The Contest of Power (Wiki-Warrior style story) (Fallout)
- Thread starter Aurora Moon
- Start date
Aurora Moon
Verfied Insomniac with too much time on her hands
- Location
- USA, Earth
- Pronouns
- She/Her
He's still the dark rival, so yes. I just simply find it interesting to mix up things. It's boring to me when the bad guy only does bad things 24/7.
and it's not too out of character for him... remember, he's mentioned in the past that he always thought slavery was a stupid thing and disapproved of it, though not always for the same moral reasons as other people did.
Gearing up for battle, PT 2. (Chapter 113, Regan Chapter)
Aurora Moon
Verfied Insomniac with too much time on her hands
- Location
- USA, Earth
- Pronouns
- She/Her
As a refresher, here's the map of great falls cut up into districts.
https://forums.sufficientvelocity.com/threads/the-contest-of-power-wiki-warrior-style-story-fallout.100288/post-25651759
Summary of the chapter in case you don't wanna read:
==================================
While the sun sunk downwards, disappearing into the horizon, the two teams drove through the desolate streets of District 10, the remnants of what once was a vibrant university hub in Great Falls, Montana. The decaying buildings, now shadows of their former academic glory, loomed over the scene like silent witnesses to the consequences of the Great War's fallout.
In the first vehicle, Velocita, Urban Defender, and Sparkles rode together. The atmosphere inside their vehicle buzzed with a mix of tension and determination. Velocita's eyes darted between the buildings, searching for signs of movement among the collared slaves and their raider oppressors.
Militia-man, Vigilant Vicar, Guardian Light, Regan and The Deep occupied the second vehicle.
The Deep was driving, while Vicar sat in the middle seat disguised as a repairman, and Regan opted to take the passenger seat on the right side. Meanwhile Guardian Light and Militia-man were clinging for life underneath the hauler custom vehicle, thankful that the hauler wasn't going too dangerously fast for them and that they had enough superstrength to be able to cling on for long periods of time until they were ready to crawl out from under the vehicle and carry out their mission.
As the vehicles traversed the once lively streets, they encountered the grim reality of District 10. Collared slaves shuffled aimlessly, their eyes vacant, the weight of their predicament evident. Raider slavers, armed and menacing, patrolled the area, keeping a watchful eye on their captive charges.
Regan spoke up via the handheld small radios they had for each one, allowing everyone else in the groups to hear him. "Alright, it's time. Time to put on the performance of our lives. We need to have those raiders put down their guards so that they don't suspect us too soon."
Velocita, her eyes narrowing with determination, added, "And watch out for merchants. They might have valuable information or supplies we can use against the raiders."
The vehicles navigated cautiously through the once-bustling district, now a haunting shell of its former self. The heroes remained vigilant, prepared for whatever challenges lay ahead as they approached the heart of the city's distress.
The convoy of heroes rolled into the trading hub, the amalgamation of what used to be the University of Providence, Montana State University, the Holiday Village mall, and various nearby plazas. The architecture, once devoted to education and commerce, now stood as a testament to the resilient spirit of survival in the harsh post-apocalyptic landscape.
The vehicles rumbled over cracked pavement as they entered the central plaza, surrounded by the remnants of academia and consumerism. Collared slaves shuffled about, their eyes glancing nervously at the approaching heroes. Raider slavers, armed to the teeth, maintained a tense order, keeping a close watch on their enslaved charges.
Urban Defender then touched the moving vehicle, and then used his supernatural abilities to create the impression that the vehicle had just randomly failed, as it screeched to a halt while smoke suddenly started coming out from under the hood as if it had caught on fire.
It wasn't actually damaged in any way at all and could still run perfectly, but this was the performance they were putting on for the raiders.
Velocita and Urban Defender rushed out of the vehicle, seemingly acting very panicked, as they said in voices a little too loud for everyone to hear: "Oh shit, oh shit!! Not again!"
"Fucking piece of prewar crap!! Just when we got it working!" Velocita said, just a tad too hysterically.
While they were good at being superheroes most of the time, they weren't good actors.
The custom hauler vehicle slowed to a stop next to them, and Regan came out with a concerned expression. He jogged over to them, and then asked them while the approaching raiders listened in on their conversation, "What's the matter? The engine didn't break down again, did it?"
Urban defender nodded. "Yeah, it sure seems so!"
Regan groaned, seemingly disappointed by this. One of the raiders finally came to a stop in front of them all and asked, "Hey, assholes. What's the meaning of this?"
Regan turned to face the raider, using his supernatural charm to thoroughly convince the raider. "Ah, you know how Axel Warren's been wanting vehicles from me because I can make Vehicles? You've heard about that, right?"
The raider perked up at that. "Oh yeah, you're Regan then? I've heard about you!"
Regan sighed. "Truthfully, I wouldn't mind making more vehicles for you all. Anything to keep the caps flowing, right? But your leader doesn't seem to understand that polishing up a perfect vehicle that won't break down takes a lot of time. He's been pressuring me to finish all the vehicle projects…. And now one of the vans suffered for it. The engine keeps on breaking down. As you can see by the fuckin' smoke billowing out from under the hood there."
One of the other raiders who had been lingering behind the one bold raider who had dared to ask them whatever was going on, suddenly took a few nervous steps back, asking: "Erm…. it's not gonna explode on us, is it? Some old cars tend to be like small nuclear bombs…"
Regan smiled reassuringly at the raiders. "Nah, not that kind of car! I removed all the nuclear bits and made it an old fashioned gasoline-and-water engine like the one from the 1910s!. So it won't explode like a bomb even if it sets on fire. Much safer!"
The raiders seemed to relax at that, and the first raider who had approached Regan then said in a sympathetic voice, "Ah, yes. That does sound like our Warlord, alright. He can be impatient at times. To put it mildly. He probably won't be happy about this, huh?"
Regan let out a bark of laughter, looking at the raider as if he was a close buddy who had made a funny joke. "Yeah, that's putting it mildly. I know he's gonna blame me for this even though I could've easily polished up the engine some more so that it wouldn't freakin' break down all the time…. If he would just fucking give me more time!!"
He practically screamed in genuine frustration at the last part, and then calmed down. He then shot the raiders an apologetic look. "Sorry about losing my cool there, I know you're not at fault for this. I've just been *so* stressed running around like a headless chicken trying to get all those old vehicles up to prewar standards. I haven't even slept for two days straight, now."
He had subtly shapeshifted himself to look haggard and tired as possible before getting out of the hauler custom earlier, and now was really selling the part of being a guy who hadn't slept in a while.
The first raider now looked like he was genuinely sympathetic, mainly because he found himself liking Regan for some reason. Which was so weird, because he normally didn't like strangers and normally wouldn't give a shit. "Damn. Yeah, that's really… uh, very rough."
Regan smiled. "Well, could you all do me a favor? Keep watch over this vehicle while my guys try to fix it? Just so that some asshole doesn't fuck it up more than it already is. I have to bring this other vehicle to Warren, after all. And this way you can get an up close look at the vehicles you all will be riding into battle! Once you've got a taste of riding those sweet babies, you'll never want to walk on foot anywhere ever again."
The first raider exchanged glances with the other raiders behind him, and then shrugged. "Um, alright?"
Sparkles, his campy demeanor undeterred by the somber atmosphere, twirled a wrench in his hand. "Well, if it isn't a perfect day for some retail therapy! I'll go scrounging for parts for the poor vehicle here, hmm?"
Velocita, sensing the chance to explore and free the slaves without the raiders getting in their way, said, "I'll go with you! Might need a second set of hands to carry stuff back here."
Urban defender nodded. "I'll stay with the vehicle and stop the smoke."
With that, he popped open the hood and made a show of fanning away the smoke, coughing slightly.
The raiders all seemed to be buying their act, as they now circled the 'dead' vehicle inspecting it curiously.
Regan smiled. "Well, I'll see you all later, I'm on my way to see Warren."
With that, he got back into the Hauler custom truck and nodded at The Deep to drive them all the way to District Five.
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District 5, much like its counterpart District 8, stood as a testament to the resilience and repurposing that defined the post-apocalyptic world. The air in District 5 crackled with an eerie mix of tension and the low hum of machinery, signaling its distinct purpose in the intricate web of survival.
The skeletal remains of a once-mighty power plant dominated the skyline, its towering chimneys casting long shadows over the desolate landscape. Rust-covered pipes snaked through the district like veins of a metallic organism, carrying the lifeblood of the city: gas and electricity. The power plant, a relic of a bygone era, now stood as both a beacon of hope and a harbinger of potential danger.
Clusters of ramshackle settlements had sprung up around the gas reservoirs, makeshift homes constructed from salvaged materials and the remnants of prewar structures. The scent of gas hung in the air, a pungent reminder of the district's primary commodity and the valuable resource it represented in this barren wasteland.
Intermittent flickers of light illuminated the district, casting sporadic glimpses of the precarious walkways and makeshift bridges that connected the settlements. Rusted catwalks clung to the sides of gas reservoirs, providing narrow pathways for daring scavengers to navigate the treacherous terrain.
Occasional bursts of flames erupted from gas vents, painting the scene with an otherworldly glow. Mutated creatures, adapted to the harsh conditions of District 5, scurried through the shadows, their eyes reflecting the flickering flames.
As the night descended upon District 5, the power plant loomed ominously in the dark, occasional bursts of flames from the vents casting flickering shadows that danced across the landscape. The forbidding aura of the district became more palpable under the cover of darkness, revealing the harsh realities that lurked within its confines.
Regan, having never truly noticed the power plant's menacing presence during the day, now felt the weight of its foreboding silhouette against the night sky. The memory of Warlord Warren's recent hostility echoed in his mind, which probably went a long way to explain why he never noticed the power plant until now.
but tonight, Regan had a different agenda.
Taking advantage of the shadows, Guardian Light and Militia-man stealthily slipped out from under the vehicle, their movements synchronized with the hum of the hauler's motor engine.
Regan gestured to the guards blocking their path, spinning a tale about a special present for Warlord Warren while he successfully distracted the guards from noticing Militia-Man and Guardian Light.
"Got something special for the boss, and a surprise addition to our crew," Regan proclaimed proudly, indicating the custom hauler truck. "Found a technical repairman who's a genius with machines. Wanted to introduce him to Warren and Bulletproof Bishop. With his skills, we'll have those war chariots Warren's been dreaming of in no time."
Vigilant Vicar, expertly disguised as a post-war repairman, waved at the guards from the vehicle, tools dangling from his makeshift toolbelt.
The guards exchanged glances, seemingly intrigued by the prospect of a technical expert joining the ranks. After a moment's consideration, they nodded at Regan, granting him entry into District 12.
"You and your crew can head right in. Warren will want to see this," one of the guards declared.
Regan blinked in surprise, not expecting such a smooth entry.
>Bong<
His anticipation had been geared towards a potential confrontation, with Warlord Warren personally coming out to meet him once again. Yet the gates to District 12 swung open, allowing him and his team to proceed.
In stunned shock, Regan went back to the vehicle not even believing his luck, got in and sat there in silence as Kevin drove them right into district 12.
But hey, it looked like they didn't have to find a way to sneak into district 12 like Regan thought.
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--Back in District 10--
Sparkles and Velocita slipped into the random junk store in District 10, while under the disguise of pretending to shop for car parts to fix their "dead" van.
The dim light casting a shadowy ambiance over the mismatched collection of salvaged items. The absence of raiders guarding the store provided a rare opportunity – a momentary respite from the oppressive atmosphere of District 10.
A lone slave, nervously sorting through the discarded pieces of prewar technology, caught Velocita's attention. The subtle hum of the slave collar resonated in the air, a constant reminder of the captive's plight. Velocita exchanged a glance with Sparkles, a silent understanding passing between them.
Sparkles, the one with knowledge on defusing bomb collars, approached the slave with a determined yet careful stride. He feigned interest in the scattered junk, all the while keeping a close eye on the slave and the ominous collar around their neck.
Velocita, with her speedster abilities, discreetly positioned herself to provide cover and distraction if needed. Sparkles, with his campy charm still intact, meandered through the cluttered aisles, humming a tune to mask the underlying tension.
Sparkles, seizing the opportune moment, whispered to the slave, "We're here to help. Don't be alarmed. Just play along."
The female slave's eyes widened with a mix of fear and hope as Sparkles' nimble fingers delicately worked to examine the collar. Velocita continued her charismatic act, drawing the attention of anyone who might be watching. With her new leotard and fishnet look, it was pretty easy to show off her shapely ass and long legs for any straight man looking her way.
Sparkles, with a deep breath, focused on the intricate mechanisms of the collar. The delicate task of defusing the bomb required precision and skill. He could feel the tension in the air, the weight of the responsibility to liberate the captive from their explosive shackle.
After a tense few moments, Sparkles successfully disarmed the collar. He discreetly slipped it off the slave's neck, careful not to attract undue attention. The liberated individual, now free from the imminent threat of detonation, looked at Sparkles with tearful gratitude.
Velocita and Sparkles exchanged a triumphant nod, their clandestine mission in the junk store a small victory against the oppressive forces of District 10.
They whispered to the de-collared woman that they had transport waiting to go back to District 11 where she'd be safe, but that she needed to wait for the signal before she could get into the back of it without getting killed by the raiders.
As they quietly exited the store, the liberated individual discreetly merged into the shadows, their path now unburdened by the weight of a collar bomb.
As Velocita and Sparkles quietly made their way through the dimly lit streets of District 10, the weight of their recent success began to settle alongside a newfound realization. The liberated slave, now free from the threat of a collar bomb, had vanished into the night, leaving behind a tangible sense of relief and gratitude.
However, as the duo moved deeper into the district, they couldn't ignore the harsh reality that many others still suffered under the oppressive yoke of the slave collars. How many slaves were here? 70? 100 of them?
Velocita's jaw clenched as her eyes swept over the collared slaves scattered throughout the district. The sheer number of people in need of liberation weighed heavily on her, and the initial elation of their successful rescue began to fade into a somber acknowledgment of the challenges that lay ahead.
Sparkles, usually the epitome of campy optimism, wore a pensive expression. The flamboyant raider had faced numerous challenges with a theatrical flair, but the magnitude of this humanitarian mission tested even his vibrant resilience. The reality of the situation sank in – their work was far from over.
"We've got our work cut out for us, don't we?" Velocita murmured, her voice a mixture of determination and concern.
Sparkles nodded quietly.
Velocita also realized something else--Not all of them were going to fit into the back of their terrorbyte van. After all, the back of the van could only fit 10 people max if they were okay with cramped spaces.
In hindsight, maybe Regan should have taken the Terrorbyte vehicle while they got the custom hauler. Urban Defender could've used his new creation powers to whip up a long hauling trailer that could hold more than 10 people and hitched it to the Hauler truck.
….. They might not have thought things out or planned as thoroughly as they could have, huh? Shit, they made such a classic mistake not even thinking about the logistics, only going with what felt good for them at that moment.
…… Maybe they could just stage a revolt instead once they got the collars off? ….yeah, that might be easier, actually. Velocita could just kill all the raiders here easily once they didn't need to worry about the explosive collars anymore.
She smiled to herself.
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Meanwhile in District 12--
Regan couldn't believe it. There were so many great buildings around here that the Warlord could've easily claimed, built up and fortified into his own personal castle, but he chose to hold court out in the open??
Warren had built an literal outdoors throne "room" where his throne was on an raised wooden platform with metal spikes around it, and high on poles were the impaled bodies of his enemies. And then a few feet away from his throne was a bunch of picnic tables and some large grill thing, indicating this is where his men ate while Warren watched over them.
Regan could only hope that he had a second throne room, an indoors one, otherwise he wouldn't feel good at all about having been menaced by some guy who didn't even know basic defensive tactics. A leader shouldn't be so stupid enough to be out in the open all the time where anybody could easily snipe him, after all.
But now that he was here, he was looking around as much as possible on his way to Warlord Warren who was holding court in the distance.
District 12 unfolded before Regan as a haunting tapestry of military history against the backdrop of a post-apocalyptic world.
As Regan, Kevin (The Deep), and Vigilant Vicar (disguised as a repairman) traversed the base, they encountered remnants of a once-powerful institution now weathered by time and decay.
The Air Force Museum, a faded testament to aviation glory, showcased dusty exhibits of military aircraft, their polished surfaces now obscured by a patina of neglect. The echoes of a bygone era reverberated through the hangars, revealing stories of a time when the skies were filled with the dreams of flight.
Military buildings, standing stoically along well-worn paths, bore the scars of conflict. Barracks, command centers, and training facilities hinted at the strategic planning and defense that once defined the base. Graffiti adorned their walls, marking tales of survival and resistance in the aftermath of societal collapse.
The missile launch pads, colossal and dormant, dominated the landscape. Their silent presence spoke of the destructive potential they still had. The air around them carried an eerie stillness, emphasizing the absence of the once-urgent human activity.
The control tower, a skeletal silhouette against the sky, overlooked the airfield where nature has reclaimed its territory. Shattered windows and weathered exteriors told the silent tale of a world forever changed. The tower stood as a sentinel, its purpose now to silently observe a world that had moved beyond its former military might, as well as being a watchtower for the raider guards.
Strategic bunkers, with thick walls designed for endurance, were scattered across the base. Some lay open, revealing empty storage rooms and remnants of military supplies, while others remained sealed, concealing secrets buried beneath layers of concrete and steel.
This place would actually make for a great base to work in and live in…. Once Regan cleared out all the raiders, of course. He could envision himself turning this whole place into one giant fortified castle.
He was almost so lost in his fantasy that he almost didn't notice when Kevin finally stopped the truck, parking just a little away from Warlord Warren's outdoors courtroom and stepped out.
Regan got out as well, Vicar following him out the truck as all three of them walked over to Warlord Warren.
As the vehicle rolled in, the imposing figure of Warlord Warren surveyed it with a mix of interest and suspicion. The notorious raider leader, plagued by paranoia from unseen enemies, was not easily swayed.
"Warlord Warren, my man, feast your eyes on this beauty! With this, we'll be cruising in style," Regan declared, his enthusiasm undiminished.
Warlord Warren, though intrigued, remained guarded. The perpetual fear of enemies silently eliminating his men gnawed at him, making trust a rare commodity. His eyes narrowed as he scrutinized the vehicle, weighing its potential against the shadows that lurked in the background.
Regan, undeterred, motioned towards Vigilant Vicar, who stood nearby in his post-war repairman disguise. "And I've brought you a technical wizard, the best in the business, by the name of Vicar. Besides myself of course. This here is our secret weapon for building those war chariots you've been dreaming of. Between Bullet Bishop, myself and Vicar I'm sure we'll be able to build cars much faster, since you want cars right away instead of waiting for it."
Vicar, with a friendly smile, nodded, "Pleasure to be here. I've got the skills to make those war chariots a reality. Your enemies won't know what hit 'em."
Bullet Bishop expressed his delight at having another technical expert. "Well, well! More brains to help us build the arsenal we need. Welcome aboard, Vicar."
However, Warren's suspicion lingered. "Enemies keep taking out my men, and they vanish into thin air. You better not be one of them. We're cautious around here for a reason," Warren growled, his words a testament to the constant vigilance that defined life in District 12.
Regan maintained his friendly demeanor, "Warren, you've got nothing to worry about. Vicar here is as loyal as they come. We're all here for the same cause – building a force that can't be stopped. You want to be powerful and take over the world. That's fine with me, I just want the caps and to live comfortably. And I think Vicar wants the same thing as I do."
Warren just hmphed loudly at this. He then said to another raider who was standing by, "Take that truck and put it with the others. I don't trust those men, but at least we're getting a fleet of vehicles out of it. Those assholes out there won't know what hit them."
To Regan and the others, he said in a very dismissive tone of voice, "You all may leave now."
Regan thought quickly and spoke fast, "Actually, now that I see this place is a military base I'm wondering if there might be tanks and airplanes around that I could fix up. Pre War Tanks were basically war vehicles that could survive bombs back in the day, and imagine if you could have your men fly around in airplanes dropping bombs on your enemies below!"
Bulletproof Bishop's eyes widened at that, once he realized the implications. "Whoa…"
Regan then gave Warlord Warren a small smirk. "But of course, that won't be cheap. I expect to be greatly rewarded once you're running roughshod over your enemies in massive tanks."
Warlord Warren glared at him, and then said to Bishop, "Escort Regan and his friends around with some armed guards. They may explore, but they aren't allowed underground. Get me?"
Bishop nodded. "Sure thing, boss."
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--District 10--
In the heart of District 10, Velocita and Sparkles moved stealthily through the shadows, their mission to liberate the collared slaves gaining momentum. The duo, fueled by determination and compassion, managed to free ten individuals from the oppressive grip of their collar bombs, all without alerting the nearby raiders.
As the liberated individuals dispersed into the night, Velocita and Sparkles found themselves in possession of crucial information. Whispers among the freed slaves hinted at a single figure, a head raider who held the master control to all the slave collars in the district.
Seated on a makeshift throne of authority, this head raider wielded power over the lives of those enslaved, manipulating the fate of each collared individual with the push of a button. The revelation added a layer of complexity to their mission, making the liberation of the district's inhabitants more challenging yet more crucial than ever.
Velocita, her eyes reflecting a mix of determination and concern, turned to Sparkles. "We've got to find this head raider. If we can take control of the master switch, we can free everyone in one fell swoop."
Sparkles smirked and replied in his usual campy way, "Well, well, looks like we've got ourselves a grand finale. Let's make it a showstopper, darling."
The duo, now armed with a new objective, continued their clandestine journey through District 10. They still had to carry random junk over to Urban Defender under the disguise of working on the Terrorbyte van so that the raiders wouldn't get suspicious.
It was during one of those return trips that Velocita pretended to be horny for Urban Defender as an excuse to get close to him and whisper their new plan.
"Mmm, babe you always look so hot when you're fixing junk like that." Velocita replied in a sultry tone of voice, as she moved over to feel him up.
Once she was close enough to the point where nobody else could overhear her, she explained what she had learned hurriedly, "There's a lead raider in charge of this district, who's got the master control for all the bomb collars. Sparkles and I are going after him."
She then pulled back and gave Urban Defender a saucy wink. As she said loud enough for the others to hear, "Let's make tonight a memorable one after this is over, hmm?"
Urban nodded, and with that, she was on her way with Sparkles. She overheard one of the raiders say, "Did you see that? Damn guy's lucky. She's got some actual meat on her bones unlike those slave girls. Goddamn."
The night air carried the weight of their mission, and the shadows became their allies as they sought to unveil the identity of the head raider and dismantle the oppressive system that held the district in its grip.
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District 12--
In the dimly lit expanse of the Malmstrom Air Force museum, Regan and Vigilant Vicar huddled together, surrounded by the relics of a bygone era. The rusted frames of ancient airplanes and disused military vehicles became the canvas upon which they painted visions of repurposed destruction.
Regan, brimming with ingenuity, pointed at a decommissioned aircraft. "This one can't fly anymore, unfortunately, but we could easily turn it into a ground vehicle. And if we keep the propeller, we could turn it into a human grinder if we drive into enemies headfirst. What do you think?"
Vicar, donned in his repairman disguise, contemplated the idea. "An unconventional approach, but I like it. We can retrofit these relics into formidable war machines, turning the past into a weapon for the future."
The Deep seemed bored by this talk, as he idly looked at the displays.
Bulletproof Bishop and the escorting raiders on the other hand, was captivated by the brainstorming session, and eagerly pitched in their own feedback. The air in the museum buzzed with excitement as the group discussed the potential modifications and enhancements to transform the obsolete aircraft and vehicles into instruments of war.
One raider suggested reinforcing the chassis for added durability, while another proposed salvaging parts from the museum's exhibits to enhance firepower.
Regan made a show of looking around at the old mounted weapons on display, and nodded. "Yeah we could definitely mount turrets on the new vehicles. Great idea!"
The collective creativity of the group turned the museum into a war room, where ideas flowed freely, fueled by the desire to create a force that could rival any in the wasteland.
Regan, always one for unconventional solutions, encouraged the collaborative effort. "Let's turn this museum into a forge of destruction. We'll make these war chariots a sight to behold, something that strikes fear into the hearts of our enemies."
The raiders nodded in agreement, their enthusiasm echoing through the museum.
A part of Regan felt like this was pointless to keep this charade up, but another part of him was working his magical charm on those raiders in the hopes that they would let their guard down and trust him enough to allow him into the underground military bunker where the missile controls were located.
Not to mention, this discussion was surprisingly fun as hell. He was mentally taking notes right now, because he was definitely making those war chariots, but for himself instead of Warren once all of this was over.
Regan turned to Bishop and said, "You know, I've been thinking. I think we need a second workshop space, one located here instead of my home back in district 11. I just don't have enough space anymore at my home to work on all of those vehicles. Not to mention, the guys living back there's been becoming more hostile towards me the more I work with your leader. I was thinking that maybe it's time I move over here, because I'm working for you guys anyways. I… just don't feel safe there anymore. If you know what I mean."
Bishop blinked. "Shit, really?"
Regan looked sad. "Yeah, I guess they made up their minds that I was effectively one of you guys now instead of being some random merchant who just happened to know how to fix up cars."
One of the random raiders placed a shoulder on Regan in a comforting gesture. "Fuck those guys! The problem with those uptight moral assholes, is that they don't get that you're gonna have to be flexible in life, and sometimes have to do things to get by. Besides, if you did join us for good that would be really great. Bishop does a lot of good around here, so having two guys with the same skills as him being here to help him out would be so awesome."
The other raiders agreed loudly at that.
Regan smiled, pretending to be touched. "Ah, you guys. Thanks so much."
Bishop looked thoughtful. "You know, there's some untouched warehouses on the far east end of the base here. Maybe that'd be a good spot for a second workshop?"
Regan smiled. "Hell yeah, let's check it out. And maybe with any luck we'll stumble on any old tanks we can fix up too?"
Bishop chuckled. "We can hope."
As they all left the air museum to go exploring on the east end, there was a loud explosion in the distance, which honestly startled the hell out of Regan.
"What was that?!" He yelped, as he instinctively pulled on his power.
>Bong<
One of the raiders cursed loudly.
The raider group buzzed with a mix of frustration and intrigue as they stared at the fires and explosions going off in the far distance.
The raider who had cursed earlier grumbled, "Probably the old power plant again. Sometimes some old machinery in there will randomly explode, ya know. But Warren's been on edge ever since some of our men got killed by that creepy man in black. So he's going to send some men out there to check on it, I guess."
Regan, already foreseeing trouble, groaned, "I know he's going to blame THAT on me too. That guy always seems to think I'm up to no good. I mean, I am, but definitely not in the way he thinks. All I wanna do is make a lot of caps and then lead a cushy lifestyle, you know what I mean?"
Some raiders nodded in understanding, acknowledging the sentiment of wanting a more comfortable existence in the harsh wasteland.
Bishop chimed in, offering a different perspective, "Warren seems fixated on you because of the timing, you know? You came in at the same time that guy in black showed up, but anybody can see that you're two different people. And not to mention my sources tell me that you were seen working on your junk and selling stuff to people while that guy was running around killing people. You wanna know what I think, hmm? Long before you came around, those guys in district 11 have been talking about killing us off for ages as revenge for what we did to their people and the like. I think one of their guys finally snapped and went off the deep end."
The Deep, perhaps a bit too eager to agree, chimed in quickly, "Oh yeah, that totally makes sense."
The other raiders, fueled by a mixture of anger and suspicion, murmured in agreement.
"When we find the fucker who's been doing this, I have a score to settle with him. He killed my best friend… flayed him open and then mounted him on a sick display for me and others to find. Only a sicko could do something like that!" one of them snarled loudly.
"Yeah! I mean, we do that too, but it's usually for a good reason, not for getting sick pleasure out of it. Like we hang our enemies' bodies from rafters and junk to scare the rest of our enemies. It's all politics, ya know? So that's different," another one replied, attempting to draw a line between the brutality they inflicted and the sadistic acts of the mysterious assailant.
"It's good if it's done to our enemies, but it's bad if it's one of our own," summarized another raider, encapsulating the complex and twisted morality that defined their post-apocalyptic existence.
Regan, The Deep, and Vicar all pretended to agree with that.
Regan then sighed. "I suppose this means we can't go check out the warehouses today, huh? I mean, all of you will have to go check that explosion out, I guess?"
Bishop smiled. "Nah. We still have plenty of men left to go check it out, don't you worry. We can continue with the tour. Besides, if Warren gets mad at you, you'll have us as your character witnesses."
Regan smiled. "Great!"
With that, they walked across the base, with Bishop oh-so-helpfully pointing out all the important locations. "Over here are the bunkers where most of our men usually sleep if we're not living in the other districts… and over there is where we make our food."
At long last, Bishop finally pointed out the one place that Regan had wanted to go to all along… the entrance to the underground military compound that controlled all of the missiles.
"Almost nobody goes into there but Warren, as Warren won't allow anybody but his most trusted men and slaves down there. So don't take it personally if you're forever barred from there."
Regan exchanged meaningful glances with The Deep and Vicar, and told Bishop, "None taken. It's a pretty important place after all."
When they finally reached the easternmost abandoned warehouses, one of the raiders broke down the planks that acted as barriers to the doors and windows that kept everything and everyone out.
With that, they managed to find their way into the warehouse, which hadn't been touched for decades. There was a thick layer of dust over everything, even the floor… so everyone left behind footprints as they walked around the warehouse looking at everything.
What appeared to be four warehouses in a row from the outside actually turned out to be one giant warehouse together once you got inside, meaning there was a shitload of space here, as well as a shitload of shipping crates and other random junk.
As such, Regan actually meant it when he exclaimed, "Wow! This is perfect! Plenty of space to build and work on vehicles here. We can even build a new forge here and it wouldn't take much space at all."
Bishop grinned. "Yeah, could even be your new home too. You don't have to stay with those District 11 assholes if they're treating you like shit."
Regan nodded thoughtfully, as he pulled off an old dusty cover to see what was under there, causing a cloud of dust to go up into the air and surround him. He started sneezing violently.
>Bong<
Regan sneezed violently again. Damnit, he forgot he was allergic to dust. The kind of allergy where it made him sneeze non stop. With that, he started sneezing 5 times in a row.
>Bong<
"Achoo!"
>Bong<
"Ahhh…"
>Bong<
"Choo!!"
>Bong<
Regan hurried outside, seeking respite from the cloud of dust that had enveloped the area. His sneezing fit gradually subsided, and he took a moment to collect himself.
"Man, you alright?" one of the raiders asked.
Regan, still catching his breath, nodded. "Yeah, just have this thing about dust. You know how it is."
Bishop, The Deep, and Vicar followed him outside, ready to discuss their plans, when their conversation was abruptly interrupted by a thunderous roar.
In the distance, a giant rex dinosaur became the epicenter of chaos. Raiders swarmed around it, but to their astonishment, the colossal creature was also under attack by what appeared to be... plants?
As if that weren't surreal enough, Greys – mysterious extraterrestrial beings – darted around, shooting at the raiders and plants who had dared to confront them.
Bishop, staring at the unfolding spectacle, could only manage a bewildered exclamation, "WHAT THE FUCK?!"
=============================================================
A/N: When I got the Warden roll, I was thinking that the evil RNG has a cannibalism problem. Why does it keep on trying to turn Regan into a cannibal when he was already one from day one thanks to an early roll? How many times did this happen… this has to be like the seventh one, right?
https://forums.sufficientvelocity.com/threads/the-contest-of-power-wiki-warrior-style-story-fallout.100288/post-25651759
Summary of the chapter in case you don't wanna read:
Skorchers, The Deep and Regan carry out the mission to free slaves and destroy the missiles in the missle base.
Regan summons the following:
Warden, a character from the video game The void. this person traps people inside his ribcage, which is shaped like an literal cage, and slowly cannibalizes them over time.
The next rolls are summoned during a sneezing fit--
A Rex, some Grey aliens, shooting plants from the video game plants vs zombies, and a share of the video game company that makes educational games for kids.
Regan summons the following:
Warden, a character from the video game The void. this person traps people inside his ribcage, which is shaped like an literal cage, and slowly cannibalizes them over time.
The next rolls are summoned during a sneezing fit--
A Rex, some Grey aliens, shooting plants from the video game plants vs zombies, and a share of the video game company that makes educational games for kids.
While the sun sunk downwards, disappearing into the horizon, the two teams drove through the desolate streets of District 10, the remnants of what once was a vibrant university hub in Great Falls, Montana. The decaying buildings, now shadows of their former academic glory, loomed over the scene like silent witnesses to the consequences of the Great War's fallout.
In the first vehicle, Velocita, Urban Defender, and Sparkles rode together. The atmosphere inside their vehicle buzzed with a mix of tension and determination. Velocita's eyes darted between the buildings, searching for signs of movement among the collared slaves and their raider oppressors.
Militia-man, Vigilant Vicar, Guardian Light, Regan and The Deep occupied the second vehicle.
The Deep was driving, while Vicar sat in the middle seat disguised as a repairman, and Regan opted to take the passenger seat on the right side. Meanwhile Guardian Light and Militia-man were clinging for life underneath the hauler custom vehicle, thankful that the hauler wasn't going too dangerously fast for them and that they had enough superstrength to be able to cling on for long periods of time until they were ready to crawl out from under the vehicle and carry out their mission.
As the vehicles traversed the once lively streets, they encountered the grim reality of District 10. Collared slaves shuffled aimlessly, their eyes vacant, the weight of their predicament evident. Raider slavers, armed and menacing, patrolled the area, keeping a watchful eye on their captive charges.
Regan spoke up via the handheld small radios they had for each one, allowing everyone else in the groups to hear him. "Alright, it's time. Time to put on the performance of our lives. We need to have those raiders put down their guards so that they don't suspect us too soon."
Velocita, her eyes narrowing with determination, added, "And watch out for merchants. They might have valuable information or supplies we can use against the raiders."
The vehicles navigated cautiously through the once-bustling district, now a haunting shell of its former self. The heroes remained vigilant, prepared for whatever challenges lay ahead as they approached the heart of the city's distress.
The convoy of heroes rolled into the trading hub, the amalgamation of what used to be the University of Providence, Montana State University, the Holiday Village mall, and various nearby plazas. The architecture, once devoted to education and commerce, now stood as a testament to the resilient spirit of survival in the harsh post-apocalyptic landscape.
The vehicles rumbled over cracked pavement as they entered the central plaza, surrounded by the remnants of academia and consumerism. Collared slaves shuffled about, their eyes glancing nervously at the approaching heroes. Raider slavers, armed to the teeth, maintained a tense order, keeping a close watch on their enslaved charges.
Urban Defender then touched the moving vehicle, and then used his supernatural abilities to create the impression that the vehicle had just randomly failed, as it screeched to a halt while smoke suddenly started coming out from under the hood as if it had caught on fire.
It wasn't actually damaged in any way at all and could still run perfectly, but this was the performance they were putting on for the raiders.
Velocita and Urban Defender rushed out of the vehicle, seemingly acting very panicked, as they said in voices a little too loud for everyone to hear: "Oh shit, oh shit!! Not again!"
"Fucking piece of prewar crap!! Just when we got it working!" Velocita said, just a tad too hysterically.
While they were good at being superheroes most of the time, they weren't good actors.
The custom hauler vehicle slowed to a stop next to them, and Regan came out with a concerned expression. He jogged over to them, and then asked them while the approaching raiders listened in on their conversation, "What's the matter? The engine didn't break down again, did it?"
Urban defender nodded. "Yeah, it sure seems so!"
Regan groaned, seemingly disappointed by this. One of the raiders finally came to a stop in front of them all and asked, "Hey, assholes. What's the meaning of this?"
Regan turned to face the raider, using his supernatural charm to thoroughly convince the raider. "Ah, you know how Axel Warren's been wanting vehicles from me because I can make Vehicles? You've heard about that, right?"
The raider perked up at that. "Oh yeah, you're Regan then? I've heard about you!"
Regan sighed. "Truthfully, I wouldn't mind making more vehicles for you all. Anything to keep the caps flowing, right? But your leader doesn't seem to understand that polishing up a perfect vehicle that won't break down takes a lot of time. He's been pressuring me to finish all the vehicle projects…. And now one of the vans suffered for it. The engine keeps on breaking down. As you can see by the fuckin' smoke billowing out from under the hood there."
One of the other raiders who had been lingering behind the one bold raider who had dared to ask them whatever was going on, suddenly took a few nervous steps back, asking: "Erm…. it's not gonna explode on us, is it? Some old cars tend to be like small nuclear bombs…"
Regan smiled reassuringly at the raiders. "Nah, not that kind of car! I removed all the nuclear bits and made it an old fashioned gasoline-and-water engine like the one from the 1910s!. So it won't explode like a bomb even if it sets on fire. Much safer!"
The raiders seemed to relax at that, and the first raider who had approached Regan then said in a sympathetic voice, "Ah, yes. That does sound like our Warlord, alright. He can be impatient at times. To put it mildly. He probably won't be happy about this, huh?"
Regan let out a bark of laughter, looking at the raider as if he was a close buddy who had made a funny joke. "Yeah, that's putting it mildly. I know he's gonna blame me for this even though I could've easily polished up the engine some more so that it wouldn't freakin' break down all the time…. If he would just fucking give me more time!!"
He practically screamed in genuine frustration at the last part, and then calmed down. He then shot the raiders an apologetic look. "Sorry about losing my cool there, I know you're not at fault for this. I've just been *so* stressed running around like a headless chicken trying to get all those old vehicles up to prewar standards. I haven't even slept for two days straight, now."
He had subtly shapeshifted himself to look haggard and tired as possible before getting out of the hauler custom earlier, and now was really selling the part of being a guy who hadn't slept in a while.
The first raider now looked like he was genuinely sympathetic, mainly because he found himself liking Regan for some reason. Which was so weird, because he normally didn't like strangers and normally wouldn't give a shit. "Damn. Yeah, that's really… uh, very rough."
Regan smiled. "Well, could you all do me a favor? Keep watch over this vehicle while my guys try to fix it? Just so that some asshole doesn't fuck it up more than it already is. I have to bring this other vehicle to Warren, after all. And this way you can get an up close look at the vehicles you all will be riding into battle! Once you've got a taste of riding those sweet babies, you'll never want to walk on foot anywhere ever again."
The first raider exchanged glances with the other raiders behind him, and then shrugged. "Um, alright?"
Sparkles, his campy demeanor undeterred by the somber atmosphere, twirled a wrench in his hand. "Well, if it isn't a perfect day for some retail therapy! I'll go scrounging for parts for the poor vehicle here, hmm?"
Velocita, sensing the chance to explore and free the slaves without the raiders getting in their way, said, "I'll go with you! Might need a second set of hands to carry stuff back here."
Urban defender nodded. "I'll stay with the vehicle and stop the smoke."
With that, he popped open the hood and made a show of fanning away the smoke, coughing slightly.
The raiders all seemed to be buying their act, as they now circled the 'dead' vehicle inspecting it curiously.
Regan smiled. "Well, I'll see you all later, I'm on my way to see Warren."
With that, he got back into the Hauler custom truck and nodded at The Deep to drive them all the way to District Five.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
District 5, much like its counterpart District 8, stood as a testament to the resilience and repurposing that defined the post-apocalyptic world. The air in District 5 crackled with an eerie mix of tension and the low hum of machinery, signaling its distinct purpose in the intricate web of survival.
The skeletal remains of a once-mighty power plant dominated the skyline, its towering chimneys casting long shadows over the desolate landscape. Rust-covered pipes snaked through the district like veins of a metallic organism, carrying the lifeblood of the city: gas and electricity. The power plant, a relic of a bygone era, now stood as both a beacon of hope and a harbinger of potential danger.
Clusters of ramshackle settlements had sprung up around the gas reservoirs, makeshift homes constructed from salvaged materials and the remnants of prewar structures. The scent of gas hung in the air, a pungent reminder of the district's primary commodity and the valuable resource it represented in this barren wasteland.
Intermittent flickers of light illuminated the district, casting sporadic glimpses of the precarious walkways and makeshift bridges that connected the settlements. Rusted catwalks clung to the sides of gas reservoirs, providing narrow pathways for daring scavengers to navigate the treacherous terrain.
Occasional bursts of flames erupted from gas vents, painting the scene with an otherworldly glow. Mutated creatures, adapted to the harsh conditions of District 5, scurried through the shadows, their eyes reflecting the flickering flames.
As the night descended upon District 5, the power plant loomed ominously in the dark, occasional bursts of flames from the vents casting flickering shadows that danced across the landscape. The forbidding aura of the district became more palpable under the cover of darkness, revealing the harsh realities that lurked within its confines.
Regan, having never truly noticed the power plant's menacing presence during the day, now felt the weight of its foreboding silhouette against the night sky. The memory of Warlord Warren's recent hostility echoed in his mind, which probably went a long way to explain why he never noticed the power plant until now.
but tonight, Regan had a different agenda.
Taking advantage of the shadows, Guardian Light and Militia-man stealthily slipped out from under the vehicle, their movements synchronized with the hum of the hauler's motor engine.
Regan gestured to the guards blocking their path, spinning a tale about a special present for Warlord Warren while he successfully distracted the guards from noticing Militia-Man and Guardian Light.
"Got something special for the boss, and a surprise addition to our crew," Regan proclaimed proudly, indicating the custom hauler truck. "Found a technical repairman who's a genius with machines. Wanted to introduce him to Warren and Bulletproof Bishop. With his skills, we'll have those war chariots Warren's been dreaming of in no time."
Vigilant Vicar, expertly disguised as a post-war repairman, waved at the guards from the vehicle, tools dangling from his makeshift toolbelt.
The guards exchanged glances, seemingly intrigued by the prospect of a technical expert joining the ranks. After a moment's consideration, they nodded at Regan, granting him entry into District 12.
"You and your crew can head right in. Warren will want to see this," one of the guards declared.
Regan blinked in surprise, not expecting such a smooth entry.
>Bong<
| https://thevoid.fandom.com/wiki/Warden Roll 17 Warden is a raspy-voiced and forbidding Brother. His skeletal ribcage is reminiscent of that of a prison or a cage. Unspeakably fierce and terrible, Warden has been known to scare even his Brothers. Like many of those with a sadistic nature, his words appear kind, even tender, and he is careful and unhurried in his actions. He appeared in the Void just recently, and many thought of this as an ominous sign. Effect: Regan now knows how to shapeshift himself to become more like Warden, using his ribcage prison to trap unsuspecting victims and then slowly cannibalize said victims inside his ribcage as they themselves slowly starve to death. Hmm, cannibalism, just with extra steps. |
His anticipation had been geared towards a potential confrontation, with Warlord Warren personally coming out to meet him once again. Yet the gates to District 12 swung open, allowing him and his team to proceed.
In stunned shock, Regan went back to the vehicle not even believing his luck, got in and sat there in silence as Kevin drove them right into district 12.
But hey, it looked like they didn't have to find a way to sneak into district 12 like Regan thought.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
--Back in District 10--
Sparkles and Velocita slipped into the random junk store in District 10, while under the disguise of pretending to shop for car parts to fix their "dead" van.
The dim light casting a shadowy ambiance over the mismatched collection of salvaged items. The absence of raiders guarding the store provided a rare opportunity – a momentary respite from the oppressive atmosphere of District 10.
A lone slave, nervously sorting through the discarded pieces of prewar technology, caught Velocita's attention. The subtle hum of the slave collar resonated in the air, a constant reminder of the captive's plight. Velocita exchanged a glance with Sparkles, a silent understanding passing between them.
Sparkles, the one with knowledge on defusing bomb collars, approached the slave with a determined yet careful stride. He feigned interest in the scattered junk, all the while keeping a close eye on the slave and the ominous collar around their neck.
Velocita, with her speedster abilities, discreetly positioned herself to provide cover and distraction if needed. Sparkles, with his campy charm still intact, meandered through the cluttered aisles, humming a tune to mask the underlying tension.
Sparkles, seizing the opportune moment, whispered to the slave, "We're here to help. Don't be alarmed. Just play along."
The female slave's eyes widened with a mix of fear and hope as Sparkles' nimble fingers delicately worked to examine the collar. Velocita continued her charismatic act, drawing the attention of anyone who might be watching. With her new leotard and fishnet look, it was pretty easy to show off her shapely ass and long legs for any straight man looking her way.
Sparkles, with a deep breath, focused on the intricate mechanisms of the collar. The delicate task of defusing the bomb required precision and skill. He could feel the tension in the air, the weight of the responsibility to liberate the captive from their explosive shackle.
After a tense few moments, Sparkles successfully disarmed the collar. He discreetly slipped it off the slave's neck, careful not to attract undue attention. The liberated individual, now free from the imminent threat of detonation, looked at Sparkles with tearful gratitude.
Velocita and Sparkles exchanged a triumphant nod, their clandestine mission in the junk store a small victory against the oppressive forces of District 10.
They whispered to the de-collared woman that they had transport waiting to go back to District 11 where she'd be safe, but that she needed to wait for the signal before she could get into the back of it without getting killed by the raiders.
As they quietly exited the store, the liberated individual discreetly merged into the shadows, their path now unburdened by the weight of a collar bomb.
As Velocita and Sparkles quietly made their way through the dimly lit streets of District 10, the weight of their recent success began to settle alongside a newfound realization. The liberated slave, now free from the threat of a collar bomb, had vanished into the night, leaving behind a tangible sense of relief and gratitude.
However, as the duo moved deeper into the district, they couldn't ignore the harsh reality that many others still suffered under the oppressive yoke of the slave collars. How many slaves were here? 70? 100 of them?
Velocita's jaw clenched as her eyes swept over the collared slaves scattered throughout the district. The sheer number of people in need of liberation weighed heavily on her, and the initial elation of their successful rescue began to fade into a somber acknowledgment of the challenges that lay ahead.
Sparkles, usually the epitome of campy optimism, wore a pensive expression. The flamboyant raider had faced numerous challenges with a theatrical flair, but the magnitude of this humanitarian mission tested even his vibrant resilience. The reality of the situation sank in – their work was far from over.
"We've got our work cut out for us, don't we?" Velocita murmured, her voice a mixture of determination and concern.
Sparkles nodded quietly.
Velocita also realized something else--Not all of them were going to fit into the back of their terrorbyte van. After all, the back of the van could only fit 10 people max if they were okay with cramped spaces.
In hindsight, maybe Regan should have taken the Terrorbyte vehicle while they got the custom hauler. Urban Defender could've used his new creation powers to whip up a long hauling trailer that could hold more than 10 people and hitched it to the Hauler truck.
….. They might not have thought things out or planned as thoroughly as they could have, huh? Shit, they made such a classic mistake not even thinking about the logistics, only going with what felt good for them at that moment.
…… Maybe they could just stage a revolt instead once they got the collars off? ….yeah, that might be easier, actually. Velocita could just kill all the raiders here easily once they didn't need to worry about the explosive collars anymore.
She smiled to herself.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Meanwhile in District 12--
Regan couldn't believe it. There were so many great buildings around here that the Warlord could've easily claimed, built up and fortified into his own personal castle, but he chose to hold court out in the open??
Warren had built an literal outdoors throne "room" where his throne was on an raised wooden platform with metal spikes around it, and high on poles were the impaled bodies of his enemies. And then a few feet away from his throne was a bunch of picnic tables and some large grill thing, indicating this is where his men ate while Warren watched over them.
Regan could only hope that he had a second throne room, an indoors one, otherwise he wouldn't feel good at all about having been menaced by some guy who didn't even know basic defensive tactics. A leader shouldn't be so stupid enough to be out in the open all the time where anybody could easily snipe him, after all.
But now that he was here, he was looking around as much as possible on his way to Warlord Warren who was holding court in the distance.
District 12 unfolded before Regan as a haunting tapestry of military history against the backdrop of a post-apocalyptic world.
As Regan, Kevin (The Deep), and Vigilant Vicar (disguised as a repairman) traversed the base, they encountered remnants of a once-powerful institution now weathered by time and decay.
The Air Force Museum, a faded testament to aviation glory, showcased dusty exhibits of military aircraft, their polished surfaces now obscured by a patina of neglect. The echoes of a bygone era reverberated through the hangars, revealing stories of a time when the skies were filled with the dreams of flight.
Military buildings, standing stoically along well-worn paths, bore the scars of conflict. Barracks, command centers, and training facilities hinted at the strategic planning and defense that once defined the base. Graffiti adorned their walls, marking tales of survival and resistance in the aftermath of societal collapse.
The missile launch pads, colossal and dormant, dominated the landscape. Their silent presence spoke of the destructive potential they still had. The air around them carried an eerie stillness, emphasizing the absence of the once-urgent human activity.
The control tower, a skeletal silhouette against the sky, overlooked the airfield where nature has reclaimed its territory. Shattered windows and weathered exteriors told the silent tale of a world forever changed. The tower stood as a sentinel, its purpose now to silently observe a world that had moved beyond its former military might, as well as being a watchtower for the raider guards.
Strategic bunkers, with thick walls designed for endurance, were scattered across the base. Some lay open, revealing empty storage rooms and remnants of military supplies, while others remained sealed, concealing secrets buried beneath layers of concrete and steel.
This place would actually make for a great base to work in and live in…. Once Regan cleared out all the raiders, of course. He could envision himself turning this whole place into one giant fortified castle.
He was almost so lost in his fantasy that he almost didn't notice when Kevin finally stopped the truck, parking just a little away from Warlord Warren's outdoors courtroom and stepped out.
Regan got out as well, Vicar following him out the truck as all three of them walked over to Warlord Warren.
As the vehicle rolled in, the imposing figure of Warlord Warren surveyed it with a mix of interest and suspicion. The notorious raider leader, plagued by paranoia from unseen enemies, was not easily swayed.
"Warlord Warren, my man, feast your eyes on this beauty! With this, we'll be cruising in style," Regan declared, his enthusiasm undiminished.
Warlord Warren, though intrigued, remained guarded. The perpetual fear of enemies silently eliminating his men gnawed at him, making trust a rare commodity. His eyes narrowed as he scrutinized the vehicle, weighing its potential against the shadows that lurked in the background.
Regan, undeterred, motioned towards Vigilant Vicar, who stood nearby in his post-war repairman disguise. "And I've brought you a technical wizard, the best in the business, by the name of Vicar. Besides myself of course. This here is our secret weapon for building those war chariots you've been dreaming of. Between Bullet Bishop, myself and Vicar I'm sure we'll be able to build cars much faster, since you want cars right away instead of waiting for it."
Vicar, with a friendly smile, nodded, "Pleasure to be here. I've got the skills to make those war chariots a reality. Your enemies won't know what hit 'em."
Bullet Bishop expressed his delight at having another technical expert. "Well, well! More brains to help us build the arsenal we need. Welcome aboard, Vicar."
However, Warren's suspicion lingered. "Enemies keep taking out my men, and they vanish into thin air. You better not be one of them. We're cautious around here for a reason," Warren growled, his words a testament to the constant vigilance that defined life in District 12.
Regan maintained his friendly demeanor, "Warren, you've got nothing to worry about. Vicar here is as loyal as they come. We're all here for the same cause – building a force that can't be stopped. You want to be powerful and take over the world. That's fine with me, I just want the caps and to live comfortably. And I think Vicar wants the same thing as I do."
Warren just hmphed loudly at this. He then said to another raider who was standing by, "Take that truck and put it with the others. I don't trust those men, but at least we're getting a fleet of vehicles out of it. Those assholes out there won't know what hit them."
To Regan and the others, he said in a very dismissive tone of voice, "You all may leave now."
Regan thought quickly and spoke fast, "Actually, now that I see this place is a military base I'm wondering if there might be tanks and airplanes around that I could fix up. Pre War Tanks were basically war vehicles that could survive bombs back in the day, and imagine if you could have your men fly around in airplanes dropping bombs on your enemies below!"
Bulletproof Bishop's eyes widened at that, once he realized the implications. "Whoa…"
Regan then gave Warlord Warren a small smirk. "But of course, that won't be cheap. I expect to be greatly rewarded once you're running roughshod over your enemies in massive tanks."
Warlord Warren glared at him, and then said to Bishop, "Escort Regan and his friends around with some armed guards. They may explore, but they aren't allowed underground. Get me?"
Bishop nodded. "Sure thing, boss."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
--District 10--
In the heart of District 10, Velocita and Sparkles moved stealthily through the shadows, their mission to liberate the collared slaves gaining momentum. The duo, fueled by determination and compassion, managed to free ten individuals from the oppressive grip of their collar bombs, all without alerting the nearby raiders.
As the liberated individuals dispersed into the night, Velocita and Sparkles found themselves in possession of crucial information. Whispers among the freed slaves hinted at a single figure, a head raider who held the master control to all the slave collars in the district.
Seated on a makeshift throne of authority, this head raider wielded power over the lives of those enslaved, manipulating the fate of each collared individual with the push of a button. The revelation added a layer of complexity to their mission, making the liberation of the district's inhabitants more challenging yet more crucial than ever.
Velocita, her eyes reflecting a mix of determination and concern, turned to Sparkles. "We've got to find this head raider. If we can take control of the master switch, we can free everyone in one fell swoop."
Sparkles smirked and replied in his usual campy way, "Well, well, looks like we've got ourselves a grand finale. Let's make it a showstopper, darling."
The duo, now armed with a new objective, continued their clandestine journey through District 10. They still had to carry random junk over to Urban Defender under the disguise of working on the Terrorbyte van so that the raiders wouldn't get suspicious.
It was during one of those return trips that Velocita pretended to be horny for Urban Defender as an excuse to get close to him and whisper their new plan.
"Mmm, babe you always look so hot when you're fixing junk like that." Velocita replied in a sultry tone of voice, as she moved over to feel him up.
Once she was close enough to the point where nobody else could overhear her, she explained what she had learned hurriedly, "There's a lead raider in charge of this district, who's got the master control for all the bomb collars. Sparkles and I are going after him."
She then pulled back and gave Urban Defender a saucy wink. As she said loud enough for the others to hear, "Let's make tonight a memorable one after this is over, hmm?"
Urban nodded, and with that, she was on her way with Sparkles. She overheard one of the raiders say, "Did you see that? Damn guy's lucky. She's got some actual meat on her bones unlike those slave girls. Goddamn."
The night air carried the weight of their mission, and the shadows became their allies as they sought to unveil the identity of the head raider and dismantle the oppressive system that held the district in its grip.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
District 12--
In the dimly lit expanse of the Malmstrom Air Force museum, Regan and Vigilant Vicar huddled together, surrounded by the relics of a bygone era. The rusted frames of ancient airplanes and disused military vehicles became the canvas upon which they painted visions of repurposed destruction.
Regan, brimming with ingenuity, pointed at a decommissioned aircraft. "This one can't fly anymore, unfortunately, but we could easily turn it into a ground vehicle. And if we keep the propeller, we could turn it into a human grinder if we drive into enemies headfirst. What do you think?"
Vicar, donned in his repairman disguise, contemplated the idea. "An unconventional approach, but I like it. We can retrofit these relics into formidable war machines, turning the past into a weapon for the future."
The Deep seemed bored by this talk, as he idly looked at the displays.
Bulletproof Bishop and the escorting raiders on the other hand, was captivated by the brainstorming session, and eagerly pitched in their own feedback. The air in the museum buzzed with excitement as the group discussed the potential modifications and enhancements to transform the obsolete aircraft and vehicles into instruments of war.
One raider suggested reinforcing the chassis for added durability, while another proposed salvaging parts from the museum's exhibits to enhance firepower.
Regan made a show of looking around at the old mounted weapons on display, and nodded. "Yeah we could definitely mount turrets on the new vehicles. Great idea!"
The collective creativity of the group turned the museum into a war room, where ideas flowed freely, fueled by the desire to create a force that could rival any in the wasteland.
Regan, always one for unconventional solutions, encouraged the collaborative effort. "Let's turn this museum into a forge of destruction. We'll make these war chariots a sight to behold, something that strikes fear into the hearts of our enemies."
The raiders nodded in agreement, their enthusiasm echoing through the museum.
A part of Regan felt like this was pointless to keep this charade up, but another part of him was working his magical charm on those raiders in the hopes that they would let their guard down and trust him enough to allow him into the underground military bunker where the missile controls were located.
Not to mention, this discussion was surprisingly fun as hell. He was mentally taking notes right now, because he was definitely making those war chariots, but for himself instead of Warren once all of this was over.
Regan turned to Bishop and said, "You know, I've been thinking. I think we need a second workshop space, one located here instead of my home back in district 11. I just don't have enough space anymore at my home to work on all of those vehicles. Not to mention, the guys living back there's been becoming more hostile towards me the more I work with your leader. I was thinking that maybe it's time I move over here, because I'm working for you guys anyways. I… just don't feel safe there anymore. If you know what I mean."
Bishop blinked. "Shit, really?"
Regan looked sad. "Yeah, I guess they made up their minds that I was effectively one of you guys now instead of being some random merchant who just happened to know how to fix up cars."
One of the random raiders placed a shoulder on Regan in a comforting gesture. "Fuck those guys! The problem with those uptight moral assholes, is that they don't get that you're gonna have to be flexible in life, and sometimes have to do things to get by. Besides, if you did join us for good that would be really great. Bishop does a lot of good around here, so having two guys with the same skills as him being here to help him out would be so awesome."
The other raiders agreed loudly at that.
Regan smiled, pretending to be touched. "Ah, you guys. Thanks so much."
Bishop looked thoughtful. "You know, there's some untouched warehouses on the far east end of the base here. Maybe that'd be a good spot for a second workshop?"
Regan smiled. "Hell yeah, let's check it out. And maybe with any luck we'll stumble on any old tanks we can fix up too?"
Bishop chuckled. "We can hope."
As they all left the air museum to go exploring on the east end, there was a loud explosion in the distance, which honestly startled the hell out of Regan.
"What was that?!" He yelped, as he instinctively pulled on his power.
>Bong<
| https://villains.fandom.com/wiki/Chaka_(Marvel) Roll 20 Chaka is one of Marvel comics innumerable lesser-known supervillains and an enemy of Power Man and Iron Fist. Thomas Arn was a teacher in a judo school. Several years after Robert Hao, the original Chaka Khan, was arrested, Arn took his place using Hao's costume and favorite weapon. He also rebuilt the street band of the Golden Tigers, probably choosing some of his best students as members. The repeated crimes and extortions of the Golden Tigers forced the Lindon Street Company to send Power Man and Iron Fist to protect its businesses in the Chinatown area. The investigations and interference from the Heroes for Hire caused a lot of trouble for the Golden Tigers. Arn knew that the investigations of William Hao, Robert's brother, could be a problem for the Golden Tigers' activities and so he dispatched a squad of warriors to torture Hao before killing him. Arn wanted him to become an example for the people who stood against the Golden Tigers. Effect: This evil martial arts master and teacher is summoned into District 5, where Milita-Man and Guardian Light are also stirring up trouble. As Militia-Man and Guardian Light were clinging to the shadows and sneaking around, the raiders will naturally assume that Chaka is the culprit for the fires and explosions, and engage into an epic battle against him. |
One of the raiders cursed loudly.
The raider group buzzed with a mix of frustration and intrigue as they stared at the fires and explosions going off in the far distance.
The raider who had cursed earlier grumbled, "Probably the old power plant again. Sometimes some old machinery in there will randomly explode, ya know. But Warren's been on edge ever since some of our men got killed by that creepy man in black. So he's going to send some men out there to check on it, I guess."
Regan, already foreseeing trouble, groaned, "I know he's going to blame THAT on me too. That guy always seems to think I'm up to no good. I mean, I am, but definitely not in the way he thinks. All I wanna do is make a lot of caps and then lead a cushy lifestyle, you know what I mean?"
Some raiders nodded in understanding, acknowledging the sentiment of wanting a more comfortable existence in the harsh wasteland.
Bishop chimed in, offering a different perspective, "Warren seems fixated on you because of the timing, you know? You came in at the same time that guy in black showed up, but anybody can see that you're two different people. And not to mention my sources tell me that you were seen working on your junk and selling stuff to people while that guy was running around killing people. You wanna know what I think, hmm? Long before you came around, those guys in district 11 have been talking about killing us off for ages as revenge for what we did to their people and the like. I think one of their guys finally snapped and went off the deep end."
The Deep, perhaps a bit too eager to agree, chimed in quickly, "Oh yeah, that totally makes sense."
The other raiders, fueled by a mixture of anger and suspicion, murmured in agreement.
"When we find the fucker who's been doing this, I have a score to settle with him. He killed my best friend… flayed him open and then mounted him on a sick display for me and others to find. Only a sicko could do something like that!" one of them snarled loudly.
"Yeah! I mean, we do that too, but it's usually for a good reason, not for getting sick pleasure out of it. Like we hang our enemies' bodies from rafters and junk to scare the rest of our enemies. It's all politics, ya know? So that's different," another one replied, attempting to draw a line between the brutality they inflicted and the sadistic acts of the mysterious assailant.
"It's good if it's done to our enemies, but it's bad if it's one of our own," summarized another raider, encapsulating the complex and twisted morality that defined their post-apocalyptic existence.
Regan, The Deep, and Vicar all pretended to agree with that.
Regan then sighed. "I suppose this means we can't go check out the warehouses today, huh? I mean, all of you will have to go check that explosion out, I guess?"
Bishop smiled. "Nah. We still have plenty of men left to go check it out, don't you worry. We can continue with the tour. Besides, if Warren gets mad at you, you'll have us as your character witnesses."
Regan smiled. "Great!"
With that, they walked across the base, with Bishop oh-so-helpfully pointing out all the important locations. "Over here are the bunkers where most of our men usually sleep if we're not living in the other districts… and over there is where we make our food."
At long last, Bishop finally pointed out the one place that Regan had wanted to go to all along… the entrance to the underground military compound that controlled all of the missiles.
"Almost nobody goes into there but Warren, as Warren won't allow anybody but his most trusted men and slaves down there. So don't take it personally if you're forever barred from there."
Regan exchanged meaningful glances with The Deep and Vicar, and told Bishop, "None taken. It's a pretty important place after all."
When they finally reached the easternmost abandoned warehouses, one of the raiders broke down the planks that acted as barriers to the doors and windows that kept everything and everyone out.
With that, they managed to find their way into the warehouse, which hadn't been touched for decades. There was a thick layer of dust over everything, even the floor… so everyone left behind footprints as they walked around the warehouse looking at everything.
What appeared to be four warehouses in a row from the outside actually turned out to be one giant warehouse together once you got inside, meaning there was a shitload of space here, as well as a shitload of shipping crates and other random junk.
As such, Regan actually meant it when he exclaimed, "Wow! This is perfect! Plenty of space to build and work on vehicles here. We can even build a new forge here and it wouldn't take much space at all."
Bishop grinned. "Yeah, could even be your new home too. You don't have to stay with those District 11 assholes if they're treating you like shit."
Regan nodded thoughtfully, as he pulled off an old dusty cover to see what was under there, causing a cloud of dust to go up into the air and surround him. He started sneezing violently.
>Bong<
| https://monsters.fandom.com/wiki/Rex_(ARK) Roll 1 The Rex, also known as Tyrannosaurus Rex appeared in the 2015 video game called ARK Survival Evolved. They´re kind of dinosaurs, not seen on ARK island. Effect: As this is just a roll one, we get a single large Rex rampaging around for one hour on the old military base. |
Regan sneezed violently again. Damnit, he forgot he was allergic to dust. The kind of allergy where it made him sneeze non stop. With that, he started sneezing 5 times in a row.
>Bong<
| https://electronicarts.fandom.com/wiki/Plants_vs._Zombies Roll 7 The Plants VS Zombies game. Effect: For seven hours, those plants grow and spawn around the military base defending humans from anything that would endanger them, as the plants on some level are aware of humans tending to them in gardens. Whenever that be zombies, Rexes or anything else. They will attack any human who hurts them too though. |
"Achoo!"
>Bong<
| https://scifi.fandom.com/wiki/Greys 1 The classic grey aliens you see in most scifi shows. Effect: For one hour, a tiny group of grey aliens will be running around on the military base, attacking anybody who dares attack them. |
"Ahhh…"
>Bong<
| https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-4050 Roll 6 A scp where any containers within the town holding more than 10m of water will eventually start holding more water than it should, and once it reaches 500 m of water a portal will open inside the container leading to a submerged alternate version of the town. Effect: For six hours, this SCP will be around the entirety of Great Falls. Dunno if anybody will even notice this one though. |
"Choo!!"
>Bong<
| https://electronicarts.fandom.com/wiki/Creative_Wonders Roll 11 Creative Wonders was an educational software corporation from 1994 to 1999. It created computer games based on children's characters like Sesame Street, Madeline, Schoolhouse Rock!, Arthur, Little Bear, Dr. Seuss and ABC World Reference. It was a Joint-Venture between Electronic Arts and the American Broadcasting Company. Effect: due to the low roll, Regan is a tiny shareholder in this company, owning only 1% of the shares. Which is pretty useless to Regan, lol. |
Regan hurried outside, seeking respite from the cloud of dust that had enveloped the area. His sneezing fit gradually subsided, and he took a moment to collect himself.
"Man, you alright?" one of the raiders asked.
Regan, still catching his breath, nodded. "Yeah, just have this thing about dust. You know how it is."
Bishop, The Deep, and Vicar followed him outside, ready to discuss their plans, when their conversation was abruptly interrupted by a thunderous roar.
In the distance, a giant rex dinosaur became the epicenter of chaos. Raiders swarmed around it, but to their astonishment, the colossal creature was also under attack by what appeared to be... plants?
As if that weren't surreal enough, Greys – mysterious extraterrestrial beings – darted around, shooting at the raiders and plants who had dared to confront them.
Bishop, staring at the unfolding spectacle, could only manage a bewildered exclamation, "WHAT THE FUCK?!"
=============================================================
A/N: When I got the Warden roll, I was thinking that the evil RNG has a cannibalism problem. Why does it keep on trying to turn Regan into a cannibal when he was already one from day one thanks to an early roll? How many times did this happen… this has to be like the seventh one, right?
- Location
- 𐌂 ̢͎̩̤̲̙͓̑̀͂͒̀͆̏𐋏 ̛͏̫̚𐌀 ̛͉̥̩̤̰͈̂̅͒͊͟𐍈 ̣͛𐍃 ̡̅̈́
It just upgrades his main ability of cannibalism!
Interesting chapter, loving the chaos Regan have created. Looking forward to seeing how it plays out.
Karina's memories and past life in Assassination Classroom
AilingStar
Herald of the Cassowaries
- Location
- Not Australia
I have no idea what's going on at this point in the fic, but I was rereading through and couldn't get that Assassination Classroom roll from early on out of my head. So I decided to write an omake based on what I presume Karina's memories of that life to be. I might write some more later.
I'm assuming, by the way, that this Karina's parents are American citizens that moved to Japan for one reason or another either before Karina was born or when she was very young, and learned Japanese Sign Language. As a result, this Karina is fluent in ASL, JSL, and Japanese, but doesn't actually know English that well.
-
The moon had been blown up.
It bared repeating because the idea was so baffling, the moon had blown up.
It was still so odd to think about, the kind of thing you'd never expect to happen because, well why would you? It was the freaking moon!
And somehow, despite the enormity of what happened, Karina Munn couldn't bring herself to think too much about it at first. Maybe it was because she hadn't processed it yet, but she just couldn't bring herself to think about it. She had bigger things to worry about after all. She was in End Class.
The thought made her curl in on herself a bit. She hated this, she hated it so much. The dumb gaijin, proving how dumb she was. Yeah right, if they'd actually give her a chance to study instead of insulting her…
She shook the thoughts off. She had a class to get to. One last year of mediocrity and suffering until she could go to some middling high school, get a piece of paper that told people she could understand JSL, and get on with her life.
One more regular, boring year.
-
"How do you do!" A yellow smiley octopus thing stood in front of them, as if it wasn't an affront to nature. "I'm the one who tore that chunk out of your moon."
Karina couldn't help but gawk. She was pretty sure she wasn't alone in that either.
"I plan to do the same to the Earth next year," the creature continued. "But until then, I'll be your teacher. Nice to meet you!
There are at least six things wrong with this picture…!
-
This was real. This wasn't some sort of dream. Class 3-E had been commissioned to kill the unkillable.
It hadn't sunk in for Karina at first, what they were doing. Their new sensei was so bizarre. Not even in how he looked, but how he acted as well! He'd take roll while dodging bullets, casually dip out to get takeout from Canada for lunch,, and she was fairly certain her eyebrows had never been tidier.
And somehow, despite all that? He was the best teacher she'd ever had. The way he explained the various concepts was comprehensive but not overwhelming, and he made sure to give each of them special attention. Hell, one time she'd accidentally slipped into JSL when responding to a question, and instead of calling her out on it, he got flustered because he couldn't understand her! The next day, Karina noticed a translation guide laying on his desk.
It was… surreal. It felt like it was some prolonged hallucination.
Then Nagisa tried to blow himself up. Somehow, that was what made Karina realize.
This was real.
Koro-Sensei was real.
-
Karina did not like Akabane Karma. He was a jerk of the highest degree who seemed to make a habit of riling people up. He reminded her of her old classmates a bit too much for her liking, though at least Karma didn't discriminate based on her nationality or her quietness.
No, it was everything else that he focused on exploiting.
Today, she and some other students had gathered around discussing plans on how to kill Koro-Sensei when Karma walked by. "Geez, with how loud you all are it's no wonder the octopus keeps getting away from you. He can probably hear you from across the school!"
Ugh, did he have to be so full of himself? "<Smarmy asshole,>" she signed vindictively.
Karma smirked. Then he started signing. "<Now that isn't very nice, Munn-san! Here I am giving you advice, and you insult me!>"
Karina narrowed her eyes. Oh, it was on. "<If that was your idea of advice, then your insults must be the stuff of legends, you passive-aggressive jerk.>"
"<I'll have you know there is nothing passive about my aggression. Just ask the main campus students who tried to jump Nagisa the other day.>"
"<Oh please, they don't have any training. I could outshoot you any day of the week.>"
"<Is that a fact? I'm pretty sure the octopus set up a firing range->"
"That's it!" The two of them turned to Nagisa, who seemed to have a mad glint in his eyes.
Kaede frowned. "What, did you have an idea?"
Nagisa nodded. "Karma's right, talking about our plans out loud like this gives Koro-Sensei the chance to listen in." He turned to Karina. "But if we all learned sign language…"
"Then we'd be able to talk without him overhearing!" Nakamura smirked. "It'd give us a real leg up!"
Karina couldn't help but feel a bit… odd. Like she was floating with only a slight bit of control, but still firmly tethered to the ground.
She forced the feeling down. "I can try and teach you all some signs, if you'd like."
"That sounds like a great idea, Munn-san!" Karina jumped and turned to see Koro-Sensei beaming happily. "As a novice at Japanese Sign Language myself, I'm afraid I can only contribute a bit, but I'll do what I can to assist!"
"You don't even have hands!" Sugino and Maehara shouted in unison.
Karina couldn't help but frown. "I didn't think you'd be so enthusiastic about this, sensei."
"Well of course I am!" Koro-sensei put his two larger tentacles together. "Of course, there's the reason that Nagisa brought up for learning sign language, as a tool for assassination. It's hardly uncommon, many groups of assassins have formed their own variations of sign language.
"But that isn't the main reason." He gave all the students a look Karina assumed was appraising. "That being, of course, to communicate! There are many people who aren't able to use Japanese for one reason or another, you know."
Karina couldn't help but give a small smile as Koro-sensei went into his lecture. His words didn't always hit the mark, but it was obvious how much effort he was making to understand, and to help the rest of the students to understand as well. And they were actually listening to him and not blowing him off!
That was more than Karina could say of a lot of people.
-
I didn't show all of Koro-Sensei's speech at the end because I didn't know what to put there myself. If anyone has any critiques regarding how I handled Karina I'd love to hear them. Don't worry, I don't plan on making her just 'the sign language American'.
I'm assuming, by the way, that this Karina's parents are American citizens that moved to Japan for one reason or another either before Karina was born or when she was very young, and learned Japanese Sign Language. As a result, this Karina is fluent in ASL, JSL, and Japanese, but doesn't actually know English that well.
-
The moon had been blown up.
It bared repeating because the idea was so baffling, the moon had blown up.
It was still so odd to think about, the kind of thing you'd never expect to happen because, well why would you? It was the freaking moon!
And somehow, despite the enormity of what happened, Karina Munn couldn't bring herself to think too much about it at first. Maybe it was because she hadn't processed it yet, but she just couldn't bring herself to think about it. She had bigger things to worry about after all. She was in End Class.
The thought made her curl in on herself a bit. She hated this, she hated it so much. The dumb gaijin, proving how dumb she was. Yeah right, if they'd actually give her a chance to study instead of insulting her…
She shook the thoughts off. She had a class to get to. One last year of mediocrity and suffering until she could go to some middling high school, get a piece of paper that told people she could understand JSL, and get on with her life.
One more regular, boring year.
-
"How do you do!" A yellow smiley octopus thing stood in front of them, as if it wasn't an affront to nature. "I'm the one who tore that chunk out of your moon."
Karina couldn't help but gawk. She was pretty sure she wasn't alone in that either.
"I plan to do the same to the Earth next year," the creature continued. "But until then, I'll be your teacher. Nice to meet you!
There are at least six things wrong with this picture…!
-
This was real. This wasn't some sort of dream. Class 3-E had been commissioned to kill the unkillable.
It hadn't sunk in for Karina at first, what they were doing. Their new sensei was so bizarre. Not even in how he looked, but how he acted as well! He'd take roll while dodging bullets, casually dip out to get takeout from Canada for lunch,, and she was fairly certain her eyebrows had never been tidier.
And somehow, despite all that? He was the best teacher she'd ever had. The way he explained the various concepts was comprehensive but not overwhelming, and he made sure to give each of them special attention. Hell, one time she'd accidentally slipped into JSL when responding to a question, and instead of calling her out on it, he got flustered because he couldn't understand her! The next day, Karina noticed a translation guide laying on his desk.
It was… surreal. It felt like it was some prolonged hallucination.
Then Nagisa tried to blow himself up. Somehow, that was what made Karina realize.
This was real.
Koro-Sensei was real.
-
Karina did not like Akabane Karma. He was a jerk of the highest degree who seemed to make a habit of riling people up. He reminded her of her old classmates a bit too much for her liking, though at least Karma didn't discriminate based on her nationality or her quietness.
No, it was everything else that he focused on exploiting.
Today, she and some other students had gathered around discussing plans on how to kill Koro-Sensei when Karma walked by. "Geez, with how loud you all are it's no wonder the octopus keeps getting away from you. He can probably hear you from across the school!"
Ugh, did he have to be so full of himself? "<Smarmy asshole,>" she signed vindictively.
Karma smirked. Then he started signing. "<Now that isn't very nice, Munn-san! Here I am giving you advice, and you insult me!>"
Karina narrowed her eyes. Oh, it was on. "<If that was your idea of advice, then your insults must be the stuff of legends, you passive-aggressive jerk.>"
"<I'll have you know there is nothing passive about my aggression. Just ask the main campus students who tried to jump Nagisa the other day.>"
"<Oh please, they don't have any training. I could outshoot you any day of the week.>"
"<Is that a fact? I'm pretty sure the octopus set up a firing range->"
"That's it!" The two of them turned to Nagisa, who seemed to have a mad glint in his eyes.
Kaede frowned. "What, did you have an idea?"
Nagisa nodded. "Karma's right, talking about our plans out loud like this gives Koro-Sensei the chance to listen in." He turned to Karina. "But if we all learned sign language…"
"Then we'd be able to talk without him overhearing!" Nakamura smirked. "It'd give us a real leg up!"
Karina couldn't help but feel a bit… odd. Like she was floating with only a slight bit of control, but still firmly tethered to the ground.
She forced the feeling down. "I can try and teach you all some signs, if you'd like."
"That sounds like a great idea, Munn-san!" Karina jumped and turned to see Koro-Sensei beaming happily. "As a novice at Japanese Sign Language myself, I'm afraid I can only contribute a bit, but I'll do what I can to assist!"
"You don't even have hands!" Sugino and Maehara shouted in unison.
Karina couldn't help but frown. "I didn't think you'd be so enthusiastic about this, sensei."
"Well of course I am!" Koro-sensei put his two larger tentacles together. "Of course, there's the reason that Nagisa brought up for learning sign language, as a tool for assassination. It's hardly uncommon, many groups of assassins have formed their own variations of sign language.
"But that isn't the main reason." He gave all the students a look Karina assumed was appraising. "That being, of course, to communicate! There are many people who aren't able to use Japanese for one reason or another, you know."
Karina couldn't help but give a small smile as Koro-sensei went into his lecture. His words didn't always hit the mark, but it was obvious how much effort he was making to understand, and to help the rest of the students to understand as well. And they were actually listening to him and not blowing him off!
That was more than Karina could say of a lot of people.
-
I didn't show all of Koro-Sensei's speech at the end because I didn't know what to put there myself. If anyone has any critiques regarding how I handled Karina I'd love to hear them. Don't worry, I don't plan on making her just 'the sign language American'.
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Aurora Moon
Verfied Insomniac with too much time on her hands
- Location
- USA, Earth
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Yeah I can definitely see it happening that way. Tho I can see Karina's running gag here being: "Wait, you're gajjin blood but you don't know english?"
"I was born and raised in Japan!"
And then that changes to: "Well, I know english now, thanks to Koro-senshi...."
"I was born and raised in Japan!"
And then that changes to: "Well, I know english now, thanks to Koro-senshi...."
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The battle for Great Falls (Regan chapter)
Aurora Moon
Verfied Insomniac with too much time on her hands
- Location
- USA, Earth
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Sorry for not updating much. I got COVID like months ago, and I'm still recovering from that. People got over it in five days, but it lasted longer for me due to the preexisting conditions I had. ugh.
I also started a quest over at SB, which was way more time-consuming than I thought it would be.
Content warning: We get a lot of The Boys' level violence and gore here. It becomes downright cartoony after a certain point. We have a raider who's being really gross to young ladies, but nothing too explicit, and he gets his just desserts in the end.
================================
Velocita and Sparkles finally spotted the raider wielding master control over the slave collars in a dimly lit chamber hidden deep within District 10. The room had an evil feel to it, with its walls covered in obscene symbols and reminders of the raider's depravity.
People's bodies were nailed to the walls or hung from the ceilings, giving the place an unpleasant odor.
The wastelanders here seemed to have lost their sense of smell, but Veloctia gagged slightly when she smelled the stench.
Sparkles was not impressed either, mumbling, "Oh god, he is one of those raiders. Lovely. I never understood why some raiders feel compelled to decorate with corpses. Not only does that smell, but it's such an ugly aesthetic. ugh."
The raider in question, Grimsbane, sat on a scavenged metal throne decorated with grim trinkets from his conquests. While others had a more innocent-looking face that concealed the darkness in their souls, this raider's face seemed to match his inner evil—a hulking figure with a twisted grin etched on his scarred visage.
Grimsbane appeared to enjoy having control over the lives of his selected slaves. The slave girls, some of whom looked incredibly young and weak, were forced to work because their collars were always on the line.
Their eyes showed pain and fear, showing the terrible things they went through while Grimsbane was in charge. Some of the slave girls had cuts and bruises in certain spots of their bodies, suggesting they had been used for a more... evil purpose. This was often what happened to young girls who were left alone in the wasteland and vulnerable to human predators.
When Velocita saw that, her frown and disgust got worse. Working to free young girls from human trafficking and to catch online predators before they could hurt other girls, she knew all the signs of abuse, and all of the girls and women here had them in spades.
And it just made her even more determined to take down this sick fucker. She had confidence that she could take him, thanks to the speed power coursing through her veins and the crackling energy of her new lightning chain attack power. Hell, to her, he was just some powerless Normie.
And it occurred to her just now that she could easily kill him right here without the law getting on her case about it. Which felt so freeing to her all of a sudden, because in the past she had easily gotten frustrated when she wasn't allowed to murder all the pedophiles she had tracked down online while working with law enforcement. It had been doubly frustrating for her when the pedophiles she arrested managed to walk away with only a slap on the wrist or only got two years for the crime before getting out again to reoffend. That was the kind of thing that made her lose faith in due process and often led to her constantly just fantasizing about killing them all.
But no, Voughnut kept on saying that a serial killing Supe wasn't a good look, even if the killing was for a good cause, like stopping pedophiles from harming even more victims. It didn't help that Velocita was pretty sure that Voughnut had pedophile apologists or sympathizers in their ranks, if not being one outright.
Otherwise, being forced to be Teen Temptress for a time during the 80's would've never happened, and she wouldn't have had to deal with gross CEO executives sexualizing the fuck out of her or being too into the idea that she was literally legal jailbait, with her constantly looking so young for decades before her body finally aged up a little bit.
Yeah, she fantasized about killing those CEO assholes too. Most of them were old men with dementia by now, but it would still be satisfying as hell.
But now wasn't the time to indulge in an old fantasy; it was time to focus on the present.
Velocita had a simple plan: she would use Sparkles to distract Grimsbane, and then she would attack when the raider leader was least expecting it. She subtly signaled to Sparkles, who, understanding the silent communication, stopped hiding and walked out there as if he belonged there.
He tsked loudly as he glanced around the room and said in his typical campy way, "Oh, honey, what have you done to this poor room? Don't you know that excessive decorating with corpses can be bad for your health? They spread diseases, you know."
"Who the fuck are you?" Grimsbane demanded to know as he pulled out a gun.
Sparkles didn't seem bothered by this, as he said, "Honey, I'm Sparkles, from District 6, and I was hoping you'd send some more slaves my way. The Sinner's Haven needs more of them; the darling boys were a bit too rough with the last ones, ya see."
Grimsbane seemed to recognize Sparkles then. "Ah, you're that poofy asshole I've heard about. Heard a rumor that you were getting uppity, thinking that you were becoming too good for the raider lifestyle."
Sparkles chuckled. "Nah, just me wondering if I'm getting too old for this shit. Sure, there's something to be said about living hard and fast and dying while we're still beautiful… But there comes a time when a man needs to retire and take it easy, you know? You know what I mean, don't you, darling? Hmm?"
Grimsbane scoffed loudly. Yeah, that was pretty common among raiders, where they would constantly tell themselves, just one more score, and then they'd leave it all behind them. Retire as if they were some rich old asshole who could afford to relax without doing backbreaking labor.
While Sparkles distracted Grimsbane, Velocita sprang into action. With a burst of speed, she blurred across the room, her form leaving only a blurry streak in her wake.
Grimsbane failed to notice Velocita closing in. In an instant, she tore off the belt holding the master control device, dropped it for Sparkles, and pulled the raider alongside her as she sped out of the room with him.
"You know, they used to have comics with speedsters that could carry people with them. That way, they could save a lot of people because they could quickly go in and out of burning buildings and stuff like that. But in real life, we're not allowed to do that. You know why?" Velocita spoke in a conversational tone to Grimsbane as she dragged him along.
Grimsbane, on the other hand, was in too much pain and shock to speak at all. It felt like he was suddenly being dragged along on a rocky road behind a speeding car without any warning at all. There was just so much painful friction.
"It's because real life doesn't work like that. Those speedsters in the comics must've had secondary powers like having a forcefield or something that could protect whoever they were carrying, but in real life, most speedsters don't have secondary powers on top of the main one. Reality ensues with people we're carrying suffering from painful friction burns if you speed along at the speed of a really fast car, like what you're currently experiencing right now, no doubt."
Velocita chuckled loudly. "And if I speed up even faster, like at the speed of sound, like so..."
There was a burst of energy, and she went even faster, causing Grimbane to howl loudly as every bone in his body broke.
"Why, all your bones break, of course!" Velocita said in a very chipper tone, "And if I go faster than the speed of sound... THIS HAPPENS!"
As she went even faster, Grimbane literally exploded into bloody chunks, pieces of his corpse flying everywhere. With that, she slowed down to a stop with a highly satisfied look on her face.
"Fucking A! It just feels so fuckin' good doing that shit!" Velcoita sighed happily as she wiped some blood off her face.
She sped back to the room where Sparkles were and got there in time to hear him say as he fiddled with the master control device, "And voila, just like that, all the slave collars are deactivated!"
All the slave collars in the room beeped before going dark and literally falling off the women's necks to the ground.
The women didn't seem thankful or relieved, though, for some reason. They stared at both Sparkles and Velocita fearfully because they weren't used to having the script flipped upside down like this.
One of them spoke up. "What... what happens now?"
"Darlings, it's time for you to accessorize with guns instead of explosive collars. Show the world how fierce and powerful you are!" Sparkles said as he went over to a gun cabinet that was locked, but he was able to unlock it considering that the torn belt that Velocita had ripped off held not only the master control device but a set of keys as well.
Velocita sighed loudly and then gave the women and girls a weak smile. "Uh, I wouldn't have put it like that, but yeah, what he said. It's time for you to take up arms and defend yourself. We're killing off all the motherfuckers who took over this place!"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
--Meanwhile, in district 12--
Bishop, staring at the unfolding spectacle, could only manage a bewildered exclamation, "WHAT THE FUCK?!"
"Uh, yeah, what the fuck?" Regan mumbled, knowing that the rampaging giant dinosaur, the plants that shot their seeds at random people like bullets, and the gray aliens were all probably his fault. No, strike that, it definitely was.
Kevin, aka The Deep, was more on the ball as he said loudly, "You know what? We should all spread out and hide in other buildings until this blows over. Right, Reagan?"
With that, Kevin shot Regan a meaningful glance as if to silently say, "This is our chance to sneak into that underground missile base while everyone's distracted!"
"Oh, right! Yes, we should do that." Regan caught on.
Bishop waved them off as he started shouting orders to the rest of the men.
Regan, Vicar, and the Deep grinned to themselves as they ran off.
They did make it seem like they were looking for a safe place to hole out away from the chaos, though, as they rushed from one building to another, knocking on doors and looking through the open doors.
Finally, they reached the forbidden entrance to the underground missile base, but to their dismay, there was a keypad by the door.
"Does anybody know the code to this door?" Kevin wondered.
"Hold on, I think I might be able to hotwire it. Keep an eye out for me." Vigant Vicar said this while still in his car mechanic disguise outfit. He opened up his toolbox while Kevin and Regan spread out by the sides of the door to keep an eye out.
Vicar then managed to pry the keypad off the wall somehow and then started messing with the wires inside.
It took a while, and it felt like forever to Regan as they anxiously watched out for any raiders who might spot them and try to kill them off for trying to get into a place they shouldn't be.
But at long last, the light over the door turned a bright green and beeped as the door swung open.
"Nice!" Kevin praised Vicar, and Regan smiled and nodded as the three of them rushed. It turns out that the door led to an elevator of sorts, and with that, they pressed the button to go down.
The elevator didn't go all the way down the final bottom floor, apparently, for security reasons. Instead, it led them to a security room of some sort where some mutilated-looking men were waiting for them.
Regan couldn't help but recoil at the sight of the poor, mutilated men, noting that skin was missing from parts of their bodies and their noses were completely missing, leaving behind a triangle-shaped hole like the ones you saw on skulls.
<Bong>
"No offense, but what the hell happened to you?" Regan exclaimed loudly.
The man looked down at himself before looking over to his fellow security guard. "You mean the slave collar, the horrible state of my clothes, or the fact that I'm a ghoul?"
Vicar then asked, "No offense, but we don't even know what that is. We, uh, were in a vault growing up, you see."
Vicar had been fed knowledge about Regan and Kevin's background cover story a while ago, about being from a vault, and had decided that it was a good idea to go along with that cover story himself for now.
The two ghouls looked at each other at this and then scoffed.
One of them then explained, "We're people who became immortal thanks to the FEV virus and nuclear radiation, at great cost to our personal appearances. Some lost their minds and went feral, so because of that, we often get compared to zombies, though we aren't. Because we're immune to radiation, that asshole Warren forced us all to work down here because some rooms were radioactive."
"Oh wow. That, uh, sucks for you guys?" Regan said, not knowing what to say.
Vicar looked worried at the mention of radiation. "Wait, some areas down here are irradiated?? I'm starting to think this is a bad idea coming down here."
"Speaking of which. Why are you guys down here anyway?" One of the ghouls wondered.
"Uhh… Would you believe we're down here to do a basic safety check?" Kevin did his best to sound confident, but he failed.
The two ghouls didn't seem all that convinced, but they snorted loudly.
The second ghoul then said, "Whatever. It's not like we care anyway. Just know that if Warren or one of his men shows up here, we'll have to pretend like we give a damn about security and capture you three. Maybe kill you. So you better do whatever you came down to do real quick and leave."
Vicar then said loudly, "I don't want to be in a radioactive area!"
The first ghoul chuckled loudly. "Radiation isn't so bad. In some ways, it can be beneficial."
With that, music started up out of nowhere, and the ghouls started singing, much to the group's confusion.
🎵"Every cloud has a silver lining,
Even the radioactive ones!
It's just an attitude of mind,
Look on the bright side
And you'll find the silver
lining that's in every cloud!"🎶
As the ghouls unlocked the security doors to the rest of the underground base for the human trio, they kept on singing.
🎵"When the bombs are on their way,
At least they give you time to pray.
And don't forget to file a claim for
Compensation!" 🎵
Other ghouls popped up from behind the security doors, dancing and singing as Regan, Kevin, and Harry walked through them.
🎵"When you're flying through the air
From the blast, think of what you'll save
On taxi fare. Every disaster has its own
Bright side!"🎵
Some other ghouls, mostly women this time, judging by their clothes, were now tap-dancing up and down the stairs while allowing room for Regan, Harry, and Kevin to walk down.
🎶"So what if that fireball kills?
Think of how it cuts down on
The heating bills and it's not
Every day, that you get a free
Cremation!" 🎶
Kevin sighed. He then said to Regan as they moved into the next room, "This is one of your power effects, isn't it?"
Regan just shrugged. "Probably, yeah."
Vicar shook his head. "Has anybody ever told you how weird your power can be sometimes?"
In the next room, the ghouls kept on singing the same song while they spun around in their office chairs. They appeared to have been busy typing on old, functional computers before they all experienced whatever Regan had bestowed upon them.
🎶"When that fallout's raining down,
Just pass that tanning lotion around!
Who cares about a little radiation?
Somebody's dropped another bomb,
But that's okay; you like it warm!
It's just an attitude of mind." 🎶
"Whatever. Let's just find the main control room and get this over with." Regan grumbled.
Vicar, on the other hand, had taken out his phone to record the ghouls as he slowly followed behind Kevin and Regan.
They quickly rushed through all the rooms, peering into each one to see which one was the control room.
🎶"Look, here comes another bomb!
Get those roast potatoes on!
It's just an attitude of mind,
Look on the bright side
And you'll find the silver lining
that's in every radioactive cloud.
Wah, wah, wah,
The sun may cease to shine
But ha, ha, ha, the radioactive winter
suits us just fine!" 🎶
"I finally found a map of this place!" Vicar called out as he gestured to something on the wall, which seemed to be a wall-mounted map with lights on it, and the lights indicated where they were.
Regan and Kevin studied it while the groups of ghouls singing went on in the background.
"Okay, it looks like we're supposed to go down that way downstairs." Regan said as they walked towards yet another set of stairs.
🎵"Look on the bright side of radiation.
When you're dead from it,
nothing else can bother you!
And if you become immortal from
Radiation, then that's even more
Awesome! Cuz you've got all the time
In the world now!" 🎵
Inside the control room, there was actually another group of ghouls who were doing the finale, but doing the can-can dance as they linked arms and started kicking high, as their can-can line dance slowly spun in a circle inside the room.
🎵"You're in the perfect no-lose situation!
No more worries, no more strife!
No more rotten, lousy life!
It's just an attitude of mind.
Look at the bright side of radiation!
Or ghoulification, if you're lucky enough
to become a ghoul, so think
positive about your station in life.
And you'll find the silver lining
That's in every cloud.
Especially the radioactive ones!" 🎵
As they were winding down from that song, Regan, Kevin, and Vicar spread out to check every computer console to see which one was the control key.
The ghouls finally seemed to snap out of it, as they looked at each other in confusion.
"Why did we start randomly singing and dancing?" one of them wondered.
"Mass hysteria, maybe? I've heard about mass hallucinations before, but... Another ghoul suggested it, sounding equally confused.
One of the ghouls finally spotted the humans and pointed them out. "Hey! What are you three doing down here?"
"Okay, hear me out here," Regan said, cranking up his charisma as best as he could while pulling on his power to help him out here too. "But none of you want to work for that asshole Warren, right? We're looking for a way to shut down all the missiles completely so that he can't use them as a threat. Also, we have people working on defusing all of the slave collars across the city all at once so that he can't hold you guys hostage anymore. What do you say? Will you help us out?"
>Bong<
At that moment, all of the ghouls' collars beeped, the lights on them turning green before turning off. The collars became slack and started falling off the necks of anyone wearing them.
Kevin smiled. "See? Regan's right, our friend on the outside seems to have deactivated everyone's slave collars by the looks of things. Now what do you say to helping us destroy the missiles so that raider fucker can't threaten us anymore?"
One of the ghouls let out a dark chuckle. "If you allow me to scoop out that fucker's eyeballs, I'm in. That asshole kept on commenting that I was so ugly to look at that he wanted to gouge out his own eyeballs every time he looked at me. Like, I fuckin' get it, okay? I'm an ugly-ass ghoul. He didn't have to bring it up every fuckin' time he saw me."
Regan nodded. "Fair enough. Though you'll have to keep him alive, I think the rest of the people in Great Falls have beef with him, and they all want a turn, if you know what I mean."
The ghoul chuckled darkly once again. "Yeah, I like that. The name's Gabby Whitman. Come on, let me show you where the missiles' controls are."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
--District 10--
The Skorchers were at the top of their game, as they had fun going all-out. The heroes unleashed their powers in a violent and gory display that would make even the most hardened raider blanch in horror.
Velocita, with her lightning chain attack power, blurred through the air like a streak of lightning, her movements a blur of speed and precision. With a flick of her wrist, she sent her electrified chain attack slashing through the air, linking together the raiders who clustered together in groups with deadly accuracy. The crackling energy of her attacks left a trail of whimpering raiders who pissed themselves before collapsing to the ground in her wake. The revolting ex-slaves finished them off with bullets from the guns they were carrying.
Velocita also managed to give some of those raiders the "A-train treatment" by super-speeding through them in order to make their bodies explode in a rain of gore, which resulted in her running around completely covered in blood and gore, but she seemed to be grinning wildly like a madwoman despite it all.
Meanwhile, Urban Defender was like a child in a toy store, as he had too much fun experimenting with his new powers in order to find new creative ways to murder all the raiders in sight.
He undid the molecular structure in one raider's body, causing him to disintegrate into nothingness. Meanwhile, another raider nearby was suffocating to death as Urban Defender mentally made it so that the air around him couldn't reach his mouth or lungs.
Behind him, near the van the Skorchers had come in, a bunch of raiders were impaled on sharp, dazzling crystals, which made for a beautiful yet gory art piece.
More raiders came at him, and he just chuckled as he loosened the ground under them, creating all sorts of interesting traps, from quicksand pits to turning the pits into solid steel traps that would slowly crush them all to death thanks to a built-in mechicasm.
He then caused concussive blasts, which sent even more raiders flying high into the air. He giggled as he watched them panic and struggle as they started falling back down. To think, he realized just now that by compressing and rapidly expanding air molecules, he could create concussive blasts that send raiders flying backward with devastating force. And all of this was thanks to the increased intelligence that Regan gave him as a secondary superpower in order to be able to know how to control his molecular-shaping powers perfectly.
God, Regan did give him the greatest gift ever; nothing else could top this, not even a new Porsche. With this overpowered ability, he could literally rebrand himself in any way he wanted or become the leader of the Seven if he wanted to. That is, if he planned to return home instead of staying here. There were clearly some benefits to staying here, so he was still considering it.
He wondered how the others were getting along with the new abilities they were given. Velocita over there sure seemed to be having fun finding ways to make her main original ability and her new ability work together.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
--In District 5--
Militia-Man, against his own initial misgivings, was actually having fun.
He felt as if he were in one of those spy-stealth games as he used his newfound military training skills from Regan to run circles around those clueless raiders and sneak up on them before crushing their heads into fine paste with his bare hands.
Okay, so maybe this skill set Regan gave him was a perfect fit after all. It would help with his rebranding even more and distance himself from the Loony Leftie persona he used to have.
Meanwhile, Guardian Light, of course, helped with the flashy distractions as he sent orbs of rainbow light into various rooms and areas to make it look like somebody was running around with an unusual flashlight, causing raiders to chase after said lights. Said lights would then explode very loudly, turning the unfortunate raiders into a fine mist.
That's when their two-way radios crackled to life.
"All the slave collars have been defused and rendered harmless. Over." Velocita's voice said.
"Perfect timing; I was about to call you all. I couldn't destroy all the missiles, but I did manage to reset all the launch codes down here and dial up the security measures on them so that the new launch codes were longer than six digits, making it harder for them to guess what the new launch codes are. Warlord Warren won't be able to activate the missiles remotely with that portable launch button of his, much less use his launch codes anymore." Regan paused and then said, "I had help from some local residents, of course."
Guardian Light came out of hiding at this, and his eyes met Milita-Man's own as they grinned at each other. This was their signal to go all out and massacre every raider they saw in sight while ensuring that no innocent civilian got caught in the crossfire, which was easy to do because the idiots actually color-coded themselves like they were in an actual gang.
At this point, they took to the air, not even bothering with their stealth mission anymore.
After that, the surviving raiders who had fled from the scene would describe it as being like a rainbow apocalypse that specifically targeted all raiders while sparing the slaves they had with them.
Monstrous constructs made out of rainbow light ramaged the streets, while tiny missiles made out of the same light exploded upon impact, vaporizing any raiders they hit. And when the dreaded god-like being from whom those rainbows came was there in person, close enough for the raiders to start firing on him?
The rainbow god looked upon everyone there as if they were puny insects and simply raised one hand. And in an instant, everyone in his line of fire was reduced to burning ash.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
-- District 12--
Now that the missiles have been rendered mostly harmless, Regan took this opportunity to start recruiting the ghoulish ex-slaves down here by telling them about the Vigilant Vicar here and how he could empower them all to be faster than normal.
And most importantly, about how he could empower them too.
Gabby Whitman, the ghoul who had helped them earlier, looked interested. "Yeah? No offense, but you'll have to prove it to me before I agree to anything you have planned. I'm done being somebody's slave, willing or not. What's in it for me?"
Regan smiled and reached out to touch Gabby's shoulder. "You want power? You've got it."
>Bong<
The transformation was almost instantaneous, as Gabby felt a weird feeling come over him, and he was nearly bowled over by it, but by the time he recovered, he felt like a completely different person now, even though he still had his mind intact.
All the other ghouls in the room gasped loudly.
"Look at his face! It's changed now!"
Gabby looked at his arms and hands, as it was the only thing he could see of himself, and noticed that his limbs no longer looked like those of a ghoul's. And in fact, they now looked very muscular as fuck, with a pale greenish tint to them.
"Where's a mirror?" Gabby demanded to know, and with that, one of his fellow ghouls pointed him in the direction of a bathroom. Gabby rushed there and started looking himself over as soon as he got to the mirror.
He gasped loudly when he saw his new face. His new, *HANDSOME* face.
Even before the bombs dropped. Gabby had never been considered a handsome guy. In fact, it was often the opposite, with kids who he grew up with during school often calling him gross and ugly. He developed a complex over it as a result, doing everything under the sun he could do to become as attractive as possible, short of plastic surgery, which he couldn't afford at the time. But nothing ever worked.
And then the bombs dropped, and he turned into a ghoul. At first, he was delighted to see other ghouls, content in the knowledge that there were others out there who were equally ugly as he was now, until he realized an unpleasant fact--that thanks to his scars and the like, he was ugly even by ghoul standards, as there were actually ghouls out there who were more attractive than he was.
So he continued to be the same man he was before the bombs dropped. A bitter man who hated others for being far more attractive than he was completely hung up on the shallow ideals of his schoolyard bullies, letting them define how he saw the world itself.
(( It had never occurred to him that the reason people saw him as so unattractive was not just because of his looks but also because of his bitter outlook and the fact that he could be a downright unpleasant person to be around. On a different Earth, he would've been labeled an incel, one that was so extreme even by other incels' standards.))
But now? It looked like he had undergone plastic surgery on an alien spaceship. Sure, the fact that his skin was now pale with a greenish tint to it was somewhat off putting, and the head ridges were weird. But hey, he actually has a very handsome face now!
Mm, look at that chiseled jaw and chin! His cheekbones! Oh god, he was crying out of sheer joy now.
"I'm sorry if you don't like your new look. When people get new powers, super-powered makeovers tend to come with the territory. But hey! It looks like you can fly, and have telekinesis. That's pretty cool, you know?" Regan's voice came from the doorway, and Gabby looked over at him.
Gabby smiled. "It's not that. That's just… I haven't been this handsome in a long while, you know? I know all the other ghouls bitch and moan about the racist smoothskins out there, but I'll bet you that most would go back to the way they used to be if they could; they just don't want to admit it."
It was then that what Regan said finally sank in for him. "Wait, I can fly now??"
Regan smiled wickedly. "And so much more. With your telekinesis, you could come up with some really creative way to make Warlord Warren suffer greatly for all his insults against you. Wanna go try that out?"
Gabby chuckled loudly. "Oh yes."
If this was a dream, then he hoped he never woke up. This was just too good for words.
I also started a quest over at SB, which was way more time-consuming than I thought it would be.
Content warning: We get a lot of The Boys' level violence and gore here. It becomes downright cartoony after a certain point. We have a raider who's being really gross to young ladies, but nothing too explicit, and he gets his just desserts in the end.
================================
Velocita and Sparkles finally spotted the raider wielding master control over the slave collars in a dimly lit chamber hidden deep within District 10. The room had an evil feel to it, with its walls covered in obscene symbols and reminders of the raider's depravity.
People's bodies were nailed to the walls or hung from the ceilings, giving the place an unpleasant odor.
The wastelanders here seemed to have lost their sense of smell, but Veloctia gagged slightly when she smelled the stench.
Sparkles was not impressed either, mumbling, "Oh god, he is one of those raiders. Lovely. I never understood why some raiders feel compelled to decorate with corpses. Not only does that smell, but it's such an ugly aesthetic. ugh."
The raider in question, Grimsbane, sat on a scavenged metal throne decorated with grim trinkets from his conquests. While others had a more innocent-looking face that concealed the darkness in their souls, this raider's face seemed to match his inner evil—a hulking figure with a twisted grin etched on his scarred visage.
Grimsbane appeared to enjoy having control over the lives of his selected slaves. The slave girls, some of whom looked incredibly young and weak, were forced to work because their collars were always on the line.
Their eyes showed pain and fear, showing the terrible things they went through while Grimsbane was in charge. Some of the slave girls had cuts and bruises in certain spots of their bodies, suggesting they had been used for a more... evil purpose. This was often what happened to young girls who were left alone in the wasteland and vulnerable to human predators.
When Velocita saw that, her frown and disgust got worse. Working to free young girls from human trafficking and to catch online predators before they could hurt other girls, she knew all the signs of abuse, and all of the girls and women here had them in spades.
And it just made her even more determined to take down this sick fucker. She had confidence that she could take him, thanks to the speed power coursing through her veins and the crackling energy of her new lightning chain attack power. Hell, to her, he was just some powerless Normie.
And it occurred to her just now that she could easily kill him right here without the law getting on her case about it. Which felt so freeing to her all of a sudden, because in the past she had easily gotten frustrated when she wasn't allowed to murder all the pedophiles she had tracked down online while working with law enforcement. It had been doubly frustrating for her when the pedophiles she arrested managed to walk away with only a slap on the wrist or only got two years for the crime before getting out again to reoffend. That was the kind of thing that made her lose faith in due process and often led to her constantly just fantasizing about killing them all.
But no, Voughnut kept on saying that a serial killing Supe wasn't a good look, even if the killing was for a good cause, like stopping pedophiles from harming even more victims. It didn't help that Velocita was pretty sure that Voughnut had pedophile apologists or sympathizers in their ranks, if not being one outright.
Otherwise, being forced to be Teen Temptress for a time during the 80's would've never happened, and she wouldn't have had to deal with gross CEO executives sexualizing the fuck out of her or being too into the idea that she was literally legal jailbait, with her constantly looking so young for decades before her body finally aged up a little bit.
Yeah, she fantasized about killing those CEO assholes too. Most of them were old men with dementia by now, but it would still be satisfying as hell.
But now wasn't the time to indulge in an old fantasy; it was time to focus on the present.
Velocita had a simple plan: she would use Sparkles to distract Grimsbane, and then she would attack when the raider leader was least expecting it. She subtly signaled to Sparkles, who, understanding the silent communication, stopped hiding and walked out there as if he belonged there.
He tsked loudly as he glanced around the room and said in his typical campy way, "Oh, honey, what have you done to this poor room? Don't you know that excessive decorating with corpses can be bad for your health? They spread diseases, you know."
"Who the fuck are you?" Grimsbane demanded to know as he pulled out a gun.
Sparkles didn't seem bothered by this, as he said, "Honey, I'm Sparkles, from District 6, and I was hoping you'd send some more slaves my way. The Sinner's Haven needs more of them; the darling boys were a bit too rough with the last ones, ya see."
Grimsbane seemed to recognize Sparkles then. "Ah, you're that poofy asshole I've heard about. Heard a rumor that you were getting uppity, thinking that you were becoming too good for the raider lifestyle."
Sparkles chuckled. "Nah, just me wondering if I'm getting too old for this shit. Sure, there's something to be said about living hard and fast and dying while we're still beautiful… But there comes a time when a man needs to retire and take it easy, you know? You know what I mean, don't you, darling? Hmm?"
Grimsbane scoffed loudly. Yeah, that was pretty common among raiders, where they would constantly tell themselves, just one more score, and then they'd leave it all behind them. Retire as if they were some rich old asshole who could afford to relax without doing backbreaking labor.
While Sparkles distracted Grimsbane, Velocita sprang into action. With a burst of speed, she blurred across the room, her form leaving only a blurry streak in her wake.
Grimsbane failed to notice Velocita closing in. In an instant, she tore off the belt holding the master control device, dropped it for Sparkles, and pulled the raider alongside her as she sped out of the room with him.
"You know, they used to have comics with speedsters that could carry people with them. That way, they could save a lot of people because they could quickly go in and out of burning buildings and stuff like that. But in real life, we're not allowed to do that. You know why?" Velocita spoke in a conversational tone to Grimsbane as she dragged him along.
Grimsbane, on the other hand, was in too much pain and shock to speak at all. It felt like he was suddenly being dragged along on a rocky road behind a speeding car without any warning at all. There was just so much painful friction.
"It's because real life doesn't work like that. Those speedsters in the comics must've had secondary powers like having a forcefield or something that could protect whoever they were carrying, but in real life, most speedsters don't have secondary powers on top of the main one. Reality ensues with people we're carrying suffering from painful friction burns if you speed along at the speed of a really fast car, like what you're currently experiencing right now, no doubt."
Velocita chuckled loudly. "And if I speed up even faster, like at the speed of sound, like so..."
There was a burst of energy, and she went even faster, causing Grimbane to howl loudly as every bone in his body broke.
"Why, all your bones break, of course!" Velocita said in a very chipper tone, "And if I go faster than the speed of sound... THIS HAPPENS!"
As she went even faster, Grimbane literally exploded into bloody chunks, pieces of his corpse flying everywhere. With that, she slowed down to a stop with a highly satisfied look on her face.
"Fucking A! It just feels so fuckin' good doing that shit!" Velcoita sighed happily as she wiped some blood off her face.
She sped back to the room where Sparkles were and got there in time to hear him say as he fiddled with the master control device, "And voila, just like that, all the slave collars are deactivated!"
All the slave collars in the room beeped before going dark and literally falling off the women's necks to the ground.
The women didn't seem thankful or relieved, though, for some reason. They stared at both Sparkles and Velocita fearfully because they weren't used to having the script flipped upside down like this.
One of them spoke up. "What... what happens now?"
"Darlings, it's time for you to accessorize with guns instead of explosive collars. Show the world how fierce and powerful you are!" Sparkles said as he went over to a gun cabinet that was locked, but he was able to unlock it considering that the torn belt that Velocita had ripped off held not only the master control device but a set of keys as well.
Velocita sighed loudly and then gave the women and girls a weak smile. "Uh, I wouldn't have put it like that, but yeah, what he said. It's time for you to take up arms and defend yourself. We're killing off all the motherfuckers who took over this place!"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
--Meanwhile, in district 12--
Bishop, staring at the unfolding spectacle, could only manage a bewildered exclamation, "WHAT THE FUCK?!"
"Uh, yeah, what the fuck?" Regan mumbled, knowing that the rampaging giant dinosaur, the plants that shot their seeds at random people like bullets, and the gray aliens were all probably his fault. No, strike that, it definitely was.
Kevin, aka The Deep, was more on the ball as he said loudly, "You know what? We should all spread out and hide in other buildings until this blows over. Right, Reagan?"
With that, Kevin shot Regan a meaningful glance as if to silently say, "This is our chance to sneak into that underground missile base while everyone's distracted!"
"Oh, right! Yes, we should do that." Regan caught on.
Bishop waved them off as he started shouting orders to the rest of the men.
Regan, Vicar, and the Deep grinned to themselves as they ran off.
They did make it seem like they were looking for a safe place to hole out away from the chaos, though, as they rushed from one building to another, knocking on doors and looking through the open doors.
Finally, they reached the forbidden entrance to the underground missile base, but to their dismay, there was a keypad by the door.
"Does anybody know the code to this door?" Kevin wondered.
"Hold on, I think I might be able to hotwire it. Keep an eye out for me." Vigant Vicar said this while still in his car mechanic disguise outfit. He opened up his toolbox while Kevin and Regan spread out by the sides of the door to keep an eye out.
Vicar then managed to pry the keypad off the wall somehow and then started messing with the wires inside.
It took a while, and it felt like forever to Regan as they anxiously watched out for any raiders who might spot them and try to kill them off for trying to get into a place they shouldn't be.
But at long last, the light over the door turned a bright green and beeped as the door swung open.
"Nice!" Kevin praised Vicar, and Regan smiled and nodded as the three of them rushed. It turns out that the door led to an elevator of sorts, and with that, they pressed the button to go down.
The elevator didn't go all the way down the final bottom floor, apparently, for security reasons. Instead, it led them to a security room of some sort where some mutilated-looking men were waiting for them.
Regan couldn't help but recoil at the sight of the poor, mutilated men, noting that skin was missing from parts of their bodies and their noses were completely missing, leaving behind a triangle-shaped hole like the ones you saw on skulls.
<Bong>
| https://gta.fandom.com/wiki/Musicals Roll 1 A list of musicals that were mentioned or shown in the GTA series. Effect: As this is a roll 1, this means this is a temporary summon. For one hour, the ghouls working underground will be compelled to break out into musical numbers and be able to synchronize together as if they all knew the music number by heart. |
"No offense, but what the hell happened to you?" Regan exclaimed loudly.
The man looked down at himself before looking over to his fellow security guard. "You mean the slave collar, the horrible state of my clothes, or the fact that I'm a ghoul?"
Vicar then asked, "No offense, but we don't even know what that is. We, uh, were in a vault growing up, you see."
Vicar had been fed knowledge about Regan and Kevin's background cover story a while ago, about being from a vault, and had decided that it was a good idea to go along with that cover story himself for now.
The two ghouls looked at each other at this and then scoffed.
One of them then explained, "We're people who became immortal thanks to the FEV virus and nuclear radiation, at great cost to our personal appearances. Some lost their minds and went feral, so because of that, we often get compared to zombies, though we aren't. Because we're immune to radiation, that asshole Warren forced us all to work down here because some rooms were radioactive."
"Oh wow. That, uh, sucks for you guys?" Regan said, not knowing what to say.
Vicar looked worried at the mention of radiation. "Wait, some areas down here are irradiated?? I'm starting to think this is a bad idea coming down here."
"Speaking of which. Why are you guys down here anyway?" One of the ghouls wondered.
"Uhh… Would you believe we're down here to do a basic safety check?" Kevin did his best to sound confident, but he failed.
The two ghouls didn't seem all that convinced, but they snorted loudly.
The second ghoul then said, "Whatever. It's not like we care anyway. Just know that if Warren or one of his men shows up here, we'll have to pretend like we give a damn about security and capture you three. Maybe kill you. So you better do whatever you came down to do real quick and leave."
Vicar then said loudly, "I don't want to be in a radioactive area!"
The first ghoul chuckled loudly. "Radiation isn't so bad. In some ways, it can be beneficial."
With that, music started up out of nowhere, and the ghouls started singing, much to the group's confusion.
🎵"Every cloud has a silver lining,
Even the radioactive ones!
It's just an attitude of mind,
Look on the bright side
And you'll find the silver
lining that's in every cloud!"🎶
As the ghouls unlocked the security doors to the rest of the underground base for the human trio, they kept on singing.
🎵"When the bombs are on their way,
At least they give you time to pray.
And don't forget to file a claim for
Compensation!" 🎵
Other ghouls popped up from behind the security doors, dancing and singing as Regan, Kevin, and Harry walked through them.
🎵"When you're flying through the air
From the blast, think of what you'll save
On taxi fare. Every disaster has its own
Bright side!"🎵
Some other ghouls, mostly women this time, judging by their clothes, were now tap-dancing up and down the stairs while allowing room for Regan, Harry, and Kevin to walk down.
🎶"So what if that fireball kills?
Think of how it cuts down on
The heating bills and it's not
Every day, that you get a free
Cremation!" 🎶
Kevin sighed. He then said to Regan as they moved into the next room, "This is one of your power effects, isn't it?"
Regan just shrugged. "Probably, yeah."
Vicar shook his head. "Has anybody ever told you how weird your power can be sometimes?"
In the next room, the ghouls kept on singing the same song while they spun around in their office chairs. They appeared to have been busy typing on old, functional computers before they all experienced whatever Regan had bestowed upon them.
🎶"When that fallout's raining down,
Just pass that tanning lotion around!
Who cares about a little radiation?
Somebody's dropped another bomb,
But that's okay; you like it warm!
It's just an attitude of mind." 🎶
"Whatever. Let's just find the main control room and get this over with." Regan grumbled.
Vicar, on the other hand, had taken out his phone to record the ghouls as he slowly followed behind Kevin and Regan.
They quickly rushed through all the rooms, peering into each one to see which one was the control room.
🎶"Look, here comes another bomb!
Get those roast potatoes on!
It's just an attitude of mind,
Look on the bright side
And you'll find the silver lining
that's in every radioactive cloud.
Wah, wah, wah,
The sun may cease to shine
But ha, ha, ha, the radioactive winter
suits us just fine!" 🎶
"I finally found a map of this place!" Vicar called out as he gestured to something on the wall, which seemed to be a wall-mounted map with lights on it, and the lights indicated where they were.
Regan and Kevin studied it while the groups of ghouls singing went on in the background.
"Okay, it looks like we're supposed to go down that way downstairs." Regan said as they walked towards yet another set of stairs.
🎵"Look on the bright side of radiation.
When you're dead from it,
nothing else can bother you!
And if you become immortal from
Radiation, then that's even more
Awesome! Cuz you've got all the time
In the world now!" 🎵
Inside the control room, there was actually another group of ghouls who were doing the finale, but doing the can-can dance as they linked arms and started kicking high, as their can-can line dance slowly spun in a circle inside the room.
🎵"You're in the perfect no-lose situation!
No more worries, no more strife!
No more rotten, lousy life!
It's just an attitude of mind.
Look at the bright side of radiation!
Or ghoulification, if you're lucky enough
to become a ghoul, so think
positive about your station in life.
And you'll find the silver lining
That's in every cloud.
Especially the radioactive ones!" 🎵
As they were winding down from that song, Regan, Kevin, and Vicar spread out to check every computer console to see which one was the control key.
The ghouls finally seemed to snap out of it, as they looked at each other in confusion.
"Why did we start randomly singing and dancing?" one of them wondered.
"Mass hysteria, maybe? I've heard about mass hallucinations before, but... Another ghoul suggested it, sounding equally confused.
One of the ghouls finally spotted the humans and pointed them out. "Hey! What are you three doing down here?"
"Okay, hear me out here," Regan said, cranking up his charisma as best as he could while pulling on his power to help him out here too. "But none of you want to work for that asshole Warren, right? We're looking for a way to shut down all the missiles completely so that he can't use them as a threat. Also, we have people working on defusing all of the slave collars across the city all at once so that he can't hold you guys hostage anymore. What do you say? Will you help us out?"
>Bong<
| https://evilgenius.fandom.com/wiki/Recruit_Montezuma Roll 12 From the wiki: "Our spies have discovered the location of Montezuma, the wicked voodoo magician rumored to be able to wake the dead from their slumber. Since an unfortunate incident in Haiti, he has been lying low in his favored retreat of Cuba. We must not miss the opportunity to add his dark powers to our evil dominion." Effect: as this was such a low roll and that the page is about recruiting this character rather than the actual character page for the guy himself, this is instead a minor boost that allows Regan to recruit the more evil-minded ghouls down here. |
At that moment, all of the ghouls' collars beeped, the lights on them turning green before turning off. The collars became slack and started falling off the necks of anyone wearing them.
Kevin smiled. "See? Regan's right, our friend on the outside seems to have deactivated everyone's slave collars by the looks of things. Now what do you say to helping us destroy the missiles so that raider fucker can't threaten us anymore?"
One of the ghouls let out a dark chuckle. "If you allow me to scoop out that fucker's eyeballs, I'm in. That asshole kept on commenting that I was so ugly to look at that he wanted to gouge out his own eyeballs every time he looked at me. Like, I fuckin' get it, okay? I'm an ugly-ass ghoul. He didn't have to bring it up every fuckin' time he saw me."
Regan nodded. "Fair enough. Though you'll have to keep him alive, I think the rest of the people in Great Falls have beef with him, and they all want a turn, if you know what I mean."
The ghoul chuckled darkly once again. "Yeah, I like that. The name's Gabby Whitman. Come on, let me show you where the missiles' controls are."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
--District 10--
The Skorchers were at the top of their game, as they had fun going all-out. The heroes unleashed their powers in a violent and gory display that would make even the most hardened raider blanch in horror.
Velocita, with her lightning chain attack power, blurred through the air like a streak of lightning, her movements a blur of speed and precision. With a flick of her wrist, she sent her electrified chain attack slashing through the air, linking together the raiders who clustered together in groups with deadly accuracy. The crackling energy of her attacks left a trail of whimpering raiders who pissed themselves before collapsing to the ground in her wake. The revolting ex-slaves finished them off with bullets from the guns they were carrying.
Velocita also managed to give some of those raiders the "A-train treatment" by super-speeding through them in order to make their bodies explode in a rain of gore, which resulted in her running around completely covered in blood and gore, but she seemed to be grinning wildly like a madwoman despite it all.
Meanwhile, Urban Defender was like a child in a toy store, as he had too much fun experimenting with his new powers in order to find new creative ways to murder all the raiders in sight.
He undid the molecular structure in one raider's body, causing him to disintegrate into nothingness. Meanwhile, another raider nearby was suffocating to death as Urban Defender mentally made it so that the air around him couldn't reach his mouth or lungs.
Behind him, near the van the Skorchers had come in, a bunch of raiders were impaled on sharp, dazzling crystals, which made for a beautiful yet gory art piece.
More raiders came at him, and he just chuckled as he loosened the ground under them, creating all sorts of interesting traps, from quicksand pits to turning the pits into solid steel traps that would slowly crush them all to death thanks to a built-in mechicasm.
He then caused concussive blasts, which sent even more raiders flying high into the air. He giggled as he watched them panic and struggle as they started falling back down. To think, he realized just now that by compressing and rapidly expanding air molecules, he could create concussive blasts that send raiders flying backward with devastating force. And all of this was thanks to the increased intelligence that Regan gave him as a secondary superpower in order to be able to know how to control his molecular-shaping powers perfectly.
God, Regan did give him the greatest gift ever; nothing else could top this, not even a new Porsche. With this overpowered ability, he could literally rebrand himself in any way he wanted or become the leader of the Seven if he wanted to. That is, if he planned to return home instead of staying here. There were clearly some benefits to staying here, so he was still considering it.
He wondered how the others were getting along with the new abilities they were given. Velocita over there sure seemed to be having fun finding ways to make her main original ability and her new ability work together.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
--In District 5--
Militia-Man, against his own initial misgivings, was actually having fun.
He felt as if he were in one of those spy-stealth games as he used his newfound military training skills from Regan to run circles around those clueless raiders and sneak up on them before crushing their heads into fine paste with his bare hands.
Okay, so maybe this skill set Regan gave him was a perfect fit after all. It would help with his rebranding even more and distance himself from the Loony Leftie persona he used to have.
Meanwhile, Guardian Light, of course, helped with the flashy distractions as he sent orbs of rainbow light into various rooms and areas to make it look like somebody was running around with an unusual flashlight, causing raiders to chase after said lights. Said lights would then explode very loudly, turning the unfortunate raiders into a fine mist.
That's when their two-way radios crackled to life.
"All the slave collars have been defused and rendered harmless. Over." Velocita's voice said.
"Perfect timing; I was about to call you all. I couldn't destroy all the missiles, but I did manage to reset all the launch codes down here and dial up the security measures on them so that the new launch codes were longer than six digits, making it harder for them to guess what the new launch codes are. Warlord Warren won't be able to activate the missiles remotely with that portable launch button of his, much less use his launch codes anymore." Regan paused and then said, "I had help from some local residents, of course."
Guardian Light came out of hiding at this, and his eyes met Milita-Man's own as they grinned at each other. This was their signal to go all out and massacre every raider they saw in sight while ensuring that no innocent civilian got caught in the crossfire, which was easy to do because the idiots actually color-coded themselves like they were in an actual gang.
At this point, they took to the air, not even bothering with their stealth mission anymore.
After that, the surviving raiders who had fled from the scene would describe it as being like a rainbow apocalypse that specifically targeted all raiders while sparing the slaves they had with them.
Monstrous constructs made out of rainbow light ramaged the streets, while tiny missiles made out of the same light exploded upon impact, vaporizing any raiders they hit. And when the dreaded god-like being from whom those rainbows came was there in person, close enough for the raiders to start firing on him?
The rainbow god looked upon everyone there as if they were puny insects and simply raised one hand. And in an instant, everyone in his line of fire was reduced to burning ash.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
-- District 12--
Now that the missiles have been rendered mostly harmless, Regan took this opportunity to start recruiting the ghoulish ex-slaves down here by telling them about the Vigilant Vicar here and how he could empower them all to be faster than normal.
And most importantly, about how he could empower them too.
Gabby Whitman, the ghoul who had helped them earlier, looked interested. "Yeah? No offense, but you'll have to prove it to me before I agree to anything you have planned. I'm done being somebody's slave, willing or not. What's in it for me?"
Regan smiled and reached out to touch Gabby's shoulder. "You want power? You've got it."
>Bong<
| https://villains.fandom.com/wiki/King_Piccolo_(Dragonball_Evolution) Roll 12 King Piccolo From the worst dragon ball movie ever, DragonBall Evolution. In this movie, Piccolo doesn't even look like a green Namekian alien; instead, he looks like Pinhead from Hellraiser without all the pins in his face. His skin is mostly white with a green tinge to it. Effect: As this is a low roll, Gabby Whitman takes on the appearance of King Piccolo from that movie, but all the powers he gets from this are also greatly nerfed. Still insanely powerful though, as Gabby now can fly, have telepathy and telekinesis, and manipulate KI energy. All of those abilities are somewhat weak compared to the others in Dragon Ball Evolution, or even the prime Dragonball universe in which the anime takes place. |
The transformation was almost instantaneous, as Gabby felt a weird feeling come over him, and he was nearly bowled over by it, but by the time he recovered, he felt like a completely different person now, even though he still had his mind intact.
All the other ghouls in the room gasped loudly.
"Look at his face! It's changed now!"
Gabby looked at his arms and hands, as it was the only thing he could see of himself, and noticed that his limbs no longer looked like those of a ghoul's. And in fact, they now looked very muscular as fuck, with a pale greenish tint to them.
"Where's a mirror?" Gabby demanded to know, and with that, one of his fellow ghouls pointed him in the direction of a bathroom. Gabby rushed there and started looking himself over as soon as he got to the mirror.
He gasped loudly when he saw his new face. His new, *HANDSOME* face.
Even before the bombs dropped. Gabby had never been considered a handsome guy. In fact, it was often the opposite, with kids who he grew up with during school often calling him gross and ugly. He developed a complex over it as a result, doing everything under the sun he could do to become as attractive as possible, short of plastic surgery, which he couldn't afford at the time. But nothing ever worked.
And then the bombs dropped, and he turned into a ghoul. At first, he was delighted to see other ghouls, content in the knowledge that there were others out there who were equally ugly as he was now, until he realized an unpleasant fact--that thanks to his scars and the like, he was ugly even by ghoul standards, as there were actually ghouls out there who were more attractive than he was.
So he continued to be the same man he was before the bombs dropped. A bitter man who hated others for being far more attractive than he was completely hung up on the shallow ideals of his schoolyard bullies, letting them define how he saw the world itself.
(( It had never occurred to him that the reason people saw him as so unattractive was not just because of his looks but also because of his bitter outlook and the fact that he could be a downright unpleasant person to be around. On a different Earth, he would've been labeled an incel, one that was so extreme even by other incels' standards.))
But now? It looked like he had undergone plastic surgery on an alien spaceship. Sure, the fact that his skin was now pale with a greenish tint to it was somewhat off putting, and the head ridges were weird. But hey, he actually has a very handsome face now!
Mm, look at that chiseled jaw and chin! His cheekbones! Oh god, he was crying out of sheer joy now.
"I'm sorry if you don't like your new look. When people get new powers, super-powered makeovers tend to come with the territory. But hey! It looks like you can fly, and have telekinesis. That's pretty cool, you know?" Regan's voice came from the doorway, and Gabby looked over at him.
Gabby smiled. "It's not that. That's just… I haven't been this handsome in a long while, you know? I know all the other ghouls bitch and moan about the racist smoothskins out there, but I'll bet you that most would go back to the way they used to be if they could; they just don't want to admit it."
It was then that what Regan said finally sank in for him. "Wait, I can fly now??"
Regan smiled wickedly. "And so much more. With your telekinesis, you could come up with some really creative way to make Warlord Warren suffer greatly for all his insults against you. Wanna go try that out?"
Gabby chuckled loudly. "Oh yes."
If this was a dream, then he hoped he never woke up. This was just too good for words.
Last edited:
- Location
- Russian Federation, Kirov
How much I love Wiki Warior, precisely for these moments as a completely random musical.
Because at the ghoul musical moment I lost it and just started laughing.
It was definitely the level of the original Wiki Warior without these power plays from different universes.
Because at the ghoul musical moment I lost it and just started laughing.
It was definitely the level of the original Wiki Warior without these power plays from different universes.
- Location
- Ohio
Ouch, sorry you got Covid...
I hope you are feeling better.
I skipped this chapter because of my Regan clause, aka I hate evil people that someone makes a protagonist. It's why I never got the Nuka World DLC, also why I only did the Moonshine Jamboree in Fallout 76, and killed friendly raiders in the same game.
Seriously do not see the appeal of playing a cannibalistic, raping, and pillaging murderers that take drugs to get through the day.
---------------------------------
You know I think that in some rolls for a mundane item or category of them, that it would convey the ability to make that item easily, and also what quality the item would have.
For example: Shovel
10-the ability to create cheap shovels that can do the job, even if they are more liable to break.
15-Medium quality shovels that are quite sturdy and should last for years of rough use.
20- High Quality Shovels that can last a very long time, even with very rough use.
22-High Quality Shovels with enhancements that allow the shovel to dig through objects that normal shovels could not, like rock. Can store a couple hundred pounds of debris that can be converted into dirt (common) or soil (Low Quality).
Can move a foot square of dug debris with every shovel. Has a 15/10/5 percent chance of uncovering items/chests/locations (mines, caves, tombs, or even buried buildings.) With the quality of said things being anything from junk to low value.
25- Can now store and convert at least 5 tons, user has the ability to manipulate how much they wish to dig up within a five foot square, and it now comes with some time manipulation in that it cuts down project time by a quarter. Finding chance has jumped up to 25/15/10, the rarity has increased to common to medium value with a chance to find things with minor enchantments.
The locations have gained the ability to become low level repeatable dungeons that can drop loot, with a low level of them being legendary items. Almost forgot- Can Convert and lay down low grade concrete foundations or medium soil.
30- Major enchantments, an infinity amount of storage and conversion. Can now lay down reinforce concrete foundations, produce anything from high quality dirt to fine sand, and can create high quality soil.
Can lower time to completion of the dig by three fourths, can dig out whole sections based on what the user wants, and has a 30/20/15 chance of finding items/treasures/locations that contain moderate to major enchantments. A low chance to find legendary items, a high chance to find rare items, and the chance to spawn a high level repeatable dungeon with equally high level loot drops.
I hope you are feeling better.
I skipped this chapter because of my Regan clause, aka I hate evil people that someone makes a protagonist. It's why I never got the Nuka World DLC, also why I only did the Moonshine Jamboree in Fallout 76, and killed friendly raiders in the same game.
Seriously do not see the appeal of playing a cannibalistic, raping, and pillaging murderers that take drugs to get through the day.
---------------------------------
You know I think that in some rolls for a mundane item or category of them, that it would convey the ability to make that item easily, and also what quality the item would have.
For example: Shovel
10-the ability to create cheap shovels that can do the job, even if they are more liable to break.
15-Medium quality shovels that are quite sturdy and should last for years of rough use.
20- High Quality Shovels that can last a very long time, even with very rough use.
22-High Quality Shovels with enhancements that allow the shovel to dig through objects that normal shovels could not, like rock. Can store a couple hundred pounds of debris that can be converted into dirt (common) or soil (Low Quality).
Can move a foot square of dug debris with every shovel. Has a 15/10/5 percent chance of uncovering items/chests/locations (mines, caves, tombs, or even buried buildings.) With the quality of said things being anything from junk to low value.
25- Can now store and convert at least 5 tons, user has the ability to manipulate how much they wish to dig up within a five foot square, and it now comes with some time manipulation in that it cuts down project time by a quarter. Finding chance has jumped up to 25/15/10, the rarity has increased to common to medium value with a chance to find things with minor enchantments.
The locations have gained the ability to become low level repeatable dungeons that can drop loot, with a low level of them being legendary items. Almost forgot- Can Convert and lay down low grade concrete foundations or medium soil.
30- Major enchantments, an infinity amount of storage and conversion. Can now lay down reinforce concrete foundations, produce anything from high quality dirt to fine sand, and can create high quality soil.
Can lower time to completion of the dig by three fourths, can dig out whole sections based on what the user wants, and has a 30/20/15 chance of finding items/treasures/locations that contain moderate to major enchantments. A low chance to find legendary items, a high chance to find rare items, and the chance to spawn a high level repeatable dungeon with equally high level loot drops.
Loving it so far 
im just confused on how Regan gonna lose, I mean Yoda woulda been a major advantage but he dipped
im just confused on how Regan gonna lose, I mean Yoda woulda been a major advantage but he dipped
Hentaiwizard
Grand Magus of the Lewd
I'm gonna be honest. The Karina chapters absolutely bore me to tears. I dunno why but there's something about her character that's just so utterly uninteresting that I habe to force myself to read her chapters..on the other hand my man Regan is wonderful. Love that guy one of my fave characters. I am absolutely rooting for him to kick Karinas ass. He's the only reason I read this story. You did a wonderful job writing him.
Aurora Moon
Verfied Insomniac with too much time on her hands
- Location
- USA, Earth
- Pronouns
- She/Her
That's fair. I designed her to be a nice, good person, but "nice" and "good" aren't really personality traits, as they're just supposed to be your everyday human being.
I was kinda hoping that the "Good" side of the wikis would make up for that with some crazy shit that would provoke her out of her shell and out of her comfort zone... but I guess some of the wikis are a bit like her, all pure good and kinda boring as an result? XD
figures that some of the more interesting stuff happens with the evil wikis instead.
- Location
- France
I'll be honest, the absolute opposite of what you're saying. I have no interest in chapters after chapters of little bastard being a little bastard and Karina slowly building up her power and her community, rebuilding civilazation is amazing. I barely even skim over Regan's chapters and I devour Karina's.
Last edited:
- Location
- Ohio
You know Aurora Moon, I kind of like the Moonlighter's Atomic Gamble in one way...
Namely in one of the rolls, he summoned the Lake Tower Region of Hyrule... From a World Fallen to Ganon, one with no hope. In other words snatching things from a version of a world where Link died to a random Moblin, leaving Zelda to be eventually overcome, and Ganon surging out to conquer and destroy.
Or a Fallout New Vegas where the Courier wasn't so lucky, things careened to a shit show, and because of that it wasn't important enough for anyone to say hands off.
AKA the theory that every possibility exists, even just dying from something you should have survived. With most worlds out there with THE Protagonist having some failures where they died never achieving something and dooming that world, alongside ones where they succeeded.
So I always thought ROB's would just harvest the trash heaps where the other Eldritch dumped worlds that didn't go the way they wanted, in a way like a wrecked car that is dumped in a junkyard, and eventually this abandoned junkyard is raided and the cars stripped of anything the thief feels is valuable.
So for example finding a Hyrule World where the Hero died before they got the Master Sword, would be like finding a wrecked car that still has a rare and pristine engine that you can put in another car.
Sorry if my description are being lost in translation.
-------------------
The best way I can say it is that ROB's are basically chop shop criminals who strip abandoned or neglected models of a world for anything they need, rather than face the wrath of the owner of a non-abandoned model who is armed and vigilant.
Namely in one of the rolls, he summoned the Lake Tower Region of Hyrule... From a World Fallen to Ganon, one with no hope. In other words snatching things from a version of a world where Link died to a random Moblin, leaving Zelda to be eventually overcome, and Ganon surging out to conquer and destroy.
Or a Fallout New Vegas where the Courier wasn't so lucky, things careened to a shit show, and because of that it wasn't important enough for anyone to say hands off.
AKA the theory that every possibility exists, even just dying from something you should have survived. With most worlds out there with THE Protagonist having some failures where they died never achieving something and dooming that world, alongside ones where they succeeded.
So I always thought ROB's would just harvest the trash heaps where the other Eldritch dumped worlds that didn't go the way they wanted, in a way like a wrecked car that is dumped in a junkyard, and eventually this abandoned junkyard is raided and the cars stripped of anything the thief feels is valuable.
So for example finding a Hyrule World where the Hero died before they got the Master Sword, would be like finding a wrecked car that still has a rare and pristine engine that you can put in another car.
Sorry if my description are being lost in translation.
-------------------
The best way I can say it is that ROB's are basically chop shop criminals who strip abandoned or neglected models of a world for anything they need, rather than face the wrath of the owner of a non-abandoned model who is armed and vigilant.
Interlude-- Back on Kevin Aka The Deep’s homeworld.
Aurora Moon
Verfied Insomniac with too much time on her hands
- Location
- USA, Earth
- Pronouns
- She/Her
With some of the "The Boys" characters choosing to seemingly stay for good I wanted to take a look at what would happen back home now that they had "disappeared" for good and weren't likely to come back.
Now normally, when they're sent back, they get put back exactly at the same time they vanished to prevent any disturbances. But if people were to form attachments to this world and become of it the longer they stayed? That's when it becomes more difficult to slot them back into the same time frame they disappeared from. Especially if they were to visibly be older, wear different clothes, etc.
So what would happen if The Deep and the Skorchers never came back?
================================================
Interlude-- Back on Kevin Aka The Deep's homeworld.
What happened while Kevin was away?
------------
The man behind the name "The Deep," Kevin Moskowitz, was the object of scorn for most of his ex-teammates in The Seven and all the Vought executives.
So, okay, he could communicate with the denizens of the sea, breathe underwater, and bear the crushing pressure of the deep ocean, but still, most of the time, he was considered weak by the higher ups. Because after all, on land he was pretty much useless, his super strength aside.
Everyone who knew Kevin considered him a spineless, mindless yes-man. He would say yes to any suggestion provided he could find any benefit for himself, no matter how minor. He was also the man to kiss everyone's ass, ready to oblige if he believed that the person he was yielding to was superior and their reasonable opinion was needed desperately.
In short, he was a himbo who wanted to be a leader but fell embarrassingly short. All that on top of the many sexual assaults he'd committed over the years. Really, he was starting to try Vought's patience now in their efforts at damage control over his criminal faux pas, especially with this Starlight incident.
Really, the only reason why they even kept him around was that Kevin's heartthrob looks and his occasional appeal to both men and women had made him more of a marketable asset. So, when the chance arose to replace him with a Supe that could bring in much more money, the company had almost been relieved.
Yet nobody could predict the tectonic shift that was to happen when this seemingly inconsequential, pathetic character—almost unnoticed—suddenly vanished into thin air. The disappearance would rock the foundations of Vought, the Seven, and the public's perception of superheroes in ways that nobody would've predicted at all.
When Kevin went AWOL, it had been at first, to the Vought PR team, a relief. He'd caused more than his share of scandal lately, and this was one less fire for them to fight. A week became two, then three, before it even tripped the notoriously lax standards at Vought and they realized that Kevin was being suspiciously too quiet. Kevin had to be up to something, right?
A wellness check at Kevin's apartment presented a disturbing scene of every surface coated in dust and the lifeless fish in his aquarium. Even the food in his fridge was all expired and spoiled. All that together made it evident that Kevin had not been home for some time now.
A low-priority investigation had been opened, more out of policy than genuine concern. Initially, the trail was easy to follow. Receipts, security footage, and witness accounts pieced together Kevin's movements until they led them to the imposing office of Alastair Adana, the enigmatic chairman of the Church of the Collective.
He was reported to have entered Adana's office, but no one remembered his leaving. Again this once painted a grim image that even the most amateurish investigators could recognize. Kevin had disappeared into the clutches of some powerful and shadowy organization, and his chances of turning up again were looking less and less likely by the moment.
The revelation of Kevin's disappearance within the Church of the Collective headquarters sent a shockwave through the executive ranks of Vought. The relationship between that company and the cult was always quite a complex one—a delicate dance between convenience and suspicion.
The Church, on the other hand, was a proven valuable ally in the past. With its help, their outré "space spores" theory—with its helpful outs for the origin of superpowers in individuals who did not quite believe the traditional Christian narrative favored by Vought anyhow because they never bought Jesus or God in the first place—allowed them to straddle that broader potential market without losing the benefit of carefully built image and symbology.
But there had always been something in the Church that made Vought uneasy, even while its star rose ever higher. The secret practices and cult-like followers, the unwavering belief in some cosmic destiny for its chosen—these were all big blinking red flags in the minds of even the most cynical executives.
And let's not even get into the fact that the church was becoming more rich and powerful each year… and was easily becoming Vought's rival.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The air in the conference room was so thick with tension that you could almost cut it with a butter knife.
Stan Edgar spoke with his steely gaze on the polished mahogany table: "We've got a problem—Kevin. Or better still, you all might recognize him as The Deep. That fool's gone AWOL, and all signs point to the Church of the Collective, and for all we know, he could be dead."
Madelyn Stillwell kept up a calm front as usual despite the surprise she was feeling and spoke up. "We always knew they were unconventional, but this is a step too far."
Anika spoke up; she headed the Department of Crime Analytics. "They have been going bolder as of late. Their recruitment strategies, the whispers of 'miraculous' healings. It's all a bit too close to our territory."
Ashley Barrett felt her PR instincts tingling. She tried to helpfully contribute to the conversation: "This could be a disaster for our image. The last thing we need is another scandal with the Deep."
"A superhero disappearing into a cult? And probably died as a result? The media would have a field day." Seth Reed, the PR writer, nodded in agreement.
Evan Lambert's colleague continued, "We'd be accused of negligence, incompetence… It could damage our brand irreparably. We're supposed to be the ones who can protect our supers and also dispose of them if they get too out of hand. The reason why the government's always so hands-off with us is because we assured them that we could control our Supers and use them in America's best interests."
Doug Friedman, Edgar's assistant, cleared his throat. "What options do we have?"
Edgar leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled thoughtfully. "We could go public, expose them for what they are. But that risks retaliation. They have powerful friends in high places. Still, the fact that they were so bold as to harm one of our own, even a man like Kevin, cannot go unpunished."
Bill Marsh, a board member, then suggested, "We could try to negotiate with them. Offer them something in exchange for Kevin's safe return. That is, if he's still alive?"
Pat Willis, a fellow board member, laughed out loud. "Negotiate with a cult? They're fanatics! They wouldn't understand the reason."
The only other voice in the room was Maureen, the last among the board members. "Maybe this is an opportunity. We could infiltrate the Church, learn their secrets, and use them to our advantage. And when the time comes, we finally strike and expose them."
The room fell silent as Edgar finally spoke up, considering the options. "We tread carefully: we gather information, assess our leverage, and find Kevin. None of this gets out. We can't have a media frenzy over this."
~~~~~~~~~~
Unfortunately for Vought, The boys found out all of this pretty quickly despite their security measures.
The back room at The Boys' hideout was grubby and thick with cigarette smoke and tension as Billy Butcher slammed a fist on the table, rattling the empty beer bottles. "The bloody Church of the Collective," he spat, his voice dripping with venom. "They've stolen our bloody bait."
There went their plan to use The Deep to embarrass the Seven and Vought by extension.
Frenchie nodded, a far cry from his usually flamboyant manner. "We knew they were sniffing around Vought, but to snatch a Supe? That's a bold move."
Mother's Milk, as usual, was the voice of reason: "This could be a trap.They probably know we're watching them?"
Kimiko, with narrowed eyes, signed off a string of invectives, showing she was not in the mood to put up with any cult talk.
Hughie's boyish face turned white, and he started stammering, "W-w-what do we do now?"
Butcher's lips curled into a sneer. "We go in guns blazing, same as ever. Get the Supe out alive, show up the Church as the hypocritical bloodsuckers they are, and send Vought a message: Fuck with us, face the consequences."
Frenchie's eyes lit dangerously at the thought. "This could be our chance to bring them both down. Two birds, one stone."
Mother's Milk sighed. "It's never that simple, Frenchie. But I trust Butcher's instincts. We go in prepared, we strike at them, and we get out before they know what hit them."
Kimiko cracked her knuckles—a silent promise of violence.
Hughie felt his veins fill with anticipation. This was what they were supposed to do: fight the Supes, unveil the corruption, and make the world a safer place. The Boys were ready for war, and the Church of the Collective was about to feel their wrath.
But first, they had to come up with a plan that wouldn't get them all killed or worse. Butcher's idea of just going in guns blazing didn't exactly fill him with confidence.
~~~~~~~~~~
--in the next following days--
The Church of the Collective's headquarters was an imposing building, its facade a mixture of modern architecture and ancient symbols. It stood as a testament to the cult's growing influence and power, a fortress of secrecy and manipulation. Inside, the atmosphere was one of serene devotion, but beneath the surface, tensions simmered.
Vought's team was a group of highly trained, covert operatives. They moved with precision and purpose, their mission clear: find Kevin and gather intel on the Church's activities. Dressed in inconspicuous civilian clothing, they blended in with the regular members of the Church, attending services and participating in activities to avoid suspicion. Their leader, a seasoned agent named Sarah, coordinated their movements with the aid of state-of-the-art surveillance equipment.
Meanwhile, The Boys approached the situation with their characteristic blend of bravado and ingenuity. Butcher, Hughie, Frenchie, Kimiko, and Mother's Milk had donned disguises as new recruits eager to join the Church. Their plan was to use their inside access to locate Kevin and gather evidence of the Church's malpractices. Butcher, always the strategist, had prepared for various contingencies, but the volatile nature of their mission meant things could go sideways at any moment.
Both groups moved cautiously within the Church's labyrinthine halls. The Vought operatives used their tech to hack into the Church's security systems, gaining access to restricted areas and surveillance feeds.
At the same time, The Boys were gathering information from lower-level members, piecing together the Church's hierarchy and operations.
The first encounter between the two groups happened in a dimly lit corridor. Sarah's team was moving towards Kevin's location when they came face-to-face with Butcher and his crew. For a tense moment, both sides eyed each other warily, hands inching towards concealed weapons.
"Who the bloody hell are you?" Butcher growled, his eyes narrowing at the unfamiliar faces.
"We could ask you the same thing," Sarah replied coolly, her hand steady on her sidearm.
Hughie, recognizing the potential for a disastrous confrontation, stepped forward. "Hey, hey, let's not do this. We're here for the same reason, right? The Deep. We need to get him out."
Sarah paused, considering. "You're with The Boys, aren't you?"
"And you're Vought," Butcher spat. "Great. Just what we needed."
Realizing that a shootout would only jeopardize their mission, both sides reluctantly agreed to a temporary truce. They would work together to extract Kevin and expose the Church, then go their separate ways.
Frenchie quickly tapped into the Church's security grid, disabling cameras and alarms. Kimiko took point, her silent movements making her nearly invisible as she scouted ahead. Sarah's team provided tactical support, using their advanced gear to neutralize guards and bypass locked doors.
They reached what they assumed to be Kevin's cell without incident.Their search led them to the main sanctuary, where Alastair Adana awaited, flanked by his elite guards. "Looking for someone?" he sneered.
"We know you took Kevin," Sarah stated, her tone icy.
Adana's smile faltered. "We thought Vought took him. For being an embarrassment. He disappeared before my eyes, so it was obviously the work of another super."
Butcher stepped forward, anger simmering in his eyes. "What do you mean, 'disappeared'?"
Sarah interrupted, "Vought had nothing to do with this. We came to find him, not to take him."
Adana hesitated at that, and then seemed to realize something. "The space spores... they took him. It must be them."
The room fell silent as everyone processed Adana's words. The Boys and Vought operatives exchanged confused looks.
"What the hell are you talking about?" Hughie asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.
Adana, clearly agitated, continued, "The space spores. The divine agents. They've taken him. It's the only explanation. We thought Vought had a hand in it, but now..."
Butcher's patience was wearing thin. "Enough of this spore nonsense. Where the hell is Kevin?"
Adana's eyes darted around nervously. "I don't know! He was here, and then he was gone. The spores... they must have taken him for a higher purpose."
Butcher couldn't hold back any longer. He burst out laughing, a harsh, mocking sound that echoed through the sanctuary. "Space spores? Are you bloody serious? You actually believe that tripe?"
Adana's face turned red, both from anger and embarrassment. "The space spores are real. They are our divine connection to the cosmos."
Butcher wiped a tear from his eye, still chuckling. "Oh, this is rich. A cult leader who actually buys his own bollocks. What's next? Little green men come to take us to the promised land?"
Hughie tried to stifle his own laughter, while Frenchie and Mother's Milk exchanged amused glances. Even Kimiko allowed herself a slight smile.
Adana's expression hardened. "Mock all you want, but the truth will reveal itself. The space spores are part of a larger cosmic plan."
Butcher stepped closer, his voice low and menacing. "Listen, mate. Whether it's space spores, divine agents, or bloody unicorns, I don't care. We want The Deep back. And if you don't start talking sense, I'll make you see stars the old-fashioned way."
Adana swallowed hard but stood his ground. "I'm telling the truth. We have no idea where he is. The last we saw him, he was acting like a toxic personality and I was about to tell him so, when he just… vanished. Into thin air, just like that. It was like he was never there to start with."
Butcher's smile faded, replaced by a cold, calculating look. "Fine. But mark my words, if we find out you had anything to do with this, you'll wish you'd been taken by your precious spores."
~~~~~~~~~~
Realizing that neither Vought nor the Church had any answers, Butcher and Sarah called for a ceasefire.
Both groups needed to regroup and reassess their strategies.
"We're not done here," Butcher warned Adana. "We'll find out what really happened."
Sarah nodded. "We'll be in touch. And if we find out you had anything to do with this, you'll pay."
The two groups parted ways, each troubled by the unsettling mystery of The Deep's disappearance.
Back at their respective bases, The Boys and Vought operatives pored over the information they had gathered. Which was frustratingly very little. After all, they didn't actually believe the space spores took Kevin.
And with Kevin gone anyways, The boys' plan changed tracks, this time focusing on the Church for now due to how badly they pissed off everyone.
Empty takeout containers littered the table, a haze of smoke hung in the air, and the hum of Frenchie's computer filled the otherwise silent room.
Butcher, perched on a crate, swigged from a bottle of whiskey. "Right, let's get this sorted," he barked, slamming the bottle down. "Frenchie, what have you got?"
Frenchie's fingers danced across the keyboard, his eyes glued to the screen.
"I'm in. Church's servers are a joke. They're practically begging to be hacked." A wicked grin spread across his face. "I'm already finding some juicy stuff. Shady donations, shell companies, blackmail... oh là là, this is going to be fun."
Hughie, his face illuminated by the glow of his phone, looked up. "I've got a contact at Vought who owes me a favor. He can get this info to the right people. It'll fuck over Vought too even if all of the focus is on the church. An added bonus, really."
Mother's Milk leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "I think I can get us a inside man."
Kimiko, perched silently on a stack of tires, raised an eyebrow, her gaze fixed on Mother's Milk.
"I'm working on it," Mother's Milk reassured her. "I've already got a few leads. There's a high-ranking member who seems a bit disillusioned. I think I can get him to talk."
Butcher nodded approvingly. "Good. We need eyes and ears on the inside. M.M., you're our best bet."
Frenchie's fingers continued to fly across the keyboard. "I've got a location for their main compound. It's heavily guarded, but I think I can find a way in."
Butcher's grin widened. "Perfect. Hughie, you keep feeding the media. Frenchie, you keep digging. M.M., you get cozy with the flock. And Kimiko, my love..." He turned to her, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "You and I are going to pay those bastards a visit."
Kimiko's eyes gleamed with anticipation. She rose silently, her movements fluid and predatory.
Butcher met her gaze, a silent understanding passing between them.
The Boys were ready to strike.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
--A few more days later--
Stan Edgar, a commanding presence as always, didn't mince words.
"I warned you about the risks," he growled, his voice a low rumble that filled the room. "And now look at the mess we're in."
Madelyn Stillwell, usually the epitome of poise, shifted nervously in her seat. "The media is having a field day," she admitted, her voice tight with concern. "They're tearing us apart, questioning our integrity..."
"Integrity?" Ashley Barrett scoffed, her frustration evident. "We lost that the moment we started covering up for these Supes."
Seth Reed, the PR strategist, interjected with urgency, "This is a PR nightmare. Our stock prices are plummeting, sponsors are backing out... We need damage control, fast."
Bill Marsh, known for his stoicism, slammed his fist on the table. "How did this happen? We had everything under control!"
Anika, always focused on data, spoke up from her tablet, "It appears that Billy Butcher is involved. He must've anonymously leaked it to the press. it's spreading like wildfire."
Edgar's jaw clenched in anger. "That bastard. He'll regret crossing us."
Evan Lambert, visibly shaken, posed the question that weighed on everyone's mind, "What do we do now?"
The room fell silent, all eyes turning to Edgar for direction. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for what lay ahead.
"We go on the offensive," Edgar declared, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife. "We discredit the anonymous leak, control the narrative, and ensure the public sees us as the victims here. The Church manipulated us just as they did Kevin."
Madelyn Stillwell nodded in agreement, her resolve firm. "We must portray ourselves as the defenders, the ones who were deceived by the Church's machinations."
Ashley Barrett added, perking up slightly. "Transparency, but on our terms. We can't afford any more leaks."
Rising from his seat, Edgar's voice boomed with authority, "This is a battle for our survival. Vought is essential to the world, and we'll make sure everyone knows it."
The meeting ended with a renewed sense of purpose. The board members, though rattled by recent events, were unified in their mission to safeguard Vought's reputation and dominance. They knew they were up against formidable opponents—Both The Boys and the enigmatic Church of the Collective—but they were prepared to fight fiercely to maintain their position at the top.
They would do everything it took, even if it meant taking lives in the process. It was fine as if they didn't get caught holding the bag full of corpses but instead had Butcher be seen with it. He was seen as a terrorist in the eyes of the law with his troublesome record, anyhow.
-----------------
The news, which suggested that The Deep had disappeared and the Church of Collective might have played a role in it, sparked off controversies on social media. The reactions were pretty mixed all around.
#FreeTheDeep: Worldwide trending hashtag, expressing anger from fans and supporters of The Deep. During this period, many sent out their heartfelt messages while others called for boycotts over Vought and the church.
#JusticeForKevin: There were some users who still wished him well because they believed he had changed in spite of his past misdeeds. They argued against manipulation or abduction by cultists, calling for justice.
#TheDeepIsDone: On the other hand, there were people who saw The Deep's disappearance as an appropriate endpoint to his scandalous career. These individuals highlighted his sexual harassment and abuse track record claiming that he was being paid back in his own coin.
#VoughtCoverUp: Many conspiracy theories sprang up with most users blaming Vought for engineering The Deep's vanishing act so as to either shut him up or conceal their dubious dealings. All feeds were full of memes and satirical posts that were making fun of both Vought and the Church.
#SpaceSporesAreReal: A small group embracing weird explanations about The Deep by the church follower arguing that he is chosen by God for a higher purpose.
~~~~~
How were the seven handling the situation? Their reactions were divided, just like the internet.
Homelander, the Seven's self-proclaimed leader, responded with a mixture of disdain and laughter when he thought anybody wasn't looking. He viewed The Deep's plight as a sign of weakness and confirmation of his own superiority. Secretly, he enjoyed the chaos since it diverted attention away from his own questionable behavior.
But, in public, he of course delivered an impassioned speech about how, even though The Deep had done some terrible things in the past, no one had the right to victimize him. Especially since what they did to him was far worse than what he did to Starlight. After all, even if the Deep was a pervert he had never made any one of his victims disappear.
Queen Maeve, who was already disillusioned with Vought and the superhero lifestyle, felt pity for The Deep, despite his past offenses. She had firsthand knowledge of the company's and church's manipulative influence, and she was concerned about what might happen to him.
She couldn't help but observe Homelander's weirdly pleased demeanor when he thought no one was looking. And a part of her questioned if Homelander was somehow responsible for whatever happened to Kevin, but she disregarded it after learning that the timeframe between his public engagements and Kevin's disappearance lined up, giving Homelander an ironclad alibi even with his superspeed. However, it did reveal how much of a psychopath Homelander was that he'd even get any enjoyment out of this.
A-Train, always quick to seize an opportunity, saw the Deep's departure as an opportunity to advance his own position among the Seven. He outwardly professed his sorrow while secretly hoping that The Deep would not return, leaving an opening for him to exploit.
Starlight, the Seven's newest and most idealistic member, experienced the strongest and most conflicted emotions of the group. On the one hand, she despised The Deep with all her being for what he had done to her. A dark part of her was satisfied that Kevin had finally received what he deserved, and that if he died, he would never victimize anybody else again.
Whereas her heroic side felt differently. She couldn't understand how a fellow superhero could disappear into the hands of a cult, and upon further research, she was shocked to discover that many other fellow superheroes had joined this cult at some point in their life. This means that it could've happened to anyone, therefore even individuals who were completely innocent could have been harmed, and vanished into thin air like this.
She was shocked to find out that she was telling the truth when the local news asked her for a soundbite about it, and she remarked that, while she still resented The Deep, what had happened to him was horrible, as it could have happened to anyone else, and that no one deserved it. Honestly? It made her feel a bit better about herself for her earlier dark feelings that wanted the Deep to be dead. It proved to herself that she wasn't a bad person.
Black Noir: The enigmatic and silent member of the Seven remained an enigma, and his reaction was impossible to predict. He quietly observed the unfolding scenario, his disguised face revealing no emotion.
Stormfront, the Seven's newest member, enjoyed the turmoil. She saw the church's involvement as an opportunity to advance her own extremist agenda, quietly fostering the notion that traditional values were being attacked by radical elements.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Eventually, everything returned to a new normal over time and everything almost went back to the way they were…save for the Church, who had taken a massive hit to their reputation over this.
There were dozens of ex-collectivists who came forward to talk to everyone about how abusive and controlling this church had been, and everyone was reminded of the 2017 movie which had outlined this exact thing happening.
And Vought mentally sighed a breath of relief. They had weathered the storm and came out on top. They had won this battle.
But…. Then…. The skorchers, one of their lamest and most embarrassing super heroes teams, had seemingly vanished into thin air. And this time, there were witnesses.
And so it started up all over again, with all the Supes now fearing that they were next. The two disappearances were seemingly unrelated, but Vought was starting to have a niggling suspicion….
Now normally, when they're sent back, they get put back exactly at the same time they vanished to prevent any disturbances. But if people were to form attachments to this world and become of it the longer they stayed? That's when it becomes more difficult to slot them back into the same time frame they disappeared from. Especially if they were to visibly be older, wear different clothes, etc.
So what would happen if The Deep and the Skorchers never came back?
================================================
Interlude-- Back on Kevin Aka The Deep's homeworld.
What happened while Kevin was away?
------------
The man behind the name "The Deep," Kevin Moskowitz, was the object of scorn for most of his ex-teammates in The Seven and all the Vought executives.
So, okay, he could communicate with the denizens of the sea, breathe underwater, and bear the crushing pressure of the deep ocean, but still, most of the time, he was considered weak by the higher ups. Because after all, on land he was pretty much useless, his super strength aside.
Everyone who knew Kevin considered him a spineless, mindless yes-man. He would say yes to any suggestion provided he could find any benefit for himself, no matter how minor. He was also the man to kiss everyone's ass, ready to oblige if he believed that the person he was yielding to was superior and their reasonable opinion was needed desperately.
In short, he was a himbo who wanted to be a leader but fell embarrassingly short. All that on top of the many sexual assaults he'd committed over the years. Really, he was starting to try Vought's patience now in their efforts at damage control over his criminal faux pas, especially with this Starlight incident.
Really, the only reason why they even kept him around was that Kevin's heartthrob looks and his occasional appeal to both men and women had made him more of a marketable asset. So, when the chance arose to replace him with a Supe that could bring in much more money, the company had almost been relieved.
Yet nobody could predict the tectonic shift that was to happen when this seemingly inconsequential, pathetic character—almost unnoticed—suddenly vanished into thin air. The disappearance would rock the foundations of Vought, the Seven, and the public's perception of superheroes in ways that nobody would've predicted at all.
When Kevin went AWOL, it had been at first, to the Vought PR team, a relief. He'd caused more than his share of scandal lately, and this was one less fire for them to fight. A week became two, then three, before it even tripped the notoriously lax standards at Vought and they realized that Kevin was being suspiciously too quiet. Kevin had to be up to something, right?
A wellness check at Kevin's apartment presented a disturbing scene of every surface coated in dust and the lifeless fish in his aquarium. Even the food in his fridge was all expired and spoiled. All that together made it evident that Kevin had not been home for some time now.
A low-priority investigation had been opened, more out of policy than genuine concern. Initially, the trail was easy to follow. Receipts, security footage, and witness accounts pieced together Kevin's movements until they led them to the imposing office of Alastair Adana, the enigmatic chairman of the Church of the Collective.
He was reported to have entered Adana's office, but no one remembered his leaving. Again this once painted a grim image that even the most amateurish investigators could recognize. Kevin had disappeared into the clutches of some powerful and shadowy organization, and his chances of turning up again were looking less and less likely by the moment.
The revelation of Kevin's disappearance within the Church of the Collective headquarters sent a shockwave through the executive ranks of Vought. The relationship between that company and the cult was always quite a complex one—a delicate dance between convenience and suspicion.
The Church, on the other hand, was a proven valuable ally in the past. With its help, their outré "space spores" theory—with its helpful outs for the origin of superpowers in individuals who did not quite believe the traditional Christian narrative favored by Vought anyhow because they never bought Jesus or God in the first place—allowed them to straddle that broader potential market without losing the benefit of carefully built image and symbology.
But there had always been something in the Church that made Vought uneasy, even while its star rose ever higher. The secret practices and cult-like followers, the unwavering belief in some cosmic destiny for its chosen—these were all big blinking red flags in the minds of even the most cynical executives.
And let's not even get into the fact that the church was becoming more rich and powerful each year… and was easily becoming Vought's rival.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The air in the conference room was so thick with tension that you could almost cut it with a butter knife.
Stan Edgar spoke with his steely gaze on the polished mahogany table: "We've got a problem—Kevin. Or better still, you all might recognize him as The Deep. That fool's gone AWOL, and all signs point to the Church of the Collective, and for all we know, he could be dead."
Madelyn Stillwell kept up a calm front as usual despite the surprise she was feeling and spoke up. "We always knew they were unconventional, but this is a step too far."
Anika spoke up; she headed the Department of Crime Analytics. "They have been going bolder as of late. Their recruitment strategies, the whispers of 'miraculous' healings. It's all a bit too close to our territory."
Ashley Barrett felt her PR instincts tingling. She tried to helpfully contribute to the conversation: "This could be a disaster for our image. The last thing we need is another scandal with the Deep."
"A superhero disappearing into a cult? And probably died as a result? The media would have a field day." Seth Reed, the PR writer, nodded in agreement.
Evan Lambert's colleague continued, "We'd be accused of negligence, incompetence… It could damage our brand irreparably. We're supposed to be the ones who can protect our supers and also dispose of them if they get too out of hand. The reason why the government's always so hands-off with us is because we assured them that we could control our Supers and use them in America's best interests."
Doug Friedman, Edgar's assistant, cleared his throat. "What options do we have?"
Edgar leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled thoughtfully. "We could go public, expose them for what they are. But that risks retaliation. They have powerful friends in high places. Still, the fact that they were so bold as to harm one of our own, even a man like Kevin, cannot go unpunished."
Bill Marsh, a board member, then suggested, "We could try to negotiate with them. Offer them something in exchange for Kevin's safe return. That is, if he's still alive?"
Pat Willis, a fellow board member, laughed out loud. "Negotiate with a cult? They're fanatics! They wouldn't understand the reason."
The only other voice in the room was Maureen, the last among the board members. "Maybe this is an opportunity. We could infiltrate the Church, learn their secrets, and use them to our advantage. And when the time comes, we finally strike and expose them."
The room fell silent as Edgar finally spoke up, considering the options. "We tread carefully: we gather information, assess our leverage, and find Kevin. None of this gets out. We can't have a media frenzy over this."
~~~~~~~~~~
Unfortunately for Vought, The boys found out all of this pretty quickly despite their security measures.
The back room at The Boys' hideout was grubby and thick with cigarette smoke and tension as Billy Butcher slammed a fist on the table, rattling the empty beer bottles. "The bloody Church of the Collective," he spat, his voice dripping with venom. "They've stolen our bloody bait."
There went their plan to use The Deep to embarrass the Seven and Vought by extension.
Frenchie nodded, a far cry from his usually flamboyant manner. "We knew they were sniffing around Vought, but to snatch a Supe? That's a bold move."
Mother's Milk, as usual, was the voice of reason: "This could be a trap.They probably know we're watching them?"
Kimiko, with narrowed eyes, signed off a string of invectives, showing she was not in the mood to put up with any cult talk.
Hughie's boyish face turned white, and he started stammering, "W-w-what do we do now?"
Butcher's lips curled into a sneer. "We go in guns blazing, same as ever. Get the Supe out alive, show up the Church as the hypocritical bloodsuckers they are, and send Vought a message: Fuck with us, face the consequences."
Frenchie's eyes lit dangerously at the thought. "This could be our chance to bring them both down. Two birds, one stone."
Mother's Milk sighed. "It's never that simple, Frenchie. But I trust Butcher's instincts. We go in prepared, we strike at them, and we get out before they know what hit them."
Kimiko cracked her knuckles—a silent promise of violence.
Hughie felt his veins fill with anticipation. This was what they were supposed to do: fight the Supes, unveil the corruption, and make the world a safer place. The Boys were ready for war, and the Church of the Collective was about to feel their wrath.
But first, they had to come up with a plan that wouldn't get them all killed or worse. Butcher's idea of just going in guns blazing didn't exactly fill him with confidence.
~~~~~~~~~~
--in the next following days--
The Church of the Collective's headquarters was an imposing building, its facade a mixture of modern architecture and ancient symbols. It stood as a testament to the cult's growing influence and power, a fortress of secrecy and manipulation. Inside, the atmosphere was one of serene devotion, but beneath the surface, tensions simmered.
Vought's team was a group of highly trained, covert operatives. They moved with precision and purpose, their mission clear: find Kevin and gather intel on the Church's activities. Dressed in inconspicuous civilian clothing, they blended in with the regular members of the Church, attending services and participating in activities to avoid suspicion. Their leader, a seasoned agent named Sarah, coordinated their movements with the aid of state-of-the-art surveillance equipment.
Meanwhile, The Boys approached the situation with their characteristic blend of bravado and ingenuity. Butcher, Hughie, Frenchie, Kimiko, and Mother's Milk had donned disguises as new recruits eager to join the Church. Their plan was to use their inside access to locate Kevin and gather evidence of the Church's malpractices. Butcher, always the strategist, had prepared for various contingencies, but the volatile nature of their mission meant things could go sideways at any moment.
Both groups moved cautiously within the Church's labyrinthine halls. The Vought operatives used their tech to hack into the Church's security systems, gaining access to restricted areas and surveillance feeds.
At the same time, The Boys were gathering information from lower-level members, piecing together the Church's hierarchy and operations.
The first encounter between the two groups happened in a dimly lit corridor. Sarah's team was moving towards Kevin's location when they came face-to-face with Butcher and his crew. For a tense moment, both sides eyed each other warily, hands inching towards concealed weapons.
"Who the bloody hell are you?" Butcher growled, his eyes narrowing at the unfamiliar faces.
"We could ask you the same thing," Sarah replied coolly, her hand steady on her sidearm.
Hughie, recognizing the potential for a disastrous confrontation, stepped forward. "Hey, hey, let's not do this. We're here for the same reason, right? The Deep. We need to get him out."
Sarah paused, considering. "You're with The Boys, aren't you?"
"And you're Vought," Butcher spat. "Great. Just what we needed."
Realizing that a shootout would only jeopardize their mission, both sides reluctantly agreed to a temporary truce. They would work together to extract Kevin and expose the Church, then go their separate ways.
Frenchie quickly tapped into the Church's security grid, disabling cameras and alarms. Kimiko took point, her silent movements making her nearly invisible as she scouted ahead. Sarah's team provided tactical support, using their advanced gear to neutralize guards and bypass locked doors.
They reached what they assumed to be Kevin's cell without incident.Their search led them to the main sanctuary, where Alastair Adana awaited, flanked by his elite guards. "Looking for someone?" he sneered.
"We know you took Kevin," Sarah stated, her tone icy.
Adana's smile faltered. "We thought Vought took him. For being an embarrassment. He disappeared before my eyes, so it was obviously the work of another super."
Butcher stepped forward, anger simmering in his eyes. "What do you mean, 'disappeared'?"
Sarah interrupted, "Vought had nothing to do with this. We came to find him, not to take him."
Adana hesitated at that, and then seemed to realize something. "The space spores... they took him. It must be them."
The room fell silent as everyone processed Adana's words. The Boys and Vought operatives exchanged confused looks.
"What the hell are you talking about?" Hughie asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.
Adana, clearly agitated, continued, "The space spores. The divine agents. They've taken him. It's the only explanation. We thought Vought had a hand in it, but now..."
Butcher's patience was wearing thin. "Enough of this spore nonsense. Where the hell is Kevin?"
Adana's eyes darted around nervously. "I don't know! He was here, and then he was gone. The spores... they must have taken him for a higher purpose."
Butcher couldn't hold back any longer. He burst out laughing, a harsh, mocking sound that echoed through the sanctuary. "Space spores? Are you bloody serious? You actually believe that tripe?"
Adana's face turned red, both from anger and embarrassment. "The space spores are real. They are our divine connection to the cosmos."
Butcher wiped a tear from his eye, still chuckling. "Oh, this is rich. A cult leader who actually buys his own bollocks. What's next? Little green men come to take us to the promised land?"
Hughie tried to stifle his own laughter, while Frenchie and Mother's Milk exchanged amused glances. Even Kimiko allowed herself a slight smile.
Adana's expression hardened. "Mock all you want, but the truth will reveal itself. The space spores are part of a larger cosmic plan."
Butcher stepped closer, his voice low and menacing. "Listen, mate. Whether it's space spores, divine agents, or bloody unicorns, I don't care. We want The Deep back. And if you don't start talking sense, I'll make you see stars the old-fashioned way."
Adana swallowed hard but stood his ground. "I'm telling the truth. We have no idea where he is. The last we saw him, he was acting like a toxic personality and I was about to tell him so, when he just… vanished. Into thin air, just like that. It was like he was never there to start with."
Butcher's smile faded, replaced by a cold, calculating look. "Fine. But mark my words, if we find out you had anything to do with this, you'll wish you'd been taken by your precious spores."
~~~~~~~~~~
Realizing that neither Vought nor the Church had any answers, Butcher and Sarah called for a ceasefire.
Both groups needed to regroup and reassess their strategies.
"We're not done here," Butcher warned Adana. "We'll find out what really happened."
Sarah nodded. "We'll be in touch. And if we find out you had anything to do with this, you'll pay."
The two groups parted ways, each troubled by the unsettling mystery of The Deep's disappearance.
Back at their respective bases, The Boys and Vought operatives pored over the information they had gathered. Which was frustratingly very little. After all, they didn't actually believe the space spores took Kevin.
And with Kevin gone anyways, The boys' plan changed tracks, this time focusing on the Church for now due to how badly they pissed off everyone.
Empty takeout containers littered the table, a haze of smoke hung in the air, and the hum of Frenchie's computer filled the otherwise silent room.
Butcher, perched on a crate, swigged from a bottle of whiskey. "Right, let's get this sorted," he barked, slamming the bottle down. "Frenchie, what have you got?"
Frenchie's fingers danced across the keyboard, his eyes glued to the screen.
"I'm in. Church's servers are a joke. They're practically begging to be hacked." A wicked grin spread across his face. "I'm already finding some juicy stuff. Shady donations, shell companies, blackmail... oh là là, this is going to be fun."
Hughie, his face illuminated by the glow of his phone, looked up. "I've got a contact at Vought who owes me a favor. He can get this info to the right people. It'll fuck over Vought too even if all of the focus is on the church. An added bonus, really."
Mother's Milk leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "I think I can get us a inside man."
Kimiko, perched silently on a stack of tires, raised an eyebrow, her gaze fixed on Mother's Milk.
"I'm working on it," Mother's Milk reassured her. "I've already got a few leads. There's a high-ranking member who seems a bit disillusioned. I think I can get him to talk."
Butcher nodded approvingly. "Good. We need eyes and ears on the inside. M.M., you're our best bet."
Frenchie's fingers continued to fly across the keyboard. "I've got a location for their main compound. It's heavily guarded, but I think I can find a way in."
Butcher's grin widened. "Perfect. Hughie, you keep feeding the media. Frenchie, you keep digging. M.M., you get cozy with the flock. And Kimiko, my love..." He turned to her, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "You and I are going to pay those bastards a visit."
Kimiko's eyes gleamed with anticipation. She rose silently, her movements fluid and predatory.
Butcher met her gaze, a silent understanding passing between them.
The Boys were ready to strike.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
--A few more days later--
Stan Edgar, a commanding presence as always, didn't mince words.
"I warned you about the risks," he growled, his voice a low rumble that filled the room. "And now look at the mess we're in."
Madelyn Stillwell, usually the epitome of poise, shifted nervously in her seat. "The media is having a field day," she admitted, her voice tight with concern. "They're tearing us apart, questioning our integrity..."
"Integrity?" Ashley Barrett scoffed, her frustration evident. "We lost that the moment we started covering up for these Supes."
Seth Reed, the PR strategist, interjected with urgency, "This is a PR nightmare. Our stock prices are plummeting, sponsors are backing out... We need damage control, fast."
Bill Marsh, known for his stoicism, slammed his fist on the table. "How did this happen? We had everything under control!"
Anika, always focused on data, spoke up from her tablet, "It appears that Billy Butcher is involved. He must've anonymously leaked it to the press. it's spreading like wildfire."
Edgar's jaw clenched in anger. "That bastard. He'll regret crossing us."
Evan Lambert, visibly shaken, posed the question that weighed on everyone's mind, "What do we do now?"
The room fell silent, all eyes turning to Edgar for direction. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for what lay ahead.
"We go on the offensive," Edgar declared, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife. "We discredit the anonymous leak, control the narrative, and ensure the public sees us as the victims here. The Church manipulated us just as they did Kevin."
Madelyn Stillwell nodded in agreement, her resolve firm. "We must portray ourselves as the defenders, the ones who were deceived by the Church's machinations."
Ashley Barrett added, perking up slightly. "Transparency, but on our terms. We can't afford any more leaks."
Rising from his seat, Edgar's voice boomed with authority, "This is a battle for our survival. Vought is essential to the world, and we'll make sure everyone knows it."
The meeting ended with a renewed sense of purpose. The board members, though rattled by recent events, were unified in their mission to safeguard Vought's reputation and dominance. They knew they were up against formidable opponents—Both The Boys and the enigmatic Church of the Collective—but they were prepared to fight fiercely to maintain their position at the top.
They would do everything it took, even if it meant taking lives in the process. It was fine as if they didn't get caught holding the bag full of corpses but instead had Butcher be seen with it. He was seen as a terrorist in the eyes of the law with his troublesome record, anyhow.
-----------------
The news, which suggested that The Deep had disappeared and the Church of Collective might have played a role in it, sparked off controversies on social media. The reactions were pretty mixed all around.
#FreeTheDeep: Worldwide trending hashtag, expressing anger from fans and supporters of The Deep. During this period, many sent out their heartfelt messages while others called for boycotts over Vought and the church.
#JusticeForKevin: There were some users who still wished him well because they believed he had changed in spite of his past misdeeds. They argued against manipulation or abduction by cultists, calling for justice.
#TheDeepIsDone: On the other hand, there were people who saw The Deep's disappearance as an appropriate endpoint to his scandalous career. These individuals highlighted his sexual harassment and abuse track record claiming that he was being paid back in his own coin.
#VoughtCoverUp: Many conspiracy theories sprang up with most users blaming Vought for engineering The Deep's vanishing act so as to either shut him up or conceal their dubious dealings. All feeds were full of memes and satirical posts that were making fun of both Vought and the Church.
#SpaceSporesAreReal: A small group embracing weird explanations about The Deep by the church follower arguing that he is chosen by God for a higher purpose.
~~~~~
How were the seven handling the situation? Their reactions were divided, just like the internet.
Homelander, the Seven's self-proclaimed leader, responded with a mixture of disdain and laughter when he thought anybody wasn't looking. He viewed The Deep's plight as a sign of weakness and confirmation of his own superiority. Secretly, he enjoyed the chaos since it diverted attention away from his own questionable behavior.
But, in public, he of course delivered an impassioned speech about how, even though The Deep had done some terrible things in the past, no one had the right to victimize him. Especially since what they did to him was far worse than what he did to Starlight. After all, even if the Deep was a pervert he had never made any one of his victims disappear.
Queen Maeve, who was already disillusioned with Vought and the superhero lifestyle, felt pity for The Deep, despite his past offenses. She had firsthand knowledge of the company's and church's manipulative influence, and she was concerned about what might happen to him.
She couldn't help but observe Homelander's weirdly pleased demeanor when he thought no one was looking. And a part of her questioned if Homelander was somehow responsible for whatever happened to Kevin, but she disregarded it after learning that the timeframe between his public engagements and Kevin's disappearance lined up, giving Homelander an ironclad alibi even with his superspeed. However, it did reveal how much of a psychopath Homelander was that he'd even get any enjoyment out of this.
A-Train, always quick to seize an opportunity, saw the Deep's departure as an opportunity to advance his own position among the Seven. He outwardly professed his sorrow while secretly hoping that The Deep would not return, leaving an opening for him to exploit.
Starlight, the Seven's newest and most idealistic member, experienced the strongest and most conflicted emotions of the group. On the one hand, she despised The Deep with all her being for what he had done to her. A dark part of her was satisfied that Kevin had finally received what he deserved, and that if he died, he would never victimize anybody else again.
Whereas her heroic side felt differently. She couldn't understand how a fellow superhero could disappear into the hands of a cult, and upon further research, she was shocked to discover that many other fellow superheroes had joined this cult at some point in their life. This means that it could've happened to anyone, therefore even individuals who were completely innocent could have been harmed, and vanished into thin air like this.
She was shocked to find out that she was telling the truth when the local news asked her for a soundbite about it, and she remarked that, while she still resented The Deep, what had happened to him was horrible, as it could have happened to anyone else, and that no one deserved it. Honestly? It made her feel a bit better about herself for her earlier dark feelings that wanted the Deep to be dead. It proved to herself that she wasn't a bad person.
Black Noir: The enigmatic and silent member of the Seven remained an enigma, and his reaction was impossible to predict. He quietly observed the unfolding scenario, his disguised face revealing no emotion.
Stormfront, the Seven's newest member, enjoyed the turmoil. She saw the church's involvement as an opportunity to advance her own extremist agenda, quietly fostering the notion that traditional values were being attacked by radical elements.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Eventually, everything returned to a new normal over time and everything almost went back to the way they were…save for the Church, who had taken a massive hit to their reputation over this.
There were dozens of ex-collectivists who came forward to talk to everyone about how abusive and controlling this church had been, and everyone was reminded of the 2017 movie which had outlined this exact thing happening.
And Vought mentally sighed a breath of relief. They had weathered the storm and came out on top. They had won this battle.
But…. Then…. The skorchers, one of their lamest and most embarrassing super heroes teams, had seemingly vanished into thin air. And this time, there were witnesses.
And so it started up all over again, with all the Supes now fearing that they were next. The two disappearances were seemingly unrelated, but Vought was starting to have a niggling suspicion….
Holy god yo came back swinging with this interlude! Its also good to know they straight up are taken!
Aurora Moon
Verfied Insomniac with too much time on her hands
- Location
- USA, Earth
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Yeah, I've been running a Quest over on SB which ate up more of my time than I thought it would. XD