Selachimorpha 1.11 - Head-to-Head
The first night is a short and bloody affair. The syndicate you are targeting, the Vita Hunters, cannot be slain in a single night. They have lost a significant contingent of their fighting forces from your previous encounter, but they are by no means disarmed. An Urban Plague-class syndicate would not have so few combatants available. Your raids will be at an advantage at first, taking them by surprise and not leaving enough time for your prey to regroup, but that will only carry you and your subjects through the beginning.
Much of the groundwork has already been done for you by the Fixers of the Downpour Office. The locations of several safe houses and gathering locations of various Syndicates had been known to the local Offices for some time now, but without any clients they had lacked an incentive to pursue that information. With the Associations still recovering from recent skirmishes with the Index as well as the rising number of Distortion cases, Syndicates that would otherwise have been stamped out have been allowed to grow.
The Vita Hunters are only one of these Syndicates, creeping in to exploit a time of vulnerability. They, however, made the mistake of acting too greedily. That led to a conflict with the Downpour Office at the behest of a disgruntled client, the result of which you are already aware of. The gutted remains of their forces are to be the first of your targets, but not the only targets.
You and your subjects sweep into the first set of bases, those that you know to be most established. Once they are gone, those who remain will be more willing to surrender to you. You have only a small company of troops to serve with you, but they are strong. You have given them strength, strength enough to resist the horrors of the world. With your sheltering, even such a small group is mighty. You sweep in and out of each location, leaving no bodies but shattered weapons and pools of blood mingling with briny water. The first group is startled. They scramble for their weapons, barely managing scratches against your subjects before being rent apart. The next houses you strike at are ready. They are defiant, striking out with all their barbed spire against the hands that only wish to help them should they accept it. But there must always be sacrifices for the safety of the good people of the City, and so their defiance is not without purpose. The criminals are torn apart regardless, and again and again you feast.
The last house struck is afraid. It makes them weaker. In your kingdom, your subjects will never need to be afraid.
—————————
The following few days a blur. As best you can describe it, at least. The details of each raid and assault you perform are crisp and clear in your mind, but assembled together they do not form a clear course. This is as it should be. Such a grisly affair is of importance only in what it offers, not in the act itself. The criminals die fighting, but most of them die all the same. Some, you find, welcome the possibility of your gifts. You carry them along with you.
An ongoing assault like this would have been impossible for the Downpour Office on its own. Exhaustion, injuries, potential casualties… regular humans just can't keep up with constant combat. It strikes you as ironic that K Corp's Singularity would have been able to solve that issue just as well as your new abilities do.
The end result is satisfying: the Syndicates are left weakened and bleeding. This section of the Backstreets will be more peaceful with them gone.
You send some of the Downpour Fixers up to the street level in disguise to look for more new subjects. There are none to welcome for now, but whispers of you are already making their way to the populace. Unclear and muddled, but they know you exist. It doesn't surprise you that there are none willing to join just yet. Even a Wing needs to build a reputation. For the moment, simply proving that the strength and protection you can offer is real will be enough. People will come to trust you in time.
Mister Tammel's children are still unattended, you recall. One is near adulthood and should be able to care for the other two, but you should still find them and reunite them with their father regardless. It will take some time to make your way to the part of the Backstreets Tammel was retrieved from, though. Perhaps you can save it until you have a more established presence. You'll be able to afford dividing your forces by then.
—————————
It's early in the morning when Lacy calls for your attention. You make your way to the borders with three others; a small force that you can afford to pull away without weakening your territory. From what little Lacy did tell you, it will probably be unnecessary, but safety comes first.
When you finally arrive to the place of the disturbance, it is immediately apparent what has caused it. A short, cleanly man wearing a plain white shirt and pants has somehow stumbled into the border of your territory. A trail of footsteps in the silty ground mark his path through the maze of coral and bone that has formed in the sewers where you make your home, ending at his current resting place. A mess of thin tendrils has burst from the gaps of one of the coral structures, one of which has skewered the man's arm at the elbow and emerges from the top of his shoulder, barely avoiding scraping against his neck. The man looks more embarrassed than anything else, occasionally trying to carefully tug his arm free of its impromptu skewered before being stopped by the coral's reaction.
As you swim forward, his eyes lock on your towering form. Instead of panicking like you'd expected, his nervous expression melts into a radiant smile!
"It's you! I'm so glad you're here."
If you still had eyes, they would narrow. As is, the bony plates that make up your head clack together pointedly. "For what reason?"
The man's embarrassment returns in full force, and he mistakenly pulls back against the coral tendril skewering him. It slides slightly down, once again burying the end somewhere inside his arm. He stares at the open wound, frowning slightly, then turns back to you with that same bright smile.
"Of course! My name is Evan, and I have been given the honor of serving as your invitation to a banquet to be held in the coming days by sir Hans Marquelle, Fourth of the Eight Chefs."
You don't recognize the name, but it hardly matters compared to the title attached. The Eight Chefs. A Star of the City, one primarily based in District 23 but known all across the City as the pinnacle of culinary artistry. More than that, they are known to be cannibals who somehow managed to convince their entire District that eating people was not only acceptable, but idealized.
…and the reason for this invitation is already clear. You hadn't expected to go unnoticed, but for that tendency of yours to have been picked up on? It's remarkably unfortunate.
Beside you, one of your subjects gapes in shock at the man. "An invitation from the Eight Chefs? Why?"
Evan's smile never dims. "It's merely courtesy. Simply report to me your preferences for the venue, and we will prepare our dishes accordingly. Though keep in mind that our stock of ingredients is limited, so do refrain from being too greedy." He laughs deeply, as if the ingredients he's referring to aren't people. Innocent people being rendered down into pieces, slaughtered like animals for nothing more than morbid satisfaction. It's disgusting.
Your first instinct is to refuse with all the violence you can summon. But a thought strikes you.
"Would it be acceptable to ask that they remain alive?"
If the stock is limited, that means the people chosen to be ingredients have already been captured. Your own order will take away from whatever other orders are made, and as long as they're still alive you will be able to rescue anyone you manage to consume without the banquet's monstrous attendees ever even noticing.
"Of course! It's actually a common request. Feel free to include all your preferences, sir Marquelle delights in pleasing his guests to the highest extend." Evan chirps. Then your plan will work. "As a small demonstration, you may eat me once you are done giving your preferences. Don't worry; sir Marquelle will receive your order regardless."
The silence of your domain feels all the more oppressive with those words hanging in the air. Evan continues smiling without a care in the world, though the brightness of it strikes you as more artificial now. Less like the sun and more a fluorescent lamp turns up too high. There is something horribly wrong with this man.
"You're just okay with being eaten?" One of the men behind you says incredulously.
"Of course!" Evan answers. "I've been prepared by the Fourth Chef himself, so I assume you I will be delicious. It's an honor, really. I'll be so much more like this than I would have been otherwise."
The man's voice is wrong, you see now. The joy, the laughter, everything. This is wrong. It is horribly, horribly wrong.
"So what do you say?"
———————————————
[] Accept the Banquet Invitation and eat Evan
[] Reject the Banquet Invitation and eat Evan
[] Do not eat Evan
He clearly needs your protection, even if it's from himself.
———————————————
[] Expansion
Biomass: 187
Downpour Fixers (x12)
-[] (Downpour x#) -3 Biomass for Selachimorpha
-[] (Downpour x#) -6 Biomass for Improved Selachimorpha
Syndicate Members (x5)
-[] (Syndicate x#) -3 Biomass for Selachimorpha
-[] (Syndicate x#) -6 Biomass for Improved Selachimorpha
———————————————
Kept you waiting, huh?
It's back from the dead! Don't expect regular updates or anything, but I was reminded of this Quest by another new Thread on this site and felt compelled to give you all a little spark of light further. Enjoy this one until next time, whenever that may be!
: Free food is free food little fish. They all need your help. Though do be careful, otherwise you might become a seaside dish yourself.
: You should be calm for what comes next. It would be bad if you mess up during the Eight Chef visit.![Green[734]](/data/avatar/1534730845/25394-m.jpg){kind=avatar}
