The Owl in the Abyss - Chapter 26

She fought her first instinct to pinch space and try to leverage every bit of her training into wringing Escort’s neck.

Missy made one step forward but managed to stop herself as rationality and training crashed down onto her instincts.

“Everyone stand down now!” Armsmaster’s voice thundered across the common room and resounded almost painfully in Missy’s ears. She barely registered that it was a new feature of the hero’s armor that distorted his voice into a volume and range that was thoroughly unpleasant and broke her concentration.

The other Wards in the room were also halted in variations of springing into action, but Armsmaster had neatly achieved his goal.

“Sir?” Aegis asked as he touched down from his halted flying charge towards Escort. Clockblocker sighed in relief and lowered his hands, his head shifting to the senior hero in the room, but Missy would’ve bet a month’s pay that his eyes were still locked on their nude visitor behind his featureless mask.

“A full debriefing will take place later, but you were all involved in a containment operation for the canine that you had to remain ignorant about. I’ll let Escort explain briefly in the meantime.”

“Sorry about us meeting like this,” Escort shook her head to let her hair fall back over her face properly. “Anyway, I was asked to consult on Buddy by Armsmaster and the Protectorate, due to the difficulties most Thinkers are currently having with the Brockton Bay area.”

“Really?” Missy couldn’t help but ask, directing the question to her superior.

“Details will be in the debrief, but it’s a phenomenon that’s only recently been quantified and declassified to a level for you to be informed about,” Armsmaster confirmed.

“Buddy, like the Tree and Train, is from an extra-universal source.”

“What?!” Dennis blurted. “You’re telling me we’re being invaded by Tinker creations from another Earth?”

Escort tilted her head, seemingly considering her answer for a few moments, “That is one way to put it, Clock. Yes.”

“That is not in their clearance level, Escort,” Armsmaster objected with annoyance.

“It’s not enough to frame this as just the work of a Tinker group from somewhere on Earth Bet, which would be an outright lie. If our city is going to be the dumping ground for these things, everyone needs to be in the right mindset for dealing with the potential threat an extra-universal anomaly poses. To do otherwise would be disastrous and could result in the extinction of all life on this planet.”

Escort’s voice snapped like a whip as she gave that last pronouncement, her head turning to look at each of them in the room.

Armsmaster hooked his halberd onto his armor’s back. Missy saw his lips were practically nonexistent and his whole countenance turned equally grim. He was surprised as well by the heroine’s pronouncement.

“Whoever or whatever is behind this, has sent more such anomalies into Brockton Bay, most of which me and my organization have already dealt with behind the scenes quietly. Those you know about are just those which are too big or overt to quietly contain and deal with.”

“What organization?” Aegis asked curiously.     

“It’ll be in the brief,” Armsmaster answered shortly.

“We are called Fortress. Now, Buddy himself is such an anomaly.” Escort folded her arms - Dennis coughed, trying to nonchalantly adjust his costume - and she stared down at the pile of ashes standing roughly a foot high off the floor.

She then flicked the fingers of her right hand toward it and said sternly, “Stop being a lazy boy. Stand.”

Missy felt her brain hiccup and imagined that somewhere the record screeching sound effect was probably playing.

Her ears heard the annoyed yelp of what was clearly a puppy before the pile of ashes seemed to puff and burst into a cloud.

Rising out of the ashes of what had been Buddy, was now a puppy that looked to be an entirely different breed of dog. Missy couldn’t recognize it, but it had quite dark fur with a stout build. She imagined it would eventually grow to a large size. It tickled recognition somewhere in her mind that she had seen the breed before but it was difficult to recognize as a puppy.

The puppy trotted forward a bit before giving a full body shake as best it could to get rid of the ashes.

“Sit,” Escort ordered sternly again, her tone firm but with a hint of kindness.

The puppy yelped a bark before obeying and looking up at her expectantly.

The heroine smiled and lowered herself to one knee, giving the puppy scratches around the ears which he thoroughly enjoyed and started licking her hands affectionately.

“You’re welcome, Buddy. It was a nasty thing that was done to you. It won’t happen again while you’re on this Earth.” Buddy yelped and hopped with his front two legs eagerly. “Oh, all right.”

Escort picked him up and cradled the puppy, before he began licking her face and yapping.

“Yes, yes, enough of that,” she eventually said, only tolerating it so much, pushing Buddy’s head away and settling him down with scratches on the back of his head.

Escort looked up at the stupefied faces around her and shook her head as if she couldn’t believe they were reacting like this. As if seeing a puppy arise out of the ashes of a dead dog wasn’t something all that much to write home about.

“Did I just see a dog die and another be reborn from its ashes?” Dennis said faintly.

“You did, Clock,” Aegis’s jaw was almost permanently slacked as he stared at the spectacle before him.

“Oh good, I didn’t walk into the Twilight Zone then.”

"Surprised you know that show, Clockblocker,” Escort chuckled. “Did you manage to record the event, Armsmaster?”

The hero only nodded.

Missy felt herself unfreeze, as reason managed to claw back into her mind from where it had retreated. “What the fuck! That almost looks like what Oni Lee does!”

“Yes, but more limited. Buddy can’t make rapid degenerating clones of himself at will. Think of him as a mythical phoenix. He’ll live a full lifetime or if he’s killed, die, then spontaneously combust and be reborn from the ashes as a different breed of dog that’s more suited to escape or combat the method that was used to kill him.”

“That’s nuts but freaking awesome,” Dennis said with awe.

“He’s also much more friendly towards you,” Aegis observed.

“He had a behavioral modification chip in his brain that was selectively giving him certain orders and impulses he had to obey,” Escort explained.

Missy felt repulsed, “Hey, you mean that his latching onto me, his other behavior and everything was programmed into him by the freaks that put it there?”

“Only some of his behavior,” Escort insisted. “You can say he was trained, then programmed to sniff out and hunt me down. Whether or not it was a freak coincidence that he imprinted first onto you, Vista, I don’t know.”

“Hang on,” her brain whirled with the implications. “You’re saying some extra-universal bunch of asshole Tinkers sent Buddy to locate you? Why?” 

“Fortress and I, are not exactly making it easy for them to use the city as a petri dish,” she said grimly. “I just hope we killed Buddy fast enough so they got as little data as possible. The chip wouldn’t survive his spontaneous combustion, which was the fastest way of freeing him. You can see he’s intelligent enough to basically understand the gist of the situation he was in.”

Buddy yapped again and then stared at the Wards in turn with a happy dog grin, then raised a paw towards Vista.

“Okay, but you know she can’t let you stay with her?” Escort asked suddenly of the dog. Another yelp was the answer. “Fine.” 

The heroine put Buddy down again and he blurred with speed.

Missy jumped as the puppy was now at her feet and looking at her with his best adorable expression.

“Armsmaster, Master Stranger alert,” she complained with a groan and knelt down to pick up the dog. Now Missy was treated to an affectionate tongue licking on her cheeks and jaw.

“Noted,” the senior hero said, his mouth actually twitching with amusement.

“So was this imprinting thing the chip as well?”

“Yes, but it was making use of his training and conditioning. Which was generally to consider the first human he saw after resurrection as the leader of his pack and provider.”

“Which is now you,” Missy said pointedly, trying not to be annoyed. She had just gotten used to the idea of having Buddy as a constant companion and pet.

“Unfortunately Vista, there was no way the Protectorate was going to let you keep an extra-universal dog as a pet.”

“Even if it was allowed, you would also have been off the patrol schedule for weeks,” Armsmaster confirmed. “PRT Image Relations and the Youth Guard would’ve needed to give the go ahead. Not to mention it wouldn’t take long for the public to become aware of a paracanine. Animals getting powers is a concept that will be very frightening to some people.”

“A whole bus of children and Mr. Douglas saw Buddy’s Mover powers,” Missy had to point out. “Can’t exactly enforce NDAs on middle schoolers.”

“We realize that, which is why we are encouraging the idea that Buddy was just a parahuman Changer. With Escort and Fortress taking custody of him and as he’s now a different breed of puppy that’ll take years to grow, it’ll be long enough for rumors of a paracanine to die down,” he explained.

Missy looked down at the pup in her arms, who looked up expectantly. “You better make it up to me one day for my time in the Dunk Tank.” Buddy barked once with tongue lolling out happily. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

She leaned down reluctantly and deposited the puppy on the floor.

Buddy blurred and was now lazily stretched out over Escort’s left shoulder.

Escort rolled her eyes, easily enduring the paws scrabbling at her skin before she used her left arm to support the dog’s hindquarters on his new perch. “Fine, we’ll be going soon.”

“Can you actually communicate with him? You’re not just messing with us?” Missy just had to know.

“Buddy is still a dog at the end of the day, but he’s in the upper percentile of dog smarts with very good training under his paws. My Thinker power lets me cheat in understanding him.”

“Can- Can you bring him to visit in the future, please?” Missy hated that she sounded so childish at that moment.

Escort hefted her iron staff in her right hand and nodded, “I will do so. Armsmaster, is there anything else you need from me?”

“Your report was thorough, but I’ll be in touch if we need any further clarifications. Thank you.”

“Be seeing you around, Wards,” Escort nodded at each of them in turn, before she and Buddy vanished with a slightly red gaseous hue.

8888888888888888888888888888888888

There was a knock on the door to the office.

I looked up from the smart tablet that held Fortress’ version of the file on Anomaly 10 aka, Buddy and considered whether to get up or not, or to stop whoever was on the other side from coming in.

I swept outward with my mind web and found the very alien mental structure that represented Henry the sentient statue.

“Mistress? Should I leave?”

I looked down at Corporal Rowan James, my current FTF guard, whose hands were frozen with uncertainty and fondling my breasts.

We were both on a small cot I had brought into my shiny new office that was a space neighboring Henry’s directorial office. 

The place was much more spartan as I had yet to find anything to actually mount on the walls and the massive bookshelf dominating the rear wall was only filled with my GED books and a number of random novels I had bought. The center of the room was dominated by a modern office desk with a state of the art PC with multiple monitors and three chairs, one for myself and two visitor chairs.

I considered James’ aura for a moment… he still had about four minutes in him and he had yet to experience any release. The thought of just letting that go when he was in me and ready felt like absolute anathema.

Fuck my instincts and powers are really screwing my head, I internally winced at the double meaning in my thoughts.

I really needed this though. Dealing with the Protectorate had been a chore of paperwork as we had gone through the process of officially registering Fortress as having a corporate hero team attached to the construction management company. Then on top of that dealing with the planning, briefings and research on the Buddy situation. The final cherry on the shit cake was keeping an eye on Lung and making touch ups on his hypnotism as he went through a typical day. 

“Bit busy, Henry! Give me five minutes!” 

My hips flexed and I began bouncing and twirling my hips.

My head lolled backward and I gazed up into the ceiling as the pleasure built and built. The wet rapid slaps of flesh on flesh echoing somewhat in the office.

James kneaded my breasts and groaned throatily.

He sat up abruptly, throwing his arms around my back and turned us over.

My legs locked automatically around his waist as he began pounding into me with rapid abandon.

His beautifully sculpted pecs squished my breasts pleasantly as I easily bore his partial weight.

Our breathing became rapid as both of us tried our best to fight to prolong the pleasure, yet equally sought out the eventual release.

His blue eyes locked onto mine with an intense stare, seeking permission.

I merely nodded and his lips locked on mine for an equally intense kiss, our tongues beginning a delightful duel.

Air hissed through our noses to keep the fires of passion going.

James lost the battle first, his entire body stiffening then his hips twitched forward in rapid bursts as he climaxed in me.

I greedily pulled in the energy, my body instinctively doing its thing with the physical products of our union.

That sensation was rapidly pushing me to my tipping point and the final flex of my inner core pushed me over.

My juices blasted outward, the fluids compressed and seeking escape from between our closely entwined bodies.

My entire body twitched in a spasm of absolute pleasure, I couldn’t even use my voice to groan.

James broke the kiss breathing hard, his movement was enough to stimulate my enormously sensitive pussy again.

My body spasmed as I was pushed into a double orgasm and another eruption of fluids practically bathing James’s abdomen now.

My voice finally got some brain capacity to work with again and I moaned an aria of pleasure as the orgasm rocked through my twitching body.

James pushed my sweaty hair out of my face and delivered small kisses to my cheeks and neck.

Of all the lovers I had taken from among the FTF, he was by far the most tender and caring. His closely shaved dark blonde hair glistened with sweat in the overhead light as he regarded me with his usual naked wonder in the aftermath.

He would make some future woman very happy as a lover and husband, even though my inner heart immediately rebelled at the thought and demanded he remain with me forever as part of my own collection.

I really wanted to just relax in the post-coital bliss for a while longer but work was calling and I couldn’t make Henry wait outside forever.

My legs and arms opened, but James decided to give me a soul searing kiss in thanks before he took the opportunity to get up.

His body glistened gloriously in the office lighting and he put on his gun belt with a contented smile.

Then he gave me a dimpled wink.

My eyes widened in astonishment as he headed to the door, not making use of the nearby towel to dry himself from my fluids. From his aura, I could tell he was wearing it, considering it almost a badge of honor.

Only when he tapped his hand on the access control sensor to open the door, did I gather my wits and get up from the bed.   

The doors slid open and Henry stood aside for James to come through and take up his post outside.

The sentient statue knee-walked into my office and paused.

“Sorry about this, Henry, but I’ve been somewhat neglecting myself this past week and it couldn’t wait, as I’m risking going full SCP nympho. Please come in,” I said as I was using the towel to dry myself off. 

“I see,” he nodded and moved deeper into the office until he was kneeling in front of my desk and keeping his gaze firmly forward. “Very well, I sent your inbox a file for your perusal while we talk about the matter.”

I dropped the towel and picked up my fallen tablet, to bring up the company internal email. 

Henry had sent me four files, the full dossiers Coil had compiled on the villain catspaw team he had wanted to recruit for his big plan to take over Brockton’s underworld. They had also been recently updated by the sentient statue’s own work.

“After your run in with Rachel Lindt, I took the liberty to look into the other potential catspaws and update their files. Using a combination of Coil’s power and the assets he had already been using to keep these four under a marginal level of surveillance. Mostly using the FTF squad dedicated to the task of specialized covert spying.”

Given that he was Noctis and wouldn’t leave any stone unturned when it came to Coil and his plans, I could understand why he had done it in the first place. He also most likely had an idea he wanted to run by me.

I walked to my wonderfully comfortable office chair and dumped myself in it.

“Okay, let’s start with Rachel,” I swiped to the relevant file.

“Miss Lindt it seems has recently decided that enough was enough with regards to Hookwolf and his illegal dog fighting rings. She raided a lightly guarded Empire location two days ago, freeing all the captive dogs and rather badly mauling the gang members on guard duty with her own empowered dogs. All of them made it to hospital in time and none are expected to die from their injuries.”

“I want to say good, but she’s a lone villainess and if she continues to escalate…” I trailed off, not needing to finish.

“Precisely. Coil’s plan was to keep her reined in by providing just enough money for living expenses, to feed her dogs and provide a location where she could essentially run her own dog shelter. Without that structure she’s bound to eventually end up on a path to encounter a sniper bullet from Victor or Hookwolf murder blending her and her dogs.”

“I take it you have a plan to cut off this likelihood?”

“Yes, it’ll involve releasing the evidence of the circumstances of her Trigger. It’ll be enough to at least get the case reopened and her arrest warrant frozen. Given this crosses state boundaries a federal judge will be required to look at it. Miss Lindt will unlikely be capable of being a Ward given her warped social instincts, so she is a possible recruit for Fortress if we’re so inclined.”

“Coil notes that with her dogs she would be an ideal heavy hitter and they’re large enough to be ridden, providing mobility to her and others,” I read from the file, thinking about the theoretical lineup of capes that Fortress could publicly tout. Myself, Henry and eventually Theo. Shauna didn’t want to be within a million miles of any cape fight. It would also be interesting to see Rachel’s reaction to Buddy… would her power even work on an SCP dog? “Okay, let’s see about getting her on board. Next?”

“Sarah Livsey aka Lisa Wilbourne aka Tattletale,” Henry sighed. “A particularly troublesome cape to surveil given her Thinker power, which Coil rates with a PRT threat factor of 7. Officially the PRT has little information on Tattletale beyond her existence and vague rumors of a villainess who is ‘psychic’. She was keeping a very low profile and limited her activities to theft in order to meet her daily living needs. A few days after the appearance of Anomaly 9, she left for Boston.”

I tapped on the image collection in the file and a few of the surveillance pictures were maximized, including a video of the seventeen year old, freckle-faced girl with dark blonde hair. She was wearing clothing that made her look like any affluent high school senior, boarding a bus and carrying a sling bag over her shoulder.

The only thing odd about her was that she had a haunted thousand yard stare and almost seemed to be moving on autopilot.

“Interesting, I wonder how her power was faring inside the general SCP zone.”

“Given her expression, it is working but what she deduced was enough to inspire her to leave, not that one can really blame her,” Henry chuckled. “She has essentially a line-of-sight clairvoyance, able to extrapolate mass amounts of information from the smallest pieces of data. Given her power, most of the three letter federal agencies would kill to have her services at hand. Hence, why she keeps as low a profile as possible.”

“She's going to drive Accord nuts,” I theorized.

“Given her personality, highly probable. My own analysis indicates she is unlikely to remain a lone operator for long, perhaps joining the strongest villain team that isn’t the Teeth - Blastgerm.”

That awkward name was the team name of the villain duo Blasto and Fume Hood, the former being a strong Biotinker and the latter a powerful, versatile Blaster who could generate and control spheres of gas with varying effects.

The duo controlled a fair slice of the Boston underworld and I could already imagine that increasing with a Thinker 7 on the team.

“So only of concern if we ever have ops which take us there, next is Grue,” I swiped to the next file.

“Brian Laborn. He’s actually been an active villain for almost two years at this point, but he has firmly kept his activities outside the city. Mainly as an enforcer in the underworld for whoever would hire him.”

The photos of him from various sources including those of him in costume, showed a tall dark skinned teenager, but from the way he filled out his clothes showed he was already quite physically mature and muscular - clearly the work of many hours of training in sports or a gym. My instincts immediately perked with interest as I regarded a fine specimen of manhood who would likely only get better with age.

His villain persona and costume was also quite intimidating, motorcycle leathers that hugged his frame nicely and a helmet with a full face visor, a stylized skull painted on it.

Grue’s power was also a wonderful battlefield control mechanism. A Shaker power that created a gaseous ‘darkness’ that emitted from his body rapidly and which he could control very precisely.

The darkness did more than rob people of their sight in the visual spectrum, it muted sounds, radio, radiation and microwaves. When Grue laid down his darkness, which could cover a vast area, everything and everyone inside was effectively helpless. This blindness didn’t extend to Grue, who could see in it and freely walk inside it.

Yet another experiment that occurred to me was to try out my misty form inside this Darkness cloud. Would it slow me down? Would it affect me and trap me? I doubted it could blind my True Sight though.

I could easily imagine now why Grue was a fairly successful independent villain by most standards and had resisted any gang recruitment attempts thus far.

Coil’s approach for snagging Grue into his catspaw team was the typical MO he had used for his mercenaries.

I read through the plan, unable to suppress a grimace.

The bastard was going to target Grue’s family situation. It involved a drug-addict for a mother and getting custody of his younger sister, Aisha and removing the girl from the dysfunctional household. Coil would’ve dangled that prospect in front of the teenage villain like a carrot on a stick, that he would mostly keep out of reach, at least until his takeover of Brockton’s underworld was complete.

Even after custody had been awarded, Grue’s gratitude and financial dependance on Coil would further cement the loyalty.

As for Grue’s personality and disposition, his villainy was purely motivated by gaining the financial independence to aid his sister. He also brought a professionality to his work that even Coil respected. I would need to make an in-person assessment to see for myself. 

“What part of this recruitment plan can we use that would make me feel less scummy about using it?”

Henry chuckled, “Figured you would want this young man. His help would’ve been valuable in containing the effects of the Train. There will undoubtedly be future SCPs that emit their effects through the mediums that his power can dampen. As for recruitment, a proper full time job at Fortress Construction would do a lot to convince Youth Services that young Mr. Laborn would be a far preferable guardian for his younger sister. A rebranding with a new cape persona once he is part of the team and as he has no major felonies or criminal charges, it should be a simple matter to convince the Protectorate that we’ve turned Mr. Laborn into a productive member of society.”

“Okay, put it on the to-do list. Next?”

Henry’s features pinched and his aura now became somewhat worried. “The last member of the catspaws is a situation that if handled incorrectly might bring the attention of the worst Master on the North American continent to Brockton.”

I felt my mood instantly turn darker as I realized who Henry was referring to.

I had resolved with myself that I would respect everyone’s free will as much as possible, only using my hypnotism and Master abilities for good causes and keeping my tummy happy.

Heartbreaker was the exact opposite.

A Canadian villain who literally enslaved people into doing his bidding through emotional control, which only grew in strength the longer you were in proximity to him. Neatly earning him an A-Class threat rating based on that alone. He was the man that gave all Masters a very bad name.

Over twenty years he had built himself a full blown harem, enslaving the best looking women he could find, including a number of celebrities and some of the early capes who’d been sent to apprehend him. By this point, his concubines, followers and capes numbered in the high nineties. Most of the capes were his own children and the whole lot of them lived in a palatial mansion on Montreal’s outskirts.

The PRT and the Canadian Hero Guild left him alone, only enforcing a no-go zone around the mansion. Even Dragon, who would be immune to Heartbreaker, couldn’t attack as the villain was quite fond of using human shields to die for him. He would also threaten to order his thralls to carry out suicide attacks in the event of any serious attempt to arrest him.

The further deterrent to his apprehension or simply assassinating him was the uncertainty if the mastery would actually fade once he had died. It was widely believed that the only way to remove Heartbreaker mastery was for the villain to be forced to undo it himself.

Dealing with that bastard was a future project that was on the backburner, to be done when I felt that my obligations in Brockton were handled and there was a gap in new SCPs appearing - as unlikely as it was.

“Lay it on me, Henry,” I swiped the screen and the dossier appeared.

“Alec with the current cape name Regent aka Hijack aka Jean-Paul Vasil, the fifteen year old son of Heartbreaker who fled Montreal half a year ago.”

My eyes widened in amazement, “He managed to escape? Circumvent Heartbreaker’s control somehow?”

“It seems so. In Coil’s simulated timelines,” Henry couldn’t help but scowl as he said that, “he determined that young Alec had experienced enough trauma in the service of his father, that he not only Triggered, his actual brain development throughout his childhood had turned him into a highly functional sociopath. That sociopathy essentially means he can’t feel certain emotions, giving him a high resistance to not only his father’s power but also the powers of his siblings.”

“And now he’s in Brockton, pretending to be old enough to work as a waiter at a strip club in Downtown.” It was also smack in the middle of E88 territory.

Regent wasn’t making any significant waves either in his new persona. Seemingly content to live in a dingy low-rent apartment within walking distance of the club, using a large nest egg of cash he had no doubt stolen from his father and played console games in his off-time.

“He’s here to lay low from his father’s notice and he also downplays his powers. Merely using it to cause anyone he targets to fumble and stumble whatever they are trying to do or in extreme cases induce nausea. His actual power, which Coil rates as Master 8, is to fully puppet the nervous systems and powers of his victims, the qualifier being that he needs to spend a few hours ‘learning’ the nervous system of a person. He has a self-imposed limit of five people he can control simultaneously, any more and he begins to lose coordination, speech and movement as a side effect. There’s also a proximity limitation, the further away he is from his victim, the less he’s able to control them.”

“He could potentially affect me,” I said eventually, looking at the profile picture of the dossier. He was quite a pretty boy, tall, thin, black curly hair and he had a perpetually disinterested expression on his face.

“Yes, but the key is whether your own power would be able to find a vector through his sociopathy.”

“If he has any libido, then I can grab him. Now, the only question is if we should let Alec be. He doesn’t really bring anything to the table that I can’t do better.”

“As long as he keeps his nose clean and any villainy to minor acts, then it’s just a matter of ensuring that his presence in Brockton doesn’t gain the attention of his father. Perhaps a few listening and visual surveillance devices in his apartment to keep a general eye on him?”

“Do we even have the manpower for the task of reviewing the surveillance?” I asked.

“Coil needs more to do,” Henry smirked.

I couldn’t help but giggle at the thought of Coil watching hours of a teenager like Alec playing video games as another little bit of penance for his many crimes.

A specific ringtone from my smartphone ruined the moment of levity.

I thumbed the accept button and placed it against my ear, “Why are you calling, Oni Lee?”

“Kakaete-sama, I call on the order of Lung-sama. You asked him to inform you of any potential dealings with other parahumans. He is to enter into negotiations with a new recruit later today at three in the afternoon.”

The ABB gaining another cape was serious business, especially to keep it from upsetting the delicately balanced applecart of the city. “Where?”

“Downtown coast, 41 Cliff street.”

88888888888888888888888888888

It was not a place you’d expect to see the leader of the ABB take a meeting with a new parahuman recruit. Ego, first impressions and rep were a huge deal in the cape community and doubly so when you were dealing with someone of Lung’s fearsome reputation.

However, I’d quickly learned in my pillow talk with him, when we weren’t screwing each other senseless, that Kenta’s cunning intelligence was not to be underestimated. For all that he blustered about bullying his way through any opposition just because he was ‘Lung’, he recognized the value of being unpredictable. 

A posh two floor wooden house, painted in a gray-white exterior, long gravel driveway, manicured lawn in a suburb that was as middle-class as it came. It was the house of a senior lieutenant in the gang, picked at random.

The large living room had been rearranged and cleared up for the meeting.

Lung sat on the end of the large leather couch, whilst I appropriated his lap as a cushion, laying down next to him, with my legs propped up and crossed on the soft edge.

My thumb lazily swiped my smartphone as I reread all the information I had been able to gather on short notice about this recruit. All the while, Lung’s left hand lazily rested on my stomach, occasionally caressing and even fondling one of my breasts.

It was all a show to present Lung as the dominant and him showing me off.

The door opened and Oni Lee led the way for the recruit.

She was rather short and I could generally peg her age at roughly twenty years old. Her costume wasn’t really what you’d call professional, but had that repurposed look that usually came with Tinkers who had a limited budget and lived off the land. Her face was hidden by a full face gas mask with large round eye lenses that were opaque from the outside. The filter near her mouth was fully functional and I could spot the craziness of Tinkertech at work inside. Her breathing hissed in and out in a rather eerie manner.

A long back coat that came down to her calves hid all manner of Tinkertech inside it, most of which I couldn’t guess at the function, but there were definitely a few explosives in there - grenades of a type - whilst her navy blouse and denim jeans completed the look. Her white well worn sneakers also had tech concealed in them.

I’d be worried about a Tinker entering any room with such clear weapons on her person, but it was apparent from studying this aura that I’d have few issues in emotionally dominating and mastering this woman. Oni Lee would also be able to bury a knife in her neck in less time than it’d take to blink if she turned out to be hostile in the meeting.

The ugly combo of deep purple and the ambers of arrogance radiated outward like a fog from her. Self-assurance was also there but it was overwhelmed by the burnt orange of pride. She was only slightly intimidated by being in the presence of Lung. Underneath all that hid someone though that wanted recognition and acceptance, someone who thought themselves a ‘genius’ and had Triggered because they couldn’t accept being given a failing grade.

Then promptly decided that holding an entire building full of people in her university hostage with her Tinkertech bombs to change that grade was a good idea.

The full roster of the New York Protectorate had intervened, which included Legend.

That this woman was still free, at large and in front of me now spoke of her potential power as a Tinker and her intelligence.

The Achilles heel in her emotional balance, which I could drive a truck through, was a deep seated insecurity and inexperience that even she was seemingly unaware of or had purposefully suppressed, to the point that she no longer acknowledged it. It was just waiting for me to poke at and it was right in my wheelhouse.  

“Bakuda,” said Lung slowly in greeting.

“Lung-sama,” she replied, reluctantly allowing her head to bow in custom. The gas mask had a voice distorter that turned her speech to a robotic emotionless hiss, clearly meant to hide potential identification and acted as a layer of obfuscation from anyone trying to read emotional cues.

The name was a blatant choice for a cape persona, if slightly ridiculous to anyone with a knowledge of Japanese. Henry had it picked apart in moments with his encyclopedic brain.

“Sit,” Lung ordered.

She paused a second before complying and folded her long jacket around her legs before sitting down on a single seat couch placed opposite.

He observed her for a very long minute to see how she endured the scrutiny and a very uncomfortable silence. I also made sure to keep looking into my phone, giving no tells and acting every bit as Lung’s cape concubine.

Bakuda lasted forty seconds before she shuffled in discomfort on her seat, the second after Lung lazily palmed my breast again.

“Your performance in Cornell was impressive,” Lung said suddenly.

“It was easy,” she shook her head arrogantly. “I was ten steps ahead of everyone. The New York Protectorate was sloppy. They always think Legend will be there to pull their feet out of the fire. Give them one high threat distraction which diverts him somewhere else and they’re a bunch of capes running around cluelessly using their powers in a painfully predictable manner. It was almost sad but very satisfying watching them dance to my tune.”

“Yet you still had to retreat,” Lung retorted, puncturing her ego nicely.

“It wasn’t a retreat but a planned withdrawal.”

I suppressed a snort of amusement at her arguing semantics in front of Lung.

“Cleverness only goes so far, Bakuda,” he said gravely. “Your use of fear and uncertainty was effective, but had you faced one element that you had not planned or accounted for, your whole scheme would have collapsed. Did you know that Eidolon had been in New York just a day before your little spree kicked off?”

That knocked the wind clearly out of her sails. She tried her best to control any outward sign, but she might as well have been a kitten hiding under a carpet to me. She was also surprised that Lung would know the movements of one of the strongest and most versatile heroes of the Triumvirate.

Eidolon had indeed been there on an unannounced visit about a classified matter that even Coil’s access didn’t cover.

“No, I did not,” she said with extreme reluctance, the words dragged out of her when it became clear to her that Lung was demanding a response from his tone and body language.  

“You are a Tinker and human, you need time to build, you cannot think of everything and can be surprised. Under my ABB, you will have that time, you will not lack resources and you will be under my protection. I will show you how to use fear and intimidation in ways you have not considered.”

“That is certainly an interesting and enticing offer, Lung-sama.”

He snorted, “It is one you cannot refuse. You used the last of your resources getting to Brockton Bay undetected. You can certainly steal or coerce more money, but that risks grabbing the attention of the local Protectorate - where you will face Armsmaster and Dragon of the Canadian Guild, who has a suit now permanently stationed here.”

She was again surprised at Lung’s accurate knowledge and the confusion building in her was clear, she was beginning to wonder how he knew. Her expectations of Lung as an unthinking Brute was steadily being dashed.

“I see,” she said for lack of being able to say anything else. 

“Good. I recruited you because I’m expanding the ABB to be stronger in the face of the Empire 88 and the Protectorate - who are soon to increase their numbers due to the changing local situation. Are you aware of it?”

“I did my research,” Bakuda bristled, as if insulted that she would go into any place unprepared.

“Which is incomplete and stunted, you know only what the authorities wish is known,” Lung waved off her words. “This city is the target of an extra-universal power, which is dumping their creations on it and seeing how this city and world responds. The Train and Tree are both their work, there are others which have already been seen to, but the message is clear; more is coming.”

For the first time, the color of fear began to stain her aura, along with astonishment.

“One of the other Earths?”

“Yes, but which one is unknown. There has been no communication or evidence.”

“You have moles in the PRT or a Thinker behind the scenes,” Bakuda deduced as if it was obvious.

“Assume what you wish,” he retorted. “Until you have sworn yourself to me and the ABB, you will not know.”

“Do we have to go through the theatrics? It’s pretty clear I have no choice but to sign on.”

“You have two choices, you give me your oath, join the ABB or die in this room.”

That was not just Lung’s opinion on the matter, but it was something both Henry and I agreed on regarding Bakuda, after reading PRT New York’s analysis of her bombs used in Cornell.

These were devices that did not just go boom. They could also release extremely hostile exotic effects that were horrifying to contemplate being used on people and would be disruptive to civilization if she had even a fraction more resources to scale up. Quite a few of her bombs had clearly been inspired from observing the powers of heroes and villains in New York and her Tinker power allowed her to imitate these effects on a small scale.

The only reason I wasn’t already busy Mastering and programming her with hypnosis was because throughout her stunt at Cornell she hadn’t killed any of the hostages, despite her threats and demonstrations. She had known if she went too far in that respect, the gloves would come off. 

Lung would keep her in line in the ABB, whilst I would be waiting in the shadows. She would expect Oni Lee to do the deed, but be blindsided when I came instead.

There was also no denying the utility of having Bakuda’s Tinker ability on call for dealing with hostile SCPs.

Bakuda’s reaction to the ultimatum was interesting to observe; indignant anger, fear and a building determination.

“Fine, I’ll join you.”

Oni Lee stepped forward and presented one of his throwing daggers to her, hilt first.

She glanced at the weapon briefly, “What am I supposed to do with this?”

“Take it,” Lung ordered gravely.

She reluctantly complied, grabbing it quickly.

“I care not where you draw it from yourself, but you will spill your blood on your oath.”

“This is some yakuza shit, isn’t it?”

“Watch your tone, Bakuda,” he punctuated his words by emitting flames and letting it flow from his right hand, where it made dancing spiral patterns.

She hesitantly rolled up her jacket’s left sleeve, exposing her forearm before making a careful incision on the side that had the most muscle and no dangerous veins to nick. Her arm turned over and she flexed a fist, causing blood to pool enough to begin dripping slowly.

“Swear yourself to me, Bakuda. I am your oyabun,” Lung began.

“I swear myself to you as my oyabun.”

“You are my soldier, my lieutenant and my hand.”

“I am your soldier, lieutenant and hand.”

“You are my will made manifest on the world.”

“I am your will made manifest on the world.”

“Until death take you.”

“Until death take me.”

Lung nodded. “Return the knife. Give her the medkit.”

Bakuda did so and immediately grabbed the medkit from Oni Lee hands and set to work disinfecting, stitching and bandaging up the cut.

Lung also decided to pass the few minutes it took her doing this by more eagerly playing with my abdomen and boobs.

The Bomb Tinker remained admirably focused on her task despite the distraction of it. Her aura was a play of contradictions, both turned on by it and disgusted.

“In the room across the hall you will find a study. Use what you find there to make a list of everything you’ll need to construct a lab for yourself.” Lung grabbed my phone out of my right hand, then quickly caught me by the left, before lifting me easily onto his lap. I straddled him immediately and began kissing his neck underneath the mask. “Go.”

Bakuda didn’t need to be told twice, she sprinted for the door as Lung ripped his pants off.

88888888888888888888888888888888

Micro Lathe.

Ayame’s hand paused and she regarded what she had written on the lined paper. Her brain uncharacteristically struggling to come up with what to write next.

She should’ve been able to fill the entire page by now in no time at all. How many times had she made herself a wish list of materials and tools since that fateful day when her power manifested?

Yet now her back was shivering with nervous energy, her stomach tying itself in knots, the characteristic tingling of fire between her legs, which traveled up her spine, into her brain and bounced back down to her loins.

She glared at the closed door to the study, which didn’t help at all in stopping the sounds of Lung fucking his whore.

The door was solid wood of two inches thick but the house interior walls were the culprit in letting the sound through, including the enthusiasm of the rutting pair.

It was extremely distracting and yet she did not understand why it was now affecting her like this. She’d been in similar situations in the dormitories of Cornell. Her dorm neighbor Julie had been practically busy with her boyfriend every night and Ayame didn’t have problems then.

She gritted her teeth and focused…

Compact Bench Scale at least accurate to the microgram - preference to the OHAUS brand.

Breathless, gasping soprano moans pierced into the study and seemed to stab themselves into Ayame’s ears.

She made a mental note to investigate selective hearing protection for her mask. There were some of her bombs that were sonic in nature. It was a stupid oversight not to have developed a method where they could be used in close quarters without damaging her own hearing. Not to mention the possibility of the opposition using sound as an attack method.

Fisherbrand 17R Microcentrifuge. NOT SOME CHEAPSHIT KNOCKOFF!

Ayame would need extreme precision and fine engineering tolerances if she wanted to achieve most of the ideas percolating in her head.

Deep bass grunting rumbled through the house and she had to slightly marvel at the fact that anyone could cause Lung to make such an involuntary sound.

For all that he was feared and known as the only cape to single handedly fight an Endbringer and live to tell the tale, that he was a force of inevitability, the Dragon of Kyushu - to hear proof that he was still just a man as well - was oddly disappointing.

Fume Hoods Extra Large.  

Nano enclosure 2ft width, built in ionizer.

Horizontal Clean Bench

Stainless steel radioisotope hood.

“Oh fuck yes! FUCK! Yes, yes, there… OH!”

Her thoughts were derailed again and she cursed as her back shivered. The sheer feeling of eroticism seemed to permeate the very air she was breathing. Ayame shifted uncomfortably in the office chair, very aware that her own panty was damp now.

She forcefully tried to push it all away, focusing only on the pad of reamed paper in front of her.

Ultra Thin Magnetic Stirrer, digital.   

Aluminum Ceramic Hotplate. 5 - 550 degrees Centigrade.

Compound LED Microscope.

She found her zone, at last, beginning to fill the page, moving onto the various materials and chemicals.

Then tore the page off the ream and started on a second one.

She was suddenly aware of a blessed silence in the house, but then a smell hit her nose - an achingly familiar one that made her mouth begin to water. It was her grandmother’s cherry pie? That was impossible, not to mention the gas mask should’ve filtered out any aroma particulate.

Then the shadow of a person standing by her left shoulder cast itself from the incoming light from the window.

Her heart hammered and she jumped up from her chair, a gas grenade which would induce violent nausea was in hand and primed.

The whore stood there, still nude, nonchalantly with her hands folded behind her back and looking down at the list. Her skin was glistening with sweat and other fluids practically all over, reflecting the sunlight framing her from behind, casting her in an eerie radiance. The wet labia between her long, lithe legs was inflamed and standing proudly in clear view, the whore making no point of hiding it by her stance. Even as she watched a drop fell from it to the floor. The perked nipples on her breasts stood outward and looked like they could cut steel. Long dark hair spilled over her head and seemed to perfectly hide her face.

How had she gotten in here? She would’ve heard the door open, the single window of the study was also firmly closed.

Ayame’s finger was on the point of pushing the button on the grenade but her astonished mind managed to put the pieces together.

The whore was a cape.

Teleporter?

“Interesting list,” she said.

Ayame snorted in derision, “Do you even know what half of it is?”

“In fact, I know what most of it does. Naturally I’m no professional scientist or a Tinker, so if you ask me what a potentiometric titrator is, I’m going to have to disappoint you. My name is Escort and I’ve been assigned by Lung-sama to get you settled and introduce you to a number of ABB functionaries that’ll handle the day-to-day needs of your work. I’m also your point of contact for Lung-sama. If you have something important that needs to reach his ears, it will first go through me to determine if it’s worthy of bothering him and taking up his time.”

She stared at the cape, scrunching her face in confusion. Somewhat satisfied that she was no immediate threat Ayame sat back down and deactivated the grenade, returning it to its holster under her jacket. “You’re not Asian, yet you’re part of the Azn Bad Boys?”

“How do I know you’re actually Asian behind that gas mask?” Escort retorted airily. “You’ll find that while Lung-sama has united all the old Asian expat gangs under his banner to form the ABB, that he has no racial qualms. He is of mixed racial origin and he views everything through a lens of power and strength. In his eyes, I lead the Red Light district of working girls in Brockton, even though I make no such personal claim. I’m in the ABB, even though I consider myself a corporate hero. When Lung wants something, he gets it. Otherwise this city burns and no one wants that.”

Ayame understood that well enough. “All right, but…” That lovely smell hit her nose again and her eyes locked unwillingly on that glistening pussy standing by her shoulder. She felt her loins also stirring in concert with the stimulation from her nose. Her arousal was building. The thought of what had just happened in the opposite room replayed into her own imagination. “Couldn’t you have cleaned up a bit before coming here?” she asked plaintively and hated that she sounded so weak.

Escort laughed briefly, looking down as if she just noticed she was still covered in sexual fluids. Her hand emerged from behind her back and she ran a delicate finger through her folds to stop another drop that had been threatening to fall to the floor.

It was the last straw for Ayame and her hands gripped the table reflexively as an orgasm shuddered through her body. Releasing the pent up arousal that had accumulated. Her panty was now thoroughly soaked as the pleasure smashed through her mind and body.

Her gasping breathing distorted oddly through her vocoder, and she bit her lip with her last bits of will to stop anything as embarrassing as a moan from escaping her throat.

What was this? Why was she such a lightweight?

When was the last time she had even brought herself off? 

She… she couldn’t remember.

She’d never had the time for a boyfriend. Academics, the pressures of fulfilling the expectations of demanding parents, prevented even thinking about it. Only the talk and gossip of acquaintances and friends, a few secretly watched porn videos, listening to others doing the deed, her own explorations with her hands - that was the extent of her experience of sex.

Ayame collapsed bonelessly into the chair as she experienced post-orgasmic bliss.

“Well, that is task number one, Bakuda. We really need to get you laid.”

She glared at the cape whore behind her mask.

Someone was going to die for this humiliation.

888888888888888888888888 

No new SCPs.

888888888888888888888888

A/N: I've always wondered what could give rise to a personality and character like Bakuda. Enjoy your weekends and stay awesome folks.