Popping back up inside your room, the first thing you do upon your return to your home dimension (or at least the one of your birth) is to plug a couple of important things into your telepathic network, distractedly making sure nothing happened while you were gone- nothing much could have happened by definition, as a little less than a second passed here on Bet, but it's a matter of principle.
After all, if shit hits the fan, you don't see why it wouldn't do so in the split second of your absence. That kind of feels like the kind of thing you'd have to deal with.
But no, everything comes up green, from the base's systems (via the Thinker) to the city of Brockton Bay. 'A finer shithole you'll never find', as some of the locals might say, for all that there's plenty of perfectly normal people and industry of its own going on and all.
Just also, y'know, a whole lot of people with fuck all for work and large parts of it filled with public order and safety comparable to a African warlord's personal fief. Or an African warzone, for that matter.
Well at least it used to, before you went and basically took the place over the hard way, by expelling any other criminals and cape-led gangs you could find. As one does, clearly.
Maybe your perspective changed at some point after your death and resurrection (note to self, you could make a religion out of this, as one Father Wales has already proven), but it just feels terribly messy, to have rivaling criminal organizations vying for territory within the same city, once they grow beyond a certain scale.
Also stupidly inefficient, but that's beside the point. Not that you aren't happy about the model of drug distribution you've set up with the Crypts, or the decent conditions for prostitution as a business model, or the way you pointedly collect actual protection money: by way of just not bothering anyone that doesn't want protection and installing your own security for any business owners that do want it.
It's still a form of unofficial taxation, but a purely voluntary one, for the most part. You're very insistent on that part; the Lord Street Crypts just don't need to do any extortion as parahuman gangs usually rely on as a source of income very commonly.
You're just above that, pretty much. Also, smuggling mind-boggling amounts of drugs and weapons up and down the coast (and across the world, through Accord) provides more than enough cash for anything you'd care to want it for.
And if you one day decide to amass more wealth than you'd ever know what to do with, you can always just forcefully take control of the world's economy. Again, technically, after Earth Rapture; the very existence of a stock market means the Thinker has practically no real barriers towards economical world domination, no amount of trying to stop that exact kind of thing from happening on the part of various government agencies, from Watchdog to… literally the rest of the world, can actually stop her.
Like, they'd have to just straight up shut the markets down entirely, and hey, good luck with that, schmuckos. You'd enjoy spectating the circus show resulting from that particular endeavor, if nothing else.
Ah well. For now, all you have to do is-
Something 'pomf's up right behind you, followed by the sensation of a soft pair of breasts (you can identify it instantly on account of your experience with them) pressing against your back, perky nipples rubbing against your skin.
"…Alicia," you say, closing your eyes as you immediately recognize the psychic presence connected to yourself, "at the risk of coming across as passive-aggressive over here, I have to ask. What. The fuck?"
"…Performed an experiment. It was successful."
Just then, the door of your room opens, revealing one other than Sarah, who is just as naked as yourself- and Alicia. Dimensional travel still doesn't play exceedingly nice with clothing, and since your personal part of the base is a no-clothes-zone, it's only to be expected, but still-
"No blowjobs, boobjobs or other sexual activities until you've been vetted by the council," she immediately declares, darting towards you to pull Alicia off yourself.
"There's a council?" You ask, once again feeling like you may be missing something important.
"Yup, all your lovers came together and founded it at some point. Naturally, I'm the chairwoman, no matter what Kate says," your sister explains.
"I look forward to getting to know everyone," Alicia notes neutrally.
"Look, don't worry about it, it's girl business, now we gotta go because council business, be back in five so you can tell me everything about your vacation!"
…It's good to be home…?
Alright, the sheer mind-boggling fact that Alicia actually managed to follow you to Earth Bet using her new power and her subsequent abduction at Sarah's hands aside, you have an entire dimension to reacquaint yourself with- perfect recollection of everything that happened before you departed is all well and good, but it takes a little more work to put yourself into the right headspace again, y'know?
A quick overview of your operations confirms that nothing has gone catastrophically wrong since you last looked in on the Crypts' activities in Brockton Bay. The drug distribution centers you set up pretty much unchallenged continue to operate as intended, making some tidy cash while regulating the flow of illicit substances and offering a safe environment to partake in such, whereas your hotel and your nightclub operate at slightly above predicted capacity at the moment.
In general, anyways; it's morning, so the Raveyard is currently busy sending off the last people that had too good of a time and cleaning up to be ready for the evening crowd again. Cherie is doing good work with the place, keeping partygoers engaged without doing anything regrettable (for themselves), but even so cleaning all the assorted bodily fluids takes a small army of robots.
…Note to self, maybe design a dedicated cleaning model of robot, the Bobs can do it fine enough but maybe some specialized units wouldn't go amiss. You're aware that a glorified roomba may seem a waste of your time, but it might be a surprisingly good idea to set up a host of designated cleaning robots for your various enterprises.
Alternatively, you could always repurpose the design of a certain sex bot you built to house a certain Karen of a disembodied brain stuck inside a brain tank. A frilly miniskirt and she'd fit the bill just fine.
Such thoughts and more go through your head as you casually insert the Thinker's 'temporary' core storage into the mainframe access you built for her here in your secret base, waving at the duo of Frank and Chariot along the way, the walk taking you through the workshop and all.
"Full personality merge initiated… Personality merge complete," the Thinker's soothingly artificial voice announces. "Please restart the system to apply updates."
"You and me both know you weren't designed to be restarted on account of never turning off," you deadpan at the general direction of her massive, deeply buried 'body'.
"This statement will be a lie. This statement is false."
"You know, growing a sense of humor may not have been the best decision on your part…"
The place was lit by blue neon lights, twisted into thin lines that shone down on the large round table in the middle of the room. Sitting at it, three figures huddled inside their dark robes, faces obscured by the hoods worn over their heads.
These figures were rather short, and the central table would be too high for them to sit at properly if not for the pillows piled onto their chairs. This went unremarked, however, as none of them cared enough to mention it.
Instead, there were some question that had to be asked. "So why are we here, and why do we have to wear these stuffy things?" Missy Biron, the now supervillain formerly known as Vista, asked, waving with the dark cloth covering her entire hand. "I thought the Crypts are more high-tech than illuminati, as far as villains go."
"We usually are, but Aisha insisted," Dinah shrugged, a comical motion under the robe she was dragging behind herself.
"Hey, you gotta build up a vibe, okay? Drama's important," the third of their number complained.
"Look, I appreciate the effort, but this thing is hot. And not in a good way," Missy told her, fighting to push the garment off herself to reveal the black leather jacket she was wearing these days. Synthetic leather, that supposedly worked as light armor- she hadn't asked too many questions, just wearing it was cool enough.
It was the kind of clothing she would never be allowed to wear at all in her old life, despite being a literal hero and all. Why she could wear a bright green costume, but no clothes that didn't scream 'childish' in bright colors was beyond her.
"Fine, whatever," Aisha whined, pulling her hood back and reaching behind herself to grab a trolley loaded up with assorted sweets and soft drinks. "Anyways, I called you here today to discuss the situation of the younger generation of Crypt capes, and how we should organize to ensure our rights are guaranteed."
"You want us to form a union?" If her voice was incredulous, that was because Missy was. "Don't get me wrong, I don't really mind, but… why bother? It's not like we have any issues. Or I don't, at least."
"Pretty sure she just talked with Taylor too much," Dinah remarked, cheek resting in the palm of her hand. "Her dad works for a union, I think."
"Look, don't think of it as a union," Aisha said, "think of it as… a subgroup! Our own little clique inside the gang!"
"Again, why bother? The Crypt are pretty inclusive as is," Missy pointed out. Then she blushed. "A bit too inclusive, really. Kate keeps dragging me to the gun range before she even gets dressed in the morning."
"That's normal, and I don't think she usually gets dressed in the morning at all," Dinah shrugged. "Remember, Gabriel's place is clothes-free."
"A-ny-ways! You guys wanna found the Brat Brigade or no?"
"…Can't we just be the Crypts' junior division?"
"What, like you were with the white hats? We gonna call ourselves the Wardens next?"
Oh, now Aisha was just questioning Missy's cred. That could not stand. "Fuck no, and fuck you for the idea! I'm just saying we have to invite everyone if we do something like this!"
"Can we get this over with soon?" Dinah asked. "My parents don't know I'm ditching school for this, but they'll find out if I don't make a call in a bit."
It was at this point that Aisha grabbed a cupcake, munching on it before she spoke up. "I just want us to have our own secret clubhouse and shit down here. Y'know, like a pillow fort or a treehouse, just villainous and stuff."
"…Okay, now you're talking sense. What kind of clubhouse are we talking about?"
Dinah just sighed obnoxiously, but nobody was forcing her to be there. She could always go make that call and come back. Or just do it right there? Missy wasn't sure what the villainous protocol about rudeness like that was, but until she knew, she wasn't about to give the game away by commenting on it.
"Hm."
"Mhm."
"Ah."
"Hm."
"You know," you say, reclining on your bed, "watching those two communicating is pretty interesting in its own way."
It's been a while, from your perspective, but now that you're back home and nothing particularly urgent is happening, you can finally make use of the extra large bed you built inside your bedroom, complete with your mother still chained up beside it.
This means it's finally time to catch up with everyone, for all that no real time passed for them compared to yourself. You still have to catch up. So you're pretty much just hanging out in a big pile of naked bodies, currently idly observing Alicia, who has since been released from the clutches of your other assorted lovers, 'talking' to Okita.
"It really is. If I still got headaches, my power would drive me crazy just seeing them," Sarah agrees, cuddling closely against your side, your sister's breasts pressed against you as she takes in your scent. She's been glued to you ever since that business with the… Council… was over an done with, and nothing you do can shake her off.
Not that you mind. As you were informed by the Thinker, once upon a time, it turns out that you're a very 'physically affectionate' kind of guy. Not that you needed someone to put it into words to know you like to snuggle every now and then.
On your other side, you have a hand full of perfectly shaped ass, courtesy of Kate who's currently telepathically reviewing footage of some of your more recent fights. And the ways you went out of your way to wreck that one planet. "You know, some of this look pretty cool. I definitely have to come with you blow up a joint or two, sometime."
"I'll pencil it in, I guess. Still no idea where we'll even go, but hey, we can figure it out as we go."
"When don't we?"
You just smile, leaning over to kiss her… Only for Sarah to pout and tug at your arm, wanting to get her own.
As usual with her, really. She gets jealous pretty easily, though she's also easy to placate again. It's one of her (many) cute points.
Well, it's nice to cuddle up, and you never say no to some skin-on-skin contact, but despite your personal preferences- it really is time you got back to work, one way or another. Of course you could just delegate just about any of your day-to-day tasks to someone else, but part of being the leader of a very successful 'informal business' (aka gang), in your opinion, is to actually be present and act as such.
Same shit, different day, in other words. Traveling to other dimensions to snatch up goodies and fuck around for the hell of it is all well and good, but right now, well, you're Cain. You have a job to do, for all that your 'job' barely involves you actually working.
And no, just telling everyone about everything that happened via telepathy isn't sufficient. Look, remote communication works well enough and its convenience really can't be overstated, but you still find some meetings are better had in person.
And, with the level of free healthcare available to anyone part of the Crypts (that you care about), there's never an excuse in regards to being sick or anything! Not that you'd mind if someone just wasn't feeling like coming to one of these meetings, but that's beside the point.
Long story short, you once again gather the leadership of the Crypts (or what amounts to some equivalent of such, given how casual you like to keep things) inside your usual conference room, the usual refreshments piled on two tables this time after you received some feedback about needing more of them.
Pretty sensible, to be fair, and the added opportunity to arrange the stuff to look nice doesn't hurt, either. Presentation is an important part of cooking, after all- nobody likes a dish that looks like shit, even if it's actually tasty.
Anyways, everyone is present once more, Sarah, Kate, Henley, Cupcake, Lea (in place of Sherrel), Curie and, naturally, the Thinker, now represented by one of her actual bodies, for once. Technically, you could've asked more people to come, but honestly just having the 'department heads' present like this is about as much corpo-crap as you can stomach already.
The terrible time of overflowing paperwork, back when the Crypts just started to come into being and you didn't have the Thinker to take care of administrative minutiae yet is still seared into your memory. Of course you didn't do any of it, but making Sarah and Kate do so in your stead broke your heart, it really did.
But anyways, your shadow council has gathered and it's time to make a few announcements. "Good news, everyone," you begin, because honestly every meeting should start like that, "I have figured out how to feed on sex instead of blood. Further testing is underway to confirm the same ability in other vampires, but I figure it's nice to have more food sources to work with."
"Wait a- Are you serious?" Kate asks, actually sitting up instead of slumping in her seat while waiting for all of this to be over.
"Dead serious."
"How does that even work? That's…" Cupcake tilts her head. "That would explain why you're always horny."
"No, he was like that even before he pulled a Jesus and resurrected," Sarah informs her. "If anything, I think Gabe's… Gabe-ness is influencing how his body works now."
"Fascinating as that may be, am I right to assume you will continue to drink blood?" Henley asks, his glasses glinting in unison with his bald head above his interlinked hands. He really is getting the whole villainous accountant look down pat these days- the complete lack of hair and losing a couple dozen pounds compared to when you first met him really make a difference.
"Yup, still need souls to grow and I ain't no vegan," you shrug. "In other news, I got some new tech and new tonics for everyone, sourced from the many things I killed while I was on my flash vacation!"
"That explains all the work being done around the workshop," Lea comments, obviously having noticed the Thinker updating a lot of your equipment, and adding portal technology to your infrastructure. "Also, did you even do anything different than usual while on 'vacation?"
"…No comment. Now, do you guys want to hear about the specifics or not?"
It takes a hot minute to actually inform everyone of all salient points that came up during your subjective absence, but while it'll probably take some time to actually implement all of the changes your recent advances require, you can certainly get right to facilitating some of them, at least- and hey, messing around in the chemistry labs slash alchemy facilities is always fun.
Because yes, of course you have to get right down to brewing the potions with permanent effects you figured out by now for everyone important. The boosts they provide are small, but every little bit helps, and you do make a point of actually using everything you have to mass-produce your own capes.
Just because it's great fun to do so, and the fact you can is the kind of thing that would have half the world lose its fucking mind if it got out. Well, you aren't really keeping it all that much of a secret, but still…
Well, if nothing else, it's also amusing to watch Cupcake, who along with the Thinker is helping you do this, take her own shot of your Juggernaut Potion (whose ingredients were gathered in a jiffy by the Thinker making extensive use of teleportation and portals to grab stuff you couldn't just fabricate in updated manufactories) and test out how much stronger it makes her.
By way of opening a drawer in one of the many worktables lining the area containing, as it turns out, a small collection of walnuts, pulling one of them out and… exerting all her strength to try and crack it open with one hand?
"Uuuurgh… Ruuaaghh…!" She makes funny noises along the way, too, really putting effort into her, her free hand clutching her wrist as she puts her whole soul behind the attempt to aggressively crush the nutshell open. "Naaaagh!"
Standing by, you idly wonder whether you should help her or something- or mess with her by enhancing the molecular density, and therefore toughness, of the object of her wrath. Before you can decide, however, it happens; a quiet crack echoes out, signaling Cupcake's victory over her adversary.
"Yes!" She screams, loudly. "I got you now! I got you now! No escape, motherfucker!"
You just continue to stand there, awkwardly watching on as her efforts redouble.
Then, when she actually gets the shell to crumble apart, breathing hard in the face of her hard-won victory, you finally clear your throat. "You, uh… You good?"
"I'm… good," Addie gasps, nearly dropping the now opened walnut in the process. "There was a guy, once… in college… that did this… as a party trick. I always wanted to copy that…"
"…You're thralled, Cupcake. Your strength was already enhanced beyond anything a baseline human should be able to muster, even if you're comparatively a little weaker due to your frame."
"Lies and slander… Walnuts are too strong…"
You have no idea whether this counts as trauma or something, but at least it seems she's overcome it…?
Living in Brockton Bay, these days, was a strange experience. Not so much because the gangs were gone, because to the average citizen they were not a matter that sprang to mind at every turn, but rather because of what had replaced it.
Sure, the E88 and the ABB had been… big. They had many members, and their gang tags and people wearing their colors could be seen at what felt like every street corner, outside of certain residential districts and the area kept free of such by the Protectorate.
But while just about anyone with vaguely Asian features had to pay protection money or risk loss of life and limb (or worse), and everyone knew to avoid certain places on pain of having to justify themselves to skinhead thugs, it was by and large easy enough to keep one's head down and minimize chances of being the next victim of organized crime in a city that consumed people that failed to do so.
Even the Merchants had been like that- just stay out of certain parts of the old trainyard and you were fine. Heck, for a while you probably got your drugs from one of their people, unless you lived where the other gangs peddled their drugs instead and could afford their prices.
All of this changed when the Lord Street Crypts (LSC) rose to power, in a succession of confusing, violent yet largely self-contained events, outside of the short, yet collateral-rich 'civil war' of the Empire, as some called it.
Where before the gangs were opaque, not easily apparent unless one knew where to look, the Crypts had literal storefronts all over the city, selling drugs and renting room to use them to anyone that came in and asked. The sheer amount of graffiti replacing old gang tags with their own signs indicated a mild, but noticeable upswing for certain businesses on the stock market, and their gang colors were surprisingly pervasive among the population.
It likely helped they openly sold merchandise along with the drugs. And, as rumor had it, there was a much larger, more exclusive selection of such goods in a 'secret' market hidden beneath the Raveyard, this particular night club one of the few businesses clearly known to be connected to the Crypts.
It did not help that, due to the sheer strength of the parahuman-led organization in question, there were few heroic organizations or individuals capable of and willing to put a stop to their activities. For while they, contrary to most such criminals, were exceedingly open about their presence and impact, violent crime was at an all-time low under their rule.
You either profited from their activities by way of safer and cheaper drugs, increased public safety and surprising communal spirit, or you were ignored if you didn't want anything to do with them.
Additionally, economical upswings in the form of more jobs of many kinds were attributed to them, unofficially of course. It truly would just look bad if what it took to get the city on track was the right kind of organized crime, after all.
That said, in terms of the Crypts' absolute dominance over Brockton Bay, one factor cannot be overstated, and that would be the overwhelming strength of their capes. It was public knowledge that their leader, Cain, had all but singe-handedly driven off Leviathan, the sheer feat of fighting an Endbringer alone putting him on the same pedestal as the Triumvirate itself.
And that didn't even account for the other capes known or purported to be part of the LSC, many of their appearances brief and during times of combat- such as the aforementioned attack on Brockton Bay by Leviathan, or the day since christened, by some internet communities, as the Slaughterhouse Laughter Day.
Incidentally, those same communities also tended to argue about what capes were 'actually' part of the Crypts and which ones merely lived in Brockton Bay and came to its defense.
Still, it remained fact that, despite the brazen criminal activity (and elevated amount of underground armaments and other illicit goods trickling into the world at large, sometimes connected back to the east coast at large), the Crypts' immense presence and power allowed them to remain largely unmolested by law enforcement… All the while half the world argued that they should not be considered a criminal organization at all.
As it turned out, curing cancer without claiming any profits in doing so had left somewhat of an impression, one anyone with access to the internet could take in.
This state of affairs may or may not continue from this point, of course, contingent on several factors. Chief among which was, discussed with hushed voices in PRT offices all across the continent, the future of Endbringer fights… And whether such immense might as that of the twisted, winged form Cain had taken, or the sheer number of hitherto un- or barely known capes that had risen to oppose Leviathan, would be turned against humanity's ultimate enemies in the future.
What could be accepted, in exchange for massively reduced casualties? Was it acceptable at all, to make allowances for criminals? Would Cain show up- or would it be better if he remained in 'his' city, a boogeyman that could be isolated and forgotten about the way most were? Was pineapple an acceptable topping for pizza?
Questions over questions, with few answers in sight. Yet.
Perhaps somewhat closer to home, if one lived in Brockton bay, was the matter of tinkertech. To the average person, a Tinker's handiwork was just as obscenely rare and sensational as that of mostly any other cape; whether it was seeing an Alexandria package deadlifting a car or touching some arcane bit of technology nobody could quite explain the working of, the common citizen didn't often get a chance to do so, despite what one may think.
After all, Tinkers made plenty of tinkertech, so some of it making its way into the hands of the public sooner or later would only be natural, right? Wrong. The inherent need for continuous maintenance to keep it from failing, sometimes catastrophically so, ensured that any tinkertech not actively used by its creator, or another Tinker at the very least, soon became rather unusable.
All the more exciting, then, that the upscale hotel now open to reservations in the middle of Brockton Bay's 'mysteriously rebuilt' section was seemingly chock full of it. Impossibly smooth elevator rides truly were just the tip of the iceberg; holographic interfaces controlling ever-shifting rooms, allowing guests to configure their stay to their preferences on a literal whim, gravity-changing energy fields as easy to turn on and off as light fixtures and, of course, the virtual reality.
Hitherto a concept relegated to science-fiction, any that were brave enough to try it out had to agree that a fully virtual environment offered immense value, even 'only' as a proof-of-concept; allowing the user to interface with various media and interact with text and video as a whole on a deeper, more intuitive level was enough for anyone with half a mind for such things.
Being able to edit the laws of physics one was subject to while within the simulations freely available to any paying customer, too, left an impression. Niche and limited as it may be, tinkertech was being used to chart possibilities for the future, an act that would have seemed quaint, at best, before the nigh victimless attack of Leviathan.
Finally, after Cupcake's… episode (and finishing most of the work you need done to begin producing more of your good potions) is all done with, you get on to the last part of your little 'getting used to this shit again' plan: A little patrol around town with a few of the other capes that tend to be more public-facing.
It's the same old thing you've done a couple of times before, essentially just showing your (shadowed) face around, making a point of wearing your favorite suit and, all in all, just swaggering around town. It's less looking out for trouble and more letting trouble know you are, in fact, there and will probably end it if it shows up.
Kind of the same as the PR patrols the Protectorate and Wards do, just inherently a little edgier on account of you being a villain. And a lot more erratic, compared to what they do, but that may just have something to do with you having taken over the city for the most part- in most normal, non-Brockton Bay places, the Protectorate actively does patrol territory 'claimed' by villains just fine, after all.
Just a reality of how things are. As it stands, you just make it a point to be as unpredictable as possible while still staying within city limits and keeping routes from being too much of a pain.
You, after all, don't actually do this whole thing all that often, contrary to a good couple of the others. Thunderstruck, who may just be one of the most powerful kinetic manipulators around with his parahuman power alone, is just the start of it- a bunch of the others basically join in on this whole patrolling business whenever they feel like it.
It's not like this is really all that important to the Crypts as a gang, to be honest, but it gives them something vaguely productive to do so they don't end up finding their own ways to 'help'. Part of the whole people management thing that ended up being your job, somehow.
And no, neither Dinah nor Missy are allowed to go on patrols, despite their protests; Dinah is the mayor's niece, has neither a mask nor a costume at all nor does she have powers to really keep herself safe (on a level you'd consider sufficient) in a pinch, and Missy would just be too recognizable so soon after her 'mysterious disappearance'.
That said, just about everyone else can chip in where and when they want, and you do consider patrols a reasonably safe way to get capes used to being, well, capes, out in public. Not everyone has to be an overachiever of Taylor's proportions and help you murder an A-lister cape of a gang leader (followed by several dozens of their unpowered minions) on their first night out, after all.
Which is one reason you take Kathy along while you're at it already, the technically greenest cape under your employ needing to actually get a taste of this business, for a start, in addition to Tammi and Emily; Kathy needs to actually find some more friends than 'just' Aisha, no matter how much enthusiasm that particular gremlin throws into their relatioship.
It's just for the best to have a couple people you can casually hang out with at minimum, y'know? Also, both Tammi and Emily could stand to have more friends themselves, having struck up a quick friendship but not really reached out too much from there, so you're really just doing that thing where little children mash dolls they ship against each other while making kissy noises.
Just with actual people, much subtler and with more style. You still like to think the principle of your actions is pretty much the same, though.
Hey, human resources is your shtick; may as well make as much use of it as you can.
"Alright, everyone ready for a walk?"
"One s-sec," Tammi asks, tugging at the broom of her witch-y hat- modifying her costume after she joined the Crypts was a matter of course, but you do have to say you kind of like how it turned out. Though she still can't settle on a mask that actually works with it. "Have to get this just r-right so it won't fly off."
Also, her stutter really improved by leap and bounds, you have to say. Then again, the only reason it's taking so long even with her being thralled and all probably is that it's a neurological issue- those, you're finding, tend to take longer to fix with passive processes like that. Probably just a brain thing, brains are super fiddly at the best of times.
You'd know, you've run tests on a couple subjects by now to figure shit out.
"Yeah, these costumes are great, but they're not easy to put on quick," Emily adds, adjusting her own gas mask. Being a vampire with the power to just, turn herself into fire, it really shouldn't be much of a problem for her to just shapeshift into any given set of clothing her size, but apparently that's not ideal, either.
You wouldn't know, you've just been shapeshifting into your suits since forever. Because fuck actually putting these things on manually.
"I'm… actually feeling a little underdressed," Kathy chimes in, her blank facemask and casual clothes betraying her status as being 'really new'.
"Well, you're a Breaker, any really fancy costume would just get in the way for you," you point out with a shrug. "We can probably put something thematic together, but I figure letting you go out caping first might help give you an idea of what you'd want in terms of design choices."
That and you think it's kind of cute to have her traipse around in a shirt and her own shorts. But hey, same difference, right?
It takes a bit to actually get the girls talking, with Kathy too tense, Tammi too awkward and Emily too uncaring about either to really do anything about it. That said, you don't let teenager awkwardness stand in the way of a perfectly fine working break, going out of your way to get an actual conversation going as you all shuffle along.
And climb onto rooftops once you decide you've done enough public showcasing of your presence and switch it up, to traverse the city in style- if you're a cape and walking around like the plebs to actually get anywhere, rather than show off, you're just doing something wrong. You have to either use your power to move, ride in some adequate vehicle to match your cape persona or, as in this case, hop from rooftop to rooftop.
It's just about actually appearing larger than life, pretty much. Capes can't get away with being all lame and taking the bus to get where they need to be- if you're in costume, you need to actually hold yourself to the appropriate standard.
…You're HR, not PR, so you don't actually give all that much of a fuck, personally, but you did study this shit back in university, Parahuman Studies 101 was weirdly comprehensive in that regard. May as well put what little you learned before the accident to some good use.
The relative privacy afforded to you by this method of movement, using your control over gravity when you don't have Tammi (or Charmcaster, in costume) do it with her power instead, just for the sake of training (controlling four discrete objects at once needs some getting used to, her parahuman power itself can do it as long as she stays mindful of it) to propel everyone from one rooftop to the next allows you to speak more or less freely. Whether that's a good thing or not remains to be seen, but you have a good feeling about this.
"So, how's joining the Crypts been? You know, the life of crime treating you well so far?" You finally ask Kathy, having had to push the conversation along largely under your own power. Which you can, it's not that hard, but it does get emotionally exhausting at some point.
Then you poke Tammi via telepathy, because she really could stand to add her own two cents, and that's enough to have her at least try. "Y-yeah, we try to be all inclusive and stuff, but with so many people, it can be…"
"What she's trying to say," Emily shrugs, "is that actually talking to everyone hanging out in the lair would be a full-time job, so we haven't really done much together yet."
"Yeah, that's… definitely a thing," Kathy nods in response. "The Crypts are kind of a huge organization."
"Exactl-ly," Tammi agrees, stumbling over her speech impediment for a moment. "Just wanted to ask if you're okay. I guess."
Kathy hums, not saying anything as you gesture and all four of you softly float over the next rooftop. Once there, she finally decides to respond. "I'm… okay, I guess. It's not like I had much idea of what would happen once I joined, so I guess I just built it up into this big thing that would be my whole life, but…"
"But that didn't happen, mostly because we're all pretty casual," Emily follows up. "I get what you mean. A bunch of us live in the lair, but it's not like anyone actually has to. It's just convenient."
"Yeah! And… No offense, I guess, but you're a lot nicer than I thought," the newest Crypt member present tells Tammi. "Given, you know, ex-nazi and all?"
She giggles awkwardly, but drops that quickly. If you had to guess, she's about to apologize, but the ex-nazi in question is faster on the draw. "Don't w-worry, I get it. It's a good point, but it's, like… I just… Don't want to m-make excuses, but at the time it was all I had, yeah? My folks weren't…"
"Take your time," you chime in, casually 'sitting down' on nothing in particular, your old self-levitation trick more than enough for that little maneuver. "We should take a break, anyways, may as well do it now."
"Th-thanks. So yeah, I didn't really… get along with my parents, and our family was kinda connected to the whole neo-nazi thing but they'd left, so I just drifted into that. Got close to an uncle, he involved me in some shit, then I went to juvie because he wouldn't have my back," the blonde explains. "Triggered, and all of a sudden I was important enough to break out. But at that point I didn't have anyone else to rely on, and the clan kinda sent me off to the Empire, because a lot of its support came from them. From us, I guess."
"So you didn't really buy into the whole, y'know…" Kathy gestures vaguely. "Nazi ideology stuff?"
"Not… really?" It's very much a question, rather than a statement. "It was more like… a fact of life for me, I guess. Just something everyone said, so I didn't dispute it or anything. Didn't have much opinion about it, I guess."
"It's hard to see how that kind of thing hurts others when it's designed to make you consider it fine." Emily's insight is a bit unpolished, but yeah, that's generally how this kind of brainwashing works.
"Guess I can see it," Kathy nods. "But that changed?"
"Hard n-not to, when you just see all kinds of people and realize they're fine," Tammi shrugs. "Or it could just be the Crypts version of ideology replacing the n-nazi stuff."
"Yeah, the Crypts have a habit of recruiting vulnerable young women in order to spread their influence," Emily comments with a pithy little smile, probably remembering being homeless before she found her way to you.
You, in turn, whistle conspicuously in order to signal your utter innocence. "It's probably a coincidence."
Three pairs of eyes give you a look drier than a desert. You get the feeling that, for whatever reason, you may have managed to unite these three against you.
Still, when they all realize what they're doing and share a surprised look, then break out in a short fit of giggles, you figure you can't have done that bad. Mission accomplished?
Probably so, actually. Even if they keep giggling while glancing at you, probably using telepathy to communicate whatever teenage madness they're getting up to now. Or just teenage girl communication over whatever wavelengths they usually use, independently from that- you're convinced women can just do that to this day, somehow, and they just pretend otherwise.
Yeah, sure, you could just change gender yourself, but past tests haven't turned anything up. You tried anything you could think of, but that just means you haven't discovered the truth yet.
It feels good to slide into a well and truly comfortable role, an act you've grown familiar with and close to, despite the slapdash nature of it all back when you started experimenting with it. You do, of course, mean the tweed jacket of none other than Abel, your alternate persona posing as your own 'brother'.
And general curmudgeon of, as he would put it, 'entirely rational and appropriate proportions'. He's just that kind of guy.
Well then, your little recording studio has received a few upgrades, mostly an afterthought from the Thinker during one of the many successive waves of improvements made to your little underground bunker, but it looks more or less the same as it always has ever since you moved in here, shortly after taking the place from Coil the hard and fun way, so you quickly settle in, adjusting the exact proportions of your shadowed face a little.
It's not easily visible, of course, but you pointedly have a few extra inches of your throat transformed to make it look like there were differences between Cain and Abel- as well as Professor Abraham and Lilith, for that matter. You don't expect anyone halfway reasonable to actually notice, but it's these small little things that can make or break the performance, y'know?
And if there's one thing you want to do, when you're showcasing your art and all, it's to perform. Would be kind of embarrassing if you just somehow couldn't, after all, even if it could happen to just about any guy.
You're not just any guy, and you always aim to be ready and raring to go for at least one more round at all times. People appreciate that about you.
Still, head in the game. Or the right personality for the occasion, at least. Turning the cameras on with a thought, you pointedly clear your throat, as though you were interrupting your viewers from whatever it is they're doing.
Which very much is the vibe you're going for. "Greetings, assorted deplorables and further… challenged… viewers. I would claim to hope I was not imposing, but I can imagine what you get up to at the best of times."
You shake your head, as though in disappointment. Really, couldn't they at least wait until you're done before they handle whatever devices they use to watch one-handed?
"Nevertheless, I am once again here to distract you from your pitifully limited lives, if only for a short time and inevitably spiraling towards your obsession with endless perversion. Why I do this to myself exactly is beyond me at the moment, but I am sure there is some reason… At any rate, the selection of themes for our first piece this evening should be available to you now. Go ahead, peruse and disregard it at your will. You always do."
Being a streamer of any description means a lot of talking, by the way. Not a huge problem, but you definitely wouldn't be able to keep going for as long as you usually do without your superhuman endurance letting you speak for hours on end without interruption. Fun little advantages like these are what keeps you glad to be undead, or whatever exactly you are in general, anyways.
When the poll comes in (and you don't even have to look at any screens, because direct brain-to-machine interfaces are just as handy as they are extra), you mime a reaction consisting half of disappointment, half of exasperation, shaking your head with a hand over the black 'void' where your face should be. "Of course your thoughts and ideas are limited to the realm of skimpily dressed capes. What else should I have expected?"
At the same time, you use your other hand to pull up some fresh blank pieces of paper, though, because of course you're going along with the poll's results anyways. Even if people really are having a one-track mind as far as this stream's concerned.
Well, can't really be helped. It's basically a celebrity thing, of course they'd want to see skimpy versions of whatever capes are trending at the moment. Or just popular in general.
Which is probably what brings you to Mouse Protector, who is pretty popular for a largely indie hero as far as those go. The people have spoken, and they say they want to see her in lingerie, so… There you go, pretty much.
"Hoods," you say as you begin to mechanically assemble the outlines of your piece and the background you want, a brightly lit window showing hazy images of other buildings outsie the room you're depicting making up most of it, "are an interesting design detail, aren't they? They can look either heroic or villainous or neither of those two depending on how you wear them, so they're one of the few costume choices you can't really go wrong with… If they don't clash with the rest of your costume."
Naturally, your version of Mouse Protector has her red hood and cape going, with the mouse ears on top and all. That said, the lacy push-up bra, garter belts and two panties she's got on are very much an addition of your own.
And her mask, of course, covering only the area around her eyes. You go right ahead and make it look much smaller than it is in reality, too.
As opposed to her puppies, or 'mousies', rather. If anything, you accentuate and emphasize the size of her breasts a little, compared to what you know of their actual size based on pictures of her in costume. She totally wears small pads, by the way, and you aren't sure whether it's meant as a confidence boost or tit armor.
Though honestly, everyone can use some tit armor. If you made a habit of armoring yourself up beyond your, well, less-than-natural armor, you'd totally add some extra protection for the girls yourself, whenever you're in your female form.
Breasts are sensitive, dammit. They aren't meant to be punched, shot at or otherwise maltreated.
Anyways, your precision and speed are still increasing to this day, your actual ability to convey what you want using art supported by… the wild potpourri of weird shit and methods to enhance yourself you keep on adding up whenever you find a way to, so you can put something fairly good-looking together pretty quickly.
Yup, lookin' good, beautiful.
"Hah! Wish my mousies were actually that big. Don't think bust-up exercises are gonna work in my age, though. Or at any age. Kind of a scam, a mousetrap baited with false promises! …That's a good one, I should write it down."
The next request for you to take care of is… honestly, you aren't sure whether it is better or worse, from Abel's perspective. Well, it's probably better- and nobody can fault you for saying it, can they?
"Cat girls. Of course. When all else fails, stick animal ears onto a human body and call it a day, hm? Not that I can complain. I also happen to think cats are quite cute. Perhaps not to the point they should be… fetishized like this, but if I learned one thing during our time together, it is not to expect too much from you lot."
And it just so happens that you've been thinking about Serena's fascination with Japanese mythology and customs a little lately, so you may as well go ahead and theme them accordingly. Two big-tittied cat girls wearing traditional garb just wrong enough, coming right up.
"Meow." 'It shouldn't be called Dogetown, it's racist.'
"Woof." 'I see where you're coming from, but it's named after the Doge. Nice try, though.'
"Mroow." 'Are we playing poker or gossiping? Calling your bluff, by the way.'
"Woof woof!" 'I raise you two treats, papa's feeling good about this hand.'
Meanwhile, in another place entirely, a certain Thinker is performing a certain test.
"Contessa."
"Doctor Mother."
"Why are you actively interacting with him? We agreed direct causal relationships might be a danger to the Path."
"I believe we can say with some certainty his influence spreads through them, but it doesn't stay in place indefinitely. More importantly, as it keeps on spreading and he stays on Earth Bet, it is becoming increasingly important to find out how well the Path can navigate around him."
"Is that why your suggestion contains the word 'fedorable'?"
"The Path determined it would be the best approach towards manipulating poll voting."
The repeated requests for more naked pictures of yourself are a tad bit weird, but in the end 'Miss Fedorable' gets her will and you acquiesce, in the end; you were only really hesitant because you already did something like this before, and you generally try to avoid repeating yourself when it comes to these silly little streams, but hey, if the viewership wants it badly enough, you can be convinced.
No skin off your back, at any rate. You get to fuck around on camera either way.
Still, by the time you're done streaming, saying your mildly acidic goodbyes, it's a little late in the day, or rather kind of the middle of the night. You take a moment to think about what you could do, now that you have somewhat of an unoccupied time slot in your schedule for the moment.
You haven't really had the time to load it full of all the miscellaneous stuff you usually keep yourself busy with yet. Normally you just go with a mix of 'let's do whatever' and 'wait, didn't I want to do something', but the latter approach hasn't quite kicked in yet since your return to this dimension.
You'll probably come up with a pool of busywork to take care of in-between other stuff soon enough, but for now… You're kind of feeling like goofing around for the heck of it.
So the next step, obviously, is to go down your list of acquaintances and casual fuckbuddies, thinking about what to do with any of them. And, well, you wouldn't be you if you couldn't come up with something.
Asking if your idea is alright with a certain someone, you soon end up perched on a rooftop opposite from the Dallon residence, holding onto your co-conspirator, your partner in crime.
Missy Biron is the one that warps space between your current location and an open window, shortening it in that very interesting way that always reminds you of some of the things that can happen when you install too much eldritch circuitry in something. It's not exactly the same thing, of course, but hey, all spatial warps are the same when your back is turned, or something.
Look, coming up with proverbs on the spot isn't necessarily easy, okay?
Anyways, the distance between you and the window shortens drastically. The other side of the window, of course, is a room, one that contains two girls. Two girls who just so happen to be naked, sharing a bed and making out vigorously, though they stop the moment Missy groans as loud as she can.
"Seriously? You don't have anything to do other than each other?"
"Missy!" Vicky hisses, pushing herself up and into her usual flight. Still naked, of course. "You're alright!"
"Can't you knock before you open the window?" Amy complains grumpily, covering her sweaty skin with a blanket before she rises. Her sister realizes she doesn't have any cover like that herself around now, but whether it's her natural confidence or her increasingly kinky mindset, she doesn't make any effort to hide herself as you poke your head through the window.
"It was open already, I just went from there," Missy complains right back. "Now do you wanna stay here munch on each other or are you coming with us for ice cream instead?"
"I taught her to forget all the Wards nonsense already and replaced it with real diplomacy," you comment from behind.
As you'd expect, news that Missy, who has been missing for over a week now, is perfectly fine and currently part of the Crypts, end up being a… point of contention of sorts, to put it politely.
Less politely put, Victoria immediately launches into trying to interrogate you (while still naked, of course), but Missy cuts her off before you can just settle down in Vicky's room to deal with this. Apparently, she quite dislikes just being ignored when she's right there and any questions may as well be addressed to her as the party in question directly.
Instead, you just kind of sit down on the bed, pulling a few bowls of ice cream out of your 'pockets' to Amy's half bemused, half cranky entertainment. "I got a couple flavors just in case," you whisper to her while the two blondes in the room initiate whatever strange rituals colliding blondes have to partake in to get anywhere. "Any favorites?"
The curly-haired girl sighs, sitting up and largely discarding the bedsheet to move unimpeded, in doing so once again showing how surprisingly curvy she is. The cloak that makes up her costume really hides a little too much, you think. Then again, apparently your opinion is unreliable, according to Sarah. "Got any strawberry?"
"Enough for everyone twice over," you smirk, pulling a fresh, cold pre-filled bowl out. On a related note, your pocket shadow dimension hammerspace really is pretty convenient in that it preserves temperature pretty well, on account of being mostly vacuum. "Literal buckets of the stuff, so don't holdback."
With that, you casually toss one of those little kinda shovel-shaped spoons up in the air, the colorful plastic thingies that make eating ice cream twice as fun just by being there. It rotates in the air a couple times before it buries itself in Amy's frozen treat head-first, like some epic sword cast upon hardy, rocky ground at the end of a great battle.
"Cute," Amy comments acerbically, pulling it out and using it to scoop some of the ice cream you brought up. "Mhmm… Dammit. It's too good to bitch at you instead of eating."
"The recipe is continually improving. I'd love to say it was handmade, but not even I have that much time."
Meanwhile, as the two of you are chatting as amiably as a clamjammed Amy can, Missy and Vicky are actually achieving some kind of understanding, from the sounds of it. "So you ran away from home?"
"Yes! It was getting unbearable to listen to them scream at each other all the time and I didn't want to stay, so I left."
"And joined the Crypts instead."
"I knew Cain already and we met, so we talked and, y'know."
"Gaaabe!" You're glad Vicky at least remembers not to actually shout when she wants something, wouldn't want to alert the whole house. "Did you have sex with Missy?!"
"Sure did, she wanted and needed some way to work off her emotions," you shrug, still eating your bowl of ice cream. Oh, you should pull out the colorful little sprinkles or the chocolate drops for the next one. "Also, she's cute."
Missy looks at Vicky triumphantly, arms crossed as though to emphasize her (modest, though certainly very fun) chest.
"You know we're both fucking him, right?"
"Yeah, but so am I."
You, on the other hand, somehow find yourself with a handful of Amy's butt, massaging it while she 'steals' your ice cream. Until you reverse the weight of one bite she's trying to take, making it swoop upwards and paint the tip of her lightly freckled nose a peachy pink.
She gives you the driest look she can muster, which is very rich considering how wet you know she still is. Your response is to lean in and kiss her nose clean again, gently plucking the sugary treat off as you go.
Good, solid lip-work is the foundation of any good kisser.
"Yeah, well, maybe I like being a villain. I have a gun now! It's a big-ass gun, too, and it can transform!"
"I just can't believe you'd become a villain! I mean, the Crypts aren't that bad, but you of all people, know what I mean?"
"Maybe if the Wards paid me half a million dollars a month to loaf around I'd still be with them, but on second thought, that still wouldn't be worth having to stay with my parents."
"Half a million?" Amy asks you, quietly.
"Crime pays, what can I say," you shrug.
Honestly, it's kind of entertaining, to watch these two argue from one point to another with seemingly zero connection in-between.
"Also, you're the weird one for staying naked like this!"
"Hey, you busted into my room, I can be naked all I want!"
As they descend into yet another miniature catfight, you shoot Amy a mildly confused look. It's not like either of them have any issue with others being naked in their presence, as you can personally attest, so what gives?
"Haah… Missy used to have a crush on Vicky's boyfriend. You know, like younger kids do."
(PSA: Missy Biron has, at this point in time and any time she was referenced in the course of this literary work, reached the age of consent already.)
"I'm pretty sure they're just measuring each other up now that they've both realized they're both into you," a still grumpy-sounding Amy continues, pushing her weight against your side. "Vicky doesn't know how to share."
You tilt your head.
"Outside the family."
"Eh, fair enough."
You do wonder how long either of the two will take to realize you're basically making out with Amy, who is now rubbing herself against your lap, now. More ice cream may or may not be involved, of course.
In the end, it does take a little bit, but you get everyone dressed at least a little (much as it's regrettable to cover beautiful things up, it'd be a shame to damage Amy's skin along the way) and spatially warped over to one of the rooftops in the northern part of town, where your reconstruction efforts after the 'clinical' and 'careful' removal of the last competing gangs in town were the most thorough and expansive.
It's one of many small places you may or may not have added to the city's overall layout, meant to just be a space for you and your people to relax in that isn't underground. Not that you couldn't construct a convincing replication of just about any environment out there (note to self, see about setting up an artificial private underground beach to go with the private beach near LA you bought that one time), but it's the principle of the matter, y'know?
Why be a supervillain taking over a city when you can't rebuild parts of it to include a secret rooftop hangout domed with one-sided glass and a pool that makes use of excess heat rising from the building below for heating? This is where things such as 'style' and 'living the life' come in, in your humble opinion.
It actually remind you a bit of your mansion in Remnant, come to think of it. The pool on its roof has the same kind of vibe, y'know?
Anyways, the four of you, once relocated, proceed to consume prodigious amounts of ice cream, to the point Missy and Vicky both suffer from slightly distended bellies afterwards; maybe letting them turn it into a competition wasn't the best idea, but hey, the consequences are their own problem, so really, what's the harm to you?
…Well, you do have to rub their bellies better at some point. You suppose that counts? It's a nice bit of hangout time either way.
All good things have to come to an end, however, and this one is no exception. The trick, as you like to think of it, is to immediately follow up with another good thing whenever that happens, and just keep the daisy chain of tolerable circumstances going from there.
If you were philosophically inclined, you totally could write a book about this particular kind of 'optimism', you suppose. You're not, though, so fuck all of that, your insights on how to live life are your own and you ain't sharing so easily.
As it stands, you have to bid the girls you're hanging out with farewell, as you're scheduled to go have a little meeting tonight- it actually is getting pretty late measured against normal people's idea of time, so it's for the best that the Dallons present around you get home before their parents notice, if nothing else.
Said meeting, on the other hand, is a perfectly good and fun thing to have, as you aren't discussing any boring minutiae you don't even bother with during the weeklies, as your weekly meetings with all 'department heads' have been called at times (despite your best efforts at making them not sound like some corporate team-building exercise bullshit), but rather a quick get-together with a few people about a plan you mean to execute in the near future.
Specifically, you're meeting with Taylor, Emily and Mimi, the respectively most devastating and pyrokinetic capes around the city. In order to discuss how you plan to obliterate Nilbog, one of the many little 'issues' that arose when random people started getting random powers and used them to do whatever it was they wanted.
And, like, you may not be one to talk, given how you usually conduct yourself, but essentially wiping out a whole city and replacing its inhabitants with your twisted little creations is pretty problematic on the scale of 'things that someone should care about'. Mostly, you just want to ensure he won't ever get any ideas and turn himself into a bigger problem, really.
That and you can't stand anyone being a bigger monster than yourself. Call it what you want, but being the bigger baddie is a winning strategy and you don't plan to abandon it anytime soon- so disposing of Nilbog means you have one less rival for the 'worst person in existence' award.
What can you say, it'd just bother you to have him sitting around your backyard if and when you get around to taking control of North America, here on Bet. You don't even want to talk about world domination, like on Earth Rapture, but you'd bet you could keep at least this one continent stable and under our control if you really tried, parahumans being a thing or not.
But anyways, your plan to deal with Nilbog and the annoyances he prepared as a failsafe in case someone came for him. It's a good plan, everyone says so.
"I will not dance and I will not sing," Taylor declares when you get to her part in the plan. "Why can't we just kill everything normally?"
"Because we're supervillains, not just villains," you argue playfully, leaning back in your seat around the table. "Besides, didn't it bother you how many people are irrationally terrified of you? This could be your chance to change your public perception."
"Somehow, I doubt a musical number in the middle of consuming screaming abominations with a giant swarm will make people change their minds," she counters, unimpressed.
"Yeah, I'm with Skitter here, pretty sure it'll just reinforce the narrative," Emily agrees, Mimi nodding in the background. The former S9 member still is pretty shy around the others, so you aren't surprised she doesn't speak up all that much.
"Alright, so it'll just reinforce the image then," you shrug, unable to really make any claims to the contrary. "Think about it, you aren't just casually stomping extremely dangerous shit in Ellisburg, you're doing it while making a show of it. Whether people fear you beforehand or not, they'll all have to admit you're strong by the time you're done."
"…Why do you want this so much, anyways?"
"I just think it'd be fun."
Taylor sighs, shaking her head. You all know she'll go with what you want in the end, it's just a matter of wearing down her resistance to singing in front of an audience.
In the end, it really just comes down to convincing Taylor that she has a beautiful singing voice she doesn't have to be self-conscious about and that you really would like to hear her sing for the occasion of your attack on Ellisburg. Some details are discussed and particular parts of your big plan elaborated on so everyone's on the same page, but that's it, by and large.
Oh, and you do agree to let Vicky and Amy know when the action starts, just in case. Actually bringing them would be… ill-advised to say the least, considering you're at least trying to pay lip service to the illusion of them not being Crypts themselves, but they'll be just a quick teleport away should they be needed.
Largely to make use of Amy's power, in case Riley judges it's needed to counter any of the shit stirring in the cauldron known as Ellisburg. No offense to Vicky, but while her power is pretty decent going by the standards of capes in general, all it can really do for you in this context is brute force… And you have plenty of that already.
Compare that to giving whatever cape bullshit Nilbog's got set up a big fat middle finger just because. Sure, Amy can't really work on unicellular life- if it's a virus or some shit, she'd have to interact with it indirectly- but if you're talking spores, parasites, prions or any of that zany crap, she has a good chance of figuring something out, at least.
May need some additional support, as her power doesn't really work automatically off of commands like 'make this stuff stop being alive', but telepathic connections to share information and solutions in real time are a thing, so hey, she's a pretty great backup for this operation.
Speaking of, how to call said operation is still hotly debated. Personally, you favor Operation Goblin Slayer, but you don't think there's any definite winner on the telepathic network so far.
In other words, it's just another Tuesday in Brockton Bay, news at eleven. Actually, thought- could you set up your own TV channel to spread Crypts propaganda? CrypTV, with news and reruns of your old streams and shit. Maybe some segments about interviewing people in the Bay, some comedy, could be standup or something…