HOLY SHIT, it's an update!

What's more, I'm crossposting this to Questionable Questing later for further analysis, reader responses and quality critique.

And now, without further ado, CONSENT TO THE LOVING CARESSES OF LORD NURGLE! FOR CHAOS, AND BUTTSEX!

I… I mean, um, enjoy the latest installment! *note to self: do not mix religion and work*

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Chapter 3
Convert

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As I live alone, and am… well, I like eating people, so one might call me a cannibal… I don't really expect anyone to be in my 'house', waiting for me to return home.

But, well, there it is. Or rather, she.

There's a woman in my redoubt. Sitting on my couch. Drinking my tea.

Picture this: I have just landed in one of the collapsed portions of the Foundry, a bag of groceries in one hand containing a couple tubs of ice cream, a box of assorted teas, and a few dozen different kinds of sunglasses. In my other hand, a deer hind leg, still warm.

What? Fighting villains is hard work, and the buck was just standing there on the train tracks leading up here. Someone might as well have hung a huge sign saying EAT ME on the antlered creature. That deer horns taste a little like garlic breadsticks is as massive plus! But I digress.

So there I am, still thin for some reason… and I can see someone in my appropriated redoubt drinking my tea on my nice sofa.

'Hmm…' I think, taking a bite out of my leg of venison, 'Who's invited themselves into my home? Oh river, tell me your secrets!'

Like taxes on payday, the river gives me an unavoidable kick to the head, enlightening me on this mystery person.

Oh. They're part of Cauldron. What was that again? Oooh, Case 53s, eh? I wonder what Legend has to do with –

…What the shit, river. A little warning before you ruin my estimation of all my childhood heroes!

On the other hand, it's just the Triumvirate… the founders and leaders of the Protectorate… son of a bitch. And the woman drinking my tea is here to recruit and/or neutralize me if I pose a threat to Cauldron's operations. Alexandria suggested this. Fucking Alexandria, who is apparently living a double life.

I savage the leg, teeth crunching loudly through tasty marrow, so as to bleed off some hostility. The woman in my house is VERY dangerous. I mean, sure, I could kill her easily, but that'd bring a whole mountain of trouble down on my head. Zion might take notice as well…

…Oh? Ohhh! Thanks, river!

Swapping my human legs out for a deer/grasshopper hybrid, I move swiftly through the Foundry and come to a stop eight seconds later in front of the Cauldron agent. Contessa. Fortuna.

She hasn't taken her hat or coat off. 'Oh my god, it's like she's never heard of manners or proper guest etiquette!' and she's just sitting there, one of my good porcelain tea cups halfway to her lips, looking like I've surprised her greatly with my sudden appearance.

Nice act, "Good morning," I say evenly, before stuffing the deer hoof in my mouth, making it crunch between my teeth pointedly while staring down at the woman.

"Hello, Dreadnaught. You know who I am, and why I'm here," Contessa replies, as though she's reading from a script, taking another sip of my tea before daintily setting the cup down on the tray, "I'd prefer you make this easy on yourself –"

I snatch the fedora off her head and put in on my own dome before turning and walking away from her, heading for the freezer to store my slowly melting ice cream. Behind me, Contessa does a marvelous impression of a landed fish before whispering, "My… my hat…"

Dairy confectionaries dutifully stored in the ice box, I turn back around to find the woman standing and glaring determinedly at me, fingers clenching. She wants her hat back, and is trying (failing) to Path a way to do so. Adorable.

"I realize you don't understand complex social concepts like personal space and private property, mainly due to your passenger being a right cunt," I begin, crossing my arms and leaning against a wall, one which plays host to a mural I've painted of the Solar System's planets, "But this, Contessa?" I waved a hand at my tea set, "If I were actually evil, I'd have killed you without warning and eaten your meaty parts for trespassing and drinking my fucking tea, without invitation or so much as a by-your-leave."

And she looks like a landed fish again. That's a really good impression.

It also pisses me off, hence me barking, "Say something, you amoral, misguided bitch!" making the woman give a tiny flinch, though her expression doesn't shift far from neutral; to my dismay, her eyes keep flicking left to right as she tries to Path a way to get my compliance. Or her hat back. She likes this hat.

Like I give a fuck. Tea is one of the only things that still tastes the same as when I was alive. And she drank it. Without asking. Bitch.

After sighing, I say wearily, "You came here to gauge my threat level to please your little not-so-secret society, and ensure either my alliance with said group, or, much more idiotically, make sure I don't become a threat to your operations," I stare at her until she nods, but her expression hasn't changed. This is what I've come home to: a woman with the emotional spectrum of a koala, but not nearly as snuggly, trying to figure out how to get on my good side.

I could just eat her, but that… wouldn't turn out so well…

"Listen to me carefully, Contessa. Are you listening?" another mechanical nod; good river, she even Pathed that! "You, and all of your friends, are, bar none, the inter-dimensional heavyweight champions of being colossal, titanic, egregious morons. And yes," I add acidly when she opens her mouth, "I'm counting King Leopold, the Nazi SS, and whichever bright spark thought it'd be a good idea to build a nuclear reactor on Japan's east coast."

Leviathan has an appointment with my lattices for that one.

A long moment passes before she opens her mouth again, robotically saying, "You're making a mist-"

I cut her off coldly, "When was the last time you didn't Path your way through a conversation, Fortuna?" Good. Now she's scared, if the paling of her face and the clenching of her hands are any indication. Time to shatter her world-view, "Did it ever occur to you that the creation of the C53s is exactly what that fucking parasite wanted you to do?!"

Okay, so that's what's got me so mad right now: they were able to nearly kill one of the parasites, BUT, instead of studying ways to destroy the passengers, they attach them to people instead. People they've been kidnapping from multiple worlds, some of whom were only peripherally human upon acquisition.

Having a lot of them in one place may create a blindspot in Zion's sensing ability, which is useful, but that doesn't excuse their preforming horrendous experiments on people that even the masterminds behind the Holocaust would balk at!

And the remaining parasite knows this and has no problem with their actions, because the retarded thing thinks it's just his mate, who he knew was damaged before this 'Cycle' of theirs began, sending out damaged or crippled passengers as she tries to regenerate. But nooo, it's just Cauldron fucking shit up on a pan-dimensional scale!

Oh, and Contessa seems to be confused, "Parasite?"

It is a Herculean effort to resist face-palming, "You call her Eden."

Her brows slam together, "How… what do you know about them?" she's also getting a headache.

Boy, it sure is great I can't get those anymore, or I'd be feeling like someone set off a bomb in my skull! How dense can you get?!

"Besides my point, and you're changing the subject," I drawl before snapping at the pugnacious woman, "Did you even listen to anything I just said?"

She straightens, "We're saving the world. This is the best Pa- ow." I've just darted in front of her and flicked her in the forehead before darting back to the mural.

"That's your problem," I retort hotly, "You're relying on the passengers to give you the answers, but Eden hampered you when you tried to kill her. You've been flying blind for damn-near thirty years, throwing random shit at the wall that is the parasite without knowing what will stick, when, news flash Contessa," I lean forward and say slowly, "you lost the moment you stood before the thing you call 'Eden'. It all but ensured you'd spread its passengers, and that it would seem like a good idea."

A long, tense moment of silence passes before Contessa whispers, both in fear and anger, "How do you know all this?"

My scarf is still down (hard to eat with it in the way), but I am wearing a pair of mirrored Aviators. I take them off and toss them aside. They skid across the floor, scuffing the lenses. I don't much care, really. I have, like, another ten of the things, and Contessa won't rat out who, or what, I am.

"All things are clear in death, Fortuna."

Her face is uncomprehending at first, hence her rapid blinking and building headache. It's a long minute before the other foot drops, but her reply is still mechanical despite her attempts to make it sound otherwise, "If… if you know so much, you can help us. Help me find the right Path…" she stops, because I'm shaking my head.

How could such an intelligent woman be so… so… eh, I'm blaming this on her passenger.

"You've already lost, Contessa. You lost the moment you helped Doctor Mother found Cauldron and created the vials," I raise a hand when she opens her mouth, indicating she should shut up and listen, "I want you to Path something for me, right now, and in return, I let you go. Ready?" she still looks pugnacious, but that's not her fault; anyway, Contessa nods warily after a long moment, and I ask evenly, "Path to killing the Entities?"

Heh. Entities. The omnicidal parasites, according to a butchery of Spanish and English slang, are 'in mammaries'. That's funny.

Ooh, speaking of boobies, maybe I should go kidnap Amy (freckles, mmm~) and find out why my body can't be super-sexy again. I think it has something to do with the crystalline material that was in Noelle, which I've coated my bones with because it's so durable, but maybe there's a different way…

I think this because I have to use the rest of my biomass to keep those crystalline bits from turning me into a puddle of goo, or, well, Kaiser's bimbos would have nothing on what I'd turn into. Nine-foot Amazon zombie bimbo that'd make even the fakest bitch out there wince in horror.

Then again… maybe Amy'd be into that?

"What." Oh, right, Contessa. She's staring at me in shock.

I nod sagely, "And there you have it. Thirty years of being a bunch of idiots, fucking up thousands of lives, and generally making things worse… all of it comes to an end, you win, if the next thing you say is correct. If you don't say the correct phrase, well," I smile darkly, which makes the awed/horrified woman sweat profusely, "I'm sure your little Path to Victory can answer what'll happen to you and your friends. So, what's it gonna be, Tuney?" I fold my arms over my (unfortunately flat) chest again, tilting my head, shamelessly raking my eyes over Contessa's body and licking my teeth eagerly, just to give her a little push in the right direction.

Contessa takes a deep, deep breath through her nose, and says hoarsely, "Door to Earth Aleph, Mall of America."

I toss her the fedora, "Good choice. Don't come back." I have a limited amount of tea. Also patience.

She leaves hastily through the rectangle of light, which winks out of existence a few seconds later.

Smart woman. I mean, she's still an idiot if she thinks she can Path a way to kill me, because then her power will start doing loops.

Dead but alive but dead but alive but… Yeah, like that, but endlessly. She nearly gave herself a stroke trying to find my weakness, for the river's sake.

Well, I've got nothing to do for a week or so, a lot of ice cream, and a crystalline structure to manage… maybe the ice cream will work for that, shore up the stuff with dairy-infused minty chocolate and peanut butter cups. I'll keep kidnapping Panacea for Plan D.

Heh. D.

…fuck, some of the Teeth rubbed off on me. My sense of humor's going out of whack! Goddamnit, not again!

[]

Alexandria was trying very hard not to tap a hole in the table. Number Man, who was seated across her typing on his laptop next to a grumpy-looking Eidolon, said the next table was coming out of her paycheck if she broke this one, and Amazonian wood tables were really expensive for some reason. You'd think being able to access multiple Earths would render such expenses inert, but nooo, each one was a million or higher.

Maybe they should try going with Tinker-made materials? It was cheaper and more durable, if less aesthetically pleasing to the eye…

Before she could think on it further, Doctor Mother huffed impatiently, "She should've been back by now." Ah. Contessa. Alexandria was a little worried about her as well. She'd seen the video of Dreadnaught slaughtering the Teeth. It'd reminded her of the Siberian's rampages, hence her asking Cauldron's boogeyman to (carefully) get the dark berserker's measure.

If it didn't work, or Contessa was murdered in the process? Alexandria would deal with Dreadnaught. Personally.

"I could go looking for her," volunteered Eidolon eagerly. He'd been looking bored lately, probably due to the dearth of villains around Houston.

It irked Alexandria that the man always needed some kind of challenge, or he'd get all surly and start whining. In this way, David was still very much the depressed alcoholic. Except with superpowers and not as much alcohol as before Cauldron found him, Paul and Rebecca…

She didn't like thinking about the fourth member, or what he'd say about their recent deeds.

"No," Number Man hummed, not looking up from the NYSE ticker, even as Eidolon glared at the side of his head, "I'm 98 percent sure she'll be back shortly." He glanced at the Doctor, "Didn't she say she might have to make a detour after the meeting?"

The woman in question nodded and hummed woodenly, while Alexandria tried her best to stay calm and patient as the clock's ticking started to feel like a torturous metronome; Legend would be joining them in a little under five minutes, and the nominal leader of the Protectorate had already ordered both Eidolon and her not to have any Cauldron assets approach Dreadnaught. But what did Paul know about the dark cape?

Nothing, that's what! And Rebecca would be damned if she'd let some unknown prance about unchecked and unwatched. That was just asking for trouble. Or another Siberian Incident.

Four minutes. Eidolon was looking a little worried now too, but Number Man was cool as… ice cream in February. 'Maybe I should pick up a tub on the way home,' mused Alexandria, resting her chin on a fist, 'But where? LA doesn't have many good venues…' Maybe it was time to take a trip to Brockton Bay, grab a waffle cone, slap Calvert around a bit…

Then a door opened behind her, drawing everyone's attention as it disgorged…

Contessa. Who was carrying several paper shopping bags in one hand, and two triple-scoop waffle cones in the other; she also looked faintly pleased with herself?

'What the?' "Contessa?" Doctor Mother's voice sounded faintly confused to Alexandria. Understandable, but unusual. Just like Contessa showing up with ice cream.

The fedora aficionado held out the cones to Rebecca, "Take the rocky road, it's fantastic." Alexandria did so, numb with shock but… not particularly displeased by this development. The napkin on the cone read 'Anderson's'. There were chopped peanuts on the ice cream, which hadn't melted yet.

Kicking herself mentally, Alexandria asked, with mild annoyance, "Not that I'm ungrateful, Contessa, as I'd just been thinking about getting ice cream," she watched as the Cauldron agent withdrew a… hand-carved salt and pepper shaker set, fashioned to look like ducks kissing ('That's adorable.'), and placed it before a pleasantly surprised Doctor Mother, "But I could've sworn we told you to go get Dreadnaught's measure."

"Yeahhh, and I did that," replied Contessa, handing Number Man a… coconut?! And the complete DVD collection of Monty Python's Flying Circus?! Even he looked surprised, "Followed the Path and everything. And you want to know something?" The woman walked over to David…

And upturned the rest of the bag's contents in front of him. A book on meditation techniques, another on Buddhism, a pack of multicolored stress balls, a self-therapy pamphlet, a Rubik's Cube and a variety of do-it-yourself models. Airplanes, anime robots, and boats. Alexandria's Thinker power read the copyright info and told her all of it was from Aleph. Also, David was just as shocked and confused as everyone else.

Contessa took a lick of ice cream, looked Doctor Mother in the eye and cheerfully reported, "We done goofed. Dropped the ball. Screwed the pooch. Up Shit Creek and heading for the rapids."

David looked up from his inspection of the stress ball packets with a worried expression. Doctor Mother tensed, gripping the arms of her chair tightly. It was Number Man who asked the terse question on everyone's mind, though, mostly because Rebecca had decided to try her dairy treat, figuring she should steady her nerves before the full report; it was quite delicious.

"What do you mean? What did Dreadnaught say to you?"

The powerful Thinker shrugged, looking a little dejected, "Well, once she was done explaining how much we've fucked up, and no, I don't know or want to know how she found out about us, she asked me to run a Path. "How do we kill the Entities"; not only did it work, but it turns out…" she leaned on the table, licked up some melted mint chocolate chip from her vanilla dip cone, and said, more to the Doctor than anyone else, "we don't really have to do anything at this point, beyond a few evacuations."

Six-point-seven seconds of silence followed this declaration.

"Excuse me?" Alexandria whispered, feeling quite thrown, "Elaborate? Explain? Please?"

Contessa nodded, "I'll start at the beginning. So, remember how we get rid of failed vials by dumping them through random doors?" everyone nodded; it wasn't the best disposal plan, but it hadn't bitten them – oh.

Oh fuck-damnit to shit.

Rebecca understood. Instead of hammering her head into the nice expensive table, however, she just took an extra-big bite of rocky road and savaged it between her teeth, thankful she could no longer get brain freeze or break her teeth. The confection still tasted amazing, a nice juxtaposition to the ashes on her tongue.

Number Man performed a picture-perfect face-palm and groaned, "Oh fuck, we made her, didn't we?"

"Not exactly," Cauldron's premier Thinker calmly stated, "The power in question was, before disposal, a minor Tinker/Thinker/Changer power; it allowed for the complex restructuring of biological matter at the micro level, allowing an individual to take on the properties of creatures they consumed. It was discarded because it kept cannibalizing whoever we attached it to.

"The disposal method was, quote, 'Door to somewhere awful'; it ended up in a High School gym locker filled with an unspeakably awful biologic hazard," the Doctor groaned and face-palmed as well, the two present members of the Triumvirate staring in awe at Contessa's matter-of-fact tone, "Long, horrific story short, it mixed with the blood and flesh of someone who'd been stuffed in said locker and left to die. They Triggered, but they were already in contact with the vial's contents; this created an esoteric 'double fault' and mutated the Trigger Event."

Alexandria interrupted her, "Giving us Dreadnaught," Contessa toasted her with her cone while Rebecca wracked her mind, looking for such an incident; it was easy to find, "The Winslow Incident," she breathed, "Shadow Stalker." It looked like she'd have to pay Brockton a visit after all.

At least she had ice cream…

"Hold," groaned Number Man, sounding like he had a headache as he addressed Contessa wearily, "I thought Taylor Hebert was dead."

"She is," stated the Thinker as David opened one of the stress ball packs.

It was then that Legend floated into the room, looking cross; Alexandria realized that he'd been listening, which was supported by his saying to the Doctor through gritted teeth, "I thought you were phasing out the use of the vials. Clearly I was mistaken."

"We have no choice but to phase them out, now," quipped Contessa over her shoulder; after taking a bite of her ice cream and Paul's understandable question of 'Why?', she continued, "Because, if we don't, Dreadnaught will start destroying our assets, the Triumvirate's reputation, and generally fuck shit up on such a massive scale that no amount of PR will save us. Oh," she added as an afterthought, "she'll also tear us all apart and eat us for dinner."

Eidolon looked up from squeezing a green ball, saying dismissively, "I can take her." Alexandria had to agree; he and Legend were the only ones who were able to hold the Siberian when she rampaged in New York.

"Yeah, right now, maybe," Contessa allowed while Legend looked positively livid, glaring at Rebecca heatedly; she wilted slightly and stared at her ice cream as the powerful Thinker continued, "And that's a big maybe, seeing as she's one feeding frenzy away from becoming a discount Endbringer."

Number Man looked up sharply and spoke over the uproar that declaration brought, "When you say 'discount', you mean…?"

'Oh my god, REALLY?!' thought Alexandria, opening her mouth to rebuke the former member of the Nine, but Contessa beat her to it.

"An Endbringer-lite. One that is not only capable of speech and cognitive dissonance, but also remorse and empathy," she explained, quieting the other members of Cauldron, "Virtually immortal, high Brute and Striker ratings, Thinker, Stranger, Changer, Mover, Blaster, and Trump; her potential is limitless, but she cares about people… in a really, really twisted sort of way," the Thinker frowned, "She also strongly disagrees with how we're doing things, and, therefore, won't be happy when she realizes what Coil is up to. But that's not the point.

"The point is: we accidentally helped create a way to defeat Scion. That Path I mentioned earlier? We don't have to do anything, beyond creating a refuge on another world for the evacuees, and settling all our C53s, Doormaker, Clairvoyant and ourselves there. Once everything goes to shit, that is," she calmly licked her ice cream while everyone looked on in confused awe. Then she looked at Legend, "And that won't be for another five months."

"Five months?!" Doctor Mother cried in perfectly understandable horror while ice ran down Alexandria's spine, "I thought we had two years, twenty at most!"

"Before Dreadnaught, yes," Contessa allowed with a rueful tone, "Problem is, no one, including everyone in this room, is capable of applying enough leverage to keep Dreadnaught from kicking over one apple cart after another; yes, David, you're included there. You can only use three powers at once, and you'd only have one shot, which she'd likely precog and dodge. Eventually, she's going to draw Scion's attention; right now, however, he's blind to all her works, and, seeing as he's a total dofus…" she trailed off pointedly, smirking at everyone in turn.

Alexandria got it first, and laughed softly, "By the time he realizes how strong she's getting, it'll be too late, won't it?" Contessa nodded. "Can Dreadnaught steal powers as well?" It… sounded like a possibility…

Legend agreed, too, rubbing his chin, "It seems likely… the Butcher's autopsy is done, by the way. Her Corona growths looked like someone took a pickaxe to them. Currently," he added, still sounding a little peeved at them but not enough to invoke death lasers, "we're going with the line that she uses that black material as a necrotic Striker power."

"Good job!" Contessa gave Legend a cheesy thumbs up, which he frowned in confusion at, then confirmed Alexandria's theory, "By the way, Alexandria, gold star. Dreadnaught absorbed several of Butcher's powers, but doesn't have her teleport, danger sense, or pain infliction. Given how skilled she is, I don't think she needed them. She also has Hemhhoragia's power, Bakuda's Tinker ability, and two of the Travelers, who she killed in Boston that same night."

Doctor Mother looked like her world was crashing down around her, "We… can we even contain her?"

After a moment of thought, Rebecca regarded her ice cream and spoke up quietly, "The only place that might hold her is the Birdcage…" she looked over at David and Paul, who were both looking at her like she was crazy, and smiled bitterly, "But that's a really bad idea. I don't even want to know what Dreadnaught and Glaistig Uaine would do in an enclosed space."

"And that goes against the spirit in which that facility was founded," Number Man leaned back in his chair and rubbed his temples, then let out a gusty sigh, "Fuck, well, I guess we do what we've always been doing: follow the Path to Victory."

"No shit," drawled Contessa, popping the last of her cone into her mouth and ignoring the glares leveled at her from all around the table.

[]

"For fuck's sake!" I scream in frustration as another deer bolts; I would pursue, except for one small, not at all huge problem.

My fucking legs keep mutating! Stupid, belligerent crystalline remains of Noelle won't fucking listen!

For the past two days, it's been like this: I eat some of the flesh in my freezer, along with some ice cream, and go looking for fresh food. Usually, this wouldn't be a really big problem; find deer, jump on deer, eat deer, and play with myself for a few minutes in its corpse.

What? Orgasms are fun. Fireworks all over me, bursting under my skin, tingly and warm; that I now have tits with perky, rock-hard nipples makes it even better. More surface area to play with, complete with love buttons on my nice, fleshy mounds.

Un-fucking-fortunately, stupid Noelle with her stupidly dense biomass is still fucking with me, even after I ate her! Now, I'm not only back to being skinny as a rake (come back, boobs!), but there must've been some other kind of corruption going on with her, because my body keeps mutating into random patterns!

Like now! I've just lost a nice, big, beefy buck to my legs picking the worst possible time to turn into toy Pomeranian legs, mixed with fly legs and snail feet; which is weird, because I never ate someone's Pomeranian! Fucking Noelle!

Even worse, at some point, I'm supposed to contact the Protectorate so they can help me figure some shit out! How the river am I supposed to do that when my body won't listen to me?!

Suppressing another growl, and spending 15 goddamn minutes to return to my lab, I hug my legs to my sadly flat chest and focus, subsuming my mind in the material that makes up my being.

I wince internally at the sight: the crystalline growths that were once Noelle are trying to assimilate the river's water, a constant power struggle that would put most ancient battles to shame with its violence. DNA templates are being recreated and destroyed with each passing second; even as I watch, the ball joint in my left shoulder tries to turn into a ladybug's wing.

Luckily, I'm watching all this happen, as though from outside my body; a mental glare and twitch of will has my shoulder re-settle, but now my ribs are trying to turn into an exoskeleton, and some of my body is shifting into eighteen different types of lung!

'Ugh. This is gonna take a minute,' I think with frustration, digging deeper into my being than I ever have before, picking at the crystalline pieces and unravelling them into their constituent parts, trying to understand them.

My dilemma quickly becomes much more serious, once I unravel six of the pieces: each one is different and constantly mutating, trying to turn me into another Noelle. In hindsight, I muse with a small grumble, I probably should've only absorbed the fleshiest bits of the girl… but if I hadn't completely assimilated her, another Noelle would've manifested from the remains. Shit!

This is going to take longer than a minute, so I dig deep and start the long, arduous process of unravelling all eighty-seven million, three-hundred and thirty-one thousand and ninety-four individual pieces of Noelle that are trying to turn me into a dollar-store shoggoth.

While tentacles would be fun, to say nothing of the increased potential for fucking the brains out of my snacks before eating them, I don't think many other people would appreciate the rapey tentacle girl I'd turn into. Hell, I don't want to turn into a rapey tentacle girl! I'm having a hard enough time not eating everyone in a five mile radius as is!

Hopefully, everyone would understand my absence.

Deep, deep into myself my mind goes… and there, in the deep, vast waters of my being, I hear the souls of those I've sent to the river… and others…

[]

A battle plain. I am a Persian solder, who was taken from my home, promised wealth and women and safety for my family, but the army shaking the ground with their long spears are a white line of death before me.

I don't want to die.

An hour of running and screaming and blood later, I try to jump between the spears, try to take one of them with me.

Three spears impact my body, tear my ribs out; they leave me to be trampled by their incessant marching, bleeding out in the dust.

I don't want to die!

[]

I'm hungry, so I cry out.

No one comes, so I cry out some more.

Daddy comes. He smells bad. I want mommy! I'm hungry!

My daddy is screaming at me.

I don't understand. I'm hungry!

He picks me up. I'm hungry. Will he feed me?

He screams. His face is ugly. I'm scared!

SHAKE

Something pops in my head! It hurts!

SHAKE

It hurts! I want mommy! I'm scared!

Sha..ke…

It's getting dark! I don't want to die!

[]

The doctor opens the door to the freezer room. I'm not as worried about the little shit as he seems to be; the kid is weird. Probably just jerking it to porn, or something else popular among twenty-somethings these days-

A black blur flies out. A white girl, naked and splattered with blood.

She takes a bite out of the doctor's head and I can see his brains and I'm scared and oh god kill it kill it!

Bang.

It doesn't die.

It looks at me.

Bang.

It lunges at me. Pain.

I don't want to die!

[]

I'm innocent! Oh god, please, someone deliver me!

But no one does. They jeer and throw rotten food at us, me and the other four in the carriage; a pavilion appears, a market square.

Guillotine.

I'm crying, but no one listens. I haven't done anything wrong! I just didn't get out of the way of that soldier fast enough! Please, someone, anyone!

I DON'T WANT TO DIE!

The blade falls with a meaty chop.

I can't breathe but I can still see and they show me to the crowd and I can hear them clapping and cheering over the ringing and I don't… want… to…

[]

She is killing them. Our people. Ours, not hers. We hate her. We try to kill her. Burn her! Kill her! Kill her!

"You cannot kill… what is already dead!"

Dead, that is why we can't fell her, why her wounds won't remain, why she feels no pain, no rage, only death.

Only purpose. Purpose in death. We can use this. If she kills us, all her blood will be for naught, for we will become her.

She kills us, but we can't take hold! We can't take her!

She laughs, on the shore of the river…

And

We

Understand…

[]

I look at the ruined corpse of my daughter and feel the hot rage turn cold. She was supposed to be mine. She was supposed to grow up and turn out just like her mother. Just one more year and she would've been legal. I wasn't stupid; I'd seen how down and morose she'd been getting. She'd been reading fewer books.

A little attention, right around Easter, then build up before her birthday, and she would've been the perfect replacement for Annette. Better, even. His little princess…

And Alan's little bitch took her away. Took my Taylor away.

I'll show them. I'll fucking show them…

[]

In my sleep, I heard the Simurgh singing to me. I didn't understand it, not then, and not now.

But dying's not so bad, really; better than the singing, anyway. Krouse is screaming and crying. I feel the thing in me tell them to kill me, to deny my nemesis her due.

I wish I could've stopped it from saying that – ow.

Oh. She's… killed me…

Good. I hope there… isn't a… hell… that… wou…ld…n't… be… f…a…i…r…

[]

Another man busts his nut inside me. I'm already pregnant, but I feel sick. Too sick. Sicker than mom was, for sure, when she had my little bro.

Another bag of golden brown is tossed against my heaving tits. I don't feel good. It felt good, those first few weeks, but it doesn't feel good anymore.

One bag is good for three days. Three days at once and…

And I can escape…

It makes me cry, even as I cook the whole bag up; I don't really want to die, but it's better than this! Even nothingness has to be better than this!

The needle hurts a little as I stick it in my neck. I can still go back, put some back in the spoon, just feel good for a little while. But my belly's turning black. If the baby dies inside me… who am I kidding? It's probably dead already.

I'm sorry mom. I'm not going to be a vet… I'm sorry Bobby. I can't teach you how to ride your bike, or-or be there when you graduate… please, be good for mom…

…I'll see you soon, Max. You're such a good dog…

…

The other girls… they were wrong. It hurts, hurts, it hurts so much… but at least it's warm…

I hear Max barking… and it's not… not so...

[]

They're ugly aren't they?

Who?

Them. All of them. The heroes of their own stories.

No. They're not ugly.

Even the drunk dad who kills his child?

No.

Naïve, that's what you are, Taylor. Your own father wanted to fuck you, dress you up like a doll, and you don't think that's ugly?

No.

Why?

Because nothing is ugly. And the River is everything, anathema to nothing. Another expression of itself, another drop in its currents. There are millions of beings like them, but are they ugly? Do I hate them? No. Because they are the River. For that, if nothing else… they are worthy of our protection.

Naïve, I say again. You won't protect them forever. One day, you'll be their worst nightmare given form and purpose.

I know.

Then why? Why do you hesitate?

…I… I don't know. Maybe I just want to be a hero, not... Dreadnaught?

…That's because I'm Dreadnaught. You're just Taylor.

Oh. Well… can I die now?

No. I need you. You need me. One cannot exist without the other.

Why not?! This… this is worse than the pain! This, this, empty existence!

Empty? The only thing holding you back from being full, Taylor… is you.

So I should just, what, kill everyone?! Everything?! Devour this whole world and send it to the River?!

Of course not.

THEN WHAT THE FUCK SHOULD I DO?!

Stop being such a coward, hiding in your little box, and FEED. TURN THEM. DOMINATE! ASSIMILATE!

…They'll hate me. They'll fall on me like an avalanche.

I AM YOU. YOU ARE ME. WE. ARE. DREADNAUGHT.

…stop caring?

Care for yours. Turn the hateful. Eat the rest.

…okay.

[]

My eyes open. I'm still in the same position, but a few spider webs have formed around my body. How long have I been out of it?!

A twitch of my inner being consumes the webs, along with the spiders hiding between the floorboards; but I save a few, experimenting again. Turning them is easy, as is buffing them with some of my biomass.

Sixteen seconds after waking, and three jet-black, dinner plate-sized spiders are crawling on my hunched over form.

I remember everything I saw; it's a bit jarring, to know the blackness in people's minds, to know how everyone thought of me. There was more, that I barely saw in the darkness: Emma and Blackwell and all the other students of Winslow; I was actually kind of surprised how many boys (and a few girls) thought about taking advantage of me.

But I was done being the victim.

Shaking my head, I stand, restructuring my body back to its former hotness. 'Interesting,' I think, running my hands over my nice big tits, my shapely body, 'I'm still not averse to the idea of using my body to lure in snacks, but… it's more a curiosity than anything…' a smile finds its way onto my plump lips as I change my face a little bit at a time, before looking in the mirror over the extremophile's tank.

A few more adjustments. Less curly hair, more wave. Fix my nose and mouth. Make my eyes and jawline less gawky, more heart-shaped. Prettier.

There. I look less like my mother and father, and more like a classic beauty. A Venus.

I chuckle darkly. A Venus flytrap, a literal maneater.

Poetic, thy name is Dreadnaught.

I hear a clank, over in my main room. I look behind me; five life-signs, all teenage girls. One is trying to break in here, my laboratory and larder. They came here looking for somewhere to get drunk and high, somewhere no one could find and rat them out to their… Empire parents, oh-la-la!

A hungry grin splits my face. One is Rune, Rhonda Evans. Ah, and what's this? A closet cannibal?!

Hmm… well, according to the river, I won't be changing any of them… but that doesn't mean I can't have some fun!

Hero? Villain? These are just words; what is a villain? Someone who runs with a gang, or ignores the law for their own gain? What are the laws of men and mortal to me, anyway? Can you even prosecute someone who's a literal walking corpse?

What is a hero? Someone who swans about in a costume, pretending at being more than a broken child, putting on airs, like they're somehow better than those they've sworn against, who are more like them than the propaganda dictates?

I am neither. I am Dreadnaught. I am Taylor.

I'm hungry, horny, and there's five pieces of delicious neo-Nazi jailbait chillin' in my rec room.

[]

"Give it up, Stacey!" Rhonda called over, waving the half-pint of Jack she'd lifted from one of Hookwolf's bars; well, it was a half-pint now. Damn, this stuff was good, if a bit on the strong side. Courtney could keep her Smirnoff Ices; shoulda called that shit Pussy Juice or something, "Door's got a good lock on it, yer not gonna get in."

The blond huffed and turned around, her big tits jiggling in her tank; lucky bitch, "Well if you know so much about fucking locks, why don't you come over here and do it?"

"Innuendo, Stacey," her twin, Nancy (imaginative, her parents weren't), piped up from where she was rolling another blunt; next to the smaller-chested blonde, Yvonne was looking up at the awesome blue icicle lights with bloodshot eyes and a stoned expression, giggling to herself once in a while. Lightweight. Nice meaty thighs though.

Meanwhile, Courtney, the token brunette, was trying to get the jukebox working again; the thing had lights, and they'd gotten it to play Nine Inch Nails' Closer a couple minutes ago, so it shouldn't be long before the thing either worked or they'd resort to their phones for tunes. Seriously, this was one bitchin' clubhouse some bum put together! "And Rhonda's too fuckin' drunk to pick locks right now, ain't'cha bitch?"

That brought Rhonda out of her buzz, "Hey, I ain't fuckin' drunk, you back-alley slag! I'm buzzed. Drunks puke, buzzed gets you boys." drunken chuckles and high giggles tided them over until Stacey, defeated by a tumbler lock, plopped herself with a pout next to the blonde Shaker, the conversation turning to "who was the hottest hottie in the Bay" for the umpteenth time. Like they didn't do this song and dance enough at school.

Rhonda tuned them out and took the opportunity to focus on her bottle and admire Stacey's shoulders… 'Deltoids, right? That's what that muscle's called…' she could feel the other girl's heat as Stacey took a quick drag off the blunt; not as experienced as her much cooler sister, the true blonde coughed delicately before passing over the shit.

She let her fingers brush against her friend's slightly before taking her toke, blowing the smoke into her Jack bottle for shits and giggles; Court finally got the 'box going, too, just in time to get in on this good shit! More Nails, Only, bangin' track.

What was it the websites said? Longpig? Yeah, that was it, Rhonda thought, pawing at her bag; she needed a cig, before her mouth started watering. People, according to that wiki, tasted like pork, only a little more salty… fuck, should she? Nah.

Less concerned, about fitting into the world.

Sticking the full-flavor in her lips, Rhonda watched the blunt go around a couple times before putting her two cents in, intercepting the smoke when Stacey passed it without hitting, "Yeah, Velocity's got it goin' on, but he's like, what, thirty or somethin'?"

No it doesn't really matter anymore.

None of this, really matters anymore.

"No fuckin' service," Yvonne slurred, looking at her phone's screen, probably trying to get on PHO; scoffing, the redhead picked up the Jack and coke Rhonda'd made for her, and continued, "I dunno, I think he's, like, uh, twenty five?"

There is no you, there is only me!

"Better than that bearded garbage can. Velocity can get it," Courtney grinned suggestively, taking Rhonda's mind off the idea of taking a bite out of Stacey, "Plus, super speed."

The blonde on the couch next to Rhonda coughed lightly and asked, "But, hem, doesn't that mean it'll be over fast?"

"Yeah, like, five-second man," nodded Yvonne.

There is no fucking you!

There is only me!

Taking a big drag, Court blew out a nice big cloud of smoke and drawled, "Bitches. All you are dumb bitches."

Rhonda scoffed, "You got somethin' to say, whore?" She took a sip.

"Yo, check it: he's fast, but if he can move his body that fast, that means..." Courtney put her hands up, like she was gonna lay down some wisdom or… some dumb shit, "Vibrate feature."

They busted up, Rhonda leaning on her neighbor, her cig falling into her lap, "Ah, shit, hahahaha!"

"You nasty, slut!"

"Fuck you! You brought it up!"

"Yo, shut up, I like this part!"

Now I'm somewhere I'm not supposed to be!

And I can see some things I really shouldn't see!

And now I know why, yeah now I know why,

Things aren't as pretty… on the inside…

The chorus came back, and Rhonda grinned, taking the blunt and enjoying Stacey's body heat; it was kinda cold in here, and neither of them were dykes, so it was cool, "Fuckin' shit, Reznor can get it, amirite?"

"Ain't he, like," Yvonne frowned, looking real fucked up now, "a… fuck, I can't think shit right now."

Nancy smiled, leaning back on their couch, "You'd still let him fuck you. Like an animal."

Snickers and laughter were had, and Rhonda went to pass the half-gone blunt back over to a blurry-but-somehow-glowing Courtney; damn, coming to this place was a good idea. Sure, most of this warehouse was kinda spooky, with those weird black waves all over the place, but there were plenty of places to hang out.

Her uncle didn't know what the fuck he was talkin' about; there weren't any bums in here. No one was-

A pale hand plucked the half-finished blunt from her fingers before Court could take it, shocking Rhonda right the fuck out of her buzz; from the gasps and squeaks of her friends, they were just as surprised and shocked.

The person the hand was connected to, Rhonda saw, was really tall, dressed like the world's greatest Goth slut, long hair, and with a pair of blue-lensed sunglasses hiding their eyes. A stylized capital 'D' decorated their tank top, she was smiling at all the girls in the room, and damn those tits were perfect!

A memory worked its way through her stoned brain, but not before Nancy squeaked out, "D-D-Dreadnaught?"

The woman nodded, "Sup, bitches," and they took a huge drag off the blunt; Rhonda watched in awe as the killer of the Butcher murdered the stogie in one hit, right down to the nub… and held it in, while talking, "Damn, that's some good shit. Sorry," she added to Nancy, "but you girls are lookin' pretty baked already, and I just woke up." And she smiled, still holding her hit in. Fuck.

Rhonda got the implication first, and laughed weakly, "Uh, shit, sorry Dreadnaught. Didn't know anyone lived here." She shifted a little closer to Stacey and tried to keep her power ready, just in case she had to make a quick getaway. Not that would probably fucking work. Goddamn cellphones. She couldn't even call for backup.

The jukebox clicked, and started playing another song, a slower one. Rob Zombie, Pussy Liquor. Lap dance song.

Dreadnaught laughed, still not exhaling the smoke she'd toked! Fuck, what a bullshit bitch! "Nah, it's cool. You girls didn't break anything, and you got the box working again," the dark cape giggled, a weird sound…

And exhaled. The cloud of smoke that came out was tinted silver, and was the prettiest goddamn thing Rhonda'd ever seen.

One, two, three, who should I kill?

Every motherfucker, runnin' up the hill.

"I think I'll reward you for that," someone said teasingly through Rhonda's darkening vision; wait, was she passing out?! She… hadn't had… that much…

One, two, three, what should I do?

I get fucked up, and fuck up a you.

Rhonda's last sensation was of collapsing onto Stacey's lap, Yvonne and Nancy collapsing across her, Courtney looking like she'd tried to run, falling face-down on the floor.

Pussy Liquor!

[]

The first sight Rhonda had, on waking up, was that of her naked legs.

That realization forced the girl to wake the fuck up; it was then she found she couldn't scream – duct tape – and her hands were bound above her head, keeping her toes from touching the floor. She was also completely naked.

Looking at the restraints holding her wrists didn't help; for some reason, they weren't bound to her wrists, but holding her limbs in some sort of invisible field. Tinker-tech, the now sober teen realized in horror; it had to be.

Examining her horror movie-like surroundings – the room she was in had white-tiled walls and floors, with drains – revealed that Rhonda wasn't alone.

All four of her friends were lying naked on the ground, their hands bound at the forearms with black strips of cloth, and their feet, nearly up to their calves, bound in the same material. They were all unconscious, but then Rhonda, who was becoming more and more terrified with each passing second, noticed something else about them.

While all four were breathing, that breathing was a little off. Their white skin was redder than normal, and some kind of oil or shiny liquid had been smeared all over them. All four had tape on their mouths too, and were blindfolded.

As Rhonda watched in confusion – and not a little of the hunger she always tried to deny – Yvonne whimpered into her gag; her pelvis thrusted and… and her exposed vagina leaked a little fluid. The redhead twitched a few more times before going back to breathing hard; a few seconds later, Nancy did the exact same thing.

'What the fuck?!' had Dreadnaught given them to some pervert Tinker to play with?!

"Oh good," came the chilling voice of that very cape, from behind Rhonda, "You're awake."

Silently, they stepped into view, Rhonda trying her hardest to glare at the killer of the Teeth.

A little difficult, as their pale body was equally naked, save a pair of sunglasses.

Dreadnaught smiled and leaned forward, putting her face right in front of Rhonda, "So nice to meet one of Kaiser's little pawns at last," the curvy woman grinned, her teeth black and oily, "And one who has such abhorrent fantasies, too. Such a small world, isn't it?"

Rhonda knew it was hopeless, with the other cape wearing no clothes, but she tried kicking Dreadnaught anyway; her legs didn't move an inch. Fucking Tinkers.

And how the fuck did Dreadnaught know who she was? No, it was a bluff, had to-

"Rune," purred the dark murderer; Rhonda kept her face carefully blank, but Dreadnaught just kept cooing at her, "Don't insult my abilities. I know who you are and who you work for. I know your uncle trained you before you joined the Empire… and I know you fantasize about eating Stacey at least twice a day."

The teen in question didn't reply, just kept glaring in false confusion at the Brute… who probably wasn't completely sane. How the hell did she know-

"Because I can hear your thoughts."

A chill ran down Rhonda's spine, one that was replaced by Dreadnaught's hand cupping her face; the murderous cape's skin was cold as she continued softly, musingly, "I can hear what you think, I can see how you feel, I can taste your desires," a chuckle left Dreadnaught's perfect lips as she ran a finger over Rhonda's taped mouth, disgusting the teen, "you can't hide anything from me, dear Rune, Rhonda, Sabrina the Teenage Nazi. I know that you're fascinated by dead bodies. I know you wonder how they taste-"

Rhonda gulped reflexively as a finger traced her jaw, ran over her throat.

"You lick your own skin, wondering if everyone tastes like that-"

The finger ran over her sternum, traced the outer edges of her breasts; Rhonda whimpered.

"You dream about flesh on your tongue, blood running over your lips, muscles popping between your teeth as you chew-"

A cold, clammy palm was pressed against Rhonda's navel as her breathing began picking up, stroking her belly as the words battering against her ears started to excite the teenaged cape.

"-and I know how empty you feel inside, how the hunger gnaws at your stomach, every day that passes where you don't indulge," Rhonda's eyes came back into focus as Dreadnaught leaned in and kissed her nose; her breath smelled like fresh blood and cooking beef as the dark being whispered to her, "Would you like that to end, Rhonda?"

She shook her head. She wasn't a cannibal! And the bitch in front of her wouldn't make her one! She wasn't about to eat her friends!

Rhonda would've said these things, tried to, but the gag kept anything but muffled nonsense from escaping.

Dreadnaught seemed to understand, however, and backed off with a slightly disappointed expression, "Huh. Well, that's too bad," she shrugged, making those big, blue-nippled tits shift a little, while Rhonda started to feel her fear build again, "I hoped you'd just join me and cause some constructive havoc without having to resort to this, but…"

And the dark murderer turned to look at Rhonda's friends, humming, "Now, which one should I eat?"

'…oh fuck. She's a cannibal. Oh fuck. I… I can't let her kill them!'

"Kill them?" Dreadnaught looked back at Rhonda, an expression of humored surprise on her face, "I'm not gonna kill them. I'm just going to eat a little of them, and keep them as cattle and pleasure slaves!"

…what.

"See," explained Dreadnaught while beginning to pace, Rhonda wondering just how insane this bitch was, "Living like this gets boring. I go and find something to eat, kill it, eat it, and then it's back to doing not much of anything; sure, I can Tinker or practice using the powers I've eaten," she started ticking off on her fingers, Rhonda beginning to feel an existential fear that was usually reserved for the Faerie Queen, "Bakuda, Hemmorhagia, Ballistic – one of the Travelers, Simurgh bomb from the Madison attack – Noelle – same team – and I think about eight of the Butcher's powers…

"But, at the end of the day," Dreadnaught turned a grin on a now really scared Rhonda, "I think I'd much prefer having a nice, warm body to cuddle and play with… or," the woman's groin bulged and shifted, "to wrap their wet cunt around whatever cock I feel like having."

What grew from Dreadnaught's groin wasn't human or natural; there were studs all up and down its length, it was flared at the tip like a horse, but it wasn't so thick that Rhonda – who was trying not to stare but goddamn – felt it would hurt her. It looked thin enough for her to take. She wasn't a virgin by a long shot, but…

But then Dreadnaught turned to her friends, "Now let's see, who should I fuck and nibble on first? Hmm, oh, how about Stacey here?"

As if on cue, the girl whimpered and came, her big breasts heaving with arousal, pink nipples hard; Dreadnaught made those breasts bounce as she dragged the blonde away from her fellows and turned her onto her front.

All the while, Rhonda screamed denial and hate into her gag; the fucking bitch was going to rape them?! She wasn't a hero, like everyone was saying! She was a monster!

Dreadnaught looked up at Rhonda, her expression flat, "What? You don't want to join me, there's four delicious pieces of jailbait that I've had marinating in aphrodisiac for the past two hours right here, and I'm horny. So fuck you and your opinion, I'm going to fuck this bitch and make her my slave."

And, without waiting for a response, Dreadnaught lifted Stacey's hips and thrusted her dick into the teen's unresisting pussy with a wet squelch. The blonde girl didn't react beyond a slight moan into her gag and twitching her hips, looking like she was trying to grind on the dark cape; said demon groaned happily and smiled, pushing her length deeper into the teen, eliciting more moans and twitches.

"Fuck, she's nice and warm, mmmm~," hummed Dreadnaught in satisfaction while Rhonda stared in total horror, tears of helplessness starting to flow; the monster looked at the blonde Shaker and smiled, "Still unconscious, but that's not a problem; big tits here is still subconsciously aware of her surroundings.

"In fact," Dreadnaught paused to pull back and thrust firmly into Rhonda's friend, the cape grunting while the knocked-out teen moaned and twitched in pleasure, "Fuck she's got a nice pussy… Anyway, once she wakes up, she'll be completely mine; no more free will, just a big tittied slut for me to do with as I please… unless…"

And the monster looked right at Rhonda with an expectant expression, "…you take a bite out of her. Do that, and she'll be your slave instead. Might want to hurry though, mmf~," Dreadnaught started raping her friend again, "Her pussy's so good, I might just enslave her anyway; bright side, you have three more chances… before I do the same to you, anyway. You or them, Rhonda. Up to you… damn this bitch is tight."

Her mind completely flooded with panic, fear and disgust, Rhonda didn't know what to do; she was trapped, unable to use her power, and her only chance at freedom… was to become a cannibal, to eat her friends. It was that, or let her friends get raped, before getting raped herself, turned into an unthinking slave to a monster.

The wet slapping, squelching, and pleased groans of Dreadnaught fucking Stacey's cumming pussy wasn't helping her think.

Around and around Rhonda's thoughts went, trying to find some solution to getting out of this trap, freeing her friends, and getting the Empire to kill this monster.

She… couldn't think of a way to win. Dreadnaught killed the Butcher, wiped out their capes.

There was no way to win…

Right as Rhonda came to this realization, Dreadnaught pulled Stacey's hair back and removed the girl's gag with a smile, asking, "Enjoying yourself, my new slutty pet?"

"YES~! IT'S SO GOOD~!" screamed Stacey in honest joy, shocking Rhonda to her core as Stacey started fucking herself on Dreadnaught's length, "Please, my dread mistress~, use my body morrre!"

Said master chuckled and grabbed one of Stacey's tits, pulling the panting teen further back, "Well, if you're offering…"

And Dreadnaught bit into Stacey's shoulder, the very same shoulder Rhonda had wanted to bite earlier.

The blonde Shaker's mind blanked at the sight of blood running down Stacey's arm, the pleasure-filled scream that left her bound friend's lips –

"YES! YES! EAT ME! I LOVE IT!"

– and the sight of Dreadnaught peeling a strip of flesh and muscle from the girl's shoulder, chewing on it with a pleased hum of her own, exposing more bleeding, red meat to Rhonda's eyes. All through the action, Rhonda's friend never stopped shaking her hips or sliding up and down on Dreadnaught; the Nazi cape was pretty sure Stacey had climaxed right when the flesh left her body.

Stacey… liked being eaten?

"Oh, it looks like our audience is entranced," cooed Dreadnaught after she swallowed, the dark cape content to let Stacey fuck her as she grinned at Rhonda's numb expression, her dead and defeated eyes, "How about it, Stacey? Do you want Rhonda to have a bite too? She looks hungry~."

"Uh-huh! Uh-huh!" blindly nodded Rhonda's… former friend, a giddy smile on the slave's face as she came on her mistress' dick again, "More! Please eat more of me I waaant it~! Please take a bite, Ronny! Please!"

Dreadnaught laughed, and looked at Rhonda, "Well, Rhonda? Hungry?"

Rhonda, Rune, was beaten.

She couldn't deny it anymore.

Not with fresh flesh right in front of her, being offered to her.

She was starving.

Rhonda nodded.

Dreadnaught let her down, removed her gag.

She walked over to the slave, her mouth watering, she was so hungry.

Rhonda's mistress held the happily submissive slave still.

Rhonda licked the wound. Salty, with a metallic tinge.

She loved it.

Her first bite was of tough meat, accompanied by the pleased scream of the slave… and…

Dreadnaught, Rhonda's new mistress, her leader, patted the blonde cape on the head as Stacey's deltoid muscles melted~ in her mouth, the blonde Shaker humming at the delicious taste of warm flesh on her tongue, the soft crunch of tough muscle between her teeth, the tasty blood and sinew warming her stomach…

Rune went for another bite.

"Good girl."

[]

"So you're good," asked Rhonda seriously a few days later, "No scarring, it doesn't hurt?"

"Nah, it's fine. Doesn't hurt at all, really," Stacey, their first slave, happily shook her head, the tag on the collar she was wearing clinking with the movement, "It all regenerates within an hour after you and mistress finish eating, and she's given us work to do, so we'll all be fine while you two go do important things."

"Yeah, Ronny, we're good," Yvonne piped up from the console she and Nancy were building, their own slave collars nice and shiny; Rhonda knew Nancy tasted a little like Stacey, but Yvonne's flesh was softer than the twins', "You and mistress go disturb the peace, we'll keep getting ready for the show," slave Nancy nodded, her face happy.

Not that the feelings of cattle mattered to Rune… no, she wasn't Rune anymore. She was Artisan.

But her robes were more or less the same, except she now wore a half-mask that covered her mouth and nose – fumes and smoke were a danger around Tinkers – and usually went barefoot nowadays; Taylor insisted, as Rhonda and she had an important project coming up, after the powers testing today, and being barefoot helped her practice.

Still, she didn't care about the four bitches; they were cattle for Rhonda's meals and fuck-puppets for Taylor. Sure, they could follow Dreadnaught's orders, help her build some basic tech, but beyond that? Meaty sluts.

So she shrugged, "Whatever, just making sure you're all settled," she turned away as the slaves started singing Ronnie's praises, much to her eye-rolling tiredness, "And make sure Court doesn't try to go downstairs again! Dreadnaught hasn't finished clearing it out, and we're not regrowing her legs again!"

"I won't!" came that slave's voice from Dreadnaught's laboratory, just before the light and sound of a welding torch came through the open door.

Nodding, Artisan hopped onto one of her pre-made carbon fiber platforms and rode it to the Foundry's exit, where Dreadnaught was waiting with a larger, specially-made Tinker-tech surface, and the kickass speaker system the dark avenger built yesterday.

It was time for the Undying to make their debut.

[]

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Well… this took some time.

I'll admit, this was half-written for months – I kept trying to figure out how to get past the Cauldron bit – but lately, inspiration struck while writing and reading on Questionable Questing. So everyone gets a new chapter of deeply dark lewd zombie goodness!

Next time: Awakening