The Owl in the Abyss - Chapter 17

Dad and I spent most of the morning around the kitchen table brainstorming ideas for his cape persona.

Just settling on a shortlist of names was a constant back and forth, with both of us referencing the Internet and PHO from our phones. Soon we were even bringing down books from the small house library and boxes in the attic that were filled with all of mom’s old reference books on the English language.

It soon became apparent that my own struggle to find a name would not come close to the problems dad would have in deciding. It wasn’t just that he was a Master, his control over small animals and insects lent itself to names that were naturally villainous in their general cultural and historical context. If dad just limited himself to controlling birds, things were much easier in that regard, but neither he nor I wanted that kind of self-imposed limitation. It was just creating an unnecessary secret that when it inevitably came out would create suspicion and fear.

There were two schools of thought when it came to cape names; the straight and the idealist.

The straight was the oldest but which was rapidly falling out of fashion - simply because it usually outright advertised what the hero was capable of; the Invisible Man or the Flash, as examples. Thankfully, it was easy for both of us to agree that names like Insectman or Birdman were just ridiculous and almost every good name in that direction was taken. Those that were left were either not applicable at all or the bad history behind the former owners of that name, meant you wouldn’t want to come within a mile of it. Quite a lot of these names also had enforceable copyright. As the action figures that were sold by toy companies of some of these heroes, meant that once that hero died or was retired by its current owner, no other cape could really pick up that mantle, not without the blessing of the company at least.

The idealist was the current trend with cape names, and it was one which I had drawn from for my own.

It was a name that was mostly divorced from your powers completely and instead embodied an ideal or cause that you wanted to strive towards.

Currently, I was the only thing that truly mattered in dad’s life. Yes, he had friends at work, colleagues, but he wouldn’t kill for them. There wasn’t a thing he wouldn’t do when it came to protect me. That theme of protection and defense was a good one, but we ran smack into the fact that many heroes in the world ran with that same theme. You point to a synonym or name in that ideal, someone already had it somewhere.

“What about Bastille?” Dad pointed to his own list.

“Already taken by a hero in France and Canada, there’s been six of them over the last twenty years,” I said after briefly looking it up on my smartphone.

“Bastion’s out, he’s the leader of Boston Protectorate,” Dad sighed, crossing the name off his list. “Bulwark?”

I thought about it for a moment, then did a search on PHO, “No one has it outright that I can tell. Though I doubt most capes would go with such a name. It rather sets quite high expectations and you’re not a Brute, dad. Most villains would line up to try and take out someone calling themselves that.”

He put a question mark next to the name. “Let’s put it on the shortlist.”

I wanted to object immediately, imagining the likes of Lung or Hookwolf going after dad, but stopped myself - this was his choice in the end.

“Buttress?” I asked, seeing the next name on the list, failing to keep the twitch from my mouth.

“No,” he said firmly. “The puns almost write themselves.”

“Citadel.”

“Nicely gels with Fortress as a concept, I like the way it sounds,” he shrugged then penned that down into the maybe list.

There were a whole bunch of words next that absolutely didn’t fly as names; cover, dike, embankment.

“Garrison?” I asked. Both of us were silent as we tumbled the word around in our heads. “It fits with your mass minion mastery and I’m not seeing it taken.”

“It has a bit of a military connotation, that I don’t personally like,” he grumbled. “Then again, we have Miss Militia.”

“She also had lots of people in the Protectorate that worked to get that name into the public consciousness over the years, she was part of the first ever Wards team, that went a long way,” I pointed out.

“Rampart and Redoubt,” he said, moving on.

“First one is too close to ‘rampage’, it obviously doesn’t mean the same thing but…”

“It’s not my specialty at the office, but I know my share of public and industrial relations, dear,” he smiled at me mildly. “You have to acknowledge that there will be people who don’t have the first clue about the true meaning of words and will just associate them with something close because of the way it sounds. Redoubt doesn’t have the same problem and is at least obscure enough that I’ll put that one down onto the shortlist.”

“Not taken by anyone as far as I can tell. Okay, next is Resistance and Safeguard.”

Dad was silent for a moment, looking up into the ceiling in contemplation before shaking his head, “No, too much baggage in history for the first one and people will immediately think I’m ‘anti-government’ or anti-status quo. Safeguard… has connotation problems as well; protection against something going wrong.”

“Something has seriously gone wrong with the world, dad,” I pointed out reasonably.

“Oh all right, onto the shortlist then.”

My smartphone rang and a quick glance at the screen showed it was Henry calling.

“Now what?” I wondered, picking it up from the desk. “Yes, Henry… oh, yes, India, Alpha, Mike, Sierra, Charlie, Pappa, one, three, four, I am a D&D character.”

“Zero, One, One, Charlie, Whiskey, I am out of time,” Henry replied. “Good, you remembered. Sorry to bother you at home so soon.”

“Not a problem, Henry. What’s happening?”

“Just to let you know that the delivery company is coming for the package. Should be at your front door in twenty minutes or so.”

Ah, a team to pick up the SCP safe.

“Good, we’ll be on the lookout. Anything else?”

“I’m sorry to do this, but this really needs to be talked about face-to-face. I digged through a lot of our former CEOs plans overnight and he was only mildly helpful with some aspects of clarification. I’d normally wait for this discussion, but some of this has implications towards the you-know-what that’s probably memetically affecting everyone.”

That Coil was somehow involved in the greater conspiracy on Earth Bet shouldn’t have surprised me.

“All right, I’ll come back with the van. I might as well see the package safe in its new home.”

“Thank you, boss. See you soon.”

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Dad actually managed to spot the Fortress van with one of his birds, though he couldn’t exactly make out details, other than it was ‘boxy, big and noisy’.

He went out to meet the team and had the van reverse up the driveway to the garage door. From there the safe was quickly loaded up by two of the four Fortress Tactical Force members, disguised as UPS delivery men.

Before we set off though, we had the four gather for a quick briefing.

“Treat this safe as if it was loaded with a Tinkertech bomb that will go off if its door is opened. It might seem benign but that can change,” said dad with folded arms. “The door to this safe cannot lock, it can only be latched. It has to get back to Fortress and Director Hawkins will supervise further handling of it. In case of any emergency on route, defend yourselves as appropriate but Escort will be handling the situation.” I was leaning against the van door, trying my best to not be distracting to the team. The occasional glance and my reading of their auras showed I wasn’t really succeeding. “Any questions?”

The four men looked at each other and their leader, Sergeant Jayce Turner, shook his head, “No, sir.”

“Good, off you go.” They reflexively gave salutes and hurried back into the van. “Taylor, whatever Henry’s discovered, I don’t want you to spend any more time at Fortress than necessary for now.”

For a moment I thought he was playing the protective dad card that didn’t want his daughter tempted by all the beefcake on offer there. A look at his aura and body language said that yes, that was part of it, but he also just wanted to spend the free time he had with me.

“Fine, I’ll probably want to discuss the plans Coil had immediately with you anyway. Henry’s tone was rather worrying.”

“Fly safe,” he said with a smile as the van’s engine started up.

I gave him a quick hug before misting and following the van as it surged up the street, but kept well within the speed limit.

The journey back to Fortress was quite agonizing simply because, given my streak of luck lately, I was expecting some accident or even the van to be ambushed by one of the parahuman gangs. Maybe the E88 had somehow linked the van as belonging to Coil and they were tailing it or had some way of tracking it.

Thankfully, this time, I was not that unlucky.

It arrived uneventfully at Fortress and the SCP safe was carried into the freight elevator.

In the Fortress base, the elevator was stopped on the tenth subfloor and Henry was waiting for it.

I reappeared next to him suddenly and he naturally didn’t even flinch. I had to wonder what it took to really startle the animated statue.

“Seen it before?”

“There are many SCPs dear Taylor, I’m not familiar with them all. It’s possible that we will encounter SCPs that are entirely new, which not even the Foundation or any faction are aware of,” Henry pointed out gravely. “Yes, Sergeant, to Room 1023, please.”

It could be carried by one person, but they divided it up between two men, which let them have a free hand to respond with in case of emergency.

Room 1023 turned out to be a rather large secure room with a thick ‘blast door’ that was controlled centrally. It was further access controlled via keycard, facial scanner and had surveillance cameras watching the interior.

“I gather from the layout plans this was a place Coil intended to house recovered Tinkertech, either from enemies or allies,” Henry explained as the safe was put into the middle of the empty room and he dismissed the FTF to return to previous duties. “I will also applaud your caution with this thing. Many Foundation researchers and scientists are dead or worse than dead because they got complacent dealing with an SCP. Thinking everything was already known about it, so they thought, ‘We could maybe try this or try that, no need for all those pesky review procedures or paperwork.’”

“What about my idea of getting some actual scientists?”

“Definitely has merit,” he nodded. “There is room in the budget, but the problem is that the recruiting process is going to be tricky. The Foundation liked to scout and recruit scientific talent who were going through college and universities - 18 to 23 years old. They would be inducted and the truth slowly revealed to them via a carefully controlled environment. It would then be another four to five years of further training before they’d be ready for even the most junior of roles.”

“So they didn’t recruit older? What if someone showed talent or discovered something about the supernatural?”

“That was done on a case-by-case basis. You must understand that the revelation of the truth about the anomalous and related fields can lead to an existential crisis in a person. There has been numerous cases where older recruits just couldn’t handle it and ended up causing major disasters during their breakdowns or just committed straightforward suicide. It happened frequently enough that analysis revealed the trend and so only the relatively young are recruited.”

“Can’t teach an old dog new tricks?” He nodded, simply staring at the SCP and using his own senses to evaluate it.

“I’ll see if we can’t ask for a volunteer among the FTF who can go suitably disguised into the various universities in the state and scout in a similar manner. This will not be a quick process. We’ll be lucky to find a suitable recruit within a month or more and even then they might fail the screening process I’m going to design. We’d then be in the situation of asking you to hypnotize someone into silence, since we don’t have amnestics.”

“If we have to cross that bridge, I’ll do it,” I agreed. “Now what did you learn from Coil or about his plans?”

Henry walked forward on his knees before transitioning to a seated position on the bare concrete floor, so he could look me in the eye. “Where to begin?” he asked himself thoughtfully. “His plan was both simple and complex, the motivations as old as humanity but twisted by an outside party. Naturally, the end goal of his plan was to sit as a mastermind and ruler of the parahuman criminal underworld of Brockton Bay in his Coil persona, and to become director of PRT ENE. Through this he will also control and influence the city’s institutions. Therefore in the end, to sit as the ruler of a parahuman fiefdom carved right out of the US.”

My brain tried to imagine the process of doing that, what would need to be achieved, the obstacles that would be in Coil’s way. “How was he planning on following through with this?”

“There are many steps to the plan, it is almost supernaturally elegant, which makes me think that he perhaps had help from this Accord fellow in Boston. The first is to recruit parahuman catspaws that will act on the villain side of the equation. Who act as the striking power and muscle. Then recruit, by any means necessary, Thinkers of sufficient power, to know when and where to use those strikes. He already has a number of dossiers on parahumans in the Bay he was surveilling for such recruitment.

“As his hand picked villains began strikes against the gangs, he would be working behind the scenes to undermine the current PRT ENE director. His access to their systems, both legitimate and otherwise, would let him orchestrate their response like a conductor. He would steadily begin to heap losses on the heroes; not killing them, but defeating them with his catspaws at every turn. Against the villains, he could afford to act with a freer hand. Each gang would steadily be picked off or imprisoned until all that was left would be his handpicked villains, to which territorial concessions in the underworld of the city are made.

“As all this chaos is happening, combined with the seemingly hamstrung and ineffective heroes, it shifts the politics happening in PRT leadership. He also has a plan that will ensure the precarious medical condition of the current director will steadily worsen.”

“What’s wrong with her?” I asked curiously. My research into Director Emily Piggot was limited to what was publicly available and all of that was naturally curated by PR. She had been a PRT field agent who was injured in the line of duty, but was now clearly benched into an administrative role.

“She actually has no kidneys and has to use hemodialysis every night to survive.”

I winced at the mere thought of it, “Yeah, it wouldn’t take much to make that worse. I’m rather amazed she’s still considered to be fit enough for such an important role. Most would take medical retirement with such an injury.”

“Emily Piggot is not someone to take lightly, even Coil acknowledges this. She sufficiently demonstrated to the high level PRT leadership that her condition would not impede her job function. Her stubbornness and strength of will is well known throughout the PRT. It is also her greatest weakness.”

“Unable to adapt, inflexibility?” I guessed.

“Yes, something which Coil will use to lead her exactly where he wants her. She also treats the villains of the Bay with a far different hand than what you’ll find in other cities.”

“Really? What does she do differently?”

“The PRT elsewhere, generally recognizes that there is a measure of wisdom in at least keeping an unofficial line of communication open to the big villains in their cities. Piggot is different. There’s no communication unless an A or S-class situation is declared, otherwise it’s open season, no compromises. No talking to the ‘enemy’.”

“Militaristic mindset then.”

“Quite so. Now, notice I’ve been talking in generalities and not specifics. That is because this plan is so comprehensive, detailed, with contingencies upon contingencies that it took me nearly six hours to read through once using speed reading.”

“That’s impressive,” I said, trying to imagine it and failing.

“There are so many avenues of research and investigative paths it reveals, we’re going to spend years unraveling it. You should take a copy and read it for yourself, even give it to your father. We need more eyes on it, see if there’s things I might’ve missed. In any case, the main reason I called you down here urgently, is that the plan alludes to the conspiracy I’ve been seeing the signs of. It’s what led me to further question Coil in person and he’s helped a bit, but some of these questions he refuses to answer unless they come from you. I think he's genuinely afraid of this conspiracy.”

There was only one question I had, “Who are they?”

Henry’s stone face was thoughtful for a moment,  “For the sake of caution, I’m going to avoid saying the name for now. Coil said that this conspiracy has a Thinker in its employ of incredible power. Her power, when he described it, is such that she somehow knows exactly what to do, to defeat anyone or anything without exception.”

I knew better than to ask a stupid question at this moment, but the concept that such a parahuman power could even exist was quite baffling. “And it somehow has global reach?”

He shook his head, “No, not on its own. The conspiracy has a number of very powerful parahumans and normal humans working together. One or a number of them gives them the ability to create a non-euclidian matter bridge or ‘portal’ to anywhere on the planet at will. It is the primary method of travel for this Thinker, who is only known by the name ‘The Woman in the Suit’ or ‘the bogeyman’. There is no defense and the portal could open in this room if they chose to.”

“Okay, that’s horrific to think about, but what’s the connection between Coil and the conspiracy?”

Henry raised his hands, “Sorry, the plan is not easy to explain. You could say the conspiracy is the one who is actually enabling it by allowing it to happen. It is because of them that Coil even has his power.”

I had to pick up my jaw from the floor at the implications of that, “Are you saying they can even give powers?”

“Yes, it's given in a large vial and drunk - after which, you turn from normal human into a parahuman.”

The sheer idea of it, that there was a path to powers that didn’t involve life shattering trauma. It was hard to wrap my head around. On the surface it was plain ridiculous. It was like I had just discovered yet another memetic layer that had been put in my mind that I saw for the first time. My fingers started massaging my temples on their own as I worked through the myriad of thoughts and implications that unfolded.

Okay, somehow you’ve worked out how to give out powers, putting aside the mechanics of just how you could link an extra-dimensional power into an ingestible liquid, what would you do with it?

Well, the conspiracy clearly gave one to Coil… but at what price? Did they even do any research about what kind of man he was? Did morality even come into the picture?

If I had powers in a bottle, how much would I charge for it?

If it would produce another Legend, a man who had done so much and saved so many lives, I’d give it away for free. But how would I truly know that this buyer would become a hero that good?

I forcibly stopped my train of thought.

“Did Coil say how much he had to pay for it?” I asked.

“Yes, the conspiracy seems to be quite practical and adjusts the price based on the potential earnings the receiver could generate with their new power. In Coil’s case, since he could game the stock market undetectably, it was about two hundred million that he had to pay back over six years. However, despite settling accounts, the conspiracy will in the future require a favor from him, no possibility of refusal.”

“Not exactly cheap,” I muttered.

“No, we can infer that always asking for such a relatively significant amount of money from their potential clients acts as a form of filter. It ensures commitment and no chance for second thoughts or changing their minds later. Asking for a compulsory no-questions favor later is also worrying, it means that the conspiracy definitely has and wants influence in key positions of social, business and governmental circles. It’s a trick that the Foundation has applied as well.”

“Well, at least I know what my nighttime reading for the foreseeable future is gonna be now,” I said ruefully. “Henry, honest opinion?”

“Always Taylor, with caveats to protect you from cognitohazards,” he chuckled.

“You’ve read the whole plan, talked to Coil, done the research on their effects on Earth Bet, you look at it with an outside context. Do you think this conspiracy needs to stay or should we work to pull it out root and stem?”

“I can’t answer that, there is still too much unknown about them. There are still some questions that you need to ask Coil before we can even begin to form a cohesive opinion that’s not simply based on emotion. They are clearly working towards a greater goal, until we understand what that is, we can make no judgments.”

My shoulders slumped, I really wasn’t looking forward to this. “What do you need me to ask?”

Henry smiled at me and he flexed his large left hand, then as if by magic an A5 piece of printer paper appeared between his forefinger and middle finger.

“Was that ontokinesis?” I asked with fascination.

“No, just simple prestidigitation. Yet another consequence of being unable to sleep, yet you still need to keep the mind stimulated with variety.”

“Teach me, please?”

“You have quite enough on your plate for the moment, Taylor. One step at a time, but yes, eventually.”

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We had Coil imprisoned in the on-base bedroom he liked to use, though only after having gone through it with a fine-tooth comb and Henry had further moved out the luxury furnishings. All that was left now was the bed, a few chairs and a single bookcase that contained mostly novels and educational books that Coil himself had brought in. For the moment, his closet only contained the spare examples of his normal costume and underwear.

I snagged him into my mind web the instant I opened the door and could immediately see his utter relief that I had returned.

“Mistress,” he said reverently, he dropped his book and jumped to his feet.

“Thomas,” I greeted him with a strained smile. “I hear you’ve been behaving yourself somewhat.”

“Yes, as you commanded, mistress.”

“Yet you’ve clearly disobeyed as well. Did I not tell you to answer all of Director Hawkins’ questions?”

I stepped closer and carefully scrutinized his aura, beginning a slow walk around him. There was still a question about Coil to answer. Why did the idea of jumping his bones feel so repulsive?

“Mistress, if I answer, I will be killed and unable to serve you.”

“Yes, by the ‘Woman in the Suit’, protecting their secrets that you have.”

“Precisely, mistress. She can appear anywhere at any time with no warning. She doesn’t even have to step through the portal. She’ll simply raise the gun from the other side and shoot with perfect accuracy. The portal will close and pursuit or tracing it is impossible.”

“Truly?” I asked leadingly, wondering where he would go next.

“Yes, I have studied and researched the possibility of fighting back against them. It certainly is possible to frustrate them. They’re not truly omniscient, but once the Woman has you in her sights, that’s the end. No meaningful resistance possible. Anything you do will simply be accounted for, countered and even used to defeat you.”

“Did you perhaps not consider the notion that she can’t account for me? As you could not?” I said, reaching out to trace a finger along Coil’s shoulders, studying my own instinctual reaction and fighting through it.

“Mistress, in my own studies of parahumans and powers, I have concluded that there is a hierarchy to them; their scope, strength and potential reach. As Eidolon is to Trumps, Alexandra to Brutes, Legend to Strikers, the Woman is the Thinker of the world. It’s entirely possible her power will account for you, where mine failed.”

“There is only one way to find that out truly,” I said, coming to stand in front of him, tracing my finger slowly across his pecs and winding my way lower. I knew I was playing with fire, but there was no way to progress further. We’d be second guessing ourselves into eternity, wondering when the Woman in the Suit would swoop through a portal to screw things up or put a bullet in our brains. We had to know if our ontokinetic nature as SCPs would also be outside context for this bogeywoman. “Tell me something dangerous, Thomas. That they wouldn’t want you to say.”

His breathing sped up and his eyes widened with fear. “Mistress, please… don’t.”

I pressed down harder on his mind. “Thomas, what is in the vials?”

“I- I don’t know, mistress. Truly.” His entire aura rang with certainty but it was getting washed out with his fear. It was the truth as he knew it.

“When you drank it, describe it to me. What process did they go through?”

He gritted his teeth and hissed, trying mightily to resist and eventually said, “She comes with a portal, you’re escorted into an utterly white room with only a chair, into which you’re strapped down.”

“Why?” I asked softly, my hand now moving across his waist, the finger just barely missing his rapidly enlarging manhood. The tightness of his costume generally didn’t leave much to the imagination. He smelled as a man should, nothing was repulsive there.

“They make sure to warn you the formula isn’t 100% guaranteed. There can be rejection or side-effects, which could lead to deformities and in the worst case, death.”

My finger now traced the length of his manhood through the suit and he hissed with rapturous pleasure.

“So you lucked out then,” I said, fighting my own battle to not flinch with disgust and continue.

“Yes, if no rejection occurs, the formula also has near miraculous healing properties.”

“Fascinating, so powers and healing in a bottle, it sounds too good to be true.”

“It works. I used to have a number of allergies, mistress. All gone after drinking it.”

Again, he was speaking the truth.

“Okay, so they then open the portal, dump you right back where they got you.”

“Yes, with a final reminder of payment due.”

“And just how do you pay them? I doubt that this conspiracy is a publicly listed beneficiary you can just tell your bank to pay a million dollars to.”

“I was provided with a number of bank accounts to what were clearly shell companies, listed in the US, Canada, UK, Cayman Islands, Monaco.”

I nodded in understanding, “Someone clearly doesn’t want their eggs all in one basket. In a world of Endbringers, that’s wise. Have you tried to trace where the money goes?”

“Yes, mistress. Doesn’t work. One of their parahumans is known as the Numberman. He’s the relatively trusted financier of the parahuman underworld and he uses his power to obscure any attempts at forensic accounting. I also understand he’s the near undisputed king in cyberspace as well, since at the end of the day, it’s all about math at a fundamental level.”

That was quite interesting and really brought up another tangent, “Can he even beat Dragon?”

“I’ve never considered that question, mistress. Dragon is a great Tinker, but would she be able to defeat someone who’s specialty and power lies in, figuratively speaking, ‘manipulating the very ground she stands on’. I doubt it, mistress.”

I had an idea already of the answer to this one, but I wanted to lead Coil somewhat, “So these people finance villains?”

“Not just villains, mistress. Heroes owe their careers to them as well.”

I nodded, “How many in the Bay? You’ve studied all the players here.”

“Triumph,” he answered eagerly. “He’s due…”

“Stop,” I ordered immediately. I wasn’t about to jump down and join Coil’s flagrant violation of the unwritten rules. It was also another example of him trying to skirt around my orders. My forefinger flicked directly on his manhood and he cringed in pain. “Not who, how many?”

“I know of at least two in the Bay, mistress. There may be more.”

“So they can call favors from both sides. What do you know about their motivations? Why are they doing this?”

“Nothing definitive, mistress, I’m sorry to say. Only speculation.”

My hand returned to the slow caressing strokes and Coil seemed to shudder from pleasure. “Speculate for me then.”

“Despite asking for money, they don’t need it. The Numberman’s talents assures they’ll never run out. They have all the power in the world already. There is nothing beyond their influence with a Thinker such as the Woman in the Suit. You have to look at the ripples their actions generate to begin to get an idea. The fact that they supported me in my plan to take over Brockton, by assuring nothing external would interfere or change the status quo. Giving the plan the maximum chance of success.”

“Elaborate for me, define how they would stop external interference.”

“Piggot has requested reinforcement to equalize the numbers of heroes and villains in the city, they use their influence to make sure it doesn’t happen. They also ensure that Federal and State budgets for Brockton remain unchanged, meaning traditional law enforcement stays stagnant and is unable to grow.”

I was starting to get somewhat angry. Who wouldn’t when you heard that your city had been turned into a social experiment.

“So their goal is to reshape society to whatever twisted vision they have for us.”

“On the surface, for those who know, that seems to be the case, mistress. However, I’ve always thought that even this is merely tangential to their true goal and motivation.”

“That we’ll only get directly from the horse’s mouth, I suppose. Tell me more, anything else you know about them.”

“They are also involved somehow with the Case 53 phenomenon. Given their warnings to me when I was about to take the vial, I think Case 53s are those who experienced inhuman mutation from taking it. To avoid the fallout and keep their secrets safe, the unfortunate is given amnesia and released into the world.”

“If they have so much power, they could simply kill them and get away with it,” I pointed out.

“They could, mistress, but even in their failures they find a use for the 53s. With a Thinker of the Woman’s caliber, it would be easy. The fact that the PRT also has official support programs for the 53s, means they want them out there and thriving.”

“Last question, what do they call themselves?”

“Mistress, are you sure…”

“Yes, tell me,” I said softly, now enclosing my entire hand around his erect manhood through his costume. It took nearly everything I had to maintain composure at this point.

“Cauldron,” he said through a shudder of pleasure.

I looked around the room in anticipation and waited.

Twenty seconds later, nothing.

I let go of Coil and stood back, resolving to wait another minute.

A minute passed.

“Is she going to wait until I comment on it to make her grand entrance, I wonder?” My mouth couldn’t help but smirk at this point.

Still no portal.

“Well, thank you, Thomas. You’ve been most enlightening, as you were.”

I stepped through the door and locked it behind me.

Henry was waiting outside, leaning against the wall to his full height. “So it seems they cannot see us. I’d give it a week though, just in case.”

“That’s probably being slightly over-cautious, but given what we’re dealing with here, I agree,” I let out an explosive breath, then resisted the urge to run and get my right hand disinfected.

“Pardon my crassness here, Taylor, but I thought for a moment you were going to… feed, as it were.”

I shook my head, “Coil is still something of a mystery for me. I should have had no problems draining him dry, but he just… disgusts me. I didn’t have this issue with the fucking serial killers he had on the payroll. He just-”

Henry raised a finger to interrupt. “Let me stop you there. You’re an SCP. Think about your rules and nature. When else do you feel such disgust?”

I frowned, “The closest is when I try to eat normal food.”

“So clearly, your nature is telling you, you won’t be getting any benefit from him,” he said simply as if it explained everything.

“Something’s wrong with his semen then? But the Cauldron vial…”

“I’ve looked through Coil’s files, including his own medical records. He was naturally curious after taking the vial, what benefits he had gotten. That is how he discovered his cured allergies. However, he also discovered an unwanted side-effect. Despite how unaltered he seems on the outside, his vial wasn’t perfect. It altered his reproductive systems. He still produces semen, but they’re genetically flawed and the doctor he saw indicated that he would probably never father any child successfully.”

“Oh, so he’s literally producing food that’s off.”

I let out a sigh of relief at the maddening puzzle finally being resolved.

“Seems so. Now, I think you better get going, before your father gets on my case.”

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The rest of the day passed with a nice boring monotony, well, except for dad’s reaction to Cauldron and everything revealed about them. He decided to go down to the garage for a punching workout and I could hear the birds in the area around the house acting quite strangely and aggressively; flying in formations, fighting each other unnecessarily and relieving themselves en masse on a number of driveways around the street.

“I can offload my emotions into my minions,” he explained, then started to gulp down from a water bottle whilst covered in sweat that was staining his shirt. “They then start to act on the input as best they can. I did not tell them to poop over driveways.” He was clearly rather embarrassed though.

“Any more weirdness like that and the neighbors are gonna start calling the PRT, dad,” I chuckled with laughter.

“I’ll try to limit the offloading to critters that are below ground and not generally seen,” he chucked the bottle to the side and began throwing punches again. “Are you going out tonight?”

“Yes, I have an appointment to keep, young guy I met at the golf course. Gave my word I’d find him in the Red Light.”

“We’re getting close to Endbringer time,” he reminded me.

“Have you thought about your own response when the time comes?” I asked with a worry twisting my gut. The thought that dad would go out there to meet the likes of those monsters was hard to stomach. Hypocrite, thy name is me.

“About the only thing I can do is using my minions to scout, search and rescue,” he grunted as he threw a three strike combo. “Doubt those things would even notice if a plague of critters swarmed them.”

There were times I appreciated Henry’s thoroughness, but not in this case. Even though there was no footage of how those monsters fought and their level of durability, the eyewitness accounts painted enough of a picture, though they were naturally prone to be exaggerated.

“I need to really find out if I can mist with people, then I can at least get the injured out of harm’s way.”

That was about the only relatively immediate way I could see myself contributing to an Endbringer fight.

Dad brought the punching bag to a halt and nodded to me with approval, “Good idea, not that I want to see you within a hundred miles of an Endbringer. Yes, yes, I won’t even try to stop you when you make that decision.”

Endbringers it seemed were on everyone’s mind. The three month cycle was common knowledge at this point and the streets in general were experiencing a distinct lull of activity. That was not true of the Red Light though and it was the busiest I’d ever seen it so far, with customer cars driving through slowly every few minutes or so.

“Not surprising when you think of human nature, Tay,” Del said, whipping her newly styled red hair into a proper shape. My working girl colleague had really gone all out in terms of making herself extra spicy and attractive for the night. I truly felt like a Plain Jane standing next to her. “Sure the families will want to stay at home and together, but the loners and bachelors are thinking, ‘This might be my last night, might as well go out with a bang if it happens.’”

“Yeah, well, sorry I haven’t been around lately, cape business has been hectic.”

She waved me off, “I saw you were involved in that Tinker train thing, so no biggy.”

“Have things been okay around here?”

“Smooth sailing, Tay. No gang, pimp or law trouble. Worst thing we got was a drunk customer who was so out of it, he smelt like a brewery. Normally that wouldn’t be an issue, but he was alone, so we called the cops on him. Drunk driving is not something the girls find amusing. We’ve lost people in the past thanks to that kind of thing. Drunk assholes can’t judge when to break or turn wrong…” Del clapped her hands, her face grim, “Splat.”

“I’ve lost close family that way,” I swallowed down my emotions at the thought. “Drunk driver combined with the fact my mom was distracted by her phone whilst driving.”

“That’s shit, Tay. Sorry to hear. So you know why we hate that around here.”

Not exactly a happy conversation to continue the night with. It wasn’t long though until I spotted a possible candidate for my appointment. A blue Ford pickup truck had turned the corner and was slowly cruising through the street.

Del noticed my interest. “Bit of a gamble, those ones. Make sure he has the cash before you get started.”

I nodded, “Yeah, might be a potential client I met earlier. See ya, stay safe.”

“You too, Tay.”

I misted and invisibly zipped forward, then easily turned around to keep pace with the pickup. I poked my head through the roof and there he was.

Mr S. Miller, the young ‘landscape engineer’ from the golf estate where Uber and Leet lived. The bleach blonde hair and blue eyes were unmistakable and he had dressed rather trendy, as if he was going out to a nightclub; fancy black jeans, designer white shirt and a denim jacket - the kind you were never meant to button up. His hair was neatly done up and gelled into a wavy pattern. The cologne I smelt on him just added to the whole package, neatly complementing his natural male smell.

All in all, he ticked all the boxes and pushed the right buttons so far.

I pulled him in my mind web and reappeared in the passenger seat.

“Hey Miller, slow down and park.”

“Yes, mistress,” he said softly, turning the steering wheel. The moment we were stationary I pushed him out.

He blinked for a moment, and stared at me with astonishment, “Uh, Escort? What…” he gulped nervously, his aura suddenly bursting with shyness. “What was that?”

“Just a bit of hypnotism so you don’t cause an accident when I suddenly appear right next to you.”

“Oh, that makes sense I suppose,” he rubbed his hands nervously on the steering wheel. “You could’ve just flagged me down though.”

“You’re not the only blue pickup in the city.”

“True, should’ve just given you my license number at least.”

I giggled and sat up on my legs to bring my left arm into range, resting it behind his head. His eyes naturally zoomed on my slightly jiggling breasts before he hurriedly looked back up into my face. I brought my right hand to his face and started to caress his chin and jaw.

“Are we going to talk about should’ve, could’ve and would’ve at a moment like this?”

“No,” he coughed uncomfortably.

Tension was flowing through him like crazy, any tighter and I was afraid he was going to sprain a muscle in his back.

“Just relax,” I whispered soothingly, pulling on his mind just enough but not completely into the center. “This isn’t complicated at all, Miller. What’s your first name?”

He closed his eyes and began relaxing a bit, beginning to enjoy the sensation of my caresses on his face, “Silas.”

“Well, Silas Miller, don’t worry, I’ll be your guide in losing your virginity.”

His eyes snapped open and a bit of panic emerged before I pulled him completely into the web.

“How do you know that, mistress?”

“That’s a secret, shhhhh,” I put a finger on his lip, before my right hand slowly caressed its way down his chest and I idly started to explore the mechanics of what it would take to free his manhood. He had a belt and the jeans zipper was quite strong. I could also see his erection already starting to tent and strain the hard material.

He was starting to breathe faster as his own excitement was building, but I pushed him out of the mind web. I wanted his first time to be as normal as possible. His fear returned with a vengeance.

“Why… are you doing that?” he asked breathlessly.

“You fear not measuring up or performing to some ridiculous standard. I’m trying to alleviate that. Do you really think that you’re going to be some Casanova of sex right out of the gate, Silas?”

He bit his lip and looked down, feeling stupid and ashamed. “No,” he mumbled.

“Sex is just like any human activity, in the beginning we fumble, stumble, it's awkward and it’s not some steamy story of perfection. Accept that, accept that this is a journey, and most importantly, just for now…” I pushed my mouth to his ear, “Relax.”

That finally seemed to get through and I saw him make the decision through his emotions as he finally let go, his arms and body relaxing.

I began lightly pecking and kissing his ear and neck, whilst my right hand undid his belt buckle.

When I unzipped his jeans, he almost sagged in relief as his manhood was now only straining against his underwear.

He thankfully had some foresight and planning in his choice of undies, as it was a ‘folded’ type, which allowed for a guy to simply pull aside a fabric panel and work their length through, without having to pull down the entire undy.

This meant I didn’t have to ask him to lift his butt at all or manhandle him.

With a deft flick of my wrist on the flap, his manhood emerged and its heavenly scent hit my nose and brain.

It was a struggle to not just skip straight to blowjob, but I managed, wrapping my hand gently around his length and beginning to caress it all over, carefully avoiding the extremely sensitive glans area.

Despite my precautions I could tell he was already rapidly building to an orgasm just from the situation he was in and little stimulation he was receiving.

I slowed my hand down considerably and worked with the lightest of touches I could, yet it was clear this was a battle that was not going to be won.

His eyes rolled and he hissed in desperation, talking to his own treacherous body, “Ah c’mon!”

My upper body practically teleported down and my mouth enveloped his manhood just in time before his seed came bursting out in a few thick spurts.

I took the opportunity to lubricate him while I was down there before sucking a bit and swallowing the nourishing nectar of his semen.

The act began to get my own arousal to step up a few gears as well and wetness began trickling on my inner thighs.

“Fuck, sorry… sorry,” he whispered frantically, as he twitched with the aftershocks of his orgasm

I swallowed, sat up and waggled an admonishing finger, “Relax. Don’t beat yourself up.”

He could only nod and try his best to comply.

I re-established a link to him, managing his refractory period, including massaging any areas where tension threatened to return, especially around his neck and shoulders.

Just a few minutes later, he was hard again.

I misted to reappear on him, straddling his lap.

His eyes were immediately on my breasts, his hands also wanted to instinctually grab and cup them, but he stopped himself.

My own hands grabbed him by the wrists and I guided them right back, until his palms were under my breasts.

“Don’t fight your instincts, especially if you’re sure they won’t hurt and your partner won’t object, which I most certainly will not.”

He nodded and he properly cupped my breasts to begin tentatively playing and massaging them.

The sensations were quite nice and he eventually got the hang of using just the right amount of pressure and even started playing with my nipples.

I could sense he was building up again, but slightly less rapidly this time.

“Relax, relax, reeelllaaax into it,” I almost chanted softly into his ear.

“Yes… mistress.”

I brought my hand down, lightly grabbing his manhood to guide it in as I relaxed my legs.

We both groaned and hissed with pleasure at the joining.

We rode the sensation and I just stayed absolutely still for a while. Just to let him get used to it.

Then I gently guided his hands away from my chest to move his arms around my back. I sat forward and pressed my chest to his face.

He began kissing my breasts rather awkwardly at first, but soon found a rhythm where he would journey with his lips around my nipples, before giving them a brief lick and suck, before moving to the other breast.

I then gave him a slow ride, gripping his manhood with my inner vaginal muscles and slowly pushing up and down.

It was enough to distract him completely from delivering attention on my breasts and he diverted all his attention to his brinkmanship. His world narrowed until all that was left was the feeling and his struggle to make it last as long as possible.

I lifted myself up, riding his length until he almost popped out of my folds, but pushed down just before it could happen.

My own pleasure and the journey to orgasm was also steadily moving along. The temptation to just ride him hard to fulfillment was also building in me.

I changed technique at this point, keeping him in deep whilst simply twirling and twisting my hips.

It created pleasure at a slightly slower rate for me at least, but poor Silas was sent hurtling forwards on his journey.

He hissed and gritted his teeth in the effort to resist.

Unfortunately, to no avail.

“Uh, shhhit,” he gasped as he became a starburst of energy to my sight and orgasmed in me. His instincts finally overriding his caution - he grabbed me in a hard hug and thrusted up rapidly, desperately pushing further to spill his seed deeper.

I let him continue. The feeling of the act and the energy increase in me sent a further challenge to my own control. As it was, I had already started a two way channel of energy, that would keep him hard and was starting to act as a net drain on him. The pleasure built and built, I kept rolling my hips and riding.

Silas, for his part, just enjoyed the continuing sensation, forgetting about the weirdness of having no pause and a dick that stayed hard. He even grabbed me by the butt with both hands to facilitate my efforts.

My pleasure broke through my control and my voice began to release a veritable aria of moaning gasps.

Finally, I crossed the finish line and reached the end. The world turned into an infinite landscape that just consisted of my own pleasure and joy as I orgasmed, barely even cognizant of the physical aspects of the event.

My only thought was that I wanted it to never end.

Of course, it had to end.

I opened my eyes and smiled into Silas’s adoring blue orbs.

I decided to reward him with a deep, long kiss and in this respect it seemed he had some good experience.

Our tongue duel lasted quite a bit, and he even started to play with my chest again.

His decreasing energy levels eventually got through to me - I had failed to moderate it properly so I misted off him to reappear on the passenger seat.

“Awww,” he complained, wiping his mouth a bit to clear off a bit of saliva residue.

“Sorry, but there’s a long night ahead and there are other customers,” I demurred, getting my breath back and working to calm down.

He nodded in understanding, then began working on pushing his manhood back in and closing things up, “Check the glove box.”

Inside was a roll of five hundred dollars. I took the 300 I had agreed upon and was about to give him another thank you kiss…

Well, at least the Void had waited until we were done.

The ominous feeling washed over me and the infinite multiverse yawned open. My true sight reflexively closed in self-defense and I knew at that moment, I should never try to force the issue, if I wanted to keep my own sanity.

“Uh, Escort, what’s wrong?”

Silas frowned at my frightened expression, until he was distracted by a loud thump coming from the back of his pickup.

We both whirled around to look through the cab’s rear windows.

Standing there, slightly crouched in the light of the overhead streetlamps, was a short statured woman wearing a very familiar bright orange jumpsuit. Her long black hair trailed around her head wildly, as if she didn’t take much care for it. Her dark brown eyes were barely recognizable as such in the light, looking more like the utter darkness of a shadow on the moon. Her chocolate brown skin had also seen better days, and her nose was steadily trickling blood down her lip.

I just needed one look to know that she was a full blown SCP.

Her aura was swirling with chaotic patterns and affecting the reality around her like many millions of fingers that clawed at the very fabric of the universe.

Her eyes were wild, frantic, her emotions primal, firmly in the instinctual response of flight. She looked around, her head whipping this way and that, not even seeing that Silas and I were in the cab ahead of her.

She took one step onto the edge of the truck’s bodywork, jumped and bolted away.

I grabbed ‘15, belatedly realizing I had given the thing another period of being unobserved during the lovemaking. I fished my phone out and began dialing. “Sorry, Silas, cape stuff. Thanks and stay safe, eh? Do come again if you wish.”

“Yes, mistress… I mean, yes Escort,” he nodded with his expression flipping between confusion and happiness on his features.

I misted briefly to stand outside the truck and eyed the retreating form of the woman. She wasn’t a speedster at all and in fact seemed to be rather out of breath already.

The line picked up, “Escort?” Henry asked.

“Void event, sentient SCP, woman, wearing the jumpsuit of a D-class I think.”

“Then she’s not D-class, are you or anyone else in immediate danger?”

“No, she’s booking it, but I can keep up with her easily.”

“You’re in the Red Light?”

“Yes.”

“I’m scrambling an FTF team as backup just in case. Keep her under observation, until you figure out her powers. Do not approach until your backup arrives.”

“I know the procedures Henry.”

“Just making sure. Remember, there’s no guarantee that you’re stronger than her. That sentient SCP is also a frightened person, who was most likely in Foundation containment. She will not want to go back to anything resembling it.”

“Got it, Henry, be seeing you soon then.”

I hung up, stowed the phone and misted into the sky, just as the woman turned around the distant street corner.

Well, this will hopefully not be an interesting challenge, I thought.

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SCPs featured:

No new SCPs are explicitly mentioned.

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A/N: Hmmm, what could this woman be, what can she do. If you have any ideas on a cape name for Danny, be sure to comment. Have a good weekend.