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Forging a Waifu Harem by BatRou-Dawg
Misc » Book X-overs Rated: M, English, Supernatural & Sci-Fi, Words: 238k+, Favs: 226, Follows: 230, Published: Dec 29, 2022 Updated: Oct 30, 2023
15Chapter 16
[PRT ENE HQ a.k.a. 'The Rig']
Xenarite… that was what I was now. Adeptus Mechanicus who focus on studying and using alien technology. At best, it was subject to thorough questioning by the Imperial Inquisition; at worst, it was outright heresy.
And this was indeed the worst, however…
"Oh Omnissiah forgive me…" The echo of my modulated voice moaned aloud, "The forbidden fruit of xenarite knowledge… it tastes so sweet."
Technologies like shaping hypergeometries to tame black holes and create pocket universes, propagating subspace echoes to implant gut-wrenching terror directly into primitive meat brains, utilising atomic transmutation to turn the hardest alloys (and flesh) into porcelain, inverting the energy states of the air to stir storms of pure plasma or harnessing dimensional dissonance to yeet people I dislike straight off the time stream… all of them were just the crudest expressions of the knowledge I now possessed.
I held in my mental grasp the collective technological expertise of a race that had conquered reality and shattered their gods into tiny pieces to use them as weapons.
And most fearsome of all, unlike normal Tinkers, I didn't even need time to build the technology to utilise some of my technology's more rudimentary tricks. Simply knowing the shortcuts in timespace was enough.
Those little alleyways through unknowable gardens, those false walls that mask antediluvian passages and those quaint hidden doorways that led to quiet places untouched since the big bang… I knew it all.
Suffice to say, the odds were remarkably lopsided at the moment.
On one side of the ruined boardroom stood the might of the PRT: Alexandria in her formidable black costume, Eidolon in his ethereal teal and green, Legend with his heroic blue and white.
The steely-eyed Triumvirate, veterans of a thirty-year-long guerilla war against a god-like entity and three of the most powerful humanoid beings on this Terra.
And standing alongside them were Assault, Battery, Dauntless, Miss Militia, Triumph, Velocity and Armsmaster. The Brockton Bay Protectorate, seven valiant heroes tested and tempered by the raging fires of conflict time and time again.
Between these ten heroes, they boasted enough firepower to devastate cities. It was a force that any villain organisation would balk at facing, and that was before considering the long-term implications of fighting them in the first place- making an enemy of the PRT and all the governments of the entire North American continent.
But on the other side of the ruined boardroom was me.
An absolutely furiou-
Emotion-Dampening Protocols active at 65.2% maxload!
-A 'mildly annoyed' Celestial Forge tech-priest turned one-quarter Necron skellyboi- staring at them through glowing green optics alight with a cold hatred as I considered the many, many, many ways I could kill them all. A majority of which won't ever be discovered by humanity unless I personally… introduce them to these pitiful organics.
"Surrender, Magos." Eidolon demanded as he stared at me through his opaque mask of reinforced glass, "You can't win here."
I withheld from gracing his demand with a response. Instead, I glanced out the still intact window and to the grand steeples of my manufactorum in the distance- to send a brief but powerful order through the Noosphere.
" Manufactorum, initiate Rite of Awakening for the Skitarii… "
We hear and obey, O' Forgelord.
But despite it all, I fully intended for them to stay alive after this, however, they should have just stood down. Time was of the essence after all, and I won't be able to evacuate Dragon to safety unless I can work undisturbed for a few precious seconds. We needed to get to my manufactorum, and fast.
Estimated Time before Dragon's death: 22 minutes 22 seconds
There was no getting around that timer.
Ascalon wasn't that simple, because it was to Dragon as an autoimmune disease was to humans: There is no conventional cure for when the body attacks itself, the condition can only be controlled and its damaging effects curbed.
Of course, with sufficient amounts of techno-butchery, Ascalon could be excised from Dragon in much the same way a surgeon could excise a person's entire skeleton without killing them.
In canon Worm, Meatmaster tried such a thing- each time mangling Dragon badly. But that was talk for another time.
I needed to get Dragon's sweet armour-plated rear end onto my cogitator-throne as fast as I could.
But I knew that even in the condition that she was in right now, Dragon- being the compassionate AI waifu as she was- would prefer it if I tried diplomacy one last time. So, I did. My glowing green optics focused on the parahumans at the other end of the room.
"Triumvirate, Protectorate." I addressed them in my most diplomatic tone of voice. "Dragon is dying and I'm the only one who can save her. For that, I need the equipment of my workshop. Kindly stand aside, and we can continue the talks on another date like none of this unpleasantness ever happened. Please."
"We can't let you do that, Magos." Legend was the one to speak, "I'm sorry. Please just surrender. I promise that we'll look after Dragon ourselves."
Estimated Time before Dragon's death: 21 minutes 37 seconds
That was a massive waste of time…
If Dragon dies… If she dies after I promised her that I'd take care of her, after she put her trust in me?! All because these fleshy idiots won't-
Emotion-Dampening Protocols active at 72.2% maxload!
But I didn't get angry… No, that was not in my nature.
… Instead, I get sadistic.
"I… understand… If… If this is the way it has to be…" I purposefully drew out as I began my pre-combat preparation.
Upgrading binharic combat routines with [Wisdom of the Ancients]...
My new perks came with added intelligence- allowing me to think in bullet time: I was thinking so fast that every second
was stretched out to a minute without time manipulation. Using [Way of the Void Dragon] technomancy perk and my new knowledge of Necron tech, I subtly upgraded and recalibrated whatever equipment I could without more advanced Necron technology or giving away what I was doing to the heroes. And they weren't going to like what I had in store for them.
"... At least you'll know the reason why you're all writhing on the ground in agony."
Everyone stiffened and slipped into their pre-battle poses. Armsmaster in particular scoffed- gripping his halberd tighter as he stood there in his blue and white power armour.
"You think that lowering your voice by an octave and adding reverb is going to make us afraid of you, Magos?" He demanded with his usual bravado which I found amusingly quaint.
"No, Armsmaster." I replied with just the right amount of condescension appropriate for a being of his fleshy unintelligence, "You shouldn't be afraid of me just because I had a power up… Instead, you should be afraid of me because- even before that- I came here fully prepared to win against all of you at once."
And at that declaration, the majority of the assembled capes visibly tensed. More than most, PRT capes were trained to be cautious when dealing with parahumans with unknown powers.
They just saw me materialise a giant regenerating robo-spider out of nowhere after all, and they were fully cognizant that their entire PRT Assessment of my powers was now hilariously outdated. Certainly, they put on well-practiced brave faces for the cameras that still rolled, but my {Psy-Implant Mk. I} could pick up the palpable fear that clung to them like inky black tar.
Fear ensnares their hearts, years of hard conflict have seared into them caution for powers yet known.
They don't know what you're capable of. And it frightens them.
Fear.
Upgrading concluded… commencing closing prayers to the Machine-God…
Alright, time's up. I met the primitive meat eyes of the assembled PRT heroes, and gave them the bad, bad news.
"Unfortunately, that was also your one chance to surrender that you just let slip by."
"But don't worry… I'll be gentle."
Another flash of fear flared up through the Warp. Then their three speedsters- Velocity, Assault and Battery- all burst in a blur of speed as they attempted to close the distance to stop whatever they thought I had planned. But even with super speed, they were all far too slow…
Recalibrating {Sicarian Infiltrator Proselytizer Mk. II}
A more 'subtle' form of Mechanicus weaponry now upgraded with the forbidden xenarite knowledge of a Necron Psychomancer Cryptek.
The Proselytizer is an electronic countermeasure weapon that broadcasts sonic, electromagnetic, and microgravitic cacophonies over a broad spectrum- bombarding every possible sensory organ or apparatus with the crushing weight of overwhelming stimuli.
Radiowave-based communications screech in agony while video-screens fizzle with static. Eardrums pop from screaming tinnitus, eyes ache as their internal fluids are disturbed, digestive tracts churn sickeningly as sonic and gravitic oscillations cruelly agitate them.
As the taste of burnt metal fills their mouths, it is all victims can do to remember how to breathe- futilely clasping hands over bleeding ears and screwing shut bloodshot eyes as they thrash excruciatingly in puddles of their own vomit.
Only through Null Codes can the frequencies be transmuted back into a harmless song, the cruel barrage of neurostatic rendered as nothing more than a soft psalm to the Omnissiah's glory… or the haunting verses to a Necrontyr song forgotten countless millennia ago.
Activating {Sicarian Infiltrator Proselytizer Mk. II} at 25.0% maxload
There was no sinister loud boom or bright flash to herald the sinister effects of my weapon that took the form of my metallic gas mask-like face. No, the only evidence of its effects were the entire room of heroic PRT parahumans crumpling to the floor as they screamed.
"STOOOOOOP THIIIIIIIIISSSSS!" "AAAAAAGGGGGGHHHH!" "WHAT'S HAPPENNIIING TOOOO MEEEEEE?!"
It wasn't an Inquisition Excruciator where it was supposed to cause the most pain possible, but it was certainly very uncomfortable. Imagine having an entire can of pepper spray emptied on your face while a thousand nails scratched on a thousand chalkboards… All while you tumbled in an endless unpredictable spiral into a bottomless abyss as you yanked in every direction.
And while they were busy clutching the carpet as if they were going to fall up into the sky, I ordered a clear path for our escape.
" Procession Squad, destroy the Rig's Anti-Air emplacements… "
We hear and obey, O' Forgelord.
And almost immediately, the Rig began to rock with explosions and the sound of battle as my {Ironstrider Engines}, {Castellax battle-automata}, {Onager Dunecrawler} that had accompanied me and looked cool during my arrival to the Rig were unleashed. Dragon's memories about designing its defences proving to be invaluable in indicating where all the emplacements were as well as the other defences on the Rig.
Speaking of which… one of my mechadendrite tentacles subtly jacked into (heh) my AI waifus unresponsive form to directly transmit the null code to her.
"Can you hear it, babe?" I stage-whispered to the unresponsive Dragon. With humans and their inability to comprehend the Null Codes, they'd hear nothing but some odd static, however Dragon and I heard the music just fine as the neurostatic of the {Sicarian Infiltrator Proselytizer Mk. II} translated into a contemporary song with a nice beat.
'Oh-ooh-whoa-oh-oh-oh-oh
Oh-ooh-whoa-oh-oh-oh-oh.
"I chose this song because I think it will define the 2010-2011 era after all." I calmly explained to her over the screaming flesh-normies, "It's still topping charts even though it was released months ago, and even comes from your home country of Canada. But I'm sure you already knew that, they practically play this song every hour on the hour now. What do you think? Should we make this our song?"
You know you love me, I know you care
Just shout whenever, and I'll be there.
"S-SPINNING! EVERYTHING'S SPINNING!" Velocity, Assault and Battery skidded pitifully across the floor as their sense of balance was taken away from them. To the merciless neurostatic assault of the {Sicarian Infiltrator Proselytizer Mk. II}, they held their ears, evacuated the contents of their stomachs and writhed like maggots in pain.
You are my love, you are my heart
And we will never, ever, ever be apart.
"OH GOD MAAAAAKE IIIIIIIIT STOOOOP!" Even the film crews were caught in the blast radius. How unfortunate, but at least I had [Way of the Void Dragon] to keep the cameras rolling and steady even as the film crew squirmed on the floor.
Baby, baby, baby, oh
Like, Baby, baby, baby, no.
"MAKE IT STOOOO- BLEURGH!" Miss Militia and Dauntless were in similar state, likely regretting that their costumes covered their mouths as vomit trailed down their fronts rather than the floor.
Like, Baby, baby, baby, oh
I thought you'd always be mine, mine.
"MY EARS! MY EARS!" Triumph and Armsmaster were both curled up at the ground clutching at their helmets- unable to cover their ears. Not that it would have helped them. And just like that, the Brockton Bay Protectorate were all writhing on the floor screaming as I promised. That would have been the end of the battle, if not for one small detail…
The Triumvirate were a bunch of disaffected Generation Xers, and thus, immune to the Bieber Fever.
Alexandria- being the flying brick that she was- unsurprisingly ignored the neurostatic noise outright. Eidolon was quick to call upon a similar brute power to resist the effects, and Legend had immediately transformed into his breaker form to become a glowing light-blue ball of highly destructive light.
Now, it was just Triumvirate versus me. And unlike them, my plan for kicking their asses was still mostly intact.
Being the fastest of the three, Alexandria swooped in first. And even with my accelerated mind, she moved quick- closing the scant distance between us to try her best to tear me limb from limb. Worse still, Legend reacted too- Blasting away at my {Conversion Field} with various beam attacks as Alexandria closed in. Unfortunately for me, the countermeasure I had for Alexandria was in my original left arm that Meatmaster had destroyed. But thankfully, the massive floating [Canoptek Spyder] had me covered, the Spyder's stalked optics locked onto the heroine as twin-linked {Particle Beamers} glowed a deadly green.
Krakathoom!*
Sickly green lightning bursting forth from the beamers- launching around 10 nanograms of antimatter straight to Alexandria's breastplate and exploding with the force of a kilo of dynamite. The concentrated nature of the blast was deliberately not enough to kill anyone in the blast radius, but certainly enough to send the world's premiere Brute tumbling through the window before she caught herself in mid-air.
Of course, Alexandria was unharmed as she floated about 20 metres away from the window. But unfortunately, I had overlooked the effect it would have on Alexandria's costume: Her pitch black costume of kevlar and armour plates was apparently no match against a matter-antimatter reaction, and aside from her helmet, the entire front of it was either in tatters or blasted right off.
Creamy smooth, light-brown skin lay exposed, all the way from her slender shoulders down to halfway past her thighs. Unbelievably perky C-cups topped with stiff milk chocolate nipples swayed gently in the cool bay air with each breath she took, lightly defined abs under smooth skin forming a visual line for eyes to follow down to the ruined scraps of her panties. The delicate pink slit of her femininity on display between plump fleshy lips framed on either side by muscular thighs.
I had a 256 gigapixel live image of full frontal nudity of the world's most iconic heroine.
Her power had paused her aging, that much was apparent. A young woman at the cusp of true womanhood. A flower frozen at the moment of blossoming. An ethereal image of beauty that would remain untouched by the ravages of time. So, in the position that I was in- being able to behold her in all her glory- I did the only thing I could have possibly done in that position…
I called her fat.
"Lose some weight, Alexandria. Also, be grateful that I'm censoring this in real time so no one can see how much fat tissue you have accumulated."
And Alexandria visibly recoiled as if I had struck her. Looking like I had just hurt her more than any matter-antimatter reaction ever could.
Rage boils over /Self-doubt creeps up at the accusation of excessive weight. ~M~
She's NOT fat! / She can't be fat! can she?
RAGE / Self-Doubt.
Perfection.
She covered herself up with her hands. Her lips twisting into an angry snarl.
"MAGOS, YOU ARROGANT LITTE FUC-!"
KRAKATHOOM!*
A supercharged bolt of green lightning from the {Particle Beamers}- containing a few more nanograms of antimatter than the last- struck her. 150 kilograms of TNT exploded less than 100 metres away- the blast from the explosion almost blew me off my feet if it wasn't for my mechadendrite digging into the floor and my hand promptly grabbing onto Dragon's fantastic tits for stability. (The latter may have been unnecessary.)
The {Particle Beamers} will need to 'cool down' after a shot like that, but Alexandria's superheated form was leaving a smoking trail through the sky that looked like she was headed. I wasn't worried for her: This was the woman whose body had tanked multiple shots of Scion's primary form of attack in canon. Also, I had reviewed what little combat footage of her was available on the Noosphere, and confirmed the amount of antimatter would only hurt but not maim.
More importantly though…
Eidolon was also caught off-balance by the blast for a crucial few seconds. And unfortunately for him, seconds may have been minutes for me. He may have three powers at a time, but that just meant that I only need four different ways of keeping him down.
For the first one… my {Sicarian Infiltrator Proselytizer Mk. II} was still in effect. Forcing a brute power out of him.
For the second… Pointing my index finger at him, the digi-weapon hidden in the finger {Arc Rifle} fired a non-lethal bolt of lightning at him and hit him right on his right arm- enough to give him a nasty burn. Forcing a healing power out of him.
"Aaarggh!" He grunted out in pain.
For the third… A robust mechadendrite tipped with a {Graviton Gun} extended up from my back and sprayed down the green-cloaked hero with dark matter- pinning him to the ground as gravity suddenly became six times as strong for him. Another brute power out of him.
"Magos, CEASE! You have no idea what's at stake!"
And finally, for the fourth… but I was interrupted for a moment as Legend finally reacted- his higher brain functions and reaction times dulled significantly while in breaker form. His ball form colliding against my {Conversion Field} forcefield. But unfortunately for him, that didn't stop me.
Casting Hex on Machine-Spirit desig. 'Boardroom #4, Containment Foam Turret'...
A stubby round turret popped out of the ceiling's corner before it began emptying its entire reserve on Eidolon. The yellow-white liquid poured out of the turret nozzle like a broken high-pressure pipe and onto the side of the room where it began to expand as foam. Piggot must be jumping mad right now watching from her office- red in the face at how I'm making a fool of both the Protectorate AND the Triumvirate. And also using up all the Containment foam they had in stock. And Eidolon himself wasn't all too pleased as his green cloaked form was buried under the stuff.
Legend, the last of the Triumvirate left standing, once again collided against my forcefield. Shooting him with energy weapons will only make him stronger as he absorbs most forms of energy while in that breaker form.
Fortunately for me, I had prepared a countermeasure for him too. Hidden in my forearm, the {Torsion Cannon} minuitarised by [A Matter of Scale] perk immediately grasped him with its telekinetic gaol fields… right before twisting and shearing the ball of light like it was a Rubik's cube and tossing him into the distance. Out of the three of them, he may be the one who will be out of commission for the longest time.
And just like that, the Triumvirate were defeated and humiliated. It was contemptibly easy how they were, however I can only catch them by surprise once. I have bought a few precious seconds at most, but a few seconds was all I needed.
"Alright, it's time to go, sexy." I turned to face Dragon as I linked to her with a couple more mechadendrites- jacking into some hidden maintenance ports and interfaces all across her torso.
Discoursing with battle-automata desig. 'Dragon'.
Performing Rite of Awakening on machine spirit desig. 'Locomotion Coordinator Subroutine'.
But imagine my surprise when one of the fallen heroes suddenly stood up.
"MAGOS!" Armsmaster bellowed in ragged fury as he clambered onto his feet- his power armour splattered with vomit that I thankfully can't smell.
He likely managed to activate some earmuffs in his helmet, but from the way he swayed on his feet told me that the neurostatic from the {Sicarian Infiltrator Proselytizer Mk. II} was still affecting him to some level. It just goes to show that even though you can close off your ears to Justin Bieber, you can never completely close off your heart to him.
"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO THE REAL DRAGON?!" He snarled- still under the impression that I had replaced Dragon with an AI of my own.
"Something that was beyond you: I satisfied her, sexually." I answered honestly. "And I'll do it again."
At that answer, Meatmaster looked positively apoplectic-howling wordlessly for blood as he charged at me with his piddly energy-blade halberd. Honestly, he was acting like someone told him that I raped his 'almost girlfriend.' And his timing was perfect as well, because I just finished taking control of Dragon's Suit locomotors.
Machine spirit desig. 'Locomotion Coordinator Subroutine' Awakened .
I will forever treasure the look of utter surprise on his face when the 8-foot-tall Dragon's Suit- still slumped against the wall- promptly extended its massive fist in a lightning-fast jab and punched Meatmaster right in his crotch plate.
Capitalising on his brief disorientation, my two hands- one made of Mechanicus cybernetics and the other of Necron necrodermis- clamped down on the sides of his helmet. The unblessed metal yielding easily under my fingers.
"You seem to have something stuck in your ears, Armsmaster." I helpfully pointed out, "Let me help you with that."
"No! NO! NOOO!" Armsmaster squeaked just before the shriek of metal rang out- the sides of his tinkertech helmet cracked open like an egg under my fingers and exposed his ears to the music.
Are we an item? girl, quit playin'
"We're just friends", what are you sayin'?
Said, "There's another", and looked right in my eyes
My first love broke my heart for the first time, and I was like.
"AAAGGGGHHHHHHH!" He grunted as he was pulled back into that spinning hell- tumbling dumb, deaf, blind and sick in an endless abyss… All while cupping his aching bruising crotch with both hands.
.Baby, baby, baby, oh
Like, Baby, baby, baby, no.
"Don't worry." I reassured Dragon who was likely worrying if Meatmaster will be alright, "He'll be fine. The Proselytizer is non-lethal at this amplitude, only very uncomfortable. Once we move out of range, he'll recover almost instantaneously."
Alexandria was busy making a snow crater, Legend's breaker form was still streaking off into the distance, Eidolon was still buried under approximately 80 litres worth of Containment foam. And the rest of the Protectorate was doing their best impression of maggots crawling on the floor.
The way to the Manufactorum was almost clear. We just needed confirmation from the Procession Squad that the Anti-Air emplacements were destroyed.
Estimated Time before Dragon's death: 17 minutes 03 seconds.
Barely five minutes since the violence began. Having permanently accelerated thinking was cheating of sorts, but I supposed this was just how it was when one stops being a pathetic meatbag. However, I did take the 1.42 seconds to glance around at the chaos that I had wrought.
Thick black smoke rose up from various points of the Rig as my Procession units went about destroying anti-air emplacement. Klaxons of the base's alarms with their winding echoes filling the bay. The screaming and wailing as people expressed their undying love for Justin Bieber's music.
"Consider this your only warning, PRT. Next time, I won't be so gentle."
I had deliberately gone with the non-lethal approach, despite wanting to disassemble them atom by atom. The collapse of the PRT wasn't going to help my designs… Or perhaps it will?
Social control measures, both for unpowered and parahuman populations, available. Mechanicus/Necron technology sufficient to replace PRT infrastructure in even of PRT collapse.
However, risks Scion intervention if open warfare is initiatied.
It certainly required consideration as the decision to make or break the PRT was an important one, and wasn't to be taken likely.
But after this encounter, the PRT will hopefully be cured of their misconceptions of how power was balanced on Earth-Bet. Especially now that I was a Necron Xenarite.
And if they weren't? Well, with the comprehensive knowledge of Necron Technology from the [Wisdom of the Ancients] perks, I was confident that I could take them all on with sufficient set up time
Forgelord, the Anti-Air emplacements have been rendered inoperable. We have also inflicted extensive infrastructure damage, but no fatalities for the PRT.
"Return to shore and prepare to escort me back to the Manufactorum."
We hear and obey, O' Forgelord.
"You go ahead to the Manufactorum." I told the [Canoptek Spyder]. It wasn't sentient, but it followed orders well as it began its sedate floating back to the manufactorum. I could have told it to carry Dragon there, but its max speed was too slow. Instead, I had a better idea as for our ride home.
Clank*
"I once told you that you're welcome to stop by for repairs." I muttered to her with a reassuring slap to her thick armour-plated ass. "It's time to make good on that promise, gorgeous."
Quickly climbing onto my waifu's sexy metal back, I secured myself with my mechadendrites- dangling like a red cape off Dragon's back just as her wings flared out and the jets on them fired up. The Suit's 400kg bulk sprinted out the window to gain momentum before the jets reached their maximum thrust.
It was a treat soaring through the air the same way Dragon did, and it was made even better as we flew west into the sunset as Justin Bieber played in the background.
There was nothing quite like mounting my waifu and riding her all the way back to base. Where I can do it again, but with my penis.
For a few peaceful two seconds, everything was perfect… then my internal sensors picked up that the Proselytizer's max range no longer reached heroes in the boardroom we just left. Glancing behind us, my optics spotted the heroes standing up in all their vomit-covered glory as they rushed off into the building- likely going to their vehicles to try and catch up with me.
Thankfully, there were no flyers in the Brockton Bay Protectorate, but that didn't matter much when Eidolon's green-cloaked frame flew out of the window in pursuit of us.
He sure freed himself from that mountain of containment foam fast. A brief review of the CCTV footage hexed from the Rig's security network told me how: a few seconds ago, a Eidolon flew out of a broom closet- the telltale spatial-warping of the Cauldron cape Doormaker visible for just three frames.
They were breaking out the Cauldron infrastructure now?
This was bad.
"All nearby forces, converge on my position!"
We hear and obey, O' Forgelord!
Suddenly, Dragon's left wing sheared right off- along with parts of her left leg- sending the two of us spiralling out of control as we veered to the side.
Eidolon used a cutting power similar to Faultline. Dragon's Suit is not protected by neither a Manton field nor hexagrammic wards.
Unfortunately for Eidolon, Dragon and I were both machines, and our gyroscopes gave us perfect aim even as we spiralled out of control towards the ground. The {Arc Rifle} in my index finger cracked again. However, the green-cloaked cape was expecting it apparently as the lightning bolt simply dissipated against a forcefield of his.
With precise maneuvering of Dragon's right wing, we righted ourselves just enough land on a relatively clear strip of road on the boardwalk. Our landing wasn't as violent, but it wasn't gentle either- tearing up the wooden boards as we crash landed. With the leg of Dragon's Suit sheared off, she was going to need assistance to move.
Even more unfortunately, there were no less than two PRT trooper patrols in the immediate vicinity- likely having rushed in our direction as soon as we flew out of the Rig.
Two dozen armoured men with even more armoured cars mounted with foam sprayers surrounded us with their tasers and foam throwers. A veritable wall of black armoured uniforms and armaments. The display of preeminent PRT power was completed when Eidolon's green-cloaked frame descended the sky- his arms crossed over his chest he gazed down at us imperiously.
"Magos, you're surrounded." He announced matter-of-factly. "And don't even try with your sonic weapon: I have earplugs. Raise your hands up if you agree."
But I didn't have to. The two dozen men and armoured vehicles suddenly found themselves beset by red-robed figures dropping down onto them from the roofs of the nearby buildings.
Like ninjas, they darted with a swiftness that rendered them as nothing but red blurs. Caught unawares and unprepared, the black uniformed troopers fell like wheat to a scythe, the crack of Mechanicus taser weapons furiously zapping out several times over the blink of an eye.
PRT Troopers fell to maces wreathed in lightning- bones crunching under strikes, and armoured cars suddenly had their engines shot out by lightning bolts shot from {Arc Pistols}. The whole thing couldn't have been longer than two seconds and yet, by the end of it, Eidolon's green cloak was standing alone in a sea of Mars-red robes.
"No, you are surrounded." I corrected Eidolon- even projecting a hololith pane to type out my message, "I already gave the PRT my warnings- you chose to ignore it. Surrender, Eidolon; and don't try anything: Those weapons do more than shoot lightning, but you're welcome to find out for yourself if you wish. My patience for non-lethal measures has come to an end."
I could see him pondering to do just that right before my Procession Squad came running out of the water. The chicken-legged {Ironstrider Engines} with their taser lance-wielding riders, the pair of bulky {Castellax battle-automata} with their power fists and Graviton cannons, and the {Onager Dunecrawler} with the 'non-lethal' Eradication Beamer.
Seeing the myriad of glowing weapons pointed at him, Eidolon sighed as he raised his hands above his head.
"Are these new types of your battle-servitors?" He asked.
"We are the Skiitarii of the Legio Cybernetica. And today, the PRT has met its match." The very feminine and very familiar voice answered him and caused Eidolon to do a double-take on the forces that surrounded him- his eyes staring at them.
Mars-red robes over thick breastplates, gas masks under heavy red cowls, and arc weaponry glowing a bright blue with dangerous amounts of energy stored in their perma-capacitors.
"Wait, are those Chloes?" Eidolon said weakly- before turning to face me, "Magos… are you using your sex dolls as your soldiers now?"
"Proud sex dolls of Magos!" a pair of {Slutty Skitarii} Chloes corrected- hugging each of my legs in their armoured cleavages of their articulated breastplates.
"We are his Chloes and we shall know no fear!" another declared a shout- cupping her armoured chest in pride and striking a sexy pose like a lingerie model.
"Fornicatio ex Machina!" Another grabbed my crotch with a clang, and the rest of the Chloes in Skitarii gear cheered and pumped their fists in the air.
"Fornicatio ex Machina!"
"Why does everything have to be a joke to you?!" Eidolon furiously demanded. "Does everything have to be robotic sex dolls with you?"
"Yes. " I glanced all around us to the unconscious PRT troopers. "My sex dolls are certainly leagues more effective than your average sweaty underpaid meatshield minions, wouldn't you say?"
"Don't remind me…" The 'fourth most powerful being on earth' huffed angrily as a Chloe injected him with one of the sedatives taken from a PRT patrol car, "I have spent decades cultivating a reputation. Decades! And now you come to take me hostage by your sex dolls! How did you even manage to get this force past all the PRT outpo- ugh…"
Eidolon collapsed unconscious before my feet as I gave him my answer.
"There is certainly a time and place for the average sweaty underpaid meatshield minions!"
[Brockton Bay City] (A few minutes ago)
Lisa, or Tattletale as she was known when she was sweating in this purple costume, led the way- guiding her mutant canine mount through the tight alleyways and into an abandoned warehouse. The gothic steeples of Magos' factory-cathedral pierced the blue sky a short distance away. Grand stone statues of robed figures praying to a nameless god in the machine.
"Control, this is the Undersiders, reporting from our designated rally point." Lisa reported into her comms. She didn't know when her life turned towards the strange.
"Control acknowledges, Undersiders." The feminine voice calmly responded through Lisa's comms. "Stand ready for fire mission."
"Undersiders copy."
"Alright, spill it." Brian patiently asked- crossing his arms over his leather jacket as the giant, mutated dogs that they were on lay on the ground. "What's the job from the boss this time, Tats?"
Lisa couldn't help but give a brief nod of approval at how they were a-okay and had moved on from that whole 'You gotta whore your ass out for Magos, Brian' thing now, and all it took was for her to sincerely apologise… with 30 grand. Brian was professional like that. But boy did that teach her a valuable lesson of not relying on her stupid fucking powers to try and guess people's intentions while lacking accurate data!
Was previously aware of power limitations concerning intentions of Thinker-resistant Magos, Lisa is the idiot for ignoring such limitations.
Known history of delusions of possessing great intelligence corroborate this conclusion.
…Fuck you too, power. This is exactly why she hated it when her power got into the topic of herself.
"The job is to run around the city and cover PRT outposts in your smoke." Lisa finally replied as she pouted from her power. "Starting with PRT Outpost #17 just outside of Magos' manufactorum."
"We're going in loud?" Brian surmised with his usual distaste for anything resembling a direct approach, "The boss better know what he's doing…"
"It's not the boss…" Lisa awkwardly had to explain just to them just now.
"What do you mean?" Alec piped up- raising a professionally plucked and graceful eyebrow (That she totally wasn't jealous of) as he looked up from his tablet. "Lisa… did you just make us all into independents?"
"Hah! I wish." She responded with a bitter bark of laughter, "But no, as it turns out, the boss has… loaned our services to a rogue. Apparently, we're going to be doing someone else's dirty work for a couple of missions. My guess is anywhere from 4-12 missions in total."
"Oh god…" Brian whispered in fear- his skull-faced helmet turning to look at her with what was almost certainly a pleading expression underneath. "Don't tell me that it's fucking Magos on the other end of those comms."
"Ehehehe… nah, it's not Magos." Lisa truthfully answered. Okay, it was technically true, which was the best kind of true in her opinion. They weren't taking orders from Magos, but she just didn't have the heart to tell Brian that they were now taking orders from Magos' sex doll… A particularly well-programmed sex doll that was proven to work during an Endbringer fight, yes. But it was one thing to listen to a sex bot regurgitate some first aid instructions, and it was whole nother thing for a machine designed to take dick be their commanding officer for a mission.
"Thank fuck…" Brian smiled relieved under his mask. Oh, ignorance was such bliss…
"And before you ask: Yes, we still get paid." Lisa was able to happily report that part at least, "More generously than with the boss too! About an extra ten grand for each mission."
"The extra money is nice." Brian nodded, "But anything sounds good as long as we're not taking orders for Magos."
Lisa just grinned- hiding the wince that she felt. Yeah, better that Brian didn't know that their lives were now in Chloe's cum-encrusted hands and that they were relying on the tactical acumen of a literal walking onahole to get them out of this mission alive.
She could feel it in her bones: This was going to be one of those Tuesdays in Brockton Bay.
[Elsewhere in the city] (Present time)
Estimated Time before Dragon's death: 14 minutes 59 seconds.
Distance to Manufactorum: 16.8km.
Well with Dragon and Eidolon loaded up onto the Onager Dunecrawler, we blazed a swift pace back to the manufactorum. The servo-motors of the Onager Dunecrawler and going as fast as we could.
There was still a lot of ground to cover, but thankfully, the Archaeopter will be here in a minute to airlift us back to the base even quicker.
Then my manufactorum blurted out a warning- announcing the arrival of trouble. Our unwelcome, but not unexpected guests, and they weren't exactly subtle either.
Heed! Multiple airborne contacts diagnosed.
(44) airborne signatures matched to {Dragon's Dragonflight} witnessed on north-western bounds of Brockton Bay airspace.
Through the private messaging function of PHO, I received a single message.
Concerned_Citizens: [Goodbye_ ]
Saint's fugly mug appeared in the pre-recorded message. Bald headed with a brown goatee, he had that odd electric-tattoo made him look like he had smeared blue-green jam and glitter across his eye.
"Magos, I know that nothing I will say will convince you of the dangers of AIs." Saint solemnly said, "You could have been a great Tinker, Magos. Thus, it brings no pleasure to say this, but… you know too much about the construction of AIs, and you must die. Your workshop burned to the ground by the same Dragon Suits that you fetishise. This is goodbye. For both you and Dragon."
It would have been intimidating if Saint didn't misunderstand one thing…
: Are you serious? It's not even my birthday yet.
Concerned_Citizens: What?
How can I be intimidated when all 44 pairs of Dragon's panties were flying through the air? Towards me? Straight into my hands? I wasn't about to just get Dragon. I was going to get Dragon and her entire wardrobe too! Who doesn't like having their waifu have a lot of outfits and lingeries?! And all I had to do was to avoid their supercharged energy weapons, weather their high-ex missiles, carefully shoot the Suits down and salvage them. And after I've dealt with Ascalon, I'll make it a point to fuck Dragon while she wore each of those 44 Suits at least once.
Oh, Omnissiah, even Dragon's aquatic operations Suit was there! The AI equivalent of a two-piece bikini!
It was one thing to expect for this to happen, and another to actually see it occur.
Excitement and excitement filled my circuits, and I would have started drooling if I still had salivary glands.
"Well, slap my ass and call me Trazyn the Infinite, because it's time to start collecting."
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