************** Playground 2
We had been at this gas station for four hours already. Or I had since Hookwolf and Firesnake were in the food place across the street after dropping me off. There were two other gas stations nearby, so we'd staked out all three. Those were lesser things, just conventional gas and go places, so the others had simply dropped off bolts of cloth for me to use at the other places.
Here, I had walked through the ladies' rooms and, in a quiet moment, opened the closets they stored the towels and replaced them. They did their laundry in-house, so it was simple to find a cart of fresh towels meant for the men's side and replace those too.
There were lots of clothes on the racks, meant for truckers passing through but the occasional touristy or college-themed items were on display. I had pretended to browse them, replacing materials <ahem> whole cloth. Even a truck stop has customer service, so I did buy one sweatshirt and then sat down to munch on chips and a drink. I had just gotten an update from Dragon noting that there was a disturbance in the sensor grid we'd set up at the offramp just before the visible police checkpoint a few miles further on the interstate.
Squealer had been so proud of her invisibility tech that she'd not improved it over the years. Although it wasn't producible, Dragon had engineered detectors to the frequency range used. While this did not outright 'find' them, it had enabled our side to narrow down the possible roads used for the vehicle. They had avoided mid or larger sized towns as well, so that too helped eliminate alternates.
Which was all well and fine, but someone had also set up an ambush here at the Truckstop, and very nearly gotten me. They did knock out all the civilians in the truck stop itself, yet they were breathing and unhurt.
I was down as well, although not affected by the drug as soon as I switched to full Blanket mode. I left my clothes the same, just going to a crochet form of my person. My hair stayed much the same as it was woven in braids after all.
Moving my head up a smidge, I could see next to me was an older man and his wife. There were tears forming at the corner of his eyes as he tried to turn his head to look at her. His mouth moved slightly as he tried to speak I suppose.
On my comm, I noted quietly. "Someone else is attacking. Civilians down all over, unconscious or close to it."
This area of the store had carpeting, so I made it part of myself, then added their clothes to give them a hug. Opening mini gates I dropped them --clothed!-- into Blanket Space in my house. Dragon was there with Panacea, monitoring how things were going. We had other surprises ready to go in there as needed, but if they never got deployed I won't be lying if I don't mention them in the report.
Feeling the carpet around me I nab other patrons of the store. Outside the carpeted area I use a tossed ball of nylon rope (which is braided so it counts as weaving dammit) to reach others, taking in the last few of the civilians still in the store. Each got a hug to fix whatever was in the air that knocked them out and almost got me.
****************
Sitting up and looking around confused, Franklin Smith ignored the strange carpet they were on to check Hattie. She was rousing slower than he had, but her eyes were clearer than they'd been for years. And she wasn't coughing. It seems like she'd been coughing and using the oxygen for so long. Wait. Where was her oxygen?!
She smiled up at him though. "My hero." She took in him leaning over her protectively. "What happened?"
"Hattie old girl," Franklin was near deadpan as his vision took in the details of the hugely proportioned house, the couch he would have to use a step stool to get onto, the magazine on the cushion, looking like a book of posters. "I don't think we are in Kansas anymore."
She pushed him out of the way a little. "We weren't in Kansas you old fart." Sitting up, she saw behind him a woman sitting in a comfy chair out of his view. The woman was nine feet tall if she was an inch, with a bit of wing poking out on one side.
The Simurgh, albeit in lipstick and wearing a polka dot sundress, lifted her glass of lemonade in a toast.
Hattie lifted a hand to turn Franklin's head and pointed. They both were very quiet, reminiscent of a mouse catching sight of a cat.
"♪♫?" The woman spoke. Then she frowned a moment, slowly enunciating. "Would ♪ you ♪ like ♫ some?"
Other voices gasping in surprise or fear sounded around them. Franklin and Hattie both recognized the three kids from the candy aisle in the store. The cashier that had patiently given them directions. The man drinking a cup of coffee that had been sitting at the counter by the entrance.
"Attention please!" A young woman in white robes with a red cross symbol on them spoke up. "My name is Panacea. You are all safe and won't be harmed. The gas station you were in was under threat so you were evacuated here."
Huh. Franklin thought to himself. Not a cape watcher, but he recognized the costume from TV. And there had been something in the news about some teenager --of all people-- capturing the Simurgh.
She approached and offered Hattie her hand. "May I have permission to heal you?"
Only Hattie's hand on his kept him from obstructing. She smiled at the freckles and brown hair, the open face with no lies hiding behind it. Not like her doctors. It was why they were on this trip, one last scratch for their wanderlust before Cancer did her in.
Smiling. "You are fine, really. Blanket does a bang-up job. Just some residuals from the knockout gas used on you."
"By who?" Franklin heard himself ask.
She pressed her hand to his in reassurance, while checking him as well. "We don't know at the moment. Let me get back to you on that."
Panacea stood up and turned to the rest of the people there, maybe fifteen. "You are all safe here in the house in Blanket Space. Don't mind HER," She used her thumb over the shoulder to indicate the Simurgh, "She's a longtime guest here. As long as you don't make trouble she won't bother you."
Hattie was taking deep breaths without coughing, that was a win. He had stood without that ache in his hip and foot kicking up a fuss. It was dreamlike, the quiet in this place other than their own voices and some low noise from a television.
Of the people around them, only one was frowning, the man who had been drinking coffee.
The Simurgh smiled at the people, but when it came to him she raised an eyebrow. Her attention returning to the Television caught Franklin's attention as he recognized part of the men's room he'd been to not but ten minutes ago.
****************
I'd evacuated the gas station and no one had come back in, so I was just starting to move into the shower areas (not carpeted, duh) when the singing started. For a brief moment, I thought Simmie had broken her agreement to stay in Blanket Space, but this was opera, not the wordless song she used.
I recognize it after a moment. It is from the Ring of the Nibelung. My German is nowhere near the needed level, but I remember reading pieces to match the music Mom brought home. This sounds like the Rhinemaidens singing "Come beloved, laugh with us…"
It was the same kind of crescendo used in Ride of the Valkyrie.
And on the loudest part, the glass in the store shattered into thousands of fragments. They slashed this way and that, alive like bees in a swarm, moving through the open areas en masse and then out into the morning air.
Stumbling a moment blinded, I felt them try to cut me, but I was made of Endbringer fiber now, warned by some inner recognition of the danger.
As the air cleared I rushed into the men's area, taking in multiple bloodied forms. Only the mirrors were glass but these people had no protection on. I grabbed the towels and used them to wrap and hug them to health, opening a portal to shove them through to the house in Blanket Space.
"More coming through. Injured but stabilized. Shatterbird is on scene." I speak as I work, letting the detachment of the medical worker I had been training to be keep me from breaking down at the sight of injured kids in the adjoining men's room.
Dragon's voice answering was firm. "That is more than you can handle Blanket. Clear the building of injured and then evacuate yourself."
"That's a negative Dragon. I am seeing this through." I'd moved onto the women's section.
A lot of these women had tattoos and piercings, more than I would have thought normal for this part of America. I hope they can forgive me for my slapdash healing.
Each of the mutilated women who had the noted tats was already in tatters themselves. Having unblemished canvas with no scars had to offset the loss of the tattoos when I healed, right?
Too bad, so sad. Sue me for saving your life will you?
I took them into Blanket Space as well, AFTER making sure I clothed them in something. Most of them in the bathrooms were wearing clothes, just chewed up, but the shower room women got whatever came to hand resized to them. I hope I didn't swap their belongings too much.
Now, I am pretty sure Skidmark got out --probably had a resistance to the gas due to long exposure to various forms of recreational pharmaceuticals. If Squealer was in this group, I didn't recognize her, but that may be a blonde wig in her cape activities.
"Check the evacuees for identity. Squealer may be mixed in." I note.
****************
Brad and Abu were in the diner area of the gas station across the way. The first thing that caught his attention was seeing a skinny black man in a towel running out the side entrance. Moments later a blonde in two towels ran out, one hand on each. She wasn't bad looking but that wasn't why he started easing out of his seat.
It was the man and girl coming out of the store's front entrance. They didn't look strange at all, she was skipping over toward an RV holding a pair of Slurpies in cups. It was that everyone they passed just dropped like they'd been marionettes and their strings were cut.
Brad and Abu both locked eyes and nodded as Blanket spoke over the comms.
Her voice was clear and calm. "Someone else is attacking. Civilians down all over, unconscious or close to it."
Brad was extruding metal all over his body without thought, preparing for action when a cold voice spoke while poking a piece of cold metal into his underarm in one currently clear spot. "Why don't you just take it down a notch son, while I figure out what is happening here."
Hands raised, he turned his head enough to see a greying sheriff and note the .357 held there calmly.
Abu spoke up first. "You are not helping. Br-- I mean Hookwolf is not here to be breaking the law. WE are here to apprehend fu-gi-tives." He sounded right proud of himself for using those words he had learned during planning.
The Sheriff firmed up a little at that. "I heard you got a pardon for stuff on the department grapevine." His eyes tracked down to Abu. "Also heard you was a racist but that was from the news." His voice told volumes of how he felt about that. "What is going on over there? Or what do you know about it?"
"What, I don't know. We are here to stakeout for a busload of fugitives…" Brad started. This was about as far as he got before the opera singing started.
The voice carried strangely like it was coming from every piece of … glass … A long life is formed by reactions and instincts. The Sheriff knelt down, pulling Abu out of the booth to the floor.
Hookwolf considered mimicking him a moment but saw the waitress at the counter the few people eating there watching their Sheriff. The quicker minded among them were diving down for the floor.
Spreading his metal out wide, Hookwolf took on his full form of spinning metal blades and blocked the plate window with his mass. With one long 'leg' free he plucked the pitcher of coffee from the waitress and held it in hand as the opera rose to a crescendo.
"Close your eyes and cover!" He got out as the glass window turned into a storm of fragments. His body blocked it but the edges of the mess leaked around, seeking out the positions where people had just been. His leg, still in front of the waitress, was the only reason she wasn't flayed alive.
The glass storm petered out, though the singing was still in evidence.
The cries of injured people began but the burly old Sheriff called for quiet. "Now hush. It's Shatterbird and you know she doesn't travel alone. That means you stay quiet, get in the back and lock the doors." He turned to Brad. "You planning to tussle with them?"
"No choice really. My ride is in the middle of it and it is a long walk home." The grinning metal wolf face answered.
"You want me to keep an eye on your kid?" Even bleeding a little on one shoulder the old guy was all gristle and grit. Brad liked him immediately.
"He's not going to go for that. Best not get in his way either." Hookwolf spoke, looking out the window.
Abu was tying on his mask, pulled from the little backpack. He already had on the long sleeve jacket Blanket had made him. He just needed to add the gloves to finish his 'costume'. Flickers of flaming snakes formed up around him as he got up and moved toward the front door.
"I am the Firesnake. And I will be keeping an eye on you." He seemed firm. "Go help Blanket, I have the range from here."
"Right." Brad eased out of the window his metal expanding slightly. Against the Slaughterhouse Nine --which was the only possibility when Shatterbird was involved. The pardon was nice, the time at the cabin was nicer, but it looked like Murphy was coming to call. "Fuck it. Karma and all that."
He was only mildly surprised when one big green truck across the way began unfolding into a surprisingly insect-like thing on multiple legs.
Taking his first steps in that direction he was somewhat startled to see the thing that HAD to be Crawler pry open the bus they had been trying to capture and pull a --well-- squealing blonde out of it.
The form threw the woman into the part that had been the cab of the truck, somewhere between mouthparts and a pouch formed under the main head. The back of the truck had many legs and seemed to be made up of separate sections, the legs were less like you would see on a caterpillar and more like some nightmare of a millipede with hints of grasshopper thrown in. Thorny, spiked protrusions everywhere.
It turned to clearly orient on him as he began to move closer.
Front legs looking like a praying mantis the front half of the beast raised up in a stance closer to that as well. The voice that came out was gravelly and hard to understand. "Are rue reahdy to umble?"
Hookwolf ground to a stop just outside of the civilian vehicles and the few people downed around and in them. "What?" He pantomimed one foot lifting to his ear. "Can't hear you."
The green-colored monstrosity ambled to the side, daintily stepping over the unconscious people as Hookwolf's movement angled toward the empty field. One Limb came forward to its mouth, and the blond was spit into a palm made of sections midway down the limb. That would make the praying mantis claw to be one finger of the limb.
"Hard to talk with my mouth full." A massive shrug. "Spoiling for a fight though. Jack said to make it sporting, so I can't kill the girl here and you can't RESCUE her unless you kill me."
Shit eating grin.
"I ain't here to rescue her you big green dipshit. I'm here to capture or maybe accidentally kill her and her crew for trying to escape." Hookwolf growled back. Fucking knights and damsels in distress bullshit.
"Doesn't change the rules in my mind. You ready?" Crawler flipped the girl back into the midst of his mouthparts.
Her scream was cut off as he smiled once more, showing her now bare ass like she was a living mouthguard. The thing brought up multiple legs up front, waving them more like a pugilist. In the back of his mind, he heard Bugs Bunny saying "Put up your dukes."
That thing had a lot of legs. And Hookwolf had the memory of the last fight he lost was because his opponent had a lot of arms. Blanket. His grin took on a different light as he considered how to save the woman while ending Crawler. Showing her 'safety' was a weak spot would open him up to hostage tactics. And honestly, anyone inside Crawler's mouth was a write off waiting to happen.
Hookwolf leaned forward while he changed his outward look. From each shoulder, he sprouted a tendril of metal, something like a wing but with the feathers trailing off its individual tendrils of metal blades.
Hookwings.
The monster in front of him seemed to approve, clapping happily, then waving him in with the universal "Come at me, bro!"
Snarling, Hookwolf lunged in.
****************
Trainwreck, okay 'Wreck' was his name, but he still thought of himself as such, woke up from his nap in the back of the bus. Shouting broke the morning quiet. It had been quiet too. Quieter than a truck stop should be. Even with soundproofing made be a Tinker. No glass on this ride, she prefers bulletproof on all things that she puts between herself and the law.
The front door of the bus was open now.
Cursing. Must be Skids.
He almost went back to sleep. Then a blinking light in the corner of his vision registered. Drugs. Surging upright, he triggered the adrenal syringe not too unlike an eppy pen and he was fully awake and staying that way. The burn of the injection site if nothing else. He thumped Sniff awake with a slap to the chest across the passage between rows.
Skids was IN the bus, stopping midway to open one of the overheads. The gun rack.
That bad?
"Ambush." Oh, he was saying more than that, but that was the one sensible English word coming out of the train of profanity streaming by. The mask Butcher told him to wear. The golden handgun, a variant on the Desert Eagle. Then he grabbed the case with the lock on it. That meant he was REALLY fucking serious.
Wreck turned to check on Animos, finding that he was missing --probably went inside for a shower too. Braze was also gone. Shit.
Turning up his own steam production in the core armor, Wreck put one of his stubby feet into the leg extension. His own stubby right arm locked into the bigger arm unit as well. Each locked in with a hiss.
Sniff was awake and watching Skids as he wrestled with the case. He leaned out into the row to look past and saw that Squealer made it into the bus. She was grabbing her toolbag, doing something with the keys when the whole bus lurched.
The door was ripped off of the frame by something vaguely claw-like. Then the same green claw thing reached in and grabbed her like Fay Wray in King Kong, screaming as she was pulled out.
Skid's profanity trailed off a moment as he took that in.
With a final sounding click, he finished opening the case, pulling things from within.
"That shit ain't right." Was all he said.
Considering, he locked eyes with Wreck. "The armory is open. Party favors all around." he then fucking tossed one of those stick things to Wreck, one of the ones he said not to fucking carry around --or even be around-- like it was nothing. "Pull the pin. Throw three fucking miles." His smile was vicious.
"Do I get one?" Sniff asked.
Skids stopped, his shoulders drooping a moment as he went full Kid Rock of the newb. "No, YOU don't fucking GET ONE you ass goblin. Do I trust you not to blow this motherfucking bus up like the wet cumshuffle you are? NO!" He pointed his gun at the other side of the aisle at the weapons locker. "That said, get yourself a grenade launcher and make yourself useful."
As he turned it was clear he was moving partially on adrenalin as raw bleeding shoulders came into view. "Shoot me a glass bitch and watch out for what grabbed Squealer. The Nine are here to party," He cocked his gun for emphasis, "and I mean to be the fucking LIFE of the party."
"Vex. We need cover." Wreck noted.
"On it." Vex stayed quiet and focused, putting up a screen around the bus.
****************
Above the truck stop, singing while gathering a whole wave of bottles and shards from the recycling center down the road, Shatterbird sang her arias --doing both the female and the male voices from the Opera she was playing. She particularly liked Albrecht and the whole 'death of love' vibe he gave off.
She got to play the introduction and then set the stage to hold off any fast responders or meddling bystanders. But she wasn't the main player in this game, nor was Crawler below, who at least got someone to play with. They were auditioning from a group --poaching from a troupe of lesser performers that were poised to break into the big leagues.
Oh, look! Two vans no doubt FULL of interlopers was barreling down the road. The lead was already looking like she was going to get to play some more, while the second slowed and seemed ready to turn off to the side.
Oh, that was odd. The leading van had a sunroof on it, wide open and there was someone looking at her with binoculars! Shatterbird posed a moment before changing her song to add more layers of glass around her, all but blocking the view of her in a moment.
Snipers were a thing after all.
She was not ready for a sudden change in air pressure. Cool morning air to the heated interior of the van. Safe covering of glass to nearly naked on the vinyl tarp covering the seating.
Her eyes widened at the young woman before her, all of her. It was one body, that was clear, but there were six smiling faces in view. All were connected by thick umbilical like cord where they didn't just blend together hip by hip or arm joined by arm.
"Oh, aren't you adorable!" Shatterbird said with a heavy breath. "Bonesaw will just eat you up!"
Mythos blinked, several of her heads turning to look at each other. The sound of Trickster sliding back into his seat in the front passenger position broke her momentary nonplus.
"Funny you mention
that," Mythos spoke.
Behind Shatterbird's own head, the seventh head of Noelle Rheinhard opened jaws wider than any human's should.
There was a bit more struggle than was expected. Apparently, there was some kind of augmented spinal column in there as well.
Trickster smiled to himself, thinking the tarp was a good idea at least. He mentally added more paper towels to the shopping list.
****************
From her vantage down the road, Miss Placed gaped. She had overwatch and had just started calculating her portion of the reward for taking down the Nine, or any of them really when the figure in front of her CHANGED.
Shatterbird had globed up her armor protections. Miss Placed had almost moved aside her sniper scope in disgust when she saw the figure under all the glass switch out to a darker coloring. Instead of the white dress under glass as before, it was tactical gear.
The figure now falling, struggled out of the glass pieces and then deployed a parachute. It was one of those emergency chutes, similar enough to the one she wore in her harness just in case. The man's fall arrested and she noted him steering himself AWAY from the truck stop.
Definitely him. The brown beard had said male to her in a way that the white skin under the goggles said 'not damn Shatterbird'. Someone had beaten her to the prize.
Her scope moved down to the only moving things on the road. Two vans, together she supposed, one in the lead a bit while the other slowed.
On her scope the lead van wiggled a moment, portions of the windshield turning red.
Ew.
"This is Miss. Shatterbird got taken out by a third party. Repeat, another set of players coming on the scene in two vans. She was replaced by a man, ported into the van and offed by the look. Dragon, you have anything like that on file?"
Miss Placed rolled away from her position and ported to another spot on the far side of the truck stop. No reason to assume she hadn't been spotted, but they couldn't keep eyes on with the blood spray. Better safe than dead with assumptions.
"...Placed, there is a record of a cape known as Trickster that can exchange equal mass. He is wanted in several states for robbery and assault, no further rap sheet items of interest." Her voice took on a hopeful note, "An opportunistic bounty hunter?"
Miss Places blushed. "Was I talking out loud when I estimated my part?"
The silence on the line said it all.
A/N Shoot me, the Halloween event is in full swing on Homecoming. Four levels to reach 50, unlocking incarnate slots, 400+ merits and 712 threads in one day. ONE DAY.
