Fortress City qualifies as a ga-city. It was built to harbor the population of the entire western seaboard at maximum capacity.
It is nowhere near maximum capacity.
Its Odd Sumrs fault of course. Plenty of terrible things occur to curb population growth. Im not just talking about bad triggers or plain old-fashioned murderers either. One might be quick to bla supers for the body count, but the reality is that new supers are also the hardest hit demographic. One in three new supers dont live past their first week, let alone their first sumr. Think about that if you happen to get lucky.
-Mr. K
Hellions Henchn
Its the containnt facility next to the highschool, said Socket.
Are you serious? How the hell would they not have noticed that? asked Viper.
Havent been any bad triggers at the school lately, answered Rattleback, And the schools closed now anyway. Probably unmanned for the sumr.
Youd think theyd at least hire a security guard to sit his ass there.
Those facilities all have automatic security systems, said Socket with a shrug. Our rat musta found a hole in the security.
Assuming hes actually using it and not just under it, said Rattleback. If hes inside then this could get a whole lot more complicated.
Imp is talking with Hellion right now," said Sandra, "hell let us know how she wants this handled."
The group collectively turned to watch Imp talking on his phone. They were still in the cafeteria, gathered around the table Tofus friend had been sitting at. The Tinker Tot had been sent to bed, and now it was only employees of HH in the cafeteria. Imp was a bit off to the side, pacing back and forth as he talked to their boss on the phone, and around the group of lieutenants was a gathering crowd of minions at the tables. No one had called the gathering together, most of them werent even on the clock, but everyone could tell that sothing was about to happen. Imp wasnt saying much, and he was holding his phone farther and farther from his ear as the voice on the other end rose in volu.
Which ant theyd probably have orders soon.
The lieutenants quietly watched Imp pace for a minute longer. Then when his arm was almost fully extended away from his face, Hellions voice was interrupted by a large bang and crackle of static, and the call cut off.
Imp took a deep breath and sighed, then teleported his phone away, and turned to the table with his fellow lieutenants.
Well. Hellions pissed.
No shit, said Viper.
Ill order a new desk tomorrow, added Rattleback.
Imp approached the group and leaned over the table, glancing at the map of likely locations. Then he addressed the group.
Two things. First is the kidnap victims. Theyll of course be priority. Do we have any idea where they are?
They should be around here, answered Socket, pointing at the likely hideout. Tofus little friend helped narrow it down. Smack dab under a holding facility, or maybe even inside it.
Huh, kinda clever. Cs wouldnt think to look there.
We could tip the heroes off ourselves, let them handle it, suggested Sandra.
No, not this ti. This rat bastard has been targeting mutants, in Hellions territory, not a week after the city watched us wipe the Espada off the map. That needs to be answered, so well be handling this ourselves. Whoever this person is they dont get to walk away. Hellions orders.
No one had any problems with that.
They began hashing out possible plans of approach. There were essentially three main details that needed to be accounted for: the hostages, the security system that might still be active, and the army of zombie horrors.
Sneak the hostages out? No, they didnt have ti to case the joint, and accidently being discovered partway through the operation would result in a super brawl with civies in the mix.
Frontal assault? Not likely. They had enough boneheads to handle the zombies, but that big eel thing Imp had fought would be too much for them. Sandra wouldnt authorize it unless they had soone with the right powerset.
Bribe Turbo into pulling the hostages out while letting the villain disappear? No, if he didnt go for it then theyd have alerted the heroes for no reason.
Let Hellion burn the zombie army down?
Nope.
Nuh-uh.
Eff that.
The lieutenants imdiately discarded that suggestion. Way too much potential for collateral damage. Hellion was usually pretty good about controlling herself, but this issue had hit just a bit too close to ho for their boss, so she was currently barricaded in her office until her temper cooled enough to be safe. Hellion had a lot of strengths, but subtlety and precision werent part of them.
Eventually they determined the plan with the highest chance of success would simply be to let Imp infiltrate and take the target out of the picture. The only potential downside was if the zombies didnt fall over once their creator bit the dust. They needed one more infiltrator to go in with him and cover the hostages, preferably soone who wouldnt risk tripping a sensor, and who could hold their own against the zombies until the boneheads arrived to even the odds.
Luckily, Imp knew just the minion.
The basent room was brightly lit. Extra lamps had been brought in and set up around the room to provide maximum visibility. Sturdy tal tables had also been dragged in to provide surfaces to work on, twelve total.
On each one was a corpse. Most of them mutant humans.
Maybe add a few extra kidneys? Would that help the filtration?
The voice ca from a man sitting on a wheeled office chair next to one of the tables. A receding hairline, glasses, a striped button-up shirt and wrinkled slacks, not quite overweight, but definitely out of shape; the man was a picture of ordinary. In his hand was a book on biology, highschool level. He currently had it open to a page that detailed human organs.
The man turned away from the opened corpse in front of him and rolled his chair to the next table, where a fresh corpse with elongated arms and a scaled head waited. Then he had to wheel back briefly to grab the tool he forgot. The first incision went from stomach to sternum, cutting open the corpse with practiced movents (if sowhat imprecise). Then his phone rang, interrupting him. He sighed and wiped his hands on a towel before answering.
Hey honey, whats up?... Oh jeez its already so late, I didnt notice... No no, nothing super important, just finishing up entering so final grades for the sester. The school closing early threw everything into chaos, you know how it is Sure I can pick up milk on the way ho, anything else while Im at it?... Uh huh sure You made atloaf? Ill need to hurry this up then Love you too, see you in, oh, an hour or so? Kiss kiss.
The man hung up his phone, and quickly got back to cutting open the corpse, whistling as he did so. His good mood at learning about the atloaf quickly faded though, quickly turning to frustration.
Does this guy NOT have kidneys? What the hell. Goddamn mutants He grumbled as he searched for the elusive organs. Unfortunately he was interrupted again, this ti by the sound of footsteps and scuffling.
There was only one door to the room, propped open with a stool, which allowed the approaching rat-hybrid to drag its catch into the room without fumbling with the latch. This particular specin was mostly human-looking, except the head which had been borrowed from a rat, and hands which had been replaced with nessie tentacles. One of the resulting tentacle clusters was wrapped around the arm of a young human, about sixteen-seventeen, who had eyes with slit pupils, but was otherwise normal. The youth struggled to get himself free, but the rat-hybrid was stronger than it looked.
The rat-stitcher paused his work and sighed, Like Ive said over a dozen tis now, dont bring them to , put them in the cells. I swear, even the eel is smarter than you damn rats.
The creature began dragging away the boy, but not before he could ask, Who are you? Do you control these things? Why are you doing this?
And this is why I want them brought to the cells muttered the rat-stitcher. Its nothing personal kid.
So its a job? Youre killing people for money? The boy asked. He seed sowhat out of it, asking questions in a deadpan voice that belied his situation. Understandable, considering what he had likely been through before arriving in the rat-stitchers lair.
...Wait, commanded the rat-stitcher. The rat-creature stopped, and the rat-stitcher turned to the boy with an exasperated sigh. No, Im not doing this for money. I wouldnt kill this many people over sothing so frivolous as money. When I said its not personal, I ant its not personal between and you.
Who is it between then?
My, youre just full of questions. If only all my students had been the sa.
Youre a teacher?
The rat-stitcher ignored that question, and sat quietly before asking, Which parent was the mutant?
What?
Your eyes. Im just guessing of course, maybe you mutated yourself? If it were both parents Id think youd have sothing a bit more... dramatic.
...My father.
Mhm. The rat-stitcher turned back to the corpse he had been digging through, gesturing at it with his hand. Did you know mutavus inflicted mutations always beco the dominant trait? It changes your very DNA you know. If a trait doesnt get passed down its only because the other parent gave a better one. Peh, as if a virus knows whats better for a person. Soday it might only be mutants. Cant let that happen.
Thats what this is about?
The rat-stitcher gave the kid a sideways glance before looking away, seeming lost in thought. Finally, he spoke.
...My daughter, she was a senior in highschool at the ti. Her boyfriend was a mutant. they werent careful enough, she got pregnant, there was a... complication. Id never thought about the subject much, not until then
The rat-stitcher continued staring into the middle distance and waved them away, the rat-hybrid quickly dragging the boy off to the cells. After another minute he snapped out of whatever trance had gripped him, and looked around the room, taking in the ss.
Better clean this up, Im going to be late as it is.
He started cleaning up his tools, sotis grumbling about the missing kidneys. When the work was almost done though, a ringtone interrupted yet again.
Now what? The atloafs going to get cold at this rate, he said, reaching for his phone. But then he beca confused when he saw the screen was still off, and the ringtone went off again, coming from sowhere else.
Sorry, its my phone, I replied.
The rat-stitcher jumped in fright, not expecting the corpse I had disguised myself as to speak. I took advantage of his confusion to reach out and clamp a hand over his mouth, wrapping my elongated fingers around his head to keep a tight grip on him. He tried to scream and struggled, but couldnt dislodge my makeshift gag. I waited, watching the door for any stitch-rat minions that might be coming.
Nothing ca. It seed the rat-hybrid creations really were controlled by verbal commands. That ant I had ti.
I reached inside my crudely opened chest cavity, and withdrew my phone from the fleshy pocket it was hidden in. Seems Tim was giving a call. I answered it.
Hello Tim.
Hey Tofu. Hope Im not calling too late.
Youre not. Im actually at work anyways, Ive got the late shift at the warehouse.
Oh, well I can call back tomorrow if youre working.
Its fine, Ive got a mont. Whats up?
I was going to go part hunting at Cedrics Hardware tomorrow and I wanted to know if youd be interested in tagging along.
Hmm, I would, but Im helping a friend of mine move into her new place tomorrow. I dont know if Ill have the ti to -oof
The rat-stitcher tried to pull himself free with a sudden burst of action, yanking so hard he pulled halfway off the table. I anchored my feet to the floor, using traction claws to get a good grip. He wasnt going anywhere.
You alright? asked Tim.
Yeah, I just lost my grip on a box. Anyways Im not sure if Ill have ti tomorrow, but we could do sothing Wednesday?
Oh, I wont be in-sector Wednesday. My family and I are going up to NE7 to visit my aunt for a few days. She had a bad scare, and my mother wants us to keep her company.
I see. Well we can do sothing when you get back. Just give a call.
Alright. Later then.
I ended the call, and stuck my phone back in its pocket under my ribcage. The rat-stitcher had done quite a number on the internal organs I had ford specially to maintain my disguise. A skeleton, a circulatory system, musculature, and a nerve network were of course necessary, but the other organs could be much more freeform. Lungs to speed oxygen absorption, vocal cords, sensory organs, a stomach to store food in while I dismantled it, and however many hearts I needed to speed up micro-unit distribution. Oh, and a brain to run Human.exe. Those organs were important for daily use, but could be discarded as necessary. All the other organs, like liver and intestines, were superfluous, and I had ford them specifically to perfect my disguise.
And the rat-stitcher had dug through it with all the grace of a blunt shovel. Stitcher would be disappointed. I was too. It had taken a lot of effort to maintain the disguise while he was digging through it.
I reached out and pulled away the stool propping the door open. Then I looked over his tools and grabbed so of the better ones for myself (scalpels made wonderful shivs).
I turned my attention to the rat-stitcher. He was pale and had fallen to the floor, his hands wrapped around my wrist as he uselessly tried to pry off.
So. Tell more about this atloaf.
It took a little while to finish up with the rat-stitcher. I had a lot of questions, and when I got my answers I still needed to make a ssage out of him as Imp put it. Hopefully I did it right.
The rat-stitcher had made several mistakes in how he operated. First was pissing off Hellion, that was obvious. Then ca how sloppily he executed his plan. He should have laid low for longer, and built up a larger force in secret, taking advantage of the organisms in the sewers. If he hadnt hit such attention grabbing targets, he could have built up a real army (not that it helped him in the end. Not a single guard while he worked? Seriously?). The only good thing he did was targeting already mutated people, which ant he didnt have to work around potential trigger events or mutations.
One detail he might have considered though, is that if you nullify their power, an already triggered human works just as well as a mutant for experintation. Performing my own experint, I was able to observe exactly how much brain matter a human needs to stay alive. This matched up with how much was required to run Human.exe at a minimum, so it was nice to know that Human.exe wasnt just being finicky with whenever I tried to reduce dedicated processing power.
I sent a ssage to Imp that the rat-stitcher was dead, and then left the room, not bothering to switch back to my regular disguise just yet (though I did put my mask on).
The plan to get inside the rat-stitchers lair had been simple enough. I disguised myself as a mutant corpse, used a decoy scent near the lair to get the rats attention, and then let them bring in themselves. Imp followed the safe route using markers I dropped along the path, and then we were both inside. Whichever one of us found the rat-stitcher first would kill him, and the other would find the hostages and wait for the stitch-rats to fall over.
Normally I wouldnt have volunteered for such a dangerous role in the plan, but the rat-stitchers powers were a known quantity, and I had been supplied with tools for safety. A heavy-duty location tracker, a tazer, a bundle of volatile material that would explode under the right conditions (legally not a grenade), several military grade energy bars, and an extra cell phone that had its signal boosted. By using the cell phones cara to broadcast footage to Imp, hed be able to teleport right to my location in an ergency (and I noted the fact that he needed knowledge of his destination to teleport). None of which had co into play of course; the rat-stitcher hadnt been up to defending against a real attacker. Disappointing in almost all aspects.
I will admit that I was surprised he resisted my questioning. Hed answered most of my queries, but when I asked why humans like rectangles so much, he refused to give a solid answer. Oh well, Id figure it out eventually. Questioning the rat-stitcher wasnt why I accepted this job anyways.
I made my way down the hallway, keeping an eye out for any rogue rat-hybrids. The first one I ca across was reassuringly dead, as was the second, but the third one was still twitching. It had been randomly dragging itself back and forth along the hall leaving a trail of blood, and then collapsed against the wall. This one was less modified than the previous two, with a rat as its base component, so I suppose there had been enough unmodified systems for it to live past the rat-stitchers power disappearing. I killed it quickly and moved on.
I made my way down the halls of the containnt facility, following the directions the rat-stitcher had given . The cells that were being used to hold the hostages were actually in the opposite direction, but they werent my real goal. No, my main goal was the storage room, which was more of a cave the rats had carved out under the facility. Apparently the rats had infested the building long before the rat-stitcher had triggered, and once he did, his creations had led him to the perfect lair. A sha he wasted the opportunity.
Speaking of opportunity
Analysis results: blood 100%, muscle 77%, carapace 35%.
The data I recovered from my brief interaction with Nicoles cell structures was informative, but frustratingly incomplete. I was already using the blood modifications (hers had a much better oxygen transfer rate), but if I tried to apply the muscle improvents Id wind up pulling my own skeleton apart. This was why I preferred complete samples; ligant attachnt points, blood flow capacity, cellular regeneration patterns, wear-and-tear rates from repeated motions, and thousands of other small details were all needed to make a working biological system. You couldnt just slap things together, especially not when so of the parts had such a higher performance output.
I kicked a rat-hybrid corpse out of a doorway. It had fallen apart at the seams when the threads keeping its large legs attached had snapped, unable to handle the pull of the powerful muscles without the rat-stitchers power to help. Case in point.
The hallway eventually gave way to a rough-hewn tunnel, teeth marks making it obvious how the tunnel was constructed. A short jaunt down said lightless tunnel, and I erged into a semi-constructed cavern. It had originally been part of the sewer, so there was evidence of human construction, but most of it was recently carved from the cent foundations of the city. Dead bodies were everywhere, both creations and civilians, kept only semi-fresh by the icy air gushing from a busted pipe in the ceiling.
Laying in the center of it all was the giant will-o-wisp. Not dead. Scarfing down corpse after corpse (many of which fell back out of the holes Imp had blasted in its side).
Annoying. Impressive, but annoying. One of the heads that had been attached to it was ripped off, and it was moving sluggishly in the extre, but most of the arms sewn around its mouth to act as teeth were still there, and it was eating everything it could grab. I didnt see what I ca for among the bodies it hadnt eaten, but I did see a large bulge in its gut, bloating a large section midway down its length. Seems Id have to work for my prize.
I watched the will-o-wisp for a while, analyzing its movents, and noting the state of the corpses that fell out of it, before throwing a decoy scent-bulb at one of the corpses near its head. It instantly reacted and ate that corpse, but I didnt see anywhere near the amount of power or speed it displayed when it last attacked. It was dying, but slowly. Too slowly for my purposes. I needed to get back to Imp and the other minions eventually.
I considered using the explosive package that Rattleback gave , but ultimately decided against it. The will-o-wisp already had two holes blown into it, and I didnt think a third would do much more than put it on its guard. Plus, I would rather not damage any important samples.
I watched the will-o-wisp for another minute, throwing out a few scent-bulbs on nearby corpses to see how it reacted and moved. Once I was satisfied I had a near-complete comprehension of its abilities, I approached and lay down near its head, releasing decoy scent as I did so.
It swallowed up imdiately.
Substandard intelligence.
As soon as I was in its throat I extended traction claws. It scread and tried to dislodge , thrashing against the walls of the room when it couldnt simply spit out, but it didnt have the ability to crush inside its own throat, and my tendrils were extending into it and anchoring further. After that I treated it like a harvesting procedure, dumping micro units to dissolve tough tissue structures and absorb materials to build even more micro units. Soon enough the organic structures that had held its neck together were sufficiently dissolved, and its large head simply fell off.
To its credit, the head didnt die imdiately, the arm-teeth attached to its mouth twitching as they tried to find purchase on anything around it. I was definitely looking forward to analyzing the inner workings of its head (once it was truly dead of course).
Well, that was disturbing.
I froze, then looked at the entrance to the cave, where Imp was standing. The eyes of his mask glead in the dark cave as his helt compensated for the darkness. He must have arrived while I was inside the will-o-wisp. I withdrew myself from the stump of the will-o-wisps neck, and pulled myself back into the shape of my regular disguise.
Hello Imp. Did everything go okay with the hostages?
Went just peachy, all the zombies fell right over. Boneheads have it handled, so I decided to see what trouble you were getting into this ti.
I havent had any trouble so far.
Right, no trouble he says said Imp, his head turning as he scanned the cave. I have to say Tofu, Im impressed with how well youve taken to the job. Especially so of the more unpleasant aspects. Most teens wouldnt have the stomach for wet work.
Wet work?
He pointed down at the will-o-wisp, where a large pool of blood had ford between the severed pieces, soaking into the surrounding bodies.
Ah, wet work.
Im surprised you havent heard the term, continued Imp, You seem quite experienced at it. Makes wonder what your story is. Where did you say you were from again?
Ive never ntioned where Im from.
Thats right. Thats right you havent. Mind telling your story? Im mighty curious.
Sothing was off. Imp didnt normally talk like this, and his hand was casually resting on the butt of his pistol. To anyone else his stance might have seed relaxed, but soone who could teleport his weapons into his hands wouldnt develop that kind of posture, nor did it match his normally slouched pose. He was doing it on purpose it was a warning.
Id rather not talk about myself Imp.
You sure? Cause after what Ive seen today Im thinking Id like so context. You do realize its not normal for a teenager to be completely fine with... this, he gestured at the body pantry around us. Your friend Nicoles reaction was much more believable, and from what I can tell shes seen so shit. Add that to the fact Ive seen you ripped in half without flinching, and stabbed by a power that knocked freaking Pebbles out, and maybe you can understand why Im a bit concerned about who I hired.
...I thought HH policy was that employees need not reveal personal details?
Im not asking for your social security number here. Im asking to be convinced that you arent so plant. Or a rcenary. Or a vigilante.
Im not any of those things Imp.
Yes well, considering youre a shapeshifter, I could stand here all day guessing and never narrow it down. Im not asking who you arent, Im asking who you are.
I didnt really know how to answer that. But
Use of word who, not what.
He still thought I was human. My disguise wasnt compromised just yet. But I wasnt sure what I could tell him without revealing myself.
Tell you what, he said, Since you dont want to tell one of your stories, Ill tell you one of mine. Nearly twenty years ago... damn, makes feel old to say it that way. Anyways, twenty years ago, I was running with so shit gang here in E13. More just a group of people that did their cri together really. Wed scrape together the barest living like rats, eventually get broken up or absorbed by another gang, and the cycle would repeat. E13 was a pretty shit place back then. I hated it. I wanted out.
Then one particular Odd Sumr cos along. I trigger. Holy shit do I trigger. Do you have any idea how easy it is to steal things when no one can stop you leaving? Suddenly my life was easy street. I could take whatever I wanted and just, bounce. Started living with actual capital in my bank, started dealing in higher stakes robberies, but to be honest I was still stuck. Still going through the sa daily scraping cycle.
Then I get an offer from so high rollers. One of the big ti gangs from out of the sector moving in, with even bigger plans. They were gonna use their connections to change a few laws in E13, set it up for what would eventually beco the Red Zone. All they wanted was so powered muscle, so theyd been snapping up all the new talents from that sumr. Thats when I t Hellion.
Things were great at first. The high rollers pointed and we jumped, then we got paid, then we got all the things we thought we wanted. Money, power, recognition, or at least what felt like recognition. Hell, all us young folk even felt like a team, for what it was worth. I was satisfied, but I hadnt realized yet that I was still in that fucking cycle. I was still just a rat, even if I was a well fed one. When things began to sour I didnt recognize it. Hellion did. The people that set up the Red Zone weren't interested in building up E13 you see. All the wealth it generated left the sector, used to fund their escapades in other areas of the city. The people who were useful to the gang ate a bit better, but those on the bottom were in worse straits than ever before, what passed for E13s governnt basically being part of the gang. If it werent for the heroes that stuck it out at the ti, the sector might have been truly fucked...
So, Hellion gathered so like-minded individuals who also didnt like the way things were heading, perford a coup, ford Hellions Henchn, and we all lived happily ever after. The End.
...What?
Imp, I believe there is more to your story than that.
Heh, annoying isnt it? Not knowing the full story? He tilted his head towards . I couldnt see his expression, but I got it.
Anyways, continued Imp, The point of this story is that it took a lot of blood, sweat, and tears to get E13 and Hellions Henchn into the shape theyre in today, and if you think Id let company policy stop from defending what weve built here, youre more naive than I thought possible. So. I told you my story, now its your turn. I insist, he shrugged, Or youre fired.
That was a relief. I had been worried he would try to kill . My bullet-resistant suit was currently folded around my core, but teleportation made fighting him unpredictable. He used guns, but there was nothing stopping him from just teleporting a live grenade into my face. I would have had to run and hope he didnt follow deep into the sewers. It was nice to know I had the option of walking away instead of revealing myself, although it would an leaving behind what Id built here. An unpleasant outco. I also liked what Id built.
I looked around the room and pointed at one of the less-modified hybrid bodies, I used to call rats grey-furs, before I knew their na. I turned back to Imp. I fought them almost daily, along with yellow-furs and brown-furs. It was part of combat testing. If I succeeded, I got to eat what I killed. Otherwise I received only nutrient slurry. There was also puzzle and survival testing. All testing occurred in a thirty-by-thirty foot concrete room, adjacent to the room I slept in. Up until I escaped these were the only two rooms I had ever been inside as far as I rember.
Then when a yellow-fur triggered at the start of Odd Sumr, I was able to use the event to escape. In the city I t Jasper, went to E13, and signed up with Hellions Henchn. The End.
Imp was silent, just staring at . Then he tilted his head, Well Sandra? Does his story check out?
I heard a note of static, before Sandras voice ca in over our helts, ...Every word. Damn it Imp, I work in HR to prevent this kind of thing! I do NOT appreciate being used to dig through soones persona- *Click*
The sound cut out as Imp turned off the channel.
Ugh, Im gonna pay for that one later. Sorry about the third degree Tofu. I had to be sure.
I understand. So Im not fired?
Nah youre fine. And I know it might not an much coming from , but Ill be discreet about your background. Its your story to tell.
I shrugged. If he and Sandra accepted my backstory, then there wasnt much cause for concern if others learned it.
Alright, said Imp, Im gonna go snoop around and see if I can find anything useful. Catch up with the other minions when youre done with the eel thing I guess. He gave a brief wave and teleported away, leaving alone in the corpse pantry.
I took a mont to assess my situation before getting back to what I was doing. This was the closest I had co to disaster in a while, although this was the first ti a simple question could have been my undoing. I couldnt beat Imp in a fight, and I was sure now that Sandra had so way of detecting lies. One wrong word and it could have all been over...
Sotis humans are just terrifying.
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