Princess Kittyhawk's ears were ringing. She was wrapped up in darkness and warmth. Something was breathing down the back of her neck, warm air under her collar.
It took her a moment to remember where she was. She twisted her body around to look, seeing just the rogue outline of Vice's mask behind her. His eyes glowed slightly in the dark of the enclosed space they were both in.
He looked angry.
He placed one of his hands on her head and the ringing stopped.
Slowly, light crept back into the space as Vice stood up.
When Oni Lee had pulled the pin on his grenade, Vice had dove out of the car, clutching Kittyhawk to his chest. A shell of metal shards had sprung from his back, encasing them both in a dome of layered steel. As the shell retreated back into his body, Kittyhawk thought the shards almost looked like feathers.
"You ok?" He asked, his body encompassing hers entirely. His voice was full of naked concern. Kittyhawk felt her now-signature blush creep back into her face.
"Yeah," she said. "I'm fine."
Vice nodded and stood up, still hugging her tight. She let out a soft "Eep!" as he tightened his grip on her. They both turned to look at the car. All the doors had been blown open, including the hood and trunk. Broken glass littered the ground and smoke spewed out from the engine. Soot and ash mixed in with the snow, which was now coming down hard.
Suddenly, the roof tore open, and a massive collection of knives in the rough shape of a wolf-headed human stepped out.
"Fuck!" Junkyard dog screamed, her voice almost lost beneath the churn of scrap metal that made up her body. She fell to all fours as her form shifted, becoming a wolf in full. The burning car cast hot orange light across the steel of her back, and the snow turned to steam as it landed on her.
She loped towards them, claws tearing apart the asphalt, her coat of knives gleaming under the streetlights. "Where the fuck did he go?"
As if on cue, Oni Lee appeared on top of her, one hand sporting a grenade pin on every finger, the other futilely stabbing her in the back with a really short-looking Katana.
"God Damn-"
Junkyard Dog didn't even get a chance to finish swearing before the Oni Lee on her back exploded with a force that almost seemed to tear apart the air like paper. Vice protected Kittyhawk from the shrapnel with a metal-clad hand, but the explosion itself was blinding, and incredibly loud. Her ears rang for a moment again before fading at Vice's touch.
A large chunk had been taken out of Junkyard Dog's back, but already more blades and spikes were filling in the gaps as she got back up.
Kittyhawk was craning her head around trying to see where Oni Lee had gone, when Vice suddenly shouted, gripped her tight, and flung her upwards as hard as he could. She yowled as she was sent tumbling into the air, wings flapping to stabilize herself. She briefly caught a glimpse of Oni Lee dashing out towards Vice from beneath a streetlight, and then exploding right in his face.
Kittyhawk flipped end over end trying as her ears pounded once again. Each explosion was a mix of fire, shrapnel, and exceptionally bright light. It was like Oni Lee was packing every kind of grenade he could find under that coat of his; flashbang, incendiary, fragmentation. The street below was thoroughly ruined now. Kittyhawk finally got her bearings back, extending her wings out to catch the heat off the fire below her.
She floated above, trying to watch out for where Oni Lee was going, but it was almost useless. Every time she thought she saw him, he would just collapse into ash and fade into the snow. A brief silhouette in a streetlight, a figure standing in a lit window, a flicker of movement among the flames. By the time she could even figure out where the last Oni Lee was, he was already somewhere else.
Vice groaned down on the street, his body a mixture of burned flesh and metal beneath the skin. While Junkyard Dog's body was filled with spikes and blades, the metal underneath Vice's looked like coiled, braided wire, entwining and flexing against itself like an angry den of snakes.
When Vice sat up, the light of the fires flared, and when they died down again, another Oni Lee was already leaping over a piece of wreckage, the pins on his grenades all pulled. Vice sent a blast of air hurtling into him, sending him across the road and into a closed-up storefront before he detonated. Chunks of glass and brick were thrown far into the air, nearly beaning Kittyhawk in the face.
There was a momentary lull in the fight as Oni Lee failed to reappear for about half a minute. Junkyard Dog stuck close to the walls, her back rotating like a blender to keep Oni Lee from climbing onto her again.
"Vice!" She called, voice echoing from inside the metal. "Can't you grab him?! Or hear where the real one is?"
Vice threw up his hands, causing one of his mangled fingers to come loose and go flying. "They all sound real! He blows up before I can touch him!"
"You're so fucking useless–!"
Kittyhawk turned her attention away while they got into a screaming match, looking for movement in the dark. The snowflakes were beginning to grow fat and wet, and she was feeling the chill even underneath her fur. One of them landed on her whiskers and she quirked her lips reflexively. She cast her eyes across the buildings. Far in the distance, she could just barely see the skyscrapers of the financial district, only visible as a decrepit checkerboard of glowing squares where someone had left a few lights in the windows. Even those were being buried under flurries of snow.
Don't get distracted.
Slowly, tendrils of high-tension air extended from her and crept across the street. Sounds and smells were fed to her as they spread out. The hiss of burning gasoline, the groan of hot metal, the stench of garbage in the alleys.
The sounds of continued arguments.
"Fuck, my car!"
"Don't worry about the god damn car, Vice! I almost died!"
"Right, are you ok? I know that-- Wait! Fuck! MY CD'S!"
"YOU FUCKING RETARD!"
A particularly wet snowflake smacked Princess Kittyhawk in the ear, causing her to flinch and look around. It had been almost a minute and there was no sign of Oni Lee. Maybe he left, having sent the message that they weren't welcome?
No, that was dumb. Nobody 'sends a message' by blowing up someone's car while they're still in it. Oni Lee was out for blood, and more importantly, he was still unscathed. No way he'd run already.
She cast her eyes down the street. His power was based on what he could see, so there were only so many places–
Princess Kittyhawk froze. She was so stupid. Her new body came with really good night vision, good enough that even in the middle of a winter snowstorm, approaching midnight, she could still see fairly well. But Oni Lee couldn't. He needed to see where he was teleporting to, and for that he needed a source of light. It wasn't just what places he could see and from what angle. He was playing with a much shittier hand than any of them knew.
She felt a sharp grin grow on her face. The space covered by her tendrils narrowed. They wrapped around streetlights, went under doors into closed-up businesses. She shuddered as a wet drop of water hit the small of her back. She found herself wanting to climb into the warmth of Vice's coat again. And, honestly, who wouldn't? You know, if the alternative was being cold and rained on. Not her fault.
There. A slow, steady breathing in the back of an old minivan under the orange glow of a sodium lamp. In, and out, without a care in the world. Kittyhawk crawled down the side of the building into the alleyway across the street from the car, claws digging into the brickwork. She carefully muted her collar. The breathing she was hearing was so steady that for a moment, she thought she had gotten it wrong; that maybe it was just some bum sleeping in his car on a cold winter night.
And then she reached the ground and hissed as her entire world turned bright. There! A shitty little motion-sensitive light in the alley, probably to deter thieves, had given her away. Almost immediately, the windows on the minivan shattered as the blare of handgun fire rang out, and then multiplied as what must have been a half-dozen Oni Lees filled the interior of the car. Each one unloaded their own cloned gun before disintegrating, only to be replaced by a fresh Oni Lee with a fresh clip.
Kittyhawk dove into the ground and formed a ramp of hardened air in front of her. The bullets hit the heavy air resistance and spun away into the walls, leaving her untouched. This was bad; she couldn't risk getting closer without risking one of the bullets getting a lucky angle and hitting her through her shield. The sounds of gunfire were beginning to ring in her ears. Why had she gone off alone?
She thought about flying back and away, but then she felt the ground begin to shake and rumble, as Junkyard Dog barreled towards the Minivan. Vice was hanging on one of the chains extending from the tailbone of her wolf form. She ran up on the van, reared up, and brought down 10 tons of her steel upper body onto the car. There was a crash of metal on metal as it flattened like a pancake, sending blood and ash spewing from the gaps in the frame, like someone had taken a bite out an incredibly disgusting jelly donut.
"Hah!" Junkyard Dog yelled. "Got the fucker!"
"Don't get him that hard! And I can still hear him!" Vice yelled. He lept off her back and started dashing towards the alleyway. "Kittyhawk! Are you-"
He stopped, and Kittyhawk felt the air around him gather into spears.
"Behind you!" He called.
Of course, thought Princess Kittyhawk. What other place did he have to teleport to, except the alley he was already looking at?
She twisted her body over on itself just in time to intercept one of Oni Lee's blades with one of her claws of air.
She launched herself out from underneath him towards Vice, leaving the claw behind to detonate and blow Oni Lee off his feet. She felt Vice catch her out of the air and hug her close to his chest as if she was a game-winning football pass. Spears of air flew past him towards Oni Lee, tearing apart the alley walls and blasting snow everywhere.
"The lights!" she managed to squeak out. "Cut the lights!"
Junkyard Dog's churning metal body turned back towards them, and, rearing up her back leg like an angry donkey, kicked the streetlight in half so hard it folded like a plastic straw. The light went out faster than a candle flame in a bathtub.
And when Oni Lee got to his feet, the only light in his sight was the one he was already standing in. Trapped on a dimly lit island in an ocean of black.
Oni Lee looked out at them, presumably only seeing the faintest of silhouettes in the wet snow and darkness. Snow gathered on his mask's horns. Kittyhawk could see him consider his options, looking around, checking for weapons in his coat. But it was useless. She extended her tendrils around him, listening close. Smelling the gunpowder and blood on his coat. His breathing was heavy, but exactly as even as before. It was unsettling.
After seeing there was no recourse to be found, he slumped slightly.
"Hrm." He said. Just a quiet little grunt. It was more the sound of someone who had read an upsetting headline in the newspaper than someone who had just screwed themselves after a failed murder attempt.
The snow was coming down even harder now, even with her enhanced eyesight it was getting hard to see. The silhouettes of the buildings at the end of the street were dissolving into the night sky.
Vice hiked up on Kittyhawk's body so that she was sitting in the crook of his elbow, feet dangling. He took a deep breath and struck a pose.
"Oni Lee! You've staked your life and freedom on a gambit that's blown up in your face. Surrender now, and I'll treat you very well." He said, stretching out the last two words like the sweetest of taffy. "There's nowhere to run."
Oni Lee turned, looked into the dark of the alley behind him, and then looked back at Vice.
"Yes there is?" He said.
And then he turned around and booked it.
"Oh, god damn it." Vice said, slumping as he ran forward. He patted Kittyhawk twice on the butt and then tossed her up, where her wings caught the air and she flew off.
Her tendrils stuck close to Oni Lee, so she could hear him muttering under his breath.
"Need light." He said. She heard him stumble and nearly slip on some ice as he rounded a corner. "Ah, that's right."
There was a clink of a pin being pulled before Kittyhawk heard something sail through the air behind him. Kittyhawk screamed as a small metal cylinder raced towards her. She battered it away with a gust of air, but not before it lit the whole alley up like the sun, creating a harsh Bang! that caused her ears to erupt in pain again. She caught the briefest glimpse of a second Oni Lee that wasn't there before the flash, racing ahead of the original. She tumbled out of the air, still not experienced enough at flying to do it while blind and deaf.
Vice caught her again. Of course he did. She felt herself get tucked underneath his jacket as he strode forward. A moment later, her ears popped, and she could hear once again.
"I really do need to put you on a leash, don't I? Stop going off on your own." He chided.
Kittyhawk didn't know what to say, she felt ashamed, flustered, scared, hurt, insulted, and a dozen other emotions she didn't care to name. Suddenly, a drop of cold, cold water hit her right in the nose. Another hit her ear. One smacked right into the tip of her tail, sending a shudder through her body.
The Brockton Bay 'mild winter' was finally back.
The snowflakes were rapidly overtaken by sharp, chilling raindrops, the heavy snows completely smothered by heavier rain.
Princess Kittyhawk's night vision was now almost completely useless as rain poured down upon them, filling the air like a shining black curtain. Her tendrils were being overwhelmed by the noise of the rain hitting the ground, turning all the white snow into brackish mush.
"Fuck!" She heard Oni Lee say, up ahead. There was a crashing noise before Kittyhawk completely lost track of his voice in the maze of alleyways before them.
Vice just hugged her tighter.
She felt them pick up speed as Vice's legs lengthened with a sickening crack of bone. Kittyhawk looked down and saw Vice's legs expand and break apart into long sections of coiled, spiraling metal, entwined with thick ribbons of skin and muscle. Like all the steel and meat in Vice's legs had been woven together like a basket and were now growing apart, growing large in volume if not necessarily mass. Large spikes and spurs of bone and steel erupted from the bottom of his feet, giving him traction on the rapidly-forming slush and ice below them. Each stride took them almost a dozen feet or more, now.
"I can barely see shit," he said, pushing further into the copse of buildings making up the alleyways. He stepped over a flooded dumpster, trash bags floating to the top in a putrid garbage soup. "But I can still hear him. Sometimes the sound doubles up for a second when he teleports forward a little bit. But there's no big jumps. We've got him. Just have to wear him down."
Vice cast his free hand forward, and a wedge of air split the rain in front of them the way the prow of a ship splits the ocean. Like the bullets from earlier, the rain flew off to either side, flying past them as he strode forward. The deflected rivulets formed a wake that crashed again either side of the alley.
From further ahead, there was a series of pops and flashes where Oni Lee was firing blindly behind him. The bullets didn't get any closer than the raindrops. Kittyhawk felt herself smiling ecstatically as they bore down on him. She could just barely make out Oni Lee stumbling and sprinting ahead of them. Each single step of Vice's brought them as far as half-a-dozen of Oni Lee's own. With his hands flailing as he scrambled forward, it was almost like he was swimming against some fast moving river of darkness, the current bearing him back towards Vice.
Their chase continued. Oni Lee ran through all his remaining weapons; an incendiary grenade that snuffed itself out in a deep, slushy puddle. A frag that Vice swatted onto a nearby roof. An extremely redundant smoke grenade. A set of throwing knives that missed Vice by a mile.
Finally, Oni Lee exited the alley, stumbling over a slick patch of ice, his trenchcoat and mask both weeping with rainwater. He ran, falling as he tripped over the curb, and rolling into the middle of the street. Vice stepped out towards him, Kittyhawk still tight in his clutches.
Just then the Oni Lee in front of them stood up, unsheathed a long, curved knife, and ran straight for them.
"Finally." Vice muttered.
Vice took his free arm, and Kittyhawk watched as he threw it forward. It stretched and came apart the same way as his legs, like someone throwing a spool of fleshy ribbons. His hand pierced Oni Lee's chest, before crawling inside and then up into Oni Lee's head, and into his brain.
Kittyhawk was momentarily overtaken by a vision.
Vast fields of gray crystalline flesh, shining and rotting, tangled onto itself like the limbs of a corpse pile-
The vision ended abruptly as the Oni Lee in front of them collapsed into ash--
"Fuck!"
–along with the parts of Vice's arm that were still inside his body.
Vice knelt down, shuddering as the remains of his arm leaked blood and gray dust.
"Ow." he grunted. "I had him for just a moment, I had him. What the hell?"
Kittyhawk panicked. Vice looked seriously hurt, and now Oni Lee was escaping again. They had gotten lucky with the weather tonight, but if Oni Lee came back some other time it would be hell trying to pin him down again. He could just appear whenever, blow up, and leave. Vice and Brad might be able to survive that, but she couldn't! Was she going to always have to stick right by Vice's side so he could hug her tight and protect her if Oni Lee showed up again? The idea was almost too much to handle. Forgot being tied to him, to never leave his side, never stop touching him-
Vice lowered his head to look at her. "Are you really getting horny now? Of all times?" he asked in a quiet voice, as his injured arm reformed and sealed over into a stump.
She flushed. "It's not my fault! I was just thinking-!" She yelled in frustration. She needed to do something! Or else she might be– Fuck!
She craned her neck around, looking up and down the street. There, in one of the street lights, running for his life. He was still here. The rain meant he couldn't jump very far, and so he was going one street light at a time, moving towards the docks. If she could just get to him.
She made to take off, when Vice tightened his grip.
"What are you doing?!" She squeaked out. "He's getting away! I can cut him off, just let me go!"
"I appreciate the effort, Kittyhawk, but there's a much simpler solution."
Vice picked himself up and made his way across the street, where a tall wooden telephone pole stood, power lines humming above.
"Behold," he said. "The cutting of the Gordian Knot."
Out of the remaining stump of his disintegrated arm, a huge blade, thick as a brick and six feet long, emerged. With a single swipe, Vice tore through the pole. The wood let out a sharp crack as it burst into splinters, with the wires above snapping and letting off sparks for a moment, before all the lights on the street flickered and died. There was nothing but rain, darkness, and the faint outline of the street.
Oni Lee stopped dead in the middle of the road. It took Vice a matter of seconds to reach him.
"Oni Lee," Vice began. "You're out of weapons and out of escape routes." Vice took another step closer.
Oni Lee turned around to face them. The grin on his demonic mask was as wide as ever, even if his body language was more sullen.
"Untrue," He said. His tone of voice almost sounded bored. Or maybe there was simply no emotion in it at all. He pulled his short katana-looking blade from the sheathe on his belt and readied it.
Kittyhawk felt her ears twitch as Oni Lee stepped forward. She could have sworn she heard something just then.
"Yes Lee, that is technically a weapon. But it's not going to do anything to me."
"Vice?" Kittyhawk said.
"Wasn't talking about the blade." Oni Lee intoned. "Wasn't talking about a weapon."
"Vice!" Kittyhawk shouted, recognizing the noise as it got closer. "There's a car coming!"
Vice turned to look, seeing a car coming up the road behind them, slowly navigating the rain and Ice.
And its headlights were on full blast.
"Oh, shit."
Imagine you're driving. It's late. It's raining. It's New Year's Eve in Brockton Bay, and you're driving through the worst part of town. And to top it all off, all the streetlights and traffic signals just went out.
So now, you, a responsible driver, are creeping along the shabby, icy, dark streets at a cool fifteen miles-an-hour, hoping desperately to not run into anything, looking for a working traffic light.
Then, a homeless man in a long trench coat just appears at the edge of your car's headlights. You try to stop, but the road is slick and filled with slush; you plow into him and he flips onto the hood of your car, face first.
There's a brief moment where you consider just moving along, hitting the gas and trying to shake him off. It's Brockton Bay, after all. Nobody can see shit, there was no way for you to prevent it. Ain't your fault, ain't your problem. So you start to back up, trying to shake this guy's body off the hood, when he pulls out a big fancy knife and punches it right into the top of your car.
And then the man looks at you and you realize he's got a fucking demon mask on. So now you're really gunning it. 30 miles-an-hour, 40 miles-an-hour, full speed backwards down the road, riding up on the curb to try to shake this guy off. But there's no dice.
Then, a fucking monster straight from hell lands on your trunk. Two long-ass legs looking like some kind of meaty maypoles, each several feet long, plunge into the back of your car with spiked feet. One of the Demon's arms has got some kind of cat creature in it, and the other is just a huge sword. It has 4 asymmetrical eyes and a grin that splits its face vertically.
You see it point its sword arm at you in the rear view mirror and scream "Stop the car, or suffer the consequences!"
You look down at the grinning demon mask on the front of your car, and a strange monotone yell demands that you, quote, "Keep driving as fast you can."
Now, you're a Brockton Bay resident, and ever since the Dockworker's strike stranded all those boats in the bay and completely screwed themselves and their employers, you and your fellow Brocktonites have had a reputation. A prerogative, even.
Namely, to always pick the option that satisfies no one.
You throw your car out of reverse and into drive and then gun it as fast as possible. Vice stumbles and loses his balance, and the demon-cat thing flies out of his arms and into the darkness. Oni Lee loses his grip on the blade and goes tumbling over the top of the car. There's a blissful moment of freedom before two more Lees just appear in your car's headlights. You attempt to run them down, of course. One of them goes under the wheels with a thud while the other starts trying to bash in the windshield. You take a right turn, and finding a solid wall in your headlights, you slam on the brakes. Oni Lee goes flying, only to collapse into ash. You suspect there's another one out there.
Two thumps indicate Vice just landed on your roof. You panic and send yourself into reverse again, and Vice tumbles onto the front of the car. He glares at you.
"Stop. The. Car."
Fuck that. You keep going, backing up at full speed. You hear another thump as you run something over, and you see another Oni Lee is now hanging on for dear life on the back of your car.
You try to pull into a slick 180 turn, straight out of the Rockford Files, and midway through you hear another thump as something goes under the wheels, and you spin out and crash into a streetlight.
By your count, you've run over the same guy 3 times now. You start screaming, but it doesn't help.
It's awful outside the car, but frankly, it's worse inside. You pull open the door to run into the night, screaming. This is a mistake. Opening the car door causes the interior lights to come on. Almost instantly, an Oni Lee appears in your passenger-side seat and yanks you back inside.
"Drive." he says, still in that flat monotone of his. And then the nightmare really begins.
Vice lands on the front of the car, and his chest splits open like a book, rib cage widening until it covers the entire windshields, blocking any view of the outside. Steel and flesh, layered on top of each other, spreads out from his body and climbs over the entire exterior. Soon, the only thing visible out of every window is a flat pane of skin with sharp metal objects protruding from it.
You start screaming louder, just for the catharsis of it. Oni Lee rolls down one of the windows and starts trying to stab his way out.
In response, The carpet of flesh erupts into tendrils that burrow into the side of Oni Lee's head, before he goes stiff and falls over, seemingly unconscious.
Slowly, the hellscape outside your window retreats and retracts into Vice's body, until Vice is left standing outside your car door, a shifting jigsaw reassembling itself under his skin.
At this point you're firmly in the bargaining stage of whatever grief-adjacent emotion you're experiencing. You get out of the car, underneath the unnatural umbrella keeping the rain from touching Vice. You get on your knees. You praise him for saving you. You plead with him not to hurt you. You showcase all the delight and despair in your body. You offer him everything you have.
A few seconds pass, and then, Vice puts his hand on your shoulder, like a friend, trying to comfort another friend in distress. He kneels down, eye-level with you. He leans in close.
"I want your car." He says.
Brockton Bay, December 31st, 9:01 PM
Vast fields of gray crystalline flesh, shining and rotting, tangled onto itself like the limbs of a corpse pile. The branch-like protrusions attempt to both move and reproduce at once. They split, the original giving all its energy to create a branch that extends in just a slightly different direction, reaching a slightly different destination. The original destroys itself to complete the copy. It knows that every time it does this, something is lost. Each time it exerts itself, the heat grows in its atmosphere, like the warmth of fresh compost. It writhes in something that almost resembles pain, an omnipresent discontent with the way it is, and the way things are.
Suddenly, there is light, above, and chains. And a Moon.
Oni Lee woke up. He was sitting on a couch, in a large apartment with brick walls, and tall windows. Vice was standing in front of him, naked but for his mask. He had his fingers buried in Oni Lee's temples, and his eyes were squinted in what seemed like disgust.
"Yech." He groused.
Oni Lee heard a gruff, womanly voice from somewhere behind him. "Why're you getting squeamish about reaching into people's bodies now?" He saw Junkyard Dog walk into the room out of the corner of his eye, naked and dripping wet. Loose white hair fell around her shoulders. She cracked open a can of beer with her claws.
"Hey, shithead." She said, looking directly at him. "Thanks for ruining my fucking clothes. Welcome to the fucking party." She chugged the entire can and crushed it in her fist before throwing it at Oni Lee's forehead.
Her proportions struck Oni Lee as faintly ridiculous, now that he was seeing them up close. She was simply very large in all respects, especially in the chest region. It seemed disadvantageous.
Where was his blade? He needed to kill her. Kill everyone in this room, so he could go home. He looked around the room.
The 'Princess Kittyhawk' sat on the armrest on the other side of the couch, small in every respect except perhaps the hips. Much more sensible. Certainly harder to hit. Her fur was all dry, and extremely frizzy.
Oni Lee did not know what she was Princess of, exactly. Lung did not seem to know or care, only ordering Lee to make sure they were dead. Which he would now need new weapons to do.
Oni Lee could still see the rain pouring outside the windows. Escape. He blinked. He opened his eyes.
He was still there.
He blinked again. Something was very wrong.
He continued to blink rapidly, hoping maybe it would dislodge whatever block he was currently experiencing.
Kittyhawk leaned over and waved her hand in front of Oni Lee's face for some reason he could not discern.
"Is he actually awake?" She asked.
"Yeah," Vice said. "Yeah, he's awake. Although maybe not… altogether there?"
This wasn't working. Oni Lee got up, grabbed Princess Kittyhawk by the throat, and ran for the door.
"Ack-!" She groused. Her limbs flailed in every which direction as she dangled behind Lee while he sprinted for the door.
"No. Bad Lee. Get back here. And drop her, please. No hurting the other harem members."
Oni Lee dropped Kittyhawk and picked up a knife from the countertop.
"Or me."
Oni Lee felt his body resist his attempts to stab every living thing in the room. He briefly considered stabbing himself. But that would be unhelpful.
His legs walked him back to the couch. He stabbed one of the cushions a few times.
"Yes…!" Vice said. "You understand the futility of your situation! Your anger only serves to make this all the sweeter."
Junkyard Dog huffed. Princess Kittyhawk clambered over Vice's shoulder, rubbing her throat. "How's it feel, dipshit? Can't do anything!" She squeaked out. Her grin was sharp and cruel. "Hey, Vice, can I try his power? I want to try teleporting!"
"Er…" Vice said. "We're going to hold off on using that one until I can fix it."
"Aww. Wait, what do you mean ...Fix it?"
"I'll explain later."
Princess Kittyhawk shrugged and flew off. Oni Lee just kept stabbing the cushion.
"Vice, it's really creepy the way his face is just completely blank while he's doing that. Did you give him brain damage?" Junkyard Dog asked.
They could see his face? Where was his mask?
Vice mimed massaging his temples. "Brad, I mean this with the utmost of sincerity; he was like that when I got there. Lee, give me that."
Lee's arm obeyed, while Lee himself looked for another sharp object. Or a long piece of wire or string, which he might use to strangle something. Or a gun.
"Lee, sit down, please."
Lee's body sat down.
Vice reached behind himself on the Coffee table and brought out Oni Lee's mask. One of the horns had snapped off and there was a large crack in it, running from the mouth down to the chin. He tapped his foot against the floor as he pondered. "Let's see. Something with horns, I think… in terms of color scheme… maybe something red… no, red accents. Maybe…"
Lee made to grab for the mask, but was unable to reach while still sitting down. Irritating.
Vice's head suddenly whipped around towards the window, eyes narrowed. His body went completely still in a way that seemed unnatural.
Lee saw the fur on the back of Junkyard Dog's neck stand up. Her muscles tensed in a way that Lee could see under her bare fur. It made him want his knife back.
"Vice? What's wrong?" She asked.
Vice sat there, rigid and still for a few seconds more, before relaxing and resuming his foot-tapping. "False alarm, probably just someone from New Wave flying by." He turned back to Lee. "Now, Oni Lee, you're probably wondering-"
"Are you going to kill me?" Lee asked.
Vice shook his head. "No, no, no. I have much bigger plans for you, my fair Lee, I will-"
"Are you going to interrogate me?" Lee asked.
Vice leaned back a bit. "No, not right now. I'm going to make you part of my harem, Lee. Your power and will are both mine, and soon, your body will as well!" He stood up and struck a pose.
Junkyard Dog rolled her eyes and lumbered out of the room.
"A member of your Harem." Oni Lee repeated.
"Oh, yes," Vice said. "The latest, but not the last, of my growing force of carnal concubines. You will serve me, fear me, and love me all in equal measure." He then began to laugh for what seemed like far too long a time.
The word 'Concubine' brought images to Lee's mind, of squat houses dressed in harsh, bright colors, rags and lace draped over the walls. Dozens of women packed into rooms with dirty beds and soft blankets. Lung had sent him there, sometimes. To guard, or sometimes to enjoy himself. Memories of warm flesh.
"Vice!" Junkyard Dog shouted from the other room, interrupting Vice's laughter. "Did you call Sabah yet?"
"I texted her!" he replied, cutting off his own laughter. "She'll be here, soon-ish. I made her an offer that was very, very hard to refuse." He steepled his fingers. "Now, Lee. Let's begin."
Vice leaned in. Lee brought his fist towards him, here it stopped in front of his cheek. Vice took it, and began to remove his gloves, and then his shirt. His hand gripped Lee's own. He needed to kill him.
Lee's hand began to tingle in Vice's grasp. Slowly, vice moved his hand down Lee's own, dragging it over Lee's skin, down to the wrist, moving towards the elbow.
Where his hand moved, Lee's muscles slimmed, and softened. Unspeakably soft white fur was left in its wake, almost like silk. Lee's hand now sported crimson claws, shiny like chrome.
Lee tried to rip out Vice's eyes with them. Didn't work.
"Haven't you learned by now," he asked, moving up towards Lee's shoulders, "That you can't hurt me?"
"I need to hurt you." Lee said, as fur spread up his neck. "I need to kill you."
"Why?" Vice asked. He mirrored his movements on Lee's other arm. They were both slender now, appearing delicate, yet still capable of breaking bones and cutting men down. Except for Vice, apparently.
"You need to die. Your encroachment on Lung's territory is an insult." Lee tried to remember the exact phrasing. "A clown grabbing for a crown. To lose territory to you makes one a laughing stock. So you need to die."
"Ah, good old Lung." Vice brought both his hands over Lee's shoulders, and then moved downwards. Fatty tissue, tingling and needy in an incredibly irritating way, swelled beneath his hands. "He's so sensitive to these kinds of things, isn't he?"
As if for emphasis, Vice took one of Lee's nipples between his fingers and gave it a light pinch. Lee grunted as he felt a shock of pleasure run through his chest like a bolt of lightning. Wait, was this the interrogation part?
This torture wasn't really that bad. He's had worse. Wait, Why was he answering his questions? Nobody had told him to do that.
"Ooh. That's not the sound I'm looking for." Vice said as Lee gave another heavy grunt. His hands dragged slowly up Lee's breasts, onwards towards his neck. His hands came up and gave a firm squeeze of the neck before cupping Lee's chin.
Lee's voice ran higher, turning soft like feather-down pillows as Vice pushed his Adam's apple inwards. His grunts turned into moans as Vice's hands embraced his face. His face stretched out, nose widening and flattening just a bit. Lee's scraggly facial hair faded into a field of soft whiteness, with just the barest hints of pink on the nose.
"Uhhn." Lee's grunts had long since turned into moans. Everything above his waist was so sensitive and soft, and he couldn't move away. Even if he wanted to. Vice's hands moved further up, before reaching Lee's eyes. The mossy green eye on Vice's mask suddenly closed, and Lee's vision went dark.
As his eyes changed, Lee felt Vice drag his fingers over Lee's face. He swept his thumb under both his eyes, leaving behind fur that changed in texture, just slightly. He pressed his index finger into Lee's forehead. And finally, he brushed his palms against Lee's eyelids, a gentle pressure where Lee felt he was receiving some irremovable marking.
Vice was leaning in closer now, as his hands returned to Lee's forehead. Lee could open his eyes now, but did not. Instead, he writhed in darkness as Vice brought his thumbs to two spots on Lee's head, and began to push upwards and inwards.
It was as Lee expected; the torture was beginning now. Pressure began to build in his head, until Lee was wracked with a headache. The ache grew, and grew, until Lee felt the pressure abate as two hard things pierced the skin on his head and grew, curving from his skull upwards and outwards towards the back of his head. As quickly as it arrived, the pain was gone, replaced by relief as two brand new horns rested upon his head.
Lee opened his eyes, now. Vice was so close, staring directly into Lee's head as he worked. Long white hair was falling around Lee's shoulders now, and his ears felt like they were melting and stretching downwards from the sides of his head.
Lee looked again towards the window, the rain having reduced to a trickle. With the darkness outside and the light in the apartment, the glass may as well have been a mirror.
Lee's old face was entirely gone. In its place was a goatlike visage, with crimson horns, and green eyes that were black where other eyes were white. The area surrounding his eyelids was stained red in a way that reminded Lee of the makeup Lung's girls wore when they wanted to attract attention. More red markings were present across his cheeks and forehead.
"Tell me Lee," Vice said, moving his hands towards the stomach as he continued his work. "Do you have to do everything Lung tells you to?"
"Yes." Lee said. His voice was so quiet, and so soft, he almost didn't hear himself.
Vice's hand reached Lee's waist, which slimmed inwards. More mass moved from the lower body to the chest.
"That's why you need to kill me?"
"That's why you need to die." Lee whispered.
"And why do you follow Lung?"
"Because he is the strongest. Because his victory is assured."
"That's all?" Vice asked. He cupped his hands between Lee's rear and the couch, hard muscle turning to doughy, supple, sensitive fat.
"Ah-!" Lee gasped. He waited for the pain to return, but the pleasure was only mounting. He felt a blooming desire between his legs.
"Nothing else? It's not because he feeds you, or provides for you, or gives you power in his organization? Just follow the man with the biggest…" he paused, climbing directly onto Lee's body, wrapping his legs around the waist. Their crotches were almost touching. "...stick, as it were?"
The desire between Lee's legs was turning into a burning, almost painful need. It was now that the true nature of the torture revealed itself. The noises Lee was making now sounded exactly like the one's Lung's girls would make, in their dens and whorehouses.
She sounded just like them, now.
"I-, Ah, I can provide for myself. I can survive. Lung is the strongest, and so his will is law," She gasped out.
"I see," Vice said, sounding like he didn't believe it. His feet entwined with Lee's. Her legs bulged out, growing muscle, and then fat, as her thighs grew beneath the march of silky whiteness. He threw his weight into her such that her legs were forced off the ground, shock straight. Her toes curled from pleasure, and then stuck to one another, refusing to come apart. Slowly, they fused, and hardened into bright shining red hooves, the same color as her claws and horns. She kicked them wildly, cracking the table as Vice pressed into her further. "If lung ordered you to sit on this couch, and not move no matter what, would you do it?" he asked.
"Yes." She answered, not even needing to think about it.
"And if he began to do what I'm doing to you, would let him do it?"
She needed to think about that one. Her hips pressed into his, and she felt the warmth between his legs brush against her newfound fold. "I… yes." she admitted. She would do anything for him. For that was what strength commanded.
"What If I told you I was stronger than Lung?" Vice asked.
"I would… Ah. Ahhhhh! I would not believe you." She moaned. Vice brought his hands down behind her and cupped her ass. She felt a small bushy tail emerge from above her butt, wiggling back and forth and she writhed under Vice's grip.
"Well," he said, placing his member directly into Lee's womanhood. "There's one way to test. If Lung wants you back, he'll have to fight me for it. Sound fair?"
Lee's vagina clenched on top of Vice's rod, feeling the desire in her grow angrier, more desperate, harder to ignore. In light of what she was feeling right now, it sounded more than fair.
"Lung will kill you. He will burn you to the ground, for daring to steal from him in this way. To Humiliate him in this way." She spat through grit teeth. Vice would die, if not by her hand, then by Lung's.
"Oh, I'm sure. But in the meantime-"
He thrust into her. A noise like that of a tea kettle escaped from Lee's lips.
"You. Are. My. Mistress. My whore, my concubine." He thrust again. One hand gripping her ass, the other wrapped around one of her new horns like a handlebar. His head was resting on her shoulder as he whispered into her ear. "You want to talk about insults going unanswered? You tried to kill my girls. This is the price."
They needed to die. What else would she have done? Nothing?
"Say it."
It is the nature of the strong to decide for the weak. Now, Vice was strong. Stronger than her.
"Say it."
The desire in her loins was strong. Stronger than her.
"Say. It."
She began to grind her body against his, in slow, sensual motions. The torture was too much. The pain could not compare to the pleasure.
"I… am…aaaahhhh… your mistress."
She flexed her hips into his steadily, up and down, back and forth. He returned each motion in time. Her hips crashed into his like waves upon a shore, growing in height and power, but not in speed. Each thrust brought greater peaks of sensation, stoking the fires in her loins. His flesh glided across her silken fur.
Lee remembered the way the women would moan under his touch, their movements, their smells.
"I- I am your whore–!" She bleated.
Another thrust.
"Your- Concubine- AHH!!"
She came. A powerful sensation of pleasure, electrifying her body. She was not ashamed of it. It was simply too strong for her. If she could not kill him, what could she do? If she could not do what was ordered of her, what even was she?
Lung would kill him. He would not let this go unanswered. He would not abandon her. If he did, what was even the point of him, or his power?
They laid upon the couch, stewing in each other's sweat and fluids.
At least she hadn't revealed anything under interrogation. That was the important part.
The noises from the living room had finally stopped. Brad got up, throwing Kit–
–throwing Lars off of him, as he shut off the TV in the bedroom. She gave a small yelp as she tumbled off the bed.
"Hey!"
"I'm not a fucking bed." Brad said. "Stop doing that." He sat up, feeling the blankets against his bare ass. That bitch Lee ruined his fucking clothes. And now she was a bitch. Serves her right. She wanted to sink them? Guess who's in the same boat now. Honestly, she deserved it. Creepy fucking killing machine.
Brad shuddered. Oni Lee was always so weird to fight, because he moved with barely any urgency at all. Lightning fast, sure, but he carried himself like the death and destruction around him was somehow boring, or expected. Like killing meant nothing to him.
Killing should mean something. It should feel fucking great to put an enemy six feet under. A good fight is something to revel in. Lee, meanwhile, fought with all the passion of a man bagging groceries. Efficient, yes, but also dead inside. 2 cartons of eggs and a severed head, that'll be 14.22. Would you like to join our rewards program?
Brad shook his head. He didn't know how right he was back then. Actually meeting and then talking with Lee for more than a single sentence revealed that man apparently had even less going on upstairs than he thought.
…Something that might have something to do with his power being 'broken', according to Vice. Was Lee, like a half Case-53? Like his memory didn't get wiped all the way, just enough to leave him… like that.
Vice knew. Vice something not just about Oni Lee's power, but powers altogether. That made him not just powerful, but important. And he had a feeling that if he pressed Vice about it, he would tell Brad everything he knew.
The questions were getting too big at this point. Now was the perfect time.
Brad stepped into the room. Vice was naked, the intoxicating smell of sex coming off him, and Oni Lee was… now a kinda-demonic, kinda Japanese-whore-looking goat lady. A really, really pretty goat lady with really creepy eyes. What the fuck?
Spoiler: Lee Nude
Brad pointed at her accusingly. "Why the fuck is she so pretty? She tried to kill me!"
Brad heard Lars's collar jingle and looked down to see her looking at Brad with befuddlement.
"You know what I mean!" Brad snapped.
Lee's eyes were half lidded, eyelids colored a deep red and contrasted sharply with her black eyes. She had an absent smile on her face, and seemed even more out of it than before. After a moment, she locked eyes with Brad.
Spoiler: Lee Close
"You will have your flesh melted from your bones." She said flatly.
"Sounds like a great way to die. Thanks, bitch." Brad huffed. "So Vice, what's wrong with her power, exactly?"
Vice wrung his hands together. "That's going to take a little bit of background, and Sabah is almost here. We'll cover that later."
"Psst!" Lars hissed, crawling up on Brad's shoulder again. "Who's Sabah?" She asked accusingly.
"Not someone you need to worry about."
Vice stood straight and marched in front of them like a general giving a battle plan. "We are going to get the clothes situation sorted out, and then we are going to have delicious appetizers and New Year's Booze–"
He paused, as if listening for something.
"--and then we are going to DUCK!"
As Brad's body involuntarily hit the floor, slamming his tits into the ground, he saw a massive hand wearing heavy-duty gardening gloves emerge from the darkness outside the windows, tear through the wall, and swipe through the apartment.
As bricks rained around Brad, he regained control and shot to his feet as the hand retracted, and he saw the giant, shining helmets of the giantess twins standing eye level with the windows on Lars's sixth floor apartment. He raced the edge of the collapsing wall and looked out on the street.
Both Frenja and Menja were there. And so was everyone else. The entire cape contingent Empire Eighty-Eight was pulling up to the building.
Now?
After a whole fucking week of being subjected to— NOW? After she had already given herself to Vice multiple times, now they show up?!
She felt her sharp teeth grind against each other. Brad looked out on the biggest gathering of Empire capes since she could ever remember and all she could feel was angry.
She heard the rubble behind her shift and saw wings of metal extending from Vice's back, shielding Oni Lee and Lars from the onslaught. Oni Lee seemed unperturbed by the whole thing, while Lars looked like she was doing her best attempt to shrink in on herself and disappear.
"Twice in one night?" He asked, his muscles bulging beneath the skin with transparent anger. "Really?"
The air gathered around him, and the wings of metal grew larger as he ran forward, and dove off the edge directly towards Menja.
"I've always wanted to say this." He said.
And then he started to fly.
He took in a deep breath, flew above The Twin's heads, wings glittering in the rain. And then he screamed.
"Who DARES?"