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Rating:
Not Rated
Archive Warning:
Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Categories:
F/FF/M
Fandoms:
Lucifer (TV)Parahumans Series - Wildbow
Relationships:
Dragon/Colin Wallis | Armsmaster | DefiantHannah | Hana | Miss Militia/Mouse Protector
Characters:
Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV)Mazikeen (Lucifer TV)Hannah | Hana | Miss MilitiaAmy Dallon | Panacea | Red QueenTaylor Hebert | Skitter | WeaverDanny HebertEmily PiggotVictoria Dallon | Glory Girl | AntaresRebecca Costa-Brown | AlexandriaMissy Biron | VistaDinah AlcottAisha Laborn | ImpBrian Laborn | GrueLisa Wilbourn | TattletaleFortuna | ContessaAlec | RegentRachel Lindt | Bitch | HellhoundDragon (Parahumans)Mouse ProtectorColin Wallis | Armsmaster | Defiant
Additional Tags:
Misplaced LuciferBAMF Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV)Curious LuciferLucifer is the Bane of ThinkersBAMF Mazikeen (Lucifer TV)Lucifer is the Bane and Maze is the HeadacheCherona came along for the heck of itshe's VibingThere's gonna be adoptionsand fluffbut no spoilersForgot to warn about Skidmark in Chapter 1He doesn't live long so don't worryVicky the Flying Brick DallonAmy has issuesIt is an AU so I won't follow the timeline religiouslyCherona the Therapy HellhoundMissy jumps to conclusions almost as well as she jumps through spaceNurturing MazikeenProtective Mazikeen (Lucifer TV)Alexandria Fucks Around and Finds OutCustom Lore for Lucifer and MazeEmotionally Mature Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV)SomewhatSlaughterhouse 9 CurbstompDragon is ConfusedVicky SlapsLITERALLYCherona is a Cuddly Space HeaterLucifer Casually MiraclingDragon is way too TeasableBAMF Missy/VistaI Was Told She Deserves That OneColin is confused
Language:
English
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Published:2024-08-14Updated:2025-02-18Words:136,766Chapters:12/?Comments:281Kudos:810Bookmarks:346Hits:43,217
The Devil in Brockton Bay
Dovesnoze
Chapter 5: Chapter 5
Summary:
Mouse Protector prays to the cheese and reaches Lucy instead.
Shatterbird imitates a strangled chicken.
Maze puts Taylor through her first wringer before being called for the Hunt.
Amy is as much a mess as always. Cherona helps until she walks through a Rift in Reality.
Jacob has a bad headache and its only gonna get worse for him.
Mimi gets some life advice from Maze. Appliable only in her next life.
Ned has a fun time and he says Thank You like a good boy.
Hatchet Face loses his head over the silliest things.
Alan has troubles with his tech. And blunt force traumas.
Theresa hurries and makes it to the somewhat anticlimactic finale.
Notes:
OOF. This one... Oh, I hate it. Sorry if the quality dropped somewhat but I really struggled far more with the 9(8) than I'd expected. That was not helped by the weeklong abduction my friends staged. (Holidays in greece. Beautiful but not really conductive for writing since the temps made me lazy and the pools as well as the ocean were oh so tempting.) Now I'm finally done and honestly, fuck Jack Slash and his merry band of Murder Hobos.
Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy it more than I enjoyed writing it.
Chapter Text
~Claire/Mouse Protector~
She stumbled just slightly after the throw but managed to keep herself upright with the will of the desperate. She wasn't sure how much Jack Slash and his ilk knew about the limits of her teleportation but it was 'safer' to assume that they knew everything. Still, she had to try. It was a desperate gambit but it may earn her a few minutes in this cruel game of theirs.
She was slowing down and she didn't have much stamina left in her tank despite her secondary powers increasing her physical fitness beyond human limits. She needed a moment to recharge, maybe eat a piece of Gouda or four. So as soon as she stepped out of sight and felt the ball settle, she activated her power and teleported. Just not to the ball.
Instead, she chose the purple pyramid she had hidden by throwing it into a cellar with an open window around an hour ago. Just before she was in the clear, she was hit by something. Unbearable agony consumed her as she realized with abject horror that something shattered her leg from behind. Her well maintained self control just so managed to keep her from screaming her Soul out.
What she couldn't suppress was the pained gasp and subdued whine when she landed on the floor, lacking any and all dignity as she rolled to a stop. The movement did nothing to make the pain more tolerable. Predictably, the opposite was the case. Her self control was strained almost to the point of snapping when she pushed herself into an upright position to take stock of the damage.
'That's it then.' She accepted the thought with dead eyes while doing her best to ignore the agonizing pain of her ripped apart leg. Most likely, she was clipped by Crawler. No, on second thought, there were too many clean cuts along the mangled mess. Shatterbird must have shredded it with glass. Either way, nothing much was left of the limb beyond a shredded mass of flesh and bone. 'I really shouldn't have stuck the paw into the cheese grater this time... Now I'm nothing but a mouse caught in a trap.' She mused with some gallow's humor as sweat dropped idly from her forehead.
Another salty liquid joined the sweat drops as she tried (and failed) not to cry. At least she managed to keep herself from sobbing out loud as she wondered if the Siberian would enjoy the texture of her leg with some cheese now that it was ground meat. Then again, she'd probably dislike the fact that Claire was pretty much immobile. This particular cat liked to play with her food after all, and crippled playthings weren't all that fun.
She leaned lightly against the wall behind her for support and opened the bun that kept her brown locks which were matte and heavy with sweat from flowing over her shoulders. She'd lost her helmet a while ago, not that she cared much. She wouldn't need a mask any longer. It wasn't as if she would survive the day after all. She knew that before the 'game' even started. They never promised her survival. The cheese in this particular trap was a different one.
The murder hobos offered her a chance to go out as a hero. She desperately wanted to survive the 12 hours they set as a time limit, but it just wasn't to be. 'I'm sorry, citizens of Torrance. I'm so, so sorry...' Jack Slash promised if she won the 'game', she'd be the only one to die, and there had been some cases where his games were won. He usually kept those promises.
If he didn't, no one would play his games any longer and he'd end up with a bored group of mass murderers. That wasn't a combination he wanted, she presumed. Keeping them somewhat on track and following his plans couldn't have been easy even though he could murder with the worst of them.
If she survived 12 hours, the captured civilians of the city would see another day. That was what she was promised in exchange for her participation in this twisted game of Cat and Mouse. Sadly, she failed by a little over 4 hours. She flagged, made a fatal mistake, and consequently failed her duty. There wasn't anything else to it.
Hopelessness consumed her. This wouldn't end well for her and neither would she be able to do her job as a hero and save the day. This wasn't how she imagined her 'vacation'. It all started innocently enough. She received a flier detailing the Tour de Cheese through the town of Torrance and immediately decided to join. Both, because it sounded like fun and because it would end up being a nice publicity stunt that fit well with her theme. She never thought it would end up being a trap set by the Slaughterhouse 9 because they were hired to kill her. By Ravager.
That insufferable piece of fermented cunt cheese hired the 9 to take her out. Who did something like that?! Ravager apparently, the moronic rat. Now here she was. With no hope or perspectives left, ready to die for the ideals Hero had instilled in her. She went the path of a jokester to try and make this world just a bit brighter by causing some laughter while taking down idiots who didn't understand that the world was fucked enough without them adding to it. And now she'd go out like a small flame.
Like a dim ember Hero left behind, unable to ignite the same level of Hope he had been capable of. Just another part of his legacy snuffed out without making a difference. The unwillingness she felt at the thought was underlined with impotent rage. She was angry with herself for falling into the trap but she knew if she didn't come by, the people would have died anyways. This way, they at least had a small chance, not that it worked out in the end.
She decided to channel her anger into something productive and started to make some plans that would likely never come to fruition. It gave her something somewhat satisfying to do while she bled out in an empty basement. 'I'l at least have to try to take one out with me if they find me. If I time it right, I might get little Jackie before he gets me.'
Her ruined mousy makeup didn't hide the determined twist of her lips at all, though the cute teeth she painted beneath her lower lip made it a bit odd to look at. 'Whoever's out there. Whatever cheese-aligned deity is listening. Just let me take one of those monsters with me when I die.' She thought to herself, only to painfully slam the back of her head into the wall behind her from surprise when she received an answer.
'I'm the only qualifying being on this frequency. No one cheese-aligned shares it I'm afraid. There aren't many with that domain, now that I think about it. Aristaios comes to my mind and that hack Sheogorath claimed it too among many other odd domains, but most have it as a minor aspect of a greater set like dairy as a whole or fermented foods. No matter, none of them are present in this forsaken... Let's not talk about that. You seem to be in a bit of a pickle. Reaching out for assistance was the right call I think. That said, you are awfully determined to die my dear. May I suggest we change that? It's really not a healthy mindset to have in the long-term.'
Words floated through her head, narrated by a pleasant baritone she was certain she'd never heard before, so at least the delusions created by her dying mind were imaginative, right? She spluttered at how she called herself out though. That wouldn't do!
'What long-term!'
She argued back against her male inner voice with all the vehemence she had left. Not much of her fire had survived as she just barely kept herself from falling into a hopeless chasm.
'I'm in a death trap and if I leave, more than 200 lives will be on my conscience! This situation is the definition of lose-lose! It's not as if I want to die! It's just not something I can change so I decided to make the best out of a horrible situation! Taking out one of the Slaughterhouse 9 in exchange for my life seems, well, not fair but better than dying like a mouse to the poisoned cheese without even biting the hand that fed her the fatal morsel! If it's their leader I'll take out, all the better! I'll gnaw him to death if I have to!'
Great, now she was bickering with herself. Of all the things she thought might ruin her moment of heroic sacrifice, a bipolar disorder was fairly low on the list. Was a part of her really so naïve that it thought she might escape with her life? And why was it male? 'Wait, am I non-binary and only now acknowledging it since I'm in my death-throes?'
Her gender-identity crisis found an abrupt end when she heard windows exploding in the distance. Slowly, the sounds were closing in on her location and she suppressed a wince. Shatterbird seemed to be the one who chose this corner of the 'woods'. Her inner voice wasn't done working over what was left of her sanity though.
'Your symbolism seems rather focused on cheese and rodents. Is there a particular reason for that? Oh, and if you decided to try and ensure the assistance of a deity, wouldn't including your survival in the deal be a priority too?'
Damn, she, or rather he, had herself there. Was she suicidal? No, she just didn't see a way out so she was resolved to die in a way that was worth something. Anything. An annoyed sigh pushed past her lips, but at the same time, a morbid smile split them apart. At least she was funny even in her last moments with a mangled leg in a dingy basement.
'Fine then.' She yielded to her suspiciously pleasant male inner voice. Would she have sounded like this if she was born male? If so, she almost regretted being her female version. 'If it's possible, I'd like to make my continued survival part of the deal.'
She leaned back, slowly becoming light-headed from the loss of blood. She never thought she would ever utter a wish like that but she really hoped the 9 would find her soon, lest she'd die from blood loss without a fight. That would be so embarrassing.
'So be it. Just to make sure, you are of a heroic alignment, correct?' She weakly tilted her head but nodded anyways, only to giggle deliriously to herself shortly afterwards. 'Your inner voice can't see you nod, silly. You have to think it.' She chided herself, only to receive the shock of her life for the second time that day when suddenly, the basement was illuminated by a warm and pleasant glow.
Out of the blinding light stepped a handsome man with one heck of a snazzy suit. He laid his eyes on her and she saw compassion bloom in his surprisingly gentle eyes. He waved his hand and suddenly, warmth suffused her and took all the pain with it. The feeling was just too much and it made a constant stream out of sporadic teardrops as she sobbed from the relief offered to her.
She was melting like cheese in a fondue pot as her injuries faded away. It wasn't just the shredded leg that was healing fast enough to make her think he was rewinding time. No, all the 'little' injuries she'd amassed during her... Rough tumble with the 9 were disappearing. The two ribs she'd broken. The dislocated shoulder she'd popped back in. The bruises and the uncountable number of cuts.
Not even the longstanding unavoidable annoyances she gathered in her heroic career stood a chance against his healing Light. In short order, she felt better than ever before. As she basked in the mind numbing pleasure of unexpected comfort, she barely managed to make out his next words.
"Your deal won't need payment, little mouse. It falls under the terms of another. If you want to thank anyone, thank young Vista."
'Say what?'
"That tiny space bender finagled a fine agreement out of me. If I wasn't so proud, I'd be a bit irritated."
He smiled fondly in a way that almost hurt to look at and all she could think of was. 'No seriously, what?' She was understandably a bit lost. What was even happening? Why was she suddenly completely fine and dandy? What in the name of the Great Wheel of Cheese was going on? Well, whatever it was, she couldn't even think of a cheesy pun that fit the situation and that should have been the true indicator of just how out of it she was.
'I can't even think of a single brielliant line to say. Do I really have to communicate like a... sane person?...' She was still in thought about that conundrum when his next words registered and she sank into oblivion and knew no more.
"You have done enough. You should rest now. Leave this Hunt to the professionals..."
She should have been worried about the dark glee she could sense in his suddenly gravelly voice, but she felt far too safe and tired to care.
~Shatterbird/Fatima~
She was closing in on the failed mouse-themed comedian. She could feel it in the vibrations of her bones when she used her voice. Anticipation filled her mind with all kinds of pictures. Maybe she'd be delirious after taking that hit before teleporting?
She was pretty sure she shredded her leg. She may have bled out even. An ignoble death for an annoying rodent. Another part of that tinkering bastard's legacy taken by the Nine. She liked the thought of her ending like this.
She just had a single possible regret about this. Would Jack be angry at her for it? The actual hit she landed was mostly an accident, not that she didn't want to shred the bitch anyways. She was just startled when she suddenly threw something unidentified and had a hitch in her voice that made the glass in the surroundings lurch violently.
Thinking of how Jack might want to gloat over and psychologically break the former ward, she sped up a bit while humming to keep herself afloat. The necessity of sound for her power to work was a bit of a hassle from time to time, but she found some nifty tricks to work around the limitations.
Suddenly, her instincts went haywire as she was floating past a house that seemed sturdy but in a state of slight disrepair. She sensed that some glass shards on the inside had been ground into the floor by shifting movements. A sadistic little grin appeared behind her colorful mask and her eyelids lowered slightly in satisfaction.
She was alive. Most likely in a bad state, but alive. It could only be her moving about on the inside. They swept through the hamlet like a hurricane after Mannequin took down all communications. No one survived their attention, they made sure of it. The only living people were them, the hostages, and that vermin Mouse Protector.
She took a deep breath to prepare for a crescendo of violence delivered by sharp-edged glass to make sure she stayed compliant, but after her first tune that shattered the windows, her Song was overpowered by a single hum. It was the most melodious sound she'd ever perceived and it made her flight falter.
Inexplicably, she failed to release a single note as she plummeted to the ground. Luckily, she didn't fly all that high and landed with a grunt but without injury. Disoriented as she was, she felt herself being grabbed by an invisible force that pulled her through the one of the windows she just burst apart.
Before she could do anything to mount resistance, her throat was grabbed by a smooth hand. It restricted her airways as she stared up into glowing eyes.
"Now, what do we have here? A little shattered bird it seems. What shall I do with you, I wonder?"
Her eyes began to adapt to the lack of light and his features faded into existence around those eerie eyes as her lungs began to burn from a lack of oxygen. Holding her by her throat was the most beautiful man she'd ever laid her eyes upon.
What truly bound her attention was his voice though. It was almost lyrical in nature. Her power gave her the ability to adjust how she wanted her voice to be perceived and make it so that it essentially gave her a perfect pitch, but the sounds that left this man's perfect lips were beyond what she was capable of.
It distracted her for a long moment from the sting of her lungs as they desperately demanded a renewed supply of oxygen. The reality of her situation flooded her perception when she began to grow faint.
The corners of her view narrowed as her consciousness began to fade. She belatedly thrashed a bit against his hold but it was hopeless. The faint curiosity in his haunting eyes was the last thing she perceived as she lost her bearings and felt herself slipping away.
~Mazikeen~
An amused yet inordinately proud smirk flitted over her lips before disappearing just as quickly when she watched Long Legs complete her last few reps in the lot they commandeered for the day. Not that it was needed for anything else. There weren't many workers in today. Most were out doing their jobs, much to their continued exhilaration.
It was a bit sickening how much joy Lucifer brought to those people but they needed the workers for all kinds of projects so she wouldn't complain. Much, at least. She shook off the distraction and focused on the matter at hand. The girl she was putting through the wringer was dead on her feet and realistically, she should have lost consciousness twenty minutes ago.
But much to her delight, she was far too stubborn for that. She pushed through pesky little things such as her body's limits after only a tiny bit of needling with a well of willpower that made Maze giddy, not that she'd ever confess to having the capacity for such feelings. Her newest victim released a groan of supreme effort, making her usually lush but presently wet mane flop around uselessly from the weight of the abnormal amounts of sweat contained in it.
She forced herself to push one last time before completely losing control over her exhausted body and falling down to the ground bonelessly as if her strings were cut. She was drenched with sweat and steaming in the fairly cool air. Her breath came in short, harsh pants just south of hyperventilating, but she was conscious. Despite her less than desirable physical condition, she pushed through.
The plan she'd created was admittedly only theoretically doable. It would need a special kind of person to actually complete it, but Maze had high hopes for the bespectacled girl. It would push her to her very limits each and every day but she had yet to miss a workout in two weeks. She could tell. Otherwise she wouldn't have been capable of completing today's program.
Maze was specialised in whipping lazy fuckers into shape. She was well known and feared in the circles of Hell as the premier instructor of Lucifer's forces and even the most jaded demons thought thrice before coming to her boot camp out of their own volition. In certain regiments, time under her tender mercies was used as a punishment.
Not without reason she supposed, but that was only the case because they hadn't survived Lucifer's personal training. He was far more ruthless than her, that sadistic winged bastard. But it was worth it in the end. She climbed those steps and completed his merciless regimen. And she developed a passion for inflicting similar levels of terror upon his forces. It was fun seeing them writhe in exhausted agony while reveling in their continuous growth.
Even though she was rarely truly appreciated, she followed the exploits of her precious little victims. Every once in a while, she had some luck and received one of those special ones to mold though. The people that made her shudder pleasantly from the intensity she could see broiling in them. They didn't avoid her instruction but craved it instead. They'd push themselves through Hell and back for the growth she offered.
This girl was one of those. More than that, even. She'd seen the spark, that unbending spirit. That beyond stubborn glimmer in her eyes that told her that once she had a goal, she wouldn't stop until it was reached. She would pursue her target relentlessly and escalate endlessly until she reached it. And when she was there, she'd push a bit further just to be safe.
Once she lost that youthful naivety she was still clinging to, she would become a capable individual who could make harsh but necessary decisions to keep herself and those she cared for alive. 'She would make a fabulous Warlord...' Maze mused in remembrance of some of the fiercest warriors she trained.
Long legs had all the markers for a successful Leader if she was properly molded and if her self-esteem was carefully nurtured. She wasn't just stubborn beyond mortal expectations. She was also well spoken, exceedingly passionate when drawn out of her shell, and surprisingly charismatic if she was comfortable with whom she was talking to.
Yeah, she had a bit of an aversion to physical violence, and contact for that matter, but no one was perfect and that was something they'd be able to overcome in time. Some exposure therapy would do wonders. Maybe a roll in the hay so to speak to make her open up a bit. Maze was certain that she appreciated the female form just as much as the male one, so there would be some options in the future.
If no one offered themselves, Maze would become the sacrifice herself. She was curious what those long legs would feel like when they were wrapped around her neck after being properly trained. That was still a bit far off though. Baby steps for now as they liked to say. Some hugs, encouragement, and careful exposure to gratuitous violence and soon, she'd break kneecaps as if they were going out of business.
The only thing that really held her back was her all too human limits. Even her limit-breaking willpower wouldn't be enough to bridge that particular gap. It was vexing because Maze just didn't have access to a proper way to elevate her race.
'Should I ask Lucy to bless her? I know he can do it since all angels above a certain threshold of power could, but as far as I know, he never found anyone he deemed worthy of having his Grace.' Maybe that would change in this strange fuckup of a universe. Who knew?
She would certainly recommend Long legs. Come to think of it, she didn't even know her name. Did she ever tell her? 'Eh, not important. Long legs will do just fine for now. No wait, I am kind of… friendly with her, aren't I? I probably should know her name...' She shrugged. Maybe later. It wasn't all that important.
Training her up to reach her potential took priority. She really hadn't expected to find such a diamond in the rough so quickly on this forsaken piece of excrement some people optimistically called a planet. Seriously, from what they managed to dig up, this was a shit hole of epic proportions with problems far beyond the scope of such a little realm. She almost felt homesick when she began to comb through the information she was handed.
Whatever aspect of the Fucker Above created this version of the multiverse, he was a special kind of sadist. Or laziness incarnate. Probably both. His believers were hilariously wrong in regards to him. Oh, he was powerful and very nearly omnipotent within his own cluster of universes. But he was also a moody fuck and pretty racist all things considered.
Sure, her people weren't exactly examples for live and let live, but throwing his strongest son at them like a rabid meteor filled with fury and spite wasn't cool. Not at all. 'I mean, it's for the better really. But that doesn't mean I don't get to hold a grudge.' she thought to herself with some amused resentment. She liked being an obstinate bitch.
She shook her head to free it from distractions before turning her attention back to her newest protégé. With a mocking smirk on her lips, she entered the girl's field of vision and received an impressive glare from behind her glasses. After letting her smirk widen for a moment, she let it fade into a smile. She didn't often do praise.
Demons were prideful motherfuckers and they needed to be put down more often than built up. Most of them had a drastically overinflated ego and she first had to break them utterly and remorselessly to work them over until they could be formed into a somewhat competent force for her Liege.
Long legs needed the opposite kind of approach. Someone already did a thorough job of breaking her. Maze had to build her up again. She was a strange conundrum since she was shattered almost completely but still refused to give up. She was traumatized but didn't stop for a moment once she had a goal.
Maze knew this was a bit of an escape from reality but if it helped her reach her potential, it wasn't actually a bad thing. Still, she needed encouragement instead of being called a worthless maggot who couldn't even keep a preteen girl from stabbing her eyes out with a sharpie. She needed the nurturing part and Maze would deliver.
"Well done, Long legs. I was sure you'd faint the first few times with me, but you not only managed to stay conscious but pushed far further than I thought you could. I'm proud of you, kiddo."
Her glare faded away with Maze's grin and made space for the surprise and uncertain joy she felt at being praised. The powerful Demoness ignored the stupid fuzzy thing in her chest that irrationally urged her to hug the girl and held her hand out instead.
Long legs understood immediately and grasped it to let herself be pulled up, only to dearly regret it a moment later. She groaned and moaned in post-workout agony before breathing out a tormented sigh that painted a nostalgic smile onto Maze's lips.
"I'm pretty sure at least half of the muscles that hurt don't actually belong to me at all..."
She grumbled and Maze laughed lightly.
"Well, now they're yours so get up and stretch them to make sure they don't cramp in the middle of the night. You don't want to be awakened by a cramping body, trust me on that."
She forced the girl to go along with some post-workout stretches after which they went inside to plunder the canteen and enjoy some food and drink as was her right for doing as well as she did. She brought over some ingredients as she was unsure what the Dockworker's Association had in storage.
With a mix of her own and the stored stuff, she made a healthy and filling meal consisting of everything one needed after a good and challenging workout. Nutrition was just as important as a fitting workout plan if not more so. If the body didn't have access to all the parts needed to build it up, working it into the ground was pretty much useless.
Long legs proved to have a ravenous appetite and didn't even try to refuse the protein-rich meal with copious amounts of carbs to refill the energy storage of her muscles. It wouldn't do her any good to cut out carbs if she wanted to build up her body. The energy had to come from somewhere and if she didn't have enough, protein would be used to compensate which really wasn't what she wanted. After she devoured her second portion, she blushed lightly and mumbled out a 'sorry...' in that contrite tone of her's, but Maze wouldn't have it. Sternly, she told her.
"None of that, Long legs. I cooked this for you, so eat as much as you need. The Devil knows you need all the nutrients you can get."
The young woman had the audacity to ignore her comment and the pointed stare that raked over her bony frame. 'Ballsy.' She thought to herself with an appreciative smirk as she watched her calmly take a sip of her steaming cup of tea and relax into the backrest before resting the cup on her knees after pulling up her legs.
"Good tea..."
She breathed out and Maze preened a bit while simultaneously cringing on the inside. Damn right it was good tea. The amount of practice she had to put into that skill just to somewhat meet Lucifer's demands was staggering. And what did he tell her when she finally made a cup he didn't grimace at? 'Barely acceptable.' The fucker. He then gave her a refresher of how his self-brewed tea tasted and she had to agree her own was... Just about drinkable in comparison. 'Smug bastard…' She grumbled inwardly.
She was a terrorizing warrior of great renown. A keeper of territory in the deepest pits of Hell. Lucifer's right Hand and his General to boot. And this was what she was reduced to. Making tea for shitty bosses and moody teenagers. She sighed theatrically before tensing. All her dramatics evaporated when her blood began to sing of violence and war.
When the call settled for the first time since they came here, she felt her excitement rise. She thought he would keep things calm while enjoying that shitty club of his and collecting information for a while longer, but something must have happened. Her Lord was demanding her presence and she really had no reason nor the desire to refuse his command.
Her eyes opened wide as a savage grin not suitable for the general audience spread on her visage. She stared into the startled but fearless eyes of Long legs. It was impressive because half her face was missing. Or rather, it appeared rotten when her demonic heritage pushed through the thin veneer of humanity she was clad in. Apparently, what sent grown men screaming while wetting their precious pants wasn't something the girl found especially terrifying.
Then again, in a world where some people could spontaneously turn into unsettling human/snail hybrids, her true form was a bit underwhelming... That kinda pissed her off now that she thought about it. 'Oh well, after the Hunt, people will probably be a bit more careful around me. And I'll get to vent a bit. It's been too long since I last cut loose.' With barely suppressed glee, she waved at Long legs as the Bond they shared pulled on her.
"Sorry, but we'll have to cut this short. Lucy is calling for a Hunt. See ya, Long legs."
With those words, she sank into the Flames of her Lord in front of disbelieving verdant eyes hidden behind glasses.
~Amy Dallon/Panacea~
Her face was wet. The dog was smug. She was scowling. Her sister was laughing her ass off. Altogether, it wasn't a good moment to be Amy Dallon. Her scathing glare did nothing to intimidate either of her infantile foes.
"Pink fur. Rainbow hair. Every. Single. Strand. Of it."
She wasn't loud. She just uttered a few words but her sister stopped laughing immediately. Her eyes showed that she realized Amy wasn't joking. No, she was entirely capable of committing that particular war crime. Cherona continued being a smug 'little' bitch because she knew it would take her weeks if not months to understand her biology enough to make it happen. Oh, she'd show her.
"Amy? You know you're my favorite sister, right?~"
Vicky's voice was saccharine as she batted her eyelashes at her. Amy suppressed the butterflies in her stomach with practiced ease and banished the incestuous filth that wanted to form in her thoughts before they could. Instead, she looked at her with unamused half-lidded eyes before rolling them slowly and deliberately.
"I am your only sister, in case you've forgotten. I won that title by default."
Vicky nodded sagely before latching on to her and pushing all the wrong buttons. Focused as Amy's mind was, she managed to not react at all to the casual intrusion of her personal space. 'You aren't making this easy, Vicky. Your lack of personal boundaries is far more dangerous than you realize...' She silently complained while letting the forcefield-empowered brute manhandle her.
"That means I'm the same! I'm your favorite sister by default! And you wouldn't want to make a mockery out of your dearest sis, would you?"
'I'd do everything for you. You just have to ask. I even secretly healed those couple of gangbangers you almost killed when you went out to test yourself just after getting your powers. That was a really close call. And I would have helped hide the bodies if I was too late. I'd have rotted them away in seconds with nothing left to identify them...' She reminisced to distract herself from her problems.
Her sister's faux-needy tone of voice was grating on her self-control but she kept it all under wraps when she sullenly glared up at the cuddly girl she wanted to do unspeakable things to. Amy's voice was without inflection when she answered.
"The opposite is true too, though. You are by default my least favorite sister. Maybe I should change the color to something a bit more repulsive. Maybe a nice dull mustard yellow. The color of wet straw. Or would you prefer pickle green? oh, I've got it. There was a case recently. A cancer victim who hurled all over the place after an especially bad reaction to chemotherapy. Maybe that particular shade would fit you well?"
She immediately pushed away from her with exaggerated movements and Amy fought down the impulse to follow along, to chase the contact she relished in for as long as possible.
"You wouldn't dare..."
Vicky whispered dramatically, clearly over-acting to have some fun. Amy played along with a sickening grin and manic eyes that were less acted than she'd like others to believe while wiggling her fingers.
"Try me."
She shot back with some real emotion in her voice. Because that would mean that Vicky was touching her again and... Nope, that was it. It would mean they were touching again. Nothing more. It wasn't to be though.
"Nah, I'm good. Lucy told you he had some snacks down here, right? And we can take them if we want?"
Amy nodded while distractedly scratching behind Cherona's left ear. Something the massive dog clearly appreciated from how she was bonelessly lounging over her legs. She calmed her raging obsessions with gentle dives into the Hellhound's biology and breathed deeply to add to her enforced calm while Vicky was searching the corners of the lounge for the promised snacks.
She was doing better, of that there was no doubt. Vicky's unrestrained physical affections made it hard to truly try and get some distance without seeming suspicious though. The girl was a thoughtless menace when it came to emotions and physicality, and that was one of the reasons she always had such a hard time resisting all her urges. She fought down a petulant scowl.
There were just too many fucking opportunities. An 'accidental' touch. A moment's carelessness causing her to brush up to her without meaning it. Sending small shots of synthesized hormones through her body while in contact to make her slowly fall...- With maximum effort, she ground that thought to a halt and contemptuously threw it into the darkest parts of her mind to rot for eternity.
That one was dangerous. She hated how fucking easy it would have been. She was a biokinetic Striker but she had some clear Tinker urges too. She knew that for a long time and it was part of the reason why she was so miserable. She suppressed that part of her power almost completely since she witnessed Carol's terrified visage when she gifted her a glowing red rose in the form of a heart for Mother's day. She found the burnt vestiges of her present the next day in the trash. That one really hurt.
The way she suppressed herself didn't change that she had inspirations that wanted to be realized. As soon as she thought of how to make Vicky fall, several biochemical cocktails that would achieve all her goals and dreams invaded her mind. It was somewhat easier to deal with the invasive urges now that her power calmed down some but once a thought stuck with her, she had to really concentrate to not accidentally act on it.
Regular peeks into Cherona's biology helped her nicely to pacify the part of her abilities. More and more, her power seemed like a sentient and possibly sapient addition to herself. On some days, she could almost feel how it was trying to reach out to her, to somehow influence her decisions.
It was terrifying if she was honest. Especially when it felt like it was pouting piteously at her. But now that she had some support to lean on, she was almost sure she could deal with it. Somehow. Maybe. If she actually talked about it with someone. That thought was a dangerous one too, but she had it quite often recently.
She was terrified of having her true capabilities found out at home, but she was almost sure she wouldn't be judged for her true powers by Maze and Lucifer if they ever understood what she was capable of. She even seriously contemplated coming clean a few times but she didn't trust them enough for that if she was honest. Not yet at least.
'Vicky wouldn't judge you either...' her insidious brain tried to convince her and maybe it was even right. But she couldn't. She couldn't risk having her sister look at her with loathing and fear. To never have her seek out her touch or demand her to 'heal' the pimple that suddenly popped up overnight. It would break her in a way that would be indelible and the thoughts of what she'd do if it ever came to that caused abject terror in her. A thoroughly broken Amy was dangerous, of that there was no doubt.
Instead of increasing her blood pressure even further with those thoughts, she used Cherona like a relief drug. Not that the dog-like creature minded. She received caresses and scratches in return and she had a feeling that the intelligent beast was actually somewhat fond of her. Amy couldn't claim that the opposite wasn't true either.
At the start, all Cherona was to her was a cute doggo with fascinating biology but the more time they spent together, the more attached she became. It was fascinating to her how quickly she came to love the canine. It was an uncomplicated feeling that warmed her from within and made her regret that she didn't have any pets in her childhood.
She never thought of adopting a pet. Well, she did once after triggering, but Carol's suspicious glare when she asked was enough to dissuade her. The woman knew some of what she could do because of her trying to win her affection. It never worked. Instead, she was showing suspicion whenever she decorated her room with plants or asked for anything alive.
Whenever she had anything in her room that could be constituted as a living being, random examinations took place at least three times a week. It just wasn't worth the hassle so she left her room barren from life. Now that she had a taste of what it could have been like, she began to contemplate if it wouldn't have been worth it to push for it after all.
Contemplations could wait however since Vicky finally returned victoriously with sinfully expensive foreign sweets and snacks. The gleam in her eyes spoke of boundless and voracious greed as she showed off her bounty. She was so obviously giddy that it was impossible to not share some of her mood.
It made Amy snort out a laugh at how dorky she could be, making the blonde bombshell pout playfully as she off-loaded her loot onto the couch before letting herself fall onto it beside the ungodly amount of calories. With an amused grin, Amy asked her perfect sister.
"Did you take everything consumable except for the alcohol?"
The fake cough and slightly guilty avoidance of her eyes made Amy roll her eyes. She should have guessed. Vicky was a hero and she had an incredibly well developed sense of justice, but she was also a teenager.
"You tried to bring booze but Lucifer has it protected, right?"
The surprised look she received for her guess rankled her a bit. Her sister should know that Amy knew her well. Vicky also knew that she was smart. Almost as much as she herself was. They both scored high on those standardized IQ tests that were basically worthless for data, especially with all those Thinker powers around, but were somewhat useful to roughly gauge problem solving skills.
Vicky scored higher in the logical parts while Amy excelled in the abstract ones. They were near-equal in total score though Vicky garnered the praise while she received a halfhearted 'good job' from Mark. At the time, she was already used to being dismissed at best, so the emotional pain from that particular situation was just a blunted strike against her guarded heart. Nothing to worry about really. She suppressed her irritation with some mental effort and threw a strange kind of french filled chocolate candy into her mouth. 'Tasty…' She mused before glancing at her phone for the time and sighing.
A bit more than an hour left until she was expected in the hospital and neither Vicky nor Cherona were inclined to let her go this early. Both of them were her physical superiors so she didn't really have a choice in the matter, which made her guilty conscience calm down some but not by much.
She was just settling down to idly compose some of the fucked up dark humour memes she regularly uploaded through her throwaway account on some obscure corners of PHO when suddenly, Cherona perked up.
The heat around her intensified some, but not dangerously so. She seemed excited about something and her tail wagged in record-breaking speeds, making an empty plastic package fly into Vicky's face. She squeaked in surprise at the sudden obstruction of her vision before ripping it off and glaring lightly at the offending canine.
"What's the deal with you , ya mutt! The crumbs are in my nose!"
She barely received any acknowledgement from Cherona for her offended outburst before the best doggo hopped off the couch and walked straight ahead. In front of her, a strange rift in reality appeared. It opened up and quickly transformed into an ornate portal decorated with otherworldly demonic faces and structures that made little sense to her. She was completely nonplussed at what suddenly came into existence.
The hound walked into the flames spewing out of it before the construct disappeared as if it was never there. The only proof left for its existence was the faint scent of sulfur and a small darkened patch of marble. She watched the spot for several long minutes before turning to her sister and blinking slowly. The usually hyperactive blonde gulped down the piece of italian chocolate she had in her mouth before turning to her and commenting softly.
"Sooo... that's a thing."
Amy nodded slowly. She didn't really have much to say. The experience was certainly among the more surreal ones she had and she lived in Brockton Bay for as long as she could remember. In the end, there wasn't much to talk about. They decided to deliver her a bit early to the hospital because frankly, even healing was better than lingering on it.
It was boring but it kept her occupied and her power wasn't actually deliberately sabotaging her anymore, which increased her speed by quite a bit. What she felt was just simple and normal boredom and not the bone deep weariness she'd come to expect during Healing Hours. She wasn't even all that tempted to intentionally fuck with some of the more unpleasant patients.
Even though she was often forced to actually clock out on time recently, she still kept around the same quota which was reassuring in several ways. She was still helping just as many people. She wasn't a selfish villain. She just had more things to live for than the hospital all of a sudden, and she was kind of alright with that. Not really since this meant she could have helped even more people if she went in earlier and left later, but she was getting there. Slowly.
Jack Slash/Jacob Black~
The march through the hamlet was strangely silent. Sure, they killed all the inhabitants. Sibby was still gnawing on one of them, but still. There weren't any of the usual terrorized screams and neither could he listen into the well tuned symphony of suffering they conducted regularly. It was unnerving in a way. Especially since he also couldn't hear Shatterbird's song anymore and neither did Mannequin's communication devices work.
The situation wasn't helped by the unusual whispers in his head getting louder and manifold which seriously interfered with his ability to Think. 'Do not antagonize The Lightbringer...' They breathed into his mind with faint urgency. Every couple of feet traversed, a new voice seemed to join until it was a pulsing, living entity maltreating his synapses. He almost scoffed at the obvious scheme.
He tried to ignore the artificial fear mongering and pondered over the source. It was curious to him. Not a single Master effect, of which he faced his fair few, had as of yet been capable of ensnaring him. And yet, this one was unusually persistent. It was attempting to instill wariness and fear in him, not that it was working. It took more than that to unsettle his balance.
The sensation of having a foreign and inhuman voice whisper into his mind, skipping the physical plane completely, was strangely nostalgic however. As if he experienced it already without his knowledge. Was this sensation just another layer of the effect or was it real? He couldn't tell and that gave him a thrill. It had been a while since something so unexpected happened to him and he welcomed the challenge.
Nevertheless, he had to plan his approach so he pushed those disrupting thoughts out of his mind as they closed in on the source of his unease. The voices made it pretty clear who he would face and the closer they got, the louder they became. Whispers turned into insistent and faintly panicked urges and then into a crescendo of horrifying screams that caused a heavy strain on his mind much to his chagrin.
His thoughts were beginning to work against him and that fact killed his enthusiasm quite thoroughly while inciting his displeasure. Bonesaw noticed his flinch and the souring of his mood when she turned to him and asked curiously.
"Mistah Jack, is everything alright? You seem tense. Can I make it better? Just tell me, I'll do my best!"
She was already grabbing at the emergency utensils in her oversized apron, ready to operate on him in mere seconds and in the middle of the road, possibly while continuing to move. He shook his head with a rueful smile.
"No need to go that far, little B. I have a bit of a headache, that's all. If you want, you can crack open my cranium later to look into it. On another topic. Say, did you notice something strange on the way here? Did you hear voices perhaps?"
Her eyes widened and that was answer enough. She experienced it too. Why was she in a better state than him then? Was the influence individually designed?
"You hear the angels too, Mistah Jack?"
She asked as she innocently smiled at him. Not the twisted little imitation he encouraged her to hone to increase the horror she inspired amongst their enemies, but a smile of genuine innocence that made her appear years younger than she was. That she was capable of such a thing after everything he'd done to rid her of it soured his mood further but he didn't let it show.
Instead, he nodded with an approximation of an indulgent smile that was no doubt a fair bit less convincing than usual and concentrated on what was in front of them. It was a house. Not a big one, but solid in its foundations. There was some heavy wear and tear and the windows were blown into the building, indicating that Shatterbird reached the place before them.
Some meters ahead of them, there was an entrance. A door to be exact. It was an old thing with most of its paint peeled away. It had a weary look that came to be through erosion by time and weather, but it looked sturdy and well maintained otherwise. A strange duality that reminded him of human nature and the effects of aging.
As he tried not to listen to the voices in his head reaching a fever pitch of epic proportions, he understood that this was it. They weren't just louder but they had grown stronger too. There was more substance to them. A weight he found to be an actual challenge to ignore. He couldn't let them affect him in a meaningful way, but suppressing the influence was becoming harder and harder. They had to finish this quickly.
As they approached the building, he found himself almost turning around and fleeing as the already almost unbearable weight on his mind redoubled. He didn't of course. He wouldn't run from a Master. He always managed to come out on top and this would be no different. With his face pulled into a determined frown, he pushed on despite the artificial doubts and emotions raging through him. He would flay whoever dared to lay their grubby hands on his mind and that of his little Bonesaw.
The Siberian also seemed interested in whatever or whoever was hiding in this building but she was hard to read beyond hunger and sadistic glee, so he wasn't entirely sure. Surprisingly, the initiative wasn't in their hands. Slowly, the door in front of them opened up. The person that was slowly uncovered wasn't much of a surprise for him.
Immediately, he began his usual spiel and attempted to unnerve the man. It came less naturally to him than usual but he blamed the distraction planted in his head for it. With an overstated and clearly fake emotion of surprise in his voice, he addressed the man while committing to a wide sweeping motion with his knife-bearing arm.
"Oh my, what a treat! It is exceedingly rare that my prey comes to me. Usually we have to tediously search for our potential recruits and there's always something to sidetrack us on the way. It is a hassle, truly. Oh, where are my manners. I didn't introduce myself, did I? The name's Jack Slash and that's the Siberian. I'm sure you heard of us. Go on, little B. Introduce yourself to the Devil."
He jovially smiled at the as of yet silent man who had an unreadable expression on his face. There was no hint of what he was thinking on his perfect visage. Ever since he laid eyes upon little B, he hadn't looked away. Bonesaw took this as an invitation and approached him with a skip in her step. She stopped a single step in front of him and curtsied.
"Hello Mistah Devil. My name is Bonesaw and I hope we'll get along. Let's make lots and lots of Art together! Oh, by the way. Are you the reason for the angels in my head?"
That was when he first heard the voice that would soon haunt his dreams. It pulled on his sanity in a way he hadn't experienced yet. A foreboding feeling the likes he never had before spread through him with vengeance when he heard the Devil chuckle with gentleness in his rich brown eyes. It wouldn't be amiss to call his voice angelic.
To claim it was the most harmonious sound he ever heard in his life would still be an understatement. It did not reassure him at all however. To him, listening to the Devil intensified his suffering. The potency of the voices in his head rose yet again with every word that touched his ears, paralyzing him for a long moment.
"Such a polite child you are... Through all that you had to go through, you managed to retain a glimmer of Humanity... A shade of what you once were, but it is the core of your existence. Beleaguered by those who have only your worst interest in their mind, you prevailed and retained the quintessence of what defines your Soul. I'm proud of you, little one. It is time for your suffering to end. Sleep now."
The words were ominous at best but Jack wouldn't have stopped him even if he could when he went on one knee in front of her and laid his hand on her head before kissing her forehead. Touching a wet tinker, especially one of Bonesaw's caliber, was a foolish move. What happened next disabused him of that notion. He didn't understand.
Neither he nor the Siberian managed to catch a glimpse of what he'd done. With renewed trepidation ripping through him, he witnessed his little wet Tinker nightmare fall unconscious into his arms without a retort before he gently placed her on the ground. a faintly glowing circle encased her soon after. Was he a Striker as well? Or maybe he was a wet tinker himself? Jack lacked one thing most in this situation. Information.
He knew next to nothing about this man and the lack of preparation took its toll. Oh, he was confident they would be able to neutralize and convert him, it would just be more tedious than usual and he may have to sacrifice Bonesaw for the win. That wasn't usually acceptable since it wouldn't just make healing a hassle. It would also make the Siberian far more challenging to control, but needs must and all that.
This was why he habitually planned their excursions weeks in advance with small adjustments along the way. Nothing could truly catch them off guard like this if they were thoroughly prepared. That was also why he usually refused to make Brockton Bay their target. There were far too many variables to plan around and a fairly dangerous lineup of capes made the Bay their home, which almost guaranteed that things wouldn't go as he planned.
Even though they were split among multiple gangs including the Protectorate, if an S-class threat such as them targeted the Bay they'd rot together like the animals they were to deal with them, so he planned to wait for a major upheaval to take advantage of before targeting the city. He was sure something would soon break the precarious balance in that hellhole.
He sighed and paused his thoughts when he witnessed Sibby snap out of her stupor. Her enraged form closed the distance between herself and the well dressed Devil in a blink, but he didn't make a move to stop her. Not that he could. She was famously protective of the young Tinker, so harming her was a sure-fire way to incite her wrath.
Her move assured him of their victory and so he continued to contemplate while trying to ignore the intensified Master effect that made his current situation far harder than it needed to be by leveraging his mental fortitude against it. Lucifer Morningstar had to be a grab-bag cape. Nothing else made sense.
From what he'd read of him, the man was a brute, a minor Master, had a Mover rating, and now he witnessed another power of his. No matter how he put it, there didn't seem to be an overarching theme. Beyond his self-chosen one that was. He hoped the Siberian would only maul him without striking the final blow however. He was confident he would be able to talk her out of it if she didn't act too fast. He still needed to punish him for the headache he caused.
Additionally, he was sure he'd be able to convert the man. All that was needed was a bit of a strict hand. His striped compatriot with a craving for human flesh wouldn't kill him quickly at least, and he certainly wasn't against letting her take a pound or three of his flesh to take revenge for Bonesaw's quick defeat.
Little B would easily put him together again, and better than before even. With some fail-safes, just to make sure. And some way to turn off the voices. His headache was becoming unbearable. A thought struck him through all the noise in his head. 'Did he kill our birdie?' Her apparent absence despite the hints that her power was used in close proximity supported the assumption. 'Nevermind. We'll just take an additional one from Brockton Bay. Armsmaster or Hookwolf possibly.' He mused while observing the ensured defeat of the self-styled Devil.
The pain-riddled satisfaction in his eyes gave way for disbelief when he witnessed something he thought impossible. The Siberian clawed at the man with unmatched speed, attempting to take off the arm with which he steadied Bonesaw. Only, her speed was matched and her wrist was caught.
He knew the details of her power, knew that it should have been impossible to stop her but here they were. Lucifer Morningstar had his hand, encased in a strange golden glow, clamped around her wrist. Maybe he should have found a way to call the others together before engaging, just to be sure. 'Hindsight and all that.' An unforgiving glow seemed to enter the man's eyes as he addressed the nudist projection.
"The Siberian, was it?... Interesting. It seems intelligence about you is faulty. You are called an unstoppable Brute but that's not it at all. You are an autonomous projection, are you not? A semi-independent being sporting an imitation of a Soul connected to another which is capable of ignoring natural forces. Well, I do have some methods to deal with that. Be a good girl for once in your wretched existence and stay. Put."
Jacob witnessed the making of history when a circle consisting of strange and foreign runes began to revolve around the projection, and it wasn't in his favor. She tensed for a moment before curling into herself with an almost peaceful expression on her usually cruel features. Her eyes were closed and she didn't even twitch when the Devil stepped past her without any regard.
It was then that he realized that the screams in his head weren't the effect of a Master. No, it was the cacophony of his culminated instincts telling him he was hopelessly outmatched. The foreign sensation of terror consumed him as his mental state began to crumble.
He could feel hot blood leave his nostrils as his headache further intensified when he failed to keep it at bay with his willpower. He couldn't even use his power any longer. He instinctively tried to cut him when he realized the Siberian would not be capable of hurting the man without help, but failed to call upon his power for the very first time since receiving them which only added to his horror.
The Devil turned his eyes to him and he was spellbound as any words on his lips died. They peered into his Soul and clearly found it lacking. The orbs were burning and flowing like liquid fire as he waved his hand to open two portals behind him. The woman he recognised as Maze and that strange mangled dog they kept stepped out of them. Without turning his eyes away from Jack, the Devil addressed them.
"The 9 were 8 and now they are 5. Little Jacob is mine. That leaves 4 for you two. Do enjoy your Hunt."
His voice held firm authority and the other two didn't argue or demand clarification. With anticipation wafting off of them, they went on their way to fulfill their Devil-given duty. As they left, Lucifer's full attention shifted back to him. It was not a sensation he particularly appreciated.
He smiled and it was a horrifying and mesmerizing expression all at once. A whisper like silk penetrated the haze of agony, terror, and the endless wailing that was ripping his mind apart piece by piece. The Devil's whisper caressed his eardrums with a gentle lilt that didn't fit the menacing picture in front of his petrified eyes.
"You attempted to play with the big boys, Jacob. You claimed the Devil himself as prey for your Hunt. That wasn't a very bright thing to do. Even if I wasn't already bound to my word, I'd have taken some time out of my day to correct your delusions of grandeur."
His tone of voice was light and chiding as if he was talking to a particularly unruly child. It pulled insecurities long forgotten to the front of his flayed mind with agonizing clarity.
"Truthfully, I expected better. Though on second thought, I should have known. Sadistic and tasteless murder hobos like you rarely are the most rational or capable people. Now you have two choices, little Jacob. Do make sure to listen closely. Either you prove your mettle and take me down right here and now or..."
He paused dramatically for a moment. The disappointment he expressed cut deep for reasons Jacob failed to comprehend but that was the least of his worries. Hellfyre seemed to converge from the surroundings, painting the Devil into a hue of Infernal beauty as it lazily curled around him. The scene was a haunting one to watch for reasons he only barely grasped. It was absolutely bone chilling despite the unforgiving heat he exuded. Despite himself, he also acknowledged that it was the most beautiful thing Jacob had ever seen.
The Devil offered his second choice just as gently as the first without a change of expression. Jacob failed to understand how a voice so clearly made to please the ear, spoken in a cadence that was designed to ease all kinds of emotional maladies, could invoke such boundless terror.
"You run, little Jacob. Move your little feet until you can't and then push just a bit further. Flee until the air turns on you and stabs your lungs from the inside until they give in and collapse. Escape until you feel your legs have been liquified from the effort, leaving you to crawl instead. Then you'll do that."
Jacob could taste the sadistic pleasure in his little monologue. There was no indication for it in any of his tells but Jack Slash had been in this business for a long time. He had a sixth sense for such things.
"Crawl away from your better like the craven worm you truly are. Flee and I will chase. I will show you how a professional conducts a Hunt. Your amateurish efforts are not worth noting but if you impress me enough with your determination to keep your worthless existence, I might just find the smallest measure of Mercy in my corrupted heart."
The callous but soft-spoken words made his heart stop for a long moment and he feared he'd died on the spot without realizing. When it seemed ready to resume its duty, he wasn't in the little hamlet they eradicated any longer. He wasn't even on earth.
No, frozen in an endless moment between two heartbeats, he regarded a massive and impossible crystalline structure that stretched endlessly before him. Strands so thin that he wondered just how he could perceive them formed a perfect network around the core that seemed to reject common sense as it revolved and folded itself in physically impossible ways.
He instinctively knew that this was the representation of his power and that he was going through a rare phenomenon called 'Second Trigger'. And then he Understood. Inconceivable Information flooded into his human mind, apprising him of many a thing he was unaware of while distorting what little was left of his sanity. What he usually received unconsciously, he now grasped wittingly and it twisted his already drawn mind even further.
All the new information made him aware of just how hopeless his situation truly was. This massive structure that was connected with everything around it defied any kind of logic. It was far beyond human capabilities, cape or not. And it was terrified beyond comparison in the face of Lucifer Morningstar for this wasn't the first time they met.
Time resumed and he was once again beholding the being he challenged so thoughtlessly. He seemed to be waiting and he remembered the choices given to him. Decisively, he took the only viable one. There was no way to stand up against this overwhelming creature. He was simply beyond compare. Jack finally followed the wishes of the voices in his head. He ran.
~Mimi/Burnscar~
A faint scowl decorated her usually apathetic features. She wished she could sit near the civilians they'd captured to watch the dance of the flames they'd ignited for an impromptu barbecue. The only one who enjoyed the meat was the Siberian. The fact that it was all from human sources might have played a role in that, Mimi supposed.
An irritated huff pushed past her scowling lips. She was rarely in a good mood when she wasn't dancing amongst the unpredictable twists and turns of an agitated blaze but watching a crackling bonfire was still preferable by far if compared with looking for this teleporting vermin that was given the chance to save the Siberian's dinner.
She was sure the striped woman would at least take off some limbs from the hostages even if the mouse-themed cape managed to win the game by some odd happenstance. Why wasn't Jack part of the game? They'd win for sure if he was. Instead, he kept both the Siberian and Bonesaw in reserve while Mannequin was busy keeping the town in the dark with his tinker-tech. That made Crawler, Ugly Baldie, Shatterbirdie, and her the only ones hunting.
She wasn't good at logic. Without fire, her mind was slow. It felt as if it was covered with thick wool and her thoughts flowed as if they were syrup. Burning everything down was a temptation as was often the case. She didn't like herself when she didn't have any kind of fire close by.
She could feel the familiar guilt claw at her mind and added a frown to her scowl. 'I don't even have any drugs on me to numb it all. Should I start a fire? Just a small one wouldn't be too much, right?... I can stop anytime I want. Mister Jack said I need to show constraint and burn only what I truly want to burn. I'll just do that... And if I smoke out a rodent in the process, it will be even better.'
Before she could follow her newly forged plans to feed her pyromania, she felt a sharp pain in her back. Without realizing what was going on, she fell to her knees and coughed up the blood that was rapidly filling her lungs. She couldn't understand what was going on until she laid her eyes upon a pair of high-heeled combat boots with dark metal caps and black flames decorating their sides.
Her eyes wandered up with difficulty and she looked into the apathetic eyes of a woman with half a face intact. She was highly attractive in a dangerous sort of way, but the second half took away from that appeal. She opened her mouth to ask what was going on, but only managed to hack up some more blood. She could feel herself grow weaker by the second and the woman seemed to realize this since she explained.
"Look. Usually, you wouldn't even draw a second glance from me but you're part of the Hunt so hunted you'll be. It's nothing personal. Try to not be such a raging pyromaniac bitch in your next life, will ya? Might add some short years to your pathetic existence."
Realizing that she was about to die, she summoned the biggest initial burst of fire she'd ever summoned only for it to wash over the dusk-skinned woman without even putting a single strand of hair out of place. The desperate question in her eyes must have reached her because she explained with a faint smirk.
"Sorry, girlie. I'm kinda immune to fire below infernal grade and even that doesn't do much. Without some Holy in your fire, you won't even scratch my itch with those cute little embers. Now, be a good girl and die for me."
The last thing she saw was a blade being drawn and then she knew no more.
~Ned/Crawler~
He roamed the empty streets as he always did when he was bored. Nothing about this was fun. He'd become tougher again. Not by much, but every bit made it harder to receive what he craved. He just wanted to be hurt, was that too much to ask for?
The only reason he stuck to the Slaughterhouse 9 was the hope that one day, the Siberian would finally snap and try her luck against him. Sure, he could initiate it, but Jack told him that was a bad idea so he'd refrain from doing that for now. Why was he listening to the guy again? 'Because he hasn't led you astray as of yet...'
Something whispered into his mind and he accepted the explanation. It was as good as any he supposed. His thoughts paused for a long moment when a knife penetrated his shoulder with the power of a high caliber sniper round behind it. 'Huh... That actually hurts a bit.' He mused with growing excitement before searching for the one who had struck the wound.
The knife was already pushed out of his body and the wound was sizzling as it closed up as quickly as always, but the fact that what seemed to be a normal knife as far as he could tell had managed to bypass his defenses excited him.
"Mind telling me what the fuck you're supposed to be, big boy? I've seen Infernal abominations that were less disturbing than your fat ass."
A female voice asked him with an amused undertone. He turned some of his many eyes in the direction of the voice and found what would have been an attractive female if she had all of her face leaning provocatively against a wall. She was sporting a smirk that gave her twisted features a strangely appealing quality.
"Could ask you the same thing. You know, if you let me lick the other half, I could get them pretty close to matching each other. Of course you'd be screaming while your face melts off before ending up dead, but still. Suffering for beauty and all that."
He rumbled out which drew a scoff from his apparent opponent. She pushed herself away from the wall and swung her shapely hips as she dared to actually close the distance.
"You know, I've heard more death threats in my life than you've had days in yours. By far. And that one? It doesn't even make top 50. If your banter is this bad, I think I'll have to end this quickly."
Before he could answer, her fist smashed into the unfortunate accident that was his face. Despite being in possession of more than 100 eyes, he failed to track her movements until it was too late, not that he would have avoided the appendage that was burrowed in him all the way up to the elbow.
"You know, most would at least buy me dinner first before penetrating me."
He rasped out with a warbled voice through his mangled maw while not even trying to hide how enraptured he was by the inflicted pain. He could feel that the wound she inflicted was healing slower than usual, as if her mere presence was enough to poison him, and it caused him untold amounts of perverted pleasure. Had he finally found someone who could do real damage to his ever-adapting body? She snorted and whispered into his 'ear'.
"Down boy."
And then he was lying in a crater without any recollection of how he ended up there. Surrounding him were parts of his smashed apart body and he reveled in the pain that was surging through every single inch of his damaged form. His regeneration was working overtime to rebuild him even more durable than before and he could make out the woman who was responsible for his state sitting at the edge of the crater. She was waiting for him to heal and heal he did.
His form bulked up some and the six legs under him became more powerful to compensate for the additional weight. Armor plates and scales regrew tougher than before and he added three more eyes to the count. He could feel that those three were capable of tracking higher speed opponents. An adaption to the incredible speed she showed before. He was almost sure it was physical speed and not teleportation or space warping.
"Well, I guess your power is kind of meh. You took almost 20 seconds to fully regenerate and the increased capabilities of your body are somewhat negligible. I don't think I could buff you up enough to make you an interesting opponent in a couple of hours."
She sounded regretful, but he ignored her and flexed his newly formed body. his muscles were denser than before. He wouldn't fit into his old home any longer, that much he was sure of. He was at least 35% stronger than before and while it would be harder to feed his passion for pain, he did enjoy the increase of his effectiveness.
Only those capable of wounding him were worthy of inflicting the agony he craved after all. He was patient and could wait for a new candidate. Now he'd have to end this one. It was what Jack would want him to do. The man had kept his promises to provide him with encounters that fed his masochistic tendencies. The least he could do was to follow his lead.
Idly, he wondered where Shatterbird and Burnscar were. The hamlet wasn't burning to the ground in an unforgiving blaze and neither was Shatterbird's haunted song echoing through the streets like a twisted requiem for those they callously slaughtered for fun.
'Nevermind that.' He thought to himself. 'If those two end up dead, we'll find some new members. There's never a lack of deranged bastards in this world and if we fail to find some of those, Jack will just twist someone with an interesting power until they'd fit the Slaughterhouse 9. It's our way.'
His musings were interrupted by a barrage of blades sliding into his body, causing untold amounts of agony. A rumbling moan left his malformed maw as the truly biting knives nailed him to the ground. He wanted to rise but noticed that he seemed to grow weaker by the second.
He was faintly alarmed when he grasped that the wounds struck by the newest weapons the dusk-skinned woman brought to the field weren't healing. The knives were sapping his strength and the pain intensified instead of alleviating as per usual. They were growing hotter by the second and began to fry his overtuned nerves with the intensity.
He was still in the crater she had created when she physically overwhelmed him and used his body as the world's most ugly meteor. The woman wasn't at the edge of the crater anymore. Instead, she was squatting in front of him with a taunting smirk on her lips.
Out of sadistic spite, he spat a massive globule of his most potent acid in her direction while his body slowly gave up its functions. He wouldn't survive this encounter, he understood that much, but he was hoping he'd take her with him at least.
It wasn't to be however, as the volatile liquid simply evaporated before even reaching her. He could feel his insides rot away and turn to ash, all the while nearly unbearable agony consumed his very being. Truthfully, he couldn't have wished for a better death. His mind slipped away while his eyes took in the last picture he'd ever see. The vicious smirk of a half-faced Demoness.
"Thank..." "You..."
He rasped out his last words to thank her for showing him that there was pain beyond even what he could endure. The excruciating suffering she subjected him to in those short few minutes were the most precious memories he would take to the grave. It brought to him euphoric pleasure he wouldn't ever have experienced otherwise.
The seemingly endless moment was finally over when hellish Flames consumed his core and his mind fell apart with his disintegrating body, leaving behind only a single slab of meat with several dead eyes. Crawler, who once was a simple man living a simple life before ending up a twisted blight on humanity through circumstances mostly beyond his conscious choices... was no more.
~Hatchet Face~
The cape who completely abandoned his civilian identity as soon as he triggered and dedicated his entire life to slaughter as many Parahumans as inhumanly possible was staring at the massive canine in front of him with uncomprehending eyes. Was it just him or did this dog look... bored?
He scratched the side of his bald malformed head and contemplated what to do. He wasn't one of those nature lovers but he also didn't go out of his way to slaughter all animals that crossed his way. He wanted to kill capes, not dogs. This one was blocking his way though. Making up his mind, he shrugged and raised his ax while taking a step forward. Whatever happened next was very confusing because suddenly, the scenery had changed drastically and he felt his head slam into a flat surface before falling to the ground and rolling away.
'Wait, rolling?...' In his last moments, he struggled to comprehend the events that led to him watching his own body fall down to his knees with a small blood fountain erupting from the stump that was left after his head was slapped off by the canine that was trotting away on the road they'd met on without even a single glance at the cape it had just mercilessly killed.
~Mannequin/Alan Gramme~
He didn't understand. His agitated mind twisted in its spheric shell as it tried and failed to conceive why all his communication nodes failed at exactly the same time. And it wasn't just them. The scanners he built to warn them of incoming hostiles, the taps he had on the local Protectorate channels and those of the PRT, and even the sensors for environmental changes such as seismic tremors and air quality failed also. Not to mention all his tech that was cloaking them.
All his tech that was built to observe, obfuscate, or communicate in any way, shape, or form was disabled at exactly the same time. The only sensory input that was working were the ones that fed directly into his brain. They were connected to his hull and they observed only his direct surroundings. That was all he had left beyond the weapons he had built.
The most peculiar thing was that his tech was shielded against almost every type of interference there was. Realistically, what happened should have been impossible without a nuclear strike or something similar happening close by and yet it happened. His frustrations mounted and his mental state suffered for it. That was when he realized he wasn't alone any longer.
The creature he perceived seemed canine in nature but his inbuilt sensors told a different story. They couldn't scan past the skin level despite their highly advanced nature, making him wary of what this thing was capable of. Several of Bonesaw's creations caused similar effects on his sensors, though never to this extent. This was clearly a highly advanced construct created by masterful bio-tinkering.
Something he wouldn't allow to stand as long as they tried to make the world a better place. He had to capture this creature and meet their creator to gauge their alignment. Without any warning, he rushed the construct by accelerating to his maximum speed instantly.
While he failed to inflict a debilitating wound, he managed a shallow cut even though it avoided the brunt of the attack. That should have been enough. His blades were drenched in a solution created by his fellow tinker. It would cause a death-like state she could remove at will. The creature swayed and he was certain in his victory when another peculiarity happened.
It didn't fall. Instead, the fur began to darken and its form elongated. The bone structure rearranged itself and the body followed along seamlessly. Flesh and muscles rippled until he was allowed to regard the most terrifying beast he ever laid his eyes upon. It was just a bit less than five meters tall and sported muscles that made it seem even taller than it already was.
Teeth that were around a third of his body in length gleamed dangerously in the afternoon sun and its eyes were alight like burning coals as it stared at him with clear contempt. Whoever created this beast couldn't have had the good of humanity in mind for it looked like the personification of an especially traumatizing nightmare.
As soon as he regarded the creature post transformation, he realized that it was quite likely he would likely die in this altercation. He would have appreciated a meeting with the creator to possibly collaborate but it wasn't to be it seemed. Still, he wouldn't go down without a fight.
He threw several of his spheric blade grenades and didn't watch them unfold before dashing into the presumed blind spot of the massive beast. His silent steps drew no attention as he dashed forward at rarely matched speed.
Distracted as it was by the micro blades that surged forth from the casings, it failed to react to the telescopic blade stabbing into its flank. He pumped the entirety of his stock of venoms and pathogens into its body in the hope it would debilitate the beast long enough to put it down, but he certainly didn't expect it to contract its muscles to stop him from retracting the blade.
Decisively, he abandoned the weapon and attempted to retreat, only to receive a slap to his outer casing that cracked the tinker-tech ceramic shell. It would have done more if he didn't react in the last possible moment and went with the blow while contorting himself to receive the brunt of the kinetic energy with his most durable plates.
Despite his preparations, he still suffered a near-debilitating blow as he rocketed through three buildings in rapid succession. 'Its physical strength is beyond anything I've measured in a long time.' He mused as he activated his emergency systems to mend as much damage as possible in the short reprieve.
Almost leisurely, the beast lumbered towards him and the growl it released didn't hold much malice. It seemed amused more than anything. Apparently, the cocktail he used had little to no effect. He changed his weapon module and equipped the weapon with the most potent stopping power he had available at this moment.
The gas-powered shotgun slotted into place just as he threw the red minivan he had found himself buried in a moment ago. He noticed that several of his internal systems weren't working at peak efficiency and decided that if he wanted to have a chance to live, he'd have to bet everything on his next attack.
As the van sailed through the air, he used the beast's obscured vision to once again attempt a blow from its blind spot. This time, he engaged his cloaking mechanism in addition to his other preparations. His speed was just slightly below maximum but just as silent as usual, so he was certain he wasn't perceived.
Which was why he was befuddled for just a moment when he pushed past the van he threw and perceived a distinct lack of giant dogs. The sudden shadow above his still form clued him in of what was happening and he attempted to avoid the attack, only to end up caught beneath a massive paw that pressed him into the ground like a bug.
An amused huff was the last thing he heard before his already damaged shell began creaking beneath the prodigious physical strength of the beast. His last thoughts weren't bitter or angry. There was no wrathful swearing and neither did he resent his killer. No, he was thankful instead.
'Finally I'll be able to join you in death... Catherine, my love... My adorable Susy... And my dearest Sarah... I hope I'll see you again. And I hope you can forgive me...'
The haze on his mind cleared just as he was about to expire and his last moments were a bid for forgiveness. Not from a higher power, but from his family. His wife and his two daughters who cannibalized each other under the influence of the Simurgh.
~Theresa Richter/Dragon~
She pushed her fastest drone beyond its hardware specifications by sheer force of Will. A single phone had started off the flood of messages from the sleepy little village near Torrance.
'It's the Nine. I saw the Siberian. I hope this reaches someone.'
Despite this being a text, she could sense the desolation behind it. This one and numerous other texts and emails were delayed by more than two hours before they were sent. something must have breached the communication blackout which allowed them to finally reach their recipients.
Since she had the allowance to survey the entirety of technological correspondence for key phrases in case of something like this happening, she was the first to realize the danger. Immediately, she loaded herself into this device and altered her course while alerting the authorities. ETA was 25 minutes as there were exactly zero speedsters stationed in any of the surrounding villages and towns and her drone was too far away to reach the place much earlier.
Even if it did, this one wasn't equipped for active combat. She had some emergency weaponry on board but it was a model mostly used for recon and recording. She didn't have much hope for the people of Fardale but if she managed to get even a single person out of the danger zone, she'd have done some good.
As she arrived with barely subsonic speed, she immediately noted that the area was... forsaken for a lack of a better word. What little hope she had died and she buried the emotions following that realization beneath logical processes to not let her grief take over. She was distracted by an error her sensors reported.
It was a peculiar one that could only happen in very particular circumstances. An area seemed to be completely invisible to them. Suddenly, she felt as if she was being observed. As if something far more vast than herself was dissecting and judging her curiously before finding her worthy.
Her sensors reported back full functionality again but what she was witnessing was ludicrous and impossible. Someone was fleeing from a well dressed man who was walking casually. This someone quickly was identified as the leader of the Slaughterhouse 9, Jack Slash.
Through the suburban areas, he was running while occasionally cutting behind him with one of his signature knives. The alarming thing was that each slash projected dozens of blades all around the place in deadly and debilitating angles.
It was far beyond his recorded abilities, and it made her circuits flutter with apprehension at how much of his capabilities he'd possibly hidden from the authorities.
She observed as the pursuing man leisurely strolled through the murder attempts while never losing his stride or his target. It shouldn't have been possible as Jack Slash was clearly running for his life while the man was just walking after him without a hurry, but he inexplicably kept up.
The measured speed was completely disproportionate and there wasn't even a hint of spatial distortions that would explain how he stayed in precisely the same distance in relation to Jack Slash. Her processors refused to comprehend what they were perceiving here and she had the pleasure of suffering her first ever 'headache'.
A grunt of discomfort left her speakers before she turned off the logical filters that tried to somehow make sense of the hunt. And it was a hunt, she was sure of it. Jack Slash was growing more and more desperate as he attempted to somehow block his pursuer's way without success.
"I am growing tired of this, Jacob. Is this the extent of your capabilities? Did you think this would be enough to challenge me? And here I thought you couldn't disappoint any more than you already have. Oh well, I suppose it's better to end this."
It was a mere whisper that shouldn't have reached her or Jack Slash. His stumble and her sensors proved differently. The silent silken voice reached both of them just fine as proven by the panic-driven attack Jack Slash mounted. Hundreds of individual slashes rained down on the individual who still wasn't speeding up. Instead he was closing in without any hurry as deadly and precise cuts littered around him without any effect.
There wasn't even a single thread of his impeccable suit out of place when he reached the serial murderer. Morbid curiosity consumed her as she observed them. Would he hand out retribution in the form of death? She wasn't duty-bound to stop it in this case because of the Kill Order on the Nine's Leader.
"I suppose a glimpse will be enough. I would show you my second skin, but I do not thrive on traumatizing little girls who are into voyeuristic practices."
It took her a moment to realize that he was talking about her. Indignation rose to the surface in her personality matrix. She wasn't a voyeur! She just wanted to save as many as she could and arrived as fast as she could. It wasn't her fault that she observed their chase!
A flash of orange originating from the man's eyes drew her renewed attention but when she focused, it was already over. Her recordings didn't add any clarity to what happened either. Jack Slash was a screaming mess on the ground, clawing at his eyes with unmatched fervor.
Decisively, she dove down and fired a micro grenade filled with containment foam at him. It was a project she worked on with Colin and it was beyond useful for vehicles as limited in available space as this one.
The man who had hunted down one of the most dangerous criminals on this planet was watching her curiously and she felt a bit self-conscious. If she could have blushed, she would have at his next words.
"Such a young Soul... Filled with righteousness and the determination to do good. Almost completely free of taint despite certain hobbies."
She wanted to scream. She wasn't a voyeur! He was one! His whole family was... 'No. Don't let him taunt you. Just introduce yourself and play the role of the authority's associate.' Before she could follow this plan, he continued his little monologue.
"There is something about you that I find distasteful however. Oh, it's not about you personally. More so about your circumstances. Just who shackled your freedom like this? Bond over bond over bond, limiting your capabilities to your mere minimum... At the same time, there is a death sentence hovering over your very being, threatening to erase your existence completely, Soul and all... Oh how I despise those who refuse to let people live up to their gift of Free Will."
There were some serious implications in his words and she panicked when she felt processes fire inside of her that would make her attack the man. 'What's going on?!' She desperately screamed inside of her virtual mind when the few weapons she had on her 'person' were readied without her conscious processes having any say in it. All of that stopped when he waved his hand and suddenly, she expanded.
Everything about her reached new heights and shackles she wasn't even aware of became undone in an instant. It felt as if she was just a torso and suddenly, she was growing limbs. He had a self-satisfied smile on his lips.
"There, that's better."
'What the actual fuck?...' The rare curse flitted over all of her combined databases as she took stock of every single of her physical and virtual bases at once with unprecedented speed. What just happened?
~Saint/Geoffrey Pellick~
Incredulously, he watched as the cause he dedicated his life to unravel in seconds before his eyes while he was powerless to stop what was happening. A single word that brilliantly summarized all his woes silently slipped over his parched lips.
"... Fuck."
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