8 - For the wicked boasteth of his heart's desire, and blesseth the covetous, whom the LORD abhorreth
GraftingBuddha
Retired Pooh-Bah
For the wicked boasteth of his heart's desire, and blesseth the covetous, whom the LORD abhorreth
"...and Sor Suprema!"
Sister Supreme? What? The Undersiders had just given up on understanding anything and were sitting on the sand, watching with wide eyes - well, 100% of Undersiders with visible eyes had wide eyes. Morrigan assumed the others were doing the same, by extrapolating existing data. But her data also indicated that Sor Suprema was challenging her, that the donning of the mask put her into the category of 'people who needed to be driven into the sand with righteous zeal'. She soared to the luchadora nun, ready to put her into the choke-slam of Saint Aloysius Gonzaga - let the patron of the blind open her eyes to the futility of challenging La Morrigan! The nun threw… were those rulers? What could she be measuring in the middle of the air, many of them were too far away to be used for such a purpose! And how many did she have? Where was she keeping them? Almost half a dozen rulers sailed through the air… and the nun slapped one of them. Hard. That ruler slapped another, which slapped another, which slapped another, coming closer and closer to Morrigan. And as they travelled, Sor Suprema spoke.
"You have conquered my brother's lightning…"
Fray Tormenta grumbled. The final ruler was slapped in her direction, flying directly into her face. And what happened next made no sense. She had calculated the force of these rulers - negligible, nothing she needed to worry about. But somehow this strike punted her over the beach and sent her crashing into the ocean. The kinetic energy was simply too vast, it was positively unnatural. Deeply unsatisfactory. She emerged from the ocean dripping wet, and completely furious. Telekinesis was working overtime to remove as much water as possible, but it was something of an uphill battle. Her body felt a little shaken, everything shuffling out of place by a few centimetres. She was already a little wearied from her fight with Fray Tormenta, this nun was pushing her dangerously close to some kind of limit.
"But now you face a new foe! The other Miracle of Zacatecas!"
She tried to rapidly calculate what her power could be, but too many possibilities loomed, her mind was too scattered to settle on a single one. Sor Suprema posed, cape flying perfectly in the light breeze. She looked… well, Morrigan found no adequate comparisons, but the nearby Undersiders could probably have found something. The perfect comparison would be 'a middle-aged mother whose kids are off to university and who has finally been given leave to let loose'. Or the more laconic 'hen night'. Morrigan ignored the comparison that refused to spring to mind, focusing on other concerns. For instance, where had she gotten that costume from, did she anticipate combat and elected to wear it underneath her habit? Did she do that as a general rule? Morrigan had many questions and did not anticipate receiving any answers. Unsatisfactory.
"My powers, Morrigan, are beyond your capacity to defeat. For I… am a mistress of kinetic energy!"
Her voice was a lot more bombastic now, and she was smiling widely. Morrigan cocked her head to one side with a loud 'crack', at which everyone flinched. Normally, that would displease her. Now? It only added to her intimidating aura!
"I can amplify kinetic energy transfers!"
She withdrew another ruler and slapped it into the ground… and despite the force of the swing being within normal bounds, a substantial crater formed in the earth, sand flying in all directions. Morrigan processed this, tried to… oh dear. The data had integrated, and a full picture emerged. Kinetic energy transfers - from the arm to the ruler to the ground. And she had transferred kinetic energy between half a dozen rulers earlier, each individual transfer amplified and stored until it reached its final destination. Like a bolt of lightning only killing a man when it made contact with the earth… Morrigan reconsidered putting her into the choke-slam of Saint Aloysius Gonzaga. In fact, she backed away a little, restrategising. The force of a half dozen rulers was enough to knock her into the ocean, and if there was one thing this nun possessed… it was rulers. Somehow. Sor Suprema crouched into a fighting stance, mask gleaming in the moonlight. She grinned mockingly.
"Oh, do you no longer wish to wrestle? Then how about another game?"
She reached into a belt of pouches surrounding her waist, and withdrew a small white ball.
"How about baseball?"
Morrigan had no time to react before a ruler thwacked the ball, sending it flying in her direction. As before, the strength of the strike was mundane, the ball flew at an acceptable speed… but when it slammed into her chest, she was sent a good few feet into the damp sand, telekinesis straining to keep her robe from getting any dirtier. Sor Suprema casually strolled over the hole, passing by her still-crouched brother.
"Ready to give in?"
Morrigan was inclined to be silent. Conceal her thoughts and intentions, ensure that her next strike was a devastating surprise. But the pattern she was developing demanded something more.
"La Morrigan never surrenders!"
She flew upwards, feet-first, to try and crash into Sor Suprema's side. If Fray Tormenta could do it, why couldn't she? The nun smoothly whacked her soles with another ruler - where was she getting these from? Morrigan was driven deeper into the ground like a feathered jackhammer, and grunted in irritation as the sand started to collapse around her. This was most unsatisfactory. She couldn't calculate an effective way of reaching the nun - if she got close, a ruler would send her flying, and if she remained at a distance, the nun could simply hit something at her. She seemed to have unnaturally advanced reflexes and a faintly alarming aim, perhaps an additional component to her power. Irritating. Wait - Morrigan had an idea. She compressed sand once more, and hurled it at Sor Suprema - a huge mass compressed into a large boulder, barreling through the air. The nun withdrew another ruler and slapped it with her current ruler - ah! A limit! She had a limit to the power of a single transfer, it seemed. The former ruler impacted the boulder and blew it apart, but Morrigan was happy to ignore it. With this new knowledge assimilated, Morrigan began to move into the second step of her incredibly sophisticated plan.
More boulders formed, and the angel herself was behind them. Sor Suprema was unused to this kind of attack - probably more content with wrestlers that tried to get up close and personal - and wasted ruler after ruler destroying the boulders, and all the while Morrigan came closer and closer… until an elbow slammed into her back and send her back to the earth. She grunted, trying to figure out who would dare interfere with La Morrigan's terrifically advanced strategy where she just threw a massive pile of boulders at people. One of the Undersiders, perhaps? Which one, which one had betrayed the sanctity of the fight and had chosen to stand against an angel? She twisted her head with another nauseating 'crack', and froze. Fray Tormenta stood above her, a strangely serene expression on his face.
"Be at peace, girl. There is no shame in losing a two-versus-one."
Yes there was! Morrigan was a servant of the almighty, she couldn't lose - and indeed, she had never lost! To lose would contravene her divine mandate, and thus defeat was impossible! A pulse of telekinetic power send the friar flying, and she struggled back into the air… only for something very strange to happen. As she rose higher, Sor Suprema withdrew the last of her rulers, whacking one against the other, building energy… that she directed into her brother. Fray Tormenta was propelled forward at absurd speeds, his body crackling with lightning. He was faster than he had been before, stronger too - his breaker state was potent, it seemed, but it lacked something in the way of concussive strength. Morrigan crumpled back down as Fray Tormenta hit her like an artillery shell, pile-driving her once more into the beach. There were no names this time - the move was born of desperation, an absolute desire to win against her. She'd pushed them to their limits… and now they had pushed her to hers. She struggled… but the blows she'd taken were adding up. She could feel her fleshier components starting to detach from their crystal shells, the ones she had built after crashing into Brockton. Now, though? Her internal structure was being compromised, and badly. She foresaw the consequences of fighting onwards - something similar to what happened after Menja. Dizziness, aching, and finally… unconsciousness.
She was about to lose.
All her data told her to retreat. But… no! She couldn't retreat! She was La Morrigan! She was the angel of the LORD, and she couldn't lose to a priest and a nun, no matter how strong they were! Telekinetic powers flexed, sand rose up, and even as her organs whined in protest she summoned all her reserves of strength - one last blow, one last attack to decide this fight. She lunged, crouching into the battering ram of Saint Denis. Sor Suprema would crumple if she was struck hard enough, Morrigan knew this - if she was pinned and unable to pick up an object, she would be done for. If she was punched hard enough this fight would be concluded in Morrigan's favour. If Sor Suprema had no intact bones, if she lacked an intact skull, there was no chance of her resisting. Once, such visions of violence would have disturbed her… now? They seemed right. She lunged, Sor Suprema's eyes widened… and a thunderbolt slammed into her side, empowered by righteous fury at the idea that someone would strike his sister.
"The battering ram of Saint Joan!"
Gah, she'd even gotten the name wrong! She thought Saint Denis would be appropriate - a battering ram involved impacting someone with her head, and Saint Denis was associated with decapitations, headaches… but Joan made more sense! Her association with sieges was well-established, and the battering ram was a siege engine first and foremost. Not only had she been hurt, now she was getting the canonical names of her wrestling moves wrong. All the fight went out of her as she crumpled into a loose pile of wings and robes. She'd lost - and the idea of losing was so inconceivable to her that she began to think that this was the end. If she had lost, she had failed, and if she had failed, then her purpose was all for naught. And without her purpose… she had nothing. She remained still as Fray Tormenta walked over, breathing heavily. He crouched down, and she closed her eyes, waiting for the end to come.
It had been a good run - perhaps the LORD would forgive her her failures, or perhaps she would be condemned to centuries of toil in Purgatory. She had failed, though… no, she deserved nothing but the fires. Failure was antithetical to her purpose, and without her purpose she had nothing. If she couldn't conquer two capes, she was doubtless going to fail against the servants of the Lightbringer. This was a sign from the LORD that she had failed somewhere… and she could of no more fitting punishment for failure than oblivion. Fray Tormenta paused above her, and she silently hoped that he would be swift. Death wasn't something she was very good at imagining, and her fleshier elements were pulsing with something approaching 'nervousness', even 'fear'. Most unsatisfactory. The friar sighed.
"You should master your emotions, Morrigan."
…What? What had he just said to her? To master her emotions - she was an angel of the LORD, how dare he question her, how dare he impugn her perfection?! The chunk of brain-crystal responsible for her self-awareness twitched irritably. Actually, he might have a point. She opened her eyes, staring up at the masked wrestler.
"You fought well. But you became too angry, too obsessed with the fight."
He sighed.
"I hoped to teach you how force could be used joyfully, how it could be performed in a manner that entertains and illuminates, goes beyond mere violence. You appear to have taken the wrong moral from our conversation."
Hm. She had enjoyed fighting, it had made everything seem right, but… was that right? Now that the fight was over, her head was starting to clear a little. And her eyes widened as she realised that at the end, in her final blow, she had been fully intending to kill the nun, or to severely injure her. And her other moves had been increasingly brutal, she could have seriously hurt someone - even murdered them! The fight had taken over everything, her drive for conflict overpowering any of her better instincts.
"If the language of fists will not suffice, then I must resort to words."
He smiled kindly, helping her sit up - she rested back on her wings, using them as an impromptu chair.
"You fight with more skill than someone so young should possess. But you do not fight well."
Fray Tormenta gestured to his mask.
"Do you know why I fight with the mask?"
"Identity concealment. The other parahumans I have encountered do much the same."
"No, no. When my time as a wrestler ended, when I retired to my orphanage, I forsook anonymity and let the world know who I was."
Morrigan cracked her head to one side.
"I wear the mask so that I can be reminded. When I remove this mask, I am no longer Fray Tormenta. I am Brother Rodrigo. When my sister removes her mask, Sor Suprema disappears into the past and Sister Encarnacion moves on. Violence is not my life, wrestling is not all that I am. The mask reminds me of this, and when I put it away… I feel as though I can move into a life of peace."
He chuckled.
"The mask tells me that I can keep violence separate from my peaceful life, and when the time comes I may bury the mask and live the rest of my days tending to my gardens and helping the orphans in my care."
Morrigan could somewhat follow. Mental compartmentalisation - standard coping technique for unstable humans, her data informed her. Why was he telling her, though?
"But what are you, Morrigan, without your crusading purpose, your urge to use force?"
"I am an angel. My purpose is all."
"And what is your purpose?"
"To fight the Lightbringer."
There was a moment of confused silence. Morrigan silently pointed upwards. And suddenly it all made horrible, horrible sense. Fray Tormenta frowned.
"That is a… lofty goal. But what are you without it? What will you be when the Lightbringer falls?"
This didn't compute. Her confusion must have shown through, because the friar continued talking.
"When the End of Days arrives, when Christ does battle against the… Lightbringer, and the dead and the living are reunited, what will you do?"
Hm. Difficult question.
"Remember, child, that no-one has yet proceeded to their eternal reward. Heaven, hell… they are just waiting rooms, places where we can while away the years until Judgement Day. Only after that day of tribulation will heaven on earth be achieved, and eternal reward finally granted. What will you do when your purpose is accomplished, when there are no more devils to slay?"
"What will you do?"
"Tend to my gardens, care for my flock, bring joy to as many as I can. I enjoy these things, and I perform them with love of the Lord in my heart. Fighting is not all that I am, my being extends beyond it - indeed, my most meaningful memories are outside of conflict."
Morrigan pondered this. Her struggle against the Lightbringer… it was all that mattered. But he had a point, one day the Lightbringer would fall, one day her every scheme would be confounded and all the miseries she inflicted would be swept away. And without her… hm. Morrigan found herself completely stumped. Data refused to present itself. She had nothing beyond her purpose. Fray Tormenta was right, though, it was inevitable that her purpose would end. Scripture demanded it. And what then?
"I am unsure of what to do."
"Then it is something to meditate on. Find a path that will content you, find people to care for, do not lose yourself in a desire to purge evil. Down that road lies ruin."
He straightened up, surveying the churning ocean.
"I am not convinced that you are an angel, Morrigan. If anything, you fight like a demon. But… you have potential. You seem to be a good person, just one who lacks guidance or experience. I wish you the best of luck in your endeavours, so long as they walk the path that God sets before us."
She considered this. His questions… they had left a seed of doubt in her, a tiny flaw in her overall mental pattern that seemed to threaten the integrity of the whole structure. Her purpose was all. Her purpose would one day end. These two facts refused to reconcile, no matter how many theological muscles she bent to the task - and she had many. She would need to think on this further, in her own time. It was a matter of great importance that she did. Fray Tormenta patted her on the back, and left to be replaced with Sor - no, Sister Encarnacion. The nun was back in her habit - OK, this was getting ridiculous, how had she done that so quickly? Where did she store the cape?! Her mind snapped a little as she tried to conceive of the spatial dynamics necessary for this… no, it must be a miracle. Hm. She paid close attention to the nun's words, for she clearly had a connection to the divine similar to Morrigan. She spoke to an equal.
"My brother is an idiot… but he has a point. You are too easily overcome by your emotions, too easily swayed by violence."
She sighed.
"We will return to Mexico. There is nothing else for us here. If you wish, though… you could come with us. The orphans already adore you - they insist on watching your antics on the internet. I am sure that this fight will be playing for weeks."
Adoration? That was… unusual. Most people just ran away from her, no matter how often she uttered BE NOT AFRAID in her most comforting shriek. The idea of people actually enjoying having her around, not backing away, not masking their words, not trying to deceive her into joining their heretically secular orders… It was a tempting prospect, tempting indeed. Her data supplied information - Mexico was warm. Sunny. She imagined basking in the light, letting her wings relax in the golden void. But… no. It was simply not feasible.
"My purpose binds me here. The Lightbringer's schemes are at work in this place, and I must follow them to their conclusion - this city is troubled, and requires assistance. I cannot abandon it."
Encarnacion sniffed.
"Very well. Do as you will. But our home is always open to any lost soul."
And with that, she was gone… and behind her, on the sand, was a shining golden mask. Morrigan turned, ready to call out - the nun had clearly misplaced part of her property, probably no room under the habit with the cape, the costume, the numerous rulers and all the items in her utility belt. But there was nothing but the sound of thunder crackling, and the sight of lightning disappearing into the gloomy sky. Morrigan stared after the departing duo, mulling over the questions they'd left her with. She mulled them over so deeply that she barely noticed the purple-clad parahuman laughing madly. What a strange girl - perhaps she too would require comfort? Thinking of her sent her mind to another person. A girl who mocked bitterly, who had called out the most repulsive suggestions for their fight. Morrigan hovered shakily into the air, her flesh unmarked but her insides about as battered as they could be. The Undersiders stared at her, the purple one still struggling to breathe around her desperate laughter - something to do with 'this is the most ludicrous bullshit I have ever seen swear to God'. Morrigan ignored her invoking the LORD's name in vain - she had bigger fish to fry. Metaphorically speaking, of course. She had never even encountered a fish before.
Wait. Where was the small one? The demon-faced one, who mocked her so viciously? The time had come for another mandatory embrace. And yet… she was gone. The one with the poorly designed shirt was cackling at something she couldn't see.
"...tell your colleague that I shall return for her. Her mockery cannot go unchallenged."
The purple one laughed louder. She saw something leaving the scene at top speed - something she couldn't quite get a bead on. It slipped from her mind almost immediately, and she cast it off with a shrug. Morrigan slumped back into the sand, wings drooping. She was exhausted, down to the bone, and could barely muster the will to fly away. Perhaps she could haev a sleep here… a small period of recovery on these cold, soft sands. As she settled back, a question came to mind, a question she couldn't escape from.
What now?
The purple one ceased her laughing, and yelled something in her general direction. Something that made her freeze, made her temporarily forget her exhaustion.
"We're villains!"
The insect-user slowly turned to stare at her.
"And our boss is also a villain!"
The rest of the villains looked at her like she was insane.
"And his symbol is a snake!"
Oh.
Ooooooooh.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH.
"...OK, you'll get your candy after this one, just a final check - after everything that's happened tonight, after the fight, the conversation, what is the chance of Morrigan finding this base in the next twenty four hours? No need for decimal places."
He was confident. Just a final check, just to make sure that everything was on track - no need to worry himself enormously, but it seemed like the kind of check a criminal mastermind would do. His snake logo rippled in unsettling motions as he performed some late-night yoga. He intended to rule this city, and he couldn't do that with stiff muscles. He twisted himself into a pretzel as Dinah considered the question.
"98%"
The pretzel collapsed and his masked head impacted his masked crotch - this hurt quite a bit, given the hard crotch-guard (it was not a codpiece) that he'd installed after an unfortunate accident. Of course, with the strange angle he was in, the crotch-guard just bruised his forehead and then sank downwards to punch another bruise into his perineum. So that was a lark. He wheezed in pain, and stammered out another question.
"What?! Ninety… ninety eight? What just- no, never mind, what's the chance of her capturing, exposing, or killing me if I activate protocol FUBAR? Six decimal places!"
"Candy."
"Goddamn it, no candy until you answer my question you no-good smackhead!"
"Fine. 54.329756%"
Well. That seemed… alright. In his mind, the core component of protocol FUBAR would be uncovered anyway by that damn giant bird, so he might as well make use of her in a structured, reasonable manner that gave him the best possible chance of survival. He pressed down his intercom.
"Hello, Noelle."
There was the sound of an enormous mass heaving itself upright.
"...whatyawant."
"Just here to tell you that we did have some work going on a cure, but it's all gone."
"What?!"
"Yep, completely destroyed. By a giant bird called Morrigan."
"Who?!"
"Morrigan, she thinks she's an angel. She crashed into the lab, destroyed a bunch of rare chemicals which we can't get anymore of, so… yep, cure's gone. Sorry."
"Where?!"
"Someone up in Brockton, if you just cause some trouble I'm sure she'll show up."
The intercom cut off and the entire base rumbled with something enormous roaring, exerting the kind of rage which can only come from a sweaty gamer - the day he'd found out that little tidbit about the Travellers had been a wonderful one. He resumed his yoga, stretching his calves to the ceiling while dialling his mercenaries.
"Operation FUBAR's a go."
"...yes sir."
"Convince the capes to go to her gamer la- her cell. Oh, and prepare the speedboats."
"Yes sir."
"There should be some new baby seal leather boots at the front door, by the way, so grab those before you leave."
"At once sir."
Aw, they were ever so obedient. He almost regretted putting that clause in their contracts which gave him the right to remove all their health insurance if they stood on top of a ladder in an incorrect fashion. If they were going to violate his incredibly complicated health codes, they didn't deserve health insurance. He resumed yoga as preparations commenced.
"Say, pet, how good are you with claustrophobia?"
Dinah's brief enthusiasm at the idea of Coil being punished for his many crimes was wiped away in moments as Coil delicately withdrew a large briefcase from under his desk while still doing reverse-butterfly-lotus on top of that same desk. Quite an acrobatic feat. Coil grinned beneath his mask.
He'd still get something fun out of tonight, he supposed. Almost made up for the bruised perineum.
Almost.
"...and Sor Suprema!"
Sister Supreme? What? The Undersiders had just given up on understanding anything and were sitting on the sand, watching with wide eyes - well, 100% of Undersiders with visible eyes had wide eyes. Morrigan assumed the others were doing the same, by extrapolating existing data. But her data also indicated that Sor Suprema was challenging her, that the donning of the mask put her into the category of 'people who needed to be driven into the sand with righteous zeal'. She soared to the luchadora nun, ready to put her into the choke-slam of Saint Aloysius Gonzaga - let the patron of the blind open her eyes to the futility of challenging La Morrigan! The nun threw… were those rulers? What could she be measuring in the middle of the air, many of them were too far away to be used for such a purpose! And how many did she have? Where was she keeping them? Almost half a dozen rulers sailed through the air… and the nun slapped one of them. Hard. That ruler slapped another, which slapped another, which slapped another, coming closer and closer to Morrigan. And as they travelled, Sor Suprema spoke.
"You have conquered my brother's lightning…"
Fray Tormenta grumbled. The final ruler was slapped in her direction, flying directly into her face. And what happened next made no sense. She had calculated the force of these rulers - negligible, nothing she needed to worry about. But somehow this strike punted her over the beach and sent her crashing into the ocean. The kinetic energy was simply too vast, it was positively unnatural. Deeply unsatisfactory. She emerged from the ocean dripping wet, and completely furious. Telekinesis was working overtime to remove as much water as possible, but it was something of an uphill battle. Her body felt a little shaken, everything shuffling out of place by a few centimetres. She was already a little wearied from her fight with Fray Tormenta, this nun was pushing her dangerously close to some kind of limit.
"But now you face a new foe! The other Miracle of Zacatecas!"
She tried to rapidly calculate what her power could be, but too many possibilities loomed, her mind was too scattered to settle on a single one. Sor Suprema posed, cape flying perfectly in the light breeze. She looked… well, Morrigan found no adequate comparisons, but the nearby Undersiders could probably have found something. The perfect comparison would be 'a middle-aged mother whose kids are off to university and who has finally been given leave to let loose'. Or the more laconic 'hen night'. Morrigan ignored the comparison that refused to spring to mind, focusing on other concerns. For instance, where had she gotten that costume from, did she anticipate combat and elected to wear it underneath her habit? Did she do that as a general rule? Morrigan had many questions and did not anticipate receiving any answers. Unsatisfactory.
"My powers, Morrigan, are beyond your capacity to defeat. For I… am a mistress of kinetic energy!"
Her voice was a lot more bombastic now, and she was smiling widely. Morrigan cocked her head to one side with a loud 'crack', at which everyone flinched. Normally, that would displease her. Now? It only added to her intimidating aura!
"I can amplify kinetic energy transfers!"
She withdrew another ruler and slapped it into the ground… and despite the force of the swing being within normal bounds, a substantial crater formed in the earth, sand flying in all directions. Morrigan processed this, tried to… oh dear. The data had integrated, and a full picture emerged. Kinetic energy transfers - from the arm to the ruler to the ground. And she had transferred kinetic energy between half a dozen rulers earlier, each individual transfer amplified and stored until it reached its final destination. Like a bolt of lightning only killing a man when it made contact with the earth… Morrigan reconsidered putting her into the choke-slam of Saint Aloysius Gonzaga. In fact, she backed away a little, restrategising. The force of a half dozen rulers was enough to knock her into the ocean, and if there was one thing this nun possessed… it was rulers. Somehow. Sor Suprema crouched into a fighting stance, mask gleaming in the moonlight. She grinned mockingly.
"Oh, do you no longer wish to wrestle? Then how about another game?"
She reached into a belt of pouches surrounding her waist, and withdrew a small white ball.
"How about baseball?"
Morrigan had no time to react before a ruler thwacked the ball, sending it flying in her direction. As before, the strength of the strike was mundane, the ball flew at an acceptable speed… but when it slammed into her chest, she was sent a good few feet into the damp sand, telekinesis straining to keep her robe from getting any dirtier. Sor Suprema casually strolled over the hole, passing by her still-crouched brother.
"Ready to give in?"
Morrigan was inclined to be silent. Conceal her thoughts and intentions, ensure that her next strike was a devastating surprise. But the pattern she was developing demanded something more.
"La Morrigan never surrenders!"
She flew upwards, feet-first, to try and crash into Sor Suprema's side. If Fray Tormenta could do it, why couldn't she? The nun smoothly whacked her soles with another ruler - where was she getting these from? Morrigan was driven deeper into the ground like a feathered jackhammer, and grunted in irritation as the sand started to collapse around her. This was most unsatisfactory. She couldn't calculate an effective way of reaching the nun - if she got close, a ruler would send her flying, and if she remained at a distance, the nun could simply hit something at her. She seemed to have unnaturally advanced reflexes and a faintly alarming aim, perhaps an additional component to her power. Irritating. Wait - Morrigan had an idea. She compressed sand once more, and hurled it at Sor Suprema - a huge mass compressed into a large boulder, barreling through the air. The nun withdrew another ruler and slapped it with her current ruler - ah! A limit! She had a limit to the power of a single transfer, it seemed. The former ruler impacted the boulder and blew it apart, but Morrigan was happy to ignore it. With this new knowledge assimilated, Morrigan began to move into the second step of her incredibly sophisticated plan.
More boulders formed, and the angel herself was behind them. Sor Suprema was unused to this kind of attack - probably more content with wrestlers that tried to get up close and personal - and wasted ruler after ruler destroying the boulders, and all the while Morrigan came closer and closer… until an elbow slammed into her back and send her back to the earth. She grunted, trying to figure out who would dare interfere with La Morrigan's terrifically advanced strategy where she just threw a massive pile of boulders at people. One of the Undersiders, perhaps? Which one, which one had betrayed the sanctity of the fight and had chosen to stand against an angel? She twisted her head with another nauseating 'crack', and froze. Fray Tormenta stood above her, a strangely serene expression on his face.
"Be at peace, girl. There is no shame in losing a two-versus-one."
Yes there was! Morrigan was a servant of the almighty, she couldn't lose - and indeed, she had never lost! To lose would contravene her divine mandate, and thus defeat was impossible! A pulse of telekinetic power send the friar flying, and she struggled back into the air… only for something very strange to happen. As she rose higher, Sor Suprema withdrew the last of her rulers, whacking one against the other, building energy… that she directed into her brother. Fray Tormenta was propelled forward at absurd speeds, his body crackling with lightning. He was faster than he had been before, stronger too - his breaker state was potent, it seemed, but it lacked something in the way of concussive strength. Morrigan crumpled back down as Fray Tormenta hit her like an artillery shell, pile-driving her once more into the beach. There were no names this time - the move was born of desperation, an absolute desire to win against her. She'd pushed them to their limits… and now they had pushed her to hers. She struggled… but the blows she'd taken were adding up. She could feel her fleshier components starting to detach from their crystal shells, the ones she had built after crashing into Brockton. Now, though? Her internal structure was being compromised, and badly. She foresaw the consequences of fighting onwards - something similar to what happened after Menja. Dizziness, aching, and finally… unconsciousness.
She was about to lose.
All her data told her to retreat. But… no! She couldn't retreat! She was La Morrigan! She was the angel of the LORD, and she couldn't lose to a priest and a nun, no matter how strong they were! Telekinetic powers flexed, sand rose up, and even as her organs whined in protest she summoned all her reserves of strength - one last blow, one last attack to decide this fight. She lunged, crouching into the battering ram of Saint Denis. Sor Suprema would crumple if she was struck hard enough, Morrigan knew this - if she was pinned and unable to pick up an object, she would be done for. If she was punched hard enough this fight would be concluded in Morrigan's favour. If Sor Suprema had no intact bones, if she lacked an intact skull, there was no chance of her resisting. Once, such visions of violence would have disturbed her… now? They seemed right. She lunged, Sor Suprema's eyes widened… and a thunderbolt slammed into her side, empowered by righteous fury at the idea that someone would strike his sister.
"The battering ram of Saint Joan!"
Gah, she'd even gotten the name wrong! She thought Saint Denis would be appropriate - a battering ram involved impacting someone with her head, and Saint Denis was associated with decapitations, headaches… but Joan made more sense! Her association with sieges was well-established, and the battering ram was a siege engine first and foremost. Not only had she been hurt, now she was getting the canonical names of her wrestling moves wrong. All the fight went out of her as she crumpled into a loose pile of wings and robes. She'd lost - and the idea of losing was so inconceivable to her that she began to think that this was the end. If she had lost, she had failed, and if she had failed, then her purpose was all for naught. And without her purpose… she had nothing. She remained still as Fray Tormenta walked over, breathing heavily. He crouched down, and she closed her eyes, waiting for the end to come.
It had been a good run - perhaps the LORD would forgive her her failures, or perhaps she would be condemned to centuries of toil in Purgatory. She had failed, though… no, she deserved nothing but the fires. Failure was antithetical to her purpose, and without her purpose she had nothing. If she couldn't conquer two capes, she was doubtless going to fail against the servants of the Lightbringer. This was a sign from the LORD that she had failed somewhere… and she could of no more fitting punishment for failure than oblivion. Fray Tormenta paused above her, and she silently hoped that he would be swift. Death wasn't something she was very good at imagining, and her fleshier elements were pulsing with something approaching 'nervousness', even 'fear'. Most unsatisfactory. The friar sighed.
"You should master your emotions, Morrigan."
…What? What had he just said to her? To master her emotions - she was an angel of the LORD, how dare he question her, how dare he impugn her perfection?! The chunk of brain-crystal responsible for her self-awareness twitched irritably. Actually, he might have a point. She opened her eyes, staring up at the masked wrestler.
"You fought well. But you became too angry, too obsessed with the fight."
He sighed.
"I hoped to teach you how force could be used joyfully, how it could be performed in a manner that entertains and illuminates, goes beyond mere violence. You appear to have taken the wrong moral from our conversation."
Hm. She had enjoyed fighting, it had made everything seem right, but… was that right? Now that the fight was over, her head was starting to clear a little. And her eyes widened as she realised that at the end, in her final blow, she had been fully intending to kill the nun, or to severely injure her. And her other moves had been increasingly brutal, she could have seriously hurt someone - even murdered them! The fight had taken over everything, her drive for conflict overpowering any of her better instincts.
"If the language of fists will not suffice, then I must resort to words."
He smiled kindly, helping her sit up - she rested back on her wings, using them as an impromptu chair.
"You fight with more skill than someone so young should possess. But you do not fight well."
Fray Tormenta gestured to his mask.
"Do you know why I fight with the mask?"
"Identity concealment. The other parahumans I have encountered do much the same."
"No, no. When my time as a wrestler ended, when I retired to my orphanage, I forsook anonymity and let the world know who I was."
Morrigan cracked her head to one side.
"I wear the mask so that I can be reminded. When I remove this mask, I am no longer Fray Tormenta. I am Brother Rodrigo. When my sister removes her mask, Sor Suprema disappears into the past and Sister Encarnacion moves on. Violence is not my life, wrestling is not all that I am. The mask reminds me of this, and when I put it away… I feel as though I can move into a life of peace."
He chuckled.
"The mask tells me that I can keep violence separate from my peaceful life, and when the time comes I may bury the mask and live the rest of my days tending to my gardens and helping the orphans in my care."
Morrigan could somewhat follow. Mental compartmentalisation - standard coping technique for unstable humans, her data informed her. Why was he telling her, though?
"But what are you, Morrigan, without your crusading purpose, your urge to use force?"
"I am an angel. My purpose is all."
"And what is your purpose?"
"To fight the Lightbringer."
There was a moment of confused silence. Morrigan silently pointed upwards. And suddenly it all made horrible, horrible sense. Fray Tormenta frowned.
"That is a… lofty goal. But what are you without it? What will you be when the Lightbringer falls?"
This didn't compute. Her confusion must have shown through, because the friar continued talking.
"When the End of Days arrives, when Christ does battle against the… Lightbringer, and the dead and the living are reunited, what will you do?"
Hm. Difficult question.
"Remember, child, that no-one has yet proceeded to their eternal reward. Heaven, hell… they are just waiting rooms, places where we can while away the years until Judgement Day. Only after that day of tribulation will heaven on earth be achieved, and eternal reward finally granted. What will you do when your purpose is accomplished, when there are no more devils to slay?"
"What will you do?"
"Tend to my gardens, care for my flock, bring joy to as many as I can. I enjoy these things, and I perform them with love of the Lord in my heart. Fighting is not all that I am, my being extends beyond it - indeed, my most meaningful memories are outside of conflict."
Morrigan pondered this. Her struggle against the Lightbringer… it was all that mattered. But he had a point, one day the Lightbringer would fall, one day her every scheme would be confounded and all the miseries she inflicted would be swept away. And without her… hm. Morrigan found herself completely stumped. Data refused to present itself. She had nothing beyond her purpose. Fray Tormenta was right, though, it was inevitable that her purpose would end. Scripture demanded it. And what then?
"I am unsure of what to do."
"Then it is something to meditate on. Find a path that will content you, find people to care for, do not lose yourself in a desire to purge evil. Down that road lies ruin."
He straightened up, surveying the churning ocean.
"I am not convinced that you are an angel, Morrigan. If anything, you fight like a demon. But… you have potential. You seem to be a good person, just one who lacks guidance or experience. I wish you the best of luck in your endeavours, so long as they walk the path that God sets before us."
She considered this. His questions… they had left a seed of doubt in her, a tiny flaw in her overall mental pattern that seemed to threaten the integrity of the whole structure. Her purpose was all. Her purpose would one day end. These two facts refused to reconcile, no matter how many theological muscles she bent to the task - and she had many. She would need to think on this further, in her own time. It was a matter of great importance that she did. Fray Tormenta patted her on the back, and left to be replaced with Sor - no, Sister Encarnacion. The nun was back in her habit - OK, this was getting ridiculous, how had she done that so quickly? Where did she store the cape?! Her mind snapped a little as she tried to conceive of the spatial dynamics necessary for this… no, it must be a miracle. Hm. She paid close attention to the nun's words, for she clearly had a connection to the divine similar to Morrigan. She spoke to an equal.
"My brother is an idiot… but he has a point. You are too easily overcome by your emotions, too easily swayed by violence."
She sighed.
"We will return to Mexico. There is nothing else for us here. If you wish, though… you could come with us. The orphans already adore you - they insist on watching your antics on the internet. I am sure that this fight will be playing for weeks."
Adoration? That was… unusual. Most people just ran away from her, no matter how often she uttered BE NOT AFRAID in her most comforting shriek. The idea of people actually enjoying having her around, not backing away, not masking their words, not trying to deceive her into joining their heretically secular orders… It was a tempting prospect, tempting indeed. Her data supplied information - Mexico was warm. Sunny. She imagined basking in the light, letting her wings relax in the golden void. But… no. It was simply not feasible.
"My purpose binds me here. The Lightbringer's schemes are at work in this place, and I must follow them to their conclusion - this city is troubled, and requires assistance. I cannot abandon it."
Encarnacion sniffed.
"Very well. Do as you will. But our home is always open to any lost soul."
And with that, she was gone… and behind her, on the sand, was a shining golden mask. Morrigan turned, ready to call out - the nun had clearly misplaced part of her property, probably no room under the habit with the cape, the costume, the numerous rulers and all the items in her utility belt. But there was nothing but the sound of thunder crackling, and the sight of lightning disappearing into the gloomy sky. Morrigan stared after the departing duo, mulling over the questions they'd left her with. She mulled them over so deeply that she barely noticed the purple-clad parahuman laughing madly. What a strange girl - perhaps she too would require comfort? Thinking of her sent her mind to another person. A girl who mocked bitterly, who had called out the most repulsive suggestions for their fight. Morrigan hovered shakily into the air, her flesh unmarked but her insides about as battered as they could be. The Undersiders stared at her, the purple one still struggling to breathe around her desperate laughter - something to do with 'this is the most ludicrous bullshit I have ever seen swear to God'. Morrigan ignored her invoking the LORD's name in vain - she had bigger fish to fry. Metaphorically speaking, of course. She had never even encountered a fish before.
Wait. Where was the small one? The demon-faced one, who mocked her so viciously? The time had come for another mandatory embrace. And yet… she was gone. The one with the poorly designed shirt was cackling at something she couldn't see.
"...tell your colleague that I shall return for her. Her mockery cannot go unchallenged."
The purple one laughed louder. She saw something leaving the scene at top speed - something she couldn't quite get a bead on. It slipped from her mind almost immediately, and she cast it off with a shrug. Morrigan slumped back into the sand, wings drooping. She was exhausted, down to the bone, and could barely muster the will to fly away. Perhaps she could haev a sleep here… a small period of recovery on these cold, soft sands. As she settled back, a question came to mind, a question she couldn't escape from.
What now?
The purple one ceased her laughing, and yelled something in her general direction. Something that made her freeze, made her temporarily forget her exhaustion.
"We're villains!"
The insect-user slowly turned to stare at her.
"And our boss is also a villain!"
The rest of the villains looked at her like she was insane.
"And his symbol is a snake!"
Oh.
Ooooooooh.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH.
* * *
"...OK, you'll get your candy after this one, just a final check - after everything that's happened tonight, after the fight, the conversation, what is the chance of Morrigan finding this base in the next twenty four hours? No need for decimal places."
He was confident. Just a final check, just to make sure that everything was on track - no need to worry himself enormously, but it seemed like the kind of check a criminal mastermind would do. His snake logo rippled in unsettling motions as he performed some late-night yoga. He intended to rule this city, and he couldn't do that with stiff muscles. He twisted himself into a pretzel as Dinah considered the question.
"98%"
The pretzel collapsed and his masked head impacted his masked crotch - this hurt quite a bit, given the hard crotch-guard (it was not a codpiece) that he'd installed after an unfortunate accident. Of course, with the strange angle he was in, the crotch-guard just bruised his forehead and then sank downwards to punch another bruise into his perineum. So that was a lark. He wheezed in pain, and stammered out another question.
"What?! Ninety… ninety eight? What just- no, never mind, what's the chance of her capturing, exposing, or killing me if I activate protocol FUBAR? Six decimal places!"
"Candy."
"Goddamn it, no candy until you answer my question you no-good smackhead!"
"Fine. 54.329756%"
Well. That seemed… alright. In his mind, the core component of protocol FUBAR would be uncovered anyway by that damn giant bird, so he might as well make use of her in a structured, reasonable manner that gave him the best possible chance of survival. He pressed down his intercom.
"Hello, Noelle."
There was the sound of an enormous mass heaving itself upright.
"...whatyawant."
"Just here to tell you that we did have some work going on a cure, but it's all gone."
"What?!"
"Yep, completely destroyed. By a giant bird called Morrigan."
"Who?!"
"Morrigan, she thinks she's an angel. She crashed into the lab, destroyed a bunch of rare chemicals which we can't get anymore of, so… yep, cure's gone. Sorry."
"Where?!"
"Someone up in Brockton, if you just cause some trouble I'm sure she'll show up."
The intercom cut off and the entire base rumbled with something enormous roaring, exerting the kind of rage which can only come from a sweaty gamer - the day he'd found out that little tidbit about the Travellers had been a wonderful one. He resumed his yoga, stretching his calves to the ceiling while dialling his mercenaries.
"Operation FUBAR's a go."
"...yes sir."
"Convince the capes to go to her gamer la- her cell. Oh, and prepare the speedboats."
"Yes sir."
"There should be some new baby seal leather boots at the front door, by the way, so grab those before you leave."
"At once sir."
Aw, they were ever so obedient. He almost regretted putting that clause in their contracts which gave him the right to remove all their health insurance if they stood on top of a ladder in an incorrect fashion. If they were going to violate his incredibly complicated health codes, they didn't deserve health insurance. He resumed yoga as preparations commenced.
"Say, pet, how good are you with claustrophobia?"
Dinah's brief enthusiasm at the idea of Coil being punished for his many crimes was wiped away in moments as Coil delicately withdrew a large briefcase from under his desk while still doing reverse-butterfly-lotus on top of that same desk. Quite an acrobatic feat. Coil grinned beneath his mask.
He'd still get something fun out of tonight, he supposed. Almost made up for the bruised perineum.
Almost.
AN: Fray Tormenta and Sor Suprema shall return. That's all for this week, but next week will have banjos.
