Lars Princess Kittyhawk sat on the bed, legs pressed together, claws digging into her knees.
Vice wasn't there. Kittyhawk couldn't remember why. Why did he leave? Something about the car? Why would he leave? She broke down. She confessed. He won. She couldn't fight her own body.
Her heart beat louder in her ears as her legs began to twitch. Her toes curled and uncurled as the muscles in her sex clenched impotently over and over. She needed…
She needed.
Heavy breathing left her mouth dry. She was panting, tongue lolling out. The heat was driving her insane. It had driven her insane. She could barely think anymore, just waiting in sexual agony until Vice came back. Why didn't he come back? She'd been good. She did everything he asked; she took out Assault! She didn't kill him! She kept him alive so he could eventually suffer the same as she was. Serves him right for laughing.
She writhed and fell forward onto the bedcovers. She opened her mouth, bit hard into her blankets, and screamed.
"MMMMmmmmmmrrrrrrrrrrrMMMMMMMHHHMMMMMMMM!"
The sound was muffled entirely.
She understood now, why Brad had given in. The heat must have gotten to be too much for her. She ground her tiny, sensitive breasts against the bed, her claws plucking at the threads of the blanket as her hands clenched.
A hand placed itself on her back. Without thinking, she turned and swiped at it with claws made of air. She barely recognized Vice's mask before her hand stopped itself, claws dissipating into a strong breeze that whipped at his hair.
"Vice!" She yelped. "Where did you come from? Where did you go?!" She asked, feeling some sense of perverse abandonment.
"...cotton-eye joe…" Vice muttered to himself. "I was finding a place to hide the car. I told you that already."
"That doesn't matter! I… I need you. I need you now." She swallowed. She sounded so desperate. "Please. I was good! I Did everything you asked. I was good, right? I did what you wanted. I'm doing what you want. Please. I just-"
Vice narrowed his eyes, all 4 of them. The bottom notch on the left side had opened, revealing a dull green eye, almost mossy in color.
He then leapt onto the bed.
Kittyhawk squealed as she bounced into the air involuntarily. She fell flat on her back with Vice lying next to her.
He placed a hand on her chest, and began to pet her.
"Umph!" She moaned, as his hand ran up and down her chest all the way to her belly, stopping just above her sex.
"You, Princess Kittyhawk," He intoned, the name tickling the insides of her ear, "Did so well. Took out the problem cape with aplomb, and you got it all. On. Camera."
All her muscles tensed as she tried to push her warm nethers into his petting hand, but it kept moving back upwards towards her breasts. "Everyone saw…" she whimpered.
"Oh, yes they did. You must have looked so cute, and so terrifying." What, her? Scary? How?
His hand reached further up, scratching her beneath her chin. It felt so good. And yet she still felt like she was on fire. What was he doing?
"Stop teasing me!" Why did he feel the need to humiliate her further? Wasn't it enough? She could feel the blood rush to her face again.
He brought his other hand up to her face and cupped her cheeks. "I mean every word, my lovely little Kittyhawk." His other hand moved downwards across her body, back down to her needy little sex. "You've been such-"
He brought his face in close, and, as his thumb rubbed up against her lower lips, he spoke.
"-a good kitty."
Her legs kicked at the blankets as she writhed as her arousal reached new heights, yet somehow not bringing her over the edge.
"Please-" she moaned.
"Good kitty," he said again, rubbing in and around her sex. The pleasure kept building again. She couldn't get a single word out, everytime she tried to speak, to beg him to just fuck her already, all that came out were moans and grunts.
She forced her eyes shut and pressed herself into his hands. A soft purr emanated from her body.
She didn't know how long he did that, just rubbing up and down her body, across her back, over her wings, against her stomach. All the while, saying "Good Kitty," over and over and over and over…
She started to feel sick with pleasure. All this was only making her heat worse, the waves of pleasure and desire crashing into each other until she was just shaking on the bed.
Finally, his hands left her body, as she laid on the bed, breathing hard.
She finally found enough moisture in her mouth to swallow. "Please, just…" She pleaded.
"Yes?" He said, sitting on the edge of the bed.
He was going to make her say it again. That's what he wanted. More than the sex. He wanted her to admit it. Again. That she needed him.
She sat up, looked at him-
There was a phone in his hands. Her phone. Her empire burner.
She froze. "Where did you get that?"
"Oh, this?" He asked. "Someone left it under the couch. I could hear it vibrating underneath." He flipped it open. "Lots of missed calls from a Mister 'K-S-R' on here. Wonder who that could be?"
Panic flooded her veins. Did he think she betrayed him somehow? She hadn't! She couldn't!
"No!" she squealed. "I didn't answer it! I didn't call anyone! I did everything you asked, please!" She couldn't take it anymore. She scrambled over his coat, trying desperately to take the phone out of his hands. They were too short to reach.
In a single lighting-fast move, Vice trapped her underneath his shoulder, pinning her against his body.
"Reeeeelax," he said, fiddling with her phone as she wriggled in his grip, pressing herself against him. For a moment, just a moment, she felt a murderous impulse rise up within her. She wanted to shove a claw into Vice's body and watch him explode. She wanted to drag him into the sky and drop him so he went splat. She wanted to tear him apart. And then his hand reached under her belly again and went scritch scritch scritch and the desire was gone.
"So," he asked, still looking through her contacts. "What happened to the bell on your collar?"
She went stiff in his arms. He knew. She cursed herself from last night. She should have just stayed! She shouldn't have gone for help! And now he was going to leave her in desperate pleasure instead of railing her on his cock until she exploded from the force of the orgasm-
"Augh!" she cried.
Vice dropped her on the bed again and pinned her, a single hand pressing her stomach against the bed. "Someone's been nighttiming, eh?"
Before she could give a single excuse, or apology, the phone started to buzz in Vice's hand.
Bzzzzzzz.
He spared it a second's glance. "Seems your old boss is calling again. Should I answer it?"
She struggled against him. "Please, you win, you already won, just stop-"
He pressed the phone against her cunt.
BZZZZZZZ.
Her body shook and roiled again. The buzzing cut out. She imagined grabbing it, opening it, screaming for help. The thought was interrupted by her imagining one of Kaiser's iron spikes jutting out from the receiver, killing her instantly. Could Kaiser do something like that? She didn't know. Maybe?
"No!" She thrashed.
"Alright, I'll just let it ring."
BZZZZZZZZZ.
"AHHH!" She mewled.
The pleasure built again. She felt like a flooding Dam, an unspeakable pressure behind her, but unable to break.
She pressed herself against the phone as far as Vice would let her. Electric tingles flew down her legs as it buzzed again.
"MMMHHHHHHHH!" She bit her lips to force her mouth closed as she squealed. She kept her snatch clamped down on it, preventing it from ever opening, even accidentally.
She continued clenching her legs around the phone, but nothing happened. The buzzing had stopped.
"Ah, it must have went to voicemail. Too bad. Should I call back?"
Princess Kittyhawk panted hard, drool soaking into her own bedsheets. Exquisite sexual agony crawled up and down her spine. "Why are you doing this?" She pleaded. She couldn't do anything. All he was doing was torturing her for his own amusement. She was helpless!
He owned her!
The thought ran through her head, over and over again.
He removed the phone from her sex, covered in her juices. Her face was splattered by her own feminine precum as he flicked it open again.
"You know," he began, "I'm starting to suspect you might be enjoying this."
She almost screamed. Almost. Instead, all that came out was a startled "What?"
"Yep." He said, continuing to fiddle with the phone. Kittyhawk pulled herself up to a sitting position. "Call it a hunch."
She bit her lip again. Did she- no, of course not. This was humiliating. Excruciating. Arousing to the point of being almost painful.
But what would give her relief faster? Vice wanted her to play along right? But if she played along then he would continue teasing her, arousing her, bringing her right to the edge. But if she didn't play along he'd punish her by teasing her, arousing her-
Her breathing got heavy again. There was no way out. She pressed her thumb underneath her collar, pulling it away just a little, so a bit of air ran through the fur on her neck. She let it snap back into place.
She swallowed. "I… I don't want this." Her voice was quivering. She used to be a man! God, what was wrong with her?
"Really?" Vice asked with mock surprise. "I suppose you want your human body back?" He leaned in close. "Wings taken away?"
She didn't dare speak. She felt the feathers on the end of her wings twitch.
"Or…" he continued. "Perhaps you're still just too loyal to the empire. Still itching to fight for the white race, huh?"
It sounded so ridiculous when he said it.
She panicked. "No! I'm loyal to you! I'm loyal to you!"
"See, I'm not sure I believe you. Maybe It's best If I gave some of your empire friends a call, have them come pick you up, hmm?" He held up the phone again. "Ah, but would they believe me?"
He tapped his fingers against his knees. "Perhaps… I might need to send them a picture."
She froze. No. He couldn't.
He pointed the phone at her. A small black lens, smeared with her drippings, stared back at her. About to capture her.
"Ah, I almost forgot one thing."
Vice dug through one of his coat pockets until he brought a small gold chain, spoils from the bank. For a second, her body convulsed, and she imagined him putting her on a leash, yanking at her collar to get her in the picture frame.
Vice reached forward, and then clenched the gold chain in his palm. The chain seemed to absorb into it. The flesh of his hand smeared with Brad's power.
When he opened his hand again, there was a small, golden bell sitting in it.
"Come here," he said. Dread and anticipation flooded her. But she couldn't stop herself from obeying.
So what if she used to be a man? Or a Nazi? Or a Murderer? None of that helped her right now! What was she going to do, call him slurs until he let her orgasm?
She was willing to do anything at this point. Anything to make him happy. Anything to make him take her on this bed right now.
He grabbed a hold of her collar with one hand, and with the other, he affixed the new bell to it. His fingers pressed against her neck. She breathed in his scent. It smelled like ink and smoke, with the underlying musk of human exertion. Not stress sweat or fear sweat, but the comparatively mild smell of someone who had been for a light jog, or had been out working in a garden.
He held her head in his hands for a moment, fingers tickling her gossamer whiskers, before letting her go. She fell back to a sitting position on the bed, with the bell jangling as she settled.
The phone's speakers played a small, digital imitation of a camera shutter.
"Well now, would you look at that?"
He turned the phone around, and showed her what she was.
Spoiler: Image
Needy. Horny. Dripping wet. A pet. Sexy. A pet. Eager. Owned. Winged. Exposed. Free. Enslaved. The one who humiliated Assault, humiliated in turn. Stronger than Stormtiger ever was. Weak in the knees. The image seared itself into her brain.
She tried to imagine her old face making the expression she was making now, and laughed.
"Cute, aren't you?"
Yes. Cute. So cute. So fucking cute. With her wet pussy and swollen breasts and her blushing face.
"Now who should I send this to…?"
Before Vice could complete his thought, she swiped at the phone, a claw of air splitting it in half and sending it flying into the wall, reduced to cheap plastic and circuits.
Princess Kittyhawk looked at the phone, panting, shaking, wracked with desire. Some part of her screamed that she had just screwed up, that he would just get mad, torture her more, leave her needy for hours, days, for the rest of her life. Thoughts that only made her hornier, somehow.
Vice looked at her. His eyes betrayed nothing.
Then, slowly, he undid the button on his pants, and let them slide to the floor, leaving his cock exposed. A small, sensual rod that was rapidly growing.
"Why, Princess," he said, obviously entertained by this turn of events. "Do you realize what you've done?"
His coat and shirt fell to the floor. He leaned over her, causing her to fall prone against the bedsheets. He was pinning her again.
There was no escape. She nodded eagerly. She finally understood what he wanted. More than acquiescence.
He wanted devotion.
"That was your last chance to call for help, wasn't it?"
It wasn't. She could still fly away, try to get Melody, or James. But she wouldn't. Not after seeing that photo. Not after feeling this way.
"Y-yeah!" She stuttered. "It's what I've been saying! You win! I'm yours. You own me!" She cried.
Vice pressed her body into hers fully, before slowly lining up his cock with her aching, burning hole.
Her arousal reached a peak so great it destroyed her ability to truly think. She wrapped her legs around him and began to hump at him until she finally managed to get his dick in her. She grinded against him, taking his length inside herself.
He said something, but all she heard was the last two words.
"...Good Kitty."
Her pleasure spiked. He began to thrust in time with her. Her entire body began to lift up and slam back down on the bed as he lifted her entire body weight with each thrust. His hand gripped the back of her head and shoved her into the crook of her neck.
"Good Kitty".
Air rushed past her with each thrust, the wind in the room kicking up again. Horny yowling spilled out of her mouth. Pure animalistic noise. She imagined Brad hearing her, and then she imagined Brad joining in. Bodies pressed against hers. More warmth, more flesh.
All words were beyond her, except two.
"Good Kitty."
For a brief moment she imagined this would last forever, the endless thrusting and grunting and yowling. Just the two of them, locked together in eternal pleasure.
Finally, the dam broke. She felt his dick spasm inside her, and then she felt like she had been struck by some orgasmic lightning. She cried out as she came.
The afterglow spread across her body like a warm summer breeze. The edges of her fingers and toes tingled.
She laid there, breathing in the musk of the bedroom. Vice's eyes stared into hers, filling her vision.
He pressed his mask against her face, and said the two words again.
"Good kitty."
At the mere mention of the syllables, phantom sensations of Vice's hands up and down her body assaulted her. Her pussy clenched down on his cock, still hard, and she felt her arousal mingle with the afterglow to create a new flavor of aching need.
It wasn't enough.
"I think you still need a little more. Hmm?"
She couldn't even scream "Yes!" before he began to thrust again.
"Uhn!" She worked her pussy on his cock, trying to bring him to climax as fast as possible. Fluids dripped down both of their legs and onto the bed as his cock crowded out everything else inside her.
Almost too soon, they brought each other to orgasm again. White hot pleasure nearly blinded her.
Neither of them stopped fucking during the whole thing. A new climax was already building during the old one.
She came. Again. She needed more. So he fucked her again. On and on he went, trying to put out a fire that burned faster than he could hope to extinguish.
They just kept going, climax to climax to climax, as Kittyhawk moaned over and over again. The orgasms began to merge together until she was drowning in a haze of impossible pleasure. The desire in her loins grew at the same speed as her satisfaction.
Eventually, the haze began to lift. Awareness of her body, beyond the white hot star of lust between her legs, returned to her at last.
She was laying on her side, wings folded up behind her on the bed. Occasionally, they twitched without her input. Her arms dangled off the bed in front of her. She tried to clench her paws into fists, only to find they would go limp after just a few seconds.
With herculean effort, she tilted her head to look down at herself. Her fur was matted with sweat and cum, and her pussy was raw and slick. Even now, it radiated both need and pleasure, but it was muted, like the hot embers after a house fire, ready to flare to life with just a little oxygen.
She tried to move her legs. All that happened was her hips made a slight bucking motion, like they had forgotten how to do anything else.
He'd fucked the ability to move out of her. She was left sitting on the bed, each muscle unable to move her more than a few inches. She could rub herself against the sheets, and that was about it.
Where was Vice? She tried to call out, but only a slight wheeze left her lips. Her mouth was so dry, and her tongue was somehow just as tired as the rest of her. So she just laid there. Stewing in the juices. She summoned up a breeze with her power, feeling the chill against all the wet spots on her fur.
She could hear a bath starting in her bathroom. Did Vice just leave her here? Fucked her senseless and then just left her behind like some sort of sex doll?
She tried to clench a fist in anger again, only for it to fall limp just the same. All she could do was take it. Vice was her Master. Vice owned her, Vice-
Vice walked out of the bathroom, still naked. For a brief moment, she thought maybe he had come back to just continue where he had left off, now that she was conscious again. She imagined that maybe the rest of her life would be brief moments of unconsciousness separated by being fucked to sleep.
He walked over to the bed, and then, gently, hooked his arms underneath her and picked her up, easy as can be. Her head rolled into the crook of his elbow. He hugged her limp body against his.
She must have gone under again, because the next thing she knew, Vice was lowering the two of them into the bathtub. The water was warm, and she felt her muscles relax as she floated face up in the tub, Vice sitting just beside her.
Even as small as she was, there was barely room for the two of them. Maneuvering carefully, he took a comb and ran it through the matted sections of her fur, slowly untangling it. He rubbed particularly bad sections down with soap, his firm hands pressing into her skin. He hummed a slow, repetitive tune.
He ran his fingers up and down her body carefully, from the tips of her tiny little feet to behind her ears.
Strength returned to her, slowly. After she was clean, they both just sat there, in the bath, her head floating in the valley between his knees as he sat up to make room for her. She felt so strangely relaxed, and not just because of her exhaustion.
One of Vice's hands reached down and began to scratch her slowly under the chin.
She just couldn't find it in herself to be worried, or nervous. It was… over. It felt good. It still felt good. She imagined what she looked like, her big orange eyes blinking slowly at him.
"Mmph." She grunted,
"Cute thing," he said. Some part of her tried to analyze that statement, figure out what he meant by it, what he wanted from her. Again, his deft hands dismissed those concerns. She was already giving him what she wanted.
His hands traveled over her chest and pet her again, and she heard her own purring echoing off the bathroom walls. There was a spark of embarrassment there, one that flickered out almost immediately. It felt good. She purred when she felt good. No point in being embarrassed by that, out of everything.
What was she supposed to do, not feel good?
Something in her mind clicked. The idea that no amount of shame or embarrassment would stop her from being horny, or feeling good when she was being pet, or enjoying the sensation of flight. If anything, the embarrassment made some of those things worse. Or better.
Vice gently ran his hand up the length of her tail. It seemed to be more sensitive towards the tip, causing her to giggle involuntarily as his fingers brushed it. Ticklish.
When she realized she couldn't do anything about this, she felt almost liberated. She couldn't escape her body, and she didn't have to try to. What was the point? Vice had trapped her. All she could do was wait for the empire to rescue her, or something. She didn't care. She didn't have to care.
Vice grabbed one of her hands and pulled it out of the water. He pressed a soft sensitive spot on her pawpads and her claws extended on their own. He released and pressed it a few more times. It was kind of funny.
The empire would probably lose, but that wasn't her problem! She couldn't fight him, and she'd just lose again anyway. It was out of her cute little paws.
His hands traveled to her collarbone and made slow circles behind her shoulders. She felt like she was melting.
She shimmied her body back and forth, sending out little waves in the tub. The heat from earlier had faded, but not gone away. It wasn't a need anymore. Just a small, indulgent want.
"Ready for more, are you?" Vice asked. She didn't trust herself to say anything, so she just blushed and sank down into the water.
They sat like that for a while.
"I did mean it, when I said you did good today," Vice said, after a little while.
"Hmm?" She replied, not really listening. The water had started to get a bit chilly, but Vice was plenty warm. She pressed herself into the crook of his neck.
His petting traveled up to her head. She pushed herself into his fingers as he brushed them across her scalp. God, that was nice.
"I managed to snag Dauntless's power. It was a big, ornery one. Old, too. Took a while to… integrate, for a lack of a better word. Had to give up on the other easy pickings. Worth it, though. The others would have been more immediately useful, but having this one early gives it more time to build up."
She didn't really know what he was talking about. How could a power be old? Did he just mean Dauntless triggered a long time ago?
His hands moved to scratch behind her ears. It felt really good. No wonder real cats couldn't get enough of this.
"I can't take Dauntless's 'copy' of it without giving the game up too early, and I'm obviously keeping one for myself."
He leaned over so he was staring down directly into her eyes.
"How would you like to help me experiment with his power?" He asked.
Kittyhawk's brain processed that statement. And then she processed it a little more.
She sat bolt upright in the tub and spun around to look at him. "Wait, you can give other people powers?!"
His eyes narrowed. "Yes. Didn't I explain this? Each power has three books in a library, every person can take out three books?"
"No!" She yelled. She didn't know why she was mad; of course he'd have more bullshit superpowers to pull out of his ass.
"Well, I'm telling you now. Wait, Did I explain it to Junkyard? I'm pretty sure I did." He pondered.
He slumped back down in the water, causing her to lose her balance and fall face first into his chest. She could hear his heartbeat. Skin to skin.
She bit her lip. "I mean, I'm… flattered? But doesn't his power make, armor and weapons better? I don't…" she wriggled in his grip, feeling her naked body against his. "I can't really use it on anything, right?"
Vice placed his hand under her chin and raised her head to look at him. "I don't know, I think you would look great in a nice pair of boots. And only boots. Practical stuff." He chuckled. "But there's something we can try it on right now." His hand traveled just a little downward, until he was fidgeting with the bell on her collar, sending a little ting-ti-ting-ting-ting echoing off the tile walls of the bathroom.
Princess Kittyhawk suddenly became aware of an energy inside her, emerging from her head and traveling through her body like an electric snake. It ran all the way up and down, stopping at each of her extremities, almost as if it was searching for an outlet.
Slowly, she raised her dripping hand out of the water and pressed it against her collar. The invisible energy raced from her toes to her hands, tracing a path of raised fur as it went. It stopped at her fingertips, and seemed to almost sniff around at the leather around her neck. After a moment, it stiffened, and Kittyhawk felt information enter her mind.
Wayfinding. Tethering. Locating.
Instantly she knew what it was. A list of possible functions, based on the purpose of the object.
She looked up at Vice, who ruffled the fur on her head in response.
She placed the power inside her collar. Something crystalized inside.
"Good Kitty." Vice said again. Princess Kittyhawk shuddered.
Vice pulled her to her chest and stood, lifting her out of the water. She squeaked and flapped her wings twice, scattering water all over.
"Let's get dried off. We have some errands to run. And then…" he said, carrying her to the door, "... let's go get some dinner."
Brockton Bay, December 27th, 6:27 PM
Shawn had arrived early for the debrief, and he desperately wished he hadn't.
Because Emily Piggot was not having a good day.
Emily sat at the far end of the conference table, her face radiating a kind of hostile misery. The kind of misery that loved company so much, that it would create said company by force.
When he entered, she didn't even look at him. She acknowledged him with a firm "Dauntless."
She then gestured to his seat, and continued to bore a hole in the opposite wall with her eyes.
Shawn sat down, feeling uncomfortable. He felt naked. Most of that feeling could be attributed to the fact that he didn't have his Arclance, but part of it was that all his body armor was still being cleaned of ink. All he had on him was his shield, his boots, his helmet, and an exercise tracksuit to cover up everything in between. He felt faintly ridiculous, looking like a low-rent cosplayer of himself. He certainly didn't feel like a hero right now.
The only consolation was that vice couldn't actually use the Arclance. Anyone without his power would just end up holding an indestructible spear. Small consolations. Not that it made him feel any better. Any time he thought about the events of the past few hours, he got a headache.
Hannah arrived next, walking into the room with her back as rigid as a board. As soon as she walked in the door, she turned to the Director. "Director Piggot, I-"
"Please take a seat, Miss Militia." Again, the Director didn't look at her. Her voice, however, was not angry. It carried more resignation and frustration than anything. It was almost worse.
Hannah nodded, nervously rubbing her wrists where Vice had pinned her to the ground. She moved to her seat and sat down. Shawn noted that her power had taken the form of a small crowbar hanging off of her belt.
Julia and Ethan arrived together. Ethan attempted a joke; Shawn didn't even remember what the joke was, he only remembered the way Director Piggot glared at him hard enough to force him into his seat. Ethan looked like crap; he had scattered bruises, creeping up his neck, on his wrists, basically everywhere his costume didn't cover.
Julia looked the worst out of all of them. She was wearing a sling over her arm where she had gotten thrown into the ground. There were bandages over her other hand that she used to avoid hitting her head when she fell from the ceiling. It made Shawn feel horrible; the only injuries he had really sustained had been mostly self-inflicted. Panacea would hopefully be coming by after her shift at the hospital was done.
The chair at the head of the table creaked as Emily sat forward, interlacing her fingers in front of her mouth.
"Well, team. Shall we begin the debrief?" She asked, as if she was a surgeon asking her fellow doctors if they were prepared to begin an almost certainly fatal operation.
Shawn nodded. "Yes, Ma'am."
From there, they went into a summary of events; the whole incident, from the bank's alarm triggering, to their arrival, all the way to Vice's escape.
Director Piggot never interrupted them. She just listened, the entire time. Occasionally, she would pull up bodycam and bank security footage on the screen behind her.
Throughout the entire thing, Director Piggot's scowl only grew. When they began going over the many abilities Vice seemed to display, she seemed to sink into her seat.
Some people's smiles reached all the way to their eyes. Piggot's frown reached all the way to her chin(s).
"Good fucking lord." She spoke.
"Yeah, it's…" Ethan spoke. "It's a lot, huh?"
"It's unbelievable, is what it is." Director Piggot. "A complete and utter shitshow. It's embarrassing. This 'Vice'... he made all of you, all of us, look like fools."
"He wasn't exactly a paragon of dignity throughout that entire thing either," Julia remarked. "He spent half the fight on the floor."
"Who looks more foolish, the fool, or the ones who lost to the fool?" Piggot Fired back, frustration now fully on display. "Because the message boards and the news stations think it's the latter."
"Ma'am, with all due respect, Vice was fairly strong, and almost a complete unknown." Shawn said.
"Oh, I'm aware, Dauntless. You're very lucky that the cameras got taken out by Vice's little 'Ink Trick' or you would be the internet's favorite laughing stock instead of Assault over here." Her eyes narrowed. "Do we know exactly what his powers are? Speak up people. You're all the leading experts on this farce."
They all stood silent in their seats. Shawn didn't really know what to say. The leading theory had been that Vice was some sort of Changer. But now he displayed the ability to use other powers, unless it was all some elaborate trickery on his part. Which meant…
"He's a Trump." Miss Militia said. "Clear as day. He replicated other people's powers, specifically powers of those he had altercations with before. Or he was suspected to, anyway."
Ethan swiveled his chair around. "If no one's going to address the tiny naked cat-girl in the room, then I will; Vice had two accomplices, both of which displayed powers identical to known Nazi capes. Nazi capes that he had, again, been suspected of having altercations with. Nazi capes with animal themes that match the, er, bodies, of the two at the bank. That's not a coincidence, right?"
Piggot steepled her fingers. "You mean to say that his teammates might, what, be Hookwolf and Stormtiger?"
Ethan shook his head. "No, no, no, no. At least, I don't think so. They didn't fight at all like either of them. Less murdery, for one, but Junkyard Dog never went 'full blender' the way Hookwolf loved to do. And, uh, Princess Kittyhawk…"
Director Piggot made a face like she had stepped in something disgusting.
"...yeah, Kitthawk didn't act at all like Stormtiger, didn't use her powers like Stormtiger, and was, in her own way, scarier than Stormtiger ever was." Ethan shuddered. "You should have heard her laughing, man, I mean it was some kind of manic episode. She was moving so fast it was getting Doppler'd, like the way a race car's engine changes pitch as it goes past. She was fast. I'd have trouble keeping up with her even if I had a head start. Mover 5 at least."
Shawn nodded. Ethan kept up appearances well, but truthfully no one handled it well when they were made a fool of that thoroughly. To have your power fail to protect you entirely.
Some people were jealous of Dauntless's power. All of them talk about his limitless potential, the fact that every day he was a better hero than the last. But deep down, Shawn had always felt that didn't matter. Because no matter how strong he could be, he was never strong enough. Not when he needed to be. How long did he have to wait, before he was strong enough to not fall for cheap tricks? Until he could really make a difference?
"Why was she naked the entire time? And with a collar?" Hannah asked, almost innocently.
Director Piggots cut off that line of questioning. "I don't think speculating the reasons for that would be very… productive. That being said, I agree with your assessment, Assault. This… Kittyhawk, as it were, seemed exceptionally protective of Vice. Security cameras showed she didn't leave his side for the entire first part of the Bank robbery." She turned to Shawn."Dauntless. You and Battery fought Junkyard Dog, what's your assessment?"
Shawn gathered his thoughts. He knew her the best of all of them, which added up to about 5 minutes of interaction total, across 2 days. It felt rude to speculate based on so little.
"She seemed… abrasive. Frustrated. Not a stranger to violence." He recalled the way she punched him into a building the day before. "Just plain violent, really."
Julia nodded. "She seemed trained in close quarters combat. Not something you see too often with Brutes. Possibly trained before getting ever powers. She also seemed to completely eschew her power when I used my electromagnetic capabilities, which is not something I've ever seen Hookwolf do. And as for the whole 'Mastering' thing..." she shrugged. "She claimed to be there of her own free will, and reacted violently to the suggestion that she was being coerced. But that doesn't necessarily mean anything, if this is some sort of Master situation."
Solemn nods went around the table. It hurt, going into battle, losing, and still knowing so little about the enemy.
"I suppose," Piggot said, "we should talk about the man of the hour." A click of the mouse, and the screen behind her changed to still from the security cameras inside the bank. Specifically, one of Vice looking directly at the camera and waving.
"Changer, and a fast one too." Julia said. "Possibly able to synthesize chemicals in his body. It might explain how he knocked Dauntless and I out, if he simply injected some fast-acting sedative."
"We didn't find any injection marks on ourselves, though." Shawn said. It was a good theory, but one that didn't hold up to scrutiny.
"Then I don't know. Junkyard Dog said Vice had 'a bunch of bullshit', per her words, so it may just be a secondary ability of his. He might be some sort of Grab Bag."
"Grab Bags, in general, have a bunch of weak powers, yet none of vice's confirmed powers are very weak, especially not the Trump one." Hannah said.
Shawn grimaced as he thought. There had to be some explanation to this beyond 'Vice has a bunch of extremely strong powers.'
Piggot tapped her fingers on her desk. Beads of sweat were starting to form on her brow. "Could Vice simply be a power copier, who stole his shapeshifting ability from someone we don't know?"
It was possible. More than possible. Vice had shown up out of nowhere. Who knows where he might have come from, or what Capes he had already met? But something still wasn't right.
The doubt niggled at him until he felt the need to start asking questions. "Did anyone see Vice use their own powers at any time during the bank robbery? Did he, at any point, use Battery's, or Miss Militia's, or Assault's power?"
They all shook their heads. Piggot looked up at him. "Where are you going with this, Dauntless?"
"I'm saying, Vice might not be a power copier. We saw him use other's powers, sure, but none of ours. Battery, if I was Vice, and I was being tasered into submission by Miss Militia, wouldn't I use your power to stop it?"
Julia nodded.
"And why would he go to all the trouble to do that stupid, idiotic-" Shawn took a deep breath. "-stunt with the printer, when he could have just used Miss Militia's power to make a paintball gun?"
Piggot glared at him, attempting to get him back in his seat by sheer force of will. "So his power copying takes time, or has some sort of condition?"
"Or…" Julia said, realization dawning on her face, "Vice isn't the Trump."
Piggot blinked at her. "Explain." Shawn was also curious at this point. Julia had always been the one most prone to frenzied bouts of investigation.
"If Junkyard Dog and Kitthawk aren't Hookwolf and Stormtiger, then it stands to reason that they are, well, other people. They certainly didn't seem like they were born yesterday, right Shawn? That means you don't just have a power copier, you have a Trump that can move powers around, and duplicate them. Take them from Hookwolf, give them to Junkyard Dog and Vice." She snapped her fingers. "It makes perfect sense. That's why they both look like animal women. The Trump gave them both Vice's changer power, which they used to disguise themselves and augment their abilities. Vice couldn't use any of our powers, because the cape that can actually mess with people's powers wasn't there."
The rest of the table slid into a thoughtful silence. Shawn could see all of them turn the idea over in their minds, each of them coming to realization where the theory lined up with events.
Still, doubt needled at him. It was a good theory. Better than what they had, and easier to stomach than the prevailing 'Vice has an absurd number of powers' theory.
Hannah seemed to agree. "It does explain quite a few things, like where Junkyard Dog and Kittyhawk came from, and where Hookwolf and Stormtiger might have gone."
Ethan nodded. "Hey, if it turns out they mugged those Nazi's for their powers in a dark alley and then threw them in a dumpster, then honestly, more power to 'em. Good riddance."
"It could also explain why Vice acts the way he does," Ethan said, "His bombastic nature is covering up the presence of someone behind the scenes, pulling the strings. A Trump, running support. Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain; look at this human spectacle instead."
Emily clacked her fingernails across the table. "I will admit, this theory does explain quite a bit. It certainly makes more sense than a single cape having capabilities somewhere between Bonesaw and the Faerie Queen. We'll look into it."
Shawn felt a swell of Pride in his chest. He felt like, after being humiliated, having his spear stolen from him, it would all be worth it if they managed to figure out Vice's game. The theory might not hold water, but it felt like it was approaching the truth, which was better than where they started. "Do we have any idea where he went after he escaped?" He asked.
Piggot's glare turned on him. "We tracked him moving east a little ways after the bank, but all the gangs in the city have a vested interest in vandalizing traffic cameras. Coverage is more than spotty."
Piggot clicked on her laptop, and the screen behind her changed. "We're going to be circulating this image, asking for civilian reports."
The screen showed Vice's car peeling out from a nearby alley, a swirling vortex of air keeping containment foam away from it as it plowed through the PRT blockade.
"Is that a Subaru?" Julia asked Incredulously.
"Hey, J.D. Power ranked them number one in grand larceny 8 years in a row. Don't knock 'em." Ethan said.
"Ethan, not now." Hannah said.
Director Piggot looked up at the screen where a particularly clear photo of the car was projected. "There's no plate on it."
"Another dastardly crime-"
Julia elbowed Ethan in the ribs with her good arm. It didn't hurt him, of course, but it did remind him that his wife was currently in an arm cast because of those 'dastardly villains'.
Director Piggot turned back around to face the team. "I'm not going to lie, people, this was a shitshow. A farce, even. Not just in how they beat us, but how they made us look. Normally we could spin this as the villains simply making a getaway while we attempted damage control… if not for Assault getting juggled down 5 city blocks and thrown into the river."
"Yeah, not my finest moment. Hopefully I don't grow a third eye from drinking Brockton Bay river water. Who knows what's in there, huh guys?"
The joke was desperate, but Shawn chuckled despite himself. See, it was funny because Brockton Bay's river was actually pretty clean. Mostly because all the major industry had moved away almost a decade ago.
The perks of dying slowly.
"Vice and his cohorts might be able to change their faces, but changing vehicles will be harder. A description of the Vehicle has just been forwarded to local law enforcement and distributed to local news stations. Hopefully, if we can track his movement, we can predict this lunatic's next move. I-"
The laptop in front of Director Piggot chimed. She leaned over to read whatever notification she had just gotten. Shawn saw her clench her eyes shut, like she had a blinding migraine.
"Already we're getting reports of sightings all over town." She scrolled down. "He went to another grocery store…"
Ethan laughed incredulously. "What, he robbed another one?"
"No, apparently he actually paid for it this time."
"...With stolen money." Julia said.
"Naturally." Piggot responded without a shred of humor. "The grocery store wasn't going to say no to a Villian, and they certainly weren't going to say no to money, no matter its origins." She scrolled down on her laptop. "They bought a lot of beer. And raw meat."
"Say, are we, or the police, going to have to confiscate that money they used from the store?" Ethan asked.
"No. Vice will be forced to pay back the bank as a part of his sentence when he is arrested." Piggot replied. Her eyes narrowed. "Oh, christ."
"What?" Shawn asked.
"The owner of an electronics shop in the docks called in to report that Vice bought a bunch of cell phones from him."
Hannah tilted her head in confusion "...Did they get any of the numbers they're registered as? It might be useful if-"
"I'm getting to that. A different store owner then called in 30 minutes later, from his print shop. He called to report Vice came in, threatened him, and forced him to print out 500 of these."
She clicked twice, and then, up on the screen behind her, a new image came up.
They were all stunned into silence.
On the screen, in glossy white cardstock, with a giant, red 'V' going top to bottom, was a fucking business card. Complete with a phone number.
VICE
PREMIUM SUPERVILLAINY • PROTECTION RACKETEERING
"Oh my god." Julia said. "He's literally just calling it a protection racket."
Ethan, meanwhile, had begun to laugh uncontrollably. "Oh, oh fuck, that's – Hah! – that's fucking great. Fuck me. Truth in advertising! Hah-ha-ha-ha! We should call him! See if he does Birthday parties!" He started to pound on the table. "Shit! Ha-ugh! It fucking hurts to laugh! Augh!" He doubled over, clutching at his chest, presumably heavily bruised like the rest of him.
Hannah and Julia just looked baffled, while Piggot looked horrible. Her forehead had a sheen of sweat over it, and her eyes were shut tight like she had the worst headache imaginable. Her laptop dinged again. She opened one eye to look and then almost immediately closed it again.
"Director-?" Shawn asked.
"Team. I just got word that Panacea finally arrived. I'm going to head down and greet her, and maybe find out if this headache I'm having is just a stress migraine, or if I'm having a fucking stroke. After that, I want you all to get looked at and healed up. I need you all in top form."
She stood at the edge of the door to the meeting room. "Velocity comes back from Vacation in 2 days. Armsmaster will be back from sabbatical next week, hopefully with a full night's sleep. We will not let this lunatic get the best of us."
Getting healed up was a sober affair. Fortunately, none of them were dying, not even Director Piggot, but it was nice to be sure. Panacea called them each into the PRT Building clinic, and each of them walked out fully healed.
Assault walked out with a spring in his step. "Hey Dauntless, you headed in?"
"Just for a checkup." Shawn replied.
"Man, having all your bones and blood put back in the right place really does work up an appetite. You know, I could really go for some-"
"Don't say Fugly Bob's, please."
"Ah, my Bucket-headed friend, What's the point of perfect health if you can't immediately ruin it with grease and cheese?"
Shawn wished he would stop calling him that. His helmet didn't even look anything like a crusader's helm anyway. "Feel free to go with the rest of the team, I had dinner plans already." Specifically, Chicken and Rice from meal prep earlier in the week. Best to not let that effort go to waste.
"Suit yourself!" Ethan shrugged and jogged off.
Inside the clinic, Panacea was waiting for him, her eyes having deep, purple bags under them. Poor girl must have been working hard at the hospital. She really was a saint, giving so much of herself to help the sick and injured.
"Hello, Panacea, I just want to thank you so much for coming to see us on such short notice."
Her eyes bored a hole directly into his forehead. "I would be worried if you somehow had advance warning of getting cripplingly injured. Do I have your permission to heal you?" Her voice was nakedly impatient.
"I'm not sure how injured I actually am, but yes, if you could-" Shawn had barely gotten the 'yes' out of his mouth before she grabbed his wrist from him. Her eyes unfocused, lost deep in her power and she took in his biology.
Just then, his work phone went off.
He looked at it and groaned. "You've got to be fucking kidding me."
ATTN: CODE 4109
VLN "VICE" SIGHTED AT BOARDWALK "FUGLY BOB'S" RSPD ASAP
When they got there, Vice was already gone. Apparently he had decided to get take-out. They interviewed the waitress who served them. Poor thing was frightened out of her wits.
"And they were just standing there, and the big wolf-lady was tall and she was just leaning over me and the little kitty lady looked really hungry and the naked dude's mask was so creepy and they just seemed like, like it would be a really bad idea if I said no so I didn't say no so I just got them the food and I'm sooooo sorry! I know they were criminals and I should have gotten them food but what if they just stole someone else's food or went to some other restaurant but I gave them food instead and they gave me stolen bank money and that makes me a criminal and I don't want to go to jail pleaaaaaaaseeeeee!"
Dauntless could feel his blood pressure rising. Probably because of the scent of deep fat frying coming from the Fugly Bob's kitchen.
"Ma'am, you're not in trouble," Miss Militia said. "We just need you to make a statement for the report."
The waitress sniffled again and wiped her eyes. "Oh-kay." She turned to Dauntless. "You're Dauntless, right? Where's your spear thing?"
"Miss Militia, you can take things from here, right?" Shawn asked. She just gave him a quick nod. He excused himself out the back of the store, to the now-empty dine-in deck that faced the ocean. The sound of the waves calmed him, and the salty spray drove away the awful smells from inside. He could hear Assault and Battery placating the crowds outside with empty platitudes and autograph signings. He sat there, just breathing in the ocean air.
His phone pinged again.
(NW) PANACEA: Hey you skipped out before I could finish. You have a minor concussion. Can't fix that. Get rest. Don't think too hard.
He dismissed the notification and set the phone in front of him. He didn't really feel like he had a concussion. He felt frustrated. Useless.
How were they supposed to stop Vice's 'reign of terror' if they couldn't even stop him from grabbing a bite to eat? He had to be smarter than he let on. Or at least, someone smarter than him was pulling his strings. Shawn let himself get fooled, and now he looked like an idiot instead of Vice.
He tapped his hand against his phone screen. He felt his frustration grow, a simmering thing at the bottom of his stomach.
Was Vice just going to lead them on wild goose chases all over town? Everything he did seemed to be for the express purpose of making fun of them. His team, heroes everywhere, cape culture as a whole. The business card…
He glanced down at the phone again. Maybe he did have a concussion; he'd probably never consider doing this under normal circumstances.
He dialed the number. Vice picked up on the second ring.
"You've reached Vice, how can you help me?"
"Vice."
"Dauntless! How're you doing? Your spear is very handy! Great for scratching those tough-to-reach places."
"A backscratcher is all it's going to be good for without me, Vice. You probably already figured out it won't work without my power."
"...That's very good to know, actually."
Dauntless grinned under his helmet. Losing the Arclance would be worth it if they could lure their team's 'secret trump' out in an attempt to use it. Assumed they existed.
"Listen Vice, I don't know what game you think you're playing, but actions have consequences. If not now, then soon, you're going to bite off more than you can chew. I'm saying this as a warning. We're onto you."
Dauntless heard Vice take a large bite out of something and begin chewing. "Yesh, sho?"
He was eating a Fugly Bob's burger over the phone. What an asshole.
"Vice. What is it you want? Out of… all this? This nonsense? Is this all just a game to you?"
Dauntless heard some more chewing noises from the other end of the line, followed by a loud swallowing. When he spoke again, his voice was deadly serious to the point of being almost funny.
"I'll tell you what I want, Dauntless. I want whatever good super villain wants. An underground base full of booby traps. A Satellite Death Ray. A small South American and/or Eastern European country under my control. A harem. A giant bed full of women. Enough money to never have to worry about money."
"You understand how ridiculous you sound, right?"
"You understand how ridiculous it is, that you think you can stop me?"
Shawn took a deep breath. He's just trying to rile you up, he thought. So you make a fool of yourself again.
"So, Dauntless, if you really want your 'rod' back, I'm prepared to give a series of riddles-"
Dauntless heard Miss Militia approaching him from behind, and realized, belatedly, that he probably shouldn't be making private calls to a Villain like this. He hung up. Vice was probably just going to make a stupid joke anyway.
"We're finished up here." Miss Militia said. "You ok?"
"Yeah." He replied. "I'm fine. Let's just go."
"Are you sure you didn't want to grab a bite-"
"No."
???, December 27th, 11:31 PM
"You're certain that your 'Paths' can see him?"
"Completely."
"He's perfect."
"He's insane."
"Oh, we can do without the man, but the power, the power is perfect. Parahuman control, redistribution of power. Imagine if we could take all the powers from Birdcage inmates and give them to someone more deserving?"
"I don't want to see what would happen if he ever got access to the Birdcage."
"If nobody has any objections, We'll continue to monitor the situation for now. There may be depths to his capabilities he hasn't revealed yet."
"..."
"Yes, Kurt?"
"Oh, nothing. It's just fascinating. Like some sort of sexual car crash. Disturbing, yet I find it hard to look away."
"...I can't say I'm not morbidly curious. David?"
"His power resembles The Faerie Queen more than I'd like. What if he gets too much power, crosses some threshold, and becomes a blind spot like me?"
"That never happened with Glaistig Uaine, did it?"
"Even if he does, he'll be easy enough to manipulate. We know what he wants, perverted as those desires are. All we need to do is give him access to what he wants. And if that doesn't work…"
"We can always threaten to take what he has."