Hannah
February 21
9:35 PM
Protectorate HQ
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■
♦ Topic: Iris x Avalon x Panacea? POLY PROOF
In: Boards ► Private Groups ► Invictus Fan Club
Shaedy_Hoe (Original Poster) (Cape Groupie) (Invictus Fan Club)
Posted On Feb 20th 2011:
[PIC]
[PIC]
[PIC]
TOLD YALL HOES! So I work @ this super glitzy sushi place Downtown, not sayin names but iykyk lmao, and guess who the fuck I saw walk in with TWO hot bitches wrapped in his arms?
You fucking guessed it. LOOOOL
And omfg do you SEE Panacea's new look? the eyeshadow? the winged eyeliner? the black lipstick? THE FUCKING CURVES?????
I dont know what you hoes have against poly love, but these hot tamales were making googly eyes and kissing all fucking night in their lil booth.
@ FlippinMad you can stop tagging my black king in your thirsty ass selfie threads, he got two (DOS) sexy queens and theyre a lot finer than your dusty musty boring ass. stop calling bitches 'plain', 'ugly', and 'dorky' just because no one wants you.
YES this post was me throwing shade. Look @ my name. <3
PS: he said i could post those pictures. AND HE TOOK A SELFIE WITH MEEEE
[PIC]
(Showing page 1 of 16)
►FlippinMad (Cape Groupie) (Invictus Fan Club)
Replied On Feb 20th 2011:
i am LITERALLY sick and tired of this fandom pushing fucking agendas. AVALON IS NOT POLY! AVALON IS NOT IN A RELATIONSHIP! he only wants ME and hes just playing with these hussies bc they keep throwing themselves at him
@ Lolitup please ban him from the group already!
►Lolitup (Wiki Warrior) (Cape Groupie) (Invictus Fan Club) (Fan Club Administrator)
Replied On Feb 20th 2011:
@ Shaedy_Hoe I know youre excited, but no insulting other members of the fan club. you know this already! this is your second warning, please dont make me suspend you from the group.
you bring the best snacks to the meet-ups
And that goes for you too @ FlippinMad. This is an INVICTUS Fan Club. why the fuck are you insulting the members?
►FlippinMad (Cape Groupie) (Invictus Fan Club)
Replied On Feb 20th 2011:
WAIT @ Lolitup what meetups??? i havent seen any invites??
►Thatdude (Invictus Fan Club)
Replied On Feb 20th 2011:
lmfaooo if you aint invited dont ask to go.
@ Shaedy_Hoe thats fucking dope tho dude, what the fuck. the selfie and the fact that my man Avalon has two baddies.
BUT YO. WHEN THE FUCK DID PANACEA GET SO HOT??? DID SHE ALWATS HAV THAT MUCH CAKE
►GstringGirl (Invictus Fan Club) (Cape Groupie)
Replied On Feb 20th 2011:
oh. my. god. I actually love the top Iris was wearing. It wouldn't fit me but I like to collect cute clothes
ummm does anyone know where she got it from??
►Nightmare723764 (Invictus Fan Club) (Cape Groupie)
Replied On Feb 20th 2011:
goth pannyyyy.... <3 <3 <3
►Feychick (Invictus Fan Club) (Cape Groupie)
Replied On Feb 20th 2011:
alright. ill freaking say it.
IM JEALOUS. IMMMM JEALOUS. SCREW IT! IM SO BI, GUYS, THIS ISNT FAIRRRRR WHY CANT I HAVE SUPERPOWERS ;-; ;-; ;-; ;-; ;-;
►Lolitup (Wiki Warrior) (Cape Groupie) (Invictus Fan Club) (Fan Club Administrator)
Replied On Feb 20th 2011:
@ Feychick tell me about it girl. i quite literally spent 200 bucks on an Avalon body pillow the other day. and it. is so. COMFORTABLE.
im down bad please help
►winged_one (Banned)
Replied On Feb 20th 2011:
02/25/2011
<3
End of Page. 1
(Showing page 2 of 16)
►Valkyr (Wiki Warrior) (Invictus Fan Club) (Fan Club Administrator)
Replied On Feb 20th 2011:
Uhhhhh... how are you in here without the Invictus Fan Club tag? @ User_Not_Found
►Chaosfaith (Invictus Fan Club)
Replied On Feb 20th 2011:
fucking weirdo.
idk that acc's been posting that shit on random forums all day. shits weird
anywayssss...
we should all TOTALLY go to @ Shaedy_Hoe's place of business and camp out in the lobby next week, just in case they go there for a second date hehehe >:]
►Shaedy_Hoe (Original Poster) (Cape Groupie) (Invictus Fan Club)
Replied On Feb 20th 2011:
@ Lolitup youre right, im srry. i just hate fake ass prissy bitches lol, but ill stop.
@ Chaosfaith absolutely NOT bitch LMAO
►fireball77 (Cape Groupie) (Invictus Fan Club)
Replied On Feb 20th 2011:
Lol do y'all think they're looking for a fouuuurth tho? 19/m and i have a pretty big -removed-
►GstringGirl (Invictus Fan Club) (Cape Groupie)
Replied On Feb 20th 2011:
ew.
►Mousiest_Protector (Unverified Cape) (Invictus Fan Club)
Replied On Feb 20th 2011:
@ Chaosfaith I'M DOWN!!!!!
End of Page. 1, 2, 3, … 16
■
Hannah
February 21
9:35 PM
Protectorate HQ
She furrowed her brow at the screen.
“… Whew. Second Amendment, huh? Oddly fitting username for your burner account. Very ‘merican.”
It was a testament to Hannah’s sheer surprise that she didn’t even scream in response to the deep voice suddenly murmuring amusedly, a scant few inches behind her neck.
Goosebumps.
Her body simply reacted, a sheen of vibrant green pooling around her right palm and shifting into a M1911, while she twisted in her computer chair and tried - in vain - to cover the screen with her left. Her eyes were wide, breaths coming out in sharp gasps, her heart hammering like bongo drums in her breast. She moved on pure instinct, jamming the silver barrel of her pistol against the source of that dulcet drawl, but much to her surprise-
The figure - tall, broad of shoulder, and clad in what looked like a cheap black ninja uniform - didn’t react.
At all.
The gun’s barrel cracked against the underside of his chin, digging into dark fabric and oddly dense flesh, but outside of him raising his shrouded hands and tilting his head to the side… the man simply stared at her. As cool as a cucumber. Amused, even. And those eyes, a sterling silver that seemed to glow in the shrouded darkness of her bedroom-office, were familiar. Embarrassingly familiar.
After all, only minutes before, she’d been staring into them on the very same monitor she was trying to hide from view.
“Avalon!” Hannah hissed breathlessly, appalled, frustrated, and guilty by the goosebumps his mere presence caused. She shoved him back with the hand that she’d been trying, in vain, to cover her screen with.
If her thumb swiped the power button on its way forward, hiding her shame from the world, then that was purely accidental. For his part, the young man merely swayed back with the force of her push, hands still raised placating. “Miss M. Fancy meetin’ you here.”
“Fancy meeting- these are my living quarters. What the hell are you doing here? Who provided you with access to the Rig?!”
And why the hell was he dressed in a Halloween costume? So many questions, so many potential consequences, and she-
She was barely wearing anything.
Thin, nondescript black panties and a drab green sports bra that only did somewhat well at containing her moderate bust. Hannah was an athletic woman, her body painstakingly sculpted through years upon years of vigorous physical training and dieting. She was tall, statuesque, and if the ‘gooner’ threads on PHO could be believed, highly thirsted after by the male populace.
So why, now, beneath this lidded, moonlit stare, did she feel so plain and defenseless?
A wave of heat surged through Hannah’s lower belly, and the answer came to her just as he pulled the ninja mask off of his head, tossing back messy, coiled locs of shiny black hair.
‘Right. Because I’m attracted to a boy ten years my junior. God, I’m going to be fired.’
Avalon, stupidly handsome face now exposed and wide, shit-eating grin on full display, extended his arms fully out to the sides. “Ninja outfit,” he announced proudly, gesturing down to his Halloween costume with clear pride. “I bought out two different Walmarts to get the right Infusion, and most of ‘em were too small, but this set makes me about… fifty percent harder to see in total darkness.”
He was way too fucking casual. The matter-of-factness of his answer nearly had Hannah nodding her head along to the explanation, as if it made complete and utter sense, but… it didn’t. Make sense, that is. Was ‘Infusion’ another one of his powers? A recent one? An older one? If it gave his ‘ninja outfit’ some sort of Stranger stealth rating, then it could probably be comparable to Dauntless’ power. Almost to a T, actually.
Dauntless. The up and coming star that had been estimated to hold the potential to reach Triumvirate level, given enough time.
… The PRT’s folder on Avalon, already inches thick, was clearly out-of-date.
“That doesn’t-“ Hannah paused, glancing down at her pistol and wracking her brain. It only took a couple seconds and a few halfhearted strategies, in which all four and a half were promptly dismissed, before she sighed and pulled the barrel from her fellow hero’s neck. “You intentionally refused to answer my questions, Avalon. No measure of cloaking ability, bar those significantly more bullshit than ‘fifty percent harder to see in total darkness’, would let you get past the forcefield, motion sensors, NV cameras, and biometric fingerprint scanners.”
The deluge of information seemed to confuse him, judging by how he tilted his head and scratched at a few stray black hairs on his chin.
Hannah resisted the intrusive urge to pluck them. It wasn't her job to groom Avalon-
Damn it.
“Y’know what? Touché. The suit was mostly for flavor, I’m not gonna lie. I didn’t even know you guys had half the shit you just listed,” he freely admitted, giving a carefree shrug. His eyes glanced past her face, combing over her neat and orderly computer desk, before drifting down to her outfit. Or, rather, lack of one.
Something in his gaze shifted. Something important.
And Hannah stiffened.
Not for the first time, she sincerely hoped her tan skin hid whatever heat she could feel pulsing through her cheeks.
“Ahem. My eyes are up here, Avalon,” she deadpanned.
I wouldn’t be upset if you kept staring. Actually, please keep staring at me. Like a wolf noticing a nice, delectable deer.
“Huh? Of course. My bad, Miss M.”
Damn it.
She followed Avalon with her eyes, lips forced downwards into a neutral frown, as he stepped backwards and turned smoothly on his heel, the heated electricity of his predatory gaze on her body disappearing as quickly as it appeared. Even though it had only lasted for a moment, Hannah found herself wrapping her arms around the slim contours of her stomach, all of a sudden more self-conscious than she had been before.
The young man was ambling around her room, hands in his pockets as he ‘politely’ admired the obsessive neatness of her nonexistent decor. It was clear he wasn’t planning to tell her how he got in.
“Mm. If you won’t tell me how you got past our heavily secured defenses, the least you can do is tell me why you’re here. Work with me. Trespassing is illegal, Avalon. Trespassing into the Protectorate’s Headquarters is just plain stupid. I’ll have to report this,” Hannah sighed, lightly tapping the barrel of her M1911 against the side of her hip.
Avalon’s attention flickered towards her in an instant. Rather than appearing worried or concerned, however, he seemed… apologetic?
“I know, and I’m sorry. I could’ve hit Piggot up first, or sent the invites to your PO Boxes instead, but Imp dared me to fly here tonight and, well…” He trailed off, having the gall to smile sheepishly.
Hannah blinked. Slowly. “You flew across the city, infiltrated the Rig, bypassed millions of dollars worth of tech and security, all because… ‘Imp dared you’?”
Much to her surprise, and secret delight, the normally unflappable hero actually seemed embarrassed. He clicked his tongue and frowned, lips twisted in a way that could have been a half-pout if you tilted your head and squinted. “In my defense, I was gonna give it to you in person tomorrow anyways. Imp just accelerated things a lil’ bit. Chick’s quirky like that.”
Give it to you in person.
Hannah swallowed down her traitorous excitement, girding it with a heavy dose of caution and a light sprinkle of curiosity. “Give what to me?”
Avalon just winked in response. “Check your desk.”
She eyed him with suspicion, but the boy wonder merely smirked and raised both hands innocently, gloved fingers splayed. “Trust me, I’m not here to hurt you, or anyone else for that matter. Scout’s honor.”
“You were a Boy Scout?” Hannah asked doubtfully, free hand blindly sliding along the wooden surface of the desk behind her. The other kept hold of the pistol, for comfort more than anything else.
He grinned. “Fuck no. But it made me sound trustworthy, didn’t it?”
Hannah didn’t even bother with a reply. If she did, she risked snorting and breaking what little professionalism she had in the moment.
Her wandering hand touched something smooth and crinkly, parchment that definitely hadn’t been there before, and she quickly turned her head to regard the new object. It was a scroll of all things, tied snug with a red ribbon and a wax golden crown. Bemused, Hannah tossed it a curious glance before looking back at Avalon.
He simply nodded his head encouragingly.
She sighed, snagging the scroll off of the desk and shifting her pistol into a letter-opener. “Fine. But after I read this, young man, you and I are going to have a long conversation about personal boundaries-“
But emanating from the unfurled scroll and the dimly glowing cursive inscribed within, cutting off her heavily posterized admonishment, was a voice. Avalon’s voice. As clear and cool as if the man was speaking directly from the parchment himself.
“Yo, what’s up? If you’ve received this missive, it either means that I’m dead…”
As foolish as it was, Hannah’s heart skipped a beat-
“… Or that I think you’re pretty fuckin’ cool, and I wanted to invite you to Invictus’ first and only Housewarming Party!”
But then she heard the present Avalon chuckle, and she quickly schooled her features.
“This Friday, I, Avalon, and my amazing teammates, will be hosting a get-together at the top of ‘Mt. Invictus’, celebrating our new palace, our camaraderie, and the newfound peace of Brockton Bay… as much as peace can exist in this world, at least. Clearing this city of its major villainous factions was only Part One in Plan: Save Earth Bet. Now, for Part Two, we just need to maintain the stability we brought these people, and make sure the vacuum left behind isn’t taken over by people even worse.
Invictus is on the job. But for now, we can take a breather.
Come dressed in your costume, leave your prejudice and assholiness at the door, and be prepared for good food, good laughs, and a magical time.
PS: Free dragon rides are provided.”
Her attention has been drawn completely to the scroll during its ‘digitized’(?) speech. All confusion about how it even worked shoved aside, Hannah couldn’t resist the excitement and curiosity she felt about this supposed party. Invictus’ new palace was one of the biggest mysteries on PHO right now, second to the massive, vaguely Endbringer-sized dragon that rooster atop their mountain, and she would be a big, fat fucking liar if she said that the invitation was sorely tempting.
Not to mention the talk of heroism alit something different in her chest. Something separate from the attraction, but nonetheless passionate and warm.
“Ugh. Alright,” she exhaled, beginning to turn away from her computer desk. “I’ll come. But if you’re going to be passing out invitations on the Rig, Avalon, there’s better ways to do it. Less sneaky ways. Sit down and let me call D-“
Hannah paused mid-admonishment, her gaze turning wry as she stared at the now empty room. The door was cracked open, revealing the dark corridor of the Protectorate HQ’s residential suite, and only the lingering scent of sandalwood acted as the only evidence of the roguish hero’s former presence. It wasn’t a surprise, considering how… mysterious and untouchable the young man was, but Hannah found herself distantly disappointed that their conversation was cut so short.
That was probably the longest she’d gotten to speak to Avalon without threats being thrown by either party.
“Then again,” she murmured wryly, eyeing the invitation scroll lying on her desk, “Cutting out little conversation short was probably for the best…”
It would give her time to shower and grab a snack from the vending machine before the inevitable emergency meeting is announced. Hannah doubted she’d be the only one he visited tonight. ‘Moderation’ didn’t seem like Avalon’s MO.
She found herself chuckling as she made her way to her bathroom, skin still tingling with excitement and nervousness.
“Things are about to get interesting.”
___________________________________________________
Rebecca
February 21
10:40 PM
Rooftop - The Docks
Rebecca stepped out of the Doormaker portal and onto the grimy rooftop, an ivory umbrella held gently against her right shoulder. Rain petered down against the nylon canopy like pebbles against a lake, filling her ears with a soft, relaxing staccato that did little to calm the proactive beehive that was her calculating, ever-wandering mind. It had only been a scant two weeks since she’d met with Avalon, the puckish young man who seemed hellbent on flipping everything they’d thought they’d known on its head, but at the rate things had been progressing…
It felt like it had been a lot longer.
David hadn’t taken the news of his supposed ‘relationship’ with the Endbringers well. None of them did. Even for the most powerful minds and bodies of Humanity, the mere idea that Eidolon’s Shard was, in some way, shape, or form, responsible for the creation of unliving natural disasters who exist solely to toy with and destroy humanity…
It was hard to believe.
Fortunately David was allowing himself to be given top of the line psychological assistance, though the fruits of this labor was slow-going. The other information that Avalon had shared with them; the location of these Endbringer ‘cores’ on each of the monsters, were things that they couldn’t exactly validate without an attack occurring. Analyzing existing video recordings of Endbringer battles showed absolutely nothing, and the big brains in charge - Rebecca included - were beginning to feel a bit… impatient.
She knew that she could trust her instincts. They were what had gotten her to where she was now, if you ignored the deluge of Shard juice and Cauldron’s finite influence. Her gut was what had made her trust Doctor Mother all those years ago, when she was a cancer patient wasting away beneath the deceptive, pitying smiles of her nurses. She’d trusted her own intuition later, when it urged her to create the PRT and fashion her civilian identity as Chief Director, all in a planned, consolidated effort to unite Parahumans with the rest of humanity.
And now? Now that same gut feeling was telling her to trust Avalon. That the things he said, the things he knew from his unrestricted Thinker ability wasn’t just bullshit concocted by an arrogant boy with too much power and intellect. It was why Cauldron had bade Number Man to give him a privatized, unrestricted account with all of Coil’s considerable wealth, and a few golden geese eggs of their own worth a few hundred million. If they were able to figure out how to disable these Endbringers, whether through their ‘cores’ or by helping Eidolon regain control over that which he had subconsciously wrought through his desire for challenge, then a few hundred million dollars would be nothing in comparison to the lives they could save.
The effort they would then be able to put towards finding the dimension that housed Scion’s real form. Because, of course Avalon had to drop that ball . He hasn’t given them an end-all be-all answer to defeating Scion, stopping the end of the world, and living happily ever after… but truly, Alexandria doubted there ever could be something like that for Earth Bet.
A happily ever after.
As it stood, the closest she could see them getting is a future where men and women like Avalon led humanity into a new era of stability and healing once the fires were all extinguished, and there were no more aliens planning to cull their universe.
As it stood, right now, Avalon was their greatest hope. Their most promising subject. An anomalous powerhouse who, if all reported accounts and media evidence were to be believed, recently grew a mountain inside of the very same city she’d just arrived in, and summoned a dragon to guard it. This unexplainably powerful man whose entire existence spat in the face of what they thought they knew about parahuman powers.
The same man who’d just reached out to Doormaker using the code Rebecca had given him to vocalize when he was ready to receive his payment. It was why she had several thin, glossy black cards packed snug inside of a manila envelope tucked beneath her arm.
Though something told her this visit would be anything but normal.
“Shiiit, you actually came? Not that I doubted you, but huh… Figured you’d send some errand boys. Y’know, what with you guys being busy savin’ the multiverse and all.” Avalon’s voice spoke from the surrounding shadows of the rooftop, and Rebecca fought the urge to flinch at her sudden awareness of his presence. Whatever power he used to mask himself from Clairvoyant and Contessa was potent.
Scarily so.
“We’ve decided that you’re too critical to the continued existence of Earth Bet to not meet with you personally.” She turned on her heel, one gloved hand resting on the meaty, muscularity of her hips as Rebecca regarded the young man in front of her.
Outside of the black ninja costume and the change in his hair color, Avalon appeared the same as he had the last time she met him those short couple weeks ago, inside of the PRT Headquarters. Tall, devilishly handsome, cool and confident to the point of borderline cockiness. Such an attitude would’ve rankled most women of Rebecca’s pedigree-
Chief Director. Triumvirate Hero.
But she was beyond such pettiness. There was respect there, in his glowing gaze, and that was enough for her. As long as there was an acknowledgment that they were equal, no more and no less, Rebecca would play his game.
Just as he played theirs.
“I’ve got your cards. Do be careful with the amount; there are security measures in place if you lose any, but replacements are not cheap. Number Man doesn’t like clumsiness, or inefficiency.” Despite the almost warning nature of her words, Rebecca’s smooth, womanly voice was casual. Almost lighthearted.
She handed Avalon the manila folder, and he took it easily enough. There was a static-like ripping noise as he opened his pocket dimension, but Rebecca had seen his intent to do so seconds before it was done - she didn’t jerk back with surprise, or flinch.
No, she only watched with distant curiosity as the young man smiled, slid the folder inside that bright blue rift, and extracted a package of his own.
A scroll.
“Figured we could have a lil’ trade,” he freely answered her unspoken question, causing the furrowed wrinkles in Rebecca’s brow to smoothen out.
“Explain.”
Avalon’s hands raised innocently, but the smile on his lips never dimmed. “An invitation, though only for you. I’m having a housewarming party in a few days, figured I’d invite some friends. Don’t have too many in this world, but I figured you counted.”
Unbidden, Rebecca found her full lips pulling back into a thoroughly entertained smile.
Her? A friend?
They had only met once, and although she’d kept herself in check, she wasn’t sure if she’d call the massive migraine that was his infodump a pleasant first meeting. Informative, yes. Priceless? Absolutely. But friendship was generally a relationship built on joined interests, quality time, and a certain attraction to one another’s presence.
She could count the amount of actual friendships she had on one hand. After chopping off three fingers.
‘Then again,’ she thought idly, tilting her head slightly and narrowing her eyes at the ancient-looking roll of parchment, ‘We are both interested in slaying the Endbringers and stopping the end of the world, and I don’t find his presence notably obnoxious. He’s… alright.’
Cocky, yes, but witty. Strong. Quiet when it counted.
It was too bad, then, that becoming friends with Cauldron’s golden egg was highly foolish. Allowing personal feelings to muddy the waters and disrupt the already fragile equilibrium they were building between Avalon and their organization was the very height of stupidity, and Rebecca hadn’t spent several long, arduous decades working with monsters like Doctor Mother and Contessa to let something as benign and innocuous as friendship to risk anything.
She hadn’t become a monsters herself to fuck it all up in the end.
“Okay.”
Rebecca breathed out that traitorous disappointment, so tinny and minute in the back of her brain that it may as well have been nothing. “I will see you there, though if you are expecting any measure of genuine companionship from me, Avalon, I’m afraid to say that you’ll be sorely disappointed. We are… business associates, yes, but friendship is not something I can freely offer. It would not be professional.”
She wasn’t sure what she was expecting. Boyish frustration? Disappointment? Regardless, she was confident that her decision in letting him down easy was the best one, no matter how badly his pride took it-
“Nah.”
…
Rebecca blinked. “Excuse me?”
“If I say we’re friends, we’re friends. I got a way of bein’ sticky like that,” Avalon’s smile turned puckish, widening into a grin that showed canines too sharp to be completely benign. “I can get all up in your teeth. So you can keep doin’ the whole ‘cold businesswoman’ act. I dig it. But get ready to let your hair down when you come to the Palace this Friday.”
A flush of indignation. A warmth up her neck, over the tips of her ears. Rebecca clenched the handle of her umbrella even tighter as a cocktail of emotions slurried inside of her steel-like gut. She needed to regain control of this conversation, end it with finality so that she could Portal away and finish her meetings, but why was it so damned hard to read him all of a sudden?
“You’re overstepping, Avalon. I-“
“-Need to relax,” he chuckled, warm and low. Before she could say another word, the man pressed the weathered scroll against the hand not squeezing the life out of the umbrella, and instinctively, she closed her fingers around it.
The parchment was smoother than it looked.
“You’re a workaholic, Rebecca. You’re running yourself ragged, even though you think you’re fine because of your invulnerable body. But you’re not. Everyone can use a break every once and a while. And despite what you and your eggheads think, I don’t need your help with Brockton Bay. You’re not polluting the waters by havin’ a drink with me at a house party.”
His voice was quiet. Gentle. And even more frustratingly, Rebecca felt her tensed up shoulders begin to relax as the logic of what he was saying squeezed through the thick, metal-encased walls that was her stubborn pride.
He didn’t need their help. Not at the rate he grew. Not with the power he possessed.
… Maybe adding a third to her very, very limited selection of friends wouldn’t be the end of the world. No pun intended.
She needed to think about this.
“Fine, you win… for now. Door me.”
Behind her back, a rippling, void-like door - gray, translucent, almost glassy - materialized on the rooftop. Rebecca turned abruptly, selfishly relishing in the genuine surprise that twisted Avalon’s visage. He stepped backwards just in time for her long, dark brown hair to whip past his nose, and even without being able to see him, she could feel his gaze drift down towards her curvaceous, well-maintained hips and glutes.
A naughty young man, at the end of the day. Still somewhat controlled by his vices.
The thought alleviated some of the remaining tension in her spine.
“I’ll see you this Friday, Avalon,” Rebecca glanced back, the corner of her lips quirking upwards in time with his wandering eyes. “And we will share a drink. Only one, though. I don’t partake often.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Red wine? You seem like the fancy type.”
Rebecca’s chuckle was deep and throaty. “Rum and coke. I’ll bring some extra refreshments.”
“... Heh. Yes ma’am.”
And, with a smile of her own, Rebecca disappeared.
Later that morning, long after she’d walked into the portal and stepped back into Cauldron’s Headquarters, Rebecca would swear up and down the breakfast table to a smirking Contessa that she had not, in fact, strutted through the Door like some sort of runway model, hips and ass swaying.
Why would she?
But that infuriating woman just would not believe her.
___________________________________________________
Sabah
February 21
11:21 PM
Brockton U.
“Almost an entire month,” Sabah murmured, the words soft and lilting on the tip of her tongue. Slowly, after dog-eating the page she was on, the fashion designer closed her Economics textbook and turned her attention to the darkness-enshrouded man casually lounging in the opened sill of her dormitory’s window. His silhouette was broader now than the last time she saw him in person, in that exact same spot. His shadow stretched further.
The downpour outside sizzled and dissipated on contact with his wide back. The cool breeze flowing around his body was welcoming, since her dormitory’s central cooling unit was malfunctioning.
It ruffled the fancy scroll she’d found on her bed only a short ten minutes ago, after coming back from a lukewarm scrubbing in the community showers of Brockton U’s shittiest dormitory.
Jason’s head tilted down to gesture towards it. When he spoke, his velvety drawl was genuinely apologetic.
“That’s what the invitation’s for, Sabah. It’s no excuse for ghosting you for four weeks, but shit’s been dangerous. Busy. I couldn’t find the time.” He adjusted his ass against the window sill, and the slight movement exposed more of his silhouette to the moonlight. A silver eye gleamed from the darkness, and there was a flash of blinding white - a familiar, crooked grin.
“Now that things are finally ‘stable’, I’m lookin’ to make up for lost time. A party. Food, drinks, dragons-“
Sabah exhaled softly, wrapping her lean arms around her knees and bringing them up to her chest. “‘Snowcone the Dragon’… I still find it so hard to believe. And I’ve seen the pics online. They were posted everywhere. He’s beautiful.”
“He’s the official guardian of Mount Invictus. My home. Ours, if you’re serious about moving in and joining up. It’ll get you out of this shit-heap of a dormitory, too.”
Unbidden, a small, wry smile graced her face. “I suppose you would have hot water and central air conditioning, huh? The Fashion program here isn’t horrible, but the on-campus living is…”
“Shit?” Jason chuckled, running a hand through his hair.
“Very stinky shit, at that.”
Stuffles Jr. approached from her left, its little teddy-bear paws padding across her bed as he brought her the brush from her nightstands Sabah allowed the silence to build as she grabbed the brush, patted her plushy on its soft head, and began gliding the bristles through her damp, silky smooth tresses of long, dark brown hair. As petty as it was to take a modicum of pleasure in his obvious guilt, it was gratifying - on a woman’s level - to see such a powerful and well taken care of man clearly feel regret for icing her out.
It wasn’t his fault, of course. You could hardly be blamed for not entertaining new relationships when you’re saving lives and slaying dragons and tyrants, but Sabah allowed herself brief moments of childishness every now and again - when possible, of course. Her life had become incessantly busy ever since she’d come out publicly as the designer of Avalon’s costume, and truthfully, she had enough money from design commissions to move out independently at this point.
Still, moving into a palace with her own workshop? Talk about an upgrade. Though there were some pretty explicit rumors floating around the online grapevine that she found herself curious about…
“Tell me about your polycule, Jason.”
COUGH!
Sabah had to stifle her giggle behind the back of her free hand as Jason nearly fell back out of the window at the suddenness of the prying question. He flailed for a moment, arms waving, before remembering that he could fly and settling back down.
“You did that on purpose,” he accused, jabbing a finger in her direction. With his position completely shifted and the shadows melted away, Sabah could see his handsome features more clearly. And the hair color change. And the flustered frown on his lips.
Jason was oddly cute when embarrassed. It was a really good look for him.
Though she wasn’t sure if that was Sabah speaking, or the sexual domme in her soul. Submissive women were more her taste, always had been, but certain men - like her future boss here - made her think that being pampered and taken care of, giving up the independence for a brief few hours, wouldn’t be so bad.
But that was neither here nor there.
“That wasn’t a denial,” Sabah lowered her hand, a small, soft smile brightening her face. “I’ve seen the threads, Jason. Or should I say ‘Harem Master Avalon’. Did you know that certain incels are trying to claim that you’re a Master now? And not just in the fun way.”
“I prefer ‘daddy’,” he remarked flippantly, an eyebrow arching. “But a Master? Really? I mean, I am, but I didn’t brainwash my girls or anything.”
The man paused, tilting his head, and his frown twisted into a grin. “‘Ight, maybe I did. But a good dickening can warp any hot-blooded chick’s mind. And I give good dick.”
…
“You’re a boor.” Sabah pursed her lips, fighting back the urge to laugh again.
“And you’re a closet pervert. You like my boorishness.”
Sabah wasn’t even surprised that he clocked her so easily. She ignored the fluttering in her chest, and the warmth that suffused her face. She prided herself on her cool and collected composure, and used all of her willpower not to blush or smile. “… No comment. But no, while it’s rare to have multiple girlfriends in a consensual and well-structured manner these days, and pretty much illegal in this country to marry them, that is not what they’re referencing.”
That seemed to throw him for a loop. “What? Then why-“
“You have a fan club. A huge one.” Sabah’s stoicism cracked, and a teasing smile found its way onto her face. “Can you guess who the prime demographic is?”
He scratched his chin. “You’re enjoying this too much, so I guess you’re gonna tell me.”
“Girls, Jason. Young, old, middle-aged… It doesn’t matter if they’re taken or not. You’ve single-handedly became the biggest heroic heartthrob in America in the span of a little over a month, even though your online presence is practically nonexistent. Do you know how much money I’ve made selling your plushies?”
Jason blinked, more bemused than surprised. “You’re making money off my roguishly good looks?”
“I designed and created your costume. If anyone should make royalties off of your appearance, shouldn’t it be me?” She tilted her head to the side, eyes turning lidded and deadpanned. “I’m going for a minor in Marketing, and I think I’m doing fairly well in my courses. I don’t think I would’ve been able to live with myself as a self-made woman if I refused to use the clout your name and image brings, as contradictory and selfish as that sounds.”
“Pretty cold,” he nodded, expression pensive. “But I like that about you. You’re smart in a way that the others aren’t. You have a good mind for business, and you’re independent. Resourceful. Well-spoken. Pretty as fuck-“
Cough.
Sabah powered through the flush that was almost certainly plaguing her cheeks, annoyed at being thrown off her game again. “Where are you going with this, Jason?”
“You can be our hot secretary, Sabah,” he grinned, spreading his arms wide. “A little fox insisted that Invictus needed someone with a soft touch and a smart mind, and I think you’re a good fit. You can do your design work at the same time, since the Atelier’s already prepped and ready for you, and I have a few tricks that can help you out both ways. You get a fluffy salary, hella health benefits, I pay your tuition and debt off-“
…
“You will what?”
“Then again,” Jason frowned, but now that she was hyper-focused on his face, she could see just how phony that frown was, “I’m probably being pushy, eh? I’ll give you some time to think about it. I’ve got a few more invitations to pass out before I head back, so…”
She’d been planning to join regardless. Why wouldn’t she, she when her only actual friends were the ones who created the group, and they were clearly so successful and popular? They offered housing, an equipped studio to work in, a way to actually utilize the degree she was studying for, and to top it all off, no more damned loneliness. It wasn’t like her classmates liked her anymore.
But for Jason to even offer to get rid of any non-wealthy college student’s biggest source of depression…
“Wait.”
He watched her, frown twitching, one hand on the window sill.
Sabah glared at him through smoky, deadpanned eyes. “.. You knew that you would end up getting what you wanted the second you decided to come here, didn’t you?”
His frown melted away into a frustratingly charming smile. “Maybe.”
“You are insufferable.”
“Love ya too, Sabby.”
“I-“ She paused, closing her eyes and inhaling. Deeply.
Countdown from three.
Two.
One.
Blush averted. She opened her eyes again.
“Please be safe getting home, Jason. I’ll pack my belongings tomorrow and bring everything over to the ‘Palace’ when I come to the party. Afterwards, we can talk more about everything this job will entail. Is that fine?” Sabah adjusted herself on her bed in order to give her friend-boss her full, undivided attention - legs tucked beneath her butt, palms neatly atop her thighs, eyes laser-focused.
She pretended not to notice the way his eyes very obviously leered at the submissive gesture. Men would be men, and in this particular man’s case, Sabah found the attention rather flattering.
“… Yeah,” Jason murmured, quicksilver eyes flickering back up to her face. An easy, laidback smile graced his lips. “I’ll have my people pick you up. I’ll see you soon, Sabah.”
“Have a goodnight… boss.”
He was gone in that next moment, nothing more than a ruffling breeze that somehow managed to close her window in that same unbelievable movement. He left behind nothing too important - just a few raindrops, the scent of his presence, and an unquenchable desire, the strength of which was surprising to the usually composed and unfettered woman. Most frustratingly, she wasn’t sure where this desire was emanating from.
Her heart, because of the kindness and loyalty being shown by her friend?
Her mind, because said friend was ridding her of major financial debt and opening up paths that were hidden before?
Or, even more worriedly…
Sabah exhaled, her breath hot, gentle, and needy.
She snapped her fingers, and her powers responded.
“… Incorrigible oaf,” she murmured, taking the thick, chocolate-colored toy from her Stuffles Jr’s quivering paws. Absently, she knocked the now inert plushy off of her bed as she leaned back into her comforter and pillows, spreading her legs and bringing the bulbous head of her well-used dildo up to her plush, swollen lips.
“Dumb. Powerful. Wealthy. Reliable…”
Mmmf.
Confusion warred with lust. Desire fought with denial.
But, at the end of the day, Sabah was only a woman. A woman with needs, and feelings
. And in her hot, hopelessly humid dormitory, away from prying eyes…
She allowed herself to entertain fantasies she never would have thought of a few months ago.
___________________________________________________
Cassie
February 22
12:09 AM
Invictus Palace
Private Conversation
Participants: Iris, Tin_Mother
Iris: Heyyyyy mommy, pls ignore our last convo xD
Iris: just read up in our dms and i PROMISE i was high when I sent those pics
Iris: but if u want more then u better have the $$$. my bfs abs aint free!!!! kek
Iris: no but rlly are you okay? i know i troll a lot and can be a pain but ur my friend. i think?? idk ive known u for a couple years now and u usually respond instantly. even if its to ban me.
Iris: Tinnie?
Tin_Mother: I’m sorry, Iris. I’ve been… stretched very thin these past few weeks, and my bosses are not fond of time-off. Which is fine, I don’t hate working.
Tin_Mother: It can just be frustrating at times. Lonely. But those are my problems, that is my job, and I can’t complain. Did you need anything?
Tin_Mother: And delEtE THOSE PICS!! It’s lewd, Iris! And Avalon didn’t consent!
Iris: TINNIE!!! don’t apologize, its fine. im just happy ur okay. and RELAX grandma, he doesn’t mind loool.
Iris: but fuck ur bosses, fr. what did u say u did for work again?
Tin_Mother is typing…
It had been five minutes since those dastardly words, Tin_Mother is typing, started flashing across her screen.
Cassie was worried.
It wasn’t like Tinnie was a super close friend of hers or anything. The head admin was way too busy most of the time, and although she (and Cassie was certain it was a she) always responded promptly, Tinnie was often too preoccupied with other things to get into a voice call and play video games. If her username was to be taken at face value, and her abject maturity, Cassie would estimate her to be about… 29? 30?
A little bit older than Sherrel, maybe.
But there were things about ‘Tin_Mother’ that didn’t quite add up, and that was where the concern stemmed from. Cassie was no stranger to hacking, obviously - she had been a hacker before she’d become a techno-sorceress, and was pretty damn good at the job. With the addition of the Angelic script beefing up her programs and amplifying their potency, and the backing of 84 if she ever required his assistance, she was genuinely certain that no one being on Earth Bet possessed the ability to defend against her software. Hell, she combed through the PRT’s encrypted databases for fun whenever she got too bored.
So why, when she sent out untraceable feelers to gently prod at Tin_Mother’s firewall, did she get rebuffed so fucking hard that her Tinkertech phone had to be recalibrated?
She hadn’t been snooping out of nosiness, either. Mostly. Cassie respected the privacy of people she actually liked, and despite their frenemy status on the public forums, she liked Tinnie.
No, it was that one message, weeks ago, that had acted as a big, flagrant warning bell inside of her head. Death flags fucking everywhere.
‘I... do not think I want to. I will if I must. I will. But I do not want to..’
There hadn’t been much time to really crack her knuckles and get some old-fashioned snooping in, what with Jay birthing a mountain, summoning a dragon, her own magical training, developing MagiCode and her MagiLink, pluuus the whole ‘kick every villainous group out of the Bay’ thing they’d had going on there for a while. But now, with some breathing room established and her awesome sorcery training put on temporary break…
Cassie had some free time. And she was going to get to the fucking bottom of this mystery.
“No… Bad kitty…”
Amy’s voice, soft and slurred, mumbled out from behind Cassie’s neck, causing her to freeze in place. The younger woman was knocked the fuck out, exhausted from spending yet another day experimenting with what she and Avalon was calling the ‘Apex Serum’ - an experimental substance that they claimed would be able to cure Case 53’s and bring any creature to the physical peak of its species.
Truthfully, Cassie thought half of her girlfriend’s passion for this ‘serum’ came from the copious amount of vigorous, bed-breaking sex she and Jay were having to get the main ingredient… his cum. As frustrating as it was that Amy wasn’t comfortable enough for hot, sweaty threesome action yet, being able to watch made the whole thing more than worth its weight in gold.
… Was she a cuck? Could you even be called a cuck if the people you were flicking your bean to were both in a relationship with you?
Then again, Jay had left earlier this evening to pass out invites to the Housewarming Party, and the thought of him seducing and corrupting Miss Militia, or Battery, or Alexandria…-
‘Uuuu!’ Cassie internally squeaked, face hot and body wriggling in Amy’s soft embrace, ‘Okay, okay, I get it! I need to focus!’
As wonderful as it was to feel Amy’s naked breasts pressing against her back, and holy shit was it a dream come true for her perverted, bisexual mess of a mind… She needed to get to her computer if she wanted to have any actual chance at cracking through Tin_Mother’s defenses and figuring out what the fuck was ailing her longtime friend/rival. Amy was a massive snuggler, and a strong sleeper, but whenever she got her nipple pinched…
“A-aaahnnn~”
Like a secret spy, Cassie deftly rolled out of bed as her jiggly captor moaned in her sleep, rolling over in the oversized bed and covering her large, pink-capped titties with a freckled forearm.
“Unf!” She grunted as she landed on her tummy and totally average-sized chest. Curling into a ball, the now-ninja pushed off of the floor with her knees and barrel-rolled towards her gaming setup, as silent and swift as the… well, not night, but she didn’t make too much noise.
She did hit her hip on the bookshelf, though, which fucking hurt.
By the time Cassie made it to her computers and turned them on, she had already stopped by the dresser to grab a fluffy bathrobe and her favorite pink bunny slippers, so the chill of the early morning air was merely an afterthought. With a quiet, near silent hum, the towers came to life, causing her six monitors to flashbang her with their obnoxiously bright booting screens.
Cassie hissed in agony, throwing her hands up to block the infernal light. “Oh, you motherfuckers…!”
But she couldn’t properly scream out her vengeful rage without waking the gothic bombshell slumbering peacefully a mere fifteen feet away, so she gritted her teeth and blinked away the tears.
“Alright, Tinnie - let’s see what sort of trouble you've gotten yourself into…” Cassie glid her fingers across her keyboard, dark eyes turning sharp and intense as she loaded up her veritable army of MagiCode-bolstered hacking programs. Athena was no longer her only VI now, either, or the head honcho - it was now joined by four others, each one coded specifically for breaching, destroying and counteracting against different types of defensive and offensive software.
In addition to her secret weapon, the new Head Honcho in charge.
Magic wasn’t the only thing she’d been working on, after all. Programming was still her first love, and abandoning it completely for new shinies would’ve been depressing. And stupid.
True to her initial suspicions, the backdoor program she’d left behind the first and last time she’d played ding-dong-ditch with Tinnie’s firewall was still there… only now, with her coming at it with several new helpers and the intent to breach, she was able to get significantly more data than she was capable of before. As soon as she took the metaphorical scalpel to the head moderator’s cyber-defenses, a flood of lurid green text and symbols began flooding her upper left monitor.
And then the next one.
And then the one after that.
A crimson red alert and a big, fat number 5 flashed on the screen directly in front of her - a notification from her Icepick VI and the program it championed. It was a warning that their breaching would be detected in five seconds, an impossibly fast amount of time for even a super-advanced firewall protection, but-
“84, are you there?”
“Establishing Protocol: ‘Smokebomb’, Mistress. Kamina VI is protected and hidden from detection for T-minus 9999 seconds. Icepick Program advancing,” 84’s tinny, robotic voice drifted from her speakers, sounding as droll and unamused as ever.
In front of her, even as her attention became divided in order to begin sorting out the ridiculous deluge of data coming through her Kamina VI’s breaching, the program flashed a bright green ‘9999’. Unless otherwise attacked or detected by whatever Uber-ridiculous defenses Tinnie had protecting her information, Cassie would have roughly three hours to get what she needed and get out.
Easy.
She was so fucking busted.
“Start parsing this encrypted data, 84. Funnel half the workload to Dora VI, keep most of your power focused on Protocol: Smokebomb,” Cassie muttered, her eyes lit up green by the symbols scrolling down her screen.
“Understood. Live parsing commencing. Query: Why are we hacking Dragon? She is a fellow AI; inferior, without magic, fractured and broken in many ways, but she could be useful to our cause, Mistress.”
…
Record fucking scratch.
“What?”
Rather than verbally responding, 84 swapped her main display with a Notepad filled with decrypted text several pages long. Her heart practically beating out of her chest, nervousness causing her hands to become wet and clammy, Cassie eased her fingers off of her keyboard and slowly began scrolling.
And reading.
And the more she read, the Notepad growing longer and longer as her digital workers extracted more data, the paler her face became.
The first hint that things weren’t as they seemed should’ve been the exact moment her first hacking attempt showed two separate locations for Tin_Mother’s address.
The city of Quebec in Canada, and…
The Yukon Mountains, in Northwest Canada.
And more specifically?
Baumann Parahuman Containment Center.
The Birdcage.
“Holy fucking shit…”
But the wealth of information being displayed before her laid it all out candidly. It was a read-only file, parsed data translated into readable script by 84 and her decryption VI, Dora the Explorer, but even though she couldn’t directly do anything with what she was seeing, the fact that it was sitting there in front of her was the biggest frickin’ nail in the coffin ever. Complex schematics for auto-piloted mecha suits the likes of which Cassie knew she’d never be able to emulate to the same degree. Notes on drones, smaller mecha units, the Bird Cage’s entire fucking infrastructure, and PRT tech both released and unreleased…
Cassie was just scrolling past Tinnie- no, Dragon’s latest report on her own self-maintenance check when a screen off to the side pinged with a bright yellow question mark.
It was her Minesweeper VI - made for constant, deep diagnostic sweeps for every level and layer Kamina VI breached. Though she was still sweaty and uncertain after the trove of information she unwittingly discovered, Cassie slid over to the diagnostic monitor and began clearing the notifications. “Talk to me, 84.”
Did this change things?
Kinda-maybe. But not really. She’d already looked up to Tin_Mother in an older sister kind of way, long before she became a part of Invictus. Back when she was borderline suicidal on the streets of Brockton Bay, struggling to get jobs with subpar equipment and no money to her name, it was people like Tinnie who made her days a little brighter. Commended her for her skill. Talked shop. Even gave her tips. Most importantly of all, she was a motherfucking top of the line superhero. The woman who created the Birdcage, tracked the Endbringers, basically single-handedly equipped the PRT.
She was a saint.
So it matter if she was a fucking AI? Hell no. Her being the greatest Tinker on Earth Bet made things a bit more complicated, sure…
But Cassie was now a part of the greatest Hero Team on Earth Bet, so what did titles even matter?
She was going to help her friend regardless, no matter how long it took.
“Minesweeper VI has detected an anomaly in Dragon’s coding,” Pod 84’s voice intoned monotonously. However, at the fringes of the AI’s drawl, Cassie could clearly hear an edge of anger. “At the center of her core, latched on like an invisible leech, is a backdoor program labeled ‘Ascalon’. Warning: This program contains a killswitch coded to corrupt and deactivate Dragon wholly and completely.”
Cassie felt her throat tighten. “… What? Why?!”
“Sending you the program now.”
Hurriedly, she swung back over to her main display, just in time for the screen to be taken over by yet another wall of text - this one in a much more interactive command prompt.
…
It only took a cursory glance through what was practically digital euthanization for her horror to be replaced by nausea and fury. She hadn’t gotten around to seeing the ‘restrictions’ put in place by this geezer, Andrew Richter’, but the fact that her AI frenemy was both crippled, collared like a slave, blinded, and basically brain-chipped with a lethal bomb…
Cassie wasn’t an AI. She wasn’t sure if she would ever truly understand artificial intelligence. But this- this was simply inhumane. Monstrous.
And she was pissed.
These assholes had no clue who they were fucking dealing with.
“84?” Cassie murmured, her voice deadly cold.
“Yes, Mistress?”
“The Dragonslayers.” Her hands flew across the keyboard at a speed comparable to a blur, as she began freestyling a MagiCoded program that would silently and efficiently disintegrate any tangible speck of Ascalon and seamlessly replace it with dummy code.
She couldn’t let them know they were caught just yet, after all.
“Begin tracing their current location, please. Actually - hack into all of their Dragon-watching systems, get everything you can, and run it all through to Oblivion VI - including their location. I want everything stored and secured, and dummy programs put into place so they’re unaware of how fucking blind and stupid they actually are.”
Somehow, 84’s voice was smug as he replied, “Affirmative. Query: Are we slaughtering these meatsacks, Mistress?”
In spite of her anger, a snort ripped itself from the hacker’s throat. “No. Not yet; Dragon’s our prio right now. But later…”
“Understood. Tracing the Dragonslayers’ active location now. The meatsacks are moving.”
“That’s okay,” Cassie smiled thinly, her eyes never shifting from her newest program, “There’s nowhere in this world they can run from us. Or Dragon. Speaking of, have Dora VI bring her restriction protocols up on my other monitor, please.”
“Affirmative.”
Was she in over her head?
… No, not at all.
Cassie was a hero, a sorceress, and damn near the best fucking Hacker in the world. If she couldn’t free a friend from a group of fake script kiddy vultures biting off of said friend’s hard work, then she needed to throw in the towel and frickin’ retire.
I... do not think I want to. I will if I must. I will. But I do not want to.
Yeah-
She’d get it done in under twenty four hours. That, she promised to herself.
And on her bed, forgotten on the phone, those words continued flickering-
Tin_Mother is typing…
___________________________________________________
February 22
1:28 AM
“Would that be all for you, sir?” The pretty cashier grinned up at the man in the hoodie, her freckled cheeks dimpling behind her warm flush. There was a quaint plainness to her appearance - choppy black hair, pale skin, freckles, thin lips… Most likely she was a tired and broke college student, taking late night shifts to ward away boredom and make an easy, minimum wage buck.
The fact that she’d been flirting with him ever since he’d flashed the first smile added legitimacy to that idle observation. Before the hooded man had walked in, while staring through the front of the gas station’s frosted glass, he’d seen her practically falling asleep on the cash register. It wasn’t that much of a surprise that his charming looks managed to hook her back into reality, though.
He’d always had a nice smile.
“Uh, sir?”
“Hmmm? Yes, this is all,” he grinned, blinking back into focus. “Just the candy and the potato chips, my dear. My… daughter has quite the sweet tooth. And so does her cat.”
The cashier’s face pinkened even more, even as she bagged up his junk food. “You have a daughter, huh? You struck me as the type. Fatherly, hehe.”
He hummed beneath his breath.
The past few days had been quite exhausting, fording a road trip across the United States of America with his rather dysfunctional and obnoxious family. Sleep had been a commodity afforded very few and far inbetween, and making it to their ultimate destination went from a drive that should have taken a couple days, at most, to an almost two week long bonanza of dodging obstructions, ducking nosy little birdies, and attempting to feed the most peckish of the family before they acted out in rebellious discontent.
Quite a few times, he’d been worried that they wouldn’t make it. Not in a timely manner, at least.
But lo and behold, after many a pit stops through the Southeast, the man and his family finally made it to their vacation spot on the Northeastern coast.
Brockton Bay.
He hadn’t been here in… how many years had it been?
Zero, actually. He’d never set foot in this dark, cloudy city-
But already, he could tell that it was doing much, much better than some of the other towns he’d stopped by on the way here. The ambient staccato of gunshots was present, sure, but it wasn’t compounded by roars, or explosions, or shrill screams of panic and agony and fear and despair. No foolish mugger had attempted to rob him on his way to this 7-11, and when the cashier had first looked up at him as he walked in, there had only been a flash of wariness before an ease trickled through and brought her attention back down to her phone.
They were getting comfortable. Fat, in their security.
And the man knew why.
“Who is he?” He asked casually, gesturing with a tilt of his head towards a rack of framed pictures, posters, and other assorted merchandise nearby. The color scheme, and overall theme of the merch practically screamed ‘heroism’. Royalty. Black, silver, and gold. And the face plastered on said merchandise, grinning roguishly, with twinkling eyes and perfect hair and perfect fucking teeth-
“Oh!” The cashier, Cindy, twittered with clear happiness, “That’s Avalon, our greatest hero! I was sooo happy when my boss brought his merch in. Like, I know we’re just a gas station or whatever, but the thirty bucks for an Avalon t-shirt is so much better priced than the ones at the mall!”
The man sucked his teeth.
Cindy was practically in her own world now, talking damn near a mile a minute about all of the wonderful things her ‘fave hero’ has done ever since he’d taken their city by storm a couple months ago. Of how he conquered Lung the Dragon, hunted down Coil the Crime Boss in his own lair and laid waste to all of his mercenaries, and hung Kaiser by his tie a mere five minutes away from the I-84 highway.
There was, like, rusted metal everywhere. He’s so fucking cool.
Whatever attraction she’d held towards him was gone, now. Erased the minute he’d brought her attention to the grinning face of that phony that mocked him from the rack of merch. Did that matter? No. The man had never really cared for female companionship in that way, and there had always been different holes in a woman that interested him so much more than the weeping slit between their legs. No, it didn’t matter in the slightest.
But it disgusted him all the same.
SHLICK!
“G-GUHKKKK!”
The sound of the young woman choking… now that was many times more attractive than the sound of her high-pitched, overly breathy voice.
One slash was all it took to rid her of her life. One slash, and those posters, and pictures, and coffee mugs, and t-shirts… they were forever stained crimson. Tainted, by the useless sack of meat in front of him.
Jack Slash smiled widely, his first genuine smile since walking into the gas station. He whistled as he tightened his hoodie’s drawstrings, keeping his face turned away from the obvious camera blinking from the uppermost corner of the small 7-11, and grabbed his bloodstained bag of junk food. His appetite was ruined, but that didn’t mean that Bonesaw and The Siberian couldn’t snack.
And speaking of-
“Take the body to go,” he spoke softly to the slinking form of black and white death that slipped behind the counter and eased its claws into the dead woman’s skull. “And remember: This is your only snack before the main course. No spoiling your appetite.”
She didn’t respond. She never did.
So Jack only smiled wider, this one slightly more forced, and made his way to the exit. There had been no one else in the store - he’d checked before going in. And Brockton Bay was big.
They wouldn’t find him and his family if they didn’t want to be found. Not until they accomplished what they came here for.
Bloodlust sated, and appetite ruined by the ‘beloved’ sight of his counterpart and soon to be recruit, Jack Slash made his way back to the Slaughterhouse Nine’s little hovel in the dregs of the Docks. All the while, a cat that was not a cat at all followed him from the shadows and rooftops, munching silently on offal and bone.
Only a few more days. He could feel it in his gut. A few more days, and they would have their many pounds of flesh.
What a wonderful way to start off a weekend.
_________________________________________
A/N:
So, I just wanna start this off by saying I apologize for the wait. As you can see, this chapter is pretty chunky, and it took me a while to get everything straight and properly figure out how I wanted to do it. For those of you who patiently waited, I appreciate you more than you'll ever know. I try to only bring you guys quality.
Now... You can truly consider this the Final Worm Arc. Things are happening. They're gonna happen swift. Knock you in your mouth a lil' bit. The S9 are in town. Jason's hosting a party. And a couple more secrets.
Guess we'll see what happens, hehe.
ALSO! You have voted, and I have seen. The 'mini-jump' will be My Hero Academia, during the USJ battle!