Cats' running around all calling themselves the same thing because they're burglars and all. Her power makes her harder to see in the dark, so she's a clear stranger, but there isn't much else known about her other than that."
Hugging Sarah's stomach, you give off a curious sound. "Is that really all of them? I would've thought Brockton Bay of all places would have a few more independents squirreling around."
Sarah just shrugs. "Honestly, with the way the gang 'war' has been going? Most other capes have been leaving the city to keep out of that mess. Even the ones I told you about are just the ones that have been sighted here or there ever since the whole thing started, but most of them may leave at any given moment."
"The Crypts are scary as fuck and the little guys are running, got it," you agree, a little disappointed at what's left around to recruit.
"I'll be honest with you, we'd be kind of scratching the bottom of the barrel here," Sarah says, knowing what you're thinking as a matter of course. "We could recruit them, of course, but there's a reason none of the gangs went after them up 'til now."
"Yeah, nah, I was planning to look into recruitment, but none of these really sound like they'd be worth the effort. Let's just stay in for a bit." Cuddling closer to Sarah, you rest your chin on her head, causing her to look up at you bemusedly.
"And keep me tied up, too? What if I'm actually busy with something important?" She grins, pushing herself back into you.
"In that case whatever's so important is just going to have to wait. My Sarah."
Just playing with Sarah's hair for a while as the two of you exchange small talk, you slowly, but surely shift over to female form, not letting go of Sarah at any part of the process.
Your sister, of course, notices, but just sighs playfully as she begins groping your thighs. "You know, I'd be annoyed about this if you weren't so damn beautiful like this."
"Not as cute as you, though," you answer, idly kissing the crown of her head. "Also gives me a great pair of pillows for you."
"One of these days I'll have to go fox just so I can nap on them," is all Sarah has to say on the topic, even as your breasts start growing out of your chest, the transformation nearly complete.
"So, actual question for once. I've got kids on the way with Nora and Sherrel, right?" You ask, slowly leaning backwards and taking Sarah with you.
"You do. Both single kids and growing well, I checked," Sarah confirms. "What about them?"
"Well, I've been thinking. About being a dad, about being a good dad, that kinda thing." Coming to lie down, with your sister's head held between your breasts, much to her obvious amusement as she turns around, you shrug. "I'm hoping I'll do alright, of course, but, y'know, first time I'm doing this. And the first time vampire kids are born in general, so I can't exactly get any specialized care or advice for the situation."
"Somehow, you don't seem that worried," Sarah says, nuzzling your breasts in a way that just serves to highlight her cuteness.
"It's not really that different from what I've been doing so far," you admit in return, your arms coming down to grope her cute ass. "Just doing what I think will work and going from there. I figure a good dose of common sense and the support of the people I love will do the rest."
"Ain't you looking all dependable, mister dad of the year," Sarah jokes, smiling in an aborted laugh as she pokes a nipple of yours. "I'm sure it'll go well. They're your kids, they literally can't turn out badly."
"I'm sure," you agree half-heartedly, already imagining having to deal with the vampire equivalent of puberty when your kids hit it. "Ah, fuck it. While I'm at it, want to add more kids to the chaos that'll happen when the time comes?"
"Huh?"
"I'm asking if you want to have kids, Sarah," you gently explain, kneading her buttcheeks. "I'm at least reasonably sure incest isn't really an issue for vamps after I spent way too much time analyzing my own DNA back in Rapture, so it's an option."
Swallowing, Sarah gives you a slow nod, a faraway look in her eyes. "I never really... thought about that. I'll keep it in mind, okay?"
Nodding, you just continue holding your sister close. You know how it looks like when she's trying to hide her own sudden insecurities. "Of course. No rush or pressure one way or another, it's all up to you."
Because one thing is sure, always has been. You love your sister, would do anything for her.
Or to her, if she wants it.
You give Sarah another kiss, on the forehead this time.
It doesn't happen often that you go out of your way to go bother the same Crypt member twice in a single night, but as it happens, Okita hardly ever slept even compared to your other thralls before the Cain plasmid became commonplace amongst them, and now only cares about approximately four things in life; sweets, books, fighting and 'cute' things.
It is, as it happens, the very latter that brings her to come with you to the on-base freezer you use to store any corpses and miscellaneous animal parts you may need for your 'projects'.
Or, as Okita likes to call it, 'More Cuties!'
It is with a shiny glint in her eyes that Okita regards the final product of your work under her instructions, the details needing to be perfect to pass under her discerning gaze.
Not enough that you're trying to create a reasonably cheap and easy to create undead, it also does have to meet her aesthetic requirements. Then again, those usually end up being horrifically efficient and powerful in battle, so...
Basically, what you're doing is taking the corpse of a hobo, probably former Merchant member that managed to slip under the radar until he fucked with the wrong people, and just tearing out everything inside and under the ribcage, reasoning these things don't really need inner organs. That does mean, of course, it doesn't really have any of the muscles up front it kind of does need, but you do have a plan!
Simply put, you're just having this fella run around really hunchbacked, with all the muscles he'll need packed along the upper chest and back, the spine rearranged and some of the material you have on hand so far used to let his slightly repositioned spine break out of his back in places, because this pleases the Okita (and as you well know, pleasing the Okita is worth it).
That done, all you need is to fiddle with the arms, make them longer and more powerful, with big, clawed hands capable of tearing a grown man limb from limb. So what if they end up a little... fleshless... here and there, they can do their job and that's all that counts.
Okita's verdict is... carefully positive?
"They look really dancey," is what the possibly disturbed girl says with a serious, satisfied nod. "Good."
You'll just... take it as it is.
You have, up to now, seen and read about a great many things concerning martial arts, beyond the raw experience you have gathered so far from making your dead victims teach you or sucked directly from their minds as you ate them.
And yes, you actually do include the reference books the library can give you in this, created from those same souls' memories and experiences in addition to your own.
So it is this fine day, inside the sped-up time of your soul palace, that you take your time to practice. Building up muscle memory is important even and especially at the speeds you can move at- even if you can take care of every aspect of brutal close quarters combat 'manually', the more of it you do just about automatically, the more time or mental 'space' you have to think.
And thinking, you have found, is the most important part of fighting, when you get down to it. Anticipate what your enemy is going to do and punish them for it hard, act not too fast nor too slow, but just at the right moment instead, and always, always keep thinking of ways to hurt whatever's trying to murder you.
The Gabriel School Of Fighting truly is versatile and powerful.
It is thus, then, as you practice and test out the best and easiest ways to smash a clawed fist or foot into a stomach from varying starting positions, that... it happens.
"Oh my, look at who is working hard today again," a female voice comes from behind you, causing you to stop moving because...
Because you know that voice, just not quite like this.
"Nolan," you say, your voice carefully blank, "why, the fuck, are you a woman?"
And indeed, there she stands in all the glory of her dirty labcoat, wearing nothing under it.
"Oh, you know," Nolan says, shapeshifting before your eyes first into another woman, then an entirely different man, both of which are possessed of longer, dark hair and fairly fine, refined features, though the dirtied look never quite goes away, "a girl has to let her hair down every now and then."
Right. You didn't quite want to know on that one, and so he just had to give you an answer of some kind. Holding in the urge to give off the mother of all sighs, you keep your head in the game.
"Okay, so you must be... Lilac, that one artist, right? Would the two of you please tell me why the fuck you two are fused into the same person?"
"Oh, you know," they say, shifting into another form with every word (just to irritate you, you bet), "the two of us met for a lovely date at the lakeside, talking about this and that, when our debate on the beauty of pain became a liitle heated, and-"
"So you were fucking near the river and fell in, got it." Seriously? Did they have to pull this shit on you? "Are your powers still intact, at least?"
Because if not, there's nothing keeping you from sentencing them to a few centuries of complete sensory deprivation or something.
"Worry not, master," the Maid standing by for your training says, calm and patient as ever, "The Siren has proclaimed that she was able to secure both their powers and personalities."
"So, what about it, stud," the unholy amalgamation flirts badly with you, "want to... try me out?"
You suppress a shudder. "Okay, first off, no."
"A shame-""-we would have loved to-"
"Secondly," you speak over the two souls, "your name is now Nolac and you are very much dismissed."
Seriously, these two... Covering your eyes with a hand once they're out of the room, you turn towards the Maid.
"Alright, back to practice. The less I think about... that... the better."
Nolan was bad enough beforehand, though still useful enough to justify tolerating him. But the headache he's been causing Yoshi is bound to spread around once if he keeps acting like that.
It does not matter how early in the morning it is, someone is liable to be in the workshops messing around with one thing ot another. Case in point, Lea pouring over piles of hand-drawn blueprints, wearing one of her self-aiming gloves on her right hand.
"Hey Lea, you busy?" You ask, idly trying to distract yourself from the Nolac situation.
"Oh, just looking into how to improve on my babies, you know how it is, boss. You need anything?"
"Actually," you smile, "can I help you?"
As it happens, Lea did have a lot of ideas for more cool stuff to pack into her VATS-based aiming gloves, only stymied by a singular obstacle; how the hell to keep them from becoming too bulky, the base design already somewhat unwieldy due to the computer packed into the forearm area.
Luckily for her, you're somewhat of an expert when it comes to fitting certain things into spaces they shouldn't be able to.
"Okay, so way I see it, we can either mod these out to be as slim as possible while we pack them full of the good stuff we can fit, rework the design a bit to the point them being big and bulky doesn't matter as much, maybe integrate a gun into it outright, or we go and turn the weight into a feature, make a close combat variant."
"Why not all three?" Lea asks, visibly salivating at the chance to make some real leaps and bounds with her engineering.
"Because I have only so much time before I have to get going again. You know how it is, life as a high-profile criminal means you're busy more often than not," you explain.
"Oh believe me I do, why do you think I'm taking every moment I have before Alice and Sherrel get outta bed?" At your look, she gestures around uncertainly. "Yes, they don't need sleep, but that doesn't mean they don't like to take naps every now and then. No idea if it's a tinker thing or a them thing."
Ultimately, Lea wants to keep the overall functionality, so you naturally follow her wishes as the device's creator. While you take some, as some might say, 'artistic freedom' with the design, you ultimately keep it relatively lightweight and straightforward, meant to do its job the best it can.
Which means you add as many features as you can stuff inside while avoiding the ever-present threat of overbloat. You end up with a slim, sleek kind of glove, less clunky than Lea's previous setup mostly by virtue of an aesthetic redesign, looking a lot like a, elbow-length glove made of dark material studded with off-white flat surfaces defining it, fitting over and closing up around the fingers kind of like segmented exoskeleton or armor, the underlying soft layer visible when they're bent.
Those surfaces, of course, have all the sensors inside them, hidden and protected under a decently resistant coating you cribbed from Yoshi's Academy City tech. The real magic, though, happens in the lower arms, where, as before, most of the computing happens, a few (quite clever, if you do say so yourself) tricks keeping the weight easily balanced and minimally impacting the wearer (most won't even feel it).
"This is fucking incredible and if I wasn't too much of a professional, I'd kiss you, boss," Lea says, her eyes gleaming as she looks over the code and hardware the two of you put together over the last few hours.
"What, is that what's keeping you?" You ask bemusedly, satisfied at your work yourself.
"No, seriously, this thing's got an actual learning algorithm to let it work with a user better over time as it figures out their habits and specific information and is capable of differentiating friend from foe and makes anyone that isn't authorized to use it shoot themselves! This. Is. Awesome."
"Oh, come on, it was a team effort." And it really was- what Lea doesn't have in sheer skill and knowledge, she makes up for with stubborn perseverance and surprising creativity in spades.
That and a few of your plasmids helping along.
"No, really..." the two of you go on like that a bit longer, but what you told Lea earlier still stands- you do actually have to go get some other stuff done today, so you excuse yourself when Alice and Sherrel come into the workshop, holding hands until they split ways.
Patrolling your 'official' territory is an activity you can spend far too little time on, in your own humble opinion, showing presence and making it a point that these streets are yours never growing boring in its own possibly quite megalomaniac way.
Who doesn't dream of utterly owning their own little kingdom as a kid, after all?
Anyways, while you have to leave most of this stuff to your capes, Jeremy especially stepping up on patrols lately, that doesn't mean you can't go out to do it yourself at all, especially so whenever you can 'justify' it by doubling up on talking with your capes doing it themselves.
Cue you, Taylor and Emily aka Spitfire standing on a street corner, dressed in your respective costumes and ready to go, Taylor having come to meet you on foot a short while after you and Spitfire came along, the virtues of teleportation covering a multitude of sins.
"Before we begin," you begin, "let me properly introduce you two. Unnamed Bug Girl, this is Spitfire," you say, gesturing from one to another, "Spitfire, Unnamed Bug Girl. You may remember her, she helped us with that whole ABB mess, both of you were there."
"Yeah," Spitfire says, holding out a hand. "I was a firespitting owl back then, you remember me?"
Hesitating a moment, Taylor nods, taking her hand, "I do."
Not waiting for the inevitable awkwardness that comes from two not necessarily extrovert teenage girls meeting, you proceed to turn towards the route you planned out for today's patrol, promptly beginning to set one foot before another, the two girls following you without any fuss.
"Say, have you given any thought about a name so far?" You inquire, genuinely curious. "It is getting a little annoying just referring to you as some variation of 'Bug Girl', 'Unnamed Bug Girl' or 'That Bug Cape', I'll admit."
Taylor takes a moment to respond, the three of you just walking along. "I have thought about it, but even with villainous names being okay, I just... can't come up with anything good."
Mhm, another subconscious avoidance mechanism? As long as she doesn't take a name, she's not quite committing, so it's okay? You probably should do something about that.
A quick round of telepathy with Sarah later, you've got the name the PRT was planning to label Taylor before the whole Empire thing happened and anything they released on the Crypts would just look like they're trying to distract the public from the nazis running rampant. That, or take away from the political capital of having to be the ones to fight off the Gesellschaft-sponsored gang.
Skitter. You know, that's oddly appropriate for Taylor, actually.
Thinking silently at Emily, you give your warning. You may want to plug your ears, this is going to be horrible and cheesy teenager diplomacy I'm about to pull.
Are you kidding? This'll be either great or horrible, and either way I'm gonna listen.
Her burial.
"Well, the PRT's already sticking you with a provisional name," you say out loud, "mostly for paperwork purposes, but the only reason they didn't announce it after the way we showed tham all up when we took out the ABB is they've been rather... busy, and didn't want to detract from the Empire situation, from what I understand."
Looking up at you, Taylor tilts her head just so, her body language just as subtly... off as you've gotten used to being normal for her by now. "What is it?"
"They're calling you Skitter," you say, giving a little shrug. "What do you think about it?"
Taylor is silent for a long moment. "It's... I don't know, villainous? It's better than 'Bug Villain', at least."
"Mhm. I think it kind of fits, actually." Before Taylor can descend into overanalyzing your statement, you quickly elaborate. "A type of movement or sound associated with small, unpleasant things people try not to think about. Being unpleasant and all. And yet they have to acknowledge you every time they say it."
You grin sardonically, not that it's visible under the shadows you have turned your face into. "Turns out it's hard to ignore a swarm the size of a biblical plague fucking you up."
Taylor is silent for a while as the three of you keep walking, slowly making your way along the pre-planned route.
"Yeah," is all she eventually does, giving you a nod.
Good enough.
As you lead your little patrol through the streets, you can't help but notice a few things. First off, your gang tags, decorating a good amount of buildings you pass at some point, are actually an aesthetic upgrade among the omnipresent look of urban decay a good half of Brockton Bay is sporting at any given time, at least as far as you are concerned; especially any old ABB gang tags have been aggressively sprayed over with your own logo.
You never did regret taking the time to get all those cardboard templates made back when you were first faced with the necessity of such.
The people, too, are a welcome sight; though traffic is limited until you get towards the more residential areas and the Docks South district (which never made sense to you, as it is west of the actual docks, not south), the people you do bump into tend to either try not to look at you as they keep walking by, crossing the street on occasion to stay away from the trio of villains moving along, immediately pulling out their cellphones to make pictures and probably slood PHO with them or, else, fanboys and -girls.
Not that you mind, mind you, especially when one of them with a huge rack walks up to you, fiddling with her sleeveless blouse instead of asking for an autograph like most of the others have so far. "Uhm, Cain, right? Can I ask a question?"
Smirking under your shadowed face, you nod. "You already did, but go ahead."
She swallows, the woman snapping open two of her top's buttons, your two followers staring at what's happening with what you feel is a measure of disbelief. "You see, I used to have breast cancer, but thanks to what you did, I-I could keep the girls."
Tearing her tits free and showing off she isn't, in fact, wearing a bra, the woman's blush is remarkably constrained, only dusting her light-skinned cheeks a little. "So I wanted to ask, could you give them an autograph?"
... Nevermind on her not asking for an autograph. "Sure, why not," is all you say as you pull your pen out, the thick surface having served you well so far (as it turns out, being a self-proclaimed artist carrying some supplies really comes in handy, such as enough paper to give artistic autographs on).
"Thank you! Thank you so much!" Your fan seems to be nearing tears, so you spend a few moments comforting her before moving on.
So... that just happened, Emily thinks at you, her clear disbelief just as obvious as the phone camera flashing as your healed fangirl shows off her 'artwork'.
It did. I honestly expected her to wait until we're somehwere more secluded before she asked, you think back.
Anyways, on with the show! And as you make your way deeper into the residential parts of the poorer districts of the city, more and more people cross your paths, many of them approaching you to get pictures of their own or even asking you various questions, from what your power is to how many capes the Crypts have or what you're planning to do about the Empire, all the way to personal questions, such as your favorite color or food.
Surprisingly enough, it turns out you've been somewhat of a celebrity all along.
Naturally, you give disarming and harmless answers, claiming to have the power to never be defeated and stuff like that. That said, you do happen to come upon kids every now and then, except few of them are brave enough to come near you and consequently don't add to the feeling you're trying to build up.
Luckily enough, though, you also have Taylor, or rather, Skitter, nearby.
Hey Taylor, you happen to have any butterflies or ladybugs around?
I do.
Why don't you go ahead and use them to play with the kids? You know, build up a bit good PR for yourself.
Taylor visibly hesitates. Are you sure? Don't people think I am... dangerous?
So am I, you think, holding back a mental chuckle, but you don't see anyone actually speaking up about it. Go on, try it.
Unfortunately, you don't have the time to observe and coach her on what to do, seeing as the next car to hold by the side of the street you're walking on is a patrol car, a pair of policemen getting out. Hey Emily, can you watch over Taylor, make sure she's doing alright while I take care of this?
Sure thing, Gabri- Cain, I mean Cain.
Leaving things to the two of them, you approach the cops. "Hello there, gentlemen. Can I help you in any way today?" You ask smoothly, waiting for whatever they're here to pull.
"Uhm, yes, actually, could you give me an autograph?" One of the two asks sheepishly, scratching the scruffy hair covering his head.
... What were you even expecting. "Of course, of course," you say, grabbing another piece of paper. "Anyone to dedicate it to?"
"Oh, yes! You see, uh, my father, his name is Albrecht, used to have alzheimer's. Pretty bad, too, he didn't recognize us at all for a while, but ever since that cure was released, he's been doing so, so much better. It would mean the world-"
"Here you go," you interrupt him, having signed the short statement you wrote up while he was speaking. "Make sure to give him my best wishes, too, yeah?"
"Y-yeah, I will. I absolutely will." And with that, you pat his shoulder as you walk on, various colorful bugs now following along your little patrol as Taylor really gets into it.
Honestly, it isn't like it takes you much effort to just write your name a bunch of times, with a more involved longer autograph every not and then. 'Hope you're doing better, -Cain' doesn't take much time nor attention to put to paper, after all.
Anyways, fast forwards a bit, you soon arrive at one of the dedicated break spots you planned in, a random abandoned apartment building you actually went out of your way to choose for not being owned by you (yet), the prospect of coming inside after you keeping most of the newly minted amateur paparazzi coming after you out... at least for a time.
Reaching inside of your shadow, you pull out two bottles of water, holding them out to Emily and Taylor. "Want anything to drink?" You ask, the three of you hanging out inside the empty, dishevelled hallway of the place you're using.
"Where did you just pull that from?" Emily asks, obviously curious even as she accepts the water, snapping open the lower half of her mask to take a sip.
"From inside my shadow, duh. You'd be surprised how many things can fit in there," you joke, passing Taylor's water to her even as she doesn't seem interested in drinking it right away, stowing it inside her costume's back compartment for the time being.
"U-huh, and what exactly do you have in there?" Emily asks, the raised eyebrow audible in her question.
"Oh, you know, stuff. This and that."
It really isn't all that much; just, y'know, one of your laser rifles, some spare art supplies for on-the-road painting, a bunch of stimpacks (the things always come in handy), a decent length of rope, a toolbox with most commonly available tools in case you need to fix something away from your workshop, about half a person's worth of biomass, some dry rations and water just like what you gave out just now in case you need to feed someone, a bunch of explosives you threw together last time you were in the workshop, a thousand dollars in various denominations, a pair of burner phones and a few containers and bottles in case you need to handle any fluids or hazardous materials.
Oh, and, of course, the photo album with Sarah's baby photos you brought to Brockton Bay with you and had someone track down at some point, along with a rubber duck.
Because of course you always have a rubber duck on you. It has nothing to do with the fact Sarah's favorite toy way back when was one, of course, even as her constant slight frustration when you bring up your cargo is really cute.
"Anyways, you two ready to keep going?" You still have a patrol to finish, after all.
As it happens, you do get to top off your patrol with a cape encounter towards the last stretch, keeping going on foot and slightly wondering about the PRT's sheer... lack of response.
Like, seriously, you're literally strutting around, as a group of villains, in broad daylight, with more-or-less proof of your crimes in the PRT's hands. Sure, the heroes are kind of busy with the whole nazi thing, but...
Anyways, yeah, you do manage to bump into a pair of parahumans, just not necessarily the kind you were looking forwards to facing.
Clockblocker coughs into his hand, the gesture just more comical on account of his mask essentially being a giant clock, while Kid Win is just awkwardly floating on a hoverboard of some kind next to him, both them and your group having attempted to round a corner.
You had seen someone's blood signature on a higher elevation than normal, but you weren't exactly expecting the Wards. Aren't they supposed to avoid you?
Well, as you like to think, sometimes, the only way is forwards. "Hello there, neighbors, how's it going?"
Ignoring the looks of disbelief you can feel everyone present give you behind their masks, you put on your best friendly smile behind your own shadows.
"Uh, fairly well, actually. The nazis have been a bit of a drag, but at least the weather isn't as bad today," Clockblocker answers once his brain catches up with the situation at hand.
Well, good on you for letting up on the mist lately. Not enough to let the sun shine all that strongly, but at least the average citizen can see it again from time to time.
Giant clouds of mist linger, who would've thought?
"That's good to hear, really. Say, we're a tad busy, patrolling and all that, you know how it is, I'm sure, but before we go on, I wanted to ask if either of you ever put any thought into a change of career before. You know, change tracks a little and all."
You get the distinct impression that literally all the teenagers within hearing range just blinked.
"Become a villain, you mean," Clockblocker clarifies, his body language speaking of uncertainty.
"Technically, yes," you wave the job description aside. "Do keep in mind the various benefits- you actually earn more than minimum wage, for one, and becoming a full member does not require being eighteen years of age and neither do you literally earn double minimum wage."
"We, uh, didn't exactly become heroes for the money, sir," Clockblocker politely mentions.
"Of course, and there are other perks. Let's just say if you ever need something, like medical aid for yourself or a family member, but can't realistically receive it? You'd be surprised what certain contacts can pull in terms of favors for members and associates of the Crypts. Then, of course, there's the borderline tinkertech equipment handed out to anyone that wants any, and some real nice tinker support- did you know we actually give each of our tinkers ten times as much of a budget to work with as the Protectorate? It's quite mystifying, really, you would think they would want you to make full use of your powers as much as possible."
"All of this doesn't detract from the fact you are a murderer, sadly, or that our civilian identities are part of the PRT already, and so we will still have to decline."
"Mhm, a shame. That said, do keep in mind it's a standing offer- The Crypts aren't shy about recruiting anyone that wants to be. G'day, you two." And with that, you're promptly off, walking onwards in the direction of a completed patrol.
Not that you can't make out the buzzing of low-frequency voices thanks to your enhanced hearing on the way, though.
"That was..." Taylor begins, only realizing she can just think at you to avoid talking, to. Was that really you asking Clockblocker and Kid Win to switch sides and become villains?
Of course it was. I didn't actually expect them to accept, but I figured I would give it a try anyways, and with how the Wards aren't supposed to actually fight the Crypts and keep the hell away from me and probably you, too, it's not like that actually risked a fight breaking out. Now come on, we have places to be!
"S-s-so, y-you think I sh-should get a n-n-new n-name?" Tammi asks, the two of you once more working on telekinetic precision, Tammi doing her best to combine her power and the plasmid in question.
"It's a thought at least," you say with a small shrug, "would make it easier to have people dissociate you from your previous identity. And do so yourself for that matter." With a calculated pull, you score, Tammi unable to hit her ball home on your target as you rearrange its orientation.
"A-a-any s-s-sug-g-gestion?" Tammi asks, her stuttering worsening in response to her annoyance.
"Well, I can think of a few. How's 'Morgana' sound?"
"B-b-bit on the n-nose. Also s-silly. W-w-wouldn't w-want to be c-c-confused for a M-M-Myrd-d-din w-wannabe."
"Fair enough, fair enough. Scribe? As a reference to the whole power thing?" You ask, unabashedly cheating and subtly messing with her ball's flight path.
"T-t-too c-close to R-R-Rune," Tammi says, frustrated.
Scoring your next push, too, you shrug. "Charmcaster?"
Tammi holds the ball still for a moment. "W-w-why?"
"Well, you're kind of casting charms to move things around, and the whole 'moving objects' theme kind of fits. Not to mention you're pretty charming as is, too," you explain.
Tammi just blushes brightly, aiming and pushing, at the same time using telekinesis to pull on the target you're holding, forcing you to use your telekinesis just to hold it in place as she jits it. "I-I-I l-like it."
"Brat," you chuckle, no heat in your voice.
Circus, given her strange fixation on the whole clown callgirl thing, prefers it when you physically call her using, ugh, smartphones and all every now and then, instead of relying on your superior telepathic capabilities. That said, you do always like to say you can be accommodating to the needs and wants of your employees, so...
Yeah, Clown Callgirl time.
Which is how and why you are standing at a desolate street corner in the middle of your territory, waiting for Circus to show up. Thankfully, even with the hoops she insists on jumping, she does at least try to make up for the obvious issues that arise from not just using the teleporter to meet to, meaning she doesn't take long to come around, at least.
Bemusedly watching the blood signature making its way across the roof of the building standing behind you, you easily catch Circus in a princess carry when she jumps right at you.
"Honk honk!" Is the call she greets you with, snuggling into your arms.
"Honk honk right back," you respond, shifting your grip so you can grope her butt in time with your words. "How're you doing?"
"Pretty well, pretty well, just a bit bored lately. Been waiting for the gang thing to die down when you finally take over."
Aww, she's got faith in your victory. How cute.
"Ice cream?" You ask.
"Check."
"Fourty cakes?"
"Check."
"Lame clown jokes?"
"Check and double-check."
"Good, I guess we can begin the introductions, then. Do make sure not to randomly pull stuff from your hammerspace, I want to save that one for a special occasion."
"Aww, but that's, like, at least half of my appeal as a gag character!"
"Good thing there aren't any writers that can decide you aren't funny enough. I, for once, think you're hilarious, sweetie."
Looking at Kate, just simply looking at her and what she just did, you shake your head, fighting the urge to facepalm.
"What... exactly... just happened?" You ask, gesturing towards the entire wall that just ceased to exist, revealing a massive amount of E88 gangers currently scuryying about even as Kate strats lining up her target for the next shot.
"Used my powers, duh. My special one lets me do stuff whenever I shoot," is all the explanation Kate gives you.
You look at your target, blown wide open as it is. "You basically just took an ion laser and decided to widen it to hit the entire building front. How the hell is that even remotely fair?"
"If it makes you feel any better, I can only do this once an hour," she consoles you.
"It doesn't, not really. Giving you access to any kind of disintegration weapon was obviously a horrible mistake. So, that once per hour a practice thing, or...?" Because like hell you won't help her munchkin the fuck out of this.
"Yeah, just takes a long time to get anywhere further. A looong time." Giving off her next shot, the two of you having completely ignored the storm of bullets the nazis have been sending your way so far, her weapon's beam twisting and curving through the air to hit several enemies at once as she basically bitchslaps your opposition out of existence.
Racing from place to place, you and Kate make it a sport to capture the nazis alive through as many different and interesting ways as you can manage, from Kate just shooting off their legs and using stimpacks to keep your victims alive to using Domination to force them to stand down.
At every place you visit, you swiftly gather all the loot you can find and your captured nazis, few of them escaping their fate as the equivalent of a juice pack by virtue of dying before you can stabilize them. Plus side, you learned you actually can take someone's hands off completely by accident by just swinging your claws, wrists nowhere near strong enough to keep you from slicing through them every now and then.
Anyways, once everything's in one place, you just have the home team teleport everything (including the already drained corpses you and Kate take your bites out of) down to the bunker, working as fast as you can to obscure as many details of what's happening as possible.
Both you and Kate end up having a lot of fun, in the end, even as you have to bug out spontaneously when the E88's capes come down on you (or attempt to, anyways).
Getting Dinah down into your bunker is fairly easily, the access to any one kind of extremely convenient form of teleportation sidestepping a great many logistical issues you would otherwise have.
The girl in question, for her part, seems mostly happy about the opportunity for a movie night, as it turns out on the walk to your rooms from the teleportation area you are taking her there from.
"Mom and dad are so annoying," the eighteen-year old girl complains, "and they just don't believe me what I tell them I don't need to go to sleep as much anymore! Can I please come here more often? That's less boring than hiding under my bedsheets and using my phone to surf the internet."
Dinah already knows about the rules for your own rooms and undresses without being told to, the two of you idly chatting all the while you disrobe. Once you're inside the well-heated office room currently occupied by Kate (she's doing the paperwork for processing your spoils, apparently) who just smirks when she sees Dinah and greets you happily, you don't take long to get into your bedroom, a few button presses all it takes to have your giant flatscreen TV descend from its opening in the ceiling.
"It's still so big," Dinah says, already having seen this whole arrangement before when you took her here to play a few games together with Tammi, causing you to suppress your chuckle and almost instinctive reaction.
"And I have a whole bunch of pirated movies from Aleph to watch on it," you say instead, sitting down on your bed and patting your lap. Dinah happily accepts the invitation, climbing atop your crossed legs and giggling at the sensation of her smooth skin on yours, your arms not taking long to encircle her childish chest even as her butt comes to a rest right above your crotch.
"Yay! All those restrictions on media imports are really stupid. What are we watching?"
"There's this movie called Wall-E that looks promising, let's throw it on and see what happens," you say, though you really don't particularly plan on paying attention to the movie of all things. No, you have a far more entertaining way to pass the time in the form of the girl on your lap.
As the movie begins, the room switching to full cinematic mode with the lights going out and the sound system surrounding you, you slowly begin groping Dinah, the girl's focus consumed by the slowly beginning movie. Her chest, easily within your reach as it is, seems fairly sensitive, the thinker's budding breasts and perky nipples fun to play around with as you take your time, your slowly hardening rod soon bumping into Dinah's butt.
Dinah jerks a little, but doesn't want to take her eyes off the screen filled with the little robot's antics, even as your hands wander down her slim body, your fingers tasting her skin along her sides until you arrive at her thighs.
Massaging the same, you slowly reach your full erection, your dick peeking out between Dinah's legs as her hardened breathing fills the room. Squeezing her legs around the unknown intruder, she blindly gropes for it, touching your length and following it back down.
"What's this?" She whispers, doing her very best to keep quiet for the movie.
"That is my penis," you whisper back, a hand now veering inwards to gently rub at the top of Dinah's pussy, her even breathing hiccuping for a moment as you gently tease her little clit. "It's what men and women use to have sex together with this."
At that, your probing fingertips glide down a little, stroking along Dinah's lower lips rhythmically.
"Oh," is what Dinah says, blinking and blushing cutely. "Do you want to have sex with me?" She asks, the conclusion drawn from your hard dick very nearly touching her young pussy.
"I would very much like to, but only if you want to, too," you whisper, your gentle but persistent rubbing slowly but surely producing the slightest bit of lubrication as you carefully slip a finger inside her folds. "It's all up to you, sweetie."
"Mhgm," Dinah makes, holding onto your dick and pleasantly squeezing it. "I, is it going to feel good again?"
"It is going to feel very good," you confidently answer, "even though it's going to hurt a bit before you get used to it."
Dinah thinks it over for all of two seconds. "Then I want to, yes. Please have sex with me?"
Chuckling, you lift Dinah by her thighs, producing a cute squeak out of her and letting you position your cock at her entrance, steadily lowering her again as you keep her spread legs in your hands.
Now, you are pretty big, and Dinah is a pretty small for a young woman, but once more thralling proves itself to provide uncountable boons, the sensation as you spread Dinah open and push yourself inside her pleasurable for both of you, her ability to just take insertions your size increased immensely.
Judging by her gasping and low moaning, Dinah doesn't even seem to be in any great pain as you take her first time, a trickle of blood soon apparent to you via scent. All that said, Dinah still can't take your full length, your head soon bumping into her little womb as she lets out another surprised noise.
Looking down, you stroke Dinah's brown hair, a small bump visible in the girl now containing half your cock. "There, how's it feel?" You ask, both your hands busy stroking and cuddling as you enjoy the heat and tightness of her pussy.
"Feels... full... and good..." Dinah gasps, breathing through her mouth, and yet still stubbornly keeping her eyes on the TV running the movie.
"That's good, that's good," you tell her as you cuddle her towards you, "normally I would thrust into you now, make both of us feel really good, but I think we can just stay like this for a bit, mhm?"
Dinah nods, agreeing.
And so it comes that you watch Wall-E buried inside Dinah's snatch as she sits on your lap, occasionally shifting and moving only to shiver at the sensation of your cock moving inside her.
Honestly, you've had worse movies.
That is how the movie finishes, with yourself firmly lodged inside Dinah, the small thinker squrming atop your rod as the ending credits roll.
You were originally planning to pull out now, kiss and cuddle her a bit to round her experience off, but Dinah, it seems, has other plans, shaking her head when you begin lifting her off your lap.
"Nuh-uh!" Is what she says, her legs kicking out a bit.
"Oh? You want to stay like this a bit longer?" You ask, letting go of her legs and pinching her nipples again instead.
"Mm, you said real sex is with thrusting, and we haven't had real sex yet," Dinah explains.
"And now that the movie's over, we can stop watching and have 'real' sex instead?"
"Yup!"
Bemused, you kiss Dinah's head from behind as you are, wrapping your arms around her. "In that case, better get into position," you joke, only to suddenly roll around while keeping yourself inside Dinah, ending up with you on your stomach atop her back. Leaving her to moan and squeak at the feeling, you lift her up, shuffling yourself towards the head of the bed, plopping Dinah face down into your pillow.
Giggling, she pushes herself upwards, just in time for you to adjust the angle of how you're lifting up her waist and slowly pull away from her, your rod glistening with a thin layer of her fluids, only to push yourself all the way inside again, driving Dinah's breath out of her lungs as she buries her fingers inside the pillow, gripping onto it tight.
"This," you say, languidly repeating the motion, "is what real sex is like, Dinah."
"Sho goodh," is all she can say in response, her face pressed into your fluffy pillows. You just smirk and begin speeding up.
It isn't long before Dinah comes, having edged herself throughout the entire movie, but you don't slow down, just enjoying the way her precocious cunt contracts around you and railing her from behind. her body remains eminently squeezable throughout, reacting to your touch with jerky movements into your hands.
It doesn't take you that long to follow suit yourself, pressing Dinah forwards into your fluffy fortress with every push, and she has only climaxed thrice by the time you feel yourself approaching the same, leaning over her prone form with her ass raised up for your convenience.
"I'm about to cum, Dinah. Gonna fill you up." Her answer consists of ragged breathing and cramped attempts to raise her upper body, which you take as enthusiastic agreement.
That's usually right.
Jackhammering yourself inside her small body, you soon hold yourself deep inside Dinah, feeling the enjoyable tingle coming on moments before it happens, load after load of your semen spreading itself against her womb, some of it forced out due to just how tight she is, her body tension releasing all at once as she simply drops in one last, almost excrutiating, orgasm.
"Dinah? You alright?" You ask jokingly, poking what little of her cheeks you can see as she immediately falls asleep.
Holding in the urge to laugh, you just rub her butt a little and pull out. That sure was fun.
Sneaking into a police station is, simply put, pretty damn easy.
Sure, that may not remain true for someone else that isn't quite as incredibly stealthy and capable of literally turning into a shadow as you, but the point remains that for you, shadowing past any cameras and officers in your way isn't particularly problematic.
Unsurprisingly, the place is fairly busy as you navigate through it, the current situation around the city keeping pretty much every layer of law enforcement busy, even if a good third of any group of cops you care to name is probably comprised of nazis itself.
On the other hand, that's just more reasons for all of them to be busy, thinking about it. Gangbangers don't get away with crimes by themselves, after all, and the E88 does need all hands on deck at the moment, even with rising tensions within.
Cue your current mission, actually. Thankfully, it doesn't take you long to get inside the office of the BBPD's Chief Of Police, the man himself currently at home after a 48 hour shift of trying to keep up with the shitshow that is his precinct.
You would know, you're paying the man twice his own salary.
Anyways, you promptly step out of your shadow, taking a seat in the knowledge that the usual recording devices are off and it's only yourself, the office computer and a small list of passwords you know in here.
Time to lay a false trail and get a copy of a certain coroner's report, actually give credence to the idea that an officer of the law got all sneaky and waited 'till the boss was away to get a little creative with his accounts... and the access privileges they have.
The PRT may not grant any really valuable data to anyone not part of themselves, but the police does have to be able to identify, say, bodies with distinct signs of parahuman involvement in their deaths, and so one of the few reliably classified kind of reports commonly shared with local law enforcement? Coroner's reports of anyone suspected to have died with the involvement of a parahuman.
Ignoring Gladly, you navigate to the files detailing the autopsy of your good friend Kyle Roose. Time to get to work.
Well, why're here anyways, it would be a waste not to take the opportunity. Making copies of the autopsy report, the redacted version that does not directly mention the corona inside the dude's skull, but does note the similarities to past murders connected to none other than Shadow Stalker.
Because sometimes, things just work out for you, especially when you curse things to help them along.
Writing a rousing piece on the injustices committed by the PRT in their pursuit of more capes to show off, you make an actual argument as to why a government agency should not be allowed to suspend actual sentencing for criminals, underage or not, as long as they are parahumans and therefore recruitment material, as this leads to literal murderers in the Wards, in the Protectorate, that do not stop murdering.
As shown amply by none other than Brockton Bay's own Shadow Stalker.
There is a good reason due process and reformation are central concepts of the judicial system of the United States of America, and the PRT is given blanket permission to violate them to, obviously, disastrous results. How many youths all over the nation are being harmed by not being fully held accountable for their actions with the argument 'but you're a cape, so we can sweep all of that under the carpet so long as you do as we say'?
You really got into it midway through, too, and literally feeding the Youth Guard ammunition is never going to get old at this rate. Still, you have everything you came here for, and so you make copies of everything and send it off to as many media outlets as you can think of, make a thread on PHO and generally do everything you can for your 'goal' to come to fruition.
Justice for Kyle Roose! Being a 'mundane' human is no excuse for his death to remain without consequences!
As it happens, you have a whole bunch of spare laptops lying around, just to make sure Sarah's constant need to keep a connection to the internet at hand is validated.
This also just so happens to mean you can sit there on your bed with three of the devices in front of you, using several fake accounts with each of them to just spam PHO threads with messages and make new ones faster than your accounts are banned.
Luckiyl enough, you do have support in the form of your lovely sister, who started doing this before you even got back home, having just arranged your three laptops next to her trio while she riled the masses up. PHO isn't the only platform you're targeting, of course, though it is the main focus of your PR offensive; facecard, chirp, all those social media sites you can reach as many soccer moms and 'concerned citizens' as possible with.
Half an hour and several improvised new memes later, an angry mob has assembled downtown, protesting in front of PRT HQ (as they can't exactly walk up to the rig out in the bay) and screaming their lungs out.
What they're screaming? 'Justice For Kyle Roose'. You haven't just created a new hashtag, you're put a new small movement together, mainly by keeping things as personal as you could and embellishing the man's 'love for dogs despite his unfortunate allergy'. Really researched him, gave the people personable details they could identify themselves with... Seriously, if you weren't so busy being a gang boss, you should've looked into becoming an influencer or something.
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Topic: Justice For Kyle Roose
In: Boards Parahumans Brockton Bay Justice For Kyle Roose
MysteriousStranger371 (Original Poster)
Posted On Apr 17th 2011:
Kyle Roose was a somewhat rough-mannered, but honest man, working most of his time but well-loved by many that knew him for his hearty, direct way of thinking, doing his best to get along with his colleagues and neighbours. He always wanted to have a dog, but knew he wouldn't be able to give it the attention it deserved with the hours he was working, so he planned to wait on that until his old age.
And now he is dead. Murdered in his own bed, after yet another 24-hour shift he gave his all in because he loved his job.
Now, you may wonder why I posted this on PHO instead of some random obituary site, but the murderer in question was a cape, and you wouldn't guess who. Not two hours ago, a brave policeman or -woman has risked their career and perhaps even their life if they are found out to release classified documents (LINK) revealing that not only has the PRT ENE 'Ward' 'Shadow Stalker' murdered him with a single shot to the heart, she has been known to do the same before, showing a consistent pattern of murders both before and after becoming a Ward, confirming rumours concerning her.
And not only has the PRT knowingly accepted a murderer amongst them, they have trained and taught that same murderer in how to get away with butchering honest men (whom she seems to have a fixation on over women), enabling her to keep killing men like Kyle.
Do not let our 'heroes' get away with it! Do not let them push the common man around at their leisure! Do not let them hide the evidence like they knowingly have been doing all along! Do not let them intimidate you into hiding away hoping you won't be the next victim! And most of all, let them know!
Mundane Lives Matter!
Max Anders cursed aloud, scanning the damnable site as comments began appearing. Of course some fucking asshole would have to choose now of all times to fuck with the PRT, but in a way that just had to absolutely rile up Brad like no tomorrow.
Ever since Stromtiger's death, the man has been extremely irritable, to the point he resembled the mad dog some thought him as more than anything. Kaiser had had to ensure none of their inside men in the PRT passed the reports onto him, making sure the earliest Brad found out Shadow Stalker would be out of the picture- moved away and rebranded, most likely.
And then this happened. All of a sudden, Brad's best buddy became a martyr to some new anti-cape movement and everyone and their fucking dog knew he got himself killed by Shadow Stalker.
"Frank!" Max yelled into his phone, finally getting through to the unpowered mook in charge of relaying information and orders between himself and Brad. "I don't care what you're doing, I don't care where you are, you get your ass to Brad right now and-"
Cut off mid-sentance by the voice coming from his phone, Kaiser did his best to restrain himself lest he do something... unwise.
"What do you mean he's gone? Has he-"
"So he got the fucking news. You tried to call him already?"
"Of fucking course. Of fucking course he did. Okay, you-"
"Shut the fuck up, sit down and listen. You go to Brad's place, you wait until he comes back and tell him to fucking call me, immediately."
Hanging up, Max slumped in his chair, taking a long, long breath. Then he smashed his fucking phone to the side before he crushed it in his hand and proceeded to pound his desk to fucking pieces.
Of course Brad heard the news and rushed off right away, and of course he didn't pick up his phone as he proceeded to take it out on the first bunch of troopers he could find before just running around the damn city, fully transformed and causing massive property damage as he called the heroes out for a fight.
And nobody had fucking stopped him! What the fuck did Max even have minions for? None of the damn fuckers could be trusted to do anything right!
... No, this wasn't helping things, no matter how cathartic shredding the hardwood with a few blades grown from the ground under it was. Max would have to find a way to fix this, to... to get Brad to fucking see reason and stop rushing off the moment someone he's friends with dies.
Easier said than done. Brad wasn't a genius, but he wasn't dumb, either, and the idiot was stubborn as a mule with twice the kick. Max was going to need a way to keep him on his best behaviour.
Well, still had another good friend left, didn't he? Going to pick up his phone, Max ignored the cracked screen and called another number.
"Melody? It's Max. I need you to..."
The undead you have dubbed 'Ghouls' for the time being are, while very good fodder to be sent against pretty much any enemy you'd care to name, still somewhat... lacking, in your own humble opinion.
Luckily enough, though, you can fix that.
The torso itself is, while unimpressive, not that important to their function, so you ignore it in favour of the things' limbs, changing up a few things. First off, you rescind your earlier decision to ignore the legs and feet entirely, instead adding a few strings of muscle in both and experimenting in the placement of several parts, reasoning that you really don't need to keep to the same issues and limitations actual biology needs to, the considerations that go into your undead an entirely different issue.
Once you're staisfied they can run and jump around like crazy, your initial prototype only smacking face first into the walls of your undead freezer a few times before you can make it stop, you turn your attention towards the arms and, more importantly, the claws.
They're their main method of attack, after all, and so you take a while to figure out how to fuse more muscles into the whole apparatus, along with a few added ideas you came up with since you first created these buggers, mainly in terms of reshaping the claws to better grip surfaces... or shred through armor, for that matter.
Can't ever have enough of that, after all.
The rest of your time before you decide to move on, you mostly just fiddle with the whole creation process, see about finding ways you can mass produce your Ghouls more efficiently.
Hey everyone, any of you up for going to another world? You ask telepathically, setting things up a bit so you can talk to all of them at once.
Where's it going? New world or an old one? Sarah inquires.
New world, I'm trying to see if I can't find anything really valuable again like in Rapture.
Up for gambling, huh? In that case, how about you take Nora along? She could use any food she can get, she thinks at everyone.
Hey, I resent that! And how about Sherrel? The woman in question exclaims.
You try getting her out of her workshop. Anyways, you want to go or not?
I don't know; I wouldn't mind, but I also still have the sun issue as is, and we have no way of knowing how the situation is like wherever we end up. You decide if it's worth the risk.
Mhm, you agree. Anyone else want to go?
Can we make the dancers dance? Okita asks, confusing literally everyone but you.
Maybe, we can't say for sure yet.
Worth it. Also have to keep you safe.
You know, you have no idea whether to be happy about how assertive Okita is being about keeping you unmurderized or vaguely insulted that the japanese schoolgirl is looking out for you.
Thank you, Okita.
Mh-hm.
Gabe? Do you want me along? I want to go, to stay with you, but I'm a little worried I'm just... being pushy as it is, Sarah worries.
Well, alright, this needs to be rectified post-haste. Reciting your shadow travel chant, you pop up right next to where Sarah is inside your office, glomping onto her with a big hug.
"I would never think of you as pushy, silly Little Sarah," you say as you bury her head in your chest, patting it gently.
"Stupid Gabey, get off."
"Nope. I've got you now, and I'm never letting you go. What made you think not coming was even an option I was giving you?"
The two of you just stay like that a while, Sarah abandoning whatever she was doing in favor of cuddles. All is well.
"Alright, Aisha, let's talk powers, yeah? Specifically, yours." Subtlety, thy name sure ain't Gabriel.
Aisha, for her part, just puts down the chocolate bar she was working on. "'kay, what're we doing?"
"We, are going to look into helping you deactivate your power. Just so you aren't completely dependent on one of us vamps to meaningfully interact with people."
"Aw, do we really have to? S'not like I mind, anyways," Aisha pouts at you.
"Come on, just having the option would be nice, wouldn't it?"
"Eh, whatever. So how're we doing this?"
"Funny you should ask, given I have absolutely no idea! Let's just fuck around a bit and see what happens."
Aisha gets up, her dark eyes reflecting the light as though they just gave off a glint. "Why didn't you lead with that?"
"I didn't mean actually having sex, silly girl," you object.
"But we can try doing it while we do other stuff, right?"
Seriously...
Unfortunately, you don't make all that much actual progress, Aisha too preoccupied bouncing in your lap, after all, to really pay attention to the random ideas you threw out. Not that you particularly care either way; if it's actually possible for Aisha to turn her power off, she's gonna find a way sooner or later, even without your help.
That said, you're still totally going to spank her later.
Annoyed chirping rings out, its originator completely incapable of drowning out your amused chuckle.
"No, really Addy, it's cute! Really cute!"
More annoyed bird sounds, followed by a pair of clawed feet doing their best to sink into your finger. You just raise your other hand, stroking Addy's feathers and scratching her neck.
"There, there," you soothe, "who's a cutiepie Cupcake? Are you? Are you?"
The Cupcake in question looks to be seriously considering just flying off... for a moment, at least, your ministrations convincing her to stay, after all.
You just sit there like that for a bit, the park you chose for this outing containing more than enough benches to enjoy this.
"Gaaaaabe!"
Heh, blue shells still make for the best of presents.
"Oh my god, have you heard some of these speeches? They're actually pretty great!" Emily seems to be having fun, at least.
"I literally wrote half of them, they had better be great," you mock-grumble, drawing the girl on your lap closer to yourself. Giving her a kiss on the side of her face, you smile.
"At least they're having fun?"
Most of your adjustments to the Mr. X design you have put together consist of changes to their throats and eyes, fine detail work that has you actually look up a few things as you walk through them, to account for the massive increase in intelligence you have been able to effect in your undead.
They aren't smart, not in a way that you would call as such, but they are capable of simple pattern recognition now, and they seemingly can improvise solutions to problems they encounter when trying to follow your orders. Hence letting them perceive the world around themselves better, and a few simple pre-programmed phrases they can rattle off (or rather, groan out with their gravelly voices) in case they need to deal with people.
And yes, 'Nice weather we're having', 'Get lost or get smacked' and 'All hail Cain' are perfectly enough to get by as long as they're just dealing with the general public. Oh, and of course the old favorite, 'Mister X gonna give it to ya'.
While you were at it, you also improved their sense of balance, letting them move the bulk of their muscular forms around somewhat easier and-
How the fuck are they running along the walls now? Why?
The Hunters, one of your earlier creations, are in for a little love, too, once you manage to stop your test Mr. X run around your testing room's walls like crazy. Specifically, you first rearrange their musculature to let them go for sudden, strong leaps, clearing respectable distances. Also, anything hit by the mass of a Hunter traveling at the speeds they can get up to with this? Well, suffice to say, unless they're very well armored, most combatants will be taken out of the picture fast.
That and, with the example of your other templates, you go ahead and improve their climbing capability based off of the same musculature changes, letting your test case repeat the earlier specimen's feats mostly through quite powerful claws capable of gripping onto most surfaces.
And then you take an ion laser, scale it up a bit while removing alternate firing modes and wrap it into a tube of steel you then push inside the Hunter's mouth, making room where you originally closed its mouth's inner room up.
The trigger mechanism gets a little fiddly, but after just a bit of improvisation, you basically have a muscle sitting approximately where the voicebox would inside a mammal, triggering the (heh) revamped ion cannon, as you just have to call it at this point, whenever your creation wants, pushing the tube containing at and its throat equivalent forwards into its open mouth to fire.
That worked out well, you suppose.
Last but not least, you took the opportunity to experiment with self-made flying undead, settling, after thorough thought and half an hour of watching metube videos on how birds fly, on an oversized bird-like undead as your first goal.
Of course, actually forming hundreds of feathers to stick onto both bare bone and fleshy membranes takes a lot of casting, and you have to be careful to actually form them correctly on top (all hail the internet and the way it lets you just look things like the forms of different kinds of feathers up).
What you end up with is a bony, wicked-looking bird, seeing as you literally formed what you wanted out of bones and then stuck fleshy bits and pieces inside and onto it. The long spine is completely exposed, as are the outer parts of its wings, and the head is literally skeletal, even though you smashed a bunch of brain matter inside to connect to the huge, somewhat rough red eyes sticking out a bit.
And the leftover feathers you added as kind of an afro, just because it amused you.
The Watcher, as you decided to name it for now, is capable of flight, though it is also twice the height of a person when standing, more of it could stretch its back straight, and a wingspan you'd imagine would be intimidating to most people.
Not to yourself, of course, you have had comparable wingspans yourself, but it is the thought that counts.
These things should be perfectly capable of observing large swathes of land, coordinating other undead and, more importantly, letting you use its senses to survey battlefields from afar without making yourself a target.
But alas, you seem to have waited for long enough by now. You can feel it; the ability to jump out of the phase of reality that contains Earth Bet is yours once more. You'd best go gather the girls.