Sneaking through your workshop area, you covertly wave a hand for Lea, the woman coming over towards you all crouched and close to the ground.
I still got no idea why we're even doing this, she thinks at you, obviously itching to get right back to work on what she was doing before you came by and noticed two particular tinkers missing at the moment.
Worse than a tinker herself sometimes, this one. Just stay a little patient, we're almost there. Indeed, while vampires themselves tend to be invisible to your blood senses, you can see any traces of blood left on their bodies perfectly well... and your thralls, too, remain just as easy to spot as anyone else with this.
Meaning you can fairly easily divine the location that Sherrel and Alice retreated to for a little private time, the two busy having hot, lesbian sex right in Sherrel's vehicle bay. Well, as you slowly and quietly open the wide door leading to it, confident neither is looking in this direction, it won't be all that private much longer.
You and Lea make your way inside, the newly-turned vampire almost freezing for a moment as she hears the moans and gasps reverberating through the area.
Wait, is that...
Yup, those two had a thing going for a while, you clarify, already busy crawling over towards a better position behind some boxes containing various materials Sherrel likes to keep on hand to throw into the manufactories if she needs something real quick.
Wow... I never would've thought. Following you, Lea pokes her head over said boxes, joining you in watching as Alice eats out Sherrel, the vehicle tinker sitting up on a worktable and firing her up, her hands tangled in the asian bomb tinker's hair. ... you think we could get a better look over there?
Looking at the invisivan, you grin. Only one way to find out.
Long story short, you had to circumvent a certain line of sight for a bit, but soon enough you're sitting inside the tinkered up van, smiling in nostalgia at its long and storied history after being first hotwired by one of the girls. Closing the doors, you enable the bullshit Sherrel did to the windows, turning around to see Lea staring and using her (now even more) superhuman eyes to get as good a view of Alice nibbling on Sherrel's clit as possible.
"Here we are," you say, jerking her out of her sneaking mood. "The van's soundproofed and the windows are made up to let the inside look like it's empty, so we can watch all we want, they won't find us."
"Only way this could be better was if we had a little more space," Lea agrees ruefully, stretching her upper body into your personal space to watch. "Oh look, they're getting up."
It's true, Sherrel seems to have had enough, patting Alice's head and pulling her up so she stands on her legs now instead of kneeling, sharing a sloppy kiss and driving a hand under the bomb tinker's working pants. Alice, in turn, presses her body against Sherrel's, the naked vampire stroking her back as they quietly start to make out.
"They're pretty cute together, don't you think?" The question you're asking absent-mindedly has Lea suck in her upper lip, a thoughtful frown crossing her face.
"I'm... actually a little jealous, I think? Pretty sure it's only because I got vamped, though." At the tilt of your head, she shrugs. "I was never much into girls, before. Now, I see them and I kind of wanna go over there and push Alice down to ravish her."
"Oh? Are you getting all hot and bothered by it or is it more of an intellectual thought?"
Lea's answer is to grab for your crotch, a quick pull opening your zipper. "You tell me, big boy," she croons as she rubs you to full hardness, giving your crown a quick couple of licks to hurry things up.
Joke's on her, of course, you're deliberately suppressing your boner as is anyways.
"In that case, I'm telling you those two aren't the only ones getting a little dirty in the engineering bay right now," you tease, stretching a hand to fondle Lea's butt through her costume, soon finding out she doesn't actually wear panties under it... and that the crotch area can actually be taken out wholesale, leaving her completely exposed with just a few motions if done right.
Leaning back as she crawls over your lap and gets up to sit on it, rubbing her smooth, hairless pussy against your vaguely aching cock, seeing as how you haven't had sex in over two hours by this point, you just smile at Lea, the horny vampire pushing her breasts covered by a single layer of material at you. "This is actually turning out to be even more fun than expected," you say, feeling your spawn once removed slowly sink onto your rod, her tight vampire pussy squeezing down on you in a way that has you horny for your own kind pretty much nonstop.
"You're telling me," a breathless Lea says, glancing out the window every now and then as she begins bouncing on your lap, her butt thrust out to let the engles work. "Here I thought you were never gonna fuck me, after all."
"Oh, I just never got the feeling you were up to it," you say, stretching to nibble on her neck, both hands grasping her ass and kneading it as she does her level best to overcome the van's suspension, already clamping down on your cock spreading her open, her dark hair scattering with every time she pushes downwards.
"Only one way to make up for lost time," your horny progeny grins, using her vampiric self-control to keep going straight through her orgasm, gleefully fixating your eyes with hers.
So much for just spying on the two others for a bit, you may be here a couple of hours...
"Come on, Justin, we can't just let this happen," Brad said, gesturing for the news of his attack on the Shadow Bitch playing on the screen across the bar from where they'd met. They both knew what he meant.
"You know how this looks, Brad," the man sitting across from his replied, more just airing his own thoughts than anything else. "Though I know where you're coming from, of course. What Max did was way out of line."
There was a reason Brad was even bothering to try to talk to Justin, after all. "Exactly! And if we don't stand up now, that means he can just do whatever the fucking hell he wants without reproach, man. Like, I get it, a leader always has to think of the better picture, but what Max did was more than that. Kyle died, and he didn't get the fucking respect he deserves, because Max tried to sacrifice his memory instead of holding it up. He didn't even try."
Justin was looking distinctly undomfortable now, but it wasn't directed at Brad, he was pretty sure. Good. "You know what this means, don't you? If we do this, it means turning against our own people. Even if it's justified to hell and back."
"We have to do it, Justin," Brad said, shaking his head. "If we don't, it means we're just laying down for him after he left us in the lurch. Dunno about you, but I refuse to just... abandon what the Empire was meant to stand for."
Brad didn't give a rat's ass about the big plans and shit, he really just wanted a good fight or an easy kill more often than not. But if he wanted to win this time around, he needed to take a page out of Kaiser's book and proselytize a bit.
"Yeah... Yeah, I think you're right, Brad," Justin said, finally coming over his doubts about turning against Kaiser. "We can't just let him sell us out for whatever bullshit the Gesellschaft over in Europe wants, we have to stand up for our own fucking interests." He gave him a grin. "Time to fuckin' seize the means of production. Of America, for Americans!"
Brad was pretty sure he didn't get half the references Justin just made, but he got enough.
"Good, I knew I could count on you. So, listen, here's the big plan..."
And Brad began to lay it out.
Pleasantly smiling under the arduously shining sun, your shadow in place to hide your face under the constant beating of sunlight, even through the clouds covering the sky today.
It isn't raining like mad today, at least, which is something. The weather can get pretty bad in Brockton Bay around this time of year, or so you've heard.
Of course, to you, the sun is more a slight hindrance, a bit of an annoying presence that keeps on distracting and bothering you every now and then. You can feel yourself being just a little slower and weaker, both physically and mentally, but that's about it, as far as its effects go by this point.
Looking over at Emily, she, too, is relatively unbothered by it, even less so than you are. Jeremy, on the other hand...
Wheezing demonstratively, the red-haired man in his bodysuit drags his feet after your little group patrol. "I don't know... how you do it... even got resistance myself..."
"Oh, you get used to it," you brightly tell him, enjoying his suffering too much to let your memory of your own condition back when you first gained the ability to wlak under the sun yourself drag you down. "Just gotta stick with it, just like any good routine."
"I... hate you... sun..."
"Is he gonna be okay?" Emily asks, not even bothering to speak quietly as the three of you cross the street. "I didn't know it was that big a deal for anyone that went through with... the thing."
Rolling your eyes, you wave her concerns off. "Don't worry, he's just being a drama queen. Once the sun doesn't immediately kill you, it just feels really really bad."
"Like a migraine except a million times worse and in every cell of your body," Jeremy groans.
"You can fight through it just fine, and you kind of have to to overcome it," you shrug at Emily. "It does get better, if that helps."
"It really, really doesn't..."
You walk for a decent bit, casually greeting the passerbys and doing your whole 'benevolent mafia boss' shtick, something much aided by the fact that the people in your territory actually actively like you, as evidenced by the way you now have a small collection of food in your arms, everything from a pizza spontaneously baked in your honor when people realized you were coming along to a bunch of pastries donated to your cause.
It's a bakery some of the girls sometimes pass by on their way through the city, so a solid third of their business comes from your gang anyways. Apparently, they regularly show their spoils off to Ethan, just to have him bake more of the same stuff for a while after getting fired up.
You'd be worried your sweets fairies might negatively impact the whole dynamic, but thinking about it, they just buy above ground for convenience anyways, seeing how Ethan has the ovens he had installed with his kitchen budget running any time he's awake. Sweets aren't exactly more abundant now, he was baking too much all along.
Either way, you just proceed on, eating a little here and there and discussing the viability of using Emily's power to keep a pizza warm with her, Jeremy still whining every now and then, when it happens.
"Did you just try, I don't know, not being so miserable?" You ask, waving a bag of baked goods in his direction. "Suffering is as much a question of how you're feeling as it is one of the mind."
You're bullshitting of course, the only way for this to work is through Jeremy suffering more... except he actually looks like he's feeling better, not walking quite so slouched anymore. "Oh hey, that worked!"
"..." You refuse to comment.
"Really, why didn't you tell me earlier? This is still pretty bad, but it's almost tolerable now!" You categorically refuse to say anything until you figure out exactly what just happened and whether Jeremy is just fucking with you.
It is with this topic in mind that you realize someone has been waiting for you right on the sidewalk you're following at the moment, a younger blonde woman with short hair and wearing a red jacket. Looking at her (and using body language to express mild curiosity), you come to a halt. "Hello there, who might you be?"
"You're Cain," she says, almost assuredly not having actually heard what you just said.
"Well, looks like I've got a fan, hm?" Looking down at her, you'd guess she wants something, and if it's just a talk. "Would you guys mind going ahead a bit?"
"Sure, no problem." "I'll keep an eye out for her." With Emily and Jeremy walking onwards, you have a bit of relative privacy with the girl, most people keeping a respectful distance from capes when they spot them, popular or not.
"So, would you like a few donuts? As you see, I'm a bit laden down," you apologetically state, holding out some of your pastries for her.
Her response is to squeak a little. "N-no, I'm good!" You do not believe her, a few donuts are always fine, but if she says she doesn't want any, you'll just take her at face value for the moment. "I saw your streams, and I wanted to tell you they're really good," she finally says once she's swallowed her nerves for a moment.
"Why, thank you," you smile at her under your shadow, taking a quick look around and noting the relatively low traffic in the area (most of the people walking after you to film your little patrol went with the other two by this point) before stretching a hand out to pat her head. "Knowing people like it satisfies me the most about them."
After all, if people didn't like it, you could just cut all the showmanship (that you even bother with) and simply pursue your hobbies in privacy rather than sharing everything over the internet. The very point of you going out of your way is to let others share in the fun, ultimately.
"Y-yes! I'm very satisfied from watching them, too!" Aww, she's blushing now, too. Kind of adorable, really. Somewhere between Aisha and Dinah on the adorab-o-meter, if you had to judge. "I wanted to ask if you were planning on releasing a stream plan to let people know which ones will happen at what time sometime? I think that would really help."
Well, you hate to disappoint, but... "Sorry, but the streams themselves tend to be a tad bit improvised at the moment. Though the idea isn't a bad one, maybe I'll look into changing that at some point. Say, which stream you've seen is your favourite so far, what do you think?"
Blushing, the girl you're talking to looks around for any eavesdroppers for a moment. "I think I like the original Cain ones best," she 'confesses', her hands balled into fists. "They look the nicest."
Aww, someone actually appreciating the actual art stream. It warms your cold, unbeating heart just a little.
You talk a little more, the girl who, as you learn from her after she realizes she never introduced herself, is named Missy (And if that isn't... a name?) slowly overcoming her nerves pretty much entirely once she gets used to exchanging words with a cape.
In fact, her enthusiasm for your cape personage goes far enough for you to invest a little effort into this whole situation, after all. "So, Missy, I have to get going again soon, but before we do, how about a little exchange?"
"... What kind of exchange?" Missy, you have found, isn't stupid by any means judging by your admittedly limited interactions with her. Not that you have to be a genius to ask about the details before agreeing to anything.
"Well, since you liked my streams so much, I figured I should give you a little treat," you say encouragingly. "How about this, I'll show you something from the Cain stream if you show me some of yours."
Missy swallows thickly, but, after a few moments, nods. She's blushing, but you get it- sketching things in front of others can be intimidating.
Luckily enough, you do carry some art supplies on you pretty much everywhere these days; seeing as how you like to draw a few miscellaneous things every now and then whenever inspiration strikes you, so all you need is-
"We have to get somewhere private first," Missy insists, looking up at you resolutely.
Sure, that works. "Alright, hold on for a moment," you say, sweeping the girl off her feet and up into your arms in a swift motion, the blonde squeaking as you jump upwards, carrying her up on the nearest roof. "This private enough? Even in a place like Brockton Bay, there aren't enough fliers to let traffic cover the roofs."
"O- okay," Missy says, slowly getting out of your grasp and taking claming breaths, a hand on her chest. "So how do we-"
Getting out the rolled-up block of paper from where you store it inside the back of the little sidebag you've taken to carry with you on occasion, you grab a couple of pens, laying them out next to where you're sitting down with crossed legs for a bit. "Now we figure out what to draw, or sketch or whatever we want to do with it," you freely tell her, opening a hand in a vague gesture.
Missy's reaction is to turn around and strip off her pants, showing you her panties and butt. "L- like this?"
"... Sure, that works," you shrug.
Now then, this does work for you, but you feel that just leaving Missy like this would be somewhat counter to the point you're trying to make here, that of you going out of your way to interact and chat with fans. You will need to differentiate your method of approach in this situation, after all.
That's why you lean over a bit, hands going for the revealed thighs before you to grab and pull. A surprised shout later, you have the girl sitting on your lap, her panty-clad butt rubbing against you. "There, isn't that better? This way you can see what I'm doing," you whisper into her ear as you get your tools ready, laying out your pens and adjusting the paper.
"Bwuh- yes," Missy agrees, holding herself perfectly still. "Yes, I think it is?"
You just give her an indulgent smile (not that she can see it) and measure out the horizon before the both of you. It's a bit crowded, but you just barely have a view of the bay itself, a small section of it anyways, and with the sun shining down, seeing as how it's noon right now, you have some appropriate lighting to work with.
Your work can begin.
Sketching out the rough lines of the buildings before you, you adjust the way Missy sits a little and, after some consideration, release your control of your boner. On the one hand, it'd be rude to do this for most people you haven't really known for a bit at least, but with what you're planning to talk about you don't think it'll be too much of a problem.
As soon as she feels the hard rod hidden underneath your pants, she tenses up even more, but doesn't do anything else. Perfect. "So, Missy," you begin, slowly drawing out more and more of the sight stretching before you out, "what would you be doing out and about at this time of day? Normally, I'd expect someone your age to be at school or in university, not that I'm complaining."
"Why would you even care?" Oh, this is the first time she's being this confrontative about anything. "Not like you have any reason to."
In response, you just shrug. "I care because it came to mind," you simply say, giving her a one-armed hug that has her twitch in surprise. "I care because I see no reason not to, and because I'm just a little curious. If you don't want to tell me? Just don't."
You let her mull that one over for a bit, perfectly content to just concentrate on your drawing and subtly rubbing your boner against Missy's butt, the girl atop your lap actively trying to arrange things so it doesn't go anywhere sensitive with a light blush on her cheeks and it's just kind of funny and adorable overall.
Kinda reminds you of a long, long time ago, when you taught Sarah and Reggie to draw... or tried to, at least. Good old times, really.
Anyways, by the time you've got the rough of things down and get to working your way through the details, adding windows and doors and the odd bit of water off in the distance to your picture, Missy seems to have made a decision. "I... had a day off school today, because of something, but I didn't want to go home," she explains, awkwardly looking away somehow despite the fact she isn't looking at you in the first place.
"Trouble at home? An issue with your parents, maybe?" It's not that hard to extrapolate, really; if younger kids avoid staying at their progenitors' place, they're usually the root cause themselves. Missy doesn't strike you as the kind to be a troublemaker that would run of her own accord, though you could be wrong.
"Yeah..." You don't want to pry, but the way this conversation is going, it looks like you have to, now. Repressing a small sigh, you lay a hand on her shoulder, miming being a reassuring presence at her back before you lean back forwards. "Yeah. They- they've been really bad ever since the divorce, I guess, but they weren't really good even before that."
You start to methodically add bricks and cars and passerby to the picture, using your perfect control and frankly ridiculous drawing speed to your advantage, before you formulate a reply. "Anything you'd like to talk about? Sometimes, just doing that can make things a little better." Or at least it's supposed to based on those psych journals you read a while back. You don't buy it yourself, but hey, maybe they were on to something for more standard mindsets, you suppose.
"... It all just started going to shit when dad was diagnosed with cancer," the girl on your lap says, her eyes half-closed and deep in thought. "Which sounds ridiculous because it's cured now and that's a completely different thing compared to what cancer was like two months ago, but at the time, it was really bad. Then it came out mom was cheating on him... with my uncle, his brother. That was the first time they started screaming at each other."
You resist the urge to let out a sharp whistle at that. Unfaithfulness can absolutely ruin relationships... which is yet another reason that vampires are superior, really. Not only would none of your brides ever consider sleeping with any guy that isn't you, you also made sure they physically can't.
Gotta love that very much obvious control mechanism built into your vampirism. Any spawn of yours has to follow your orders, and you went out of your way to subtly make sure the only real order you ever bothered to give out was that. Hurray for telepathy, really.
"Things just kind of... escalated from that," Missy continues, bringing you back to the present and listening to her story. "Dad got rid of mom's dog, I still have no idea whether he just put Cody up for adoption or had him put down. And they both just... keep on screaming at each other over the smallest thing, neither wanted to be the one to issue the divorce for the longest time and it's just... such a mess."
The one thing that strikes you is how... powerless Missy sounds at this point. She knows exactly that she can't do anything about her situation and wishes it weren't so. Maybe she wants it to just be over with already, maybe she wants to be able to do something. Either way, she's finally letting down her guard, pushing back against your eternal erection most pleasingly now that she doesn't try to keep it at bay.
You finish up on the rougher details you wanted to include before you speak up next. "I think," you say finally, "that maybe, things are better this way."
At Missy's outraged look, you just smirk and cuddle her closer towards yourself, your cock now pressing up between her thighs. "Think about it, your situation sucks for you right now. But all that means is that it's pretty clear about it, and it can hardly really get worse from this point on, can it?"
"... No, I suppose not," Missy listlessly agrees, looking at your hands as they carefully and steadily complete their work, absently tracing her fingers over the bulge she's sitting on for a bit before realizing what she's doing, jerking it up and away with a furious blush on her face. "But that doesn't mean it's really a good thing!"
"Depends on the definition, I suppose," you tentatively agree, swishing a bit of blue and white around along the upper side of your picture. "But hey, if things ever become really bad, so bad you can't bear it? Just look for someone wearing Crypt colors and tell them you need a place to stay, they'll help you out. And if it's really, really bad, tell them Cain expects you, I'll see about making some time."
You're both very, very quiet for a while, your hands never ceasing to adjust pencil angles and procedurally filling out the scene you're drawing, Brockton Bay's skyline under the noonday sun, with a little extra at the very bottom of the picture.
"Why are you doing this?" The question could be mistaken for a demand, at the end of things. "Why are you being so... like this?"
"Because I can, and you looked like you may need it," you shrug. It's the simplest thing in the world, really, and you were getting kind of bored on patrol anyways. Not to mention you used to be like this all the time before you went vamp. "That's really all the reason I need."
Walking home, Missy did her best not to damage the piece of art she had been given, torn between mortified at what had just transpired and giddy over it.
Not only had her impulsive idea to gather information on Cain after seeing the reports she had access to through her Wards phone worked out, she had even gotten a present he had personally handmade in his most iconic fashion... and she'd come really close to him.
Really, really close. She still kind of shuddered when she thought about his hard thing under her, just a few layers of cloth between her and it. One less because she'd stripped down to-
Gaah, that was just too embarrassing. Missy couldn't bear to think about it.
Still, the feeling under her butt, between her legs and at her fingers had been... hard. Big and hard, and the knowledge that Cain had been like that for her was buoying her spirits all the way home, the very concept resonating with her in a way she didn't know anything could.
Cain, had been hard... for her. She had to repress her joyful smile at this fact.
Arriving home, she did her best to hold on to that, remembering what she was likely walking into. She fiddled with her keys for a bit, deliberately drawing out how long it took her to find the right one, before opening the front door, stepping inside.
Immediately, she could hear the voices, but just this time, she wouldn't let that drag her down. Ignoring the shouting coming from the kitchen, she just shimmied out of her jacket, making sure one last time she actually put her pants back on after just up and stripping for Cain (she felt so dirty about it, but not in a bad way) and silently made her way to the stairs.
Nothing good came from either of her parents realizing she existed when they were like this. Other times, she could just use them against each other to stay away from either, but once they started arguing, they would definitely demand she take sides.
Missy didn't even feel like that made sense anymore, at this point.
Thankfully, she was quiet enough this time, and she got to her room without issues. Once there, she first laid out the precious piece of paper she had received, then took a seat on her bed, letting out a long breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding in for so long.
Something was vibrating, she could hear it.
Coming back up to her feet with a sigh, Missy opened a drawer in her desk, seeing that her Wards phone, left behind in a safe place like it was supposed to be when not on duty, had a bunch of missed calls and messages on it.
Taking it up, she saw she was supposed to- Oh, Dean was calling. Or Gallant, as he was named in this phone's contact list.
"Yes, hello?" She asked, taking up the call only to be talked over moments after.
"Oh thank god you're alright, Missy." Somehow, the statement did not reassure her. "We've been trying to reach you, but we didn't want to use your civilian phone and-"
"Dean! Dean, slow down, what's wrong?"
"We saw the video clips of Cain talking to you and carrying you off," Dean told her, making Missy's blood freeze in her veins. "And after what happened to Stalker, we-"
"Okay, first of all, calm down, I'm alright." She had to make this clear from the start because she just realized in just how much shit she could be over this. "Yeah, I actually managed to stumble into him and was too slow to get out of the way in shock, so I kind of stuck out, but I just behaved like a fan would at one of our publicity stunts and it all worked out somehow."
Or at least how she was pretty sure some fans would like to behave in the face of the Wards ENE, but she kept that to herself.
"Alright, alright, that's a load off everyone's chest," Dean said, sounding genuinely relieved. As though she was the most vulnerable member of the team. Again. Which she was, physically speaking, but with her power? As long as she paid attention, few things could really threaten her. "Listen, you need to come to the HQ or the Rig asap, everyone saw the videos people took and everything. Nobody on PHO knows who you are, of course, but everything went on red alert anyways. Did Cain do or say anything to you, or did he give you any suspicious items?"
Missy's eyes wandered over her desk, where a certain little something laid, a gorgeously done skyline of Brockton Bay that somehow managed to make even this shithole look mysterious and adventurous instead of just a shithole.
By the time you come back home to the bunker, having wrapped up the whole patrol fairly quickly after nothing in particular happened after that encounter with Missy, you find yourself confronted by a very cute little Sarah, crossing her arms and grinning at you, already waiting for the teleport that brings you back to your usual arrival spot.
Entirely nude, of course, because it's inside your no-clothes-zone, and you quickly join her, a quick flicker of transformation into a shadow enough to let your own clothing fall to the floor.
Greeting her with a kiss before anything else, your tongues wrestling for a long moment, and only then do you speak. "Hey Sarah, anything newsworthy happen while I was gone?"
"Oh, nothing big," she blithely answers, cuddling into your enbrace as she sometimes does and looking up at your face. "Just the nazis getting ready to tear each other apart and a Ward being kidnapped for a bit."
You tilt your head. "I know about the Shadow Stalker stuff, we already established that."
"No, I mean another Ward," your sister clarifies. "Specifically, her civilian persona. I think you may have something about blondes, Big Gabey, because there's videos of you carrying one Missy Biron, also known as Vista, off in a princess carry."
"... Well, guess that might explain a thing or two," you drawl, instantly recontextualizing some parts of her story. Her trigger event was probably related to her parents somehow. "You know, I don't really quite get why the PRT would leave her with her parents, her home situation is apparently pretty shit. Not something you want one of your capes to be in most of the day."
"Eh, Youth Guard crap, most likely. Anyways, you do anything else while you were gone?"
"Nope, nada, nothing," you assure Sarah, groping her deliciously squeezable butt a little. "Definitely ping me if anything else happens for the next while, but I'm kind of doing some miscellaneous work for a bit, so expect no further trouble from me."
When Sophia woke up, she immediately realized something was wrong. The light was weird, she was lying on the ground and her arms were tied behind her back.
And, as she sluggishly drew herself up, something heavy was around her neck.
Sophia was in a cell of some kind, with a simple sleeping bag in one corner and metallic walls all around. She thought about using her power to get out of her bindings, but she was pretty sure that was a heavy shock collar around her neck, from what she could glimpse from the corner of her eyes when bending her head.
So, shit. She needed to figure out where she was and-
A door she hadn't been able to see until then opened by sliding into the wall seamlessly, revealing a corridor behind it made of the same material as everything else.
And in it was...
"Hebert," Sophia said, the last moments on that roof she just barely remembered until then coming to the forefront of her mind.
"Hess," she answered, voice absolutely stone cold.
Sophia had a bad feeling about this.
"What is this place and what did you-" She didn't get any farther than that, a foot burying into her stomach with enough force to throw her onto her back, her breath knocked out of her. She only realized now that the ground was actually padded, though her arms behind her back still kind of made the experience very uncomfortable.
"Bold of you to assume anyone wants to answer your questions." Coming over towards her, the twiggy girl that'd (presumably) found her and kept her from bleeding out loomed over her, her head tilted. Something was wrong with the way she moved. "But for the sake of expediency, yes, I found you and had you patched up. You might find that you have an actual right arm again instead of a bone with a few strings of muscle attached."
She couldn't see it, but she wasn't in extreme pain and it didn't feel like she was missing the flesh along her lower arm anymore, so she'd take Hebert's word for it.
"We are also inside the secret base of the Lord Street Crypts, or to be more precise, your new home within it."
"Okay, wait, you can't just fucking-"
"I can and I have." Where the hell did that weakling take all these guts from? "And you will find there are very few things I can't do here."
"I'm a fucking Ward, Hebert, you fuck with shit like this, you're getting fucked and birdcaged!" How didn't she fucking realize-
Another breath was knocked out of Sophia, Hebert's boot planted onto her chest as the little cunt reached for her face. "You will never be found, Sophia, unless we let you be," she said, a fucking hard grip settling over her mouth, "but if you keep on behaving like this, I guess we'll just have to drive the point home a little."
In a single quick motion, long, spider-like fingers dove under Sophia's shirt, ripping and tearing with clearly fucky strength, her bra following it in being torn from her body. "OW! I'll fucking get you for that, bitch!"
"It seems you have yet to understand the balance of power here." And with that, Sophia was turned over, her pants being fiddled with. Shit, this bitch was crazy! "Do note the walls are lined with wires a strong current is running through, as well as the shock collar around your neck. If you try to use your power, to escape or for anything at all, you're toast."
"You can't do this! The rules-"
"The rules only apply as far as they are enforced." A last pull and her pants were down to her knees, Sophia's bare skin revealed in the penetrating light shining through the room. "Let me be very clear, Sophia; nobody even knows where you are. Not the heroes, not the PRT, none of your friends. Cain does, and Cain is very happy to leave your ultimate fate in my hands."
"The fuck would shadowface give a fuck about you for?!" This was the one part of this whole situation that made the least sense. How would she even-
"Isn't that obvious? I'm a cape."
Shit.
Shit shit shit shit shit.
SHIIIIIT.
"And you and me are going to become very well-acquainted with each other."
Okay, if she wasn't just bluffing, which would make less sense given everything else, what would her power be? Sophia hated fucking with capes, shit always went sideways.
She'd mentioned healing her arm, was she a healer? Unlikely, way too rare. Could be, but unlikely. Why would Cain put her in charge of prisoners?
"If you fucking master me, you're deader than dead, y-" Sophia's head was grabbed and her whole body turned around, her face smothered by the soft ground.
"You've always been a meathead, haven't you? Never managed to actually think before opening you mouth." She could feel slender hands jerking her around, keeping her in position despite her struggles. Definitely some kind of enhanced strength, but not that much, if she wasn't tied up she could've totally-
Hebert's hands were on her panties now, her creepy gaze boring into the back of Sophia's head. She went still. "If you do this," she said, as seriously and directly as she could, "there's no going back for you."
Because like fuck was she going to let that lie.
"Oh, Sophia," Hebert said, the first bit of emotion creeping into her voice, "there was no going back for a while now."
Yanking her panties down, Hebert grabbed Sophia's wrists, pulling then backwards so she reared up. Shoving a knee under her belly, the white bitch then used her other hand to grab Sophia's butt, the Ward gritting her teeth at the feeling and the humiliation both.
Being held as she was, it was obvious what would come next. Glaring at the weak cunt that had to use tricks and only confronted her when she was weak and tied up, she could feel it coming as Hebert lifted her hand, the glint in her otherwise emotionless eyes betraying her. "One."
SMACK!
Her buttcheeks were tense already, expecting the blow, but Sophia still rocked forwards, the power behind the hit enough to push her whole body. "You know, Sophia, I actually noted down everything you did from last year forwards," Hebert said, as if she wasn't sounding completely crazy already. "Every last shove, nudge, punch or kick. I counted them out just for this, and I believe you have a lot of spankings to get through before we've evened out the scales and can start on you making it up to me."
"What even are you-" Sophia shuddered as the hand still lying where it'd landed started stroking and groping her butt, dipping down to touch places she was absolutely sure it shouldn't.
"One down," Hebert repeated herself in a low growl. "Let's see if I can hold back for the next five hundred before getting what I really want out of this."
It was all Sophia could do to pray. Pray that someone would stop this crazy cunt.
"Hey Taylor," Cain said as she came in, "you alright? You look a little flushed."
"I'm okay, just did some exercise is all," she lied, the feeling of Sophia's taut, muscular ass still on her skin, white against black meeting in a cacophony of pain and satisfaction.
"If you're sure," her boss and secret crush said with a shrug. "Anyways, I called you here because I did a little thing..."
One by one, you complete the creation of several weapons, most of them fairly quick and easy to actually make thanks to both your manufactories always standing at the ready and your ability to just implement the necessary magical changes to their construction fairly easily, to boot.
Well that and the way you can just bastardize a bunch of different ways to do this shit to really get the most of your time. Honestly, it's a good thing you took your time to properly plan out how to construct these various weapons in the first place; it really made the rest of the process easier, leaving you to only make a few last-minute adjustments and improvements here and there.
Because you just can't help but be a perfectionist about this. But hey, these will be the weapons of some of your dearest of people and most useful of assets, it's perfectly acceptable to be like that over them.
And so your day goes, carefully turning plans into reality. First off is Sherrel, seeing as how her minigunhammer is actually the easiest for you to make using what you already have in the manufactories. She, of course, is immediately hugging you, her huge rack almost pushing you over despite the various enhancements you have going. "For me?! Oh, thank you so much!"
"I can get you the blueprints if you'd like?" It's not like you're trying to hide mechashift technology as stolen and adapted by you from anyone inside the workshop.
"Please do! I never really thought about having a personal weapon, but I love it! Oh, we're going to have so much fun together, I can already tell!" Wandering off with her new toy in tow, you idly consider what a vehicle tinker may end up doing with an oversized hammer that is also a minigun.
... You probaly don't want to know.
Next off then, the multifunctional grenade slash minirocket launcher. With, as you just realized should totally be added, a grappling hook functionality for the now specialized detachable combat knife.
Predictably, Alice is very much into having someone else get her some serious hardware to deliver her signature tinkertech bombs. "I was thinking about just getting a launcher off the shelf, touch it up a little, but this is way better. Thanks a bunch!"
Next up, then, is everyone you got some presents for that doesn't live inside the workshop. Unsurprisingly, Aisha is the first to arrive, using the teleportation you granted to her through soul shenanigans to get right into it.
And immediately play around with her cool new toys. "Oh wow, this is, like, the coolest shit ever! Do they shoot lasers, too?!"
Ducking down, you narrowly avoid a small blast of ionized matter that proceeds to rapidly react with and dissolve part of one of your manufactories. "They do, and be fucking careful with them, okay? Both have a sword mode and a gun mode, they can switch between ion blasts and railguns and-"
With a clinking and clacking sound, Aisha combines the two separate weapons, twirling her twinblade around. "Ha-chaah!"
"And that," you finish. "They also have thorns in the grips for if you need to bleed really quick or if someone tries to steal them."
"Why would I need to- Owch!"
"You have aura, it doesn't even draw blood unless you let it," you sigh at her antics.
Either way, that's another one down, meaning next up would be... Kate, who pats Aisha's head as the two meet on the way in and out, respectively.
"So, What'cha got for me, lover boy?"
"All the guns in one," you answer blithely. "Literally."
Wildly shifting her new overgun through all its stages according to what you show her, Kate's grin couldn't grow any wider if she was about to feed on someone, you think.
"Well, guess what, someone's just earned a lot of points," she finally says once's gone through the full cycle a couple of times, leaning the compacted assault rifle mode against her shoulder to give you a kiss on the cheek. "We definitely have to try this baby out together sometime."
"It's a date," you promise, turning the small kiss into a full-blown one as you hug her a little. "No idea when, but we have time, if nothing else."
Nobody has as much time as an immortal being, you'd say.
The next lucky winner in the Gabe Lottery would be... Taylor, who shows up a little flushed, though she claims to be alright when you ask. Hers is the modular rifle with detachable pistol you thought up for her particular needs- with a whole bunch of add-ons and doodads for good measure.
"Thank you," she neutrally says as she receives it, taking hold of it a little awkwardly. "How do I...?"
"I wrote a manual," you say to her obvious relief, giving her the book about the width of your thumb. Hurray for you installing printers and bookbinding mechanisms inside the manufactories' ever-shifting interiors, really.
That and the whole 'making your enslaved souls do all the boring typing work ever'. It's fucking great, even if you don't really trust most of them not to fuck it up somehow.
Last but not least, Emily, who just woke up from a nap after being outside for a bit, graces your current little corner of the workshop.
"Hey Emily, I always meant to get back to you about something better than a facemask with nozzles," you greet her, holding out the newly crafted and hyperspecialzed flamethrower.
"Oh, how, that's uh, very thoughtful of you?" She giggles a little from the absurdity of the situation, weighing the surprisingly light (aka acceptably light with aura and being thralled) weapon. "Let me guess, I'm supposed to drool into these little containers?"
"A few of them, yeah," you agree. "These ones are for refilling with your power, they're specially made to have vacuum suction so your slobber doesn't catch fire prematurely, and the others have some mundane napalm and fire suppressant that should, theoretically, work on your power. It isn't tested. You can also just shoot a small ion laser with a little attachment you can pop in and out, like so."
Demonstrating everything and making sure Emily has the color coding of the containers memorized, you nod, shooing her off for the time being.
That sure went well, you'd say.
Looking around the single, wide room opening before you, you give Yoshi a look that tells him you aren't sure whether to be impressed or disappointed in what you see.
"Look, we did the best we could, but there's a reason Academy City had a dedicated supply chain for these kinds of endeavours," the grumpy former hero tells you, gesturing around. Inside the space specifically created for this through your hammerheads, several blank, steel-grey and perfectly smooth pods are lined up, five of them side by side in five rows making for a total of twenty-five.
"Alright, pretend I was a layperson and try to walk me through this once again," you ask him, taking a look over the system controls situated in a simple computer set on one of the walls.
Groaning, Yoshi does as he is told, knowing he doesn't have any real choice in the matter anyways. "Simplified as much as possible, and putting things into very much inaccurate terms, people go inside these pods, are subjected to a specialized treatment and gain esper powers through it. This treatment involves several drugs, some of them mildly hallucinogenic, electrical currents, semi-randomized pictures and specific wavelengths produced through-"
"So basically, it's magic," you nod, seeing where this is going. "People just kept on experimenting on people until something somehow worked and repeated the process until it became established."
"It's not magic, it's science!" Yoshi shouts, stomping his foot. "I know you barely pay the laws of physics any mind whatsoever at the best of times, but respect what us actual people have accomplished!"
Funnily enough, that reaction never ceases to amuse you. Still... "Let's just hope this stuff actually works. Setting up this little magical broodchamber cost us a month's income. Granted, it was last month's income, we make much more now, but Henley keeps on protesting through telepathy, and I refuse to shut him up when his criticism is potentially justified." None of this crap came cheap, that's for sure.
"Stupid vampires and stupid budgets, used to be that we just did whatever we wanted until someone got pissed enough we had to work on a specific project..." Ahh, the sweet sweet grumblings of your chief science-er.
"Hey Sarah, do you think sending sex toys to Carol is a good idea yet?" The question is somewhat relevant, seeing as you're about to send her a little care package.
"... Which Carol are we talking about?" Your sister asks, looking over her costume and making sure her mask sits just right on her face.
"Carol Dallon? Brandish of New Wave? I don't really interact with that many Carols." Honestly Sarah should know this, you tell her literally everything you do or that happens around you.
"Just wanted to make sure," your sister says, giving you a quick peck on the cheek. "But hey, I don't think she'll actively do anything against you doing that. May use them, may not."
"Mhm..." Messing with Carol has become a fun little pastime for you lately, and you want to make sure she knows you care. "I certainly could think of a few things to send her, honestly."
"Actually, hey, you still have the measurements for that dildo formed after my dick around?" May as well make use of that whole marketing idea Sarah decided to push through.
"I have them being mass-produced as we speak, Gabe," your sister smugly answers you, pulling on her skintight bodysuit. "I can have one brought up if you want? All the girls love a chance to handle your 'toy'."
You sigh in faked dismay. "Alas, what a truly cruel world it is, whence I am surrounded by horny women most of which I simply do not have the time to satisfy mineself."
"Oh come on, it isn't that bad. At least half of the girls are mostly just doing it for fun anyways."
Ultimately, it takes a couple of minutes, but in the end you have a nice little package together, containing a box of chocolates (you tested a second box of the things and they are, indeed, of acceptable quality, as Sarah also agrees), a bottle of wine from your little collection for miscellaneous purposes Kate and Nora have been collecting for a while now (the good kind, too, that costs, like, a hundred or two bucks) and one Cain brand dildo, imitating a fraction of your ever-erect glory.
All packed up nicely into a box, with bows on everything and off to be delivered at some point in the next couple of days. Sooner rather than later, considering you're paying premium for everything, at Sarah's insistence, but hey, as long as your care package arrives you're perfectly happy with this.
And now, on to business. More specifically, watching the Undersiders conduct their business and evaluating their performance. "You know you don't really need to do that, right?" Sarah asks, strutting her stuff as she does. "We've been doing this for a while now, and it's not like the Undersiders have any newbies along either."
"I still remember you forgetting what powers you have back in Remnant," you pointedly point out, smugging back at Sarah for earlier. "The more adult supervision you have, the better."
"I literally never used that one power! I think I can be forgiven for not considering it during a tense situation, okay?!"
"Perfect memory, Sarah. Perfect memory, and you still forgot about it."
"Muhm!" Ah geez, you can't help yourself, Sarah is just too cute when she pouts like that. The Undersiders will have to wait a few minutes, you're cuddling her now.
Wisely keeping yourself to the shadows, you watch as Sarah meets up with the rest of her old team, Grue, Regent and Bitch (as they're all in costume) waiting at a predetermined location outside your base, just barely in the edges of your territory (enough so you could claim they were just passing through passively if someone asked).
And, surprisingly enough, you're joined in the dark corner you chose for yourself by none other than Aisha, also in shadow form. Hey big boss, you also along for the show?
I am, you confirm, swirling in her direction. How about yourself?
Are you kidding? I wanna see Bastard Bitch die, no offense to Bitch. I was there at the Rock, and he's just a giant cunt by the end of things anyways.
Well, hard to argue with that, considering Bastard Son is what you get when you take a schoolyard bully and give him a parahuman power before turning him into a literal attack dog. That has his own attack dogs.
Alright, let's see how they do, then, you propose, gesturing for the Undersiders with a shadowy limb. Make sure to keep close, they're starting.
And indeed, you can see the trio of dogs Bitch brought with her- she likely decided to keep it at three to keep people from realizing she could empower hundreds of dogs that would actually obey her at once now- grow and bulge out, becoming the vaguely lizard-like canine creatures her power turns them into.
The four members of the teenage cape gang hop on (with various levels of grace, you'd say Sarah did it the smoothest) and, once everyone is settled, get going, Rachel growling and barking on occasion. Which, to you, sounds a lot like she is talking to her dogs, warning them when they veer too far from the group and whenever she sees an obstacle in advance they may as well circumvent.
You and Aisha keep pace as best you can, keeping away from the lights on the way and exchanging the occasional comment, but for the most part the next couple of minutes are filled with the tense silence of a group knowingly out to commit violence.
Mostly because of Brian, honestly. Sarah is perfectly relaxed, knowing this is a minor massacre at most compared to what else she has been part of and will be doing so far, Alec is just being Alec and Rachel just wants to end Bastard Son because he's a potential threat, nothing more and nothing less.
Honestly, replace Brian with Okita and everyone would be real chipper about this. Unfortunately, Okita would never fit into the Undersiders- She is very much a big league hitter, not a minor criminal by any means.
Same for most of your capes, honestly; the Undersiders are the only ones amongst your number that have any vested interest in appearing to be small fry, everyone else is either already a known murderer or worse (looking at you, Taylor) or just too powerful to bother with that in general.
Or completely unknown, too. Not like anyone has any idea the literal six cluster trigger members exist- for any other gang, six additional members showing up out of the blue like that would be the difference between a random no-name smalltimer gang and ruling a city in all but name.
Then there's Sherrel, who nobody can be sure has been on your side all along, Alice, who was relatively unknown even before you stole her from the ABB, Kate has only been seen a couple of times... People have no idea just how numerous your actual capes even are.
And of course the Undersiders, who actually belong to you, too, while outwardly being a separate group. Even before considering your ability to just mass-produce minor and not so minor capes, or the additional powers literally all your capes get, you could be considered the most powerful gang in the city, perhaps even on the entire east coast so long as no paricularly big fishes are hiding anywhere.
More a testament to the disorganized criminal underworld than anything else, you'd say, but still.
Now, the west coast is a different metter entirely, but there's a reason nobody wants the Elite to hang around; them expanding to the opposite side of the continent would spell no end of trouble for everyone involved, particularly as the implicit agreement that so long as the former group of rogues stays in their original stomping grounds the PRT doesn't send the triumvirate against them would see some... revisionism, most likely.
Which is why you fully believed that Bastard Son isn't here to spearhead another expansion and just to fish for recruits to take along once he fucks off again. Too bad for him, though, because you have already laid claim to every single cape in Brockton Bay- whether as a member of the Crypts, a future member of the Crypts or else a meal with a chance to retain a bit of power after death.
Sure, you never told anyone, but you don't have to know a law for it to be in effect. And, well, Bastard Son doesn't seem to be the kind of guy you could talk around- he doesn't respect anyone but himself, and working with him would be way more trouble than it would be worth.
Hence the building he's holed up in- a small complex in the E88's territory, which tells you a lot- is being approached by a small mob of capes about to teach the little bastard a lesson he won't soon forget. Seeing as it will be his last and all.
The first sign that this night is a bit different from most nights for the people sleeping here is a resounding crash as one of the walls is torn down, a trio of giant dogs tearing right through it, bulky forms lugging around enough muscles to easily demolish drywall just by running through it.
Within moments, defenders show up, a wide assortment of thugs some of which you remember seeing at Somer's Rock, along with none other than Bastard Son himself, the biggest of the bastards dressed in a different suit and with another leering mask this time around, but no less annoying to listen to.
"Heh, nice of you kiddos to come along and save me the trouble of finding out where to find you," he says, the two dozen or so people around him subtly changing their stances already. Looks like his power doesn't even require touch, then. "Don't suppose you're just showing up for a job interview?"
"Gainful employment is overrated, sorry." That's your Sarah, always with a comeback ready. "'sides, I'm afraid we'll be short an interviewer or two real soon. Hard to get a job like that."
"Yeah, thought so. Hard way it is then." Looking around at his underlings, Bastard Son barks the starting signal for what's about to happen. "Get them!"
The Undersiders weren't exactly just standing around while all of that happened, of course. With Regent already ready and prepared to act, the first couple of mooks pulling out and picking up a bunch of random objects- steel pipes and baseball bats here and there, but also random debris, glass shards and bits of string, some even tote office supplies to fight with.
Settling in to watch the action from a good angle as Grue starts to create his powered gas, the black smoke swallowing pretty much everything and making it impossible to see, hear or even smell anything from inside it, you turn to Aisha's shadow next to you, using your innate bloodsense to keep track of the action instead. You know, I kind of missed this, you tell her, watching as a man seemingly randomly flailing around with a rock in hand nearly manages to brain Brian. Some good old gang violence never fails to lift my spirits.
Really? In this city, you'd think you have more than enough of that, your hanger-on replies, stretching a little to get a better view of the action she can see. Ouch, that has to smart.
Following her gaze, you grin at the way Bastard Son holds his shoulder, stepping away from the cloud of darkness. Inside it, Sarah retracts her whip rapier, turning to impale one of the goons trying to fight effectively while blinded, tripped up and mauled by a giant dog monster.
Honestly, this isn't looking too well for these guys.
Just then, however, a couple more of them show up, and it looks like they did actually score a couple of hits; Bitch's dogs have a few long gouges along their skin when the dark mist recedes, Grue shifting towards actually letting his teammates see what is going on while he hinders the new fighters.
Just in time for everyone to see how Bitch, with furred and clawed arms, tears a man's head off.
You go, girl! You cheer from the sidelines, Aisha joining in in short measure.
Bastard Son screams for his guys to get in there and 'fuck the bitches up', Bitch uses the head as a projectile in throwing it at him, Sarah kills two at once with a quick stab of both of her weapons and drinks one of them on the spot, Brian, shrouded by his darkness, uses his thrall-given electricity to knock out a couple of his own opponents and Alec... seems to be step-dancing while using his power to make others stumble at every opportunity.
As for Bitch's dogs, they use their bulk to interfere whenever the mooks try to surround one of the other fighters, paws swiping, vicious bites killing people left and right, it's just a great spectacle overall.
That is, until Bastard Son gets behind cover to avoid the occasional snipe from anyone that has a moment and begins to order his minions around, organizing them and all of a sudden, the one-sided fight becomes a lot harder for the Undersiders.
Once the enemy is actively bunching up and using their advantages, that is, their numbers, they have to actually work for their victory, that is. Bitch is strong and fast, but after a few painful cuts by several glass shards that would have cost her a few pawed fingers if she didn't have aura, she sticks to keeping her foes at a distance and mirroring Bastard Son in coordinating her dogs, calling out for them in growls and barks and just riding on them every now and then.
By contrast, Sarah is mostly unbothered; though she has to use her semblance every now and then, she easily tears through even enhanced enemies, using the fact that they are mostly just baseline humans in the end to her advantage. No enhanced skill can really protect from a weapon ignoring everything you do and only phasing in when it's inside you.
Alec, on the other hand, has started to use his scepter, currently being engaed in a duel with a guy with a pipe. He's being pushed back, a precise flurry of attacks and thrusts forcing him to rely on his aura for protection more often than not. That said, while all of his counterattacks are parried or pushed away, his opponent has to be careful; the tip of Regen't scepter is sparking, and every attempt to just disarm him his ruthlessly countered with his power, throwing arms and legs around jerkily and coming dangerously close to jabbing the tazing end of his weapon into his foe.
Grue is having a bit trouble on his end, but it's nothing some more darkness and some elbow grease can't take care of, though if even more morons with weird weapon skills come in, he might be in trouble.
Sarah, seeing this, throws an amused glance into Bastard Son's direction. "You know you fucked up already, didn't you?"
"Heh, didn't expect a bunch of small timers to go for the kill, that's for sure." poking his head up behind an upturned table, he waves a hand. "Hit it, boys!"
That had to be a premediated command, seeing as how the minions immediately change tactcs. Instead of trying to surround the Undersiders and using their numbers, they all just throw themselves at the nearest enemy, swinging whatever weapons they have on hand in perfect coordination.
Alec turns and runs, using his power again to make them hit or stab each other. Bitch has her dogs takes to the roofs, where they just have to endure some throwing pens (you should look into that, they look pretty effective, actually) and Brian just goes full Grue, filling everything with darkness and hiding inside of it.
Sarah just grins and phases right through the incoming mob. Emerging on the other side, she continues what she was doing. "Well, that too, but I was talking more along the lines of staying anywhere I can freely talk."
"Heh heh, what, you going to try and tell me what a bad boy I've been?" Bastard Son says, unknowingly signing his death warrant. Nobody but you is allowed to talk to Sarah like that. "Sorry, but people tried that one before. You can guess how it turned out for them."
Shooting a mook's head in, your sister grins a wide, fanged grin as she turns around at the mob of charging enemies. "I could talk about how you're ultimately just a petty little shcoolyard bully exulting in your trivial meanness, for lack of a better word, but that sounds kinda boring, so here's a better one. Hey boys, would you kindly go kill Bastard Son for me?"
Five of them immediately change directions, raising a cup of water with just a bit of fluid left inside, a rope, a brick, a couple of coins and a single old shoe above their heads. "Oh fuck you!"
Things devolve a bit at this point, with you giving a subtle shadow-nod at Sarah's actions. She's finally using her pretty little head, you comment to Aisha.
Oh? Think she actually did anything wrong? She sounds genuinely curious, so you'll go ahead and indulge her.
I wouldn't exactly say wrong, there's just some room for improvement. Because Sarah can, by definition, do no wrong. Okay, a lot. So, remember when they first tore down the walls?
Geez, starting from there?
Yeah, so that was kind of a bad starting move. If it was me, I would've just sneaked in and murdered Bastard Son first, then dealt with the mooks, you explain your rationale. Much easier than to leave him alive and actually talk to him. Why didn't any of the Undersiders think to shoot him the moment he came out, for example? Sarah, at least, always has a gun that can fire ion blasts, which should've done the job just fine.
Yeah, gotta agree this would've been much easier if he bit the dust instead of commanding his suckers, Aisha agrees. Shifting around a bit, she comes out of the corner you've been hanging out in so far.
There's a reason Bastard Son is a typical Master, despite not using projections and his power being a crap way of mastering people. It's simple, really, always go for the Masters or the Thinkers first and foremost. Following after her, you see what she's doing- she's closing in to come out and help just in case anyone gets overwhelmed.
So what she's doing now, using that same power you gave me to make them turn on him? The two of you take a moment to observe as a mob of morons keeps on running around, ordered by Sarah to go attack Bastard Son, who then uses others to hold them off while he countermands her orders, some of his own guys remembering what side they're supoosed to fight on and fighting their way back through the mob Sarah keeps on adding to, dominating as many of his mooks as she can.
She's using his minions against him, which is good practice, you admit. Could've started out with that, but letting him do his thing for a bit to see if he had anything up his sleeves is good enough as far as that goes. Of course, Grue could've just used his power on Bastard Son himself to make the fight easier, Rachel could've had her dogs bumrush him, and Alec could've tried removing him from cover for someone else to do the rest, too. I'm just harping on Sarah because she's the leader now, so she is responsible for everything.
Wow, I would've thought she did everything right without trying? Aisha teases you, her tone clear as night through your telepathy.
That's that and this is this, you stubbornly insist. Can't improve without knowing what to work on. Same reason I actively call those weekly meetings and listen to what everyone has to say about what I've been doing while I play the ideas guy. You got all of that, Sarah?
I do, can we please do this after the fight, Gabe? Fending off one of the little bastards (as opposed to the big one that is Bastard Son) that successfully threw off her orders after being ordered to, Sarah runs across the battlefield, blowing apart an enemy's head with her gun's railgun mode.
Fine, fine, you grumble, Aisha chortling in the background at the fact you just went and connected Sarah to the conversation midway through.
Things proceed as they were, except as the mob of minions continues to be too busy tearing itself apart, the Undersiders can get back to actually fighting as a group rather than fend them off in their own little pockets, and before long Bastard Son is left without much in terms of meaningful defenses, his goons cut down one by one.
Sarah is deliberately drawing this out, you imagine, making the point that he never stood much of a chance to begin with. Still, once the majority is either dead or unconscious- whatever effect Bastard Son's power has on them making them too stupid to just run- she does turn towards him...
... as he comes out of his cover, a rocket launcher on his shoulder. You could've warned her, you saw him fiddle with something through your bloodsenses, but this is meant to be a learning experience, and so you just wait and see what Sarah does.
"TAKE THIS, YOU BITCH!" It's one of those big things, too, for the actually heavy rockets. Sighing her most annoyed sigh, your sister jumps sideways, grabbing one of the still living mooks currently trying to fight Alec only to keep on falling on his face, and throws the man at Bastard Son just as he fires at her with her full inhuman strength, the two projectiles sailing straight past each other.
Sarah knows her allies are behind her, and so instead of using her semblance to phase, she simply extends her rapier, the whip mode of her personal weapon allowing her to hit the flying explosive from below at just the right angle to have it veer off course. She's still hit by some debris being blown apart, but her aura lets her ignore that easily enough, and soon she approaches her erstwhile enemy and current meal.
"Heh, this wasn't exactly what the files said, but I guess there's a reason for that," Bastard Son jokes as he scrambles to his feet from where he was hiding from the blast, holding up a hand. "Now, I get that you have a problem with me, but I'd like to-"
"The Elite can try shit if they want, it's not like we don't appreciate delivery," Sarah jokes, her mouth bloody from the handful of morons she got her teeth into earlier. "You are going to die here, though."
"Heh, hehheh, hold on there for a bit, how about we discuss this calmly, huh? For starters, how about you put down that weapon?" Mhm, something about this seems weird... Does he really think she would fall for that?
"Were you just trying to use your power on me?" Sarah asks, explaining that neatly. "Cute, but pointless. No getting out of this one, I'm afraid."
Obviously enough, his power to imbue others with phenomenal skills in using seemingly random objects as weapons dumbs down people, so it stands to reason he should be able to use it offensively... somehow.
Good thing Sarah is a vampire and therefore immune to shit like that.
"Can't blame a guy for trying," Bastard Son shrugs... before raising a combat knife and running at Sarah.
Man, the guy really doesn't know when to give up, does he? The resulting scene of carnage is more along the lines you'd expect to see in a cheap horror movie, but hey, at the end of things Sarah is both covered in blood and has properly eaten him.
All's well that ends well, you'd say.
Confirming the teleport of Bastard Son's body some way into the ocean, where it should hopefully either never be found or only found after it has been reduced to bones or less, you actually come out to help the Undersiders with the last bit of work they have to do tonight; burning down everything in sight.
They haven't exactly been subtle, after all, and the less information anyone can gather in this whole general area, the better.
Talking with them for a bit, it seems each of them has come to terms with things in various ways. Sarah is annoyed at having, objectively, a lot of room for improvement, as you termed it, Bitch is annoyed that her dogs got hurt, even if it was mostly surface wounds they won't even really retain once they're cut out of the fleshsuits her power grows around them, Alec is indifferent as usual and Brian...
Well, Brian is trying to appear stoic about all of this, but you're pretty sure he's at least a little shaken up about all of this rather extreme violence, rather unlike the kinds of confrontation he's dealt with in this business before, just coming off an adrenaline high and kind of spooked about the prospect of having made some actual enemies with Bastard Son's death.
Ah well, he'll get over it.
Anyways, you did in fact think to prepare a bunch of gasoline to be teleported to your current location, with Lea gleefully taking over the role of teleporter mama, as she called it once, and so soon enough you're spreading a whole lot of stinking fluid all over the bodies, the partially torn-down building and just everything in sight, honestly.
It's a bit of work, but you do thankfully have a couple of soul minions on the ready to help out. Who knew the Merchants would see some action again, after all this time?
Things went well with the whole 'setting fire to everything', especially as emergency services were already on the way due to the whole fighting to the death situation preceding it (wouldn't do to accidentally set your future territory on fire, after all), and, after a little after-action review with everyone you eventually cut short when it became clear Bitch couldn't bear to sit still anymore (and no, you didn't care Alec wasn't listening, you made him sit through it regardless), it is finally time for yourself to, once again, take action yourself!
That is to say, figure out what you shall do by asking Sarah, who is taking stock of any news she can fish out of dozens of reports and statistics and PHO threads.
"You do know I don't have to do this, right?" Aww, she's still pouting over you pointing out temporary and unimportant shortcomings. Sighing, Sarah puts her laptop aside from where she's lying in your bed and rights herself. "Jeez, if there's one thing you should probably take care of, it'd be the PRT."
"Don't the heroes have enough to do with the E88?" You ask, idly considering just how many more oversized gangs you have to put in their way until the do-gooders stop annoying you.
Sarah, though, shakes her head. "The heroes themselves are busy alright, but a bunch of troopers have been seen in the approximate location of where Shadow Stalker was picked up by our resident bug girl. They won't find much, I personally went out to make sure no traces they're liable to find are left in the area, but they're searching and will likely keep on doing so for a while."
"And let me guess, we don't want them to?" Hard not to make the connection at this point.
"Yup! They'll be coming uncomfortably close to our territory and I'd much prefer if they actually spent their manpower where we want them to, against the nazis. Hookwolf has offed a dozen of their men already, but the ENE office is damn careful about the situations they send their people into, so that number is rising very slowly, if at all."
"Sooo... It's a minor annoyance in the grand scheme of things, but still something we might as well mess with," you conclude. "Speaking of which, actually, how's Shadow Stalker been doing? Just curious, I know you said to leave it to Taylor."
Sarah doesn't answer directly, instead adjusting her laptop to let you see as she calls up a camera feed of Taylor and a Shadow Stalker naked except her bindings, bent over to receive a spanking that has her cringe before every hit. She's obviously trying to hold it back, but you can hear just the barest hint of pained shrieks at every smack hitting her ass.
"Good girl," you comment, agreeing with the overall theme Taylor has going here. "Do you think we should get her some toys to work with?"
"Nah, let her work it out raw for now," Sarah says, shrugging with one shoulder. "It works for her and I'm pretty sure it's actually fairly cathartic; she used to know Sophia Hess, and it wasn't a good, friendly acquaintance kind of thing."
"Ah well." Not like you're about to butt in unnecessarily, after all. If Taylor needs or wants some assistance, you can always have someone get something ready. "So! How do we do the 'mess with the PRT' part?"
"First things first, we need some kind of falsified evidence we can have them pick up," Sarah reasons, searching through the PRT ENE's databases as she does so. "Something that is both believable and could justifiably come into their hands. Then we need to stage someone finding it in, again, a believable way, preferrably something they would get anyways. And wouldn't you guess it, we just finished burning down the current residence of the one cape in town that would have a vested interest in packing off locals!"
"Frame Bastard Son, you mean?" You consider the idea for a moment, actually finding you kind of like it. "Sure, going by his reputation he would totally do something like kidnapping a Ward if it got him what he wanted. Second to only the S9 indeed. So how would you suggest we do this in practice?"
"Well, that's the thing. We could look into making it look like his goons were around at the time Sophia Hess went missing, maybe even pretend Hookwolf was in cahoots with him seeing as he was the one that injured her to the point Taylor just needed to pick her up... ooor we, and by that I mean you, could return to where we were earlier, plant a little evidence that miraculously survived that little fire we set."
"And just to make the contrast complete, make Kaiser look complicit in this whole thing instead," you pick up on her line of thought. "Like he called Bastard Son in to help him in this little situation we're all having in exchange for helping him grab a few promising capes on the down-low."
"Could well be he actually did, which would just make this even funnier," Sarah agrees.
In theory, what you want to do is pretty simple. Get some false evidence, make sure whoever investigates it sees what you want them to see, done.
In practice, of course, it's not actually quite that simple- in the first place, you have to hurry a lot, what with emergency response being busy at the place Bastard Son died right now, and laying a false trail isn't exactly as simple or easy as the movies make it out to be, in practice.
So first off, you need something that links Bastard Son to Kaiser, something that could actually be left behind after his death and preferrably indicate the both of them were involved with Shadow Stalker's disappearance, which is the whole point here.
Luckily enough, Sarah still has Bastard Son's soul, and you, in turn, have Sarah. It is the work of maybe five minutes to have the guy summoned, told to shut up because his voice is annoying and produce what could pass as a note or letter from him to Kaiser.
A note because a) fuck believably falsifying emails a couple hours too late and b) because you'd imagine people like Bastard Son or Kaiser would try to avoid being found by random hackers by just physically writing messages down to have them delivered.
Also, you just kinda need something you can work with here. Phone calls are even more of a nightmare to fake a couple hours down the line than email traffic, and even if you probably could try something on either account together with Sarah, it's just not worth the trouble when you have a viable alternative right there.
Taking a quick look over the piece of paper, blah blah, 'fuck you Kaiser, Hookwolf fucked up', blah blah, 'got the bitch anyways, not in prime condition though', blah and blah.
It's basically a note telling Kaiser that Bastard Son successfully kidnapped Shadow Stalker and sold her off to the rest of the Elite, according to their original arrangement that the nazi leader would assist Bastard Son in approaching or capturing capes the Elite might be interested in in exchange for the man's presence and help against his enemies in the city.
Which, as it turns out, was an actual thing. Kaiser literally called in Bastard Son for help. That is... You kind of need a bit to clam your laughter after finding out that tidbit of information.
Seriously, it's... Bastard Son! The guy is just completely unpleasant to deal with, barely cares about any established rules or regulations and the only reason he didn't get kill order'd yet is that he's part of the Elite, which makes doing so politically problematic, mostly because nobody wants to poke that particular bear.
He's just generally unpleasant to deal with. It does speak of Kaiser's composure that he deliberately reached out to the man.
Anyways, you have everything you need, now you just need to get this piece of paper into position where it will be found sooner rather than later. All without being found by the people investigating this house fire you may or may not have caused.
Nothing easier than that, isn't there?
Luckily enough, by the time you're back where you just came from, the fire department has just finished putting out the flames, making sure the building is safe to approach and all that. Which it is, you're fairly sure, though you aren't exactly an expert either.
You're confident enough in shadowing into the room Bastard Son told you about when you asked for where he was staying personally, anyways, and so soon enough you hopefully have an incriminating note on the ready to be looked over by PRT analysts.
The ones that they can get to stop fruitlessly trying to make sense of yourself, anyways. You're purposefully being semi-random precisely because you know every last action of yours anyone can get wind of will be looked at with a critical eye, of course they would have a hard time figuring you out, but according to Sarah they're still arguing whether your streams are some deep-rooted sentiments of yours calling out for help or a coping mechanism for whatever issues you have.
Because cape, obviously. Parahumans always have something going on, after all. Just too bad you aren't exactly a parahuman, but alas, the less people know about how and why you operate, the better.
Either way, your trap is prepared, all you need to do now is to turn into mist that mingles with the smoke still rising above some parts of the structure, heated air being driven out of the smouldering ruin (or rather just very damaged building, you suppose), and disappear into the night.
Honestly, this went pretty well, you'd say. And quick, too.
Honestly, this is pretty nice. If there's one thing you like about just going to other dimensions you know you won't really be challenged in, it is that you can just spend a little time with the people you love, and really, that's what really counts in life, isn't it?
Or unlife or however you want to call it.
Doesn't really matter. What does matter is that, Sarah and Kate are just taking a bit of time off for once. No constant paperwork, no abusing the lack of the necessity for sleep to work around the clock, not even finding an excuse to go shoot a place up (again). Instead, all of you are just sitting in a pile of naked limbs, using the big flatscreen TV in your room to entertain yourselves.
It is actually quite an interesting experience, playing Mario Kart with three vampires. Everyone's reaction times are much higher than a normal person's, and so it actually becomes a matter of strategy and luck more than anything to get through the various stages you're getting through.
And, of course, a matter of social acumen. "GABE, I SWEAR TO FUCKEN-!"
"Come on, Kate, not my fault the blue shell always hits," you defend yourself. "I got it, I had to use it."
Next to you, your sister, driving Wario to your own Waluigi, triggers her triple red shells, firing them off at you in quick succession just in the moment you're trying to take a ramp, throwing you down and taking first place. "You were saying, Gabe?"
"You know what this means, Sarah." Swerving to get yourself another item, you grin at the lightning bolt coming your way, triggering it without delay.
"This means war."
What follows is a desperate battle for supremacy, all three of you scrambling for first place at that final, third lap, where every stop gets pulled. You rile up Sarah and Kate against each other, Sarah pulls her biggest puppy dog eyes on you, Kate pulls out the new weapon you made her and begins to fire at you (using the railgun mode so her shots don't do much of anything to you), it's a regular old blast.
And every race is like that about five minutes into game night, of course. Still, the carnage is nothing compared to what happens about an hour after the first shots are fired, all three of you smiling and ribbing each other all the way.
Because Sarah... unleashes hell.
"Hey, so I got us something I've been sitting on for a bit," is what your sister says as she exits to the console emulator Kate got running for this. Navigating around a bit on your home cinema's controls, she soon pulls up...
"Mario Party?" Kate asks, one eyebrow raised.
"Freshly pirated Aleph import," Sarah proudly proclaims, the starting screen showing what you're all thinking about. "It didn't really get approved for import for for-fucking-ever, but it's not like the internet really gives a fuck."
"Alright, let's try it, I guess," you shrug, pulling a couple of metallic spikes out from under your clothes.
Clearly, you are being set up and most traitorously backstabbed at every turn. There is no other possible explanation for this.
"Come on, Gabe, it's just bad luck," Kate drawls, her back leaning against you as she idly fingers her controller. "It happens."
"Yes, except it happens to other people," you argue aptly, raising a finger. "If it happens to me, it means someone is trying to set me up and needs some thorough application of horrible agony in their life. Also, Sarah is totally cheating."
"What, me? I didn't know using my power was against the rules," your traitorous sister pretends, looking at you smugly.
"It is now, and the punishment for it is grave and terrible indeed!" Seeing as you're just kind of losing over here, sitting at a total of one star while both of your wives have four each already, you decide to abandon the game, instead pulling Sarah towards yourself so you have both cuddling up against you.
"Oh, is it now?" Kissing your cheek, Kate hugs your midsection, hands veering off downwards. "Because that looks like a most horrifying punishment, truly."
Mission successfull. Vampires can't be distracted the way humans can be, but if you dangle something they want in front of them hard enough, they'll still dance on your strings just fine.
Cuddle time.
Victoria Dallon, just Vicky to pretty much everyone she knew, because her name was kind of a mouthful, opened the door, having used her power to fly down the stairs first thing in the morning.
Sure, it was, like, way too early, but she woke up in the middle of the night, slept like crap, kept up by her thoughts, and damn it all she needed her morning coffee.
Hence she was the only one downstairs when the doorbell rang, and so she, against her better knowledge, went and opened it on account of everyone else sleeping in on Sundays like normal people.
"Hello, delivery for Carol Dallon?" The oddly chipper mailman was holding out a package, Vicky blinking in the light of the rising sun.
"What's being delivered this early on a Sunday?" She murmured, still numbly giving her signature on the thingy so he could take a picture and give it to her. She'd gotten pretty good at that, as an open cape.
"No idea, it was an express delivery is all I know," the guy shrugged, tucking everything away before waving goodbye. "Have a good day, ma'am!"
"Myeah, g'day," she murmured, returning the gesture and returning inside.
She left the package on the kitchen table for the moment, too busy wrestling with the coffee machine to get her some lifegiving fluids, putting her usual milk into the cup first and then activating the contraption only to watch as her coffee trickled in.
Taking her drink and gripping it at the low end to use the insulating cold layer of milk for all it was worth, Vicky took a seat for a moment, despite her power being totally way better for this (mom just didn't want her using it inside the house). Her mind rapidly clearing as the caffeine did its work in her brainmeats, Vicky leant back, reconsidering what her thoughts had been swirling around to keep her up.
Yeah, she was not going to try and deal with Cain by exposing Gabriel. Not only would that be a dick move, it would also just put everyone in danger and, while she didn't want to just guess for things like that, had the chance of him just going and killing a lot of heroes, depending on how strong he really was.
It could have been just villain self-overestimation issues, like normal, but he had taken down Lung. That was still all kinds of alarming, honestly.
So she would continue to make him take her (any Amy, if she wanted) out on dates and pay for all things she wanted for the time being. Was it okay to take what was probably blood money for that? Probably, as long as she did it with the end goal of convincing him to slow it down with the wanton murder.
Even if she still agreed a lot of those people on the night the ABB officially ended probably deserved it, that still didn't mean killing was okay.
Anyways, that cleared up, Vicky eyed the package. It was for her mom, but what could she have delivered that would have someone ring the bell at this time of the morning o'clock? On Sunday?
Shaking it a little, she could hear a few loose parts jostle around just a bit. It was a little heavy, she thought, so something important was probably inside, right?
Right. And if it was really, really important, it wasn't just her being curious, it was making sure that it wasn't something she had to go wake up mom for.
Carefully, Vicky peeled off some of the duct tape keeping the box closed, watching and listening out for anyone to come down. The doorbell could have woken someone else up, after all, though she knew from experience everyone in her family was a deep sleeper.
Luckily, nobody did, as far as she could tell, and soon enough she could, finally, open the box... nearly falling off her chair. What, this was... What?
A bottle of wine and a smaller box of chocolates? Sure, why not. People were weird. But what was that oversized purple dildo doing between them, bound up with a neat bow? And the note? 'To help you think of me'.
Was... Was her mom being stalked by some creepy fucker? Was this harassment like that? Or maybe-
Vicky held her breath, taking a closer look at that dildo. It could be the clue to this mystery, if her hunch was right, but she would need an expert opinion.
Quickly gathering the whole package up, she carefully floated off the ground, using her power to keep absolutely quiet as she got back upstairs, making absolutely sure nobody was around to see her.
Quickly rushing into Amy's bedroom, Vicky swiftly ignored the outraged squawk at the sudden intrusion as well as the bedcovers quickly thrown over an almost naked body. "Vicky!"
"Amy, Amy come on, I need your help." Holding out the arrangement of weird gifts, she looked into her sister's eyes. "Your power gives you a perfect understanding of a living being on touch, right? Can you tell me whether this dildo is suspiciously shaped like Gabe's thing, or is it just my imagination?"
Amy closed her eyes, a hand coming to lie over them. "Why..."
Just a few hours later, Carol Dallon saw a package lying in the spot she usually took to drink her morning coffee and read the papers.
"You know, Sophia, you could have made this a lot easier on yourself," Taylor said. She was busy punishing the former Ward again, like she was every morning lately.
Coming to the underground lair instead of Winslow was the obvious choice. She'd only ever learned anything in one of those places, and it sure wasn't Winslow.
"Uhk huu!" Sophia was just as Taylor liked it, or the closest she would come for the moment. Naked, bound, her legs spread due to the spreader bar she had found in the bondage supplies room (she'd looked up what it was before borrowing it for a bit).
And, of course, her panties stuffed into her mouth. Sophia just didn't seem to learn.
"If you didn't try to ambush me the moment I came in, I might just have been gentler about it," Taylor continued, actually meaning what she was saying to her own mild surprise. "But you're giving me no choice but to take a harder stance here, you realize?"
"Huh'rr fuhkn gr-" Sophia was interrupted by Taylor's hand once again, taking a moment to grope and squeeze the globes of her ass, soft dark skin yielding under her touch to let her feel the muscles underneath it.
"Yes?" This time, Sophia got the message, keeping quiet through her improvised gag. "... Good. You see, I was considering maybe giving you your clothes back, or at least some underwear, but I can't very well do that now, can I?"
Dipping her hand to leave just the slightest touch along the soft, hot bounty waiting between Sophia's legs, a shudder going through the girl Taylor was working over, Taylor raised her hand again. "That makes number twenty-two," she said, another meaty smack announcing the next hit. "Do you think fifty hits a day is too much? Should we tone it down a bit, take a few more days?"
Sophia's glare was hateful, but impotent. Just like Taylor wanted.
Brad Meadows paced around the warehouse, suppressing a growl threatening to erupt from the back of his throat. That dirty little sonuva-
"Hook," Melody's electronic voice interrupted him, throwing him out of the rage he was working himself into. "What happened?"
"Ah, not much," he grumbled, his face twisting just a little. "Just turns out Kaiser was never planning to hit the Shadow Bitch, he went and sold her off to Bastard Son on the same day I tried to get her."
He balled a fist, feeling the metal under his skin move. "I was so close, so damn fucking close, to ending her. And now she's probably on the west coast already, and what about Kyle, huh?"
"Kyle would have wanted you to have a blast," Melody said, her voice gizmo buzzing to life. "Stop acting like he would mind you fucked it up at the last second."
"Alright, so maybe that's more of a 'me' thing," Brad admitted. "Doesn't change what a shitheel Max has been by not even making the attempt an' actively preventing any of us from doing the right thing, either."
"Stop sulking already." There was a reason Melody, with her scars and creepy factor (neither of which he really gave a fuck about), was one of his closest friends. "We are getting everything ready to bust his balls anyways, no need to fly off the handle all the time."
"Yeah, 'bout that. How's things been progressing?"
"Half the Empire, as I told you," Brad's closest living friend left said, an undertone of pride not in her voice, but her stance instead. "Got all the weapons we could ever need, too, thanks to Kaiser's generosity."
"Good, good. Won't be long now, then." Looking at the assortment of heavy weaponry, rocket launchers, grenade launchers, RPGs, the kind of shit he would have to take seriously if some mook brought it against him, assembled all around the warehouse he was pretty sure Max never figured out was actually a bolthole of his, hastily taken from where the guys brought them beforehand, he grinned. "Won't be long at all."
Dinah Alcott hummed the theme of that one movie, the one she was not supposed to have seen back when she was younger and it came out (it was different now that she was eighteen), as she covertly climbed out of her bedroom's window, the bedsheets she'd tied together letting her get down to the floor with just a little bit of practice.
Mission Impossible, that was it.
Once her feet hit the earth of the front yard, she didn't waste any time, turning around and getting going. She had promised her dad she wouldn't run away for adventures unless she could do it like in the movies, and so she did, so it was all okay!
Oh, and she'd left behind a note, too. About how she was visiting a friend and if anyone had any questions, they should ask dad. Foolproof.
Next off, she needed to get to a secret location she had asked someone to pick her up in, so she hurried along the streets, her dress flapping a little in the breeze. It was just before the sun came up, so she would hopefully have enough time, too.
Besides, it was a Sunday. Nobody had better expect anything from her on Sundays.
One to the right, the next street to the left and- "Hey little girl, isn't it a bit early for you to be out and about?"
Blinking in surprise at the policeman that'd spoken to her, Dinah tilted her head. "On the contrary, this is the best time to get going before mom and dad can stop me!"
"... I see. In that case-" But Dinah was too quick, already having prepared the abilities she had trained a lot in just for this.
Breathing in, she prepared herself. "Go away and forget about me!" Just as the policeman's eyes went a little blank and he turned around, she took a stance, slamming a fist into his balls in the strongest uppercut she could manage, just to make sure he had something else to think about.
Continuing on her way around the man now fallen to the ground, clutching his crotch with a bright red face, Dinah nodded to herself. Big sis Kate really did give the best advice!
Elsewhere, but not too far away, Missy Biron looked down from the roof she was hanging out on (because anything was better than staying at home for Sundays and who was going to stop her, anyways), watching the girl march right onwards.
This was, to put it simply, beyond suspicious.
The drive to the secret underground lair of secretness wasn't very long, though it involved a secret passage that opened up from the wall of an underground parking garage and led into an even bigger underground parking garage, one with lots of cool cars and stuff.
Dinah got out of the car, thanking the woman that had driven her. Getting a pat to the head and a "No problem, kid, as in, the adult kind of kid, you know what I mean," in return, she soon darted off towards the nearest door, intent on finding Mister Gabriel and...
Grrrrr...
Intent on finding something to eat. She hadn't had breakfast yet, after all.
Asking someone if there was a cafeteria somewhere, Dinah received instructions on how to find it by a trio of women that were going somewhere else wearing just casual clothes that showed off their bellies and stuff.
It took just a bit of walking, a little retracing her steps and asking another time, but soon she arrived at what she could only describe as a secret fairy wonderland.
Because there were fairies. And it smelled like a bakery, except even better.
The room was wide, filled with benches and desks anyone could sit down at. To one side, there was a wide opening in the wall, showing a kitchen area beyond it with a counter that let the man working inside it lay out baked goods and food of all kinds as he visibly bustled around, producing his wares at a rapid pace just barely outmatching how quickly they were consumed.
The cafeteria would have seemed a bit drab and dull, like a place you would see inside a hospital, if it wasn't for three key facts. One, it was covered in colorful decorations, posters and little desk standups and even a big cardboard cutout like Dinah would expect to see at the entrance of a store, showing some random mascot. She was pretty sure it might have been stolen from somewhere.
Two, the place was full of people constantly coming and going, chatting and filling everything with a sort of energy, like a busy marketplace or something. And, three, there were little fairies all overtheplaceohgosh!
Dinah tried to count how many there were, but they were moving too fast, blending into the crowd. So she just walked right in, soon finding one that was just flying in circles, and grabbed for it.
"Pyuun!" The fairy made, looking around confused before following the arm that was holding it in place. "Ooh! We know you! You're... Dinah, right?"
"How do you know that?" Dinah asked, mildly poking at her power and only receiving static in response. Same as usual when she was anywhere in this general area, not that she minded; if her power was doing that, it wasn't giving her headaches.
"We know everything the boss knows, pyuun! Hey, hey, you have aura, right? You totally do!" Becoming more animated, the fairy began waving her arms and legs. "C'mon, gimme, gimme! If you give me aura, I'll give you sweets in exchange, how 'bout that?"
Dinah tilted her head. "I'm not supposed to eat sweets before eating breakfast," she sadly explained. Why did her mom have to be so mean about that?
"Don't worry, down here rules like that don't count, pyuun!" Raising both hands, the fairy pushed out a cloud of glitter that became a donut with chocolate icing, catching it and holding it out for her. "C'mon, c'mooon, eat our sweets! You can even get some other breakfast from Ethan too, but eeeaaat!"
Taking the treat she was offered, Dinah tried it, biting into the fresh, soft dough and letting her teeth crunch through the crisp, but sweet brown chocolate. "Fif if really gud," she said, unable to hold herself back.
"Yup, yup! We make the best sweets you'll ever see, totally! All we need in exchange is a lot of aura, so gimme gimme gimme!"
Chewing her bite and swallowing it down, Dinah realized what was wrong about this situation. "Why didn't I know a place like this existed?"
"One second, pyuun! As far as we can tell, it's just that you haven't been here over the last few days, that's all!"
"... I am going to make an official complaint." This was unacceptable.
"Pyuuuun, don't be like that! In fact..." Floating out of Dinah's hand, the little fairy flittered forwards towards her ear. "If you ask nicely, maybe you can get the boss' special cream to drink after the sweets? Wouldn't be the first time you got frisky with him, you know?"
"So your 'boss' is Mister Gabriel?" Dinah should have known it, it was obvious in hindsight- everything strange or weird or really really awesome that happened was because of him. "Wait, you can drink that stuff, too?"
She had no idea!
"Yup yup, pyuun! May taste weird to you, though, so you'd best stock up on sweets before you go find him. C'mon, gimme aura!"
Dinah was totally trying that out later... besides, she wanted to do naughty stuff anyways, that's why she came, and this sounded very naughty the more she thought about it and how she might drink Mister Gabriel's stuff.
"Okay, how do I give you aura?"
Missy Biron stood in the parking garage, making sure that she hadn't overlooked the car she'd been following... or had tried to follow, anyways. She wasn't in costume, and so using her power in any big ways was just asking for trouble, which made following a car by running along the rooftops really hard.
So either she had lost the trail of the girl that had punched the police officer, or something strange was going on in this place... but while she would love to just twist space a whole lot to investigate everything up close, look for any... secret doors, or stuff like that, that would also not be terribly subtle.
She couldn't do anything like that out of costume, and in costume she would need to explain why she would be doing this, which she wasn't exactly keen to do; people had a problem with her doing anything in costume, but it was even worse outside of it, and so she wouldn't want to tell anyone what had brought her to where she was in the first place.
But she would keep this parking garage in mind.
Dinah's surprise visit, helped by none other than Sarah and Kate, aside, as well as the way the young woman who was not technically a girl just demanded to suck on your dick as she came into your room (naked, of course, she remembered the rules for your place), you take a moment to look over your inner world once again, using what time acceleration you can get.
Dinah doesn't need you completely awake for this, anyways, regardless of how cute it is to watch her try to deepthroat herself on your cock.
Anyways, some changes have been going on lately! Chief amongst them, well, you have what looked like some sort of garden going, judging by what you saw while taking a quick seat on your throne.
It's actually situated somewhere inside the seemingly endless forest that takes up a good part of your little world (though calling it 'little' still doesn't do it justice). Normally, you would have an exact location, thanks to your complete overview of your realm, but the gardens' location is actually also relative to everything else, somewhat similar to your atelier.
Where you always have to go upwards to reach one of them,regardless of where you are. You're beginning to think some kind of dream logic may or may not be at play for some of this stuff.
Can't exclude the possibility, anyways. So, here you are, having called upon your maids to bring you towards the nearest 'entrance'... which turns out to be...
It's actually not as hard to get through as it looks, you just need to duck a little deeper in before the tangled branches demarkating the more interesting growth that is your new soul garden give way to a wider, open space, some actual sunlight suddenly shining through in contrast to the dark forest you just came in from.
Some smaller seemingly manmade structures are scattered around, a few steps of stairs here, a small fence made of thin iron bars bent through exposure and time there, but all of it marked by a wild assortment of plantlife, from colorful flowers to gnarled trees to giant mushrooms you see here and there.
They actually look like they'd be kind of tasty when cut up and grilled, you think.
Of course, as you go deeper, the plant become more and more overgrown and less and less what you would consider 'sane'. Pulsing fruits beckoning from up high, where meaty leaves wave at you as you pass, grass that becomes less green and more gray, with edges that look just a tad too sharp, and the flowers...
Well, the flowers are best left to the imagination. Better for everyone, this way.
One interesting find you do make, however, is none other than the Dollmaker, the hunched elderly figure standing by a crossroads you eventually (inevitably?) find. "Hohoho, made it all tha' way in 'ere, Young Master?"
"I did," you confirm pointlessly, going along with whatever game your mind is trying to play with you. "You wouldn't happen to know exactly what this place is or does, would you?"
"'course I do, 'course O do," he sighs, gesturing around himself. "Every plant you see 'round 'ere has a few... interestin' properties, shall we say. An' once they're fully grown, why, you c'n just summon them, breathe 'em out much like ya do with the poor schmucks you ate. Might just come in handy, ey? Oh, an' just between you an' me, the guardians o' this place are the kind ta only be there when ya don't need 'em."
"Good to know, I suppose," you drawl, taking another look around the area. "Where would they be, though? I like to at least introduce myself, you know how it is."
"Oh, easy an' simple. You jus' go over this 'ere way," the Dollmaker says, pointing a bony finger towards your right, "an' keep an eye out for tha' third tree ya pass. Tha key should be right next ta the door."
Thanking him, you go on ahead and follow his directions, though you have to struggle through a bit of particularly thorny underbrush for a bit before you decide to just tear it out by the roots until it lets you pass- which is does, actually receding into the ground when you make it clear you don't take no shit from it.
Soon enough, you find the third tree the Dollmaker was talking about, the way strangely barren of larger plants like it when you actually pay attention to that kind of thing. And on it...
Well, he was being quite literal on this account, you suppose. Grabbing the key hanging next to the exceedingly small door, small enough at most your hand would fit through it, you unlock it, the glow from behind it swelling for a moment as though the door was physically holding it back before ebbing away.
Within moments, out of the door come three little fairies. One in purple, one in blue and one in pink. These ones are fairly insectile, you'd say, with little butterfly wings and antennae on their heads.
"The master comes." "The master opens." "The master speaks?"
"I do all three," you agree, eyeing the trio for a moment. Come to think of it, you only ever made two fairy templates for your semblance, didn't you? "I wanted to greet you and ask what you may do to aid me in whatever capability you may."
It took you a moment, but you quickly realize they're actually shifting colors; every time you blink, stop concentrating or otherwise don't focus on them, the three fairies seemingly exchange places, though you'd say it's more that they switch body colorations around. Still, there is always one of each color around.
"We see evil." "We hear evil." "We speak evil." As they tell you what they do, each takes a pose as though to signify their actions; holding their eyes closed, but looking through one hand, fingers spread wide, one hand over an ear and the other spread to let them hear more and one covering her mouth, but obviously in a way that only looks like she does.
"That's... very helpful, thanks," you say, the three fairies giggling forebodingly and swirling around you for a bit before disappearing in the surroundings.
That sure went well, you suppose.
By contrast to the gardens that, as a cursory look on the way out confirms, are quite expansive in all directions, the newly refurbished and repaired kitchen areas are quite easy to reach from just about any of the dining room areas you have already freed up and just as distributed around the buildings that make out the 'core' of your palace.
Though the ways to reach them are quite varied, going from simple doors down the hall to little trapdoors and even secret passages that one must know about to traverse. They also, universally, don't actually seem to allow for the easy passing of food from the kitchen to the dining room, but you can already see food being brought around and redistributed all over the place, so...
Well, your inner world never gave all that much of a fuck about paltry things like 'logic'. Though a few of these unexplained traces of blood do strike you as smelling oddly familiar, in the sense of human blood.
The kitchens themselves, in turn, all seem to be interconnected, ignoring space so as to let anyone inside go into any other kitchen area and any one kitchen area being connected to several dining rooms. This does mean that travelling through them in much faster and easier than otherwise... except you can just call on a Maid body to get you just about anywhere anyways.
Then there's the sound. It's quiet at first, a constant thump thump thump in the background, but as you move towards it, you start to hear the other ones; chains rattling, small things being moved, the rustling of activity both persistent and recurring.
Coming into one of the kitchens, you see the source of the now easily apparent cacophony.
"Move it move it chop chop chop!" The little figure wearing a baker's hat says, commanding a small troop of its brethren even as the female in what looks like an apron mixed with a skirt continues to pound a mass of meat flat using her hammer.
It is a meathammer, by the way. Used to soften up and tenderize meat. You don't exactly need to be an expert to know this much, at least.
"Those boombags won't fill themselves! Gotta keep the experience interesting!" As it spots you coming inside, it turns to salute, the rest of the kitchen still hustling around busily. "Hey chief, pleasure to meet ya! We didn't wanna wait, so we got right to filling the rooms with as much grub as we can in the current situation!"
"'Much as we can' is about right," the barely clothed woman grunts as she continues to hammer the mound of meat in front of her. "Can't do much without ingredients."
"Yeah, having the Larder around would sure help a bunch," the leader of the little kitchen helpers agrees, spotting an underling that starts to slow down. "Look, guess we have a volunteer for the baking press!"
"Nooooo!" But it is too late, two bigger, burlier versions of the little guys made out of what you're pretty sure is dough grab him from both sides, dragging the struggling victim over to another desk where a contraption looking vaguely like several torture instruments you could think of is standing ready.
Ignoring the screams starting to sound from over there, you turn back to the two you were talking to. "Seeing how busy you are, let's keep this short, then. Who are you, what do you do, how might you help me, all that good stuff."
"I'm the cook," the woman confirms what you were expecting already. "I do food. You need anything cooked, you get it to me." With one last resounding slam, she rips her hammer from the bloodless biomass she was working on again, giving it a satisfied nod. "Ready over here, get it through and bring me the next one!"
Several of the dough people jump at the opportunity, tearing the meat to pieces and bringing it to several workstations around the room. Some parts are, strangely enough, turned into dough, becoming more of their own number, while others are thrown into cooking pots, frying pans, ovens and more.
In fact, a couple of doughpeople are slaughtered to turn into bread it can serve as a filling for, too, creating meat buns.
Their leader pipes up again as the screams of the one that got thrown into the baking press start tapering off. "Only thing I can think of right now you'd be interested in would be the fruits growing at the Tree," he explains, shaking out his baker's hat. "The dining rooms have an automated function, but we could totally make anything from them you want- and get any effect you want from them."
"Yep," the Cook confirms. "I'm assuming the Dollmaker already gave you the whole spiel, so I don't think I gotta explain to you how this whole little place works. And unless you've found a way to get some braindamage that actually affects you, you can probably already guess what part of your subconscious I represent."
Looking over the doughmen torturing and turning each other into food, you shrug. "I can guess."
"So yeah, we'll be makin' some food for everyone, you get some proper dishes from the fruits. If you get us the Larder, we can talk about doing something good with the souls," the disaffected woman shrugs, her hammer sliding off her shoulder as the next chunk of meat is dropped before her. "Could show you a few advanced recipes for your own stuff, too."
At the tilt of your head, she grunts again. "Ain't like some of the other guardians 'round here. I do food, don't mind helping you with food, and I don't care we're not supposed to directly teach you stuff. We're all just part of your mind, in the end- anything I know you don't doesn't exist, it's just me having figured something out you could've."
Tugging that piece of information away for later with a nod, you turn to leave. "Noted, and good luck with the whole cooking thing," you wish her. "Guess all the little suckers in here will have something to eat, after all."
"Not as much as a full Larder would allow, but yeah," she shrugs. "Also, don't mind the dynamite- they can't die anyways, if they eat something they don't know what it's made of, their own damn fault."
Amen to that, not like anyone cares about the souls. They're already dead and eaten anyways, maybe you'll get around to eating them again at some point, too- it's all up in the air for now, but it sounds like a fun idea.
Especially the people you cooked while they were alive, too.
Opening your eyes, you immediately feel several changes to your physical condition- that is, what has been happening in front of you so far as changed a little.
When you last went ahead and dived into your inner world, Dinah was kneeling between your legs, the brunette girl's lips firmly wrapped around your cock as she did her best to suck on it with a determined expression in her eyes. She was obviously not exactly the most experienced cocksucker there was, but you'd given her a few tips and general guidelines on how to give head without messing it up too badly before leaning back to enjoy her tongue swirling around your head as she got used to the feeling of having it in her mouth.
Now, though, the sensation is verifiably different- you aren't inside Dinah's mouth anymore, the feeling around your rod tighter and just a little hotter, with squeezing folds enveloping you.
A simple look confirms that you are currently inside Dinah's pussy instead, a smirking little sister keeping a secure hold on the girl as she pumps her up and down your length. "Had a nice nap?"
"Of course I did, with both of you making sure of it," you reply, pulling Dinah backwards a bit so her back can rest against your chest and you can kiss Sarah as she follows the motion. Looking around her head that is totally at your own head's height rather than down, you can see Dinah's mouth opened in wordless pleasure, her hands resting on her stomach where a slight bulge becomes visible every time the lithe young woman goes downwards.
You let your hands roam her body a little, tweaking a nipple and poking her clit, something she very much appreciates, going by the way she clamps down around you even harder.
"That's good to hear," Sarah says once you release her mouth, returning to dragging Dinah along your cock once more. "Our not all that little guest doesn't get to see you that often, so it was only fair she gets the full Gabe experience again."
Dinah's legs, spread wide open to give you access and all, twitch a little. "Guess someone's enjoying themselves, hm?"
Actively thrusting up a little into her as Sarah uses her like a life-sized onahole, you let the brewing orgasm that was what woke you up in the first place go, pumping your seed into Dinah and triggering yet another climax from her in turn.
Honestly, you think as you make out with Sarah a little more, it's pretty good to be you.
When you go around using what passes for one on your civilian identities, it is usually with some pervasive goal in mind, nowadays; getting closer to mess with the Dallon siblings, approaching Kayden in her civilian identity to feel her out and such (and actually hire her), those kinds of things.
The only times you actually went out as 'Gabriel Livsey' ever since you woke up in your coffin were those handful of dates on the boardwalk, you think- which were fun, no question about it, but what you're trying to say is you've had very little in terms of a civilian life for the longest time, now.
You aren't exactly complaining, of course; you don't really experience stress and the like like a normal person would, so it doesn't particularly bother you. That said, there is still something to be said for just taking a relaxing morning and going out to do something together with friends. Especially when that something involves you analyzing a few new recipes for dishes you might want to make for Sarah later- she declared she would only eat people food (as opposed to people) prepared by you, and that's that.
Thus, here you are. Two friends of yours, that being Kate and Cupcake, dragged along to eat at Brockton Bay's biggest pancake restaurant, creatively named the Pancake House. Coming in, the three of you are shown to a table by a waiter, and so you soon have a menu to look through each.
"Wow," Cupcake almost immediately makes, "look at how many pancakes they actually have! I mean, I kind of assumed these would be just the same pancakes with different toppings or something, but they seem to actually have different kinds of dough and stuff!"
"Guess someone's already enjoying themselves." Kate smirks, casually reading her owm menu herself. "I think this 'passion pancake' sounds pretty nice. How about you, Gabe?"
"It's honestly hard to decide," you tell her, scanning through all the pancakes you could have ever imagined existing and then some. "Doesn't help I kind of want to try them all."
"Well I'm going for the Chocolate Decadence Stack," Cupcake announces, waving her menu through the air to show you the pictures helpfully added to its page. "It's got chocolate in the batter, white chocolate chips, dark chocolate shavings and comes with whipped cream and a choclate syrup mix!"
"Seriously, there's a reason we bring you along whenever we need someone to play the overexcited kid," your murmur, ignoring the subsequent protestations coming from her.
"Wait, how come I'm the most reasonable here all of a sudden?" Alarmed, Kate looks around the room. "If we end up setting the place on fire, it's not my fault for a change, okay?"
You leave unsaid that it's always Kate's fault, even if she was nowhere in the area. Instead, you ponder your options a little more, soon using your genius-level intellect to come up with a solution to a conundrum. "I got it," you say, snapping your fingers. "Leave ordering to me, okay?"
Naturally, once the waitress of the place comes around to take everyone's orders, you give her your most brilliant smile first and foremost. "One of everything on the menu, please, for each of us."
"Wait, what?" Cupcake asks, looking between you, Kate and the menus. "Is that allowed? Is that physically possible?"
Kate, on the other hand, tilts her head. "Why?"
"So each of us can taste test and decide what kinds of pancakes are the best," you blandly state, casually stacking a couple hundred dollar bills onto the desk.
The waitress gulps. "Just uh, one moment? To clear this up with the manager."
"Sure, sure, take your time," you dismissively say, waving her off. With the amount of cash you're ready to throw around, there's no way they wouldn't get you what you want.
The parade of pancakes ferrying over to your desk is long and, truth be told, quite delicious, going through various kinds of pancakes themselves, toppings and even little additional ingredients, not to mention a wide variety of different kinds of syrup, often mixed with something else.
You're definitely finding out where they got that strawberry syrup, though you think the chocolate syrup is easy enough to make at home, which you decide you'll be doing at some point yourself.
Also, you may need a little kitchen area to yourself so you don't always need to borrow Ethan's kitchen space in the cafeteria every time you make something small for your wives, you think.
Anyways, you and Kate easily and steadily consume enough batter to feed, at a rough estimation, two families of four for a day or two, really abusing the fact that vampire bodies just kind of disappear anything they eat. Similarly, both of you also really enjoy the experience- you never really ate many pancakes as a kid, just never actually having the money or the opportunity to do so, but that just means you have now found some method to make up for it, and Kate sure is really going for it, too. grinning happily about all the sweet and soft food she's eating.
Not to mention the fruits, the syrup and all the soft drinks the waitress can carry on top of your order as she comes by repeatedly.
Then, of course, there's Cupcake. Addison. The chemist you stole from the Merchants and had just switch to working for you instead. And, as it turns out, the next best thing to a bottomless hole as far as food is concerned, just barely keeping pace with you and Kate. Where the two of you are casually cutting apart and sometimes rolling up your pancakes (a method you copied from Kate on the fly), she desperately stuffs herself, opening her mouth as wide as she can to accommodate the big bites she has to take.
On and on you go, sometimes making light conversation, sometimes poking fun at some of the other patrons, but mostly just stuffing yourself.
Until Cupcake stops. Breathing heavily for a moment and looking at her half-eaten pancake, one of the fruitier ones with a bunch of berries and cut fruits on top, she puts both hands onto the table. "How many to go?"
"We're about two thirds done," you tell her, having memorized the menu earlier.
"That's too much... I don't think I'll make it... You'll have to... go on without me..."
"Definitely not," a grinning Kate disagrees, sharing a look as both of you confirm you're playing along. "Come on, we can share your load with everyone. You'll make it to the finish line with us, or none of us will."
"I... I..." Actually crying now, Cupcake raises a fork with a chunk of pancake on it. "I'll believe you... I just... don't wanna drag us all down..."
And that's how the last part goes, with you and Kate taking turns eating from Cupcake's fork, as she insists she has to be the one to cut up her own portions, at least. It starts out innocent enough, but before long she also insists to 'pull her own weight as much as possible', which...
Well, when two people eat from the same fork, a lot of lip contact happens. She seems to be rather intent on it, too, getting you and Kate to lean over the desk and all but make out with her, lips sweetened by what all of you are eating and tongues soon wrestling with each other.
The poor waitress doesn't seem to know what to do at this public display in the middle of your extended order, but you just add a couple more hundred dollar bills to what's already lying on her desk and she gets the message easily enough.
Side note, making out with two other people at once is logistically very difficult, but also hilarious as fuck.
"Mhm, you two like this place?" You ask when you're at, what, the third from last set of pancakes? "Anything that tastes especially good so far?"
"Do you gotta ask?" Kate Raises an eyebrow as she goes for another kiss.
"Ah, hey, me too!"
You'll just take that as confirmation, then.
Also, on an unrelated note, Sarah agreed that the pancakes you try making once you get back home after paying, like, twice what the actual prices would have been (you just told them to take it as a tip) were delicious.
You've been, somewhat, anticipating this moment for a while now. You've also been dreading it, just a bit, and been morbidly fascinated with the potential results.
Honestly, if you were in any way, shape or form a reasonable, well-adjusted and slash or responsible adult, you never would have allowed this to happen. Luckily, you're none of those things, and so the look on Circus' face as Aisha tells her about what her power is and how it works is as faintly amusing as it is anticipatory.
"So you can walk right past any guards whenever?" The young woman dressed like a clown as always wastes no time to confirm what she's thinking about.
"Pretty much, the big issue are cameras, though," Aisha replies, reclining on her chair while wearing nothing but her boots and her collar. "Electronic stuff still gets me, though records degrade after a while of my power being active."
"Can't all be perfect," Circus shrugs, idly pulling a golden bracelet out of her pocket dimension (you're pretty sure it was stolen from somewhere) and tossing it over to Aisha. "What's your opinion on, say, theft and robbery?"
"You mean when I'm not clearing out supermarkets for all their sweets?" The younger girl gives her instant compatriot a grin. "When can we start?"
... You know, you'll just go ahead and remind them to not rob any places that are in your territory already. Just to be sure. Then again, who really ever needed downtown?
The trick, you idly consider, is that you don't need to hold back as much. Not in this, and not in general, vampirism ensuring that all of your direct spawn, at least, and those you had them turn so far get along with both each other and you to some extent.
Meaning, there are just about no relationship troubles, seeing as everyone involved can agree to your little ball of polyamory, and that pretty much anything you do is alright with your lovers regardless of how detestable or abjectly horrifying it would be to most living humans.
Similarly, everyone inside the bunker knows about just how good you really are when you set your mind to it, or at least isn't alarmed at the speed you can translate artistic vision onto canvas. Making it significantly easier to just draw how you want to, compared to how you're usually holding back and slowing yourself down to appear as an only mildly brilliant painter when observed by outside influences.
Making it much easier to completely draw six portraits of the lovely women in your life, at least the ones you vamped or had vamped by one of the others, in the span of three hours. Truthfully, you could work faster, even, but there's no real need to rush- everything is coming along very nicely.
Unsurprisingly, they all decided that, seeing as how your place is kind of a no-clothes-zone, their potraits should be taken naked, and they should include their full bodies rather than just their heads and shoulders. Well, you aren't exactly going to complain; if anything, that just makes this a little more fun.
Each and every detail, every curve and smile, the slightest change in posture, all are taken in, considered, added to or removed from the picture you are drawing in your mind before you commit the change to the canvas. Bit by bit, each of your vampiric brides receives her own painting, to be hung up inside your personal rooms and serve as a reminder of the adoration you feel for them.
Sarah's cute little grin, her golden hair and eager body. Kate's daring, perhaps even bold expression and posture, hands no less lethal for not holding a gun. Sherrel, fit body looking just as much at home in a sports car as a mattress, posing for you. Nora, her generous curves and hairless body looking inviting and alluring both as she smolders at you. Okita, her... okitatas, as you jokingly mention they might be called heaving with every move as she looks at you, no expression on her face even as she obviously seems very eager to watch you work. And, lastly, Lea, whose proportions are still settling into being grown larger across the board and whose fingers are itching to dig into something mechanical, for her to take it apart and put it together and everything in between.
With all seven of you gathered in one place, it is just a tad bit crowded, but you honestly like it this way, everyone idly chatting with and groping each other while you work, each new painting received with happiness by everyone around.
They all liked the idea, and they all came together to just spontaneously make this a thing. This, you decide, this is family.
And you love it, you really do.
Earth Bet, such as it was, was slowly getting used to certain incidents- or at least the parts that had access to the internet at large. These incidents, of course, involved a certain man publically only known as 'Cain', a cape, as they were often called around North America.
"Hello everyone, and welcome! To the world of... Professor Abraham and his Assistant Prometheus!"
His activities had gone unnoticed at first, making waves only at a local level, but it did not take long for his name to spread around the area he was allegedly active inside of. Soon, however, this would change, as the topics of the convenient internet streams he sometimes engaged in spiraled around themselves, especially once the moment came for him to announce there was a simple, foolproof and easily made cure for cancer, one of the largest challenges humanity as a species had faced until this point.
"Today, we are going to unfinish finished business, isn't that right Prometheus?"
"The opposite of what you said, actually."
"Bwah, what do you know?! How about you, Prometheus?"
"I fully agree to everything you've said, Professor."
The news had spread like wildfire, and the following upheaval had changed billions of lives. Not everyone had cancer, of course, but how many had family, or friends, or acquaintances that did? How many were, all of a sudden, not weighed down by the death sentance weighing on them, even when it wasn't likely to grow worse?
Just knowing you had cancer was not something many would lightly shrug off, and the cure for it had inevitable, clear and undeniable effects on everyone on the globe.
Outside of places like Africa, or the CUI, where internet access was nonexistent or restricted anyways.
An entire category of diseases ceased to exist overnight, the consequences of which tore down an entire industry centered around treating it, and causing millions to put a question out there; why wasn't this kind of thing done before?
Why did it take a single villain doing something simple and straighforward for free when currencies in unimaginable amounts were used to research this disease independent of him?
"...and this is the fairly simple recipe on how to produce this particular cure to that particularly nasty little disease. And remember kids: Don't do it at home, least of all without your parents' permission!"
Then came the cure to dementia, a simple cause for great distress for families worldwide, the increasing lifespan of humankind meaning problems like it became more and more common due to the simple makeup of the human body. In one sudden move, a great many people, many older, some less old, saw their mental faculties clear up procedurally, regaining crisp clarity of mind and, consequently, body. Some concerns were raised due to mildly addictive properties found in the wonder drug preventing and reversing the progress of dementia, but they were smothered in the cradle despite the fact even non-affected people would sometimes come to take it just to 'clear their minds'.
Because old people voted, and a lot of people that weren't able to vote beforehand began catching up with current politics. And they, the older generation, knew how to use a voice that would not be ignored, a few especially wily retirees starting to organize websites meant to help people do just that.
Because voting blocks existed, and when a solid half of the actual voters in a country wanted something, politicians tended to bend to their will.
Cain himself, in the meantime, was purported to be a cannibalistic mass murderer of some kind, but the waters were muddled; did he or did he not butcher his way through a ring of horrifying human traffickers, rapists and worse specifically? Did the government of the USA try to put pressure on him through false reports or not?
Questions upon questions, and many of the answers had yet to be found, for the wider world.
"And now we are going to go through a list of things not to do with the ingredients, precisely because they will horribly end! Or end horribly or whatnot."
The complete recipe for the cure, or at least reliable and cheap suppressant of, AIDS was received as any one person would. Some decried it as the newest step of the gay agenda, others pointed towards Legend and noted he hadn't shot any lasers at the moment. Some considered it as a gesture of outreach to the gay community, others considered it stupid to think of like that and simply declared it to be yet another cure to an ill that a man had released that had made it his mission to do so.
Some even lobbied to have his official name changed to Aesculap or something equally trite, though they were in the minority.
Some sat in their offices, brokering deals and working around the damage this move had caused. Others simply joined the public outcry of joy at yet another heretofore uncurable disease having been 'defeated' as they looked at the values of materials stockpiled in advance rising.
And some, well, some clutched onto a screen, nearly driving their faces into it as Bonesaw complained about the interruption to the show, but were too far gone in homicidial rage to notice, but those... those are a story for another time.
-An excerpt from 'The Dark Ages: Rise Of Earth Bet'. The book was often considered somewhat of a propaganda piece, though it did contain relevant information on the part of history described therein, as well as great detail some students of history cannot confirm nor deny to this day. Rumored to have been written by a confidant of Cain himself.
"So!" Clapping your hands, you call everyone's attention on you, taking a quick look around. The Crypts, much as you don't want to toot your own horn (no wait, you actually want to), have... quite a lot of capes, even if a lot of them didn't have time or didn't feel like coming- you made sure to make it clear this was a fully and completely optional thing, after all.
Sarah, unfortunately, didn't make it, citing how busy she is keeping your information network on track (though you suspect she just doesn't want to bother unless it's just you and her). Kate is present, as is Nora, though Sherrel and Lea questioned how important their abilities in combat really are compared to their main occupation as mechanics and tinkers.
Okita shrugged and just went to grab her sword, you're pretty sure. Oh, and Jeremy also came, though he's just reading a book off to the side right now.
In terms of thralls, which is the same as 'any capes that aren't vampires', Brian stayed away, Aisha and Circus are busy with their own thing on the side (you will not question it), Alec is busy playing video games, Henley didn't even bother answering your call, Rachel wanted to come but had to do something with her dogs, Alice just does whatever Lea and Sherrel do and the other two tinkers you got, Frank and Chariot, were busy doing their own thing. As well as Isabelle, who has kind of inserted herself into the workshop to the point you hardly ever even think about her anymore.
This leaves you with Cupcake, who was surprisingly enthusiastic about this despite how badly she was stuffed on pancakes earlier, the Priestess from Thule you should really give a name one of these days, Emily, to little surprise, seeing how she doesn't really leave the base all that much unless on official business, Tammi, to try and make a point about getting along with everyone and Taylor, who is almost obsessively taking any chance to be part of Crypt business she can.
And the cluster six, of course. They didn't really have anything to do and unanonimously voted to come with everyone else.
So, here you are, in the middle of the wilderness some way west of Brockton Bay, where nobody can really find you unless you go too wild with whatever powers you use. Time for a little exercise, then!
First thing you do is to get everyone present partnered up with a random cape in attendance, making for a total of fourteen pairs. Next, competetive power wanking, also known as light sparring. You made it very clear in advance, of course, that nobody should be grievously harmed and all, so holding back is kind of required- sure, you have autodocs and vita chambers to heal just about anything including death, but that doesn't mean you should have to use them today.
One thing that quickly becomes obvious, as you have everyone rotate sparring partners, is that experience does count for a lot; the cluster six have had the least time to play with their powers, as well as the ones you gave them, and it shows as they fight both against each other and your more experienced capes.
They don't exactly always 'lose', but they often do have trouble making the most of their powers, not to mention how many of them need some time to grow in general, such as Beverly and her already seriously good-looking martial arts, or Catrin who needs to build up a lot and won't ever be a full combat tinker anyways. Then there's the fact Phoebe would just work better at greater range, though she is quickly getting the hang of fighting while controlling her projections.
Also, Kumi is terrifying in general, as is Ayane, and Jackie is pretty fast in general anyways, but that just as an aside.
Okita is as ridiculous as always, though she does properly hold back so as to not accidentally reduce everyone facing her to smears, and Kate and Nora do more or less as expected. Jeremy is a real beast in combat, though; pretty much nothing that involves physical force, as in, kinetic energy, can actually scratch him, and he just becomes more powerful the more anyone tries... or the more time he has to run in place.
Tammi is doing good, though her power is really finicky with multitasking, and Emily is somewhat hampered in that any amount of her power can be extremely dangerous, her fire actually burning through aura extra fast, as you soon find out.
Taylor is also doing well, using low-power shots of her weapon to take down targets quickly or else encumbering them with bugs and webs until she can. Her reserves are somewhat limited, though, because she didn't get to bring a full prepared swarm with her.
As for Cupcake... She's just throwing herself around with full power and trying to hit anyone she can. It's actually kind of cute.
Truth be told, you didn't think this would turn out this well. Your goal, when you realized most of your underlings (of various kinds) didn't really have any education in matters of unarmed CQC, at most knowing how to throw a couple of mean punches and where to kick someone to make them go down, which is usually enough, granted... but they could be doing more.
So you went ahead and called everyone together, demonstrating a few stances and ways to punch- nothing crazy, just simple things anyone can do, but hopefully useful. Especially with the enhanced physical capabilities everyone present enjoys; aura really does make everything just a little more... interesting.
"REEEEEEE!"
"Good work, Cupcake! May want to try aiming first next time, though."
With no little amazement, then, did you realize you suddenly had a whole class of people, for lack of a better descriptor, bugging you to show them a few things related to how to better 'fuck someone up so hard their mothers won't recognize them with their bare hands' (thank you, Kate) and promptly trying those same things you show them out on each other.
On a related note, Beverly is... well, she kind of started stripping just to use her power better, massively copying your forms and outpacing just about everyone else in learning speed; this shouldn't be surprising, given what her power is, but it does showcase just how dangerous she can become.
Especially considering she has claws, thanks to you thralling her.
Anyways, it's a fairly fun night, and at the end of it you'd like to think everyone can murderize the average gangbanger with nothing more than their bare hands and feet. And elbows and knees, and occasionally heads. Or, in rare cases, their butts.
"What are you even doing, Cupcake?"
"It's my special maneuver!"
"Your special maneuver is getting stuck ass first inside a tree?"
"Shaddup and help me out!"
Suffice to say, more than just a few trees sport additional holes in them now, but at least she's learned to only do... that... when she's sure she will hit.
Max Anders quietly paced inside his office, knowing that things were, sooner or later, going to come to a head.
It was inevitable, really; Hookwolf had never been a big problem before, content to follow orders more or less, but recently, things became... tense.
Then they tore. And it was all because the damn meathead couldn't manage to keep calm when it counted. Perhaps this, too, had been inevitable; Brad was just like that, in the end.
A traitor waiting to happen.
Now Max, or rather Kaiser, had to make a point. It wouldn't do for him not to; his image was already stained enough, with rumours of him dealing with the Elite coming to light.
They were true, but that didn't change the fact he couldn't afford them. Just as much as he couldn't afford to let this little 'misunderstanding' about Shadow Stalker stand- this one wasn't true, but nobody would believe him either way.
If there was one silver lining to the whole affair, it was that the Protectorate was busier trying to find out where Bastard Son would have taken their Ward, not that Kaiser expected they would find anything. The whole situation didn't smell of foul play, it figuratively screamed it in all directions. Still, at least the heroes were... distracted, apart from the occasional strike at any suspected Empire holdings growing more vicious, more determined.
Their opinions didn't matter much, in the grander picture. All that mattered was that Kaiser had to beat down a revolt against him now, of all times, after all the trouble he went through to ensure his Empire would have a quiet period to consolidate itself.
The things he gave up, the political favours he called in and debts he made... all down the drain, just like that. At the very least, he supposed, he would have an opportunity to pay Hookwolf back for his treachery.
Because, as he was thinking, things were coming to a head. And Hookwolf may grouse and screech like the dog that he was, but the fundamental fact he was outnumbered did not change. Truly, it was a shame he would disgrace Stormtiger's memory so, but then again what could be expected from a lowly-
Not the time, Kaiser reminded himself. Instead, he picked up his phone, calling a number he knew by heart and then some. Cricket would join Hookwolf, that much was clear, but that still left Fenja and Menja at his side, the two as loyal as ever. Krieg had been hastily recalled from Europe, where he had been brokering a deal with the Gesellschaft, and Victor and Othala stood on the righteous side of this conflict as well.
That left Crusader and Alabaster, with Rune still missing despite their subtle search efforts, and though Kaiser did not quite trust them fully, he was willing to keep a hand outstretched in expectation- what was there to gain in standing on Hookwolf's side, after all? Still, only three other capes he could easily reach, and he was doing just that.
"Max." Kayden's voice was as clipped as ever as she took the call.
"Kayden," Kaiser replied. "I am calling about that discussion about priorities we had, and where yours lie. I was hoping you would have an answer for me by now."
"Max, I told you I-"
"And I told you what exactly will happen if you do not comply!" Blackmail was such a... brutish, unsubtle way of getting what he wanted, but needs must and all that. "I am beginning to think you-"
His words were cut off to the sound of an explosion. Not exactly just 'an' explosion, too; Kaiser could feel the entire building shake as what had to be explosives went up all around it, the Medhall bulding tilting to the side noticeably.
Almost immediately, he could hear shouts of alarm, and gunshots. Cursing, he stood up, phone in hand, and came to the windows (that were still covered in bird excrement, what did they even pay the immigrants for these days) to see...
To see Hookwolf perched on a nearby roof, fully transformed and a sizeable part of his metallic body shifted to depict a very large hand, all in order to give him the middle finger.
"Kayden, you have ten minutes to come to the Medhall building, in costume, unless you want me to drop the bomb. Go!" Hanging up, Kaiser used his power, encasing himself in armor as he beheld the chaos down on the streets, people running around in a panic and more explosions going off.
Things had come to a head, and he had a few calls to make.
Coming back home and getting all the way to your room through your shadow teleportation, you find Sarah already there and waiting for you, stopping you from stripping down as usual with a raised hand. "Uh, Gabe, you should probably take a look at this?"
"Take a look at what?" As you ask, you approach her, meaning you can immediately see her laptop's screen as she turns it around.
"The Empire Eighty-Eight is kind of combusting," your sister explains, showing you the live broadcast of heavily armed men parading around, getting out of the backs of vans and shooting at people left and right as they start demolishing the Medhall building. "There's fighting all over half the city, a couple of them even tried to get into our territory before the turrets massacred them."
"Any damage?" You ask, immediately shifting into action mode and forming your mask of shadowed flesh.
"Just a bit of property damage, nothing big," she waves you off, grabbing her pair of weapons from the nightstand. "Which means if the truce didn't cover collateral damage already anyways, we'd now have an excuse."
"Like I'd miss the chance either way," you shrug. Kneeling down to reach into your shadow, you soon pull out Last Embrace. "Okay, so how are we doing this?"
"Either sit this one out and let them murder each other before we step in, or get right into the thick of it," she said, already knowing what her brother would choose to do when the options were put out like that.
"Do you have anything on the location of Victor and Othala?" Sarah smiled, nodding at her Big Gabey as she went back to analyzing any footage she could grab off of the internet.
"I got a rough estimate," she said, her perfect memory making it much easier to keep things like this on track. "You can get a teleport over and look for yourself?"
At his easy, but resolute nod, Sarah returned her own, calling up the required interface, by which she meant asking Lea and Isabelle which of the two was closer to the teleporter at the moment. "The others?"
"Spread through the city and stop the fighting, as violently as possible," Gabriel commanded. He grinned. "Now that we have the opportunity, may as well feed all the vampires we can."
"Gotcha." And with that, everything that needed to be said was.
Everyone that wants to go out and kick some nazi shit in, now's the time, she heard in her thoughts, her brother addressing everyone that was part of the Lord Street Crypts' inner circle proper. Kate, Sarah, you take care of organizing this while I go hunting.
She rolled her eyes. Of course they would be, who else had the time and attention?
Either way, it didn't take long, thanks to a few quick teleports towards a few predetermined locations cleared up ahead of time, seeing as how they had the teleporters and were going to make use of them anyways, for everyone to be deployed. Sarah, of course, came out herself, though she would keep to the shadows just in case her appearance would connect the Undersiders to the Crypts.
Listening to the many reports and conversations trickling into her brain, she readied her weapons, covertly jumping from roof to roof, knowing that Nora wasn't far as she made her way through the streets instead.
Using her power, and her incredibly sharp senses letting her differentiate individual conversations from a block away, she licked her lip. She'd found her first meal for the night, just a few nazis playing with their weapons in a dark alley.
They wouldn't be leaving it.
Just as Sarah was perched on the roof right above them, however, smelling their body odors and thinking of the juicy souls hidden under their skins, she heard a thought-voice she wasn't sure she wanted to hear say the words it did.
(Wrong she always wanted to hear it no matter what never stop)
Sarah, Sarah it's happening again!
How? How is it happening again, Gabe?
Your search, as these things go, starts at the last place your quarry has been known to be, hopefully letting you follow its trail as fast as possible and catch up with it in short order. Which, as it turns out to be, is both simpler and more complicated in practice than you first expected.
Complicated, because as you arrive on a nearby roof and take a look around, you immediately see one big issue with your plan. Sarah, Sarah it's happening again!
How? How is it happening again, Gabe?
Their house is on fire, you tell your adorable little sister, and I swear I didn't do it!
Just... just look if you can find their scent or something?
That's the plan, you confirm, cutting the connection.
Getting closer to the fire, now blazing in the night air, you first take a look around or two- after all, if these two idiots managed to kill themselves in a house fire, there's not much more you can do about it for the moment. However, a quick check with your compass soul confirms that the pair of parahumans you're thinking about is still alive and active, and moving just a bit, you think.
This means, of course, you have to follow them. Luckily enough, a raven at night is near invisible, and soon enough you have a fairly good lock on their position.
They're moving fast, most likely driving, and naturally moving towards the Medhall building, much as you'd expected earlier. This makes finding them much easier, in turn- all you have to do is get there first, figure out which way they're approaching and hit them before they get right into the chaos.
Just as that happens, however, they stop, meaning you have no idea what they're doing. Are they taking a pit stop? Were they interrupted? Did they already get where they wanted to go?
If nothing else, Victor and Othala having stopped moving means you can much more easily find them by simply referencing your compass soul once, then approaching the direction you are given in a straight line, thanks to your flight in this form you have taken.
And so you soon find what you have been looking for for the past, what, twenty minutes? Half an hour? Doesn't matter. What does matter, however, is that you have found the two capes you were looking into taking out early on, both so as to fuck with Kaiser and to ensure that no healers are active on his side.
Always go for the healers first, as Ruby excitedly told you once upon a time.
However, it seems you aren't the first to have this in mind when it comes to these two lovebirds; outside of a car, you see now, with an open driver's door, a bunch of mooks are cornering (or trying to, anyways) a cape wearing a black breastplate over a red shirt, a color scheme continuing over his pants, shoes and mask.
You scowl. This is the reason you couldn't get yourself an awesome suit in red and black yourself, after all, though you certainly don't dislike your blue and black number yourself.
"Alright, you asswipes, I'm giving you ten seconds before you fuck off or die," the man you're going to assume is Victor says, glaring at the ten skinheads surrounding him. "Ten..."
"He's bluffing, I say we shoot all at once and see how he likes it! Skill ain't no use against that!"
"Nine..."
Honestly, if Victor and his little friends are so intent on playing with each other first, you will gladly leave them to it. Instead, you'll go ahead and have a little playtime yourself... with the figure you can see, thanks to your bloodsense, huddled in the back of the car standing nearby, most likely... hiding under the seats, at the foot of the rear seats, if you had to say.
It is night, and everyone around is so busy with each other nobody has any leeway to watch out for the shadow wandering across the ground despite the street lanterns lit everywhere around.
"Five..."
"Come on guys, he's just one guy!"
Crawling into the car, it takes you mere moments to find the woman you came here to murder, wearing a red bodysuit and, indeed, looking an awful lot like none other than the cape Othala.
Seeing as she is lying down, the positioning has to be adjusted a bit, but within moments you still fall onto her, literally so. Your clawed hand snaps in place over her face, sharp and pointy fingernails digging into her skin and muffling her exclamation of surprise, even as your free arm wraps around her body and arms, keeping her from struggling too much and allowing you to bite, your unhinged maw wrapping around half her neck and tearing through her soft flesh.
Partaking in the lifeblood of the woman you are embracing, you can't help but grin behind the assortment of teeth currently shredding her throat. This really is the one thing that vampires are made for.
It doesn't take long for her struggles to cease.
"One..."
"You seeing how many fucking rockets we got pointed at you?!"
Geez, those guys are still flirting?
Helena Herren, also known under the cape name 'Othala', had been born into this life more than anything else, though she never saw any need to get out of it- things were fine the way they were, honestly.
At the gathering, a long time ago by this point, she felt, they were attacked, suddenly and without provocation. It had been terrifying, back then, and she still sometimes had nightmares about the mass of people she knew suddenly being faced with armed men streaming inside, panic growing among the crowd and in the middle of it all was her, standing around insecure what to do.
She had triggered, then, and gained the power to empower others. This, among other reasons, was why she had been chosen as Peter's wife after her cousin's death. Not that she minded, seeing as it was a given she would be married to someone along that side of the family at some point anyways, and so him and her began a married life as best they could, having been acquaintances beforehand.
Victor and Othala, the dream team of the Empire. Neither of their powers were massively powerful or grandstanding by themselves, but once she empowered him, combined with his immaculate skill for anything he set his mind to, made him a dangerous combatant while she just needed to hide nearby, both to refresh his powers and to support any other capes in the area, not to mention so as to heal their people using the active regeneration she could hand out.
Victor was also unfairly good at everything household-related. How was Helena supposed to measure up to someone with the skills of a professional chef?!
When things around the Empire itself became turbulous, however, they had needed to have a long talk about what to do. Joining Hookwolf's side of the fight was out of the question to begin with, but if Kaiser could not keep him under control, could anyone really claim he was suited to lead them? The option was there, to just... return to the clan, but Peter wouldn't have any of it- they had been sent to support Kaiser, after all, and Helena couldn't dispute that.
So they went out to do their part, though they had to stop midway through to deal with a few goons that didn't know who to consider superiors anymore. Victor had stepped out to take care of them while Othala hid in the car, and well...
She didn't get out of her hiding place alive.
Ah well, wouldn't do to waste any of the good food, now would it? And by that you mainly mean the souls of capes that might or might not keep their powers; call it being greedy, but you just love to gather up 'special' souls that might have value as parts of your... slowly growing somewhat expansive... collection.
Hey, you're allowed to have hobbies. Sometimes you like to do art, sometimes you just go arround having sex, and sometimes you go out of your way to find and take unique souls that have the potential to have their very own powers.
It helps you have more powers available and keeps you entertained. What's not to love?
Either way, you don't exactly want to start this where you currently are, lying atop the corpse of Othala, and so you just go shadow for a split second, to get to the front seats and position yourself at the driver's door, giving you a nice view of Victor and the goons encircling him.
"You ain't no Cain either, faggot, we blow you up, you'll go chunky," the 'spokesman' of the small group says, amusing you to no end for that moment. "We gonna-"
They don't really have any more time to continue, seeing as you rematerialize and dash out of the car in a flash, using your temporary superspeed to run right past the men with the rocket launchers, grabbing Victor by the lapel and the side of his weird breastplate and rushing right onwards, up the wall towards his back and to the roof.
You don't exactly stop there, either, getting a little more mileage out of your power to just be very, very fast, and jump to the next roof over before slowing down for a moment, your teeth already in motion. Victor, against all expectations, reacts before you are drinking him out, grabbing one of your arms and throwing his weight to the side, trying to leverage his position to throw you off your feet and get his own back on the ground.
In response, you just violently shake him a bit, the man in your grasp gritting his teeth and going for your face instead. Long story short, he can't really do jack shit, and a quick bite to the jugular later you have another fresh flood of blood coming down your throat, the body in your grasp soon ceasing movement.
Finishing off your meal, you contemptuously drop the dead body of Victor to the side, perfectly aware of the way the two last meals you ate are meeting again inside your inner world.
Which, hey, good for them- you don't particularly care, but neither do you have any problems with that state of affairs.
So, next off, the fighting around downtown has been going on for a while, with the heroes arriving if what Sarah confers towards you is to be trusted. Which it, naturally, is; you do not accept otherwise, and if you have to personally go and grab Armsmaster and Miss Militia by the ears to drag them into the fight.
Meaning things are becoming more chaotic, now, with another front in this impromptu little warzone opening up. Though, by contrast, the parts of downtown further away from the epicentre don't have it that bad, seeing as how the Crypts are spreading through them and picking off any smaller groups of Empire thugs on either side.
Mostly hitting Hookwolf's people, as they are more numerous out there, but as long as nazis are dying, you don't particularly care which ones.
Looking towards where you can hear a few more explosions echo, as well as what you're pretty sure is a short-lived shower of blood, you lick your lips and consider where to go next.
Tammi Herren, also known as Rune, but recently as Charmcaster, just realized she really, really needed to internalize her new cape name one of these days. Though maybe she could just keep her old one as an aside, seeing as how the Empire was... kind of done for, honestly.
She looked down from the large plate of metal she was floating around on, down to the streets where the bloodshed was in full motion by now. Heavily armed skinheads left and right, killing each other, killing civilians... and being completely butchered by the Crypts wherever they went.
Sure, a lot of the Eighty-Eight's guys had heavy weaponry- rocket launchers, grenade throwers, assault rifles out the wahzoo- but the Crypts had literal disintegrating tinkertech lasers.
All of them, or at least the important people that were active at the moment, the women Tammi often saw hanging around the base most of all.
Didn't matter what they did, the gangers just kind of... died, whenever the front of advancing, armored women found any of them. An almost solid wall of glowing lasers that completely obliterated what they hit did that.
Some tried to hunker down, to use some kind of cover to shoot back with explosives or just fire blindly... but that was why she was there.
Spying a group of them bunching up around a corner, readying all the firepower they could, Tammi concentrated, bringing around the big dumpsters she was moving along with her platform. They realized something was up, but only way too late; the first strike completely smashed half of them into paste, the follow-up shaved off another quarter.
The survivors were easy pickings.
It bothered Tammi a little, or maybe what bothered her was that this didn't bother her. After all, she was killing people on whose side she was on for a while before switching out, she'd been expecting... Maybe reluctance, maybe hestitation or something, but no.
She didn't feel anything in particular as she methodically exterminated the men that had been part of the E88 before it was chosen as the Crypts's next target, when it stopped being an actual organization and just didn't realize it yet. She wondered if she was... somehow strange in the head, or even stranger or anything with her stutter, but on the other hand...
Well, she was in the Cyrpts. Tammi doubted anyone would care.
Hey Tam-Tam, mind leaving a couple alive next time? Girl's gotta eat. Receiving the mental message from the Crypts' second-in-command, as well as the one that was heading this side of their pre-emptive cleanup operations, Tammi nodded, mostly to herself.
C-c-can d-do! She hated she was stuttering even in her thoughts sometimes, but she'd been surprised, it was okay.
The next group of enemies she found, Tammi didn't crush with what had to be tons of metal and trash, instead just kind of... swiping them along the ground, shoving them towards where she knew Kate to be coming from.
A quick trick with her laser gun later to completely remove all their legs, their weapons having been shot apart with pinpoint accuracy just moments prior, Kate descended upon them like a wolf, ripping and tearing into skin.
Tammi wondered if she'd feel anything different if the people she saw being brutally killed were ones she actually knew in person... and decided not to test it, after all.
Also, whoops, a couple of them saw her. The one annoying issue with this whole thing was that the morons actually tried to aim at her every now and then.
Maybe she should get a few more manhole covers to protect herself? They did a pretty good job, she just had to replace them every time a grenade came close to hitting her.
You head right into the thick of the fighting, of course. As tempting as going for targets of opportunity may be, you'd prefer to avoid half the city burning down before this is done- it will be your city before long, and you'd prefer it at least somewhat intact, thank you very much.
The Medhall building is kind of tilted, you consider as you fly off in its direction, the echoes of gunshots, explosions and a plethora of screams filling the air below you. But once again, ravens do not actually arouse much attention, especially at night, and so you make your way into the heart of E88 territory unmolested.
Most people, the ones that want nothing to do with the fighting going on, that is, are keeping well away from the streets right now, and what you do see instead are mostly just mooks and emergency response workers here and there, with more than one side perfectly willing to shoot anything on sight.
Also, note to self, one dude just basically blew himself and his whole group up when his rocket launcher jammed at the worst possible moment, reducing half his buddies to chunks splattering the surroundings. That was one curse that was totally worth casting right there.
Anyways, ignoring the odd fortified position of PRT troopers you pass, it takes you just a bit of patience to find yourself one big bad jackpot; Hookwolf, shouting orders at a bunch of skinheads as they set up a forward station for what, to your eyes, looks like a big push into the Medhall building itself... where Kaiser isn't even trying to hide things anymore, blades of metal growing out of various surfaces and keeping the building more or less upright despite the damage it has sustained.
As you said, jackpot.
You keep your distance, for a bit, not really intent of fighting Hookwolf... yet. Instead, you observe, using your ingenious guise as a totally normal bird to remain undetected.
Because Hookwolf, as you almost immediately see, never quite seems to not be using his power, his bloodflow disturbed by something you can't quite see, but are fairly certain is related to his power. There's a layer of hooks already there, you realize, always waiting to spring forth and shred anyone veering too close.
There's a reason Hookwolf is one of the more dangerous capes in the city, after all.
The mooks surrounding him are less interesting for your purposes, of course, but you still do keep an eye out for them. Most are just scuttling around, taking care of this or that, though a few are mirroring Hookwolf in that they scream at the others what they're supposed to be doing.
It doesn't take too long for some kind of opposition to appear, a group of better-dressed skinheads and less obvious nazis both, armed with high-calibre weapon and taking position some way down the street from where the bunch you're trying to analyze over here is staying, soon taking potshots and trying to take out stragglers.
Hookwolf's own reaction is nigh immediate, and though they die within minutes, they still let you gather some... interesting information.
For starters, just as Hookwolf always has some of his metal in his body, it doesn't matter how much metal he extends, there always seems to be a fleshier body underneath it. It seems a little weird to your bloodsenses, but you have no doubt that, even in fully shifted form, that is his one weak spot.
That still leaves you with what amounts to a shoggoth (thank you, Lovecraft, as well as Earth Aleph; some of the ideas in those stories are actually pretty interesting for your own situation) made of hooked metal to get through first. Which is not ideal, to be sure, but you can work around it.
And, more to the point, you also noticed two small nubs of continued blood circulation outside of his 'core'- and if your intuition doesn't fool you here, you'd say those might he his eyes.
Makes sense- his metal is just that, metal. He can't see, hear, smell, feel or taste through it, unless his power works a lot differently that what you were thinking, and without those eyes of his he'd be pretty much completely blind. Blinder, even, than a normal person without eyes.
Sure, they're always behind a thick layer of metal themselves, but it's not like that will particularly stop you or anything.
That said, you can see movement around the area. Hookwolf is gearing up for his big attack, or else reacting to something Kaiser is doing.
You know, for all that skinheads all kind of look like each other, lacking many of the distinguishing characteristics real people have, such as hair, or a personality, it has to be said that you are clearly not racist against these funny little pod people.
Hence you know that, despite appearances, they do not all know each other, a fact you make use of by simply taking the form of one of your older meals, one of the people that had tried (and failed) to shake down Kate, back on the night you met.
Good old times, really.
But as this is a moment for action, rather than nostalgia, you get right back to work. Slipping into the group of nazis is almost laughably easy, with you accurately pretending to be one of them, and once that's done, well...
This group is your oyster, pretty much. Not intent on wasting too much time, you shift your voice to be loud, brash, a little rough, basically exactly what you need to convey these guys' new orders. "Trouble down 17th, go fuck 'em up before they get to us and return!"
You repeat more or less the same thing a few more times as you move around, getting the attention of people here and there, those that are or feel responsible for halting the enemy. What you don't tell them, of course, is that there's a bunch of PRT troopers down that street, along with none other than Dauntless.
You have confidence these morons can keep those guys busy for a bit, at least. Which, really, is all you want them to do for the time being.
Anyways, Hookwolf isn't really making any secret of his presence, and you can get up close and personal by pretending like you have something to say to him personally just fine... until you extend your claws and get right down to business.
His eyes widen at the last possible moment, as the somewhat bulky weapons affixed to your forearms push out of your sleeves, but Hookwolf really doesn't have any time to reach at the speeds you're moving, your own form ramming into his and pushing him to the ground, following and hacking at him with both of your claws.
You know how quickly Hookwolf can go from seemingly a normal man to a nightmare made of knives, and so you work fast, jamming your claws inside of his chest, then using your piledrivers to bore deeper, methodically ripping out the layers of armor he has inside of himself at all times.
He tries to fight back, of course, but you simply bat aside the arms turning into murderblenders in their own rights, your aura letting you ignore the sharpness of the things.
There you are, finally reaching Hookwolf's insides... except now you have to properly eat him, you suppose.
Jamming your head into the opening you tore, you deftly bite into Hookwolf's heart, only one rib still intact after your attack far from enough to deter you from getting what you want. Snapping right through the bone, you feast on your prey's insides even as Hookwolf transforms around you.
His attempts to get you loose, or at least shred you to the point you can't kill him any harder than you already are, are fruitless and stopped by your aura, the protective energy field holding up to the scratching and smashing limbs trying to pry you off of your victim.
Before long, Hookwolf's thrashing stills, mostly on account of all of his blood being gone. You're also encased in his Changer form, seeing as he transformed around you but couldn't retreat into himself in his core more on account of half your upper body being in the way of that.
Either way, you have what you wanted, and all that remain is getting out of all this metal encasing you.
Leveraging yourself out of what's left of Hookwolf, you use your claws to open up a way where you have to, brushing aside the looser bits now no longer held in place through his power.
Stepping out of the leftovers of their now deceased leader, you give the nazis standing and gawking around you a brisk grin. "Well, he sure died how he lived: Disappointing."
You hear something weird coming from behind you. Turning, you realize one of the figures you could sense through your bloodsenses just now was female all along, having come running in the middle of your fight.
Funny, seeing as you didn't exactly consider Cricket being anywhere nearby. She must've been on her way already.
"SKEEEEEEEEE!" The sound she makes has to be power-assisted, you think to yourself as you duck under her jump, the dual kamas she's wielding (you did actually look this up when you researched E88 capes) missing you entirely, but placing her on your other side, where more of the other, lesser skinheads are.
Your brain (or what parts of it you actually use to think these days, you suppose) goes into overdrive, considering everything you know and what that means for this situation.
Cricket. Close to Hookwolf, like Stormtiger was. Uses those two kamas, some kind of acoustokinetic.
That's your cue. Stretching out a single finger towards Cricket, you snap it closed towards the rest of your hand again, her eyes bursting from their sockets as every vein inside them explodes outwards. You have a harder time affecting the blood inside of someone, but this is a very much time-honored tradition for you, by this point.
Ignoring her screams (that might very well be an attempt to use her power), you let out a particular scream yourself, using your powers to... rather heavily modulate your... voice, to put it like that.
What comes out of your mouth is the denial of sound, a rather funny little quirk of your powers or magic or whatever it is that you discovered while practicing for your Lilith music stream. Almost immediately, the sound of silence permeates the area, suppressing the usual sounds of this night that were omnipresent so far- distant screams and shouts, explosions, sirens, all those things.
Instead, what is suddenly present is... silence. Vibrations still travel through the air, they just... cannot quite arrive anywhere, not as long as you keep 'screaming'.
And you don't need to push any actual air through your throat to keep on doing so.
Cricket is disoriented, but waves her kamas through the air... until you grasp them, your claws more than hard enough to ignore their sharpness, and their blades crumble under your grip.
Then their hafts. Then Cricket's fingers, her hands, her arms.
By the time you hold her shoulders, ruined limbs hanging uselessly to the side, and drive your teeth inside her (also stopping it with the sound-cancelling), Cricket can't so much as muster any proper defiance.
Looking up when you see two of the mooks around actually stand in place and do something with their arms, you drop Cricket's corpse, taking a stance against them and raising both arms.
They're toting rocket launchers, and you kind of need to react. Contrary to these two, the rest of the mooks in your immediate surroundings are either hightailing it out of said immediate surroundings or just crawling away on all fours, the looks of fear on their faces unmistakable.
Oh, and there's a couple that just dropped, some of them actually dying of what looks like heart attacks in your professional opinion, their blood unmoving and still where it lies in their bodies. You really should be careful with your intimidation aura- this thing goes way beyond primal fear when you really get going, it looks like.
Either way, rocket launchers. Seeing them being fire in your overall direction, you raise both arms, intending to snatch them out of the air while avoiding the tips, or else at least just divert their directions, let you avoid the blast zones... but just as you go to do so, you actually misjudge the timing.
If anyone ever asks, you totally intended to catch the blasts with your hands. You do at any rate, and the explosions push you back a good couple of steps, but you keep your feet on the ground, your aura negating the damage you would normally have taken.
"Well now that's just not very polite, now, is it?" Being back in your normal 'Cain' form, you tilt your head at the two goons that just tried to blow you up... and they drop what they're carrying to turn around and run like the devil was after them.
Armsmaster swiped his halberd, keeping the unpowered E88 members away from the line of PRT agents by disintegrating the rockets they were shooting.
His targeting software and the nanothorn upgrade were coming along better than expected. They would unfortunately be of little use against Cain, but his plans for this newer tinkertech had little to do with him to begin with.
Hopefully.
Glaring at Krieg under his visor, Armsmaster subtly cleared his throat. "Stand down and place yourselves under arrest," he demanded, despite knowing how this would turn out. Protocol.
The man in the gas mask and World War II nazi uniform (just how ridiculous could a single man be) audibly scoffed, standing at the front of things. "If you had any way of actually capturing anyone here, that threat would be a lot more... impressive."
They were in a stalemate of sorts at the moment, both sides incapable of making any large moves. The criminals Armsmaster was confronting had heavy ordinance on their side; unusually high-calibre assault rifles and other guns, not to mention several rocket launchers and at least two grenade launchers that he had seen. He had to ensure that none of those effectively struck at the barricade manned by PRT agents behind him.
On the other hand, Krieg had to stay in place to forestall Armsmaster from simply wading in and taking down those same criminals, using his power to bar his way in turn and keep the troopers from effectively assisting in stopping the fighting going on.
This was an unstable cold war, of sorts, but one that promised a quick resolution soon enough. All he had to do... was wait.
"Your power is problematic," Armsmaster nodded, conceding the point. "However, it is not unbeatable."
"No power ever is, but you cannot beat it," the man in front of him said, arrogantly proclaiming his invincibility. Even Colin had never been this bad, had he?
Either way, it wasn't long at this point. "Having a second route around your position beats your power," he said, deliberately gesturing with his free hand as he subtly gave commands through sign language for the people behind him. "Just having a secondary team to avoid you and fulfill whatever mission is at hand is enough."
"And yet you cannot actually defeat me, and I am forestalling you just as much as you are me." Armsmaster was getting quite tired of these... useless exchanges, but luckily things were already in place, his HUD including cameras towards his back for a good reason.
Taking up his halberd with both hands, Armsmaster began advancing for the first time since this standoff began, Krieg immediately matching him. However, rather than ineffectively try to fight the wide-area telekinetic, he simply stepped to the side... giving the van that was coming to a skidding halt behind the barricade a free field of fire at the opposing parahuman.
More accurately, the containment foam turrets controlled by its passengers.
Krieg tried to slow the fall of the substance as soon as it neared him, of course, but his power was more subconscious than anything else... And once his surrounding were covered, which they were through gratitous use of the launching mechanism, all he could do was slow the fall, but it was too late for him already.
He tried to break through, but the quickly hardening foam was simply too flexible and hard for even his empowered movement to break through. A sufficiently powerful brute could have escaped... but Krieg was, ultimately, not in that category.
Just as Armsmaster had planned.
With that established, all he had to do was avoid the uselessly struggling parahuman as he approached the opposition, pretending he did not see the dozens of weapons pointed at him. "Stand down and place yourselves under arrest," he repeated, making a point to be the most imposing he could be.
Just as they looked at each other however, insecure now that they were not lead by a cape, a ragged group of obvious Empire Eighty-Eight members stormed through the street beyond this confrontation, looking almost... relieved to see him?
"Armsmaster! Armsmaster, please, arrest us if you want, but do it quick! Before he decides to come back!"
Everyone exchanged perplexed glances at this point, including him. This was just going to be one of those days, wasn't it? Not enough that half the city was up in flames due to, from what they had been able to gather, infighting within the Empire, now things like this were happening.
If he didn't know any better, he would suspect Cain was involved... somehow.
"Please! Please don't let Cain eat us all!"
Colin resisted the urge to facepalm, but only just barely.
Flying over and around the Medhall building, now repurposed as Kaiser's very own personal nazi castle, you take a bit to scout and look around, but thankfully it doesn't take too long to find a certain emperor wannabe.
Who is, apparently, giving a speech at the moment, a small mob of nazis gathering in front of Medhall as their leader sits on a literal iron throne made with his power, looking as imposing as he can as he blabbers on about 'honor' and 'traitorous dogs' and 'right-thinking Americans' and stuff like that.
You saw a documentary, once, about the Third Reich and how Adolf Hitler gave speeches. He seems to be portraying the same kind of 'raw charisma leader', being as impassioned as he can and all.
Heck, you even spot a few guys set up with cameras to the side. You wouldn't be surprised if this whiole thing was being streamed live or something. He's, uh... really gone off the deep end, hasn't he?
You wonder if you pushed him a bit too much with your curses. Then again, it's his own fault if he's so easy to drive mad.
Either way, it's not like Kaiser will need to worry about Hitler comparisons any longer in just a couple of minutes (at most). You'd like to think, in fact, that you're getting pretty good at this by this point; flying around as a bird to covertly find your target, then detransforming and controlling your fall mid-flight at just the right altitude and speed to land right where you need to.
Or at least close enough to count. The details are unimportant, you can always improvise exactly how you murder who you're going for the moment you hit their surroundings.
Turning back to your full, suit-clad and shadow-faced glory, you hurtle through the air, adjusting for wind blowing between you and where you're aiming with a small mid-air hop.
You know, you remember actually having a mild fear of heights at some point, but that completely went away the moment you stopped having to care about falls thanks to your powers. You haven't thought about things like this in a long while, even.
Something must've given you away, or maybe he just has a tendency to actually keep an eye on what's happening above him, but as you hurtle through the sky, he stops in the middle of his speech, his hands balled into fists.
His power is in obvious use, the ground around him rippling with activity, spears and blades of naked metal bursting from it all around, but you simply strike a pose mid-fall. "You had one job, Kaiser!" You call out accusingly, pointing at him. "You had one job to get the truce you begged for!"
"I did not beg-"
Ignoring the inconsequential blabbering, you go right on. "I told you, no collateral damage, and this looks like a lot of collateral, you incompetent fuck!"
The first tips of the weapons he is growing out of the ground reach you just about then, but you don't let them impede you; throwing yourself into high gear and burning through some of your body's sustenance, you simply move faster, setting foot on one and running down the length of a blank blade coming near enough to what you're after.
Kaiser tries to stop you by using his power to put more weaponry between you and him, but you simply jump around, changing positions faster than he can follow and 'jumping' off and down before he has the time to simply fill the space between the two of you completely.
Upside down, you stretch out your arms, catching yourself on his shoulders and simply twisting around like a corkscrew once, twice, your whole body in motion to rend Kaiser's armor and open up his protection, shedding blood from shallow cuts as your claws do not differentiate between metal and meat.
Within moments, you have performed the perhaps most elegant and efficient bite into another's flesh in human history, or at least filmed and made publically available. Hopefully, Max will appreciate it.
Watching on the big television, Kayden held her breath when Cain entered the scene, promptly pointing at Max and launching into a short, but accusing speech before coming running at him.
Vertically downwards, that was. She looked on in stunned disbelief as he made his best action hero impression, reaching for her ex-husband with both outstretched arms.
Realizing what was about to happen, she turned towards the boy who was sitting beside her, her hands starting to raise. "Theo, don't-"
"Woohoo!" Tammi's shout distracted her, so when Max was executed in a shower of blood and whirl of screeching metal, Theo just watched with wide eyes.
Kayden sighed. It had to end this way, after all, even if she'd wished... that there was some other option.
No matter. It was done, and she never even had to face Max again...
"What're you so gloomy about? This shit's hilarious!" Tammi, on the other hand, was downright ecstatic, it seemed.
"Language," Kayden chided her, even if she couldn't bring herself to be too harsh about it.
"It's..." Theo, balling a hand, spoke up. "He's really gone, isn't he?"
"Yeah, and it's hilarious he was literally outspoken in the last moment!"
Kayden held back another sigh, hoping Aster was fast asleep even with all this excitement. Finding out the Lord Street Crypts had a secret underground bunker had been a shock, to be sure, but if anything she was thankful for the safe space she could bring everyone, just in case.
... She scowled. The Empire had always been supposed to be better than... this, the fighting in the streets, the mindless savagery. But then again, there was a reason Kayden had left that life behind.
The Empire was not what she wanted Aster to grow up in. And she was sure this would be better, in the long run- as long as the Empire stood, there would always be that niggling of doubt in the back of her mind.
Theo had just lost his father, and despite how... strained things were between them, he was still his son. But no, even he probably agreed that it was better this way.
Kayden took his hand, and did the same for Tammi. Finding out she had been hiding out with the Crypts all this time had been a surprise, but a welcome one when she had appeared at her kitchen window, politely knocking and bringing everyone inside the apartment where they were now.
She'd been sent to collect them specifically, she'd told Kayden. Something about having an even safer alternative, but not wanting to risk it with a baby.
Either way, they would all be fine. Kayden just had to believe in Gabriel... and though he had lied to her about his identity, she had a feeling he was honest when it counted, at least.
Just in case, though, she checked over her power again. Her reservoir was still full.
Well, here you are, a whole bunch of speechless nazis surrounding you and being filmed live, as Sarah was kind enough to tell you via telepathy.
You've also been at this, uh, a while? You don't think the sun will be long, at any rate, and while you don't suffer as much as you used to in its light, you still aren't really a fan of it.
... Right, time for you to leave. While the buffet Kaiser so generously prepared for you is somewhat appealing, you do try to watch your waistline, and you already ate your fill tonight anyways.
Also, much better and more interesting souls you've already got on hand. No point in dawdling any longer, so you just nod towards the cameras before simply, and bluntly, walking out, the gathered skinheads and other now former Empire employees numbly making way for you.
It's good to be Gabriel some days.
Calling the entirety of the Crypts currently in action back to the bunker takes at most half an hour, and that's mostly because of a particularly bad nazi infestation a few teams end up converging on to take care of, but in the end pretty much everyone is gathered inside the bunker once again.
And, as it happens, Kate actually has been stockpiling a bunch of alcohol even beyond the wine collection she and Sarah have been working on as a hobby, and so you watch a couple dozen of stone-cold killers get drunk all in one place.
Side note, Emily gets ideas about using her power as a party trick when drunk. Good thing you insisted everyone disarm before they got drunk.
There might not be enough of a city left for you to rule over from the shadows if that weren't the case.
Skitter marched on, having successfully used the chaos for her own purposes as she moved with the fighting, covering one block at a time and leaving only silence in her wake.
Until she was told to take it slow so the vampires among them could actually drink from the skinheads she was reducing to bones inside her area of direct influence, carefully chosen to let any observers and analysts that tried to figure her out mistake her reach.
So she did, and begged off from the fighting entirely once she was sure she had a sufficiently high body count not to appear out of character for her appearances as Skitter (When did she start thinking of her killing like that, a list of marks to take care of on the side?) in order to go to another location also affected by the fighting.
Not the Barnes' house, despite it being located in downtown. Skitter had asked Tattletale, but it seemed Mister Barnes had evacuated his family out of the city the moment the first shots were fired.
Typical, but not unexpected.
Instead, Taylor traveled some way towards the west, where she soon found the place she was looking for. Making sure nobody would mind (telepathy made communication so easy), she had kept up her attack while splitting off, coming around while the main force of the Lord Street Crypts advanced from the north to the south, and cleaned things up along the way to her personal objective for the night.
It was trivially easy to destroy any cameras that might expose her (and on the way, too, just to make it part of her 'obvious' methods), and when she arrived at Madison Clement's home, her parents actually having been on vacation this week as she had found out by spying on her, breaking open the door was even easier, her enhanced strength letting her outdo the brutish thugs she had seen do much the same for hours.
Storming inside, she easily found the only person currently to be found, Madison lying in her bed and rousing at the sounds she was making. As Skitter barrelled through her door, she found the girl hastily typing something on her smartphone.
"Am I still dreaming?" Ignoring the question, Talyor smacked the device out of Madison's hand. She wouldn't need it where she was going. "Hey! I wasn't going to-"
Skitter shut her up with a quick grab across the face, a move she had learned from Cain himself. Dragging the pyjama-clad girl out of her covers with both arms so as to not break her neck, she left the building, cool night air washing over both of them.
"Mmm-hmm-mhm!" She was not going to allow her to scream. Instead, Skitter requested a teleport from Isabelle, who was manning the stations tonight, and soon arrived in an unadorned room that was much like Sophia's pen, just without the renovations to prevent her escape.
"Bwuah!" Making a loud sound upon being released, Madison breathed heavily. "You could've just asked me, you know? I don't mean to brag, but when it comes to suspicious capes promising candy or even just a good time, I'd be the first to jump aboard! So, where are we? Did we teleport? Were we dimensionally displaced?"
"..." All of a sudden, Taylor began questioning a few of her recent life choices. Not all of them... but a few.
Jack Slash surreptuously looked out of one of the truck's windows only visible from the inside, seeing a few singed walls, but nothing too bad compared to what the news had reported.
Open warfare in the streets only went so far, he supposed. It still did its job- the Slaughterhouse Nine managed to slip into the city without a hitch in the chaos.
Now all Jack needed to do was keep these morons hidden while he figured out a plan... or, more likely, waited for the next big distraction, seeing as how this one hadn't exactly lasted long enough.
And here he'd hoped the Empire Eighty-Eight was still just as useful as during his last visit to Brockton Bay... Ah well, couldn't be helped. At least now the 'Crypts' would have to cover more area, making it easier to pick some of their capes off.
"Finally... We're here..." The man with the vendetta was mumbling to himself, but he often was, so it should be safe to leave him to himself for the moment.
Less so for Mannequin. And Bonesaw, for that matter. What was it with the tinkers, every damn time? "Mannequin, come on, you know how you work best," Jack said towards the rest of the back compartment, halting the mostly blank tinker with a hand outstretched. "Analyze weaknesses, get everything in order, then strike. And Poppet?"
Bonesaw raised her head from where she was busy with that infant's body they'd snagged on the way for materials. "Remember, we're playing hide and seek first."
"Yes, Uncle Jack," she beamed at him, in that way she always did when she disagreed with what he'd said but would listen. Good enough. At least she had listened and out together that little creation in the back- it should be reasonably useful as a delaying tactic, if nothing else.
"Wait, we're gonna wait around again?" And of course Crawler would behave like the biggest child in the school bus.
"I've gotten us this far, haven't I?" Jack just grinned at him. "When we do this, I want to do it at the perfect moment, and prepared, that's all. Need them to do their best, after all."
There they went, Now all that remained was to make sure none of the others needed to be talked to and to keep Crawler from just rushing out to fight anything he saw. Business as usual, in other words.
So why, Jack thought to himself, were the streets making him uneasy? Probably just a feeling, but he'd gotten this far by listening to his instincts, so he was not going to be stepping outside anytime soon.
Director Emily Piggot's mood could be summed up as, frankly put, 'sub-optimal'. Which was quite reasonable, seeing as that was not the only thing fitting that description.
"This," she said, gesturing at the pile of reports she'd just slammed onto the desk, "was a shitshow of epic proportions. In fact, I would go so far as to say it was an unprecedented disaster the kind of which this city has never seen before, but I'd be exaggerating."
Brockton Bay had, historically, suffered more than its fair share of disastrous events and even inhabitants- the Teeth, currently off in Boston (and good riddance) were just one example of the latter, while an actual Slaughterhouse Nine attack had taken place decades prior, the only reason that particular band of psychos was chased out of the city.
No matter, however. She was there to talk about what had happened during the night over half of Brockton Bay, and by Scion's golden balls she was going to.
"Hundreds- hundreds! Of casualties," she told the assembled Protectorate heroes, her gaze meeting every one of them. "Not all them active combatants, which is significantly worse. In addition, tens of millions in property damage, and both of those are the low estimations. Last night was the very opposite of what law and order are supposed to look like. Fuck's sake, the Empire Eighty-Eight had more explosive ordinance than any two army bases put together out in force- somehow."
Emily scowled. They were still trying to find out where exactly all the weapons the nazis had been using had come from, though that was hardly the biggest priority at the moment.
"In any other department, we would all be in deep shit right now, you and me both," she confessed, drawing surprised movement from the assembled heroes. "But as this is the ENE office, all that happens that is we are being mildly reprimanded over yesterday night's events. You are welcome, everyone."
"Ma'am?" Armsmaster asked, somehow encapsulating the confused questions everyone was itching to ask into that single word.
"As the criminal organization known as the Empire Eighty-Eight has been effectively ended yesterday night, it has been judged that we do not need any further reinforcements, seeing as the only villainous gang currently operating from within Brockton Bay are the Lord Street Crypts," Emily snorted, seemingly ignoring the question. "Therefore, all we need to do now is to keep them in check. Child's play, isn't it?"
"I am sure the death of Kaiser on live national TV had nothing to do with any explicit orders on this end," Armsmaster commented. See, he got it.
Also, the less was said about that particular part of the debacle, the better. "Exactly. The Crypts have demonstrated they can, with great ease, eradicate other gangs without problem, all the while making the Teeth look like mild annoyances in comparison with themselves, and Cain is apparently invincible in single combat or whatever newest theory the think tank is spinning out right now."
The man was purported to be able to teleport, some kind of kinetic manipulator, combat precognitive Master/Shaker/Striker/Stranger abomination. Sometimes Emily did wonder if the Thinkers just took whatever wild theories they saw on PHO they liked the best and ran with it.
"At any rate," she waved, knowing that particular mystery hadn't been solved in the past few months and wouldn't be solved in the next ten minutes either way and she needed to get this debrief underway sooner rather than later, "report. Reports, rather. First off, Armsmaster, good work on capturing Krieg and accompanying minions. He's being turned over to Boston as we speak, given usual protocol doesn't apply anymore and the sooner we have him out of the city, the better. Any questions?"
Not seeing anyone move, not even Armsmaster himself, Emily nodded. "Next off, Miss Militia. Equally good work in keeping the fighting from spilling out towards the east."
"I was already in position due to the ongoing conflicts in the area," the woman humbly stated, but everyone present knew she had been itching for a fight ever since Shadow Stalker had disappeared and hints towards Kaiser's and Bastard Son's involvement in the aftermath of her flight from Hookwolf had been found.
"Velocity, good scouting as always. Just a shame you couldn't stay around the Crypts' advance." The weapons the Crypts' members had been using had been unusually dangerous to Velocity even in his Breaker form, and so he had been recalled towards less hazardous areas.
"Triumph, good work beating back Cricket despite the bad matchup." Emily knew she was just telling everyone they were doing good, but after a night like this, she was going to be honest about it. "A shame she got away and died to Cain, but most enemy capes did last night, so it can't exactly be helped. And Assault..."
Emily held back a sigh at the sight of the unusually morose cape. "Go look after your wife. We're a joke of a department anyways, nobody's going to hold it against you."
Nodding, he wordlessly did as she told him. It couldn't have been helped; Assault and Battery had fought Fenja and Menja, the husband of the pair having been evenly matched with one of the twins, both negating each other's attacks, whereas Battery...
Well, there was a reason she was in the infirmary with two broken arms, a broken leg and some serious inner bleeding. The twins hadn't been pulling any punches yesterday night.
Either way, time to move onto the next topic. "So, as I am sure you're all aware by now, we have hints towards Stalker being shipped off by Bastard Son, with Kaiser's blessing. She was difficult, but none of us wanted to see her go like that, and the responsible offices have been made aware," she continued, holding back another scowl. "Nothing is certain yet, of course, and certain sources within the Elite are assuring us that no 'dealings' like that have been sanctioned by the organization at large."
"Can those statements be trusted?" Miss Militia was, as always, down to the point in matters like this.
"Tentatively," Emily confirmed. "Nothing to do but wait and see for the time being, I'll have you all informed the moment any new information comes to light. Speaking off..."
She rolled up the whiteboard, slapping the accompanying markers onto the table. "The Crypts. They have more capes than expected, beyond Cain himself and the ones we have identified as Spitfire and Skitter so far. Let's go over everything we could tell so we can send recommendations in, updating the threat ratings is going to be a bitch as it is."
At the very least, Emily supposed, they weren't going to be the ones pulling the most overtime over this whole affair. Even if it truly, truly felt like it.
Normally, this wouldn't be her job, but then again everything was completely chaotic at the moment as it was anyways, and so Emily stood up without complaint, using the black marker to write the name of the one man that had been the biggest thorn in her side for the entire duration of his existence as a cape.
"Cain," she announced, circling the blasted word. "What do we know, what new things do we know and what can we say about his threat assessment?
"The older one lists him as Shaker 3, Brute 3, Stranger 4 and Changer/Striker 5," Armasmaster listed off, impassionate and analytical. "Obviously enough, it will have to be updated."
"We all saw the footage, right?" At Velocity's question, everyone still in the room had to repress a grimace. Any news of Cain spread like a wildfire these days, and the videos, taken from two shaky phone cameras and a professional filming setup, respectively, were no exception to this.
"Three separate incidents that we know of," Emily confirmed and elaborated. "Chronologically, he first intercepted Victor and Othala, who were in turn intercepted by several of the Empire's mooks not on Kaiser's side and by all appearances sent to delay them specifically, and killed both of them through his characteristic bite."
"Of particular interest," Armsmaster continued for her, "is the fact that Othala was bitten and drained of over ninety-nine percent of her blood while hiding inside the car the two were taking without any outward sign of activity, according to the witnesses we were able to recover, whereas Cain exited the car and took ahold of Victor to carry him straight up the next wall and a few roofs over where he did the same to him."
"It's a break of the pattern." Dauntless had been mostly quiet until now, but everyone still paid attention when he spoke. "Cain has always been meticulously removing any direct witnesses to himself in action, or at least covering up his traces, and avoided being caught on camera whenever possible. Now all of a sudden, he's actively leaving people and footage of himself around."
"He's changing his methods," Emily followed. "Not hiding, or hiding less. Next fight we know he's in, he disguised himself as a skinhead- somehow- and approached Hookwolf to, again, bite him. He used claws of some sort to break through his subdermal armor and dug in before he could take his full Changer form, then casually ignored Hookwolf's attempts to get him off as he transformed around him and died."
"Then Cricket confronted him and was disarmed before following him. Do we have any idea what...?" Triumph wasn't quite sure how to put it, but Armsmaster jumped in.
"It was a power to negate sound, which is more ridiculous than it first sounds." The man did not normally use words like 'ridiculous', everyone looked at him... but then again, this was situation could best be summed up as ridiculous in the first place, Emily darkly thought. "It completely negated Cricket's power, aside from the enhanced reflexes, and he used brute force to do the rest."
"Could it be he gains powers designed to counter the opponents he faces? Some form of twist to Eidolon's theme?" Triumph looked around uncomfortably.
"Unlikely, or at least not just that," Dauntless replied, shaking his head. "No matter what some PHO threads will tell you. It could be he gains more powers through using his bite on parahumans, of course, or something in this direction, I just doubt it."
"It would explain why he exclusively targeted them last night," Emily commented, waving for everyone to concentrate on what was at hand again. "Next appearance was at Kaiser's... rally," they all had a bitter face at that, but it was a fact that a literal nazi had been live on national TV and they had not been able to stop him at the time, "where he fell at him from the sky, used his own power as footholds to target and evade him at once and finally grabbed him and turned into a murderblender."
"Like Hookwolf, just better," Velocity said without humour.
"Are we sure it isn't some adaptive power gain?" Emily had to make this clear for political reasons, mostly- any cape like that might just be a reason to finally get some reinforcements.
The Crypt situation had been steadily growing out of control, and she needed more boots on the ground yesterday, literally.
"We can't say one way or another," Armsmaster said with a shake of his head. "While what we saw of the footage was suspicious, him gaining claws upon facing Hookwolf and sound cancellation when against Cricket, his powers are too unknown to be sure of anything. For all we know, he already had these powers and only chose to fight because he knew he had a counter."
"That would make sense with the way he has been staying under the radar as a cape," Velocity nodded.
"Either way, we need to put together recommendations for the analysts to agree with," Emily interjected, not intent on letting this become a real-life PHO Cain discussion thread- last time she'd looked, there had to have been five of them at least. "What concrete ratings can we give him?"
"Well, let's go down the list." Dauntless tilted his hemet. "Mover. He can move faster than the human eye can follow, apparently, and given the reactionary forces did not instantly kill everyone near him, he has to work a little like Velocity, at least. No offense."
Everyone blithely ignored how that similarity sounded in this context.
"Then there is the way he assaulted Kaiser, both jumping from high above and reacting with extreme speed to reach him, all the while using any surface available to him as though it was flat ground," Armsmaster added. "This and uncomfirmed rumours about possible portals of some sort- whether through tinkertech or otherwise- puts him at Mover Six, easily."
Emily nodded. "Five to Six, but I'll defer to your opinion." Having added a shortlist of known feats as the discussion went on, she added a big '6' next to the word Mover. "Next off, Shaker?"
And so they went, discussing and assessing the threat Cain posed in a fight. His Shaker rating went up to Five, to denote the unknown effects of... whatever it was and his Brute rating was updated to be at six as well, mostly because it was hard to justify a higher one from what they'd seen (even if they all agreed it probbaly should be higher).
He had shrugged off Hookwolf's attempts to dislodge him with a plethora of sharp jagged limbs of metal, after all.
He hadn't exhibited any Breaker powers (yet), and so that field was left blank, but Master and Tinker got a 'maybe' for the moment just in case due to other observations. Similarly, no Blaster or Thinker powers, though an argument was made he should be classified as a Blaster for the possibility of simply throwing objects with his enhanced strength, a technicality that was sometimes used to justify more added ratings that would indicate protocal was to get into cover before anything else.
And, fuck him, he got a Thinker 2 rating just in case.
Cain's combined Striker/Changer rating, on the other hand, was increased to Eight, for good reason; the claws, the lethal bite that worked in moments, this was a man that simply should not be confronted from up close. Technically, the two ratings should be separated, but the claws alone were indicative of a Changer power and worked just as well as a Striker one without even adding the bite, and so it stayed.
The Trump rating, of course, veered into extended discussion once again, but was ultimately resolved when both Emily and Armsmaster threw up their hands and assigned both a Seven (Powers that could be cycled between different variants) and a Ten (Near limitless powersets with some other drawbacks or caveats).
The joke that this was technically the Eidolon classification was left unsaid.
Lastly, Cain's Stranger rating went up to a full seven, too, completing the list with his apparent ability to mingle with literal skinheads without anyone noticing anything whatsoever in addition to his already well-documented anti-Thinker Stranger effect.
It would have been more, but Strangers beyond that rating were... politically difficult, to say the least.
Not that he was all they were talking about, of course.
"Next off there is the unknown Tinker that created the tinkertech guns the Crypts were fielding on a large scale yesterday night, at least half a dozen new capes we have to consider and, of course, the known ones. Spitfire, Skitter, the two best known for the occasion of the ABB's... dissolution, two unmasked female parahumans using a variety of guns and a very large sword, respectively, and... more."
At Armsmaster's words, Emily had to resist the urge to scream. Specifically at any other PRT director that might just hear her if she did it loud enough.
Summary Of LSC Threat Assessment Recommendation (PRTENE):
Cain: Mover 6, Shaker 5, Brute 6, Blaster 3, Thinker 2, Striker/Changer 8, Trump 7, Trump 10, Stranger 7
Notes: Is Cain.
Skitter: Master 8, Thinker 2, Stranger 3
Notes: Extremely lethal, caution advised. Highest confirmed headcount on this list. Power allows for wide-reaching danger, but can be countered through specialized measures.
Spitfire: Blaster 7, Shaker 6, Brute 3
Notes: Lethal, but moderates herself. Uses specialized equipment in conjunction with her power.
Thunderstruck: Mover 8, Brute 8
Notes: Most active during day-to-day business. Very strong power, but deliberately holds back to avoid killing. Seemingly invulnerable to conventional attack.
Scattershot (Provisional Name): Blaster 7, Thinker 3
Notes: Uses guns to devastating effect, power revolves around them. Compatible with tinkertech guns.
Agitator (Provisional Name): Striker 7, Brute 6
Notes: Uses a giant sword with exaggerated effect; physically extremely strong.
Charmcaster: Shaker 7, Blaster 5, Mover 5
Notes: Suspected to be Rune, former member of E88 with changed allegiance
Unknown Crypt Tinker: Tinker 8
Notes: Created disintegrating laser weaponry. Provisionally labeled as ion matter technology.
Unknown Crypt Trump: Trump 10
Notes: Can grant similar powerset to a large amount of others at once; details unknown
Emma Barnes felt a little embarrassed when she came to school the morning after what some were calling the Brockton Holocaust already, but it was better this way, really. Where everyone else was asking each other where they were when the Crypts 'took over the Bay', she just went about her day like usual.
As usual as it could be without Sophia, who was still missing last she'd heard. She'd be fine, of course, she was a survivor just like Emma was, but she wished Sophia would hurry up and come back already.
And Madison was missing, too. "Did you hear? I heard she got killed last night when her house was set on fire."
"No way! I heard she was killed in an explosion when she tried to get out and film stuff!"
"Well I heard she got kidnapped by some skinhead and is probably starving in some basement nobody is coming back to."
Emma ignored the gossiping of her lessers. Madison had always been weak; if she didn't manage to come back, that was just how it was. "Come on, Julia," she told her new lackey, turning towards the hallway. "We have to get to class."
Translated: She needed to assert her dominance as the queen bee again, like every day. Letting the mumbles of the girl walking a step behind her wash through the bit of air she breathed, Emma started walking, keeping an eye out for anyone she needed to greet.
Only to come up short when she saw something on a sweatband she was passing by, worn on the wrist of a boy she didn't recognize.
Taking a second look around, Emma saw the same sign on some other, seemingly innocent pieces of clothing or devices, integrated into them or as stickers stuck on at some point.
She realized she might have her work cut out for her. The 'Crypsters' had been around before, too, of course, but they were a lot more brazen with it now, without a single piece of clothing or outfit containing red and black or red and green to be seen anywhere.
The odd student even had a wig over their otherwise bare head just so they could go to school, most likely praying their hair would grow back, and a few of the asian kids were just straight up wearing blue and black themselves now.
"Hey Julia," she said, watching how they behaved, who they were sucking up to and what groups they were trending into building, "how do you think the nazis fucked up the most? Because hell, there's a lot of stupid shit you can do, but I mean being a nazi?"
She had her work cut out for her indeed...
Rachel grunts, getting down on all fours to growl politely at the pair of dogs you got for her, the breeding pair stepping out of the large chests you had them delivered inside of.
You did go out of your way to pay extra to make it clear you want them handled gently and everything, or rather had Sarah do so.
Seeing as things seem to be going alright with her, you instead turn towards Taylor... who already has a dozen spiders in brown and black wandering over one of her arms. "Darwin's bark spiders," she murmurs, her bespectacled gaze sinking deeply into the insects. "The strongest known webs among all kinds of spiders discovered yet, and they don't even eat each other as easily as black widows do."
"You're welcome," you smile at her, pulling her out of her little moment. "Feel free to do with them whatever you want, but if you need somewhere to keep them, one of the rooms down here has been refurbished for the sake of doing just that."
"Thanks." Taylor doesn't say any more on the matter, but you didn't really expect her to, considering her usual issues with interacting with others.
Either way, she's got a few more insects to work with now... everything from the spiders she's already playing with to a bunch of beetles, ants and flying insects that sting and bite in most wonderful ways, toxins of all kinds now available to her.
Then again, she already had black widows and brown recluses, so this is more a formality than anything else considering her powerset.
Still, if she wants to breed exotic bugs in her free time, that's as good a hobby as anything, far as you're concerned.
Properly practicing with things like plasmids is, actually, quite a complicated affair thanks to the way not everyone can just throw their effects out without limits the way you or any of the vampires you already turned can.
Hence, in order to faciliate the thralls' participation in your little shared training session, you arranged a little side table sporting everything from coffee to clear water, as well as about two hundred of those little EVE hypos that were actually somewhat common back in Rapture.
Hey, if it works, it works, even if not everyone is quite comfortably with shooting up in order to use that particular brand of superpowers more often... hence the other alternatives, even if they're just that much less effective.
Taylor still stubbornly drinks all the water and goes to the toilet every thirty minutes, but hey, more power to her.
Anyways, here you are. The game, such as it is, is fairly simple and straightforwards; several little balls made from different materials are scattered throughout the area, and everyone is divided into two teams with vampires that have one of the two plasmids that are relevant to this exercise evenly spread between them.
Here's the thing, Cyclone Trap is used to push the balls upwards, as Telekinesis is only allowed to push and pull them around while they are in the air already. This is a contest of how much force either plasmid can apply and how quickly and precisely any one given user can actually use them.
The heavier balls require more force and are harder to stop, mutual contests over balls happen all the time, some actual teamwork is required, it's actually surprisingly well thought-out for something you put together in five minutes. The goal, of course, is to get as many balls as possible into the scoring zone for any one team while keeping the other team from doing the same, sabotage being a core part of the experience.
It's actually a lot of fun, surprisingly. You haven't really done anything like this since playing dodgeball in high school, when all the guy tried to aim for you for some reason and all the girls aimed for all the guys except you in turn.
Even the ones on their own teams.
Good times, really.
When you, Chariot and Trainwreck come together to do some work on the latter's armor, it quickly becomes apparent that the specifics have to be, as you like to call it, 'tinker-specific bullshit'. Or, in other words, Trainwreck has to use his own power to make it or else he has trouble moving it the same way he would his previous armor.
Luckily enough, what you and Chariot can do just fine is work on the outside of the whole thing once Frank has the rough of it down- literally. That said, what he does create out of random scraps of high-quality steel you tear apart with your claws is, at the very least, better than his old set, considering it was literally made of random scraps he managed to gather by using all his slimier limbs to drag himself around.
And yeah, his nature as a Case 53 couldn't be more obvious the moment he isn't encased by any of his armors. While his head and torso are fairly normal, if a little pockmarked, his limbs are made of the slimy, stretchy substance he can change the shape of, if a little slowly. He uses them to create tools for him to work with, which is actually pretty neat.
Anyways, you and Chariot help him out a bit. And by helping out you mean strapping a bunch of additional superscience and tinkertech to his new armor.
As you like to say, everything works better with more fusion cores, and they're small enough you can reliably insert them into several parts here and there where they can fuel other parts and gadgets.
Long story short, Trainwreck's new armor sports a few... improvements. By which you mean a superspeed mode, a pair of integrated grenade throwers set into the back, slug launchers that are actually railguns in the arms and teleporting ion weaponry, aka the same as ion lasers, just as bombs that appear and react with nearby matter to dissolve it instead.
Kind of. It's a close enough approximation, anyway.
Also, it's just generally much tougher and more flexible at the same time, thanks to the improved materials he can work with nowadays. Just being unreasonably tough is a power in and of itself, in some situations.
With the... situation, in the city being what it is like, it came to your attention that, perhaps, having a few more boots on the ground might just be a good idea, after all. Unfortunately, you aren't really interested in helping to organize recruitment, seeing that task as something best left to someone that won't just eat half the applicants on grounds of their inherent stupidity.
Hence, another solution. And when you say that, you mean a good way to make use of the bodies that are now stacking inside a couple of the freezers you have inside your base exclusively to store them, one of your better decisions to date if you do say so yourself.
And the 'meat lockers' you have established all over your territory as it is, of course. Just to have some more storage space, as it was.
Storage space that you expect to continue using, because hey, guess what, all the chaos and deaths on the streets produced a lot of dead bodies, many of which found their way through your teleporters once Sarah started really cleaning up and pilfering bodies that wouldn't be missed on account of nobody outside of the Crypts having really gotten a good look yet.
That and a few miscellaneous supplies have you really go at creating more Mr. Xs for a couple hours straight, just binding them to a few locations across your 'old' territory, letting them move around their assigned area and patrol for any disturbances.
You also gave them strict orders as to how to handle any of those they may come upon, as well as basic rules to avoid having them accidentally halve the city's population. It should be fine, really.
It took a few minutes, but the good part of being the at least nominally big boss of a criminal organization like the Crypts is that you can just sit down and call as many meetings as you feel like and people will actually respond with all due haste. No big surprise then when you soon have Sarah, Kate and Henley all sitting in the usual conference room, with everyone bringing along their own documents.
Because of course you have documents about what you're doing. Jeez, sometimes you do wonder if you didn't just avoid having some corpo job only to make your own hell by your own actions, after all.
Still better to be your own boss, at the very least.
"Okay, so I hardly need to spell this out, but the Empire has just bit the grass and we kind of need to take over asap," you announce to the smaller meeting of your head plannery people. "How are we gonna do that?"
It takes a moment for everyone to decide the turn for speaking, you suspect through at least some amount of telepathy, but the first to pipe up is Kate. "Do we really need to?"
"... Elaborate." Not exactly what you were expecting, but you'll hear her out.
"It's not like we particularly need territory, and we don't really gain our funds through it like most gangs would," your second-in-command reasons, leaning back in her chair. "The only reason we even particularly bother is that we can show off this way, but it's by no means a real requirement for our continued operations. With that in mind, why bother?"
"A good point, one I didn't really consider," you allow. "I was mainly just thinking of ways to project more power and more or less officially own Brockton Bay. Let's proceed with that goal in mind for the moment."
"Well in that case, just send the girls out to patrol with their rifles on display and all and keep on recruiting, simple as that." Kate, as always, just considers the application of more solution to be the best one. Not that you disagree, especially when she has a gun somewhere on hand. "Add more turrets and we can turn the Bay into what amounts to our personal backyard."
"It may be prudent to continue our acquisitions of several properties around the city." Henley is steepling his hands, his eyes growing piercing at the topic of money. "Though at a much slower pace, of course, but the recent destruction around downtown does present certain... opportunities."
"Just do it on the side when you have nothing else to do," Sarah waves him off. "Anyways, send people through to do the usual gang tagging, remove all traces of the old order yadda yadda. We can have people look into taking over whatever operations the E88 had going and probably clean up a little, but unless someone new tries to muscle in on us we should be fine."
"And what if someone does?" The question does need to be asked, after all. Kate answers it by grabbing her gun from where it's leaning against her chair, demonstratively shifting it into sniper rifle mode.
"Point. Though that does get us back to the issue I had earlier; unless we make it a point we're staking a claim, other villains may just consider that an invitation to try to make trouble."
"How about we make use of that?" Sarah, as always, uses her big brain to your advantage. "We could just make a point out of not controlling a part of the city and lure any contenders into an area we want them to be."
"... That would lose its effect pretty quick, though. I say either go all in or not at all," Kate says, disagreeing.
Mhm, this will take some actual thought, you'd say. Thought and discussion.
Ultimately, you decide for making a show of strength and against any attempts at hiding you own Brockton Bay in all but name; you damn well earned this city, and you will have everyone acknowledge that much.
It was a lot of effort to push the E88 into imploding into itself, not to mention removing the Merchants and the ABB beforehand, even.
To that end, you talk out and put together a few plans; from timeplans to patrol routes and a little recruitment drive for Kate to oversee, you just figure out the minutiae ahead of time.
Not like this stuff is what you would like to be doing, of course, but someone has to actually sit down and talk this out, and you figure your presence is probably important. Not like you don't have your own ideas for this whole thing.
Speaking of which...
As it happens, the Crypts are, once again, moving out... and this time around, the intent doesn't involve massive amounts of casualties, even, though you don't doubt anyone trying to keep your people from crusading around the city and replacing any and all gang tags to be found with the 'proper', updated ones is going to get themselves shot or worse.
You, though, will be doing your own share of shooting... With, as it happens, this lovely paintgun you put together in five minutes with a manufactory and a whole bunch of color you have loaded into it.
It's, uh, somewhat bulky, but it has to be. Just to hold all the paint, really. It also helps that you have the perfect memory somewhat required to properly operate it, considering just how damn complicated it is, but hey, it's not meant to be used in any situations where you'd need your arms. Or both legs.
You actually step out of a more or less completely normal van this time, carrying the additional paint cartridges you will need for this, and right into the boardwalk itself. Seeing as you're in your Cain 'costume', people are quickly getting out of the way as you move in, soon stepping onto the boardwalk itself.
You can see the Rig out in the water, shining forcefield easily visible in the dark, though that isn't exactly why you're here. No, instead you raise the abomination of a device you got for yourself, a few parts of the surrounding crowd moving quicker only for you to point it at the nearest facade.
And you fire. And you fire and you fire and you switch colors without ever stopping for longer than half a second.
Coloring the wall in a dark blue first, you then smack a fairly accurate rendition of the Crypt tag on it, the same thing that is on the various kinds of Crypt merchandize Sarah and Kate have been talking about selling and handing out to members lately. Gotta make sure people know it's officially sanctioned, as it were.
The people in the area are whispering and pointing by this point, so you just give them a jaunty wave as you move right on, getting started on similarly redecorating the shop fronts all along the boardwalk one after the other. Sometimes, you use the frankly inefficient and horrible, but extremely amusing and surprisingly handy method of dispensing paint to repeat the coffin logo, sometimes going a bit more creative, painting out graveyards, more graves with crowns, a few actual crypt buildings and so on and so forth.
Naturally, using various shades of blue, purple, lilac and black all the way, turning the uncoordinated collection of overpriced tourist traps and similar miscellaneous shops and restaurant into a proper, coherent whole.
Now you know what was bothering you all this time. And are fixing it, of course.
That said, it was, naturally, just a matter of time before someone would try and start some shit with you. Also expected was that it would be one or more of the city's heroes, given you kind of did this specifically to draw them towards the boardwalk and away from the other Crypts currently overseeing the re-tagging of what amounts to ninety percent of Brockton Bay or something.
That said, did it really have to be Miss Militia, Assault, Battery, Velocity, Triumph and your old friend Dauntless?
"Excuse me, we would like to have a word with you," Miss Militia says, pointing the largest... one of the largest shotguns you have ever seen at you.
Looking down at the weapon, you raise an eyebrow, even knowing nobody present can see it, given your face still consists of shadow. "Is it always that big or are you just happy to see me?"
"It's meant to faciliate the use of grenades as bullets, and no, it's not usually this big." Miss Militia is, if nothing else, perfectly straightforward in this.
"In that case, mind holding your pose for a moment?" You just rest your color pump (patent pending) down and grab a sketchbook as you eye the heroes gathered to confront you. "This scene would make for a wonderful picture, don't you think?"
"We did not come here for you to ignore us, Cain. We would like you to come to the Rig with us." You know, if you weren't immensely powerful enough to trivially defeat everyone present, that might actually be at least mildly concerning on some level. As it is, though...
You mechanically sketch the outlines of the heroes. "Can I at least get a few autographs?"
Everyone present just looks at you, the officers (technically, at least) in front of you trying to stare you down.
Hey Sarah, I'm about to do a thing, you send at your sister, idly continuing what you were doing outwardly.
Whatever it is, don't. For some reason, you feel like she doesn't appreciate the thought of you starting conversations with the sentence you used. Also, what are you doing?
The heroes didn't exactly offer me candy, but I'm still about to go with them. Out loud, you tilt your head just the slightest bit. "You know what, how about this? If you're ready to wait until I'm done, I wouldn't mind coming along for a bit, I don't have anything big planned for an hour or two."
The heroes exchange glances (under their masks), and you can hear some static and voices from what you suspect to be their earpieces.
"... Very well." Oh, you can taste the distaste in her voice now. Still, you've actually got them where you want them to, now.
"Good. Also, any chance I could get everyone's measurements?" At the wordless glare you're receiving, you just shrug. "Thought so. I'll just eyeball it."
The next two hours are spent with you wandering across the boardwalk, continuing your frank efforts to turn Brockton Bay into somewhat less of an unsightly shithole. With success, you'd like to say- even if a few particular clothing shops (that you know from prior experience sell lingerie) are now graced with the outlines of a few particular heroes.
Naked, naturally. Wouldn't make much sense otherwise. Though you did make a point to keep it tasteful, and not immediately obvious; you kind of doubt Miss Militia wouldn't just have tried to shoot you at that point.
She really seems to have some serious anger issues, you think.
Anyways, nobody was intent on getting into your way beforehand, and all the less so does anyone want to try and stop you now that you've got an escort of heroes on hand trailing behind you. Though it does have to be said that the requests for autographs skyrocket afterwards- a new demand you supply with all requisite speed.
Everything to exasperate and annoy them even further.
That said, no matter how many hands you shake or how much handwriting you hand out, nor how many precise shots you make with your paintgun, things eventually do have to come to an end, and so you soon wave behind yourself as you start to walk on an extended forcefield acting as a bridge.
Time to see what exactly they're even going to do.
The Rig, the official Protectorate base here in Brockton Bay, is as big and shiny as ever... and for some reason you'd imagine there would normally be a lot more people out and about, but you don't really see anyone in the hallways or anything.
"Oh, can we stop over at the merch store? Being here already and all." You know the Rig doesn't actually have one of those, the tourist trap nature of the government's hero programs is restricted to the lower levels of the PRT HQ over within the city itself, but you just love making Miss Militia deal with your antics.
"There is no gift shop on the rig." For all that you make sure to throw her good conversation starters with everything you have, she just uses one-liners like that to respond in her clipped voice.
You're putting so much effort into it, too! All the way to the rig itself, inside it, and even now as she opens a door for you, you keep on trying to make conversation, but to no avail. Ah well.
Coming inside, you idly note that nobody comes into the room with you, though you're aware everything you do is being recorded one way or another- they didn't bother trying to hide it, the cameras are plainly visible easily enough.
Inside, you find a single chair facing a large screen, with nothing else to be seen. Figuring you should probably go ahead and get this show on the road, you take a seat, once you've used your senses to ascertain it's just a very mundane chair, of course.
It doesn't have any padding or anything, and if you were a living human, it might even be called uncomfortable. But as you are now, it doesn't particularly bother you. Though you do prefer comfy and soft things to lounge around on, such as luxurious sofas, maybe armchairs, wide and comfortable beds or the bodies of your lovers (or slaves), it's not like your undead body actually can grow sore, or uncomfortable.
In any case, it doesn't take all too long for the screen in front of you to flicker to life, showing you the visage of a particularly grumpy PRT director. You recognize it, of course, from the pictures Sarah made sure to include in the files she made you read about the local PRT slash Protectorate.
Emily Piggot herself. "Cain," she says, though it's more a sound of abject antipathy.
"Director Piggot," you pleasantly respond leaning back in your chair to let your suit really compliment your figure. "A pleasure to meet you."
"Cut the crap." As far as invitations to flirt go, that isn't the worst you've ever heard, though you somewhat doubt that's the good director's intent. "This is more a courtesy call than anything else, but consider this your warning. The Lord Street Crypts have been allowed to act without too much resistance, but with they way you've been acting, that might very well change."
"I am positively shaking in my boots," you comment drily in response. "Am I correct in assuming that this isn't the only reason I was called over to the Rig?"
"Take this seriously, Cain. Let's be honest here, the Crypts aren't the worst thing that happened to this city, but you're still a criminal and law enforcement is still obligated to come after you. Neither of us wants to have the Triumvirate come down on you, surprisingly enough, but at the rate things are going it's only a matter of time. If you actually take over the city, the chief director won't give anyone else much of a choice in the matter."
"Don't worry, I am not exactly going to announce the annexation of Brockton Bay as Caintopia's new capital." You joke, but it's actually important to make this clear ahead of time- megalomaniac capes are bad business all around, mostly because the kid gloves come off when someone's delusions of grandeur start to become... well, just that.
A cape tries to take over a city, or someone manages to convince the right people they are, and things get hairy. The government still is what it is, and if the illusion of control it has over its sovereign territory is threatened, it is pretty much guaranteed to pull out the big guns, the Triumvirate being one of the first keywords that come to mind.
And as you aren't quite planning to openly take over the world quite yet, there's no real harm in informing the 'authorities' of this fact.
"So long as you don't start to become just as bad as the nazis, or the asian nazis or the many other scumbags you're replacing." Director Piggot grumbles a little, but still stares you down all the same. "Can we also agree, then, that more open fighting in the streets is outside of everyone's interests? I mean more than just not fighting the Protectorate here, people are looking at Brockton Bay in a way that isn't entirely positive."
You'd almost think the director was trying to negotiate with you, if she wasn't trying to strongarm you knowing fully well that both of you know she doesn't have the muscle to do so. All the same... "No real plans to beat down any groups currently in the city, no sirree," you tell her, waving her concerns off. "If an actual gang tries anything, they get smacked down, but minor groups like New Wave or the Undersiders have nothing to fear... so long as they don't behave like complete morons."
Gee thanks, I'll be sure to take that under advisement as the Undersiders' leader, Sarah beams into your head. Because obviously you're keeping it updated on every word that's being exchanged.
"Glad to know you aren't actually the raving lunatic people think of you as," Piggot's sarcastic response comes, the woman on screen on an almost unnoticeable delay, now that you pay attention to it. No more than, what, half a second? Not enough to impact conversation, but it's definitely there.
Also, ouch. You know for a fact people don't consider you a raving lunatic of any stripe, even though you can't dispute the appeal of that way of life.
"Anyways, was that seriously all? Just an official 'warning' about letting things lie for a bit?" Nobody can see the eyebrow you're raising, but you're sure anyone that watches this recording will feel it in their bones.
Director Piggot, in turn, scowls at you. "You are also encouraged to answer a few questions regarding your power and to talk to a parahuman psychologist, but it's not like anyone can actually make you do either as it is."
"... Actually, why not?" Your answer has the director raise an eyebrow herself. "I'm giving you five questions I will answer to the best of my knowledge, how 'bout that? Unless I don't want to answer, of course."
"... You're enjoying this, aren't you?"
"Like you wouldn't believe." It isn't every day that you get to make the point of having PRT directors dance on the palm of your hand, after all. "Doesn't change you're still going to ask those questions."
"It doesn't." You can hear typing on Piggot's end of the connection as she looks away for a second or two. "Okay, first question then. Are you, or are you not, a Trump that gains powers by using your blood draining bite?"
", I mean, it could be called that?" You take a moment to really consider how your cocooning goes, and the fact you need to eat people to trigger it and gain more powers and stuff. "It's not really a direct plug'n'play or anything like that, it's not like I gain new powers all the time. That's all I'm saying on the topic, though. Next!"
The director looks like she wants to get more details, but keeps herself in check. "Your powers adversely affect tinkertech and, as we have reason to believe, technology in general. Is this correct?"
"Some do, yes. I'm not going to go into detail, but as Armsmaster experienced firsthand, tinkertech generally does seem to react more adversely to some of my powers than normal technology, though both are affected. Next!" This would be about that time you exploded the man's halberd, and whatever they fished out about that warehouse full of Merchants you kind of shut down entirely, you'd say.
And yeah, it is quite interesting how tinkertech is explosively fucked up by your magic. You've thought about this before, but beyond just letting you hard counter an entire category of parahumans, it does hint towards the true nature of how tinkertech works, a little bit.
Nuances and subtleties you aren't going to elaborate on, but it's a thing.
"... Is, or is not, any part of your powers or body a memetic hazard or human mastering effect?" If you didn't know better, you would believe Director Piggot was disgruntled about something as she reads aloud.
"I can master people, it's just fairly obvious and honestly not something of much use outside of a combat situation." At least your ability to overwhelm the minds of lesser mortals is. Thralling? That's not mastering, no, Scion forbid, it's just a very creatively applied Striker power.
And just because you could use domination or however you wanna call it more creatively and actually master its more subtle uses doesn't change the fact that currently, you don't, and you don't really make use of it like that in general. That can change, but it's the truth right now.
"Also, third question down. What's next?"
"Bit of a long shot, but..." Piggot mutters a little to herself before speaking at her usual volume again. "Are you a Trump that can grant others powers?"
"... Yes, but I'm not giving you any details. Next question." That one's going into your threat assessment, that's for sure.
"Last question, then." Director Piggot takes a long moment to read something before looking at you, her mouth twisted in the approximation of a grimace she just doesn't have the heart for. "What, exactly, is your power and how does it work?"
Obviously not answering that one at all, and that's all your questions up," you declare. "Let's hope you got what you wanted, hm?"
Getting the psychologist Piggot mentioned earlier onto the line instead doesn't take all too long, and soon enough one Jessica Yamada is in attendance, the vaguely asian looking woman taking the PRT director's place on the screen and introducing herself.
"This isn't how these sessions normally go, but then again you aren't exactly one of my usual patients either," she tells you, her voice kept clear and professional despite what you're fairly sure is at least some level of clear interest in her body language. "So, how should we start? This is more just a general psychological evaluation, and I don't necessarily expect you to tell the truth, though it would be appreciated."
And not necessarily the usual interest women have for you by default, either. If you're any judge, she is actually genuinely interested in what makes you tick.
The passionate kind of psychologist, then. "I wouldn't know, I'm hardly a qualified professional for these kinds of things." You vaguely remember a few times you were at things like this when you were a lot younger, but that usually just ended like everything you did- with you and the psychologist very naked and sweaty. In younger history, all you have to go on are a few of those very much outdated books on psychology you read in Rapture.
"True enough," Yamada chuckles. "For starters, would you mind telling me why... Well, why you're even doing this? Cooperating with the PRT despite being a known murderer, accepting this evaluation..."
"Mhm, for the most part?" You think on it for a moment, actually bothering to consider your own motives and actions. "There's no real reason for me not to, whereas I do have reason to get the PRT slash Protectorate to consider me less of a threat than they likely do at the moment, so a show of rationality and, you know, generally non-murderous behaviour beyond the regular PR stunts I try to pull should work in this direction."
Not to mention the totally true questionnaire you allowed them to make on your actual powers. Doesn't even matter what you answered exactly moreso than the fact you sat down and did. Pretty much most capes at your level of apparent power are completely bonkers, and so simply showing that you may be a nuke, but not one that will randomly go off goes a long way.
And hey, you only really confirmed what the PRT already knew or suspected anyways, and you'd have just refused to answer anything outside of that spectrum anyways, which you ended up doing, too, so it's all gucci.
"I see," Yamada says, bringing you back to the present. "That does clear the situation up nicely, actually. So, let's see... If you have any questions yourself, feel free to ask them before we proceed, of course. Sorry for not leading with that, but..."
At a guess, that's how she usually does things, except she's actually a little flustered due to the circumstances. "No need to worry, ask away about all my deepest, darkest secrets."
"I am not exactly going to lead with those." If nothing else, at least she can appreciate humour about her work, smiling at least a little genuinely at your little joke. "Unless you would like to begin with your earliest childhood memories?"
It's not covered by your perfect memory, but you do remember that one occasion... it lead to your first time, even. "Oh, that would be back in kindergarten, actually," you announce, Doctor Yamada leaning forwards to denote her interest. "My mother beat me because, oh, I don't know, it's not like either of my parents needed a reason back when I was too small to really make them think better, but that's not the important part. Anyways, the kindergarten teacher realized something was up, mostly because I was moving a little weirdly so the bruises wouldn't hurt the next day, and she took me aside to take a look. I didn't want to at first, but she talked me down until I did what she told me to and took off my shirt. It's funny, because all that my parents ever really managed, even back then when they had the most power over me, was to help me get laid, seeing as how she kept on undressing me and touching me all over to 'check for injuries'. I remember this weird look in her face- took me a while to figure out she was just being horny. Long story short, she kept going until I was naked and just molested me for a while, which is how I first discovered how sexuality worked when I actually had my first-"
"And how old did you say you were?"
"Six years old, why?"
"..."
"So what you are saying is that he will explode the moment things go out of control." Jessica Yamada resolutely kept in the sigh at the misinterpretation, choosing not to chalk it up to malignance.
What she did chalk it up to was another story.
"Not quite, director," she said, shaking her head at PRT Director ENE Emily Piggot. "It would be more correct to say that he pursues control as a direct consequence of his early life experiences."
"You mean the molesting and statutory rape and half a dozen other crimes we won't be getting to investigate for several reasons," the woman grumpily replied, to which Jessica had to repress a grimace. It was true, but didn't say anything on the actual core of the issue.
"Yes, if you would like to call it that, all the... Everything he experienced as a minor and from there on has brought him to obsess over his partners, as opposed to just people he has sex with," Jessica explained, trying to put the complicated web of connections and trains of thought that made up Cain's mind into words as best she could.
"He considers them important, but in a very... different way. He would gladly murder people by the thousands if that was what it takes to keep the people close to himself happy, as nothing more than an afterthought. It is simply a matter of priorities, where his sociopathic leanings do not improve things."
"Outside of his relationship status, how much of a nutcase do we have to work around, then? How likely is it he flies off the handle if someone he actually cares about gets hurt, how likely is it in general?"
Jessica held in another sigh. "He is terrifyingly rational, as a general rule," she began, knowing this was hard to explain to someone that hadn't felt out his reactions in person. "The way he thinks lends itself to rationalizing his emotions in the same breath he feels them, then either ignoring or actively using them. He doesn't get angry, he directs his anger at anything that he needs dead. Though he seemed like a remarkably relaxed person when we talked."
"Doctor Yamada, I don't know how to tell you this, but we are talking about a man that has personally killed hundreds of people, indirectly directed the deaths of thousands," Director Piggot interjected, looking like she would rather be anywhere but where she was. "Someone that does so because they actually thought it through does sound like a full-blown sociopath to me, beyond the moral and legal ramifications."
"I am not disputing that," Jessica agreed. "He is very much uncaring about the lives and wellbeings of people he does not know or that he knows but does not care about. Everything from rape to genocide is on the table for him, he simply doesn't consider them effective in doing what he wants. Rationality."
Director Piggot sighed, making Jessica want to get her back for all the time she'd tried to be professional about this.
"On the bright side, his attitude also means he won't act like... well, most parahumans do," she pointed out, immediately feeling the need to clarify. "The vast majority of parahumans acquire nonstandard mindsets and their own sets of issues, but Cain is, at least, predictable in that he is only unpredictable if it serves his interests."
"Are you sure nobody was mastered during his interview? I wish I could go back to the M/S cells."
Jessica repressed a shudder. "If we were mastered, it must have been extremely subtle and insidious, considering I am the farthest from wanting to do anything Cain wants."
Director Piggot raised an eyebrow at her, so she elaborated. "I am exceedingly aware that many of the patients I meet in the field I chose are, simply put, monstrous. Few of them are Case 53s. Cain? Cain is, without a doubt, the biggest monster I have ever seen, and the fact I am not at all freaking out about this fact inside shows just how effective he is. No, he doesn't need a master power. He is simply very charming. Charismatic. Which could explain how he can maintain a group the size of his gang without internal conflict breaking out."