#Suspended Ceiling Roll Forming Machine

[ldmaychen]

L Angle Steel Roll Forming Machine - Produce Angle Steel for Blower Frames, Ceilings, and Partitions http://www.lidingforming.com/l-angle-cold-press-purlin-machine-liding-machine.html Our L angle steel roll forming machine is designed to produce high-quality angle steel for a variety of applications, including blower frames, suspended metal and drywall ceilings, and drywall partition systems. The machine is capable of producing angle steel that can be easily folded into a square frame by hand, providing added flexibility and convenience for your manufacturing needs.

[superdamc]

Steel channel frames are widely using in commercial and industrial construction projects.

They are incuding Traingle spring tee, Angle channel, T purlin, V kneel etc suspending ceiling parts metal.

[monsterlovinghours]

Okay. You asked for robofizz prompts and I think I have something. Character (reader or OC, totally up to you) works at Loo Loo Land as a maintenance worker for the rides and games. Their day is busy as hell because, let’s be honest, shit breaks down a lot there. But, out of the blue, management makes them robofizz’s new mechanic because he killed the last one. This is the first time they’re meeting the deranged clown and things get pretty, you know, when character tries to fix his sparking wires. 👀👀👀👀👀

oh fuck here we go y’all sluts better buckle up

Ducking behind a row of rigged carnival games, you let your work bag fall to the ground as you took a breather, wiping sweat and what looked like engine oil (but could be anything from burnt sugar to cremation ash) off your forehead. Taking a job as a ride mechanic had seemed like a good idea at the time; get into the park for free, discounts on funnel cake, access to all the shows. All you had to do was tighten a few bolts and make sure nobody got electrocuted too severely. 

But here, like the rest of Hell, imps like you were disposable grunt workers and nobody gave two and a half shits if you were overworked or exhausted. Everything was broken or breaking. You were shocked (metaphorically and literally) your first day when you saw that behind the novelty prizes and shiny veneers, the park was just a rat’s nest of rusted metal, sharp edges, and exposed wiring. Mechanics were routinely crushed or mangled or fried, and within a day another had taken their place. So far, you’d managed to avoid the various death traps and make it a solid month, which made you one of the more senior employees. 

Today was especially busy; there was some important fuck and his daughter at the park today, and orders were to keep the place running as smoothly as possible, though “smooth” was a relative term. It had seen you running like a maniac from one end of the park to the other, your uniform shirt coming untucked from your grease-stained pants as you jogged from one disaster to the next. Predictably, as soon as you had a second to take a breath, your phone went off, the splintering chitter of its message alert drilling into your ears. 

Another mechanic was down, this one working to repair one of the main acts. You groaned, big machines you were fine with, but intricate wiring and robotics? Not your strong suit. And this was the top-billed show, the most loved (or most feared) performer the park had to offer. Fizzarolli himself. You hadn’t seen the show yet, and his ominous circus tent was one of the only places you hadn’t yet been called to to fix something, but since you were currently the most senior mechanic on staff at the moment, and seeing how RoboFizz had just crushed his last mechanic, the job fell unfortuitously to you. 

Fantastic.

You sighed and slung your tool bag over your shoulder, walking briskly through the crowds to hastily erected circus tent, which had been cleared of people for the time being. You took a deep breath before ducking inside, blinking a bit as your eyes adjusted from the bright light of midday to the dim green glow that filled the tent. Some benches were knocked over, a few still had blood spatter on them, but you'd straighten that up later. At the moment, your focus was on the shadowed figure bent in unnatural angles slumped on the stage. His eyes and grinning mouth were lit with the same dull green, and they narrowed to slits when they saw you. 

"Its about ti-time you got here, toots!" He laughed, the sound skipping like a damaged record. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes as you knelt behind Fizz to access his mainframe; at least the rides didn't talk. 

"Yeah yeah, its busy work keeping this shithole operating, sue me." A few twists with a screwdriver, and the panel popped free, exposing the tangled wires and hydraulics, and you groaned inwardly. This kind of detailed work was way beyond your level of experience. 

"Ya waiting for a formal invitation ba-ba-back there, tinker? Get moving, I've got an audience waiting!"

"Hell's sake, keep your bells on. I'm not exactly a robotics expert." Clamping a small flashlight in your teeth, you started to poke around inside the hydraulics, looking for any leaks or broken connections. Not seeing anything right away, you probed deeper, focused on finding the problem in the less than adequate lighting. Had you been more experienced in dealing with robots, you would have perhaps remembered to inspect the outer body for any exposed wiring. As it happens, you did not, and your inexperience led you to brush against an exposed set of wires that threw sparks and burned a dark, circular mark on the back of your hand. The pain made you jerk back on instinct, yelping and cursing. It took you a moment to notice that the posture of the clown had changed, straightening from his slumped position with his head cocked sharply to the side. With the soft ratchet of moving machinery, Fizz turned his head 180 degrees to look at you, and you noticed more quickly now that his stare had changed as well. Before, it felt derisive, a touch irritated behind the ever present smile he'd been programmed with. But now there was more intent inside the green, more interest...almost as if he were leering at you.

"Ohhh," he rasped, "so its gonna be that kind of show?"

You were confused, until you noticed a dot of red within the green, a new light in the mainframe, with tiny lettering indicating what new function your little spasm had switched on. 

18+ Mode On

Your eyes widened as the reality of your little mistake finally began to sink in. It was a well known fact that Fizz had an “adult” mode, mainly for private shows where wads of cash exchanged hands behind closed doors. Sometimes, the crowds at night were bigger than the crowds during the day. Sure, on a lonely night or two, you’d wondered just what a sex-capable robot clown could do and if shelling out a small fortune would be worth it. Now, it seemed, you were about to get an accidental freebie.

“Fuck.”

“That’s the idea, sweetcheeks.” Fizz got to his feet with a whir and a shower of yellowish sparks, his body jerking so that the back panel slammed shut, hiding his exposed mechanics and thwarting any attempt you might have made to switch his mode. From somewhere within the tent, jaunty calliope music began to play, the pitch slow and wavering at first, like playing a record on the wrong speed. “So what’s your ple-pleasure, sweet stuff? Your ol’ pal Fizzarolli can do it all-upstairs, downstairs, butt stuff, you name it.”

“I...uh…” Your entire body felt numb, frozen, unable to do much more than stare as he advanced toward you, looming over you with that malevolent, leering grin still on his fanged mouth. “I’m not...I mean, I don’t…”

Fizz paused, his head once more cocking sharply to the side as he regarded you, then he let out a laugh, the bells on his hat jingling as his head did a complete roll on his shoulders. “Aww, looks like someone’s sh-shy! Don’t worry, tinker,” he growled in a smug, condescending tone, reaching down to pat you on the head. “I’ll take the reins on this one. You just sit back and enjo-jo-joy the show!”

With a sinister chuckle, he lunged for you, wrapping his entire body around you like an electronic boa constrictor, that laugh still buzzing in your ear as he coiled tight, then unwound himself, flinging your body towards the ceiling of the tent. There was barely any time for you to pull breath into your lungs to scream, and then suddenly, you weren’t falling anymore. Something else was wrapped around you, something cold and biting as steel. Around each wrist, each ankle, your waist, and your neck, whiplike appendages were wound, thin and covered in shifting metal plates. You were being held in midair, suspended like a puppet; if the advertisements you’d seen plastered around the park were any clue, you would guess that you were getting a taste of the “real tentacle action” Fizz boasted. Indeed, from within the loose panel on his back was where the appendages seemed to originate. 

As he stalked closer, you gulped, the sickly green glow of his eyes bathing your face and throwing your shadow in harsh relief against the canvas wall. Fizz wasted no time, and with only a deranged giggle as a warning, he shoved his hand beneath the untucked hem of your shirt to slide into your pants, cold hand cupped firmly between your legs. Barely a sound had left you, everything happening so fast you could barely process, let alone react, but a moan left you now, the silk of his glove and the ruffle around his wrist feeling so strange and yet so good as they brushed against your most sensitive parts. Fizz chuckled, or at least, he attempted to, the sound glitching into a series of strange beeps in response to your apparent openness to his touch.

"Boy, hardly touched at all and you're already moaning? You must need it ba-bad, impling." He leaned closer, eyes narrowing, and you shied away from those sharp teeth, so close to your face. Without warning, that hand between your legs began to vibrate, and you yelped, wriggling in your bonds.

"Ohhh...oh fuck…!"

"Like I said," he crooned. "That's the idea-ea-ea." The vibrations cranked up a notch, and you could no longer keep still, your breath coming faster, tail thrashing behind you out of sheer pleasure. Truthfully, it had been a long time; when you were fighting to keep a roof over your head and passing out from near exhaustion the second you returned home at night, there wasn't much time to try and get laid. It was lonely and it sucked, but that's life. Now, touched for the first time in what could have been centuries for all you knew, your toes curled inside your work boots, tears forming in your eyes as your hips bucked against his hand. It was so good, so fucking good, and with every increase in speed, your moans and cries got louder, more desperate, until-

"Ah-ah-ah, tinker, no you don't!" Suddenly that hand was gone, all stimulation withdrawn, and you whimpered. The tentacles around your extremities tightened in response. "You thought I was just gonna let you co-come so soon? Poor, dumb little imp-slut, it ain't gonna be that easy."

You swore, your teeth bared in an impotent snarl, but the clown only laughed, more carnival-striped tentacles unfurling and wrapping around you, the metal cold against your overheated skin. Now fully immobile, you were lifted higher, splayed out, shaking and wanting. The new appendages began to nudge and press around your body, seemingly exploring your form while the clown stepped between your spread legs, hands groping at your trembling thighs. His smirk was near evil, merciless, piercing as a laser as he watched his tentacles divest you of every stitch of clothing, torn and tossed aside without care. The tips of his jester hat brushed along your legs as he leaned closer to your core, mouth opening to graze the tips of his sharp teeth along your inner thighs, chuckling when you writhed, uncertain if you were trying to pull away or get closer. “Please,” you whimpered, not quite knowing what you were begging for, your body reduced to firing synapses and electric pulses of pure need.

Again, that mocking giggle issued from somewhere behind his sharp teeth. “Begging now, slut? You really want it tha-a-at bad, huh?” His open mouth neared your center, and you noticed now that there was heat coming from him, like the brush of warm breath, and saw a faint reddish glow shining from somewhere within his maw. “Want Ol’ Fizz to make you come again and a-again like the greedy little tramp you are?”

“Yes,” you choked out, so far past caring how desperate you sounded. “Yes, please, please, please!”

A soft whir was your only warning before something long, warm, and slippery was sliding between your legs; your body spasmed, jerking against the restraining appendages, your head lifting to see his striped tongue pressing against you, coated in shiny lubricant. He licked experimentally at you, seeing how much pressure you liked and where you were most sensitive, continuing his brutal teasing as the needle-sharp tips of his fingers raked down your thighs, nearly drawing blood. Then that mouth opened impossibly wide, eyes narrowed to knowing slits as that tongue probed at your entrance, nudging against it before shoving inside with no warning. Gasps and choked half-words fell from your lips at the delicious stretch of being suddenly, violently filled, his tongue twisting and pushing, the stripes not just for decoration but denoting a raised, almost ribbed texture. 

When it began to vibrate inside you, you couldn’t help but scream.

He cooed filth up at you, still able to talk despite his mouth being wrapped around you, voice distorted from the vibrations. Yellowish sparks would issue from his limbs as he fought to keep you still, burning against your skin like vicious little kisses. You weren’t coaxed to the edge so much as dragged toward it, your orgasm slamming into you with near physical force. The clench and thrashing of your body didn’t slow him; if anything, the vibrations intensified, more tentacles issuing from him to stroke and tease other erogenous zones, your entire body his to play with, helpless against his ruthless pursuit of your ruin. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as he ripped your pleasure from your body with no care to be gentle, teeth and hands leaving marks in their wake. You were his slut, his eager imp-whore, his pretty little toy; at least, you didn’t deny it when he growled these claims up at you. As long as he didn’t stop, you would be anything he wanted.

But while he couldn’t grow tired or drained, you certainly could, and through a veil of tears you begged him to stop, half afraid that he wouldn’t. Fizz paused, then slowly unwound himself from around your violently shaking form, tentacles disappearing back inside the panel they had come from. He regarded you curiously, still grinning as you collapsed in a boneless, shaking heap, unable to do much except pant for breath. Finally, you looked up at him with hazy eyes, your sweaty hair falling limply in your face.

“Didn’t you have a show to do?”

Fizz threw back his head and laughed, the bells on his hat jingling merrily, a stark contrast to the cold, malicious sound of his glee. “Not the sharpest t-t-tool in the shed, huh, tinker? Look around; you a-are the show.”

To your horror, you could see dozens of yellow eyes pinned to your naked form, imps of all shapes and sizes, eyeing you hungrily. The light of day outside the tent was gone, and the depraved crowds that only came around at night had filtered in while you were...preoccupied. Ruby skin turned a mortified burgundy as you scrambled to cover yourself with any scraps of your clothing you could find, but Fizz wrapped his arms around you and hauled you to your feet, his arm secure around your waist as he bowed to his audience-your audience. They began to applaud, some whistling, others throwing out lewd comments. Fizz pulled you into his side, the hand on your waist slipping just a little lower.

“Seems like we make a pretty good duo, dollface,” he rasped, showing off his pointed teeth in a lascivious grin that at your already weak knees nearly buckling. “Whaddya say we gi-gi-give them an encore?”

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs, “Hybrid.”

An ending to the prodigum saga, but PLEASE READ ,the ending is going to start us on the most interesting arc yet! 

SERIOUSLY READ THIS ONE.

VERY IMPORTANT

Also, I have a discord server now if you missed it.  https://discord.gg/mpBp5k

Dr Krill dropped his hands standing over where the prodigum lay sprawled on the floor twitching and writhing like the maggot it was. Ktill was very much done. He had been panicking and searching for the commander and Sunny for more than a week. More than a week of worrying and assuming that the worst might have happened. Luckily for everyone involved he had actually been close by when Sunny sent out her distress signal.

He had managed to follow them as far as the correct system with Conn’s mind reading abilities.

But now he was done, he may not have intended it, but he had been captaining a human ship for a week. He tried not to think about how he had partially taken over form the lieutenant, but that was all in the past now.

He could be done with commanding and field work. Krill hated field work, he hated action, and he most certainly hated how much the commander dragged him into this mess.

He turned around watching as the rest of the room was subdued.

“Get a GA cleanup team out her I have a feeling this cleanup is going to be bigger than we intended.” The little doctor announced.” Cannon raised his brightly colored head and went to work as krill had commanded hauling prone bodies from the floor and passing them off to the marines who escorted them over to the far wall.

The massive prodigum stirred, but Krill was having none of that and pressed his button again.

The large ugly mound twitched and writhed.

Overhead he heard cheering, and turned to see the commander’s hands sticking through the bars of his cage, “Straight savage dr. Great work! Now can you get me down? Can you get us down.” 

Krill turned his head surprised to find other humans peering out from their cages with expressions of great relief. They looked sickly,emaciated, and certainly undernourished. With that in mind, he gave the go ahead to one of the others to start lowering the cages. The captain came first while the others followed.

Dr. Katie turned to her other two patients while krill walked over to the captain’s cage. He glowered at him.

“You gonna get me out of here or what?” “Or what.” Krill snarled, crossing his arms, “Do you know I have been keeping a tally of all the times you have been captured kidnapped or otherwise used against your will.”

The commander went to open his mouth but Krill shushed him, “There was that time in a rundi prison, there was that fiasco with general cosma, there was that time in the Turma Prison, there was that time with the starborn, there was that tie with the Kong, there was that time you were almost court martialed, quarantined on the Gromm homeworld. Honestly commander, I am sick-of-your-shit!”

The man still looked bemused, “Got out of all of those, didn’t I.”

“And one of these days you might not.” Krill snarled as the door was open and the commander stepped out. He looked fine all things be told though his cheeks were slightly sunken and there were signs of some serious dehydration. Off to the side of the room, Dr. Katie was busy working on the other patients.

“Get me some water and IVs for the two over there. Get tem a little something to eat too but not too much I dont want any sort of re-feeding issue.” He turned back to look at the commander staring him in the eye while he continued to give orders, “Someone bring me my medical bag.”

Maverick made her way from the other side of the room to hand him his kit and he thanked her, waving her off to go do other things as he had the commander sit down. Looking him over he appeared fine though he had a healing head wound and some greenish yellow bruising on his face.

Other than being a little hungry he didn’t have any complaints to make.

THe conditions of the cage were not particularly sanitary, so kirill was pretty worried about that. The reddish contact rash on his legs and upper back proved that his body tended to agree with krill. He was honestly very glad he didn’t have any sort of sense of smell.

“Lift up your shirt.” 

The man seemed a bit confused but did as told. 

Krill reached into his bag and came out with a medium sized silver device with a trigger and spring attached to a long metal cylinder. He opened up the cartridge at the back and loaded his pre made cylinder. The captain watched him with some interest, “This some kind of tetanus shot or something?”

“No.” Krill said bringing the device up and pressing it against the man’s side just over the rib-cage.

“Than what-”

He depressed the trigger.

The man flinched violently yelped and staggered backwards as a sharp snap filled the room.

“Mother fuck! What the hell!” The human turned to look at Krill who was already waiting with a bandage.

“Krill what the hell.” He growled through gritted teeth leaning over and holding his side, “That hurt like a son of a bitch, what even was that?”

“It is a tracking device.” krill announced with no shame what so ever.

“You just lowjacked me!”

Commander Vir looked incredulous for someone who knew krill well enough to totally be able to guess that this was going to happen.

“Of course I did! Every other day you are getting kidnapped by someone new, and now.” He smiled to himself, “I have just fitted you with the universe’s best tracking module. It is impossible to get rid of, unless someone wants to remove your rib cage that is.” 

“You seriously just lowjacked me!”

“Why does this surprise you?”

“You just saughtered a tracking device to my rib-cage!”

“I am known to be over dramatic, and over excessive, your point is.”

The door at the far end of the room slid open, and Sunny and Ramirez came running into the room.

The commander was about to greet them when they pulled to a stop both panting, wide eyed and wild.

“Sir, sir you have to come see this. I... it’s urgent.”

Looking a little confused, both the commander and the Vrul followed, unwilling to let the human alone just yet.

Commander Vir motioned Cannon and a few others to follow with a finger, and the group of them moved out into the hall.

“We had a team doing a search of the premises.” Ramriez began 

“And we found something.” Sunny finished

“Well don’t leave me suspended in curiosity. What did you find!” 

“Just down here, sir.”

They turned the corner just then and stepped down onto a set of stairs leading down into the darkness. The stairs were wide but strangely short, probably for the use of the prodigum. Everything around was oddly dark though he could hear the sound of pulsing and throbbing generators. 

They stepped down another group of stairs to where a crew member was waiting for them. His face was pallid and drawn, his eyes wide with the realization of what he had just seen.

Krill was worried.

He didn’t like it when humans looked like that.

It generally meant that something was wrong.

The doors before them opened as the Commander stepped up, and they stepped inside.

What they found was an absolutely massive warehouse. At first--because it was the prodigum-- he assumed they were going to find racks and racks of bodies decomposing for the prodigum to feed upon, but what they found…. Well it was much much worse.

This warehouse was at least a human football field in size, and down it’s length there were ten rows of massive glass tubes one after the other. Wires dangled from equipment and piping protruded from the ceiling. Blue green fluid glowed in each tank which bubbled and churned.

Lights blinked from control panels.

A group of aliens were being held against one wall on their knees hands up inside their protective gear.

“Mo-ther-fuck!’ The Commander said quietly

Krill dropped his medical bag to the floor.

Together they ventured forward coming up to the closest glass tube where the thing squirmed and curled inside.

“What the hell is that?”

Krill had no idea, and he was a doctor. At first he might have assumed that this was one of the prodigum’s offspring with all its floppy folds and its too long arms, but the more he looked the more he saw and the more he didn’t like. It had hair where the prodigum usually had tentacles, and fingers where it had had spikes.

When it whirled and turned Krill stepped back in horror as one distinctly human eye rolled back and forth in a lumpy socket.

The commander had a hand over his mouth, “the horror in his eyes was unparalleled by anything krill had ever seen.

“What the hell!”

They  turned together on the spot staring down the row of glass tubes.

Just next to them, the pulsing embryos twitched and churned.

At the doorway someone gasped. Another turned from the room hands over their mouths.

Commander Vir turned his head in a slow circle eyes coming to rest on the far wall where a tarp had been thrown hastily over another line either of tubes or something else.

He slowly approached and krill went with him.

Sunny was at their backs.

Ramirez was looking away 

They could hear sounds now, tortured gurgling noises. The Commander’s face was screwed up in disgust as he reached out a hand and tugged on the tarp.

It fell away with a flourish.

Maverick cursed violently.

Ramirez turned all the way away hands covering his mouth

Sunny froze in her spot.

Krill was speechless 

And inside the commander’s head he was sure he had seen an error 404 before his entire body rebelled.

The thing began to squall and cry, its tortured gasping filling the air with gurgels, similar to human but warped by the prodigum breathing tubes on the side of its flabby neck. They opened and closed with a sort of wet squelching as the thing screamed. A pile of flesh, just folds and folds with the occasional hair sprouting from unknown locations.

It was monstrous

Hideous 

An absolute abomination.

And the only thing that kept it alive was the machine strapped to it.

Kril watched the Commander’s face go red, and then green and then white. He looked as if he was going to throw up as the thing screamed even louder.

When it was too much for any of them the commander reached through the bars with a shaking hand and ripped the machine’s plug from the wall.

What the commander did was a mercy. 

He would later feel guilty about what he did, but what he couldn’t have known is the pain that poor wretched monster had been in, how its mind could not think only consumed by pain it could not stop and thirst it could not quench.

It died gasping and gurgling.

But at least now it was at peace.

The commander staggered away from the wall gasping. His eyes welled with tears as he stared at his hands. But no one questioned his actions. 

“What the hell> ‘Someone whispered 

“Hybrids.” Krill muttered 

They are making 

Hybrids. 

[saintheartwing]

Breaking Dawn, Part Five: The Sapphire Serpents

Breaking Dawn, Part Five THE SAPPHIRE SERPENTS

The feminine Vortian nervously rubbed the back of her neck as Feyr handed her a cup of coffee, giving her a gentle pat on the hand as he did so. She was used to his "there-there" treatment...it was commonplace. All the prisoners had referred to him as a touchy-feely kind of being.

How odd that Irken society would produce one so tender and sweet. He enjoyed talking to them about their families, their friends. Personal stories, usually.

"So where were we last?" Feyr the Consular inquired, one invisible eyebrow arched up as he fingered the necklace as it hung over his chest, a glittering orb almost pulsing with life. "I think you were telling me about the time that your garage caught on fire."

"Oh, right, right." Halle nodded, leaning back in her chair, looking away from her interrogator and up at the ceiling. "I can remember the smell of smoke...that was what we first noticed. It made us turn our heads, glance out the window...somehow, under the burning hot Vortian sun, our garage had caught aflame. And then it EXPLODED."

She chuckled slightly. "It was quite the sight, lemme tell you. Smoky haze hung around for days, and grandma's ears were ringin'." She hesitated then, looking over in his direction as he smiled down at the orb on his necklace before glancing back to her. "But why do you always like talking about our family life? You never ask us about any secret sabotage plans, no plots to bring down your vile empire..."

"Frankly, I sympathize. The only thing the Irken Empire loves is itself, and that's quite unacceptable to us Consulars." Feyr told her, his fern-like antennae sweeping over his head as he sighed. "Absolutely unacceptable. But they'll never know our true goals. We have ruled their lives since they first looked upon us, but they'll never know. All it takes is one touch and we have control over the minds of others."

Halle giggled slightly, a bubbly, tingly feeling rising off her. Was...was the room spinning? She couldn't concentrate. It all seemed so...funny, she...she was shrinking. Getting smaller and smaller. Wow. Like...wow.

"You're probably asking why I'm telling you this...no, no." He stroked his chin. "You're asking if you're really shrinking, I think. And the answer is I put a special venom secreted from our all-powerful Entity into your coffee..."

"V-Venom? Like a snake's? Wh-what's...what's going on?" Halle giggled again, hiccupping slightly.

"I have been "setting you up" for quite some time. Sometimes it takes longer on others who have stronger wills, but in the end, you all shrink."

Feyr calmly waltzed over to her form, carefully plucking up her tiny, shrunken body, giving her a gentle pat on the head with a careful claw. "You see, little one...the minute you let me touch you all those days ago, your mind became an open book and I learned all I needed and reported it. You're not the first, and you won't be the last. You're in my coils now...and you're going on a trip."

Carefully, he held the tiny figure over his mouth, zipper-toothed maw opening wide. The inside of his mouth was a strange color, grayish-green, a sharp contrast against the pinkish teeth, though his gums were slightly greenish/pink. He tilted his head back, placing the shrunken Vortian on his tongue.

Halle had given up on resisting...it felt so natural...she trusted this gentle giant, and allowed herself to relax as he began to swallow, her feet being the first to enter. She slid into his throat, a a slight pull on her body as she straightened herself out, looking behind her at the world outside his mouth as her waist and chest entered his throat. The throat finally slurped her up, sliding down and depositing her squarely in his stomach.

She could feel a gentle hand rubbing the outside, and hear his psychic voice within her head, still quite tender and sweet. "Don't worry, there's no acids in there, and the saliva your body is coated with now will put you into a state of suspended animation until you're ready to come out." Feyr intoned as Halle looked down at her feet, seeing shimmering pink crystals rise, covering her, aiming to engulf her body.

"It'll all be over soon, little Vortian. Just wait...soon you'll be in your new home..." Feyr purred in pleasure, the little one crystallizing in his belly's pit as he licked his claws free of her taste. Quite good, yes. Not quite as good as Irken flesh, admittedly, but it had a distinct flavor to it...and to think, he had three more prisoners to interrogate today...

The Consulars took a sense of pride in giving new meaning to the term "I want you inside me"...

The city...of Philadelphia! Located fifteen miles from anything non life-threatening.

Ahhh, the quiet state of Pennsylvania...and a demon is on the loose.

The people...are terrified!

The police...BAFFLED!

This FIENDISH being strikes without warning! Without mercy!

With diabolical cleverness...

He draws mustaches on people's faces.

It could be you...it could be ME...

"But it happens to be ME!" GIR the robot said cheerily as he waved his marker in the air, calmly stepping away from a movie theater, every single poster now desecrated by black mustaches drawn on every living being within. Monster movie? Godzilla looks great with a handlebar. Cameron Diaz has a fine and thick brushy mustache.

GIR WOULD have drawn one on Michael Jordan's underwear AD located by the snack machine, but he thought the Hitler moustache he was rocking was embarrassing enough.

You see, ladies and gentlemen, GIR...could see as GODS DO. He knew things, understood things, that nobody else did. Didn'tcha, GIR?

"You're darn tootin' right!" GIR cheerfully exclaimed, nodding in agreement as he strode from the theater, putting one robotic hand over his chest, over the big red watch that constituted for his heart. "We all have our missions in life. We get into different ruts. Some are the cogs on the wheels..."

He then burst out giggling, bouncing back and forth. "And others are just plain NUTS!" He put a finger over his lip and bounced it over and over, going "Hoo-hoo, hoo-hoo" as he bounded back home.

He was momentarily distracted though, by seeing Dib peeking out at him from HIS house, via the window. Dib was looking through binoculars straight at GIR, one eyebrow raised.

"Nope. No ring on him yet." Dib murmured, seeing GIR wave and grin at him as he made his way down the sidewalk. He scratched his head, turning it to see a large billboard showing Poop Dawg, the head spokesdog-person-thing for Poop Cola, drinking a can of his signature drink and now sporting a "Robin Hood" style mustache. "GIR has WAAAAY too much free time." He mumbled, turning back to shake his head at Gaz as she played away on her GameSlaveX, the latest in the video game system series.

He poked his head back out the window to try and focus in on ZIM'S house this time, but before he could get out his binoculars, GIR promptly swung down on a pulley system he'd somehow erected atop of Dib's house, marker in hand, drawing a very large Bowler moustache on the kid's face.

"Oh she was an acrobat's daughter...she swung by her teeth from a noose! Then one matinee, her bridgework gave way and she flew through the air like a goose!" GIR sang out, promptly grabbing bounding through the window, jumping off Dib's head to land in his room and reach into his chest compartment, pulling out fifty bucks to Gaz and giving them to her.

"Thaaaanks." She said with a smile as she leapt back out through the window, heading for his home as Dib wiped his face off.

"Did GIR PAY you for the permission to draw on my face?" Dib reasoned.

"Whiner." Gaz muttered, rolling her eyes and heading downstairs, off to go make a "special stop". Dib raised his hand up.

"Gaz?"

"Just...don't." She insisted. She didn't want him to come. Didn't want him to talk about it. Didn't want him to even THINK about it. She calmly headed down the stairs, the ring around her finger pulsing slightly as she walked out the door.

Dib sighed and headed to his computer, which had booted up to the Intergalactic Net. He was pirating galactic web from Zim's house thanks to an upgrade his dad had so generously installed and was trying to check on the latest auctions for interstellar items. Mainly, technology he could use to help make Zim's life as difficult as possible.

Plus, he was waiting for a pair of special see-through goggles. X-Ray, Infrared, Radar...

Wait. What was this? Somebody was auctioning off an "Onslaught-Class" starship...and not just ANY Onslaught-Class starship...

Somebody was selling The Massive itself!

...

...

...

... "...they're gonna make this my fault." Senior told his charges as he slapped his gloved hand to his face, looking at the place where the Massive HAD been parked as Feyr examined the people chained to the nearby railing of the parking garage, Red and Purple shaking with anger, turning very, VERY pale with rage, antannae and lips a-quiver. "I just KNOW it."

"What kinda sick being steals a ship but doesn't even bother to let it's prisoners go free?" Jayd wished to know, his black eyes shimmering with concern as he glanced over at the prisoners Feyr was standing by.

"That's actually kind of amusing." Peech spoke up, chuckling slightly as her enormously thick orange jetpack jingled with her laughter. "My kind of thief!"

Sude, still QUITE untouchable or audible to any of the others save for Senior, carefully tiptoed behind Red and Purple as they turned around to glare at Senior, the draconic entity of Life raising his hands up and imitating a puppeteer, with the Tallests as his puppets.

"Funny or not...our SHIP is GONE! OUR ship! All because of your day off!" Red growled at them, pointing an accusing claw as Sude raised his "arm" rope, making a mocking frowny face. "You're going to pay DEARLY for this!"

"We'd make you do "The Electric Chair" but there's no stinkin' chairs around!" Purple added. "And who had access to the ship anyway? Huh?" He asked, putting his hands on his hips, Sude imitating him as Senior began to giggle. "Huh? Huh? Huh?"

"N-n-no-nobody-hee-hee-hee..." Senior giggled, bursting into laughter as he held his sides, the others looking at him like he was insane.

"What're YOU thinking about?" Red snapped.

"Oh just...puppets." Senior wheezed out, wiping a tear from his eye as Red's eyes glittered.

"Good idea. PUT ON A PUPPET SHOW FOR US." He demanded, slamming his fist into his palm as Senior gulped.

"Uh...puppet...show? Er...okay..." He gulped. "But I've not got any puppets."

"A PAK with no PUPPETS in it! SHAME!" Purple insisted, shaking his fist at Senior. "You get a PUMMELING!"

An instant later, tiny hammers popped up on springs from the communication officer's PAK, bonking him over the head as Senior fell to the ground, "ow-ing" and "ooh-ing" over and over.

"Wow, voice-activated pummeling system in every PAK, regulated only to the Tallest's voices? Nice." Sude admitted as Peech reached into a compartment in her jetpack, pulling out some studly-looking puppets as Jayd got out some of his own from his considerably large belt, joining Senior in the puppet show.

"Say, Zimma-diah, ya think there's any big ol' space worms in this cave?" Senior said in a country-hick-style voice, holding up two puppets of, ironically, Zim. One in a bad shirt, the other in a dress for some strange, strange reason. What sort of lunatic would take the time to make TWO kinds of Zim puppets, let alone one with a dress?

"I dunno, Zim-thro!" Senior squeaked out in a falsetto. "Let's take a look-OHMYGODASPACEWORM!" He cried out, Jayd going "nom-nom-nom" as he "ate" the puppets a few moments later, Red and Purple whooping it up. Anything involving anyone looking remotely like Zim getting hurt was funny to them.

Plus...puppets.

"I guess we'll have to move to the palace." Red supposed as Jayd and his boss then did a puppet rendition of "Tallest Grapa's Electrocution Incident". "It HAS been a while since we were able to just sit back and relax there."

"But we'd have to sleep in separate rooms!" Purple whined. "You KNOW I don't do well alone." He clung to Red then, purple eyes brimming with tears as he whined like a puppy.

"I've gotten you your favorite night liiiight..." Red said in a sing-song voice, patting Purple's head as he pulled out a big smiley face'd version of himself, which lit up and glowed with gentle light when you plugged it into the wall.

"Aww, you always know what I like." Purple cheerily remarked as Jayd struggled not to say it, but couldn't keep it in.

Don't do it, Jayd. Don't-

"The Ambiguously Gay Duoooo!" Jayd laughed out loud.

KRAKA-THROOOOOM! Lightning promptly zapped him from out of the clear sky above and he coughed slightly, wiping the soot off his body as Feyr unchained the last of the prisoners.

"Does that...happen often?" May Nar inquired as she looked over at Senior.

"...I wish I could say "no"." The communications officer admitted to her, frowning slightly. He was CERTAIN he'd seen her somewhere before, and not just on the news. It was like...he knew her. REALLY knew her. But how?

Jayd noticed a considerable scrape on the Vortian's leg, frowning slightly as he approached, gently kneeling by it. "Here, let me heal this." He insisted politely, placing one hand over it as the Vortian looked on in surprise. It was so strange...the tubes connected from his PAK to his gloves were now filling with a strange, multicolored cloud of tiny particles that passed from his glove over the wound, like a shimmering, gentle mist.

"Nanogenes." Jayd explained to the mystified Vortian. "Be it near-death or just a scratch, as long as I've gotten a template for a living organism integrated into my PAK's matrices, I can cure any being. Plus, everybody likes the tingle."

"It's true. They do." Purple said, rubbing the back of his neck and turning visibly red as he thought up a way for him to injure himself later in the day. Hey, he could stop ANYTIME he wanted!

"Might I be allowed to make an inspirational speech, sirs?" Senior requested politely as Red and Purple looked him over.

"...why not? This could be good for a laugh." Red mused, rubbing his chin as he raised an invisible eyebrow. Senior was ALWAYS making inspirational speeches to the workers on the massive: they were often grade-A cheesecake. So much so that they'd come up with a drinking game: take one shot every time he uses a tired, worn-out cliché. Purple whistled for several assistants to bring them alcohol and they sat down on the backs of several unfortunates who were being forced to be used as stools for the Tallest.

Senior cleared his throat, Dite rolling her eyes as he began. "I know all of you expect me to say I'll always be a brave and courageous and noble leader. That I'll be the perfect inspirational figure for you and the right sort of person to emulate. That I can protect you from anything that'll befall you here. That I can save everyone."

"DRINK!" Purple giggled, downing one beer.

Senior ignored them and his antennae lowered, drooping slightly as he held one hand over his chest, sighing slightly as the others looked on in surprise. "Well, that isn't going to happen, because your Senior is a weak, WEAK being. But...but I'm good enough to promise this."

He gestured at all of them, his kindly eyes looking out across the empty garage. "I will be there. I'll be afraid. Confused, even. But I WILL be here with all of you, experiencing everything you go through. If NOTHING else...I will try to be by your side, even if I can't protect you from everything that'll attempted to be stuck into yours."

None of them spoke, all of them quietly looking at him before Jayd quietly clapped his hands together, nodding at Senior. "I liked it, sir." He said.

"It was honest...if nothing else." Xeil admitted, pulling down her communication's garb face mask to smile slightly at her boss.

"Thanks for keeping the clichés low, sir." Dite grumbled.

"Your kind words are always helpful." Feyr agreed, a look of sympathy flashing across his face.

Peech nervously tugged around an imaginary necklace as she flashed a slight, fake grin. "Yeah, yeah, uh...real nice...real nice..." She trailed off, a guilty expression flickering across her face, orange eyes slowly gazing down to stop at the ground.

"Yeah, yeah, let's save sittin' around singing campfires and all that crap for some time when OUR SHIP ISN'T STOLEN. Come on!" Tallest Red yelled out, clapping his hands together. "We're headed to the palace!"

"Uh, yay?" The many workers on the Massive mumbled, Purple sighing as well. Evidently he LIKED sitting on communication assistant's backs.

"...there's an "Orange Julius" on the waaaaay!" Red mumbled, folding his arms and rolling his eyes.

"YAAAAAY!"

Sude's frown, however, made Senior lose his happy grin. "What is it?" He whispered as they headed down the street towards the palace of the Tallest.

"The Entity of Love, Jourmungdr, is...dangerous." The draconic being whispered back as they kept walking. "And I've been sensing his presence growing stronger and stronger every minute I've been on this planet. I think he's been here longest out of all the others!"

"But he's the Entity of LOVE. What's scary about that?" Senior inquired, looking skeptical as he tilted his perfectly-round head to the side, Feyr happily introducing May to the other prisoners from the Massive, chatting it up with them all.

"He/She's not simply motivated by love, but by the absence of love."

"But he's not Chulainn, right? He wouldn't KILL us or anything because we're not shiny-happy-people, right?" Senior inquired, becoming slightly pale.

"Oh, no...NO!" Sude laughed nervously, pausing for a few moments. "...yes."

"...okay, uh...er..." Senior gulped. "I'll think of something!"

...

...

...

...GIR was slightly confused that his master wasn't at home, but he didn't mind it TOO much. Plopping down in front of the television with a bag of chocolate-covered popcorn, he decided to waste the rest of the afternoon with his favorite television program, the "Scary Monkey Show".

There's really not much else to say about the show. Seriously.

"I LOVE this show." GIR decided for the eighteenth millionth time as he munched away at his popcorn bag, momentarily turning his head to in the kitchen: Torque Smacky was tied to the table and there was a bucket filled with some kind of hypnotic soup that Zim had been testing. He wanted to introduce it to the school's cafeteria, to get everyone to do his will, but unfortunately there was going to be nothing but hot dogs and corn chips for the next week. And then the week after it would be hot dogs and potato chips.

Zim would simply have to wait three weeks until he could disguise his new, evidently VERY successful stew as creamed corn, because apparently Torque thought he was Clodah Rogers, and kept singing.

"I'm...just...a...jack-in-the-box! I go wherever love knocks! I'm gonna jump up and down on my spring!" He kept singing out as GIR frowned slightly, eyes turning red.

"I'M A-TRYIN' TO WATCH MY SHOW!" He yelled. "Stupidhead!" He snapped, grabbing ahold of the nearby lamp and tossing it through the air. It sailed across the room and into the kitchen, whacking Torque on the head and making him realize exactly where he was.

"Wh-what the...GET ME OUTTA HERE!" He yelled out. "What have you done to me? What have you done?"

GIR frowned darkly and walked into the kitchen, getting out a hammer from the nearby drawer near the sink and hopping onto the table, holding it high.

"AAAAAA!"

THWUCKA-THRONK!

"Thanks, I needed that..." Torque grumbled out, slipping into unconsciousness as GIR, satisfied, ripped Torque off the table and tossed him out the window to land in the rose bushes, heading back for his TV show to see-

A robotic being standing there, holding a ring with a yellow glow to it.

"INTRUDER!" GIR growled out, eyes transforming back to red, his forehead popping open as several large cannons suspended on mechanical wires shot up from within, aiming squarely at the feminine being.

"Don't you want this ring? This...SHINY ring?"

"...yes, it SURE is shiny..." GIR mumbled, his eyes becoming a cheery blue once again as the guns retracted and he inched closer...closer...

"Does GIR WANT the shiny ring?"

"GIR wants shiny very much." GIR whispered as Miyu smiled, sweet like darkest poison, handing him the ring as he slipped it onto one of his tiny fingers.

"GIR...you have the ability to inspire great fear. Welcome to my corps." Miyu laughed coldly, golden-yellow light shooting up around GIR's body as he was transfigured before her eyes, golden plates sliding onto his arms, yellow "boots" appearing on his feet and his chest and arms changing from blue to shades of yellow as well as his eyes, which now were alit with keen artificial intelligence.

"Amazing...AMAZING." He whispered, looking over his body. "The power...UNLIMITED POWEEEERRRR!" He roared out, rising into the air on flashy yellow lightning, cackling madly. "I'm gonna blow stuff up now!" He added cheerily, popping out through the window and waving goodbye as Miyu chuckled darkly. Sure, he might be seen.

But if he was seen...he'd just kill. Problem solved. What she didn't know, though, was that another thought was popping inside of GIR's head...a desire to go visit Gazzy and show off, since she was such a favorite of the robots. He wanted to hold onto her, GIR decided. After he'd killed her brother and father, he'd make sure to keep her alive, and when she died, he'd put her beautiful eyes in a mason jar...

But meanwhile, not far away, a quiet, careful figure concentrated, whispering quietly as he too thought of that same purple-haired girl formed in his head. This sort of spell took careful concentration...

"Come on...I call you forth...I call you forth...I call you forth...I call you forth..." He murmured and murmured, carving into his body the necessary runes, dark blood dribbling down his arms and chest as he held his hands up high. "I call you forth...I CALL YOU FORTH..."

...

...

...

... "I couldn't think of anything!" Senior moaned, tugging down on his antennae as they made their way towards the palace. Indeed, it was a beautiful structure, shimmering silver in the middle of a beautiful sea of purplish ground. There were dozens of columns lining the front entrance with images of famous Irkens inscribed on the columns, the pillars of the past being the pillars that held the palace's high roof up.

Most noticeable of all, though, were the flags that flung from the top, high banners of varying colors by several spires. One was green, another white, the other blue...symbols of the grand philosophy of the Irken race: Sacrifice for the Empire, Faith in it's Leaders and the Ambitious Will to Survive and Succeed.

"I can FEEL him. He's IN here." Sude murmured into Senior's lack of ear, eyes widening. "Hiding...waiting...waiting to KILL!"

"Kill?" Senior gulped inside his head.

"Just bein' overly dramatic. Sounds better than "do nasty things"." Sude commented calmly as they strode inside the set of double doors, the Tallest snapping their "fingers" as a red carpet was rolled out for them, a white-labcoat-wearing scientist with blue eyes bowing as he knelt before the Tallest as they ascended to the stairs.

"It is ALWAYS a pleasure to have you come back, my all-powerful Tallest." Trivvik, aka Trik, Head Scientist of the Research and Development Department for the Irken Military insisted ashe gestured at the many other ornately-decorated scientists, cooks, servants and guards in the palace. "We're ready for whatever order you have to give."

"We wanna eat food. We just stopped at an Orange Julius but we want something very cheesy. I'm talkin' three heart attacks in one serving." Purple insisted.

"You heard the man!" Red snapped, clapping his hands. "THREE heart attacks!"

"One, two...five?" Trik inquired.

"THREE."

'Three." Trik whistled sharply and the chefs quickly zipped to the kitchens as Trik clasped his clawed hands together. "Anything else, sir?"

"We need our feet rubbed." Red added, he and Purple walking off as the many former inhabitants of the Massive looked at each other, Senior sighing.

"I suggest we all find rooms and get some rest." He told them all, stretching his arms wide as he watched Feyr sneak off with the prisoners in tow, eyes narrowing. "...follow him, right?"

"Hell to the yeah, I believe is the term." Sude murmured, Senior slinking after Feyr and the prisoners, down a hallway to see-

Gone. He'd just...vanished.

"Where the...?" Senior glanced left and right in the labyrinthine hallway. "Where is he?"

"Count the doors." Sude ordered immediately.

"...six, there's six-"

"SEVEN. Look in the corner...of...your...eye." Sude murmured as green eyes slowly turned...more...more...

There. A perception filter had kept it hidden, but there it was...a slight pinkish glow emanating from underneath, light curling it's claws beneath the door. Senior grit his teeth as he opened it up, and his eyes and mouth widened in shock.

"WHAT...THE...HELL?" He screamed out.

The room was an enormous structure with hundreds upon hundreds of crystallized coffins of some kind, containing various alien beings. Some were Irken, others Vortian, some Meekrob, or Screw-Head and some even humanoid in appearance. Real Earthlings? Here? On Irk?

And standing in the middle of the room, suspended in the air by a pinkish energy construct formed around it like a giant artist's drawing rigging, was an enormous cobra-esque being. It was looking around the top ring of crystallized prisoners, removing something glittering from it's mouth time and time again and popping them across the wall, the glittering gems expanding into crystal prisons as they embedded deep in the walls. It turned it's head, noticing their presence and nodded over in the direction of-

Feyr. He was there, with the prisoners...all of whom were crystallized. He removed one such tiny gem from his own mouth, putting it to the wall as it expanded to reveal a Vortian female. May was the only one not yet crystallized, she was clinging behind an enormous sapphire pillar, one of many that held the room up, her own pink eyes widening as Feyr turned, smiling at Senior.

"It appears the secret's out." Feyr mused, shrugging as his appearance began to shift and shimmer, changing into a vaguely dress-like outfit, complete with a tiara and gloves, all shades of pink and white. And, for some reason, a slate of chest armor that allowed his...BELLY BUTTON to be shown?

What in...HOW? Unless...he was a NATURAL Irken? What ELSE had he been hiding? As Senior looked upon Feyr, Sude shimmering into full visibility by him, the communications officer shivered. Why had he never seen the dark intensity lurking behind Feyr's eyes? This snake in the grass had been hiding for so long in his garden...why had he not known?

"Because you didn't want to." His inner voice whispered.

"Jourmungdr...it's been a long time." Sude spoke loudly as May inched over to Senior, instinctively preferring the Irken that WASN'T trying to turn her into a piece of wall art.

"Time has been kind to you, as it has to me. Too bad you didn't emerge sooner. I've been here on Irk for centuries with my children the Consulars." Jourmungdr said, in a voice half feminine, half masculine. It bowed it's hooded head, stars sparkling within the hood as the insignia of Love shone brightly atop the cloth hanging over his...her...forehead. "I am Jourmungdr, little host. Don't be astonished by my appearance or my ways. Once all of these beings have seen the light, they shall be found."

"What "light" is that?" Senior demanded to know, clenching his fist tightly and shaking it at the snake. "You're keeping them prisoner and...and what have you done to Feyr?"

"All of them are having he embers of Love reignited within them. Just like Will and Rage and Fear and the others, everyone, and I do mean EVERYONE...is capable of feeling love to a degree." Jourmungdr intoned, pulling one crystal off the wall as it grew in size, gently stroking an Irken cheek. "In the case of the Irkens, who threw away their ability to spread love with others, I am bringing back their body's ability to freely love."

"You're MUTATING Irkens..." Senior murmured, eyes widening as he stepped back in horror. "Forcing them to gain sexual organs for your needs?"

"Your definition of "mutation" is incorrect. Think of it as bringing back what once was. REPAIRING, if you will." Feyr explained. "At one point, we Irkens were hermaphroditic, we bred freely with any beings we wanted. Survival was all that mattered, and we didn't care who bore our children. We must return to the flesh, my Senior." Feyr told him, suddenly striding to his boss's face and caressing his cheek, sweetly smiling, every syllable dripping with tender poison. "Return to our old ways. Jourmungdr wants all beings to embrace love. You have it in you. I can see it."

For a brief moment, Senior felt a terrible, harsh pain in his chest. It was as if his heart literally had been punched. He found himself momentarily glancing over in the direction of Lard Nar's sister as she glanced at him, as if seeing something else in him. "I...I..."

"Within you is a great amount of love and compassion for your kind...and for other species. You come from a time when we were allies with others...your tolerance towards them allowed the seeds of love to spread. You would make a fine mate for HER, I'd imagine." Feyr mused, glancing back at May.

"I want you to leave her alone and let these people GO." Sude insisted. "You cannot FORCE love on others."

"Sude..." Jourmungdr sighed and shook his/her head. "If a being is in a crisis and refuses to acknowledge it...you know only outside intervention shall save them. I will be that intervention. Please...don't stand in my way."

"I don't have a choice." Sude growled, putting one clawed hand on Senior's chest. "Senior...time for you to say my Oath! It is time for you to accept my blessing fully, and rise in light with the power of the White Rose!"

...

...

...

...GIR had been in the middle of a snacking spree at the nearby Pet Store when he'd noticed Gaz sneaking through a nearby alley. Putting his face up to the window, he watched her scuttle across the street, heading into the nearby cemetery.

Wait. The cemetery? GIR frowned slightly, yellow eyes narrowing. "What is she...?"

He moved smoothly out of the pet store, following after her, intent on figuring out what she was up to, wiping his mouth free of blood and fur, eyes widening at the sight of her pulling her coat away. She was now fully in her armor, all red and black and concentrating.

"Come on...come ON!" She snarled as she stood before a gravestone, pointing her red ring at the grave as it shimmered brightly. "Bring her BACK!" She yelled. "BRING HER BACK!"

With that...it WORKED. A burning red fire shot forth as blood dribbled down from her mouth, and her eyes widened as the fire seeped into the ground...and her mother's skeletal form rose, holding a hand to her cheek. "Wh-what's...what's going on?" She murmured out. "GUAAAAHH!" She hit the ground, panting and heaving, dry-vomiting as she struggled to stand.

No skin...no muscles...no eyes, a faint red glow around her body, but...some hair left...and her voice. Her mother's voice.

"Amazing. A rotting sack of bones and tumors and all she can feel is love..." GIR whispered, hiding behind a tree some distance away, eyes widening in surprise as Gaz's ring began to form the flesh and hair for Gaz, her mother nervously looking around, one hand holding her head.

"Mom? Mom?" Gaz whispered, clinging to her mother and looking deep into her eyes. "Do you know where you are? Do you know who I am?"

"G-Gaz...Gazlene? Is...that you?" Peggy Membrane inquired, eyes widening at her daughter.

"Yes...YES." Gaz felt the tears come, but did nothing to halt them. Screw the laws of life and death. Fuck anybody who would dare to laugh at her weeping like a little girl. Gaz felt just fine. BETTER than fine. And more importantly...so was her mother.

"I...feel so...strange." Peggy murmured as GIR approached nervously, Gaz glancing over at him, pnot really caring about his new outfit. "I...I can't remember much." She mumbled.

"It's okay, take your time. This is a friend of mine. He came here to see you, RIGHT?" Gaz asked, glaring slightly over at GIR, who eagerly nodded.

"Your daughter's a FINE young lady." GIR said quickly, nodding enthusiastically as Peggy felt her daughter's cheek. "You were sick but she made you aaaaalll better."

"I...I don't think..." Peggy mumbled as she clutched her head. "This...I'm sorry, this..." Her eyes grew wide. "This isn't RIGHT." She gasped out. "What did you DO, Gazzy? I'M NOT RIGHT. What did you DO?" She demanded.

"I brought you back." Gaz said, confusion flickering in her eyes. "Mom, I SAVED you."

"You saved a SHELL of me, baby." Peggy whispered, taking Gaz's cheek, a mournful expression coming over her face. "This isn't the way things were meant to be. I'm so sorry...the truest part of me is already gone. And..." She shook her head slowly back and forth, her voice dropping in tone. "...and you know that...don't you?"

Gaz stared for a long time at her mother before she finally covered her face with her hands, closing her eyes. "I..." She whispered. "...I..."

With that...she was gone. GIR helped Gaz lower her mother's body back into the coffin as the Earth returned to normal and Gaz placed a single, tear-stained hand over the cold ground, GIR sitting nearby on his knees, a deep, mournful expression on his usually-jovial face.

"...your rage is subsiding over the form of the one who caused it."

"...I kept blaming Dad...I kept blaming Dib...and I kept blaming Mom. But...it was MY fault." Gaz whispered out. "...because I wasn't strong enough to just...let go. I..."

She gritted her teeth, the tears trickling down her cheeks as she sobbed. "I can't do this anymore. I...I just...I just wanna start over."

"Gazzy..." A familiar voice whispered. GIR and Gaz's head whipped in the direction of a fully-clothed, and VERY much alive form. There, purple hair flowing gently in the breeze was Peggy Membrane standing proud, hands clasped, a look of love on her maternal face. "Oh, Gazzy...you CAN start over."

[beyondtheciouds]

.30. Part 1 of 3

Grace groaned, being over dramatic as she followed Christopher down the rotten and creaky stairs to the basement lab. She had volunteered to assist and now she regretted it. Her hair, white ash; untamed like the snowy feathers of a swan fluttered around her shoulders as she took one rotted step at a time.

Her hands; trembling pulled the heavy robe she'd snatched from a closet around her tighter to shield the cold from her body. The robe she'd realized too late was wool and a hideous shade of purple that was approximately several sizes too big. The hem dragged behind her like a veil. For once, Grace was at ease. She gave a doleful look as she opened her mouth. They'd only gone down about a dozen and already she was tired. "How many stairs are there? A thousand?"

Christopher wasn't as oblivious as he seemed. He had been paying attention; listening to her light breathing like a piece of information his brain needed to explain to his heart. He tried not to move as fast as he usually did and walked in front of Grace with a slight skip to his step. In his hand, he held a witchlight in one palm. A smile; hidden in the corners of his mouth formed. His other hand was sweating in the pocket of his trousers clutching the inner fabric nervously. He didn't glance back at Grace when he answered her. He was far too preoccupied counting her breaths. He instinctively took the narrow steps two at a time, multiplying. "Not quite, but a good guess nonetheless. One hundred and twelve to be exact."

Grace groaned again, her gray eyes on the back of his shirt and the crissed crossed brown suspenders he wore. "Seriously?"

For no particular reason, Christopher Lightwood had become a mystery to Grace in the months she'd been working with Lucie. Every now and then he would show up while Grace and Lucie were having tea, discussing the next necessary steps. He'd only speak to Lucie, never acknowledging Grace while he delicately devoured lemon tarts.

Grace Blackthorn was not used to his ignorance and the fact he was oblivious to her had Grace feeling shaken. She was not alright with being ignored.

"Yes," Christopher said, nearly tripping. He caught himself immediately and was shocked he hadn't fallen on his face.

The two moved in a new, comfortable silence until the last step when Christopher announced they'd arrived.

Much sooner than Grace expected they were at the old wooden doors. Christopher opened up the double set of doors and the creak of the hinges echoed in the underground laboratory. The basement opened up to a much larger, cleaner room.

Grace was immensely impressed. "Oh my!"

Tables and chairs scattered about; benches filled with green glass beakers and blue tubes. Images. Images not paintings carefully strung up on copper wires. Boxes and boxes full of color papers and blueprints. Foreign tools and peculiar instruments littered dusty shelves. Scientific equipment arrangements were all over the room like blooming flowers. Strange and unusual inventions and inventory were stacked in every visible corner.

Grace smiled as Christopher turned to face her. Her eyes were wide as she took in all the intense colors of the tubes and beakers.

"You did all this?" Grace asked, astonished by the multitude of items.

Christopher blushed, suddenly shy. "No, well. This is Henry's lab but don't worry. We---- I mean, I am allowed to be in here."

Grace raised her eyebrow, turning to lookat Christopher. She gasped as he pulled off his dusty glasses and wiped them on his shirt. His eyes confirmed her suspicions that he was relieved that she'd wanted to come to his favorite place in the Fairchild Manor. The irises were iridescent; a peculiar lavender shade bright enough to remind her that he was James's blood.

Neither noticed the silver eyes flaring in the shadows as they moved into the room.

Grace leaned over a mental monstrosity on the table, her eyebrows now up into her hairline.

Her features held an increasing amount of worry in the lines that appeared on her forehead. She did not admit that she might be skeptical as she eyed the entire entanglement of large nuts and small bolts; long screws and short nails holding together mismatched pieces of wood and metal. Somewhere in the middle was a control panel with brightly colored knobs, buttons and gears.

Grace continued to eye the machine suspiciously as if it would soon come alive as she moved to the other side of the table where the chairs were. "What is this terrible looking thing and why do you have it here?" She finally asked after several minutes.

For the first time in his life, Christopher felt the lightbulb go on over his head and a tingling feeling in his chest. Someone other than Henry and Thomas were interested in his passion. He now understood what James was referring to when he looked at Grace. She wasn't just beautiful he decided, she was ethereal. "Are you sure you want to know?" His voice teased lightly and surprised both of them.

Grace hesitated, feeling nervous and reached out her hand timidly to touch the gears. "Of course."

Christopher clutched the bright tube in his hand as he sat down in Henry's rocker beside where she stood. The purple liquid in the glass test tube fizzled and bubbled as he moved. "Oh! Don't touch! Sorry! That's... That's Henry's Top Secret investment."

"Top Secret investment?" Grace asked, interested and snickered. She'd wanted to press, but his eyes told her that she'd never be able to loosen his lips the way she could with James. If something was a secret in Christopher's confidence, it stayed a secret. "What does this...calamity of metal and wood precisely do?" Grace asked, her curiosity like a cat winning her over.

"Never you mind," Christopher said playfully, careful not to spill the acidic concoction on his pants. They were already stained from rain and mud. Suddenly he was once again shy and uncertain; perhaps embarrassed by his ruined clothing.

Grace suspected that Christopher was tongue tied and against the voice in her head, she let him be. She gracefully rolled her shoulder and gestured a manicured finger to the tube Christopher held instead of pushing further. The light of the candles painted their silhouettes on the ceiling and Grace wondered if Jesse would be the same when he returned from Purgatory. If. If he returned. If.

Would he still love her? Would all the pieces fit?

She hoped the spell would work as she sat down on a wooden chair. She hoped to be out of Idris soon and away from the other Shadowhunters. Everything that happened next would depend on the accuracy of the spell and of Christopher's potion Grace decided. "Can you tell me what that particular wretched smelling liquid is, Christopher?"

Grace pronounced his name so informally that Christopher blanched, then turned several shades of pink. He tried to sound more calm than he was at her attention. He wasn't even sure how he was feeling. The thing that struck him and took his breath away was that he didn't even consider that Grace Blackthorn knew his name. "Compound X. I would like to name this liquid Compound X." Christopher paused, gathering himself. "Entirely composed of natural and semi-natural ingredients; imposed crystalized crystals then liquidized arnum lily petals, crushed sparrow bones, smashed spider spindles---"

"Right. I get it," Grace interrupted with a sour taste in her mouth. She didnt need to suffer complicated details but she didn't want to be mean. She waved her hand at him as if he were a fly buzzing about her on a summer day.

Christopher laughed uneasily, not understanding the change in Grace's mood. "Sorry. Sometimes I get ahead of myself."

"What does it do?" Grace asked and raised an eyebrow. She smiled sweetly, inching the wooden chair closer to Christopher's.

Christopher grinned, his lavender eyes lightning up like moon flowers. "Hopefully it will bring your brother back."

***

James sighed, leaning against the door. He checked his pocket watch for the third time in ten minutes. "Quarter past three."

"We've got time before the Fairchild clan awakens.. and Lucie said to wait up."

"For bloody sake, the birds aren't even awake Tom. What are we even expecting to happen?"

Thomas cleared his throat, his mind already foggy from the few drinks he'd gulped down during the third and fourth rounds of gin rummy. He sat on the couch with his arm wrapped around a square pillow. "We need to call Alastair."

James felt nauseated. "No," he said, unable to convey agreement. He needed sleep not to be standing here arguing like fools. "Why? Didn't you hear what time it is, Tom? He is probably well fast asleep like we should be by now."

The maid was finally asleep but mostly passed out, drunk in a chair by the window. Her eyes were closed and she whispered unintelligible prayers. Thomas glanced uneasily at her before speaking. "We need the extra help. Lucie said we need to make a complete circle. An even number."

"Without Cordelia with us---even with Alastair there will not be enough." James argued; angry at being deprived of his sleep. This was to be the only night he'd get rest after recieving a letter from Will staying he'd found Tessa. Lucie and her mess had taken it from him originally and now Thomas was corrupting what little time was left.

He was suddenly jealous of Cordelia, sound asleep and refusing to indulge in his sister's madness.

James's nose twitched and he felt the edge of his vision blur; a voice fraying in his ear as the edges became obsolete. Belial wasn't pleased.

"Why are we helping them raise the dead again?" James asked, undeterred by the way his voice slurred, becoming distant.

He was fading.

"Because she's your sister. Obviously this means a hell of alot to her if she has convinced us to risk exile." Thomas said, his own words slurred. James was as crooked as Thomas's smile. "Besides James, you'll have to help keep Lucie safe."

James caught his breath, his lungs burning. "Exile? Lucie never mentioned Exile to me, Tom."

Thomas had the temporary choice to be embarrassed or confused. He chose confused. "I...she never told you?"

James and Thomas had been quietly arguing for the last fifteen minutes and now this new information was the icing on a very thin piece of cake. James was done talking to all of them. He wanted to get to bed before his head imploded with another rotten expose. "No, apparently I was not privy to that piece of information, Thomas but I wish I had been."

"James. James, I am sorry you did not know of the risks involved with her plans but you should have still known."

And of course, he had a faint idea of the consequences.

"Call upon Alastair if you must Tom." James said bluntly and paused, watching Thomas's complection turn white. James's gold eyes were furious and flaring. Thomas sat up straighter, expecting some imitation instruction. Perhaps his friend knew more than Thomas thought. Perhaps that was not news. Perhaps James already knew that Alastair was to be part of their group. Part of the plan. Unknowingly, Thomas's cheeks burned red as James continued on. "But if you do include Alastair in this nightmare, please do know you will be the one dealing with Math when awakes from his drunken slumber. Goodnight, Tom."

James frowned, upset with Thomas. He turned quietly on his heel and sighed. He stormed out of the room like a rotten child who wanted a piece of chocolate that was refused.

James had to get away before he dissolved into darkness.

Thomas sat on the couch quiet and more sober than he was drunk. His hazel eyes were bloodshot wide and unblinking. He was too shocked and stunned to speak.

[spmcomic]

So, about that arc 5 of yours…i’m still really interested in the robots. Who did they use to be, before they got turned into machines consisting out of mixed souls? What drove the tribe of artificiers to commit such cruelty?

THEIA AND GAIA

Cover

Chapter 1: (part 1 | part 2)   Chapter 2: (part 1 | part 2)

Chapter 3: (part 1 | part 2)   Chapter 4: (part 1 | part 2)

In a word: pandemonium. Infinite colors and faces swirled past, tiny shattered fragments of conversations and images that overwhelmed anything outside this moment. Thirty voices called out at random, incoherent, unable to form words. They raced across the frenzied space, bouncing off an invisible boundary to their new universe of jagged half-voices, murky images, a lack of scent… Where were the scents?

The voices paused- nearly thoughtful, even with no words for thought- as all at once they realized the missing sense. In the sudden quiet, new voices- distant, foreign, full- bubbled into the space.

“I told you. This one is doomed.”

“No, the eyes are still lit up. Look.”

“Do youknow how much energy it takes to keep this thing running? The generator isalready shorting. Do you want to cause another power outage?”

“It’llmake it! Its Power Core isn’t even damaged yet.”

A pause.Then… “Fine. Three more minutes. If it doesn’t fuse, then we throw it out and stopwasting Head Merletaph’s grant.”

“She’ll killyou if she sees you threw out an uncorrupted, undamaged Power Core…”

Whatdoes it mean?

Again,the voices united in chorus against the chaos. Then, the chaos threatened toonce again overtake them as thirty half-formed opinions lost track of eachother, before they regrouped around their growing anxiety. Where was the smellof the fields- the metal- the caves- the heat- the livestock- the city? Thevoices faltered without any answers, and questions left the space.

Wemust work together, enough of the voices realized as one, and the crowdgathered its energy. There was no scent here, but they found some kind ofextension. A limb. The voices poked together curiously, and the space twitched,shuddered, and fell. The fading images finally slipped away, curling intosomething more solid- like dirt settling in water- mixtures resolving in abeaker- tea leaves strained from the drink-

Thespace hung suspended several body-lengths from the ground. Or… not several, thelimbs, they touched the stone below them already. Thirty voices turned theirhead to examine an arm. Knives settled inside white porcelain, new andunstained- like the most unnatural pottery-

“See? Itold you. You have to be patient with these things.”

Thespace shifted, and the vision swung around to match. They found two flawlessfork-legs on the side, bolted to the ground…

“Don’ttell me what’s what, sophomore.”

Ears. Whereare my ears? The space surged upward, but no outside motion followed. Thehead clumsily twitched, and the space fell again as thirty opinions scattered. Agentle rocking motion reconnected their attention, and the head turned oncemore, to the other side. Two more limbs rested against the ground, tilted at anawkward angle, not supporting the weight of the…

The body…

Theycouldn’t turn the head far enough to see what the back looked like, but theymade out a tether leading upward out of sight, and some kind of white armor-some kind of exoskeleton- some kind of rigging-

Thelimbs again lost their support and the space hung briefly before regaining itsbalance. The tether. The head could not turn very far upward at all, but asimilar shape across the room caught the voices’ attention. The metallic farwall provided a distant reflection, fragmented by a network of glowing loosecurls and hard angles. Just behind the glow, the voices could see a harness danglingfrom the ceiling and supporting the bulk of…

Thespace wanted to blink in confusion, but it had no eye lids. An enormouswhite-armored bug stared back, resolving into easier view as the light faded. Thespace lifted its arm again, twitching the knife-fingers. In halting jolts, theycame toward the face, gently touching a stone mask- a porcelain helmet- a sheetof metal against the anvil- with a hard clink.

“Mark itdown, Mercy. Attempt one-thirteen at the Lazarus was, finally, asuccess.”

“Is itviolent?”

“It’snot coordinated enough for that yet. I’ll show you.”

Footstepsechoed across the metal and stone of the room. The head turned to watch twobeings approach, their forms mostly hidden under thick, colorful cloths. The beingshad small heads, and no visible ears- impossible to tell their intentions- whatis their rank- why is there no scent-

“Standup,” the taller one commanded. The space simply stared, as it drifted back andforth in the harness, its fork-leg joints swaying. Too many legs.

Don’ttell me what to do, the voices snarled, a few overpowering the crowd, revealyourselves.

“I knowyou can understand me. Stand.”

Theshorter one was focused on some kind of panel- sheet- stone- and handed thetaller one a glittering object- sculpted rock- jewelry?- without looking up.

Thetaller one held up the gleaming piece of metal in a naked, pale hand. “Lastwarning. You’d best get to it,” the creature sneered.

Thethirty voices easily came to an agreement, and the space let all six of itslimbs go slack to rest fully against the harness. The being’s face hardened,and it pressed its long, skeletal thumb into the metal. “Stand.”

Thespace jolted, once again overcome by chaos, the thirty voices screamingtogether in their sudden, unbidden desire to stand at any cost. The legs andjoints straightened of their own accord, and once the buzzing shock wore offthe space found itself upright.

“I’llmake a note. This one’s another troublemaker,” the shorter one sighed.

“Heh,well, we’ll see if it changes its mind when Head Merletaph gets a look at it.”The creature turned back to the space and pressed its disgusting, bald handagainst the metal piece again. “Hold still.”

Again,the voices clattered against each other in a mess of shards and static, and thespace found itself rigid.

“Don’tdo that too much…” The shorter one clicked its tongue as it stepped forward andbegan moving its terrible, long-fingered hands around the harness. The spacewould have recoiled, if it could move.

“Yourname,” the other creature began, pacing in front of the space, tormenting thevoices with its ability to move- gloating over its victory- such insolence-just like the Warlord used to- “Is Lazarus. Whatever you were called before isnothing, now. You have been…” A pause as it rolled the word off its tongue, “capturedby the Tribe of Artificers, and you now serve their purposes. By yoursacrifice, we progress forward.”

“Leftside clear.”

“We are locatedin a city called Underside, on a world called Douma. That’s right,” it hissed,showing some of its blunt teeth under the shadow of its hood. “You’re not evenon your world anymore. You have no means of going home. So don’t bother withit. It’s just a waste of everyone’s time. And you do not want to wasteHead Merletaph’s time.”

Thedazed voices coalesced briefly. This was… a prepared speech… The thoughtscrumbled before they could agree on any conclusions.

“HeadMerletaph is the leader here. The Mayor, the Warlord, the Den Parent, howeveryou little rodents want to think of it. You do what she says, without question,no matter what anyone else tells you. If you don’t… Well.” The being waggledthe metal piece in its hand. “Let’s just say you’ll do it anyway.”

“Rightside clear. Let me check the head wires. Finish up.”

Thetaller one stopped pacing. “Don’t worry, it’s not all bad. Stay in line, andyou’ll get treated better. We’re not like your Warlords. We’re simply verybusy, and if you waste our time, there will be consequences. Now, comewith us.”

Thetaller one lowered its metal piece and the space’s limbs released. It stumbled,struggling to balance outside the security of the harness. Thirty voicesfollowed the glinting metal down into the folds of the creature’s shroud. Theknife-fingers flexed, supported by a long protrusion at the wrist that reachedall the way to the ground. But the balance… It could hardly stand, even withsix legs. The space ached for a tail. The two creatures stayed far ahead, outof its reach, as it hesitantly picked its way across the stone floor and downthe small step into the larger ring around the chamber. It wobbled and stumbledlike a newborn- like one of the mounts, standing for the first time- like mysister when she survived-

Thebrightness outside of the chamber was staggering. Thin whirring joined the voicesas the eyes adjusted, bringing the city into focus, and focus the voices did.Across a great chasm, rows and rows of buildings etched the cliffside. Anglingthe head upward, they saw that this side of the ravine matched, except for a distant,enormous pillar that reached even above the lip of the cliff and pierced thesky. Bridges and long threads crossed the gaps, and distant white speckslingered in the air. The sky stretched in a thin line between the two walls, anunnatural blue-pink, it should have been the color of the sea, what wasthis place?

The twocreatures led the space along a narrow walkway. The head and eyes turned restlessly,tracking every moving thing, every shrouded figure, every porcelain monster.Ahead, the buildings clustered higher around the base of that great pillar. Chatterpassed back and forth across the balconies and walkways, up and down the cliffside, interrupting the hushed, confused thirty voices as they struggled to findany one detail to agree on.

“Are yougoing to tell it-”

“What?No, that’s your job-”

Ah. Thetwo leading creatures. Their bickering brought a center to the madness. Theeyes flickered between the two of them, unsure which was talking. The shorterone turned back, found the space’s attention on it, and returned to its shufflingwalk. It cleared its throat.

“Lazarus.Welcome to Underside- don’t fall into the mantle, there. You are a transportbot, designed for climbing and navigating the dense woodlands above. You willbe collecting supplies from the surface settlements and delivering them to theDepot buildings on this side of the chasm.”

Thespace clambered to the edge of the balcony and, with the new length to theirneck, the voices peered over the side. Below what seemed like endless layers ofbuildings, the bottom of the ravine was not dark, but rather radiated a hotlight- molten- the anvil- like a thin thread of fire-

The clangof the hammer pounding the metal against the anvil filled the hot room. Sweatdrenched the weathered fur on Timur’s shoulders and head, blasted repeatedlywith dry air from the furnace behind. He paused to lick his scarred paw, as he avertedhis eyes from the glowing metal and considered the shimmering air above itinstead. All newborn weapons were too brilliant to stare at directly. It was areminder of the basic respect owed to the warrior, to the battle.

That’swhat the proverb hung on the wall behind him proclaimed. He pulled his paw awayfrom his mouth and reached absently for the emerald on the pedestal beside him.When his finger pushed into the burning hot air hanging in a loose spherearound the fully-charged gem, he hesitated. Best not to just grab it- he’dalready lost two fingers. One more and he’d be working one-handed. You neverquite knew what these things would do until the weapon was complete.

Thevoices paused. Timur, they whispered, and one of them resonated inreturn.

“TheDepot building is up this way,” the shorter creature prompted. “We’re passingthrough the R.P.C. so Head Merletaph can get a look at you.”

“You’dbest remember,” the taller one added. “That’s where you drag yourself if a legbreaks off.”

A largerporcelain creature, asmall body carried by enormous arms, lumbered by and momentarily blockedthe space’s view of the two figures. The voices urged and pushed together,skittering their long awkward limbs to stay behind the monster, keeping itbetween them and the beings. But the body was weak and clumsy. They stumbledand scratched against the hard stone- no, not stone, too soft and rough-

Thewhite-armored creature held out one of its mighty arms and steadied the space.They locked eyes for a brief moment.

“Don’t,”was all it said, before moving on, leaving the space with its back legssplayed, the voices scrabbling for comprehension.

“Well?Come on!” The taller one’s domineering tone was becoming grating. The voices reachedto lay back ears and raise hackles they no longer had before giving up andstumbling back to the other two, jabbing the ground with their forked legs asthey went.

Theother being didn’t look up from its slate- slab- from its- whatever it was- butthe taller one made a huffing noise. “Meridian,” it muttered. “It’s gettingerratic…”

“We’realmost there. Just keep the controller in your hand, you can stop it if it getstoo close.”

Everythingabout the Den Father screamed “do not approach” as he reclined on his couch offurs and beads. His bristling fur exaggerated his already hulking form in theshadow he rested in. But Ezra was a messenger, and she had her news to deliver.Even still, her weight settled forward on her toes, ready to bound away if theDen Father even twitched. Her old, worn tunic caught uncomfortably on her mane.She pulled it down and adjusted her belt, then tiptoed forward and bowed herhead, flattening her ears against her neck. She met his fiery bronze eyes,glittering in the darkness.

“Sire…Princess Nechash has also succumbed to the Plague.”

Eachstep on this strange stone sent a jarring shock up the knife-limbs. Thesensation was not quite pain, but certainly not comfortable. Ezra, hummedone shattered voice, among the rest.

Perhapshearing the strained clacking behind them, the taller figure bowed its head. “Canyou believe Karchner hasn’t replaced its walkways with concrete yet?”

“Karchner’sfull of idiots, Mercy. The city could burn down and they still wouldn’t takethe chance to fix the walkways.”

“Theydon’t have the budget for it anyway…”

“… keepwasting it on their teleporters and time machines…”

-

Next

[brandstonethings]

Forge of Souls

Following: Nemesis

It was like walking into the stomach of some menacing beast. Only, this beast was more machine, made up of steel, bones, and fire. The Forge of Souls. It was not a place Joe expected to wander into at any point in his lifetime, yet here he was with his lover and his friends.

The four crept cautiously across long walkways of steel, crossed in a web-like pattern. They were suspended by towering chains hung from the ceiling above, of which he could not see where it ended. The enormous cavern, hollowed out to house this twisted machinery, was dark and cold. What warmth they had seemed to only be sucked out of them by the cool steel. The only light and heat emanated from the braziers spread out along the walkways, the red glow of what appeared to be massive grinders spinning dangerously fast below, and the fires shooting out of the sides and top of floating spires, suspended in the same manner as the walkways. It was the central spire that the group was headed for.

The sounds of the hammering of an anvil echoed through the darkness as the group finally reached the spire. After hastily tracking down the robed woman who escaped them previously, they had at last caught up. The walkway turned and the four followed it up a ramp and into the spire’s platform. It was there where their eyes bore witness to a great fire dancing above them, only it was incredibly unnatural, floating and being fed by a fuel source unknown. Joe had never seen anything like it. Along with it, an undead drake was spotted flying overhead with its death knight rider. The robed woman was in the center, tending to the recovery of her master, Neregory... Joe’s nemesis.

Their fight began with a burst of speed and intensity, Lithvia, Genny, and Joe quickly became locked in combat against Neregory’s two apprentices while Tralaia did her best to suppress the master from the fight with her arrows and traps. Yet, he was not kept out of the fight for long.

“Enough!” Neregory shouted at the top of his lungs, his voice echoing through the chamber as he freed himself. At the same time, a sheet of ice was blasted off in all directions, freezing everyone in the chamber, friends and foes. “Each of you, naught but wretches! Dying for a feeble man without the will to protect his own family!” He barked. “Fools, each of you. You have marched here to halt me, yet you have only marched to your deaths!”

Joe had stood over the drake rider, about to bring his axe down on him when he had been frozen in the ice. Yet, his gaze moved from the rider to Neregory now. His words had added to the fire of rage that already burned inside of him. Memories of the night his four-legged companion Hic had been brutally slaughtered by the same monster that stood before him flooded back into his mind. It was the same that night. Joe had stood unable to help, being trapped in a prison of ice. It was a lie, what he had said. Joe would die in an instant to protect his family, a fact he knew was true in his heart. His voice came forth with a growl and a deep rumble. “Say that again about me...”

It was then that the plated menace had begun to march toward him. Joe tried with all his might to break out of the ice, as he tried on that terrible night. He figured that if not with his pure strength alone, then maybe all of his rage would lend to it. It was not enough, Neregory was upon him now and took him in his grasp. “My weapons, my helm. Forged with the souls of innocents, the souls of those long dead. The souls of whose -children- could not help them!” The cold, gauntleted fingers found the back of Joe’s neck before he could even respond and launched him flying across the chamber. He landed hard and tumbled near the very edge of the platform, with what looked like the abyss below. Luckily, he did not fall off the edge, though he coughed up his own blood. Pushing himself back up with Tralaia’s help, the fight would then rage on relentlessly...

“Your struggling is pointless.”

Joe let out a cry of pain as Neregory’s sword came crashing down on his pauldron, sending him to a knee. “It’s not pointless... I’ll fight for my family to the death! Somethin’ you’d never understand! There was a time I loved you like a brother... but you betrayed me!” Joe reached into a pouch on his belt and pulled out the crystal orb he had used to defeat Neregory before, preparing to use it once again. He was struck across the face but caught himself at the cost of dropping the orb, which rolled away, dangerously close to the edge.

“A brother? You speak of betrayal, yet it is -I- who have been betrayed. By all I knew. By you. By my closest friends... By the fucking -Light-! Where were you when my soul was tormented? Where were -you- when I was made into nothing but a vessel of darkness! No. I have seen the true way of things, Joseph. You’re all lost, for death is inevitable, and betrayal is hardwired into the heart of every man!”

Joe had slowly begun to stand against the weight of the sword crushing his shoulder. “It wasn’t me who tormented you! You were nowhere to be found! Part of me wept for your loss, despite our fight that night you wrecked my eye! You came back an’ betrayed ME!” He swung his axe wildly at the once noble paladin, biting into his plate and forcing him back. “You left me to die! That’s what you did! Worse than the wicked man that brought me back to this shithole! You abandoned me, you abandoned your parents! You’re a coward, Joseph! You’ll never be anything more than that! A drunken, useless, coward!”

Joe stopped to catch a break as the fight continued for his friends behind him, the both of them more focused on their fight with words rather than steel. “So... that’s why you came back ‘n tormented me. It weren’t jus’ for ‘entertainment’ as you put it... You wanted revenge on me?” He spat more blood. “You left by yourself without a damn clue for me to follow! I never left you to die! I never abandoned my parents!”

“Never? Then where were you when they were slaughtered! Where were you when their souls cried out in anguish! Where the -fuck- have you been?!” Neregory descended down the ramp the opposite side from which Joe and his friends had entered. He stretched his hand out and a string of unholy energy shot out to grasp Joe, tugging him closer and threw him over Neregory’s head where he was slammed onto the metal walkway behind. Still coughing up blood, Joe moved to stand, rage fueling his strength. He heard the faint sound of Genny crying his name back in the chamber, yet his stare remained glued to Neregory. “You’ll pay for tormentin’ them. I might be late... but I swear I won’t rest till I make you pay!”

“Will you, Joe? Do you really believe that?” The death knight turned, stepping down the ramp with a great swing of his blade. “Or will you finally perish! Useless and unloved?! These fools may be under your sway now but it’s only a matter of time before you turn your backs on them as well!” Joe parried that swing and used his momentum then to deliver a series of powerful swings of his own, letting the axe guide his steps as he simply followed it, hungering for blood. “I will never betray my friends! Unlike you, I don’t believe two wrongs make a right!” Their fight with steel resumed, now out of view from the others. In the background, Joe could hear the loud roar of the frostwyrm and the beat of its bony wings just before it landed. It wasn’t long though before he put that thought out of his mind. He was going to kill this husk of a man, he wanted to kill him a hundred times over. He had him on his back foot once again and now had caught Neregory’s sword in the hook of his axe. He was going to end him now.

It wouldn’t be that easy, however. The death knight used the catch to pull Joe off balance and into a block of ice that formed around his fist. The frozen chunk of glacier was slammed into Joe’s face, making him stumble back down the ramp, though he shook it off, unrelenting. He charged up the steps again with a bloodlust roar and hurled the heavy axe at Neregory, who managed to block the axe. Not slowing his charge, Joe came up behind the screen of the axe and grabbed onto the runed blade, attempting to wrench it away from the knight as he bashed his shoulder into him. Neregory was shouldered, but had an iron grip on his weapon and would not release it. Stepping around Joe, he wrenched the blade away from Joe as a hot blue flame danced upon it. It left Joe with a look of panic written on his face as the flame heated his gauntlets to the point he could feel his hands burning inside. He had many times smelled his own flesh burning as the result of torture. It was something he dreaded deeply. He frantically ripped the gauntlets off and threw them to the ground. “You wish to end our game, Joe! I will see it ended!” the knight called to him as he backed down the ramp. There was a loud crash behind him and a painful wail of the drake. Despite the burn he suffered, Joe charged recklessly at the knight, throwing his arms around him and clamping Neregory’s arms to his sides, rendering him unable to swing.

At that moment, Joe felt something shoot through him, yet it did not hurt. It was warm and made some of the pain that wracked his body go away. It wasn’t the same for Neregory. The beam of Light was sent by Lithvia who had rejoined him, along with Tralaia. The Light burned Neregory, who roared and broke free from Joe’s grasp with a burst of strength. He kicked Joe down and turned to deal with his friends.

Joe forced himself to stand, taking a moment to get his bearing of the situation. He saw Lithvia hung off the ledge of the walkway, clinging on for dear life as Tralaia clung onto her friend, trying to pull her up. He also saw Neregory approaching behind Tralaia with his blade ready. She had no choice but to hold on, otherwise leaving Lithvia to fall. Joe looked around for Genny, but she was nowhere to be found. Was she hurt? Or was she dead? The thought made him even angrier. He took a breath... one thing at a time. Joe rushed over to Neregory and clamped his arm around his neck as he kicked his runeblade free of his grip, clattering off the edge and falling to the abyss below. His helm was next. Pulled free, the lich fire in Neregory’s eyes instantly faded. He was struck again by a gauntleted fist, but it barely phased him. He charged him again, clutching his neck with his burnt hands and threw a series of wild punches at him while not letting go. He was panting by the time he threw his last punch. It took every ounce of him to keep his grip strong, gritting his teeth against the stinging pain of his palms. “You... You’re weak without your souls...” Joe lifted Neregory up and moved him over to the ledge, hanging him over it. Directly below awaited one of the massive spinning soul forges.

“Yet still stronger than you will ever be.” Neregory groaned as he produced something in his hand and held it out to Joe. “Joe I’m... My work in this world is not done. Destroy it, you’ll know of what I speak.” He forced a key into Joe’s palm. “Ironforge, my home there, from before...” He clenched his weak hands into fists, frustrated at his defeat. “Do me this last favor... brother.”

Joe stared into Neregory’s cold dead eyes as he listened to his last request. He quickly glanced down at the key before back up at Neregory. “Why should I do a favor for you? After all you’ve put me through?” He cackled, “Because this is not me, this is a husk, a shell. You won’t be doing a thing for -me- Joseph.” Joe growled, “Release my parents...” Neregory spat in return, “Destroy the helm.”

Joe glanced back at the helm which laid on the walkway, back down at the key, and then finally back up at the man he once trusted. He dared ask for a favor after tormenting him all this time. On top of that, he dared to call him brother.

“This is the end for you...” said Joe, his stare cold and unwavering. 

“I know.”

Joe closed his fist around the key and then threw Neregory off the ledge, his limp body torn and split into pieces in the great grinding forge below. At last, Joe let himself to shut his tired eye and out of his mouth escaped a sigh of relief.

It was finally going to be over...

@steelmantle @tidesage-crestwell @tralaia and Lithvia… THANK YOU so much for the epic RP and being a part of this!

[vannahfanfics]

Where am I?

Category: Angst

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Characters: Tomoko Shiretoko

An abyss— the inky blackness enveloped Tomoko like a thick blanket, but she did not feel comforted by its embrace. It smothered her, wrapping her in an icy cold that seeped deep into her bones and made every ragged breath she drew excruciating labor. Her limbs felt as if they were weighted with lead, suspending her in the endless space and giving her no strength to move. Her lidded gold eyes were slits as she peered into the gloom; even they felt weighted, chained down to the bottom of her void-like prison beneath the shifting black fog. 

Her throat bobbed as she struggled to speak, yet she could form no words. Even if she could, she could not think of what to say. Like her disorienting surroundings, her mind was shrouded in mist too. Articulation and thought were faraway concepts to her now, save for one.

Where am I? 

Tomoko was not sure how long she was there, suspended like a broken marionette in the endless black. Broken, because in the ebb and flow of bewilderment the searing pain in her body would rise like a rocky cleft in the receding tide. She could not pinpoint whether it was a single wound that pained her so, or if every single one of her bones had been crushed, filling her to the brim with agony. 

Either way, she despaired each time she became lucid enough to feel the burning ache filling her up. She could do nothing to alleviate it— not scream into the void, not sob in misery, not even clench her teeth. In silence, in stillness, in solitude, she suffered. 

Again, she could only think as her tears floated in the chasm around her, Where am I? 

Time was endless, or may it wasn’t long at all, only stretched by the endless blackness shrouding her in its cold veil. Eventually, light speared through the blackness to carve a blazing white path. Tomoko both relished its coming and abhorred it; though part of her welcomed the light— the change— part of her had grown accustomed to her black home in twisted sleepy contentment. 

The light snaked toward Tomoko, chasing away the darkness on either side to extend like a road before her. A groan finally rumbled from her weak lungs as her limbs twitched to life. The world of black swirled around her, and Tomoko had the strangest sense that she was ascending. Lying flat on her back with her arms splayed to either side, she rose like a ghost from the grave to grave the world of light once more. 

And again, she thought, Where am I? 

A grimy white-tiled ceiling greeted her weary eyes when she finally had the strength to open them. Her mind was in dissonance registering it because surely no hospital would allow such deplorable conditions. Another thing that unsettled her was the silence; there was no hushed discussions of doctors and nurses, nor regular beeping of monitoring machines, or even the hum of an air conditioning unit. Only quiet reverberated in the gloom, deafening her with its overwhelming presence. 

At first, Tomoko’s body was numb from lack of use, but the pins and needles soon faded as her brain repeatedly fired neuronal signals to move. As she went to lift her arms, they stopped short a few inches above the bed she laid on, and the clinking of metal filled the air. 

Metal? She thought groggily, rolling her head to observe the thing obstructing her movement. It took her a few moments to recognize the shiny handcuffs securing her to the hospital bed. 

Tomoko’s heart jumped into her throat when her lagging brain cells finally processed her dire situation. Squeaking in alarm, Tomoko bangs her shackled hands against the railings, filling the once-silent room with frantic jingling. Her panic-stricken mind could still realize that this place was no hospital. 

Memories came rushing back like a flood, joining the tidal wave of fear drowning Tomoko. A dark night, dense woods, a villainous raid, and a flash of steel in the dark— the fragmented memories painted a morbid picture, a portrait of her own harrowing kidnapping. As she jiggled the handcuffs violently, part of her frantically wondered if the children and her teammates were okay, while the more rational part of her wondered if she was going to be okay. 

“Now, now. There’s no need for all that noise, Ragdoll, dear.” 

The clanking ceased as Tomoko froze. The voice had emanated from the gloom, sounding over her agitated jangling with carefully controlled malice. A squat man wearing a white coat plodded out of the darkness to give Tomoko an eerie smile. She didn’t like it; he eyed her like a specimen to dissect, a machine to disassemble, and it sickened her to her core. 

As her breaths hitched into hyperventilation, Tomoko began flinging her hands upward again to the point that the cold metal of the handcuffs bit deeply into her wrist. 

“Tsk. You are a professional hero. Have some composure, young lady,” the creepy scientist sniffed in disdain. 

Composure? Tomoko couldn’t even dream of having composure at that moment. The time for composure had long since passed; her only guiding force was self-preservation, frantic sparks of her nervous system driving her body into fight-or-flight mode. Tomoko would one day wonder if that made her any less of a hero, but in the end, she was only human— a frail, pitiful little human just a slave to her mind as the rest of them. 

Tomoko froze again as a massive hand clamped down on her throat. She wheezed as it pushed down on her windpipe, constricting the airflow to just a few ragged puffs. Her yellow irises drifted in a vast sea of white as she stared wildly at the scientist man, whose evil smirk widened to stretch his pudgy face. 

It was not his hand wrapped around her throat, however. 

Her assailant stood at the head of the bed behind her, thick muscular arm reaching around to hold her petite body still. She whimpered pathetically as they leaned over, his bulk casting a shadow over her face. The whimper morphed into a frightened, choked scream as his ghastly face came into view; the crown of his head was a patchwork of ugly scar tissue all the way down past his eyes, so his Cheshire-cat smirk floated underneath a scarred dome of pale flesh. It was an absolutely abhorrent sight, and Tomoko felt a fierce shiver grip her bones. 

The man chuckled as she quaked in the bed, filling the air with faint jingling again. 

“What a fine Quirk you have. I’ll be making excellent use of it.” 

A cold flush shot through Tomoko’s arteries. My Quirk? Use? What? What is he talking about? Though Tomoko’s confusion was evident in her impossibly wide eyes, the man neglected to answer her. That vile snicker resounded in her ears, vibrating her bones and twisting her belly with dread. 

The man squeezed her carotids briefly, relishing her shocked squeak and the way her eyes dilated as her brain was starved as oxygen. An agonizing few seconds passed, but he released his grip before she could suffer any hypoxic damage. As his calloused hand migrated over her face, Tomoko coughed and sobbed. Of the many things that her mind could land on, it once again rang with that quintessential question. 

Where am I? 

His hand closed over her face. Tomoko wriggled as he smothered her mouth and nose, once again making her lungs heave in an effort to suck in air. His cruel chortling filled her head until it was the only thing she could focus on, resounding like a death knell chiming in the deep of night. His grip tightening, fingers digging into her skin— and then her body began to feel strange. 

It felt like electricity humming just under the surface, just a numb tingle at first. It gradually rose in intensity until it seared like liquid lightning across her face. The sensation drew an agonized scream from her body, and her back arched up of the table as her arms and legs writhed. The clanking of her restraints joined the symphony of his laughs, which had risen in pitch and volume to full-blown evil cackles. 

Suddenly, the electricity began to recede. No— that wasn’t it. It felt like it was being drawn out, absorbed through his fingers. The abnormal feeling began to spread from her head down to the rest of her body. Dread pooled in Tomoko’s belly as it felt like her very soul was being sucked out. 

No, stop, please, she tried to plead, but it came out only as garbled gargles against his palm. As the strange draining sensation hummed in her body, her struggles diminished bit by bit until she felt slack against the table. Her eyelids began to droop as drowsiness washed over her. Perhaps this strange villain had taken her soul, and here she was, on the cusp of a sad and lonely death. Tears brimmed in her eyes and rolled down her cheeks as she grappled with her mortality.

Where am I? How will they know where I am? Please… I don’t want to die alone in this place…!

The darkness began to creep back into her vision, beginning as small trickles and rapidly rising into a flooding wave. Tomoko had the sensation of becoming weightless, floating down, down, down into the depths of the dark. As her eyes drowsily drifted shut, she embraced the darkness as it wrapped around her in a cool blanket, delivering her into a dreamless and painless sleep… 

~~~~~~~~~~

Heaven— the cloudy white enveloped Tomoko like a thick blanket, and she felt comfort in its warmth. She hummed as she breathed in deeply and easily; fresh, cool air flooded her lungs with the unlabored breaths. She felt weightless and free, floating unrestrictedly in the lovely expanse of fluff. Her eyes slowly opened, and the golden pools were greeted with neat white tiles framing fluorescent lights. The rhythmic beeping of a machine echoed dully in her ears, accented by the pleasant voices of two women in scrubs by her bedside. 

Where am I? 

“Ah! She’s rousing. Go get the doctor while I do a vitals assessment, quickly!” the nurse ordered her comrade as Tomoko’s eyes fluttered. Tomoko just barely registered the hasty shuffling of her feet as she exited. The nurse gently brushed Tomoko’s locks of emerald hair from her face with a kindly smile. “Easy, now. You’ve been through quite the ordeal. Just relax. We’ll take good care of you.” 

Tomoko’s mind hung in a fog as the medical professionals fluttered around her, checking her vitals and conversing with one another. She caught snatches of conversation that alarmed her greatly— All for One and missing Quirk and warehouse and All Might’s fall. Her frazzled mind toiled to comprehend the snippets of information, but too many pieces were missing from the puzzle. She ended up sitting up in bed with no recollection of being pulled up, drifting in the clouds with no clear way to come down. 

“Ragdoll!” 

Tomoko blinked blearily at the mournful wail that sounded in the doorway. Pixie-Bob came bounded into the room to throw herself at her bedside, snatching up her hand to squeeze it tightly. Tears glimmered in the corners of her eyes. 

“Ragdoll, thank goodness, you’re okay! We were so worried about you!” she sobbed into the white sheets draped over Tomoko’s body. Her pitiful cries pulled Tomoko into lucidity, allowing her to finally appreciate the gravity of her situation. Tiger and Mandalay joined Pixie-Bob at her bedside, and for the first time in what seemed like ages, Tomoko felt relief. 

“You guys…” she moaned as fresh sobs bubbled up in her throat, “where am I?” 

She didn’t really mean it physically. It felt like she was no longer herself, a husk of her former person. She was desperately searching for some semblance of herself, but all she could find within was fear, doubt, and loss. 

Mandalay leaned over to envelop her in a crushing hug. 

“You’re safe, Ragdoll,” she whispered as she nuzzled into Tomoko’s green tresses. “Y-you’re home.” Tomoko blinked slowly, and then a shaky smile stretched across her lips as tears dripped from her lashes. 

Home. Yes. Her home, her beloved teammates. 

No matter what, Tomoko could always find herself there. 

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

[this-is-my-canon]

My @kakaobiweek prompt for today, Cyberpunk

Eyes Toward the Future

Read it on Ao3 here

There were sparks. He was hurt. Blinding flashes had erased all trace of the neon green lights surrounding the warehouse. Gunshots blasted in a deafening cacophony.

This is all Kakashi remembers as he opens his eyes.

His lashes flicker, creating black striations in his vision before the red glow of the room comes into view. Everything is basked in this light, though no form triggers a memory. Machines appearing to be long retired from use surround him with a layer of dust coating them in the mysterious red haze. Kakashi coughs, realizes his ribs are bruised, and tries to rub the aggravated spot.

He can’t move.

As his head lolls on his shoulders, Kakashi gasps. His senses heighten in an instant, brought on by the programming implanted in him. The rank smell of a wet atmosphere and metallic scent of blood fills his nose. Shrouded silhouettes in the distance come into focus, moving toward him. His programming which should’ve allowed this level of clarity before now must’ve been disabled when this all happened.

When this...all happened.

[[MORE]]

His eyes go wide as his gaze sweeps the floor. Bodies litter the cement, shrouded in shadows, but still recognizable in their distinct markings and masks. Kakashi’s team. All of Team Ro accounted for, and their captain suspended by wires, held in a warehouse, accompanied by the hollow laughter of the approaching figures.

He remembers the mission.

To hunt and capture or possibly disable the rogue cyborg threatening Konoha and its infrastructure, along with the people who live here. The Third hadn’t expected them to find the Madara Uchiha himself in this location, or there would have been reinforcements. Kakashi’s team hadn't stood a chance.

“Kakashi Hatake.” The first dark figure emerges from the shadows and peels back his hood to reveal a face framed by a mass of dark disheveled hair, lined with rivets where his cybernetic parts intersect with the human skin with which he was born. His eyes swirl grey and glow as they scan and record Kakashi’s every movement. “I’m surprised your leaders managed to find us. And they sent you.”

Kakashi tries to raise his head to meet those threatening eyes, and then thinks better of it. “Madara...Uchiha.”

He groans as the muscles in his arms and back protest, strained by his current position. His grimace doesn’t go unnoticed, and there’s something like a considerate hum from Madara before the other figure steps forward, patting Kakashi’s cheek with a mockery of fondness.

“Stupid, loyal Kakashi.”

His voice runs through Kakashi like ice. Kakashi doesn’t need the enhancements to pinpoint it. It’s a voice he’s heard since he was a child, which has changed and molded into something ominous and so very different over the years. With its newly acquired robotic undertones, Kakashi only recognizes it now because of how intimately he used to know its owner.

As Obito lifts his hood to reveal a face even more augmented than the voice, Kakashi turns away. He is forced by a cold, metallic hand on his chin to face Obito again. Obito, who once was a child just like him, a child of Konoha and the closest thing Kakashi ever had to a friend, now a cyborg with a grudge, an enemy of the state. His facial structure is relatively unchanged, but his eyes blaze red and swirl as they lock with Kakashi’s. Like his hand, his arm is a metallic structure that looks like it had never been human. Kakashi suspects there is more alteration beneath the clothing, but he’d rather not have his suspicions confirmed. Obito is with Madara. Kakashi doesn't need to know anything more about him.

“You still think they’re right,” Obito says with a sneer before releasing Kakashi’s chin so suddenly he feels his neck jerk and spring back.

Kakashi coughs as his body quivers under the strain. “You won’t get away with what you’re doing forever.”

Madara laughs. “And what does Konoha think we’re doing?”

Obito raises his hand to Madara and gives him a look that begs permission. Madara doesn’t say a word, but Kakashi knows they’re communicating. They have to be linked. The Third had discovered long ago that this was how Madara and his people remained undetected for so long. Any other form of communication, and the ANBU would have had them monitored and found.

After a long moment, Madara raises a brow and looks Kakashi over. “If you think this is wise…”

“Wise?” Obito says with a shrug, approaching Kakashi until they are eye to distinctly red and terrifying eye. “Do I do anything because it’s wise?”

Kakashi recoils from him, unable to extend the gap between them. “If you’re going to kill me, Obito, get it over with.”

Obito snorts. “I’m not killing you, Kakashi. Where would be the fun in that?”

Madara folds his arms across his chest in a grand gesture. “You’ll be our messenger.”

Kakashi struggles with his restraints, deciding whatever they have planned, it can’t be good. His system has had its chance to recharge by now, at least enough to afford him the strength he needs to break free. And he does. The cables around his wrists snap before he drops to the cement floor, his ankles buckling at the impact. He doesn’t take a second to revel in the pain, but scrambles to get away. Obito and Madara both will be nearly impossible to escape, but he has to try.

He runs, throwing busted machines behind him to slow his pursuers, who don’t make nearly as much noise as he expects them to. His eye catches sight of a vertical sliver of sunlight - a doorway. When he reaches for it, everything goes black. Gravity pulls him down and a soft shroud closes tightly around his face until it is near suffocating.

“Soon you’ll see this world as I do,” Obito’s voice rings through his ears before something hits him at the base of the skull.

And then darkness.

———

When Kakashi wakes, he recognizes the familiar comfort of his own bed. He opens his eyes to see the utilitarian room with more clarity and crisp edges than ever before. The cracks along his plastered ceiling, the metallic sheen of his chrome headboard, the blades of the ceiling fan spinning above all vividly clear. When his TV comes on across the room, attuned to his consciousness, the sound is familiar, but the multicolored lights bouncing off the screen are more vivid and with a wider spectrum than Kakashi has ever seen.

Kakashi sits up as a weather man announces Konoha’s weather for the day and signs off for a word from their sponsor, and instantly plops back down. He feels weak, more drained than ever, in spite of apparently waking from sleep. He tries to remember how he got here, but all he can remember is Obito’s altered voice in his ear.

He surges his power, willing himself out of bed with the reserves he has in store. He feels like shit as he pads barefoot across the creaking floorboards, walking like a zombie. Maybe he is a zombie, he thinks briefly as he turns the corner for his bathroom. That would send a message to Konoha.

When he braces two hands on his bathroom sink, glad he’s made it here, Kakashi breathes out and wills his stomach to stop churning. He can’t remember feeling so awful in his life, and he’s had plenty of close calls as one of the Third’s most active ANBU. He raises heavy eyes to the mirror and falters. His knees give out from under him and he drops as he processes what he saw during the momentary glimpse of his reflection. His razor clinks to the floor, batted off the sink’s edge by his arm in the fall. Toilet paper rolls across the bathroom floor, a banner of white across the peeling green linoleum. Kakashi’s hands are shaking as he latches onto the sink’s edges again, determined to face himself in the mirror and confront whatever he sees, whether it was real or not.

As he rises, he takes a deep breath and absorbs what he sees with a stoic expression. His left eye has changed. It matches Obito’s, a whirl of red in complete contrast to Kakashi’s dark grey on the right. And this explains the clarity, the wider spectrum of color, the way he recalls the recent visual of the flashing television lights with a kind of precision he’s never had before. Madara wanted to send a message to Konoha. Kakashi leans forward, pulls his lower lid down with his fingertip to expose the organic inner lining around new inorganic material, inspects it closer, and wonders what message this will send.

“Captain.”

Tenzo’s voice comes from the speaker beside his mirror. Kakashi is thankful he doesn’t have the camera turned on. He doesn’t want to explain this just yet. If he had any choice, he wouldn’t explain this at all. It’s bad enough he has to explain what became of his team and his mission. He’ll have to face Tenzo, the one member on his team who hadn’t been sent into that slaughter, and admit to him how he’s failed all of them.

Kakashi bows his head and curses under his breath.

“Are you there?”

“What, Tenzo?” Kakashi says into his sink, his strained voice echoing off the porcelain.

“Right. Uh. How was…” He pauses. “Never mind. You’re late for your report to Lord Third.” Another pause. “Captain.”

Kakashi sighs. “I heard you. I’m coming.”

His eyes look back at him from the mirror. One composed of his genetic material, the other fashioned by illegal cybertech, gifted to him by Obito Uchiha. He doesn’t know what Madara and Obito are planning with this. He’s hesitant to enter the Tower with this eye. Obito said Kakashi would soon see this world as he does. Whatever Obito sees, Kakashi isn’t letting him see behind the walls of Konoha’s leadership. He reaches into the bureau drawer slotted open outside of his bathroom and pulls from it a leather strap.

It’ll suffice.

——-

When Kakashi crosses through the security checkpoint of the Tower, the alarms, unsurprisingly, blare. The eye has set it off. Unsanctioned cybertech is forbidden in their leader’s headquarters, but Lord Third does want to see Kakashi. Judging by the last urgent message, Kakashi will be drowning in heaps of paperwork for not showing sooner. The eye and him are inseparable at this point though, so he proceeds forward until another ANBU in uniform puts his hand on Kakashi’s chest. Kakashi looks first at the hand, then sends the rookie a glare.

The ANBU behind the machine speaks first. “What do you have there, Captain Hatake?”

Kakashi pats the pack on his hip the woman is eyeing. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“We can’t let-“

“Let him pass,” Tenzo calls from the lighted hallway. When Kakashi looks ahead, Tenzo is jogging toward them. “He’s beyond late for this meeting. Lord Third will have my head if I don’t get my Captain in his office.”

“But-“ the rookie reluctantly backs off as Tenzo pushes his way forward and ushers Kakashi through with a gentle but insistent shove.

“He’s a Captain, Rookie,” the woman says, her voice fading as they acquire some distance. “Leave it alone.”

“Kakashi,” Tenzo says, “what happened?” He squints, frowning as he leans in closer. “And what’s with the-“

Kakashi slaps his hand away before Tenzo can touch the strap angled across his new eye. “Madara happened,” he says, because he knows the name is enough to keep Tenzo’s questions at bay, at least long enough to get them into Hiruzen Sarutobi’s office.

Tenzo gasps and falls into silence, though he broadcasts his anxiety and setting-in despondency loudly enough. When they reach the door, Kakashi feels dizzy. Here he will have to relive the devastation of that mission, not because he is required to report, but because Tenzo deserves to know what happened to his teammates. Konoha needs to know the whereabouts of a criminal like Madara...and Obito. Kakashi’s leadership deserves to know about his new eye and the liability he could be for the ANBU.

“Come in,” Lord Third calls from the other side of the door.

Tenzo meets Kakashi’s gaze before reaching for the handle and pushing the door open. Inside, Lord Third sits on a pillow, his feet tucked beneath him, a kimono wrapped around his person. Smoke pours from the pipe pressed between his cracked lips, clouding the flickering security screens on the ceiling in a milky haze. Two ANBU stand in the shadows at the corner of the room, as if trying to make themselves invisible.

“Ah, Tenzo,” Lord Third says, sending Tenzo a smile before raising a brow at Kakashi. “You finally found him.”

Tenzo huffs a laugh. “Yes, Lord Third.”

“Lord Third,” Kakashi says with a nod and a stilted bow. “Sorry I’m late. You see-“

“The only explanation I want to hear,” Lord Third says abruptly, waving his pipe in a wide circle in the air, “is the one regarding that failed raid. Am I correct in assuming it failed?”

“Yes.”

“And how did that-“

“It was Madara Uchiha,” Tenzo says before Kakashi gets a word in. “He was there.”

The Third’s wrinkled eyes go wide as they turn on Kakashi. “Is this true, Kakashi?”

Kakashi closes his eyes. “He killed them all. Team Ro is gone.”

He waits for the reaction, the scolding, the admonishments. When that doesn’t come, he opens his eyes to see Tenzo gazing at him with concern and Lord Third thoughtfully gnawing on his pipe.

Finally, Lord Third removes his pipe and licks his lips. “All? Except you appear to have escaped Madara unscathed, Kakashi. What aren’t you telling me?”

Kakashi flicks a glance at the ANBU to Lord Third’s right, then the one to his left. “Not quite unscathed.”

Kakashi’s hands are clasped at his front, but he unclasps them to swipe a hand across the pack at his hip. Tenzo perks a brow and meets Kakashi’s eye while Lord Third nods and hums.

“Very well,” Lord Third says before setting his pipe aside and raising both hands. “Leave us.”

“Lord Third!” The ANBU to the right gasps.

“If Captain Hatake, the man I’ve kept by my side for years, suddenly becomes a source of danger to me,” Lord Third says with a hint of mockery in his voice, “I’m sure Tenzo will come to my defense in your absence.”

Tenzo nods, and the pair of ANBU slink out behind them with wary eyes locked on Kakashi. Kakashi heaves a sigh when they’re gone. They may be right to be wary. Kakashi has to be careful here. He raises his hand to the strap covering his eye, but it trembles and lowers against his will. Swallowing his resolve, he tries again, acutely aware of the two sets of eyes intently locked on his face. When he pulls the strap free, he doesn’t immediately open the new eye along with his own. It is not because he is hesitant to reveal it, but he is hesitant of what it can do. He still doesn’t know the extent of its uses, of why Obito gave it to him, why Madara allowed it.

“Kakashi,” Lord Third says, his voice intense and hoarse. “Open your eye.”

He obliges against his better judgement, because his training to follow orders is that engrained at this point in his career. As he takes in the new details of the world around him, the visual cues molding the room into fine precision, he barely has to glance at the others to recognize their shock.

“Captain,” Tenzo breathes.

“A gift,” Kakashi says, tapping his eyelid as he closes the eye, “from Obito.”

“Obito Uchiha,” Lord Third says. “So he was there, too.”

Kakashi hums his agreement.

“Why?” Tenzo blurts. Kakashi shoots him a one-eyed, questioning glance. “Why would he give you...is that...his?”

Kakashi presses his lips into a hard line as Tenzo’s question sinks in, confirming what Kakashi hasn’t even acknowledged to himself that he suspected. And though he hasn’t taken the time to think about it before now, he knows the answer instantly. Flashes of images from places he has never been. Madara Uchiha’s smile looking almost fond. His own eyes, looking back at him from a face full of judgement. These are all in his head, loaded from the memory contained in the eye.

It is his.

Kakashi shrugs and releases a sigh. “He said, soon you’ll see this world as I do.”

“And Madara agreed to this?” Lord Third says.

Kakashi hardens his gaze and meets the old man’s eyes. “I think he plans to use me to infiltrate the ANBU. Lord Third-“

Tenzo gasps and rushes forward. “If he can penetrate our defenses, Konoha will be lost! We can’t-“

“You should remove me from duty,” Kakashi says with regret, shying away from Lord Third’s penetrating gaze. “At least for now.”

“On the contrary,” Lord Third says, making Kakashi snap his gaze back to the old man with both eyes open, “I think we can use this to our advantage.”

Kakashi balks. “Lord Third.”

“Think of the tech, what it can do for Konoha.”

Kakashi closes his eyes, retiring his argument. There is no doubt cybertech can aid Konoha in its battles, and Kakashi will figure out how to manipulate it in no time, as he masters everything else rapidly. It goes against Konoha’s principles, though. This cybertech is part of the very illegal technology they’re fighting against. It dehumanizes its user. It comes with as many flaws and disadvantages as it has advantages. It is dangerous and reckless. But apparently, Kakashi will be using it.

He sighs. “Yes, Lord Third.”

“But the security!” Tenzo interjects.

“I’ll leave that in the ANBU’s hands,” Lord Third says with a proud smile as he reaches for his pipe. “Kakashi, I can’t have you reporting here anymore with that eye. You won’t make it through security and-“

“I’d rather not give Madara the chance to record anything,” Kakashi finishes.

Lord Third nods. “Right. Tenzo will be the go-between. He will contact you with your next mission. And Kakashi. Tenzo.” His voice is solemn as he looks up to meet their eyes. “I’m sorry about your team. Those men and women served Konoha well.”

Kakashi inhales. His chest feels like it’s laced with barbed wire. “Thank you.”

He bows his head as he leaves the office with a solemn Tenzo, who has no words for what’s transpired. Kakashi is relieved about that. He would rather not talk about this. He has cybertech to master. He has new missions to pursue. He will use the illegal implant in his head for the good of Konoha.

——-

The fight against illegal technology wages on in the months to follow. Kakashi is constantly drained by the power of the Sharingan, the tech he now is known far and wide to have mastered. It eats away at his reserves with every use, yet has carried him through close calls more times than he can count. It aids him in the assassinations of conspirators and their families. It aids him time and time again when his teammates fall. Some days, he doesn’t know how he considers himself to be in the right. Yet Konoha continues to make use of his skills and his illicit gift, expecting him to serve. Lord Third frequently requests Sharingan Kakashi’s assistance on the most heinous of missions. He is needed. He is valuable. He is not to step foot in the Tower, because then he would be a liability. The more he is used, the more he understands what Obito must’ve been feeling when he decided to leave Konoha. With the passage of time, Kakashi finds himself growing disillusioned with his state, his government, his leadership.

He sits at his desk now, in the dark, coming down from the adrenaline of another long day of work. An empty bowl of ramen rests beside him with neon chopsticks pointing out his window. Multicolored flashes permeate his room as the computer screen before his eyes flashes an ad with a naked, bent-over woman moaning and screaming while the man behind her slaps his skin against hers again and again, until a bottle of lube spins over them and loudly announces its addition as a new product with dance music blasting in the background. Kakashi recognizes this ad playing before his eyes, but he isn’t fully looking at it. He’s looking more at the red light reflected in the dark corner of the screen, the familiar eye staring back at him. He hunches forward, bracing his elbows on the desk and refusing to meet the eyes of his intruder. He knew he would come eventually. He is resigned to accept whatever happens next. No matter what happens, he feels he deserves it - and worse.

“Sharingan Kakashi,” Obito says, his voice a whisper in the darkness.

Kakashi raises his gaze to the new ad playing on his screen, marking a bookstore’s grand opening. This ad doesn’t have the darkness to permit him a reflection. He can turn around, or he can wait here blindly. He doesn’t move.

“Do you see now?” Obito says, closer this time.

Kakashi hangs his head and tries for a long moment not to break. He fails. A sob racks his chest as his Sharingan eye replays visuals of children smiling and accepting handouts in the slums, runaway teens escaping pursuit as a door is opened for them from a dark alley, stray cats eating from the palm of his hand. But it’s not his hand. His hands are stained with the blood of innocents. It is Obito’s hands he sees, Obito’s memories. They’ve haunted Kakashi as he’s taken them along with him on every vile mission. They’ve made Kakashi see this world more clearly than he ever has.

“Yes,” he chokes. “I’m scum. The lowest of scum. Do your worst. I won’t stop you.”

A hand lands on his shoulder and Kakashi braces for the strike that is bound to come. After seconds have passed with nothing happening, he whips his head up. He whirls around to look over his shoulder and see Obito looking down on him with one eye to match his and another to match the grey whirling tech Kakashi had seen on Madara. His mismatched eyes manage to convey pity.

“You are scum,” Obito says, his words betrayed by the note of fondness in his voice. The hard clank of steel hitting wood alerts Kakashi of the dagger set by his side. “But he trusts you. Your Sharingan can get close.”

Kakashi turns his gaze from the dagger reflecting multicolored dancing lights to the smug look on Obito’s face. It is only by use of his Sharingan that he is able to determine the emotion he sees in Obito’s eyes - not triumph, but sadness. He is sad for Kakashi, even in sight of his win.

Obito squeezes Kakashi’s shoulder. “You know what you have to do.”

Kakashi turns his eyes to the hilt of the dagger and picks it up, turns it over until it reflects a beam of light across his tiny apartment. “You think it’ll make a difference?”

“Doing away with the leadership?” Obito says with a frown and a shrug. “It’s a start. Madara has a vision. I plan to fulfill that vision.”

Kakashi gives him a wry smile. “Too bad I won’t be there to see it come to fruition.”

“You do your part,” Obito says, lowering himself to meet Kakashi eye to eye, “and I’ll do mine.”

Kakashi seizes Obito by the wrist before he can rise again and walk out of his life forever. “Stay.”

Obito eyes Kakashi’s hand and then steadily meets his gaze. “Kakashi. Stupid, loyal Kakashi.”

He leans down and pulls Kakashi in for a kiss. It is tender and gentle, not like anything Kakashi would expect from a rogue criminal. And Kakashi needs more. He grabs a fistful of Obito’s shirt and tugs him forward until their kiss is hard and bruising. Obito’s hands explore Kakashi’s body as he rises from the chair and makes way for the bed.

Because tonight may be Kakashi’s last night in this world. He has seen it clearly now, just in time to leave it, hopefully in time to leave a mark that will overshadow all the violence he has inflicted on it. He can hope for Madara’s future to be a better tomorrow. He will entrust Obito with overseeing the change, because when he is gone, Obito will remain, showing Kakashi the future through his eyes.

[superdamc]

Steel channel frames are widely using in commercial and industrial construction projects.They are incuding Traingle spring tee, Angle channel, T purlin, V kneel etc suspending ceiling parts metal.

[theethighpriestess]

III. THE SUNKEN PLACE

“Ms. Powell, nice to see you again,” Harper greeted with a pleasant smile as O’Shea stepped off the elevator on Erik’s floor.

“Hello Harper, is Dr. Stevens in his office?”

“He is. He asked me to clear his schedule just for you.” With a nod, O’Shea stepped into the lavish office, greeted by the sight of his broad back as he stared out the massive floor to ceiling window.

“Beautiful weather we’re having, wouldn’t you agree Ms. Powell?”

“Cut the shit, Stevens. I got a problem that you need to solve.”

“I don’t need to do shit. It ain’t my fault ya pussy don’t work,” he countered with a sneer, those golden canines making their second appearance since she’d met him. She stopped mid-rant, completely enthralled by the way the veins in his arms bulged with his.. What was this? Anger? What the hell did he have to be mad about? She was the one that couldn’t release months of sexual frustration.

“Look at you, all pent up and pissed off for no reason. You came to me for a solution and now you mad cuz it ain’t exactly what you wanted. Spoiled ass little bitch.” O’Shea whimpered softly, unable to move as he stepped closer to her. His calloused hands traveled up her arms, to her shoulders, until they found a home around her throat where he squeezed lightly.

“Daddy’s little nasty bitch likes to be choked, right?” Shea bit her lip to silence the moan that almost left her lips. The heat in her core had returned with a vengeance and the way he stared at her while his grip tightened on her throat was only making her wetter.

“Aww, babygirl wore her rosaries today,” he acknowledged as one of his hands left her throat to toy with the beads. He twisted them around two of his fingers until he heard it. The faintest, most pitiful moans he had ever heard escaped her lips, signaling her surrender.

“What happened to ya attitude, ma? Where’s that fire you had over the phone and when you first walked in?” O’Shea was stuck. Her pussy was dripping at his dominance and the way he was toying with her body that she couldn’t form a coherent thought. Suddenly, the grip around her neck and rosaries loosened and Erik’s body slouched forward with a low hum.

“A robot?” O’Shea asked aloud.

“A prototype,” the real Erik answered from the doorway of the office.

“How long were you there?”

“Long enough,” he answered cooly as he took his usual seat atop his desk. “Sit down, Ms. Powell. Let’s address your frustrations.”

--

Two hours into the session and O’Shea was nearly in tears. Between the fluctuation of Erik’s tone and the subtle exercises they were doing, she body was screaming for a release.

“I want to try one more exercise with you before we wrap up today, Ms. Powell.” O’Shea looked up at him with half-lidded eyes as he let down the back of the seat turning it into a cushioned bed.

“Close your eyes and focus on the sound of my voice. Calm yourself, I need your breathing to be slow and even in order for this to work.”

O’Shea followed his directions, eager to know where he was going with this.

“Your head is heavy, let it rest against the cushion. Your arms are heavy, feel them rest. Your legs are heavy, let them go. Rest. Relax.” She felt the tension throughout her body and then limb by limb she felt herself completely relax.

“You are now light as a feather. Rest. Relax.” Before she knew it, she felt like she was asleep, stuck in some sort of suspended animation while Dr. Stevens continued his ministrations.

“Listen to my voice and do as I say, understand? Say ‘yes Daddy’.”

“Yes Daddy,” she responds almost automatically.

“Good girl,” he praised, gently stroking her cheek with his thumb. “For the rest of this exercise your name is Nasty Bitch and you will answer to that and that alone, understand?”

“Yes Daddy.”

“Good girl. What’s your name?”

“Nasty Bitch.”

“And who am I?”

“You’re Daddy.”

“That’s a good little bitch. Now I want you to close your eyes and think back to your last orgasm. What did he do or say that pushed you over the edge?”

“He had me bent over the hood of his car, on the side of the road. It was dark and we both were horny and couldn’t wait until we got home so he pulled over.” O’Shea felt her core heat at the memory of fucking Damien for the last time.

“He was stroking me long and deep and he had a handful of my hair, pulling my head back so that all I saw were the stars.”

“Did he say anything while in the moment?” Erik’s voice dropped again. O’Shea had begun calling it his ‘Daddy voice’.

“He called me a nasty bitch for agreeing to sex on the side of the road yet praised me for how well I was taking his dick.”

“Good girl, spread your legs.” O’Shea did what she was told, her eyes never leaving Erik’s as she focused on the commands he was giving. He slid closer to the edge of the desk and gently rubbed a hand down the front of her body. O’Shea bit her lip as she watched him, completely unable to stop his actions.

“Did Daddy tell you to stop talking?’

“No Daddy.”

“Then keep going. What happened next?” he asked as his hand found the seat of her panties. He rubbed slow circles on the outside of the fabric before slipping one finger into her slickness. O’Shea’s breath hitched as he toyed with her, gently rolling the sensitive bundle of nerves between his fingers.

“How did he make you cum, Princess?” Erik asked at the shell of her ear, his fingers never stopping their actions.

“H-He started stroking faster, making his dick hit my gspot. At the same time he rubbed my clit with his thumb.”

“Did it feel something like this?” he asked as he mimicked the action with his fingers, causing a rush of her nectar to coat his fingers.

“Yessss,” she moaned, throwing her head back as she became lost somewhere between the past and the present.

“Good girl, now at the sound of my voice,” it seemed to go impossibly deep. Demonically deep. “Sink. Sink into the horny abyss and do not stop cumming until I tell you to, understand?”

“Yes Da--”

“Sink.” In that moment, time stood still and the walls of the office disappeared into darkness. O’Shea’s soul and awareness stood somewhere in a corner looking on powerlessly while Erik toyed with her body like a puppet master. Somehow she was present in her body and outside of it at once. In her corner, she could scream in fear and intense pleasure, but in her body she was mute and immobile, staring unblinkingly. She watched through the windows of her half-lidded eyes as he brought her body to completion over and over until her juices coated both of their laps and she was left shaking before him. In her mind, she was trembling, screaming ‘Dr. Daddy’ over and over again, unable to stop. Her voice was going hoarse.

“That’s my good girl. Doesn’t that feel better, baby? You like the way Daddy Erik makes you cum?” She could do nothing. She couldn't blink or raise a finger, not even nod, and he allowed it this once, tilting her chin to nod her head for her.

“You’ve been such a good girl for Daddy. You’re ready to come back?”

“Yes Daddy,” her ghost whined from the corner, depleted. Erik placed a gentle kiss to her temple before snapping his fingers. In the thud of a heartbeat, everything was back to normal and O’Shea felt at one with her body once again. She looked down at her lap and was surprised to find it dry, despite what had just taken place.

“Wait, I don’t understand,” she gasped looking up at him. He chuckled darkly before bringing his hand up to his mouth to lick it clean.

“You taste sweet as fuck, Princess. We might have to do that more often.” O’Shea was dumbfounded as her mind attempted to process what had just transpired. She stared up at him with squinted eyes as he wrote in his notepad. He looked up briefly to meet her gaze.

“Is something wrong, Ms. Powell?”

“What kind of hood nigga sorcery was that?” He chuckled.

“Ain’t shit funny. First, ya robot gets me all hot and bothered, then you make me have some sort of out of body experience where I’m cumming, but I’m really not. Make it make sense, Stevens.”

“Such a vicious little kitten. What we just did was hypnotherapy and from the looks of it, it was successful.”

“Fuck you, Stevens.”

“In due time, Ms. Powell. Until then, I have another task for you.”

“I’m listening.”

“Well, since the pussy machine is broken, you shouldn’t have no problem refraining from touching yourself until our next session, which I’m scheduling two weeks from now.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. You can’t tell me that I can’t masturbate.”

“You already can’t cum, so what would be the point?” The charming bastard had a point, but still, she loved playing with herself, even if it didn’t yield any results.

“Alright fine, I won’t do it.”

“I’m holding you to that, Ms. Powell. And don’t try anything slick, because I’ll know.”

--

So you met N’Jadaka, huh?” Skylar said with a sly smile as she went over the ribbed toy prototypes.

“What the fuck is a N’Jadaka?” O’Shea asked with her nose scrunched up in confusion. Though she was thankful for the sensation of having an orgasm, she had yet to experience it in a state in which she could actually control her body and frankly she was sick of Skylar and Erik skirting around the topic while her needs still went unmet.

“N’Jadaka is Erik’s middle name and also the name we gave to the prototype of the life size sex toy models we were looking into acquiring from a young designer out in Oakland. She makes them look and act so real.”

“So I’ve noticed,” O’Shea deadpans.

“What’s the problem now, Shea? You wanted to cum and he made you cum.”

“No, he made my psyche cum. He mindfucked the shit out of me and dammit I want him to do it again, expect with his dick.” Skylar was tickled pink. Though she was used to hearing women gush about her best friend in such a way, O’Shea had a way with words that made everything Erik said and did sound like something supernatural.

“I told you he wasn’t one of these other niggas you were used to, Shea. You can’t seduce Erik, he’s a walking incubus that just so happens to specialize in the female anatomy. When he’s done, you’re gonna be eating out of the palm of his hands wearing nothing but a kitten collar.” O’Shea mulled over that thought and felt the heat rise in her core once again. Being told that she couldn’t masturbate, coupled with the thoughts that were swirling in her mind had Bennie jumping for some attention.

“Bitch you nasty,” Skylar sneered noticing how quiet she had become.

“You knew that when you hired me,” O’Shea countered.The women carried on with the rest of their workday, occasionally conversing about whatever designs Shea had been working on. As crazy as it sounded, working actually curbed Shea’s sexual appetite. Once night fell, they parted ways and O’Shea made her way back to her condo. Once inside, she stared at the toy sitting on her nightstand and decided to have a little fun. She undressed and positioned herself in the middle of her bed with her legs spread wide. She applied the lubricant and gently placed it inside her, making sure to remove the batteries so that she didn’t accidentally turn it on.

“The only way he’ll know you’re using it is if your turn it on. The remote has a sensor inside that alerts him when its in use.” Skylar’s words played in her head as she played in her love cave. The pushed it in and out slowly, gently rubbing it along her clit and back into her center. She rolled her nipples between her fingers and she worked herself up, moaning Erik’s name as she chased her release. She was so caught up in her pleasure, that she missed the text notification on her phone. She began moving it inside of herself faster and faster until --

“Shiiiiit,” she moaned as the toy roared to life. It was vibrating on its highest setting, and O’Shea couldn’t contain herself as she fisted her sheets. As her release crept closer, she device slowed to a crawl. She looked down at it in confusion, wondering how the hell it was working without batteries and any other power source. Before she could question it further, it sprang to life again, this time curving upward slightly to tickle her gspot.

“Fuuck,” she moaned out, shaking and quivering under the toy’s ministrations. After about 5 more edging sessions, she threw the toy across the room, her chest heaving as her core clenched around nothing. Another ping from her iPhone made her pick up the device.

—————————

@nickidub718 @heyauntieeee @xaviera108 @alexundefined @lettingthepaintdry @cosmiclunarprincess-fanfic @princessstevens @ledouxange7 @vikkidc @bartierbakarimobisson @raysunshine78 @amethyst1993 @forbeautyandlife @tntnv @chaneajoyyy @thehomierobbstark @mareethequeen @iamrheaspeaks @dameshaemonique @jozigrrl @madamslayyy @yaachtynoboat711 @blowmymbackout @youreadthatright @beaut1fulone-blog @bugngiz @amirra88 @chefjessypooh @post-woke @theogbadbitch @im5ftbutmythroat66 @queengodiva619 @blackpinup22 @love-me122 @pending-lostheart @sydneebleu

[alliswell21]

Avengerlark, Assemble!

Here is my first try at this... I know it’s not my best, and it’s actually kinda short. This first one is dedicated to @dandeliononfire, since it’s her brain child. While I do have a backstory for K & P, If anyone is interested in more, please, by all means, send in a request/prompt and I’ll try to work with it.

Unbetaed.

Enjoy.

🕷 🕷 🕷

“Heads up!” A whole car wheezes by on my right, just as the shiny flash of metal zooms past me propelled by hand and feet jets.

“Hey!” I call out in aggravation and leap in the opposite direction, shooting strand after strand of web compound out of my wrists. The Kia is still descending straight to a store front, so I start weaving a sturdy web in front of the falling vehicle.

Then out of nowhere, a huge shadow looms on top of me. I only have time to look up and hug the nearest wall before She-hulk crashes on top of the flying car with a mighty roar, pancaking the frame to the concrete directly below.

I moan frustrated.

“In coming meteor!” A male voice snaps in my suit’s com.

I start running across the wall, slinging a web and leaping upwards.

“Where are you going, webs? Get the civilians in the ground!”

“There’s nobody down there!” I yell back. “I’ve looked and there isn’t anyone on the street!”

Iron Girl’s furious growl comes through the com.

“Guys, the sky is falling! Take cover!” Hawkeye calls out just as the first ball of fire descends.

“Smash!” She-hulk punches the fireball, pretty much the same way she did with the flying car, except this time, the object ping pongs against the ground and everything it touches catches on fire.

A second and third flaming rock hit earth. The computer sirens come up into everyone’s earpieces, “Warning, warning. Imminent failure.”

“Move it, move it, move it!” Screams the Iron girl jettisoning in between meteor fragments, blasting everything in her path, but the debris is falling to fast, too close. Unnatural in my opinion.

“Warning, Warning. Failure imminent.”

“Huge bogey approaching.”

“Warning, Warning—“

“Everyone, run for cover. We can’t fight a rock that sized!” I call out, navigating myself around the chaos.

“Prepare for impact, in three, two, one—“

A volley of arrows pierce the already deflated tires of the Kia She-hulk smashed a minute ago and the whole background glitches twice, before the blue lights of the training center flicker back to life all around us. A whirring sound coming from the vaulted ceiling signals the hologram machines shutting off for the day, and soon after, a chorus of tired, painful groans echo in the cavernous room.

Only the flattened car and a few other big objects, like a dumpster and a few light poles remain.

“Ugh! That was awful.” Says Gale Hawthorne, landing awkwardly in front of me. He scowls at his crossbow, pulling at the string like he’s afraid it got damaged with the few arrows he just shot into the useless rubber of the car.

Congratulations Hawkeye, you just killed an inanimate object. The thought comes into my mind unbidden, so I force my eyes elsewhere before the words escape my mouth. Too bad my eyes turn to the exact spot Iron Girl touches ground.

I’m not as quick averting my gaze this time.

“It wouldn’t have been as bad if everyone had been in position!” She bites, flicking both hands at the same time; the Iron suit opens up down the middle, panels of shiny gold and green armor recede and fold back until only the back of the suit stands, and Katniss Everdeen’s slim, strong, and perfectly sculpted right leg steps out of her encasing. The rest of her body follows, and I have to groan internally, because she’s wearing those biking shorts again, the ones that mold to her tight, little behind like a second skin and leaves nothing to my imagination. Her sports tank top doesn’t help either.

I tear my mask off before I suffocate panting like I just ran a marathon in it.

“Everyone was in position, Catnip. Even Johanna was in position for once!” Grunts Hawkeye.

“She-hulk did good!” Responds the big, green girl, otherwise known as Johanna Mason, the She-hulk.

“I built a net for that car!” I exclaim exasperated. “Do you guys know how much wasted web material that is? It takes three days to gather ingredients, make, and package one tiny vial of web! Can we not waste it?” I grumble.

“Spider-lad sad!” Says She-hulk mockingly.

“Spider-MAN, thank you very much, Johanna. And I’m not sad, I’m aggravated about the fact that perfectly good spiderweb went to waste.”

“She-hulk sleep hammock!” Jo gives a hulking chuckle before jumping on my beautiful net, like it's indeed a hammock.

Only, she gets stuck and starts roaring angrily, kicking her massive legs and punching the air with her humongous fists, until finally the threads give and she sags half a foot deeper, but it’s still suspended above the ground, cocooned in my net.

“Stop squirming!” Shouts Gale, aiming an arrow at my web and efficiently cutting Johanna out of the mess.

I groan again. It’s helpless.

“Enough!” Calls Katniss cracking her knuckles. “This exercise was a disaster! Nobody responded the way they were supposed to. The execution was sloppy and loose. We looked like a bunch of amateurs!” She snaps, “How can we defend Earth from threats if we can’t even manage a measly simulation?”

“The simulation was faulty.” I say, “There were no civilians in the ground, the meteor shower was coming in too tight and fast, not to mention too big a chunks of it. Plus the reaction to the one punch from Jo was totally wrong, it defied laws of physics.”

Her flaming gray eyes turn to look at me, there’s anger in her gaze when we lock eyes. “You weren’t in your spot! Why did you move?”

“Katniss, the buildings were holographic, in case you forgot. I situated myself as close to my mark as I could. I can’t magically cling to holograms, you know. And throwing that car my way in retaliation is not very heroic either. You’re lucky my spidy senses tingled a second before that Kia flew past me, Iron Kat, otherwise I’d be a windshield splatter. Your warning skills could use some improvement!” I respond in kind.

Katniss’ face flush with renewed anger. I can see her biting the inside of her lip as her scowl deepens. She’s formulating her comeback, but Gale beats her to it.

“Give it a rest, Catnip. The Web Slinger is right. We can’t always have a neat formation during practice. Is just not realistic. If an enemy attacks Earth, it won’t wait until we’re all set in our designated areas, camera ready. If you want to have a real fighting chance, you need to learn to plan on the fly.”

“Fine! If you’re so awesome at improvising, then you have point tomorrow! I’m going to shower before our call with Ms. Potts.” Katniss stalks out of the training center, and Gale and I stand there watching her perfect ass walk away from us.

At least, I am.

Gale’s her second cousin though, so I guess he wouldn’t be looking at her romp the same way I am; which embarrases me right away, because I’m supposed to be annoyed with her, in a professional matter, instead I’m admiring her retreating form like some kind of pervert.

“She-hulk hungry!” Says Johanna stepping between me and Gale, jogging after Katniss.

“Did you think Catnip noticed Jo’s not wearing a shirt?” Asks Gale staring at Johanna with both fascination and revulsion.

“Dunno. But I’m sure she will once she’s showing Pepper Potts the replay video of today’s exercise.”

“She’s gonna be mad.”

“She sure will.”

“I’m glad she’s your girl and not mine,” Gale gives me a glance out of the corner of his eye. “You deal with your angry bobcat of a girl.”

I scratch the back of my neck, feeling anxious. “Um… you know about us?” I cringe.

Gale rolls his eyes and steps away from me. “Peeta, she came down to breakfast two days ago wearing the top of the pajama set Effie Trinket gave you for Christmas… while you wore the bottoms.” He turned sideways to level me with a pointed look, then kept on walking away while speaking. “Neither of you are very slick, my man. I would warn you to keep your sticky limbs away from Katniss, but she’s been more cheery since you two started sneaking around. If this practice had happened two months ago, Miss Iron Maiden would’ve force us to repeat the simulation until everything fell the exact way she envisioned it.

“No, she’s definitely more laid back since jumping your arachnid bones. Heck! I even saw her smiling yesterday. You know the last time I saw her smile? It was a while ago. So, from fellow teammate to teammate, you keep her happy, Peeta Mellark, whatever it is you do in that cave of yours, keep her happy. And I’ll keep pretending I don’t know what you’re up to with my baby cousin.”

Gale disappears down the hallway, making me feel like a total idiot.

“I make her smile?” The thought makes me ridiculously happy. Before I realize what I’m doing, I’m merrily swinging on my webs from wall to wall through Avengers tower to my room; a stupid smile splitting my face in two.

I make Iron Kat smile! F yeah, I’m the man!

[shes-claws-deep]

Brothel Demonstration - Mercy, Reinhardt, Zenyatta

My good girl Angela is an excellent choice for a demonstration, as is Reinhardt, a retired breeding bull. Zenyatta is currently not on the roster as a slave, but he is available for massages and aftercare.

Jack brings in Angela and Reinhardt by their collars, Zenyatta following behind obediently. Angela is scantily clad in tissue-thin panties and a simple harness around her chest to emphasise her breasts, leaving nothing to the imagination. Reinhardt is completely bare, exposing his well-built form and the thick, flaccid cock hanging between his legs. They are then made to kneel beside the Madam, both clasping their hands behind their back. Zenyatta, too, follows suit, though he is wearing a tasteful set of trousers.

The Madam first gestures to Angela, running her hand over the blonde’s loose hair.

Angela, oh Angela. Formerly a doctor working in emergency medicine, Angela still carries the stress of the profession on her shoulders. She is very responsive, very pent up, and very, very horny. Once you get her going, there’s no way she’s going to stop. She can cum for ages and still feel the urge to keep fucking, to keep cumming.

With a nod from his boss, Jack extends Angela’s legs and straps leather cuffs to her thighs, knees, and ankles. The cuffs on her knees are attached to her chest as Jack easily manipulates Angela into position against his body. He reaches up for a few chains hanging from the ceiling, attaching them to her chest, her ankles, and her thighs so she hangs in place. Then, bit by bit, he raises her until she’s suspended above the ground, her holes perfectly level with the Madam’s waist.

Perfect. Thank you, Jack. Now, Angela’s holes are greedy. Very greedy indeed. She can take cocks of any size; even the biggest dildos are no match for her pussy. Observe.

The Madam takes a horse-like dildo from the nearby cart, hefting it before the audience to show exactly how big it is. Its girth is larger than the Madam’s bicep and as long as her forearm. She douses it in lube, smearing some on Angela’s already leaking pussy, and nudges the flared tip against her clit.

The blonde moans tremulously, her lips already slack before her Mistress starts to stuff the huge cock into her pussy. Her pussylips stretch to an incredible size, swallowing up the cock slowly but surely. She struggles as she passes the halfway mark, but her restraints hold her too well, stopping her from moving as the Madam forces the rest of it in. The base is then secured with an additional strap, holding it inside her stuffed, leaking pussy so she can milk it as much as she wants.

She loves being humiliated, my angel does. Overstimulation too. Oh, but if you could combine both, Angela will become the ultimate pet for a lucky customer.

Jack hands the Madam a huge butt plug, one with cables trailing from the flat end. This plug goes into Angela’s winking asshole, the bud already stretching open from the strain in her legs and the position she’s held in. It goes in without a fuss with the help of some lube, filling Angela’s other hole to the brim. She sobs out loud and pleads with the Madam, begging her to stop as she feels too full. She’ll break. Please stop.

The Madam merely smiles and takes a vibrating wand. Presses it against her clit. And watches her dance.

Cumslaves like you don’t get to choose, my angel. If I want you to dance for my audience, then dance you will. Remember that you’re nothing more than my cumrag.

Angela yells at the top of her voice, the intense vibrations sending her over the edge. Forcing her to cum once. Then twice in quick succession. And then three times. Over and over and over until she’s nothing more than quivering, mindless slave.

The Madam grins at the audience and comes up behind Angela, using the opportunity to not only attach the vibrator to her clit but to fondle her breasts and pinch her nipples until they turned cherry red from the abuse.

At this point, Angela is senseless and trembling uncontrollably, her eyes long rolled into her skull and her tongue lolling out of her mouth.

Now, the Madam turns to Zenyatta.

Keep her awake, Zenyatta. I want her to suffer every bit of pleasure I deign to give her.

The omnic bows and sends an orb of harmony forth, the golden wisp hanging above Angela and rejuvenating her. The stream of healing does its job, bringing the former doctor to her senses and making her scream anew at the intense pain of her multiple orgasms.

Reinhardt. Ah, Reinhardt. A former breeding bull of mine. As you can see, he is incredibly hung. Almost as much as a horse, one might say.

The Madam bids the massive man to stand and fondles his cock until it rises to full mast.

Although much older than the rest of my merchandise, Reinhardt still maintains an intense regiment to keep up his libido. I daresay he is still able to fuck anyone into unconsciousness if given the order. His stud roots cannot be denied, even in retirement.

She spins him around and forces him to bend over, putting his hands on his ass cheeks so he’s able to spread himself wide open.

His hole is well used and well seasoned, able to pull orgasms out of any cock that penetrates him. He’s not as, hm, stretchy as the Shimada brothers, but he can cum from anal penetration alone. He is experienced in prostate milking and he’s very, very sensitive there.

To demonstrate, she dons a glove and douses her fingers in lube, then slips them into him with only a small moan escaping him. Still, Reinhardt maintains his posture with his feet wide apart despite the tremble in his fingers. The Madam probes deep with two fingers, dipping and clawing until she finds his prostate with unerring ease.

Immediately, he cries out and his knees shake as she stimulates his prostate with an ease born from experience.

Jack, get down on your knees and suck his cock for me. I want our audience to see exactly how much cum our giant can produce.

Without complaint, Jack kneels before Reinhardt, offering the massive man a place to brace himself as the scarred man swallows Reinhardt’s monster cock down his throat. In tandem, they tease and drive Reinhardt to a frenzy; Jack through his silver tongue and clever lips, and the Madam through her fingertips at his now bulging prostate.

Like Angela, Reinhardt begins to beg and plead, rocking his hips back and forth needily to get more sensation. More pleasure. More everything. Luckily for him,, his demonstration also includes copious amounts of cum.

Reinhardt can only cum on command; if he isn’t given permission, he will be unable to orgasm no matter how hard he tries. So, ladies and gentlemen, is he allowed to cum?

A resounding yes echoes throughout the room and Reinhardt can only sob in relief as he cums like a hose. Jack can only swallow one mouthful before he’s forced to retreat, taking a bucketload of cum on his face and his chest. Reinhardt’s cock bobs and twitches, spewing spurt after spurt until Jack’s face looks like it’s been glazed with icing. Yet, he continues to cum even after his cock settles down into a half hard state, helped along by your handy fingers at his prostate that keep the milk going.

With your fingers in his ass, Reinhardt will be forced to cum again and again until you stop. When he was a breeding bull, he was trained to keep cumming until he’s absolutely worn out; which means that he has to drop unconscious before his libido forces him to stop.

On cue, Reinhardt’s cock swells back to full strength, pressing insistently against Jack’s mouth until he opens up and takes his fellow slave’s cock down his throat again. The Madam stops fingering his ass, this time dragging over a fucking machine and impaling him on the massive dildo mounted upon it. Both Reinhardt and Jack can only moan as the movements rock him back and forth, controlling the pace such that both men can only take what the machine dishes out.

And that’s it for this demonstration, everyone! If anyone would like to get a taste of either Angela’s or Reinhardt’s cum, please step forward and I’ll let you have a lick. Both are insatiable when it comes to pleasure and orgasms, so I’m sure whoever has them for the night will be just as wrung out as they are now.

Angela wails loudly as she cums for the nth time, the floor beneath her soaked through and a large puddle of her cum already pooling, the cum dripping around the huge dildo still jammed deep in her pussy. As for Reinhardt, he’s breathing through his second orgasm from Jack’s talented mouth and the insistent cock fucking his ass and jabbing at his prostate, covering the floor in a thin white layer of cum before he jerks back to hardness again.

Zenyatta will be available for samples of his incredible massage skills. Tantric massages are also on the menu, as is relaxation massages and meditating spas.

[lillaxtrigger]

Young hope: Chapter 19 (Pt6)

The Nightmare triplets finally reunited, the trio ascend the top of the Höllenfeuer cults castle; shredding through whatever stood in their path towards the top. Priss’s psychic prowess blending together with Savage and Carnage’s physical might turn the trio into an unstoppable lethal machine; one that proves unstoppable against the unholy denizens of the stronghold. Together, no man, nor beast dared standing a chance against their teamwork; not even the strange or outlandish.

One of these demons that attempts to halt their charge takes the form of a tank with the top half of a living demon; the beast spurting out a massive bullet out from its maw towards the oncoming trio. Though the explosive streaks through the halls, Priss casts forth her telekinesis towards the bullet and slows its flight towards her and her brothers; coming to a halt inches from the psychics head. Having stopped her foes round, the blue medium aims the bullet back towards its cyborg sender; intending to lend the beast a taste of its own medication. With a surge of her telekinesis; the psychic hurls the demons projectile back into its own maw; the shot exploding from within its head. The unholy cyborg stunned by the internal boom gives Priss’s brothers the moment to move in, the duo racing straight towards the tank. Grasping hold of both sides of the demons top half, Savage and Carnage uproot the beast from its metal tracks in mess of gore and organs. The brothers crash the demons severed half down upon its own lower wheels; breaking both in a bash of blood and metal. Having left their foe in a heap of burning flesh and steel, the trio continue in their crusade towards the top.

Ascending the staircase, they find a cultist taking his stand at the top of the steps. “Now my children...” Unveiling from his robes, he reveals his torso to be an entire hive; numerous deadly insects swarming out from his chest many holes. “Go forth and feast!” The swarm nearing the trio, Priss warps from between her brothers side and reappears to the bugs masters back. Effortlessly, the psychic robs the keeper of his will and orders him to call his ranks back. “Come my children, given daddy a kiss.” From the brothers front does the cloud of bugs retreat back towards their keeper; the swarm landing upon the cultists skin. Once the insects land, Priss instructs their master to have his own bugs bite and sting his whole body. Releasing her control over the living hives mind; the psychic withdraws from the cultist as he lets out an agonizing wail. “Ah, my children! Why have you forsaken me!?” Their bug keeping opponent distracted, Savage and Carnage leap from the set of steps and blast out from their eyes a trio of scorching hot rays. “I pay for your tuition and this is how I’m repaid!?” The three burning beams instantly ignite the living hive in a bellow of flames; the nightmare triplets leave their bug keeping foe to burn to a crisp.

Out from the steps and around the corner, the triplets soon come face to face with the slimy girth of a massive slug; its cheeks rapidly swelling at the seems. Quickly, the trio make haste towards their lumpy adversary in hopes of quelling its spewing assault. Faster do the Nightmare triplets race against the slugs puffing maw, the potentially deadly substance gathering in its mouth looming over them. Though only a few feet away from their limbless foe, the trio’s efforts to halt its oncoming upchuck being utterly too late. From the cheeks of the slugs maw bellows out a rainbow of beads, the trio watching as the mess of colorful circles spill out onto the velvet carpeting beneath their feet. Hungry enough, Carnage clasps one of them between his claws; tossing the colorful bead right in his mouth. Savage and Priss are repulsed as they watch their green brother chew upon the piece of colorful piece of puke; hearing the sound of satisfaction between his teeth. “Mmm. Skittles.”

Their ascension soon takes them outside the castle; facing one more massive set of steps leading up towards the highest tower. The moons lunar glow shines upon the trio like a spotlight; casting their shadows down upon the forest overlooking the castle. Finally, the trio rise towards the towers doors; it irons plate bound by demonic seal. To anybody else, this would be the anticlimactic end to their hard and strenuous journey. But not them. Not to the Nightmare triplets.

“Savage, Carnage. To the doors.” the psychic commands her brothers. As instructed, the demonic duo take to the twin doors; grasping tightly upon their handles. Floating betwixt the iron entrance, Priss focus her psychokinetic thoughts on the final gate before her. With all of their supernatural might, Savage and Carnage begin to pull upon the doors iron handles. As they pull, their sister channels the depths of her mental abilities into the barrier; each of them visibly struggling against the blockades fortitude. In their efforts do each of their eyes glow their respective color; shades of red, blue, and green start to consume the trembling seal. Finally, their excruciating endeavors are repaid; the seal shattering to shards as the doors fling wide open.

Among the fluttering pieces do the trio attempt to regain their strength; their breathing heavy and rasp. “Damn. Haven’t had a good workout like that in a while.” Carnage comments. “Yeah. Didn’t figure that some stupid door could put up one hell of a fight.” Savage adds. “Best prepare ourselves boys. For this final task of the night may perhaps be even harder.” Priss foretells. Rising from their rest, the trio stare into the darkess of the tower. “Both of ya ready?” the red brother asks. “Yeah, raring to go.” the green brother confirms. “Right. Let’s us head inside.” their blue sister demands. With of three of them prepared, the triplet rush into the shadowy void; the iron door closing behind them.

Stepping within inky void of the towers chambers, the Nightmare triplets come to a wide spotlight piercing through the middle of the veil of darkness. “Now where might the motherfucker in charge be hiding their sorry hides?” Carnage wonders. “Yeah. Wanna see out long they hold out before we make them squeal.” Savage mentions. Her eyes trialing down towards the illuminated marble, Priss spots lines of shadow centering around a square one in the middle. Gazing above, a small smirk is drawn across the psychics cheeks. “I think you’ll find the cults enigmatic leader to be cowering within the box above.” Following their sister’s advice, both demon brother aim their sites towards the shining ceiling of the tower. Casting their shadows below the light be a bizarrely decorated coffin; its iron engraving covered by the countless rings that suspend it in midair.

“Jeez, their castles getting wrecked and this jackass is just sleeping through our whole demolition show?” Carnage comments. “Think its about time they woke up and smell the blood in the air.” Savage suggests. Upon saying this does the red demon leap towards the iron coffin; the chained rings holding it in place trembling with the giants weight. Savage soon grabs hold of the rings holding the coffin in place and severs them from the chambers walls; both him and the metal box plummeting down towards the marble floor. The loud crash of the coffin and the tings of scattering rings mix as they bounce along the towers brickwork.

Once having grounded the coffin, Savage attempt to pry the box open with nothing but his bare claws; the lid budging not a single inch against the demons supernatural strength. “Come on...The hell’s keeping this damn thing shut!?” Savage questions, straining to open the coffin. As the red demon struggles to pull the box apart, his ears catch a hint of snickering from his green counterpart. “Can’t even open a fucking box.” Carnage mocks under his laughter. Upon this insult does Savage halt his efforts and rise from the coffin; offering his brother to rise to the challenge. “Alright asshole, you care to have a crack at it? Be my guest.” “He he he, gladly.”

Approaching the coffin, the green demon grasps hold of its engraved lid, boasting to both of his sibling to: “Just let me show ya pussies how a real demon gets it done.” With that said, Carnage starts to pull upon the box’s iron top; the casket refusing to yield to his supernatural strength. “Just...need to...Throw in...a little...muscle...A little...elbow grease!” Like his brother before, the green demon struggles to budge the lid in the slightest; his siblings hearing his straining grunts. “Wow, so that’s how real demons do it. God damn. You sure showed us.” Savage sarcastically mocks. His grip slipping against the coffins iron lid, Carnage lets a growl escape between his teeth. “Fuck this! Imma just smash it!”

The green giant readies to slam his claws down upon the coffins metal shell; but his sister orders cause him to halt. “Both of you knock it off!” Glancing to the psychic, the two brother hear Priss continue with: “It’s obviously sealed shut like the door. We need to work in unison if we want to get it open.” Hearing this, both of her brothers move to each side of the coffin; grabbing hold of each end of its lid. “Now, when I start, the two of you begin to pry the lid open.” Before either of the brothers could begin to pull, both of them feel the iron box suddenly quake. “Damn sis. And you’re telling us to calm down?” Savage comments. “Yeah. We haven’t even busted this freak out yet.” Carnage adds. “I...That wasn’t me.” Priss warns.

Right then and there, the engraved coffin starts to violently rumble; the triplets backing away from the quivering box. All three of them scramble as the casket frantically bounces all throughout the chamber, the psychic ascending out from the coffins reach as her brothers roll out from its rampage. Soon, the casket comes to a standstill; the trio staring down as it settles at the center of the room. The lid then blasts right off the iron coffin; a puff of yellow smoke erupting out from within. With the casket having calmed, the triplets start their approach; curious who, or what, could be lurking under its metal shell. Before they could peek through the golden shroud, a figure then leaps out from the thick clouds. The smoke parting, an armless woman dressed in red tights flips through the air; a cheerful howl echoing through the towers chamber.

The woman soon lands perfectly onto her coffins bottom edge; her eyes laying upon her uninvited guests with a smile. “Wow. Wow. Wow! The three of you were nothing short of amazing. A three demon troupe act to transcend the ages! The entrance hall, the arena, the library, even the gallery. Every second filled to the brim with heart pounding action. I haven’t watched such an outstanding performance in decades!”

Something about the leaders compliment struck a cord to Priss; more specifically how she had been apparently been watching the three this whole time. Before she can press on any further, one of her brothers speaks up on the matter. “Huh, so that how they all knew we were here.” Savage insisted. “Warning your little minions about us and sending their sorry asses after ours.” Both of them mentioning such makes the psychic look to her brother; surprised how quickly they’ve picked up on the details. “Oh, yeah. The way you just tore through my cultist was truly a show. My eyes were practically glued to you guys.” the leader cheers. “Hmph! I find it rather difficult to believe that you watched all of us inside your metal briefcase.” Priss presses. “Oh, don’t worry. I caught every bit of it. I saw-” In that moment, the cult masters eyes shut tight, commanding dozens of giant eyes unveil from the surrounding black void. “Eeeeeveryyyyyyythiiiiiiiiiing...” The trio jump back, preparing for whatever all of the masters peepers ready to unleash. But just as swiftly as they appeared, the countless eyes draw back into the shadows; the leaders own opening once more. This little demonstration was more then enough of a warning to Priss that this woman needed to be dealt with as swiftly as possible. Under her brothers shadows does she draw forth her blade, vanishing from thin air.

“I was actually hoping you’d make it here to be honest.” From behind does the psychic rematerialize aiming her weapons end straight towards the cult leaders kidney. Right when her sword was ready to taste flesh, her armless foe leaps out from her lunge; flipping high in the air.

From the arc of her ascent does she halt in her flip; floating right in the center of the chamber. Scattered around the marble floor do the countless swiftly rings rise from the tile; demonic eyes opening from their rims. Awakened from their slumber, all of the golden hoops jump straight for their master, linking together from the end of the cult leaders shoulder. From the end of the chains do a pair of golden hands sprout from the rings; the cult masters newly formed arms reaching both sides of the chamber. “I’ve been dying to experience your unholy strength against my magical mayhem firsthand!”

From the air does the cultist cast one of her ring made arms towards one of the demon brothers; Savage anticipating her attack and blocking against her oncoming strike. But rather than punch, the ring wrap around the red demons bulking figure; the gold constricting Savage completely. One of her foes enveloped in her grasp, the ring master swings the red giant all through the towers chamber as she drops back down. Aiming to halt his brothers wild ride; Carnage leaps towards the cult leaders arm and severs her hold on Savage with just a single snip of his claw. Both the red giant and the rings scatter along the tiled floor; Savage breaking free from his golden binds.

Seeing the leader descend, Priss takes another crack at her assault and darts towards the cult master once more; dashing to where she would fall to. In the midst of her plunge, the ring leader casts her other arm towards one of the living rings littering the floor; her whole limb passing right through the hoop like a shining portal. From there does the cultist dive right into the ring, slipping out from the triplets site. “The hell!”

Picking the living ring off the marble tile, Carnage looks through the golden hoop; finding nothing but empty space between its metal. Nothing more than just a simple hole, though it doesn’t stay as one for long. While the green demon gazes through, the leaders head pops right out; blowing out a bellow of frost onto Carnage face. The blast of icy breath causes the giant to stagger; flinging the living gold ring away. Clanging along the floor, the living ring rolls along the hard marble until it falls; facing the roof of the chamber.

Out from the golden hoop does the ring master rocket up, slinging her unsevered arm towards her psychic foe. Priss watching golden chain swiftly approach, she draws forth her blue blade and readies to counter the masters grip. Enveloping her sword within a coating of her telekinetic power, she deflects her golden foes grasps with but a single swing; the cult leaders row of rings staggered in the air. Right in that moment does Priss’s red brother snatches the golden chain, Savage jerking on the rings with all his might. The ring master proves powerless to stop the red demons overwhelming tug whilst airborne as she careens right towards Savage. Right when the cult leader was in slugging range, the crimson giant delivers a mighty uppercut to her jaw; sending the bejeweled bitch flying across the chamber and shattering her other arm.

Hurtling through the air, the ring leader precious rings slide across the marble floor below; the golden hoops aiming to catch their master from her plummet. “No you don’t!” the green demon barks. Determined to not let the cultist slip away, Carnage fires from his eyes a red hot ray towards the descending cultist. Two rings leap out from the pack; one that swallows the burning beam within its void, and the other returning the ray to its sender. Busy blocking his own beam, Carnage fails to intercept the cult leaders dive down towards her beloved rings; falling straight through their awaiting void.

“Dammit! Slippery bitch!” the green demon curses. “Chill, man. We just gotta wait til she pops out again and jump her.” Savage suggests. “Savage is right. Gather those rings scattered across the floor and we’ll ambush her when she emerges.” Priss plans. On that order do the brothers plan to gather the rings; Savage swiping one of them off the marble floor with a more careful claw. Don’t want to repeat his green siblings mistake and wind up with a face full of frost. But this careful approach winds up hurting more than helping, as the hoop easily flying out from his crabby grip. Following it be the rest of the rings, ascending out from the brothers reach and gathering in the center of the chamber. In a gleaming burst, the golden cluster splits apart; the countless rings revolving through the towers chambers.

The Nightmare triplets gather right in the center of the twirling collection of shimmering demonic hoops, ready for wherever their master may breach. “So sis. Any more idea’s you got cooking?” Carnage wonders. “Stick together and observe. It’s still remains unclear what all the leader of this cult is capable of. For now, we must await and prepare for any counterattack she deals out. So best be on your toes, boys. Is that clear?” the psychic orders. “Yes ma’am!” both of her brothers respond.

Soon, one of the rings illuminates a shining golden glow; erupting from the light be the ring master herself. Careening through the air, the armless cultist spirals into the awaiting maw of another of her demons; flipping into the rings golden void with an echoing cheer. From one to another, the trio watch as the ring master launches out from hoop to hoop in an unholy circus act. From this display of portal centered acrobatics, their tight toting foe spews out a torrent of fire down upon the trio. Ascending from her brothers side, the psychic rockets upwards towards the raining flames. With but her telekinetic powers, Priss shields her siblings from the roars of the burning storm; quite literally pushing the descending blaze aside. Instead of on her brothers, she redirects the flames towards some the surrounding demon rings. Feeling the searing burns of their own masters flames, the golden hoops struggle to stay afloat in the air; eventually plummeting back towards the marble. “Savage, Carnage! Break them!” Priss commands.

Without any further word, both of her brothers charge towards the fallen demons, Savage and Carnage splitting off towards opposite sides of the chamber. Still suffering from the flames of their master, the demonic rings are far too distracted to escape from the giants scooping arms. By the dozens do the two pick the demon hoops off the floor, effortlessly snapping their weak metal shells to pieces. The site of seeing her precious rings being broken sends the cult leader in a frenzy; launching herself down towards one of the giants below. “My babaaaas!” Dropping down on Savage, the cult leader bites down upon the side of the red demons neck. As he attempts to reach for the ring master behind his back, Savage flails about as he cries for his sibling to: “Get this, crazy bitch off me!” Though his bulky arms prove to big too reach her, his siblings show to be more than enough to pull her off; Priss and Carnage yanking her right off their brothers neck.

Once pried from his brothers back, Carnage slams the cultist down upon the marble; the tile floor shattering upon impact. From the cracked stone, the ring leader is pinned to the ground; Carnage holding her down by her legs as his psychic sister weighs onto her upper half with her telekinesis. Almost instantly, the chief cultist maddening fury shifts to amusing giggle; taking the two holding her down aback.

“The hell you finding so funny?” Savage questions, grasping the side of his neck as he approaches. “The three of you are simply spectacular. Such power, such thought, such coordination. For far too long, my eyes have yet to behold such a grand show of unholy synergy. Though I know all too well that we have yet to reach the end. So if all of you may be so kind...” From those words does a spontaneous wave of electric discharge out from the ring leaders body; the shock causing the triplets to stagger back. “Lets give this performance the finale that it deserves!” Free from the trio’s grasp, the cultist directs one of her grounded rings right under her; escaping into its golden maw.

In his recoil, Savage attempts to catch the hoop that orchestrated their foe escape; pursuing the ring as it starts to ascend to the ceiling. The red giant follows the rings rise with a mighty leap; his claws reach towards the golden demons edge. Unfortunately, his shining prey eludes his grasp; slipping from under Savages own arms. Landing back upon the cracked marble, the red demon looks up towards the ring as it rejoins its brothers; soon hearing the cries of his own siblings reach his side. To his right does Savage see his green brother crouched down; staring upon his sister as she rises from the floor. As the red giant rejoins them, he could hear Carnage worry with: “You doing okay, sis?” “Indeed, just mildly shocked is all.” she response, a small hiss escaping her teeth as she holds her temple.

Your wasting your time.

“It might be best to attempt to end this orchestrators “show” as swiftly as possible.” the psychic adds. “So we bailing on the info she’s got or what?” Savage asks.

Do you really think that ditz will have anything worth to you in her head?

“No. We shall plunder her mind for knowledge yet. We just need to formulate a strategy to strike at the right moment. To catch that cultist at her most vulnerable.”

In that moment do all three of them hear the echoing clangs of metal from above. Gazing upward, the triplets bare witness to the collections of rings gather once more; slowly beginning to take shape before their eyes. All of the hoops stretch out as they link themselves together, one end of the line shrinking while the other grows. Before them, the school of demonic jewelry takes the form of a golden serpent; its glimmering gaze staring down upon the trio. Opening its ringed maw, the ring master pops her head out; bellowing out from her own mouth triple streams of fire, ice, and lightning. The cult leaders elemental ray closing in, both the psychics brothers shield their sister against the assault with their own brand of beams. Clashing on impact do the opposing rays cause a smoky explosion, the triplets racing out from the shroud with the shimmering serpent on their tail.

Hoping to give his siblings some space, Savage splits from Carnage and Priss to face the snake head on. With a single swing to its head does the giant break the collection of gold apart; the countless rings scattering on impact. Though his punch splits the glimmering beast apart, he fails to witness its reassembly from behind; its shining tail slapping the red demon towards the chamber wall.

While attempting to distance themselves from the glimmering collection of rings, the psychic soon hears her green brother tell her: “Sis, listen. Think I might know a way we can pin this cultist bitch down.” Hearing this makes doubt immediately sprout from within Priss consciousness; knowing her brute of a brother not typically being one to craft strategic plans. Just what kind of half baked idea does he got brewing in his head this time.

Right before she could press on further, she soon feels the cold air of a sharp icicle streak past her side. Glancing back, both find the golden serpent swiftly in pursuit; from its glimmering mouth, a sliver of icicles expels towards the two. Acting fast, Carnage blocks the barrage of ice from reaching Priss; the lethal frost shattering upon colliding with his massive bulk. “Carnage!” “See her spewing those icicles out from her rings?” Glancing from behind her brothers figure, she finds behind him and the constant volley of ice be the ring leader herself; her head tucked within the maw of of her ringed beast. “Just gotta toss ya in there and so you can finish her off.” “What!?”

Halting in her frosty assault, the cultist retreat back within the safety of her rings and commands her gleaming serpent to charge forth. “Have you even thought all that through?” Before Carnage could give an answer, the golden snake tackles him aside. Skidding across the cracked marble, the green demon stops the collection of rings in its tracks. Holding the hoops back, he finally answers his sisters question by admitting: “Just came up with it on the spot. Sound good to you?”

Admitting as much makes the psychic wonder of all the ways that such a poorly conceived strategy could go awry. Being tossed towards the glimmering rings, only to be smacked back by its golden hard tail like a little blue shuttlecock. Missing the beasts entirely and sent crashing straight into the wall. Actually aiming for the head, only for its mouth to open and spew out a deadly dash of lightning on her sorry blue hide. Far too many ways for such a plan to wind up going horribly wrong.

The green giant looks down, realizing that he’s loosing ground as the shining serpent starts to push him back. Carnage then tosses the glimmering set of gold aside, careening through the chamber as it skip along the marble. In the midst of its flight does it revolve back around towards the green giant, its master protruding out from its maw to spew out a wave of flames. The searing blaze too close to evade, Carnage readies to block against the potential burns. Feeling not a single burn on his skin, the demon looks beyond his arms to witness his psychic sister protecting him from the raging pyre. As Priss redirects the flames away from his brother; she can’t help but criticize his scheme with: “I’m not entirely sure about this little plan of yours, Carnage. Perhaps you should reconsider?” “Well, you have any other bright idea’s?” her green brother sarcastically questions.

Truthfully, all of this golden pandemonium hasn’t even given the psychic much time to relax; much less brainstorm. The only points that she’s been able to take notice off is that though the rings that make up the serpent can be broken by her brothers, though their fiery eye beams shall only be reflected. Unfortunately, the site of her precious jewelry being destroyed has the cult leader taking far more cautious tactics. Even direct assaults fail to bare any fruit, the scattering rings swiftly reassembling before any further action can be taken.

Then there’s the matter of the ring master herself, breaching from the safety of her demons dimensional space to emit her elemental magic from her shimmering serpents maw. So far, she shown to be capable of casting three different types of mystic strikes; a burning blaze, an icy storm, and a shocking lightning. If Carnage’s strategy involves simply flinging the psychic within the snakes glimmering mouth, then the timing to accomplish such a feat has to be unbelievably tight. Such an immensely dangerous gamble may not be worth taking.

Right when thinking this does she wonder back to the aftermath of their garden brawl; reminded of the what Carnage had mentioned during his rantings. “Always shooting down our idea’s and telling us that we can’t do shit! You ever stop and wonder that we might be smarter then you think!?” … Perhaps spurning his scheme so hastily may not be such a wise idea. In fact, with a little modifying, it may just work.

This in mind, she turns away from the bellowing blaze that she blocks and asks his green brother. “Carnage, might I suggest adding my own details to your strategy?” A smile forming between his cheeks, the giant answers her question with another. “What ya got in mind, sis?”.

The gleaming collection of rings halt their flaming assault, their master retreating back into the safety of their void. Once their master was safe; the countless hoops soon thrust themselves in the green demons direction. With but both his arms, Carnage stops the gleaming serpents rush in its tracks; the sound of clanging gold echoing through the chambers. As the green giant grabs hold of the snakes rings, his sister slips from behind his back and glides along the serpents shining backside. Coming towards the end of the glimmering beast, Priss finds its tail swiftly rising to tempt and end her flight. Though the serpents tail threatens to smack her ascent down, the psychic slips right through its shimmering whip; her small figure squeezing right through the hoop at its tail end.

Away from the glimmering collection of rings, the blue psychic glides towards her red sibling; which of whom was recovering from the serpents surprise swipe. Savage attempting to stand from the wall, he soon feels the telekinetic pull from his sister aiding his rise. “Didn’t realizing how much punch gold can pack. Figured it’d be so soft since it was so easy to snap in half.” “Speaking of snapping, Carnage and I have enacted a plan to break through the ring leaders defenses and finish her off. Care to have a listen?” A smile creeping out between his cheeks, only one statement leave the red demons lips: “Lay it on me, sis.”

Both of his claw grasping upon the glimmering snakes head, Carnage flings his golden foe away with all his might; sending the shining serpent slamming into the chamber wall. Colliding against the wall, the collection of golden rings scatter; bouncing and clanging all through out the tower. Watching the rings fly, Carnage soon realizes that the jewelry collection was bouncing straight up; glancing up the green demon found the serpent reforming right above his head. The snakes open maw forming first, the cult leader hesitates not another moment to drop a lightning strike down upon the green guys ass. Though Carnage attempts to block the bolt, the lighting crashes far too hard for him to stop; its electric sting spreading all over his body.

The overwhelming shock brings Carnage to his knees; his foes golden glimmer shadowing over the giant. Stunned, all the demon could do was gaze above as the shining serpent starts to dive straight down towards him and brace for the eventual crash. Before the serpent could slam its golden hide down upon the paralyzed demon, a giant red blur tackles it right out of the air. “Yeaaah bitch!” Hearing his brothers cry makes Carnage break from his brace, witnessing the crimson demon ground the golden set of rings. He then feels a soft palm touch his side; looking back to find his psychic sister at his shoulder. “Are you alright, big guy?” she worries. “You kidding?” Slowly beginning to rise off the cracked marble, Carnage finishes answering Priss’s concerning question with: “It’s gonna take more then a small as hell spark like that to turn me in.” “That’s the spirit. Now come. It’s time to set our strategy into motion.” Having said this, Priss and her green sibling rush forth to their red brothers aid.

Struggling to hold onto the shimmering serpents back, Savage is soon flung off; slamming his back against the cracked marble floor. “Ahhgh!” Stunned by the rough landing, Savage lays flat on his back as he witnesses the glimmering collection of gold ready to drop its golden tail down upon him; helpless to little but cover his face and brace for the impending impact. Though he clearly hears the tails clang echo throughout the chamber, the red demon feels not a single bit of its golden sting. Recoiling from his blocking brace, Savage sees his green brother halting the snakes strike; Carnage glancing back with a smug as hell grin. With the red demon grinning back, he rises from the broken floor and aids his brother hold on the golden serpent. Once gaining a firm hold onto its glimmering hoops, both brothers heave the snake overhead; sending it slamming right down onto the marble below. Upon impact does the jewelry that make up the serpent disperse; the countless rings scattering throughout the chamber. Huddling at each other’s backs, Savage and Carnage watch closely as the collection of hoops fly throughout the tower; noticing the set of golden demons ascending high above their reach. “Bunch of fucking pansy ass rings! Not even bothering to take us head on anymore!” Carnage complains “Hard to blame them, really. Takin both of us on is a surefire way to wind up 10 feet underground.” Savage boasts.

Launching out from one of the hoops be the ring leader herself; she rains down from her own maw a deadly flurry of sharp icicles towards the two. Before the sliver of frosted daggers could reach the duo, the cold steel of the psychics blade halts their descent; Priss directing her sword with but her telekinesis. Finally, the psychic lunges forth towards her blade; grasping her physical palms upon its grip and dispatching the last piece of falling ice right before it digs into her brothers head. “Both of you stay focused.”

Regrouping with her red and green siblings; Priss watches as the cult leader flies right into the safety of her rings. “We only have a single shot to make this work. I want the both of you at your top performance. Is that clear?” “Read ya loud and clear sis!” Carnage confirms. “We got your back.” Savage adds. “That’s what I like to hear, boys. Lets show this tacky cultist how the Nightmare triplets are truly led.”

From above, the psychic notes a spark of light overhead; watching as the head cultist makes her dive down towards the trio Covered in a thick coat of electricity, she swiftly descends like a bolt of living lightning; Priss warning her brothers of the impending danger with: “Above you!” Both Savage and Carnage glance up just in time to watch the leaders lightning fast dive for all of them split apart and evade the ring leaders electrifying landing; wayward sparks shooting off from the crash down. In their retreat, the demon brothers fire off their brand of burning beams towards their armless foe; the ring master twirling about as the red hot rays approached. Out from her mouth, a whirlwind of snow surrounds the cult leader in her pirouette; the collision of frost and flames forming a shroud of thick white shroud. Knowing all too well of the ring leaders evasion tactics, Priss darts forth towards the emerging steam; hoping to cease her foes escape. Dispersing the cloud with her telekinesis, her endeavors prove to be too late; finding not a trace of the cultist left behind. At her back, one of the ring masters demons flies right over the psychic’s head; Priss watching as the hoop rejoins its brethren.

Along the side of the chamber, Carnage witnesses the ring leader launch through the air; realizing the moment to act upon their plan had arrived and dart towards his sisters side. As the psychic watches the cult leader spouts forth another blazing wave, the cries of her brother bait her attention. “Yo, Priss!” Turning towards her approaching sibling, she hears him finish declaring that: “It’s time for action!” Hearing those words is enough of a signal for her to advance; the psychic gliding over to Carnage. Once the two meet, the green giant grabs hold of his psychic sister; Carnage ascending towards the oncoming flames with a twirling leap. Upon the apex of the giants ascent does Carnage halt in his spiral; taking aim to where the cultist would retreat towards. His aim proving true, the green giant hurls his sibling through the air like a pigskin; Priss drawing forth her blade in her hasty flight.

From behind her wall of fire, the ring leader witnesses her psychic foe push through the flames with her telekinesis. Wishing to put an end to the little blue dwarfs swift approach, the cultist readies to cast forth a dose of lethal lightning; her body glowing emerald green as she charges her strike. Finished pushing away the wave of flames, Priss soon sees her foes discharge a bolt of electricity from her maw; realizing all too well how little time she has to deflect the oncoming lightning. Right upon her moment of doom, she feels the heat of a burning beam streak past her figure; intercepting the bolt from striking Priss down. Glancing back towards the direction of the red hot ray, the psychic finds his red siblings eye dimming; Savage giving her a supportive smile. With a grin of her own, Priss faces back towards her armless foe; the ring master stunned from the sudden interception. In a trail of white smoke, the psychic follow the cult leader within the void of her rings.

Both gliding through the ring filled void; the cultist recovers from her daze and attempts to halt the psychics approach. Her hoops surrounding them; the ring master commands her collection of golden demons to charge forth. In her dash towards their master, Priss weaves around the oncoming set of hoops; feeling the metal of their rims as she brushes past. Seeing her psychic pursuer closing in, the ring leader casts her glimmering minions forth all at once. With but her blade, Priss attempts to fight back against the cultist golden forces; swiping and blocking the surrounding glimmering demons. Swiftly however, the psychic is overwhelmed by the tacky jewelry collection; the ring master turning back with a satisfied grin. The cultist smile quickly dissolves upon witnessing the blue dwarf warping right in front of her, Priss keeping a tight grip upon her blade.

With a single slash, the psychic tear the ring masters tights right off; hoping to uncover any artifacts that keep her mind under lock and key. In her hasty inspection, she finds not a single trinket to block her influence, but a single magic symbol burnt within the ring leaders skin; a seal that the psychic simply can’t just remove.

Seems like your little search for answers has come to an anticlimactic end, my dear. All that motivation and synergy just to come to a dead end. It’d be funny if it weren't so pathetic.

Attempting to tune out the taunting thoughts, Priss delves into the deep depths of her consciousness. Deep within her mental well does she draw forth her mental power; directing every ounce of psychic energy into her blade. The blue luminescence of her sword reflecting upon the approaching rings, she aims the tip of her blade down towards the center of the seal. With a single thrust; Priss drives the steel of her blade through the ring leaders burnt flesh; a pink smoke erupting from her flesh wound that soon envelopes the entire void.

A little girl in rags is seen racing through the pouring rain; scurrying towards the entrance of the woods with a raging mob in pursuit. Along the muddy trail, her bare feet carry her deeper within the dripping forest; the shadows of her pursuers growing faint with every step. Soon, her sprint takes her towards a set of decayed ruins; the little girl hasting not another moment to rush within. From the open entrance, she finds not a single bit of the mob in her site; the shadows off her pursuers having vanished. Though she readies to exit the ruins, the thunderous clap of lightning swiftly draws her back inside.

Baited deeper within the dilapidated temple, the young girl takes note of the demonic carvings set along the stone walls. However frightened she may be of the unholy faces that stare down upon her, the girl keeps venturing deeper within the ruins depths.

Her ventures soon lead her to a lone chamber baring a single pedestal; laid atop the stone column be an untouched book baring only one world engraved on its golden cover. Garlov.

Approaching the massive text, the poor girls curiosity gets the best of her; her dirt ridden palms resting upon the tomes cover. Slowly, she pulls back the text’s face; a pink smoke pouring out from its contents. The fog quickly coats the entire chamber in pink; surrounding the frightened little girl as she looks upon a rising figure from within. Paralyzed with fear and dread; the small child can does little as the figures crab claws lift her from the stone floor by her arms. Ascending from the hard rock as she looks upon the figure burning yellow eyes, the girls frightened gaze slowly forms into a hopeful smile. Soon, a devilish grin pierces through the pink smoke; the claws of the figure snapping the little girls arms clean off.

Before anymore of the leaders memories could surface, the psychic reawakens to the physical world; opening her eyes to the site of her brothers stares. “Finally. Thought you were done in for a sec there.” Savage commented; a relieved smile stretching across his cheeks. “Ya find anything in that crazy cunts brains?” Carnage questions. Rising from the cracked marble floor; Priss starts to rub her temples as she relays to her brothers that: “The only thing I managed to fish out is that she managed to obtain the book of Garlov from the one who we’re pursuing. Not a single ounce of his whereabouts I’m afraid.” “That it? Gone through all that shit and a half for nothing!?” Carnage barks. “Hey, least we know that book came from that bastard. Got something outta all this.” Savage mentions. “Indeed. Not to mention that your little strategy was just what we needed to prevail, even with how hastily it was thought of. Quite the nice surprise to be honest.” Priss admits. Hearing such praise coming from his snooty sister turns the green giants sour mood right around; letting out a small snicker escape from between his teeth. “Told ya you I was smarter then I look. Should stop shoot our idea’s down from time to time.” “Not that ya really looked that smart to begin with.” he hears his red brother comment. “The hell does that mean!?”

Out from her delighted smile, the psychic ears soon pick up a dying gasp from between her brothers; the trio looking across the chamber to find the cult leader kneeling upon the marble with the psychics blade within her chest. “He...He promised me...the book would help...bring harmony between human and demon kind. To harrow in a new age...of crossbred species. Was all of it nothing more...than a fleeting dream...Nothing more...than empty lies?” Letting loose her final breath, the leaders figures dissolves into tiny rings that scatter along the marble; the blue psychics sword joining their clanging symphony as they fall. Priss draws her blade our from under the pile of scattered jewelry with her telekinesis; returning her prized sword to her hand. “Come boys. Are work is done.” the psychic orders.

Finally walking out of the Höllenfeuer cults castle front gate; the Nightmare triplets are met with the welcoming warmth of the morning sun. Resting within the green giants arms be the slug that spews out skittles; the rainbow colored candy spilling out onto the freshly dewed grass. “I will never understand what drove you to desire bringing that disgusting creature back home with us?” Priss decrees. “You kidding? If you get to bring home a badass sword, then I’m bringing home a souvenir for myself.” Carnage counters with. “Fair enough. But why specifically that skittles barfing abomination?” “Cause skittles be fucking delicious. Don’t need any other reason to taste the rainbow.” “This is bullshit! Why the hell does he get to pick something out, but I get jack shit!?” Savage curses “Tough luck, bro. Should’ve picked something out while ya had the chance.” Carnage taunts.

His claws grasping upon the slug, the red demon attempts to pull the demon away from his siblings arms; Carnage pulling back against Savages tug. “Gimme that!” “Fuck you! Get yer own!” “You’re hogging all the skittles for yourself! Let go!” “You didn’t even want him at first! Your just mad that I got something and you didn’t!” “Both of stop!” their sister demands. Upon her word do the duo instantly still their bickering; both brother looking upon their sister as she turn to declare. “Since both of you want to keep that slug so badly, then both of you get to share the responsibility of taking care of it. Is that clear?” With their sisters decree do the two look to one another, their eyes soon drawn to the slug that they once fought over vomiting out a river of skittles. Holding the demonic slug over their heads, both Savage and Carnage woof down the rainbow candy that spills out from its orifices. With a sigh, Priss shakes her head as she turns away from the revolting site. “How disgusting.”

Drawing out her prized blade, she gazes on her reflection as the twilight sun shines upon its steel. The skill she’s demonstrated tonight with this weapon may not rival her mothers, but her teaching have obviously shined through. All of those countless fencing ours, all those ruthless sparing matches, all of her practice has finally started to surface. Upon the reminder of her mother does the thoughts of her aunts soon draw forth; the psychic tightly gripping her blade as she’s reminded of what “he” has done to not only them, but her brothers. Every scrap of information regarding “Him” they uncover is another step closer towards taking their revenge; perhaps even restoring their broken family.

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Fucking finally. This took way too long to finish. I'm so sorry. Still though, I enjoyed writing for these three as much as I did. Hopefully, I'l never have to write this much in a single chapter for a while.

[the-hitmans-coffee]

I found a Hannibal story I wrote so uh here it is [NSFW: Gore]

Act 1 Through the haze he could see him. Floating amid the shadows, his form wrapped around itself tightly as if he had been bound together by invisible strings. Stepping closer, it was revealed that the man was,in fact, suspended by thick silver wires attached somewhere above in the darkness. There was more than meets the eye to this display.

The skin was pulled away from the muscle, revealing bone and vein beneath it.

Act 2 He stared at the sight, not realizing that the device was still turned on. Cranking and grinding sounded from the machine as a large slab of something once human rolled outwards on the conveyer belt. 'Perfect.' the man thought, as he had finally found a way to dispose of the uneeded parts.

Act 3 Using the last of the thin wire, He shifted his focus to the large gash along the cavity of the tree. It had been split open, revealing the red interior of the old tree. It was stunning. It seeped a dark red liquid, leaking like the tap on a sink. The liquid pooled around the base of the tree and slowly dripped down to pool around the roots. Looking inside, he peered at the open wound. There was a small puncture in the heart of the tree. The man carefully threaded the wire into a tight stitch to stop the bleeding. Alas, it worked. He tucked fresh white roses within the recesses of the cavity, filling it completly. The blossoms drifted through the air with the scent of rain carried on the slight breeze. The red substance glistened from where it had dripped onto the roses. Satisfied, the man left the body graphed to the tree, its torso filled with white roses.

The Final Act Slicing the meat in thin sheets he was able to position the animal into a frame. The frames were suspended from the ceiling, alowing for clear viewing of the animal's anatomy. Each slice contained organs, tissues and bone carefully positioned in the way they would be in the body. He layed out its body and was pleased to see the final frame came out well, with the brain visible through the thick glass slabs. For this project he had taken an animal that he had sought after for quite some time. It had sought him out and stalked him, learning of his patterns and his secrets. But this time the animal had strayed too close to the light. He caught her. They were on to him, but he was onto them too. She wasnt the first and he knew. He knew she wouldn't be the last.

This was his design.